Weathering Stormy

by Auburn J. Kelly

  “Hi, sweetie!” Pam rushed over and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Hi.” He gave her a small squeeze as he surveyed the colorful mess that was strewn all over his kitchen island. “What’s all this?”

  “They’re fabric swatches and magazine clippings. We need to color coordinate our outfits for prom. I’m having my dress made—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a second,” he cut her off. “We’re just chaperoning. We don’t even have to get that dressed up.”

  Her pale features darkened just a tad and a tiny bit of anger flickered in her blue eyes. “I know we’re just chaperoning, but I want us to stand out. You know?” She wrapped her dainty army around his waist and batted her eyelashes at him. “I just want to show you off. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  There was a lot wrong with that.

  “Pam, I don’t think we should try to outshine the students. Prom is about them. Not us. Hell, I think we should try to be as inconspicuous as possible. You know, incognito?”

  Her face fell and she stuck out her rosy bottom lip in a pout. “But I already have my designer working on a dress.”

  Brylan smelled bullshit. Something wasn’t adding up. “I thought you brought all this stuff over so that we could choose colors. How are you having a dress made already if you don’t know the color?”

  Her lying cheeks flushed. He’d obviously called her bluff and wondered how she planned to get around it.

  “What I meant was…I need you to pick colors for your tie and vest that will coordinate with what I’m going to be wearing.”

  Ah. I see. She wanted to make sure Brylan wouldn’t make her look bad. How thoughtful.

  “Fine. Why don’t you pick out the colors for me? That’s not really my area of expertise anyway. I trust you to pick something nice.” He stepped back from her and retreated to the living room. She could do whatever she wanted, but he didn’t want any part of it.

  She was back to brooding but he didn’t really care. He let her go back to her swatches while he turned his attention to the TV and started flipping through the channel guide. He was disgruntled when he saw one reality show after the other. Was that what the world had come to? What…people didn’t have enough problems so they had to watch other people bicker and fight on national television?

  After a few minutes of scrolling he finally settled on an old episode of Miami Vice. Thank goodness for the classics.

  Halfway through the show he felt the couch cushions sink beside him. “You look tense. I thought you might want one of these.” Pam handed him a beer. “So. What are we watching? I don’t recognize this show.”

  Figures. “It’s a show from the 80’s. Couple of cool detectives, running around and solving crimes, driving fast cars…. My brothers and I used to watch it all the time.”

  “Oh. Okay,” is all she said as she snuggled up next to him. Not knowing what else to do with his arm, he draped it across her shoulders while they watched Don Johnson jet across the bright blue ocean in a really nice, very expensive looking speed boat. After a few minutes, he felt a tickling sensation on his thigh that gave him the urge to scratch…but when he looked down he realized it was Pam’s hand. She started mid-thigh and gradually worked her way upward, slowly increasing the pressure of her touch which eventually caused a reflexive stirring in his jeans. Apparently Pam noticed it too because she looked up at him with a small, devilish smile playing on her lips.

  He didn’t say anything, just chugged a big swallow of beer and let her continue her exploration. Right as she reached for the button of his jeans, a picture of Stormy’s face popped into his head. He remembered that night, on that same couch, when their bodies had been pressed together and he could feel the heat of her through their clothing. Those mesmerizing, smoky gray eyes, her full lips…. The image instantly ignited a battle in his brain. Part of him wanted Pam to stop, said she was not the right woman, that letting things continue would not be fair to either of them.

  But there was another part of him that said that a romp with Pam might just be the distraction that he desperately needed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stormy was counting down the minutes until closing. It had been a slow day, a day that had given her way too much time to think. Brylan and Mama had been tag-teaming her thoughts all day, and all she wanted to do was go home and crash out in her bed, or rather, Brylan’s futon. But she promised Trudy that she would stick around and help her re-paint the store after closing. Trudy insisted that the mint green color on the walls behind the cash register was just too bland, and she opted to “liven things up” with a screaming shade of scarlet.

  Trudy set a can on the counter and her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when she opened the lid. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  The cowbell clanked before Stormy could answer, announcing the arrival of new customers, and causing a bubble of irritation to rise up. It was five minutes to closing time, and Stormy was just about to flip the sign over. When she looked up to see who it was, all she could see was red…and it wasn’t just the paint.

  Marissa, her arch rival, and two other girls, sashayed into the store and started browsing around as if they had all the time in the world.

  “Should I tell them to leave?” she asked Trudy.

  “No, no. We don’t ever turn away a customer. That would be bad for business. I’m sure they won’t be long.” She pulled out the yellow wet floor cone from behind the counter and placed it on the floor near the register. “Just in case.” Then she added, “I’m going to the office to get the paint rollers and drop cloths. I’ll be right back.”

  Stormy wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being left alone with those snooty girls meandering around, but she kept her misgivings to herself. “No problem,” she told her.

  To pass the time, Stormy grabbed a bottle of Windex and began wiping down the glass display cases…until a large shadow fell across her.

  “Look who’s doing manual labor,” Marissa snorted, “How fitting.”

  Stormy was absolutely not in the mood to be taunted. “Is there something I can do for you, Marissa?” Her tone was clipped.

  “Well, since you’re asking…you could go back to wherever the hell you came from. We don’t need your kind fouling up our nice little town.”

  That does it. Rage permeated every cell in Stormy’s body as she stood to face her adversary, the one who was about to get her ass kicked. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Marissa, but I’m about to fix it for you!”

  Marissa’s eyes went wide with fear and she started backing away from her. Apparently she was all bark and no bite, and seeing her cower under Stormy’s scrutiny just fueled her fury even more. The floodgates of her pent up frustration were wide open. “I’ve never done a single thing to you, Marissa, so just BACK OFF!” Before she realized it, she had Marissa backed all the way up against the adjacent counter and right up against Trudy’s can of red paint. Marissa bumped into it, causing it to slosh out. All over her fake blonde tresses.

  “Ahhhh! My extensions! You bitch! I just paid fifteen hundred dollars for these…and now they’re ruined,” she held up the end of her paint-splattered hair, “My mom is an attorney, and I’m going to make sure she sues the hell out you and the owner of this tacky little store!”

  Trudy stepped from around the corner, “No, honey. You didn’t pay for those extensions. Your mama did. She told me all about it last Friday during our weekly chat over coffee. Real sweet lady. Sure would break her heart if she found out her daughter was a thief.”

  The look of horror on Marissa’s face was picture-worthy, but it only lasted for a second. Her chin jutted out in defiance and she lowered her eyes on Trudy, who was still calm, cool, and collected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m no thief. It’ll be my word against yours.”

  “Wrong again, princess. It’s your word against my security cameras.” She crossed her arms and nodded toward a small camera affixed to the ceiling in
the corner. Stormy hadn’t even realized it was there.

  “Why don’t you hand over the turquoise bracelet in your pocket and get on out of here. You should probably get on home anyway and wash your hair before the paint dries. Lucky for you, it’s water-based. Should come right out.”

  Stormy had never seen anyone turn purple before, but Marissa looked like her head was about to explode. She huffed and puffed all the way to the door, taking her friends, and her deflated ego, with her.

  Trudy locked the door behind them and spun around to face Stormy, “You okay, kid?”

  “Yeah. That girl just knows how to push my buttons, that’s all.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, “That’s not what I’m talking about. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what’s really bothering you?” She motioned over to Stormy’s favorite orange chairs. Trudy’s expression was unreadable, and it made her uneasy. “Trudy, are you mad at me for going off on Marissa?”

  “No, no, sweetie. I heard the whole thing. That girl had it coming. I just sense that your anger wasn’t all meant for Marissa. It’s not like you to blow up like that. You’ve been wound up tighter than an eight day clock all week.”

  Sweet, intuitive Trudy. It shouldn’t have been any surprise that she’d picked up on her angst. Stormy let out a sigh. “First of all, I’m worried about Mama. She was in bad shape when I left. I feel like I should go and check on her, but I don’t know if she wants to see me yet.” She felt a lump form in the back of her throat. “I don’t know if she will ever want to see me again.”

  This time it was Trudy who heaved a sigh. “I don’t know, sweetie. She knows where you work. I suspect she’ll reach out to you when she’s ready. Just give it some more time.”

  Trudy pointed out what Stormy hadn’t wanted to admit. Yaupon was a small town. If her mama had wanted to find her, she could have.

  Stormy mindlessly fiddled with the little ceramic butterfly sitting on the counter while she sulked over her messed up life. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  “That’s not all. Is it?” Trudy said knowingly.

  Stormy hated being so transparent. “No,” she admitted, “I’ve been a little worked up about last weekend.”

  “Oh?” A look of surprise crossed Trudy’s face. “Care to elaborate?”

  She really, really didn’t, but there was no way out of it. “Brylan took me and Nozz fishing out at his dad’s place last Sunday.”

  “Oh? How’d that go?”

  “Well, it started out okay. I’m not sure Brylan’s father likes me much. He acted a little put off by my presence. But other than that it was fine. I took Nozz out for his first boating experience and we had a blast.”

  “Sounds good so far. So what happened after that?”

  “Well, Brylan’s dad was gone by the time we got back with the boat. Brylan said he’d had a headache, but I suspect something else happened. Brylan didn’t say, but I could tell he was upset about something.”

  “Uh huh,” Trudy said suspiciously.

  Then Stormy told her about their dinner… and the prom proposal.

  Trudy clasped her hands together and lit up in a big, toothy smile. “That’s wonderful!”

  “No. It’s not. I mean, Nozz is a good friend, but sometimes I get the impression he wants to be more. Plus, he’s going to show up at my door tomorrow night wearing a tux. And I don’t even have a dress.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Stormy nearly swallowed her tongue. It was the first time she’d ever heard Trudy swear. “What do you mean? I really don’t have anything to wear, Trudy.”

  “Girlfriend, don’t think I haven’t noticed you lusting over that purple dress out front…more than once. Your eyes light up the whole store every time you look at it.” She got up and headed out to the front of the store and went right for the violet and ivory dress—the one that caught Stormy’s eye the very first time she walked into the place.

  She took it off the rack and held it up, letting the bottom drape over her forearm. “Go try it on.”

  “Oh, Trudy. It’s beautiful, but I can’t. I’ve seen the price tag.”

  Trudy chuckled, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. This is my dress. I mean, it’s not mine per se, but I made it myself. All it cost me was a few scraps of material that I took from my old wedding dress and an old bridesmaid dress that was horribly outdated.”

  Stormy’s mouth dropped open in shock, “I didn’t know you could sew like that, Trudy! That thing looks like it should be on a runway in New York or Milan or something.”

  Apparently, Trudy wasn’t used to compliments. The woman doled them out like candy but she wasn’t accustomed to receiving them, as evidenced by the rosiness of her cheeks. “Oh, come on now. It was the machine that did all the work. I just put it all together.” She took the dress from the hanger and held it up to Stormy’s bosom. “Dozens of girls have come in here and tried this thing on…but either they don’t have enough boobs to fill it up, or they’ve got a little too much junk in the trunk….”

  “So what makes you think it’ll fit me?”

  “Just a feeling I’ve got,” she said with a wink. “Now go try it on.”

  Panic reared its ugly head and opened the door for self doubt. What if it didn’t fit? What if she got it dirty…or ripped it?

  “But Trudy, what if I mess it up or something? I don’t think I should—”

  “Nonsense.” She cut her off with dismissive wave, “That’s what drycleaners are for. Now go!” She shooed her all the way to the dressing room. There was no giving this lady “no” for an answer.

  Having no other choice, Stormy did as she was told and slipped behind the green paisley curtain of the dressing room and plopped down on the little wicker stool with the dress draped over her arm. The satiny fabric was cool against her skin and she loved the swishy sound that it made when it moved.

  Was she bold enough to wear such a dress?

  “How’s it going in there?”

  Ugh. Buck up, Stormy. “Give me just a minute.”

  She kicked her discarded Converse into the corner and peeled off her shirt and jeans while she swallowed the anxiety that threatened to choke her. “It’s just a damned dress,” she whispered to herself. She wiped her sweaty hands on her discarded tee-shirt and slipped the dress over her head. She managed to get the zipper about half-way, but her arms just wouldn’t bend quite far enough to get it the rest of the way. “Uh, Trudy…a little help?”

  Trudy threw back the curtain and, surprisingly, the zipper glided right up without a problem. “Oh. My. Gosh. It’s perfect on you, Stormy. I knew it would be!”

  The curvy form staring back at her in the mirror was unfamiliar. Stormy ran her hands over the beaded bodice and broke into a smile.

  The dress fit perfectly.

  “You look just like a movie star. You’re ready for the red carpet,” Trudy crooned.

  “I feel a little bit like one,” she had to admit. But her joy was short-lived as an unwelcomed image of Brylan popped into her head and the sting of tears pricked at her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you liked the dress.”

  “No. The dress is beautiful. But Brylan is chaperoning the prom tomorrow night…with his girlfriend.” She plopped back down on the padded stool and let the embarrassing tears fall.

  A look of shock overcame Trudy. “Girfriend? How did that one get by me?”

  “I got the impression they haven’t been dating long. But that’s not even the worst part,” she croaked as another wave of sobs overtook her, “I didn’t tell you everything that happened the other night.”

  Trudy stiffened. Then in a soft but stern voice she asked, “Baby, did that man hurt you? Because if he did anything….”

  “No! No,” she interrupted her, “It wasn’t anything like that. Actually it was kind of the opposite.”

  Confusion marred Trudy’s face. “What do you mean, ‘the opposite’?”

  Sto
rmy sniffed, “We were watching TV after Nozz left. We were goofing around and he was trying to get the remote from me…and the next thing I knew he was on top of me…and I thought he was going to kiss me…but he didn’t. He dropped me like a hot potato and said he was sorry. Sorry! Can you believe that?”

  She was expecting Trudy to share her distress…to agree with her, tell her that his actions were despicable and unforgivable. She wanted Trudy to be mad at him with her…but she wasn’t. Her eyes softened as she laid a gentle hand on Stormy’s shoulder and said, “Stormy. Can’t you see, sweetie? The man is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. He was just trying to do the right thing. Trying to be a gentleman. What he did was actually pretty commendable. Most guys would have taken full advantage. You have to see it from his point of view. He has a career to think about.”