Tough guy, p.10
Tough Guy, page 10
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “How am I involved in this?”
Kyle smiled, looking a lot more like Bennet suddenly. There was a lightness to Kyle’s smile though. One that Bennet was missing. “You seem like a smart woman, Lou. I think you’re following along just fine on this. Your house is the biggest house, and now that Bennet has opened it up, we’re piling in, baby girl.”
“Like, coming over here for your family dinners?” I hadn’t intended to make my voice squeak, but it did.
“You know,” Kyle said, ignoring my question and gazing at my face intently. “You’re right. You should like your face. You’re rather pretty.”
I blinked a few times. “Thank you?”
He grinned. “Is that a question, Lou?”
“I mean, yes,” I said emphatically. “It is a question. I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a criticism, and it sure as hell makes little sense, given we were just talking about dishes and family dinners.” Bennet was cocky, but it was based on a foundation of confidence. Kyle was cocky, and it felt more juvenile than anything.
“Compliment,” Kyle said, grabbing an apple from a fruit bowl on the counter and taking a bite. “Definitely a compliment. And you’re now part of the Carlson family, at least for the time being, so your attendance is expected. You have any grievances about that, take it up with Maggie. Potluck style. Half bring food, half clean up. Football in the yard after.” He made a circle with his finger around his face. “You are exempt from the first game, for obvious reasons. We missed today because of this hoopla, but we’ll go big next week. I’ll see you next Sunday.” He paused and grinned again. “Unless you want me to stay. Give you some company and all.”
He was playful enough that his demeanor was funny, rather than creepy, but I still didn’t have the energy to engage. This entire day had been a rollercoaster.
“I think I’m fine entertaining myself,” I said politely.
He made a tsk sound, but took his apple and headed out of the kitchen. “Suit yourself,” he said. He stopped, turning back to me before he was out of the room. “Daph said you make Ben smile. I’m only going to say this once, and that’s all I’ll say of it.”
I leaned forward, curious what insight he was going to share with me.
“My smile is still better than his.” Then he was off, leaving me in the kitchen shaking my head and laughing.
Eight
Lou
Five days and twenty-three door knocks of locals introducing themselves—yes, I counted—and I still hadn’t seen Bennet. He was most definitely ignoring me, though Daphne claimed he was a ghost during the week because his construction business was so busy. I think she was trying not to hurt my feelings, but it didn’t matter anyway. Bennet and I weren’t friends, not really. That didn’t bother me. The fewer ties here, the easier it would be to leave at the end of the month.
I was keeping busy enough. I had dozens of rich casseroles to eat through, and the hearty pastas and cheesy potatoes seemed to help me build my strength back. My bruises were still sore, but I could move around without problem, and I felt better enough to go back to work. The bruise on my face was significantly lighter, though I still couldn’t hide it with foundation. I left it alone, given the entire town knew what happened, anyway.
To my relief, Sheriff Florence hadn’t caught up with me yet. He stopped by the house when I was out at the park with Bean, tried to catch me at Daphne’s, but arrived after I’d left, and stopped by Geraldine’s, although I wasn’t working yet. I had no cell phone, so he couldn’t call me, and it felt like quite a game of cat and mouse, but I was good at hiding.
Sheriff Florence wised up, though, and he called Daphne to find out my schedule at Geraldine’s. He was waiting for me when I started my first shift back.
“Seems we can’t quite connect,” he said, holding his hand out for me to take. “Sheriff Florence. You can call me Tucker. I’ve been eager to talk with you, Lou.”
I hadn’t even had time to clock in before he cornered me in the diner, and I hated being cornered. Law enforcement made me nervous. I knew full well that sometimes those who were supposed to protect you could terrorize you. Michael spent the last fifteen years working for the Chicago PD and there was nothing he did that felt good. It didn’t matter, either. His buddies always sheltered him, and even though I had a restraining order, they somehow didn’t care. I didn’t know Sheriff Tucker Florence, but I couldn’t trust him either.
“Hello,” I said, my voice clipped. “I’ve been recovering.”
Don’t volunteer information. I knew that well enough.
“Can we go somewhere private to talk?” Tucker asked. He had a friendly face about him. A thick salt and peppered mustache covering his lip and kind brown eyes that reminded me of a basset hound. He must be a drinker. Not uncommon given the stress of his job.
“Here’s fine,” I said, looking around. It was early, and the diner was mostly empty.
He nodded. “All right. Have a seat.” He pointed to the booth behind us and I complied, watching him and saying nothing.
“Right,” he mumbled. “Lou, I’m going to need to get your statement about what happened last Saturday with Todd Anderson. We have pictures of your injuries from Dr. Vicentia and those will help your case against Mr. Anderson, but we need your cooperation as well.”
“Excuse me?” I shook my head incredulously. “You have pictures of me? I didn’t give my permission.”
Tucker ran his hand over his mustache, stroking it contemplatively. “We have pictures of your injuries, ma’am, and they don’t reveal your identity. But no, we don’t need your permission for the pictures with a subpoena. Lou, I have to be honest here. I’m feeling a bit of resistance. I’m here to help you press charges against Todd for assaulting you.”
“I–I do. I mean, I want him to be punished to the full extent for what he did. Not to me, but to those teenage girls. Are they okay? They were absolutely frozen in fear. Have they talked to someone about it?”
I wrung my hands under the table as I thought about them. I was a grown-up, an adult, and certainly not inexperienced with bruisers of men, but that table of teenage girls were probably scared out of their minds and did not know what to do.
Freezing was the worst. It made you feel helpless afterward, like you should have done something, but weren’t strong enough to make yourself. It was easy to hate yourself for freezing. I didn’t want those girls to feel like that.
Tucker nodded slowly, not taking his hand off his mustache. “They’re okay," he said, his voice gentle and patient. “They were scared, but I think you restored their faith in humanity that night.” He chuckled. “Lou, if you give me your statement then we can press charges and help make sure Todd can’t do that again to some table of teenagers, and certainly so he can’t put his hands on another person like he did you. It would be my honor to help you make that happen.”
Fuck. I liked Tucker. He was calm and friendly, and there was something about his demeanor that felt safe, much to my dismay. But I’d been blowing through all my boundaries, and this was one I wouldn’t. This was one I couldn’t. As soon as I filed a police report, Michael would find me.
“Can I think about it?” I asked. If I was staying until the end of the month, maybe I could file a report on my way out of town. Michael would know I had been here, but by the time he got out this way, I’d be long gone.
Tucker cleared his throat. “Of course, Lou. You can take some time. He’s not going anywhere. No one will bail that sorry excuse of a man out of jail.” He hesitated. "Lou, don’t wait too long. In most cases of a delay, the victim doesn’t go through with it at all. I’d hate to see that happen. Here’s my card. Call me anytime you need. Day or night, okay?”
I’m not a victim. I’m a survivor. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.
“Sure,” I said, taking the card and shoving it into my apron. I watched him get up and leave, not looking back at me. For some reason, his disappointment hit me hard. I tried to shake it off and spent the rest of my shift focusing on anything else.
The diner was busy, as was typical for a Friday night, but unlike last week, everyone coming in was requesting to be seated in my section. My tip jar was nearly bursting, and I couldn’t believe it. If I was hoping to save up as much money as possible before leaving town, nights like this would surpass my goal. Mary Simmons, the town’s biggest busybody, according to Daphne, told me that everyone wanted to rally around my act of courage. It seemed like everyone in Townsville thought I’d been brave. Meanwhile, Bennet seemed to think I’d been impulsive and dumb.
I don’t care. He could think what he wanted. His opinions weren’t my business, and they didn’t matter to me. Why was I even thinking about him in any of this?
Despite being new in town, I thought I’d met just about every resident of Townsville at this point. To my pleasant surprise, my first Townsville friend, Buddy, came in with his wife. They were absolutely lovely and even though it was dinner, Anthony and Mario agreed to make them French toast. Like Bean, they were excited about it. Mandy, the nurse from the clinic, came in a short while later and we chatted briefly. She was happy to see my recovery, and after her came Logan, Bennet’s friend. He was friendly—maybe a little too neighborly, if I were being honest, but somehow I ended up inviting him to the Carlson family dinner on Sunday, anyway. He had a permanent invitation, he told me, but never cashed in on it.
“Maybe it’s time I did,” he said. I wasn’t sure how to interpret this, so I chose to believe it was chummy, rather than anything else.
When the dinner rush settled and it was time to cash out my register, I split my tips with Meg, Charlotte, and Daphne. All of them protested, but I refused to listen. It didn’t seem fair that I had a line for my section. Meanwhile, their booths stayed pretty quiet. I brought my till to the back office to put it in the safe before going home. The restaurant portion of the diner closed at nine, but the bar stayed open until two a.m. Jimmy was taking over the crowd for the night, but with an away football game for the Townsville Tigers, even the bar wasn’t as rambunctious as last week.
Jimmy stood in the office door, watching me finish up with my till. He crossed his arms and said nothing as he looked on.
“Are you creeping in here for a reason, Jimmy?” I asked him, not looking up as I opened the safe and put my till inside, closing it again. I squatted next to the safe, bringing my gaze to meet his. To my surprise, he had a smile on his face.
“You think I’m creeping?”
I stood up and crossed my arms. “What would you call it?”
He shrugged and smiled. “I just thought I’d see how you’re doing.” He gestured to my face. Because why wouldn’t he? Currently there was a sickly blue and yellow patch receding along my cheekbone. By next week it would likely be gone, or gone enough that I could cover its remnants with makeup, but for now it was an obvious mark I had to contend with. Eventually, my bruise would disappear and people would stop pointing to my face anytime they referenced me.
“I’m doing just fine, Jimmy. Thank you for your concern.” He nodded and left, saying nothing else.
Meg came wandering in, her till balanced on her hip and her eyes wide. “Was Jimmy in here talking with you?” she asked in awe.
“Not really.”
Meg knelt down at the safe and opened it. “Did he say words?”
“Words were said, yes, though not many.”
Meg sighed and looked at me. “Then he was talking with you.” She finished what she was doing and stood up, standing so close to me that her breasts, which were quite large, were nearly touching me. “In another month, Joey Thomas is having his yearly bonfire. It’s the only town event that Jimmy goes to. I’m going to make my move then. Can you keep your hands off him, please? At least until I take my shot?”
“Whoa, Meg,” I said, holding my hands up. “I am not going for Jimmy—or anyone. You have nothing to worry about, and I don’t even know who Joey Thomas is, nor have I heard a single thing about this yearly bonfire until this very moment. Besides, I’m leaving at the end of the month.”
Meg tucked her red hair behind her ears. “Thanks, Lou. Not that I want to be a bitch or claim land that isn’t mine. It’s just… you’re pretty and you’re the talk of the town. All the guys are going to be looking at you, and the one guy I want to look at me hardly says one word to me. So you may not have gotten many words, but it’s still a hell of a lot more than I get.”
“Meg, you’re sweet, kind, and you have a rack about three times the size of mine. I think you have plenty to offer Jimmy, or anyone else in this town. There’s nothing but friendliness here. I’m rooting for you, and I’m happy to be your wing woman any time.”
She reached out and put her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye with a serious face. “You’re also really cool, Lou, and that’s going to make this all the harder for women like me. These boys have seen us townies for their whole lives. We’re wallpaper, blending in and going unnoticed unless we’re too hideous to ignore.” She smiled at me and pushed her breasts up. “I do have tits three times the size of yours, though.”
“Atta girl!” We giggled as we left the office, Jimmy looking over for a moment before going back to pouring drinks. “He’d be lucky to have you, Meg,” I said, looking at him.
She sighed. “You’re sure you’re not trying for him, too?”
“Oh, definitely sure,” I said emphatically. “I’m trying for no one. Nothing. Not at all.”
“Huh,” she said, retrieving her purse and pulling it over her shoulder. “Seems Daphne has other ideas.”
I stopped, watching Meg continue a few steps before turning back to me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Meg shrugged. “Nothing,” she said, blinking innocently.
“Meg.”
She tilted her head over one shoulder, looking at me as she walked out the door. “Daphne is persistent, Lou. She gets an idea, and she makes it happen.”
“Does this have anything to do with Bennet?” I asked, feeling desperate for information as I trailed Meg into the parking lot.
“Do you want it to?” She smiled like she knew something I didn’t.
“No.” It was both true and yet a lie.
The light was on in Bennet’s apartment over the garage when I got home. I stood in the driveway down below, staring up and wondering what he was doing in there. It was a warm night, clear with a bright moon and a spattering of stars. I dropped my head back and took in the expansive sky. I never really appreciated the night sky in the city. In part because the sky was never as revealing, blanketed by the lights of a metropolis. In part because it wasn’t often quiet in a city, and it lost any peace in the noise.
The calm that washed over me as I stood with a craned neck, taking in the sky above, was unfamiliar. My life was in constant motion. Moving, going, running. One foot in front of the other, just go!
Whatever needed to be done, the energy buzzing through me forced movement. A therapist years ago told me it was anxiety. My body was electric, and energy ran through it with a high voltage that didn’t allow me to sit in the quiet. The quiet, she theorized, meant I’d have to face myself—the ultimate threat, apparently.
It was easy to get lost in a big city, to keep busy and distracted. I told myself that was why I chose them. The busyness, the people, the sheer size. It was harder to find me, pluck me out of a sea of faces, and there were more opportunities to hide. Michael always found me though, even in the busiest swell of people. Maybe I really was running more from myself than from him.
I caught a shadow across the window and cringed. Fuck. Had Bennet seen me standing out here like this? I could just go on up and see how he was doing. I could knock on his door, be casual. Play it cool, even though he was making me feel anything but. What was this feeling, anyway? Why was I allowing him so much space in my head? I had seen many handsome men in my life. He wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t have the typical disposition of men I’d been attracted to either. Bennet was serious, snarky, and contrary to his projection—stubborn.
Maybe it’s time you looked for someone you weren’t looking for, dummy.
What the hell was that?
I wasn’t looking for anyone. Not only was I not in a place in my life to meet someone special, but I wasn’t confident in my ability to choose them. Men seemed nice enough at first. Men like Michael, who love bombed me from the start, made me feel like I was the most important woman in the world, only to weaponize that love later.
If you pick them wrong, pick them different.
I shook my head. This wasn’t therapy. I didn’t need to think about my picker and its ability to guide me into anything. Certainly not its current direction of steering me toward someone who was less than enthusiastic about me to begin with. There had to be a happy medium somewhere, and someday, when I was healthier and stronger, when Bean was older, and we were settled, I’d find it. I hoped.
I had to hold that hope. Not because I needed someone in my life, but because I needed to believe that someday Bean and I would be settled. I couldn’t keep doing this to her, and fuck if my heart didn’t break at the thought of uprooting her again.
“You see that bright star there?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts. I hadn’t even seen Bennet leave his apartment. I’d been so caught up in my head. “That’s Venus.” He pointed to one near it. “That other bright one is Mars.” He closed one eye and angled his thumb. “That one, just over that way, not as bright… That’s Jupiter.”
