Identity Issues (10 page)

Annie could handle just Nick and Lizzie if I needed to get out. I hesitated for exactly three seconds. "Jon’s in Korea. I could sure use the break."

"Excellent," Tom said.

"Okay, I’ll be there by eight, so get there when you can."

"I can’t leave the kids alone too late, but I can stay for a few hours."

"See you then."

The Frozen Margarita, a beer and burger joint from my youth, used to be called the Flamingo. I noticed the changes as soon as I walked into the place. The walls still wore the same cotton candy pink, but the décor had been modernized with chairs upholstered in lime green and orange flame stitching. The main wall behind the staging area displayed a vibrant mural of senoritas in long flowing skirts, dancing with suited men in sequined sombreros.

Geometric prints hung on the vividly painted plaster. Lighting glowed low, and each seat offered a view of the dance floor and band. A mariachi band’s CD blared over the loudspeakers as patrons waited for the band to begin playing its first set.

I spotted Tom at the table closest to the stage. No surprise. I remembered his M.O. from our college years.

Mark had played the guitar since age eight. The only thing he truly loved and the only thing that kept his interests for more than a couple of months; his commitment still resonated, his muse chosen like a bride. Women had come and gone, but his lady guitar was his mate for life. An interesting guy, my brother. I loved him dearly.

Tom’s personality, on the other hand, shouted people person. He towered a foot above me. With the same raw good looks that Mark possessed, his baby blues and a muscular build drew all kinds of attention.

"Hey, Sis." He stood and kissed my cheek as I joined him.

"You realize that once I sit down at this table, I’m ruining your chances of meeting a girl tonight."

"Girls, schmirls," he said. "I’ve sworn off ‘em for the rest of my life. Who needs the aggravation?"

"It’ll get better." I gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

"Sure it will." His gaze followed a waitress sauntering towards the bar. "What’d you want to drink?"

"To tell you the truth, I’d love something slimy. Potent, too."

"Then you came to the right place." Tom ambled over to the bar.

Mark and the band plugged in their equipment, and I nodded to him when I caught his eye. Next, I perused the place. A total meat market, the men fashionably dressed in business casual, the women in their best bar wear. It had been a long time since I had frequented such an establishment. So much for the married mother of five.

It didn’t take long for a rode hard guy to show up and sit down without an invitation. No manners. So, this is how it’s done these days, I thought.

"I’m waiting for my brother to return from the bar," I said, hoping I sounded polite.

"Your brother, huh. That’s a new one."

Oh, goodie. A jackass right off the bat. Lucky for me, he was pretty drunk, too.

"Hey, Joe, you’re not bothering this pretty lady, are you?" asked a voice behind me.

I turned and looked up. Not bad. The guy wore a tweed sports coat, had broad shoulders, a solid body, and general good looks. I might be married, but I’m not dead.

"Hell, no, I’m not bothering her."

"Joe, it’s time to call you a cab." He gave his buddy a friendly slap on the back. To me, he said, "Sorry, ma’am. It’s been a long afternoon for Joe. Afraid he’s been here too long for his own good."

He put his hand under Joe’s arm, guiding him away from my table. I appreciated the rescue.

Tom arrived with my drink just as Joe’s friend escorted him outside.

"What was that all about?"

"Don’t ask. I lucked out when his friend showed up."

"You’ve still got it goin’ on, ya’ know? Just because you’re married and have kids doesn’t mean you’re not noticed."

"Thanks, Tom. I needed that. I can’t figure out why I draw the gross ones, though."

The music started as I sipped my drink. Cuervo Gold nuzzled in the bottom of my frozen Margarita. A soft mushy feeling enveloped me. I closed my eyes, swaying as I listened to Mark’s melodic tune. My brother. My fabulous musician brother. When he played guitar, it took me places. Even as kids, his music transported me to another world. Heaven, maybe.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Tom headed across the room to a table of women. I smothered a smile. Asks me to meet him at the bar and then leaves me high and dry so he can pursue some chick. I couldn’t blame him. He enjoyed being young and single, and I savored the kid–less solitude.

"Mind if I join you?" Joe’s friend again.

"You can join me, but I’m going to tell you right off the bat, I’m happily married, got a trainload of kids at home, and I’m enjoying a time–out from motherhood."

He laughed. His ready smile made his blue eyes sparkle. And he had dimples. I love dimples.

"Point well taken, ma’am." He sat down across from me.

The band’s volume reached the maximum decibel range. We’d hear each other only if we screamed. Maybe. Evidently he figured that out too, because as soon as he had planted himself, he scooted over into the chair next to mine. Hmmm, I thought. Cute and smart.

"My name is Jim, by the way."

I stuck out my hand.

"So, what brings you out on this fine evening?" he asked.

"That’s my brother playing the guitar." I pointed my index finger and brought my hand down as if firing a gun. "There." I figured that the ‘brother’ might be scarier than the five kids and the husband at home. I didn’t mind talking to an eye–catching man, but I didn’t want to encourage him.

"Talented guy. I’ve heard this group before."

"You come here often?" My turn to feel cheesy.

"No, just now and again."

"You must live nearby."

"Not too far. I work in the area. I periodically stop in for lunch, and every so often for a drink on my way home."

"You dress in a sports coat and work on Saturdays?" My curiosity got the better of me.

"I’m a detective for the local police. City of Lexington Heights, actually. My name is Jim McGrath."

I stared at him. Jim McGrath. Detective. Lexington Heights Police Department. He’d called me about the other Mrs. Stitsill. Could the world really be this small? Deep breath. In and out. Too damned freaky.

"Interesting line of work," I remarked.

"Some days."

The band got louder. The first set usually started slow and easy. I knew from past experience that things rocked and rolled to keep the customers interested, drinking, and on the premises. Jim and I had to discontinue our conversation until the song ended.

"So, what do you detect?" I asked.

"Whatever needs detecting," he answered, displaying his sense of humor.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I do. It’s not exciting all of the time, but there are cases that get me pretty wrapped up. I enjoy it when that happens."

"Family?"

"No. That was over a long time ago, and I haven’t had the heart to try it again since. What about you? You like what you do? You like your family, I take it." He nodded toward the band. "You’re spending time with your brothers."

"Family is a priority, for sure. Other than that, I’ve taught school pretty much since childhood. I wouldn’t know what else to do with myself. I love my gaggle of kids and my husband. The whole nine yards. I even like the picket fence."

"You have a picket fence?"

"Just a figure of speech," I said, smiling at him.

Mark joined us while the band took a break. Jim introduced himself, explaining he’d kept me company during the first set. Like I needed the protection of a law officer.

"Can I get you anything, Mark?" Jim asked as he stood. He must have been nervous since he high–tailed it to the bar as soon as Mark grabbed a seat.

"Just a Coke, man. Thanks." Mark turned to me. "What are you doing here?"

"Tom invited me. Five seconds after I arrive, some hot babe catches his eye and he ditches me."

"Sounds like Tom." Mark nodded.

"Of course, you wouldn’t personally know anything about it."

"That’s right. I’m done with women. By the way, did I tell you about trying the internet dating thing?"

I shivered with revulsion. "Spooky."

"That’s one word for it. One night, five women showed up here. They’d all posted photos of themselves on the net. Not one of them looked like their pics. Now that’s spooky."

I laughed. Couldn’t help myself.

He shuddered.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

Jim the detective reappeared. I surveyed him again, aided by my adult beverage, and he appeared even better looking than he had five minutes ago. Dangerous, but Mark and Tom would protect me from myself.

Jim placed a drink in front of me. An observant detective, he’d observed my beverage of choice. Mark and I thanked him in unison. Jim made small talk with Mark, asking the appropriate groupie questions until Mark excused himself to search for Tom.

Alone with Jim again, I wondered what the hell we’d talk about. I searched the crowd for Mark, and breathed a sigh of relief as he returned to the stage. The second set began, the bass rhythm smooth and even. No small talk required.

Jim seemed equally content to sit and listen to the music. All too aware of the peace I felt in this man’s quiet company, sort of like seeing an old friend again after a long absence, the easiness sent a surge of uneasiness through me.

When the band stopped playing, I zipped to the ladies room. I needed coffee. While sitting in a chair, I’d felt mellow. Being on my feet proved trickier than I’d imagined. I called home from the ladies room to check on the kids. All well on the home front. There is a God. I could take time for coffee.

I made it back to the table without a problem. Jim sat and chatted with Tom and Mark, both having reappeared during my absence. Sweet Tom asked if I’d like anything, and I said a little too loudly, "Black coffee."

He nodded and made his way across the room to the bar. The crowd filled in. It seemed like a good time for me to leave, before the place began to take on a life of its own, and me along with it. I certainly had the ability to take on the life of a place. At home as a wife and mother, at school as a teacher, at a bar as a floozy. Time for me to remember my real life and get the hell out of there.

The coffee helped. Jim and the boys shot music talk back and forth while I sipped caffeine. Before too long, I felt jolted awake. In another ten minutes or so, the band would start their third set. I’d finish my coffee and be on my way.

After Tom and Mark excused themselves, I met Jim’s gaze. "I’ve got a detective question for you. Do guns for hire really exist?"

Jim laughed. He found me amusing or strange. I couldn’t tell which.

I shrugged. "I know. A naïve question."

"Sure they do," he replied, looking incredulous. "What the hell kind of books do you read?"

"Mysteries, international intrigue. That sort of thing."

"I don’t know any assassins personally. After all, I’m just local blue. Not a Fed."

"I see."  My nerves kicked in, and I thought maybe the naïve tactic would work well at this point. "Listen, Jim, I’ve enjoyed meeting you and talking with you, but I need to get home."

"You okay to drive?" Such a gentleman.

"I am." I displayed a wide smile, trying my darndest not to be flirty. Sometimes I got flirty even when I didn’t mean to. This guy had my blood flowing hot and fast. He still looked attractive, even after the coffee. Trouble!

Jim reached into his inside suit coat pocket and withdrew a business card. "If you’re ever in need of a detective, give me a call."

He flashed a drop–dead gorgeous smile at me.

My insides melted. Just a little. "Thanks." I stifled the urge to tackle him right then and there. "Again, great talking with you. And good job getting your friend out of here intact."

"You take care, Samantha. It’s been my pleasure." Jim stood as I pushed in my chair and offered me his hand. I behaved and politely shook his hand.

I found Tom, giving him a quick kiss and the kid excuse. Then I located Mark, doing the same with him.

I believe in fate. There had to be a reason I’d met Jim McGrath tonight. I thought about this as I tucked his business card inside my purse and dug out a breath mint. I’d gotten a great parking spot under a light in the parking lot. I punched the unlock button on my remote and jumped into the driver’s seat of my van. Plenty to think about on my ride home.

M
ONDAY MORNING OPENED with a hands–on Social Studies project. The kids and I busied ourselves, excited about the assignment and carefully coloring maps as soon announcements ended. I felt energized after the weekend, feeling as though I’d somehow turned a corner. Not sure what corner exactly, but I felt it deep within my bones.

The morning flew by. My mind, over which I maintain sporadic control, strayed beyond the classroom. I needed a way inside the Stitsill home. I’d concocted a reasonable plan on my drive in that morning. A woman on a mission, I would soon set the wheels in motion. Di and I rendezvoused in the lunchroom. She, too, looked refreshed after the weekend.

"How was your date?" I asked, noticing an extra gleam in her eye. Her glance told me I’d misspoken. She wanted privacy. I tried to change the subject, but Ben caught on before I could switch gears.

"What, Rossi had a date?" Ben called everyone by their last names. I think it came from being a jock. The old pat–on–the–ass familiarity and part of his charm.

"No, Ben, I didn’t have a date." Di flashed him a winning smile and asked him about his weekend. "What about you, Ben? Did you have a date?"

"Yeah, me and Bud Light. We rented a couple of movies and kept each other company until the wee hours. The old ball and chain went to a bachelorette party, so I was on my own."

"Ben, you aren’t even married. How can you call Sara the old ball and chain? Do you want to keep seeing her? She’ll ditch you if she hears the way you talk about her." Di shot a look right back at him.

"Trust me, she knows all about me. She’s crazy about me. She can’t help herself." Ben’s eyes began to twinkle. He had this way about him. On the outside, a callous exterior, on the inside, pure mush. Crazy about Sara, I knew he’d be the one to despair if they parted.