KAREN
Those from big cities will never understand why small towns are wary of out-of-towners. We are more protective of our space, our territory, our way of life. When strangers arrive, we instantly have our antennae up. Often, strangers bring trouble or change. Not sure which one is worse.
Josie is a rare example of someone who moved away and then moved back.
It’s my fault she grew up in the shadow of my past. I sent Josie away as soon as she graduated from high school.
She suffered enough in this place. When she came back two months ago, she was “from here” but not a local anymore.
There’s a difference. She didn’t turn up her nose, but she had the city swagger about her.
Connections, clothes, thoughts. That thing with the bad video going viral was a shame.
Shame on those who used to praise her, then harass her.
The spiteful type who become boastfully hateful when a successful person loses their footing.
Some people thrive on bringing down others.
I should know. Half of Burnville did that to me back then.
So, back then. We were all used to the fair crowd, of course.
The Burnville Fair was an annual event, the biggest in our county.
It drew crowds from all over. Good business for bars and restaurants, but all of us business owners were on high alert.
Two weeks of nonstop traffic, campers, carnies, brawls, fireworks, trash, and frequent police and ambulance sirens.
The no-drinking rule at the fair didn’t stop anybody from getting loaded before attending the family-friendly event.
For two weeks, the whole town turned into a crazy carnival ride.
With all that, I had to keep an eye on my Alysha. She’d become a wild child, and this was her last summer at home. She was going off to Philly for college, so I let her run free. She deserved it, getting in on scholarship and all.
Donna called me on the first Saturday of the fair, at the bar.
“We’re slammed,” she said.
“Same. Good. Keep ’em coming. We have two weeks, and then it’s back to the grind.”
I scanned my bar, which was packed to the brim, mostly unfamiliar faces. Cherry and Katie were bartending. I had help in the kitchen. Things were rolling smoothly.
“Heya, who’s the handsome guy Alysha and Victoria are running around with?” Donna asked.
Donna and I, we went way back. I knew her lingo, and “running around” meant this wasn’t the first time she’d heard or seen it.
“Someone from the fair?” I asked. There were plenty of regulars who came with the event, vendors mostly, who’d been coming here for decades. We knew most of them too.
“Don’t think so,” Donna said. “Too polished for the fair crowd.”
“What does he look like?”
“In his mid-twenties, too old for them, if you ask me. Handsome, with that charm that turns girlies into a puddle.”
I grunted. That boy Derek had been to my bar several times by now. Girls flocked around him like bees on honey.
“He was at the Old Rooster yesterday,” Donna said.
“Yeah. He’s been in town for a couple of weeks now. Trouble is what he is. I know his type.”
“Is Alysha through with Dougie?”
“Who knows? For now. But that’s every other month.”
Donna chuckled into the phone.
“Keep an eye out,” I warned. “Something doesn’t sit right with me about that guy.”
I hung up the bar phone, then picked up my mobile. I liked the convenience of the modern gadget, mostly to keep tabs on my girl.
I dialed Alysha. She didn’t pick up. Not unusual, with poor reception and all. I put on my glasses. You want to learn patience? Try typing a message on a screen the size of your thumb.
Me: where are you
The answer came right away.
Alysha: with victoria, ma. see you at home
I shook my head and pulled off my glasses. Kids these days, half of them couldn’t tie their own shoes, but sure, they thought they were all grown up.
I hated it when, instead of calling me “mom,” Alysha started saying “ma,” like many at the bar.
Ma Shirley’s was named after my grandmother, who had owned the place before.
Many called me Ma Boots behind my back. Not that I cared.
Some called me Ma, and that was fine by me.
Just not when my daughter called me that.
I scanned the bar again.
And there he was, pushing through the crowd toward the bar counter.
Derek. Button-up shirt, wide open at the neck, too far open, if you ask me.
Jeans tight enough to prove the point. The arrogant tilt of his chin.
The swagger about him made him stick out like a sore thumb.
He was a human splinter that could easily get under one’s skin.
His name was like saw teeth against a hard surface.
Girls batted their lashes. Guys stiffened and puffed out their chests. When Derek shouldered his way up to the counter, I made a point to step up to him. “Whiskey on the rocks?”
He gave me a snap-and-shoot gesture with his finger. When I set a glass in front of him, he winked. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Sweetie, my ass. No one three decades younger called me that. He knew he was pushing it too. He looked away when I poured him the drink, then took a sip and studied the crowd like he was picking out which rabbit he’d chase next.
I took a swig of water from my tumbler, then shook several ice cubes into my mouth and crunched them between my teeth, narrowing my eyes at Derek.
Cherry fluttered over to him. “Would you like a menu?”
His eyes slowly shifted to her with the charm of a snake. “I’m good, beautiful. Thanks.”
I watched him. Plenty to do at the bar, with all the crowd getting buzzed, but he was a magnet, the bad kind. I was trying to figure out what his game plan was. I definitely didn’t like my Alysha having anything to do with him.
A young kid like him rattling me? That was unusual. My skin prickled. No ice could cool down the annoyance seething in me.
He started making moves on a couple of young women.
In minutes, he had his arms around them, and they laughed drunkenly and leaned into him, whispering into his ear.
Ordered drinks for him on their tab too.
That handsome punk, he didn’t need to try hard.
I bet he’d put some numbers behind him and was still counting.
When the two women tittered and stumbled off toward the restrooms, I cleaned the bar counter in front of him. I wanted to shove the smelly rag into his mouth, wipe away that arrogant smile.
“Too much for one man to juggle, don’t you think?” I said with a smirk.
He leaned in, his eyes narrowed and glinting with malice.
“That would be none of your business.” He leaned back, slowly rolled his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, then gave me a backward nod.
“I’ll get another one on the rocks. On their tab.
” He flicked his finger toward the restrooms where the girls were.
Wasn’t gonna happen.
“You are cut off,” I said simply.
I was expecting a nasty remark, an argument at the minimum. Was hoping for it.
He only laughed, the bitter sound of it cutting through the jukebox music and the loud chatter. His eyes trained on me, he drummed his fingers on the bar counter. “What’s got your panties in a bunch? Too much eye candy, too little chance?”
I wished Dougie were there. I would’ve let him start a fight, see how this fancy-pants outsider could handle country ways.
Instead, I let Katie and Cherry know he was done drinking.
By the time I turned to check on him, he was already leaving, with the two girls following him like lambs to the slaughter, unsteady on their high heels.
They’d be used, I knew, and he’d run off to the next adventure.
Two minutes later, Mikey rushed into the bar. “Your dumpster is on fire!”
I grabbed an extinguisher and ran outside. We put the fire out in minutes, smoke crawling all around the parking lot, smelling like rotten garbage. No damage but that’s not what made me seethe with spite.
I called Steve Zukowski, my close friend and the chief of police, took him to the back room when he arrived, and showed him the cameras.
“That’s him, see?” I rewound the feed to half an hour back, and we both watched, eyes glued to the screen, as Derek and the two girls walked out of the bar.
Derek let them go ahead, then paused by the wooden fence to the dumpster and fumbled in his pocket, his back to the camera like he knew it was there.
“Do you see what the bastard is doing?” I snarled, pointing at the screen, though Steve clearly saw the same thing I did.
We couldn’t see Derek’s face or his hands, but when he stepped away, there was a white flash behind the dumpster fence, the smoke starting slowly, growing thicker.
By then, Derek was gone.
“Matches, I assume. Or a firecracker,” I said. “And maybe a napkin.”
Steve pushed off the computer desk and shook his head. “No way to prove that was intentional, K.”
“C’mon, Steve,” I argued. “He did it on purpose.”
“You know that. But no judge will take a chance on this. You just can’t draw that conclusion from the footage. And you can’t clearly see what he took out of his pocket and if that’s what caused the dumpster fire.”
I threw my head back and exhaled loudly.
“I’ll tell you this,” Steve said. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Next time he shows up, ring me. There are other ways to run a young kid out of town.”
Steve left, and I felt like finding that bastard myself and breaking his legs.