|
The Tessarae Inn |
|
Consequences in Blue Notes
PART II BREATHING SPACE CHAPTER 7 “Cat, Caitlin, yo, Caitlin Shaw or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself these days, your damn pickup is ready. Are you going to get it or what?” Blair waltzed behind the counter, took the plate from Maddog and kissed him on the cheek. The whole diner erupted in whoops and howls. Maddog cursed but she saw him smile. She took the plates to Booth #10 and fussed over her customers who were strangers and just passing through Creedyville. The man slipped her a five-dollar tip and she flashed him a big smile. Sheri slipped up beside her and whispered, “I’ve been here two damn years and never touched Maddog, too damn scared, and here you are after six weeks laying a big smooch on his ugly old face in front of the whole damn town.” Blair laughed quietly. “If you think he’s scary, then you haven’t seen scary. Believe me, I have the scars to prove it.” Sheri studied her face for a moment then winked. Later after the lunch crowd had disappeared and they had cleaned their stations and Maddog went off to do whatever he did in the late afternoons, they slipped into Booth #10, which had the best view of Main Street, and had a cup of coffee. It had become a ritual for them as a way to decompress after ten hours on their feet dealing with Creedyville’s finest and worst. The diner closed at 3:00 and usually they had things spit and polished for the next day by 4:00 pm. but Maddog was satisfied as long as everything was shut down, stored away, prepped for the next day and they were out of there by 5:00. “You want to tell me what you meant earlier?” “Nope. Don’t want to think about it right now much less talk about it.” Sheri glanced away and then nodded. Blair felt a twinge of guilt but how many times did she have to say that before Sheri got it? “Okay,” said Sheri. She looked at her once again. “What about going out with me tonight. It’s Saturday and we don’t have to come back here until 4am Monday morning. Let’s go party.” “It’s been a long day. I think I’d rather just stay in.” “What do you do up there in that room all the time? You work then go up there until it is time to go to work again.” “I’m counting my blessings.” “Now you do have to explain that one.” Blair touched the rim of her coffee cup and shook her head slowly but when she looked into Sheri’s eyes, which were clouded with irritation, she broke one of her own rules. She decided to tell Sheri a little bit of the truth. “For a long time the last thing the people around me wanted was for me to stop twirling around like a top. It was like I was caught in a tornado and all this noise and energy was drowning out my ability to think straight and I paid a price for that. In the end, I prayed for peace and quiet.” “So you could think?” “Yes.” “That’s what you find up in that room?” “Pretty much.” Sheri flopped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see how going out for one damn night will keep you from thinking. There is more to life than taking the grand tour of your mind.” Blair laughed. Sheri reminded her of Cassie in so many ways. Sheri’s hair and eyes were dark brown and she had a beautiful face but it was Sheri’s curiosity and insistence on getting to the root of things that pulled her up short with the memories and made her homesick. “Come on, Cat. You haven’t even been over to the Ryder and I hear Wes is back in town and he is something to see.” “Who’s Wes?” “Wes Ryder—resident Creedyville hunk and owner of C. C. Ryder, the best bar in town.” “The last thing I’m looking for is a man.” “Good, because Wes is mine. I’ve been chasing his uncooperative ass since high school. I think I’m wearing him down.” Blair smiled then took a sip of coffee. “I can’t stay out late.” “Why not? You got a man and some children waiting for you in that room up there?” The question felt like a slap. Her cheeks burned with shame and she felt dizzy and sick on her stomach. She looked away quickly so Sheri couldn’t see her face but she was too late. “Damn, Cat, I’m sorry.” She shook it off and pasted a smile on her face then she turned back toward Sheri. “Sorry about what?” “Forget what I said and we can go out some other night.” “No. Tonight is fine.” “You sure? I mean…” “Everybody’s got a hard luck story or two. One thing’s for sure, there’s no man or little girl waiting for me upstairs.” Sheri reached across the table and touched her hand briefly. “I guess we better finish up here then since we have a big night out. I’ll swing by and pick you up about eight, okay?” Blair nodded but all she really wanted to do was run upstairs to the room she rented over the diner and climbed under the covers of her bed. She had made so much progress. She had perfected the act of work life as performance art. Everyday, except Sundays, she slipped into her role as Caitlin Shaw, waitress extraordinaire. She was bright, sunny, helpful and entertaining. Then everyday after work she climbed back in bed and became Blair Manning again and worked on learning how to stop loving Todd. The Caitlin Shaw performance took so much of her energy that she couldn’t imagine having the resources to extend her act to another venue but it was easier to go out with Sheri than it was to pack up and leave town. It took her two weeks to find Creedyville and when she did she never intended to stay. For weeks she crisscrossed states, changing directions radically—going South then East then North then South again and so on. She bought a large backpack to carry her life in and three wigs to change her appearance each time she changed direction and forms of transportation (buses, trains, hitchhiking). By the time she reached Creedyville, the town with the strange name (as far as anyone could tell no one named Creedy lived in the town or had ever lived in the town), and the quirky atmosphere, (the biggest holiday was something called Mud Pie Days, which was celebrated with costumes, lights, presents and, of course, Chocolate Mud Pie), she was tired, there was no sign of Todd, or anyone he hired, on her tail and Maddog offered her a job. It was fate as far as she was concerned so she stayed. At exactly eight o’clock, Sheri knocked on her door. Blair opened the door dressed in her usual off-work outfit—jeans and an oversized sweater that hung almost to her knees with sleeves that would have covered her hands if she did not roll them up. Sheri let her gaze drift from her head to her toe and then said, “At least you took your hair out of that damn ponytail.” Blair ignored the dig and reached back to get her jacket off of the bed. She noticed how Sheri was looking all around the room. There was nothing to see, though, except a bed, a chair, a nightstand and an old dresser. “Can’t you at least fix this place up? A vase of flowers would be nice.” “I have what I need.” Sheri swung open her coat. “What you need is something like this.” Blair laughed then whistled at Sheri’s short, black leather skirt and bright red fuzzy knit sweater that left nothing to the imagination. A soft pain eased down her chest. It wasn’t so long ago that she would have done that outfit proud. Now, however, all she wanted was not to be noticed. “I think you are looking good enough for the both of us, Sheri.” Sheri smiled and pulled her coat around her. “Do you really think so? I’m trying to make an impression. A good impression.” “You look nice.”
|