6. From one Wolves Den to Another
six
Liz
My eyes open as I adjust on the bed. I try to look around, but something bright yellow blocks my view. Reaching up, I grab the sticky note that’s been stuck to my forehead.
I turn it around to look at it, but it takes a minute for my sleepy eyes to be able to focus enough to make it out.
When you wake up, come to the bar.
-Mom
Heaven forbid the woman leave any type of nice words. At least she was decent enough to cover me up with a blanket.
I know that she will be expecting me, but since I’m likely to get an earful from her, I’m not in any hurry to get there.
Not quite ready to get out of bed, I simply lie here, looking up at the ceiling, once again watching the fan go round and round.
Back in my childhood room.
Good lord, what am I doing?
When I left for college, I told myself that was it. It was time to branch out and make my own way in the world. I had no intention of ever moving back here. I wanted to make my parents proud of how much I accomplished—but more so, I wanted to be proud of myself by putting my stamp on the world.
I’m batting a zero average on all of those right about now.
Although I don’t think my parents would ever admit it, I’m sure that the events that have taken place over the last year have put a black mark on our family. When word gets out around town, I’m sure that they will get questioned a million times over about it.
I reach over and grab my phone to look at it. Checking it in the mornings is a mere habit since I can’t remember the last time that someone texted me who wasn’t a member of my immediate family. When you fall from grace, you learn who your true friends are.
Turns out I didn’t have any.
I see that I have no notifications and decide that I’m not going to dwell on that right now. Instead, I’m going to get up and start my day.
What am I going to do today?
I have no fucking idea.
Half an hour later, I’m showered, dressed, and on the hunt for coffee. Since most of my stuff is still in the back of my car, I didn’t have much choice when it came to what to wear today. A pair of leggings, a tank top, and a lycra jacket are just going to have to do. Thank goodness I grabbed my tennis shoes because I don’t know how well my heels would go with this get-up.
And since I forgot my bag with all of my toiletries, my crazy curls are pulled up into a bun, and I don’t have a speck of makeup on. Honestly, now that I’m back here, what’s the point in trying to even look cute? It’s not like I’m on the prowl for men. And even if I were, I don’t think that standards around here are the highest.
Going through the kitchen, I quickly find coffee and get a pot brewing. I’m pretty sure this is the same coffee pot that my mom had when I still lived at home. I’m surprised it even turns on anymore. I doubt that I will be able to make a good latte or cappuccino with it.
Opening up the fridge, I look for some creamer but find nothing.
I guess I’m drinking it black.
I hear the front door open and wonder who the hell would be here at this time.
Maybe it’s a murderer?
Does the thought of that really not freak me out?
That right there tells you all you need to know about where my headspace is at the present moment.
“Hello?” I hear a deep voice call out.
Immediately recognizing the voice, I tease, “No one’s home.”
From around the corner comes my brother, Dylan. Before I can get a word out, he wraps me in a big hug.
“Hey, it’s my favorite brother!” I joke as he twirls me around.
When he sets me back on the ground, he says, “I’m your only brother.”
“Well, yeah, but you’d be my favorite anyway,” I say with a wink.
I look at my brother who is basically the spitting image of our father. Tall. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Dylan may have him beat in his stature, though. He seems to be a bit more buff than our dad ever was.
“Look at you,” I tell him. “The ladies around town must love you.”
He grins. “I do alright.”
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” I ask. “I just put on a fresh pot.”
“Uh, sure. That sounds great. But we may not want to take all day. Mom sent me here to make sure you found your way to the bar.”
I roll my eyes so hard that I can basically see behind me. “Does she really think I can’t get there by myself? I mean, I got back here last night. It’s just doing that same thing in reverse.”
“Liz, I don’t think she believes you can’t find it. I think she worries you will avoid it altogether.”
“I wouldn’t completely avoid it. I mean, Dad’s there.”
He laughs. “Mom still giving you the cold shoulder, huh? When are you two going to get over this whole thing you have going on?”
Waving my hands in the air like a crazy person, I shriek, “Ask her! She’s the one who practically hates me! You’d think I murdered her dog or something.”
“She doesn’t hate you. You know her; she’s just…”
“Impossible. Ridiculous. Mean.”
“I was going to say headstrong, but sure.” He laughs.
I hear the coffee pot shut off, so I walk over to pour us each a steaming mug. Handing one to him, we walk back to the living room to take seats on opposite ends of the couch.
“So, how are you doing?” He asks. “You know, after everything…”
“Depends,” I begin. “How much do you know?”
“Pretty much everything.”
“Oh, right. I’m sure Veronica told you.”
“Well, Mom told me.”
“Great,” I groan. “I’m sure she’s loving getting to tell everyone that it’s some type of karma or something.”
With a mouthful of coffee, he shakes his head back and forth. “No, it wasn’t like that. She just more so wanted to give the family a heads up on why you would be moving back.”
Part of me knows that Dylan is just trying to keep the peace. Having four sisters to deal with, he always played the peacekeeper role well. He had to just to avoid getting stuck in the middle of some heated arguments.
So, I don’t know how much of what he tells me about Mom is actually true, or is it him just trying to diffuse an already-tense situation?
Plus, I feel like Dylan has always had a bit of a different relationship with Mom than the girls had. She had a soft spot for him that wasn’t there for us. We couldn’t get away with shit—she’d tell us that she knew all of our tricks and that she’d never fall for any of them. Yet Dylan could just smile with those annoying dimples of his and get whatever he wanted. She’d believe anything he’d tell her. Hook, line, and sinker.
Dylan interrupts my thoughts. “You didn’t answer me. How are you doing?”
“Honestly, I’m not exactly sure. Right now, I think I’m just numb. I’ve cried so much that I’m not sure I’m even capable anymore. But just to ensure that stays true, let’s change the subject,” I say with a small smile.
“Okay, fair enough. But you know I’m here if you want to talk.” He adds, “And I promise I won’t tell anyone else whatever you tell me.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.” Switching topics, I say, “So, I tried calling you last night. Where the hell were you?”
I’m not mad, but it’s way too much fun to give him some shit.
His face scrunches up in embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was on a date.”
“A date, huh? With whom?”
“Her name was Wendy.”
“Was? Are you not going to see her again?” I ask.
I swear I see a bit of a blush on his cheeks. “Me using the word date may have been a bit strong. We matched on one of those dating apps—the ones where most people hook up rather than try to make meaningful connections.”
“Ohhhh,” I say, nodding my head. “So, you just jumped straight to the good stuff.”
He laughs. “Something like that.”
We talk a bit more, but just when we are starting to settle in, his phone starts to vibrate.
“It’s a text from Mom,” he says. “She’s wondering if you are still in bed, wasting your day away.”
“Tell her yes. Better yet, tell her that I died. Maybe then, she’ll get off my back.”
“Doubt it. That woman would revive you just to kick your ass again.”
He’s got a point.
“I guess we better get going,” he says.
“Do we have to?”
“May as well go ahead and get it over with.”
Dylan gives me a ride to the bar and heads inside with me. Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me to enter the den of wolves alone. Well, really, it’s just one wolf. Dad is more like a puppy.
I spot Mom who is wiping down the bar and stocking freshly washed glasses.
With all the nerve I can muster, I walk up to her with Dylan not far behind. “Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, Eliza,” she says without looking at me.
“You wanted to see me?”
She pulls out her keys from her apron that’s tied around her waist. “Here. Figured you’d want to go get your stuff out of your car.”
“Thank you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I’m not sure which is worse—her out-loud anger or her silent treatment. At least when she’s yelling at me or telling me off, I know where she stands. Mystery Suzanne Lawson freaks me out.
But I guess I should be thankful that we aren’t going to have a knockdown-drag out right now. That was the whole reason I was avoiding her. Maybe she’s going to let me off easy.
But I should know that nothing is ever that easy with my mother.
“Eliza,” she says, stopping me before I can get too far.
“Yes?”
“While you’re there, I think you owe Jack an apology.”
“For what?” I ask. “For giving me a tow? He offered, and I did thank him.”
Kind of.
“No, for how you acted at the Quick Stop gas station.”
“How did you hear about that?” I ask.
“I work at a bar. I hear everything. You should apologize to Gina, but you can go ahead and say it to Jack too since you’ll be there.”
“Do you even want to hear my side of the story?”
She still hasn’t made eye contact with me. “No, I don’t. I think you should try to make nice especially since your brother works for Jack now.”
I whip my head around to look at Dylan who is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking like the cat who just ate the canary. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I thought you knew. Figured someone would have told you.”
Who the hell would have told me?
“You work for that jerk?” I ask.
“He’s not a jerk, Lizzie. He’s actually really great…as a boss and as a person.”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “He called me a princess.”
Mom steps in. “Well, from what I hear, it sounds like you were acting like a spoiled princess.”
Not wanting to continue with this, I say, “Alright, whatever. I’ll see you back at home. Tell Dad to text me about lunch.”
I stomp out of the bar and to my mom’s car. She’s had this thing for as long as I can remember. She and my dad don’t know the meaning of buying a new vehicle. They don’t care what they drive. I was so excited when I had enough money to buy my sports car. It was one of the few things I got to keep when shit hit the fan.
But my car is in the shop, and I’m driving my parents’ old beaters. So, I guess the joke’s on me.
The entire drive to the auto shop, I’m fuming.
Jack’s such a great guy.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Look, I get that he helped me out. That, I understand. And it’s appreciated. However, what I don’t appreciate is being called a princess. I never have.
Growing up, I could always hear the whispers of people telling me that I only got to where I was going because of my looks. Sure, something like that may be true for prom queen but student body president or valedictorian? Not a chance. I worked my ass off.
And I continued to do so throughout college which landed me on the dean’s list for my entire tenure there. Then, I started my own business and worked my way up to make it lucrative as hell.
Did it eventually burn down in flames?
Yes.
But that’s not the point.
The point is that I have worked my ass off. I’m not a princess in any form of the word. And even though my life is in shambles at the moment, I don’t plan on turning into some damsel in distress. That’s not who I am, and it pisses me off when people make assumptions that are entirely fictional.
The drive is so short that I don’t have nearly enough time to finish venting. If Jack is here, I’m half tempted to give him a piece of my mind about his comments. Maybe I do owe him a thank you, but I think it’s only right that I put him in his place too.
Heading inside the shop, the smell of motor oil fills my nose. At least, that’s what I think the smell is. Honestly, I can barely tell you the difference between an engine and a tailpipe.
I see a few guys working on assorted cars, but I don’t see any sign of Jack. Maybe I can avoid him altogether if I hurry it up.
Someone slides out from under a car and starts walking toward me, but it’s certainly not Jack. This guy looks like he’s in his early twenties. He has shaggy blonde hair that looks like he belongs more on a beach than in an auto shop. With this tanned skin and bright white smile, I imagine he does pretty well with the ladies.
“Hi, there,” he greets. “How can I help you today?”
I point to my car that’s in the corner of the shop and give him a small smile. “That car right over there is mine,”
His face falls a little. “Oh, I’m sorry. We haven’t gotten a chance to get to that one yet.”
The look on his face shows that he’s worried that I’m going to be upset about that information.
“Oh, no, that’s fine,” I tell him. “I just have some stuff in there that I need to grab. I’ll be in and out super quick.”
“Oh, okay.” He grins again and gestures for me to start walking toward my car. The strange thing is that he starts to walk with me.
“I’m Jamie, by the way,” he says.
“Liz,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Liz. I’d shake your hand, but…” He holds up his grease-covered paws.
With a small laugh, I say, “I appreciate that.”
“Are you new in town?” He asks.
“Just moving back, actually.”
“You must not come home much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I”m sure I”d remember someone as pretty as you.”
I”m not sure what to say because it”s been quite a while since I”ve been flirted with.
Thankfully, I don’t have to say anything else because we arrive at my car.
“Do you need any help?” He asks.
And answer a bunch of questions about why all my stuff is in my car? Not a chance.
“No, that’s okay. But thanks.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be over there if you change your mind.” With another cute smile, he walks away.
I get to work, getting all my stuff out of the backseat and trunk and trying to sneak it out the front door without garnering a lot of attention. Finally, I decide to carry as much as I can so that I only have to make one more trip. Any more than that, I’m going to have a ton of eyes on me.
Gathering up every last thing, I load my arms up and walk out the front door. I move as fast as I can even though I’m weighted down by stuff. I didn’t think I had that much left…until I had to move it all.
I get through the front door and exhale a sigh of relief. Thank God I got out of there with minimal embarrassment, and I didn’t have to see Mr. Jackass in the process.
A honking horn gets my attention, and I turn my head at the sound. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I run into something that feels like a tree trunk. I hit it with such force that my stuff goes flying everywhere, and I bounce backward.
“What the hell?” I ask.
When I look up to see what I could have possibly run into, I realize it’s not a what. It’s a who.
Mr. Fucking Jackass.