13. Lark
LARK
“That’s Pammie and Buck.” Annie sat across from me at the diner, discreetly pointing out patrons around the room. “And over there is Lefty, but we call her Aunt Sissy.”
I smiled wide and shook my head. “And everyone just... calls them by their nicknames? Like it’s their government name?”
Annie shrugged. “Of course. Honestly, I don’t know the birth-given names of half the people in here.” She laughed as if she only then realized how ridiculous that sounded.
“Unreal.” I popped a french fry into my mouth and continued looking around the small café. “What about them?”
Annie followed my line of sight after I gestured toward a small booth in the back. “PawPaw Rabbit and Soapy.” Annie’s eyes lit up. “I think he sold soap at one time? Maybe? Oh! And on the left is Brother, but his real name is Terry.”
“And once you get a nickname... ?”
Annie’s face went serious. “Stuck with it. For better or worse.” She smiled again and leaned in.
“Do you know Aunt Tootie was once married to a man named Bumper? Bumper. I found out a month ago his name is Jim. The whole time I’d run around as a kid asking, ‘Where’s Uncle Bumper?
’ No one even questioned it.” She was on a roll now, and her eyes danced with amusement.
“Oh! During county elections? We had to put people’s nicknames on campaign signs”—she leaned forward to emphasize—“ but also on the ballots because no one knows Itchy’s real name. ”
Together we laughed, and it felt so easy, so natural, to share lunch and laughter with Annie.
How long has it been since I’ve had a friend? That I’ve spent long enough in one place to form a genuine friendship?
“Stick around long enough and you’ll see.” Annie winked in my direction.
A strange emotion was thick in my throat. Would I be here long enough to see?
“There’s a book at the library if you really want to study up,” she offered with a slight shrug as she went back to her lunch.
“A book?”
“Yep. Bug’s worked there since the 1970s, and she keeps it up.”
I considered it for a moment. “So what about you? How’d you get lucky and not have an unfortunate nickname?”
She pinned me with knowing eyes and leaned forward again. “My real name isn’t Annie.”
My grin widened. “Seriously?”
She raised one hand. “Honest truth. My name is Annette, but everyone took to calling me”—her nose scrunched—“Orphan Annie.”
I made a face as we conspired and leaned in together over our sandwiches.
She gestured to her tumbling red curls. “They’re not always the most creative nicknames. Once when we were kids, Lee started calling me Annette as an act of defiance, but only Annie stuck.”
“So no one calls you Annette? But you’re a successful, professional grown woman...” I couldn’t believe it.
She shrugged, but her eyes stayed glued to her plate. “Mostly just Lee.”
Her blue eyes then flicked to mine but then quickly darted away. There was definitely something there, but I didn’t know how to ask without seeming nosy.
“I’m used to it now. But Kate? The boys’ little sister? People call her Catfish Kate. Now that is unfortunate. It’s no wonder she packed up and moved to Montana.”
“Wow.” I had no words.
We continued to chat about life in a coastal Michigan town, different acting jobs that led me here, and my mom’s new life as a naked hippie. Becoming friends with Annie was simple. Easy and refreshing.
Annie popped a french fry into her mouth. “How’re things with the new neighbor?”
I could feel color popping up on my cheeks. I rolled my eyes to try to downplay my attraction to Wyatt, but the way Annie smiled, I doubted I was fooling her. “He’s fine. Moody.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, that’s Wyatt.”
I leaned closer. “Seriously. Half the time I think he hates me; the other half of the time I think he wants to tear my clothes off, and the rest of the time I don’t know what to think.”
“That math doesn’t add up,” she quipped.
“Exactly! This morning I waved to him, and he made a face and ignored me .”
I shook my head, and when I looked at the clock, I was sad to see it was almost time for my shift at the Sugar Bowl. I let out an aggravated groan. “I need to get going. Huck will be pissed if I’m late and a disaster.”
Annie nodded. “You gonna eat that?” She pointed at my last few fries. I smiled and pushed the plate toward her.
Maybe sticking around Outtatowner wouldn’t be so bad after all.
* * *
“Please go down. Please. Please go down...” I watched in horror as the water level in one of the steel kitchen sinks rose higher. Dangerously higher.
“No, no, no, no.” I frantically looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Huck was going to murder me if I clogged his sink again and got water all over the floor.
I kicked the support leg of the sink. A sad, burbling groan moved up to the surface as a lone bubble popped.
Fuck!
I looked at the swinging doors that separated the kitchen, Huck’s haven, from the busy bakery service area. It was only a matter of time before he came back from stocking the display case and I was busted.
The water level steadily rose. “No, no. Where are you even coming from?” I looked around but couldn’t see how or why the water level in the sink was rising higher and higher.
I dashed away, if I didn’t do something, I was bound to make a bigger mess, and then I’d really be in deep shit. I moved quickly toward the swinging saloon-style doors. I knew to always use the right side after crashing into Huck. I peeked through the small opening.
The bakery was busy, as always. I looked back at the sink and, of course, the water level was still going up and up.
I cleared my throat. Sylvie looked up and sucked in a deep breath. She was really getting tired of my shit.
“Sylvie, Huck. I need some help back here. Quickly.”
The muscles in Huck’s jaw moved, and he looked at Sylvie. “I got it.”
He followed me through the doors, and I led him to the sink.
“Damn it! What the—hit that switch. On the wall.” He pointed to a small switch nearby, and I immediately flipped it up.
A motorized whir rose from beneath the sink as the water churned, and it finally started to recede. After the water started to go down, the gurgling was replaced with an angry chewing noise that did not sound good.
“Kill it.”
I obeyed, flicking off the switch and then standing there with my hands behind my back.
Huck sighed and rubbed his hands on a dish towel before pressing the heel of one hand into his eye.
“The dishwasher’s water line is tied to this sink.
You can’t shove shit down the sink and not turn on the disposal.
It’ll get clogged, and the dishwater has nowhere to go.
Also”—he reached down into the depths of the sink and pulled out a mangled plastic spatula—“this is the food-prep sink, and this is the dish sink. They have to be separate.” He gestured to each sink in the kitchen.
“Got it. I’m sorry, Huck.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s fine.” He really was a nice guy, and I was just fucking it all up.
Feeling low, I quietly finished my cleaning in the back before slipping to the front of the bakery to see if I could help Sylvie with busing tables or anything else to stay out of Huck’s way.
Wiping tables was something I could manage without incident, so I made sure those white tops shined. Bowlegs’s twin was sitting on one of the stools along the large front window, wearing a red T-shirt and worn-in Moon Boots. “Good afternoon.”
He looked at me, confusion clouding his vision.
“I’m Lark.” I used my apron to dry my hand, then held it out.
His wrinkled hand fit into mine. “You the girl who cried for Bowlegs?”
I stifled a grin at the fact even his twin brother called him Bowlegs. Looking at the puffy ski boots he wore in June told me how he likely got his own nickname, Bootsy. “I did.”
“Much appreciated.” He grinned at me and I smiled back.
“Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head. “I’m just resting my legs. Enjoying watching GB have a meltdown.”
My eyes tracked where he was looking, and I spotted Wyatt just outside the bakery.
He was pacing along the sidewalk. His hair was a mess and looked like he’d raked his hands through it a thousand times.
Penny sat on a cement flower planter, looking annoyed as she picked rocks from the planter and tried to toss them at her dad without him noticing.
Wyatt turned to her and said something that made her scowl even harder. Bootsy and I looked on, fascinated by the chaos of the scene playing out in front of us.
“What do you think is happening?” I whispered to the old man.
“Trouble with the law.” He said it so certainly. “Or maybe the NFL wants him back. A real comeback number where he finally gets that Super Bowl ring.” Bootsy nodded as we continued to watch Wyatt pace and gesture wildly. “Think I saw a movie like that once.”
I hummed in agreement. I think I saw that one too.
Just then Wyatt turned and caught us staring. I quickly shifted, giving him my back and pretending to be in deep conversation with Bootsy.
The door whooshed open, causing the bell to clank against the glass. I froze.
“Don’t send anyone. I’ll handle it.” Wyatt’s rumbly, grumpy voice sent tingles racing down my spine as I moved deeper into the bakery to avoid him. “Lark.”
His voice thundered over my name in one deliciously crabby syllable.
I slowly turned and smiled, praying it didn’t falter, as every eye in the bakery was on us.
“I’m hiring you.”
“You’re what?”
“Hiring you. Let’s go.” He gestured toward the exit, expecting me to follow.
“Wait—I can’t just—where are we going?”
He let loose an annoyed sigh. “Look. Everyone knows you’re a terrible server. Huck can’t afford to lose any more dishes, and I need your help. Trust me, if I could ask anyone else, I would.”
Ouch. Okay, well, that stung.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Who said I would even want to work for you?” I spread my arms wide. “I have a perfectly good job here.”
“Huck!” Wyatt shouted across the crowded bakery at my boss, who was stacking fresh pastries into the display case. “Will you please fire her?”
A sly grin spread across Huck’s stupid face. “Lark, you’re fired.”
I rolled my eyes.
“See?” Wyatt said smugly. “You need a job. I have a job for you. You’re hired.”
Huck sauntered over, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re kind of terrible at this.”
I scrunched my nose at him. “Not cool.”
Wyatt grabbed my shoulders and gently steered me toward the exit.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Huck called out, “I’ll throw in one complimentary latte a day for all the work you did organizing the pantry. That spreadsheet is a lifesaver. Consider it a severance package.”
I scowled at him. “One latte”—I raised a finger to point in his direction—“plus a lemon blueberry scone when you make them.”
Huck nodded, satisfied that his karma was still intact as Wyatt wound me through the crowd and out into the midday sunshine.
As soon as we got outside, I turned on him. “What the hell, Wyatt?”
“Hey, Lark!” Penny called out as she walked on the top of the cement planter.
“Pickle, get down.” Wyatt held out a hand, and Penny hopped off the planter and sat cross-legged on the sidewalk.
I glared up at him. “You kiss me and then ignore me and then I’m—”
“Keep your voice down.” Wyatt encroached on my space, and the fight died from my lungs as he guided me away from the sidewalk to press up against the brick of the Sugar Bowl.
“Look. Kissing you was... it was...”
Don’t say a mistake. Please don’t say it was a mistake.
“It happened, all right?” He dropped his hands, defeated. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I’ve got the board of directors breathing down my neck, these kids are going to kill me, Penny is going feral... I think I need help.”
“Why me?”
His jaw clenched. “Fuck if I know. Why not you?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I was pretty sure he was dodging my question, but a sick part of me wanted to peel back his layers and get a glimpse of the man hiding underneath.
I may be punctual, a damn good actress, and amazing at poker, but I really was a terrible server. Like so, so bad.
Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in defeat. “I don’t know why, but I think I trust you. And I do need you.”
His unfiltered desperation did me in. “Fine. I want two hundred and fifty dollars a week.”
“You don’t even know what the job is.”
“Five hundred.” I raised my chin, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.
“A thousand. All I need is for you to handle my calendar, hang out with Penny if I can’t find someone to be with her, and check in with the guys to make sure they’re not going off the rails. Can you do that?”
One thousand dollars a week? For that kind of cash I’d throw in laundry, cooking, and a blow job.
I swallowed hard at the thought of Wyatt and his big dick. I’d felt it plain as day when I was rubbing up against him while he devoured me in the kitchen. I felt hot all over, and it definitely wasn’t the June sun.
Damn it.
I thrust a hand in his direction. “Deal.”