Dirty Little Secrets

by Elise Noble

  She waved at a door on her right, and I stepped through it. Stopped dead at the sight of the stripper pole set up in the centre of the room. One entire wall was mirrored, and the only other furniture was a couch, a side table, and a TV.

  Fuck, couldn’t Addy have warned me?

  I clamped my mouth shut to stop myself from asking the burning question: does your mama know? When Mrs. Gilmore wasn’t shuttling Phoebe backward and forward, she’d taught Sunday school and played the piano in church. I’d never sought out the Baldwin’s Shore gossip—although Romi, Brooke, and Addy had kept me well-informed—but these days, I was so far out of the loop I might as well have been slingshotted into Nevada.

  Phoebe’s tinkly giggle said she knew why I’d stopped. “I always wanted to join one of the big ballet companies, the American Ballet Theatre or the Royal Ballet in London, but thousands of girls share that same dream, and it’s not easy for a girl from Oregon to break into those circles. And musical theatre is just as competitive, at least if you want to work on shows that pay enough to live. I moved to New York for a while—did Addy tell you?”

  “She must’ve forgotten to mention it.”

  “That was a real eye-opener. Everything’s so expensive there. My apartment didn’t even have a kitchen, only a shelf with a tiny refrigerator and a microwave, and there was never any peace, just noise, noise, noise. Really, I didn’t want to leave Oregon, but Danny was spending time with Sue Ellen behind my back. He swore they did nothing more than talk, but Lila said she saw Sue Ellen in the pharmacy filling a prescription for birth control, and then my mom moved to Florida with Father Jacob—obviously he’s not Father Jacob anymore…” Another giggle. “And I guess I just didn’t think there was anything left here for me.”

  There was a hell of a lot to unpack there. Her high-school sweetheart—a boy with the backbone of wilted spinach—had cheated on her with a second-rate cheerleader who’d only gotten onto the squad because she’d bought her own pom-poms? And her mom had corrupted the most pious of the town’s three priests?

  “But you moved back here?”

  “I came on…well, I guess it was a vacation, but then I met Larry at Alcoholics Anonymous.”

  “Larry?”

  Alcoholics Anonymous?

  “He owns Edge of Eden. I know what people think, but it’s really quite a classy place—no drugs, definitely no funny business, and the security staff look after us real well. Larry makes sure they take us home at the end of each shift, or sometimes he even drives us himself. And we keep all our tips. I could never have afforded to buy this place on a ballerina’s salary.” Phoebe adjusted the collar of her shirt while I lowered my ass to the edge of the couch. “Did you want a drink?”

  “Coffee would be good.”

  I needed the caffeine with the amount of sleep I hadn’t gotten last night. Didn’t plan on getting much tonight either.

  Phoebe strode gracefully out the door, and yeah, I could imagine men paying her big bucks to dance for them. Not this man, not anymore, but other men.

  Some people changed, some people stayed the same. What did the folks in Baldwin’s Shore think of me now? Sure, I had a few new scars, a little weathering around my eyes, a tattoo that had been worth every second of the pain it took to ink it onto my skin, but underneath… Underneath, I was still the kid from a broken home. The teenager people whispered about. Poor Luca—his mom left and his father can be a beast. Do you think that’s why he acts the way he does? The boy angry at having to become a man before he was ready. But I’d served my country and served it well. Surely that must count for something? Oh, who was I kidding—most of the townsfolk were probably just surprised I wasn’t in jail.

  Phoebe came back with drinks—lumpy purple juice in a glass for her and a steaming mug of coffee for me. She hadn’t asked how I took it, but I’d learned in the army that beggars couldn’t be choosers. I’d cope with overly milky rather than my usual black.

  She didn’t take a seat herself, probably because that would have meant sitting next to me. Instead, she leaned against the pole, clasping it with one hand behind her back. Her anchor.

  “You said this was about Brooke? And Addy?” Phoebe let go of the pole, and her hand flew to her cheek as I repeated the story about the stalker. “Oh, that’s terrible! They’re such lovely girls. I remember when I broke a heel during high school and Brooke lent me her sneakers so I wouldn’t need to walk around lopsided all day. Really, we don’t see enough of each other anymore. Every year, I promise myself that I’m going to get better at keeping in touch, but before I know it, we’ve gone through spring and summer and I still haven’t made those calls. Do you use Facebook? Gosh, without it, I’d have no idea what’s happening over in Coos County, and it really isn’t far away.”

  “Nah, I never have.”

  But maybe I should start an account. Then I might have the faintest fucking clue what was going on.

  “I like to check in once a day. Since I work such strange hours, it helps me to feel connected. And we have a private group there for people who work at the club, kind of like a support group, I guess, so if somebody can’t make a shift, we ask others to fill in, that sort of thing.”

  “Back to Addy’s party…”

  “Oh, yes, of course. That was how I found out about the party—Facebook. She posted a reminder message. And I hadn’t checked my mail for several days, so I’d have completely missed the invitation otherwise.”

  For fuck’s sake, Addy. She posted on Facebook? Why hadn’t she mentioned that? That increased the pool of potential suspects by anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand.

  “Who could have seen that? Anyone?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure. Let me check. I have my phone right here.”

  Phoebe scrolled. And scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. How much time did Addy spend on social media?

  “Here it is. See?” Phoebe passed her phone over. “It was only shared with her friends, but she has over three thousand of those.”

  Hell, there weren’t even three thousand people living in Baldwin’s Shore. There had been once, before the paper mill closed down, but when production moved overseas, many of the town’s inhabitants had drifted away. Families fractured, but the old mill still stood, a hulking brick shell of a building set on a large lot not too far from Deals on Wheels. At least it gave the local graffiti artists somewhere to practise.

  I took the phone from Phoebe and read Addy’s post.

  Hey, y’all! If you’re near Shoreside tonight, don’t forget to swing by and help me celebrate (or not, lol) another year on this planet! Eight till late, bring a bottle ;)

  “She didn’t give out her exact address,” I murmured. “That narrows it down a little. Not all of these people would have known which building she lived in, right?”

  “Well, really, you only had to listen for the music once you got to Shoreside. It was very loud. She had the balcony doors open because it was so hot in her apartment.”

  “The neighbours didn’t complain?”

  “I think most of them were at the party. It spilled into several other apartments and out into the street as well. They were mixing cocktails in a bathtub in Addy’s living room. I guess someone in the building must have been having renovations done, because the tub wasn’t Addy’s. She only has a shower, although it’s quite a large shower, and she made the whole bathroom seem even bigger with mirrors. Have you been to her apartment? The decor’s lovely, all—”

  Didn’t Phoebe ever stop talking?

  “I’m more interested in who was at the party. Did you see Brooke with anyone?”

  “Addy, of course, and do you remember Tannis Winfield? She left Bayshore High during junior year—our junior year, not yours—when her parents moved here to Roseburg. She goes to the same gym as me, so we see each other from time to time. And then there was Lydia—”

  “What about men? Did you see Brooke talking to any men?”

  “Gosh, let me think… Well, Steve was there
, and I’m sure I saw them speaking.”

  “Steve?”

  “Her ex-boyfriend. I barely saw Brooke during that time, but Addy told me they were dating, and between you and me, he’s kind of a jerk.”

  My blood boiled in a heartbeat. Cavemen didn’t need to invent fire; they could’ve just cooked over the burning embers of their jealousy. And why was I jealous? Because although I had Brooke this week and Steve didn’t, he’d been able to date her openly while I had to skulk around in the shadows.

  “It was a bad break-up?”

  “Golly, I can’t say for sure. But Steve got banned from the club because he kept trying to touch my friend Maddy, and she did absolutely nothing to encourage him. And even before that, he was a terrible tipper.”

  Steve frequented strip clubs? “When you say ‘the club,’ you mean Edge of Eden?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  I’d have paid good money to be the doorman that night.

  “Did Brooke look upset when she was speaking to him?”

  “Not that I recall, but I only saw them for a moment while I was on my way to get a drink. I’m sorry.”

  Phoebe’s perky smile dropped, and for a moment, she just looked tired.

  “Hey, it’s okay. This is all useful information. Did you see Brooke again after that? Or Steve?”

  “No, I don’t recall seeing Steve, but Brooke was there during the Easton drama.”

  That prick again. “What drama?”

  “He got into an argument with another guest. I can’t remember what it was about, or whether I even knew, but his lip was bleeding.”

  “Whose? Easton’s?”

  “No, the other man’s. Two of his friends were holding him back, and more people were trying to calm Easton down. Nobody wanted to tell Addy in case they ruined her birthday, and then someone suggested calling Parker to see if he could take his brother away. Easton never listens to anyone else—I’m sure you already know that—and sometimes he doesn’t even listen to Parker.”

  “Did he listen that night?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I imagine he did because I didn’t hear of any more trouble, but it was crowded in the kitchen, and horribly hot, so I just grabbed a drink and moved back to the living room to give them space.”

  “What about Brooke? She stayed?”

  “I…” Phoebe screwed her eyes shut for a second, thinking. “I think she went outside. To get some air, you know?”

  “Did she come back in?”

  “I didn’t see her again, but maybe?”

  “What time was this?”

  “Two minutes before ten o’clock.”

  “Everything else is hazy, but you remember the exact time?”

  “Yes, because Lydia Fairbanks was leaving right then, and her mom was waiting outside to pick her up. And I’m not sure if you remember, but—”

  “One minute late, and I’m not gonna wait,” I finished. Elmira Fairbanks was famous for the phrase. She’d left Lydia standing at the kerb more than once during our high school years.

  “Exactly. So that’s how I know the time. Lydia might have seen Brooke outside, if you talk to her? I don’t think she’d been drinking much. Mostly soft drinks. She just ate all the chips, and the cookies too. The boys were complaining about it.”

  “She’s on my list to speak with. Does her mom still breathe fire?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.” Phoebe lowered her voice, even though we were the only two people in the room. “I’ve been avoiding Elmira for my whole adult life. I suppose I should wish you luck.”

  “Thanks. Guess I’ll need it.”

  24

  Brooke

  “Close your eyes.”

  I did, but Luca covered them with his hands for good measure as we shuffled through Deals on Wheels. Probably because he figured I’d peep otherwise—there were pluses and minuses to non-dating someone I’d known for so long. But mostly pluses. I didn’t have to pretend around Luca. He’d seen the best of me, and he’d seen the worst of me, and he was still here. I could be myself.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Up the ramp.”

  I found my footing as he guided me up the giant concrete ramp that led from the first floor to the second floor. The ramp was one of my favourite things about the building. There was a hidden flight of stairs at the other end too, but the ramp was a feature. A talking point. A convenience when you were tipsy, a godsend when moving furniture, and a potential hazard if I ever had children. What little boy would be able to resist whizzing down it on a skateboard or a bicycle? We’d have to pad an entire wall.

  But that was a problem for the future. And who the heck would I have kids with anyway? If I couldn’t have Luca, I’d probably die alone.

  My heart was his.

  I tried to push thoughts of tomorrow out of my mind and live for today. Today, I had Luca, and as he’d said last night, we shouldn’t waste the time we’d been gifted. My cheeks heated as I thought of what I’d done to him in the car. That had been so out of character for me, but since he’d shown up, it was as if I’d become a different person. Brooke the succubus. Brooke the vamp. Brooke the hedonist who sought out pleasure at every opportunity.

  I’d managed to behave on the way home from work today, but I still craved the taste of him.

  Luca guided me up the ramp, one arm around my waist in case I tripped. The second floor didn’t have as much indoor space as the first, only half the amount, although that was still plenty enough for an apartment. The other half formed a roof terrace, a suntrap we planned to turn into a garden since there wasn’t so much outside space at ground level, just a concrete apron and a small parking lot to the rear. Aaron wanted a hot tub on the roof. I wanted palm trees and a hammock. In time, we’d have it all.

  The door to my apartment, my soon-to-be sanctuary, was on the left at the top of the ramp, but Luca didn’t open it. Instead, he stopped in the hallway that led to the roof, and even at this time of day, light streamed through the French doors that opened onto the terrace. I felt the sun’s warmth on my skin.

  “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

  Why was there grass inside? And not only grass but palm trees and flowers as well? I took a step forward and realised the grass was made of plastic, but it looked surprisingly realistic. The trees were in big terracotta pots, the flowers in smaller ones made out of silver metal. Pink and purple and orange and blue. With the red-and-yellow checked blanket on the grass, we had the whole rainbow, and the cerulean sky beyond made the space feel tropical. A tiny corner of paradise.

  “What is all this?”

  “Women like picnics, right?”

  “We’re having a picnic? Here?”

  “You know how people talk around town. Somebody would’ve seen us if we sat outside.”

  “Where did you get this stuff? The grass? The plants?”

  “Found the grass over in Roseburg. Borrowed Deck’s truck to pick up the rest from Coos Bay.” Luca held up a hand. “And before you ask what I told him, I said you’d gotten into feng shui and wanted your air purified.”

  “Huh? That’s not what feng shui is.”

  “Well, on the basis I have no fucking clue, I figured Deck wouldn’t either.”

  Luca had even brought Vega’s bed upstairs, and was that a picnic basket?

  The sun might have warmed me, but the realisation that he’d planned all this, spent hours arranging a non-date to make me happy, sent a flood of heat through my veins. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. But the joy was curbed by the knowledge that it could only be temporary.

  “I like this sort of feng shui much better.” I twisted in his arms and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

  He looked embarrassed, as if he wasn’t accustomed to being thanked, or to making grand romantic gestures either.

  “Worth it for you, sweetheart. I’ll get the dog.”

  He hadn’t bought the food in Baldwin’s S
hore. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d paid a visit to the fancy Italian deli in Roseburg. Bread, cheese, cured meats, a cold frittata, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, oranges, dainty little pastries. And, of course, wine. A bottle of red and one of white. Why were the good men always so, so far out of my reach? Dale had avoided paying for anything wherever possible—he split restaurant bills with a calculator and I had to leave the whole tip—and Steve had expected me to greet him like a hero returning from war if he managed to stop at the drive-through on the way over.

  Luca, well, he was all kinds of sweet wrapped up in a bad-boy package.

  And I loved both sides of him.

  While he carried Vega up the ramp, I set out the food. He’d even brought plates, and glasses, and cutlery. Cloth napkins too. Once Vega was in his bed, I motioned Luca over to lie on the grass next to me.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because I want to take a picture to remember you by.”

  “To remember me by? It’s not as if we’ll never see each other again.”

  “I know. But it won’t be like this, will it?”

  He didn’t answer—probably because he knew I was right—just lay down and pulled out his phone for a selfie.

  “Smile.”

  I did, but it was bittersweet.

  The food was delicious, but without the luxury of time, we couldn’t avoid talking about the case, and that made dinner slightly less palatable. I hated hearing about my life via a third party. Why couldn’t I remember what had happened that night? The memories I did have were fuzzy, like watching clips of a movie through dirty glass.

  “Steve was there? I don’t… I don’t remember that. I spoke to him?”

  “So Phoebe said.”

  “She could have been mistaken. Did they even know each other? Steve lived in Sutherlin before he moved to Coos Bay.”

  “Apparently their paths had crossed.”