Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed or followed or favourited so far. It means a great deal. I'd like to take this opportunity to assure you that I will eventually be getting back to Sink or Swim. My mind just works better when I have more than one project on the go at a time.
Chapter 2
Tank's granny flat was small – about half the size my apartment had been, and mostly just one room – but it was all I needed. It was a place to stay while I figured out my life and where I was going next. It came with free wifi, the offer of storage for my belongings for as long as I needed it while I found my feet and no matter how much I tried to wear him down he refused to accept any kind of rent payment. Not only that, when I snooped through that first night, I found the fridge and pantry already stocked with my favourites – peanut butter, olives, birthday cake, white bread and beer. There were healthier options as well, and I suspected the freezer was stocked with some ready to reheat meals from Ella, but the fact that my staples were there made my heart swell whoever was responsible.
I went back to Joe's place the next day to start packing, just as I'd said I would and was surprised to find that Ranger had provided some muscle to get the job done quicker. Lester Santos was leaning against the front fender of the Rangeman standard issue black SUV, arms crossed over his chest and grinning from ear to ear when I exited Uncle Sandor's indestructible tank of a baby blue Buick.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, glancing up and down the street to determine that, yes, all the neighbours did have their noses pressed to the window. I hadn't had any contact with anyone from the Burg since early yesterday, but I had no doubt (based on the number of missed calls I had from my mother) that they all knew my engagement to Joe was over. Probably there were men in break rooms all over town with their heads knocking together as the placed bets on how long it would be before I was back with Ranger. Women were discussing the mandatory wait period before they could start setting their daughters, nieces, and friends with 'poor, abandoned Joe'. Because he was prime real estate in the Burg.
"Santos Removalists at your service," he replied with a fake hat tip, straightening as I approached. "Just point me in the right direction."
I rolled my eyes, but didn't comment, leading him to the front door and unlocking it with the key that was still on my keyring. I needed to remember to return that to Joe later.
Once inside, Lester dug a Bluetooth speaker and an iPod from the cargo pockets of his pants and set it up on the hall table so that Van Halen was blasting through the entire neighbourhood. I calculated that in order for the gossip grape vine to stay relatively pure, I needed to get Lester carrying boxes out to the car as soon as possible. If they saw me enter the house and neither of us exited again for a while there'd be rumours of an affair that brought about the end of Joe's and my relationship reaching my mother's ears by morning tea. Luckily, when we'd moved everything over from my apartment, there was very little use for it. The house was already fully equipped. So all of my things that weren't clothes, shoes, cosmetics or toiletries had simply been dumped in the first floor spare room.
That's where I took Lester.
"The sooner the sticky beaks out there see you hauling boxes the better," I explained, opening the door, to allow him access.
He gazed around, rocking back on his heels and letting out a low whistle. "Wow," he yelled over the music. "Way to make yourself at home!"
"We'll it's not like we need two toasters and coffee machines!" I pointed out.
He shrugged like he agreed, and stepped further into the room, eyeing the various sizes and shapes of the boxes. Probably he was playing a mental game of tetris to be sure he could fit everything in our cars in the minimum number of trips. I had not doubts it would all fit. The SUV had a massive trunk, and heaps of space in the back seat as well. And it wasn't like I had any furniture to move with. We'd decided that all of my hand-me-downs from family members could be recycled back into the family. I'm sure one of my cousins had kids preparing to leave for college.
"I'll be upstairs packing up my clothes," I informed him when he started shifting things to get to the bigger boxes on the bottom.
He turned and sent me the kind of grin that was renowned as panty dropping to those women who were not intimately aware of what a player he was. "I'll come up and help with your lingerie drawer," he teased.
I shook my head, not bothering to lend mind to his remarks and left him to the boxes. His joking was expected by this point. If Lester made it through an hour without making a flirtatious or mildly sexist comment, we started to think he was getting sick. Once, Cal bet him that he couldn't make it through an entire shift without saying anything suggestive toward or about women, and Bobby had actually dragged him down to the infirmary for a check-up, thinking he probably had a fever or a virus or something. It got to the point where Bobby had suggested a probiotic to help pep him up a bit before Lester finally caved, grabbing his crotch provocatively and replying, "You really think this needs any more pep?"
According to Bobby, Lester had groaned out a stream of unsavoury language as he collapsed back on the bed. Bobby also admitted that Cal had paid him with twelve monito shift covers if he could get Lester to crack. Lester still doesn't know to this day that he was set up. It's embarrassing enough that he couldn't make it through an entire shift without a typically Lester one liner, but to know that he'd be completely played off by his best friend for a few weeks without monitors would be completely vexatious.
I left him to his muscle work, grabbing my suitcase from the hall closet and dragging it upstairs to the bedroom I'd shared with Joe. It felt surreal being there, knowing that the relationship we had, had be striving toward, was over. I don't think it had really sunk in yet at that point. We'd ended our relationship so many times that it was like second nature. I'd learned to guard my heart against it. There had been a few tears yesterday at the time of relationship death, but that was mostly because we were both so calm and he was so accepting that I would end up with Ranger in some capacity, that it was all too real. Joe and I had never had a calm connection. Ever.
It took surprisingly little time to shove all of my clothes into the case, but it took even less time for Lester to stack all the boxes in his trunk. I stepped out of the bedroom with the suitcase in tow to find him backing out of Joe's office.
"What are you up to?" I asked in the conveniently placed gap between songs.
"Snooping," he replied blatantly. "I've never been in the Casa de Morelli before, and I doubt I'm gonna get another opportunity after today. I wanna get my money's worth."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're being here isn't costing you anything," I reminded him.
Lester shrugged, lifting my suitcase by the side handle attempting to leave me behind as he started down the stairs. "True," he called over his shoulder. "But the guys are gonna love knowing that Tough Cop Morelli has lace curtains in his windows and doilies on his desk."
"Left over from his great aunt," I pointed out, hurrying to keep up with him. "And those doilies were conveniently there when he needed a coaster."
He stopped on the bottom stair, suitcase still in hand, like it was nothing more than a packet of crisps, and swung around to face me. I had to grip the rail to keep from falling on top of him. "There are coffee rings and ketchup stains on the coffee table, Beautiful," he said, his serious face on. "You can't convince me that he uses coasters. You can't convince me that the doilies serve any kind of convenient purpose. The dude has doilies and lace and probably a fancy tea pot somewhere."
"Santos," I warned, using his surname to be sure he knew just how serious I was.
"Relax, Steph," he sighed. "I'm only gonna circulate the pictures at Rangeman. We will absolutely not be using this information as blackmail unless he gives us reason to."
"Good," I said, turning to go back upstairs. "Because pretty much everyone already knows about the curtains. And the doilies were actually planted by Mooch after discovering the curtains. It's all common knowledge in the Burg and on the force."
When I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back to find Lester hadn't moved but was, in fact, standing there with an exaggerated pout on his face, like I'd just poached his birthday cake. "You're no fun, you know that?" he asked.
"You know, I've never heard that before," I said teasingly, scratching my chin in mock thought as he shook his head and walked away. It was no fun arguing with me when I had the upper hand.
My phone started buzzing at that moment and I was dreading checking the caller ID. There was a ninety percent chance that it was my mother calling to try and talk some sense into me. She'd always pushed me to settle down. She was so happy when Joe finally put a ring on my finger. Probably, I was breaking her heart and causing a mental breakdown with this break up. I wasn't prepared to listen to my mother slurring about how I shouldn't throw my life away like this, that I had to give Joe a second (read: thirty first) chance. She'd been talking babies almost since the moment the ring was revealed. It was terrifying.
Slowly, I pulled the device from my pocket and glanced at the screen. Relief washed over me and I hit receive as I bounded down the stairs to turn the music down to a more appropriate level.
"Hey Mare," I greeted, making my way into the kitchen for a much needed glass of water. "What's up?"
"I just heard," she said sounding frantic. "How terrible! I can't believe he would cheat on you like that!"
I'd been all ready to explain that as far as break ups went his one didn't even make it to the top ten in terms of ferocity, but her words confused me. Gave me pause. She continued to rant a little before I managed to puff out, "Wait, what?"
"Joseph Morelli had the audacity to put a ring on your finger and then go off and sleep with some red headed harlot in the back of his truck. Repeatedly," Mary Lou explained patiently. It was the tone "That's what they're saying at the Clip n' Curl. They're saying that Eddie Gazzara threatened to tell you if he didn't. They're saying Eddie and Carl Constanza suggested, in a fifty thousand volts kind of way, that he was scum and that he needed to realise that you deserve better."
"What?" I asked again. That didn't make sense. We'd just had a mature break up. The first ever. We didn't even yell at each other. We realised we weren't a good fit and decided to go our separate ways. "Joe was… cheating?"
"Oh shit!" Mary Lou exclaimed in my ear. "You didn't know?! Oh honey, I didn't mean to dump it on you like that. I thought he'd told you. I thought that's why guys broke up!"
I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't think at all. I couldn't barely stay upright. My only saving grace was my white knuckled grip on the fridge door.
"Steph, I am so sorry," Mary Lou was saying. "God he is such an ass! He deserves everything they gave him. And more! He better steer clear of me or I'l-"
But I didn't hear anymore. My hand had moved the phone away from my face and, without my brain's permission, turned the device off completely. By this point, Lester had returned from his latest trip to the car and was poking through the cupboard above the sink.
"These are some fancy tea cups," Lester observed, pulling one down and making a face I recognised as his impression of the Queen of England as he pretended to take a sip. "Does the cop actually use these? I can't imagine him using these. Unless he's drunk and has run out of glasses. Has that happened? They're about the right size for double shots."
"He cheated," I breathed, leaning my back against the fridge. My knees were threatening to give out. I was shaking, I realised as I reached up to tuck a curl back behind my ear where it was unlikely to stay.
"Yeah," Lester sighed, setting the tea cup down and leaning against the counter across from me. He looked dejected. Deflated. "I was supposed to tell you when you arrived," he explained. "Rangeman found out from a not so anonymous tip from your cop buddies last night. They wanted to be sure we were fully aware of the situation so we could support you through it."
"Why wouldn't they just tell me?" I asked. I was numb. I should have been angry. But I was just numb. The Burg does it again. It still surprises me, even after thirty five years of life, how adept this community was at finding out the most private and altering details of my life before I did. It was never ending. Nothing was sacred. A few years ago Henry Klowes broke his penis while attempting to perform an evocative dance for his wife. The whole town had known all the sordid details by the time he reached the emergency room.
Lester shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was clear that he wasn't comfortable with this either. It shouldn't have been his job to break the news, even if he hadn't done it. "Maybe they just didn't know how," he said. "It's not exactly the easiest topic to bring up."
"Everyone knows," I breathed. "The whole town. Every single person knows he cheated. How long have they known? Why didn't anyone tell me?" I found myself pacing around the kitchen, my hands flying as my Italian temper took over. "It's my fucking life!" I yelled. "I deserved to know! I've had it with this town! I've had it with these people! Ugh! No wonder he was pushing me back towards Ranger. He probably thinks giving me his blessing is like an apology! The fucking cop cheated!"
"It's pretty fucking despicable," Lester agreed awkward as I reefed open the freezer and hauled out my last tub of Ben and Jerry's."
"Fuck him," I seethed, snatching a spoon from the drainer.
"As I understand it, that's the root of the problem," Lester mentioned.
And just like that, he broke the back of my anger. The laugh that burbled up in my throat was unexpected and halting. I collapsed against the counter beside him, ice cream and spoon hanging forgotten by my sides.
"I need to get my stuff and get out of here," I sighed when I'd regained my breath. "The more time I spend in this house, the more I want to leave him an unpleasant surprise for later."
"Like shitting on his pillow?" he suggested, grinning like it was a brilliant plan that in no way required faecal matter. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut about my payback urges. Lester was very good at persuading people to follow their less socially acceptable urges. It was part of what made him such a ladies man. There was a certain charm about him that people – women especially, and I'm ashamed to say that for all my exposure I had not yet built up an immunity to it – just can't seem to resist.
I tried though.
"Not exactly a task I would relish," I said, extracting a large scoop of Chunky Monkey and shoving into my mouth.
His grin grew. "I'd be happy to do it for you," he insisted.
"I was thinking something a little more subtle," I said, inserting another spoonful of ice cream into my gob. "Lula told me once about this woman that caught her husband cheating so he demanded a divorce. Problem was, he ended up getting the house in the settlement. What she did was fill all the curtain rods with prawns. The husband couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from or how to get rid of it, so he sold the house to his ex-wife for a fraction of what it was worth."
"That's evil," Lester breathed, eyes wide in awe. "I love it! Can we do that? Please?"
I shook my head. "I don't have any prawns."
"I'll call Bobby and get him to bring some over," he suggested and there was no point in trying to stop him, because he was already dialling. I mean, I'm sure I could have stopped him. If I wanted. But I really didn't. If anything, his enthusiastic pursuit of my revenge put a little extra bounce back in my step as I dumped the rest of the ice cream on the table and made my way back upstairs to finish packing.
Morelli was an ass. I don't know how he managed to fool me into thinking otherwise, but he did and it wasn't going to happen again. It think the memory of laughing and dancing with Bobby and Lester as we shoved prawns into all of Morelli's curtain rods would serve as a strong reminder if I ever decided to contemplate his potential for boyfriend status again.
Plus I made Bobby and Lester promise they'd never let me be that unhappy with a man again.
I spent the day reading over the almost 13 chapters I have written so far of this story, and then the notes I actually managed to save in a convenient location and I am so excited for when I get to some of those plot points. Hopefully you're all still with me when we get there.