5. Chapter Five
Chapter 5
Hours later, Sorcha zipped her suitcase closed and declared herself packed. They’d returned from the beach, showered, and dressed for dinner. In a few minutes, they would walk to the fanciest restaurant in Seaside Bay, The Streamwood, for their last dinner together in Florida. After dinner, they would go to Crabbie’s to drink, dance, and socialize.
Sorcha wore a low-cut white tank top and skimpy black leather shorts. She had on high-heeled sandals with thin black straps across her toes and around her ankle. Linda eyed them warily. She hoped she wouldn’t be carrying Sorcha home from the bar later.
Linda wore a comfortable, loose-fitting maxi dress with spaghetti straps and a large fern pattern. It wasn’t something she’d ever wear at home, but here in Florida, it felt fitting. Plus, she’d picked it up for only five dollars at a thrift store earlier in the week—score!
Applying pink lipstick, Linda checked her hair in the mirror. Sorcha had braided a fancy Dutch braid in Linda’s hair and had woven in several strands of “fairy hair”, which were essentially strands of green and silver tinsel. The colors complimented Linda’s pink hair nicely. She felt like a rock star, if she was being honest.
“Have you seen my silver hoop earrings?” Sorcha asked, bursting into the bathroom.
“Not since this morning. You pulled them out when you parasailed. Are they in your tote bag?”
“Good call.” Sorcha darted out.
Linda grabbed her glass of Moscato and left the bathroom. She walked her wineglass to the kitchen sink and glanced around for her purse. Hearing a door shut in the hallway, she wondered if it was Mason. She hoped they wouldn’t run into him tonight. She worried Sorcha would grill Mason for information, information Linda wasn’t ready to hear. Like, did he have a girlfriend? Where was he moving next? Why, in Mason’s opinion, hadn’t things worked out between him and Linda? Sorcha loved to meet new people, and she wasn’t afraid of asking hard questions.
The short walk to the restaurant led them down the modest main street of Seaside Bay. They passed the pool and the parking lot of The Mockingbird, waited for two cars to pass through the intersection of Beachside Boulevard, gazed in the windows of Sunshine Sally’s clothing boutique, passed the Sailfish Inn Bed and Breakfast, and popped into Bayside Books, where Linda purchased three new-to-her, used cozy mysteries.
An early afternoon storm cooled the air, and Linda regretted not bringing a sweater or light jacket.
As they exited the bookstore, Sorcha asked if she should get Linda’s cats from Laurel’s place when she returned home.
“No, let them stay with Laurel until I get back. I need to be indebted to her just a little bit more,” Linda said, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue.
“You need to put your sister in her place.” Sorcha threw her arm across Linda’s shoulders. “I still can’t believe she wants you to dye your hair for her wedding. No one will recognize you if you don’t have pink hair!”
“Don’t remind me. But she’s the bridezilla to end all bridezillas so, lucky me.” She shrugged. She understood her sister wanted her wedding pictures to remain framed on the walls of her home forever, and Linda wasn’t sure she’d be happy seeing herself with pink hair at her twin sister’s wedding twenty years from now either, but it was the principle of the thing. Why did her sister feel it was her right to demand that Linda color her hair?
Linda promised herself she wouldn’t get jealous of Laurel. She loved her sister, but twenty-eight years of playing second fiddle to her twin was grating on her nerves.
She sighed as they entered the restaurant. At fifty-years-old, the Streamwood was the oldest operating business in the area. Linda loved its dark wood paneling, the old Hollywood style booths, and the smell of seafood and steak.
They sat near the western wall, which was a row of glass panels that could open to let in the gulf breeze, and tonight they were wide open. Seated, the young women ordered a calamari appetizer and two strawberry daiquiris. Once the server brought their drinks, they toasted to their last night in Florida together and promised each other it would be a fun one.
Feeling woozy after dinner and two daiquiris, Linda and Sorcha wobbled half a block closer to the condo building and entered the local dive bar, Crabbie’s.
There was live music playing tonight, and the bar was hopping. Seemed like everyone under thirty-five years old within a twenty-mile radius was jammed into the space.
Sorcha led the way to the bar and found their favorite tender, Quincy, serving drinks. Quincy looked like he was old enough to be everyone’s grandfather, but he claimed he was only forty-two. He was a transplant from the upper East Coast. He wouldn’t say where exactly, but everyone suspected New Jersey, based on his dialect. Quincy was bald and seemed to be minutes away from a serious burn on his scalp. His piercing blue eyes held either laughter or a warning. There was no in-between. The tattoos covering his neck gave the final warning. Look, but don’t touch.
Sorcha had been drooling over Quincy all week.
“What’s up, ladies?” he asked, tossing the silly coasters with “Crabbie’s - you can itch, but you better let us scratch!” logo at them and giving a sexy wink.
“Hi, Q. Two mojitos, and make them strong!” Sorcha called.
He nodded and stepped away.
“Don’t forget you’re flying home tomorrow morning. Early,” Linda reminded her.
“Right. Right. This is my last drink with alcohol. That’s why I asked for it to be strong.” Sorcha scanned the room as her hips started swaying to the beat. The band was covering nineties hits tonight, and Linda knew they’d be on the dance floor soon.
Quincy brought the drinks, and Linda handed him a twenty. “My treat,” she said to Sorcha. “To my last night in Florida!”
Sorcha clicked her glass, and they turned to look for seats. Every spot surrounding the bar was occupied.
Linda pointed to a tall table near the dance floor, and they made their way over. Perching on the seats, they looked around. Linda recognized many of the people. They’d been in the bar five nights that week. It was better than hanging out on the patio at the condo with the mostly retired residents. They were a lot of fun and great to talk to, but Linda and Sorcha preferred to let their hair down with people closer to their own age.
Before they had even finished their drinks, a man wearing a gold chain—instant turnoff for Sorcha—bought them another round. He became less of a turnoff for Sorcha, and she let him lead her to the dance floor.
Linda worried about the amount of alcohol her friend was drinking and asked the server for two glasses of water. She hoped dancing would burn off some of the alcohol.
Two hours, three drinks, and fifteen songs later, Linda decided it was time to leave. She checked the time on her phone and motioned for Sorcha to come off the dance floor. She did when the song finished.
“We should get going,” Linda said, showing Sorcha the time display. “Have to get you to the airport in seven hours.”
Luckily, Uncle Paul kept a car for anyone to use while staying in the condo. Linda didn’t mind getting up and driving her friend to the airport, but if she didn’t get some sleep soon, she’d consider calling a rideshare for Sorcha in the morning.
“But the band says they’re playing until midnight!” Sorcha whined.
“That doesn’t mean we have to stay.”
“Aw, come on. We said we were going to get crazy tonight.”
Linda shook her head. “No, we didn’t.”
“I think we should! I don’t want to go home!” She stomped her heel to emphasize her point.
A man neither of them recognized approached. Linda gave him the side-eye. If he asked Sorcha to dance, she might not get her friend to leave.
“How are you beautiful ladies doing this evening? Can I buy you a drink?”
“Fine,” Sorcha slurred. The man turned towards the bar.
“She means we’re fine,” Linda said. “Not fine for a drink. We need to leave.”
He touched Sorcha on the forearm, and Linda wanted to swat his hand away. How rude! “The night is still young. Let’s have some fun.”
Sorcha gave a little whoop and pranced back onto the dance floor. Linda plopped into her seat and decided to give Sorcha five more minutes, then she was dragging her out the door, by Sorcha’s silky blonde hair if she had to.
The smarmy man did not follow Sorcha to the floor. He put his hands on either side of Linda’s chair and leaned over. The smell of alcohol on his breath instantly churned the contents of Linda’s stomach.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he slurred. “How about a dance?”
Linda shook her head slowly, making sure it was clear to him. “No, thank you. We have to get home. One of us has an early flight tomorrow.”
“I’ll take you home.” He leaned even closer, and his hot breath flamed across Linda’s cheek.
Another voice broke in, controlled and firm. “No. You won’t!”
Mr. Smarmy suddenly jerked backwards. “What the…”
Linda looked behind him and saw Mason with his hand around the drunk guy’s upper arm. She jumped out of her chair. “Don’t!”
Mason looked at her and shook his head. “I won’t hit him. Are you all right?”
The scuffle attracted the stares of everyone around them. Sorcha rushed over and put her arm around Linda. “What happened?”
“Let go!” Smarmy yelled at Mason.
Mason dropped his grip on Smarmy and looked at Linda. “Ready to go? I’d be happy to walk back with you ladies.”
Linda swallowed and nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Ready, Sor?”
Smarmy stalked off.
They made their way to the front door, and Quincy caught up to them. “You girls okay?”
“Yes,” Linda answered. “We’re good.”
Addressing Mason, Quincy said, “Want a job as a bouncer? You’ve got the build and the eye for it.”
“I’m not sticking around long enough, but thank you.”
Outside, Linda realized adrenaline was still rushing through her veins. “Mason, where did you come from? I didn’t see you in there.”
“I was sitting on the far side of the bar.”
“You were watching us?” Sorcha asked, swaying into Linda.
“Not intentionally. I noticed you a few minutes ago. I’d only been in there for a little bit. It was too nice to stay in the condo.”
Sorcha nudged Linda with her shoulder. “Yes, you shouldn’t stay cooped up. I’m leaving tomorrow and Linda will need someone to keep her company.”
“I’m around,” Mason said. “Happy to help.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.” Linda tightened her grip on Sorcha’s arm, worried she’d trip and take them both down.
“That’s not what I said or implied,” Mason said.
Linda knew that was true, but she didn’t want to feel indebted to him. It may have seemed like he came to her rescue, but she could have handled the situation on her own. She’d been calculating the effectiveness of a swift knee kick when Mason had grabbed Smarmy.
Besides, she could see right through Sorcha’s comments. Her goal was to get something started between Linda and Mason. But they’d been down that road before—twice—and it hadn’t worked out. She wasn’t trying for number three.
Mason was thankful the sky was cloudy, and the moon’s light was dull. He caught Sorcha’s meaning, and it made him smile. But he sensed, more than saw, Linda stiffen. Even after six years apart, he was perfectly in tune with Linda's body language. She didn’t want to rely on him. And she didn’t like her friend goading her on.
While he didn’t want to be seen as searching her out, he was thankful he’d been in the bar when that jerk got in her face. As soon as the man had approached Linda and her roommate, Mason had gone on high alert. He’d instinctively stood and started walking slowly around the bar, ready to spring into action if needed.
When the menace got in Linda’s face, Mason saw red, and his body moved without his mind’s permission. He lunged.
As mad as he was about the guy’s actions, Mason was more irritated that he could no longer watch Linda and her friend laugh and enjoy themselves. They'd been loose and having a great time.
The sight of them dancing made him think about the house party he and Linda had gone to just before they broke up. Scratch that. Just before Mason took off and left Linda with a lot of questions and no answers.
It had been a beautiful spring evening, and his buddy was throwing a kegger off campus. He took Linda, hoping they’d have a good time. At that point, it seemed like he was always putting his foot in his mouth with her, saying the opposite of whatever she wanted to hear.
She’d taken to dancing that night as well, and he’d loved watching her enjoy herself. It’d been a special night, almost magical, until his car got towed and the night was spoiled.
“Can’t believe we have to be up in…” Sorcha paused and looked at her phone. She hiccupped loudly and Mason hoped everyone in the condo building had their windows closed. “Four hours. Yikes!” she finished.
They stepped into the doorway, and Mason punched in his entrance code. Before the door closed, Linda punched in her number as well, and Mason wondered why, when the door was already open. Must be out of habit.
At the elevator, Sorcha jabbed at the button. “Why did you let me drink so much?”
“I tried to tell you.” Linda shrugged. “I tried to pull you out of there three times.”
“You did?”
“Yep.”
The elevator doors opened, and Mason waited for the women to enter. Linda went first and faced him as he entered. Her eyes looked tired, and the skin across her shoulders was pink.
“You got some sun today,” he observed.
The corner of her mouth raised in a wince. “Beach day, and we went parasailing.”
“You did?”
Sorcha swayed forward, and Linda steadied her. “It was a blast!”
The elevator carted them to the fourth floor, and when the doors opened, Mason let them exit first. At the door to his condo, he waited to watch Linda unlock her door. “Good night, you two. Nice to meet you, Sorcha. Have a safe flight.”
Sorcha’s hand waved as she walked into the condo, calling out her farewell.
Linda paused in the doorway and looked at him. “Thank you. For walking home with us. And for pulling Smarmy off me.”
“Of course.”
She entered her condo and closed the door behind her. Mason shook his keys, looking for the right one.
Inside, he left the lights off and walked to the fridge to grab a beer. He’d left a full one open on the bar at Crabbie’s.
He went to the patio door and slid it open. On the balcony, he eased into a patio chair and took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs.
The light from next door flipped on and he knew Linda was in the bedroom. He knew that condo as well as he knew his own. He hoped she’d come outside before going to bed, but she did not. When the light clicked off again, he whispered, “Night, Lindy.”