Chapter Sixteen Lee
Chapter Sixteen
Lee
By the time Phoebe and Magda have headed back to her place, and Nico leads me through the door into Darlene’s, I am extremely ready for a drink. At this point I could do with being hooked up to an IV that delivers cold gin directly into my veins.
I thought Nico was exaggerating, but if anything he had played down the eccentricities of small-town life.
That meeting was a lot of people having very loud feelings everywhere and I’d be feeling overwhelmed even if it hadn’t been for the part where they all volunteered to be in on a town-wide lie with me at the centre.
‘Come on,’ Nico’s hand is on the small of my back and I swear I can feel the warmth of his touch through my coat, ‘time to return to planet earth.’
‘Is there gin there?’ I manage.
‘I fucking hope so,’ he mutters.
We’re hit by a wall of heat and sound as we enter the bar, and I instinctively flinch – my body and my brain would quite like a nice dark room to sit down in for a bit – but Nico’s hand rubs in small, reassuring circles at the base of my spine.
At least I assume they’re meant to be reassuring, and not intensely arousing, which is what they actually are.
Even the bizarre scenes at the town meeting weren’t enough to distract me from how close the two of us were sitting.
Every time his shirtsleeve brushed against my arm, a firework display of endorphins went off inside my brain.
Dragging my attention away from the man beside me, I turn to take in our surroundings.
Quite a few people from the town meeting have drifted over to join the patrons already propping up the long bar that stretches against one wall.
At the back of the room there’s a small stage with a giant juke box next to it, and a cluster of high-top tables.
The walls are covered in music memorabilia, and pictures of handsome cowboys astride gorgeous horses.
Across from the bar are a bunch of booths with battered red leather seats.
The twang of country music fills the air.
‘Nico! Lee!’ A woman in one of the booths lifts her hand to wave at us. She’s a gorgeous, curvy brunette in a plaid shirt, and she’s sitting with Luke and another woman with long, ink-black hair who has her back to us.
‘Hey, Kat,’ Nico calls back. ‘We’ll grab some drinks and be right with you.’
We make our way to the bar and join the crowd of people waiting to order. Nico tucks us into the corner with me against the wall, and he puts his body between me and everyone else.
‘Thought you could probably use a second before you have to meet more people,’ he says, leaning down close to my ear so that I can hear him over the noise. ‘We can take a beat.’
I swallow hard, and focus on the buttons of the dark green shirt he’s wearing. ‘Thanks,’ I manage.
Nico lapses into silence and for a whole minute or two – maybe even longer – we stand there, close together but not touching.
I concentrate on my breathing as the smell of his aftershave wraps itself around me.
All I can see is him, his hard torso like a shield, holding the rest of the world at bay.
My nervous system starts to regulate, tension leaves my body.
I can feel my muscles relaxing, my shoulders coming down.
That’s the thing about being around Nico, it settles something inside me. He makes me feel safe, he always has.
When I finally look up at his face, he’s totally relaxed, idly scanning the room, one arm resting against the bar. I get a funny feeling in my stomach when I realise he would stand here quietly, comfortably like this with me for as long as I wanted.
I take another deep inhale and breathe out slowly, then I reach out and touch his arm.
‘Thanks,’ I say again. ‘You were right. I did need that.’
He smiles down at me. ‘Don’t worry about it. You know we can skip out on drinks?’
I shake my head. ‘I want to meet your friends. Plus, I’ve got to start… what did Magda say?… fully integrating myself into town life.’ I try not to feel too nervous about that. Integrating isn’t exactly my strong suit.
‘It definitely sounded like they were trying to get you to join their cult,’ Nico muses.
‘Right!’ I exclaim, glad it wasn’t just me. ‘Tell me the truth, have you been indoctrinated? Blink twice if you need me to save you.’
‘As far as I know I am not in a cult, but maybe I’m in so deep I can’t even see it.’
I nod wisely. ‘They’ve been boiling you like one of those frogs.’
Nico frowns. ‘What frogs?’
‘It’s a metaphor. Apparently, if you put a frog in boiling water it will jump straight out, but if you put it in tepid water and slowly heat it up then the frog will stay and boil to death.’
Nico’s eyes widen. ‘Okay, Daisy, first of all… dark.’ He runs a hand over his face. ‘And second of all, yep, I’m a boiled frog, that’s exactly what’s happened. Half of that stuff in there didn’t even sound weird to me anymore.’
I laugh. ‘At least it seems like one of those nice cults. You know, the ones that are more about tending a communal vegetable patch than…’
‘Establishing a hierarchy of sister-wives?’
‘I mean… they have kind of married you off,’ I point out. ‘But you should probably stick to just the one wife.’
Our eyes meet and his are lit with amusement, whisky gold light that I want to sink into.
‘I’m really a one-wife-at-a-time sort of guy.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘So… that meeting didn’t scare you off?’ Nico asks me, his face suddenly serious. ‘We’re really doing it? You and me. Married.’
‘For a little while anyway,’ I agree lightly, trying desperately not to show that this is the culmination of every birthday candle wish I made between the ages of eleven and fourteen. Okay, sixteen. Fine, maybe eighteen.
‘I still don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but the situation is pretty desperate,’ he says, which doesn’t feel like the greatest compliment.
He fixes me with a steady look. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along.
Probably bollocksed this up as badly as I manage to do with everything else.
I promise I won’t let you down, and if you ever need to walk away then I get it. ’
‘We’ll be fine,’ I insist, wishing I could smooth the worried expression from his face.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘Whatever happens. I promise you that. Now, shall we get that drink?’ Nico turns to lean over the bar and catch the bartender’s attention.
‘That would be great.’ I look around. ‘It feels like we’re in Nashville. What’s a bar like this doing in a small town in the middle of Maine, anyway?’
‘You’re about to find out.’
‘What do you… Dolly!’ I gasp, and I hear Nico’s laugh ring in my ears as if it’s coming from far away.
I blink, but the scene doesn’t alter. Dolly Parton is standing in front of me about to take my drink order.
‘Not quite,’ she says in a honey-thick Southern drawl. She holds her hand out over the bar and I take it. ‘Darlene,’ she grins. ‘Welcome to my place.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I stammer. ‘You look…’ I trail off.
Darlene laughs. ‘I know. It’s uncanny, right? I got it my whole life so eventually I decided I’d just lean in.’ She gestures to her big, blonde hair and rhinestone-studded outfit. ‘No one better to model yourself on than Ms Parton.’
‘Oh, I agree,’ I say, still feeling vaguely starstruck. ‘I’m a huge fan.’
‘Then we’re going to get along just fine,’ Darlene nods. ‘Now, what can I get the two of you to drink? Nico, you want your usual?’
‘Yes, please, Darlene.’
‘And for you, Lee? Wait, let me guess. It’s a particular skill I have.’ She runs her eyes over me, her lips pursed in a glossy, pink pout. ‘Gin martini,’ she says slowly, like a clairvoyant communicating with spirits in the afterlife. ‘Very cold. But… not olives… with a twist?’
‘Heaven,’ I agree, and she nods again in satisfaction.
‘Randall!’ Darlene yells over her shoulder. ‘You pour Nico a beer while I mix up a mean martini for Miss Lee, here.’ She sends me a wink and then sashays off to start making my drink.
‘Oh my god,’ I whisper and I realise I’m clutching Nico’s arm. ‘You could have warned me. I love Dolly Parton!’
‘I know.’ Nico is clearly pleased with himself. ‘You had that photo of her on your wall for years. I couldn’t resist.’
‘I know she’s not Dolly,’ I say, watching Darlene out of the corner of my eye, ‘but is it weird that I’m still fan-girling?’
‘I think Darlene’s used to it. Sometimes tourists refuse to believe it isn’t her, they think Dolly Parton is living some secret double life, pulling pints in a bar in Maine.’
‘But what if…’ I say, wide-eyed, and Nico laughs again.
A rail-thin Black man with a dazzling smile props a pint of beer on the bar in front of Nico. ‘Lee, this is Randall, Darlene’s husband,’ Nico introduces us. ‘Randall, this is Lee.’
‘Your wife!’ Randall shakes my hand with great enthusiasm.
‘Er, yes,’ Nico takes a deep sip from his drink. ‘Better get used to that, I suppose.’
Randall nods. ‘Nice to meet you, Lee.’
‘You too,’ I manage.
‘Hey,’ Nico looks down at me. ‘You okay?’
I nod tightly.
‘I’m right here with you,’ Nico says. ‘And if you want to leave, you say the word and we’ll go.’
‘What word?’
He tilts his head, looking at me with a smile. ‘Coastal casual.’
Against the odds, my own mouth curves up. ‘Fine, coastal casual it is,’ and getting a tight grip on the stem of my martini glass, I make my way over to Nico’s friends.