“So soon?”
Pam held up a lemon cupcake with lime green frosting. “These are seriously the best cupcakes I’ve ever had, even better than my mom’s.”
“Well, I’m just as happy as a tornado in a trailer park to hear it,” Brooke said sarcastically. “You’re more than welcome to eat free for life…if you drop your little list of violations.”
“Tempting, but I like my job.”
“Maybe you should try their home-spun apple crisp before making up your mind,” Ben added, biting into a red velvet cupcake. “It’s amazing.”
Pam swallowed with a tired groan, her jaw locking up. “I can’t eat another bite. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Brooke folded her arms across her chest and tipped her chin down. “Girl, you go throwing up in here and somebody’s liable to think you’re infected with a zombie virus and crack you over the head with a rolling pin.”
Pam blinked blankly in the uneasy silence sweeping across the room.
The fluorescents buzzed above them, bathing them in an unforgiving light.
“Well,” Pam said, hopping off the stool, “I’ll be back next week to check on your progress.”
Dean pulled Evy against him as Pam walked past. “Tell Clay we said hi.”
She turned to him at the swinging door, an authentic look of puzzlement covering her pretty face. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Thank you so much for the cupcakes. I’ll be back after I’ve gone to the gym at least ten times in a row.”
They stared blankly back without laughing. Pam shrugged and disappeared up front, the bell ringing as she finally left the building.
“How much is it going to cost to get that vent fixed in the men’s room?” Brooke asked.
“Could just be a dead bird or something clogging it up,” Ben said, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin. “It was fine before. I’ll run up to the roof and take a look.”
“And we have to call a plumber to fix a leaky nozzle in the sink?” Brooke laughed. “I hope it starts raining money later today! Evy, check The Weather Channel.”
“I can help with the extra expenses,” Dean said with a calming voice, trying to defuse the situation he was personally responsible for creating.
“Thanks, Dean, but I’m not in the habit of accepting handouts.”
“This whole thing is my fault! It’s the least I can do.” Dean’s phone angrily vibrated in his slacks. He pulled it out and held it up, making his face glow. A short laugh squirted from his mouth like a popped balloon.
“What’s wrong?” Evy asked.
He shoved the cell back into his pocket, shaking his head. “Megan wants me to go to her parent’s house for dinner tonight.”
“You say that bitch’s name around here one more time, Dean, and I swear to God I’m going to go insane,” Brooke sneered, curling around Ben’s arm. “From now on, let’s refer to her as: those we don’t speak of.”
Ben laughed, his teeth smeared in red velvet.
Dean took a deep breath and held it. “I think I should go.”
Evy swung her revolted gaze to him. “What? Are you crazy? You can’t go there.”
“This asshole has put us through hell. I should’ve gone to Clay this morning like I wanted to in the first place.”
“I told you on the phone to wait and see what the inspector came up with.”
“And I did.” He tapped an index finger against the metal table, his chest rising and falling beneath a black button down. “This shit ends tonight!”
Evy shook her head. “They could shut us down next week. Just stay out of it.”
A smirk slithered across his face, nestling inside a two day shadow of stubble. He took her face in his hands and looked down into her emerald eyes. “Everything will be fine, trust me. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“I, for one, hope you pop some more tires,” Brooke said, adjusting her ponytail.
Evy stepped directly in front of Dean. “Please, be careful.”
“I got this,” he whispered before planting a wet kiss on her lips that tasted like apples. “I love you.”
She smiled, uncertainty swimming in her eyes. “I love you, too.”
He nodded to Brooke and Ben and turned for the backdoor.
They watched it slowly close shut behind him.
“This has gotten so out of hand. What’re we supposed to do now?” Evy asked glumly.
“Now, we do the only thing we can do.”
Evy stared at Brooke.
“We go drinking.”
“Now, you’re talking,” Ben smiled, finishing off his cupcake.
“Not you,” Brooke corrected, towing Evy toward the front. “Somebody has to stay here and work. Plus, we need a little girl time.”
“Oh,” Ben said dejectedly, wiping his mouth and watching them disappear through the swinging door. “I didn’t want to go anyway.”
***
Dean let himself in without knocking and found Megan in the kitchen, wearing designer jeans and leopard skin flats. Her purse and car keys sat on the counter, ready to go, while a small flat screen in the corner aired a rerun of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. Megan slowly lowered a water bottle from her lips, the fridge door wide open. “I didn’t think you would come.” A bright smile claimed her face. “But I’m glad you did. I was hoping you would change your mind.”
Dean let out an irritated sigh. “You just don’t get it do you?”
“Get what?” she said, capping the bottle and putting it back in the fridge.
Dean ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. “I don’t love you and I never will.” He gestured to a nearby wall. “Here’s the writing and here’s the wall.”
Her smile faded. “That will change when...”
“That will never change, Megan! I love Evy! Not you and your little fake baby!”
She stepped in front of him and cocked her hand back but Dean caught her wrist before her open palm could sting his cheek and turn it red. She gritted her teeth, glaring up at him. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Did you know about the health inspection?” he asked softly, holding Megan’s arm in the air.
They held each other’s heated glare for another moment before Megan ripped her hand away.
“What health inspection?”
Dean laughed. “Man, you’re a good liar. You know that? You called Clay after I left last night, and when you call Clay, bad things happen.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her and set his jaw. “This is your fault.”
Megan snatched her cell from her purse, her ponytail flying through the air behind her. “Obviously, you’re not feeling well. I’ll tell my father we’ll take a rain check.”
He let her dial and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I’m going with or without you.”
She stopped punching the screen.
“Your dad and Ryder need to be stopped.” He stepped closer and Megan backed into the breakfast bar, fear blanketing her face. “This whole thing is over,” he said gravely. “This house, you, me, all of it ends tonight.”
She slipped out around him. “Are you high? You’re not thinking clearly!”
“Oh, I’m thinking clearly. For the first time in a while, Megan, I’m finally thinking clearly! I should’ve never let your dad con me into this bullshit. I should’ve stood my ground regardless of the consequences.”
“Dean,” she said, attempting to keep her emotions in check. “My father is trying to make up for his shortcomings.”
“Fuck that!” Dean shouted, his face turning red. “Nothing is worth this!”
She backed into the stainless steel fridge, her glassy eyes shimmering in the light. “And what about the baby, Dean? Is the baby not worth it either?”
“You mean the baby we don’t even know is mine? That baby?”
“It is your baby, Dean!” Megan blurted, bursting into tears and hiding behind her hands.
“Is it, Megan?” he said, coming closer, the unopened beer bottle hanging at his side. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she blubbered, quivering in his shadow. “Of course I am!”
He slammed a palm into the tall appliance, making it rock on its hind to legs. “Are you one hundred percent sure?” he yelled, towering over her.
Tears streamed down Megan’s cheeks. She refused to meet his piercing glower.
Dean lowered his voice. “You better start telling the truth, Megan, and I mean right now, or things are going to start getting messy for your candidate father in a hurry, and that’s a promise.”
“Oh yeah? And what’re you going to do? Go over and beat him up again? Vote against him? Good for you, Dean!”
“As a matter of fact…” He trailed off and took a calming breath, refusing to let her get him off topic. “I’m going to ask you one more time… Are you one hundred percent sure that baby is mine?”
The TV’s low volume serenaded the clammy silence enveloping them like a damp fog. No one moved. No one made a sound.
“Just tell me the truth,” he whispered, holding his breath, afraid to breathe. “For once in your life.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, her eyes pleading with him to stop, to just let it go.
“Tell me the truth!”
“I don’t know,” she said so faintly Dean barely heard her despite being less than six inches from her face.
He stared down at her, precious breath evacuating his lungs with the heavy-handed blow to the gut. “You don’t know what?”
“I don’t know! Okay?”
His mind swirled with relief and anger, making him lightheaded and uncertain if he was dreaming or not. Dean pushed off the fridge, reclaiming every bit of his six foot four inch frame, and turned his back on Megan.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, clasping her hands together and holding them to her heart like something precious.
He stared blankly out a window over the sink, his relief spilling into the night. “Me too.”
“Dean, please…”
He whirled on his heels and threw the beer bottle into the small flat screen on the counter. Plastic shards and glass burst into the air with the ear shattering collision, raining down around their feet. “I knew it!” He rested both hands on the counter like he might pass out and took a moment to chase his breath. “I fucking knew it,” he whispered, turning to face her. “Who else was there? And when?”
Megan took a ginger step toward him, smearing mascara across her face. “There was a guy…the night before you.”
Dean squeezed his eyes shut until he saw white spots, grimacing with the revelation. “And?”
“And…another guy the weekend after.”
A disgusted laugh fluttered from his mouth. “Why?” he asked weakly. “Why did you do this me?”
She looked back at him through sad eyes. “Because the other guys were jerks and you…weren’t.”
His chest deflated as a profound sigh stormed past his lips.
“I’m sorry, Dean, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t remember their names or have their numbers.” She came closer, careful not to step on any of the jagged shards littering the floor. “I was scared. My father is running for mayor and I’m scared. What else do you want me to say?” She stopped in front of him and softened her tone. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not your child,” she whispered, placing a tender hand on his chest. “It could be.”
He shook his head, anger hardening his face. “You’re pathetic,” he muttered, squeezing around her and heading for the front door. “Let’s go to dinner!”
Chapter Eleven
The night was dark and cool with stars shining above. Clay opened the front door and the dumbfounded look on his face made Dean grin.
“Hello, Clay,” Dean said mockingly from the front porch, hands clasped behind his back.
Clay’s disconcerted eyes bounced from Dean to Megan. “Why didn’t you just come inside?”
Megan lowered her sodden gaze to her shoes, cowering before her father’s large frame filling the doorway. “I’m sorry, daddy.”
He stood there gaping at them in a pair of black penny loafers and jeans, his million dollar smile missing in action. Crickets chirped around them, their soothing buzz no match for the tension in the air.
Dean cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you for the health inspection at Sugars today. Turns out there was a ventilation glitch in one of the restrooms that could have turned into a big problem.”
Clay frowned, his color draining.
Dean spread his grin. “And the last thing we want is a big problem. Isn’t that right, Clay?”
Anger flashed in Clay’s eyes. Nancy said something in the background about dinner being ready and Clay stepped outside, quietly shutting the door behind him. “I assume you have a point,” he hissed.
“You’re Jedi mind tricks are over.”
Clay sharpened his stony gaze, his chest moving faster beneath a yellow Polo shirt.
Dean nudged Megan in the side with his elbow and Clay’s brow creased further.
Megan twisted her fingers and for a second there Dean was positive she would chicken out and dash back to the Jeep, leaving Dean flapping in the wind. She looked up, her watery eyes communicating something words could not. But it wasn’t enough.
“Tell him!” Dean barked.
She shifted in her flats. “Dean might not be the father,” she mumbled, quickly dropping her father’s steady glare.
A storm brewed behind Clay’s blue eyes, turning them a dark gray. “What?”
Dean stepped closer. “She said I might not be the father, and if you don’t back down, I will go to the press with this entire nightmare of a story and expose you for the piece of shit you really are. I’ll hit the papers, the bloggers, the Today show, anyone who will listen.” A vein bulged in his neck. “And when it comes to politicians, people will listen – that much I can guarantee you.”
Clay carefully looked him over, his breath coming faster and louder in the quiet night. His million dollar smile suddenly took the stage. He tipped his head back and laughed into the night. “Be my guest, Dean. No one will believe a conniving playboy over me, especially one who doesn’t live with his mistakes.” He glanced at his daughter and woefully shook his head. “The things you have put my baby girl through.”
Dean stepped in Clay’s face, their noses less than three inches apart. “Someone will listen. The question is: are you willing to find out?”
Clay squeezed his knuckles into bloodless knots. “I told you before, Dean, you come into my daughter’s life and turn our world upside down, there is going to be a price to pay. And one thing you can be sure of: I – will - collect.”
“Asshole!” Dean snapped, making Clay flinch. “You’d sacrifice your daughter’s happiness by forcing her into a loveless marriage so you can become Mayor?” Dean shook his head. “There goes your father of the year award.”
Clay laughed like Dean was a child. “It’s not about becoming Mayor, you fool,” he whispered angrily, glancing around the quiet neighborhood. “It’s about making connections and you will not fuck that up for me.”
Dean turned to Megan. “I hope you now see what kind of monster this guy really is.”
Megan looked up to gauge her father’s reaction. The crickets chirped louder in the bushes around them, performing a symphony with the locusts in the trees above. A stick snapped.
Dean spun around to the man emerging from the side of the Colonial brick house.
Ryder kept his eyes glued to the front porch, ambling closer. “Dean, what’re you doing?” he said, sounding like a disappointed father who had just found out his son had cheated on a test.
“Taking food off your table,” Dean answered, a cocky grin spreading his cheeks.
Mr. Ryder’s shiny wingtips stopped in the driveway, his coat and tie as dark as the feeling in the pit of Dean’s stomach. “Go home, Dean.”
Dean hopped down the wide steps and spilled into the driveway.
“Dean,” Ryder said calmly
, holding his palms out. “You’re being a bit melodramatic here, don’t ya think? Go home and watch some TV. Things will look better in the morning.”
Moonlight ran its glowing fingers across Dean’s hardened face as he took off his coat. He widened his stance and raised his fists, waking his biceps. “Let’s see how ya do without your sucker punch.”
“Dean, stop,” Clay pleaded from the porch. “You can’t fight in my front yard. This is a neighborhood watch!”
In a blur, Ryder took the closest thing to a sucker punch he could find and struck first. Dean dodged to his left and Ryder’s quick jab glanced off his cheek. With Ryder still stretched out - reeling his punch in – Dean landed a heavy right hook. There was a loud crack and Dean wasn’t sure if it was Ryder’s nose or his black framed glasses breaking against his knuckles. Ryder’s knees buckled, sending him crumpling to the pavement below.
Dean stood ready for him to get back up, spreading his stance and reloading his fist. When the old man didn’t move, he laughed. “Looks like someone’s lost a step.” He glanced at the blood covering his knuckles - Ryder’s blood - and turned to face Clay, fire dancing in his eyes. “Who’s next?”
***
Evy leaned back and threw her cell into her purse, the loveseat’s crushed velvet caressing the bare legs spilling from her white shorts.
Brooke bounced with the movement next to her, the bar’s red lighting turning her white summer dress a soothing shade of pink. “Nothing?” she asked, brushing her hair over a shoulder and taking a generous sip of a red cosmo.
Evy shook her head and smoothed the teal colored satin top that always brought out her eyes. Horrid scenarios played out in her mind at breakneck speed: Dean in jail, Dean in a freshly dug grave somewhere out in the sticks, Megan smiling brightly in the background of each scenario.
“Keep drinking, Evy. You can’t hide from your problems,” Brooke said, raising her glass, “but you can run.”
Evy took a sip of her red wine as a burst of laughter erupted from a few tables over. “Maybe we should go.”
“And do what? Sit around biting our nails at the shop? That’s what bars are for!”
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