Sex Symbol (2 page)

When she spoke again, Justina’s voice had lost some of its usual sarcastic quality. “You dated for three years. The least he could do is speak.”

I agreed. Having him turn away from me hurt like hell. Although it didn’t hurt quite as much as the time before, when I saw him with his new girlfriend. Our split was mutual. I could tell that he wanted to be free. So when he asked, I let him go without a fight. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want me, no matter how much it hurts to watch him go.

“Did he have her with him?” Justina asked.

My voice was soft and I hated the pain I could hear in it. “No.”

Watching him leave…it was like watching a piece of my heart walk away. And then seeing him with someone new? That felt like being hit in the chest with a brick. I don’t think James was cheating on me before we split. If he was, then I really don’t want to know. It would only hurt worse and there’s no point in that. At one time we really did love each other and despite what I felt now, I didn’t regret anything. Still, two months seemed fast for him to move on. It had been almost a year now and I hadn’t been able to.

At first I’d tried to lose myself in a hot body and a bottle of wine. But all that accomplished was getting myself a stalker for a few months. I just wasn’t ready to be with someone new. Not when I still saw his face every time I closed my eyes.

James’ new girlfriend was named Rachel, or so I’d been told. The first time I saw him with her…I couldn’t breathe. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’d been able to take a deep breath since. I guess something like that can take the wind out of a person quite literally.

Justina sighed and put her arm around me, bringing me back to the present moment and someone who actually cared. I forced myself to smile.

“I know it’s not easy to move on. Trust me, I know. But you really should. Besides, it looks to me like you’ve got over six feet of therapy next door. Moving on might not be so bad.”

After that my smile wasn’t forced. “You’re awful. Besides, for all I know he’s digging a grave over there.”

She shrugged. “Or maybe he’s building a fallout shelter.”

“Great, so he’s either a nutcase or a murderer. Course, that still would make him nuts.”

“I’m saying that maybe you should sleep with him, not become his sidekick. You know, if he really is plotting something diabolical next door.”

“At least I don’t see James that often. With him moving closer to Biloxi and all, I only run into him if he’s in town to see his folks.”

“Look at me.” Justina turned me to face her. “Fuck him and the horse he rode in on.”

“You’re right. Fuck him.” I cleared my throat and repeated with more conviction, “Fuck him.”

“And the horse. Mustn’t forget the horse.”

Once we had finished our shopping, Edward asked me for directions to our store.

“I can’t remember where you said it was. It’s on Main Street, right?”

“That’s right. It’s straight across from a beauty shop called Creative Cuts.”

At the mention of the beauty shop Justina and I both stifled a laugh. Someone kept taking a magnetic letter N and slapping it on their sign between the U and the T. Whoever it was, they were clever. Sometimes it would be there every day. About that time the shop owner, Melissa, would have a shit fit and get the police to start patrolling more often. Then, once everyone forgot and the cops went back to late-night visits to the doughnut shop instead of Creative Cuts, the N would show back up. It was hilarious.

“Here’s all of the soap stuff,” Edward said, setting a large box onto the counter. “I’ll put everything in your car if you like.” He turned to Justina then. “Oh, and I’ve got that other thing that you asked for.”

She shook her head and gave me a strange look, like she didn’t know what he was talking about. Whatever it was, she obviously didn’t want him to mention it in front of me.

Edward set another, smaller box onto the counter.

“Fifty of them.”

Justina just smiled and handed over the cash for whatever it was she had ordered.

After Edward helped load everything into the SUV and we were back on the road I asked, “That wouldn’t be a box of fifty letters would it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll bet you don’t.”

We decided to stop just outside of town for a late lunch. Our favorite place was The Flaming Fig. I went to school with the owner, Chase. Yes, he was gay, but the bar wasn’t. He just gave it the “gayest” name he could think of to keep out all the homophobes close by.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite two bitches.”

Chase’s voice carried from behind the bar and once my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I smiled in greeting. If you were his friend, he referred to you as his “bitch”. I’d gotten used to this in high school, but it had taken Justina quite a while to realize she wasn’t being insulted.

Chase’s shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and he was wearing a blue tank top to match his eyes. He tossed a towel over his shoulder, apparently giving up on polishing the glasses in front of him.

“You guys look hungry,” he commented as we took our seats at the bar. “What’ll you have?”

“Cheeseburger with extra cheese and extra onions.”

I stuck out my tongue as Justina ordered, faking a gag. Chase laughed and turned to me.

“And what about you?”

“A chicken sandwich.”

He gave our order to the cook, walked back over and propped on the bar directly in front of me.

“You want a beer?”

I laughed. “Chase, I’ve got to go back and work today.”

“I didn’t ask if you had to work, I asked if you wanted a beer.” When I didn’t respond he crossed his arms, flexing his perfectly toned biceps. His glare said it all, but he still felt inclined to explain. “James is still in town and I suspect that’s why you just crawled in here looking like a whipped dog. Now, why don’t you let me make you a drink and your whole day will be brighter? I promise.”

I reached across the counter and Chase moved to hold my hand. Just that simple contact from an old friend made me want to cry. Maybe I should be drinking.

“Look, I’ll come back tonight and you can make me whatever it is you think I need. But this afternoon I’ve got things that require concentration.”

Justina snorted around a mouthful of peanuts and nearly choked. “Soap and candle making don’t require concentration. Not as many times as we’ve done it.”

“Maybe not, but operating that old gas stove in the back of the shop does. I don’t want to burn my stupid ass.”

At that they both laughed and Chase released my hand to go back to polishing the glasses.

“You won’t come back,” he said.

“I will. I promise.”

He raised a brow. “If I give you what I think you need, you’ll want a driver.”

“Fine, I’ll bring Justina.”

This time he raised both brows. “Someone who can pick you up and carry you around if need be.”

“She’s not that heavy,” Justina said around another mouthful of peanuts. “Besides, I’m like five inches taller than her I think I could get enough leverage.”

She did have a point there. Justina was around five foot nine and outweighed me by about twenty pounds. Of course that didn’t make her big. She looked slender and curvy to anyone who cared to take notice. As a matter of fact, I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met.

“You should probably bring Ozzy,” Chase suggested. “Besides, I don’t think he’d mind getting to put his hands on you.”

“Ozzy is a gentleman,” I said at which point they both raised their eyebrows and turned away from me.

Ozzy was the one who put up the money for Passionate Petals. He bought the building and the first round of supplies. People say he’s my sugar daddy, but that’s not the case. He’s my closest friend besides Justina and he’s never once made an inappropriate gesture of any kind. It used to piss me off that people thought we had something going on, but I’ve learned to ignore it. Well, mostly.

Justina went to stand outside and smoke while I waited for our food. After disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes Chase returned with more advice.

“Why don’t you just sleep with Oz for a while? It’d probably be safe.”

My face must have given away how shocked I was by his suggestion, because Chase started to laugh.

“What?” He shrugged. “Don’t pretend you never thought of it. He ain’t half bad looking and he’s got plenty of money. Besides, anybody with eyes can see that he cares for you.”

I took a deep breath, but stopped short because of the pain in my chest. It must be stress.

“That’s right, he cares for me which is exactly why I could never use him. I care too much about Oz to mess with him like that.”

Chase smiled. “You reckon he’d mind if I messed with him a little?”

I laughed, grateful for the slight change in subject.

“I really don’t think he’s your type.”

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, honey, you’d be surprised who’s my type.” When I gave a skeptical look he winked and said, “People you know.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that. But I do doubt that Ozzy is one of them.”

This time Chase gave me the skeptical look. “And why is that?”

The words came tumbling out before I could stop myself. “Because he’s got the lips of a world-class pussy eater.”

“Ah! So you have thought about it.”

There really was no arguing with Chase.

After lunch we drove back to the shop with our supplies. While Justina went to unlock the door, I walked around and started unloading the boxes. When I looked up I saw that the sign across the street read “Creative Cunts” once again.

“Where were you last night, Stina?”

“I was down at the Fig, you can ask Chase.”

But there was a smile in her voice when she answered. A perfect alibi meant only one thing—he’d helped her do it. A few kids had stopped on the sidewalk to laugh at the sign. The instant they started pointing at it Melissa stormed out front and shooed them along.

“Son of a bitch!”

She pulled out her cell phone and started dialing. No doubt she was calling the police again. Her frizzy blonde hair bounced as she paced on the sidewalk.

“Charles? This is Melissa. Those assholes have vandalized my sign again!”

She turned in my direction and I pretended to be busier than I was.

“Well, maybe you should get your fat ass out here and check it out!” she yelled at Charles.

Poor Charlie. He was a little bit chubby, but I wouldn’t say fat. He was actually kind of charming in a clueless sort of way. The sign was right. Melissa really was a cunt.

Business was fairly steady once we opened the shop. Even though we got a late start that afternoon, we’d already done several hundred dollars’ worth of sales. And since most of those sales were candles and soap, that’s what I was in the back making more of. People drove for miles around for our stuff which made Stina and me very proud.

At the moment there was a lag in customers. I was melting down a large pot of ingredients for soap while she mixed some fragrances in neat little bottles on the table behind me.

“God, I can’t seem to wake up today,” I said, yawning as I stirred the mixture.

“Well, while I pour these into molds, why don’t you go down to Morrison’s, get us some more coffee? I could use a little more caffeine myself.”

Morrison’s was the name of the coffee and doughnut shop on the corner of Main Street. It was the only place in town open twenty-four hours and it always had business. The owner worked during the day and hired someone to work at night. I could taste their espresso just thinking about it.

“Fine, but no more penis molds, okay?”

Justina laughed. “That was just that one time. See, nothing vulgar.”

She held up a few seashell molds and I smiled at her before turning for the door.

“Be right back.” As I left I called back over my shoulder, “No peckers!”

The day was turning stormy and the wind was even cooler than it had been that morning. Leaves were already starting to turn and you could smell fall in the air. How is it that fall always smells like fresh baked pies and burning leaves?

When I entered Morrison’s I wasn’t surprised to see Charlie there. His aunt owned the place.

“Well, hey there,” she greeted me from behind the counter.

Mrs. Morrison was pleasant enough, but nosy as hell. I did my best to speak politely and go on about my business.

“Hi, two espressos to go please.”

While she prepared the coffee she started talking. Mrs. Morrison wasn’t the kind of woman who could resist conversation.

“You know James was in here earlier. He seemed so happy. Rumor has it he’s talking about starting a family and everything. I never would have thought that…”

But I was no longer listening. The knife in my chest just twisted and broke off at the hilt. James was thinking of having babies? With her? The whole room spun. It took me a minute to realize Mrs. Morrison was looking at me and the espresso was sitting in a neat little carrying case on the counter.

“Lucy, are you okay, hun?”

I hurt so bad. It felt like my insides were being twisted by some cruel torture instrument. Was I okay? Humph. I pushed a bill across the counter without looking to see what it was and took the coffee.

I walked numbly for the door and as I left I could hear Charles asking his aunt, “Are you completely retarded?”

It wasn’t that I wanted children so badly or anything. I’d never really given much thought to starting a family. What upset me was the thought of a part of him and a part of her walking around. Would it have his smile and her eyes? I imagined the combinations in horror as I trudged back to the shop.

I don’t remember walking through the door or going to the back. All I remember is sitting the coffee down in front of Justina and hearing her voice.

“What the hell happened? Sweetheart, you’re crying. Did someone do something to you?”

She walked away from the cooling soap and tipped my face up to hers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Morrison said that…” But I couldn’t finish it. I could not repeat what she had said. It hurt way too much.