by Emily Bishop
The mix of reactions didn’t puzzle me.
“People don’t understand us, Aurora. And what they don’t understand, they fear. Don’t let it bother you. Just keep on keeping on, honey. Your star shines too brightly for some folks.” That was what my mother had told me, various iterations over the course of my life.
I shook my hair back, ran my fingers through it, and tugged out a couple knots. I had to keep looking and moving forward. Strong as a rock, changeable as the ocean’s tides.
“Aurora,” a man called out.
I turned my head, and my mood lifted right away.
“Jerry!” I waved at the elderly fellow across the street, perched on the edge of an outdoor picnic table in front of the Moondance Bar and Grill.
The establishment had been around since I could remember, its four-paned windows peering out at the street and the forest behind, the rumble of laughter and conversation leaking from its open door. Along with it came the enticing scent of grilled meat, tangy with Jerr’s famous BBQ Sauce—a secret recipe he’d take to his grave.
“Come on over, girl.” He beckoned.
I hurried across the road—ouch, hot—hopping like a frog on hot tar, and halted in front of Jerr, the man of the hour.
Silver hair, disturbed by the breeze, covered his crown, and his green eyes gave me the fatherly onceover I’d grown accustomed to in the time I’d worked in the restaurant. “Hale, I see. But what possessed you to walk around barefoot, girl? You lost your marbles?”
“I may well have,” I replied and stepped onto the grass in front of the Bar and Grill.
He patted the table then sat down on one of the attached seats. “Yee-ouch!” He shifted and adjusted the seat of his pants. “Darn, splinters. Don’t tell Georgia I said that. She’s been at me for months to sand down these damn benches.”
I grinned at him. “So? Why haven’t you?”
“Too busy with other things, of course. I’ll get to it in due course.”
In due course could range anywhere from a couple months to a year with Jerr.
I took my place opposite him and rested my tired feet on the grass. “That’s better,” I said and tipped my head back to catch the wind. Coldness pricked against my skin, the cooling of sweat I’d worked up on the way over.
“How are you, girlie? You haven’t come by in weeks.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” I said, “I know how busy you are.”
“And I know you’re struggling,” Jerr replied. He was a salt-of-the-earth kinda guy and always said what he meant, even if it brought out blushes and awkward laughter.
“Jerr, I’m fine.”
“Aw, hell, you and I both know the people in this town aren’t partial to fortune-telling or tarot cards or that other thing you do with the hands.”
“Palmistry?”
“Palmistee, yeah. Now, I’m not trying to stick my nose in your business but I don’t want to see you go hungry because of the assholes in this town,” Jerry finished, a little too loudly.
A couple of locals who’d walked by looked back, scandalized.
“Yeah, I said it,” he called after them.
“I’ll be fine.”
Jerry wriggled his nose and ran his finger down the hooked bridge. “All right. So why did you come back to Moondance after all these years? It’s about your mom, isn’t it?”
I sucked in a breath.
“That’s a yes.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s about her. I can’t get this place out of my mind, Jerr. It’s crept into my soul and burrowed deep. The last time I had a truly happy memory was here, out in the cabin.”
“You want to buy it back,” Jerr said and nodded, briskly. Salt-of-the-earth or not, he was one sharp crystal.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I s’pose that’s a good idea. This place has improved since you were here last. Did you hear? We got a swimming pool now. Kids are all nuts over it at the middle school.”
“That’s great,” I said.
Georgia, Jerry’s rotund wife, sauntered out of the restaurant carrying a tray with two tall glasses. “Thought you might like a couple sodas to wash down Jerry’s bullshit,” she said and winked at me.
Rotund or not, Georgia possessed a natural beauty that caught stares from many of the patrons. But she had eyes only for her husband, who was a good ten years older than her and officially a silver fox. That was what she’d told me in private, anyway.
“You’re my hero, Gee,” I said and lifted the glass. I downed it in one move and let out a tiny burp. “Whoops, sorry.”
“Bullshit,” Jerr grumbled. “I was telling Aurora how things have gotten better around here, and out you come with your same old fish wife act to ruin it.” They were the epitome of an old married couple.
“Speaking of which, did you hear about that actor guy?” Georgia asked. “Just arrived in town.”
“Yeah, Georgia’s barely kept her eyes in her skull since he arrived. Always peeking out of windows or searching the net for him.”
I swallowed. Just the topic I’d wanted to avoid. Oh well, right? Apparently, the universe was determined to show Jarryd Tombs into my path no matter how I wriggled.
“I’d better get back inside,” she said and pecked her husband on the forehead. “You know I only have eyes for you, honey bun.”
Jerry’s bluster disappeared, and he gave her the softest look I’d ever witnessed. “You keep it that way.”
Gee hurried back into the restaurant and was embraced by laughter and chatter once more.
“You heard about him, though?” Jerry asked. God, were we still on that? “It’s the biggest news Moondance has had in years.”
“I bet.”
“I hear he’s just broken up with Felicity Swan,” he continued.
“The town’s treasure,” I said.
“Pffft.” Jerr made a noise like a punctured tire. “So they say. She came by a few days ago with her nose in the air. I’ll tell you, I never liked that girl, and my opinion hasn’t improved. Don’t let Georgia hear me say it—she’ll come over scandalized and feed me salt in my coffee instead of sugar.”
“I don’t know either of them well enough to make a judgment.”
“That’s you, though. You’re so used to being judged you won’t put the pain onto anybody else.” Jerr thumbed his chest. “I know what Felicity’s like. Under all that makeup and prettiness, she’s an empty shell.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Harsh but true. Nobody wears that many designer clothes and that much glitter eye stuff—”
“Eyeshadow.”
“Right. Eyeshadows. No one wears that much glittery eyeshadows without having something to hide. Or nothing at all. I don’t like it, and I don’t trust it. She ordered a salad in here the other day. To go.”
“To go!”
“Exactly.”
Sitting down in the Moondance Bar and Grill was part of the experience. Folks here were expected to eat their meals at their tables like good folks do. Ordering to go was sacrilege. This wasn’t a big city.
“I mean, what does she think this is? A big city? The Moondance Bar and Grill isn’t a Starbucks.”
“Starbucks doesn’t serve salads,” I replied, totally enjoying Jerr’s enthusiasm. Hanging out with the old man felt like being home again. He was probably the only father figure I’d ever had. At the same time, it hurt thinking back—Mom had always been around, too.
“Salads! Don’t even get me started on that. And it wasn’t a regular salad either. It was one of those ones without the dressing. And no cheese. Boy, she was adamant about that. Half scared me to death with a look when I suggested some crumbled feta.”
“Heaven forbid,” I said. That’s the type of woman Jarryd likes. One with long blond hair and fancy clothes, who eats salads.
“Right? Well, that’s their type,” he said. “Salads and takeaway coffees and manicures. I can’t wrap my head around it.” Jerr was on a roll now, and once he sta
rted on a topic, it was difficult to tear him from it.
I pressed the tip of my index finger to the glass and traced a heart in the condensation. I smeared it out again.
“Actors,” Jerry said, “are a plague. It’s not even a real job. Sure, it’s entertainment but it’s so blown out of proportion these days. And they all think they’re god’s gift to the green earth.”
“You don’t like him?”
“I don’t care for the group in general. He might be a nice cat, but I say you should never trust an actor. My nephew’s kid ran off to LA, and before he knew it, the kid had gotten himself involved in all kinds of illegal activities. Didn’t end well for the kid, and a total headache for my nephew.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Ah, we all make our own beds,” Jerr said then sniffed and took a swig of his soda. He settled the glass on the table between us—a dull clunk against the wood. “Speaking of which, how would you feel about taking a job here?”
I looked up, eyelids fluttered. Was he serious? It’d been so long since I’d worked in his restaurant. “You don’t have to do that. You have enough help with Gee here.”
“No, I don’t,” Jerr said. “And yeah, I’m worried about you, kid, but that’s not the only reason I’m asking. Ever since the actor troupe came to town, I’m swamped with lookie loos twenty-four seven. Thankfully, they actually buy. I need the help.”
So, everyone in Moondance was desperate to catch a glimpse of Jarryd Tombs, and Felicity Swan, too, no doubt.
“Are you sure?” It would take a weight off my shoulders. I had a little saved to buy the cabin, but I’d dipped into it trying to keep myself afloat in Moondance. It’d only been a few months, but man, I could use a few bills to line my pockets. Heck, I might even be able to save again.
“I’m positive, girl. I maintain you’re the best help I ever had at this restaurant,” he said and smoothed his fingers over the top of the table. He caught another splinter, hissed, and stuck his thumb in his mouth. “When can you start?”
“When do you need me?” I asked, and a little of the pressure in my head released. This would keep me busy when things slowed at the fairgrounds, and it would keep me away from Jarryd Tombs and our undeniable attraction.
“I need you right away,” he said. “You got your tent up today?”
“Only this afternoon. I could work for you this evening?”
“Perfect! It’s settled.” He grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Aurora. It’s good to have a little magic in Moondance again.”
Chapter 11
Jarryd
The inside of the Moondance Bar and Grill wasn’t what I’d expected. There were plenty of windows, which looked out on the forest at the back of the building, and the walls were quaint, made of wood—kind of like a massive log cabin. A fire crackled in a central grate, giving off warmth and the scent of woodsmoke.
It mingled perfectly with the smells of cooking meat.
“What do you think of it?” Luke asked. “Is it too open?” He gestured to the bar at the far end of the room, behind which stood a shelf stacked with bottles of every shape and color.
“I like it,” I said. “But I’m not sure if it’s right for the scene.” Pride’s Death had a decidedly dingy atmosphere in comparison to the other thrillers I’d written and produced.
“Which scene are we talking about?” Felicity asked and deigned to look up from her cellphone. She’d spent the last five minutes since we’d arrived tapping on the screen, answering texts or emails. I no longer gave a fuck.
Thankfully, she wasn’t on my side of the table. A couple of weeks ago, she’d broken my heart, days after that I’d considered taking her back, and now? Aurora had erased what feelings I’d had for her and replaced them with disdain.
“The scene,” Luke said and flipped papers on his clipboard, “where our female main character comes in dripping wet and meets the male main character for the first time. It’s right after she’s been chased through the woods by our killer.”
Dripping wet. Kind of reminded me of the night Aurora and I met and made love.
“I think this place is perfect. I mean, the warmth in here is pretty infectious,” Felicity said. “Just don’t ask them to bring you a salad. It’s like they have no clue how to make one. Do you know, they tried to give me feta cheese? Vom.”
“God forbid,” Luke commented and focused on the script pages again. “But I do think Jay is right on this one. The aesthetic is too friendly.”
“So, we’ll make a set in here.” Felicity gestured as if it were a foregone conclusion.
“A set.” I grunted. “What about the restaurant? I’m pretty sure they won’t appreciate us building a set in their establishment. They’ve got business to do.”
“Please,” Felicity said and rolled her eyes. “They’ll get so much publicity from this they won’t care about the so-called inconvenience.”
“We’re not building a set,” I said and laid it to rest.
“God, why do you have to be such a wet blanket, Jarryd?” Felicity snapped and put down her cellphone. “Disappearing at all hours and now this. I swear it’s like you’ve—” She cut off and looked up as the server finally approached. Her expression flicked from anger to open delight.
Well, that can’t be a good sign.
And it wasn’t. Our server placed the menus on the table and forced a wan smile. “Good evening, folks,” Aurora said. “May I take your drinks order?”
“Oh, my,” Felicity said and blinked up at her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Are you following me, darling? You’re everywhere I go these days.”
Typical of Swan to think she was the focus of attention.
“I—I work here,” Aurora replied and drew a pad and pen out of the front of her apron.
She was adorable in her uniform—a pair of jeans and a black cotton tee, the apron over the top, her hair tied back to reveal that heart-shaped face, those luscious lips. And she was here, not in her tent out at the fairgrounds.
I’d had to keep myself from heading out to the RV park earlier to check she’d arrived back safely, and Luke had helped by keeping me damn busy scouting all afternoon. This was our last stop.
“A waitress,” Felicity said and looked at me, pointedly. “Isn’t that sweet, Jarryd? She’s a waitress.” She made a grab for my hand across the table, and I moved it out of reach.
So, this was Felicity’s game. She’d figured out I was attracted to Aurora and planned on humiliating her and wrapping herself around me until she got her way. I wouldn’t stand for it.
“It’s nice to see you again.” I tried for a smile.
Aurora nodded. “And you.”
“Again? What do you mean again?” Felicity asked.
“You got home OK then?” I ignored my ex and focused solely on the beautiful woman in front of me, her cheeks all pink and adorable. “No blisters?”
“Blisters?” Felicity again. A hound dog after a bone.
“For god’s sake, Felicity, can it,” Luke snapped. “Stop interrupting them when they’re having a damn conversation. Hi, by the way.” The last part was for Aurora.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m here to get the drinks and food orders. Please, if you’ll tell me what you want I can—”
“I want a martini,” Felicity said and drew her pack of menthol cigarettes out of her handbag. She waved them around. “And bring me an ash tray.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t serve martinis,” Aurora replied, “and Jerry doesn’t permit smoking in here.”
“Who the fuck is Jerry?” Felicity asked.
“He’s the owner of the Bar and Grill.”
Felicity tittered a laugh. “Oh, darling, it was a rhetorical question. As in, who is he in the grand scheme of things? He’s not much, right? He’s just the owner of a restaurant.”
“Unbelievable,” I said.
“If you don’t have cocktails then what do you have?”
“Beer on t
ap, whiskey, water, and wine. Red or white. No names.” Aurora’s pink cheeks weren’t from humiliation now. She stared down the other woman, an unspoken challenge in her eyes. She could hold her own, all right, but I didn’t want her to have to hold her own.
“Classy. Fine. The red.” Felicity drew out a cigarette and inserted it between her rouge lips.
I took it out of her mouth, snapped it in half, and dropped the pieces on the tablecloth. “She said no smoking, Swan.”
Felicity drew herself up straight. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’ll come back later,” Aurora said.
“Two beers,” Luke called out. “Two beers, one for me and one for him. Bud Light if you have it.”
Aurora scuttled off.
“What is with you?” Felicity asked. “What do you care if I smoke or not?”
“You’re acting like a total asshole, and this isn’t your house.”
“No, you care because you’re fucking her,” Felicity said, softly. “Isn’t that right?”
“Contain yourself,” I replied. “You’re making a fool out of yourself.”
Felicity rammed her lips together and sat back. She despised being called a fool.
“Well, this is turning out to be a lovely evening,” Luke said, under his breath.
Felicity rolled her eyes toward the bar at the far end of the room and studied Aurora, who hurried to fix our drinks. Christ, trust me to wind up in this god damned situation.
“You couldn’t wait two weeks before finding someone else, could you?” Felicity hissed. “Two god damn weeks.”
“And you couldn’t wait until after we’d broken up to fuck someone else,” I replied, evenly. “Whatever’s happening in our personal lives, this isn’t the time to bring it up. This is a business meeting.”
Felicity huffed and puffed, chucking her cigarette pack back into her bag.
“Jay is right,” Luke replied. “We came to discuss the scene and the potential here, and I think we should do that. I have a few issues with some of the dialogue here. They’re meeting for the first time, and she’s wet and cold, shivering, yet he doesn’t seem all that fazed.”