“Nothing is making me feel obligated to do those things, Shep. I want to do them.”
“But...why?”
This was apparently the wrong response because she threw her hands up and held her breath, letting her face go red instead of screaming.
“Go to hell, Shep.” She said as she walked out of the building. One part of his mind was telling him to go after her, but the other part of him was saying to hell with her. Here he was willing to foot the bill, and this was how she acted. Like he was insulting her or something.
“Fine,” he muttered to himself as he walked out, refusing to let his eyes search the area for her. If she wanted to be independent, she knew how to get home or wherever it was she was going.
He got into his car and pulled out of the lot without another thought. He didn't want to go back to the apartment, in case that was where she was going. Instead, he drove out of the city.
Chapter 25
2019
The phone rang, pulling Shep from his thoughts. It would seem after three decades of ignoring memories about Honey, they were all too eager to come flooding back. And those damned emotions that he had been suppressing were happy to resurface as well.
The thought of her tightened his chest, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had grown up sooner whether he could have made it right with her. All these years and there was one thing he never doubted; she was his soulmate. He was a moron for not having seen it sooner and fought for it a lot harder.
His kids had programmed the car for him, so the phone connected to it. He remembered back when car phones were the hot new thing, and those devices were huge. Now his phone was tiny and fit comfortably in his pocket. It amazed him how much technology had changed in the last few decades.
“Hello?”
"Hey, Daddy. Adam said you're meeting the winemaker tonight?" Holly's voice filled the car as if he was there. Another amazing thing.
"I am, they're a pretty popular local winery. I tried to check all the boxes you gave me."
"Okay, well, I wanted to let you know when I said get the wine I meant like... Go to a liquor store and buy a box of twelve bottles."
"Yeah right," he huffed, rolling his eyes only because he knew his daughter couldn't see it.
"There's no way in hell that I'm going to get my daughter some cheap wine for her wedding."
"Really, Dad, I don't have high expectations. Don't do that thing you do."
"Thing I do?" He repeated back to her hesitantly, wondering if he wanted to hear the explanation.
Shep rolled to a stop at a light, watching a young couple begin to cross hand in hand.
"Yeah, you have this tendency to go big or go home, like you're trying to impress someone when there's no one to impress."
"I don't do that."
"You do." Holly grew distant for a moment, muffled voices could be heard in the background, "yeah, okay." Holly wasn't talking to him but quickly returned to the conversation, "alright, well, thank you for doing this. I just wanted to call and let you know that there's no pressure riding on this meeting. Have fun, maybe she's single."
Shep groaned, "Ugh, not this again. I just got out of a date."
"I know about that too."
Holly laughed, mockingly like her brother. They were definitely conspiring, Shep decided.
"She probably isn't single."
"Have an open mind." Holly began to laugh again as the light turned green and Shep rolled his eyes again as he turned onto the same street the restaurant was on.
"I'm hanging up now." He reached for a button that seemed like the right one, but it didn't work. "Damn it." He pushed another, grumbling to himself as he hit another button another. Holly's laughter filled the car as his daughter continued to mock him right up until the noise cut off.
"Thank god." He sighed to himself as he refocused on driving, his thoughts drifting once more to the anticipation of who it was from Pleasant Lake that he might be meeting.
Shep pulled up and nestled the car against the curb as he glanced in the rear-view mirror to look himself over once more. His hair was still lying flat, thankfully, but the wrinkles beside his eyes were on full display today.
Man, I’m old.
It usually didn’t bother him but thinking back on his youth as much as he had today, made him nostalgic for a time when he didn’t look so much like an… old man.
But that's precisely what you are. He reminded himself.
Which was precisely why he was so reticent about this dating thing. Old men weren't supposed to date. He was a widower now; he was supposed to spend the rest of his life alone. But his kids insisted that ‘the rest of his life' had a lot more years on it than he gave himself credit for. Despite the smoking and drinking, of course.
* * *
1989
About forty-five minutes from where he lived, there was a casino. Gambling always helped to quell his feelings. Gambling was something he felt he could control. He knew how it worked; it was black and white. You won, or you lost. There was no room for someone to get unnecessarily upset like Honey had. Plus, when he was gambling, he lost track of time. His thoughts drifted away, and he could reset himself.
Some of the dealers here knew him by name. He was a frequent patron or was until he went away for the summer. But three months wasn't so long that there was such a drastic change in staffing. In fact, when he got there, the place looked the same right down to the people who were sitting at the slot machines playing.
Maybe that's why he liked it here. The consistency. Although winning money was always a bonus too. As he sat down at the table, Shep thought about their argument. That's all it was, right? This wasn't their first fight. If it was, it made no sense to him, again, neither did the argument. He didn’t see why she was being so touchy about not working. He wasn’t saying she couldn’t, he was saying he didn’t see the point. That was allowed, wasn’t it?
He wasn’t so sure anymore.
The dealer dealt him in, and he checked his hand, throwing in his bet before leaning back in his chair still frowning to himself. They had never spoken about politics, or really anything that deep. He wondered if maybe she was one of those Power Women feminists who felt like they didn't need a man to be strong. He shuddered at the thought of it. She was better off at home, there was no getting into trouble there.
“Check.” He met the bet as the game came around to him again.
"Would you like a drink, sir?" He looked up at the girl holding the drinks tray. She was in a little short skirt, and her shirt was obscenely tight for the benefit, no doubt, of the gambling patrons.
For a second, she was no longer the brunette in front of him, but Honey, smiling sweetly at him with all her assets on display. Emphasis on the ass.
Unbridled anger at the idea of it surged through him. He wouldn't let her have a job like that, showing herself off to every drunk loser in the greater metropolitan area. No way.
“Scotch, neat.” He looked away and nodded to himself as if he had decided. He wasn’t wrong, she didn’t have to work. She had no reason to demean herself like that when he was perfectly willing to take care of her. She was dramatic getting upset about it, but she would come around.
That he was sure of.
When he got back to the apartment later, she would be there and would apologize for being so dramatic and blowing things needlessly out of proportion. She would apologize and throw herself at him, they would make love, and everything would be okay again. Just how he liked it.
Another player folded, leaving him and one other guy. They turned their cards over, and he won with a queen pair. It was an easy win, but it made him feel better right away. When the waitress returned with his scotch, he settled in to play.
He let himself lose track of time. The longer he was here, the more time she had to cool down. Mostly time flew when he lost money and re-committed himself to winning it back. And he always did. He refused to leave a loser, that wasn't the kind of man he was.
; By the time Shep had made enough to be satisfied with his haul for the evening, it was well into the night. The sky was dark as ink as he walked back to his car, a little buzz flooded through him.
He rolled down the windows and turned the radio on to a station still playing dance music this late at night. It kept him awake, at least awake enough to get himself home. The highway was nearly empty allowing him to fly, enjoying a speed far beyond the speed limit.
When he got to the apartment building, the streets were empty. He knew he was late, and Honey was likely asleep.
So much for making love tonight.
Chapter 26
1989
After parking he took his time to get upstairs, struggling at the door to get his keys in the lock. He wasn’t drunk, he assured himself, just a little buzzed. The damn key was too big, or the hole was too small. He laughed at that, reminding himself no hole was too small.
As he was laughing to himself, the door opened, and Honey stood there in her nightgown staring at him with a look of absolute disbelief.
“You’re drunk?”
“Buzzed.” He said in exasperation like he was repeating himself.
"Drunk." She said again, stepping back to let him into the apartment. Once he was inside, she bent over to pick up his keys, and he vaguely wondered when he dropped them.
"I stayed up as long as I could to wait for you. Why didn't you come home sooner?"
“I was on a roll.”
"Roll?" She said with a sigh, locking the door again before walking past him to go to the kitchen. He heard her rummaging around and followed the noise to find her getting a glass of water. She held out her hand, offering him two aspirin and the glass. The pre-emptive measures were strictly precautionary, she had seen the extent of his hangover after their going away party, and they had a lot to talk about tomorrow.
“Blackjack. I went to the casino.”
"Is that where you go when you're a dick?" She didn't bother to see if he took the aspirin before walking out of the kitchen again. He didn't immediately follow, looking around to notice several new things that had found a home here. He opened the fridge and found it stocked with food. She must've gone shopping after the fight.
See, he knew they were the right combination. He made the money, and she spent it. But where had she gotten the money for groceries? He hadn't given her any, he realized.
"I wasn't a dick." He said finally, following her out of the room. "How did you pay for groceries?"
"With my money, that I earned. From working." Her tone was biting, still mad apparently. He did not have the focus for another fight right now, his head was starting to ache, and it would be thirty more minutes before the aspirin kicked in.
“You used your college money for groceries?”
“Well, we need to eat.”
“I could have given you the money.”
"Still missing the point, I see." She walked out of the room and straight into the bedroom. He frowned as he followed her. If she thought he was missing the point, it would only be fair if she tried to show him what the point was. He apparently was just going to make an ass of himself until she made it clear what she was trying to get at.
"I think maybe it's best you sleep on the couch tonight." She held out his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, making him blink a couple of times.
“We don’t have a couch yet.”
"Floor it is." She did not forgive as she spoke. Waving his clothes at him slightly.
“Can I have a pillow?” She waited for him to take the clothes first before turning around and grabbing a pillow off the bed for him. She held it out, still making no move to get closer. A kiss was likely out of the question too.
“Alright.” He muttered to himself, leaving her to their bedroom. He walked back out into the living room, staring bleakly at the floor he was about to call his bed. He had slept on the ground before, survival training in the army called for that, but in his own home?
He was supposed to be mad about this, probably should’ve put up a fight against her and told her to stop being ridiculous. But he got the impression if he said any more to her about anything right now, she might pack up and go back to Pleasant Lake.
That was the last thing he wanted.
Resigned, he threw the pillow down and stripped out of his clothes. He used them to make a makeshift bedspread before hunkering down for the night already aware that in the morning he was going to have a headache and a lengthy discussion with the woman he loved.
But morning came, and Shep was not proud to admit he chickened out. If anyone asked, he was happy to say, he had adopted a ‘live and let live’ policy as of that morning. If Honey wanted to have her own money, for reasons that made no sense to him, she could.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he also figured it was better than fighting with her again.
“Wanna go out for breakfast?”
"I already ate." She flipped the page of her newspaper over, picked up her coffee mug and ignored him again. Maybe not talking about last night wasn't the best answer, but he was not in a mood to deal with his woman's emotional tides. He stood there, turned his eyes to the ceiling, said a prayer and nodded.
“Okay, I’m going out.”
"To the casino?" There was a definite edge to her voice, she expected the worst from him. As much as he wanted to go and play a few hands, he knew that wasn't going to help his case at all. He'd settle for games with work buddies until she cooled down and he could go back to his usual habits.
“To finish the transaction we started yesterday on the new furniture. You still want it, right?”
"Oh, yeah." She sounded disappointed she hadn't caught him trying to go. He heard a sigh of resignation, the papers crackled as she folded them, and she turned to face him from the single chair at a tiny kitchen table. "I can come with you if you'd like."
"Sure, maybe we can look at kitchen sets too… That one isn't going to work for both of us now, is it?" He offered her a smile in the same way a warrior might extend a truce. Thankfully for him, she took it when she smiled back and nodded.
"No, it won't, once we have a proper table I can start cooking for you."
"Not asparagus," he teased with a wink before heading into the bedroom to change. As he changed his boxers, he sighed in relief, pleased to have dodged a bullet for now. This wasn't the most mature way of handling his problems, but his family didn't have a great track record for that. They liked to pretend things were perfect when they weren't. It's how he grew up, and that kind of behavior was ingrained in Shep whether he knew it or not.
Chapter 27
2019
Someone rapped their knuckles on the passenger window making him look up. The valet was standing there expectantly as he rolled the window down.
“You have a reservation here, sir?”
“I do.”
"I'm happy to park your car for you." Shep nodded as he looked at himself once more in the mirror, he really needed to stop obsessing about his appearance. This was no longer a date. Unclicking his seatbelt, he pushed the door open and stepped out, giving way to the valet who handed him his tag and suggested he have a good meal.
Depends on the company, he thought. He felt guilty all of a sudden, being here now after canceling on the woman he was supposed to take out.
The crowd lined up outside the restaurant looking to get in might've once had her in it, and now she was probably at home wondering if she had done anything wrong. He perhaps should have explained better why he needed to cancel. Not that it was any of her business, he reminded himself.
With that thought in mind, he also noted that he shouldn't feel guilty. He gave her plenty of notice, and she might even still go out with him another day.
The restaurant was packed with couples and friends out enjoying their Saturday night. He stood in the threshold of the door for a moment, eyes scanning the faces around him looking to see if he could find the winemaker. But the website hadn't offered him a photo, it was a useless
gesture. Locking eyes with the hostess instead, Shep maneuvered his way through the bodies toward her.
This part he had forgotten to give instructions for. He didn't know if he was meeting them at the table or if he was supposed to go to the bar first. At least they knew his real name and to ask for it for the reservation. He patted his coat pocket where his cell phone was and considered pulling up the website to find a cell number. What a lax oversight it was to make these arrangements without cementing a plan first. How were they supposed to know who each other was?
Moving through the bodies, he scouted out the hostess stand, the bar and how packed the tables were. It looked busy; it was probably a good idea to check in for his reservation in case they got any smart ideas about giving his table away.
“Good evening sir are you looking for a table tonight?”
“I have a reservation, under Shep Wheeler.” The hostess smiled at him before looking down at her book of names. She took her time locating his name but tapped a bright, purple nail on his name when she found it.
“Here we are, we have you down for a table for two at 7:30. You’re a little early, would you like to get a drink at the bar first?”
"Sure, thanks." He smiled at her, maneuvering his way through the bodies once more toward the bar. His eyes continued to pass over every person he walked by, searching for... Well, he didn't quite know what.
Some part of him imagined he might be able to intuitively pick out the winemaker from the crowd. How would they be different? Stodgy, overdressed and displeased with the busy atmosphere? Or was it someone younger, one of those hipster types who would've loved the fact he had a reservation to such a hot, up-and-coming restaurant?
"What can I get you, sir?"
"An old-fashioned," he said, glancing only briefly at the bartender to acknowledge him before looking away again. "I'm meeting a friend, I'm not sure if they might've asked for me. I’m Shep Wheeler?"
Last Chance Page 11