Romeo Fails

by Amy Briant

  “Are you kidding me?” Sarah said in disbelief to Dorsey, who almost wanted to laugh if it weren’t all so unfunny.

  “Come on,” she told Sarah. “Let’s get out of here before either one of them comes back.”

  They walked quickly back to the alley behind the hardware store. A light rain had started to fall, which further sped them on their way. By the time they got to Dorsey’s truck, the ludicrousness of the situation had overtaken them. They were both laughing and out of breath as they piled into the little pickup. Dorsey put the key in the ignition, then said to Sarah, “So where are we going?”

  Before she could answer, a sudden sharp clash of thunder made them both jump and check the sky, which had been at least partially blue just moments before.

  “Whoa,” Sarah said apprehensively. “That doesn’t look good.”

  It had been raining on and off the entire day, but now the sky had taken on that eerie greenish tone seen only in the midwest. Thunder rumbled again in the distance, but they hadn’t seen any lightning. The storm was still miles away, but storms could move frighteningly fast over the open prairie. They needed to find some safe place indoors and soon.

  George and Ira obviously agreed about the indoors part. The cats had been out and about in town, but as the women watched, they ran down the alley with alacrity, tails straight up in the air, and zipped in through the kitty door.

  “We need to get inside somewhere too,” Dorsey told Sarah. “That sky’s not looking good.”

  “Someplace where we can be alone,” Sarah agreed with her. She reached out to lightly trace the back of Dorsey’s hand on the stick shift. Even that small contact triggered the fierce and aching desire that Dorsey felt whenever Sarah was with her. That desire could not be delayed another hour. She wanted Sarah—needed Sarah—now, not later. And the look in Sarah’s eyes told her she felt exactly the same way.

  “Your place?” Sarah said.

  “Well…” Dorsey hesitated. “Goodman’s there, so not really. I don’t suppose your place…”

  “No, their women’s group is assembling some ghastly craft project in what seems like every room of the house. That’s what made me flee in the first place.”

  They both glanced up at the sky with a sense of urgency. Ominous pewter-gray clouds were stacking up into thunderheads as they watched. A flock of birds wheeled past, darting and diving through the sky in search of a tree or a building where they could ride out whatever was coming.

  “Motel?” Sarah suggested, a little desperately.

  “No good,” Dorsey said. “It’s owned by the Luccheses.”

  Seeing Sarah’s look of noncomprehension, she added, “Those drunken heifers at The Hamlet, remember?”

  “Oh. Well, what about the store?” she said pragmatically, pointing at the back door just ten feet away. More fat raindrops were starting to splatter down onto the pavement. It wouldn’t be long before the skies opened up with a vengeance.

  As a place to take shelter in from the elements, the store was an excellent option. As a place to get laid in, not so much. For one thing, she was fairly certain Good would kill her if he ever found out. Plus, the idea of it felt a little strange. She’d grown up in that store. She’d grown up in her house too, of course, but a house has bedrooms and bedrooms are for having sex in. Not hardware stores.

  But she had no choice. The first piece of hail pinged off the hood of the truck as she sat there dithering.

  “All right,” she told Sarah. “Let’s go!”

  They ran for the door. Dorsey fumbled with the keys, then got them inside just as the first heavy wall of rain came racing down from the heavens.

  They were in the back of the store, the windowless stockroom, with all manner of boxes and bags stacked around them. Dorsey flicked the light switch, but the power had already gone out—not unusual when it was storming. Fortunately, the keypad for the alarm system was lighted by a back-up battery, so she was able to quickly disarm it.

  “Hold on,” she told Sarah, who was clinging tightly to Dorsey’s chambray shirt so she wouldn’t lose her in the dark. Dorsey knew the layout of the store like the back of her hand and could have navigated it blindfolded, which was good considering that was essentially what she was having to do. It was close to pitch-black in there as the storm closed in. The rain was roaring outside, hail banging on the roof, with thunder now bone-jarringly close and ever more frequent. Dorsey was headed to the front counter, where there was a flashlight under the cash register.

  “Wait,” Sarah said to her as they passed the open doorway of the office, murkily sensed rather than seen in the near total darkness of the hall. “Office?”

  The office was so completely Goodman’s domain that the idea of getting it on in there was not appealing. At all. Besides, Dorsey had a better idea.

  “Nope,” she told Sarah. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

  “I have to be back for dinner by seven,” Sarah warned her.

  “Almost there,” Dorsey promised, pulling her forward.

  In the back corner of the store, far from the plate glass window which stretched all the way across the front, Goodman had dedicated a small area to patio furniture and other outdoor items. Dorsey carefully guided Sarah to a chair and sat her down.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told her. Sarah’s fingers reluctantly released her.

  “Hurry,” she whispered fiercely.

  Dorsey moved as quickly as she could through the dark and silent store, its internal quietness in stark contrast to the racket Mother Nature was making outside. She found the flashlight under the cash register, where both the cats were huddled together, green eyes aglow in the near total darkness. She petted Ira, got a hiss from George for daring to make eye contact, then detoured to the front window where an old family quilt was draped over one of her furniture pieces as part of the display. Rain lashed the front window violently and she could see the water running high in the street outside in what was left of the daylight.

  She hurried back to Sarah, who impatiently stood when she saw the small beam of the flashlight headed toward her.

  “Okay, so we got a chair, a flashlight and a quilt,” she said to Dorsey, adding up their assets like a castaway on a desert island. “What else? Plenty of tools and hardware. Tools…hmmm, so how do you feel about tools, Dorsey?”

  Sarah’s tone of voice had changed from pragmatic to sultry. Her warm hands were now wandering over Dorsey’s torso as she put the flashlight and quilt down on the patio table next to the chair. Sarah was nibbling on her neck, pressed up against her from behind, not letting her straighten back up from her bent over position at the table. Which felt rather nice, actually. Sarah’s hand slipped down the outside front of Dorsey’s jeans until her firm grip found a home. A sharp wave of desire filled Dorsey with heat, suffusing her from head to toe as her body moved with Sarah’s dominating hand. She found herself gasping for breath, gripping the table with all her might.

  “Tools?”

  “Tools, toys, accoutrements,” Sarah breathed in Dorsey’s ear. “You know. I bet we could get real creative with some of the stuff in this store if we wanted to.”

  Dorsey had been more than gratified with the creativity already shown by Sarah in their short time together. There was much more to explore, she knew, and she was definitely looking forward to that in time, but for now—even with her wholesale discount—she thought it wiser to stick with the tried-and-true.

  “Ummm, yeah,” she managed, finally squirming out of Sarah’s embrace. “I’ve got something else in mind for this afternoon,” she told Sarah, who was taking advantage of their temporary uncoupling to start peeling off her clothes. Dorsey picked up the quilt and flashlight and turned on a battery operated camping lantern on the table. Its gentle light bathed Sarah in a golden glow as she dexterously dropped her bra on the pile of her other clothes, then gracefully shimmied out of her panties as Dorsey watched, her anticipation mounting almost painfully. She’d never felt this way befor
e, never wanted another woman this badly.

  “Well,” Sarah said, posing for her for a moment with her hand saucily on her hip. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  Dorsey had lost the power of speech when the bra came off, so she merely turned and mutely shone her flashlight into the corner behind the patio furniture, where a four-person tent stood, flap unzipped and inviting, with sleeping bags and a faux plastic, molded campfire to complete the picture.

  She would never think of camping the same way, she thought, as she followed Sarah’s pale and perfect buttocks into the cozy little tent.

  Chapter Ten

  Dorsey and Maggie had lunch together that Friday, which was Maggie’s last day as a substitute teacher. Her colleague had recovered from whatever bug had afflicted him and was due back in the classroom on Monday. Since her last day was actually just a half-day, Maggie was celebrating with a well-earned glass of wine with her lunch at the Blue Duck. Dorsey enjoyed her cheeseburger and her break from work while Maggie brought her up to speed on all the latest.

  “And Mother and I are off to the capital this weekend for the state convention,” she finished as Dorsey started on her fries.

  “How is your mother?” Dorsey asked dutifully.

  “Well, her ankle’s still bothering her some. She had Sarah run her over to the clinic in Grover today for a follow-up appointment.”

  Dorsey actually knew that already, having had to cancel a planned rendezvous with Sarah as a result of Mrs. Bigelow’s commandeering of the red Bug and its driver. She felt an uneasy twinge of guilt when Maggie told her what she already knew.

  She knew all about the convention Maggie mentioned as well. Both the Bigelows belonged to a women’s organization that was a social hub for the churchgoing ladies in town. Maggie was currently the treasurer, while her mother was the recording secretary. Tanya Hartwell was the president. Although Dorsey’s mother had been a member, Dorsey herself had never been asked to join, for which she was deeply grateful. Mrs. Bigelow and Mags had been thrilled when they were chosen to be the representatives from Romeo Falls at the annual state convention that year and had been looking forward to a swinging weekend at the capital Best Western.

  Dorsey said, “So y’all are still going despite her ankle problem?”

  “Yep, we’re going,” Maggie assured her. “We’re leaving as soon as her soap opera is done this afternoon. Wild horses couldn’t keep Mother away from convention. She’s on the rules and regulations committee this year, you know.”

  Dorsey nodded politely while thinking how perfect that was for the old she-beast. She reached for her Coke and took a long sip. She hoped she didn’t sound like she was too eager for Maggie to go. On the one hand, of course she wanted her to go and enjoy herself and have a good time. And on the other hand, she very much wanted her to be gone so she could be alone with Sarah. It was all very confusing. With each encounter she and Sarah had, the guilt was ratcheting up in Dorsey’s conscience. She hated having this secret from Maggie. But it wasn’t her secret so much as it was Sarah’s and if Sarah wasn’t ready to tell Maggie, neither could she. Such a mess…

  “Dorse? You with me?” Maggie smiled at her forgivingly, amused at her distracted state.

  “I’m sorry—what?”

  “I said, so I guess you and Sarah will just have to cope without us for a couple of days.”

  Dorsey choked on her drink, for no reason whatsoever, except her guilt-stricken conscience.

  “I’m all right, I’m all right,” she said to Maggie’s concerned face. She coughed into her napkin, then took another long pull on her drink.

  “You’ll keep an eye on her for me, won’t you?” Maggie said. “I’ve been kind of worried about leaving her alone for the weekend. She was so unhappy when she first got here. She didn’t tell me much about what happened in Chicago, but I know it must have been hard for her, breaking up with her boyfriend like that.”

  Coca-Cola again went down the wrong pipe. Dorsey grabbed for her napkin, her eyes wet as she coughed.

  “Sorry,” she said weakly to Maggie, coughing and waving her hand in a go-ahead gesture. “You were saying? About a… boyfriend? Is that what Sarah told you?”

  “Well, not in so many words,” Maggie replied, “but I think I know a broken heart when I see one.”

  Dorsey pondered that in silence.

  “She’s never really talked about her love life much,” Maggie said. “She’s pretty private that way. Kind of like you in that regard,” she added with a twist to her lips.

  Wake up, Mags! Dorsey wanted to shout.

  “Anyway,” Maggie went on, “I just wanted to tell you how happy I am that you two have become friends now. It means so much to me.”

  Dorsey squirmed in her seat, wretchedly wishing she could tell Maggie the truth right here, right now and get it over with. Maggie seemed oblivious to her distress. She leaned over the table to tell Dorsey something confidentially.

  “I’m only telling you this because I know you would never pass it on and because I know you care about Sarah too—you know those pills she got from the pharmacy? Well, they’re antidepressants.”

  Dorsey was a bit taken aback by that news, but felt like she should defend Sarah. Which was odd, considering it was Maggie she was talking to.

  “Well, you know a lot of people take those pills these days, Mags,” she said evenly. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. She said they helped her sleep, right?”

  “I know,” Maggie said, “but I’ve just been worried about her. She gets these dark moods sometimes and goes all quiet on me. That’s why I’m glad you’ll be here with her this weekend so she won’t get lonely.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Dorsey said, hoping to move on to other topics.

  “You two have plans, right?” Maggie persisted.

  Since Dorsey’s plan was to get Sarah naked and fuck her brains out all weekend long, she couldn’t exactly share that with Maggie. Nor could she share their escapades in a hotel room in Grover earlier in the week…or in the cab of her truck that one night out on a deserted country road after she had shown Sarah the falls for which the town was named…

  “Dorse?” Maggie looked at her oddly when she again didn’t answer right away.

  “We’ll be fine, Mags. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” said Maggie, beaming. She flagged down the passing waitress and asked for the dessert menu.

  * * *

  The Miscreant was filling up at the gas station. And thinking. There were so many possibilities to think about as the next move was planned. And the planning was almost as much fun as the doing. So many possible targets. The high school, maybe. A perfect example of what was wrong with this stupid little town. That would show those losers… Or the community center. Maybe something completely off the wall, like the Blue Duck. Not that there was anything wrong with the place, but the very randomness of the choice was appealing.

  The ticking of the gas pump seemed in time with the thoughts tumbling one over another. Maybe a person, instead of a place? Maybe just randomly pick one of these people…these fucking smug, self-satisfied, stuck-up assholes who thought they were so much better…anything to wake them up from their cozy little comatose lives.

  The heady smell of the fuel sparked another thought. How about a fire? That would wake them up, for sure. That would leave a mark on this sorry-ass town they wouldn’t soon forget! Go out in a blaze of glory, like they say…I’d torch this whole goddamn town if I could, thought the Miscreant.

  * * *

  Dorsey had worked all day in the store on Friday, but she was uncharacteristically absentminded the closer the clock got to closing time. Her brain kept thinking about the night ahead. A night in which she’d have Sarah all to herself. All night long…

  “Dorsey!” Goodman barked at her exasperatedly from behind the counter as she stared dreamily out the front window. “Would you please set up that duct tape display in aisle two? I�
��ve asked you about four times already.”

  “Sorry, Good,” she said contritely. “I’ll do it right now.”

  She forced herself to concentrate on putting together the cardboard display rack provided by the manufacturer. Tab B absolutely refused to go into Slot C, but she finally overcame the design flaw with—what else?—a little duct tape. Having neatly stacked the display with different colored rolls of tape, she grabbed the push broom and swept for a while as her brothers dealt with the customers. The clock moved slowly. She felt like she’d been there for at least the duration of a geological epoch when closing time finally came around. She had hoped Good would let her go first, but saw to her dismay that Shaw had already beaten her to it.

  “Where’s he going?” she asked with chagrin as their younger brother disappeared out the front door.

  “He said he’s got a date and plus he’s opening tomorrow, so I let him go early,” Goodman answered. “You don’t mind closing, do you? I promised old man Gustafson I’d run a delivery out to him this evening.”

  Crap, Dorsey thought. “Well, to tell you the truth, Good—”

  “Thanks, Dorse! I’m going to Grover after—I told you that, right?” Seeing her questioning look, he added, “It’s Spider’s birthday party, remember?” Spider was one of his old football buddies, who now lived in GC. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, but he was already headed out the back to his truck.

  Well, with Goodman off in Grover City for one of his rare nights out and Shaw on a date with his mystery woman, it looked like she and Sarah would have the house to themselves. She felt the blood quicken in her veins as she contemplated the night ahead.