Chapter 4

A small child could be heard screaming down the hall. A frantic father sprang into action as the child’s mother lay passed out from the evening’s festivities. The father was prematurely aged—only thirty-five, with crow’s feet, tired eyes, and salt and pepper sprinkled on his temples.

“Hey there, buddy. Did you have a bad dream?” He picked up the crying five-year-old and soothed him until he was calm enough to stop sniffling.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m sorry.” The young boy with matching black curls and sparkling blue eyes ran his hands over his face, wiping away his tears. He is the spitting image of his father.

“Don’t be sorry, son. Do you want to tell me about it?” The father put him back into bed and kissed his forehead.

The boy shook his head emphatically, giving his father the impression he just wanted to forget about it and go back to sleep.

“Where’s Mommy?” The father stopped in his tracks and hung his head low. His chin touched the hollow of his neck, but he needed to put on a show for his five-year-old. He doesn’t want his child to feel like his own mother couldn’t be bothered to make sure her son is okay.

The father faced his child and openly lied to him. He knows something is wrong, but doesn’t feel he has a choice.

“She’s not feeling well, buddy. But don’t worry, she’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Dad. I love you.” His son sighed and tucked the Paw Patrol blanket under his chin, keeping the chill out. The father hears his child whimper because his mother continues to reject him.

“I love you too, buddy.”

He debated whether to return to bed. He halted in front of their bedroom door, his hand hovered over the brass knob. He jerked back, remembering how it felt to be lying beside a narcissistic sociopath, cold and detached. He turned on his heel and headed to his study. He found more comfort and joy in his books and computer software than in the woman who has been his wife these last five years.

Taking a detour, he changed his path and grabbed a 3:00 a.m. snack—grapes, Cheetos, and a Gatorade. He’ll worry about the Cheetos on the racquetball court tomorrow. He needed something to put a smile on his worn face.

Instead of working, he opened a secret compartment in his desk, sat on his tufted brown leather couch, grabbed a throw blanket, and opened what appeared to be a wedding album. The cover is black and tattered. The pages were singed and torn, but the images are still intact—granted, some faces are unrecognizable. But he only cares about one. The one who got away. The one he allowed others to chase away.

Oh, who was he kidding? He pushed her away. And now he’s allowed others to make her suffer even more, as if cheating on her wasn’t enough. She loved him even while she tore herself apart for him and stifled her potential for him and others. Yet, she still loved him. Leigh Anne was loyal and supportive, and he squandered her—took her for granted.

He’d never regret his son, but nothing says he can’t regret his mother. Now, he was stuck. Her beauty was unmatched at one time—tall, slender, blonde, and with rich brown eyes. On this day especially, no one radiated such magnificence, such brilliance. He ran his hand over the black-and-white photo of this beautiful young bride and wet it with his tears.

“I made a mistake,” he rasped as he slammed the album closed.

“What mistake was that, darling?”

A Busy Night

The nerve, she thought to herself. Since she moved here, she has always kept her head down, and she likes it that way. And then Theodore waltzed in, and he threatened upheaval to her solitude. To think he thought he could boss her around and make demands of her. She growled at the notion; who does this jerk think he is?

She had made a vow, never to allow anyone - man or woman alike- to dictate her life decisions again. She had been independent for years before him; she would continue on that path even with him annoying her. As she continued on her tables, her thoughts were interrupted again.

“Well, someone appears to be having a bad night.” Ugh, that condescending tone and grating voice.

“What do you want? Don’t you see we’re pretty busy?” Leigh Anne huffed as she continued to wipe down the table. “Don’t make me get the owner.”

“The owner? Wow, I’m pissing my pants! Do you even know what the owner looks like?”

She had never wanted to smack someone more in her life.

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that? I’ve only worked here for five years. Don’t you think I would have seen him once or twice?” She was about to leave the table and attend to other patrons.

“Five years, huh? Well, seeing him would have been impossible because he just returned to town three weeks ago.” Theo thought he had outsmarted her.

“You’re playing my last nerve, Theodore.”

“Didn’t I say my friends call me Theo?” Again, he grinned. Theo was enjoying his little cat-and-mouse game.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not friends. Now, will you get a drink or get on my last nerve? Because either way, you’re going to end up wearing that drink.”

“Leigh Anne!” A shrill voice called to her from behind the bar. “I’m sorry, Mr. Collins. I would have thought she would have known better than to be snippy to you.”

Leigh Anne felt the lightbulb go off. She wanted to crawl under a rock and wait out the storm about to pour down on her head.

“Go get the owner a scotch on the rocks. Not the cheap shit, top shelf.” Her manager shooed her away.

But not before Theo grabbed her hand. “That’s right, Leigh Anne. Get used to seeing my face. This here, Dusty’s—I’m the owner. And we’ll be seeing a lot of each from now on.”

Dusty’s is a bar inspired by an old western film and a dive bar that only served peanuts in their shell and sawdust on the floor. But it felt like home.

            “Oh, holy shit. I’m screwed.” Leigh Anne scurried away to the opposite end of the bar, where she waited for Norm to pour his drink and where she noticed Theo watched her inhale and exhale.

End of the Night—A Ride Home With the

Stranger On the Pier

Theo knew she was going to be fun to tease. But, of course, nothing too extreme. He didn’t want her to misconstrue his actions as anything inappropriate. Leigh Anne made it obvious she was avoiding him—giving his table to one of the other girls, avoiding his piercing, icy glare, and keeping her head down.

But he noticed the patrons loved her. She engaged with them, took time to get to know their drinks by heart, and noticed she had regulars who requested her area specifically. Theo respected her work ethic. He could tell she wasn’t some airhead waitress. She had an education—a hella prestigious one at that. Theo observed how strong she was, too. She didn’t have to take numerous trips back up to the bar. She could easily carry two trays on one arm, even if she had big parties.

Theo left the front of the house and headed to his office to run numbers and check inventory. She was getting too flustered, and it was affecting her performance. He didn’t need to continue watching her. His watchful eyes had had enough, and he was sure she felt better knowing he was gone.

Finally! Closing time! Theo had been in his office since 11:00, and now, at 4:00 a.m., Leigh Anne had been working for eleven hours. She must be exhausted, and he’s sure she plans to walk home, which could be a huge mistake. With a flip of the wall switch, he noticed Leigh Anne busing her last table. He was careful not to make his presence known, so he cautiously stood back and watched her closely as the other female engaged in a heated exchange with Leigh Anne.  Morgan - Morgan Reed is a fiery redhead with long hair that flows to the middle of her back. She was buxom, long, and lean, with a rugged elegance. Morgan is the in-house DJ who had it out for Leigh Anne. No matter how hard she tried to get along with her, Morgan did her best to get her fired. But her treatment of Leigh Anne had worsened since Theo showed up.

“How often do I have to tell you not to clean my area while I break down my equipment?” Morgan’s eyes burned with unapologetic rage. “My shit is expensive, and I know your cheap, manicured ass won’t be able to compensate me for my loss of gear.”

“I-I’m s-sorry, Morgan. I-I didn’t mean to spill my bucket. I cleaned it up, and the music board works f-fine…” Poor Leigh Anne was a blubbering mess as she tried to appease and move around her.

“And one more thing, blondie, stay away from Theo.” That was another complication for Leigh Anne. She had no intention to mess around with the boss. But all she could do was avoid Morgan and Theo and finish her work before she began walking home.

As he saw Morgan leave in a huff,  Theo fumbled with the lock and nearly tumbled down fifteen steps, trying to catch her before she left.

But he was too late. She was gone. Saying goodbye to Norm, who breezed right past on his bike, Theo headed to his car before noticing a female silhouette sitting on a familiar bench on the pier. Theo leaped and walked over to keep her company. The closer he got to her, the stronger his attraction. She stared off into the crashing black waves. She was entranced by the dying roar of the fairgoers having fun. He wasn’t sure if he was attracted to the elegance of the back of her head or the sadness that her shoulders sagged.

“I can hear you breathing. Come any closer, and I’ll make you blind and deaf in three seconds.”

“You’d debilitate your boss for wanting to keep you company?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone with my thoughts? What do you want from me?”

“To be your fr—”

“To be my friend? Do you want me to believe that? I need this job, but I’m not willing to jeopardize my morals for your friendship, Mr. Collins.”

“Wow. You know how to cut out a man’s heart, huh?”

“And yet you’re still here?” Leigh Anne snapped as she rose from her bench and walked away.

“Leigh Anne, come on. Don’t walk home this late alone.”

This time, she didn’t just leave him with taciturnity. She turned around, facing him fully—no hesitation, nerves, or aloofness—she actually considered his company, but then the tension returned as she sensed his hopefulness.

“I can take care of myself. Good night, Mr. Collins.”

He didn’t have to move far to keep up with her stride. “Please, call me Theo, at least outside of work.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Collins. We’re not friends.”

“At least let me give you a ride home. I know where you live, so we’re not that far. But I’d feel better.”

Thinking it over, 4:00 a.m. was not the safest time to walk home. Sometimes, Norm gave her a lift. So, how bad could this be? She just gave him a nod, and they were strolling to Theo’s silver luxury sports car. They were silent the whole drive. Leigh Anne felt awkward and uncomfortable. As the world passed her by, all she could do was want nothing more than to jump out of the car while it was still moving. As she looked beyond the horizon, he tried to figure her out. His new puzzle is missing that one piece to complete it.

She had him stop and let her out at the entrance gate of the RV park. As her feet touched the asphalt and she pulled herself out of his car, he made a movement that made her pause.

“Maybe one day you could consider us friends?”

She replied softly without looking at him as she pulled her arm away. “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Collins. Thanks for the ride, though. See you at work.”

His face fell as she closed the door gently. “Good night, Leigh

Anne.”