Panty Dropper

by Shawn, Melanie

  I’d ditched my bridal shower dress and was rocking a maxi dress with spaghetti straps and ballet flats. Back home, it would’ve been perfectly acceptable if I’d been going to a New England-style crab feed, but here in Firefly, I stuck out like an overdressed sore thumb.

  “This is crazy!” I exclaimed, dropping my arms back down to my sides.

  Since moving down here a week ago, I’d heard people talking about the insanity that was spring break in Firefly, but I had to admit I’d underestimated the event by a long shot.

  “I know, right!?” she shouted to be heard. “Come on!”

  With that command, she wrapped her fingers around my wrist and held on as she went back the way she’d come. I trailed behind her as she shoved people to clear a path. I kept my head down and tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she bulldozed her way through.

  When we finally came to a stop, I lifted my head and saw that we were standing in front of a booth that read Moore Farms Moonshine. Nadia was handing over a twenty to the woman that Cheyenne had said was her preschool teacher, Mrs. Rhonda.

  Nadia dropped my hand and made the peace sign. “Two sweet teas, please.”

  Sweet teas. This must be what Billy had warned me about.

  The woman gave Nadia some change before handing her two mason jars with floating lemon slices and a white and red swirled straw sticking out of each of them. Nadia was on the move again, then, and I trailed behind her like a gosling following her mama goose.

  She led us to a bench with our backs toward the water, looking out on the dance floor in front of the stage where the band was playing. The noise level was still in the loud range, but in this spot we were able to hold a conversation without screaming.

  “Here you go.” Nadia passed me one of the glasses. “Cheers, to your new life in Firefly!”

  We clinked our beverages and before the straw touched my lips, my friend warned, “Be careful, it’s strong.”

  I’ve heard. I took a sip, bracing myself for an intense alcohol taste. But I was surprised to find the drink light and refreshing. So I took another drink. It was then that I realized I’d been so busy today after Billy dropped me off at the boarding house that I hadn’t drunk or ate anything since Cheyenne’s treats that morning.

  As if reading my mind, Nadia leaned toward me. “So, I heard that Billy picked you up this morning at Mrs. B’s.”

  “You did?”

  It shouldn’t surprise me. This town’s gossip train was a locomotive running at full speed. It seemed everyone’s moves were documented for posterity. Usually, I wouldn’t care, but I didn’t want Nadia to get the wrong idea—or worse, the right one.

  My arrangement with Billy was private. And as much as I trusted my friend, I knew the only way to keep it that way was to deny any benefits of our friendship were taking place. “Yeah, he did. I asked Cheyenne to go along, but she was busy. He wanted to show me his property.”

  Nadia wagged her brows. “Oh, I bet he did.”

  “Ha ha.” I acted as if she were being ridiculous, when in reality, her innuendo was right on the money. “I’m serious. It’s out past the water tower. It has a wrap-around porch and everything.”

  “Out past the water tower,” she repeated, as her eyes widened. “Spoken like a true townie. You’re startin’ to know your way around here.”

  “Because I noticed that we drove past a hundred and fifty foot structure?”

  “Yes!” Nadia held her cup out for another cheers. “To Firefly becoming your home.”

  “To Firefly,” I humored her and tapped my glass with hers.

  I was sipping another drink when a shadow fell over me.

  I glanced up and saw the sun blocker was a wide shouldered, stubble cheeked, cowboy who we’d passed on the way through the crowd. He dipped his hat toward us, revealing a thick head of dirty blonde hair. “Would either of you ladies care to dance?”

  Nadia’s gaze cut toward me. Our eyes locked and with only a few facial expressions we silently communicated the following conversation in a matter of seconds.

  Her brows rose as she asked, “Do you want to?”

  A crinkle of my nose told her, “No. I’m good.”

  Her head tilted, questioning, “Are you okay if I go?”

  My response was to grab her drink, informing her, “Go for it.”

  The smile that spread across her face replied, “Thanks.”

  I watched Nadia take the strapping, flannel wearing man’s hand and follow him onto the dance floor. They made a cute couple. He stood a good head taller than Nadia’s five foot six, and since that head was covered in hair, I knew that he already had one thing going for him. The duo seamlessly joined the other couples spinning and dipping in time to the music.

  My mind immediately pictured Billy and me out on the dance floor. I had to admit that I was disappointed he wasn’t there.

  No. I shook off the thought. I was not going to keep going there. Me having a good time had nothing to do with Billy Comfort, one way or the other.

  People watching had always been one of my favorite pastimes, and the spot I was in gave me ample opportunity to do just that. My foot tapped to the lively music as I sipped the delicious drink.

  An odd feeling settled over me and it took me a moment to figure out what it was. For the first time I could remember I was actually relaxing. For all of my teen and adult years, my schedule was always penciled in months in advance.

  Since coming to Firefly, the stark lifestyle change had highlighted the fact that I’d been living a hamster wheel existence.

  Blaine had never had a problem filling his downtime by unplugging and relaxing. I, on the other hand, had never mastered that ability. I used any “free time” I had to listen to educational or inspirational books or podcasts. In Manhattan, the rat race was the norm. Down here in Firefly, the pace was much slower and I was finding it easier and easier to slip into that mode.

  Mindless. That was how I felt as I watched everyone dancing, laughing, and talking on the pier as I sipped my delicious moonshine sweet tea. And, as was the case whenever I found myself not actively concentrating on something, my thoughts wandered to Billy.

  My relationship, if one could even call it that, with him was another glaring example of how much I’d changed since moving here. In the past, I’d always treated my private life the same way I’d treated my professional life. I had goals, and plans, and was working toward something.

  Even before Blaine, I’d never had any casual relationships. I’d decided senior year that I didn’t want to go to college a virgin, so I dated Craig Timmons for six months with the sole purpose of deflowerment. In college, I’d dated Owen Naffari for a year in a quest to understand the male mind. It was basically a twelve-month research project. And finally, I’d dated and gotten engaged to Blaine because he checked all the boxes for what I wanted in a mate according to my long-term life plan.

  I’d never had a relationship that was based on emotional connection or physical desire. I’d grown up with my mother choosing men for those reasons and I’d sworn that would never be me. But with Billy, that was all that there was.

  I was so lost in doing nothing, that when a sweaty, smiling Nadia plopped down beside me, I jumped.

  “Look who I found!”

  She pointed beside her and it took a second before Cheyenne’s fuzzy face came into focus, “Hi!” I said, louder than I’d meant to speak. When I lifted my arm to wave, I realized that it felt heavier than normal.

  “Holy shit!” Nadia lifted up the glasses that were on the bench between us. “Did you drink both of these?”

  I stared at the mason jars and blinked. Had I? I’d been sipping my drink as I sat and people watched. I thought that I’d only finished one, but the evidence told a different story.

  “I guess I did. I’m sorry.” I hiccupped and started to stand. “I’ll get you another one.”

  “No!” Nadia grabbed my arm holding me in place. “I think you better just stay here.”
<
br />   “Would any of you ladies like to dance?” I looked over and saw one of the men I’d met the first night I’d gone to Southern Comfort. His name was either Mark or Jerry, I couldn’t remember which one.

  “We’re good Mark, but thanks,” Nadia answered.

  Mark! That was it.

  “I would love to dance, Mark!” I heard myself say.

  The next thing I knew I was on the dance floor. Music playing, lights were flashing as I spun around. Or maybe I was still and the world was spinning. I didn’t know. All I knew for sure was I wished that the arms that were holding me were Billy’s and not Mark’s.

  CHAPTER 33

  Billy

  “Is it true that your nickname is Panty Dropper?” A sexy redhead leaned across the bar revealing cleavage that would make a eunuch sweat.

  “Nah, that’s not me,” I lied.

  In a way, I was telling the truth. I wasn’t that man anymore. I wanted to be different. I was different.

  “Are you sure? That’s what a little birdie told me.” She giggled. “I mean that literally. The bird by the pool tables called you that when you walked by.”

  I was going to wring Jimmy’s neck for teachin’ that damn parrot to call me that. He’d done it over a year ago, and I still couldn’t figure out how to get the bird to stop.

  “You can’t believe anything Skittles says.” I rotated the margarita glass in the salt tray, turned it over and poured Jessica Rabbit’s chilled tequila, Cointreau, and lime juice from the cocktail shaker into the glass. As I set her drink in front of her she slid a cocktail napkin with a number written on it toward me.

  I gave her a grin and a wink as I dragged it across the bar top and stuck it in my pocket. I may have had no intention to use it, but that was no reason to fuck up my tips.

  “’Scuse me.” Nicole reached across my chest to grab two pint glasses.

  I stepped back and bumped into Sam who was grabbing a bottle of Jim Beam from a shelf behind me. Things were a little tight behind the bar. Cash and I had a system down when it was just the two of us, we were a well-oiled machine. But tonight, the two bartenders that I’d hired seasonally part-time for the past four years were both sharing the space with us.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I moved to the end of the bar and pulled it out, hoping that it would be Reagan. I’d dropped her off five hours ago and hadn’t stopped thinking of her since. I knew that she was meeting Nadia down at the pier, but I’d held out hope that she’d stop by the bar tonight.

  To my dismay, it wasn’t Reagan saying she was on her way. It was a message from Jimmy. I almost put my phone back, thinking I’d read it later, when a photo came through. It was of a group of people dancing. I scrolled up to see what the text had said.

  Just thought you might want to know that Reagan is out on the dance floor with Mack Daddy Mark and she can barely stand up.

  I checked the photo again and this time I spotted Reagan. She was wearing a long red dress and Mark’s arms were around her waist and it looked like he was holding her up.

  Tiny bubbles appeared on my screen before another message came through.

  Oh, and she’s been asking for you…

  For me? Without giving it a second thought, I ducked under the bar flap and headed out back, waving to Cash who was working the outdoor bar on the patio.

  “I’m headin’ out.”

  My friend nodded in acknowledgment even as his eyes narrowed. “You comin’ back?”

  “Yeah.” As much as I wanted to say no, there was no way I could bounce on one of our busiest nights of the year. Once everything shut down at the pier, we were always slammed by people wanting to continue the party.

  I jumped in my truck and took a service road down to the water, avoiding the traffic jam on the main drag. I made it down there in just a few minutes time and entered the employee and vendor gate at the docks. Access to this lot was one of the perks of Jimmy owning the tour boat business.

  I’m here. Where is she? I texted as I took the stairs up from the beach two at a time. There were hundreds of people on the pier, it would’ve been like finding a needle in a haystack.

  Damn, you got here quick. Jimmy texted back.

  I’d just reached the top when I saw that I no longer needed my brother for Reagan GPS. She was sitting on a bench between Nadia and Cheyenne. I stalked up to the trio and demanded, “How much did she drink?”

  Reagan lifted her head and smiled. “Hi! I yus juzz talkin’ bout you,” she slurred.

  “She keeps stopping people and asking if they know you,” Cheyenne explained.

  “And a surprising number of women say yes,” Nadia interjected with a smirk.

  “How much has she had to drink?” I asked again.

  Reagan lifted her arm and held up her middle and forefinger. “Two. Only two.”

  “Two mason jars of sweet tea moonshine.” Nadia clarified.

  “Shit.” One glass of that stuff got me lit, and two would knock me on my ass. I’d warned her about it, but apparently she hadn’t taken me seriously.

  “I know,” Nadia agreed.

  “I can’t believe she’s still standing. What about you? Are you okay?” I asked my sister.

  Her eyes widened as she lifted her hands, palms facing me. “After the other night, I’ve given up drinking. At least for now.”

  “And you?” I checked with Nadia. Dealing with getting one drunk person home I could do, if I had more than one, I’d need to text Jimmy for backup.

  She held up a half-full glass jar. “She finished off my first drink and I’ve only had half of this one. And just that has me a little buzzed.”

  Reagan hiccup-burped and then moaned, holding her stomach and looking a little green. I had a feeling that she was about to be sick and I doubted she’d want to do that with so many witnesses.

  “Can she walk?” I asked.

  “Not well,” Nadia said flatly.

  “I’ll get her home safe.” I scooped her up, and she giggled and hiccupped again. I just hoped that she didn’t toss her cookies, or whatever she ate all over me.

  “No funny business, William S. Comfort.” Nadia stood and pointed her finger at me using my middle initial. She probably would’ve used my middle name but no one knew it. Except Hank, that is. I didn’t even think Jimmy knew it. “No panty dropping!”

  I just stared at her. Nadia had known me since primary school. “Do you actually think I would take advantage of som—”

  “No! Sorry!” she shouted about ten decibels louder than was appropriate but then lowered her voice to just above a whisper as she cringed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you and for thinking, or no saying, or whatever. I’m sorry, I know you would never… I told you, I’m buzzed,” she shrugged.

  Maybe I would need to call for backup after all.

  As if reading my mind, Cheyenne threaded her arm through Nadia’s. “I’m crashing at Nadia’s tonight. I’ll text you when we get there.”

  “Thanks, Shadow.” I turned and carried Reagan down the stairs that led to the beach and then back to the employee and vendor parking lot.

  “Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy.” Reagan repeated my name over and over until I put her in my truck.

  I got her buckled in and when she fell silent, I looked up and saw that her head was resting back and her eyes were closed.

  “I see you found her.”

  Jimmy’s voice sounded behind me. I made sure that Reagan’s arms, legs, and dress were all safely in the vehicle before quietly shutting the door. When I turned, I saw a shit-eating grin spread across my brother’s face.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I ignored the clear amusement he was getting out of this.

  He shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day that the man, the myth, the legend, Billy Panty Dropper Comfort would drop everything and come runnin’ for a girl.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

  “I really am.” His smile widened but then dropped. “Except, shit. No
w I owe Hank a Benjamin.”

  “What?” I asked, only half paying attention as I walked around to my side of the truck.

  “I bet Hank a C-note at Pop’s memorial that you weren’t in love with Reagan.”

  In love?

  What the hell? My brothers and I never talked about the L word. We barely said it to each other, not that often, and never in the context of a female.

  “After I showed Abernathy the door, I asked where you were and he said that you left with Reagan. I tried to go find you right then, to calm you down, but he stopped me. He said that Reagan could handle it. I asked, how the hell he figured and old Hank said that I’d be surprised what love could do. I thought he was full of shit, so I bet him one hundred dollars that he was wrong.”

  I started to argue with him, but didn’t have the words. So instead, opened the door, hopped up, and rolled down the windows, hoping that the fresh air might help Reagan not to upchuck. When I started to pull out, I saw that Jimmy took off his Braves baseball hat and held it against his chest, a somber expression on his face.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I called out.

  “Showin’ my respect with a moment of silence for the end of an era. The Panty Dropper has dropped his last panties.”

  “Dumbass,” I mumbled as a smile spread on my face.

  As I drove back down the service road I wondered what would’ve possessed Hank to say that about Reagan. He hadn’t said anything to me, not that he would’ve. It was Hank, after all.

  Love. That was such a big word. I knew that Reagan was different, but love? Did I even believe in love?

  My father’s warnings played in my head.

  “Don’t ever fall in love, Billy Boy.”

  “If you learn anything from your old man, please, don’t fall in love.”

  “The Comfort Curse is real! Love is a death sentence.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t fall in love.”

  After my mom died, every time he got drunk—which basically happened on a daily basis—he’d try and drill it into my head not to fall in love. It was pretty much the only rule he ever had in our house. He didn’t give a shit if we skipped school, got arrested, did drugs…but if he thought that one of us was getting serious about a girl, he lost his shit.