Buoy

by Maggie Seacroft

  “Hey, Bugsy,” I turned to him to say.

  “Eyes on the road, and it’s Beedle, remember?”

  “Anyway. What do you think of Lisa and that Roddy guy?”

  “Roddy, her son?”

  “How many Roddies have you met recently? Of course, Roddy her son.” I looked over at him.

  “Eyes. Road,” Bugsy ordered.

  “Yes, boss.”

  “What do you mean, what do I think of him? As in, does he have a cute butt or something?”

  “No. What I mean is, he’s kind of… Well, he did…” My mental PowerPoint slides were suddenly out of order.

  “Would you just spit it out?”

  “Do you think he robbed the bakery and the pharmacy?”

  “No.”

  Undeterred, I forged ahead. My slides were back in order. “Think about it. He comes from out of the blue just as the robberies start happening. He seems to have no means to support himself other than his mother, who let me tell ya, isn’t what she seems, and yet he’s buying her expensive purses, asking me about boats, and sporting a Rolex. A real one!”

  “I thought Jack said he owns a company,” Bugsy said, and I could see him on the lookout for a parking spot that would test both my skill and patience.

  “Pfft! Anybody could say that. He didn’t exactly brag about the details, and we all know that guys with successful companies can’t keep their traps shut,” I blustered. Been down that road with enough self-congratulatory businessmen to know that truth.

  “Here’s a good spot. Try parking here,” Bugsy said, pointing a finger at an open parking space between two vehicles on State.

  “Are you even listening to me?” My impatience was growing while inexplicably it looked like the parking spot was shrinking.

  “Sadly, yes. You were talking about his watch and his company.”

  I paused to concentrate and got into position to pull off this feat of parallel parking I’d been assigned. My neck jerked and swivelled almost three hundred and sixty degrees. I put my arm on the bench seat, behind Bugsy, torquing my torso and working on my obliques at the same time. And, after two attempts, a little cursing, and a few encouraging words from the person seated next to me, we were parked. I let out a deep breath once the truck was in park and unclenched my fingers from the steering wheel. “That was rough. I need a smoothie. Want one?” I asked, hoisting my all-purpose bag. The jingling from somewhere near the bottom of it told me there had to be enough change in there for a couple drinks.

  “Sounds good. Think they can spike mine?” Bugsy said, looking equally relieved that we had finally parked and happy when his feet hit the sidewalk.

  “Wasn’t that bad,” I said.

  “I’m glad you finally decided to stop for the train,” he grumbled.

  “Ok, so getting back to—“

  “The watch,” Bugsy added helpfully.

  “Yeah. Where’s a guy like him get a watch like that?”

  “Maybe you should ask him.”

  “I’m serious,” I scoffed.

  “So am I. You think he just goes around robbing places to buy himself jewellery?”

  “No. But his arrival in town seems awfully coincidental, and he just has that air about him. Kind of seedy. Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean, but maybe he’s just like that. Maybe he’s shy or something.”

  “Or something,” I mumbled and pulled on the door of the new juice place in town. A few minutes later, smoothies in hand, Bugsy and I opted for some window browsing as we sipped. Window displays had been silently converted over from Halloween to Thanksgiving meets Christmas. The windows of the hardware cum homeware store were divided into his, hers, and kids wish lists. The woman in your life apparently wants a buffalo checked toss cushion, a turquoise-colored stand mixer, and/or a pink drill. The man in your life is bucking for tools like the four-hundred-and-six-piece screwdriver set on display and the brats will settle for one of the many toys referencing the feature length animated commercial currently playing in movie theatres. While the composition of stores was about the same as always, it felt different. Jeff Thompson’s Construction Company van was parked in front of the pharmacy, and it looked like bars were being unloaded to go up on the window.

  “Hmph,” I murmured. “So back to my theory,” I said as we continued our stroll.

  “Oh yes, Roddy. Look, he—“

  “Hang on.” I put my hand on Bugsy’s forearm just as we reached Devon’s Jewellers. I paused, looking for the heart-shaped diamond pendant I coveted each time I cruised past the store. When I looked in the window this time, it had been replaced by a silver locket and earrings as if they had sprouted among the mini pumpkin patch Mr. Devon had laid out.

  “I’m not buying you anything here, so let’s move along,” Bugsy said, and walked a few steps ahead.

  “I just want to see if it’s been sold,” I whined.

  “If what’s been sold?” he asked, the straw from the smoothie clenched in his front teeth.

  “Oh, this diamond pendant I had my eye on,” I said, the handle to the door already in my grip. I gave a smile to the burly security guard I’d never noticed before and, when I caught the eye of a salesman, I pointed to the window. “Excuse me, that diamond pendant you had there, is it—“

  He nodded. “Gone.”

  I returned his nod. “Thanks.” I turned on my heels and left the store. “Well, I’ll have to put something else on my Christmas list for you to buy me. It’s gone,” I said to Bugsy as I hit the sidewalk again.

  He flitted his eyes and we walked a few blocks on State, sipping and people watching. I debated telling him that Lisa had lied about her living arrangements, that she didn’t reside in Brentwood Court but rather was holed up in the Vine. However, I figured Bugsy might be hypersensitive and find I was being too judgy about her economic status. That actually wasn’t what bothered me. It was the lie. The outright lie and, in my experience, people who lie can rarely stop at just one. I’ve noticed that about myself when I’m on a streak. Before long, Bugsy looked at his watch and decided he ought to go back and tackle the dock at number seven, and I agreed that I should get to my errands as well, which included picking up more shirts for the puppy rescue.

  ✽✽✽

  I spotted Jack Junior reading the paper on the stern of his boat. Though I hadn’t the heart to tell him Lisa had fibbed about her address, I did want to see how things were going between them. She seemed to make him happy, but if they were on the outs, I’d have no problem telling him what I’d discovered—that she lives at the Vine Street Inn, according to her uniform she works for Maxi Maid, and that she does so under a different name.

  “Hey, want to go to Expose Yourself with me?” I asked.

  “Uh-uh-uh, come again?” Jack blushed and then looked down at his lap.

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean do you want to go to the store Expose Yourself? You know, it’s that place that does marketing stuff on Patterson. I need to pick up more shirts for the puppy rescue.”

  “Oh, thank goodness, because to be honest, kiddo, I haven’t kept up with my man-scaping.” Jack grimaced.

  “Way too much information, Jack.” I smiled. “I could really use a hand with the shirts if you have time.”

  “I’ve got hands and I’ve got time,” he said. “You’ve mastered driving the truck?”

  “Practically.”

  “And you and Bugsy are still friends?” Jack squinted up from his chair and shielded his eyes from the sun behind me.

  “So far. Now come on, we’re burnin’ daylight, handsome,” I said, and with that invitation, Jack bounded from his chair, tucked his book inside the salon of his boat and practically danced toward me on the dock.

  In no time at all, we were cruising down Main Street and I was prying about his love life. “So, no Lisa today?”

  “Nah, she’s shopping or something,” he muttered.

  Or something. “I see. So, how’s that Lisa thing goin
g?”

  “She’s so great. She likes you a lot too,” Jack said, and I marveled at the ease with which he lied.

  “Sorry I haven’t spent much time getting to know her. Tell me, is she divorced or did her husband pass?”

  “Died. Heart attack, poor bastard.”

  I nodded. “Oh, that’s tough. What does she do for work?” I asked as I shifted gears clumsily and cringed.

  “Easy, kiddo,” Jack said and reached out for the dashboard to steady himself. “Her husband left her quite a bit of money, you know. You know the kind of guy, really took care of her and the boy.”

  “I see,” I said, not really seeing anything but that she’d told him another lie. I figured since we were on a roll, I’d try to suss out another one. “Have you been to her place? What’s it like?”

  Jack cleared his throat and I looked over to see him shaking his head. “Nah, she’s having some renovations done to her master bedroom, so she’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Doesn’t want me to see the place in a mess.”

  “Oh, I see,” I looked out at the road ahead and rolled my eyes. It appeared as though Lisa had an answer for everything.

  “Hey, why don’t you and she have some girl time tonight after the game? I told her it’d mean a lot to me if she came. Tranmer’s hosting on the Splendored Thing. Told her I’d like her to meet him, you know, since he’s one of the guys. Hey, if you want to come to dinner, you can. Lee popped in this morning and dropped off some steaks, there’s plenty enough to go around.”

  “Mmhmm,” I said, not expressly agreeing to any quality time with Lisa. “Here it is,” and I put on my blinker to turn into Expose Yourself. It’s a good-sized place for Marysville. They do printing on site of every imaginable medium—banners, shirts, flags, even pens and stationary. You want to put your name on it, you bring it there. I had a stash of business cards printed there last year after I’d fully committed to the business. It’s the sort of place that leaves me a little nervous though. There’s no cashier station per se, but instead a number of desks with creative-looking types pumping out logos and, ironically for a company that specializes in signage, you’re not sure who does what or where you find what you’ve come to pick up.

  Jack and I stopped at the first occupied desk inside the door, entrusting our future there to a young lady with purple streaks in her hair and cat eye glasses. She was wearing denim overalls and a tie-dyed bandeau shirt underneath.

  “Hi there, I’m here to pick up some shirts for the Kennedy Puppy Rescue and Dog Shelter,” I said and tried not to stare at the creative genius with the giant nose ring.

  “Pickups are over there,” she said in an Australian accent I couldn’t tell was real or not as she pointed.

  I glanced at Jack Junior who was by this point staring with utter bemusement at the girl. How is it that the older generation seems to get away with so many things including prolonged, impolite gawking? “Thanks,” I said, smiling and lightly shoving Jack Junior toward the back of the store and out of his stupor.

  We were waiting at our designated station when I heard it. Actually, it was the second time I heard the calling out when I realized it was directed at me. “Euphegenia!” came the voice, and I turned to of course see one of only two people who knew me by that name. The man from the Vine Street Inn. He was coming at me, winding his way through carousels of windbreakers and t-shirts.

  “Eupha-what?” Jack Junior contorted his face and asked lowly.

  “I’ll tell you later, just play along,” I whispered.

  “Hi!” the man addressed me and then looked at Jack with disappointed eyes. “Where’s Zelda?”

  “Oh, she’s around.” I smiled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t catch your name the other day.”

  “Zane… Wilcox,” he stumbled over his reply.

  I nodded slowly, thoughtfully. It sounded as fake as the name by which he knew me. “Zane, this is—“

  “Dirk Gable,” Jack said, dropping his voice several octaves and extending a vigorous handshake to the man. “How are ya?” Junior asked, smiling with all his teeth and reminding me of a used car salesman.

  I felt my mouth go slightly agape. Never a good look. When I asked Jack Junior to play along, I didn’t mean for him to make up a ridiculous porn name.

  “Fancy meeting you here, of all places,” Zane said, and he looked around the shop and I wondered why he thought I didn’t belong there.

  “Yes, fancy…” My words drifted off and I looked down to the white shopping bag in his hand.

  He hoisted it slightly. “Oh, just picking up something.”

  “Yeah, us too,” I said.

  “Shirts for the dog rescue in town, we’re big animal lovers,” Jack boasted heartily, and seemed to take some pleasure in the charade he continued.

  “Oh, that’s nice. Do you have a dog?” Zane cocked his head and found my eyes.

  “Oh, she’s got the most beautiful black lab,” Jack boasted. Through mental telepathy I was telling him to shut the hell up, but he wasn’t picking up on my vibes.

  Zane looked down at his watch. “Well, nice seeing you again. Nice meeting you, Dirk. Hey, you’ll have to stop by and visit the painting again.” He winked at me, reveling in the private joke we apparently shared.

  I smiled. “For sure.”

  “Bye now,” Jack said, waving him off and gunning for him again with all his teeth.

  I exhaled a deep sigh then glared at Junior. “Dirk Gable?”

  Jack shrugged. “Why not? So, what was all that about?”

  “It’s a long story. Just someone Ags and I met and didn’t think we’d ever see again, so she gave him a couple phony names.”

  “Oh. Like the broad who gave Peter the bogus number, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Jack Junior’s brow furrowed. “He looks familiar. Can’t place him,” he said and shook his head as if that would put the pieces into place.

  ✽✽✽

  “I can’t help but think I know that guy,” Jack said a few times in the twenty minutes it took us to drop the dog shelter shirts off at Marcy Kennedy’s vet practice and get to the parking lot on State Street. Above us, the police chopper buzzed around, and I imagined Hagen doing exercises out in the bay. The stuff of nightmares. Speaking of bad dreams, there she was, straight ahead of us. Lisa was in the Juice Box. Marysville’s latest answer to healthy food choices which was quickly becoming my favorite spot—I was on my second visit that day alone.

  “Lee! Hey, Lee!” Jack walked up behind Lisa and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Oh… hi, Jack.” She seemed to fumble her words when she turned to see me with him, her voice slightly different from the breathy, sultry tone I’d known her by.

  “How are ya, honey?” he asked and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Good, Jacky. I’m… just surprised to see you,” she said and, with each word, her voice shifted to the one she uses when she puts on that vamp act of hers.

  “Oh, I was helping the kid with an errand. What, uh, what are you getting? Let’s see…” Jack said, looking at the menu board in vain. Without his glasses, he’d never be able to see that far.

  “Here’s your strawberry banana, ma’am,” the man behind the counter said as if on cue, and Lisa clutched the plastic cup with her tanned hand, bejeweled and adorned with bright red talons.

  “Oh, that sounds good, Lee,” he said, and to the man behind the counter, “I’ll take one of those too.”

  I smiled. Jack frequently does this little routine when he can’t make out the menu. “Pineapple kale,” I said once the waiter had gotten around to me. He gave me a look like he recognized me from earlier along with the kind of expression where he might be thinking I’d exceeded the daily recommendation of kale.

  “So, do you want to go back to the boat, Lee? Nice day for a cruise,” Jack said, and I could see the hope in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

  Lee or Lisa or whatever her name is looked down at her watch. “I can
’t, Jack. I’ve got so much to do today,” she said, and by that I wondered if that included a little fluffing and folding at the Vine.

  “But you’re coming tonight to dinner and poker, right? It’s-it’s-it’s gonna be on the boat Tranmer’s staying on. I told you about him, right?” I attributed Jack’s stammer to Lisa’s coolness. There was no smile, no enthusiasm to match his, just ambivalent eyes looking back at him.

  “Sure, honey,” she said.

  The words were a tonic to Junior and he smiled gratefully and, in an old school move, before she left the store, he tucked Lisa’s hair behind her ear. And as he whispered some sweet nothing to her, I couldn’t keep my eyes off those somethings. Her earrings.

  “Those are nice earrings she has on. Did you get them for her?” I asked after Lisa sauntered and swayed out the door.

  “Who, me? No. Say, I didn’t even notice them.”

  I nodded and smiled. I had noticed them. It was hard not to. They used to sit right next to my diamond pendant in the window of Devon’s Jewellers.

  ✽✽✽

  The last time Lisa and Jack Junior hosted poker, I’d brought my vodka lemonade coolers. They were received like the low-brow drink they are. But do you think I’d learned my lesson? Nope. So, I packed up another four pack and away I went, bopping to the dock to where the Splendored Thing was tied. I had barely left my boat when Ags appeared, strutting toward me at a purposeful gait.

  “Hey, sista,” I greeted her.

  “Hey, girl.” She smiled and tossed her hair back. “Where you off to?”

  “Poker. On Nat’s boat,” I said, and while I looked at her, she tossed her hair again. “Are you alright?”

  She gave me a frustrated look and unnaturally elongated her neck, doing her best giraffe impression, and that’s when I noticed it. Smack dab on Aggie’s neck. My pendant. The one from Devon’s window. I looked from the heart shape, outlined in diamonds, up to Aggie’s bright smile.