Romeo Fails

by Amy Briant

“Well, I was hoping there wouldn’t be feedlots in heaven,” Good chuckled. “But I guess it is pretty nice. I like it, anyhow.”

  “What about you?” Sarah asked Dorsey, who’d gone quiet in her corner while the two of them talked. She was enjoying the chance to observe Sarah while she spoke with Good. Her slender wrists. The hint of triceps tone in her upper arm when she raised her wineglass. The way she gracefully gestured with her hands sometimes when she talked. The way the subdued lighting in the bar made subtle highlights in her soft, straight, coal-black hair. Hair she wanted to run her hands through, right there, right then…

  “Dorsey?”

  Dorsey realized both Sarah and Good were looking right at her, apparently expecting a reply to some question she’d missed. Before she could respond, Luke Bergstrom called out to Good to come play pool. Good gulped down the rest of his beer, made his excuses to Sarah and Dorsey, then joined Luke at the pool table.

  “Who’s his buddy? The big good-looking guy?” Sarah wanted to know.

  “That’s Luke Bergstrom, our chief of police. Husband of our waitress from brunch this morning, if you recall.”

  If you dug deep enough, practically everybody in Romeo Falls was somehow related to everybody else, by marriage if not by blood.

  “Wait—Bergstrom? As in Maggie’s ex-husband Bergstrom?”

  “Right. She’s divorced from Dwayne—thank God—and that’s his older brother Luke, who is nothing like Dwayne, by the way. Luke and Good played football together in high school. Luke was the nose tackle and Good was the center. But I don’t know if you follow football…” Dorsey trailed off.

  “Are you kidding me? Da Bearz!” Sarah said with a grin, making her allegiance plain.

  Courtney Flugelmeyer had noticed the two of them sitting next to each other and was staring at them with narrowed eyes. Dorsey saw Courtney elbow Tanya. Tanya looked over at Dorsey and Sarah and then said something to Courtney that made them both laugh and go back to drinking. They were doing a round of shots now and getting louder by the minute.

  “So Luke and Good played football together…” Sarah prompted her, unaware of the scrutiny from one table over. She inched a little closer to hear Dorsey’s reply over the barroom noise.

  “Right. And hunted and fished together. Luke used to be over at our house all the time when we were kids and even when he was first on the force, but he’s cut back on socializing a lot since he became chief. It must be hard for him,” she mused.

  “And how about your socializing?” Sarah asked. “Is that hard for you?” Her knee brushed Dorsey’s under the table.

  “What do you mean?” Dorsey said, a little wary of this personal turn to the conversation.

  “Well, you know, small town… not a lot of fish in the pond…”

  Dorsey silently eyed her over the rim of her beer glass as she drained it. Sarah looked steadily back at her for a moment, then broke the eye contact to look away.

  “Oh, hell,” Sarah said. “I so suck at this.”

  She looked back at Dorsey and said, “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re seeing anyone right now.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Dorsey. “Are you?”

  “No,” said Sarah. She smiled as a reciprocal slow grin appeared on Dorsey’s face. There was a brief pause.

  Then Dorsey said, “So now what?”

  Sarah laughed. “Oh, crap,” she said. “I was hoping you’d know.”

  “Well, are you hungry?” Dorsey tried. “’Cause I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat since brunch.”

  They decided to order a pizza.

  “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” Dorsey asked Sarah. Not that she disapproved of such a healthy habit—she just wanted to make sure she didn’t order something that Sarah wouldn’t like.

  “No,” Sarah told her. “And I don’t require anything fancy, either. A medium supreme will be just fine. I like a little of everything, remember? And I’ll get us some more drinks while you order the pizza, all right?”

  “Deal.”

  Dorsey went to the end of the bar where the cook waited to take her order, while Sarah spoke with the bartender. She looked awfully good in those jeans, Dorsey thought. She watched her walk back to their booth with the drinks. Luke was watching her as well. He and Good had apparently finished their game. Her brother caught her eye and came over to her.

  “I’m taking off,” he said. “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, I’ll walk. Thanks again for the beer, Good.”

  “Yeah, we should do that more often.” He smiled and headed out the door. She turned to go back to the booth, but was forestalled by the college boys moving past her, with Justin Argyle in their midst. One of the guys was teasing him. They’d all gone to school together.

  “Does your mama know you’re out past your bedtime, Justin?”

  “Fuck off,” Justin told him. He looked like he’d had one too many.

  Dorsey let them pass, then followed in their wake as they walked toward the exit. Luke was standing by the booth now, talking to Sarah. Justin bumped into him as he passed. Luke put out a stabilizing hand.

  “Whoa, careful there!” he said to Justin, who shook him off impatiently.

  “Lemme go,” he muttered irritably, then stumbled on out the door. Luke watched him go with a frown. The last of the college boys assured Luke that they would see Justin home safely. Luke told him to drive safely, then turned back to his conversation with Sarah, who was looking a little irritated herself.

  “Hi, Luke,” Dorsey said. “Are you joining us?” She hoped the answer was no, but didn’t want to be rude.

  “Hey there, Dorsey. Don’t mind if I do, for a minute.”

  He slid into the side of the booth across from Sarah, setting his red plastic cup of soda down on the table. Dorsey sat down next to her.

  “I guess you two have met,” she said to Sarah.

  Sarah nodded, although not with great enthusiasm, Dorsey noticed.

  “Pizza will be here shortly,” Dorsey told her. Sarah nodded again.

  “Ah, yes, the famous cousin from the big city who wasn’t at the wedding,” Luke said with a grin. “I was the best man,” he told Sarah. “It about broke Maggie’s heart that you couldn’t make it.”

  Sarah grimaced with regret. “I know, I felt awful about that, but my editor had me on assignment in London and I couldn’t get back for the ceremony. I still feel terrible about that. Maggie had even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.”

  “Yeah, you missed out on some kick-ass peach chiffon dresses,” Dorsey kidded her.

  “Oh, really? You must’ve been the maid of honor, right?”

  “Yep. But no dress for me. Maggie and I compromised on an equally horrifying peach pantsuit.”

  “Sounds sexy,” Sarah said, flicking Dorsey a grin. “Now I’m doubly sorry I missed the wedding.”

  Dorsey grinned back at her, then shot a look over at Luke, who was unconcernedly drinking his soda and watching the two of them. She didn’t think they’d gone too far (although more than far enough, probably), but Luke was no dummy. He merely gazed back at her in a friendly fashion, however.

  “So, what do you think of Romeo Falls?” Luke asked Sarah, turning his attention back to her. “How does it compare with Chicago?”

  “It’s awesome,” Sarah said shortly.

  Dorsey caught no hint of sarcasm in her tone, but her cursory reply seemed intended to cut Luke short. Dorsey’s leg brushed against Sarah’s under the table—she could feel the tension in Sarah, but wasn’t sure of the reason for it. Luke, however, seemed undeterred by her terse response.

  “And what brings you to town?” he asked.

  “Oh, I had some time on my hands and wanted to visit Maggie.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  Sarah cocked her head to one side and considered him for a moment. “You ask a lot of questions, Luke.”

  “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly “Occupational hazard. And I�
�m afraid I have one more question, but this one’s for Dorsey.”

  “What is it?” Dorsey said.

  “Have you sold red spray paint to anyone lately?”

  Sarah froze in the middle of lifting her wineglass to her lips, but then recovered so that the motion almost looked uninterrupted. Almost.

  There was a split second when Dorsey thought about not telling Luke about Maggie and Sarah buying the red paint the day before. But that was crazy. What was she thinking? Why would she lie to Luke for no reason whatsoever? It wasn’t like buying the paint implicated either of them. That was just silly.

  “Well, actually, Maggie and Sarah bought some yesterday. Maggie said she wanted to redo her porch chairs.”

  Dorsey looked to Sarah for corroboration. Sarah merely nodded while taking another sip of wine.

  “Oh and I remember Dr. Melba bought some spray paint a while back. Couple of months ago, maybe. But I’m not sure if it was red,” Dorsey said. “Goodman rang up the purchase if I recall correctly. I suppose you’re asking Good and Shaw this same question?”

  Luke nodded. Having pointed a finger at Sarah—sort of—Dorsey now felt obliged to stand up for her.

  “But Luke, anyone could have a can of red spray paint. They could have bought it six months or a year ago, or in Grover. Or Timbuktu, for that matter!”

  “I know,” he said. “But just because a question’s obvious doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask it.”

  While the two women considered that in silence, the bartender arrived with their pizza and a couple of plates.

  “Thanks, Kenny,” Dorsey said. “Can we get another round when you have a moment?”

  “Sure thing, Dorsey.”

  Luke stood up and said, “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to your pizza. I’ve got some more pool to play. Sarah, it was nice to meet you.”

  Sarah nodded and smiled at him, but Dorsey thought her smile looked a little forced. Sarah’s eyes were pinned on Luke’s broad back as he returned to the pool table, where the Lucchese sisters were currently trying to play, hampered by blood alcohol levels probably well over the legal limit.

  “You okay?” she said to Sarah.

  Sarah gave herself a little shake as if to release tension, then smiled brightly back at Dorsey.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not a big fan of cops.”

  Dorsey noticed that Courtney and Tanya, who were still seated in their booth, were now muttering to each other, while giving her and Sarah some hard looks. With a sigh, Dorsey got up and moved to the other side of the table.

  “Seriously?” Sarah said to her. She seemed disappointed that Dorsey had opted to sit elsewhere. She didn’t appear to have picked up on the vibe from the next booth.

  “The natives are restless,” Dorsey replied in a quiet voice that she hoped Sarah would hear, but the next booth would not. Sarah arched an eyebrow and looked around the room, then shrugged. Maybe she was used to it, Dorsey thought. Or maybe it was easier to take coming from strangers instead of people you’d known your whole life.

  Kenny the bartender brought another beer and a glass of wine as they enjoyed the pizza, which was deliciously hot and loaded with toppings.

  “Oh my God, this is so good, but I’m full,” bemoaned Sarah, three slices later.

  Dorsey smiled at her obvious despair that she couldn’t stuff a fourth slice down her throat. At least she wasn’t one of those girls who ate like a bird, complaining all the while about calories and carbohydrates. It dawned on her that she was having a really good time. That was such an unusual sensation, she wasn’t used to it. She was feeling a little nervous, though, for at least two reasons. Where was this going, exactly? Anywhere? She tried to tell herself to just relax and enjoy the moment. But reason number two was hampering her efforts in that area—the mutters from the booth behind her had gotten louder as the evening progressed. She’d already heard one full-volume “fuckin’ dykes” from Courtney. She knew they should probably leave before things got ugly, but she hated letting them chase her out. And, from a practical standpoint, they were probably safer inside the bar with the chief of police ten feet away than they would be outside in the parking lot. Tanya, especially, was known in high school to be both a biter and a spitter. Based on long experience, Dorsey found both her and Courtney to be despicable, ignorant, fearful women. One was vice president of the PTA. The other taught Sunday school at the Presbyterian church. Pillars of the community.

  Sarah pushed the decimated pizza platter aside and reached for Dorsey’s hand, taking her by surprise. She didn’t pull away, although she knew she should in that public place. Maybe, at twenty-six, she was finally reaching that “they can all go to hell” stage, she thought. Or maybe it was because it was Sarah, whose hand was warm on hers.

  “So…” said Sarah, giving her a searching look and the full effect of those amazing blue eyes.

  “So…” said Dorsey, feeling a little light-headed from the beer and the contact. Not necessarily in that order.

  There was a commotion behind her. Dorsey heard more than saw glasses being knocked over, cursing and a not-so-muffled shout that sounded something like, “Goddamn homos trying to take over our town…”

  Pulling her hand out of Sarah’s, Dorsey whipped around in the booth in time to see Luke stroll up to the women next door and say, “Evening, ladies. Everything okay here?”

  Courtney was on her feet, as were the Luccheses, who had rushed over to restrain her. Tanya was sprawled sideways in the booth trying to staunch the flow of beer from an overturned pitcher and various glasses. Dorsey couldn’t make out their mumbled replies to Luke, but, after a moment, all four of them headed off to the restroom. Courtney was still squawking, but the Lucchese sisters had her in a firm grip. She shot Dorsey an evil look over her shoulder as they disappeared down the hallway. Dorsey turned around to see how Sarah was reacting to all this. The smile on her lips and the slant of her eyebrows looked more amused than alarmed.

  Luke slid into the booth next to Dorsey and said, “Maybe you should give it a rest, Dorsey.”

  “I should give it a rest?” she responded, outraged. “What the hell did I do?”

  “Come on,” he said. “I’m just trying to keep the peace here. You know they’re not ready.”

  Dorsey said bitterly, “Well, when will they be ready, Luke? Exactly how long am I supposed to wait?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied seriously. “But we’re making progress.”

  She snorted derisively. “Progress.”

  “Open your eyes, Dorsey, and think about it,” he admonished her. “It’s slow, I know, but it’s there. When your grandfather opened the hardware store, this town never thought we’d see an African American teacher and now there’s Rick.”

  Rick Caldwell was the assistant principal at the high school.

  Luke went on. “And when my dad got home from Vietnam, he sure never thought there’d ever be a female police officer in Romeo Falls.”

  He and Dorsey exchanged wan smiles as they imagined what his father, a hell-raising marine of the old school, would have made of Mrs. Gargoyle.

  “So I don’t know when they’re going to be ready, Dorse. But I believe it will be in our lifetime. Even here, in this slowpoke little town that sometimes forgets you’re one of us. But for tonight…”

  His voice trailed off and he glanced over at the booth vacated by the drunken 4-Hers, then looked back at Dorsey and Sarah with a grin. “For tonight, you’re about to get your asses kicked in the parking lot of The Hamlet. So, will you please let me drive you home and we can all have a peaceful Sunday night? Please?”

  Dorsey, still feeling a little belligerent, mostly thanks to the three beers she’d had, said, “If you think we’re going to ride in the back of your squad car like criminals, Luke Bergstrom, you must be out of your damn mind!”

  “I’m off-duty, genius,” he said, looking at her with exasperation tinged with fondness, “in case you hadn’t noticed the plain clothes. I’ve got t
he minivan tonight. And I have to go pick up Penny and the kids at her mom’s in about fifteen minutes, so that’s just enough time for me to run you and Sarah home.”

  Dorsey hated the idea of retreating from the battlefield, so to speak, but Sarah chimed in for the first time since Luke had rejoined them.

  “Thanks, Luke,” she said smoothly. “We’d love a ride.”

  * * *

  The three of them had been silent during the short ride from The Hamlet to the Bigelow house. What was there to say anyhow, Dorsey thought. Alone in the dark backseat of the minivan—littered with toys, a child seat, dog hair and random Cheerios—she felt like she’d been wrenched from a really good dream back into her dreary reality. Sheet lightning flickered off in the distance, briefly illuminating the now black night sky. The thunder that followed was so long in coming, the two events seemed unconnected.

  Luke stopped and Sarah got out, then leaned back in the open passenger door to say goodnight to him. She glanced in the back, raking Dorsey with her gaze. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness. No word passed between them, but Dorsey felt a shock at the impact of that gaze. She suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe in the car. She scrambled out the side door, calling a thanks over her shoulder to Luke, saying she’d walk home from there. He drove off, his taillights winking at the corner as he turned and then pulled out of sight.

  She and Sarah stood alone on the sidewalk. A street lamp at the corner cast a modest glow. No one else was around, though lights in the neighborhood houses reminded them they were not the only ones there. Sarah’s Bug was parked at the curb. Both Maggie’s car and her mother’s were parked in the driveway, indicating they were both home from quilting. Lights were on, both upstairs and down.

  “I guess we could go in,” said Sarah. She sounded reluctant.

  Dorsey knew how that would go. The bright lights, the small talk, the cooking smells, Mrs. Bigelow’s stupid dog yapping nonstop… She didn’t want her night with Sarah to end that way. As if they were just acquaintances. As if this feeling of electricity didn’t tingle between them.

  “No,” she said solemnly, shaking her head.