Johnny Cakes (The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles)

by Paisley Ray

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She shrugged. “You have trust issues.”

  I fished a cigarette out of my coat pocket. “I guess the game finished.”

  “Hummmm,” she sighed. “Stone must have them, too.”

  “Stop trying to pry.” Thank God. Roger, Francine, and Hugh appeared in the crowd.

  “I guess that’s why he didn’t tell you he was on campus.”

  “Wait. What?”

  Her head twisted. “It’s an Oreo with a sweet dollop of Hugh in between.”

  “You must be seeing things.”

  Sheila looked off in the crowd. “Are you blind?”

  “Not them, Stone.”

  She patted the top of my hand. “Don’t fret, you’re a much better catch than the mousey thing he was walking with. I’m sure he was just doing charity work, pretending to be all interested in everything that came out of her mouth.”

  “Sheila, I consider lying to be treason to our,” I chose my last word carefully, “friendship.”

  Her hand flew onto her chest. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m certainly no liar.”

  “Move those skinny hips in, “Francine said as she bumped along the cushioned booth seat. “All that yelling’s made me thirsty.”

  “Hey, Rach,” Hugh said as he ruffled the top of my head, pulling hair out of my ponytail.

  “Ladies,” Roger said before someone in the crowd slapped him on the back and started consoling him about a free throw.

  “What you drinking?” Francine asked Sheila.

  “Screwdriver.”

  “Always figured you liked tools.”

  Sheila growled and Francine leaned forward.

  “If you two start, you’re on your own. Hugh and I are outta here.”

  “Some friend you are,” Francine said.

  I concentrated on lighting the cigarette.

  “Surprised to see you out,” Hugh said.

  “She’s been a real ball of fun. Tantalizing conversation.” Sheila said.

  “Hey,” Francine said, “how come you aren’t with Birdboy? When I chatted with him on campus, I figured you two would be holed up for the evening.”

  My head felt dizzy, partly because I drank the cold Heini too quickly, and partly because I didn’t want to process what my ears took in. If Stone was in town and hadn’t told me, there were only two explanations. One: Amnesia. Two: He’d moved on and I was the last to know.

  While I gazed off and rationalized the What-Ifs, a small group of sport-fanatic types had gathered around Roger asking what had gone wrong tonight. He sipped a coke and talked basketball. I’d heard Francine say that the fellows on the team were on a strict diet with a no alcohol policy, on and off-season, even for the guys that were twenty-one. I felt bad for him. Unable to just be. Carrying a campus celebrity status wasn’t all it was made out to be. I bet all he really wanted was a cold beer, but if he did that someone would bust him.

  “Psst.” Francine said, knocking my elbow with hers. “You’re not going to believe what I saw.”

  Oh shit. Here it comes. She saw Stone sucking face with someone else. I bet it was that “colleague,” who was busy “congratulating” him in his apartment last year. I’d forgotten her name, Sue, Sally, Sissy, but her face was seared in my memory. Bitch. She hadn’t fooled me then. I knew she wanted him to herself.

  Another round of drinks came and Hugh pushed a beer toward me. “You okay, O’Brien? You look kind of drained.”

  The chatter at our table melded with voices that filled the bar. Francine knocked my knee hard with hers. “Aren’t you curious?”

  I wasn’t curious about Stone being in town; I was devastated, and sunk my lips onto the rim of my beer bottle to gain composure. Francine liked Stone and if she knew what I suspected, she’d meddle. He was my concern and I was determined to keep it that way. To throw her off my scent, I shrugged my shoulders and mumbled, “It’s been a long day.”

  “What’s got you so bothered? Digestive issues? Your problem is you don’t eat a balanced meal three times a day. I got my hands full keeping Roger fed.” She stood up and eyed my chest. “Um-hmm. Boney. Am I gonna have-ta put you on the Eat it and Shush plan.”

  “You are not putting me on any kind of force-feeding program, so forget it!”

  “Okra and collard lard soap would make you more pleasant to be around.”

  Ashing my cigarette, I grimaced. “I’ve logged a lot of alone time with Schleck and Sheila,” I said, in a meager effort to divert the attention from my love life that had been flushed down the porcelain cavern.

  “Enough about you.” She leaned in. “I got me some competition with Roger.”

  “He’s seeing someone else?”

  “That’s sinning talk. He’d never.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “If you’d quit interrupting my thoughts, I’d tell you.”

  I tapped my cigarette pack on the plastic tabletop. Francine placed a firm hand covering mine, crunching the pack below. “Nash is infatuated with Roger.”

  “Huh?”

  “That crusty Wonder Bread has been showing up at all the home games.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “Because I figured he was like an insect with wings that would buzz away, but he’s been hovering. Now he’s taken the post of water boy and is paying particular interest in Roger.”

  Unleashing my hand out from under hers, I said, “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “Amen.”

  “Who won the game?”

  “Their first loss of the season. It was a bloodbath. Roger wanted to go home, but I think it’s better if he’s around some company. Keep his mind from dwelling. I’ve never seen the starters drag their feet so. The coach actually put in three rookies. I’m fixing to give Katie Lee an earful. I don’t know why she has to keep such bad company.”

  I looked off to the bar. I didn’t recognize the faces under baseball hats and high collar ski coats. “They broke up last year.”

  “You’d never know it. She needs to send that misfit back beneath the rock she unearthed him from.”

  That was true. I nursed my beer. Nash and Katie Lee. It was all too much speculation. My drinking mood soured and I pondered whether or not to stick around when a pitcher and a cold Heineken was delivered by the bartender. I hadn’t ordered it and asked, “For me?”

  He nodded.

  “Thanks, Trevor.”

  He turned sideways to walk away. “It’s not from me.

  Francine looked to me. “Who you fishing with now?” She had a way of making me feel guilty when I hadn’t done anything.

  “So Hugh, how’s your bachelor weekend going?” Sheila asked.

  He poured from the pitcher. “She’s only just left. So far, I’ve managed to survive.”

  Sheila proposed a toast. “To dull the loneliness, bottoms up.”

  The beer bottle’s condensation trickled down the label. Tipping it back, I guzzled and it felt smooth on my throat. Without being overly obvious, I scanned the bar. Where was Stone hiding? Did he have some explanation as to why he hadn’t called? I was kind of thirsty, and before I rested the bottle on the table, I caught sight of a guy who leaned against a column. He waved at me. His black leather jacket looked new and partially hid a white dress shirt and skinny necktie. My head fell back and I closed my eyes. “Stop the misery.”

  “You having woman problems? Cause I got a Midol and some protection on the bottom of my purse. I’ll never know why you don’t carry one,” Francine lectured.

  “I don’t have woman problems.” Lowering my voice, I told her, “I have man problems. Bubba’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “The Zorro-looking guy from New Bern.”

  Her voice rose. “The one you slept with last year?” She rolled her eyes. “I had to kick his sorry ass out of our dorm room.”

  Sheila and Hugh went quiet.

  “Keep your voice down. Yes, him.”

>   “Who?” Sheila asked.

  “Nobody,” I said.

  Francine growled. “Where is the no good…”

  “Behind you. But don’t look.”

  She did.

  He waved again. And worse, walked toward our table. Unfortunately for me, he had two advantages off the bat. One, I was sandwiched in the back of the booth, and if I wanted to make a speedy escape, scampering over the back, onto the shoulders of the people seated behind us was the only route. And two, he’d bought me a drink which was halfway gone. Unknowingly, I’d given him an in. Practically as good as saying, glad to see you, which of course I was not.

  “Raz,” he said, all coy and looking great.

  I smiled, held up the beer. “Refreshing. Thanks,” in the hopes that he’d move on.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sheila purred.

  “No,” I said.

  “I’m Jackson. Raz and I go way back.”

  Hugh couldn’t help but smirk. “Do ya now?” He said and stood up.

  I tugged his arm. “Where are you going?”

  Sheila scrunched in tighter toward Francine and patted the space she’d left free so Hugh could slide in next to her.

  “Mighty kind,” Jackson said. He lifted an arm across the back of the booth and as he glided in, his hips touched mine.

  The three of them snickered at the two of us, and I felt obliged to inflict bodily harm to quiet them, but the best I could drum up was a kick under the table.

  “Ouch,” Sheila yelped.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?” Francine asked.

  “Business meeting in town. I’m looking for warehouse space.”

  I looked at my watch. “Well, nice seeing you. You should’ve missed rush hour traffic by now. Drive safe.”

  “Too late now. I’m spending the night. I have a room at the Holiday Inn.”

  “That’s convenient.” Hugh smiled and winked at me. “Woo-wee, come on Sheila, let’s play a game of darts?”

  “I don’t play darts.”

  He pulled her out of the booth. “I’ll teach you.”

  Francine made herself comfortable in the roomy booth and stared at Bubba.

  “Have we met before?” he asked

  She leaned into the table. “You’re trouble and I don’t like you being around Rachael.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I assure you, nothing bad is going to happen.”

  Francine pushed the glasses and pitcher aside as she bent across the table. “You don’t know bad until it smacks you in the face. Keeping company with stalker types. Where is he? That Billy Ray?”

  “I,” Jackson stumbled. “Haven’t had contact with him. He’s out of my life for good.”

  “Francie,” Roger said. “Everything okay over here?”

  She stared at Jackson and he gazed up at Roger.

  “Everything’s fine,” I smiled.

  “I’m tired,” Roger said. “Mind if we have an early night?”

  “Rachael,” Francine said, “You need a ride home?”

  “Ya, that would be great.”

  Jackson took a hold of my hand. “Raz, please. Can we talk?”

  In a corner, Hugh was demonstrating how to throw darts to Sheila.

  Sheila with a pointy metal weapon. What was he thinking?

  I wanted to leave, but Jackson’s eyes pleaded for me to stay, and I was curious why he was in town.

  “I’ll bum a ride with Hugh and Sheila. See you back at the house.”

  Without breaking her gaze from Jackson, she shimmied out and left with Roger.

  Breaking out from under his arm, I rotated my back to the end of the booth. “Why are you here and what do you want?”

  “Good to see you, too.”

  “Jackson, stop.”

  “What?”

  I began to climb out.

  “Raz, wait. Honestly, I’m in town on business.”

  I tilted my head in disbelief.

  “Herbal-U. It’s growing.”

  “Greensboro is a long way from New Bern. Why here?”

  “It makes sense, I have half a dozen suppliers in the area and the airport is close by.”

  “And that’s why you’re here?”

  “Well, I was hoping to see you, too.”

  “And here I am.”

  “I’d like to see you, normal-like.”

  I laughed. “The last time you saw me, you tried to shoot me.”

  “I wasn’t shooting at you, just providing a distraction before Mitch kissed you.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  He grabbed my hands. “And you’re cute. I’ve never met anyone like you. I can’t stop thinking about us.”

  “There is no us.”

  “I’d like there to be. When I’m in town, can I call you?”

  My insides flip-flopped. Before Jackson showed up, I was wallowing in boyfriend woes—if that was what Stone was—and now I had a hot bad-boy type throwing his heart on the table. I was having an out of body experience where my mind said one thing, but my body had a different opinion.

  “Jackson, I’m sure that lots of girls would go mad for you, but I’m not one of them.”

  “Raz,” he started.

  “Our chemistry is combustible, literally. I want to live to see twenty-one and if I hang around with you, there’s a high probability that won’t happen.”

  “That was the old me. I’m totally legit now. Honest.”

  I stood up. “Thanks for the beer. It was good seeing you.”

  Taking a few steps forward, I wavered while I looked for Hugh and Sheila. Of all times to disappear. I hoped they were in the bathroom, which was weird. I thought that only girls went in pairs.

  From behind, Jackson whispered in my ear. “Having second thoughts about us?”

  I patted his arm. “Nice try. I’ve lost Sheila and Hugh is all.”

  Jackson jiggled his keys and grabbed my hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.

  NOTE TO SELF

  The details of Schleck and Baron von Dufus’s business and personal relationship woes overshoots the parameter of overworked intern into the fuzzy area not meant to be heard or seen. Has the professor forgotten, we’re Art History, not Psych!

  Nash is leaving a trail of stink. I have to agree with Francine, the slime trail can be traced back to association with Katie Lee. She arranged the party and now I’m left to sort through the after-mess.

  Bubba Jackson needs to stop orbiting my solar system. Problem is, he warms my planet.

  CHAPTER 21

  Three Pickles Shy of a Quart

  The weather in Greensboro was gray and rainy with the kind of bite to the wind that would sneak inside sleeves and up pant legs. Crappy, which was fitting for how I felt about the early morning phone call that drew me out of bed.

  “Hey, Mrs. J,” I said. A crackle buzzed on the line. “I can’t hear you.”

  “Sorry, I’m on the dock. The weather’s not brilliant today.”

  My mind drifted over Bluffton South Carolina, and lingered on the ibises I’d seen there last spring. When the water birds spread their wings and flew overhead, you could hear feathers filter the wind. Near the shores, their long gangly necks and spindly legs would jerk as they’d dip their curved beaks into grassy marshes, probing the muddy bottom for shrimp or other small crustaceans. I didn’t imagine the May River ever looked dismal to them.

  “It’s windy here, too.”

  “Have you practiced your shooting?” she asked.

  “I can think of a few professors I’d like use as targets.”

  A gruff, humph, vibrated across the Carolina state line. Clearing her throat, she said, “Rachael, I’m looking to speak with Jet.”

  Seated on a bar stool, my eye fixated on a far corner of the kitchen where the refrigerator butted against the wall. Katie Lee had gone to Raleigh yesterday to see her sister and hadn’t returned. Francine, I assumed, had spent the night at Roger’s. And Sheila kept night wa
tchman hours. Near midnight I’d heard her Fiero engine rev. Through my bedroom curtain, I’d watched it motor down the alleyway and out of sight.

  I’d stayed up late studying and my early morning eyes caught a glimpse of movement, near the black plastic floor vent. Ready to hang up and crawl back into bed, I told Mrs. J, “She’s not here.”

  I had the house to myself. Alone time came in limited quantities, and normally it would’ve been welcome, except today it wasn’t. Despite having peace and quiet to study, and free rein on the washer and dryer, my mood hovered in the glum zone. Today was February 14th–VDay, and since I wasn’t gorging myself on a heart-shaped box of chocolates or drowning under the weighty scent of a dozen roses, I was busy bandaging my sorry ego. A year ago to the day, I’d ended up being seduced by Bubba. He was a bad man that was good in bed. The only love I’d gotten this year was an oversized, chocolate-chip cookie from Dad and his girlfriend in the mail. Hardened icing read ‘Maybe.’ I couldn’t decide if the message on the inedible bake good was a misprint, a mis-delivery, or a brain-blunder.

  There was a pause on the phone line and for a moment, I wondered if we’d been disconnected.

  “Rachael, is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, sure, fine. Classes seem easier this year. Maybe because I have more Art.”

  “I mean with Jet.”

  “Jet?”

  “I hate to involve you, but she’s been distant. I just have this nagging feeling. Maybe it’s nothing, but ...”

  School, Schleck, and the lack of Stone’s presence were my primary focus. My roommates came and went, and I only caught the bullet points of their day-to-day. I divided our house into two camps. One with boyfriends—Jet, Katie Lee and Francine. And the other, an exclusive one without—myself. Sheila was Sheila, a player, and I kept her informational intakes at bay, retaining as little personal information as possible while maintaining civility. Listening meant caring, and I didn’t have the energy to process what I imagined went on in her life with a straight face.

  Jet’s mom’s voice lowered. “Could I ask a favor?”

  “Sure,” was my early morning auto-response.

  “Can you locate her and have her call me?”

  “No problem.”