Painless

by Derek Ciccone

  They drove in Chuck’s Chevy Silverado pickup truck, which melded better in the more blue-collar Norwalk, although Chuck warned that Durazzo’s still attracted the New Canaan yuppie crowd on Saturday night. He explained that he wasn’t a fan of the place, but bartended there a couple nights a week and could eat and drink for free. He joked that it still might be too expensive on his budget.

  Billy was caught off-guard. “What are you talking about?”

  “To make a long story short, we have no money.”

  Billy suddenly realized there might be some suspense to this story after all.

  Chuck continued, “I don’t want to get into the messy details of how the Boulangers cut Beth out of their family. It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get past, and now Beth is…” He paused, searching for the right word.

  “Numb to it,” Billy filled in the blank. He’d become an expert on numbing the pain.

  Chuck nodded. “That’s a good way to put it, and I hope she stays numb. But anyway, Beverly and Dana have been the only real family she’s had for as long as I’ve known her. Beverly left us this house, but she liked to live extravagantly, so the estate came with a lot of debt. And I’m not even going to get into what the housing market has done to the value. Dana has helped us out a ton, but we still struggle to survive each month.”

  Billy realized there was a lot more to this story, but he of all people wasn’t going to dig into somebody’s past. “But if that’s the case, don’t you need the four grand you could get from renting the cottage?”

  “I’m working two jobs. Laying floors during the day and bartending here at night. Beth went back to school and she can’t even take the classes she needs because we can’t afford a babysitter, and Carolyn getting kicked out of school sure didn’t help things. We only live in one part of the house because we can’t afford to heat or air-condition the rest of it. Our cars are in the shop every other week. And if you were wondering, that’s Dana’s BMW parked out front. She loaned it to us last week because the starter went in my truck. Yes, four grand a month would help a lot.”

  “Then why even consider me?”

  “You were the first person we interviewed who seemed like a real person. I could use the money, but given the choice, I’d choose for Carolyn to grow up around real people.”

  “Maybe if my book ever gets published I could pay you back.”

  “You do know that Dana has never sold a book, don’t you?” Chuck snickered.

  That was news to Billy.

  They passed through the crowded bar that featured a mariachi band, before exiting into a patio area. It was practically empty—most people not willing to take-on the record heat. A mister was trying to cool things down, but having little effect. They took a seat at a circular table with a yellow umbrella sponsored by José Cuervo tequila, one of Billy’s favorite numbing agents for the pain.

  “She likes you, ya know,” Chuck said.

  “Who?”

  “Beth. If she didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “She has an interesting way of showing it.” Billy said, eyeing Chuck suspiciously. “You’re telling me that Beth really wanted me to rent the cottage?”

  Chuck grinned. “Not buying my ‘you’re the first real person’ story?”

  “No offense, but I get the feeling that Beth gets the final word on all issues in the Whitcomb household. If Carolyn is the princess, then she’s the queen.”

  “Carolyn and I did fight for you,” Chuck came clean, “but Beth might be the most overprotective parent on the planet—which I love her for—so despite her lip service, she had no plans of ever really hiring a babysitter for Carolyn. Mother Teresa could’ve showed up with references from the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and she would’ve found fault. So the idea of leaving her daughter with a strange man with a vague past—no offense—would take a miracle to get approved.”

  “So who was the miracle-worker working on my behalf?”

  “There is one person outside of myself that Beth would trust Carolyn’s life with, and that’s Dana. And after the bookcase debacle, she might be the only one left on that list. Beth might not always approve of her choice in boyfriends, but the only reason you’re here is because Dana went to bat for you, big-time.” Chuck’s face turned rigid. “So don’t you do anything to harm that trust. Understood?”

  Billy swallowed hard as he nodded. “So what makes Beth so overprotective of Carolyn?”

  Chuck’s face remained deathly serious. “Beth has abandonment issues from her family and sometimes overcompensates with Carolyn.”

  “What I’ve learned from my experiences with the rich and fabulous, is that Beth and Carolyn will probably be better off without them.”

  Chuck sighed. “I wish it were that simple. You see, Beth wasn’t a blood Boulanger. She was adopted. Then when her adopted mother died, that family turned on her. So she felt abandoned by two families—birth and adopted. She never wants Carolyn to feel that, so she grips a little too hard sometimes.”

  Billy was again surprised, but covered it with a smile. “I guess she picked the wrong kid to be overprotective of. Carolyn is fearless. She pulled a bookcase on her head and didn’t even miss a beat. Not to mention, she bit off her tongue to get some laughs from her classmates. Even Ashton Kutcher wouldn’t go that far to pull off a prank.”

  Chuck laughed with admiration. “We call her the Boo-Boo Machine. I’m sure you saw the burns on her hands.”

  Billy nodded.

  “They’re from last Fourth of July when she grabbed the barbecue. But that was nothing compared to the first week we moved in here, last winter, when she did a full sprint into the wall and knocked out her teeth.”

  “I noticed some nasty scars on her arms, also.”

  “You should’ve seen the suspicious looks we got the last time we brought her to the emergency room.”

  “Did it surprise you that she didn’t even scream when she pulled that bookcase on her head?” Billy couldn’t get it out of his head.

  “She was more scared than anything. You see it all the time when kids crash their bikes. They seem fine, but then they realize what happened and go into a delayed cry.”

  Billy wasn’t buying that one—the bookcase would’ve hurt an elephant—but he played along with a smile, “And they say I’m hardheaded.”

  “What can I say, she’s tough as nails. A couple of months ago these older brats in the neighborhood conned her into playing in their sandbox. To make a long story short, they shoved sand into her eyes and mouth. The sand caused an abrasion on her cornea. She never complained, but her vision seemed off, so we brought her to the eye doctor. The doctor was astonished at her pain tolerance for such a deep cut.”

  “Sounds like she takes after her dad.”

  Chuck sadly shook his head. “Except my wife has succeeded in turning her into a girl. Do you know what she asked for her birthday?”

  “She told me—a big girl bike.”

  “Besides that.”

  “I don’t know, what?”

  “A dress and a Barbie doll!”

  Billy chuckled. “You’ve definitely lost her.”

  “I’m not dead yet, she’s still the best street hockey player in the neighborhood.”

  “Speaking of which, is Slap Shot really her favorite movie?”

  Chuck’s Hulk-like chest shot out with pride. “There’s not even a close second. She can recite every line.”

  “She’s very bright for her age. Maybe that’s why she has trouble in school. I once read that Einstein was so bored with school he became disruptive and got kicked out.”

  “She can tell you all the planets in the Milky Way and interesting facts about them at age four. I’m thirty-five and all I know are a few Uranus jokes and that Pluto was a dog. She takes after her mother.”

  “You said Beth is going back to school. What’s she studying?”

  “Her adopted mother, Mrs. B, was a political science professor at Siena College up near Albany
, before the Boulangers moved to Greenwich. And Beth wants to follow in her footsteps. She attended Siena also—at the same time I was playing hockey up there, which is how we met—but had to leave when Carolyn came along and never finished. And like Mrs. B, she’s a political junkie, so don’t bring up the situation in Iran unless you’re ready for a fight.”

  “The situation in Iran?”

  Chuck looked at Billy as if he were a space alien. “The hostages...like on then news every night. Are you really that out of it?”

  Billy shook his head. “I guess I am. The only Iran hostages I ever heard of were from back during the Carter Administration. Are these some sort of retro hostages from the past?”

  Chuck’s gaze turned troubled. “Hostage from the past. That’s an interesting way to put it, because the past happens to be holding my wife hostage. She blames it every time Carolyn has an incident in school or gets a fever.”

  “I’ve found that if you live in the past it will suck the life out of you,” Billy spoke from experience. “And never look in the rear-view mirror because the past will always be gaining on you.”

  Then Billy looked up to see his past walking directly toward them.

  Chapter 6

  Billy couldn’t take his eyes off of the waitress as she glided toward their table. And not just because she was drop-dead gorgeous. He recognized her from his past, although he’d never met her before.

  She was college age, but had a much older aura about her. She wore a black Durazzo’s T-shirt tied in a knot above her mid-drift, exposing flat abs and a gold belly-chain that read Kaylee. In case that didn’t catch your attention, her shorts were Hooters-short, barely covering her tanned legs.

  She greeted Chuck by planting a kiss on his cheek, and purred, “How’s my teddy bear?”

  Billy cleared his throat. “Uh-um.”

  She turned and met Billy’s gawk. Her eyes were the color of trouble.

  “So Chuck, when did you start hanging around with George Clooney?” she asked, holding her gaze on Billy.

  Chuck made the introductions, “This is our new tenant, Billy Harper. Billy I’d like to introduce you to Kaylee.”

  She shook his hand, letting her soft grip linger. “Billy the tenant, I’m Kaylee the waitress. And B-T-W, I meant the younger version from the ER days.”

  When the tongue-tied men didn’t respond, she continued, “Can I get you guys something to drink? You look hot.” The double meaning was as see-through as the thin material on her tight shirt. She knew how to get a tip.

  “Corona would be great, eh.” Chuck stuttered.

  “Make that two,” Billy seconded.

  “Two cool drinks for two hot guys, coming up,” she flirted some more, flashed her tip-maker smile, then drifted gracefully toward the mariachi music in the distance.

  “I work with her,” Chuck explained, “She’s a…”

  “Guilty pleasure?”

  “No, she’s…”

  “A divorce lawyers dream?”

  He shook his head. “She lives down the street from us. Goes to Duke—it’s her last weekend before returning. A little spoiled, but a nice kid.”

  “Well, with her…umm…assets, I doubt she has trouble picking up some extra spending money for school.”

  “I don’t think she needs the money. Her father is Carl Scroggins.”

  “As in Carl ‘Kat’ Scroggins, the music producer?” Billy asked with surprise. “You’re neighbor is Kat Scroggins?”

  “Not bad, eh?” Chuck said with a big grin.

  “Then what is she doing working in a dingy bar on a Saturday night?”

  “She dates the owner, Sal Durazzo. He owns a chain of these places down the east coast and is worth a mint. He’s this wannabe mobster twice her age. In other words, he has the most important element any ultra-spoiled twenty-one-year-old is seeking.”

  “Money? Power?”

  “No—he really pisses off her father,” he replied with a chuckle.

  Billy remembered being the guy who pissed off Kelly’s father. And the more he despised him, the tighter Kelly gripped onto Billy.

  Chuck dug into the complimentary chips parked in the center of the table. “So where were we?” he asked, dipping a chip into guacamole and jamming it into his mouth.

  “I think you were going to tell me why Beth blames herself for Carolyn’s behavior issues and fevers.”

  “No, I think I’m all talked-out about my family. I believe I was about to ask you why you still carry around photos of your ex-wife. Seems a little strange for someone who doesn’t look in the rear-view mirror to avoid the past.”

  Billy felt the lump coming on. He reached for a beer that wasn’t there. His voice cracked, “Even if you hide the past away, it’s always lurking.”

  Then, like a blonde life raft, Kaylee magically re-appeared, holding Corona bottles with green slices of lime attached to their spouts.

  “So I hear you go to Duke,” Billy made mindless conversation, attempting to avoid any discussion of the aftermath of Hurricane Kelly.

  “Shhh—don’t tell anyone I’m smart. It’ll ruin my image,” she said playfully. “I leave Monday to go back.”

  “According to Billy’s secret photos, he went to Ohio State,” Chuck said with a grin. “I, myself, am a proud graduate of the School of Hard Knocks.”

  “That was a really long time ago,” Billy deflected.

  “I love older guys,” Kaylee replied with an alluring smile. “Do you like smart girls, Billy?”

  “I’m not that old.”

  “Well, I’m not that smart,” she said, flirtatiously tapping him on the arm. She then sauntered back to the bar and Billy couldn’t help but watch.

  Billy never had a problem attracting the opposite sex. But he was never the aggressor. Problem was, he usually ended up with the most aggressive one, not the best one. Kelly popped into his mind once again.

  The cold Corona went down smooth on the hot, sticky night. Billy drank two for every one Chuck consumed. He figured if Chuck even gave a distant hint of being hung-over for his daughter’s birthday, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Which would be a moot point anyway, since Beth would kill him.

  Chuck then said, “Your fan club is approaching at twelve o’clock, George Clooney.”

  Billy looked up to see Kaylee heading back toward them. He wasn’t sure if Chuck was offering encouragement or providing a warning.

  “I know women like her. They use all their powers to get a man in a position she wants him at: on his knees and worshipping her.”

  “I think you just had a bad experience. Maybe it’s time to let the old memories go and start some new ones, preferably good ones.”

  Kaylee plopped the beers on the table, and this time brought one for herself. “It’s totally dead in here tonight. So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna hang out with you studs.”

  “Why so dead tonight?” Chuck asked. He then informed Billy that they usually have to turn people away on Saturdays, and the patio was normally standing room only.

  She eased into the seat and lit a cigarette. “I think it’s because the married men spend time with their wives and families over Labor Day weekend. Then this weekend they go off on supposed business trips with their girlfriends.”

  Billy again recognized Kelly in Kaylee’s comment. The cynical layer of ice beneath the perfect smile.

  Then a voice echoed, “Hey good lookin’.”

  Billy turned to see a diminutive, pudgy man with three days worth of growth on his face, wearing a Yankees cap. He was worried it was Sal Durazzo, ready to fight for his woman’s honor.

  Kaylee turned with excitement, but her face quickly changed to disappointment. “Oh, it’s only you, Hawk.”

  “I was talking to Whitcomb,” the portly man said in a gravelly voice, mixed with obnoxious laughter.

  Chuck stood, greeting the man with a handshake. “How ya doing, Hawk?”

  “I was doing great until I found out that wife of yours scheduled
your daughter’s party for tomorrow. Does she not know tomorrow is the opening weekend of the NFL?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Beth’s the boss. I just live there.”

  “So what’s it going to be, Whitcomb, one of those pretentious let’s top the rich bastard next door parties?”

  “Carolyn wanted a princess party, but I think we settled on some nature theme. Monday I go on a hunting trip, and today I helped Billy move in, so I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

  It was perfect segue for Billy to introduce himself.

  Hawk looked at him like he knew him but couldn’t place him. “Have we met before?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Hawk nodded suspiciously, and then introduced himself as New York’s number one radio sports talk show host. He went on to say he was “Whitcomb’s neighbor” and bragged that he owned one of the “big-ass mansions” in the cul-de-sac. Then asked, “So what do you do, Harper?”

  Billy didn’t want to go into the novel writing thing, so he mentioned his newspaper column for the Shoreline Times.

  Hawk snorted, “I usually clean up after my dog with that rag. Do you actually get paid for that?”

  Billy bit his tongue and forced a grin. He held the pose until Hawk mercifully left a few minutes later, taking his mindless conversation with him. But before he did, he wagged his meaty finger in Billy’s direction and said, “I know you from somewhere, Harper, and I’ll figure it out.”

  Billy shrugged. He sure hoped not.

  Beer flowed into the wee morning hours. Then Kaylee must’ve decided that her victim had been softened enough to make her kill-move. “C’mon, George Clooney, this might be my only opportunity to be on Dancing with the Stars,” she said as she dragged Billy to the empty dance floor on the patio. The bar had emptied to only a few.

  “I don’t think my legs work,” Billy protested.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll hold you up,” she said.