Rescue Me (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  She’d gone to the mayor earlier, inquiring about postponing the auction until after the storm, but he’d been completely against it.

  “We’ll move the boat parade and the auction up an hour to give the breakdown volunteers time to clear everything before the storm arrives”, he’d suggested. A minor change that required a ton of work on her end, because now she had to notify everyone of the last minute change.

  But that was only a fraction of the static currently wreaking havoc on her weary mind.

  Jimmy had been gone one year. One year…

  There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of him. Sometimes she’d still catch herself calling out his name—like he was just in the other room. Like he wasn’t buried beneath six-feet of sodden dirt in the Apalachicola Cemetery.

  Those first six months without him had been hellish, and there were still moments when she panicked—when something as simple as drawing air into her lungs seemed laborious, impossible. That feeling would never go away entirely, she knew. She’d never rid herself of it completely, but she could live with that.

  She could live with that because she’d found a solid source of strength, a new passion for life. It was sort of like stepping into color after living in a world of black and white.

  The life she’d come to know had suddenly looked different—scary, even, at first. Thrust into a new, vivid reality, she’d just been going through the motions, simply surviving.

  Until Randall.

  Those assessing gray eyes saw right through her tranquil veneer; the deep timbre of his voice soothed her battered soul, enveloping her in a harmonious cocoon. He’d guided her into this new, colorful world… and she loved him for that.

  She loved him.

  This, of course, was the core of her dilemma, because she feared Randall didn’t feel the same way about her.

  He’d been a no-show for two nights running. And when she’d phoned to find out what’d happened he’d brushed her off with an I’ve-got-a-lot-of-things-going-on-right-now.

  Which was true—they both did. But…

  But something just… didn’t feel right.

  Shaking her head a bit, she returned her attention to the lengthy list of donations she’d accumulated over the last month. There were several items she still needed to enter: A three-course dinner for two at Bruno’s Italian Diner, and the beautifully-crafted necklaces and brooches David Jetson had kindly donated several nights ago.

  Lana’s fingertips rapidly tapped the keyboard, almost as if they had a mind of their own. She thought about that night—the night Mayor Cliffburg had accompanied her—the night he’d almost kissed her. She was relieved to find the air between them the following day had been rather... normal. There’d been no awkwardness—no signs whatsoever that he was harboring a grudge. And for that she was grateful.

  The mayor’s door swung open just then, diverting Lana’s attention to the tall figure that halted in front of her desk. “Can I get you anything?” She offered.

  Bracing his hands on the edge of her desk, Mayor Cliffburg smiled. “How ’bout I buy you lunch? I’m starved.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but”—she gestured to the explosion of papers and files scattered along her desk—“I’ve a ton of things still left to do. I brought some fruit. I’ll probably just eat at my desk today.”

  “All right, suit yourself”, he uttered as he pushed off her desk. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Call me on my cell if you need me.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Lana alone with a myriad of scribbled notes, and a distinct, eerie chill.

  Chapter 28

  Mayor Cliffburg had been sitting at the shoddy little bar three doors down from Leo’s Italiano for nearly twenty-five minutes. The place was downright filthy, and the smell… A mixture of nicotine, sweat, and stale beer was…

  Well, needless to say his suit was ruined.

  The place was small, dark, the ceilings abnormally low—sort of reminded him of a dungeon. The walls, most likely once white, were dingy, yellowed by layers of cigarette smoke. He wanted to get this meeting over with, wanted to get the hell out of this run-down joint before his health suffered irreparable damage.

  The bell attached to the front door jingled as it slid open, spilling bright light into the cave-like room. Moments later a scorned woman with auburn hair and creamy skin settled onto the stool beside him.

  “You’re late.”

  Jenny Carson flashed a humorless grin. “Look, you may run the city of Butler Island, but if you think your my-time-is-more-important-than-yours routine is gonna work on me, you’re wrong. So let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

  “All right, fair enough… I have some information I think the town of Butler Island would be very interested in knowing.”

  Jenny snatched the whiskey tumbler from the bar and took a sip, wincing slightly as liquid heat trickled down her throat. “”So have your girlfriend put it on next month’s city commission agenda.”

  The mayor chuckled under his breath. “You’re a fire-cracker, Mrs. Carson; I like that in a woman.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Only when it’s delivered under false pretenses. I could use someone like you on my side, someone with topnotch people-reading skills. A mayor is only as good as his staff.”

  She eyed him suspiciously for a stretch. “You’re offering me a job—in your office? What’s the catch?”

  “Now, what makes you think there’s a catch, Mrs. Carson?”

  “Because you’re a politician—you don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for you, too.”

  Michael’s dark eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. If he didn’t need her help, he’d have smacked that gloating grin clear off her face. He was the fucking mayor, for Chrissakes! He deserved respect!

  But he did need her help. Couldn’t pull this off without Jenny—at least, not if he wanted to remain the town’s savior for the next four years. A scandal like this would ruin him.

  That couldn’t happen.

  So he begrudgingly relaxed his jaw and forced the corners of his mouth skyward. “Another straightforward assessment”, he agreed. “All right, there is a catch… It’s regarding your B.F.F, Lana Phillips—”

  “She’s not my—”

  Michael stuck his palm out, interrupting her mid-sentence. “Let’s just say I’ve stumbled upon a rather… interesting secret she’s been keeping, something I think many folks in town would be fascinated to learn about her.”

  “Oh no!” Jenny cried sarcastically, placing her palms over her cheeks like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone. “Trouble in paradise already?”

  Leaning forward, he lowered his voice for emphasis. “She humiliated you in front of everyone at The Saloon a few months back, correct?” The amplified, boastful grin disappeared almost instantly. She didn’t utter a word—just stared back at him as if he’d slapped her across the face.

  Time to go in for the kill.

  “Just when you thought there was a chance of you and Tommy patching things up, Lana swoops in and shows him a good time on the dance floor—shows him the kind of woman he ought to be spending his time with. Remember that, Jenny? Do you remember the way it felt to be humiliated like that—by someone who claimed to be one of your friends? Huh?”

  “What do you want?” She mumbled.

  A devious smile splayed across his lips. “Simple, really: During the charity auction on Monday, when the town is focused on their beloved sweetheart, you’re gonna stand up and unearth some disturbing news.” The mayor leaned closer. “She’s going to be publicly humiliated, Mrs. Carson; she’s going to suffer karma’s ugly wrath. And you”—he gestured with his finger—“are going to have a front row seat.”

  Jenny chewed on the offer for a few long beats, then drew in a deep breath. “Didn’t you mention something about a job? Because bussing tables doesn’t exactly pay well.”

  “For your well-timed public outburst, you will be rewar
ded with a position as my new secretary. With elections just around the corner, I’m afraid the scandal involving my current secretary will taint my upcoming campaign. I mean, what would the good residents of Butler Island think of me if I didn’t cut ties with the subject of a scandal of this magnitude?”

  “When do you need an answer?” she asked nervously, chewing on her lip.

  Rising from his stool he reached into his back pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the bar, then handed Jenny his business card. “Auction’s in three days, Mrs. Carson. My offer is good until five P.M. today or all bets are off. Call me on my cell if you’re interested in the position.”

  Mayor Cliffburg pivoted, heading for the exit with an extra bounce in his step. It was a risky plan, yes, but high risks tended to yield the biggest rewards. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the hot, merciless sun, inhaling his first clean breath in nearly forty-five minutes. After sliding into his T-bird he loosened his tie, then removed it. He needed to get out of these clothes—fast. Turning around, he headed back to the Mainland Bridge, the wind blowing his dark hair, hammering the wretched stench from his clothes. He’d stop at home to change before returning to the office; he didn’t want to have to explain to Lana why he reeked of cigarettes and stale beer.

  Michael had just maneuvered his car into his driveway when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Okay… I’ll do it.”

  Dark, angry clouds lingered above the island, stretching its somber arms south toward the approaching tropical storm. The wind was steady at ten miles per hour with gusts nearing twenty. Choppy conditions had made for an interesting boat parade, the normally calm Gulf reminding onlookers that beneath its serene surface lay robust power and strength.

  Lana stood on the pier along with Kendall and Olivia as boats decorated in red, white, and blue traveled in single file, drivers carefully maneuvering their vessels through the tumultuous Gulf while judges scored their decorative creativity.

  Randall’s Boston Whaler was toward the end of the pack, she knew this because she’d checked the order that morning. Swags of patriotic colors lined the edge of the boat, an American flag attached to the back flapped furiously in the wind. The moment she clapped eyes on him her heart kicked an extra beat. His black hair blew in the steady breeze, his strong hands gripping the wheel tight, causing the corded muscles in his forearms to bulge.

  She had no idea what was happening between them. Last night marked the fifth night in a row Randall had been absent from her bed. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. They’d both been terribly busy the last week in preparation for today, and after laboring on his boat in the hot sun all day, he’d probably been too tired to toil with her beneath the sheets.

  And yet…

  She still had an inkling there was more to it than that. Tonight, after the stress of the previous month was finally behind them, they needed to talk. She needed to know where they stood—if there even was a “them” anymore.

  “Oh, there he is”, Kendall uttered excitedly, pointing at Randall. She nudged Olivia with her elbow. “I hope you’re getting some good close ups.”

  Olivia’s Nikon clicked repeatedly as she twisted the long lens. “Well, if you stop clobberin’ me with your elbow, I might be able to!”

  “Sorry”, she murmured, retracting her arms close to her body. “It just…I’m so excited for him! He’s wanted that boat for years.”

  Lana’s gaze landed on Randall again. Dark shades covered his eyes, but she didn’t need to see his steel-gray orbs to know they were looking at her. She could almost feel them whispering over her skin. And then the corners of his mouth lifted. It was subtle—no one on the crowded pier probably caught it—but Lana knew that smile was meant just for her.

  It was exactly what she’d needed at that moment. She’d been riding a rollercoaster of emotions all day, dizzy with highs and lows, but somehow just the mere sight of him calmed her turbulent mind.

  “All right, ladies, I’d love to stick around for the rest of the parade, but I have to meet the auctioneer in front of the stage at eleven-thirty.”

  “You want us to come with you?” Olivia asked.

  A wave of emotion took hold of her. Her friends sensed the struggle she’d been grappling with all morning, sensed she was teetering on a slippery slope of sadness. Lana swallowed the lump that’d suddenly lodged in her throat, shaking her head. “No, I… I’ll be fine. You guys stay here, finish watching the parade. I’ll catch up with you after the auction.”

  “You sure?” Kendall asked. “We really don’t mind.”

  “Positive.” Lana backed away from the railing, forcing her trembling lips into a smile.

  Pull yourself together, Lana.

  Pivoting, she burrowed through the crowd with her head down, knowing just one sympathetic look from a concerned bystander would undermine her frail facade. Because when that first teardrop fell, she knew she’d be powerless to stop the avalanche of tears that followed.

  Utterly powerless.

  With most of the town settled into a semi-circle in front of the small, modular platform, Lana shuffled forward on wobbly legs, halting when she reached the podium at center stage. A prickle of awareness crept down her spine, the same cold, eerie sensation she’d felt before—only sharper, stronger. The unyielding sensation intensified as she adjusted the microphone closer to her mouth with quivering hands.

  Her heart beat roared like rolling thunder.

  Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Faster and faster.

  Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

  Lana worked the muscles in her throat, trying to swallow, trying to find her voice.

  Her knees wobbled again—they’d buckle if she didn’t clutch onto something sturdy.

  She palmed the edges of the small podium in front of her for stability while her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the one person she knew would settle the panic threatening to consume her. But there were so many people.

  “You all right, darlin’?” Someone yelled from the crowd.

  “Y-yes, yes I’m… I’m fine”, she answered feebly. “I’m just… overwhelmed. Really, I… I can’t tell you want it means to me that you’re all here. And I know Jimmy would—”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, stop the grieving widow routine, already, will ya?” said a voice from the front row.

  Lana’s eyes homed in on said voice, but somehow her brain was having difficulty believing her eyes.

  Jenny stood now, auburn hair whipping in the wind, arms crossed, satisfaction practically seeping from her pores. “Jimmy’s casket was barely lowered into the ground before you started whoring around.”

  “What?—Th-that’s not true!”

  “You mean, all those late nights at the office, secret romantic dinners with the mayor were—”

  “My late nights at the office were spent catching up on work!” she shouted breathlessly, gripping the podium tighter.

  Jenny stroked her chin sarcastically. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  “I… I never… You know how much I loved Jimmy.”

  “Of course, you loved him. I’m just merely pointing out to everyone how quickly you managed to get over—”

  “How. Dare. You”, she seethed. “My relationship with Mayor Cliffburg is completely platonic!”

  Blood roared in her ears.

  Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

  Moisture clouded her vision, although not enough to obscure the shocked expressions worn by the audience. Cold sweat trickled down her neck. She shivered.

  “What about Randall Burns?” Jenny asked, her ice-cold eyes narrowing.

  “What about me?”

  The crowd gasped as Randall and Tommy suddenly appeared from the edge of the crowd. Lana’s eyes darted to Randall as if pleading for him to do something. But with so many people huddled around the makeshift stage, crowd-surfing was likely his only hope in getting to Jenny in time.

  Jenny’s vengeful gaze never left La
na’s. In fact, a hint of a crooked smile splayed across her lips. “Your relationship strictly platonic”—she emphasized with air quotes—“with him? Huh?”

  Silence settled over the crowd, waiting for Lana to deny the accusation. She opened her mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it.

  What could she say?—Jenny was right. Her relationship with Randall was anything but platonic.

  Just then Lana caught a glimpse of her mother and her son. Her mother’s hands were resting on Connor’s tiny shoulders while his head turned from side-to-side, his six-year-old mind desperately trying to figure out why everyone looked so angry.

  Desperately trying to grasp why everyone was so mad at his mommy…

  “Yeah”, Jenny jived, “didn’t think so.”

  Vision blurred, breaths quick and shallow, Lana backed away from the podium.

  Oh, God. Oh, God!

  A sob escaped her trembling lips.

  Run!

  Palm covering her mouth, Lana bolted from the stage, fleeing the chaos and confusion spreading through the crowd. She ran as fast as her shuddering legs would allow.

  “Lana!”

  Don’t stop. Must get out of here!

  Her car finally in sight, Lana snatched the keys from her pocket.

  “Damn it, Lana—wait!”

  Can’t. Must go!

  Lana turned the ignition, the distant sound of tires squealing behind her. She just needed to make it home. And then she could fall to pieces.

  Chapter 29

  Randall sprinted to his truck, his wheels cloning the path taken by the small Corolla moments ago.

  His mind was still frantically trying to piece together what’d just happened. After the boat parade he’d loaded his Boston Whaler onto the trailer, securing the vessel before hauling it from the choppy Gulf with the intention of storing it in Mr. Morgan’s boat warehouse during the storm. He’d then driven to the beach, expecting to find the charity auction already in full swing.