Cream of the Crop
Page 52

“Gunk, goo, toxins, pollution—you know, schmutz.”
“So this is a good thing.”
“This is a great thing.” I nodded, sucking in my cheeks and admiring my face in the mirror over her dresser. Then I looked back over my shoulder. “There’s a great view of the bed in this mirror. Please tell me Leo and you watch yourselves having sex.”
“I won’t tell you that.”
“That’s not a denial, Callahan,” I teased, enjoying the way she conveniently covered her face with her hair and began brushing it.
Her voice, however, wasn’t covered at all. “Speaking of boning, maybe it’s not just the country air that’s making you glow. Care to share?”
“Orgasms are great for the complexion, that is true.” I sighed, sinking back into the pillows and holding one like a teddy bear.
She laughed, plopping down onto the edge of the bed. “I assume that means that you’re enjoying getting to know Oscar in the biblical sense?”
“Honey, there is nothing biblical about what we’re doing. Trust me,” I said, fanning myself with my hand. Heat was rising to my cheeks from anticipation. When I first found out we were heading into town tonight, I was trying to remain cautiously optimistic. I didn’t want to presume that we’d be getting together every time I was in town. And by “didn’t want to presume,” I mean that was a lie that I couldn’t even sell to myself.
I wanted to presume, dammit! I wanted to spend whatever time with him that I could. Biblically or otherwise.
“Hey? You with me?” Roxie asked, waving her hand in front of my face.
I laughed. “Sorry, my mind was with a certain dairy farmer.”
“I asked how things are going? You seem to be enjoying the Bailey Falls experience.”
I was. I couldn’t fully admit it to myself, but I was totally drinking the Kool-Aid. Not yet willing to admit how much I was guzzling, I said, “I’m exhausted from today. Your boys wore me out.”
“I spoke to Chad earlier. He told me you guys went to The Tube. It’s incredible there, isn’t it?”
I rolled over, full-blown dreamy sighing.
Like a shark smelling blood, Roxie started circling. “Oh, and Bryant Mountain House?” She flipped her hair back up. “We’ll have to make spa appointments there soon. Wait until you see it. Incredible.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, dreamily thinking about the day.
“You know, we could even take a few day trips down to Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow. Especially the cemetery, it’s awesome.”
“I love a cemetery,” I echoed, mind elsewhere.
“That’s what’s so great about living here. We’re driving distance or train accessible from everything. Great for families . . . very little crime . . .”
“It’s a good town, Rox.”
“It is, isn’t it.” She beamed, bouncing happily on the mattress.
“And once my campaign starts running, people will be swarming this place to feel a little of the Bailey Falls Magic.”
“Who knows? Maybe if they fall enough under its spell, they won’t want to leave . . .” She let the thought float out there while she stood and continued getting ready.
In a fog, I rose and headed into my room. It was a magic fog that was singing all the praises of the town and its inhabitants.
One in particular.
Never a big fan of lying to oneself, I put Oscar and whatever this was between us on the top of the “pros” list for Bailey Falls. I didn’t know what would come of the relationship once the campaign was finished. When I went back to the city, would he visit more than just the weekends? Would I? Did he want me to do that? Did he want me, beyond the occasional weekend? There was something about being wanted. I’d never wanted to go beyond the confines of my island . . . for anything or anyone. Now, maybe. Possibly.
Not wanting to spend too much time on an existential relationship crisis, I turned to getting ready.
And I had just the outfit. Just in case a certain tall, dark, tattooed drink of water wandered across my path that night.
There are dive bars, and then there are dive bars, and this was one of the diviest dive bars I’d ever been in. At the end of Elm Street, way down at the end, where the town practically gave up and ceded back to the trees, sat Roxie and Leo’s favorite Saturday-night bar. And judging by the amount of cars parked outside, it was all of Bailey Falls’ favorite Saturday-night bar as well. Originally called Pat’s, it’d been renamed Pat’s Nightmare sometime in the eighties, to now be forever known as . . . wait for it . . . Pat’s Nightmare on Elm Street.
I’ll tell you what, people were pretty funny in the sticks.
Hair metal screamed out of the speakers, peanut shells and sawdust carpeted the gouged wooden floor, and people stood elbow to elbow like sardines to get a cheap beer. If you were very lucky, you were able to nab one of the four tables in the entire bar; those seats were gold.
Luckily for us, we got there just as the mayor and his wife were leaving with a few friends. Leo may have leapt the last ten feet to snatch the table before someone else got it, and now crowded around it were myself, Roxie and Leo, Roxie’s mom, and Chad and Logan.
“So, wait, your mom’s in town? It’s too bad she couldn’t come out tonight, too,” I said to Leo, yelling a little to be heard since the music was so stinking loud.
“I think this is one place you’ll never see my mother in,” Leo said with a laugh. “She’s not really a bar type. Besides, Polly’s staying up at the big house with her this weekend, and they’ve got their own grandma/granddaughter thing going on.”