Role of a Lifetime: Out of Hollywood Romance

by Cora Davies

  "He's barely said a word to you, or you've barely said a word to him? I wish you would just tell me what happened at prom." Rachel pressed the palms of her hands together to beg. The two women did not run in the same group in high school, and when they became friends a few years ago, Molly never told Rachel why she and Jack had broken up.

  "Water under the bridge, it's been ten years," Molly lied. Molly knew Jack was still mad at her for her mistake all those years ago. There was no reason he would ever try and talk to her again.

  "Then you should be able to move past it. I've seen the way he looks at you." Rachel poked Molly's arm. "He tries to get me to talk about you when I'm at the bar, he thinks he's being slick, but he's not. He still has the hots for you."

  "One, I seriously doubt that. And two, I’m in a relationship with Jeremy. So even if Jack was interested, it really doesn't matter."

  "Oh damn Jeremy. I don't know why you still call that a relationship. He doesn't even live here anymore!" Rachel looked away from her friend to flick a piece of evergreen off her sweater. "Besides, he's kind of becoming an asshole."

  "It's a long distance thing. Many long distance relationships work." Molly ignored the part about Jeremy becoming an asshole. She had been noticing a change in him too since his last promotion, but it was just because of all the stress at work.

  "No they don't, name one couple we know who made a long distance relationship work," Rachel rolled her eyes.

  "Me and Jeremy!" Molly stuck her tongue out.

  "He rarely even comes to visit," Rachel said. "If he really loved you, he'd be here every weekend instead of staying in the city."

  "He works a lot. And hey! How did we even get on the subject of my love life from that?" Molly jabbed the window pointing towards Jack's bar but jumped back in surprise when she realized it was not her own reflection looking back.

  There was a man staring at the women through the window. He looked to be in his early forties, wearing a sloppy suit and wavering on his feet. Obviously drunk, he probably came straight from Jack's. He was looking right at Molly, and something frightened her about his eyes.

  "Hey get Brian on the phone would you?" Molly heard the fear creep into her voice as Rachel pulled out her cell phone to call her boyfriend. Most of the men who drank at Jack's bar were local, fishermen, married, and harmless. She had never seen this man before and did not like the way he was staring at her. He leaned his sweaty forehead against the glass.

  "Hey there pretty ladies, why don't you open up?" he said just audible through the glass. As he reached for the door handle Molly's throat seemed to close up and her heart thudded violently against her rib cage. Had she locked the door after shutting it? She ran the couple feet to the door and checked the lock just as he began to turn the handle.

  The brass knob jiggled back and forth, but thankfully the door did not budge. Molly let out a sigh of relief at small favors.

  "He's not answering," Rachel said, her voice shaking. Brian was her boyfriend, a police officer, and married to another woman. If he was not answering, there was no telling where he could be.

  Both girls jumped and shrieked as Rachel's phone ring tone belted out a top forty pop hit. Rachel quickly answered.

  "Brian? Come to Molly's shop right now, or send someone if you can't come. There is a drunk guy trying to break in... No, I don't know who he is," Rachel put her phone back in her pocket. "He's at Jack's. He's coming right now."

  Chapter Two

  "Jack, you know you're just asking for trouble!" Brian Bishop laughed as he walked into the small bar, tapping the beer strand lights as he crossed the threshold. In his mid-thirties, the policeman was a regular at Jack's after his shift, and it was still a surprise to Jack that the constant diet of fried food and beer did not age him faster. Brian was tall and lanky but healthy looking for his age, with a dark buzz cut.

  Jack momentarily raised his hands in a surrender sign. "Now, I looked them up, and the brand is actually made in Dickens, Ohio." Jack handed Brian a beer as the men seated at the bar's counter laughed at Jack's joke. Brian took his regular seat closest to the register and gave Jack a quick salute.

  If only it's enough trouble to bring her across the street. Jack's broad shoulders, dark messy hair, green eyes, and a leftover Georgia accent was enough to bring a few women into the bar, but Molly had not come in once. If only he could show her he how he had changed.

  Jack took a five-dollar bill from Brian and when he turned around with change, Brian waved it away. "Thanks."

  Brian busied himself in conversation with the two men sitting next to him. Jack ran his rag across the counter looking around the room. He was proud of his business. Only two years old and already turning a nice profit every month. He was grateful he decided to skip the fancy decorator- who was going to charge thirty thousand dollars to decorate his bar in the old seaside bar look. Instead, he had spent the months before the grand opening driving all over the state to buy items from auctions, yard sales, and second-hand stores. For less than five thousand bucks, he created a true and authentic old seaside bar look instead of a manufactured one.

  Old helms, fishing trophies, and framed photographs of tall tales and seaside heroes framed the walls. The scent of leather from the seats, the creaky wood flooring rescued from old docks, and the flavorful beer, both imported and brewed by Jack, were like home. A home he was considering selling this spring to buy into a brewery upstate with an old friend.

  Several locations were available when he was ready to purchase a building for the bar, but when he saw Molly Smith lived across the street from this one, his mind was made up instantly. He had not admitted even to himself that she was part of the reason he bought this place until he saw her with her boyfriend for the first time. Then that awful old pit in the stomach resurfaced, and he remembered. Molly was off limits. He realized his mistake when he saw them walk down Main Street hand in hand one sunny spring evening- Jack was chasing after a dream he could never have again.

  She had barely said a word to him in the two years they lived and worked across the street from each other. Not that he had really tried to talk to her after he saw her with Jeremy that first time.

  He poured himself a small glass of his own house brew and breathed in both the stout and sweet aromas of the blend. His recipes were his ticket out of this town, and his ticket away from seeing the woman who could never love him. Not after what he had done. He took a sip and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. "Hey Brian, you want to name this one for me?"

  He poured Brian a glass and slid it down the counter. Paul Donner whined, "How come he gets a free beer?"

  "Police, what can I say?" Jack laughed but then poured small glasses for the rest of the men sitting at the counter.

  "Mmmm, man, you know this reminds me of? You probably don't want to hear it," Brian closed his eyes. "Christmas."

  "You just got Christmas on the brain man- but I guarantee there are no plastic trees or spoiled little rich kids in there." Jack pushed his sleeves up and leaned against the back counter.

  Brian sat up straight. "Well Scrooge, what would you call it?"

  "That's why I asked you." Jack would prefer to name all his blends after himself and add a number afterward to distinguish them. But his brewery partner wanted distinct names. "But no Christmas shit. Not in here."

  "What about when it turns into Dickens Village out there?" Brian asked as the few patrons quieted down to listen.

  "Then I hang a sign on the door that says Bah Humbug." The regulars roared with laughter, but Jack tapped his fingers on the counter and wondered if he could get away with it. After all, he barely turned a profit during the past two Dickens festivals. Why not keep the Christmas crazies out?

  Jack walked to a corner booth where the only stranger in the bar had sat all night. It was pretty normal for the place to be filled with tourists in the summer months, but in the winter, it was rare to see someone who was not a local. Even during Dickens. Especially during Dick
ens. The man polished off two pitchers of beer over the past hour, and it looked like it was hitting him. Jack set down a glass of water and watched as the man downed it.

  "I'll bring you another. Can I get you something to eat?" The man shook his head laying cash on the table. He stood, wavering on his feet and Jack cringed slightly as he felt an argument coming on.

  "Gotta go," he said, loosening the tie at his throat. He smelled like beer, but like something else, too. Something foul. Jack wondered when was the last time the man had a shower.

  "You can't drive like this," Jack said, waiting for the awkward key retrieval. Most of the guys were good about having just a beer or two, or grabbing a ride home when they had too much. Occasionally, there was an incident when Jack had to wrestle keys away from someone who had had too much. But to Jack's relief, the man seemed to agree.

  "You got that right, I ain't driving nowhere," the stranger laughed. "Hotel nearby?"

  "There's an inn about three blocks up that way. You think you can walk that far?" Jack raised his eyebrow. The man seemed to be a little steadier now. "I'm sure someone would walk with you if you want."

  "Nah," he shook his head. “I got it.”

  "It's a cold night. It doesn't look like you're dressed for the weather," Jack looked over towards Brian to see if he was paying attention to the exchange. The police officer was still deep in conversation with Paul.

  "Do a man good to walk a little. Sober me up." The stranger pulled a beanie over his head and began to walk towards the door. "You said that way right?"

  "Yeah." Jack nodded and the stranger pulled open the door and walked out into the night.

  "Who was that?" Someone asked, but Jack just shook his head. There was something about the man he did not like. He did not care who he was, but hoped he was gone tomorrow.

  "Probably another overindulgent drunk artist." Brian said, and that seemed to satisfy everyone's curiosity. The beauty of the mountains and ocean, along with the seclusion of the town, brought the artists out occasionally during offseason. Last winter there was a guy staying at the inn who was writing the Great American Novel. Barely twenty-one, Jack remembered he ended up just drinking in the bar most nights instead of writing.

  "So how are things going with Bianca and Rachel?" Jack settled in across the counter from Brian. Most of the town knew about Brian's affair with Rachel, and hell, Bianca probably did too. Jack did not approve of what Brian was doing, but he did feel sorry for the man in a way. Brian was torn between the woman he fell in love with in high school and the woman he loved now. Jack also knew it was why Brian was in the bar several evenings a week while his wife thought he was working. The girlfriend, Rachel, worked across the street at Molly's, and Brian often picked her up after her shift. Brian's home was a town away, so he did not worry much about being caught red handed.

  "I'm not talking about that with you, I don't need the guilt trip tonight," Brian grumbled. "Why don't you tell me how things are going for you and Molly?"

  "Things are not going for Molly and me, and I don't know why people think they are," Jack's good mood instantly darkened.

  "She lives across the street,” Brian said before draining his glass.

  "We haven't been together for ten years." Jack fumed as he thought about prom night. Molly witnessed something he never thought he was capable of and walked out on him. He had to spend the last two months at school begging for her forgiveness, but she refused to speak to him. His heart sunk just thinking about that night, and as always, he chased the depression away by compartmentalizing it.

  Just like when he ran into her at the gas station a few months after she graduated from college. She was dating Eli at the time, and Jack could barely look at her after he saw Eli's arm around her. When he realized all those old feelings were back, or had maybe never gone away in the first place, he finally took his uncle up on his offer to work on his boat in Alaska. Jack never looked back until a few years ago when his father died. He had been able to stick Molly away in a different compartment, but he could not do that with his father's death.

  "You gonna get that?" Jack asked, pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Brian's phone playing Jingle Bells in a sexy woman's voice.

  "It's Rachel. That's her singing too," Brian said chuckling. "So, where did you just go?"

  "Huh?"

  "I say Molly's name and you completely zone out for two minutes," Brian said spinning his phone between his fingers.

  "No, I didn't," Jack said. Then as Brian's phone began to ring again, "Answer your fucking phone, your ring tone is pissing me off."

  Jack turned his back to Brian to visit his other patrons and see who needed a refill. He looked over just in time to see an angry Brian shove his phone in his pocket and run out the door without his hat or keys. Jack grabbed them off the counter and followed Brian into the cold winter air.

  Chapter Three

  "I think he's coming," Molly said concentrating over the stranger's shoulder across the street. Light from the bar spilled on the freshly fallen snow, disappeared, then reappeared again. Molly saw Brian's distinct tall frame, and thought she saw another man walking behind him. She could not tell who followed Brian because suddenly the stranger pressed his body against the glass, and took up most of the window frame. She backed away from the door knowing a piece of glass would not keep them safe.

  "Good evening sir," she heard Brian's voice muffled through the door, and Molly vowed to replace the too thin glass for a thicker piece as soon as possible. Molly reached under the counter for her winter jacket she stashed there this afternoon before the chill had completely set in.

  "What are you doing Mols?" Rachel squeaked. "You aren't going out there are you?"

  "Yes. Yes, I am. What if I want to press charges?" Molly said digging around in the sea of scarves and hats for two that looked extra warm.

  "You can't press charges on someone for smudging your window and looking creepy. You know Brian is just going to scare him off," but Rachel was wrapping herself up in her own scarf as she spoke. The two women approached the door, and after confirming the stranger was a few feet away with Brian, Molly threw the door open. The icy blast stung her still bare hands as she worked the red mittens on.

  "Brian! Thank you for coming so fast and for bringing-" she looked at the other man and froze as she saw Jack standing on the sidewalk right outside of her business. Standing there like he belonged there, on her side of the street. His jeans were tighter than she remembered him wearing, years had filled the once small frame into a muscular one, and her eyes trailed across his profiled butt. He dressed like a townie fisherman in his brown beanie that his dark messy hair peeked out from the bottom edges. He was clean shaven, and she realized she missed the goatee he kept in high school. His white t-shirt has the words Jack's Bar across the front with a ship wheel underneath. It was the same design she had seen him wear every time she saw him since he bought the bar. He was pulling his long sleeved green flannel tight against his abs and chest as he buttoned it. An image flashed by Molly's mind of Jack on his pull-up bar he hung above his apartment window, only shorts on. She only peeked a few times. A day.

  As Molly inspected his body as slow as she thought she could get away with, she was not surprised to feel the stirring within her soul caused by being so close to him. The few times he had been this nearby in the past few years, the feeling had been the same. Angry he had never forgiven her for her mistake, no matter how much the evidence had been stacked. The anger never lasted too long. No, it was always pushed aside quickly for pure fantasy, and the desire to run to him and run her hands up his strong hard arms.

  She felt something sharp in her side and realized Rachel was nudging her. Molly saw her friend's pointed look towards Jack and Brian. The men's focus was on the stranger, and Rachel's glare told Molly she should be paying attention, too.

  "Can we give you a ride somewhere sir?" Brian asked.

  "No, I'm just going to that Inn down there." The man swayed and his le
ft knee buckled. He began to topple over, but Jack caught him before he hit the ground, and helped him stand back up. "Thank you. As I was saying- I was walking back to the hotel and I spotted this store, and thought what a nice place to grab the old ball and chain a gift before I leave town."

  The man, now standing on his own two feet, pointed at his wedding ring. Molly relaxed, but only a little. Just because a man was married, did not make him honest. As the man stared her down, she felt a strong urge to hide behind Jack, no matter how much he hated her.

  "Alright, well, we're going to take you for a ride to the hotel anyway. And then tomorrow, after you've sobered up you can come back and buy what you want to buy," Brian pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Rachel. "I'll get him in the back, you're driving."

  "Um," Rachel looked around as though he were talking to someone else she could not see. "Are you sure?"

  "I've had a couple beers, can't drive the cruiser." Brian put a hand on Rachel's back. Molly had a pull inside of her between annoyance for her friend that she could not have the entirety of the man she loved, and joy for her friend for a public gesture. "The hotel is just a couple blocks away, no one will see."

  Rachel nodded, looked pleased with herself as if she had just won some small trophy. Brian placed his hand on the stranger's back to guide him towards the cruiser, and Rachel followed.

  "I'm sorry Brian made you come out here," Molly said to Jack but did not take her eyes off the stranger.

  "Brian didn't make me do anything," Jack said sounding defensive. The silence that came next was as thick as the frigid air. Molly searched for something more to say, and as she glanced across the street she remembered the Christmas beer lights.

  "Did you get my Dickens flier?" Jack turned around and looked into her eyes for the first time that night, and if she was honest with herself, probably for the first time in years. His penetrating glare rode deep into her eyes, and she had to force herself to not look away from the emerald green. She cursed herself as her knees went weak. "The flier about what we can and can't decorate the outside of our store fronts with?"