Mark gave me a departing arrogant lift of his chin, a smug smile and walked away in silence, the manager escorting him to the door. When he was gone, the manager returned and informed us that dinner was on the house: beer, pizza, everything. We both tried to argue, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Well, that could’ve been worse.” I grinned.
“I feel terrible, Holst,” she admitted.
“I’m sure I can find him and beat the shit out of him. And enjoy it.” I smiled.
“No, not like that.” She shook her head. “I feel guilty. I hurt him.” She looked out the windows, but I took her hand and forced her to look back to me.
“If I had to guess, he’s been spoiled, skated on his looks and talent, and never matured beyond the selfish, macho stage he’s in now. There was a painting at his show,” I began, but regretted as soon as the words left my lips.
“Which one?” she asked. “The creepy one with the forked tongue?”
I knew exactly the painting she spoke of. “No.” I chuckled. “There was one at the end of the exhibit of a woman. I thought it was composed by someone else, but it was his. I told him he should paint like that. He’s trying to be someone else, because he’s scared to be who he is. But if he embraced that specific ability, Katherine, I have no doubt his fame would outgrow this community.”
“I wish I’d seen it,” she said as I finished my beer.
I was glad she hadn’t.
Katherine
It was the end of October, the day before Halloween. Summer was officially over. The first cool days began, and things between Holst and me were…fantastic. I don’t think I’d ever been happier, and comparing—which I tried not to do, but couldn’t seem to help myself—my relationship with Holst to the one I had when I was young…this was no comparison. Just like I’d told Tori, my hope was confirmed. It was the biggest. It was the best. My heart was full, and I had bruises on the insides of my thighs from all the delicious sex.
And I couldn’t stop smiling.
Holst hired a new employee, a tattooed guy named Leo that Frodo introduced him to. He’d been a manager for another café in town and was more than happy to work weekends. It seemed Coastal Ink was a great way to network.
Meanwhile, Ruby, Tori, and I decided to have an intervention with Dee. From what we could see, she was pretty unhappy since whatever had been going on with Frodo had ended. But she wouldn’t tell us what happened or why.
And that wasn’t cool.
I decided to be the leader since I was the most tight-lipped of all of us. Actually, Ruby still hadn’t explained what happened when her ex took her for three days, but that was different. We all respected Ruby would talk if she needed to. But Dee? This was Frodo, unnaturally blue eyes, random huge-ass tattoo of Gandalf the Wizard on his back, large, silver plugs in each ear, a great beard in the making, and never mind he was short. Apparently the guy packed a jackhammer.
So, what the fuck?
Oh, and most important of all, she was clearly in love with him.
Operation carve-the-pumpkins was set. Paper Petal had a huge, rustic table in the middle of the shop, all shabby-chic style. But my girl Tori covered it with plastic trash bags, big, silver bowls for pumpkin guts, and Ruby provided all the tools we would need for what she called, “The best decorated pumpkins on the West Coast.” Her tools included an actual electric drill and a small hand saw which, to be honest, kinda scared the crap out of me. I considered myself a handy, do-it-yourself gal, and if I couldn’t figure out how to do something, I called in a professional. But using a saw on a pumpkin? I was having a hard time envisioning why a good, old-fashioned serrated knife wouldn’t do.
Then Ruby pulled a little, red wagon out of the back with a giant-ass pumpkin and all was clear to me.
I leaned my head to Dee, who was laughing at the orange monstrosity, and said to her, “Power tools. I get it now.”
An hour later, we were all carving, and I let out a long, happy, satisfied sigh. This was part of the plan.
And, as planned, Tori commented with faux sarcasm. “What happened to you?”
“What?” I asked innocently, just beginning to carve my little pumpkin. I was past the goopy-pumpkin-guts stage and onto the creative, make-it-awesome stage.
“I seem to remember you being irritated with me when I was falling in love with Cam,” she teased.
“Well, that was annoying, because I never thought I’d have a shot at what you did. Now, I’ve got my shot. All we need is you two whores to get your asses in gear and find good men.” I then turned my attention to Dee. “By the way, what happened with Frodo?”
It wasn’t subtle, not at all. But we needed to corner her and get some answers.
She stabbed her pumpkin, which was looking very pretty with a little bride silhouette on the front.
“So, guessing the bride dies in your horror movie pumpkin carving theme?” I joked, doing my very best to keep things light.
But then she began hacking away at the thing. Ruby grabbed her wrist mid-stab and smiled. “I can rescue this pumpkin if you stop the bloodshed now.”
And Dee began to cry. Not a pretty cry. Not a nice dainty cry. This was face-contorting, guttural, animal-sounds crying.
We all surrounded her, and finally, she said, “He married her.”
“Who married who?” Tori asked.
“My ex. He married the girl from Exeter. They worked together, but not for a few years. He kept her in a flat, spent long nights working, sometimes didn’t come home…that’s where he was, with her. He married her.”
Tori rubbed her back and said, “I’m so sorry, honey.” Ruby and I were both looking at Tori, letting her take the lead, and to my total surprise, she powered on with the plan. “I, uh…” She paused.
Dee looked at her and asked, “What?”
Tori carefully asked, “Sorry, Dee, but I’m still wondering why Frodo’s out of the equation?”
“He’s had a lot of women, and he has a lot of secrets,” she replied.
“Frodo?” I asked with surprise.
“Yeah,” she returned.
I decided to add my own two cents, but did it as gently as possible. “From what I hear, your future brother-in-law, Nico, was a total man-whore before Lark came along. And he worships the ground she walks on, right?”
Dee gave a humorless laugh and asked, “How many woman do you think Cam has slept with, Tori?”
My bestie blushed a little and said, “His numbers are well under twenty. Mine, not so much.”
She then turned her head to me and asked, “What about Holst?”
I actually didn’t know, so I filed that away for more twenty-questions nights. “I have no idea, but I don’t care. Mostly because I know my number is probably higher, for one, and two, it’s in the past, babe.”
“Okay,” she said, “let me rephrase: how many women do you think he’s had at the same time?”
We all shared a look, and I, for one, needed more information. “Wait. What? What do you mean?”
“It can’t leave this room, and I mean it. You share with anyone, and it gets back to him, I’ll never trust any of you again.”
Ruby was the first to speak. “I don’t have any friends except for all of you, and I don’t want to screw that up. So your secret is safe with me, Dee.”
Tori seemed more reluctant, but was honest. “I don’t keep things from Cam. Not when it’s important stuff. But I know he absolutely detests gossip, so if it’s something juicy, he’d rather not know.”
It was down to me. “Yeah, you’re just gonna have to tell me and trust I won’t go blab it from the rooftops. That’s not my style. So honey, fucking talk!”