Blue Read online

  “What did you do?” I asked quietly.

  “I was kinda paralyzed. Really wasn’t sure what I should do. I’d snuck out and was using a fake ID. You know, the ones William made up for us a long time ago? At that point, I was lucky he didn’t see me. I mean, I didn’t want Daddy to die either though. And that was when Harold rushed over to help him. He’d seen the whole thing happen from inside the bar.”

  I remained still.

  “It was the weirdest thing. I heard every word clear as day. There was no mistaking it. Daddy told Harold it was all a misunderstanding and he didn’t want to press charges against Adam. I don’t get it. Someone beats the shit out of me, I’m sure as hell gonna make them pay. That guy rubs me the wrong way, Blue.”

  “I’ve got to go,” I said, zipping up my jacket.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I think I need something stronger than coffee and weaker than a narcotic.”

  “So, that’s it? You’re going to walk away from me again?”

  “For now.” I hurried down the porch steps. “And I’m still sorry about last night.”

  “Blue!” she shouted after me.

  I headed down the sidewalk and didn’t look back. If I saw the look on Daveigh’s face, I wasn’t sure I could simply walk away. But I needed to. A drink was required to clear my head. Options were limited since it was only nine in the morning. I’d have to settle for something from the local coffee shop. The last thing I needed was to be deemed the town lush.

  About ten minutes later, I opened the door of The Lean, Mean, Coffee Bean and let the smell of robust beans and sweet toffee fill my lungs while a whimsical bell chimed to announce my presence. Not much had changed there either. The tan and chocolate-colored wooden planks on the floor still mimicked the pillars between the windows. Oversized singular lightbulbs hung from the ceiling over each table. They, too, were the same as I remembered. Couples occupied most of the quaint tables for two, and a bar along the window was filled with customers busily working on laptops or surfing their cell phones. It was one of the more popular businesses in Steele Falls.

  I stood in line and stared at the green chalkboard of fancy drinks written in swirly, pastel writing, not really focusing on any of the words. Daveigh’s voice calling out my name echoed in my head. When it was my turn, I placed my order with a gothic cashier named Mary as I fished for a handful of quarters in my pocket.

  “Name for the order?” Mary asked as she clicked her tongue ring against her teeth and drummed her tattoo-covered fingers against the concrete countertop.

  “Blue,” I replied absentmindedly.

  “I’ll pay for hers,” a velvet-edged voice said from a table near the doorway.

  Mary was forgotten. Daveigh was forgotten. Steele Falls was forgotten.

  I looked over and saw a familiar face approaching me with an air of confidence and a hint of arrogance in his step. He wore dark jeans and a checkered button-up shirt, the shade of gray accentuating his eyes. Zachary Main held a twenty out to the cashier, but his gaze remained locked on my face.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I replied, pushing the crisp bill back toward him with one hand. “I can buy my own—”

  “Come on.” A faint light twinkled behind his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you a latté.”

  I raised a brow. “Does that line work?”

  “I don’t know. Did it?” He grinned and gestured between our bodies with his index finger. “You may not yet, but I can feel something brewing between us, Blue Brennan.”

  I felt color creep into my cheeks as I released the handful of coins back into the pocket of my jeans.

  “I’m glad I ran into you because,” he took a sip from his paper cup, “I’m having a party at my place on Tuesday, and I wanted to know if you’d come as my date.”

  “A party?” I scrunched my nose. “That sounds awfully high school.”

  “Call it a gathering. Call it a BBQ.” He took a deep breath, a lock of wavy hair casually falling over his forehead. “Call it a social function where there’ll be food, alcohol, and I’m hoping a beautiful, blue-eyed girl.”

  Words to decline failed me, so I shook my head left and right slowly.

  “I had an end of summer bash last year and called it a housewarming when I moved to town. Everyone had a good time, so I decided to make it a tradition. Plus, it’d be a great excuse to get to know you better.”

  “End of summer? It’s October.”

  “Then, we’ll call it a better-late-than-never-gathering-BBQ-social-function-where-there’ll-be-food-alcohol-and-I’m-hoping-a-beautiful-blue-eyed-girl. Is that better? Not sure it’ll fit on a formal invite though, so please don’t make me write it out.”

  “Are you always this clever with the comebacks?” I asked.

  His smile was smug. “Only on days that end in Y.”

  I withdrew from his attempt to lure me in. “I…I shouldn’t. There’s a funeral to plan and—”

  “In all seriousness, maybe it’d help if you took your mind off things. Even if just for a few hours.” There was a hint of pleading on his face to mimic the tone behind his words. “C’mon. Please?”

  “I can’t. Really,” I replied, although any excuse to avoid my mother was tempting.

  “Drink for…Lou!” the barista shouted as she scrutinized the sloppy handwriting on the cup.

  The intense moment was interrupted as I looked around. I was the only one waiting at the counter. “Guess I’m Lou today.”

  “See? The staff here already forgot who you are, but I didn’t. That has to count for something.”

  “In all fairness, ‘Blue’ isn’t the most common name,” I said.

  “Come on. Give me a shot. Plus, who can turn down all of these witty coffee quips I’m throwing your way?”

  “A girl who prefers her caffeine injection with tea.” I picked up the cup from the counter and tugged gently at the tag on the end of the string. “Black peppermint.”

  “Noted for any future coffee shop dates,” he said. “Words can’t espresso how much it’d mean if you came.”

  I groaned and laughed. “Stop with the horrible pickup lines. Who does that?”

  “Guess you’ll have to stick around Steele Falls to find out.” His next words were both firm and final. “I’ll pick you up on Tuesday afternoon.”

  Reluctantly, I found myself accepting the invitation.

  He nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

  I adjusted my tote bag when the unthinkable happened. A woman’s breathy voice sounded, as if from right behind me. She had an accent and enunciated every syllable clearly. Too damn clearly. And too damn loud.

  I froze.

  I yelped as his impressive length filled me again. “Don’t stop,” I said. “Please don’t fucking stop now.”

  “What the hell?” I spun in a circle. Once to the left. Twice to the right. I looked like an animal chasing its tail. Where a dog would typically lose interest and stop, my embarrassing situation continued.

  The line between enjoyment and pain was almost non-existent.

  The corners of Zack’s mouth curled upward as he fought off a laugh. “I think the hot and heavy’s coming from your bag.”

  “Zeke.” I panted as he stroked me, the sensation of nerves firing. My body thrummed and threatened to erupt.

  “No. It can’t be!” I shrieked, the heads of half a dozen customers turning around to see what the skin flick commotion was all about.

  Zeke locked eyes with mine as he moved behind me, guiding his thick—”

  “Whoa-kay!” I found an e-reader in my tote bag operating at full-volume. Thoughts of Lucy from the night before slapped me in the face while I fumbled for the off switch. Hell, at that moment I’d have welcomed an eje
ct button, an explosion, anything to make the freight train of porn stop. Success was found when I toggled the microscopic mute button. Unfortunately, an additional slew of dirty slang for anatomy peppered the air in those extra few seconds. I looked at the screen of the device. The cover in the upper left corner displayed black and white image. A blonde woman with dreadlocks was being cradled by a man. Local erotica author Trixie Taylor’s name was emblazoned at the bottom along with the title and a miniature 80% sign.

  Serves me right for not paying attention to what Lucy was doing. Her words echoed in my ears. Borrow, 80%, and enjoy, my ass! It all made sense.

  “Been doing some heavy reading?” Zack arched an eyebrow.

  I shoved the ereader to the bottom of my tote bag. “Lucy.”

  “Hey, don’t be ashamed. There’s nothing wrong with a little bedroom material for your spank bank. I didn’t take you for the Trixie Taylor type. That’s all.”

  “No, really. It’s Lucy’s.” I shook my head, and I was certain my face was the color of a beet. “I don’t…it’s not…I…”

  “Tuesday!” Zack walked away with a twisted smile on his face.

  I watched as he disappeared down the street. There was no room to change my answer to “no”, and it was an invisible blow to the gut when I realized what happened. I’d agreed to go on a date with a man who was the equivalent of Cash Jensen and who thought I was into kinky reading material. All of it was sex therapist Lucy’s fault.

  The rain had stopped, and the sun fought to shine, the temperature still deceivingly cold. An upgrade in weather was a small win in my day, but it seemed like it was the only one. I walked back toward Poplar and vowed to myself I’d never go out in public again. It was probably a little dramatic, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be caught at The Lean, Mean, Coffee Bean anytime soon.

  “Blue!” a thick accent called out to me as I approached the driveway at home.

  Ralph was outside in his brown bathrobe, clumps of white hair atop his tanned scalp in disarray. What he wore was the norm for him, but it could’ve been ten times worse. I’d been the lucky recipient of seeing him work on his Volkswagen bus in nothing but neon green short shorts once. Said short shorts did little to conceal his weapon, and I’m not talking about his .45. Catching an eyeful of his twig and shriveled prunes, because calling them berries doesn’t supply an adequate enough visual, is something I’ll never be able to un-see.

  He stood near the mailboxes with a box tucked underneath his arm, waving at me overhead with his other hand. “Ahoy!”

  “Ralph, not today,” I pleaded under my breath.

  “Ahh!” He shuffled across the street. “Welcome back to Steele Falls! I have a gift for you.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to not lose my shit. “That’s really not necessary…”

  He lifted one of his liver spot-covered hands once again, raising his crooked pointer finger into the air. “Here.” He extended the box toward me with a smile. “Take it.”

  Internally, I turned around and walked away. Externally, I humored the old man and lifted the lid on the shoe box. The bottom left corner was soaked in a thick layer of grease, and it reminded me of the French fry aftermath from Boberto’s Burger Bungalow. The smell was the worst part, like rancid meat.

  Beaming with pride like a baby who’d shit their pants, he explained, “A grapefruit I picked in Yuma four days ago and a pound of dates from my trip to Louisiana. For your family. Wanted to get them to you before I take off on my motorcycle trip.”

  “Thank you?” I answered. By far, it wasn’t the strangest gift I’d received from Ralph, especially considering he’d come over to the property with a live lobster in a wheelbarrow once before. That same day, he also handed me the phone number of a woman who worked at the local credit union on a sticky note. The top said, “Sharon” on it. His secretive expression when he’d given it to me told me I should’ve known why, like he spoke in code. I didn’t have a flipping clue. But I’d learned over the years not to invest much thought in why Ralph did the things he did.

  He peered down into the box and pointed to the darkened corner. “There was alligator meat from Baton Rouge in there too. But, man, you wouldn’t believe how much that stuff changes up your stool. I saved you from suffering through the carnage.”

  Yep. That explained the odor. I wrinkled my nose and grimaced, not spared from the vivid poop picture he’d painted for me.

  He looked at his watch. “Ahh! I’ve got to shower and get dressed. Church starts in an hour. I finally convinced Clarabelle to go with me.” He waggled his bushy eyebrows. “See you later.”

  Clarabelle was our neighbor three doors down. Much like Ralph, she was ancient, but she was much quieter and kept to herself. It’d been four years since her husband, Peter, passed away. Rumor had it, he died of a heart attack in the middle of a bedroom romp. When he came, he took it a little too far and…went. I guess if you’re gonna go, that was the way to do it. She spent most of her time staring out the window at the hired yard help and making a ridiculous number of apple pies. Ralph had been jumping at the opportunity to get her into bed for years. Gotta give his old man libido credit.

  I welcomed his abrupt departure and headed up the steps to wipe my feet on the unwelcome mat. The bottom of the box sagged against the grease, the grapefruit threatening to break through as it rolled from one side to the other. After I was certain Ralph was out of view, I set it down on the porch, resigning to throw it in the trash later.

  I opened the front door and walked inside, slipping my shoes off and onto the area rug near the door. “‘Veigh?” I asked. “You home?”

  “Daveigh isn’t here,” a cold voice sounded.

  I closed my eyes and regretted opening the front door. Maybe my day wasn’t looking up after all.

  “Hi, Mom,” I replied and leaned against the doorway of the kitchen with my arms crossed.

  She still didn’t acknowledge my presence. The room was silent as she downed a handful of pills from a yellow bottle on the counter. No glass of water was in sight as a chaser. Hardcore. The woman had achieved professional status.

  “So…” I said.

  The following words didn’t come as easily as I’d hoped. What do you say to someone you haven’t spoken to in two years? Someone who you were so busy holding a grudge against where you didn’t know them anymore? At all. How do you open up the lines of communication to that? Do you ask them how they are or dole out a high five? A hug was out of the question.

  She turned around and leaned back against the counter, bracing the edge of it with her hands, the bottle still in her grip. “Have you thought about it?”

  “Thought about what?” I took off my jacket and hung it on the coatrack.

  “What you’re going to say at the funeral on Wednesday. What else?”

  The topic of speaking at Tom’s funeral hadn’t crossed my mind since I’d arrived, even with my mother grabbing my head and ramming her non-existent dick down my throat by way of demanding I piece some non-existent bullshit together. “Not yet.”

  “Well, you’d better work on it. I don’t want you slapping some crappy speech together at the last minute. This is a big deal, you know.”

  Yep. A big deal for someone who needs to tug on the heartstrings of Steele Falls’ citizens, so she can ensure she wins over their votes come election time. This time, I was smart enough to not say what I thought aloud.

  She motioned to the empty pad of paper I’d left on the counter the day before. Of course, she’d known I hadn’t worked on it, but by asking about it, she put her own special, condescending Elana-type twist on it. Like usual.

  I changed the subject. “So, when is Finn flying in?”

  “What on earth are you talking about now?” Her eye roll was distinct.

  “Finn. Daveigh said he was flying in when I talked to her on
the phone Friday, but she didn’t have his flight info when I asked her last night. Said I had to ask you for it.”

  “Of course, she did.” Elana shook her head and laughed through her nose.

  The muscles in my shoulders tensed. “What’s that look on your face for?”

  “You’re being absurd. Finn’s not coming home for this. He has finals to study for, and with what I have to pay for his tuition? Just no.”

  “But Daveigh said everyone had to come—”

  “Naïve, naïve Blue.” She set the pill bottle back down on the counter. “Did you ever think she might’ve told you that so you’d come back to Steele Falls?”

  I sank onto one of the dining room chairs, the flat cushion doing little to soften the blow. My expression must’ve said it all. So much for my poker face.

  “Think about it. She’s as manipulative as I am. It’s in our blood, and it’s what we do.”

  I remained deceptively calm. “Maybe it’s what you do.”

  “Look at the outcome. She won and got what she wanted, even if it wasn’t what I—”

  There was a knock on the front door.

  She huffed. “You get it before I say something to you I’ll likely not regret. I have to go down to the funeral home this morning, and I don’t have time for any solicitor’s shenanigans.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” I ground out between my teeth, knowing it wasn’t loud enough for her to hear.

  Just like the night prior, Elana went through the same motions of grabbing a suit jacket off the back of the chair. It was the same style, but this version was a deep burgundy. The woman owned one in every color and pattern. If anything, my mother was predictable with her wardrobe. She shrugged her way into it, grabbed her purse, and walked out the kitchen door.