Gibson
On my way home, I stopped at the diner for a hangover-curing greasy breakfast. Dahlia wasn't working, and the surly waitress who brought my food seemed to be in an even worse mood than I was. Who could blame me? My anger at Sacha, for giving me the bum's rush after such a great night together, had bothered me more than my aching head and sour stomach.
No one had ever kicked me out before, and I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Once my belly was full and the caffeine began to kick in, I decided it was almost amusing. If she took my words the wrong way, there was nothing I could do about it now. I couldn't even apologize, since we never exchanged numbers. Maybe I should have kept my thoughts to myself and said goodbye.
In any case, it had been a memorable night, but it was history now.
Before I reached my cabin, I pulled up to Marvil's place to check on him and to drop off some of the firewood I'd chopped and left in the back of my truck. I stacked the bundles in a pile on the side of Marvil's deck, which was covered, so it could dry out for use in the winter. The old man was too cheap to pay the tourist prices in town for firewood and too stubborn to admit he couldn't chop it himself. So, I had taken to dropping a few bundles into his pile now and then.
It was the least I could do for a friend. Though Marvil vigorously lived up to his reputation for being a grouch, he seemed to like me. That didn't mean he pulled any punches when it came to giving his opinion, which he did as soon as he saw me on his deck.
"Why aren't you at work by now? You act like a damned tourist on vacation."
Still dressed in his robe and slippers, his bone-thin legs were uncovered. They were hairy but not as fuzzy as his slippers, which resembled two large, furry bear claws. Marvil had a sense of humor few people saw. But I knew.
He handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with dark, fragrant coffee. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the decent human being beneath the crusty façade.
"Thanks, Marvil. There's a chill in the air this morning."
"Yes, there is. You know, it's too late for me, but you ought to find a woman to keep you warm this winter. I saw how that waitress at the diner was eyeing you."
He winked and I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat. "If I need matchmaking services, there's plenty online. But thanks."
Marvil waved his hand in distaste. "Bah. Computers. I've lived fine all these years without one. Not going to start now."
I leaned against the railing and sipped from the cup while Marvil rambled on about various topics. I nodded, or made affirmative noises, but said nothing. I knew better than to debate with the man. He was a product of his time, like my father and grandfather. I'd never told Marvil the real reason I'd come to Tilly, and he hadn't pried. But he'd throw out a probing question every now and then, catching me off guard. I couldn't blame him for being curious about his tenant.
I handed Marvil the empty cup. "Well, I better get going. I have to meet with a guy about a job I'm starting soon."
"You up for fishing, maybe next weekend?"
"Sure. Let's do that."
I'd never had an interest in fishing in my former life, but Marvil's enthusiasm for the sport, and his companionship, had slowly changed my opinion. We had a secret spot on the river where the fish seemed to bite often, and we'd go every few weeks. It was the only exercise the old man got, and I found the ritual of it soothing.
The rest of my day went downhill from there. I waited at the job site but the guy who was supposed to meet me never showed. He'd finally texted a half hour after the appointed time to say he wasn't going to make it. Then as I was leaving, my truck tire picked up a nail in the gravel road, so I had to change out the tire.
By late afternoon, I was cranky and tired. If I couldn't start the job next week, the delay would put my finances behind. I refused to touch my savings. I wanted to prove I could survive on my own. When I was living the high life, there had been plenty of stress-multimillion-dollar deals could get fucked up all sorts of ways, costing the company big time. I was used to monumental pressure. But this was different. This was living how most people lived, hand to mouth, not knowing what was going to happen tomorrow. It was humbling and made me grateful for every good thing that had happened in my life.
Exhausted, I pondered this and more as I trudged up the steps to my little cabin, my current sanctuary. If I ever returned to my family and the job at CB Resorts International, I'd do things differently. The many nameless people who worked for us had lives, hopes, dreams, and families they loved. I would make it a priority to show appreciation for them more often. Having money didn't automatically make you a better person, and sometimes it made things worse.
When it came right down to it, my family's entire fortune hadn't been enough to save Bianca and our baby.
But now, I was surviving one day at a time until I could decide what I was meant to do with this life.
~*~
Much to my frustration, even after a week had gone by since that night with Sacha, I couldn't get her off my mind. Perhaps it was guilt over my poor choice of words when we parted, or maybe it was plain old lust. My rusted-over libido had been jumpstarted that night, and erotic fantasies had been haunting my dreams and tormenting me during the day as well.
I knew I really should forget her. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers, and I was unable to find her online. I didn't know why I'd even bothered to look, she'd made it clear she didn't want to see me again. I could probably get her number from the owner of the Frisky Beaver, but what would I say? Even if she accepted my apology, we lived too far apart to start dating.
It was best to let her go. We had a moment, and it was over.
A peach-colored sky showed through the trees as I made my way down the hill to pick up Marvil. It was Saturday and we were heading to his favorite spot on the river to fish. It was several acres of prime land right on the Chattahoochee, apparently owned by someone Marvil knew. He'd never mentioned the owner by name but warned me to keep our visits a secret. I wasn't sure we even had permission to trespass there, but I figured if the old man was willing to risk it then so was I.
It was a miracle the land had sat vacant all these years. It was gorgeous-a gentle slope to the river, which tumbled over small boulders with a waterfall effect. It was the kind of place that should be pictured on a calendar or a motivational poster. But I had to admit, it was a damn good fishing spot, so I was glad it was undeveloped.
Except my years of experience and business acumen told me it was also the perfect spot for a resort, and I couldn't help imagining what that might look like. There was room for a hotel, cabins, a pavilion, gardens, and even a luxury home up on the hill, overlooking the whole thing.
But I was no longer in that line of work and besides, CB Resorts International had plenty of options. They wouldn't miss out by not having property in one little mountain town.
"Ready?"
I called the question to Marvil, who was standing in front of his old log cabin. The man's comical fishing outfit made me laugh, a sound that was ignored as Marvil climbed into the truck. His beat-up fishing hat was weighed down with lures and buttons, as was his multi-pocketed vest. Baggy jeans and an old gray sweatshirt with Mickey Mouse on it completed the ensemble.
He snorted and looked straight ahead. "Shut up and drive. The fish have been up for hours already."
"Yes, sir."
I put the truck in gear and maneuvered around the giant rut in the road, which Marvil refused to fix. As we bumped along, I complained, though I knew it wouldn't do any good.
"Marvil, when are you going to add gravel to this road? Some grading would help tremendously."
"It ain't free unless you want to pay for it. Plus, it keeps out nosy strangers."
He had a point. No one would take a drive up this rough mountain road unless they had to. It was another reason why I had yet to bring a woman back to my place.
When we arrived at the property, we had to park the truck and hike the last quarter mile or so. Once our poles were in the water, Marvil's questions began.
"So, did you go fishing as a kid? Your dad probably took you, huh?"
Immediately, a memory flashed of the one time I had fished with my father on a deep-sea expedition off the California coast. I was sixteen, and by that time, Dad had started the family business with several investors. One of which had his own yacht, so we had been invited for a weekend trip to Catalina Island.
"Yeah, once. But it was ocean fishing. In California."
"Is that where you're from? La-la Land?"
The old man smirked at his own joke then threw his line back into the water. He'd been casting and trolling, while I let my pole be.
"No. It was a vacation. I'm from Atlanta originally. But it may as well be California these days."
"Never been to either of them. Here's where I'm from, here's where I'll die."
I had met many people from Tilly who had expressed the same sentiment. It amazed me how they were content to stay close to home, with no desire to see the world. But then, I was used to traveling and had been blissfully unconcerned with the cost. For some of the folks I knew now, a day trip to Atlanta would be considered a splurge. It didn't make them lesser people. Some of them worked harder and had more determination and integrity than half the people I knew in my former life.
Had I been one of those people? Had my success been earned or simply handed to me?
The solitude of the fishing spot tended to bring these deep questions to mind. Thankfully, Marvil was here to distract me. He cleared his throat and launched into another inquiry.
"So, are you ever going to tell me about your new lady friend?"
Ice shot through my veins. I hadn't run into anyone I knew when leaving Sacha's motel room, but it was a small town. Hard to go unnoticed when you wanted to. I played dumb, hoping to find out who talked.
"What lady friend?"
"The guy who works at the drugstore has a cousin whose niece saw you at the Frisky Beaver last Friday night, getting cozy on the dance floor."
Of course. The random-guy-cousin-niece connection. I should have known.
"There's nothing else to talk about in this town?"
"Oh, sure. But I've already heard the gossip about them. You're still new, don't ya know."
"Hmmpf."
Marvil snickered. "I guess that's a no, huh?"
It was all I would say. I definitely didn't want to talk about a casual encounter and draw more attention to myself. The rumors were already rampant, though I'd kept a low profile.
I'd just leave it to their imaginations and move on.