Liquids

Chapter 15

RUNNING DRY

Marni’s scowling when I slide into our booth the next night, and I eye her warily. I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to provide a sympathetic ear to any of her drama tonight.

“You okay?” I say.

“Got news,” she says.

“More fights?”

She shakes her head. “Rig was engaged to that Sadie woman who turned up on your doorstep.”

When she appeared with her blonde hair, designer gear, and tiny ass, I could see why he’d made an exception for her. She wasn’t bottom of the heap, was she?

I pick at the label on my beer. “Did you find out any more about her?”

“Like what?”

“Who ended it and why?”

“No idea. Couldn’t ferret out anything except that he was engaged to her.”

“He told me getting engaged was his biggest regret.”

She gapes at me. “You knew they were engaged?”

I make a face. “I didn’t know it was her for sure, but he said he’d had one long-term relationship and it was with her, so stands to reason she was the one he was engaged to. When he said he regretted it, he also said, ‘Don’t ask.’”

“God. Men,” she grumbles. “Why don’t they ever give you a straight answer?”

Her eyes flick up as the door opens and a sly smile curls over her lips. She taps my hand. “Here’s your opportunity to find out more, hon.”

I swing around, and my mouth drops open.

Rig is prowling toward our table. What the fuck is he doing here?

But when I turn back, Marni is already out of the booth, and she gives me a little wave as she heads over to the bar and starts chatting to some guy.

There goes my plan of staying away from him.

Rig slides in opposite me, raising one finger at the bartender for a beer.

I take in his huge shoulders and plaid flannel shirt over a faded tee and sigh. He looks amazing, goddamn him.

“Where did you spring from?”

His hands are covered in scrapes and bits of tape.

It reminds me of the first time I met him, though I think I can read him better now.

As I study him, the righteous indignation from yesterday has lost its edge.

He told me right at the start that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent.

Did he lie a bit about not doing relationships?

Yeah, but it’s not the biggest crime in the world, and he was probably just sparing my feelings.

He called me his girl, but he told me not to read too much into it.

I’m the one that assumed things here. He didn’t want a relationship with me, and that’s okay.

I just latched on to the fact that he’s a good guy.

“Decided I needed to come back and have a little chat with several people after you called me,” he says.

“How long are you back for?”

“Three or four days.”

“You weren’t behind some bottle of wine we got gifted, were you?”

He shakes his head, eyes studying me. “How you doing after those dickheads visited you?”

“Marni was a bit shaken up, and I’ve got a dent in my fridge.”

The bartender appears and slides a beer in front of Rig, and he nods at him, taking a sip. “You shouldn’t have any more visits,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

“Had a few words around town, and with Marco, and he sent some heavies to beat up those assholes.”

Why is everything here resolved by someone beating somebody else up? I sigh but say “Thank you” all the same.

He scowls. “Not you who should be thanking me, Carl. It was my problem to fix.”

I mean, yeah, it was, but it’s also kind of decent of him to come back and deal with it. “I presume because you’re back in the bar, you can walk around town and be seen again.”

“Yeah, Angelo’s put the word out that Marco doesn’t want any more trouble. Anyone who causes it will be banned from the fights … and the betting.”

“That’s good. I think.”

He frowns down at the table. “It’s good and it’s bad. Means I’m obliged to him, and I don’t want to be obliged to him. Don’t need him having any more leverage in persuading me to fight.”

My eyes roam over him again and regret burns up inside. “Probably shouldn’t have told you about it.”

He scowls. “Someone comes and threatens you, babe, I wanna know. This town is full of assholes who think they can ride roughshod.” He looks out across the bar at old Reg, who’s so drunk he’s dancing to what sounds like Frank Sinatra, waving his pint of beer in the air.

Rig runs his hands through his mop of hair, making it stick up at all sorts of angles, and a sad softness burns through me.

“Need to get out of this place,” he mutters.

“Why do you live here, Rig? You could be anywhere. Spend your weeks off in the Caribbean.”

He stares down at the table and draws a battered nail along where someone has carved their name. “I promised my dad.”

“What?”

“There’s a whole story behind the farm where my mom lives. My dad lost it in a gambling game.”

I nod. “One of my little old ladies, Mrs. McKinnon, told me about it.”

He shrugs. “It’s no secret. My dad was desperate to get the land back and did everything he could to get it back and made me promise to take care of my mom if anything happened to him.

Then, of course, something did fucking happen to him.

My stepfather, the asswipe, bought the farm by putting down a deposit and getting a mortgage on it.

He put my mom’s name on the deeds. Then he decided he wanted his money out and got another loan on the property but it was for more than it was worth.

Don’t know how he swung that. Probably got some friend to inflate the valuation and the bank accepted it.

Not sure how or why my mom agreed to it: He either gave her false paperwork or forged her signature, or it could be my mom signed it without realizing what she was signin’.

Anyway, he got the cash and took off, and now she owes more than the value of the land, so she can’t sell it. ”

“Jesus, Rig.” I chew my lip. “He isn’t liable for the payments? Or the bank for its mistake?”

“Farm’s in her name. Of course, she thought it was amazing that he was giving her the farm.

Little did she know. My mom’s been fighting for justice on this for a long time and getting nowhere.

It would cost more in legal fees than the land’s worth.

She’s managed to pull in some favors with lawyer friends to move it forward, but the case ain’t been going anywhere for a long time. ”

“So why do you need to be here?”

“Gotta get it turning a profit so we can pay it off. She can handle the day-to-day work on the land with the farmhands, but I help her with the business side. My mom’s no businesswoman.”

“Holy shit, Rig, that’s a big burden.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s what you do for your family.”

I stare around at the people in the bar. I don’t think like that about family anymore. Not after my uncle, my brother, Mark.

“Speaking of visitors, someone else came looking for you at my apartment,” I say.

He lifts his head from where he’s picking at the label on his beer bottle. “Yeah? Who would that be?”

“Sadie.”

I study his face as I say her name, and he looks conflicted.

Not a good look on a guy. And just as the word leaves my mouth, a dark-haired woman I’ve never seen before appears at the end of the booth.

She’s dressed in tight ripped jeans and a black tank with a glittery Coca-Cola swirl on the front that’s molded to her curvy body, heavy makeup on her pretty face, and long pink nails. Her eyes are fixed on Rig.

“Rig, honey, you’re back!” And she launches herself over the table and envelops him in a perfumed hug.

He stands up as he tries to extricate himself. “Amanda.”

“I heard you lost that fight! I’ve been so worried about you. You should have come to see me, honey.” Her gaze flickers toward me for a second. “I’m a nurse! I could have looked after you. I could have …”

And now I can place her. I remember seeing her around the hospital, years ago. She looks very different out of her nurse’s uniform.

But Rig cuts across her. “The doc patched me up, babe, and I’m a bit busy at the moment. Maybe we can talk later.”

The use of the babe moniker makes me wince.

“Busy? With her?” Her eyes swing to me with a barely restrained sneer as she flicks her long glossy hair over her shoulder. “When are you coming to see me?”

He squints at her. “Babe.”

“What?” she says.

He tilts his head. Oh God, he’s going to say it.

“You know I don’t do that,” he rumbles.

“You were with Sadie for years,” she hisses. And it’s so like what I was thinking about him that I want to groan out loud. She narrows her eyes at him and then swings her head to narrow them on me.

“Don’t think you’re special. He’ll make you think he cares about you, get all up in your stuff and help you out, but he won’t ever stick around.” Her eyes swing back to him. “Asshole,” she adds as she flounces off.

He sits down again and sips his beer with a heavy sigh. Apparently, Rig’s history with women is complicated. I’m regretting trusting him with my innermost secrets. I really shouldn’t have told him about Charlie.

“How long were you with this one for?” I say.

His mouth tightens as his eyes roam over my face. “One night.”

“What?”

“She picked me up here,” and I almost wince at how like the first time I met him this is.

“She decided after one night that it gave her the right to ask me to help her out with loads of shit: house repairs, a cheating ex-husband, problems with her parents. You name it. Shouldn’t have helped her out. ”

Well, I don’t have an ex-husband or family, but fixing the house is sounding rather familiar. Although I doubt I’ll be turning up and launching myself at him in Callahan’s.

He jerks his chin at me. “You were telling me Sadie stopped by, what did she say?”

“She was looking for you.”

“I get that. Didn’t think she was paying you a social call.” He studies me for a long time, examining my hair and my lips. “Did she leave some papers for me?”

“Papers?”

He blows out a breath. “I helped her get an apartment in Carbondale. My name’s on the lease.

It’s a place for couples only. I did stay there a lot because the trailer’s shit, but I don’t want to be liable for the money if she bails or does something stupid, and, babe, you met her, she is always doing something stupid.

She kept messaging and calling me, so I told her to get the lawyer to send me the paperwork to take me off the lease.

She didn’t do that. Shouldn’t have helped her.

Should have known she wouldn’t do that.”

The lease? What lease? And Rig not living in the trailer and shacking up with different women is becoming a bit of a recurring theme. Well, at least it explains why he was talking to her. Do I ask him more about Sadie? Do I want to know? Marni’ll kill me if I don’t find out.

“She said something about repairs.”

“Yeah, the management is doing some work on the building.”

Oh. “You didn’t buy the apartment together?”

A sharp frown crosses his face. “Rented, babe. That’s what having a lease is.”

Hot anger bubbles up at his patronizing tone.

Can I be bothered to keep track of all his goings on with different women?

I am one in a long line. He said he didn’t do long term, but I call bullshit.

It sounds like the sort of thing you say when you’ve got your hand up, holding someone at bay.

Like he just did with Amanda. And she’s right about one thing: He did permanent with Sadie.

He was engaged to her, for fuck’s sake. And then he bailed.

He’s studying me intently. “She say anything more to you?”

Getting into all this with him will make me look like a jealous girlfriend when I’ve only spent a handful of nights with him. I’m no different from the hair-swinging Amanda.

Why is he asking me this question anyway? “Is there something more to tell?”

He shrugs. “Sadie’s always spinning some tall tale; who knows what track she’ll be on one week to the next?”

I shrug, and he scowls.

“Babe …” he says, and the use of that word again …

“Well, it’s been cool to catch up,” I say, downing the last of my beer. I can’t prolong this, or I’ll do something stupid like invite him over. I shuffle along the banquette in the booth. “Got an early start with Agnes tomorrow.”

His hand shoots out as his eyes narrow on me. “Catching up? What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes scan my face. “I gotta go back to the rig in a coupla days. I was planning on staying with you, babe.”

There’s that word again. I examine his rough hand on mine, and my gut clenches.

What did those women say? Like she could pull someone like him.

I’d really like not to be seen as one of the town sluts.

It’s not who I am. All because I wanted some male company and I took leave of my senses and propositioned the only decent guy in town.

“It was fun while it lasted, Rig, and you’ve been more than kind to me, but I’m not up for getting close to you and being dumped.

” I take my hand from under his. “As I said the first night in this bar, you’ve got a reputation, and that’s fine, but I’ve had enough assholes to last me a lifetime.

I don’t think we should do this anymore. ”

“You calling me an asshole?” he growls. “I’ve been good to you, haven’t I? Apart from that first night, and I explained that.”

Yeah, he did.

He runs his tongue over his gums under his front lip. “I know I’ve got history, but I’m not dumping you.”

“But you will eventually.”

He picks at the label on his bottle again, then he looks up and gives me a soft smile. “Maybe I won’t.”

I shake my head and reach out and squeeze his hand. “It was meant to be one night. Circumstances were a bit different than that, and we had a good time. No harm, no foul.”

His jaw tightens, and he stares out across the bar, watching old Reg who’s still shuffling his feet and waving his glass around.

That’ll be me when I’m seventy. With my piles of bills and my debt.

Still drinking and still here. Maybe if I can be strong about this, I can be strong in other ways. Like exercising a muscle.

“I’d like to think I can come in here and we could have a beer and a laugh together. That we’d be on speaking terms,” I add.

He looks pained at the suggestion. “Like friends, you mean?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

His eyes narrow as he scans over my face. “Okay, babe. I can do friends.”

I slide out of the booth, and in minutes, I’m on my way.

As I walk to my car, my throat is tight. If that was the smart choice, why do I feel so goddamn pissed?