Read Where My Heart Breaks Online
Authors: Ivy Sinclair
“Don’t worry. The catering crew went to pull their trucks around. They’ll clean this up. Marlene will take care of the bar. We’re off the hook.”
“Shouldn’t I stay to supervise?” There were two parts of me warring for what to do next. My body wanted me to stay. My mind wanted me to go.
“I heard Patrice barking orders in the back. She’s got it covered. Trust me,” Sam said with a wink. “But we probably should make our escape before she finds something else for us to do.”
“I need to change,” I said lamely.
Sam looked at his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes. Meet me around the other side of the garage. Go out the front door so you avoid Patrice in the back. Trust me. This is just what you need.”
His smile convinced me. He was right. I did need it. Plus I appreciated his semi-devious plotting to escape Patrice’s notice. Maybe Sam wasn’t so bad. “Ten minutes,” I said. Then I scurried out of the door because I heard Patrice’s voice approaching the screen door of the kitchen that led out to the driveway.
How I managed to put myself together in the next ten minutes was nothing short of a miracle. I paired a coral silk sleeveless top with fitted dark jeans. Nude flats completed the look. I thought about loosening the bun at the nape of my neck and letting my hair down, but at the last minute decided to leave it. It wasn’t a real date. If things kept up at this rate, my summer was going to be filled with a plethora of non-dates.
“I’ve been going on a few too many of those,” I said to my reflection with a sigh.
I went for lip gloss over lipstick and then decided I was presentable. There was little I could do about the bags beneath my eyes. As I moved through my room through the door, the reason for my restless nights called out to me from my nightstand.
I only had two chapters left in
Where My Heart Breaks
, and had been planning to finish it tonight. I couldn’t help but think about Reed’s offer to take me to Grossler’s Point when I finished the book. I was on a deadline. In the book, Jackson and Camilla were preparing to meet each other on the rocky point, under the premise that they would run away together and start over. But there were warning signs all over that something bad was about to happen.
It could wait. I didn’t need any more depressing ideas in my head at the moment. Jackson and Camilla could wait. It was time to party.
Following Sam’s suggestion, I made my way quickly down the staircase to the front foyer. I heard low voices murmuring from the room that Patrice converted into a parlor lounge. With all the rooms booked, it would be difficult not to stumble over a guest, but I was definitely going to try.
I tiptoed past the parlor and out the front door. I could see movement down near the water and I stuck to the shadows as I snuck around the side of the mansion. The kitchen was on the far end of the circular driveway, and I saw Sam’s Ford Taurus sitting in front of me with its lights off.
I giggled as I dashed down the rest of the sidewalk to his car. I was twenty-one years old acting like a sixteen year old sneaking out of the house. It was a silly, frivolous feeling, but it was an emotion sadly lacking in my life at the moment. Fun. I slid into the front seat.
“Go!” I said in a dramatic whisper.
Sam grinned and threw the car into reverse. He didn’t turn on the lights until we were safely away from the Willoughby. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” he said.
Now that I was certain my evening of fun was free from Patrice’s interference, I glanced over at my companion in crime. At some point while I was running around like a crazy person in my room, Sam managed to change as well. He wore a burgundy shirt with denim jeans and I couldn’t help but notice his sinewy muscles flex as he expertly turned the car onto the highway. His hair looked slightly damp, and he had a five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw. Sam looked different. Edgier. I was certain I had seen him somewhere before, but I still couldn’t place him.
I glanced away and back out the windshield. Clearly I was fatigued, and the book was putting incriminating ideas in my head. Now that Reed had rejected me, I was subconsciously looking for the next best alternative. Thus, Sam’s tall, lanky frame now appeared attractive, especially when coupled with his interest in me.
Yes, it was confirmed. I needed a drink.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I had to admit that, during the short drive into town, Sam proved to be pleasant company. He told me that we were going to be meeting up with his high school buddies, Leon and Peter, and Peter’s wife, Casey. Casey grew up in Cheshire, but met Peter after one of the schools’ rivalry football games and had been married for almost two years. Leon worked on his family’s farm outside of Bleckerville and was Sam’s new roommate. Everyone still lived in Bleckerville except for Sam, who lived on campus at the UNC Charlotte during the school year.
With the short biographies of each individual, I felt confident that I’d be able to at least follow the train of some of their conversations and be able to pull out a question or two if the discussion began to lag. But listening to Sam’s constant chatter, it occurred to me that it probably wouldn’t be necessary.
I smiled at him and nodded to keep him going because as long as Sam was talking, I didn’t have to talk at all. When Sam tripped over his next sentence, I realized that he was babbling because he was nervous. Which in a way was kind of endearing.
“I’m sorry, I’m completely monopolizing the conversation,” he said.
“I’m a fantastic listener,” I said. “I’m glad you talked me into this. I feel like my social life has cobwebs growing all over it.”
A half-grin crossed Sam’s face. “There’s only so much to do in this town. If I didn’t have my friends to hang out with, I’d probably go crazy. It’s a lot different than living in the city. I can’t imagine moving here and not knowing anybody.”
I knew somebody pretty well after our interlude in the town hall, but I wasn’t going to volunteer that information. “I appreciate you lending your friends to me for the evening.”
“Anytime,” Sam replied.
The casual banter with Sam didn’t carry any heavy undertones or drama like it did with Reed. Sam and I were just two kids looking for some fun on a Saturday night. It was nice and normal. I couldn’t deny there was a part of me that liked the idea of normal. Normal was safe and less messy than the alternative. It occurred to me a bit too late that there was a chance I’d see Reed at Lula’s tonight. If I did, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it.
“So what band is playing tonight? Anybody I’d know?” The chance was pretty remote. I was hundreds of miles from home, but I heard that a few of the bands that I used to go see on campus regularly traveled along the East Coast playing gigs.
“The band is called Alley Raiders,” Sam said. “It’s just a bunch of local guys that were a couple years ahead of me in school. They used to do all the school dances, and after they graduated Lula gave them a regular gig, except on the nights that she somehow manages to get a name band to come out here. I’m sure it’s shocking, but Bleckerville isn’t the most desirable place to play a gig. You’d have to be pretty desperate in my opinion.”
“They any good?”
“Surprisingly so,” Sam said.
We cruised onto Main Street, and I was struck again about how much it resembled a ghost town late at night. Sam rolled his window down, and I heard the music before we even rounded the corner that brought Lula’s into view. Suddenly it made sense why I got the low down on Sam’s friends before we got to the bar. I had a feeling I was going to be deaf in the morning.
Sam pulled the car into Bud’s parking lot instead of Lula’s, and I immediately saw why. Lula’s parking lot was packed. I even saw cars parked along the highway stretching out in the direction of the town hall.
“Is it always this busy? I don’t remember it being like this last Saturday night.”
“You left really early,” Sam said with a chuckle. “Lula’s doesn’t start rocking until the band does which is usually around ten.”
As I exited the car, I felt a wave of anxiety. I thought it was possible for me to go out, have a drink, dance a little bit, and not make an ass of myself, but it had been a long time. Normal people did it all the time, and I was a normal person now. I could handle it.
“Something wrong?” Sam appeared beside me peering down into my face.
“Just a little nervous about being around so many people I don’t know,” I lied. I wondered how much Sam knew about me and the real reason I was in Bleckerville. Patrice hadn’t been very forthcoming on the reason she told the staff that I was staying with her at the Willoughby this summer. On the off chance that he didn’t know anything about it, I wanted to keep it that way.
“Don’t worry,” he said, putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me across the road. “Everyone is cool. Just have a drink and relax.”
Drinking and relaxing didn’t mesh in my world. Determined to prove to myself that I could handle it, I nodded to Sam and then let him escort me inside the bar. If the music was loud outside the bar, inside it was practically deafening.
I knew the song though. It was a familiar 80s metal song and almost everyone I could see was singing along. No one was paying attention to the door, which made me feel slightly better. I wanted to blend in, not stand out.
Given the wall to wall mishmash of people, I thought the entire town of Bleckerville might be squeezed inside the bar. Sam pointed in the direction of the pool tables, which I took to mean that was where we’d find his friends. I bobbed my head to let him know that I understood. When he brushed past me and scooped up my hand, I was surprised. Then he tugged at it and cocked his head toward the pool tables again. There was no way that I was going to make a dent in the sea of human bodies ahead of us, so I let Sam lead the way.
He expertly opened a path in front of me, and I followed quickly in his wake. His hand in mine made sure that I didn’t lose him even though every time he moved through a set of people, the opening immediately began to close behind him. It seemed like it took forever for us to cross the fifteen feet from the front door, but then we suddenly emerged into a small open area on the far side of the pool tables and I saw a flurry of hands motioning in our direction.
He shook hands with two guys perched on bar stools against the wall. One of them was short and stocky with thinning brown hair. The other had his arm around an attractive brunette with a pixie haircut who stood between his legs swaying in time with the music. I took an educated guess assuming that must be Peter and Casey, which meant that the other guy was Leon. Sam leaned forward and said something in Casey’s ear, and then the woman’s eyes turned toward me and a wide smile crossed her face. She hit her husband’s shoulder and pushed forward toward me.
“Hi! I’m Casey,” she said. I barely heard her over the music.
“Kate,” I replied, trying my best not to yell in her ear.
“Peter,” she yelled back, pointing at the guy who had his arm around her waist a second ago. The guy with the thinning hair raised his beer bottle in my direction when she pointed at him. “Leon.”
I waved to both guys and then Casey grabbed my wrist. “Dance with me! These guys won’t leave their stools, and I can’t stand not being on the dance floor.”
This was my kind of girl. Her energy reminded me vaguely of Millie. I looked back at Sam who shrugged. He leaned down so that I could hear him. “I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”
“A beer is fine,” I yelled back.
Casey tugged at my arm, and I willingly allowed her to drag me out onto the dance floor. It seemed impossible, but it was even more crowded on the dance floor, but here at least I was in my element. Before we even reached the center, my body already found the tempo and was moving on its own accord. Somehow, despite her size, Casey managed to maneuver us right up in front of the stage. My feet moved along with my hips and my hands went up in the air. Sam was right. The band was fantastic and soon I completely lost myself in the rhythm and the beat.
Casey and I danced for three songs before the music stopped and I looked up and realized that the band was going on break.
“I was just getting into it,” I said to Casey with a pout. My voice sounded louder than usual, but it was likely because my ears were ringing.
“Where has Sam been hiding you? I get stuck against the back wall every Saturday night. I love to dance.”
I followed her off to the side as we waited patiently for the dance floor to clear. “He hasn’t been hiding me anywhere. I’ve only been in town a week,” I said. I was uncomfortable at her insinuation that there was something else going on between me and Sam, so I felt it necessary to clear the air right away. “I work with him out at the Willoughby.”
“It’s been forever since he’s brought someone out. He’s just the nicest guy, don’t you think?” Casey said with a wink.
I wasn’t dumb. I was being set-up. I also had a feeling that no matter what I said, Sam’s friends were going to believe that we were there on a date. I opened my mouth to say that, but then closed it. There were worse things than having people think I was out with a cute guy. A cute guy who even seemed to like me despite what he might have heard about me.
“Sam does seem like a nice guy.” That seemed like the safest thing she said to agree with.
By that time, we had arrived back at the small space claimed by the guys. Sam’s face lit up when he saw me. He held up a bottle of beer. I took it and stared at it. Not one drop of liquor had crossed my lips in six months. Was it the liquor’s fault that I acted like an idiot whenever I drank it? Based on past experience, it wasn’t likely I’d have just one beer either. I’d have too many to count.
My mother seemed to believe that the alcohol was the trigger for my behavior last fall, but I wasn’t so sure. In my mind, it all started and ended with Trevor, but I felt conflicted. My rational side said that as long as I controlled how much I drank, I should be able to control my behavior. It seemed reasonable to me, and I really wanted to have a drink. It was time to step outside my comfort zone. I’d never know if I didn’t try.