by L. A. Fiore
“Can I help you?”
She even had a sexy voice. I felt a bit like a Disney character, cute in my perky way, but completely out of place next to this simmering diva of sexuality.
“I just moved to town and am looking for a job. I’m hitting the pavement today, popping into as many establishments along Main Street as I can.”
She’d been carrying a tray of glasses, like forty or so, and she hadn’t dropped a one. Settling the tray on the bar, she walked around it and I discovered she wasn’t wearing heels.
“Do you have experience working tables?”
“Yes. In college.”
“You went to college. Why do you want to work at a bar?”
I was surprised at how easily the white lie slipped from my tongue. I could totally rock this on the lam shit. “My last job burned me out and I love talking to people.”
“When can you start?”
“Now.”
She studied me for a good minute. “Ricki and Dee.”
The waitresses appeared at her side. “What’s your name?”
“Thea.”
“Thea’s going to take station three.”
The girls smiled. If they were angry I was cutting into their tips, I couldn’t tell.
“Alright, Thea, grab a tray and apron. We’ll do a trial run and see how you do.”
I was surprised she’d offered but I didn’t hesitate to act. “Thank you.”
“Thank me if you get the job.”
She returned to the bar as one of the women reached for a tray and an apron and handed them to me. “Hey. I’m Ricki and this is Dee.”
“Hi.”
“You’re the new girl who just moved here with your husband?” Dee asked.
“Yes.”
“He’s hot,” Dee said. Ricki hit her in the arm. “What? He is.”
“Station three is that far corner. If you need anything, just ask. The specials are on the board. Soft drinks and coffee are refilled for free. If anyone gives you any trouble, Mic…” She gestured to the bartender, “…will take care of them. But we don’t usually see trouble, at least not with the locals.”
I wasn’t used to such solicitous people. It was refreshing how friendly everyone was in this town. “Thank you, Ricki.”
“You bet. Welcome to Deadwood.”
It had been a long time since I had worked as a waitress, but it was like riding a bike. The locals were very friendly, some of them a little too friendly but considering the real flirts were also pushing seventy, their attentions were charming not creepy. I was just finishing hour three of work when the door opened and Damian came barreling through it. It was only the sight of his unbelievably pissed off expression that I remembered I was supposed to be checking in every half an hour. I hadn’t called him in over three hours. I waited for the bellow that would shake the building; he certainly looked like he could at that moment. Instead, he grabbed my arm with surprising care considering he looked about ready to flog me, and pulled me to a quiet corner.
“What the fuck.”
“Sorry. I forgot.”
“Sorry?”
“Yes, sorry.”
It was fascinating watching him because he really looked like a man who was in imminent danger of his head flying off his shoulders. He wasn’t wrong to be angry. We’d just had this conversation yesterday.
“How did you know I was here?” Sure he had suggested I check the place out, but how did he know I was actually here?
No answer, not surprising. I did feel badly so I sought to explain. “I took your suggestion and I’m interviewing for a job, trial run, and I’ve been moving nonstop for the past three hours, but I should have remembered to check in. I really am sorry, Damian.”
“Where’s your phone?”
I reached for my phone that was in my pocket. It was dead. I had forgotten to charge it. In fairness to me I wasn’t big on cell phones, I rarely used it, but I had to get used to using it at least for a little while.
“I forgot to charge it.”
He looked about ready to explode again.
“I’ll charge it when I get back to the house.”
“Charge your fucking phone.” He pressed closer to me and lowered his voice. “And don’t fucking forget to call me.”
I said I was sorry. And so on principal I bit my tongue on the sorry I almost offered again.
Janice called my name but I knew she was there before she spoke because Damian’s attention had turned from me to someone just behind me. I could not describe the look he gave her, but never once had his head turned when we were together, so seeing it turn now was like taking a kick to the gut. And to add insult to injury, we were supposed to be married and yet my husband was eyeing my potential boss right after he had disciplined me like a child.
“Could you not do that?” My whisper was more a hiss.
His eyes came back to me.
“We’re supposed to be married. I realize I’m not in her league, but could you at least fake it.”
He didn’t answer. Big surprise. I turned as Janice approached and she looked hungry. I didn’t want to watch Daman and Janice because there was something there. I hated witnessing the love of my life having a moment with another, but he was having a moment and he did nothing to stop it.
“I was just going to offer your wife a job.”
Great now they were talking about me like I wasn’t there. I eyed the door. Perhaps Charlie’s Chicken Hut was the way to go after all. I could totally rock that chicken costume—a little swagger, a little attitude—totally doable.
Her next question had me seeing red. “Is that a problem?”
Was it a problem? She wouldn’t offer me the job if Damian had an issue with it? Seriously? Sure, he stormed in here like a bull and they didn’t know the real reason for his anger, but still her question pissed me off. Or maybe it was the way she was looking at him that pissed me off.
“You know what? I don’t need his approval for a job, and I don’t want to work some place where the idea that I did was even considered. Thanks for the opportunity, but no thanks.” I handed her my tray and apron, gave Damian my best withering glare, and walked out. It was Charlie’s Chicken Hut after all because there was no way I was going to be alone in that house with that man. There had been countless emotions Damian Tate had brought out in me over the years, but he had never acted in a way that hurt me. But whatever the hell that was in there just now with Janice fucking hurt.
Standing on the corner, peering down the street at what would be my catwalk as Charlie the Chicken, the temptation to walk into traffic was strong. And why the fuck if you were selling chicken would you make your mascot a chicken? A chicken promoting the eating of other chickens was just so terribly wrong in a Hannibal Lecter kind of way.
“Don’t do it.”
I turned at the humor-laced voice to find Maureen standing behind me.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“You’re looking at the new mascot for Charlie’s Chicken Hut.”
“Oh…on second thought.”
Her response was not what I was expecting. I laughed, like a real belly laugh. Humor once again eased the pain. “Thank you, Maureen, I needed that.”
“Instead of becoming a hood ornament, how would you feel about working for me at the nursery?”
Sure I met her once, but I was a stranger on the street, literally, and she was offering me a job. You had to love this town. “Seriously?”
“I can’t offer much, but Charlie.” She shivered.
“I’ll work for free.”
“No I couldn’t.”
“I have a job, graphic design, I just want to get out of the house and interact a bit. You would be doing me a huge favor.”
“Okay. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow around noon?”
“I’ll be there. Thank you.”
I watched her walk away, spotted Damian and for the first time ever, I didn’t wait for him to open my door. I climbed in, folded my arms li
ke a petulant child and glared out the window.
“What the hell was that?” he asked as soon as he climbed into the car.
The shoe was on the other foot because it was me who gave him the silent treatment. I said nothing the entire way back. It was only when we reached the cottage that I opened my mouth. “For someone all pissed that I hadn’t kept you posted as to my whereabouts, it doesn’t take much to distract you. Shiny red ball or in your case a pretty face and a nice rack. Fucking triggers my ass.”
I climbed from the car but Damian appeared, right in my face. “You don’t know shit.”
It was tempting to holler at him in the front yard, but we were supposed to be a happily married couple. I held my tongue until the door slammed at Damian’s back. “I don’t know shit? Okay, well here is what I do know. I know that you can’t string more than a few words together to me because of your fucking triggers, but seeing you being solicitous, hell downright friendly, to others really pisses me off. It pisses me off that I’ve shared everything there is to know about me and yet you’ve shared nothing personal. You drop the bomb that you lost someone, but you don’t say who. And how the hell did you find this place? And what the fuck was that with Janice? You know what? I don’t fucking care.” I detoured to the kitchen for a bottle of wine, a glass and a corkscrew then retreated to my room—locked the door, turned on the television and drank the whole damn bottle of wine.
It was late when I left my room. I hadn’t heard Damian since I stormed off like a child. I was hurt, there was no way around that. I hadn’t handled that hurt very well, but what was done was done.
I walked out back, stepped off the deck and strolled through the gardens. Solar lights were set up strategically so even at night the gardens were showcased. For a safe house it was charming and so not Damian. And the reminder that there was more to this place than he had let on brought a fresh wave of pain.
It hadn’t even been two weeks since the attack in the alley. It seemed almost like a dream now, a nightmare that felt real. And even hating that my life had been turned upside down, I wanted to go home. I needed my mom.
I strolled around for a while before I turned to head back inside and that was when I saw Damian. He was on the balcony that we shared. His long legs stretched out in front of him, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers and his focus was completely on me. I didn’t raise a hand, I didn’t smile and I didn’t offer him a good night. I just walked back inside, locked the door, filled a pitcher with water and went back to my room.
In the morning I woke to the smell of coffee. Walking from my room, like a child to the sound of the pied piper, I entered the kitchen to see Damian at the stove frying up some bacon. His diet was the healthiest diet I’d ever seen and even he couldn’t resist the deliciousness of bacon.
The coffee was done. He had a mug next to him. He was showered and dressed and I suspected he’d even had his run already and it was only half past six in the morning.
“Do you want breakfast?” That was his olive branch.
“Sure.”
I walked to the coffee maker, noticed the second mug on the counter, sitting right next to the sugar bowl. The gesture from Damian was like a declaration of love from someone else. I looked at that mug as tears burned the back of my eyes. My fingers were trembling when I reached for it.
“You don’t want the job at Janice’s?”
Like fucking ice water. “No.”
“You misunderstood the situation.”
“I don’t think I did. I’m meeting Maureen at noon at her nursery outside of town.”
He turned to me. “Maureen?”
“While you and Janice got acquainted, I ran into her on the street. I met her that day I went to the nursery. Learning my only job prospect was Charlie of Charlie’s Chicken Hut, she offered me a job.”
“I would rather you were at Janice’s.”
“And I’d rather work at Maureen’s.”
“Why are you always so fucking stubborn?”
“Can you get in touch with Anton?”
My sudden subject change caught him off guard. “Yeah.”
“Fabulous. Next time you talk to him tell him I think I’ll take my chances in New York because being here with you is intolerable.” I almost hurled the mug at his head before I stomped from the room. I didn’t get far before I was whirled around and pushed up against the wall. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss me or shout at me. His fingers tightened on my arms, his body pressed into mine, but it was his hard stare that pinned me in place.
“I should put you over my knee.”
It was my reaction to that threat that fueled my anger. When my date Derrick, the actuary, had given me a similar look it repulsed me, but the idea of Damian doing it, I liked…a lot. “Go to hell.”
“You have no fucking idea.”
“About what?”
It was on the tip of his tongue, whatever it was I didn’t know, but he won the struggle for control. Somehow I knew what followed wasn’t what he had almost let slip. “Maureen’s is outside of town, very little foot traffic, easy for a grab. Janice’s is always crowded, lots of eyes on you.”
“How do you know Janice’s is always packed? How did you find this place?”
“Not important. Take the job at Janice’s.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic and being stubborn because I hated the idea that by me taking the job it helped to put him and Janice in the same room together was just stupid.
“Fine.”
He didn’t release me. I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to close the distance between us and kiss me like he meant it, like he used to. And I hated myself for that weakness.
“You won. You can let go of me.”
It was only seconds, his hesitancy in releasing me, but for a man as disciplined as him that small hesitation meant something. Trouble was, I didn’t know if it meant he wanted to kiss me too, or snap my neck. Looking at him, it seemed the latter was more likely.
He put space between us. “I’ll take you to the nursery.”
“What?”
“Maureen. She’s expecting you at noon.”
“Yes. Maureen.” And thinking of Maureen had thoughts of Janice and how I had tried my hardest to burn that bridge. “How do you know that Janice will still offer me the job?”
“She’ll give you the job.”
“And you won’t share whatever the hell it is I don’t know.”
No answer.
“You say you want me, all of me, well that’s a two way street Damian. We won’t work if you won’t do the same.”
I didn’t wait for a reply I knew would never come and went back to my room.
It was the longest day of my life. Maureen had been very gracious about me turning down the job. And as predicted Janice had hired me, but I think that was only because Damian also got a job working as a bouncer and the idea that I would get to watch them every night was worse than the silence I was running from.
I didn’t leave my room after we returned from town. I lay on my bed trying to distract myself with a movie but it wasn’t working. I needed air. I grabbed my robe and stepped outside on the balcony to find Damian sitting there, looking out at the darkness.
“Sorry.” I turned to head back inside but he stopped me.
“It took her years to get this place the way she wanted.”
My heart cracked open at the pain I heard in his voice, the anguish.
“Amelia always loved it here. I didn’t know she was sick. She had kept it from me. I was off saving the fucking world and she was here dying. She called when there was no time left, just enough for us to say goodbye.”
Amelia. The love he found after me. I couldn’t breathe past the sob that caught in my throat.
“She was only twenty-seven when she died. We only had a few years.”
She had been so young. I ached for her and him, but what completely broke me was the painful truth that I only had him now because she had died. No wond
er he hadn’t shared, I wish now that he hadn’t. God help me, but I couldn’t comfort him when I was dying inside. My legs were unsteady as I stood. Our gazes collided and I couldn’t control my emotions any better than him.
“Thea?”
“I’m so sorry…so, so sorry.”
And then I fled, down the stairs and right out of the house—trying to run from his words, from his pain, from his past that hadn’t included me. I only got a few houses down when I doubled over in pain, the weight of my despair too much to handle.
Seconds later I was lifted and pressed against a familiar chest. He grabbed my face and forced my eyes on him. “Amelia was my sister.” He looked almost as destroyed as me. “You thought she was my wife?”