“I don’t know about that,” Colton says, shaking his head. His blue eyes shadow as he imagines something. Probably Casey sitting through a whole game while Bobby and the boys go to town on the visiting team. He clears his throat. “She’s not big on hockey quite yet,” he justifies.
Colton’s tattoo barely pokes out above his shirt collar, and what Mac once told me flashes to memory. His accident. He’s probably not very keen on violence after what happened, having covered up his burns with the tattoo to try and move past it all.
“Casey’s still in a Little Mermaid phase,” Colton continues. “So, unless you have sing-a-longs and talking fish, we’ll have to take a rain check for the kiddo.”
“Shiiit,” Bobby says with a grin. “If singing and talking critters are all she needs, she’d love it! We have the national anthem—everyone’s favorite sing-a-long—and a giant, fuzzy wolf running around on the ice and driving the Zamboni during intermissions. She’d have a blast!”
Colton chuckles and shakes his head. “We’ll see.”
I eye the guys’ beers, still half full, and glance at Mac’s cider, barely touched. She’s still digging around in her purse. “What are you looking for, Mac?” I ask her. “You’re stressing me out.”
She grumbles and blows a strand of dark hair from her face. “My mom gave me the number of a sports medicine doctor in Benton . . . I wanted to give it to Bobby before I forgot again, but I can’t find it.”
Bobby shakes his head and looks at me. “See what I have to deal with? A bunch of nagging ninnies. And they wonder why I need a little fun in my life. Hence, the Mustang.”
Mac tosses a peanut at his face. “Oh, stop it. You love the attention.”
A grin creeps between his lips. “Yeah, I do kinda love it.”
With the evening crowd trickling into Lick’s and the lively conversation with it, I turn the jukebox volume down and snag a fresh bar towel to wipe down the remnants of the afternoon wave.
“So, Nick,” Reilly drawls and shoves his phone into his back pocket. I recognize that tone and brace myself for whatever topic he’s going to breech that I’ve been avoiding. “What’s up with graduation? We throwing you a party in May or what?”
With a little elbow grease, I dominate a particularly stubborn sticky spot around the taps and glance up at him. “Yeah, I guess. Once we get the office finished and Sam and Aunt Alison situated in there, I’ll feel more like I’m home free, I think.” I want to be excited about graduation, but I can’t seem to rally.
“We still working on the windows this weekend?” he asks. “I picked up the skylights yesterday.”
“You know it.” I tear open a fresh bag of pretzels. “Hopefully with a bit more light, that space won’t be so depressing. Which reminds me,” I say, glaring at Reilly. I slide the refilled bowl toward them. “I have to work Friday night, which means I won’t be at Sam’s until late Saturday, so you better leave me some breakfast this time.”
“No guarantees.” Reilly smirks and pops a pretzel into his mouth.
Sam’s breakfasts are the best part of my weekend, and I try not to let him rile me up. “You’re such a bastard,” I grumble, earning a deep-throated laugh from him.
“Oh, you guys!” Mac says over all the banter. “We have to talk about our trip to the beach.”
“Babe, it’s barely April.” Colton scoops a pile of peanut shells into his hands.
“Yeah, and the weather is beautiful.” Mac’s green eyes are bright with excitement. “I’ve already unpacked my summer clothes. We can thank global warming for that. Besides, the timing’s perfect. We get to have a nice beach day, maybe play some volleyball—”
Bobby laughs. “Yeah right. I bet you and Sam don’t budge from your towels.”
“Oh, hush,” she says and glances around at us. “Plus, there won’t be hordes of people yet.” Mac smiles, and I forget how happy group trips always make her. “How about the 22nd?”
“I’m in,” I say. “Call the boss lady and get it in my calendar.”
“That’s the problem,” Mac says, gaze fixed on Reilly.
He glances around at us. “What did I do?”
“We need to make sure boss-lady Sam takes the time off,” Mac says. “Every year she tries to tell me she’s too busy for our trips. You have to start prepping her now and get it on the calendar.”
“Well,” I say, tossing a clean towel over my shoulder. “You guys figure out the details and tell me what to bring. Other than beer, obviously.” I head into the back to grab the last couple bags of peanuts and pretzels and add a new order to Brady’s ownerly list of to-dos this week.
When I step back out to the bar, Bill and Franky, a couple of regulars, have slid into their normal seats at the other end of the bar, handfuls of snacks already in their mouths.
“Gentlemen,” I say by way of greeting. “The usual?”
They both nod, and I grab two Bud Light bottles from the small fridge, tucked beneath the counter, and pop the caps off. “It must be that time,” I say.
“What, beer time?” Franky asks.
I nod. “The hordes tend to follow you in, Franky.” He’s in his late forties, has a graying goatee, and comes in with dirty clothes and a construction vest on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays, like clockwork.
“Does that mean I can collect a finder’s fee for everyone who walks in after me?”
“Oh, sure. Brady would love that.”
Franky grins and tips his beer at me. “Put it on my tab.”
“You got it.”
As I take a five spot from Bill, the door opens, the breeze coming with it, and I know it’s Bethany before I see her. Her sweet, sugary scent’s been branded to memory strongly enough to smell her coming a mile away. When I look up, her gray eyes meet mine. She nods in a surprising yet underwhelming greeting, before heading toward a round cocktail table in the corner of the room.
“Hey, Nick,” Anna Marie purrs as she saunters in behind her.
“Sup, girl?” I flash her a toothy smile. I barely got a head nod from Bethany, but Anna Marie’s an all-around cool chick—a flirt with a killer smile—but always easy to be around and I’m almost relieved she’s here.
I’m surprised, however, when her gaze settles on Bobby. “Hey,” she says and bats her eyelashes at him. A lot of chicks dig Bobby, it’s probably his hotshot, jock appeal and cocky smile, which I used to relate to.
“Hey.” Bobby smirks, acting cool and unaffected as Anna takes a seat at the table across from Bethany. The two of them together actually makes sense, and I suppress a grin.
Of course my gaze lands on Bethany, it always does. I tear my attention away, only to meet Mac’s. Her green eyes are fixed on me, filled with sympathy and uncertainty. I know what she’s thinking all too well when it comes to Bethany, and I quickly look away.
I don’t need any more reminders of just how bad this chick screws with my head when she’s in the same room, despite my best efforts. Sometimes I turn into an asshole. Sometimes I feel like a pitiful fool. Most of the time, I’m just confused by the past and distracted. Either way, it’s a mess—I’m a mess—and I have no idea why.
Grabbing a couple coasters, I pin my carefree, fun-loving smile into place and head over to their table.
Anna Marie’s smirk widens to a full-fledged smile when she sees me. “Looking good tonight, Turner. I thought after baseball you might lose your appeal, but those long days on the ranch really do you some good.” She winks at me, like a woman after my own heart.
I can’t help but wink back. “It’s all for you, darlin’.”
“Sigh,” she says longingly and bats her eyelashes at me. She’s really good at the playful banter, a worthy opponent that always makes my day a bit brighter. Part of me wonders if it bothers Bethany, though she never shows it. She’s really good at acting indifferent around me, even after our years of awkward run-ins and regrettable moments.
Anna folds her arms on the table and settles in. Like Bethany, her finger
nails are perfectly manicured, her makeup and hair perfectly in place.
“So, where have you been?” I ask Anna. “I was starting to get a little offended—thought maybe you found a different hole in the wall to drink at the past few months.” No Anna Marie at Lick’s generally meant there was no smiling, drunken Bethany dancing beside her. A weekend staple I’d apparently grown used to.
“Are you kidding? I’d never ditch this place—too many memories,” she says, and with a feigned glare, she looks at Bethany. “Someone hasn’t been up for it much—plus”—Anna shrugs—“There’s exams and graduation,” she grumbles. “You know the drill.”
“Well, then,” I toss a napkin down for each of them, “I guess today’s a special occasion.”
“It sure is. Just a quick drink to celebrate my parents being out of town for a couple weeks, so I closed the salon tonight.”
“So, you’ll be the big boss lady for a while, huh?”
Anna Marie tucks her thick brown hair behind her ears. “Yep. And you know what that means.”
“Trouble,” I say easily. “Nothing but trouble.”
She giggles. “Yep.” I know exactly three facts about Anna Marie, other than she likes hanging out in Saratoga’s renowned dive bar: her mom owns the only tanning salon in Saratoga Falls, Anna loves Champagne, and she’s the only consistent person I’ve ever seen around Bethany since middle school.
Bethany clears her throat and starts digging in her purse like it’s a black abyss. I’m not sure if she’s really searching for something, or if this is her way of ignoring me. “Are you avoiding me?” I ask, surprising myself.
Her hands freeze in her purse. “What?”
“After class, when you come in here on the weekends—you avoid me. Now”—I glance down at her purse. “You’re avoiding me.”
Bethany scoffs and shakes her head. “I don’t avoid you,” she says flatly.
I eye her carefully. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling that you are.”
“I’ve got a lot going on, Nick. It’s nothing personal.”
“Sure it’s not,” I mutter.
“I’d never avoid you, Nick,” Anna Marie chirps. “You’re too sweet.” She tilts her head, her smile stretching from ear to ear, and I appreciate her trying to keep the mood light.
With a wink at her, I cross my arms over my chest. “So, what celebratory drink will it be? A whiskey sour for you?”
Bethany nods. “Please.”
“And, let me guess,” I say with a knowing smile. I wink at Anna. “A bottle of bubbles? You know, Brady only stocks that stuff for you.”
“He better,” she says, matter of fact. “If it weren’t for me, he’d be out of business.” She laughs at her own gibe, and I like her all the more for it.
Bethany glances between us.
“All right, bubbles and a whiskey sour, coming right up.” I wink at Anna one last time and head back to the bar. I can feel Bethany’s eyes on me this time.
Good.
Five
Bethany’s Journal
April 9th
Yep, it’s me, Beth. I was going through a box of things in my closet yesterday, searching for my old scrapbooking stuff so I could help Jesse with his theme park idea board, and I stumbled across you. The last time I wrote was over ten years ago, according to my last entry. I don’t know if I’ll find the same comfort writing my thoughts down as I used to, but I figure it’s worth a shot. I refuse to call you a diary anymore, though. Hope you don’t mind. I have a half hour before my next class, so now is as good a time as any to start up again, I guess.
I was just a kid the last time I wrote. Mom and Dad had arguing been arguing and I was certain they were going to send Jesse away. I was a mess. Unfortunately, that’s also the day I met Nick for the first time. I’d seen him at school, but I’d never talked to him before. Nick was the boy I didn’t know but decided to confide in that day because he cared when no one else did. He asked me why I was crying, so I told him the truth, at least as I saw it at the time: my parents were horrible people, they didn’t care about us, they didn’t even want Jesse, and I wanted to die. When social services showed up, I knew it was because of what I’d shared. They interviewed all of us and treated my dad like a criminal, especially when they saw Jesse’s bruises from one of his tantrums. My dad is a lot of things, but he’s not violent. I looked like an idiot for thinking they were actually going to get rid of my brother when really, they were arguing about sending him to an Applied Behavioral Analysis program for Autistic children, which never happened because my mom was against it from the start anyway. I’d blown it all out of proportion, and while my mom had smoothed everything over, my dad made sure I knew I’d made a mess of things. It’s been a scarlet letter I’ve been branded with since.
I was esctatic ecstatic the day my mom first told me I was going to have a baby brother. I didn’t think at eleven-years-old I would have a sibling. My mom was happy, too, I could hear it in her voice, but there was a sadness in her also. I could see it in her eyes. It was weird, and she’s been sad ever since. Now, I can only assume it’s because Jesse toggles the spectrum, but shouldn’t a mother love her son unconditionally, like I love him?
My parents can barely be in the same room together, and my dad jumps at every opportunity to leave town. He comes back from a two-week trip today and we’re having a family dinner. It’s laughable. We aren’t a family. We’re people living in a house together. That’s why family dinners are pointless, and my mom making them a priority only pisses me off. Every stilted conversation or wordless minute that goes by is a glaring reminder of how much I fucked everything up. The weirdest part of it all is that I hate that Nick knows about so much of it, but I also hate that he doesn’t know the half of it, either. – B
Six
Bethany
Seven Years Ago
The autumn night air is cool, but I’m glad I didn’t bring a jacket. It feels good to be outside, away from the stuffy house and my parents. I hate them sometimes. They’re never satisfied.
Jesse might not be an easy kid, but his speech is getting better and he’s barely five. At least he’s forming words when the doctors weren’t sure he ever really would. And, I might be struggling with my grades, but I try. I try really hard. It doesn’t matter that I practice Jesse’s numbers and letters with him all the time, when I should be doing my own homework or hanging out with my friends, like a normal freshman.
My footsteps quicken down the street. The further away I walk from my block, the lighter I feel. All I can hear is my dad’s disappointment. I want his voice out of my head for one single night.
I try and fail to keep his scathing words from my mind, and I wrap my arms tighter around me. I wish he knew how much it already bothered me that I scored badly on my history test, especially since I studied. He doesn’t always have to make me feel worse.
As soon as Anna Marie’s house comes into view, the tightness in my chest goes away a little, and, gratefully, my mind starts to wander. There are a ton of cars outside, which means Anna got her wish—her party is clearly a hit, even if her parents will freak if they ever find out.
Pushing every thought of my parents away, I hurry up to the porch. Tonight is going to be epic, I remind myself as I step inside the house. Britney Spears’s nasally voice punctuates the electropop bumping inside, and I nearly giggle when I see all the people.
The house looks the same as it always does, only with a mass of bodies. The sitting room is filled with freshmen and upperclassman, chatting and laughing and bouncing to the music. This is a house party. My parents would freak. I feel giddy, thinking about the possibilities of the night. Cute boys. Booze. Dancing . . . Tonight, I want to be brave and do something fun and crazy. I want tonight to be epic.
I scan the crowd for a comforting face, but when I see a few of the baseball players laughing by the window, my easiness fades. Reilly is standing among them, and my heart skips a beat.
If Reilly’s here, tha
t means Nick’s here, too; they’re best friends. I didn’t stop to think about who might actually be at the party. I haven’t talked to Nick since that day he found me crying in Mr. Silverman’s class. It was too awkward and embarrassing to talk to him again after that, after everything that happened as a result. I don’t want to feel that shame tonight. I knew being at the same high school would make it harder to avoid him, but I didn’t expect to see him at a freshman party—not tonight when I’m supposed to let loose and feel happy and light and free.
I let out a heavy breath and re-center myself in the room. This house is big, it’s filled with people, and it will be easy enough to avoid him. I’m content with that train of thought, until I step into the kitchen and see him over by the keg. I turn to leave the kitchen, or at least I plan to.
“Hey, Bethany,” The girl who sits next to me in my World History class stops beside me.
“Hey, Cami.”
“Shitty test this week, huh?”
I groan inwardly. “Yeah. It sucked.”
Cami lifts an indifferent shoulder, like a grade is only a grade. Maybe it is in her household.
“Anna knows how to throw a great party, huh?” She holds up her plastic cup. “I didn’t think I liked beer, but . . .” she shrugs.
Uncertain what else to do, I laugh. “Yeah, I know, right?”
Her smile grows. “Well, have fun.” Cami leads her date through the crowd and heads for the family room.
When I look at Nick again, he’s talking to Slimy Slinsky, one of the guys on the baseball team, and he didn’t get his nickname because of his oily skin. Slinsky’s cringe-worthy in a lot of ways, and it bothers me that Nick’s his friend, even though I know it shouldn’t. Nick’s one of the nice ones, or at least he used to be. I realize I don’t know him anymore—I never really did, actually. And he has a reputation now at school. He’s a jock and a flirt, and even though I know that’s a dangerous combination, I want Nick to still be good, too.
Told You So_A Saratoga Falls Love Story Page 6