Lyrics of a Small Town

by Abbi Glines

  “Don’t be a jerk,” I replied.

  He placed a hand over his chest. “Ouch. You wound me.”

  “I doubt that. Have a nice day, Drake.”

  He shook his head grinning. “Don’t play hard to get, Henley. I like that game.” Then he turned and walked out of the door. I watched as he, once again, put his arm around the girl and they walked away.

  With a sigh, I picked up the low-fat oat milk and put it back in the mini fridge under the counter. I needed to find the chalk and add the oat milk to the menu. Then I needed to add it to the list of things for Hillya to order.

  Tomorrow I needed to plan on making an extra loaf of banana bread and two more batches of the dark chocolate rolls. If the brunette helped spread the word, we may just need them. Smiling, I headed back to the kitchen to find my list. Gran must be sitting back and smiling right now as she watched this unfold. I liked to think she was always watching.

  Six

  Doubting my gran had always been a waste of time. My new job was just more proof of her wisdom. She was right; I was good at this and my new boss was very happy with my first week. We already had new regulars who came in just for my items.

  Drake had returned alone twice this week, but we had been so busy I didn’t speak to him much. Saul had come in once with the blonde; I hadn’t been the one to take their order, but the blonde had ordered an acai bowl and I had to make those. I had only made eye contact with Saul once when I handed the blonde the bowl. He had been watching me or it appeared like it and I managed a smile then went back to working on a drink order for someone else.

  Falling into a routine had been easy enough and I was enjoying working with Hillya. She was possibly my only friend in town or the closest thing I had to one. I saw her more than I saw anyone else. The only issue with my working so much was that I hadn’t made it to the fourth request on Gran’s list.

  After I worked eight days straight, Hillya had decided we needed to schedule my days off. She had given me Sunday, Monday and Wednesday off, but I would still deliver items in the morning before they opened for them to sell. She said once she hired someone that I could teach to make the items, I could have real days off. I didn’t mind how things were now though. I also wasn’t sure how I was going to teach someone to make something when I had never written down an actual recipe for anything. I didn’t even know the exact measurements of my ingredients. I just guessed, and it always turned out good.

  The two large tool boxes full of my grandfather’s tools were in my back seat as I pulled into the parking lot of Deep South Farmer’s Market. Again, I was confused by Gran’s request. It seemed odd that I was taking Granddad’s tools that she had kept this long to a man who owned a farmer’s market. Not just any farmer’s market either, the largest one in Alabama. It was famous around here and even held a Watermelon Festival every year that brought in thousands of people from all around the southeast.

  Perhaps Lloyd March liked tools as well as produce. I didn’t know the man, but I had been here plenty as a child with my grandparents to get their weekly fruits and vegetables as well as homemade ice cream. It had been a while since I’d been there, but the place brought back memories. I wondered how likely it was Lloyd would be here. Gran seemed to think he would be easy enough to find in the letter. It had simply said:

  Take Granddad’s tools that I have in storage room to Deep South Farmer’s Market. The man who owns it is Lloyd March. Ask for him and personally give the tools to him. Tell him that your granddad would have wanted him to have them.

  Not once in all the years we had come to this farmer’s market had I met this man, yet my granddad was close enough to him that he’d want him to have his tools. It seemed odd but then all Gran’s requests had been strange. Except the first one. It had made enough sense.

  The tool boxes had been heavy and a struggle to get in the car. I decided I would leave them there and go find this Lloyd March before fetching the tools. Stepping out of the car, the humid heat hit me in the face followed by a gulf breeze. I wished I’d brought Gran’s white hat. The sunscreen I had applied this morning would have to do its job.

  Glancing around the parking lot, where I had found it difficult to find a parking spot, I tried to decide the best way to find Lloyd in this mad house. The tourists were everywhere with their bags of fresh homegrown items and ice cream cones. Every other person I walked past had a watermelon tucked under their arm. The employees had Deep South tee shirts on, but they were all different shades of summer colors. It was hard to decipher who worked here and who didn’t with so many bodies moving about.

  I headed for the shade of the covered building before my white skin turned a bright pink and then pushed my sun glasses up on top of my head so I could see better. It took a few minutes but a girl wearing a cotton candy pink tank top that said DEEP SOUTH FARMER’S MARKET walked in front of me carrying a basket of apples.

  “Excuse me,” I said before she could escape into the crowd.

  She glanced over her shoulder and smiled brightly. “How can I help ya?” she asked with an accent so thick it had to be fake. Either that or this girl was from Mississippi.

  “’I’m looking for Lloyd March,” I told her.

  “Alrighty then, jus’ let me put this here basket uh apples down and I’ll show you to ‘em,” she replied.

  Yeah, she had to be from Mississippi. I returned her smile, grateful this wasn’t going to be difficult. “Thank you.”

  “Yer welcome!” she exclaimed loudly.

  She put the apples down beside the others, told a lady where she could find the restroom, picked up a dirty napkin, and helped a kid find the ripest plum before she made her way back to me. I was so impressed with her work ethic I didn’t mind the wait. When she made it to me she nodded her head to the left. “Sorry ‘bout that. Right this way,” she told me then began to walk or possibly bounce a little as she led me past the rest of the fruit and toward a closed-off area. The bright blue door read “Employees Only” painted in a sunny yellow.

  She pushed the swinging door open and I followed her inside the cool interior of a storage area. A couple of guys unloading some boxes glanced at us with curiosity.

  “Y’all see Lloyd?” the girl asked them.

  The taller boy, who was covered in freckles, wiped at his brow and then pointed behind him. “He’s with Rio.”

  The girl sighed heavily. “Good Lord on high, what did he do this time?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  The guy shrugged and she glanced over her shoulder at me. “Might be a situation,” she said then continued on her way.

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow her or not but I did. Mostly because I needed to find Lloyd and she was taking me to him. There was this small part of me who remembered hearing the name Rio before and I was curious. This was a small town. I doubted there were that many Rios walking around.

  “If you don’t want to find yer ass right here fer the rest of yer life then keep on doin’ just what yer doin’,” a deep voice boomed as we turned the corner. The girl in front of me paused and sighed again. When she looked back at me, I wondered if this was where she told me now wasn’t a good time.

  “Sorry ‘bout this,” she said then turned back around. “Daddy, someone is lookin’ fer ya. I brought her back here. Y’all might need to finish this later.”

  Daddy? Lloyd March was her dad? She couldn’t be out of high school yet. How old was her dad? Before the questions could keep piling up in my nosey head, she turned back to me and waved for me to come forward.

  I rounded the corner of the wooden crates of corn to find a man, who was, indeed, old enough to have fought in Vietnam with my grandad, standing there his gaze locked on me immediately. He appeared bothered by the interruption.

  “I’m sorry. Did we have an appointment?” he asked.

  I swallowed, once again nervous and hating being put on th
e spot. Especially in the middle of what appeared to be a family situation. If this was the Rio who often got arrested, I could understand Mr. March’s frustration.

  “Uh, no, sir, I’m Honey Warren’s granddaughter,” I began and didn’t wait for a response before continuing, “She left me a list of things she wanted me to handle for her. One of those things is to take my grandad’s tools to a Mr. Lloyd March at the Deep South Farmer’s Market. I, uh, should have called first. I’m sorry.”

  Lloyd March shook his head. “No, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for taking time to come. I am sorry you had to walk in on this.” He shot a warning glare in Rio’s direction.

  I too shifted my gaze to Rio for a brief moment. He wasn’t as tall as his friends, but he was muscular, tanned and his dark hair was almost shaved it was cut so short. He met my gaze and smirked. I quickly looked back toward Lloyd.

  “I have the tools in my car. They’re just heavy and I wanted to find you before I got them out,” I told him.

  He smiled then but it was a sad smile. His eyes seemed to tell a story with that smile and I wondered how he had known my grandad. I doubted very much Lloyd March was going to keep me here telling me stories like the people at the church had. He may be in his seventies, but he was a busy man and still raising kids. His wife must be young.

  “Honey wanted you to bring these here to me?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  He shook his head and he stared at me a moment. His thoughts were either lost on memories of my grandparents or he was trying to decide if I was making a mistake.

  “Alright then, Honey,” he muttered under his breath as if he were talking to my Gran. Then he looked back at Rio. “Go help Henley with the tools,” he said.

  I hadn’t told him my name yet he knew. Did this whole town know everything about my gran? It was odd being known by so many and not knowing anything about them. Lloyd March was a strange one too. What had he meant by “Alright then, Honey?”

  “Are we done?” Rio shot back at Lloyd.

  Lloyd shook his head and sighed. “For now.” He looked back to me then. “It was nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years. Your grandparents were awfully proud.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked off leaving me there with… Rio. I realized then that his daughter had already left and I hadn’t realized she’d walked away.

  “How heavy are we talking? Do I need to get a trolley or some shit?” Rio asked me.

  “I carried each tool box to the car by myself. I think you can manage,” I replied.

  “Then lead the way.”

  I did as instructed, and Rio fell into step beside me. We walked back out into the open air and I slid my sunglasses back down over my eyes when we left the shade of the building. I was just about convinced this would be a silent endeavor when he cleared his throat.

  “Pop called you Henley. That your name?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Heard about you,” he said then.

  “From who?” I asked, already sure I knew this answer.

  “Some friends. They mentioned you the other night.” He was grinning as if he knew I wanted more details and he wasn’t going to give them to me.

  “Must be the same friends that bailed you out of jail,” I replied in my most casual tone.

  His head turned toward me then and he chuckled. “Heard about that, did you?”

  I shrugged. Two could play this game. He didn’t want to give details then neither would I.

  We reached my car then and I opened the back door and stepped back. “There they are,” I stated the obvious.

  Rio didn’t make a move to get them. Instead, he leaned up against the passenger side door and crossed his arms over his chest then turned his head to study me. “So, tell me Henley, how would you like to go to a party with me tonight?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Sorry, I think I’ll pass. I’ve already been invited to one of those parties and I can assure you I am not wanted there.” I think he already knew that too. Which was why he was asking.

  His grin showcased dimples on each cheek. “I mighta heard about that,” he replied.

  I didn’t respond. This conversation was pointless.

  “Look, I tell you what. You come to the party with me tonight and I swear it will be a friends’ only thing. I’m not looking to hook up. You’re safe with me.”

  So he was looking to annoy the guy who bailed him out of jail. The guy who couldn’t have as much access to money as he did. I shook my head no.

  “I much prefer Netflix or a book over going to one of those parties,” I told him.

  “You’ve never been, how would you know?”

  “I hear them. Y’all have them nightly. Or almost nightly. Last night was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday. Do you people not have anything better to do?”

  He laughed this time. “We aren’t going to Callie’s. Her step-mommy showed up for the next few weeks so Callie left for Nantucket.”

  Nantucket? Seriously? “How unfortunate for her,” I replied.

  “You’ve not met her newest stepmother,” he said and waggled his eyebrows.

  I didn’t want to meet her either. I didn’t want to be a part of that life. It wasn’t a life I was looking for. Their world wasn’t why I had come to this town.

  “Thanks for the invite but my answer remains the same,” I told him.

  He shook his head while looking as if I was missing out on something truly remarkable. “That’s a shame. Might have wanted to get to know me. You never know what we might have in common.” He said this smiling, but it wasn’t a dimple-flashing smile. This one was forced.

  “I’m not looking to date,” I said then, wondering if I had hurt his ego.

  “I think I already mentioned this would be just as friends. I’m not looking to date you either. That is not why I invited you. Trust me.”

  He was being sincere. That much I was sure about. I just didn’t trust his reasons for inviting me. “Listen, I need to be somewhere. This conversation is going nowhere. Can you just take the tool boxes for your dad?” I asked as politely as I could.

  He laughed. “Pops ain’t my dad. He’s my grandfather,” Rio said then and straightened up from his relaxed position on my car.

  “Oh. Well, the girl who brought me back there, she called him dad,” I was trying to work this out in my head. The girl had to be younger than him. She looked several years younger.

  “Yep. My aunt is five years younger than me,” he said with an amused smirk on his face.

  “Oh,” I heard myself say again.

  Rio leaned into the back of the car and pulled out both of the tool boxes. When he looked at me again, he said, “Welcome to Alabama,” as if that explained everything.

  I nodded, slightly unsure what to say to that.

  He chuckled then closed the car door. I thought he was about to walk off and finally leave me alone when his gaze turned serious. “I didn’t know your gran personally but I’m thinking her reason for sending you here with these tool boxes had little to do with my Pop,” he said and for a moment I thought he was going to say more. He didn’t. Instead he just started walking away.

  Confused by his last comment I stood there, wondering if I should just let him go or ask what he meant. Knowing my curiosity would drive me crazy, I gave in.

  “What do you mean by that?” I called out to him before he got too far.

  He stopped walking and it took a moment before he turned back around to face me. I wasn’t sure he had any clue what he was talking about but if he knew something about my gran then I wanted to know. Although I didn’t know what some reprobate who kept getting thrown in a small-town jail could possibly know about my grandmother.

  “Why don’t we start with tonight, the party,” he replied.

>   I felt as if I had just been set-up, but the small little nagging in my gut told me that there was possibly something I didn’t know . I battled with myself for a few moments then decided one elitist party wouldn’t kill me.

  “Fine,” I said, knowing I would regret this.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll be by your gran’s house at eight to pick you up,” he replied then walked away without another word.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  Better yet what had Gran gotten me into?

  Seven

  The rest of my day I had played over every second of my visit to Deep South Farmer’s Market and every word out of Lloyd and Rio’s mouths. By the time Rio arrived in his black Jeep to pick me up, I had convinced myself this had all been a ploy to get me to this party. But why? What was the purpose?

  When I climbed into Rio’s Jeep, I didn’t wait for small talk, getting straight to the point.

  “You are aware that Drake invited me to one of these parties and Saul made it very clear I was not welcome,” I said the moment the door closed firmly behind me.

  Rio glanced at me just for a second. He didn’t even do a once over on my outfit that I had spent more time than I cared to admit picking out. I did feel more comfortable with him because of it. He hadn’t been lying when he said this was a friends-only invite. There was no other interest behind his gaze.

  “That was a different kind of party,” Rio said and didn’t elaborate. This of course left me to ask more questions.

  “How is this party different? Don’t y’all just spend your days being rich then partying all night?” I asked with obvious disgust in my tone. I couldn’t even try to mask it.

  Rio let out a bark of laughter. “Oh yeah. That’s definitely what I do all day. In between sweating my ass off for Pops unloading produce, that is. It’s a tough schedule to keep.”

  Okay fine. So, he had a job. I should have realized that since he was at the market today in the back. “Maybe not all of you,” I replied.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed, grinning as he kept his eyes on the road. “Tell me, are you always this judgmental or is this just a special case?”