by L. B. Dunbar
“Fine,” I grit.
No big deal. If this is how Roxie wants to play it, I can play. Keep it casual.
“Also, I…uhm…I need to tell you something.” Sadie looks over her shoulder down the hall, listening for the shower before she speaks. “I’m not proud to say this, but…”
My face turns white, and her fingers clutch the back of a kitchen chair.
“Out with it, Sadie.” Her name drones from my lips, echoing through the room. Her eyes close.
“I didn’t steal the money, but I might know who did. He didn’t mean to do it. He was doing it for me.” She pauses. “That sounds wrong. He was just trying to help. I didn’t have the money, and…”
“Christian?” I hiss. Christian Grady? “You are not to see him again.”
“What?” she shrieks. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.”
“Yes, I can because I’m your father.” I hate how I sound like my own father, but my chest puffs.
Sadie remains silent. Her cheeks shade an embarrassed pink color, and as she has no response to my directive, I let myself out.
+ + +
Poor Clyde. He listens to me say fuck about twenty-five times and then curse women of all ages before I settle into telling him what happened.
Sadie ran away.
Sadie’s friend—I choke on the word—stole money.
Sadie is meeting my family.
I leave out the list of infractions against Roxie. She isn’t worth my thoughts, which is a lie I repeat to myself over and over to steel my heart. I feel strange after what we did, but more so after what she said, dismissing it so casually. I didn’t lie when I told her that she was breaking me. I like her. I thought she liked me, finally. I feel connected to her in a way I’ve never felt connected to another woman. Rachel was different. She was my best friend, and we might be the poster couple for why friends shouldn’t marry, but it was more than that. And Roxie means more to me.
As I told her, what happened last night was not my reputation. Fine, I admit I’ve done the slam, bam, thank you, ma’am, and I’m always the one to leave long before daylight. I’ll always be the first to go, but last night, I lingered because I wanted to stay. I wanted to continue the cocoon we wrapped around one another, falling into each other like we did.
Damn, she comes quickly, but after the first one, it’s long and lazy and so fucking sweet. Then, when she came around me, I was the quick one. I can’t believe I left the condoms in my truck, but I never thought, not in a million years, that Roxie would hold onto me like that. Her hands. Her mouth. Her pussy. She clutched at me like she didn’t want me to leave her, and I didn’t want to go anywhere but right where we were with me buried inside her.
Then she had to open her damn mouth this morning and brush it all off like it was nothing. No big deal. Well, it was a big deal to me because, despite my reputation, I do have a heart and not just a dick. It hurt to lose Rachel, and it hurts to feel like I’m losing Roxie. All the women between weren’t close enough for this kind of feeling. First and last, that’s how I see these two women, only Roxie seems to disagree with me. No shocker there.
“You know,” Clyde begins, interrupting my rambling thoughts. “The second you tell kids they can’t do something, like date someone, that’s the person they want most.”
I stare at Clyde and his unsolicited fatherly wisdom.
“Clyde, when did you become an expert on being a dad?” My sarcastic tone makes my friend flinch.
“I’m not. I’m an expert on being a son, and as soon as my dad told me no, I wanted to do whatever it was twice as much. Didn’t you?” He tips a brow at me. Point taken.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m really messing this up.”
Clyde sighs and then chuckles. “They don’t come with a manual like bartending or business owning.” My hand scrubs down my face at his comment. “But you’re doing fine, Billy. I mean, you seem really invested. You go over there all the time. You’ve taken her places, and you were obviously concerned when she went missing.”
“What about this stealing issue? Roxie’s going to flip, and Hetty…I just feel guilty.” The flower shop is at the other end of the block. Her business does well, but any type of theft feels like an assault.
“You’ll figure something out,” Clyde assures me, but I stare at him, hopeful he’ll have a solution. “Okay,” he stresses, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He could use some new clothes as his zipper is popping open a bit. “How about giving her a job here? Making her pay off the money. That should teach her. You’ll get to spend time with her, and you can introduce her to people as your daughter on your terms. Or turf, however, you want to see it.”
“Yeah, okay. This is good, this might…” I glare at Clyde. “Wait a minute. You mean announce to everyone she’s my kid.” Whoa, whoa, whoa. I already blurted it to June Barne and Butch Marshall, and I’m waiting for them to blast it to the community, although there should be some confidentiality law in question there, right? I need to tell my parents before I tell the town, and then I remember I’m having dinner tomorrow night with my folks, even if my mother doesn’t know it yet.
“Okay, this could still work,” I tell Clyde who slowly smiles with pride at his suggestion, and I’m still wondering how he got to be so good at dad advice when he doesn’t have children.
+ + +
When I arrive at Elaina and George Harrington’s home, aka my parents, with two women in tow, my mother is the first to comment while my dad just lifts a questioning brow. Roxanne remained quiet and distant in the truck while Sadie’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two of us. She’s worn extra black tonight, reminding me of the girl in Beetlejuice. Black lace dress. Black hair, lips, nails.
“When William told me he was bringing two ladies to dinner, I had no idea you’d both be so beautiful,” my mother gushes, not even flinching at the darkness of Sadie’s appearance. Roxanne, on the hand, looks her typical naturalist self with a long, flowing skirt and a T-shirt with some kind of denim blazer over it. The three of us appear as mismatched as they come as I wear a dress shirt with dark pants.
For years after Giant’s wife died, my mother tried to set him up with every available woman within a fifty-mile radius. She never attempted setups with me, thinking I made my own bed to lose Rachel.
“Or so young,” my father states, stepping out of his stupor and leaning in to give Roxie a cheek kiss. “Roxanne, lovely to see you.” As the largest industry in the area—Giant Brewing Company—my father makes it a point to know all the other business owners within the community. When my brother became mayor, my father was on board with his ideas to bring tourism to our town to improve the economy. My father saw tourism as an indirect boost for the brewery. However, he’s never recognized my contribution to the brewery through serving and promoting the family beer for over fifteen years in my pub. He also doesn’t know how I assist Giant on the sly with brew craft.
“And this must be your little sister,” George Jr. flirts as he cups Sadie’s shoulders. She looks at me, but Roxanne quickly saves us all by saying, “This is Sadie. She’s my niece.”
“I heard about your sister,” my mother addresses Roxanne and then gazes at Sadie. “I’m so very sorry.” I don’t know how my mother knows these details other than her busybody nature.
“Well, let’s not stand here. Come in, come in. Dinner is almost ready.” My mother leads the ladies, as she referred to them, toward the living room while my father hangs back and walks with me.
“William, what are you up to?” he mutters because it always has to be something with me. He has no idea of the truth in his concern. As I cross into the more formal room which holds our large family better than other spaces in my childhood home, I see my brother Charlie and his daughter, Lucy, are present.
“Uncle Billy,” Lucy yells, running for me like she’s still five instead of ten and getting bigger every day.
“How’s my girl?” I tease, catching her under her arms an
d then pretending it’s a struggle to lift her because she’s grown so big. My eyes glance up to find Sadie watching me with my niece, and I realize I’ve said something wrong. Lucy isn’t my girl. Sadie is…or she should be. And at this moment, I realize again how I’ve missed out on a time in Sadie’s life when she was young and innocent like a nine-year-old can be.
Further greetings occur as Charlie recognizes Roxanne, and she introduces Sadie again as her niece.
My daughter, whispers through my head, and I swallow as I realize I don’t know how I will tell my family. I only planned to get Roxie and Sadie to the house. From there, I didn’t know how to break the news.
Within minutes of drinks being dispersed, Mother announces dinner is ready. She didn’t bat an eye when I requested dinner for this evening so close to Thanksgiving. She lives for these moments. Making meals. Entertaining. Bringing us all back into the house. Even tomorrow, which is a Sunday, she’ll be feeding whoever shows up for morning brunch, which has turned into Mati and Denton on the regular, along with his grandmother, Magnolia.
We’ve hardly taken our seats at the dining room table which casually holds up to ten when my father speaks.
“So William, how is the bar?” my father questions, and Roxanne smirks. Yes, my father calls me by my full name most of the time in the same manner as Roxie, which is one reason I hate it when she does. The patronizing, condescending tone elongates my name with his disappointment in me.
“The pub,” I correct him, “had record sales with Oktoberfest. We’re on point for the holidays, especially with the seasonal brews.”
“Giant works hard,” my father states, and I cringe, nodding and pursing my lips. He has no idea who works harder.
“He sure does,” I respond sarcastically, noticing Roxanne watching me from across the table. I’d love to glare back at her, tell her the truth, and watch her reaction. The intensity of those prying steel eyes tries to read me. Yep, I have another secret from my father. No big deal, I want to snap, but the sympathy in her gaze holds my tongue as does present company.
“Sadie, how do you like Blue Ridge?” Charlie asks, ever the peacemaker and trying to shift the attention at the table. He’d wink at me in silent solidarity if his focus wasn’t aimed at Sadie, ever the politician. Look them in the eye. Make them like you.
“It’s been…different.”
Afraid she’d say she hated it, I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Different, I can work with; hatred, I can’t.
“What do you like best?” Charlie asks, and my airways clog again.
“You have a nice cemetery.”
Sweet Jesus.
“And a decent bowling alley.”
Charlie swings his head in my direction, holding my eyes a second. I feel my mother’s glare on the side of my face, but I refuse to look at her. I can only imagine the chagrin on my father. It’s no secret the only bowling alley is run by Rebel’s Edge, the biker club James belongs to and owned by the infamous Bear Grady.
“Well, yes. Those are interesting places,” Charlie says, lying as he smiles back at Roxanne’s niece.
My daughter.
“And what don’t you like about Blue Ridge?”
“The high school. Kids are jerks.”
Lucy’s head pops up, and my mother’s fork hangs in midair. Charlie glances at me again as Roxanne clears her throat and then in a hushed tone, admonishes Sadie by stating her name.
“I see,” Charlie says although I’m sure he doesn’t.
“They don’t know what to think of me,” Sadie begins. “I’m from a big city. I use big words. I like to read, and I dress like this.” She waves a hand at her attire. “Flannel doesn’t come in solid black.”
Roxie shakes her head, and I’ve lost my appetite, setting my fork to rest on my plate.
“Maybe they think you look like Violet from The Incredibles,” Lucy interjects, sweet and innocent and complimentary. My eyes meet Charlie’s across the table and then shift to Roxie’s. “Violet is beautiful, and she can make herself invisible. Who doesn’t want a superpower?”
“I want a superpower,” my mother interjects, trying to save this conversation. “I’d love to time travel.”
“That’s because you watch that show with the guy in a skirt and the woman who walked through stones,” my father mutters.
“Outlander?” Roxanne cheerfully questions, and thankfully, the subject shifts from Sadie.
As dinner ends, the bomb needs to be dropped before coffee is served and my mother’s famous pumpkin pie is passed. I swallow, rubbing my hands down my thighs, noticing Roxanne watching me. She shakes her head in warning, but this is how I do things.
How I told them I was dropping out of college.
How I told them I was divorcing Rachel.
How I told them I was opening the pub.
“Momma. Dad. I have something to tell you.” Charlie reaches for Lucy’s ears, mockingly covering them.
“Is this a good time for this?” My younger brother’s eyes narrow on mine, and it occurs to me he knows what I’m about to say.
“Sadie is more than Roxanne’s niece. She’s someone special to me.”
My mother’s breath catches, the gasp so loud the chandelier quakes. My father’s deep brows lower. “She’s a little young for you, son.”
“Gross,” Sadie groans. “I’m his daughter.”
The words hang in the air.
She’s my daughter.
I wasn’t the one to announce it to them.
“Surprise. I’m a dad.” The enthusiasm is lost and lacking in my voice, but I attempt cheerful, adding jazzy hands to emphasize the announcement.
Silence follows. We can hear the grandfather clock in the main hallway tick-tocking.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
“How did this happen?” Dad asks.
“When did this happen?” Mother questions.
“If she’s Uncle Billy’s daughter, that means she’s my cousin,” Lucy states, clarifying the relationship. She fondly stares at my daughter with wide blue eyes, blinking as tears fill them. “I have a cousin. A girl cousin close to my age. I’m almost a teenager. You are a teenager. We can be friends.” Her hands clasp before her like she’s received the greatest of gifts, and I agree with the excitement on her sweet face. Sadie is a present, even if my mother and father are still flabbergasted by the announcement.
“Explain yourself, William,” my father interjects. My eyes meet Roxanne’s for some reason, and then I turn to him.
“It was after Rachel. We were…over and…Theresa McAllister was in town for a girls’ reunion with some other women from our high school class.”
“Have you learned nothing about protection?” My father snorts in disgust as he’s the one who’d slip condoms into the trophy room, hidden behind remote controls and game consoles in the top left drawer.
“Dad,” Charlie admonishes, his eyes shooting to Lucy.
“I know what a condom is,” Lucy says, and Sadie laughs, then covers her mouth in an attempt to stop.
“I don’t even want to know how you know,” Charlie remarks.
“Television,” Lucy clarifies, but my mother clears her throat.
“So, Sadie…how old are you?”
“Sixteen,” Sadie answers, looking over at my mother. Sadie’s trying to hold her head high, but if I know anything about my mother, it’s that she can make you wither with a simple look. Only Sadie is staring back at my mother like she’d burn her, and I remember that scathing glare from when she first told me she was my child.
“You have your father’s eyes,” my mother states, shocking me.
“She what?”
“The shape matches Roxanne’s, but the coloring, the look, I’d recognize one of my own anywhere.” I don’t know what my mother means or what she sees, and I turn to Sadie who sits at my right.
“I just don’t understand how this happened,” my dad questions. “You know better. You know to wrap it up.”
“Dad,” Charlie pointedly calls his name, side-eyeing Lucy.
“George,” my mother scolds.
“I’m sorry. I just…this is too much. Excuse me.” He stands, placing his napkin over his plate, and leaves the room, sizzling a hole in my heart at his dismissal, but the puzzled hurt on Sadie’s face sets that hole aflame.
Pushing back her chair, she states, “I think I’ll—”
“Want to see my room? I live in the house next door.” Lucy stands as quickly as Sadie and circles the table, taking Sadie’s hand. Sadie tries to tug free, but Lucy holds tight before leading Sadie toward the kitchen, which offers a back door and a path directly to Charlie’s estate—the official mayor’s home.
Charlie stands next. “I’ll keep my eye on them. Take your time, Billy. Roxanne.” He nods to Roxie and walks to the end of the table. Leaning to kiss our mother’s cheek, he pats her shoulder in sympathy before exiting.
“I certainly know how to clear a room,” I tease, reaching for my beer and downing the rest. “I think I’ll take a minute as well.” With that, I stand and leave Roxanne to my mother.
28
Motherly advice
[Roxanne]
Elaina Harrington is an intimidating woman with her perfect coiffed hairstyle and her form-fitting dress, appropriate for her age and making her look stunning. She’s a true Southern belle, but I don’t care about any of this because I’m pissed.
“How about more wine?” she asks, standing to clear her plate and reaching for Billy’s. I follow with mine and Charlie’s, but once I reach the kitchen, she makes no attempt to return to the dining room. She pours into fresh glasses from a bottle on the counter.
“George has always been hardest on him.” She shakes her head and curls her fingers into the thick necklace near her collar. She smiles weakly without looking at me. “It can be hard to be a Harrington.”
I nod with a grimace and take a sip of wine. It’s difficult being anyone, so rejection from parents isn’t acceptable to me. And because I can’t hold my tongue, I’m about to say as such to the matriarch of the family when she continues.