5. Bring All The Emotions #2
I pull in a deep breath. When I make it behind the counter, Winnie is balancing on one foot and trying to maneuver her crutches. Her eyes saucer and shift between Payne and me. “We’re slammed. I’ll serve the counter and you take the floor.”
I put my hand up to stop her. “You’ll do no such thing. If you don’t sit down and put your foot up, I’ll take over the kitchen, too, and make Carl take you home. Then you’ll miss out on all the fun.”
She pauses before wobbling back to her seat at the cash register. “Okay, honey. If you say so.”
Hushed whispers fill the diner. These aren’t just regulars. They’re life-longers who don’t forget a thing.
I focus on my task at hand and stuff a glass with ice with more force than I used on the poor coffeemaker. The water sloshes when I set it down in front of Payne. This is the closest I’ve been to him in years.
Twelve years, two months, three weeks, and...
Wednesday ... Thursday ... Friday...
Yes, three days.
I was so worked up on my drive here from the manor, I actually did the math. And I haven’t done the math since that one time a few years ago when I spiraled down the dark hole of my past in a bottle of tequila. Both are not good places to be.
Payne picks up his water and downs half of it.
“I assume neither of you need to see a menu. What would you like?”
Dean speaks first and not with his order. “So you’re bringing the show home and singing at the manor, huh?”
I lean a hip against the drink station and do my best to put my back to Payne even though he’s right there. “I am. It’s great that Winslet has an establishment and a following that appreciates the arts.”
Payne grunts.
Dean keeps talking. “Still, The Speakeasy at the manor can’t compare to Broadway, right?”
I don’t dare admit that Broadway never appreciated me.
That’s the way I choose to look at it. I got a callback once for the chorus and a background dancer.
But it seems, the dancing has to be as good as the singing, and since my dance skills were honed by Winslet High School show choir, I didn’t have what it takes.
I try to defend myself. “Of course it compares. Have you been to the manor? It’s pure class. And it’s a regular gig, as long as I can keep the bar full and the liquor pouring. Who doesn’t love live entertainment? Oh wait—I know who. Your BFF.”
Payne slams the poor water glass on the counter again. “I have a meeting in forty-five minutes. I’m ready to order.”
“I’m catching up with an old friend.” I lean forward on the counter and perch my chin on my fist. “So, Dean, what’s it like being the big man in a small town? If I remember right, you planned to travel the world on Uncle Sam’s dime.”
“Seriously, what the fuck does anyone have to do to get a sandwich around here?” Payne mutters.
Dean narrows his eyes. “I got tired of Uncle Sam bossing me around. And I know your grandma is one of the town’s busy bodies, so I know you know why I’m back.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I say sincerely. “And Grandma does keep me in the loop ... for the most part. She’s not getting any younger. I want to spend time with her and Blake.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Payne mutters. “If I have to put in my own order, I will.”
I pull in a deep breath and turn to the man I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being around again. “Let me guess ... a double cheeseburger with fries and a Coke.”
Payne’s beautiful face screws up into a grimace as he motions to himself. “Things have changed. I don’t have the metabolism of a thirteen-year-old. I’m not about to fuck up my time in the gym with fried food.”
I roll my eyes. “Is your mother still dictating your life? I bet she bought you those shoes too.”
Payne’s eyes narrow. “My mother can barely dictate anything these days.”
“I remember all too well how much she got off on that,” I counter. “I’d say I hope you haven’t followed in her footsteps, but better hers than your father’s.”
Dean raises a finger, as if that will draw my attention away from years of built-up angst waiting to erupt like a volcano. “With the low crime rates, I have more time to hit the gym. I’m not normally a big lunch person, but I’ll make an exception and take that double cheeseburger with fries.”
We both ignore Dean. The bandage has officially been ripped off, taking a lick of skin with it.
It’s no-holds-barred. A free for all. And by the looks of it, Payne is unbridled.
He rests his forearms on the bar, leans forward, and lowers his voice. “You’ve been hiding out for over a decade, and that’s the second comment about my father I’ve heard from you today.”
The fakest smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Imagine that. The mention of Owen Deacon hits a nerve. Trust me, you’re not the only one.”
Payne lowers his voice to a lethal level. “You have no idea.”
My brows rise, and my eyes go wide. “Oh, I know. You look like him. You dress like him. You took over his business ... Grandma told me you moved back into his house. What am I missing?”
Payne’s jaw turns to granite. If a glare could kill, I’d be dead behind the counter like in the old westerns Grandma enjoys.
Dean forgets about his double cheeseburger. “I knew this was going to be good, but you guys are putting on a show that rivals every shitty high school performance you used to star in. You’re really bringing the emotion for the townsfolk.”
I bite my lip and look around. Winnie is gripping her crutches like they’re pearls. The retired club is turned in their seats. And an older woman who I’m positive is in Grandma’s Bible study has her cell pointed right at us.
Great.
Grandma will know about this before I have a chance to go home and wash the bacon smell off me.
“Well.” I stand up straight and swipe his empty water glass off the counter to refill it. “History shows I can’t count on Payne to finish what he starts when it comes to the theatre, so I’ll save my breath.”
“Really? You’re still hung up on that after all these years?” Payne demands. “I had no choice.”
“Here we go,” Dean mutters.
“But you did have a choice. Doing the right thing is always a choice.”
Payne shakes his head and proves some things never change, because he starts talking to himself. “Here we go, back to high school shit. As if I didn’t pay for that enough back in the day. I was going to get kicked off the team if I didn’t go to that tournament.”
“Since the horrible memory is burned on my brain, you skipping show choir finals for an out-of-town basketball tournament was not good. You got your ass handed to you.”
Dean points between me and Payne. “That was an epic week. It was the only time you two broke up. I mean, other than the last time you broke up, which I guess was the official break up—the final break up.”
Payne crosses his arms. “Ruby does all the breaking up. Though sometimes, she doesn’t bother breaking up. She just disappears, leaving some to have to figure that shit out on their own.”
I’m still gripping his water glass so tight, I’m surprised I don’t shatter the dang thing. I pull out the drink gun and press go on the water. My nerves are shot, and the glass overflows before I realize what I’m doing.
I slam the glass in front of him. I’m proud of myself for not throwing it in his face. “Shall I bring you a bowl of limp lettuce since you’re getting ready for swimsuit season? You know Carl hates it when anyone orders a salad.”
Carl proves that every soul in the building is listening to the drama and yells from where his head is poked around the corner. “I hate making salads!”
I turn back to Payne. “I told you. Are you really going to force him to do something that doesn’t bring him joy?”
Payne doesn’t place an order for anything.
He twists on his stool, stands, and pulls his wallet from the breast pocket of his fancy-ass sport jacket that’s probably worth more than my entire wardrobe.
He flips it open, pulls out a fifty, and tosses it on the counter in front of me.
“Thanks for the impeccable service, but I’ve got a meeting.
This isn’t for you—that’s for Carl and Winnie since I took up a spot and didn’t order. ”
I grab the fifty and wave it in his face. “I wouldn’t take a penny from you if it were the last cent on earth.”
Payne slaps Dean in the shoulder so hard, I wonder if he wishes it were my face. “See you at softball practice.”
Dean throws back the last swallow of his coffee. “I can’t wait.”
I watch Payne strut out of the Combover, taking his empty stomach and bad attitude with him. As the bell rings more violently than necessary, I point to Dean with the fifty-dollar bill. “You’re dead to me.”
Dean might have been the risk-taker, shit-stirrer, and troublemaker, but he wasn’t the intense one. That was all Payne.
It was also what I loved most about him. He did nothing half-ass.
Just like now.
The wounds are as raw as ever, and it shows.
Dean smirks. “Whatever you say Ruby-doo. I’ll give you until my burger is ready—I want to know everything you’ve been up to since you ran away from home. That lover’s spat made me hungry. Get me a burger, and we’ll catch up.”
I sigh and hand the fifty to Winnie. “I’m really sorry.”
She shakes her head and bites back a grin. “Honey, do not apologize. The minute news gets out that Ruby and Payne had a tiff in the Combover, they’ll come flocking for supper. This will be good for business. Keep the fifty. You earned it.”
I press the bill into her hand. “No way. Treat yourself. I still feel bad. That won’t happen again. I got it out of my system. From here on out, Payne Deacon is like any other resident of Winslet. I’ll control myself. I promise.”
She tucks the fifty in her shirt pocket. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”