Contemporary Nights Volume One

by C. J. Ellisson

  “Mister Mulherin, my team and I are here to complete the final cleanup of the office space before your furniture delivery tomorrow.” The older woman eyed him. “Are you all right?”

  “Ah—yeah. Yes, thank you.” Trent replied and crossed his legs. “Go ahead and get started, I was about to leave.”

  After a glance around the empty space to ensure a clear escape, he picked up his briefcase, held it in front of his crotch, and rushed to the elevators.

  Chapter Five

  Today was the day Amy Leigh was to meet her husband for the first time since leaving Las Vegas. Wanting him to find his wife attractive now that they were away from the influence of Vegas lights and alcohol, she’d spent another bundle of money on hair and nails, but the outfit she wore was not new, it was what she usually wore on her days off. Jeans and her favorite jade green off the shoulder blouse that set off her “plain-Jane” dark brown hair and eyes. The ensemble was completed with a pair of four inch tan wedges in hopes she wouldn’t look too short when standing next to Trent. From what she could remember he was quite tall.

  Their one phone conversation was stilted, with a lot of awkward silent moments due to the fact he was at his office. Although he apologized explaining to be in the middle of opening up a new business, Amy Leigh got the impression he preferred to be working than talking with her. Yet, he agreed to drive to Sweetgum to meet her, which surprised her. More than anything, she hoped by asking him to come to meet her, he’d take one look at her, change his mind, and choose to stay married. Not because she cared for him, but who knew maybe they could date or something. After all, he was a hottie and seemed to be nice.

  She closed her eyes imagining the tall, handsome stranger she’d married. They could get to know each other, fall in love, and in the meantime have more amazing sex. What the heck, realistically even if she never saw him again, it had been worth it.

  The atmosphere at Bubba’s BBQ was as always, friendly, shabby and filled with mouth watering aromas. Amy Leigh strolled in and waved to the red-faced cook, Bubba, who waved back and grinned. “Hey there, Amy Leigh.”

  Bubba’s oldest daughter, Coy, who wore her hair in a messy ponytail with split ends sticking out in all directions, gave Amy Leigh her perfected bored expression and stood by the booth as soon as she slid in. “The usual?”

  “Yeah, but just sweet tea for now, I’m expecting a customer.” She lied hoping Trent was mistaken for someone planning an event and rumors would not spread with the usual speed of light that they tended to in Sweetgum. The last thing she needed was her mother involved.

  Her cocktail wielding mother who rarely left her doublewide and above ground pool except to go to work knew more about the comings and goings of the town than the mayor. How she did it was a mystery Amy Leigh planned to solve one day.

  “All right, just holler when you’re ready,” the waitress said placing the tea filled Mason jar before her.

  The door opened and Amy Leigh’s heart quickened. Two men walked in, obviously by their bright yellow shirts and hard hats, both worked on a road crew. They headed to the sink beside the door and washed their hands. Coy brought them drinks without bothering to ask what they wanted. Amy Leigh gathered they’d been there often since starting work on whatever project they had.

  A second tinkle of the bell over the door got her attention and this time her stomach double flipped when her husband stepped through the doorway. He removed his aviator sunglasses, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimmer interior.

  Dressed in a pastel striped shirt with sleeves folded up his forearm and expensive faded jeans, he looked like he stepped out of an advertisement in a GQ magazine. He spotted her and walked toward her with a determined look. Instead of a smile, his lips were pressed into a firm line. Coy stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop, and he frowned down at her.

  “Will it be just one today, sir?”

  Since when did people get seated there? Amy Leigh looked around to the empty tables and booths and rolled her eyes. When she looked back toward him, Trent’s gaze met hers and her stupid stomach got back on the roller coaster. “No thank you, miss, I’m meeting Amy Leigh.”

  Coy followed him to her booth. Her demeanor strangely cheerful and the smile on her face closer to creepy than friendly. “Amy Leigh your customer is here.”

  Amy Leigh frowned at her. “Ooookay, thanks.”

  Trent slid into the bench opposite her; his gaze went back to the waitress. “I’ll have coffee, please. No cream, no sugar, just black.”

  “And two plates of BBQ,” Amy Leigh added to keep Coy from coming back to get their order.

  He lifted an eyebrow at her when Coy walked off. “Customer?”

  “Yeah well, it’s a small town. I couldn’t think of another reason I’d be meeting you that would keep the gossips from sending their scouts to get a look at you. As it is, they’re probably circling outside from you driving through town and stopping.” She looked out the window hoping “the stalker ex” was not outside.

  He cleared his throat, but did not reply.

  Her gaze roamed from Trent’s tussled dark hair to his “don’t need to be waxed to be perfect” eyebrows over his amazing hazel eyes. She studied the colors of his eyes, green with gold and specks of …what was that brown, or chocolate, yeah chocolate. Yum.

  “Amy Leigh?”

  “Yes?” her breathless reply made her want to crawl under the table. He was talking. Unfortunately it was impossible to hear past her heart pounding in her ears. His lips continued to move.

  She wondered if her mouth was open. Amy Leigh checked. Yep sitting there staring at him with her mouth open and nostrils flared. She probably looked like a hyena before it goes in for the kill. Not that she’d ever seen a hyena hunt, but could imagine.

  His mouth was still moving. Her mind began wondering. Why can’t I keep him? Just a few days. I’ll give him back to whomever he belongs to, I promise. I mean, he is my husband I should be able to keep him for a little bit.

  “Amy Leigh.” He scowled at her. How cute.

  “Yes?”

  “Look I know it’s a lot to ask, but it will only be for a couple of weeks.” He squinted at her to ensure she was tracking. How can a crinkle in the corner of his eyes make her want to slam him right here on the Formica tabletop at Bubba’s BBQ? “So,” he continued after surmising that she listened. “Since we texted my mother our wedding pictures, she’s excited to meet you. It’s her fiftieth birthday next week and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her it was all a huge mistake.”

  Did he just say I’m meeting his mother?“Wait, what? I’m meeting your mother?” Shit what the hell did she miss? This was good news, wasn’t it? Somehow she’d not heard some good stuff while dazed by her husband’s good looks. She daydreamed through the entire conversation. Well not exactly a conversation, as she’d only said ‘yes’ a couple times.

  When he took a breath, she leaned forward and paid strict attention to his words. “If you could just do this for me. She’s been after me to get married and now she’s so happy, calling me daily insisting I bring you home.” He ran his fingers through his hair and she suppressed the urge to slap his hand away and do it for him.

  She raised her eyebrows as if considering whatever he proposed, mainly because she had no idea what he’d been saying. Well, other than meeting his mom and something about a couple of weeks.

  “Let me understand what you’re asking. You want us to stay married for a few months longer? Then I get to meet your mother and make her happy, only to stomp on her heart when suddenly I turn in to a heartless bitch and dump you for the scuba instructor I’ll meet at a Jamaican resort where we’re on our honeymoon.”

  His eyes widened. She smiled at the darkening gold flecks, which made the green part seem even brighter. Oh yeah, she could totally picture them naked on the white sandy beach. “I said it will be a couple weeks, and then I will find a way to explain our separation. I don’t think it’s a good idea t
hat we go on an actual honeymoon, or that I be dumped for a diving instructor.”

  “Scuba,” Amy Leigh corrected him. “I don’t dive. Never been scuba diving either, actually.”

  Both watched the waitress as she placed his coffee followed by their barbeque plates in front of them. She smiled a little too brightly at Trent, no doubt to assure a good tip and maybe his phone number. “Is your food all right?”

  “How should we know, Coy? We haven’t tasted it yet.” Amy Leigh smiled at the bimbo, mentally shoving her away.

  Coy huffed and placed a hand on her nonexistent thin hip. “I’m just doing my job, Amy Leigh.”

  “You’ve never asked me if I like my food before,” Amy Leigh replied.

  Coy rolled her eyes and looked to Trent who stared at his plate with more interest than needed. “Let me know if you need anything,” she told the top of his head.

  Now if she’d just move along, after all they were discussing their honeymoon. Amy Leigh glared at Coy who pretended not to notice.

  “Yes, thank you,” Trent replied and smiled at the now blushing Coy who slid a dirty look at Amy Leigh and finally left.

  “Have you been to Charleston?” Trent asked as they started eating.

  Amy Leigh nodded. “I went a couple of times with friends. It’s beautiful. Is that where you grew up?”

  “Yes, my family has deep roots there.” He paused. Deep roots meant he was from a wealthy family because normal people don’t have roots. Amy Leigh tried to come up with a response, but drew a blank so just nodded again.

  If she kept this up, she could be mistaken for a bobble head. Trent continued, surmising Amy Leigh paid attention. “So you see, I will have to come up with a very creative way to…to...”

  “End our marriage,” Amy Leigh finished for him. Two things came to mind. Her husband had ridiculously kissable lips, and married couples shouldn’t be discussing divorce over a good meal. In her opinion, divorce should be discussed at bad restaurants, where the food is as bad as the topic of conversation. Bubba’s had the best barbeque. Amy Leigh didn’t want her appetite ruined, so she grabbed a piece of bread, piled it high with pulled pork and sauce, and took a healthy bite.

  Trent seemed enthralled by her mouth as she chewed and swallowed. The tasty food made her feel better. Amy Leigh picked up her Mason jar and drank. She then wiped her mouth ensuring not to smear grease across her face with her napkin. He continued to watch her as if she was an interesting cocker spaniel or something.

  Amy cleared her throat. “How about we enjoy our dinner and take it one day at a time?”

  A wide smile curved his lips as she melted in her chair. “You’ll do it?” Trent asked.

  “I’ll do you…er… I mean yeah, I’ll do it.” She grabbed the Mason jar and took deep drink. It went down the wrong pipe, sending her into a coughing fit. Trent reached around and slapped her back a bit too hard. Amy Leigh stopped coughing and glared at him. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.” His hand remained on her shoulder as she slipped a bit further down the seat. “Are you all right?”

  “Yep.”

  He sat and began to eat with gusto. “This is the best barbeque I’ve had in a long time.” Trent craned his neck to look at the sign over the counter where Bubba’s was spray painted on the wall in a not so straight line.

  “So what’s next?” Amy Leigh broke her own rule to not discuss their situation over the wonderful food. “I mean when do I meet the folks?”

  His soft eyes met hers. “Thank you for doing this. My mother’s birthday is the week after next. That’s why I don’t want to break up with you and make her upset. She’s so excited about you and me being married.”

  “You’re married!” Coy stood with her mouth open, staring from one to the other. “Oh. My. God.” She looked around the room, no doubt looking for her first target to spread the news. Unfortunately for her, only the construction workers remained and they wouldn’t be interested.

  “No, Coy, we are not. You misheard. Can you please give us a moment, Coy? This is a private conversation.” Amy Leigh snapped at the waitress who directed her creepy crooked smile at Trent who remained oblivious, digging into his pile of hash and rice like a man fresh out of a concentration camp.

  Brows furrowed, Amy Leigh shooed Coy away with both hands. Finally the skinny thing shuffled away, with enough fodder for the beginnings of a great gossip story. Amy Leigh turned to Trent. “It was a bad idea for you to come here. The entire town will know I’m married in a matter of minutes now. We should have met somewhere else.”

  He studied his plate as if deciding if he wanted to stop eating to talk to her before lifting his eyes. “Sorry, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I think we should spend a few days getting to know each other,” Trent said placing his fork next to his crumb filled plate. “How about you come to Columbia and spend a couple of days with me before we go home? It’s best if we seem comfortable around each other when facing the people of Charleston.”

  The people? “We’re facing the entire city of Charleston?” Amy Leigh’s heart began to pound. “What is your family planning for your mother’s birthday, a parade?”

  He shrugged as if bored. “No, just a birthday party.”

  “We’re not talking cake and ice cream are we? How big of a party?”

  “I’d say about a hundred or so.”

  “Oh.” Amy Leigh stared at her sweet tea wishing it to be something stronger like Jack Daniels. “Shit.”

  “Yep. That pretty much covers it.”

  Red Solo Cup sounded, she grabbed her cell phone in her pocket and without thinking answered it. Her mother’s high-pitched voice tickled her ear. “Is it true? You married a tall, handsome man that wears pastel colors?”

  Amy Leigh studied Trent’s shirt. “Ummm.”

  “Bring him over and I’ll mix up some cocktails. I’ve got this new one I just made up with Southern Comfort and cranberry juice. I’m going to name it Juicy Comfort...or maybe Southern Berry. What do you think?”

  “Mama. I’ll call you later.” Trent resumed eating his eyes on her.

  “Is he there? Are you really married?”

  “It’s well...it’s complicated.”

  “How complicated can it be? Come over and tell me and bring my new son-in-law with you.”

  So. Not. Happening.

  They finished eating after agreeing that Amy Leigh would go to Trent’s apartment in Columbia the following Wednesday. They’d head to Charleston that Friday. Thankfully Coy kept her distance, lingering only when she brought the check, clearly unhappy they stopped talking when she approached.

  Once outside Bubba’s, Amy Leigh walked to the side of the restaurant where her Jeep was parked, Trent following. The bright sunlight made her squint so she dug out her favorite pair of sunglasses and plopped them on her nose.

  “Suppose I’d better head to Charleston, I’m visiting my parents. It’s a four hour drive from here.” Trent closed the distance between them with his hand out as if to shake hers. When she eyed it and didn’t take it, he settled for placing it on her upper arm. “It’s nice to see you again, Amy Leigh.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days.” Before he could react, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around him in a firm hug. “Now that’s better. I’m a hugger.”

  A twinkle in his eye brought a shiver of awareness. “You are much more than a hugger from what I remember.”

  Her face burned and she wanted to kick him for making her blush. “Do you remember everything?”

  “Not everything. I’m still trying to piece it together,” he admitted and looked around to ensure no one overheard. “I’ve got flashes of the wedding chapel and some of the ceremony.”

  “Oh really!” Amy Leigh shrieked and then clamped her hands over her mouth. “I don’t remember that part at all.”

  “How about back at your room? Do you remember that?” The corner of his mouth lifted and an eyebro
w lifted.

  Her cheeks felt hot. “Uh-huh. Most of it, I think. You?”

  “Same here.” Trent took a breath. “To be honest, it’s been hard keeping it out of my mind most days.” He held up his phone. “We took pictures.”

  “What?” Amy Leigh grabbed for the phone, only for him to lift it out of her reach. “You can’t erase them. Don’t touch my phone. I want to keep them. Hands behind your back.”

  Was she naked? Did her makeup smear when she was drunk out of her mind? Dutifully, she placed her hands behind her back and nodded. “All right, I’m ready. Let me see them, please.”

  Trent leaned close as she caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. It was clean and intoxicating and brought visions to her mind that she’d rather not have at the moment. The first picture popped up and she squinted at the screen. It was both of them with crooked grins and their faces smashed together. The second and next few were of them at a wedding chapel. It seemed someone took the pictures of them as they stood holding hands facing each other. They had the same odd grins in place. The wedding official looked like a sleep-deprived mortician. His pasty white face wedged between them in one shot. The next several photos were taken after they were pronounced husband and wife. They were kissing, while the mortician looking guy yawned in the background and Trent’s hand was on her butt. She raised her brow at him and he shrugged flipping to the next one.

  The next ones made her eyes bulge. There she was wearing only a “Vegas grin,” lying back in bed with a pair of men’s boxers hanging from her mouth. The next few were no better. There were pictures of what looked to be large spans of skin and close ups of flushed faces. Then there was one picture of Trent lying on his back with his hands behind his head. She must have taken it while straddling him. His defined chest filled the screen. It was flattering.

  “Not many of those make me look good. So I don’t have to worry about you selling them to Playboy or nothing, do I?” Amy Leigh said.

  He blinked at the phone. “You haven’t seen my favorite.” He flipped and turned the phone to her. It was a picture of her from her breasts up. She looked at the camera with a sleepy satisfied smile while her hair was a tumbled mess. She knew why the girl in the picture wore that smile.