by Elise Noble
“As far as I know. He sent a postcard a month ago.”
Not an email like a normal person, because Lyndon didn’t have a phone or a computer. But while he may have come across as slightly odd, like the time he’d gone through a phase of refusing to wear shoes, he’d always been kind to me. And faithful. We’d split up eighteen months ago when he got the urge to volunteer at an eco-project in the South American rainforest and I’d opted to stay in Virginia. I still kind of missed him, but at least I didn’t have to pretend to be a vegan anymore.
“A postcard? Sheesh. Well, this guy’s wearing a leather jacket in his profile picture, so he’s not gonna freak out about your purses, and better yet, he wants to see you tomorrow night.”
“Tell him no.”
“Cancelling would be rude.”
“You’ve already told him yes?”
“I couldn’t leave the poor guy hanging.” Leah scrolled through her phone. “Take a look—apart from the nose, he’s quite handsome.”
Curiosity got the better of me. According to his profile, Laurence was two years older than me, worked as an architect, and loved dogs, Italian food, and classical music. His blue eyes sparkled as he smiled, and I had to admit, a butterfly or two may have fluttered in my stomach.
“What’s wrong with his nose?”
“It’s crooked.”
I peered closer at the screen. “Really?”
“To the right. See? And I’m not sure about the blond hair, but if he’s got a good personality, you could overlook that, right? Does that sound shallow?”
Now, Leah was one of my best friends—okay, one of my only friends—but she wasn’t just shallow, she was a puddle in the Mojave Desert. Luckily, she knew this.
“Yes, it sounds shallow.”
Any man who wanted to date Leah had better have a seven-figure bank account, a modelling contract, and a whole closet full of designer suits. Currently, she was single, but with her determination, she’d find her perfect match someday. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she still looked like the cheerleader she’d been in college.
“Okay, so let’s think positive. It says here that he enjoys going out for dinner with friends. At least he’s not some weirdo who lives in his basement.”
“You’re really selling this.”
“Seven p.m. at Il Tramonto. I’ve booked you a table for two. And don’t forget, Oliver lives on the top floor in the same building, so if Laurence does turn out to be a mad axe murderer, you can call for help.”
Oliver was Emmy’s lawyer—sexy, way out of my league, and now engaged.
“I haven’t even said I’ll go.”
“Wear something pretty. That navy-blue dress you had on at Bradley’s Memorial Day party will be perfect, but not with the beige shoes. You need to go brighter.”
Quite honestly, it was easier to meet Laurence than argue with Leah, and Il Tramonto did serve excellent pizza, so at least I wouldn’t have to cook. What was the worst that could happen?
What was the worst that could happen?
Well, let’s see… First, Laurence squinted a bit and said he almost hadn’t recognised me because I looked thinner in my profile picture. Then he talked about the nitty-gritty of sustainable development for an hour and a half, and when I ordered a second glass of wine, he frowned and asked if I normally drank that much. I was still trying to think up a witty retort when he went outside to take a phone call, and after fifteen minutes, it slowly dawned on me that he wasn’t coming back.
Gianni, the manager of the restaurant, always had a kind word and a friendly smile. I’d chatted with him lots of times in the past when I stopped to grab takeout on my way home from the office, and now he slid into the seat opposite and passed me a glass of…
“What’s this?”
“Tuaca. You look as if you need it, bella.”
Fire burned down my throat as I knocked it back, and my eyes watered. “Thanks, I think.”
“Your date left?”
“I’m not sure whether to be upset or relieved.”
“None of the staff liked him. Angelo put extra chillis on his pizza.”
I thought Laurence had gone rather red at one point. “He deserved it.”
“First date?”
“Yes. My one and only attempt at online dating.”
Gianni patted my hand. “Mi dispiace it didn’t work out. But don’t give up. My cousin met her husband in an online chatroom, and now they have two beautiful bambini.”
Was I literally the only person in the world who couldn’t meet a man that wasn’t an eco-warrior, a cheater, or a weirdo? Because it sure seemed that way.
“I think I’ll stick with cats.”
“My sister and her husband have two beautiful kittens, almost three months old… What is it? Why are you so upset? Here, have another glass of Tuaca.”
By the time Gianni heaved me into a cab, it was almost midnight and I could barely walk. So much for my hot date. This time, I didn’t even have Logan to carry me up the stairs, so I had to crawl.
Maybe I just wasn’t destined to be one half of a couple. Perhaps that was why I favoured blouses and pencil skirts and spent most of my waking hours in the office, because at least then I could claim to be a career girl. A career girl and a cat mom.
Oh, wait… What was that on my pillow? I clicked on the light and peered closer. Half a dead bird? Yeuch! I had just enough energy left to stagger to the bathroom and throw up before collapsing downstairs on the sofa.
At the moment, I didn’t even want to be a cat mom anymore.
“So, how did it go?” Leah asked.
I held the phone away from my ear as I rolled over and nearly fell off the sofa, leaving a trail of drool behind on the cushion. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“My head hurts.”
“Good night, then? I half expected you to be doing dirty things with Laurence.”
“Oh, yeah, it was a great night. Laurence did a runner and stiffed me with the bill.”
“He what?”
I garbled through the details, and they sounded even worse the second time around. Luckily, as well as getting me drunk, Gianni had given me a fifty percent discount and called me a cab, otherwise I’d have woken up in a gutter somewhere. Such a shame he was gay.
“So you see,” I told Leah, “this is why I’m better off staying single.”
“Don’t be silly. You just need to step it up. If you go on enough dates, they can’t all be bad. Probability and the law of averages and that sort of thing.”
“No way.”
“I’ve got you a date with Desmond tonight. Seven thirty. He’s going to get back to me with the place.”
“Did you not hear a word I said?”
“Sure I did. I just chose not to listen. Desmond’s thirty-three years old, five feet nine, and he works on a ranch out near Chesterfield. A cowboy! And he sure looks good in jeans, even if he’s a little on the short side.”
“I’m not going.”
“I get that last night could have turned out better, but that’s no reason to write off all men.”
“Says the woman who turned down a date with an investment banker because he drove a Toyota Prius.”
“It wasn’t only a Toyota Prius. It was a brown Toyota Prius.”
“Forget it. I’m staying at home this evening. If you like Desmond so much, then you can go out for dinner with him.”
Yes, I’d curl up on the sofa with a pint of ice cream and a romcom. No cheesecake. As long as Nickel didn’t decide to bring me any more dead things, it would be bliss.
“I’ll give you a couple of hours to change your mind. Nobody should make important decisions when they’re half-asleep.”
For goodness’ sake—didn’t Leah ever give up?
“This girl’s more than capable.” What did it matter? Even when I was awake, my decision-making process was utterly flawed at worst, misguided at best. “I’ll see you in the office.”
CHAPTER
8 - SLOANE
THE BROTHERHOOD OF Thieves? What sort of destination was that for a first date? Of course I’d heard of the place—everyone had. A decade ago, its name had been spoken in whispers, but in recent years, the bikers and criminals who’d once hung out there had moved on, and the Brotherhood had become achingly cool. The spit-and-sawdust ambience remained, but now the place was overrun with hipsters who wanted to take a walk on the wild side on Saturday nights. You could even buy “Brotherhood” merchandise on their website.
Or so I’d heard. I’d never been there, of course, but Leah had one of their patches sewn onto her leather jacket.
“Desmond wants to meet you there,” she told me at ten o’clock. “It’s just down the street from your house, right?”
“I’m not going.”
“They don’t take bookings, but you can hang out by the bar while you wait for a table.”
“Or I could stay at home and watch Game of Thrones.”
“Is that any good? I haven’t seen it.”
Neither had I, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Leah. “I’m only on the first season.”
“Do you want me to come over and help you with your hair?”
“I’m still not going.”
“Seven thirty. Don’t be late.”
Gardening had never been my favourite activity, but faced with the choice of tackling the jungle out back or going to the office where Leah might be lurking, I picked up a spade. Somewhere under all those weeds, there was a path to the overgrown patio that lay on the far side of the lawn. The lawn that was now knee-high.
When Lyndon was around, he used to mow the grass. He’d even planted a veggie patch, and for the two years we’d been together, I’d got used to eating fresh carrots and broccoli and potatoes. It had even helped me to lose a few pounds. But now the Jerusalem artichokes had turned into triffids, and the mere thought of digging them all out sent me reaching for the chocolate.
Was it too late to go to Venezuela?
Life with Lyndon had been easy. Straightforward. Too easy at times—apart from his views on food and animal welfare, he didn’t really have opinions of his own. I suggested something; he agreed with it. Movies, music, sex, what to do at the weekend, politics, clothes. After a while, that got kind of boring, but it sure beat the aftermath of Kenneth and the awkwardness of every conversation I had with Logan.
I’d just started scraping the creeping grass off the concrete when my phone rang. This had better not be Leah trying to convince me to go on tonight’s flipping date.
No, it was worse.
“Sloane?”
Why did my mother always say my name as a question? Since she’d phoned me, the fact that I’d picked up really shouldn’t have been a surprise.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I’m having a little get-together this evening, and I realised I forgot to tell you.”
Nice to know where I lay on her list of priorities, wasn’t it?
“It doesn’t matter; I can’t make it this evening.”
“Why not?”
Because I didn’t want to spend four hours eating Mom’s burned offerings while she rehashed my failed love life and tried to set me up with her friends’ sons.
“I have other plans.”
“But I haven’t seen you for a month.”
There was a good reason for that. I didn’t need another lecture on tolerance or forgiveness.
“How about I drop by one evening next week?”
“I’m making your favourite tonight. Fried chicken and gravy with strawberry cheesecake for dessert.”
The mere mention of cheesecake made me cringe. “Sorry. Not tonight, Mom. There won’t even be anyone my age there.”
“Sure there will. I invited…people.”
People? What people? “Mum, you didn’t invite Kenneth, did you?”
“He’s Linda’s son.”
A yes, then. “We broke up for a reason.”
“He made a silly mistake, Sloaney.”
“He cheated on me.”
“Every man has his little indiscretions. Look at your father and me—thirty-five years and still going strong.”
If by “going strong,” she meant they still lived in the same house and occasionally ate dinner together, then yes they were.
Three times in my childhood, he’d left us. Just walked out. The shortest disappearance had been for three weeks, and the longest for five months. I’ve had to watch my mom fret and mope, listen to her cry at night when she thought I was asleep. Every time a car drove past on the road outside, she’d run to the front door. Then she’d walked. Then shuffled. Eventually, she’d just looked up from her nest on the sofa with a forlorn expression.
At school, I’d turned to cookies as the rumours started flying. Why had my father left? Where had he gone? Was it him Shelby Carter’s brother saw at the movie theatre with the checkout girl from the Spend ’n’ Save?
The last time he’d come crawling back, I’d been fifteen years old, and I yelled at him for a full five minutes. How dare he keep doing this? Why did he keep hurting us? He’d said nothing. But Mom had welcomed him with open arms, and her smiles and laughter left me walking on eggshells in case he vanished again and left her miserable.
I wanted to see my mom happy, but Ruben Mullins had never been much of a husband, nor much of a father to me. Quite frankly, if he’d stayed gone the first time he went, I thought Mom and I might have actually been better off in the long run.
“I’m not getting back together with Kenneth. Not now, not ever.”
“He’s got a good heart.”
No, he was just good at telling Mom what she wanted to hear. Like the time he claimed he’d donated his entire monthly sales bonus to the ACLU when I knew he’d done no such thing. And she giggled like a teenager every time he told her she didn’t look a day over thirty despite the fact that she was fifty-three.
“There are plenty more single men in Virginia.”
“Well, you haven’t met one yet.”
It’d only been a month, for goodness’ sake. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Really?”
Why did she sound so surprised?
“Yes, he’s a cowboy, and he’s taking me out for dinner at the Brotherhood of Thieves.”
Why had I said that? To shock her? Probably.
“Sloane! That awful biker bar? A man got shot in the parking lot and bled to death. Don’t you remember?”
“That was years ago.”
“Kenneth would never take you to a place like that. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind picking you up this evening if you don’t want to drive. I’ll ask him to stop off on the way.”
“No! I won’t even be here.”
Which meant I’d have to go out with Desmond now. Because not only would Mom ask Kenneth to drop by my house no matter what I said, I also wouldn’t put it past her to show up at the Brotherhood and interrogate Desmond. Lyndon had hated visiting my parents’ place for dinner, and Mom hadn’t been so keen on him either. His lack of shoes, lack of ambition, lack of a job… “How will he provide for you, Sloaney?” she’d asked on more than one occasion.
Never mind that I had my own career and earned decent money for a girl who’d messed up her last year of high school. An incident before my final exams had left me a nervous wreck, and I’d failed everything except geography, which was crazy because the only time I’d travelled outside of Virginia by myself, I’d gotten lost in the wilds of Kentucky and had to sleep in my car overnight.
Mom huffed out a sigh at the other end of the line. “Just make sure you’re careful, Sloaney. And don’t leave Kenneth hanging for too long—he won’t wait forever.”
Gah! I hung up and shoved my phone into my pocket. Was I somehow sending out “I want Kenneth” vibes without realising it? Why couldn’t they get the message?
“Is everything okay, dearie?”
Edna’s voice drifted over the fence, and I swallowed a groan. How much of t
hat had she heard?
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
“Are you still having problems with that young man?”
“He’s having a little trouble accepting it’s over between us, and my mom isn’t helping.”
“How about some cake to cheer you up?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“I’ve just finished making a Mississippi mud pie, and you know that’s your favourite.”
“Perhaps I could manage a small piece.”
After all, I didn’t want Edna to get lonely. When she first lost her husband, she’d been distraught, and I’d visited every day to check she was okay. I must have put on ten pounds in three months through those chats. Luckily, I’d discovered the Greater Richmond Senior Center had an online chapter as well as regular meetings, and I’d helped Edna to enrol on her husband’s old laptop. Now she had plenty of friends, and the centre had a fun program of activities to keep her busy, everything from computer classes to flower-arranging contests. Emmy didn’t mind if I popped out of work occasionally to drive Edna to get-togethers.
And I didn’t really mind spending time with Edna. Now that she’d mellowed out, she was fascinating to talk to, and I enjoyed hearing about her lifetime of adventures. She’d lived in eight different states, and when she was twenty, she’d hopped on a plane and travelled around Europe for two years, simply because she fancied a change. One piece of cake turned into three. Leah emailed me a photo of Desmond, who I had to admit was quite handsome, and before I knew it, the time had come to get ready for my date.
Think positive, Sloane. It can’t possibly be as bad as dinner with Laurence.
CHAPTER 9 - SLOANE
TO DRESS UP or not to dress up? Seeing as I was going on this date under protest, I didn’t feel particularly inclined to make an effort, but then I felt guilty because Desmond didn’t know about Leah’s meddling. In the end, I settled on indigo jeans with a fancy top and curled the ends of my hair. In his profile picture, Desmond had been wearing jeans and a checked shirt while holding onto a horse, so hopefully he wouldn’t show up in a suit.
Besides, nobody wore smart clothes to the Brotherhood, right? I’d checked on the internet, and most of the photos showed overly cool twenty-somethings in designer denim and branded footwear. The casual-yet-costly look. My top was some fancy Italian label, a gift from Bradley, who spent half of his life shopping and the rest decorating, so at least I wouldn’t feel totally out of place.