by Jill Winters
Suddenly a hand in front went up. Billy stifled an eye roll as she rooted around in her bag for a pen. Come on, a question already? The teacher had barely said anything. "Hello," the student said in an instantly familiar voice. "My name is Adrienne Cabot, and I just wanted to tell you that I'm really, really looking forward to this class."
Okay—so her mom was a brownnoser.
"Well, thank you, Adrienne. I assure you, we're going to have a terrifically abundant and gloriously luxuriant time in this class." Addressing the rest of the class, Judy continued, "Now, I assume we're all here for the same reason—to enrich our lives, as well as our palates."
Adrienne's hand shot up again.
"Yes?"
"The truth is, I'm here because I'm looking to incorporate more healthy foods into my cooking. You see, I've recently lost some weight, and it's changed my whole way of thinking and living." Yeah, four pounds could really do that to a person.
"That's absolutely glorious, Adrienne," Judy said, smiling at her new pet. "And I can assure you that in this class you'll never be wanting for new ways to prepare truly inspiring, delectably ravishing meals that are resplendent with nutrients."
Adrienne scribbled frantically in her notebook, obviously trying to capture every adverb, while Billy continued feeling around in her bag for a pen. No luck. Not even her sketch pencil, which must've dropped on the way here tonight.
While everyone took notes on olive oil, Billy looked around, hoping to catch someone's eye. Finally she tapped on the shoulder of the woman in front of her, who claimed she didn't have an extra pen, and sat farther forward.
"Is someone talking?" Judy said suddenly, darting her eyes suspiciously. Billy slumped down in her chair, hoping she didn't look too guilty. "Yes, Adrienne?" Judy said, calling on Billy's mom, who had her hand raised yet again.
"Regarding the oil issue"—now it constituted an issue?—"back when I was heavy, canola oil was a constant theme in my cooking. Would olive oil be a better substitute?"
As Judy replied with a flowery spiel about burning temperatures, Billy gave up her quest for a pen. When she looked over at Corryn, who was half slouched in her chair, she laughed to herself, imagining the expression of apathy on her older sister's face.
* * *
Corryn wondered how much more she could stand, sitting next to a dorky guy who couldn't stop sneezing. She'd glared at him briefly, and from the quick look she'd gotten, he was a petite little man with ruddy cheeks and a poorly executed comb-over.
"Aa-ah-ah-choo!" he burst out again, and a few wisps of Corryn's hair flew forward. Yuck! She screwed up her face and leaned away with blatant disgust. Who cared if it was rude; had he ever heard of tissues?
"Now everyone pick a partner and go to a kitchen station," Judy said.
Corryn was about to turn to Adrienne when she felt someone poke her arm. "Excuse me. Would you like to be my partner?"
It was the sneezer, looking hopeful. Now she felt guilty. "Oh... thanks," she said, smiling politely, "but I'm pairing up with my mother—"
As she said the words, Adrienne called to Billy, "Honey, come be my partner!"
"Right... the three of us are partnering actually," Corryn explained, tugging on her mom's sleeve.
When Adrienne glanced back, she must've noticed the man lurking around Corryn, because she said quietly, "Well, maybe all four of us could work together."
"What?" Corryn whispered back, definitely less than thrilled. "Mom, I thought we were here to bond."
"We are, but that young man has been staring at you for the past hour." Wait—was that supposed to be appealing or creepy? "And besides, just because we came together, there's no harm in meeting someone new. In fact, it would probably do you a lot of good."
Before Corryn could tell her mom what, exactly, would do her a lot of good, Adrienne was extending her hand and introducing herself. "Hi, I'm Adrienne, and that's my daughter Billy," she said, motioning to Billy, who was making her way up the center aisle.
Holding back a sigh, Corryn joined in. "And I'm Corryn."
"Nice to meet you," he said, looking mostly at Corryn. "I'm Roynald. Roynald Membrano."
"Well, we'll just go grab a kitchen station," Adrienne said way too quickly, taking Billy's hand and pulling them both forward. "You two can meet us over there."
Corryn held back an eye roll, but it took a mammoth effort.
Puh-lease. Did her mother actually believe this partnership was going to lead to romance? Besides sharing sweaters, Corryn wasn't seeing a big future with Roynald Membrano. Not that a guy had to be built for her to like him, but... Hmm...
Joe Montgomery was built. And for the past few days she'd found herself lusting after him. A rugged cop with killer green eyes... she'd bet he looked so achingly sexy without his shirt on. Even though she hadn't seen him since they'd run into each other on Newbury Street, Joe still crept into her fantasies...
"Corryn?"
"Oh... right," she said, snapping back into focus. "We should go over to our station." Which she would do on autopilot, because she was anxious to get back to her fantasy—especially since fantasy was all it would ever be. Besides, Joe might be sexy and very much her physical type, but as she'd learned from Kane, that made him dangerous. Ultimately it was safer and wiser just to be alone.
"Excuse me," Judy called across the room. "Please find your own station." Corryn looked over and realized she was talking to her.
"Oh, no, the four of us were going to work together—"
"Absolutely not," Judy said strictly, shaking her head with rapid but mechanical jerking motions. "Two to a station," she added firmly.
Adrienne offered Corryn a halfhearted look of apology, and Billy barely stifled a grin. "Oh, good, it's just the two of us," Roynald said. "Is this your first adult-ed class?"
"Um, yeah. What about you?"
"No, I take classes all the time. It's a great way to meet some really interesting people." Corryn managed a nod, though she was suddenly feeling a little smothered.
"Judy? Am I doing this right?" Adrienne called out. Judy glided right over to her.
Corryn exchanged knowing looks with Billy; then she laughed. Hey, it could always be worse. Sure, she'd just been thrown at a total stranger by her hopelessly Machiavellian mother, but at least she wasn't stuck working with the teacher's pet.
Chapter 17
A couple of days later Billy was in Churchill, working on the street mural. Dappaport had gotten her a slew of supplies, and he basically left her to do her own thing for as long as she wanted. He told her he just needed to know when she arrived and when she left; the rest was up to her. She loved the autonomy, because it made her feel like a legitimate artist.
Now, as Billy breathed in the clean, temperate October air, she realized that she loved being in Churchill, too. It was a gorgeous little town in the fall. Trees glowed amber and gold as leaves scattered colorfully across the ground.
Suddenly her cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Billy? Kip Belding here."
"Hi, how are you?" she said brightly.
"Fabulous, doll." Oh, good, it sounded like she was off his shit list. (Or was "doll" a demotion from "sweetie"?) "I'm calling because I've found you the premier position of the millennium."
"Really?" she said, stretching over to dab paint in the far right corner of the mural. "What position?"
"How do you feel about an energetic, challenging work environment?"
"Sounds great. Where?"
"Well, it's in Dorchester," he said, "right off the orange line."
"Mmm-hmm," Billy said, not thrilled about riding the most dangerous subway line in Boston, but trying to keep an open mind. "What's the company?"
"Well, it's a really large, multifaceted institution, with a constantly evolving client base...."
"Right..."
"And I'm sensing a lot of growth potential here, doll."
"Kip, the company?" Billy pressed a little impatiently... and suspiciously.
"Wait," she said, pausing with her paintbrush in midair, "this isn't Tuck Hospital, is it?"
"Um..."
She rolled her eyes and sighed softly. "Kip, I really don't want to work in a hospital," she reiterated. "It's just a strong personal preference."
Now Kip sighed—and loudly. "Billy, the job market's a real bitch these days. I mean, if you want me to work with you, you're going to have to be more accommodating." Billy held her tongue, but only for her mother's sake, and Kip gave more details about the open position with a lot of growth potential (ER file clerk).
When he finished, Billy said, "I appreciate your thinking of me, but I'm going to have to pass. If anything opens up in Web design or graphic arts, definitely give me a call." She was being as polite as possible, because Adrienne was friends with Kip's mother, Gladys, and Billy didn't want to burn bridges. As she snapped her phone closed, she heard someone coming up behind her.
"Hey, there," Seth said as Billy whipped around.
"Hi," she said with a breath of relief. "You startled me." Instantly heat suffused her cheeks as memories of their hot and heavy makeout session suddenly popped into her mind. If only she hadn't moaned and writhed and carried on like a sex maniac, she might not be so embarrassed right now.
"I'm sorry," he said. "So how's it going? Wow, that looks awesome so far." He moved past her to survey her mural-in-progress. Pride flooded Billy's chest, in spite of the nervous fluttering, and she thanked him.
"What are you doing out here?" Billy asked.
"I was over at Marie's Cafe, fixing a loose wheel on a rolling cart," he said, motioning with his thumb toward the center of town. "I guess Sally mentioned to half the town that I'm decent with a screwdriver. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hi."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Glancing down at the ground, Seth cleared his throat almost awkwardly; good, so it wasn't just Billy who felt foolish and flustered about the dry-humping-on-the-kitchen-table bit from the other day.
"I also wanted to tell you what I found out about Ted Schneider," he said.
That took her by surprise. "What?" she asked, wiping blue fingertips on her smock.
"According to the rumors Sally heard, Ted was a regular at the Rusty Canoe." Billy squinted questioningly. "It's a little hole in the wall tavern outside of town—right on the wharf."
"Hmm..."
"So I was thinking... maybe when you get done here, we could go check it out."
"We?" Billy said, surprised... and more than a little intrigued.
"Well, there's no way I'm letting you go alone," he said.
"I'll be fine alone," Billy said, assuming it was true, and assuming she brought her pepper spray. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to be bored. I know you probably think it's silly that I'm looking into what happened, anyway."
"I don't think it's silly," was all he said. Obviously Seth wanted to come; and of course Billy wanted him to come, so further pretense seemed stupid. And tonight was a great night to do some investigating, because her parents were taking Pike; it was something they enjoyed doing every now and then, because David missed having a dog and Pike loved their backyard.
Still, she couldn't help wondering why Seth was doing this. A few days ago he hadn't seemed too convinced that Ted's death was murder. Was it possible that he just wanted to spend time with her? Surely his reasons had to be personal.
Images of their hot, frantic kiss rushed through Billy's mind, as arousing sensations rippled through her lower body. Softly, she sighed. Obviously he still turned her on.
"So should I pick you up here, or do you want to meet at my house?" Seth asked.
"Pick me up," she told him, because she remembered the last time they'd been alone at his house.
* * *
The Rusty Canoe lived up to its name in terms of oxidation. It was a dusty little bar, big on fishnetting, dim lighting, and the potent smell of dubiously "fresh" catch.
As Seth and Billy made their way in, Seth took Billy's hand. She didn't know if it was a romantic kind of gesture, or just a familiar one—or maybe he sensed her apprehension—nevertheless, she held it tight. "Let's grab a table," he said, and led the way to a booth in the far left corner.
Before Billy slid in, she realized she had to pee, so she excused herself in search of the ladies' room. Off toward the back were two adjacent doors labeled Mensch and Wench. So, in addition to its other repellents, the Rusty Canoe was overtly chauvinistic.
After using the facilities, Billy noticed the dim, cracked mirrors and the graffiti on the walls. Right in front of her someone had scribbled, I'm a nasty freak—which was followed by the rebuttal: So's your mother. A sudden protective urge came over her, as she thought of her aunt dating Ted Schneider and having to spend time in a dank, seedy place like this because she loved him.
Aunt Penelope, Billy thought firmly to herself, you can do so much better.
* * *
Back at the table, Seth was making some headway with the waitress, who seemed to have taken a liking to him. She looked to be around forty, with deep lines of age marked into her tanned, leathery skin, and wore a name tag that read, Leah. "Haven't seen you around," she said, smiling broadly. "And believe me, I'd remember."
"I'm new to the area," Seth remarked casually. "Just wanted to check out the local scene."
"And you came here?"
"Yeah, well, this place has a lot of... personality," he said, looking around. Leah snorted a laugh, and Seth continued, "I wonder if you could tell me about a man who used to come here—"
"Oh, you're gay," she said, obviously disappointed. "I should've known."
"No, no," he said with a soft chuckle, "I'm not gay." Please, it was all he could do to tame his fierce attraction to Billy—not to mention his dick, which had gone from semihard to aching in the last twenty minutes. But how the hell could he look at her—hear her voice—and not recall what had happened the other day on his kitchen table? How could he block out echoes of Billy's sexy, throaty moans, and the feel of her hard nipples against his palms? She'd told him to forget about it, but she was asking the impossible.
"You're not gay?" Leah said, perceptibly cheered. "Then why are you looking for a guy?"
"He's an old friend of the family's, but he lost touch a few years ago," Seth lied. "I wanted to find out what happened to him. From what I understand, he used to come here."
"What does he look like?" she asked. After Seth described Ted, Leah nodded with recognition.
"Hey," Billy said, sliding into the booth.
"Hi," Seth said, smiling at her, then turned back to Leah... whose face dropped, suddenly losing its flirty expression.
"So what are ya having?" she asked brusquely, and flipped her pad open. Seth could only assume her demeanor had changed because she mistook Billy for his wife or girlfriend.
"I'll have a Sam Adams," he said, then looked to Billy.
"Nothing for me," she said. It was hard to trust the cleanliness of the glassware in a place like this.
After the waitress left, Seth turned to Billy and dropped his voice. "Listen, how do you feel about sitting at the bar for a few minutes?"
She didn't have to look over at the bar to know how she felt—like a piece of chum swirling among a few inebriated sharks. In other words, clobbered, smothered, not exactly thrilled. "Why?" she asked, confused. "I thought we were gonna ask the waitress about Ted Schneider first, and then work our way through the crowd." At least, that had been the plan they'd discussed on the ride over here. Although Billy still didn't know why Seth was so intent on helping her with her investigation. She hadn't told him her theory about the vandalism and threatening phone call, because she hadn't wanted him to worry. Besides, she couldn't prove there was a link between that and the Ted Schneider case.
"I know, but I get the feeling that Leah will be more talkative if it's just me."
Billy scrunched up her
face, not getting it, and then—abruptly—she got it. "Ohhh, I see. It's 'Leah' now, huh? She likes you."
Grinning, Seth shrugged. "It's been known to happen from time to time."
"Okay, fine," Billy said with a smirk, and slid out of the booth. "But promise me you'll give me the signal as soon as I can come back."
"Of course I will."
"And drink your beer out of the bottle," she added.
"I promise."
With that, Billy headed to the bar, which was a horseshoe-shaped strip densely populated with dirty old men. At least that was how they looked; maybe they were all pillars of the community. (The dirty-old-men community, that is.)
She ducked her way through the crowd, hopped up onto an available stool right in front of the tap, and tried not to touch the bar, which had something sticky on its surface.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked, pointing at her. He was a thick, stout man with a bushy mustache and a short manner; Billy knew she had to order something to stay in his good graces.
"Hi, I'll have a Diet Coke," she said, forcing a bright smile in the hopes it would help her blend in. Hey, while Seth was working the waitress for information, Billy might as well work the barkeep. "So... been working here long?" she asked casually.
"Yup."
"Oh, that's interesting."
No response.
"I guess a place like this attracts a lot of regulars," she fished.
"A place like what?" he asked, setting her Diet Coke onto the bar, and spilling some as he pushed it toward her. (Well, at least the carbonation might help dissolve the mystery ooze at her place.)
"Um, you know... just a real down-home kind of rustic establishment." He looked at her as if she were nuts. "A nice, quaint little... joint?"
He turned to another customer. "Hey, Coop, another beer?"