A
Fine
Mess
By
Breanna Hughes
A Fine Mess © 2016 Breanna Hughes
Triplicity Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events of any kind, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition – 2016
Cover Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC
Interior Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC
Editor: Laura Brady - Triplicity Publishing, LLC
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to Triplicity Publishing for helping to make this book a reality. To Allisa, who tirelessly gave me copious notes and advice, both on the book and in life. To Yvonne for giving me that final push and endless support. And to all the artists out there whose music continues to inspire me.
DEDICATION
For Glenda
PROLOGUE
The road was particularly smooth this evening and the drive was nearly effortless. Paul Foley eased his foot off the gas as he rounded a curve in the road. He looked over at his wife, who was digging through her purse. “Trish, what are you doing? Your arm is being swallowed whole.” He grinned, amused by how much stuff one bag could hold.
“I’m looking for my cell phone. I wanted to call the girls.”
Paul smiled at his wife’s worrisome nature. “I’m sure they’re fine.”
Unfazed by his comment, she kept searching. “Damn. I must have left it in the hotel room.”
“Well, we’ll be in town in a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll have a pay phone somewhere.”
“What’s a pay phone?” asked his wife, playfully.
“Funny.” He pressed his right foot down to accelerate a bit. “I’m sure Harper is probably at Finn’s or with Kiley.”
She zipped up her purse and leaned back against the passenger seat. “And Emily is probably out getting another tattoo while becoming impregnated by…I don’t know–her math teacher.”
Paul looked at her incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous, Trisha. She hates her math teacher. He failed her, remember? Plus, he’s old.”
Trisha rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
Paul laughed off his wife’s concern. “Oh come on. It’s a little funny. Honey, she’s fine. She’s just being a teenager.”
Trisha opened her mouth to say something, but bit her lip to stifle whatever words she wanted to say. She watched a few cars pass by them, briefly shining a light into their car. “I just wish Emily had some friends. I mean, Kiley may be a bit on the wild side, but she’s such a good friend to Harper. I think Emily could use something like that.”
Paul took his wife’s hand. “Let’s forget about everything else and enjoy the weekend.”
“I just worry,” admitted Trisha.
“I know you do. That’s what I love about you. But Harper is winding down from graduation and Emily is just blowing off steam.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “Hey, can you believe it? Our daughter is a college graduate.”
Trisha smiled to herself. “She did look really cute in that cap and gown, didn’t she?”
Paul nodded and lamented for a moment. “And soon enough, it’s going to be replaced by a wedding gown.”
Trisha beamed, imagining her daughter in a long, white dress. “That’s gonna cost us, isn’t it?”
“Yep. But we’ll work it out. Something tells me Harper’s worth it.”
Trisha adjusted her seatbelt and felt a bit relieved when she finally saw the lights of town approaching. The static on the radio was tuning into a clear station. “I’m starved. Why did we make such a late reservation?”
“Because I knew you would take forever to get ready so you could look your best. Nice job with that, by the way. Is that a new dress?” He reached out and felt the fabric of her garb.
“Actually, I got it a few years ago and I finally fit into it.”
“Well don’t get too used to it. Because it’s coming off later.”
“Paul!” Trisha playfully elbowed him.
“What? What did I do?” He pulled up to the red light and stopped. “The restaurant is just up the street. Do you still want to stop and call the girls?”
Trisha thought about it for a moment. “No. You’re probably right.”
“What was that?”
Trisha shook her head and stated it more clearly. “I said you’re right. Don’t let it go to your head. Harper is fine. Emily is fine. We’re all fine.”
“I could get used to this ‘being right’ thing,” said Paul with a self-satisfied smile. When the light turned green, he took his foot off the break and proceeded to the restaurant.
“Did you mail the electric bill?” asked Trisha.
He slapped the steering wheel, frustrated. “Damn, I forgot. I’ll do it when we get—”
Paul’s voice was drowned out by the sound of screeching tires as they were blinded by a glaring light. The smell of burned rubber wafted through the entire car. The screaming was followed by the deafening sound of metal smashing together. Then there was no sound at all. Then, blackness.
CHAPTER 1
On the surface, there was nothing particularly extraordinary about Harper Foley. And if you told her that, she wouldn’t take any offense. In fact, she would agree one hundred percent. Sure, she had her own little quirks and idiosyncrasies that usually make a person unique from other individuals, but she refused to believe they were enough to make her anything but middle of the road. Her looks were above average with her honey blonde hair, and her body was above average due to her penchant for working out. She was smart enough, funny enough and pretty enough to warrant a second cursory glance from people. She knew she wasn’t exactly invisible, but she was also, by no means, larger than life. And she was okay with that. At twenty-four, she was still trying to find her footing and exact place in this world.
Still, this rather ordinary, commonplace girl wasn’t without her problems. One of which she was facing at this very moment. Harper hadn’t been sleeping much these days. There have been several contributing factors to her insomnia, but she preferred to chock it up to the daylight savings time change. Though, that was a rather weak case seeing as how daylight savings was months ago and the insomnia started a couple years ago–at first intermittently, then on a more regular basis. She always did have a way with avoiding the problem at hand. She simply brushed it aside and always told herself she’d worry about it tomorrow. It was her Scarlet O’Hara complex.
Harper laid on her back and stared straight up counting the little bumps on the ceiling. When she got up to four hundred fifty-three bumps, she decided she’d had enough of impersonating her favorite Sesame Street character, threw off the covers and looked over at the clock, 2:50am.
Great. Why do I even bother? she thought.
She got up, turned on the light, put her shoes on and went out to the garage, which she liked to call her ‘rec room.’ She lingered in the doorway, shifting her focus between the punching bag hanging in front of her and the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner. Balking at the thought of attempting to create music right now, she sighed and grabbed her gloves and wraps off the nearby shelf. She was filled with way too much nervous energy to focus on music at the moment. As she sat down and started wrapping her hands, her cell phone rang from the living room. She ran to grab the phone while dragging the left hand wrap along behind her.
>
“Hello?”
“Damn. I was hoping you were sleeping.”
Harper smiled hearing the voice on the other end. “Me too.”
“Still no peaceful slumber?”
“Nope.”
“Want me to come over? I’m just leaving Ryan’s house.”
“You mean Bryan?” asked Harper.
“Yeah, Bryan. Anyway, I’m exhausted. That guy wouldn’t shut up all night. I didn’t realize how much energy you can expend just trying to drown out the sound of someone’s voice.”
“Well, send him my way,” suggested Harper. “Maybe it’ll help me sleep.”
“Mmm…I don’t think sloppy seconds is your style.”
Harper walked over to her couch and sat down. “You mean you slept with him anyway?”
“Why not? It was the only way I could get him to stop talking for a while. But then came the moaning and the screaming and— “
“Okay, okay. I really don’t need to hear about that right now.”
“Sorry.”
Harper heard silence on the other end of the phone and really wished she hadn’t sounded so prudish at that moment. There was something about Kiley that always made Harper overly cognizant of her own dorkiness. It’s been that way pretty much since she’s known her. Harper’s best friend was always bolder and braver than she could ever be. They couldn’t be more opposite, but somehow their dynamic worked. Ever since they met a few years ago, they became instant friends.
***
Standing in the near-empty parking lot in front of Tyson’s Bar, Harper tried her best to not let nerves get the best of her, but was failing miserably. She gripped her black guitar case in one hand, while she removed her other gig bag from her shoulder and grasped the handle with her other hand. She didn’t know why she was this nervous. It’s not like it was the first time she’d been here. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, she’d be putting her guitar to use. It never failed. Before any performance, there was always a wave of anxiety that washed over Harper. It usually subsided once she took the stage, but the moments leading up to it were the worst. Harper tried to shake off any fears she had creeping deep into her psyche and walked in, hoping that a drink would do the trick.
Her eyes shifted focus between the stage and the bar. She looked around for a familiar face–her parents, her boyfriend–but they weren’t there yet. It was still fairly early and there were only about a dozen people there at the moment, so she traipsed over to the bar, figuring a drink should take precedence over setting up for her debut at this particular venue.
She maneuvered her way through the tables and chairs, stopping suddenly when she took notice of the girl behind the bar looking rather apathetic as she arbitrarily arranged some cocktail napkins and then wiped down the bar. She didn’t think too much of Kiley when she first saw her, but when she finally spoke, it was enough to make a lasting impression.
“So…should I come over?” asked Kiley.
Harper could hear faint beeping in the background and knew Kiley was just sitting in her car with the door open and the key in the ignition waiting on her decision. She leaned back to rest her head on the couch, mulling over her friend’s question. “No, that’s okay. You should get some sleep.”
“Are you sure?” Kiley started the ignition on her light blue Ford Focus.
Harper hesitated briefly. She could definitely use the company, but didn’t want to inconvenience Kiley. “One of us should get some sleep and it may as well be you. I was about to hit the bag, anyway.”
“Really? How can you exercise at this hour? You’re a madwoman.”
“Eye of the tiger, my friend. Eye of the tiger.”
Kiley fastened her seatbelt and put the car in drive. “Okay. Call me tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
“‘Night.”
Harper hung up the phone and sat there for a moment. She really did want to say yes. She wanted, for once, to not feel so alone in the middle of the night in this empty house. She wanted to not be alone with her thoughts because they were starting to drive her a little crazy. Harper stood up quickly so as not to let herself get too deep in thought. She finished wrapping her left hand as she walked back out to the garage. Ready to put her Krav Maga skills to good use, she put on her gloves, hit play on her iPod and proceeded to deliver hits and roundhouse kicks to the punching bag with the sound of Paramore echoing through the garage.
CHAPTER 2
The following week, Harper pulled into the closest spot she could find in the parking lot, then made her way toward the entrance of “Between the Lines” bookstore. She walked through the automatic doors as she glanced at her watch, then headed towards the back of the store.
“Harper, can you shelve these in the children’s section?”
Harper had just clocked in and stepped out of the break room when her manager decided to bombard her with her first task of the morning. “Sure,” she replied as she tried to stifle a yawn and placed her nametag lanyard over her neck.
She dragged the overloaded shelf over to the children’s section of the bookstore and prepared for another long day of fine literature and paper cuts. Working in such a tranquil environment, sometimes Harper’s thoughts would wander and she would question how and why she ended up here. Graduating from college with an English degree, she thought an endless string of opportunities would come her way. But when interview after interview, turned into rejection after rejection, she began to lose sight of why she even majored in English in the first place. Or why she went to college at all. She came to the conclusion that it may have been for her parents. Harper’s main passion in life is and always had been music. But what kind of future would she have with that? While they were supportive of their daughter, her parents would often pose that question to her. Harper, never wanting to displease her parents, relented and chose a more “suitable” major. Now, not a day has gone by where she didn’t regret it. If she had come to a better compromise, she could have studied music engineering. And would at least get paid more to work in a studio than slightly over minimum wage at a bookstore. But she learned to never complain about her life. It’s something her parents taught her, and it was beginning to be more of a burden than a good quality.
She continued to shelve the children’s books until one particular book caught her attention. She examined the blue and white cover.
“Many Moons,” she mumbled under her breath. She opened the book and brought it up to her nose. She took in the aroma of the new-book smell, which was one of her favorite smells. She closed her eyes and, before she knew it, was in another place and time.
***
Harper adjusted her back against the pillow on her twin bed. The worn out Strawberry Shortcake blanket underneath her was beginning to make her legs itch. She was really starting to resent that blanket and felt that, at nine, she was way too old for it. Perhaps she would ask her parents for a new one for her birthday. As a woman of the fourth grade, it was beginning to bring down her coolness level. But she tried to stay as still as possible while turning the page of the book she was holding.
“The end,” read Harper. At that, she quietly closed the book and placed it on her nightstand, hoping that had done the trick. She knew she was not so lucky, however, when she felt someone tugging on her pajama shirt. She looked down to see a strawberry blonde moppet staring up at her with big blue eyes.
“Wead it again, Shishy.”
Harper couldn’t help but smile every time she heard the word ‘Shishy.’ Her four-year-old sister hadn’t quite figured out how to say Harper, so she tried to say ‘sister’. Due to her slight speech impediment, it came out “shishy.” It’s something Harper found interesting seeing as how it seemed much harder to say than her actual name. She’d been calling Harper that since she learned to talk and no one bothered to correct her. Their parents insisted it was too cute to correct her.
Harper rolled her eyes and grabbed the book from the n
ightstand. ”Don’t you ever sleep?” She adjusted her back one more time and opened her sister’s favorite book once more. At this point, she could probably recite Many Moons by heart. ”Okay, but this is the last time, Emily. Then you’re going to sleep in your own room, in your own bed.”
Emily nodded, repositioned herself and curled up on the bed next to her sister while Harper read her favorite story one more time.
***
Harper snapped out of her stupor when the smell of coffee permeated her olfactory senses. She opened her eyes to see a cup of ice blended coffee hovering in front of her. She turned around and found that the cup was attached to Kiley’s hand.
“I figured you could use this,” said Kiley.
Harper grabbed the coffee and smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks so much.” She practically downed half of the drink within ten seconds.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just jonesing for some coffee. And I figured since you didn’t sleep much last night…again…you might be crashing right about now.”
“Well you’re right.”
“So I see. I think I came just in time. You were practically asleep.”
Harper looked down at the book that was the culprit for her daydreaming and put it in its rightful place on the shelf. The dejected look on her face did not go unnoticed by Kiley.
“Something wrong?” asked Kiley, leaning on the cart full of books.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because I’m not blind.” Kiley took this opportunity to fix the loose strap on her black tank top which kept sliding down her shoulder.
Harper sighed. ”I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” Kiley put her coffee down and sat down in one of the mini chairs next to the mini table in the middle of the children’s section. She looked like a giant from a fairy tale with her knees almost coming up to her chin due to her long legs. “You know that you’re worth more than this, right? You could do so much better than this place. It’s killing your mojo.”
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