Chapter 5
FIVE
CORRINE
A split second later, and I would have caught it before it hit the ground. Before glass shattered all over the kitchen floor. Before my legs, the counter, and the oven door became covered with thick, red, sticky liquid.
I grabbed a towel off the hook beside me and started wiping up what I could of the ketchup. I’d need a mop to get under the stove. I started around the corner, pushing through the stainless-steel double doors to the dining room.
“Thank you for your understanding,” I heard my sister say.
Sylvie stood at the far end of the dining room, leaning against the hostess stand.
I froze, trying to slink back out of sight, but it was too late.
The male customer in front of my sister glared my way.
He said something low and mean to Sylvie, shaking a finger in her face.
She cast a judgmental glance over her shoulder at me and then apologized again. My customer stormed out the front door.
Sylvie followed him, flipped the sign to “Closed” on the outside and turned the deadbolt. I grabbed the mop and set myself to the task of cleaning up the spilled ketchup.
I heard my sister and brother’s muffled voices coming from behind the bar on the other side of the kitchen doors. There would be no escape for me. I couldn’t just sneak out the back and drive away. I lived in the apartment upstairs. My brother owned the building. And he owned the bar as well.
When the kitchen doors swung open, I braced myself.
“What happened?” Sylvie asked.
I swiped the mop over the last sticky spot and then went to the utility tub to rinse it.
“Just dropped a bottle of ketchup. No fatalities.”
Sylvie came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. She turned me toward her. “I’m not talking about the ketchup and you know it, Corrine. Put the mop down. Leave this for the bussers.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I wanted to go right upstairs and lock the door. But Sylvie would follow. I’d get no peace tonight until she got this out of her system.
I untied my apron and hung it on a hook by the door, then followed Sylvie to the back office. My brother sat at the bar, counting the night’s receipts and reconciling the cash in the drawer. He gave me a hard look as I passed.
“PJ,” I started. He put a hand up and shook his head. Great, I thought. It meant my older siblings had been talking behind my back all evening.
Sylvie sat at the desk when I walked into the tiny office with dark paneling from the early 1980s. The room was only big enough for one chair in front of the desk. I felt like I’d been called to the principal’s office.
“Whatever that guy told you,” I started. “He’s a jerk.”
“He said you never brought his and his date’s drinks. He said his burger was dried out like it had been left under the heat lamp too long. And he said you disappeared. Never checked on him.”
“Fine,” I said. “Believe whatever you want.”
“Corrine,” my sister said, softening her tone. “You haven’t been yourself all week. You’re coming in late. You’re missing things. Kristen said she had to cover your tables twice yesterday. Are you okay? Just tell me. That was our deal, right?”
“I’m fine,” I said through tight lips.
Sylvie reached for me across the desk, but I scooted my chair back.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing.” My back went stiff. I started pulling a loose thread on my sleeve. “I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”
“I think it’s more than that. I’m giving you an opportunity to tell me what’s been going on before…”
“Before what?” I shot back. “Before you fire me again?”
Sylvie took a deep breath, which flared her nostrils.
“That’s not my call. This is PJ’s bar. You know I’m just helping out.
This was supposed to be temporary. I have my own business to run.
I’m busy with the kids. You were supposed to take over managing this bar by the end of last year.
It’s almost April and you’re barely able to handle waiting on a handful of tables. ”
“Can we be done now? You’re not Mom, Sylvie.”
“And you’re not a child,” she shot back.
“You’re almost twenty-seven. We’ve been patient.
We’ve gone over and above trying to help you get on your feet.
But you sleep until noon every day. You’ve been late four out of four shifts this week.
It’s not like you’re stuck in traffic. All you have to do is walk down the stairs.
And on that subject… I know you haven’t paid your rent in three months. ”
“That’s none of your business,” I said.
“No,” she said. “It’s PJ’s. He could get twice what he’s charging you for that apartment. More than enough to cover the mortgage on this place. He’s hemorrhaging money. And he’s too much of a pushover to call you out on any of it. So, as usual, it’s my job to clean up everyone else’s mess.”
“I’ll talk to PJ. And as for tonight, that customer was a jerk. Did you ask Kristen why she didn’t want to wait on him? She left early, by the way. I’ve been covering her tables for the last two hours.”
I hated having to rely on either of my siblings. And I didn’t say the things I wanted to say. Sylvie would never see me as anything other than her annoying screw-up of a baby sister. No matter what I did, it wouldn’t be good enough.
“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up. “But I’m worried about you.”
“I don’t need you to be.”
“Fine,” she repeated. “Just… go upstairs. I’ll finish the clean-ups.”
“You don’t have to be such a martyr.”
She shot me a blistering look. She took a breath, surely ready to launch into her usual lecture. The one where everyone’s lives would be so much easier if we just did things her way.
But the office door opened and PJ poked his head in.
“Everything’s done out here. Why don’t you both go home?
” He didn’t stay a second longer than he needed.
When he shut the door and left, Sylvie looked ready to explode.
I had a pretty good guess why. She probably expected PJ to tag team with her on this lecture.
But when push came to shove, my brother was the ultimate middle child. He avoided conflict and disappeared.
“I’m going to bed,” I said, rising. “It’s been a long day.”
I pulled my purse off the wall hook. The strap twisted and half the contents spilled out onto the floor. Before I could stop her, Sylvie squatted down, helping to pick up everything that had fallen out.
Her hands closed around a business card I’d slid into the side compartment. “I’ve got this,” I shouted, trying to stop her before she read the card.
Too late.
Her face turning red, Sylvie rose to her feet.
“What is this?”
“Nothing,” I said, snatching the card from her hand. I shoved it back into my purse.
“Who is Detective Roy Dennison?”
“Nobody.”
“Corrine, what’s going on?”
“None of your business.”
“Please tell me you’re not stirring up ancient history.”
I didn’t answer.
“Corrine?”
“Let it go.”
Her face went beet red. “Dammit, Corrine. This is bad news. You swore to me years ago you were going to let this go. Put the past behind you.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said. I shoved the rest of the contents of my purse back in and ripped the zipper closed.
“No wonder you’ve been off your game. It’s this. That detective. You know how this ends. You know it doesn’t help.”
I brushed past her. “Stop talking. Stay out of it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. She sounded like she meant it, but I wasn’t ready to hear it.
I started for the back stairs. There were two entrances to my apartment.
One from the street, one from inside the restaurant just down the hallway.
On nights like this, I wished I could just get on a train and keep going.
My head pounded as I slammed the door behind me and trudged up the dark stairwell. Mercifully, Sylvie didn’t follow me. There would be plenty of time for her to shoot me her disapproving looks tomorrow. My feet throbbed as I kicked off my tennis shoes and pushed them against the wall.
This was a one-bedroom apartment, but large, covering the whole second floor of the building.
I had enough room for a king-sized bed in the bedroom.
I pulled off my black T-shirt with the company logo above the left breast. Tossing that behind me toward the washer and dryer, I went to the galley kitchen and pulled a mini-bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the fridge.
I pressed the cold bottle against my forehead, letting the condensation drip down my cheek. It felt good. Refreshing.
I picked up my purse and pulled Detective Dennison’s card back out, letting my fingers run over the raised lettering. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. Clutching the card against my chest, I felt my whole body start to tremble. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I could still feel those strong hands sliding up my arms, closing around my throat.
He had squeezed slowly at first. Almost playfully.
But it had turned into something else so fast. I couldn’t breathe.
Black spots swam in front of my eyes. I could see him staring at me through the darkness.
Those dark eyes had drawn me to him that first day we met.
And now they haunted my nightmares as I could never shake the memory of that last night with him.
I opened the wine and drank it down quickly. Though I wanted another, I knew that wasn’t the answer. Nothing ever was. Maybe Sylvie was right. Maybe I was better off pretending that nothing bad had ever happened.
I don’t really remember leaving the couch or walking over to my tall dresser against the wall. This had been my mother’s. The whole bedroom set was. It had been her grandmother’s before that. A Waterfall set from the 1940s.
I opened the top drawer and felt beneath the flower-patterned drawer liner. My fingers closed around the small plastic baggie. I carefully pulled it out, keeping my eyes closed, as if that could protect me.
I opened the baggie and pulled out the folded red silk ribbon. It was in two pieces now. I had cut it off my wrist. I should have thrown it away. Burned it. But something always stopped me.
Yes, I could still feel strong hands closing around my throat.
But I could also still feel the ribbon as he tightened it around my wrist and told me his very first lie.
I’d been so careful, so patient. It wouldn’t be much longer before everyone knew the truth.
Then he would finally get everything he deserved.