Disclaimer: Hart of Dixie no own I.
Ch. 3
Lavon walked into the Rammer Jammer and spotted Lemon over by the open end of the bar near the kitchen door. He walked over slowly, giving Lemon a chance to bolt if she wanted to. She looked up, saw him, and didn't bolt. She just waited.
"Lemon."
"Lavon."
"How's Wade?"
Lemon nodded to the other end of the bar, where Wade was sitting hunched over a cup of coffee as if he could divine its secrets if he just waited long enough.
Lavon sighed. "Talk to you later, Lemon."
"This is the first time he's been downstairs in three days."
Lavon raised his eyebrows at Lemon, nodded once, and strolled down the bar to sit next to Wade.
"What's this I hear about you moving out of the gatehouse?"
"I'm not moving out of the gatehouse, I'm just moving in here," Wade said softly, without taking his eyes off his coffee.
"You asked Annabeth to go over and get your clothes." Lavon wasn't asking, he knew Annabeth had gotten Wade some clean clothes and brought them over to the Rammer Jammer. He knew because he wasn't too happy about it at the time, and he and Annabeth ended up in an argument over the limits of friendship when it came to Wade Kinsella, although they had since made up, and Lavon was still smiling inwardly at the memories of their making up lovemaking, so he was no longer angry with Wade.
Wade simply nodded.
"So what is that if not moving out of the gatehouse?" Lavon asked.
"I don't have much choice," Wade said, looking up at his friend for the first time. His eyes were bloodshot and haggard.
It was Lavon's turn to be quiet. He looked at Wade askance and didn't say anything.
"I can't go out," Wade said simply.
"What does that mean?"
"I can't go out," Wade repeated. "I can't go…outside," he shook his head as if he could scarcely believe his own words. "If I try to go outside, my heart rate goes up, I sweat, I tremble…I can't make my legs move, I can hardly breathe."
"Agoraphobia," Lavon said.
"A-what-o-phobia?"
"Agoraphobia, fear of open spaces," Lavon said authoritatively. "That's treatable, you need treatment. Get some help dude."
"And I suppose I'd have to go out to get help, now wouldn't I?" Wade said sarcastically. "Well, fuck that, I got a bar to run, this a-what-o-phobia helps me focus."
"Aw, man, you don't have to be sick to run a bar, although," Lavon mused, "it might help."
"Nah, I know this business," Wade, said wiping hand across his face, "this can actually be a help."
"And does the whiskey help?" Lavon nodded toward Wade's coffee cup, which smelled like it was half coffee, half JD.
Wade sat up straight, put his hands on his knees, took a deep breath, and looked off into the distance over Lavon's right shoulder. He seemed to be deep in thought, or it could be he had forgotten Lavon was there, as he tilted his head a little and his lower lip began trembling. He bit down, looked at the floor again, then up into Lavon's eyes.
"Yes, sometimes."
"You can't keep this up," Lavon said, reaching over to touch Wade's forearm.
At that point, Carrie Swain walked up to them, smiled at Lavon, and looked expectantly at Wade.
"Will you excuse us a minute?" Wade said to Lavon, who looked at them both for a moment, then got up and went to the other end of the bar where Lemon was sitting with a calculator, a pencil, and some writing paper.
Lavon jerked his head back toward Wade. "Is he sober right now?"
Lemon looked up from her calculations, first at Lavon, then Wade. "Reasonably so, I think."
"I don't know what's goin' on," Lavon complained. "Wade's moved out of the gatehouse, even though he says he hasn't, and I haven't even been able to reach him. His phone just rings and rings, I can't even leave him a message."
Lemon nodded. "He thinks he lost it out at Phillips Lake when he went fishing. He said there was something wrong with the voice-mail, but he hadn't had a chance to fix it yet. He says," here Lemon turned to face Lavon head-on, "he's not getting another cell phone, if anyone wants him he'll be here. All the time. ALL the time."
Lavon's jaw dropped. "So his agoraphobia…"
"I think it's crap," Lemon said, "but at least he's downstairs now. He's spent the last three days drinkin', throwin' up, eatin' God knows what, chips I think, drinkin' some more, and throwin' up some more. His gastro-intestinal tract must be a mess."
"I didn't even know there was an apartment upstairs," Lavon said.
"Neither did I," said Lemon, "until just a few days ago. We thought it was just storage space, so we never looked up those stairs in the back of the kitchen. Wade got to roaming that first night he was here, checking out the place he says top to bottom, stem to stern, although he also mentioned something about 'marking his territory', which may or may not involve bodily fluids, I just prefer not to think of that. Anyway, turns out there is an apartment above the back of the building, a fully functional bathroom and everything, but no one wanted to live there because of the noise so Wally just forgot about it, used it to store files and things. It can get awfully hot in the summer too, and Wally wouldn't put air conditioning in an empty room…Wade just came upstairs and fell on the bare mattress and that was it, he was home. Hasn't left the building since."
Lavon sighed. His friend was seriously wounded, and seriously in denial, and he wasn't sure how to help him. He went back up to the other end of the bar, feeling a little like that light in those ancient video games like pong, just bouncing from one angle on a side to another, careening between extremes. As Lavon walked up to Wade, Carrie was just leaving, and Wade gave her a peck on the forehead and said "Thanks, I really appreciate it."
"Glad to help out," she smiled, and she was gone.
"So," Lavon said as he sat down on the stool next to Wade, "let me understand this. You are NOT vacating the gatehouse, so I should just leave things as they are, right?"
Wade nodded. "Oh, and bring me my guitars, would you Lavon? The electric and both acoustics. You can leave the amp, we should have house amps here."
"OK," Lavon said, "you really gonna do this?"
"Do what, Lavon?" Wade said angrily, "pay attention to my business? Is that really such a bad thing?"
"Is that what you're doin', payin' attention to business?" Lavon said, raising his voice. "Or are you hidin' out?"
Wade sat on the barstool staring at Lavon, kind of swaying, when suddenly his eyes went wide with fear, he stood up shakily, and clutched one hand to his chest.
"Oh Christ I can't breath," Wade started to rasp, his gasping increasingly desperate.
Lemon stood up at the other end of the bar, reached over it and grabbed a brown bag, and came down to Wade with it, snapping it open as she came.
"Here, breathe into this," she said, handing the bag to Wade. He sat back down and began breathing into the bag.
"Panic attack," Lemon explained, "maybe it had something to do with what you said, maybe it didn't. He gets 'em now for no reason at all. Don't blame yourself."
Lavon looked at Lemon with some sympathy. "He's just full of neuroses now, isn't he?"
Lemon nodded. "The screaming is a little unnerving."
"Screaming?" Lavon could hardly believe his ears.
"Yeah," Lemon said matter-of-factly, "he passes out for a few hours then wakes up screaming, sometimes its words and sometimes just noises. As long as he stays upstairs when he's like that I'm not gonna bother him. Like I say, today's the first day he's been downstairs in three days, and it has only been a few hours and he's already had two panic attacks. Even so, I think that's an improvement."
"Really?"
"I do, Lavon. Wade is strong; he'll bounce back from this. I know Miss Zoe High Heels was the love of his life, but he will accept one day that it was a career choice more than a personal choice that separated them."
"I don't know Lemon, he's taking this pretty hard."
"Nonsense, it hasn't even been a week yet, we're still in the very dark period. He can't even say her name yet. He'll snap out of it soon, he just needs time and understanding."
Lavon looked at her skeptically.
"I give it a week," Lemon said with a wave of her hand, "and he'll be back to the old Wade Kinsella, fixin' the dishwasher, makin' drinks, and chasin' the women."
"A week?" Lavon shook his head. "Naw, naw, naw, not possible."
"Two weeks, then," Lemon said stubbornly, "he just needs some TLC." She looked at Wade. "Do you want to go upstairs or rest here for a bit, maybe get some real coffee for a change? Cody, can you get rid of this," she waved at Wade's cup, "and bring us some HOT COFFEE," Lemon emphasized the last words so Cody would know Wade had already been nipping.
"Two weeks, tops, Lavon. I need him," Lemon murmured as Lavon got up to go.
Wade was now breathing normally, but staring at the floor just in front of Lemon.
"OK, man, gotta go," Lavon clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I'll get those guitars to ya later today, OK?"
"Thanks, Lavon," Wade said, raising his hand in goodbye although his eyes never left the floor.
Lemon put her hand on Wade's shoulder, and as she watched Lavon go, she thought that she kept losing the men in her life, but she damn well wasn't going to lose this one.
It didn't take long for Zoe to find out Zach was back at the hospital on staff, and that he was engaged to a nurse in pediatrics. Guess he got what he wanted, she thought, someone he can feel superior to. It also didn't take long for an idea to form. It wouldn't take much to avoid him, this was New York after all and it was a big hospital, but Zoe kept a close eye on his schedule so she could eventually run into him and make it look coincidental. She even went out of her way to observe an operation of his, just to get a lay of the land, so to speak. He was still very good, she noticed, but he didn't have her hands, which she thought, somewhat immodestly, were the best in the business. That gave her another idea, and over the next few days she filled in the details.
One day Zoe just happened to be hanging out by the men's changing rooms for the surgical suites when Zach came out.
"Zach, what a surprise!" Zoe exclaimed, rushing up to him and touching his forearm. "I didn't know you were back!"
"Yeah, yeah, hi Zoe," Zach said somewhat nervously, stopping in his tracks and very nearly taking a step back.
"So, how's it going?" Zoe smiled, just on the warm side of tepid, but leaning in as if she might be interested. "Heard you got engaged." She gave a little forced smile and flexed her knees a bit, head down a smidge…a move, she realized suddenly, she had seen George do when he congratulated her about Wade…good, a touch of realism. "Congratulations."
"Uh, thanks Zoe."
Zach seemed disarmed already, she thought. This might be easy.
"So, listen, I've gotta go now, but I'd really like to catch up with you…maybe drinks later? Whatta ya say?" Zoe shrugged, raising her eyebrows just the right amount to suggest a friendly drink, nothing more.
"Well," Zach rubbed his neck and stared at the floor, while Zoe thought 'crap I've moved too fast, he's starting to think now', so she just plowed right ahead.
"I won't bite," she leaned in close and smiled into his eyes, "I promise."
"OK then," he relented and smiled back. "Austin's at eight?"
"I'll be done by then, see you there cowboy," Zoe smiled and brushed his forearm as she turned and left. Too much, she thought? Naw, it's best to keep them guessing.
She left the hospital immediately, her shift having ended an hour earlier, and took the subway downtown, headed for a little shop called "Lansbury's" that carried Zach's favorite perfume. She knew it was his favorite because he had bought her a bottle and said it made her smell so sexy and it drove him wild. She didn't remember the name of the perfume, but she'd recognize the package. It was the same package she used to throw it out with at her first opportunity. She'd hated it, but had endured it for Zach as long as she could. She'd have to endure it one more time. She found what she needed and headed home to shower and dress.
She chose what to wear carefully. Before dressing, in the bathroom, she got Zach's perfume, sprayed a cloud in front of her and, closing her eyes, she stepped through it. Once on the other side, she shpritzed a little perfume just above her pubic hair, and then went out to the bedroom. She picked out a pair of pink silk panties with 'Zoe' embroidered delicately in purple thread on the hip, something she had picked up special from Victoria's Secret, not for this occasion especially, but it was coming in handy. The dress was a little skin-tight black number that came to about mid-thigh, the only question, really, was gold or silver accessories. She chose silver, her Aztec necklace with the long dangly sharp earrings that she liked to think of as daggers. No rings, keep her hands free.
At eight o'clock sharp, Zoe was seated at the bar of Austin's, what New York thought a honky-tonk might be if it wasn't surrounded by gators and crawfish and instead was surrounded by doctors, lawyers, and investment bankers, whose offices did literally surround Austin's. It was a popular hangout for the country-minded young professionals in the neighborhood, of which there seemed to be a growing number. It was a scene Zoe had come to from the other side, from the real thing, so it amused her. She had her vodka martini, straight up with two olives (greens are an important part of any diet), and was working on the second olive and the second half of the drink when Zach arrived.
"Wow, Zoe, you look…amazing," Zach eyes went wide as he looked her up and down appreciatively.
Zoe smiled and nodded. "Thank you."
"Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it," Zach said, sitting down on the stool next to her.
"What're you having?" Zoe asked, waving the bartender over.
"Beck's dark."
"A Beck's dark for my friend here," Zoe said to the bartender, "and I'll have another." She picked up her glass and drained it.
"Thought you only drank wine, Zoe," said Zach, looking at her glass.
"Well, Zach, wine just doesn't cut it anymore," Zoe said quietly. "Things change, things happen, people change."
"Really," Zach said as the bartender brought their drinks.
"What's your name?" Zoe asked the bartender.
"Danny," he said.
"We're running a tab here, OK, Danny?" Zoe asked him, indicating Zach and her.
"OK."
"So," Zoe said, sipping her martini and turning to face Zach, her legs carefully crossed, "who's the lucky lady?"
"Cheryl," Zach smiled shyly, suddenly looking at his feet, "Cheryl Maloski, she works in pediatrics."
Zoe nodded, keeping her eyes on Zach. Look at me, you stupid bastard, she thought, not your shoes.
"Well, I'm happy for you, Zach," Zoe smiled. "How long have you known her?"
That brought his eyes up to hers.
"Please don't be like that, Zoe."
"Sorry," she said, locking her eyes on his hoping he wouldn't look away again, "I guess that came out wrong, I don't mean to be catty…"
"OK, OK, I guess I just didn't know what to expect tonight, Zoe. The last time we saw each other…"
Zoe held up her hands. "Water under the bridge, Zach. As you say, it's been a while now. Some things just weren't meant to be."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Zach said, smiling, taking his first sip of beer. "Well, what about you? I heard you went to Arkansas or some sort of place."
"Yeah," Zoe laughed, taking a sip of her martini and looking at Zach's almost untouched beer, thinking this could take a while at this rate, "actually it was Alabama, and there's a really interesting story there…" which she proceeded to tell him over the next hour, all about being a small town GP, and all the crazy holidays and traditions they had, and all this time she watched his drink. What's the matter with him, she thought, he used to drink a lot sometimes, and here she was on her third martini, which was her sane limit, she knew, and he was only halfway through his second beer. On the spur of the moment, she ordered them shots.
"You know, in some ways, Zach, the old ways, the ways that those people in Bluebell hold dear, the old ways are the best. To the old ways!"
They did their shots and Zach blinked. Several times.
"Woo!" he said, shaking his head.
"Feeling better?," Zoe leaned over and smiled at him, clapping him on the back which totally drove out of his mind the notion that he wasn't feeling bad and didn't need to feel better. "Two more Danny!"
Danny poured two more, which Zach eyed warily.
"The old days!" Zoe lifted her glass, and they both threw back then slammed the shot glasses back down on the bar. Zach seemed definitely dizzy now, and while Zoe was too she figured she was a little more used to being buzzed than Zach was, so she wasn't worried. Zach smiled at her with a slightly dazed expression and stood up.
"I gotta go tinkle," he said, and giggled.
"Yeah, me too," Zoe smiled back, with just a hint of naughtiness, and she got up and followed him to the restrooms.
Zoe waited for him by the coatracks, and when he came out she lassoed him around the neck and pulled back behind the coats, where she kissed him fiercely and urgently. Her tongue sought an opening in his lips and he opened them, their tongues intertwining as they clung to each other. With her free hand Zoe reached down and unzipped Zach's pants, slipping her hand inside. The kiss deepened as their breath became more ragged and she began to stroke him gently inside his shorts.
Zoe broke the kiss only long enough to whisper, "Your place, now." He moaned a yes, they straightened themselves out, paid the bill and left.
Later that night, Zoe could see by the clock on the nightstand it was almost three, Zach lay exhausted on his bed, his breathing deep and even. She stared at the ceiling, making sure he was sound asleep before she got up and left. He had hardly moved or varied his breathing for a half an hour, so she quietly slipped out of bed and searched around for her silk panties with the embroidery. When she found them she put them back on, squatted, and rubbed her hand several times over her crotch. She then took them off and slipped them under the bed, just far enough so they weren't easily seen, and put on a pair of plain white cotton panties that she had brought in her purse. She finished dressing quietly and slipped out of the apartment, experiencing the first true emotion she had felt all night. Satisfaction.
