Chapter 10
Chastity
“Hank, this is fantastic,”I breathe as I wander through the old courthouse three days later. “How did you ever envision something so cool out of something so gross?” It’s dirty and rundown, but Hank has opened his laptop and shown me the renderings for the restaurant, and it’s fresh and young with a playful homage to the original architecture. It looks like you both could go on a romantic date or have a rousing dinner out with friends based on the tables and decor.
He crosses his arms across his chest and looks around the building with undeniable pride. “Seriously? You think it’s cool?”
I nod. “Uh, very cool. Look at this ceiling.” It’s two-story height inside the building, with elaborate murals of cypress trees on the ceiling and what I think is supposed to be Lady Justice traipsing through the swamp, blindfolded. “It’s ironically sexy for a courthouse, isn’t it?”
“Right?” he says. “God, they were so dramatic back in the day. It’s more bordello than courthouse. That’s why I’m planning to bring the dark hunter green and moody black down the walls and into the decor.”
It’s almost too cool for this town, but then again, folks might find it fascinating to see the conversion. “When did the courthouse close?”
“Ten years ago. Can you imagine being arraigned here?” He points to the massive judge’s bench. “Some judge up there glaring down at you? Ominous.”
“There’s definitely a gothic tone.”
“I want to hint at that, but not lean in too hard. This isn’t New Orleans. We’re going bayou goth.”
“That should be a new trend. Screw farmhouse style,” I say. “Bayou goth is the next big thing.”
He laughs. “I doubt it, but I think it’s going to work here.” Then Hank takes my hand. “Come here. Let me show you the old holding cells.”
His hand feels big and strong in mine.
“The cells are still in?” I ask, morbidly curious. “Have you ever been arrested?”
“Three times. But it was all for stupid shit.” He leads me through a door next to the judge’s bench. “Have you?”
“What? No, of course not.”
He grins back at me. “What do you mean, ‘of course not?’ So you assume I’ve been arrested, but I’m supposed to know you haven’t been?”
That seems pretty obvious to me. “Yes. I was right, wasn’t I? You’ve been arrested.”
“Damn it. You beat me with logic. I hate that.”
He doesn’t look like he hates anything. He looks pretty pleased with himself and life in general. I envy Hank’s confidence. He definitely doesn’t seem to worry about other people’s opinions.
“You’re smart to be such a good girl,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning up.
“There was a time in my life when I would have been so offended by that label, but to be honest, I was never as wild as I pretended to be. And now, my authentic adult self is very tame. Did I tell you I like to do puzzles, and I just learned to knit? Nevaeh says I’m granny chic.”
He laughs. “As long as you’re having fun. And you get to define what’s fun, right?”
“I’m not having as much fun as I could. I’d like to have a little more fun. But the days seem to just disappear.”
“That’s what nights are for. Have you done your homework?” he asks.
I nod. “I did. I set up my dating profile, and I didn’t even agonize over the wording or the selfie choice. You would be very proud of me.”
It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. It was actually kind of exciting. Navaeh did one too, and we’ve been going through the profiles together.
He eyes me, but his expression is casual. “Wow. That is impressive. You been swiping?”
“I have. Several matches so far and a couple of conversations, though I ignored the ‘what’s up?’ guy.”
Hank nods in approval. “Good girl.”
Why does that sound so damn sexy coming from his mouth?
I firmly ignore that thought.
We get to the holding cells. There are three, and they’re narrow and dusty, the bars rusted. There’s an ancient toilet in the corner of each one.
“What are you going to do with these?” I ask, a little intimidated by how crime-and-punishment they actually look.
“Men’s room, ladies’ room, family bathroom,” he says, pointing to each one. “The toilet will be boxed off, then the wall will be here.” He gestures. “The bars will be the divider between the sink area and the entry. I have an obsession with a double-entry to restrooms. I hate in a restaurant when the door opens and you can see women at the sink or men at the damn urinal. What happens in there needs to be a secret, entirely separate from consuming food, you know what I mean?”
“I love everything about that. It’s one of those things that, when you have the two-door system, no one even thinks about it, but when you don’t, you do. What are you calling the restaurant, by the way?”
“Conviction.”
Hank is very clever. “Oh, I love that.” I step inside one of the cells, curious about the space. “This is all so amazing. I’m so excited for you. This must be quite an investment.” I can’t help but think about how expensive this must be.
“Everything I’ve got.” He leans against the bars. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off his tattoos, one of which is a prominent chef’s knife. “Go big or go home, right? Life is just a series of risks.”
“You’re much braver than me. I feel secondhand anxiety for you right now. My shoulders and buttcheeks are all tensed up with how much I want this to work out for you.”
Hank laughs. “Relax your buttcheeks, Chastity. I have faith this is going to be a success. I make fucking amazing food.”
“Fucking amazing, huh? Is that the critical review?”
“Yep. Food critics everywhere call my food fucking amazing.” He straightens up. “Now come away from that toilet.”
I surge forward. “Is there a bug? A snake?”
“Jesus, no, relax. It’s just not sexy.” He steps aside as I power past him, brushing all over my shoulders and shivering. Invisible legs are suddenly everywhere, all over my bare skin and clothes.
“Is it a spider?”
“There’s no bug.”
“I feel like something’s touching me.” I brush my ass and then actually try to turn and look at my butt. “What’s on my jeans?” I’m panicking, and I can’t rein the feeling in.
Hank brushes at my ass, hard, several times.
I bounce up and down, frantic. “Did you get it? What was it?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to touch your ass.”
My jaw drops open. “Hank Williams Young!”
He winks at me. “The Williams is silent.”
“I should…”
“What?”
“You really shouldn’t…”
“What?”
I’m flustered. “You shouldn’t play on my fear of bugs.”
“I never said there was a bug. You said there was a bug.”
I blink. He has me there.
“I was just trying to calm you down. Reassure you there was nothing there by rendering aid and assistance.”
Now that I’m out of the cell, I feel calmer, but it still feels like I have the heebie-jeebies. I briskly run my hands over my arms. “Thank you,” I say wryly.
“Good thing you’re dating. You clearly need a big, strong, protective man to kill bugs for you.”
I’m not sure how he feels about me being with someone else. Hank can switch from flirt to friend very easily. “That’s definitely the number one reason. You know, aside from companionship and friendship.”
“You ever think about dating Conway?” he asks, clear out of the blue. His voice has no edge to it, just curiosity. “He fits the bill.”
“Your brother? Of course not! I had a crush on you, Hank. And we, you know, on two different occasions, and well, I couldn”t. I can’t. I wouldn’t. I’m not interested in Conway. Why would you even say that?” I’m flustered by the very concept.
Hank shrugs. “You seem like a good fit for each other. He’s big, strong, loyal. Closer to your age.”
Is that a tell? Does he mean closer to my age than him?
“That’s weird. And gross. And it’s weird. And it’s gross.” I repeat it twice just for emphasis. “I can’t date a guy whose brother I’ve had sex with. That’s very awkward.”
He gives a quick nod. “Fair point. So let me see these guys you’re talking to.”
I hesitate. “You want to see my matches?”
“Yes. If I know any of them, I can give you some intel.”
Why not, right? I can use all the help I can get. “Okay.” I pull out my phone and open the dating app. I show him my matches, which is only a dozen because I’ve kept my radius to Porte French and I just put my profile up two days ago. “This is Chad. He’s twenty-three.” I show Hank a picture of a clean-cut-looking guy who has his dog in his photo with him.
Hank studies the photo. “Is that really his dog?”
“He said it is. I don’t think he borrowed a dog.” I can’t tell what Hank is thinking. “He wants to meet for coffee.”
“Coffee is good. Never a bar. Always somewhere public, like the park or the diner.”
“Of course.” I may be inexperienced with this, but I do have a sense of personal safety. I have my son to think about.
“When are you meeting him?”
“He suggested Saturday. I haven’t answered yet.”
“Well, go for it, babe. Get on that horse.”
“Okay.” I shoot off a quick response, agreeing to meet him. “Then there’s Nick.” I show Hank another picture.
He looks. “He’s kind of young.”
“He’s my age.”
“Hmm.”
“This is Dylan,” I say, showing him a third guy. “He’s very cute.” He is. He has dark skin and a smile that reaches his brown eyes. “He’s twenty-eight and looking for a relationship.”
“Did he ask you out?”
I nod. “Dinner at Boudreaux’s.”
“Fancy. Go for it. A little risky to be trapped in a long dinner, but why not, right?”
“I think I will. He seems very normal.” We go through all of my matches. Hank suggests I go out with nine of the twelve. He only rejects the one he deems too young and the one who doesn’t currently have a job.
“He says he’s in school,” I protest, though I don’t even know why. I don’t even like a few of the things he said in his profile. I only swiped on him in the first flush of dating app excitement and trying to be open-minded.
But Hank is so casual and nonchalant about me dating ten guys that I figure, why not talk to all twelve? Not that I have time to date twelve guys, but I can start out slow.
“You don’t need some guy saddled with student loan debt.”
“You don’t know he has debt.”
“Just skip him. You have other options.”
This is not as fun as going through profiles with Nevaeh. “We’ll see. I guess I’m officially dating.”
“Good. I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you. I’m a little nervous, but I’m ready.” I am. I want a full life where I’m not just living to work. I can be a better mom if I’m meeting new people and making connections here in town. At the very least, I’ll make some friends.
“Feel the fear and do it anyway.” Hank gives me a smile.
It feels like he’s put me firmly in the friend zone. Which is what I asked him to do. Only now I’m not sure why he’s pulled back so hard. Except that he said he doesn’t have time for a relationship.
“I want you to be happy too, Hank.”
“I am happy. Now let’s get out of here. It smells like regret, which is my least favorite word in the English language. I can’t wait until all the construction is done. I’m giving this place a second chance.”
That word makes me think.
Regret.
I don’t want to have any regrets anymore. “Second chances are good.”
It makes me realize I need to stop avoiding my parents. Time to lay old regrets to rest.
We go back into the main courthouse. He points out the old offices that are already mid-conversion to a commercial kitchen.
When he drives me home, he asks me, “Does this mean we’re done with our incredibly brief but completely not-sordid fake relationship? You’ve officially dumped me?”
“I guess so, right? You’ve given me confidence that I can do this.” I should be excited, but I feel a little melancholy. I realize maybe I was still harboring my old crush more than I realized.
Which wasn’t fair to Hank. The friend zone is the right move for both of us, even if it feels a little…deflating.
“You didn’t need me to give you anything. You already had it,” he tells me emphatically.
We’re in the cab of his parked truck outside my house, the air conditioning on low.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he murmurs. “You’re killing me, Chastity. Just say it. What we’re both thinking.”
He reaches out and shifts a stray hair off of my cheek. He follows the movement with his gaze. His pale blue eyes are filled with desire.
“How am I looking at you?” I whisper.
Do it, I tell myself. Tell him you want to date him.
But my lips are glued shut. Because I can’t jerk Hank around anymore than I already have.
Then he shakes his head and drops his hand. “Never mind. Get out of the truck and have yourself a good night, Chastity.”
Disappointed, I swallow hard. I grab my purse and open the door. “Goodnight, Hank.”
Regret is definitely a bad word.
Only now I’m not even sure what I’m regretting.