“We wondered when you’d shuffle back to the little ol’ Bay.” She frowned. “Sorry the circumstances had to be what they are. We were all sad to hear.”
“Me, too. But Jill’s doing better each day. Slowly on the mend.” In fact, after some tips from her PT instructor, Jill felt confident enough to spend the evening on her own, freeing Devyn up to get together with her old friends. It was a big step for Jill, but Devyn would make sure to text her several times throughout the evening to be sure she was okay.
“We’re so glad to hear that,” Lisa said, in a hushed tone and emotional hand to her heart. “Bless her heart, she’s been through so much.”
Coco, the short and spunky one of the group who used to top their cheerleading pyramids, hopped off her barstool, offered a salute, and grabbed Devyn around the waist for a playful bear hug. “You haven’t lost your strength,” Devyn said with a laugh, hugging her old friend as she shuffled side to side.
When she released her, Coco tossed her shoulder-length dark hair and flexed. “CrossFit four times a week, inspired by two kids and a messy divorce. Working on getting back in the dating saddle and thinking about that one over there.” She nodded to a blond guy in an Armani shirt at the bar, nursing a beer. Most likely a tourist. Very few locals wore Armani in a beach town.
Devyn winked. “I have faith in your comeback.”
Heather was the last to greet her. Always the most beautiful and judgmental of the group, she gave Devyn a calm once-over. “You’re looking good,” she said cautiously, as they hugged, never one to dish out too many compliments. In Heather’s eyes, doing so made her relinquish control. She’d confessed as much growing up. Seemed things hadn’t changed.
“I appreciate that. So do you,” Devyn said. Heather’s dark blond hair fell a little longer than was customary for a woman over twenty-two, but Heather wore it well. She still looked great. Coco’s guy-at-the bar passed Heather a glance, and she smiled demurely and turned away. Same old Heather. A friend to your face and stealing your boyfriend the very next minute. Coco hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Sit, sit,” Cricket said, kicking out a chair at their table.
“What can I get you?” the waiter asked. Devyn surveyed the four pink Zinfandels already on the table, and felt the pressure to conform. What was that about? She was back in town a few weeks and already losing her identity. It felt eerily familiar and awful.
“Scotch, neat,” she told him, finding her footing. “The good kind.” He nodded and scurried away, probably to find out if they even carried scotch. Dreamer’s Bay, in its simplicity, was more of a beer and wine kind of a place.
“Since when do you drink straight whiskey?” Cricket asked, seemingly shocked and impressed.
Devyn smiled, her polite muscle in place. “Just a thing I picked up.”
“Very city girl of you,” Lisa said, and sipped from her wine. “My husband, Len, drinks scotch when his week’s been a rough one.”
“Elliot, too,” Cricket exclaimed. “Though he prefers bourbon. When he gets home and pours the bourbon, I just know. Steer clear.”
Devyn resisted the urge to wince as the conversation shifted to the three remaining husbands and their feelings about alcohol, sports, lawn care, and parenting. If they’d somehow slipped back to the 1960s, she wished someone would have notified her. Ten minutes later, they were still at it.
“Elliot can’t stand it when people traipse across the lawn when there’s a perfectly good sidewalk right there. Drives him insane. He does that thing where he huffs a lot about it.” She demonstrated the huffing.
“Talk about inconsiderate,” Coco said, nodding earnestly along with the demo.
“Len is the same way,” Lisa said. “What gets him going is when the ice cream man comes ting-a-linging along well past eight in the evening. Who needs ice cream once the kiddies start going to sleep anyway?” She shook her head in Len solidarity.
Devyn smiled blandly, feeling more and more numb to the conversation. Was this all these four really talked about? Had it always been this way? It had, she realized. They’d always been boy crazy, and though she’d played along, she’d secretly been dreaming of so much more than snagging a man and settling down. That’s what this town did to you, though. These women were the perfect, sad examples. What about their own hopes and dreams?
“What about you, Dev? We’re going on and on and you’re pretty much the main attraction here.”
She swallowed her scotch and let it burn. She gave her head a slight shake as it made its way down. “Me? What about me?”
“You seeing anyone?” Heather asked, leaning her chin on her palm casually.
“Yeah, what are the men like in Philadelphia?” Coco asked.
“The men are fine,” Devyn said, nonchalantly. “I just don’t date them.” She glanced at the faces and realized they honestly knew very little about her. Well, it was time to fill them in. “I’m gay. You guys knew that, right?”
Coco blinked, and Lisa sputtered over her pink wine as discreetly as possible, but Devyn didn’t move a muscle. This wasn’t a big deal. This was just her life, only now the details were a little different from what they’d previously known.
“I’d heard a rumor,” Cricket said. Aha. So, apparently Devyn just confirmed what they’d already suspected. She watched Cricket rebound from her initial, uninhibited reaction with a festive burst of energy. “Well, that’s just fantastic. Really exciting. We needed a lesbian in our group, and now we have one. Diversity rocks.” Devyn studied the faces of the others, who nodded enthusiastically along like overly made-up bobble heads. Did they? Had they been longing for a lesbian friend all along? She tried not to smile patronizingly.
“Any special lady?” Cricket asked.
“Nope,” she said, setting her glass on the table. “Been living the single life for a while now. I go out. Nothing too serious. Not a lot of time for romance with my job. Maybe someday, though.”
“Maybe someday.” Heather nodded like she’d beat Devyn at some sort of cool contest, which was fine because Devyn realized she seemed immune to what Heather thought, a big improvement over the time she’d worn flats to the school dance when Heather thought heels would have been the more sophisticated choice. She’d chastised herself for that decision for months afterward, and just thinking about it now made her uncomfortable.
The table switched to talk of the holiday auction, which seemed odd, as it was still late spring. But maybe they started early these days. In the midst of chatter about catering, donated excursions, and silent auction items that just had to be bigger this year than last, Devyn’s eyes roamed the restaurant. Then paused. Because standing in the doorway, looking for a table, was none other than Elizabeth. She had on slim-fitting jeans with a hole in the knee and a plain white T-shirt. A very basic outfit that looked way too good for what it was. Her brown-blond hair—she still couldn’t decide which it was—was down and a little tousled. She’d wondered if that had been on purpose or a happy accident. She shook her head at what an interesting character she was.
“What do you think, Devyn? Do people enjoy shrimp or steak more at a gathering?” Lisa asked, and pursed her red lips in anticipation of the answer. That was a lot of lipstick right there.
She blinked. Replayed the question she’d missed the first time. “Uh…I’d say shrimp, but a combo couldn’t hurt. Depends on the chef.”
“She makes a valid point,” Coco said, and they were off again on their event planning. Devyn drifted back, locating Elizabeth sliding into a booth with a bald man with really impressive biceps.
“You remember Dexter,” Heather said, following her gaze. She then signaled the waiter for more wine.
Devyn squinted and looked again. “That’s Dexter? What in the world happened?”
“A total success story,” Cricket said, and fanned herself like Scarlett O’Hara in the heat of the day.
“With pillow lips to boot,” Coco added. Everyone turned to her.
“I knew it,�
�� Lisa said, and shook her head. “I just knew it, you blatant whore.”
“What?” Coco grinned proudly and then pretended to wave away the attention. “I’m single now. I can mingle.”
Devyn tried not to cringe outwardly at that line. “So, are they a thing? Dexter and Elizabeth?” Somehow that just didn’t seem to fit for her. Especially the way Elizabeth had leaned into her harmless flirting.
Heather laughed quietly. “No.”
Cricket leaned in. “No, Dexter’s a man about town, and Elizabeth’s gay, though I’ve never actually seen evidence of that.”
“Not true,” Coco said. “She follows after Thalia from the little spa like a puppy dog. It’s cute, if it weren’t so sad.”
Lisa raised a finger. “Oh, and she had a girlfriend a couple of years back. Remember? The one with the really loud car that went vroom, vroom, chugga, vroom?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Cricket said vaguely, as if tasting something unpleasant she couldn’t place. “And the unfortunate slicked-back ponytail.”
“Always a ponytail with those girls,” Heather said, taking another delicate sip.
Devyn squinted and swallowed her offense at the judgmental and inaccurate statement. Some battles weren’t worth it. Her thoughts returned to confirmation that Elizabeth Draper was gay. This was entirely helpful information. She turned back to Elizabeth and smiled. Good for her. It wasn’t easy to be yourself in a small town like this one. She knew firsthand and had failed miserably. Apparently, Elizabeth had conquered the fear in a way Devyn hadn’t been able to, years back. Given, things were different now, sure, but still. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back,” Devyn told her friends, who all exchanged a knowing look. Gay people were gathering. Imagine that.
When she approached Elizabeth and Dexter’s table, they were laughing at something on Dexter’s phone. There was a lightness to their banter, a warmer vibe from where she’d just been, almost like stepping out of an uncomfortable rainstorm into a ray of sunshine. She exhaled and felt the tension melt away.
Elizabeth turned as Devyn landed at their table, and her green eyes lit up. “Devyn, what the what? Hey. Wasn’t expecting to see you at Roo’s.”
She felt her features slide into an authentic grin. Elizabeth’s nonthreatening persona had a way of putting her instantly at ease. “Hi. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Elizabeth said. “Just me and Dex.”
Devyn shrugged. “I just saw the familiar faces and thought I’d say hello.” Her gaze shifted from Elizabeth to Dexter. “Really nice to see you again, Dexter. It’s been a while.”
He smiled and, without so much as a pause, stood and offered her a friendly hug. “Good to see you back in town. Hey, want to join us?” He slid over, making room in the booth.
Devyn passed a glance to her friends in the bar. The thought of returning to them wasn’t high on her list, though an inevitable social responsibility. “No, I couldn’t. You guys are having a nice meal together.”
“Which happens at least several nights a week,” Elizabeth informed her. “We’re an unconventional couple. We have a third wheel, but she’s married with a kid and at home right now.”
“Really. Huh. Lot of women in your life, it seems,” she said to Dexter with a playful smile.
He rolled up his sleeve to display a tattoo on his forearm that read Blessed. “It is what it is.”
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked. “We’d love to have you. You can share our onion ring pile. It’s why we come here.”
“An onion ring pile is hard to pass up.” She wouldn’t have expected herself to want to hear about Elizabeth’s day of odd jobs, and “only positive” gossip from the field, but here she was, wishing she had the night free for an onion pile and just that. The perky weirdo had apparently worked her way onto the endearing list. How had that happened? “I can’t, but I’m gonna take you up on it another night.”
Elizabeth followed her gaze to the bar and recognition landed. “Oh. It’s the whole gang of you. A squad reunion?” She said it delicately, as if the idea didn’t thrill her but she also didn’t want to be obvious. Devyn didn’t blame her. She saw how their group must look to others, then and now, and retroactively hated her younger self for it.
Devyn shifted uneasily, now aware of the fact that she didn’t necessarily want to be lumped in with the women who used to be her very best friends. “Yes, just catching up, as they say. We don’t really stay in touch.”
Dexter raised his beer and offered a lazy grin. “Send the ladies my best.”
“Will do. They’ll love it. Trust me.”
Devyn smiled one last time at Elizabeth, nodded, and took her leave. A final glance over her shoulder showed the duo back to whatever fun conversation she’d interrupted.
“Did you see the heels on Melinda Masters at the firemen’s pancake breakfast last weekend?” Cricket was asking the table when Devyn returned. “Horrendous. I was embarrassed for her and all her extended family.”
Heather laughed quietly. “Not only did I see them, but I snapped a photo so we could all never forget.” She located said photo and turned it around so the table could gawk. The heels weren’t that awful, and it was now clear to Devyn that these women were looking for any shred of evidence that they might be superior to everyone else. She cringed internally and buckled in for a night of catty judgment. Not far away, a kinder table with an onion ring pile offered a nice distraction. The view wasn’t a bad one either. She stole a glance at Elizabeth in that simple white T-shirt that was anything but, and smothered a smile. Nope, not a bad view at all.
* * *
“What time do I need to hit the road?” Dexter asked, and reached for one of the awesome onion rings.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch, remembering her text exchange with Thalia. “She said she’d meet me here for drinks at nine. So maybe I should make myself free by eight forty-five.”
“That gives me a few more minutes to devour these bad boys,” he said, dunking one of the rings in the specialty sauce Elizabeth adored. Ronnie Jr., the head chef, was killing it these days.
“Do you remember your plan for tonight?” he asked, in coach mode now.
Elizabeth sighed. “Just be myself, and not get caught up in the excitement of what could be. Thalia is…Thalia.”
“And?”
“Let her chase me for a change.” She glanced down at her outfit. “I kept it completely casual tonight for that very reason. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.”
“Excellent. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He tossed back the rest of his beer and stood, giving his arms a traditional flex. Several women from nearby tables turned their way in unison. Elizabeth smiled at her lap. He really did have an amusing effect on the ladies.
“Have a good night, Dex, my good buddy. You seeing Misty?”
He grinned big and bold, which told her everything she needed to know. He was into this new girl, and she was witnessing a whole new Dexter. He rubbed his chin. “Outlook is good.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I like the way you sparkle when I say her name.”
“Nope.” He dropped his hand in protest. “Dudes don’t sparkle.”
“They do, too.”
He exhaled. “Fine. Maybe I do. What do I know? I don’t recognize my damn self, so anything is possible.” He pointed at her. “You be good to yourself.”
“On it,” she said, to his retreating form.
On her own now, she settled back into the booth and checked her watch. Fifteen minutes to Thalia. She should figure out what drink she’d order, imagining that it probably said something about her. She didn’t enjoy that she cared as much as she seemed to about the way Thalia viewed her, but some things are just best embraced. Elizabeth flipped through the folio, admiring the photos of various cocktails she knew very little about. Yes, something more sophisticated than her go-to IPA would surely set the right tone for “You really want to get to know me better. I
’m not a total doofus.” She flipped the small booklet to the back cover and stared at a martini with a trio of olives on a stick. Would you look at that? She could be Bond. Elizabeth Bond. Perfect, because Ms. Elizabeth Bond could be sexy without trying too hard. She smiled at all the right moments, but not too much, and knew how to toss her hair with barely a gesture. Feeling inspired, she raised her hand for Irene, the server and part-time library attendant.
“Figure out something you’d like, Liz?” Irene asked. She looked super cute today.
“Did you get highlights?” she asked.
Irene beamed and lightly touched her head. “You’re the only person who’s noticed.”
“They look great. I’m not just saying that. You have a whole new pop to you.”
Irene smiled and thanked her, still blushing, and Elizabeth was glad she’d taken the time to say something. Getting back to business, she pointed at the photo on the back of the booklet. “I’ll have one of these, please. A martini.” She even felt a little fancy saying it.
“Unlike you.”
She passed her a wide-eyed, can-you-believe-it look. “I know. I’m trying something new.”
“I’m impressed. Vodka or gin?”
Oh, this was getting harder. “Whatever the house recommends.”
“We do a pretty good vodka martini. What brand would you prefer?”
She knew so little. “Um…I’ll take the one with the bird on the side.”
Irene nodded, apparently impressed with her choice. This was going well. The martini and three sophisticated olives arrived a few minutes later and she took a preliminary sip to get the swing of things. Whoa. Okay. That was…not beer. Or even wine, beer’s much more boring cousin. Hell, it wasn’t even like the basic whiskey she kept in her truck for special occasions, like Scout’s adoption. After a second sip, she sank back in defeat at her failed attempt to bond with this awful-tasting cocktail. At least it came with a snack. The only problem was if she ate those olives now, her drink would look woefully naked and much less like the drink of Ms. Elizabeth Bond when Thalia arrived. She took another sip and resisted the urge to slither under the table in disdain. Instead, she let her gaze drift to the bar. She could people-watch until Thalia arrived, which definitely wouldn’t be long now. At this point, she was already eight minutes late. Across the room, Cricket was saying something animatedly to the other members of the cheerleaders—yes, she apparently did still think of them as cheerleaders and probably always would. Coco whooped in response and Heather, the meanest of them all, shook her head and smiled blandly. Devyn stared into her drink, which was a lot more hard-core than Elizabeth’s even. Some kind of scotch, maybe? It was nice seeing her out and taking a moment for herself. She’d been so present for Jill since their talk, and it showed in Jill’s demeanor. Devyn deserved a moment away…even if those were, sadly, the friends she chose to spend it with.
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