AJ
Carefully maneuvering my truck through the slick mud, I left my construction site. After pumping up the volume on the rock music, I jammed the heat on full blast, my hands still cold from standing outside as I checked on the guys and went over plans with my foreman. I waved my hands in front of the vent, letting them warm a little, then waited a second to crack the window and light up before pulling out.
As I took a long draw on my Marlboro Red, I glanced back at the shopping center. It was going to be the biggest one in the area, and we couldn’t fuck up one square inch of it. It was a huge contract for me at thirty years old.
Fucking A.
It was nothing my company couldn’t handle. My fragile psyche was a different story, but no one would guess that by looking at me. To the casual onlooker, I was all brawn and rough flannel around the edges.
My pickup barreled out from the dirt road and I picked up speed as I hit the main highway, pulling into the diner for a quick cup of coffee a few moments later.
“Hey, Shirl, babe! How you doing today?” I called out over the bells ringing on the door.
“Hiya, AJ, honey!” she said back with a smile, tiny creases forming around her light green eyes, her laugh lines exaggerated. For a married middle-aged woman, she was still pretty smoking, even though she kept it all toned down. With her red hair tied back in a bun and a pencil stuck over her ear, she screamed small town. Although I knew there was more to her story, I just didn’t know what.
“You good?” I asked her with a knowing nod, reminding her that each day sober was a freaking God-given blessing. Despite all my outer bulk and glory, I was a sap on the inside, and the waitress with at least a decade on me knew it.
She gave me a soft, “Yeah,” as I sat down at the counter, smelling bacon from the fryer and cinnamon wafting from the pie case.
“Two coffees, okay, doll?”
“Two?” she asked with her eyebrow raised.
“I’m making a life change today,” I said with a wink.
Shirley turned toward the coffee machine, shaking her head and her tiny ass. “Oh, you are?” She turned back toward me, placing the two Styrofoam cups in front of me before leaning back on the counter separating the dining area from the kitchen with her arms crossed over her ample chest.
“Yep, so how much do I owe you? I gotta get the hell out of here.” I didn’t want to get into any more of it with her.
“In this case, it’s on me, buddy.”
I threw a few bucks on the lime-green counter and hightailed it out of there, two cups of steaming coffee in my hands. But not without noticing the strange look pass over Shirley’s face. I sure as fuck didn’t have time to worry about that, though.
Driving past the WildFlower on my left, I glanced at the barren land on my right. Soon all that land would be scooped up with the little micro-economy the resort created around here. My mind wandered, imagining dollar bill signs, anticipating all the work I could bid on.
And then I thought about her. Bess had started coming to meetings again more regularly, and I knew there had to be something up, more than she was admitting, but I wasn’t going to push. It was my time to get a little closer to the brown-haired beauty, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
Blowing smoke out the window, watching it fade into the cold air, I thought that the rehab center should have known years ago that introducing me to Bess would be problematic. She was gorgeous, vulnerable, alone, and shit—gorgeous. With big round brown eyes framed with long, full chestnut hair, fear and vibrancy rolling off her in equal waves, she became mine that day.
She’d been sitting in the bay window, her long hair falling down over her thin arms, nearly hiding her tattoo. It was the last time I’d seen her wear a tank top. I couldn’t help but stare that afternoon at her soft eyes and weak smile, which were such a contradiction to the large eye inked on her arm with two teardrops falling from it.
For the last four years, I’d watched silently and patiently, waiting for the right moment to approach her, to make her aware that she was most definitely mine. And that she didn’t need to shed tears anymore.
Throwing the truck in park next to her house, I stepped out and waited for Bess to roll home from her shift. She was going through something and needed someone, and that someone was going to be me—like it had been every other time for the last four years. Except this go round, it would be with me as something more than just her sponsor, more than just a friend.
When the coffees were cold, I decided Bess wasn’t coming home after work, so I texted her.
ME: Hey, how you doing? I popped over to see you with coffee. You okay?
After waiting another ten minutes and getting no response, I left. When I got home, not really remembering how I drove or parking the car, I paced the hardwood floorboards of my house.
It wasn’t until after eight o’clock that night that my phone finally chimed.
BESS: Hey, sorry. Actually had something at work this evening. :(
ME: Work? What? You don’t work dinner. I was fucking worried.
BESS: Some stupid thing for management—nothing to worry about. Back to my regular routine tomorrow. Thanks for worrying, though. Night.
And just like that I was dismissed. Well, too fucking bad. I’d been waiting a long time to take the opportunity to claim what was mine, and it was in the palm of my calloused hands. No way I was going to let it slip away.