One Last Shot (Cupid's Conquests)

by Danielle La Paglia

  “I’ll make it work.” She took one more swig of whisky and wiped her eyes. “I’ve got it under control,” she said and tipped the bottle over his grave, letting the amber liquid gurgle out of the bottle and splash on his headstone. “I love you, Daddy.”

  She kissed her fingertips and brushed them across the stone then did the same to her mother’s and walked away.

  #

  She made it through the day, back stiff, muscles tense, looking over her shoulder for Seth with another arrest warrant or Justin wanting another talk, but the only unwelcome visitor was a courier from the bank calling the note on the house due and payable in thirty days. She’d inherited the house, but the loan was in a dead man’s name. If she didn’t pay it off or refinance, the house was theirs. She shoved the notice in a drawer in her office and poured more drinks.

  At the end of the night, she and John locked up and she made her bleary-eyed way home. Her stomach fluttered the closer she got to her house, heart speeding as she turned onto her street, eyes searching for a familiar figure sitting on her porch, but the spotlight shone empty over her stairs. The only thing waiting was the sale sign and an empty house.

  Yesterday was a blur, already fading in her mind’s eye. Justin had found the ticket and had wanted to talk. How he felt about that, she couldn’t tell. She’d expected him to come by the bar today or at least be waiting here tonight, which meant he was probably pissed and she didn’t blame him.

  She locked the door and walked up the stairs in the dark, making her way by memory to the bedroom she’d grown up in. She shed her clothes and boots in the closet, grabbed a t-shirt from the back, and dropped onto her bed. Any hope she’d had of a deep, dreamless sleep went to hell when she took her first breath. The scent of Jay’s cologne was still on her pillow. It snaked its way through her, bringing back every sensation from the night they’d shared.

  She’d feared it was the last time they’d ever be together, and the next morning she’d feared it wasn’t. Tonight she was content to be lost in the memory. Breathing his scent deeper, she let go of the last three days and let herself remember nothing but the feel of his fingertips on the curve of her hip. She mimicked his movements with her own hand, sliding it up her side to caress her breast. Nipple already constricted into a tight bud, she rolled it between her fingers the way he’d done with his teeth.

  Her other hand moved lower, across the plane of her stomach and beneath the top of her panties. His words whispered through her mind—how much he’d missed her, how he’d still wake to the feel of her in his arms, how her name was always on the tip of his tongue.

  The memory of his voice rumbled through her head as the thought of his lips on her skin sent a wave of tingles across her flesh. She slipped her finger between her slick folds and plunged it inside. Eyes closed, she relived every touch, every kiss, every brush of his fingertips that had made her beg for more. She traced the path his tongue had followed, gliding between her legs, circling her tight bundle of nerves. Heat rushed out from her core as the orgasm blossomed and exploded in her center, spreading to the tips of each limb, bringing his name from her lips.

  Chest heaving, heart thudding, she wrapped herself in his memory and drifted to sleep.

  #

  The following morning, she pulled on shorts and a faded Dodgers t-shirt and headed to the attic to rip through her family’s history. Her dad’s record collection went in the “sale” pile, mom’s clothes dominated the “donate” stack, while old albums and yearbooks went into the smallest box of keepsakes. She sorted quilts, old letters, and toys, uncovering memories along the way. There was the lure she’d used to catch her first bass, the rocking chair her mom had cradled her in, and the bike she’d fallen off of the summer she’d turned eight, breaking her arm and earning her a faded scar on her elbow. Through dust and tears and laughter, she spent hours cleaning the cobwebs of her childhood.

  The tables were already filling up with the dinner crowd by the time she arrived at Shooters. Crystal and Leah were running trays of drinks and burgers. Shelby dove in, pulling beers, mixing spirits, and delivering orders. A full bar had a way of making time disappear and the knot of worry about her finances eased as the tabs rolled in.

  Just after nine, Tim Harris dropped onto a barstool. “Have a drink with me, we’re celebrating.”

  “I don’t drink on the job, but what are you celebrating tonight?” Shelby poured him a Crown and Coke and slid it across the bar.

  “We got an offer on the house.”

  Her hand froze, still clutching the glass in front of him. “On my house?”

  “Yep,” he said, grinning like he’d just announced her winning lotto ticket.

  Shelby grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels, poured a shot and slammed it back.

  Tim’s smile faltered as he watched her, not saying a word.

  “The sign’s only been up a day,” she said.

  “I know!” he said. “There’s an agent in my office who had a deal fall through, bad foundation or something. Anyway, he had this family all ready to go with their loan, but no house. I was downloading the photos of your place when they came in this afternoon to start looking again. We drove them straight over and that was that.”

  She gave a weak smile, trying to match his enthusiasm, but the chasm opening up inside her threatened to swallow her whole. “When?”

  “When will it close? Well, we’ll need an appraisal and the bank will have to underwrite the loan with the new property, but they’ve already sold the house they’re living in and have to be out in three weeks. It’ll be a tight fit, but the loan officer assured me it’s good to go.”

  “Oh.” She knew she should have more to say, but nothing coherent came to mind.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Fine. It’s just a little faster than I thought. I’m surprised, that’s all.”

  “Do you have a new place lined up?”

  Shelby nodded.

  “Great, well I’ll bring the paperwork by the house in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “Congratulations!” He raised his glass, smiling ear to ear. Shelby poured herself another shot, clinked glasses with him and threw it back.

  The rest of the night passed in a fog of amber liquid and broken-hearted crooners. The crowd was a blur of nameless faces and repeat orders. She was still lost in a haze when closing time rolled around. John stacked chairs upside down on the tables as Shelby wiped down the bar stools.

  “John, you like working here, don’t you?”

  “I love it. I get to stay home with my kids in the day, crack skulls at night, and the boss doesn’t bust my balls too much.”

  “Well, good muscle is hard to find. I can’t give you too much shit or I’d have to train a new guard dog.”

  “Seriously, Shel. I know things have been hard with your dad gone, but a lot of people love this place and business is picking up. I had to call my brother in to handle the line outside tonight.”

  Shelby hadn’t even realized they’d had that long of a wait. She’d gone through the motions on autopilot tonight. “Tell him thanks.”

  “Don’t be too grateful. You owe him fifty bucks.”

  “Fair enough.” Shelby chuckled and wiped down the bar.

  A half hour later they shut off the lights and met at the back door to set the alarm. Shelby handed him fifty dollars for his brother and thanked him again for his help.

  “Your dad would have been proud, you know.”

  Shelby stopped, hand poised over the alarm keypad.

  “I worked three years for him and this was his life. His daughter and this bar, that’s all that mattered to him and you’re both doing great.”

  “Thanks, John.” She kissed his cheek, set the alarm and followed him into the back lot where a familiar form leaned against the trunk of her car, setting off a flurry of nerves in her middle.

  John looked from Justin to Shelby and asked, “Want me to wait?”

  “Nah, I’m g
ood. You get on home.” They said goodnight, John nodded to Justin then got into his pickup. Shelby leaned against the car beside Jay and they watched John drive away, taillights disappearing around the corner. Jay uncapped a beer and passed it to her then opened one for himself.

  She picked at the label, waiting for him to start, but her patience burned out and she broke the silence. “I guess you want to know about the ticket.”

  “That’d be nice.” His voice was deceptively quiet.

  She glanced up, but his face gave nothing away. Words tumbled through her head, but there didn’t seem to be a best way to start this confession. She took a long swig from her beer and said the first thing to come to mind. “I saw every game.”

  His head snapped up, surprise flashing in his eyes.

  “Every single home game in college and the Majors, I was there. I cried the first game I went to because I wanted to go down there and grab you and tell you everything, but you had so much ahead of you. I didn’t want to be in the way of that. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

  “Why the fuck would you think you were holding me back?”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. She knew she’d find betrayal there and she didn’t have the strength to take it.

  “My parents,” he said.

  Her eyes snapped to his. It was her turn to be surprised.

  “I know about the money,” he said.

  “How?”

  “People talk.”

  “No,” she said. “I never told anyone.”

  “Not even your dad?”

  “I told him I got a scholarship.” She tore off a corner of the label and watched the wind tumble it until it was out of sight. “How was I supposed to tell him the truth?”

  “And what was the truth, Shel? Because I thought the truth was us—you and me. I loved you. That was true.”

  “I loved you, too.”

  “Did you?”

  The doubt in his eyes nearly broke her, but she stumbled on. “They said you were going to give up a full ride for me. You’d dreamed about making it in baseball since we were kids. I loved you too much to stand in the way of your chance.”

  “I don’t know if I can forgive you for walking away.” Her breath caught as his words struck home. “You know, it was one thing thinking you’d turned your back and moved on, but knowing you were right there within reach the whole time, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. That’s a hell of a lot worse, don’t you think?”

  “I tried.” Her lip trembled, but she swallowed, steadying her voice. “There were nights I stood outside your dorm or waited in the parking lot after the games, but I didn’t know what to say, how to explain. Every excuse sounded like bullshit. And if your parents found out, they’d pull the money and I’d have to admit to my dad where it really came from. He was so proud of me. He went on and on about it. As much as it broke my heart, I couldn’t break his.”

  “And what about mine?”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “I never stopped loving you.”

  “Yeah? Well that would have been nice to hear about ten fucking years ago.”

  Chapter Six

  Small town gossip rippled through the bar that Justin was heading back to L.A. His name was on the whole town’s lips. Because they’d been high school sweethearts everyone assumed Shelby would have some kind of inside information. They’d ask if she knew whether he was going back to California for good or if he’d be coming back and look at her with expectant eyes, but she’d just shrug and disappoint them. Something she was too damn good at.

  She hadn’t heard from him since that night outside the bar. He’d walked away when he’d heard the truth, just like she knew he would. Not that she blamed him. Whether she’d made the right decision or not all those years ago, she may never know, but at least he knew the truth. There would always be guilt, but at least there wouldn’t be lies.

  The three weeks of escrow on the house were a daze of paperwork, cleaning, and yard sales by day, and Shooters, drunks and gossip by night. She’d sold every last thing—the furniture, Dad’s records and tools, even most of the dishes. There’d be money left from sale of the house, but she had a final debt to pay and no matter how much she sold, she came up short. With sorrowful resignation, she called John and told him to put the word out.

  In two days time, he’d lined up a buyer by phone. She rolled up the garage door, the smell of oil and exhaust clenched her throat. The keys hung like one more disappointment in her hand. She slid into the driver’s seat and rolled the engine over, fighting back tears.

  Shelby took her namesake on one last tour of town, past the church her parents had been married in, the high school parking lot where she and Jay made out after his games. The car was in the background of countless memories, a silent observer to so many moments, so many years of day-to-day life that added up to every life-changing decision. The bar was last on the list, a lunch crowd of cars filled the parking the lot. The rumble of the engine vibrated through her bones as they drove by, somehow comforting her like the quiet hum of her mother’s voice when she used to rock her. No matter what else was lost, she had the bar and she had her integrity. If the Mustang paid the price to get her pride back, she knew deep down her dad would understand. A peace settled over her as she drove back to the house. It was going to be okay.

  She was wiping down the car when a cab stopped at the curb. A balding man hopped out of the back, paid the driver and made his way up the driveway. He was dressed in a black suit cut to fit his short, stocky build. His face was vaguely familiar, but Shelby couldn’t place where she’d seen him. He’d probably been in the bar a time or two.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Chris Erosou,” he said, sticking out his hand. “We spoke on the phone.”

  “Hi, Chris.” She shook his hand and watched the cab pull away. “I thought you were just coming by to take a look.”

  “The photos you sent were enough for me to make up my mind. This is a rare find.” He walked around the vehicle, peering in the windows, checking the lines of the car, before making it to the front and popping the hood. She’d spent hours cleaning the engine compartment, the manifold gleamed like a mirror in the center. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It’s hard to find someone willing to give something like this up,” he said, eyeing her from under the hood.

  “Sometimes you have to let go to find what you really need.”

  He closed the hood and regarded her for a moment. “That’s very true.”

  “Are you a collector?” she asked, bringing the conversation back to the car.

  “I’m more into…restoration.” He slipped into the driver’s seat, sliding it forward as much as it would go then frowning at how close his belly was to the large steering wheel.

  “Well this one doesn’t need any work,” she said. “I don’t know how much fun that will be for you.”

  “Sometimes things look like they’re finished, but all they need is a final tweak to make it truly perfect.”

  She smiled and nodded. She didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. The car had every detail already, but she wasn’t about to talk him out of his purchase.

  He got out of the car and pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll take it.”

  #

  Two days later Shelby sat in another driveway across town with another cashier’s check in her hand. She hadn’t set foot on the property in nearly eight years, and she was pretty damn sure it would be the last. For better or worse, she climbed the steps and rang the bell.

  A short, block of a woman answered the door, hair pulled into a severe bun. She cocked her head then a giant smile burst through the clouded expression. “Shelby Stephens,” she said, affection ringing clear in her voice. “It’s been a long time, sweetheart.” She kissed Shelby’s cheek and led her inside. “They’re in the middle of dinner and I’m not sure you’re the most wanted person around he
re, but I’ll take you back anyway.”

  “Thanks, Susie.”

  The housekeeper walked her to the dinning room at the rear of the house where Justin’s parents were dishing their plates. Billy sat at one side of the table, fading purple circles curved beneath both eyes. The swelling was gone, but there was a distinct hook to the line of his nose that hadn’t been there a month before. And beside him sat Justin. The sight of him took her breath away and she almost lost her nerve.

  “I thought you’d left.” It came out nearly as a whisper and she damn near kicked herself for sounding so wounded.

  “I stayed for my mother’s birthday,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Then I’m gone.”

  “What the hell do you want anyway?” Billy said, rising from his chair.

  “Sit down, Billy,” his dad, Don, said, cutting into his steak. “Ms. Stephens, you’ve caused enough damage to our sons and I’ve run out of patience. You can expect a restraining order to be delivered first thing tomorrow. Now let us get back to our dinner before I call Sheriff Miller personally.”

  His wife, Carol, seemed unfazed by the situation, pouring herself a little more wine and leaning back in her chair to watch the drama unfold. Justin sat still as the dead, making him easier to ignore as she refocused on her purpose.

  “I’m here to talk to you,” Shelby said to Don.

  “Anything you have to say can be told to my attorney in the morning.”