Strange things were afoot at the Dive Bar the next day. Saturday, the anniversary of my botched wedding. Hooray.
Nothing of any great interest had happened after our sexcapades in my new car. We went back to see Mitch at the dealership, who gave our skewed clothing dubious looks. He visibly relaxed after I told him I’d be buying the vehicle. Vaughan had gone quiet, but then so had I.
We went to work. And when we got back to his house exhausted after a long night, we went to sleep, together in the same bed.
But back to today.
Brett Chen, the reporter, lounged against his car parked opposite my place of work. He pulled out his Canon and started snapping photos of Vaughan and me as we were walking inside.
“Talk to me, Lydia,” he yelled from across the street. “I’ve got a big-name magazine taking the story. Nationwide distribution. A lot of money.”
“Asshole,” I muttered, keeping my sunglasses on and my face down.
“Time to give Officer Andy a call,” said Vaughan. “Get rid of this guy.”
“I’m not sure legally there’s much he can do. Anyway, the reporter’s not going to get what he wants,” I said without slowing down. “Let karma take care of him for profiting from people’s heartbreak and misery. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“This is the third time he’s been here in almost as many days. Taking your picture without your permission. The idiot’s practically stalking you, babe.”
I shrugged, reached out and gave his fingers a squeeze. We stepped into the bar and I headed straight for a small table at the back. Poor Betsy, the Delaneys’ real estate receptionist, did not look like a happy girl. Boo-hoo.
“I’ve been waiting for you for nearly twenty minutes.” She sniffed, pushing back a half-drunk cup of coffee and rising out of her seat. “The brew here is godawful. Are the papers all correctly signed? I don’t want to have to come down here again just because you can’t read.”
God, what a bitch. The papers were signed, all right, but she could figure that out for herself.
In lieu of conversation, I tossed the large envelope containing the Delaneys’ settlement contract her way. Betsy dived for it. making a weird gasping noise. Indignation burned bright in her beady little eyes. Before she could rip into me for lack of care or whatever, I got the hell away from her. I had things to do. It was time to make over my life. Minus the bullshit this time.
Saturday was a big day. At only twenty past twelve, most of the tables were already filled. I called out greetings to Rosie and Masa on the restaurant floor, Eric behind the bar, and Nell and Boyd busy at work in the kitchen. Then I continued on my way to the back office.
The big blond bear, aka Joe, sat in front of the computer, engrossed in whatever was on the screen.
“Hi,” I said, dumping my handbag in the corner. “Nell wanted me to start on the bookkeeping.”
Startled eyes glanced up at me and his fingers froze on the keys. “Ah, hey, Lydia.”
“Are you working today too?” Three people behind the bar seemed excessive but whatever.
“No,” he said. “I just needed to use the computer. Mine’s acting up. Be out of here in a minute.”
“No problem. I’ll go grab a cup of coffee.”
The deer-caught-in-headlights look faded, transforming into something else. He cleared his throat, gaze returning to me every few seconds. Whatever was on that screen, Joe did not want it to be seen. Probably porn.
“Would you like one?” I asked, taking a step toward the table.
His whole body tensed as if he was preparing to jump up and cover whatever it was. “One what?”
“Coffee.”
“No,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Okay.” I gave him a brief smile, strolling toward the door. “Back in a minute.”
His chin jerked, eyes stuck to me like I might vault over the desk and launch a violent invasion of his online privacy at any moment.
Very strange.
When I came back with my coffee, Joe had disappeared out the back door. Nell had left a list detailing what kinds of expenses belonged in which category. Beyond that, it was pretty basic. I worked away at the piles of receipts, banking records, and invoices. Inputting all of the information—business name, items in question, their price, etc. Gradually, the backlog began to dwindle.
The best part of doing this particular job (which no one else wanted to do) were the excellent service and gastronomical benefits. Rosie or Masa regularly delivered coffees, bottles of sparkling water, a delectable Vietnamese-style chicken salad for lunch, and an amazingly good steak with a baked potato and all the trimmings for dinner. I had no idea what they did to the cow to make the meat so tender. Daily massages. Weekly pedicures. Whatever it was, it worked. Best steak ever.
“How’s it going?” Nell collapsed into the chair opposite my desk, face still pale and shadows beneath her eyes. She looked only marginally better than the other day.
“I’m slowly beating the accounts into submission. Should you be home in bed?”
“Probably.” She cracked the lid on a bottle of apple juice and gulped some down, then set it on the table. “I’m heading home soon.”
“Good.” And here came the nervy part. “Nell…”
“Yeah?”
I rubbed the tip of my tongue over my teeth, trying to think of the best way to say what I needed to say. Fear and excitement stirred inside of me, speeding my heart and making my hands shake. No matter how I tried to calm myself. “Not to sound like some psycho corporate spy out to infiltrate you.”
She raised her brows in question.
“But while I was going over the figures, I went over the figures.”
With a groan, she shook her head. “I’m tired, Lydia. What do you want to say?”
I sat forward, hiding my trembling hands beneath the table. “Last night, Eric offered me a month’s trial managing the restaurant floor section. I trust you’re in agreement about that?”
“Of course.”
“And Pat still wants to sell his third of the business?”
Her lips tightened, pain flitting across her face before being determinedly smoothed away. “Very much so.”
“Okay.”
“Lydia, tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
“I’d like to do the month’s trial with a view to purchasing Pat’s share of the business at the end of that time, if we’re all in agreement that we can work together long-term.”
Nell’s smile was beatific. “You do?”
“Yes. I know this probably seems sudden, but the idea has been growing in the back of my mind for the last few days. Which still sounds sudden.”
She said nothing.
“Anyway, I want to do something I like for a change, sell products I believe in, and I think the Dive Bar could be that opportunity for me.” I didn’t know what to do with myself. Jump around the room or hide in a corner. Both were viable options. “I realize it’s a lot of money, a big commitment, but this feels right to me. I think I’d regret it if I didn’t give it a try.”
“But you definitely have the money?”
“I will in a couple of days, yes.”
Curiosity lit her eyes. “A couple of days?”
“Between you and me?”
“Of course.” No hesitation. One of my favorite qualities about Nell was her plainspokenness.
“I have a legal settlement coming through from the Delaneys.”
“Okay,” said Nell. “It is a bit sudden, but you saw the figures. You’ve worked here, you’ve seen how much local people like the place. We’re not relying on seasonal trade to the same degree as others. This is going to be awesome.”
“I hope so.” I tried to bite back a smile; it didn’t quite work.
“I know so.” Nell’s gaze dropped to her lap, fingers fidgeting. “In the interest of full disclosure … I have some news to tell you. No one else knows about this just yet as I only found out this morning. So I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself for now.”
“Of course.”
“I’m pregnant.”
My mouth hung open, my eyes feeling bigger than the moon.
“That was pretty much my reaction too.” She gave me a grim smile. “It’s Eric’s. So, yeah. Not exactly planned. Not even remotely.”
“Congratulations?” I asked quietly.
Her smile improved. “Thank you. I always wanted kids. I thought they’d be with Pat, but things change, right?”
“Right. And I think you’ll make a great mom. No one will dare mess with your kid.”
“I do know how to throw knives,” she said. “The benefit to knowing this early is we can plan how to handle things business-wise. I don’t expect to take too much time off and Boyd can run the kitchen almost as well as me. We’ll get another cook trained up along with an assistant. That way I can be back after the baby on reduced hours. It also lets Boyd go to more sci-fi conventions. So it’ll work out for everyone.”
“Okay.”
“Please don’t let this scare you off. I swear it won’t impact in any big or bad ways on the rest of the business.”
I pondered it for a minute. “The fact is, each of us will go through periods when we need to pull back a little, focus on other things. That’s life.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Terrified. Excited. More terrified.”
“Me too. And I’m not even having a baby.”
Nell picked up her juice again, picking at the label. “I’m really glad you’re staying. I lost a lot of my friends in the divorce, so it’s good to make some new ones. I know they say not to go into business with friends. But honestly, if you’re going to work that closely with people, trust them with your money and your name, I’d rather have friends. The thing is, they need to be friends that you can talk to. Complete honesty.”
“I agree.” I straightened my shoulders, putting on my brave face.
“If you need somewhere to store your things, there’s plenty of empty space upstairs. Also, my apartment has a spare room,” she said. “I’m not saying we should be permanent roommates. But you’re more than welcome to come stay with me for a few months, until you get something else sorted out. If it winds up being needed.”
“If?”
“Vaughan’s never been like this about a girl before. All over everything to do with you, making sure things are cool and you’ll be treated right. I know you’ve had a fight or two, but he never even stuck around for those before.” Her smile was way too hopeful. “Usually women were just temporary, easy. This thing with you … it’s nice.”
Oh shit. “Nell, I really like your brother. I’m sure that’s beyond obvious. But hasn’t he told you about this Henning Peters guy and the great opportunity with the record companies and everything?”
“I think he felt weird about the fight and then I was sick. Honestly, we haven’t spoken that much,” she said. “He’s going to work with Henning Peters?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. That’s huge.”
“Yes, it is. I’m a distraction, Nell,” I admitted, staring at my hands. Except only cowards did things like that. I raised my face again. “That’s the reality of your brother and me.”
She just looked at me.
“You’re right about this place, your parents’ house. Past issues bother him, make it hard to be here. I can only say that because I’m not telling you anything you didn’t already know.” Unlike the sale of the house. That was his news to share. Oops about the Henning Peters thing.
“I’m sorry,” Nell said.
“It is what it is. We’re friends.” I swallowed hard, doing my best to keep my cool. “Thank you for offering to let me stay, to store my things here.”
“Of course.”
We both tried to smile. I think hers was better than mine.
Screw men and their devil penises. I had a future to plan.
There were bound to be problems with me coming into the business. For instance, Eric treating the place like his woo palace. Though Rosie had confided the other day, he’d cut a lot of that out since Nell’s meltdown at him. He’d barely even bothered hitting on me. Still, I’d be watching. Also, how Eric took the news of his upcoming fatherhood could be vital. If he and Nell were able to continue to maintain a functioning relationship for the business’s sake.
But I had a month to settle in, to listen and learn. To see if I could make a go of this. I wanted to be a part of the Dive Bar, to stay in Coeur d’Alene. I had a lot to contribute and, for whatever reason, being here felt right. If it didn’t work out, however, I could always make a Plan B.
Chris had derailed me. Hurt my heart and shaken my pride. He’d also, however, shown me the error of my ways. The stupidity of me blindly scrambling, trying to make up for my crap childhood by replacing it with a bigger shinier house and family. Those things as I knew them were just props.
It might sound all Oprah, but my happiness needed to come from me. I knew that now.
I could build my own home, make a future for myself. Not rely on someone else to come along and magically make me feel like I had worth, as if I belonged. I could be strong on my own.
As a by-product of their bastardry, Chris and company had made me grow up and taught me some important life lessons. With my payout from the Delaneys for never suing for emotional or other damages, and refraining from ever telling my story to the press (their fear of Brett Chen being of significant worth), I’d be implementing what I’d learned.
Ironic, really. I might even thank my ex-fiancé one of these days.
Doubt it, though.
* * *
Nell needed the office. I left the bookwork and helped Rosie and Masa finish up for the night. Loading the industrial dishwashers, cleaning the tables, mopping the floor, those sorts of things. Mostly any job allowing me to keep a keen eye on the back hallway. Who knew, the mother-to-be might well need emotional backup. It was a tense, high-drama situation. Given my own recent brush with forgotten prophylactics, I felt for her big-time.
Nell asked Eric to join her in the back office. Not a big deal. No one paid any attention. Yet. The owners (with the exception of Pat) had occasional closed-door meetings. Like his brother earlier, he never reappeared. Given he’d doubtless just received news of his impending fatherhood, I’d have used the back exit too.
Vaughan went in next. Two minutes later, he came storming back out, red of face and furious. “Where is he?”
“Who?” asked Rosie.
“Eric.” He spat out the name as if it were poison. “Where is he? I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Dunno.” Rosie scuttled away. Fair enough.
“He’s gone.” I stopped pretending to be deeply engrossed in refilling the condiments. Vaughan’s evil eye turned my way. Shit. The man was beyond enraged, top lip curled and shoulders heaving. You’d have thought I’d knocked up his sister, the way he was glaring daggers. “He left a little while back.”
“Coward.”
Not good. With all of the violence from the four-dude epic battle in his sitting room earlier this week, you’d have figured he’d have had his fill of punch-ups for a while. Guess not, though.
“I’m pretty much finished here,” I said. “Why don’t we go?”
After a moment he jerked his chin. “Yeah. Grab your shit. Let’s go.”
Oh-kay. I went and grabbed my bag from the now curiously vacant office. Maybe it was international Use the Back Door Day. No puns intended. Or perhaps Nell had also decided she needed to escape unseen.
I’d check on her later. Boyd had keys, he could lock up the bar.
Vaughan threw open the door and stomped out onto the sidewalk. I followed more slowly, giving him some space. Hopefully, there’d be no sign of the baby daddy tonight. If Eric had any survival skills at all, he’d be off somewhere lying low.
All of a sudden, Vaughan about-faced and stomped back, coming to an abrupt stop in front of me.
“Do you know?” he demanded.
“Know what?”
“About her being knocked up by Eric.”
“Yes.”
He huffed out a breath. “And you still want to stay here, buy into that bar?”
“Nell told you about that too? Okay.” I didn’t take a step back, just kind of leaned away from him, trying to put a little distance between us. Not that I was afraid of him, but nor was I keen on anyone getting up in my face. “Yes, I do. I’ve enjoyed working there and I think I have a lot to offer them.”
“No. Come on.” He about-faced again and started pacing back and forth outside Inkaho, Pat’s tattoo parlor. Light shined around the edges of the large framed illustrations hanging in the front window, hiding the bulk of the interior from view. I guess if you were getting your ass inked, having people walking past and seeing in would not be desirable.
“Lydia!” he shouted.
I jumped in surprise, starting to get a wee bit pissed off myself.
He squinted at me like I was beyond recognition. Like I was just some shit on his shoe.
“First you get engaged to a guy you barely know,” he said. “Get sucked into that poisonous fucking family. Now you’re jumping straight into this? You’ve only worked there a couple of days.”
“I have given this some thought. I’ve seen how they work, I’ve looked at their figures,” I said, standing as tall as possible. “And there’s going to be a month-long trial period to give all of us a chance to assess whether it will work or not. I’m not just jumping into anything.”
“Christ.” His laughter was so not funny. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you never learn?”
Huh. Nice to know what he really thought of me.
“Well?”
I just shrugged. “Well, what?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“No.” I crossed my arms, watching his anger grow and grow. He stared at me, face a mask of fury and frustration. Sucked to be him. “I don’t owe you any answers, Vaughan. Not about my business decisions. Not about my life. And especially not while you’re behaving like an asshole and insulting me.”
He swallowed hard, turning away. “Well, I am not staying here, not for this kid, and not for you.”
“Who the hell asked you to?” I shouted, voice echoing up and down the empty street. “I mean, seriously.”
He stopped.
“You seem to think this is all some grand conspiracy to trap you in town. It’s not.”
He scoffed.
“Go and make merry with Conn and Henning Peters in L.A. These people don’t need you here,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “For what … ten years? For ten years they’ve all managed just fine on their own. So shit happened. Shit always happens. The world turns round and people screw up, they make mistakes. Your presence here wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.”
In silence, he glared at me.
“They don’t need you, and neither do I.” I stood tall, something inside of me breaking, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your parents and your sister isn’t living up to your expectations of exactly what she should or shouldn’t be doing. Thing is, we’re all only human and people do die.”
His nostrils flared in fury.
“Deal with your shit, Vaughan. Mourn your parents. Get over your guilt. Give you and your sister a break. Do whatever the hell you need to, to be all right.” Too many emotions were running wild. I wrapped my arms around me, trying to hold myself together. “But understand, you’re not god. Your family and friends here will manage without you if going back to the coast is what you have to do to feel right with yourself.”
“It is,” he gritted out, hands clenched into fists. Such an angry-man pose. “Of course it is. There’s the biggest fucking opportunity of my life back there. Not here.”
“Great. Go.” I nodded stiffly. “But don’t get pissed at me because what I want—this town—these people, are what you’re giving away.”
Nothing.
And seriously, fuck this. Fuck all of it. “I think we’ve talked enough tonight. Would you mind driving me home, please, or would you prefer I caught a cab?”
For a minute he stared at me, then he stalked toward his parked car. I stood, staring after him. Fucking males with their fucking issues. Fuck them all. I tried to slow my breathing, to calm my shit.
It didn’t really work.
Down the street, he unlocked his car and climbed in, slamming the door shut. Give me strength. The thought of getting into a small enclosed space with him did not appeal. One of us might wind up dead. Maybe I should just walk home. Not home. It would never be home. It was a nice quiet night now that Mr Shoutypants had shut his trap. Of course, I hadn’t exactly been a decorous young lady myself.
Gah. Whatever. Stars were shining. The moon was glowing. All that beautiful shit.
Vaughan revved the engine, headlights cutting through the night. Then he just sat there, waiting for me, I guess. My feet stayed put. This was a change. I’d always been so keen to get close to him.
But now, well … what to do?
That’s when the chair came crashing through the tattoo parlor’s front window out onto the sidewalk. Glass shattered, flying everywhere. I fell sideways onto my hip, landing hard on the cement, arms covering my head. The sudden barrage of noise was stunning. The chair skidded past me, metal legs striking sparks against the concrete. It came to a stop against the pole for a street sign, declaring the speed limit.
Then, nothing. Absolute silence.
Cautiously, I raised my head. Two people stood staring at me in shock from inside Inkaho. Fair enough, really. The scene was surreal. Light glinted off the myriad of broken glass. It looked like diamonds or stars or something. Something pretty but bloodletting. No way could I put my hands down, push myself up onto my feet. Guess I might stay put for a moment. Consider the situation.
“Lydia! Shit,” Nell yelled from inside the tattoo shop, then ran toward the door, rattling the lock. “Pat, open it.”
Instead, the man climbed directly out over the ruined remains of the shop window. Crunch, crunch, crunch, came from beneath his boots.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I, ah…” I looked around, waiting for my brain to catch up.
“Is she okay?” yelled Nell, watching out the broken shop window.
“Not sure,” said Pat.
Footsteps came running toward me. That was Vaughan. His Converse didn’t make as much noise as Pat’s boots. Why this mattered, I have no idea. I might have been ever so slightly in shock. Despite all the glass, Vaughan didn’t hesitate to kneel at my side.
“Babe?” He lifted my face to the light, inspecting me for damage. “Let me see. You all right?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You sure?”
“I’m really not sure of anything anymore.”
A grunt. The man got to his feet, then eased his hands into my armpits and stood me up too. No trace of anger remained. His concerned gaze continued sweeping over me, looking for any hint of maiming. “Does anything hurt?”
“What a weird fucking night,” I whispered.
“Hey, tune me in.” He gently cupped my face, mouth set in a straight serious line. “Are you sure you’re okay? Does anything hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head slowly, feeling out my body from the inside. I wiggled my fingers and toes, moved my head this way and that. All major limbs were still attached. No pool of blood surrounded me. Okay, good. “Just a little where I landed on my hip.”
Next came Boyd, Rosie, and Masa, running out of the Dive Bar.
“What happened?” asked Rosie, voice all high and excited.
“Pat got some bad news,” said Nell, voice wobbling slightly.
It didn’t take a degree in rocket surgery to figure out what the news had been. Nell had told Pat about the baby. Pat had lost it and thrown the chair. Despite their separation. Despite their divorce. Shoulders bowed, Pat seemed lost, wounded. Nell looked about the same. It still didn’t give him license to start throwing furniture through shop windows, however.
The amount of yelling, drama, and violence in the last seven days had been insane. In total contrast to my family’s own studied indifference. As if caring too much was an error, an embarrassment. Fact is, by the time things disintegrated to this degree, my parents would have long since moved on. I’d been given the same option and yet here I stood.
Staying was the right decision. It was.
Meanwhile, Masa swore while Boyd stood back, scowling.
“Christ, Lydia,” said Pat, eyes anguished. He rubbed at his face with both hands. “If I’d hurt you … shit.”
A police siren wailed in the distance.
“It’s okay,” I announced to one and all. Despite all evidence to the contrary. “Everything’s fine.”
“What a mess,” said Nell, a tear trailing down her cheek.
I could only agree.