by Brea Viragh
“You can cut the crap,” Leslie told me. She dragged a cigarette pack from her purse, withdrawing a single one and tapping it against the heated metal hood. “I tried working here one summer back in high school.”
The lighter flicked and the tip grew red. Leslie sucked in and continued to speak, smoke streaming from her nostrils. “It was horrible. I don’t envy anyone who gets behind a counter, food prep or otherwise. I’ve never been built for retail.”
“I’m not sure anyone is,” I responded. The sun-warmed wood felt good on my back, a welcome change from the cold interior. I enjoyed the heat for the short time Leslie granted me.
She studied me, from the dirtied laces of my sneakers to the checkered blouse purchased secondhand. “You should fix your image. You know,” she gestured and smoke circles burst to life, “put on a color other than black and wear a little jewelry. You’re too pretty to work here.”
It was a mixture of insult and compliment, the ultimate double-edged sword. Leslie had always been known for her killer social skills. So good to see she hadn’t lost her touch.
“Can we get to the point here?” I asked. “Or should I strap in while you critique me? It’s already been a long day without your barbs.” I fought the urge to run a hand along my shirt in embarrassment.
“God, for a woman who won such a great superlative at her reunion, you sure can be hateful sometimes. I’m here to help you.”
Great superlative my ass. Winning Most Likely to Move Back Home wasn’t exactly praiseworthy. When I spoke again it was through gritted teeth. “I find it hard to believe you want to help me. You’ve never been known for your goodwill.”
“Little you know.” There was her smirk again. “I saw the four of you out last night at that French restaurant. The language and food of love, it seems. I also happened to witness your spectacular soaring chicken move, which you’ll have to teach me for the next dinner party I find too boring to stomach.”
Of course she’d been there without my noticing. Adding a little insult to injury never hurt anyone. “It’s nice to know my mortification had an appreciative audience, Leslie.”
“Look, Isabel.” She crushed the cigarette out and flicked the butt aside. “I’ve lived in this county my entire life. I know the residents fairly well. When I say I want to help you, it’s out of the goodness of my heart because I see how events play out. Understand?”
No, actually I didn’t understand, but that’s not what I told her. “Go on.”
“Well,” Leslie continued, “because I’ve noticed some interesting issues lately, I thought I’d make it my business to bring you into the loop and tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“To watch your step with August.”
“Say what?” I couldn’t believe the nerve of her, trapping an innocent man in her twisted, gossipy fantasies. “There’s nothing to watch with August, so don’t bring him up.”
“He was never out of it, Izzy, don’t you get it?” She sneered at me in the superior way I detested. Now she sent the full force of the gesture my way, her teeth as straight and white as Chiclets. “It’s been about August this entire time.”
I feigned nonchalance so she wouldn’t see my confusion. “Now you’ve lost me.”
Leslie exhaled a patient sigh. “Everyone saw the way you and he were in high school. His feelings were so obvious I felt the force of it myself.” She scratched an itch near her lips with a perfectly polished fingernail, the tip a sharp point. “And I can tell you with certainty those feelings haven’t faded since.”
“You’re making stuff up to upset me,” I blustered. “He’s dating someone else, in case you missed it. You’ve lost your mind and your touch.”
She chuckled. “Trust me, I haven’t lost either one.” I stood up a little straighter and prepared to be indignant when Leslie added, “Your little show the other night made me decide to stick my nose in this whole shebang you’ve created with August.”
“Me?” I pushed away from the wall, with full-blown resentment. “I haven’t done a damn thing and you know it! I just moved back to this little hell-hole a few weeks ago.”
She found my reaction amusing, though she never moved from her perch. Typical Leslie, seated in the sunlight waiting for the world to worship her.
“The timing is off, is what I’m saying. The interactions between him and his new female friend are a little too planned, a little too convenient. Especially considering I haven’t seen her around here before,” Leslie told me. “I’m not sure if you realize this, but my nose can sniff out bullshit, and I’m smelling it now.” She tapped the side of said appendage for effect.
“Whatever August chooses to do with himself, whomever he chooses to date, that’s his business. I for one want to keep my nose out of the whole shebang and focus on my own life,” I countered. I needed to ground myself. Otherwise the weight of responsibility would surely sink me as fast as the Titanic. Already I felt a deep pull and shortness of breath.
Leslie ignored the jab. “That may not be possible. Keep on your toes and watch yourself.” She held up her hands. “I’ll say no more.”
“I think you’ve said quite enough.”
She spared me a glance over her shoulder as she hopped down. “We should go out one afternoon and catch up. I’m sure you have so many fabulous stories from California. I’m dying to hear about your time there.”
I clenched my fists and watched her strut around the corner without a goodbye. Those hips swayed slowly back and forth, a pendulum in a clock, and I listened to the click of her heels on the pavement until it faded.
Whatever she meant to say, I refused to give it any credence. Leslie Gordon was not famed for her humanitarianism. I’d known August far longer, and for all of his faults, he was a nice guy with no ulterior motives. Timing is off, my ass.
Whatever her motivations were, she needed to keep them to herself.
“Bitch,” I muttered, grabbing the door handle and returning inside.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Three days later, the ghost of the past came to haunt me in the form of a tall blond with killer legs. Leda.
“You’ll never guess who came in to see me today,” Duncan stated the moment he walked through the hotel door.
I glanced over from beneath the ice pack on my head. The tension headache from earlier had propelled from a diminutive pain around the temples to a full-fledged migraine, helped along by Beulah and her whining about wanting to work fewer hours.
“Who?” I asked. My teeth hurt as I guessed his answer.
“Leda,” he said, confirming my suspicions. Duncan threw his briefcase aside and smiled at me. “Said she wanted to switch her insurance because she was paying out the nose for her car and truck.” He loosened his tie in one smooth movement. “I found her a sweet deal. You should be proud of your old man.”
“How nice of you to make time for her. I’m sure you have a very busy schedule to adhere to.” Or so I hoped. He looked too damn dapper for his own good, in a navy blazer, blue-and-white striped shirt, and khaki pants.
Was it normal for one’s entire body to hurt during a headache? Pretty soon the aspirin would kick in, but for the interim I wanted to die.
Duncan shrugged out of his jacket with a grin. “Oh no, she hit me at a lull, before lunch. We talked shop over coffee. Truth be told, I ended up staying way past my break and the boss almost ripped me a new one. Damn good drinks, though.”
I jolted at his words and my eyes went wide. “Did you? Coffee.”
He held his hands up in front of him before continuing to undress. “Don’t get upset, it was business. Just a couple of lattes between friends. Nothing to alarm yourself over. I lost track of time.”
“Friends now,” I responded, sitting up a bit straighter on the bed. “Made the jump pretty quickly from business to buds.”
Even the words tasted sour on my tongue.
Duncan shrugged and spoke without concern. “She’s a nice person. Like a breath of fr
esh air. I didn’t even realize it was two o’clock by the time we took a break and walked back to the office.”
I mentally calculated. Duncan took his lunch at eleven-thirty. Some break. “Sure, I bet you’re right. Conversation is always better with big tits. And you have a taste for blondes.” I gestured to my natural mousy chestnut strands.
Duncan turned to regard me. “We had a great time and I’m making friends. Are you begrudging me that simple human need? I know you’re tired, but I don’t appreciate your implications,” he told me snippily.
“I’m not implying—Ugh.” I rubbed my temples. “You’re right, I am tired. It was a long day at work. Not to mention I have a headache designed to take down a mule and a fiancé ogling someone else.”
“Work sucks, I know.” His tone brooked no argument. “But I wasn’t eyeing anyone else. End of story. And you need to stop letting yourself get down in the dumps. Only misery comes from expecting the worst.”
I bristled, clenching the ice pack. He sounded so convincing even when I knew misery came whether you expected it or not.
“I don’t spend my life down in the dumps. It’s called having a headache.” I pointed to my throbbing skull. “And you make it sound like being a realist is tantamount to believing the earth is flat.”
“I didn’t say any of those things so stop putting words in my mouth. Though I must say, your version of being a realist is bumming me out. Leda and I were talking at lunch about the difference between being a realist, an optimist, or a pessimist. She and I are optimists, of course.” He pointed a finger at me. “And you and August are pessimists, despite what you say. You’re guaranteed to make yourselves feel bad over nothing and it’s a horrible way to live.”
I couldn’t appreciate the way he lumped himself and that woman into a single category. Her very name grated on my bones like the ravenous attention of a hyena with a downed zebra.
“Oh, I feel horrible over nothing, eh? Is that what you’re saying?”
Duncan rubbed his nose in a small, quick gesture. “Yes. Nothing.”
I lashed out in the worst way. A pissing contest. “You want to talk about nothing, Mr. Positive? How about Hank shooting me a nice phone call about how the entire septic system needs to be replaced?”
I watched Duncan deflate and frown at me. And I loved it. “You can’t be serious.” His hands ran through his short hair once before falling to his sides.
I forged ahead. “I’m deadly serious. Another ten grand and we are in the hole for more than either of us bargained for.” I tossed the television remote at him for the pleasure of seeing it bounce off his chest. “Try to find the silver lining.”
Duncan considered the options for a moment without speaking, going so far as to sit with his chin on his hand like a Rodin sculpture. At last he said in a quiet tone, teeth clenched, “Yeah, it’s a tough blow. But at least they found the problem before we moved in, so we can be thankful for their expertise.”
Not the answer I expected. Talk about rubber and glue! The bad news bounced right off of him and catapulted back to me until I felt even worse.
“Dammit, Duncan,” I exploded. “Not everything turns out to be a blessing in disguise! Think of the money we are going to have to spend here. This is way more than we planned, and with you wanting the wedding of the century, I don’t know where the funds are coming from. I’m not able to take care of myself financially here, and it scares me.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hissed as blood rushed from my head.
“Calm down,” he cautioned. “You’re starting to look a little pale.”
My fierce glare should have brought him low but it did not. “I’m too far past calming down, thank you. I’ve been mired in this for three days while you’re out having coffee with Leda for hours!”
Instead of with me, I thought, steering the conversation back around. My logical mind recognized how unreasonable I sounded over a coffee date, especially considering my kiss with August. I rolled my guilt into a tiny ball and shoved it down deep. I’d made a mistake and regretted every moment of it. Duncan went out with Leda by choice.
I glanced away, shoulders slumped.
“Why on earth would you wait so long to tell me about this mess?” Duncan threw his hands in the air. “And there it is, Leda again. Is that what you’ve been trying to hammer home? Me enjoying another woman’s company?”
I moved my head in a combination of shake and nod, my migraine throbbing again and my limbs stiff. “It certainly doesn’t help.”
“It’s nothing, Isabel. I’m going out of my mind here without friends or family. I need someone to talk to who isn’t you.”
“Talk about insulting. What about August?”
“I don’t mind the guy, but he’s your friend. He only tolerates me because of you and the feeling is mutual. Leda is the first person I actually want to talk to around here.”
“Wow, thanks,” I said dryly.
“It’s not what you think.”
I’d heard enough. “How is it, then? I’m breaking my back at a job I hate, trying to amass the money for a wedding I don’t want and a house deserving a bulldozer, while you’re out enjoying the company of another woman. Bully for you! I’m just trying to pull my own weight. I don’t have a lot of friends either, as you kindly mentioned to me the other day.”
Duncan wasn’t having anything I had to say. “Do you want to have a sane conversation about it or continue to fight? Because I could go either way.” He ran an agitated hand along his arm, pacing back and forth. “We haven’t had a moment’s peace with you, lately. I swear, every little thing bothers you like the princess and the fucking pea. A man can’t walk in the door after work and relax—”
“You want to relax?” I took great pains to stride to the dresser and grab my coat to ward off the chill of the evening. “Fine, do what you want. Go relax with Leda for all I care.”
He watched my moves from the other side of the bed. “Maybe I will.”
His admission hurt and I raised an automatic hand to my chest. “How wonderful.”
“Jesus Christ, Iz, where are you going? Sit back down.”
“I’m going out to get some fresh air.” I had the satisfaction of slamming the door behind me and hearing the chain jiggle against the frame on the inside. Always one for spectacle and noise—despite the headache. I’d deal with the ramifications later.
My sneakers plodded across the pavement as I stormed past the car. This kind of frustration became dangerous behind the wheel and I wanted to keep my good driving record. I took to the sidewalk instead, ignoring the odd stares from passersby while I worked off my frustration.
Tourists flocked to the tiny town boasting one stoplight, ready to enjoy the music, crafts, and rustic charm that country living evoked. They glanced into the windows of stores and pondered at our lives before making their way back home to the cities, feeling richer for the experience.
I wanted to run them over.
If the house was done I wouldn’t have these problems, I thought as I stomped. Then I could take a walk in the woods and escape myself so I didn’t take my frustration out on Duncan. I longed for the trees and solitude, the most potent of combinations. Instead of serenity, the house granted me nothing but heartache and became a nagging thorn in my side.
I warned a potential caring citizen away with a threatening look and practically tumbled down the incline in the opposite direction of the town’s center. Logically I knew going off on Duncan didn’t solve any of our problems. In fact, it only strained our interactions in the long run if we turned on each other I remembered my grandmother again, how she and my grandfather always boasted about their united front.
“Miss Isabel,” she’d said to me with liquid, drawling syllables, “ain’t nothing more important than keeping the peace. Letting the world know you stand together with your man. You remember my words.”
Did I inherit nothing from the woman besides her penchant for candied orange peels? Ap
parently not.
Fighting with Duncan felt good in the interim, a proverbial punching block for the anger I kept in check. At least my frustrations found a voice instead of circling around to haunt me every time I tried to relax. Did I find Leda partially culpable for the outburst? You betcha. I was not above placing blame.
It didn’t surprise me when a car slowed to a stop next to me. I turned my face away and refused to look, not ready to give up the righteous anger I held on to.
“If you think I’m going back to the hotel room with you, then you’re crazy,” I told Duncan, moving my hands to my hips and turning away. “You want time to relax and so do I. I would rather eat glass than share a bed with you right now.”
“Then I guess the feeling is mutual.”
The feminine voice took me by surprise almost as much as turning around and seeing Leslie Gordon in the driver’s seat.
Mouth closed and shoulders back. Don’t let her see you sweat.
“What do you want?” I asked, pleased when my voice held firm.
Leslie clucked her tongue. “You know, the courteous way to begin a conversation is by asking how the other person is doing. It’s polite.” She ran her hands over the steering wheel, lips curling.
“Leslie, you have the miraculous ability of showing up just in time to witness my meltdowns. I don’t know how you do it, but I wish you’d stop.” I wiped at my eyes to make sure no tears came. “I’m having a hard time right now, and dealing with you is not on my to-do list.”
Normally I wouldn’t dream of saying such things to my nemesis. Tonight I didn’t give a damn.
Leslie wore a red jumpsuit designed to turn heads. The color accented the hues of her skin, and she’d painted her lips to match. Did the woman spend her entire paycheck on clothes?
“I see,” she replied deprecatingly. “You’re lucky I don’t care. Now get in, we’re going to the bar.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”