Always and Forever (5 page)

“Ya think?” That comes out hateful but I don’t care. I’m so tired of it all. And it’s
not that I’m being egotistical in thinking that he couldn’t have just broken up with
me, but I know him too well and I’ve almost broken my brain trying to figure out what
the reason was but tonight I find I just don’t give a shit.

“Where are you?”

“My office.”

“I’ll be there in a few. You got cups ‘cause I don’t really wanna share a bottle.”

“You know I do.”

“See you in a sec,” she says and hangs up.

~~~

“I so thought Mr. Batchelder was going to win me,” Ryan says, filling my teacup from
the bottle of Knob Creek she got for Christmas from a customer.

I laugh then take a drink making a face not used to drinking straight bourbon or whiskey
or whatever this is. We’re sitting on the loveseat that’s at the back of my store
with our feet up on the coffee table, high heels on the floor under it.

“Who got this for you?” I ask.

“Sean Matthews, Mr. Sexy Football Coach,” she answers, biting her lip. “If he didn’t
have a girlfriend, although I’ve never seen her, I’d be all over him like herpes on
a vag—”

I slap a hand over her mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that.”

She snorts when I take my hand away then clanks her teacup against mine before taking
a drink. “So, you doing better now?”

I down what’s left in my cup and she refills it. “I’m still pissed,” I say with a
shrug. “But one more cup of this and I might not give a shit anymore.”

“There’s your answer. Just stay drunk all the time and you won’t be mad.”

I roll my eyes. “Did you talk to Mike?”

“No, but they gave him my number, so I’m waiting to see what he’s gonna have me do
for a whopping thirty bucks, Ms. I Got Bought for Five Hundred Dollars. Jesus, that’s
a lot of cash.”

I purse my lips. “I know. So stupid.” I finish off the rest of my drink and welcome
the fogginess that’s starting to invade my head giving me a slight reprieve from my
worries. Ryan just might have something with the staying drunk all the time gig.

She lifts her cup to her mouth and says before drinking, “At least the money’s going
to a good cause.”

I laugh and take the bottle from her filling my cup again. “I hope the park people
erect an elephant with a slide coming out of its ass in his honor.”

Ryan giggles. “Or a fountain with a woman vomiting out the water.”

“In my likeness and flipping everyone off,” I add and smirk at the thought.

“Good one.”

“I wonder what Brody’s gonna want me to do.” I curl my legs up under me, covering
them with my dress as I turn to face her resting my cup on my thigh.

She puts her head back against the loveseat and looks at me. “You probably don’t want
me to answer that.”

“God, is your mind always in the gutter?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m thinking I’ll just give the city the five-hundred dollars and they can void his
check. Then I won’t have to worry about it.”

“You’re no fun.”

I shrug. We sit in silence for a bit drinking, both of us wondering what these guys
are going to make us do. She’s had two more cups than I have now and I know that’s
not good because she’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. I’m about to tell her
to slow down when my phone rings. “Hey, Greer,” I answer. “Tell Clay thanks for trying.”

“Hi, Greersy-poo!” Ryan hollers.

I put the phone on speaker. “Hey, Ry,” Greer replies. “Yeah, he tried. Sorry, Pipe.
We just couldn’t justify putting up Addie’s college fund to bail you out of being
won by Brody.” She snorts. “Where are you guys?”

“My store getting plastered. You should join us,” I tell her.

“I would but we’re leaving in the morning and I don’t want to deal with a hangover
and being in the car for an hour with Addie wanting to play ‘Where’s the moo cow’
all the way home.”

“Aw! I don’t want you to leave yet,” I say with a pout.

“I know but Clay works Monday and I’ve got a mani-pedi scheduled. Maybe you can come
up next weekend?”

“Maybe. Unless I’m having to be Brody’s fucking slave.”

“Oooh, a fucking slave. I’m thinking that might kinda be fun.” She chuckles again.

“I see you’ve got jokes tonight,” I snap. Ryan’s cracking up so I smack her arm and
give her a scowl.

“Hey!” she grumbles, scowling at me then she smiles suddenly. “Wouldn’t mind being
Mike’s fucking slave,” she retorts and starts laughing again. Yep. She’s drunk.

“Drunkard,” I remark, shaking my head at her.

“Takes one to take one!” she counters having no clue what she’s said.

“Why’re you getting drunk and this shit’s not even affecting me?” I ask, leaning forward
to pick up the bottle to check out the alcohol percentage.

Greer chimes in, “It’s because your adrenaline is going crazy. Brody got you all hot
and bothered.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Lighten up. Look, you haven’t had fun in a year. Have some fun. Stop being so serious
about everything. We all know Brody’s a good guy, he just screwed up. Find out why.
You’ll feel better,” Greer advises.

“Yeah!” Ryan adds. “You can be like Veronica Mars all sneaky and shit! I’ll help you
too!”

“That does sound kinda fun. I’ll think about it.” I hear Addie crying in the background.
“She’s still up?”

Greer huffs. “She’s on a sugar high.
Someone
shouldn’t have given her some of their cotton candy.” I hear Clay holler, “The way
she ate it was so cute, though!” and I chuckle. “Gotta go and see if I can get her
down,” my sister acknowledges.

“Okay. Thank you for everything. I love you. You all be careful going home tomorrow,”
I say.

“Love you too. We will. Call me this week!”

After we hang up, Ryan asks what I think Mike might want her to do. I finish what’s
left in my cup as Ryan pours herself another, drinking it down quickly, suddenly nervous.

“I don’t know. Usually, when someone pays thirty bucks, which is well above the norm,
mind you, they have them do some sort of menial task. Maybe he’s gonna have you do
his dishes or something,” I reply.

“I hope he doesn’t want me to do his laundry. Guys’ laundry is disgusting.” She makes
a face.

“Then again, maybe it’s just a cover for him to ask you out.”

She lets out a squeal at that prospect all giddy and shit then proceeds to jump up
and run to my bathroom and puke her brains out.

“Guess I was full,” she says, looking up at me from where she kneels in front of the
toilet and wincing.

I laugh. “Yeah, I guess you were. At least you already had your hair pulled back.”

“Ever the optimist,” she mutters and wipes her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Yep, that’s me. Ever the optimist.” I roll my eyes as I get a washrag out of the
cabinet and run it under the cold water. When it’s good and wet, I wring it out then
kneel down beside her and wipe her face.

She leans to the side resting her head against the wall. “Thanks, Pipe.”

“Least I can do, Ry. God knows you’ve had to take care of me lots of times this past
year. This is just one of my turns.”

“Just one? Oh, God, you mean I’m gonna do this stupid shit again?”

I laugh. “The way we are, odds are looking pretty good,” I answer and she groans.

She closes her eyes and I don’t want her to fall asleep in my bathroom, so I ask,
“Ready to go home?”

Eyes still closed, she nods. I help her up, get her jacket on her and my sweater on
me then we stumble out to my awesome black Charger (the one thing I splurged on after
the break up to make me feel better which it did but didn’t, if that makes sense)
to take her home. She only lives two blocks south of my store so we’re there in no
time. I’ve got a key to her house and business as she does mine, so after unlocking
the door I get her inside, undressed and in bed. When I set a bottle of water and
some aspirin on her nightstand, she grabs my hand before I leave.

“Pipe, you really think Mike wants to go out with me?”

I frown and sit down on her bed next to her hating that she’s even the least bit apprehensive
about it all. “Of course. And if he doesn’t, his loss. You’re gorgeous. Funny. Sweet.
If he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you to begin with.” I cup her cheek
in my palm. “Chicks before dicks, though, right?”

She snorts. “Always. Love you, Pipe…”

And she’s out.

I drive back through town going home to my cute little Cape Cod styled house which
is three blocks from my store. I bought it for a song three years before when a local
couple had to move quickly because of the husband’s job relocation. When I bought
it, it wasn’t in great condition or very cute, so Dad and I set out to make repairs
and make it “me.” Now it’s perfect with yellow siding, black shutters, a red front
door and two gabled dormer windows up top that have flower boxes which in the spring
and summer boast colored varieties of dwarf zinnias and moss rose, and I absolutely
adore it. When Brody and I were together, we spent almost equal amounts of time at
each other’s places although I preferred mine since I had everything I needed to cook.
He’d asked me to move in with him several times, but I loved my house and didn’t want
to leave it, and thank God I hadn’t sold it or I’d have ended up out on the street
or living with Mom and Dad.

As I drive down Main Street, I notice that Jen’s is looking pretty busy and it’s only
a little after eleven, so I decide to check it out, maybe get a bead on the buzz around
town about Brody and me while I’m a tiny bit mellowed out from Ryan’s booze. I mean,
what better way to find out about yourself but to ask other people. Jeez. When I get
inside I see one of the bands that performed at the Hullabaloo is on stage, the lead
singer crooning out an old George Strait song.

“Piper!”

To my right, Finley Hawkins is grinning and waving me over. She graduated high school
a year after I did and is not only one of our part-time librarians but also the one
and only reporter for our town’s newspaper, the
Serenity Point Post,
covering everything from the latest news, arrests, and obituaries to high school sports.
She’s a little taller than I am and really thin (I think it’s because she was a track
star in high school and still runs daily) but she eats like a horse. Believe me, I’ve
seen her at the Fourth of July celebration in the park where the city uses funds from
the Hullabaloo to serve free hotdogs, drinks and chips and it isn’t pretty.

Ryan’s always chewing Fin out because she gets so caught up in her book reading and
newspaper writing (because
so
much happens here in the Point), she doesn’t take a lot of time on her appearance,
usually wearing her long auburn hair in a messy bun with at least one pencil sticking
in it and no makeup, which she actually doesn’t need because she’s got gorgeous skin
with freckles that dot her nose and cheeks. But her clothing choices do sometimes
make me chuckle. There’ve been plenty of times I’ve seen her walking down the street
past my store either busy talking into her recorder or writing something down and
wearing Round House overalls that are two sizes too big. But I see that tonight she’s
made it out of her house wearing faded blue jeans and a gray sweater with a black
skull on it and her hair’s in a high ponytail. Good for her.

“Hey, Fin! You get a lot about the Hullabaloo for the paper?” I ask as I take a seat
on a barstool at her table for two.

“I did! And you’re just the person I wanted to see.” She smiles big at me.

Hoo boy. She was at the auction and wants the scoop on Brody and me, I’m sure. Just
what I want, an article in the paper so everyone can fact check what they’ve already
heard through the grapevine with the details of my story.

“What’ll it be, Pipe?” Martina, the best waitress at Jen’s, asks.

“Hey, Martina. Just the light beer on tap, please,” I answer. She smiles and murmurs,
“Gotcha,” then goes to her next table.

I look back at Fin and play dumb. “Why am I who you want to see?”

“Well, first of all, how’d business go today?”

Ah. She’s stalling before she gets to the juicy part. Maybe if I keep her busy with
my sales, she’ll forget to ask about the auction.

“It went great! I took in almost three times more than I average a week and seven
hundred more than last year, which is amazing. How’d the other businesses do?” This
should distract her enough for her to stay away from the dangerous questions.

“Oh, you’re the first person I’ve talked to about it. Now, about the auction…”

Ergh.

“So, how do you feel about Brody’s bidding on you?”

Martina brings my beer which I take from her hand and down a big drink. If I tell
Fin about the whiskey I drank earlier, maybe I can claim that a sudden case of inebriation
has rendered me incapable of answering questions right now. If she doesn’t buy that,
I can always behave like a mean drunk, my belligerence making her cease any and all
questions about the auction. As I take another drink, I grip the table wondering if
it’s too heavy for me to flip in case I have to prove I’ve given in to firewater fury.

I set my mug down but bring it back up for another go, and what do you know, I need
another.

“Uh, hang on. I’ve gotta get Martina’s attention.” I wave my hand until Martina finally
sees me and nods. I look back at Fin. “Think I need another one in me before I answer.
But I’ve gotta warn you, Ryan and I already had, like, an entire bottle of whiskey
that Sean Matthews gave her for Christmas, so I might suddenly become antagonistic
and behave in an untoward manner, just so you know.”

But wait a minute. Was that a flicker in her big brown eyes I saw at the mention of
Sean’s name? Hm. I might’ve found a diversion to my impending interview.

“You know, Sean holds the record for most wins of any coach at the high school,” I
say, observing her carefully.

“I know! In the three years he’s been here, he’s garnered more wins than any other
coach in the history of the program,” she states matter-of-factly.