by Eryn Scott
The bell on the front door dinged happily as I stepped inside. I didn't see Kristen anywhere, so I figured Mom had sent her home since our phone call. I scaled the tiny, steep staircase which led to Mom's office on the second floor, feeling an awful lot like a mountain goat. My mother sat behind her big mahogany desk. I think they must've built the room around the thing because there was no way they could've gotten it up the narrow staircase. The creaky stairs belied my entrance, so she was looking up expectantly when I entered.
She looked perfect, as usual. There wasn't a hair out of place in her long brown bob, her smart navy jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white shirt, and her makeup was flawless, the best mixture of natural and professional. The only sign she was actually human was her patent black heels sitting next to the desk, kicked off for comfort while she worked.
"You're a savior," Mom said. She didn't stand up, but at least set down the file she'd been reading.
Mom and Maggie were cut from the same cloth, perfectly pressed and not a thread awry. Maggie was even planning on joining Mom in her practice once she took the bar. She was taking a few years off to raise the kids, but I could tell she was raring to get back to work. It had always been that way, Maggie and Mom were the organized, rational ones while Dad and I had been the creative messes. Maggie looked like a carbon copy of Mom and I'd gotten Dad's auburn hair along with his bibliophilic interests.
I handed Mom her order of parmesan lemongrass chicken vermicelli and then flopped into the chair across from her, tucking into my lasagna-inspired fried rice.
"Ssm my oo ave own mcil?" I asked, regretting taking such a large first bite.
Mom's eye twitched as she delicately slid a thin noodle in between her lips. "Pepper, what have I told you about talking with your mouth full?"
Swallowing, then clearing my throat, I tried again. "Sorry. I was asking why you have to go to the town council meeting tomorrow?" Mom had been a frequenter on the university's board and had served on the town council as well, but had decided not to run this term.
Mom waved a hand in front of her. "They've invited all of the local businesses. Everyone's up in arms about this new bar and they're trying to see if they can get him on a zoning violation, make him move out."
I snorted at the ridiculousness. I mean, this wasn't new. Every time a new business moved into Pine Crest, the town went into a def-con level of hysteria. The townspeople had to find out who the new owner was and basically everything about them before accepting them as one of our own. You would think every new resident was a serial murderer the way they narrowed their eyes and watched their every move until they grew to know them better. But trying to kick them out? That was new.
"Well, I doubt that's going to work since it's right next to Pint Crest," I said, thinking of the microbrew-focused bar just down the street.
"Yeah, that's most of the problem, really. I think Benny's worried about the competition."
I scoffed. "Seriously?" With the university, this town could use a few more bars. People here were so paranoid about change.
Shoveling some more fried rice into my mouth, I looked around Mom's office. It hurt more than a little to know she would rather cancel a date with me than miss a silly meeting where the townspeople would just be complaining about things they most likely wouldn't be able to change. I swallowed a lump of rice along with the disappointment.
Mom's forehead creased slightly as she met my gaze. "How are you doing?"
"Erm... okay I guess," I mumbled, feeling very not okay.
Her taupe-shadowed eyes narrowed, but she stayed put behind her desk. "I'm sorry, dear. This is terrible. I know it doesn't help any with..."
Losing my father just under two years ago? My thoughts finished for her. Not to mention this being the second body I've discovered.
Mom had never been very warm and fuzzy, but when Dad had passed, she simply refused to talk about him. Honestly, if I hadn't had Maggie and Liv and Fergie to help me through that time, I can't even imagine how much worse it could've been. Instead of trying to figure out what to say in response to her coldness, I took another bite of my rice.
"I hope you let this one go, though, dear. There's nothing you can do about it." I could almost feel Mom's worry that I might get caught up in another murder investigation. Unfortunately, I felt like it was much more about control than care for my safety that she wished I would stay out of things.
"I am." I nodded. "I'm going to leave this one to the police, Mom."
She smiled. "Good. I've met Detective Valdez a few times now. He seems like an incredibly competent man. And even though I've never met this boyfriend of yours, Maggie says she thinks he's good for you." She shot me a raised eyebrow.
Ouch. Mom-guilt and a reminder of what Alex and I could be. The perfect storm.
"Mom, I've told you, Alex isn't my boyfriend. We're just friends." I muttered, "unfortunately" beneath my breath before I looked back up at her. "Plus, you're not exactly available." I shot her a pointed glance. Whoa, go me! I'd never been able to stand up to her like that.
Mom's face flushed. She scanned the piles of folders on her desk. "Speaking of my job... I really should get back to work."
I exhaled sharply and closed up my takeout container. After tucking my leftovers into the bag, I stood. "Okay. See you later, Mom. Good luck with the case."
"There's money on the edge of my desk for the food." Mom didn't even look up. "See you later."
"Sure." I shot over my shoulder as I braved the creaky descent down her stairs.
It took me two blocks to unclench my fists, three to breathe regularly, and five for the words-I-really-wanted-to-say-to-her to stop coursing through my mind. Bat wings flitted about from tree to tree lining the streets, their dark bodies almost hidden by the full, green leaves. The crisp air pulled in and out of my lungs. With every step forward I let go of a little piece of my frustration with my mother.
It was close to nine by the time I got back to the apartment. Liv was standing in front of the open fridge, looking forlornly at its contents.
"Hey," I said, the word sounding tight and odd. Things had been weird with us since the night Jewel stayed over—or more accurately—the night I lied to Liv.
"Hey." She eyed the takeout bag in my hand.
"Want the rest?" I asked, holding it out to her.
She bit down on her lip for a second.
"It's lasagna fried rice and I've lost my appetite," I added.
"Omigosh, seriously?" Liv pranced forward, her fingers making grabby motions. "I love y-" Her voice cut out and a pained expression crossed her face for a second.
"I'm sorry," we both said at the same time.
Smiles curled up the corners of our mouths.
"It's okay," I made my smile into a full one to show her it was.
"It's not, though. I'm so sorry for pushing you about the case. I should've been more sensitive about all you've been going through this quarter." Her forehead creased as her eyes searched my face.
Blinking, I scoffed. "I'm the one who's to blame for the weirdness between us. I lied to you the other night about Jewel not telling me anything. She did, but Alex asked me not to get involved and I really want to stay out of it this time. I should've just told you that, though. I don't know why I lied."
"It's okay." She smiled. "I knew you were lying, but I mostly felt terrible that I'd put you in a situation where you felt you had to."
Heading into the kitchen, Liv grabbed two forks and then plopped the takeout in the middle of the table. She handed one to me as I sat across from her.
"Whm yoog to Yum Moffefi wiff?" she asked through a mouthful of rice.
I snorted, understanding mouth-full-of-food speak much better than my mother. "Well..." I filled Liv in on my "quality" mother-daughter time that night.
"Ugh. Sorry, Peps." She wiped her mouth with a napkin and then laid her hands happily on her stomach. "Hey, wanna check out that new bar tonight?" she asked.
"That sounds
fun." I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Even though my time with my mom had been a disappointment, I was happy Liv and I had gotten everything out in the open. Drinks and time out together sounded like just what we needed.
7
The bar was only a twenty-minute walk away, so we put on our jackets and headed out on foot. Liv had a car, but we rarely used it because everything was so close. Plus, if we were going out to a bar, we figured it would be smarter to walk. I was relieved when Liv said she wanted it to be just us and wasn't going to text Carson. We needed a girls' night out.
The streets were quiet and—while the air was still cold—I could feel the bite leaving, making promises of warm summer nights. We approached an old warehouse which used to house a canning plant back when the town's major export was fruit and not young adults semi-prepared for the workforce. Music and voices spilled from the open front doors. The Select was scrawled in gold lettering above the door, shining against the dark gray of the building.
Liv and I looked at each other, squeezed our shoulders up in excitement, and entered.
Upon first stepping into The Select, I understood right away why my fellow Pine Crestians—Crestites?—had a problem with the establishment.
It was awesome, and packed.
Whoever the owner was, they knew their bars. The place was tasteful, with copper tabletops which glittered with the reflection of lights strung above us. Every table was full of laughing, chatting, drinking college students. People also stood around the edges of the room, setting their drinks atop shelves which ran along the wall.
Liv spotted two open seats at the big mahogany bar and we slipped through the crowd and then onto the tall, teetering stools. I picked up one of the thick laminated menus printed in a hip, scripty font on a nice cream card stock. The names of the signature cocktails were no less well thought out: marmot mule, northern margarita, mountain manhattan. I appreciated the play on Northern Washington University, the close-by mountain range, and our mascot the marmot. This bar was definitely playing to the college crowd.
"Hey there. What can I get you two?"
A man who looked to be in his thirties walked over and then swiped a wet bar towel across the counter in front of us. He had sandy hair which was swiped back off his forehead, a scruffy five-o'clock shadow, thick biceps which tested the stretch in his black T-shirt sleeves, and a wide smile. The man was basically the bartender from pretty much every movie—the hot kind.
Liv and I smiled back at him.
"I'll try the Northern Margarita, please," Liv said.
I scanned the menu one more time. "And I'll take the Marmot Mule."
"Any food for you ladies tonight?" he asked.
When we shook our heads, and after he checked our IDs, he went to work on our drinks. His busy hands grabbed this, flipped that, scooped and shook and poured. I was transfixed.
"Here you are." He set two beautiful drinks down in front of us. "Tab?"
Liv nodded and handed him a card.
"I can give you cash," I said as I picked up my drink and examined it.
Liv shook her head. "No need. It's my treat tonight."
My heart felt light for the first time since I'd found Katie's body. I exhaled the rest of the tension from my body and grinned. "To best friends." I held up my copper cup.
Liv picked up her glass. "Forever. No matter what." She clinked it against mine.
"Sláinte," I said.
Liv returned with, "Na zdravi."
We watched each other as we took our first sips. Liv's eyes went wide and her head dropped back a little. I think mine did the same.
"This is so good," we said at the same time, then laughed.
The bartender came back over a few minutes later. "Everything good?" he asked.
"Uh-maze-ing," Liv answered.
"I've never had a drink this good, let alone one named after a glorified groundhog," I said, sucking mine down at what should've been an alarming rate. "What do you guys put in these things?" I asked.
He laughed, revealing a dazzling smile. "Well, that," he pointed at mine, "is our play on a Moscow mule, only we make it with gin instead and add a sprig of spruce to give it some aromatic interest." He turned to Liv. "And yours is a margarita, but we make it with Rainier cherry puree and a homemade rhubarb liqueur instead of the traditional Triple Sec."
"He's like some sort of drink wizard," Liv whispered in awe.
The bartender waved a dismissive hand at us and walked away to help another customer. When he was out of earshot, Liv elbowed me in the ribs.
"Ouch!" I scowled at her, but kept my straw in my mouth, not wanting to stop drinking this delicious concoction.
"Dude, he's cute and he seems into you." Liv raised an eyebrow.
Wrinkling my nose, I said, "He's gotta be like ten years older than me. Plus, Alex..." I shot a pouty look in her direction.
Liv rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I like Alex as much as the next guy, but come on. He's been back for almost two weeks now and nothing's happened. He should've pulled you into his arms and kissed you the first time he saw you."
"That whole running toward each other, arms outstretched, colliding in an earth-shattering kiss thing only happens in movies. In real life, doubts and questions get in the way and you wonder if he still feels the same about you, and, before you know it, you're looking at your shoes and giving him a nervous handshake." I sighed, remembering the first time I saw Alex upon his return. "Plus, it's not just his fault nothing's happened between us. I'm an equal non-achieving participant in this whole confusing thing."
Liv put her hands up. "Okay. I just want you to be happy."
My lips pulled to one side and I nudged her with my shoulder. "Thanks."
After a few minutes of sipping our amazing drinks and basking in the comfort of our back-to-normal friendship, Liv and I started to shift uncomfortably as we looked around the bar. People were whispering everywhere we looked, their eyes darting away as soon as we would glance in their direction.
Ginger, an education major who worked at the library, walked over to us. She pasted a smile on her face, one I'm sure she was preparing to use for parent/teacher conferences. If I'd been a parent, though, I would've worried bad news was coming my way with the intense look in her eyes.
"Pepper. Liv. How are you two?" Even though Ginger said two, there was no denying she was staring straight at one of us.
I slurped at my drink, happy for a distraction from her intense gaze.
"We're good," Liv said, settling her shoulders back and quirking up one eyebrow. This was Liv's business demeanor. She had to be tough to make it in a field mostly dominated by men. The way she exhaled through her nose reminded me that the guys in her classes called her the bull. "How 'bout you?" She flashed Ginger a smile.
Ginger scrunched up her face. "Oh, you know, sad. Katie was so nice. It's terrible."
Liv and I nodded. "Awful."
I could feel Ginger's eyes on me. "I can't believe you found her, Pepper. What was that like?"
Swallowing, I sucked on my straw and found my drink was nearly gone.
"Would you like another?"
Turning back, I saw the bartender standing close, his eyebrows raised expectantly as he eyed my now-empty cup.
"Oh, yes please." I shoved my cup forward.
Liv took advantage of the break in the conversation and said, "So good to see you, Ginger." She placed a hand on Ginger's arm, smiled, and then just about shoved her away. Liv turned her body back toward the bar. "People are so pushy. Thanks for saving us," she said to the bartender.
He nodded once, but watched me as he made my drink. "So you're the one who found that girl?" he asked, eyes narrowed uncomfortably as he pushed my second drink toward me.
"Yeah." My jaw clenched tight in my discomfort, but as I looked up, his face was warm and welcoming. "I'm kind of cursed like that." I tipped my cup forward in a cheers with no one
He shook his head. "Just terrible. I haven't been in town for
very long, but I remember seeing her come in here a few times. Seemed nice." He sighed. "Plus, the whole thing's even worse because of her condition."
Liv leaned forward slightly and I could feel my face contort in question.
"Being a student?" I asked cautiously.
The bartender's eyes softened and he shook his head. "Last time she was in here with a friend, she would only drink water and then they were talking about whether or not she would keep it."
I blinked, wishing I hadn't gulped down my first drink so fast.
"You mean, Katie was pregnant?"
The bartender wiped his hands on a towel. "I'm so sorry. They weren't being quiet about it or anything. I thought more people knew—I—" His handsome face turned a deep red.
I couldn't seem to breathe.
Liv croaked out a, "Holy crap." She took a long drag off her straw and shook her head.
"Look, maybe I was mistaken." The bartender sighed and watched us uncomfortably. After a few seconds, he cringed and walked away to help the woman working at the other end of the bar.
"Sure. Maybe," I said even though he was already gone. My voice was a ghost of itself.
I heard Liv's straw suck in air as she finished her first drink. We turned and met horrified eyes.
"This is bad," she said.
"So bad."
She shoved her empty drink forward and nodded when the guy asked if she wanted another.
"You think Jewel would've known?" she asked after a few terrible, silence seconds.
"She was Katie's best friend, right?"
"Right," she said as the bartender placed another margarita in front of her.
"You don't have her number, do you?"
Liv shook her head. "I haven't talked to her much since freshman year. The other day was the first time I'd seen her in months."
I bit my lip. "Me, too."