Cookie Cutter (16 page)

The way she says it makes me laugh. I’m pretty sure she just slurred her esses.

“All of
what
is hitting you all of a sudden?”

“The tequila.”

Okay, so, not high. “You drunk, Iris?”

She points at me, decisively. “Tipsy. Wow, this stuff strikes fast and hard.”  Then she spits out a laugh. “Fast and hard.”

I lift an eyebrow, confused. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I had a thing with Captain Morgan for a while, after James left but . . .” She blows some air out through her lips, making raspberries. “That’s over now. I haven’t had much to drink in a long, long time.” She draws out the last part of her explanation and I try not to think about what she means by
a thing
.

“Iris?”

“Mmm?”

“What kind of carnival is this anyway?”

“Well, a few years back some of the dads were bored, I guess. They built this bad boy and became insistent
upon including it the following year.” She pats the table top of the bar she’s standing next to. “It’s one of our biggest money makers.”

“No doubt.”

She orders another something-whatever she’s having that has tequila in it.

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

I look at my watch.

Fifteen minutes, tops. Maybe twenty.

“I only had a few shots.”

My eyebrows go up, up and away. “Shots?”

She puts her index finger and thumb about an inch apart, right up in front of her nose. “Yeah but they were just little ones.” She has a strong sense of being honest, I realize, when she adds, “I was nervous.”

“How many?”

She holds up two fingers. “Three.”

Her next one arrives and she slams it back like she’s done it all her life. Except she hasn’t apparently. No wonder she’s sloshed.

“Ohhh kay
Marion Ravenwood
, maybe we should get you home.”

Iris sniggers as I pull her away from the bar and wave to the nice shithead that decided this
was a good idea.

“Who?”

“Indiana Jones, she . . . never mind.” If she doesn’t know the scene, there’s no sense in my trying to explain it to her.

“Oh look there’s Alex. Hi Alex!” she screams over the noise.

Alex is standing with a dude who looks to be a boyfriend of some sort. She glances around until she sees me with Iris and then heads over toward us. I’m convinced this is not going to go down well until she’s standing in front of me, hugging our neighbor. I give Alex a puzzled look.

“When did this happen?”

She smirks. “Oh Iris and I had a nice, long talk yesterday.” Then she adds to Iris, “You okay, sport?”

Iris gives her a lopsided smile. “Awesome.”

Alex eyes me.

“I had nothing to do with it. I swear,” I say. “But I
am
walking her home.”

“Good idea.”

“Oh, I can’t leave!” Iris steps away from me, or tries to anyway. “I have to take care of things, they’ll be lost without me.”

I laugh and nod. “Uh huh.”

Then Alex puts an arm around her and shows her the whole of the event from where we’re standing.

“Iris, take a look around you. Look how smoothly this carnival is running. I’m sure they’ll be fine. You don’t have to be here until the bitter end. I promise.”

Iris thinks on it. Then gets an idea. “Will you tell Meg to close up shop for me?”

“Um, no.” Seems like interacting with Meg is a hard limit for Alex.

“How about Todd, you don’t know Todd but he’s a good man, he’ll tell Meg.”

“Okay, that I can do. Where is he?”

She tells her and then Alex gives me back my date before shooting me one last look of warning before we go. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say, and then we leave the event all together, which is completely fine with me because I hate crowds.

* * *

“Okay, well, now that I know you’re home safe and sound, I’ll just . . .” I lean in and press my lips against the corner of her mouth. It’s meant to represent what we’ve agreed upon. More than just friends, less than lovers, but I don’t pull away immediately, like I should. When I do, Iris’s eyes are downcast. I can’t read her right now. I figure it’s safest to just go. So I do.

As I turn to leave, she takes my hand. “Stay.”

And now her eyes are on me. This isn’t the Iris I’ve come to know since arriving in Spangler. She’d never invite me in. Never. Not that easily. There’s only one explanation for her behavior right now.

She’s drunk. Tipsy. Whatever.
This is not good.

“I should go, Iris.” I really should. And that’s probably that. She won’t ask again.

If she asks again, I’ll stay.

“Please?” She looks up at me like it took everything she had to say those words.

Good enough.

I nod. “Okay.”

I follow her inside and turn on a light.

“Too bright.” Iris groans. “Leave it off and I’ll light a candle.”

She pulls the drawer to a small table in the foyer open and picks up a lighter.

“Why don’t you let me handle that,” I says. “You . . . sit.”

Iris smiles this old black and white movie kind of smile, then moves to the couch. I find a few candles to light before I join her. She’s taken everything out of her pockets, and strewn them onto the coffee table. Her phone, her keys, some money . . . and she’s waiting for me to sit.

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here, Iris.” I take a seat next to her.

I’m not an idiot, I know what I’m doing here. What I’m unsure of is why Iris is here with me. Right now. Like this. She stares at me, not answering at first. The subtle glow of her candles lighting the room are just enough for me to see a little more than the outline of her face. She looks so innocent. Naive. Still, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her lips or stop thinking about how much I’d like to kiss them again. She slides down the couch toward me and stops only inches away. I have no idea what to expect and I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous too. I’d hate to start something . . . or for
her
to start something that neither one of us can stop.

“You shouldn’t feel bad you know,” she whispers it like she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. The irony of the situation is that we’re alone.

Aside from the fact that she’s sitting so close, I can smell her shampoo and want to bury my nose into her hair, push her back into the couch and see where things go, I’m confused. I don’t feel bad about anything. Not right this minute, anyway.

“Why’s that?” I try to get my hormones under control but just as I begin to, Iris’s hand slides to my thigh. God help me.

“I struggled my first night of spin, too,
shhhhhhhhhhhhh
.”

The heat from her hand warms through my jeans. It’s distracting, but not enough to keep me from laughing slightly. Not only over the fact that she still thinks about that horrid incident, but that she has the ability to slur a
shhhhh
. It’s beyond my comprehension.

She shrugs. “Of course, I didn’t pass out.”

“I thought we established that was your fault.”

She’s so close right now. So damn close.
What am I doing?

“And I do think you’re sexy.” She puts her fingers to my lips. Her eyes peek up at mine. “But don’t tell Carter I said that.”

“Iris---”

I’m not really going anywhere with that. I just feel like I need to say her name, that’s all. Maybe I’m supposed to ask her if she’s sure she wants to do this. Whatever
this
is. It doesn’t matter. In this moment, on this couch, in this house, Iris knows what she wants. My heart races as she leans toward me. I don’t move. Her eyes close just before her lips reach mine and when they do, my lids lower as well. She’s soft, and slow, and when she gets the reaction she wants from me, her hand moves from my thigh to my groin. Both my hands move to her neck and I hold her still as I deepen the kiss to tell her how good that feels. Iris moves and I might have the urge to complain except for the fact that she’s not getting up. Instead she’s hitching a leg over my lap and pushing me back down into the couch for better access.

My hands move to her waist. When I pull her against me, I let out a low grunt. “I knew there was a bad girl inside you somewhere.”

A soft whimper escapes Iris. “I didn’t know she existed until you showed up, Carter Blackwood.”

She puts her lips against my neck and presses her chest against mine. She unbuttons the top button of my shirt and bends down. She places a kiss at the base of my neck that sends a shiver through my entire body. At button number two, her lips follow and her body shifts. My head falls back and I ask the ceiling, “Why?” silently.

I should have made my own move by now. I’ve been in this same moment, several times with several different women, but somehow this one is different. It’s Iris.
She’s
different. That’s why, when she starts on button number three, I grab her hands. She jerks to a stop and eyes me, annoyed that I’ve brought a halt to whatever plan she’s got concocting in that head of hers.

“What the problem?”

I shake my head. “No problem, I just can’t do this. Not with you. Not like this.”

Jesus, why is my voice shaking?

She pulls her hands out of my grasp, angry now. “What do you mean
not with me
?”

“Iris, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy.”

“Okay, tipsy.” She’s drunk. But I’m not going to argue with her.

Still.

“But this isn’t how this is going to happen.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“But it’s going to happen?”

I laugh. “I think that’s a conversation for another day.”

She slides off of me and pouts. I get up from the couch before I change my mind about doing the right thing. “For now, let me get you some water.”

Iris smack her lips and nods her head, obediently. I go the kitchen, find a glass, fill it to the rim and by the time I get back to the couch, Iris is passed out. Cold.

I should pick her up and put her to bed except, I don’t know where her bedroom is. So instead, I find a pillow and a blanket. I put the pillow under her head and lay the blanket over top of her. Convinced I’ve done all I can, I figure I should go. Her phone vibrates across the coffee table. Normally I wouldn’t answer it but I can clearly see the name Ally flashing across the screen. I hesitate just long enough for the vibrating to stop and I want to kick myself for not grabbing it when it starts again. And now I know I should answer it.

“Ally?”

“Who is
this
? Where’s my mom?” She’s crying.

“It’s Carter, and she’s um . . .” I look down at Iris, sleeping off the shots she had tonight. “Indisposed, what’s wrong?”

“Never mind, it’s not important anyway---”

“Bullshit, kid, talk to me.” Iris would kill her if I left it at that. Hell, she’d kill
me
if I left it at that.

“Well,” she says after a minute of silence. “I was supposed to get a ride home with Blake but he hooked up some
slut
at the party after I told him I don’t give blow jobs and Karen already left with Jane and Cyndy, and I have no idea who else to ask here. I mean I kinda know some of the kids but mom says don’t ride with people unless I know for a fact they aren’t trouble and---”

“Okay, okay.”
Jesus.
“Listen, tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

“Why would you do that?” She sniffles.

“Because I can.”

Ally sounds like she’s crying again for a few seconds but then she regains her composure and gives me the address. I have absolutely no idea why she poured her heart out to me just now but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Better me than some dick who wants nothing more than to take advantage of her.

I lock up at Iris’s and head for my truck across the street. A woman squeals with laughter in the distance. Meg, over at her place, shamelessly making out with some new guy I can’t see, against his Jaguar. I shake my head at her hypocrisy over Alex, as I hop into the truck. And I have a feeling she won’t be closing up shop for Iris tonight either. But whatever. Not my business.

Chapter 13. Iris

Oh my god.

My head.

Ow ow ow ow ow.

And what time is it?

I try to lift it but it makes the pain worse.

I haven’t felt like this in . . .

Ow.

Who cares?

I didn’t even have that many shots.

I don’t think.

There’s so much sleep in my eyes that it’s difficult to open them. Eventually, I manage to pry one open and see the blurry image of what might be pain remedy sitting on the coffee table.

I groan. Why did I do shots? Why?

Because you thought it would make things go a little more smoothly and less awkward with Carter, that’s why
.

Why did I agree to that date? Why?

After giving up on being introspective, I somehow manage to sit up. I have to work to focus on the bottle of water next to the Aleve that’s teasing me from about a foot away. I pick it up and take a long drink in hopes that it will rehydrate my body. Quickly. It doesn’t. But it feels good as the liquid travels through my system. There’s also a note stuck to the bottom of the bottle. I pull it off and set the water down. I have to blink several times before I can actually read it.

Take two of these and call me later. - C

Carter.

I smile at the gesture. It was nice, walking the event grounds with him last night. Chatting about nothing. My hand in his. He has nice hands.

Carter’s hands.

On me.

No, my hands. On his . . .

“Oh God.”

I drop the note. What in the hell happened last night anyway? We were at the carnival and then I had a shot or two.

Or five.

Then we came back here. I look around. Nothing seems out of sorts. Then I look at myself. My clothes are still on. That’s a good sign.

Thank God.

But still – I was all over him. On this couch. I can’t imagine what he must think of me right now. Slowly, I reach for the Aleve bottle. I take two and down them with the water he left me. Then I wish I was dead.

I hope nobody saw us coming back to my house last night.

I hope Carter doesn’t think I’m a slut.

I hope my daughter doesn’t think I’m a slut.

I hope this pounding stops soon.

I put my head in my hands and lean forward, rocking slightly. The faint clinking of spoon against bowl comes from somewhere in the room. Ally is sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of something. Cereal maybe. I think it’s morning anyway.

And my regret really kicks in.

I stand and shuffle my way over to the kitchen entryway. I pause at the door and check the time.

Two-forty. Jesus.

Ally gets up and pulls out some fruit and yogurt from the refrigerator.

“What time did Karen bring you home?” My voice comes out in somewhat of a croak.

“Um.” She looks for something else to add to her snack items.

“Ally?”

“Well.”

She’s stalling.

“Allison Rose Alden.”

Ow.

“Carter brought me home, actually.”

The pounding subsides, taking a back seat to . . .
huh?

“Carter?”

She nods but doesn’t offer any further information. Which makes me completely crazy. She knows this.

“I don’t understand. Did Karen’s car break down? And why didn’t you call me? And how in the hell did you get a hold of Carter? He---”

“Answered your cell phone.” She pauses in her search for food to look at me, pointedly. “When I called you.”

Oh.

“Wait. Why did Carter need to come get you?”

“Mom.” She slams the refrigerator door closed. “Can we just drop it? I went, I had a good time, mostly, and I made it home safely. Jeez.”

She gathers up her food and tries to leave the kitchen all together but I step in her path.

“No, we can’t . . .
drop it
. Talk to me.” Even talking loud is making me want to lie back down, but I can’t.

“It’s complicated,” Ally says.

She shakes her head and turns her back to me. Oh, she really wants to leave it at that but that’s not happening.

“Spell it out for me then.”

She breathes out. I know she hates to talk to me these days but this sounds . . . important.  When she sits down at the table, I join her. Then I wait until she’s ready to talk.

“Blake was there,” she says.

I knew it.
“The boy you met through Karen.”

“Right.”

“The one that gave you a ride home a few times.”

“Yes, mom, do you want me to tell this story or not?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

She breathes out heavy and her shoulders slump. “Anyway,” her hands go stiff and she cuts the air with them at the same time. “We got to talking, and after a while, Karen wanted to go, she was bored, but I didn’t feel like leaving, so . . . Blake offered to take me home.”

“Ally!”

“I know mom. I know. Okay?” She puts her hands to her head and rubs.

“Well, what happened? Obviously he didn’t bring you home.”

“He was acting . . . jerkish.”

“Jerkish how?”

“Just . . . jerkish, mom, that’s all you need to know.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. Harshly.

“You know how guys can get.”

“He didn’t touch you did he? Because if he touched you in any way shape or form---”

Her laughter cuts me off. “Oh my god, no Mom, he didn’t touch me. I don’t think he’s that
big of a jerk.”

I let out a sigh of relief and relax a little.

“And anyway, he found some other girl to mess with, which kinda left me stranded for the evening – so I called you. Carter said you were sleeping and he told me to tell him where I was. I did and he came and got me.”

“He did?”

How incredibly sweet.

“Yeah, he’s . . . kinda cool, I guess.” She rolls her eyes a bit.

It looks to me like it’s actually quite difficult for her to say this. I know she must mean it.  I sit there, letting her story sink in.

And I am the worst mom EVER. I squeeze my face in between my hands.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t . . . I mean I’m . . .”

“Mom. It’s cool. I’m home. You’re home. We’re all home.”

My chin rests in the palm of my hand and I let out a silent chuckle. If only I could think that logically more often. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. She graces me with a true Ally smile, then gathers her “snack” and heads for the stairs.

“Ally? Why didn’t you call your father?” I ask as an afterthought.

“I tried, actually,” she says. “After I talked to Carter, but he wasn’t answering his phone. I left him a message.”

“Ally.”

“What?”

“What if he’d answered? Carter was already on his way to get you.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t really care at that point. Carter’s this weird, old, stranger guy I don’t even know and dad is . . . dad.”

My mouth gapes. I cannot believe this child sometimes.

“That was before I rode home with him,” she says.

“And now?”

She pulls a shoulder up to her chin. “He’s okay.”

As she makes her way up the stairs, my inquiry isn’t quite finished. “What are you up to today?”

“Chemistry test tomorrow. Gotta study,” she says with her mouth full of apple.

“Hold on a second.” I stop her before she can disappear for the remainder of the evening. “I don’t like the fact that Karen left without you.”

“I told her to go, mom, don’t blame her.”

“Ally you and your friends are living in a much different time than when I was younger. You need to learn that even if your friend says to go ahead and go without you, you don’t. What if that boy had tried to hurt you, or worse?”

“But he didn’t – and don’t worry, that’s never going to happen again.”

“Come here.”

She steps back down to where I’m standing and I grab hold of her and hug her tight. Thankful nothing did
happen this time.

“It’s hard to let go sometimes, honey. But you know I love you. Right?”

She hugs me back. “I know mom. I love you too.”

As she’s heading up to her room, she stops. “He checked on you earlier.”

“Who? Carter?”

“Yup, wanted to make sure you hadn’t died of alcohol poisoning or something.” Then, she’s gone.  

Her bedroom door closes and in addition to feeling completely busted for drinking, I’m also . . . flattered. I peek over at Carter’s house from the front window. He isn’t outside, which is a relief to some extent. It’s ridiculous that I’m a prisoner of my own home right now. I can come and go as I please. I can for example, walk right out there and get that newspaper laying in my driveway if I want to. And I want to. I do.

But I don’t want to chance running into Carter. Not right now. It would be completely embarrassing considering I basically dry humped him on my living room couch last night.

Maybe tomorrow.

I really want that paper though so I check Carter’s front door and the garage. I peek around as best I can then I swing the door open and run-walk to the edge of the driveway. I bend and grab the paper and curse the delivery person for not making some
attempt at getting this damn thing a little closer to the door, and I turn to sprint back inside. I stumble a bit as my feet try to move faster than they are actually capable of. When I gain my balance, I revel in triumph as I approach the front door, and then . . .

“Morning, neighbor,” Alex calls from beside her car. She was apparently leaving for the night, then stopped her car, got out, and said hello just so I would know she saw me making a fool of myself. Gotta love her.

“Oh, hey, Alex.”

“Or should I say, afternoon?” She smiles. “How ya feeling today?”

“Better than a couple hours ago.”

“Good.”

“Did you ever find, um . . .”
Shit now I can’t even remember who I left in charge last night.

“Todd.”

“Right!” I snap my fingers. “Did you?”

She nods. “Found Todd, who had no idea where Meg was so we finished up ourselves.”

“You . . . Alex you didn’t have to do that, you aren’t even---”

“On the board,” she says, exaggeratedly. “I know but I wanted to help. And really, all I did was count out the drawer for the tickets.” She puts a hand on her hip. “How is it not one of those old ladies knows how to count up a drawer, Iris?”

I laugh a little bit. It doesn’t hurt, too badly.

“They’re so sweet, I can’t believe they stayed all night.”

“Bullshit they have more energy than some of the girls that dance at my bar and they’re one third those ladies ages.”

“I wonder what happened to Meg.” I say out loud, searching the street for her, instinctively. “I hope she didn’t come down with anything.”

“I’m sure Meg’s just fine, Iris.”

“You’re probably right.” I nod but in the back of my mind I still wonder what could have happened to her. “Thanks for helping.”

My sweet new friend waves me off as she slides back into her car. I give Carter’s house one more long hard stare before losing any sense of courage I might want to muster up and go say hello. Then I go back inside my own home, take two more Aleve, and go to bed.

* * *

The following morning I am so grateful that it is not Sunday anymore. I feel great and I am ready to get up and forget about the wasted day I spent sleeping. Somehow, I’m able to get Ally to get herself together and ready to go by six-forty-five. I leave earlier than usual, knowing Carter will be outside soon. When I don’t see him milling about, we pull out of the driveway and I breathe a grateful sigh. I pull away and try to pretend I wasn’t acting like a horny teenager a few short nights ago.

At work, things are good. Busy. I gladly take on every project Mark has for me because it keeps my mind off of having to go home and face Carter at some point. I can’t avoid that man forever. He’s proven that already. About mid-day, just after I come back from grabbing a bite to eat, there’s a bouquet of flowers sitting on my desk. Daisies. Every color you can think of. And they’re beautiful. When I check for a note, there isn’t one.

Mark walks by. “Not from me, I promise.”

I have to admit, I was worried. Once he’s in his office with his back turned toward his window, I pick the flowers up and bury my nose into the middle of them, taking a nice, long, deep inhale. I hum. And smile. And wonder if maybe . . . they might be from Carter.

No.

But maybe. I mean, who else could it be?