Beautiful Mess

by Herrick, John

  One man, a burly sort who looked as though he’d stopped for a drink on his way home from a day of hard labor at the gym, tensed his shoulders when Nora’s drink splashed him. He inspected the woman with whom he’d been having a conversation, wiped martini drops from her shoulder, then turned in a single step. Nora guessed he was in his mid-twenties and consumed protein shakes by the liter.

  Assessing the situation, the man took note of the jagged glass at Ben’s feet and eyed Nora’s empty martini glass. He gave Nora a protective perusal, then glared at Ben, who tried to mop his face with his shirt sleeve. Alcohol dripped from Ben’s hair onto his temples.

  Mr. Protein’s eyes narrowed, and Nora could tell he’d started to size up Ben already. The man’s face flushed plum purple.

  “What the hell, man? You got my girlfriend wet. The fuck’s the matter with you?”

  Ben tried to hold his ground, but from the way his pupils shrank, Nora could tell he wanted to recoil in terror. His eyes flicked toward Protein Guy’s biceps, then returned to the guy’s fuming glare.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he replied. “We’re good.”

  “Your face is all wet, dude.”

  “I’m cool, man. Let it go, okay?”

  Still stunned at what she’d done, Nora stood frozen. The man turned at the waist toward her and jabbed a stubby thumb in Ben’s direction. “This guy bothering you?”

  Before Nora could answer, Ben spoke up. “She’s fine. Why don’t you mind your own business? Okay, pal?”

  Bad idea.

  Now the man planted his feet so he could stare Ben down, face-to-face. He crossed his arms, muscles bulging beneath his T-shirt, a dagger tattoo peeking past one sleeve. Still gripping a longneck in one hand, he appeared ready to smash it across the back of Ben’s skull. Nora cringed.

  “You need a beating, pal?” A thick vein popped to attention and snaked along Protein’s neck.

  “We’re fine,” said Ben, who looked frustrated by the man’s refusal to move on. He held out one hand and added, “We were just leaving.”

  When Ben nudged Nora with his fingertips, she jerked away. Protein Guy noticed this and must have smelled trouble.

  “I don’t think she wants to go with you, pal.” And with that, he swiped Ben’s hand away from Nora.

  Ben’s jaw line flexed.

  People swarmed around them. Nora angled her face toward the ground and hoped nobody else recognized her. She sought a way to escape without anyone noticing, but unfortunately, courtesy of Ben, now she was the center of attention. From her five-feet-eight perspective, she couldn’t see above many onlookers’ shoulders, beyond the occasional gap that occurred as people shifted. Although tempted to escape, she didn’t want to see Ben beaten bloody, despite his aggression. The guy had had too many beers, that was all. Then again, she wondered if she should get out of there while she could. She eyed a route to the parking lot.

  But when she heard the first shriek from the crowd, she returned her attention to the antagonist and her knight in T-shirted armor. Protein Guy had grabbed Ben by the neck, and Nora tried—too late—to intercede. Ben must have made another smart comment or two while she wasn’t paying attention, because Protein Guy suddenly landed a meaty fist into Ben’s face.

  Ben stumbled backwards, hands flailing. The crowd gasped and herded closer to watch the fight ensue. Someone’s shoulder knocked the martini glass from Nora’s grasp. She tried to catch it, but the mass of bodies had engulfed it. Two seconds later, she heard the glass shatter on the ground.

  She tried to squirm away from the throng but couldn’t budge against the bodies packed together, who appeared to relish the spontaneous entertainment.

  She was trapped in a mob.

  CHAPTER 43

  PULLING OUT of the coffee shop’s parking lot, Tristan turned a corner and spotted a mob to his left, outside a Mexican restaurant, the one with the laughing jalapeno character. When a red light trapped him at the intersection, he rubbernecked to try to ascertain what was happening. At first, he assumed it was a special event, but on second glance, it almost appeared violent.

  In a flash, he caught sight of a young woman with raven hair and porcelain skin before the crowd engulfed her again.

  It couldn’t be…could it?

  She mentioned she frequented the coffee shop here, but not the Mexican restaurant.

  Nonetheless, his gut tugged him toward the mob.

  When the light turned green, Tristan veered to his left in the middle of the intersection, which triggered the blaring of a car horn behind him. He waved an apology and hoped a cop wasn’t sitting nearby. Courtesy of a green arrow giving full right of way to those making a left turn, he didn’t face oncoming traffic. His tires squealed on the asphalt as he accelerated into the parking lot.

  Tristan eased his car parallel to the restaurant’s patio, riding the brake so he could better scrutinize the scene.

  There she was again—the raven-haired woman he thought he’d seen! Sure enough, it was Nora.

  What is she doing? Why hasn’t she gotten out of there?

  Never mind the answer. Without further thought, Tristan put his car into park beside a yellow no-parking stripe, left the engine running, and hopped out. Having laid eyes on her a moment ago, he knew where to fight through the chaos. As packed together as people were, she couldn’t have moved far.

  Latin beats thumped from two large speakers, oblivious to the fact they now provided the soundtrack to a ruckus.

  People faced the center of the patio, bobbing to see over one another. A few half-drunk guys whooped and hollered, the way kids would at a fistfight in a schoolyard. Other people looked on with their mouths agape or covered with hands in shock.

  Tristan slid his arm between two individuals and shouted, “Excuse me! Coming through!”

  He wedged himself between them without waiting for accommodation. Poking his head between two more sweaty bodies, he caught sight of Nora again. Despite pressing his chest against those in front of him, he couldn’t budge forward. Nora must have been the center of attention. He wondered if someone had recognized her and started trouble. He couldn’t imagine it occurring here, but he needed to isolate her before she got hurt and before the police—or worse, a news van—showed up. People already had their cell phones out, shooting videos. When he caught sight of her again, he ducked low. Perhaps he could pull her through and avoid getting her face within view of the phone cameras.

  By sucking in his breath to narrow his stomach, he managed to gain an extra inch. Not much, but enough to lurch forward and grab her by the hand.

  A frightened Nora screamed. When she couldn’t retrieve her hand from his grip, she ducked, peered through the bodies to see who had seized her, and recognized Tristan.

  Tristan figured he couldn’t accelerate the situation by adding force, so on the count of three, he shoved one guy out of the way and pulled Nora through. This sent part of the crowed into a domino effect, causing the last person to stumble into one speaker, which sent it crashing to the floor. By that time, however, Nora and Tristan had pushed their way out of the patio enclosure.

  Tristan stopped, grabbed her by the shoulders. She appeared shaken.

  “Nora, are you okay?”

  At the sight of Tristan, a tear formed in her eye. Dumbfounded, she shook her head, not in answer to his question, but as if confused about what had happened.

  He didn’t know where her car was, but she seemed too shaken to drive. He decided to get her out of there before more trouble erupted for her. As it was, she’d started the day with problems: Tristan had seen her picture online, the one somebody had leaked earlier that morning.

  “Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he said. “We’ll swing by here later tonight and get your car.”

  Guiding her into the passenger seat, he shut the door, climbed behind the wheel, and sped away.

  CHAPTER 44

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, Nora and Tristan sat on her loveseat, her living room windows cracked open,
listening to the distant swish of trees. Twilight had settled in. To help herself relax, Nora had lit candles throughout the room. Candles reminded her of her aunt’s home while Nora was a child. They helped her maintain a sense of balance in her life.

  She felt calm in Tristan’s presence. He inspired in her a sense of security, and as she sneaked glances at those blue eyes, her heart told her he was a guy with romantic potential.

  At the moment, however, he looked unsure about being in her home. Although he tried to appear comfortable, he cracked his knuckles.

  Nora almost reached for his hand, then gave it a second thought.

  “Some happy hour that turned out to be,” she said instead. “Thanks for getting me out of that place. You had more sense than I did.”

  “No big deal,” he shrugged. “What happened over there?”

  “A stupid misunderstanding.” She rubbed the arms of her flannel shirt, which amplified her feeling of comfort.

  “Why did you go there?”

  Good question. Nora hadn’t considered the rationale behind it. She’s simply lunged into it.

  “I don’t know why,” she said. “Maybe I reacted to the pressure these days.”

  Tristan shifted in the seat. Distance appeared in his gaze. Hesitation.

  “I saw what happened this morning,” he said. “I mean, you know…the photo thing.”

  She felt her face blush and mustered a chortle, which turned out weak. “Oh yeah. That.”

  Tristan crossed his arms and gave her an appraising stare. “It’s hard for a regular guy to imagine how that must feel. It happens, but when everyone knows who you are, it puts a different spin on things.”

  “It’s become my new normal, I suppose. Maybe one day, if I hang in there, I’ll get used to it.” When she glanced his way, she found him focused on her, listening with full attention. His brow was knit with concern. Maybe she could trust him. “Have you ever felt like you don’t control your own life?”

  “You mean in a celebrity kind of way?”

  “Any kind of way.”

  Tristan considered her question, then replied, “If you think about it, nobody has complete control. No one has all the answers. Life is a lot about running blind, isn’t it? Taking chances? Hoping to heaven you’re right?”

  Yeah. That was how she felt.

  Why was her heart drawn to him?

  Tristan appeared lost in thought.

  Nora considered what she was about to do, then decided to move ahead with it, hoping he would understand. She scooted closer and cuddled against him. To her relief, he wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting upon her upper arm, the way she enjoyed being held. She sank into him further.

  Tristan rested his cheek on her forehead as Nora listened to him breathe.

  They said nothing.

  They didn’t need to.

  Nora had found a friend.

  CHAPTER 45

  AS HEALTHY AS HE PREFERRED to eat, Del had his limits. He never found the scent of veggie burgers as appetizing pure Angus beef. You can’t duplicate what’s genuine; you can only come so close. He’d observed that in Hollywood.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d grilled, but Felicia proved herself adept at it on his patio as she flipped several patties. The flames kissed them and brought them to a sizzle.

  This woman was full of pleasant surprises.

  He felt awkward. Del was accustomed to entertaining his guests, not the other way around. Besides, call him old-fashioned, but he wondered if the man should be the one playing with fire.

  “You shouldn’t be doing all the work,” he said.

  “I don’t mind,” she replied. “Besides, I’m used to it. It goes with the territory in my profession. I tend to be the one who fills in holes here and there.”

  “Do I have your permission to slice the onions?”

  She shot him a wink. “You may.”

  With a playful salute, Del sliced off both ends of a red onion and shaved the remainder into rings. A smoky aroma emanated from the grill, teasing his hunger.

  A few minutes later, his doorbell chimed. Del wiped his hands and set down the knife. Sneaking behind Felicia, he planted kiss on the nape of her neck, which she had started allowing him to do.

  On the second ring, he trotted to the front door, then waved Nora and her guest inside.

  Nora offered Del a quick hug and held out a bottle of wine. “I hope red is okay.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Del, this is Tristan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Del.”

  A firm handshake. Not bad. Somebody had trained the young guy well.

  Nora’s friend looked like a stereotypical southern Californian, his brown hair carefree as a surfer’s. And even though Del realized it was the current style, he still found it shaggy. Kids.

  “Let’s head out back,” Del said. “Felicia’s on the patio.”

  Del led them through the house and out to the patio, where he introduced each of them to Felicia, who transferred the final patty to a plate and turned off the gas grill. With a pop of the cork, Del poured four glasses of Nora’s wine. Conversation unfolded smoother than he’d anticipated, given the diverse backgrounds the four individuals brought to the table. Within a few minutes, Tristan ignited the first round of laughter, and the foursome interacted as if they had met ages ago.

  Del shook his head and marveled at how a wide span in generations could blend with such ease. Maybe he should’ve had kids. On second thought, he grinned at the images of a teenaged Nora and Tristan lashing out at their parents, then decided he’d made a suitable choice after all.

  After filling their plates with burgers, redskin potato salad, and vinegar-based coleslaw, they took their seats around the table. They were about to begin eating when Del watched Felicia pause and have a private moment to herself before picking up her fork. His memory retreated to his childhood in Nebraska, to the old minister who had always treated him with kindness.

  “Everyone hold on,” he blurted.

  Nora halted, looking at him as though he was about to unveil breaking news. “Is something wrong?”

  “It occurred to me that we have a woman of the cloth present.” Turning to Felicia, he took her hand beneath the table. “Don’t you usually do a blessing or something before meals?”

  Felicia responded with a delightful chuckle. “I’d be glad to.” And with that, she bowed her head and offered a quick prayer of thanks. Nobody objected. Nora and Tristan bowed their heads in respect. In fact, they looked like they enjoyed the diversion. Afterward, they resumed eating.

  With a sip of his wine, Tristan glanced at Felicia, who sat on his left. “So, you’re a preacher?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “You don’t look like one,” he said, then rolled his eyes. “Sorry, what I mean is, aren’t you supposed to wear one of those white rings around your neck so people know to keep their language G-rated?”

  Felicia grinned. “Yes, I have a couple of those collars. I save them for worship services, hospital visits, that sort of thing.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve seen your share of crazy stuff.”

  “I’ve been around the block. But the people are worth it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I try to take the long view,” she replied. “We all make mistakes. We all try to navigate through life. So I focus on the long-term potential in people, view them in light of eternity rather than the here and now.” Felicia sampled the coleslaw, which Del had watched her make from scratch. An old parish recipe, she’d told him. “And what do you do for a living, Tristan?”

  “I’m an entrepreneur,” he replied. “I run an online business.”

  “That’s interesting. What kind of business?”

  “Long story, but you could say I connect people with solutions,” he said. “They have questions, and I provide answers.” He regarded her for a moment, then added, “Kind of like what you do, right? Give or take eter
nity.”

  She grinned at that. “I suppose so.”

  As Del looked on, amused by the exchange, he realized he wasn’t the center of attention this evening.

  And to his surprise, he discovered he had no complaints.

  CHAPTER 46

  ONCE DINNER ENDED, the rounds of banter and laughter subsided, and the foursome grew quiet. Nora, her face sincere, placed a hand on Del’s wrist.

  “Del, I have a favor to ask you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Curious, Del couldn’t imagine what he could do for her. “Okay, shoot.”

  “Will you be my date at the Oscars? Even though it’s as friends?”

  Del was shocked. He hadn’t seen this one coming. The media coverage arose in his mind’s eye. “Won’t I look like your grandfather?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll look like one of those classic couples. Like Cary Grant and Dyan Cannon.”

  Cary Grant and Dyan Cannon? “I thought you weren’t very familiar with old Hollywood.”

  “I’ve been studying up,” she replied with a twinkle.

  Del tried to find words. Was he speechless? Finally, he shrugged and said, “If it would make you happy, I’d be honored to do that.”

  Nora beamed. “Good, then it’s a done deal.”

  When the subject changed, Felicia leaned against him. “I think it’s sweet,” she whispered in his ear. “She sees you as a father figure. That’s a compliment.”

  When did that happen? He hadn’t even tried!

  Nora rose from the table and gathered the empty plates. “I’ll bring these to the kitchen.”

  “Don’t do that, please.” Del shot up from his chair. “I’ll take care of those.”

  “I don’t mind. Honest.”

  Del relented. “I’ll help you, then. I’ve been standing around in my own house with nothing to contribute all day,” he said, giving Felicia’s shoulder a playful squeeze.

  Del and Nora gathered two stacks of plates and silverware. She followed him into the kitchen, giving him a lighthearted jab with her elbow on the way.