Shadows of Rust & Reels by Ella M. Kaye
Rated 14+
©2017. All Rights Reserved.
Image: The Banks of Marietta, Ohio overlooking Williamstown, West Virginia (photo by LK Hunsaker)
Rated 14+
©2017. All Rights Reserved.
Image: The Banks of Marietta, Ohio overlooking Williamstown, West Virginia (photo by LK Hunsaker)
The scent of the river soothed Holli as it wafted in from all four windows. She closed her eyes and inhaled, considering her night’s plans. To get there, she only had to drive across Highland, get out of her rusting silver Chevy that would need a checkup soon, to the chagrin of her bank account, and force her feet inside the little building.Not such a hard thing to do.
Not for most.
With a sigh, Holli gazed across the Ohio to where Marietta sat pretty and shiny under a red-tinted barely cloudy denim sky. The sternwheeler docked at its edge, a perfect white and vermillion pendant adorning the little city’s neck, taunted her, as always. It was a hint of a journey, but it led nowhere except back to Marietta. A quick pleasure cruise. She’d taken it more than once, but she’d had to stop going. Her spirits sank too far when it turned back, even worse when the steam faded away and the wheel stopped turning and she had to get off in the same place she started.
Resting her arms on the rough dry-rotting steering wheel cover she constantly meant to replace, gray to match the silver car, both of which she hated since they were non-colors, Holli shifted her eyes to the dark gray-blue-green river that separated Marietta, Ohio from Williamstown, West Virginia. She’d grown up in Williamstown. She’d always lived there. Always. Other than the little bits of family travel during her much younger years and her occasional day trips up Route 1 to break the overbearing monotony of long-term small-town living, Holli had always been in Williamstown. Twenty-seven years. In one place. She shook her head at the thought.
She could do it. Drive across the street and just walk in. Ignore the people she didn’t want to see. Say hello to Brenna. Talk a bit. And go home. Not such a hard thing.
Or maybe Brenna would come across the street instead, sit with her on the cool cement boat ramp and enjoy the dusk and following dark without the noise, with nature’s noise instead of people noise. Of course, that was not at all what Brenna wanted or she wouldn’t have asked Holli to meet her at the Beachcomber. Her friend wanted the noise and activity that Holli did not want.
Some days she did. Today was not one of those days. Still, she’d said she would.
Gripping the key still in the ignition, Holli paused and got out instead. She needed to be near the water first. Parked close to the big green dumpster she wished they would move elsewhere so it wouldn’t spoil the view, she headed left into the grass, next to the boulders that lined the river’s edge, and made her way to the raised cement slab beside the bit of road that extended downward into the water.
She and Brenna used to sit on the road and put their feet in the river, laughing when a passing boat pushed it high enough to get their clothes wet. Brenna always had extra clothes and ran into the snack bar bathroom to change before one of her parents or brothers picked her up at their scheduled time. Holli didn’t bother. She’d scuffed her feet as she ambled along the train tracks and then the sidewalks, often dripping water part of the way, until she reluctantly made it back home.
They always offered her a ride. Holli never accepted. She used her wet clothes as an excuse, but she liked to walk, and she was never in a hurry, no matter how far she was past her allowed time out.
With a sigh, Holli lowered onto the far edge of the concrete block and let her legs dangle over the edge. The river was mostly still, at least on the top, but she guessed at the lowest depths it could be churning fast, sweeping and stirring the mud and algae and whatever debris had been lost from blowing trash or tossed in by inconsiderate jerks down river.
She and Brenna used to throw twigs in, sometimes twigs they’d painted their names on, and watch them float down the Ohio, wondering how far they would go before they sank or washed up on the shore line, and whether someone would find them and wonder who they were and why they thought they were important enough to write their names in paint on sticks.
Sometimes it was the smallest things that could make you feel connected to the outside world.
They’d so often talked about leaving Williamstown, together, getting an apartment somewhere or buying a tent and hitting campgrounds. Holli talked about using campgrounds. Brenna was not fond of the idea. She wanted a private shower and soft bed, not a community shower and sleeping bags where bugs could crawl on her.
It turned out not to matter since Brenna met that sweet-talking jerk and married him and moved away. At least after the jerk showed himself for what he was, Brenna came back home. More or less. With a kid.
Dusk fell into dark with not much of a moon to guide her steps, so Holli tossed a pebble in the river and got up to make her way back to the Chevy with help from the lights up by the snack bar.
Drive across the street. Done. Simple.
Go to the door. Okay.
Open it... A cacophony of talking and laughing voices mixed with a whiny country-pop singer streaming from the too-loud jukebox made Holli cringe.
Just find Brenna. Not a big deal. She talked to herself as a self-taught calming technique as she stepped inside the Beachcomber and scanned the place for the only person she wanted to see.
During the day, the nondescript tan and rust building next to the Ohio, its view of the river blocked only by a wide row of trees along the bank, looked abandoned with its empty parking lot and sign that barely said what it was. On Saturday nights, though, it was hard to get through the door and to the scuffed-shiny black bar with its row of black vinyl stools.
Neither Holli nor Brenna could remember, while on the phone a couple of days before, how long it had been since they’d met face-to-face. Holli preferred the phone. She could hide her not-so-good days over the phone much better than in person. Especially in crowds. More especially in crowds in small places. The bar was now called something with letters and #95 because of the games room, but it had been called the Beachcomber for so long, that was how she and most other locals still thought of it.
With luck, today was an okay day. Not terribly up. Not down. Just okay. She liked okay days. It felt normal, or what she assumed was normal. At least people didn’t look at her funny on okay days. She figured that was as good as it was ever going to get.
It was easy enough to find Brenna. She was planted on a bar stool in the middle of the bar, as always. The girl had always been in the middle of everything: school activities, community gatherings, fundraisers, everything. She had a constant up attitude. Everyone loved her for it. If she hadn’t been such a good friend through so much of what Holli put her through, Holli would definitely not love her for it. It was plain annoying.
Brenna’s long straight light brown hair now sported blonde highlights running scalp to ends with some dark red peeking through under perfectly feathered layers. Always fashion conscience, Brenna used to complain to Holli about her plain too-loose dark T-shirts and the no-brand jeans she’d worn pretty much every day of school. If it was cold, Holli had thrown a plain old sweatshirt over top. Good enough. She was covered. Unlike Brenna and her always perfect and cute hairdos, Holli had never done anything with hers other than getting it cut shoulder length and sometimes pushing it behind her ear. On a rare occasion, she used a barrette.
They’d never been anything alike.
Still, nine years after graduation, Brenna was the only classmate Holli ever saw on purpose. Not that she’d especially wanted to see any of them back then, either.
Making her way to the bar, intentionally not noticing if anyone recognized her, Holli greeted her friend and Brenna jumped off the bar stool to give her a big hug.
“Holli! I’m so glad you actually came! It’s been so very long. We have to do this more often. How have you been? Well, I know that already since we talked a couple of days ago, but it’s different in person. Anyway, I could only wrestle one bar stool away from this hot guy behind me.” She pointed a thumb and a grin at a guy Holli would never call hot. “You can have it. I’ll stretch my legs a while. We can trade.”
“Hi to you, too.”
Brenna laughed. “Sorry. I’m just so excited to see you again. Sit. I’m doing this incredible mixed drink thing Beth suggested. I forget the name, but you’ll love it. Should I order another?”
“Beth?”
Brenna nodded toward the bartender. Of course she knew her name. Probably even knew half her life story already, if Bren had been there more than ten minutes. Since the tall drink was half gone, Holli hoped Brenna had been there more than ten minutes.
“Want one?”
“Thank you, no. And I’d rather stand. Go ahead.” She ordered an iced tea with no sugar and ignored the look she got for ordering tea in a bar.
Brenna leaned closer. “Not a good day?”
“It’s good enough. I want to keep it that way.”
“Oh. Good. Because I thought we might cross the river and go dancing at that club. You know, that one we used to go to all the time. I don’t remember the name of it.”
“I think it closed years ago.”
“Did it? Oh, well, we could go to the Enigma. I think it’s Ladies’ Night, so no cover charge.”
“Bren, you know I’m not going there again.” She pulled away from an elbow to her back and ignored the apology. “Anyway, how are things with Rowdy Ronnie? You sounded strange about it over the phone.”
“Yeah, I broke it off last night.” Brenna shrugged and chugged part of her drink she couldn’t name. “He got too rowdy.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. No, nothing like that. I would have sent my brothers after him if he even thought about it.” She shrugged again. “Just too much to deal with all the time, you know?”
“I warned you.” Holli returned the stare of some guy at the end of the bar, back in the corner, until he looked away. Some days, she’d yell down to him to either talk to her or don’t, but don’t be a rude ass and just stare. Today, she let it go. More proof it was an okay day.
“It was fun while it lasted, though, right? No big deal.”
With a swallow of her tea, Holli couldn’t help but wonder again how Brenna shrugged things off so easily. Holli’s mother called Bren an airhead, said of course she shrugged things off because they never really got into her head in the first place. Holli disagreed. Brenna was smart. She was. She didn’t always show it, but it was there. She was, after all, number four in their class. Some got into the top ten by cheating, but not Brenna. The girl was far too honest for that, and far too honest to deal well with most men who, as far as Holli had seen, generally weren’t.
Her mother also said Holli should have been number three. Those other two would have been hard to beat since once did nothing at all with her life but study and read and the other wasn’t above cheating and everyone knew it. But she should have been third rather than eleven, which meant exactly nothing since it wasn’t a big class and eleven wasn’t recognized. Unlike horseshoes and hand grenades, close to the top ten didn’t count for anything.
Whatever. The opinion of the woman who called Holli spoiled and dramatic couldn’t matter anymore. It hadn’t mattered for years. How her mother could ever call her spoiled was way beyond Holli’s comprehension. She worked for everything she had. Even when she was little, she’d swept the floors every day with that old heavy broom that was taller than she was. Earning her keep, so she was told.
Maybe she would try whatever Brenna was drinking.
As she caught the bartender’s eye to ask for one, Holli got a glance of a tall blond guy with a pool stick in hand and resting on the cement floor while he awaited his turn to play. She knew him. Didn’t she? Or was she only drawn to those arms and that chest? Nice strong arms and chest. Even under his long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, strong toned forearms, she could tell he’d be worth sculpting. If she was a sculptor. For this guy, maybe she’d give it a shot.
He returned her gaze and she gave him a nod. Holli wouldn’t look away as though he hadn’t caught her looking. That was a coward thing to do, and Holli was a lot of things, but she was definitely not a coward.
“He’s pretty cute, Hol. Big for you, but I bet you could handle him.” Brenna grinned at her own joke. How often had she said Holli would need a big man to put up with her so she wouldn’t scare him off? Too often. It wasn’t funny now that she was twenty-seven with no prospects of a man putting up with her long term. And she didn’t need big. She needed strong. Inside strong, not outside strong. Although, maybe she did need outside strong, too. Considering...
“Going to go say hi? He is really cute.”
“No, and he is attractive, but I wouldn’t call him cute.” He was too adult-looking to be cute. Cute was fifteen or maybe a boyish twenty, not this guy.
“Cute enough to have your attention.”
“I thought I recognized him.”
“It’s a small town. How would you not recognize someone like that here? I don’t remember him, but then, I’m not in town much anymore.” Brenna took a long sip of her drink as she eyed some guy across the room.
“Neither am I.” Holli followed her gaze. “Forget it. You don’t want that one.”
“You live in town and you work in town. How are you not in town much? And why don’t I?”
“I don’t live in town. I live out of town. I go to work and then back home, sometimes with a quick stop at the grocery store. That one, I recognize. Just trust me.”
“Fine.” Brenna turned from him with a sigh. “Your grandma’s cottage is technically in town, so it counts. Still like it there?”
The guy on the stool next to her got up to leave with the girl beside him, so Holli pushed herself onto it and propped her arms atop the narrow ledge sticking up at the edge of the thin black counter that served as a bar. She hated that ledge since it would be more comfortable to prop her arms on the counter itself and she was too short to get her arms over it as some of the men did.
Thanking the bartender, Beth, for the drink, Holli sipped it cautiously. Sweet, but not too sweet. With a nice little tang. She shrugged at Brenna. “The cottage is free other than property tax. It has electricity, running water, and flushing toilets. And it’s easy to heat up in the winter. What’s not to like?”
“It’s small.”
“It’s just me. How much space do I need?” Again, she pulled from a bump of her shoulder when some guy leaned in to grab a beer.
“I guess. But coming from how you grew up...”
“I like small and cozy.”
“Okay. As long as you’re happy. Hey, don’t look now, but Mr. Someone You Might Recognize is looking your way.”
Holli looked back over at the blond guy as Brenna fussed that she wasn’t supposed to look now because he would know Brenna just told her he was looking. This time, he gave her a nod. Not a coward, either. The way he was built, why would he be? The guy had to be nearly a foot taller than she was at 5’3” and half again as wide. What in the hell did he have to lose by flirting, or looking, or whatever?
When Holli returned to her drink, Brenna was still fussing that she looked when she shouldn’t have. “We’re not sixteen, Bren. Relax.” Holli definitely recognized him, but she couldn’t at all think from where. She only knew people by where she’d seen them. If she ran into them in a place she didn’t expect them to be, she might recognize the face if she bothered to look at it, but not who they were. This guy, though... Bren was right. He’d be hard to forget. “Oh.”
“What?” Brenna’s expression said the blond stud was still looking, or looking again.
“I remember where I saw him.” The picture was suddenly vivid. Too vivid. If she was the blushing type, she’d be all-over red by now. Luckily, she wasn’t the blushing type.
Brenna pushed for an answer, but Holli couldn’t say it out loud in a packed bar where she had to talk over whatever music someone put on the jukebox, currently that cutesy male singer whose only real musical value was his humor, such as it was. One of Bren’s favorites.
She had to force herself not to look at the guy now that she remembered too much. Instead, she focused on the wallpaper border below the old tin ceiling. Planes, trains, and automobiles, like that old movie she loved. Transportation. People going places and seeing things. It always made her jealous to think about it. Trains, especially. She too often stopped to look at the painting of the old train depot on the side of the...
“Excuse me.” A deep voice at her back turned her head. A nice voice. Sexy deep and soft but not so soft she had to strain to hear.
The guy had actually come over without standing across the room flirting half the night in between playing pool with his buddies and then getting pushed by them to take a chance. Definitely not a coward.
He tilted his head toward her. “Do I know you?”
Forward, though. Or a line. She wasn’t sure. Holli tried to choke back the vision of him swirling in her head, not at all easy to do, especially since he wasn’t trying to hide his physique. The plaid shirt did little to cover the tight black T-shirt underneath.
“No, I guarantee you don’t know me.” Holli took a too-large swallow of the drink she was now glad she’d ordered. If he knew her, he wouldn’t have come over. Guaranteed.
“You were looking at me like we were acquainted.”
“Yes. Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“No problem. I was just curious. If I’d seen you out and about, I think I would have remembered.”
Her back straightened. “Yeah? Why?”
“Defensive, aren’t we?” He raised a nearly empty Guinness with a look at the bartender as a way to order another. “So, you’ve seen me around, or..?”
“Why would you remember?” Holli braced herself in case he’d seen one of her episodes at some point, which was entirely possible.
“I’d never forget those eyes.”
She laughed. Out loud. “Okay, really bad line, dude.”
“I didn’t mean it as a line. Honest. I meant it ... well, just as a fact. Are those contacts?”
“No. They’re just green. All natural.” She shrugged. “How about you? All natural?” Holli skimmed his build openly.
“No steroids, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s part inherited and part what I do that keeps it toned.”
“What? Olympic weightlifting?”
He smirked. “Is that a line?”
“No. Sorry. I’m a little out of my element here.”
Brenna leaned closer in support, a regular routine when they were out and about. “Sarcasm is her thing, but she doesn’t mean anything by it. Hi, I’m Brenna Townsend and this is Holli Jacoby. She recognizes you from somewhere...”
“Bren.” Holli flashed her a stop it look. They were supposed to use first names only with strange men. It was a long-standing rule.
“Guess I’m just one of those faces.” He reached past Holli to trade his empty beer for a full one, which gave her a nice whiff of his cologne. Points added for it being light rather than overpowering, and musky. Earthy. “Nice to meet you.” Moving the bottle to his left hand, he offered his right. “Isaac Bradshaw. No relation to the football player, so you don’t have to ask.”
“I wouldn’t have, but I can guess why people do.” Holli added a few more points for letting her out of his question as to where she knew him as she accepted the strong but gentle rough grasp. They were hard working hands. More points. She held it maybe too long while she studied the nuances of thick knuckles and hardened tanned skin which made his hands look older than his face. His fingers were long, with neatly trimmed nails that were clean, not bitten...
Brenna pressed in. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Originally, no.” He answered Brenna but focused on Holli. “I lived in different states as a kid until we settled in Marietta several years back. These days, I live here in town. You?”
“We? Meaning wife and kids?”
Holli shot Bren a look.
With luck, Isaac Bradshaw seemed amused rather than annoyed. “Nope. We as in my parents and siblings and I as in just me. My parents moved to Williamstown recently, and I followed. I have my own place. No wife. No kids. No girlfriend. Good enough?”
“Job?”
He grinned. “Yep. Full time, even.”
“Brenna, stop. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Did I pass well enough to buy you a drink?”
Holli nodded at the one in front of her on the bar. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Okay. So how about finding a table in the back so we can talk?”
A table? Already? Too fast. Points subtracted. “I’m here with my friend, so...”
“I meant all three of us. I know how it works. You gotta stick together to fend off the assholes. I get it.”
While Holli was trying to decide how to answer and whether or not to return a few of those points, Brenna accepted. Holli thought about kicking her friend under the bar, and then considered allowing another hug. She wouldn’t mind, actually, talking to Isaac Bradshaw for a few minutes, just because. Since he let her out of it, she wouldn’t have to tell him where she’d seen him.
Or how much of him she’d seen.
He led them around the wall to the few tables in the back hallway. Surprised there was one open, she took the inside chair beside her friend and Mr. Blond Muscle Man took the outside chair on the other side. More points in his favor. He wasn’t being pushy.
She added more when he was every bit as friendly with Brenna as he was with her.
Not for most.
With a sigh, Holli gazed across the Ohio to where Marietta sat pretty and shiny under a red-tinted barely cloudy denim sky. The sternwheeler docked at its edge, a perfect white and vermillion pendant adorning the little city’s neck, taunted her, as always. It was a hint of a journey, but it led nowhere except back to Marietta. A quick pleasure cruise. She’d taken it more than once, but she’d had to stop going. Her spirits sank too far when it turned back, even worse when the steam faded away and the wheel stopped turning and she had to get off in the same place she started.
Resting her arms on the rough dry-rotting steering wheel cover she constantly meant to replace, gray to match the silver car, both of which she hated since they were non-colors, Holli shifted her eyes to the dark gray-blue-green river that separated Marietta, Ohio from Williamstown, West Virginia. She’d grown up in Williamstown. She’d always lived there. Always. Other than the little bits of family travel during her much younger years and her occasional day trips up Route 1 to break the overbearing monotony of long-term small-town living, Holli had always been in Williamstown. Twenty-seven years. In one place. She shook her head at the thought.
She could do it. Drive across the street and just walk in. Ignore the people she didn’t want to see. Say hello to Brenna. Talk a bit. And go home. Not such a hard thing.
Or maybe Brenna would come across the street instead, sit with her on the cool cement boat ramp and enjoy the dusk and following dark without the noise, with nature’s noise instead of people noise. Of course, that was not at all what Brenna wanted or she wouldn’t have asked Holli to meet her at the Beachcomber. Her friend wanted the noise and activity that Holli did not want.
Some days she did. Today was not one of those days. Still, she’d said she would.
Gripping the key still in the ignition, Holli paused and got out instead. She needed to be near the water first. Parked close to the big green dumpster she wished they would move elsewhere so it wouldn’t spoil the view, she headed left into the grass, next to the boulders that lined the river’s edge, and made her way to the raised cement slab beside the bit of road that extended downward into the water.
She and Brenna used to sit on the road and put their feet in the river, laughing when a passing boat pushed it high enough to get their clothes wet. Brenna always had extra clothes and ran into the snack bar bathroom to change before one of her parents or brothers picked her up at their scheduled time. Holli didn’t bother. She’d scuffed her feet as she ambled along the train tracks and then the sidewalks, often dripping water part of the way, until she reluctantly made it back home.
They always offered her a ride. Holli never accepted. She used her wet clothes as an excuse, but she liked to walk, and she was never in a hurry, no matter how far she was past her allowed time out.
With a sigh, Holli lowered onto the far edge of the concrete block and let her legs dangle over the edge. The river was mostly still, at least on the top, but she guessed at the lowest depths it could be churning fast, sweeping and stirring the mud and algae and whatever debris had been lost from blowing trash or tossed in by inconsiderate jerks down river.
She and Brenna used to throw twigs in, sometimes twigs they’d painted their names on, and watch them float down the Ohio, wondering how far they would go before they sank or washed up on the shore line, and whether someone would find them and wonder who they were and why they thought they were important enough to write their names in paint on sticks.
Sometimes it was the smallest things that could make you feel connected to the outside world.
They’d so often talked about leaving Williamstown, together, getting an apartment somewhere or buying a tent and hitting campgrounds. Holli talked about using campgrounds. Brenna was not fond of the idea. She wanted a private shower and soft bed, not a community shower and sleeping bags where bugs could crawl on her.
It turned out not to matter since Brenna met that sweet-talking jerk and married him and moved away. At least after the jerk showed himself for what he was, Brenna came back home. More or less. With a kid.
Dusk fell into dark with not much of a moon to guide her steps, so Holli tossed a pebble in the river and got up to make her way back to the Chevy with help from the lights up by the snack bar.
Drive across the street. Done. Simple.
Go to the door. Okay.
Open it... A cacophony of talking and laughing voices mixed with a whiny country-pop singer streaming from the too-loud jukebox made Holli cringe.
Just find Brenna. Not a big deal. She talked to herself as a self-taught calming technique as she stepped inside the Beachcomber and scanned the place for the only person she wanted to see.
During the day, the nondescript tan and rust building next to the Ohio, its view of the river blocked only by a wide row of trees along the bank, looked abandoned with its empty parking lot and sign that barely said what it was. On Saturday nights, though, it was hard to get through the door and to the scuffed-shiny black bar with its row of black vinyl stools.
Neither Holli nor Brenna could remember, while on the phone a couple of days before, how long it had been since they’d met face-to-face. Holli preferred the phone. She could hide her not-so-good days over the phone much better than in person. Especially in crowds. More especially in crowds in small places. The bar was now called something with letters and #95 because of the games room, but it had been called the Beachcomber for so long, that was how she and most other locals still thought of it.
With luck, today was an okay day. Not terribly up. Not down. Just okay. She liked okay days. It felt normal, or what she assumed was normal. At least people didn’t look at her funny on okay days. She figured that was as good as it was ever going to get.
It was easy enough to find Brenna. She was planted on a bar stool in the middle of the bar, as always. The girl had always been in the middle of everything: school activities, community gatherings, fundraisers, everything. She had a constant up attitude. Everyone loved her for it. If she hadn’t been such a good friend through so much of what Holli put her through, Holli would definitely not love her for it. It was plain annoying.
Brenna’s long straight light brown hair now sported blonde highlights running scalp to ends with some dark red peeking through under perfectly feathered layers. Always fashion conscience, Brenna used to complain to Holli about her plain too-loose dark T-shirts and the no-brand jeans she’d worn pretty much every day of school. If it was cold, Holli had thrown a plain old sweatshirt over top. Good enough. She was covered. Unlike Brenna and her always perfect and cute hairdos, Holli had never done anything with hers other than getting it cut shoulder length and sometimes pushing it behind her ear. On a rare occasion, she used a barrette.
They’d never been anything alike.
Still, nine years after graduation, Brenna was the only classmate Holli ever saw on purpose. Not that she’d especially wanted to see any of them back then, either.
Making her way to the bar, intentionally not noticing if anyone recognized her, Holli greeted her friend and Brenna jumped off the bar stool to give her a big hug.
“Holli! I’m so glad you actually came! It’s been so very long. We have to do this more often. How have you been? Well, I know that already since we talked a couple of days ago, but it’s different in person. Anyway, I could only wrestle one bar stool away from this hot guy behind me.” She pointed a thumb and a grin at a guy Holli would never call hot. “You can have it. I’ll stretch my legs a while. We can trade.”
“Hi to you, too.”
Brenna laughed. “Sorry. I’m just so excited to see you again. Sit. I’m doing this incredible mixed drink thing Beth suggested. I forget the name, but you’ll love it. Should I order another?”
“Beth?”
Brenna nodded toward the bartender. Of course she knew her name. Probably even knew half her life story already, if Bren had been there more than ten minutes. Since the tall drink was half gone, Holli hoped Brenna had been there more than ten minutes.
“Want one?”
“Thank you, no. And I’d rather stand. Go ahead.” She ordered an iced tea with no sugar and ignored the look she got for ordering tea in a bar.
Brenna leaned closer. “Not a good day?”
“It’s good enough. I want to keep it that way.”
“Oh. Good. Because I thought we might cross the river and go dancing at that club. You know, that one we used to go to all the time. I don’t remember the name of it.”
“I think it closed years ago.”
“Did it? Oh, well, we could go to the Enigma. I think it’s Ladies’ Night, so no cover charge.”
“Bren, you know I’m not going there again.” She pulled away from an elbow to her back and ignored the apology. “Anyway, how are things with Rowdy Ronnie? You sounded strange about it over the phone.”
“Yeah, I broke it off last night.” Brenna shrugged and chugged part of her drink she couldn’t name. “He got too rowdy.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. No, nothing like that. I would have sent my brothers after him if he even thought about it.” She shrugged again. “Just too much to deal with all the time, you know?”
“I warned you.” Holli returned the stare of some guy at the end of the bar, back in the corner, until he looked away. Some days, she’d yell down to him to either talk to her or don’t, but don’t be a rude ass and just stare. Today, she let it go. More proof it was an okay day.
“It was fun while it lasted, though, right? No big deal.”
With a swallow of her tea, Holli couldn’t help but wonder again how Brenna shrugged things off so easily. Holli’s mother called Bren an airhead, said of course she shrugged things off because they never really got into her head in the first place. Holli disagreed. Brenna was smart. She was. She didn’t always show it, but it was there. She was, after all, number four in their class. Some got into the top ten by cheating, but not Brenna. The girl was far too honest for that, and far too honest to deal well with most men who, as far as Holli had seen, generally weren’t.
Her mother also said Holli should have been number three. Those other two would have been hard to beat since once did nothing at all with her life but study and read and the other wasn’t above cheating and everyone knew it. But she should have been third rather than eleven, which meant exactly nothing since it wasn’t a big class and eleven wasn’t recognized. Unlike horseshoes and hand grenades, close to the top ten didn’t count for anything.
Whatever. The opinion of the woman who called Holli spoiled and dramatic couldn’t matter anymore. It hadn’t mattered for years. How her mother could ever call her spoiled was way beyond Holli’s comprehension. She worked for everything she had. Even when she was little, she’d swept the floors every day with that old heavy broom that was taller than she was. Earning her keep, so she was told.
Maybe she would try whatever Brenna was drinking.
As she caught the bartender’s eye to ask for one, Holli got a glance of a tall blond guy with a pool stick in hand and resting on the cement floor while he awaited his turn to play. She knew him. Didn’t she? Or was she only drawn to those arms and that chest? Nice strong arms and chest. Even under his long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, strong toned forearms, she could tell he’d be worth sculpting. If she was a sculptor. For this guy, maybe she’d give it a shot.
He returned her gaze and she gave him a nod. Holli wouldn’t look away as though he hadn’t caught her looking. That was a coward thing to do, and Holli was a lot of things, but she was definitely not a coward.
“He’s pretty cute, Hol. Big for you, but I bet you could handle him.” Brenna grinned at her own joke. How often had she said Holli would need a big man to put up with her so she wouldn’t scare him off? Too often. It wasn’t funny now that she was twenty-seven with no prospects of a man putting up with her long term. And she didn’t need big. She needed strong. Inside strong, not outside strong. Although, maybe she did need outside strong, too. Considering...
“Going to go say hi? He is really cute.”
“No, and he is attractive, but I wouldn’t call him cute.” He was too adult-looking to be cute. Cute was fifteen or maybe a boyish twenty, not this guy.
“Cute enough to have your attention.”
“I thought I recognized him.”
“It’s a small town. How would you not recognize someone like that here? I don’t remember him, but then, I’m not in town much anymore.” Brenna took a long sip of her drink as she eyed some guy across the room.
“Neither am I.” Holli followed her gaze. “Forget it. You don’t want that one.”
“You live in town and you work in town. How are you not in town much? And why don’t I?”
“I don’t live in town. I live out of town. I go to work and then back home, sometimes with a quick stop at the grocery store. That one, I recognize. Just trust me.”
“Fine.” Brenna turned from him with a sigh. “Your grandma’s cottage is technically in town, so it counts. Still like it there?”
The guy on the stool next to her got up to leave with the girl beside him, so Holli pushed herself onto it and propped her arms atop the narrow ledge sticking up at the edge of the thin black counter that served as a bar. She hated that ledge since it would be more comfortable to prop her arms on the counter itself and she was too short to get her arms over it as some of the men did.
Thanking the bartender, Beth, for the drink, Holli sipped it cautiously. Sweet, but not too sweet. With a nice little tang. She shrugged at Brenna. “The cottage is free other than property tax. It has electricity, running water, and flushing toilets. And it’s easy to heat up in the winter. What’s not to like?”
“It’s small.”
“It’s just me. How much space do I need?” Again, she pulled from a bump of her shoulder when some guy leaned in to grab a beer.
“I guess. But coming from how you grew up...”
“I like small and cozy.”
“Okay. As long as you’re happy. Hey, don’t look now, but Mr. Someone You Might Recognize is looking your way.”
Holli looked back over at the blond guy as Brenna fussed that she wasn’t supposed to look now because he would know Brenna just told her he was looking. This time, he gave her a nod. Not a coward, either. The way he was built, why would he be? The guy had to be nearly a foot taller than she was at 5’3” and half again as wide. What in the hell did he have to lose by flirting, or looking, or whatever?
When Holli returned to her drink, Brenna was still fussing that she looked when she shouldn’t have. “We’re not sixteen, Bren. Relax.” Holli definitely recognized him, but she couldn’t at all think from where. She only knew people by where she’d seen them. If she ran into them in a place she didn’t expect them to be, she might recognize the face if she bothered to look at it, but not who they were. This guy, though... Bren was right. He’d be hard to forget. “Oh.”
“What?” Brenna’s expression said the blond stud was still looking, or looking again.
“I remember where I saw him.” The picture was suddenly vivid. Too vivid. If she was the blushing type, she’d be all-over red by now. Luckily, she wasn’t the blushing type.
Brenna pushed for an answer, but Holli couldn’t say it out loud in a packed bar where she had to talk over whatever music someone put on the jukebox, currently that cutesy male singer whose only real musical value was his humor, such as it was. One of Bren’s favorites.
She had to force herself not to look at the guy now that she remembered too much. Instead, she focused on the wallpaper border below the old tin ceiling. Planes, trains, and automobiles, like that old movie she loved. Transportation. People going places and seeing things. It always made her jealous to think about it. Trains, especially. She too often stopped to look at the painting of the old train depot on the side of the...
“Excuse me.” A deep voice at her back turned her head. A nice voice. Sexy deep and soft but not so soft she had to strain to hear.
The guy had actually come over without standing across the room flirting half the night in between playing pool with his buddies and then getting pushed by them to take a chance. Definitely not a coward.
He tilted his head toward her. “Do I know you?”
Forward, though. Or a line. She wasn’t sure. Holli tried to choke back the vision of him swirling in her head, not at all easy to do, especially since he wasn’t trying to hide his physique. The plaid shirt did little to cover the tight black T-shirt underneath.
“No, I guarantee you don’t know me.” Holli took a too-large swallow of the drink she was now glad she’d ordered. If he knew her, he wouldn’t have come over. Guaranteed.
“You were looking at me like we were acquainted.”
“Yes. Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“No problem. I was just curious. If I’d seen you out and about, I think I would have remembered.”
Her back straightened. “Yeah? Why?”
“Defensive, aren’t we?” He raised a nearly empty Guinness with a look at the bartender as a way to order another. “So, you’ve seen me around, or..?”
“Why would you remember?” Holli braced herself in case he’d seen one of her episodes at some point, which was entirely possible.
“I’d never forget those eyes.”
She laughed. Out loud. “Okay, really bad line, dude.”
“I didn’t mean it as a line. Honest. I meant it ... well, just as a fact. Are those contacts?”
“No. They’re just green. All natural.” She shrugged. “How about you? All natural?” Holli skimmed his build openly.
“No steroids, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s part inherited and part what I do that keeps it toned.”
“What? Olympic weightlifting?”
He smirked. “Is that a line?”
“No. Sorry. I’m a little out of my element here.”
Brenna leaned closer in support, a regular routine when they were out and about. “Sarcasm is her thing, but she doesn’t mean anything by it. Hi, I’m Brenna Townsend and this is Holli Jacoby. She recognizes you from somewhere...”
“Bren.” Holli flashed her a stop it look. They were supposed to use first names only with strange men. It was a long-standing rule.
“Guess I’m just one of those faces.” He reached past Holli to trade his empty beer for a full one, which gave her a nice whiff of his cologne. Points added for it being light rather than overpowering, and musky. Earthy. “Nice to meet you.” Moving the bottle to his left hand, he offered his right. “Isaac Bradshaw. No relation to the football player, so you don’t have to ask.”
“I wouldn’t have, but I can guess why people do.” Holli added a few more points for letting her out of his question as to where she knew him as she accepted the strong but gentle rough grasp. They were hard working hands. More points. She held it maybe too long while she studied the nuances of thick knuckles and hardened tanned skin which made his hands look older than his face. His fingers were long, with neatly trimmed nails that were clean, not bitten...
Brenna pressed in. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Originally, no.” He answered Brenna but focused on Holli. “I lived in different states as a kid until we settled in Marietta several years back. These days, I live here in town. You?”
“We? Meaning wife and kids?”
Holli shot Bren a look.
With luck, Isaac Bradshaw seemed amused rather than annoyed. “Nope. We as in my parents and siblings and I as in just me. My parents moved to Williamstown recently, and I followed. I have my own place. No wife. No kids. No girlfriend. Good enough?”
“Job?”
He grinned. “Yep. Full time, even.”
“Brenna, stop. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Did I pass well enough to buy you a drink?”
Holli nodded at the one in front of her on the bar. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Okay. So how about finding a table in the back so we can talk?”
A table? Already? Too fast. Points subtracted. “I’m here with my friend, so...”
“I meant all three of us. I know how it works. You gotta stick together to fend off the assholes. I get it.”
While Holli was trying to decide how to answer and whether or not to return a few of those points, Brenna accepted. Holli thought about kicking her friend under the bar, and then considered allowing another hug. She wouldn’t mind, actually, talking to Isaac Bradshaw for a few minutes, just because. Since he let her out of it, she wouldn’t have to tell him where she’d seen him.
Or how much of him she’d seen.
He led them around the wall to the few tables in the back hallway. Surprised there was one open, she took the inside chair beside her friend and Mr. Blond Muscle Man took the outside chair on the other side. More points in his favor. He wasn’t being pushy.
She added more when he was every bit as friendly with Brenna as he was with her.