Coffee & Cigarettes

Chapter Three - None The Wiser

Leah

After Track Pants and Dogzilla disappeared back into their side of the yard, I collected my wine and headed back inside. The dull ache in my chest had escalated to full on pain. It would be a few hours at least until I could sleep. The night was the worst. The pain seemed to intensify in the quiet, lonely hours. It started out as a buzzing, humming quietly in the background, barely loud enough for you to even hear, let alone register. Then it would begin to intensify until it was roaring in your ears, the pain and the loneliness, all screaming horrible things at you, echoes of words long since spoken and the buzzing of what if's until you felt as if you were drowning in it.

The what if's were the absolute worst. I could literally spend hours lying in bed at night going over the what ifs, mapping them out, trying to pinpoint exactly where I went wrong and how I could have fixed it? Eventually, the struggle to keep fact separate from fiction would overtake me; weigh me down until I had no other choice but to succumb to sleep.

And upon awakening, I would find a new day shining through my bedroom windows, bright and happy, egging me back to the brink of surviving. That's what we did, the kindred fellowship of souls with broken hearts, we didn't live, we survived, gasping for breath as the clock ticked on, counting down the hours until we could be alone again to wallow in our self-pity.

I laid in bed for hours that night, listening to the sounds of the ocean, a dog barking up the street, a cat hissing. Occasionally, a car would purr quietly down the street, and a voice could be heard calling a soft good bye over the slamming of the door.

Sometime after one, soft rain began to fall, adding its own noise to the soundtrack of the night. I listened to it falling, as my thoughts unwillingly travelled to Sam. I rolled over in the bed and snuggled up to the pillow lying beside me. My heart ached as I wished for his arms around me, the warm puffs of his breath on my neck. Tears of anguish slid down my cheeks, and I berated myself for being so weak.

I rolled away from the pillow and curled into a ball. How could I still love someone who put me through so much, who hurt me so badly? Was I that weak and starved for love that I was willing to be an emotional slave to someone who so clearly didn't give a rip about how I felt? The self-pity I was wallowing in quickly turned into anger. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stomped out of the dark bedroom and stalked down the hall to the second bedroom.

Flicking the light on, I grabbed a set of gloves off the table inside the door and quickly pulled them on before charging the bag in the corner. "I HATE YOU!" I screamed, punching the heavy black bag in the corner.

"I hate you."

Punch, punch.

"How could you do this to me?"

Punch, punch.

I hit the bag until my anger drained out of me, until sweat poured down my face and mixed with the tears that were streaming down my face.

"Why did you do this to me, Sam?" I cried, sinking to the floor. Raising my hands to my face, I cried into them until I felt like I had no more tears left. And then, only then, did I lie down on the floor, close my eyes, and sleep.

00000

Sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows. I rolled over, blinking against the glaring beams blinding me through my closed eyes. My head swam as I sat up, pounding as if I'd had too much to drink last night.

Groaning, I pulled the gloves off and tossed them across the room. With my head pounding, I stumbled into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, reaching for the bottle of aspirin inside. The mornings like this were the worst; they made me actually wish I had been drunk enough to be hung over. I'd take an alcohol induced hangover over an emotional induced one any day of the week.

Popping the lid off the bottle, I swallowed two aspirin, then slowly turned around and cranked the shower on as hot as it would go. Leaving my sweat soaked clothes in a rumpled pile on the floor; I stepped into the tub, the water scalding my skin turning it from a deep bronze to bright pink. I welcomed the pain; it was the only kind I could control.

I washed quickly, then turned the water off, standing in the tub, shivering. Every fiber of my being wanted to go, pick up the phone and call Esme to tell her I wouldn't be coming in today, but I couldn't. It was Saturday. The busiest day of the week, and right now, work would be the best thing for me.

Sighing with resignation, I grabbed the towel off the wall where it hung and wrapped it around me. As I walked into the bedroom, the curtains fluttered in the breeze. I crossed the room and stared out at my watery backyard. Standing in the surf was Track Pants and Dogzilla.

The dog darted in and out of the waves, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he chased after the seagulls crashing into the waves trying to catch their breakfast. Track Pants stood in the water up to his knees, Dogzilla's green tennis ball in his hands. The waves lapped at his calves, licking the hem of his shorts, his tanned back glistening in the sunlight.

Jesus, didn't the man own a shirt? I mean really. I get the fact that it's hot outside, really I do, but come on, just because you have a nice body – I snorted, who the hell was I kidding, nice body didn't even begin to cover it, but come on, just because you have it doesn't mean you have to flaunt it at every turn.

I dropped the curtain and opened the closet, staring into the empty recess. Shit, I thought. I need to stop wallowing in self-pity long enough to do some laundry. The only thing hanging inside that was suitable for work was a vintage V-neck dress, black with wide white stripes and a thin crimson belt.

I hated the dress. It had been a gift from Esme shortly after I came to town. She found it at an estate sale and said it screamed my name. It hung in the closet, untouched until today. Sighing, I pulled it out of the closet and laid it on the bed.

I crossed the room and opened the dresser drawer, rummaging through the content for a slip. With no luck, I grabbed a pair of panties and shut the drawer. Please Lord, I thought as I dressed; please let this day go smoothly.

The dress fell down past my knees, swirling playfully. I turned and glanced over my shoulder into the mirror on the back of the door. At least it didn't look bad. I thought, twirling in the opposite direction, the skirt of the dress swinging to and fro.

Smiling for the first time this morning, I pulled a pair of red peep toe sling backs out of the closet and slid my feet in. The overall effect wasn't too bad. I smiled and clicked into the bathroom, ran a brush through my damp hair and pulled it into a high ponytail, applied some blush and some lip-gloss then headed downstairs.

Grabbing my keys and my purse, I locked the front door and headed down the walk to the car. Through the hedges between the two properties, Dogzilla appeared with that damn grungy tennis ball.

I groaned inwardly and tried to quickly unlock the car before he saw me. It was too late. Dogzilla spotted me and began running full speed toward me. I looked around for an escape route, all the while still trying to shove the key into the lock.

He took a step, then another one, gaining speed as he made a beeline right for me. Track Pants appeared behind Dogzilla, a day or twos worth of scruff peppering his angular jaw. The woman lying dormant, deep down, inside of me swooned as he ran after his dog.

"Zeus!" he hollered. "Stop!"

Dogzilla skidded to a halt a few feet away from me. I breathed a sigh of relief and finally got the key into the door. "I'm sorry," he said, slowing to a stop behind the dog and grabbing his collar. "I don't know what his problem is lately."

"It's called a leash," I replied curtly unlocking the car door and opening it. "Maybe you should get him one."

Track Pants nodded. "Yeah, maybe I should. Anyway, sorry."

I waved dismissively and got into the car. Track Pants – Paul, my subconscious hissed nastily. His name is Paul – jerked the dog toward his house and began talking to him, waving his hands as he went. I started the car and backed out of the driveway.

You know, it's not his fault his dog likes you, my subconscious scolded.

Yeah well, it's kind of a pain in the ass. I don't want some stupid dog following me, no chasing me down, every day. Trust me; fighting off Dogzilla is not how I want to spend the next few months.

Wait, I thought. I'm carrying on a freaking conversation with myself. I shook my head. I must be crazier than even I thought.

I reached and flicked on the radio. That whiny Taylor Swift came screeching out of the speakers, boo-hooing about god only knows which one of the five millions guys she's dated in the last two weeks.

"I go back to December all the time. Turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you, whishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine, I'd go back to December, turn around and make it all right. I go back to December all the time."

"Well goody for you," I muttered jabbing the scan button the radio. It skipped across the frequency, coming to a stop on some catchy rock song. I hit the button again and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat.

Heading through the downtown area, I had to circle the shop twice before I found a parking spot. I got lucky; a man exited the bakery across the street and climbed into a red sedan. I waited for him to pull away and quickly parked my car in the spot.

I waved to Mrs. Goff as I exited the car. She waved me into the bakery with one hand and held up a brown paper bag with the other. Locking the door, I shoved my keys into my bag and hurried into the warm bakery.

"Here darling, I know you didn't eat this morning. Take these, and make sure Esme eats too."

I accepted the bag she was handing over the glass display case. "Thank you. What would we do without you?" I asked her, laughing.

"You'd starve," she shot back, glaring at me over the tops of her glasses.

"You're right. I would."

"It's not funny," she scolded. "Now go to work and have a good day."

"Yes ma'am," I said and gave her a mock salute before heading to the door.

"Oh, Leah," she called. I turned and glanced at her, leaning against the open door. "I love that dress. You remind me of myself thirty something odd years ago."

I smiled at her and said, "Thank you. See you later!" Crossing the street, I pushed open the door to Little Bits of Magic and set the brown paper bag on the counter. "Breakfast," I called. "Courtesy of Mrs. Goff who says we need to start eating."

Esme appeared from the back office, a faint smile on her pretty face. "Whatever would we do without that woman?"

"According to her, we'd starve."

Esme reached into the bag and pulled out a box of muffins, setting on a napkin in front of me, peeling the paper cup off the one in her hand.

"I love your dress," she said, dropping the cup into the trash. "It's very flattering on you."

"Thank you," I said.

"How was your evening?" she asked.

I pulled up a stool and sat down, picking the cap off my muffin. "Long," I said. "A man moved into the house next door. He has this huge yellow dog that seems to like me. Well, at least it thinks I'm nice enough to play catch with. It came crashing into my yard last night and almost mowed me down this morning."

"Ah yes, that's Paul. He's Evan Cordero's nephew from Seattle."

I set the piece of muffin I was about to eat down and stared at her. "How do you know these things?" I asked in disbelief.

"I play bingo with Evan," she said simply. "He told me his nephew was coming down to help him on his boat for the season. Apparently, something terrible happened to him up there in Seattle, and he came down here to get away for a while."

"What do you mean something happened to him? What happened?"

Esme shrugged and tossed a piece of muffin into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know what happened," she said. "Evan didn't say and I didn't ask. Why do you want to know?"

I chewed my muffin quietly. That was a good question. Why did I want to know? Devil's playground, remember, I reminded myself. Of course he has a story, some kind of sullied past. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

Esme sat on the opposite side of the counter eyeing me suspiciously. "He's good looking isn't he?"

"Who?" I asked, whirling around to see who she was talking about.

"Paul, Evan's nephew. He's good looking isn't he?"

I felt a heat creep into my cheeks. "If you like his type," I said.

Esme raised her eyebrows. "His type?"

"You know, the muscular, watch me walk around without a shirt on because I'm cut like a depressed teenaged girl with a razor blade. Oh and don't forget Dogzilla. Slobbery, gargantuan Dogzilla who doesn't seem to own a leash and likes to trample through the neighbor's yard at all hours of the day and night."

"Oh be nice," she scolded. "He's probably just getting used to the neighborhood. You know, marking his territory and all that jazz."

"Yeah well he can do all that without bothering me, and his owner can do all that with a shirt on."

"Oh stop complaining. If nothing else, it's something nice to look at. Nobody ever said you had to like the man." Esme laughed and hopped down from her stool as a couple walked through the doors. She walked toward them, a smile on her face.

I sat and finished my muffin, then cleaned the mess up and got to work. Customer's drifted in and out of the shop all morning and the subject of Track Pants Hot Body was left alone. For lunch, Esme locked up the shop, and we went across the street to the bakery for lunch. Mrs. Goff smiled as she handed us our sandwiches.

"Come and have seat outside, and we'll visit for a while," she said, untying her apron. The three of us carried our respective lunches out to one of the tables set up on the sidewalk and sat under the red and white striped umbrella.

"How's business?" Esme asked.

Mrs. Goff pointed to the line at the register. "Booming. How's life on your side of the street?"

"Interesting," Esme said with a coy smile.

Mrs. Goff raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "Do explain," she commanded and sat back in her seat.

"Miss Leah has a new neighbor," Esme said. "A new neighbor who likes to walk around shirtless."

"Well, I sure as sin hope that it's a man, and not some cheeky little girl showing off her goodies for the entire world to see."

"Oh it's a man, all right. Evan Cordero's nephew, precisely." The pair exchanged a knowing glance.

"I remember him," Mrs. Goff said. "And let me tell you something, if I was younger…well, we'll just leave it at that."

Oh. My. God. I wanted to be embarrassed. No, scratch that, I was embarrassed. She was old enough to be my grandmother – not that she looked it. Mrs. Goff had shoulder length blonde hair and looked a lot like Meryl Streep in It's Complicated. But the fact that she was basically saying she'd sleep with Track Pants was just, ew.

"Oh look," she said, elbowing Esme. "I've embarrassed the poor girl."

"I'm not embarrassed," I retorted. "I just don't get what all the hype is about. He's just some guy, probably a giant asshole who goes around breaking women's hearts because he can." I picked the crust off my sandwich and dropped it on the paper wrapper. "Because he's good looking," I added bitterly.

"I doubt that," Mrs. Goff said. "Didn't you see the proverbial sign around his neck? He's one of us."

I stared quizzically at her. "One of us?"

"The walking wounded," she said matter of fact. "It's strange how we all end up here."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

Mrs. Goff and Esme shared a look, the older woman's expression questioning. "I didn't tell her. It's none of my business," Esme said defensively.

Mrs. Goff rolled her eyes. The woman was gossip through and through. She scooted her chair forward and leaned her elbows on the table in preparation of delivering the most salacious bit of information this side of the pacific. "He was engaged to this girl up in Seattle, high school sweethearts or something like that. Well, on the day of their wedding, she gets a wicked case of cold feet, doesn't show up to the wedding, and he had to go up in front of all their friends and family and tell them that there wasn't going to be a wedding."

"Oh that's terrible," I said softly. Suddenly, I felt bad for being such a bitch to him this morning.

"It gets worse," Mrs. Goff said. "After that, he goes back to their apartment, finds out, she's packed up all her stuff and took her lover on their honeymoon. I heard she married the man she ran off with, and they're living in Honolulu. Then he shows up here. Evan says it's just temporary, you know, to help out with the fishing season. But we know differently."

I sat back in my chair, trying to imagine what he must have gone through, being ditched at your wedding, having to tell your friends and family there was a change of plans and then finding out your fiancé ran off with her lover on what was supposed to be your honeymoon. It sure as hell made what Sam did to me look like a day at Disney World that much was for sure.

"That's terrible," I murmured softly.

"We all have our demons," Esme concurred. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh dear, look at the time. We have to be getting back. Brenda, thank you for lunch as well as the muffins this morning. You're a lifesaver; I don't know what we would do without you."

"Starve," Mrs. Goff laughed. "See you ladies tomorrow."

We tossed our trash into the wastebasket and hurried back across the street to Little Bits of Magic. "Hey Esme, why do you think there are so many heartbroken people here in Capeside?"

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "I don't know. Maybe it's something in the air, or the water, or maybe it's the cliff lined shores that make them feel safe. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I said. "Just curious, that's all." I crossed the shop and began taking items out of the fitting room and returning them to their rightful places, all the while thinking about Paul. I could only imagine how screwed up he must be. I made a mental note to apologize for my nasty attitude this morning.

Maybe as a peace offering I could stop at the pet store on my way and get him a leash for his dog.

Yeah, I thought as I hung a floral print dress on a rack by the door. That's a great idea. Just be all like, hey sorry I was such a bitch this morning and oh, by the way, here's that leash your dog so desperately needs.

Standing on his porch now, I knew this was probably a really bad idea. I gripped the bag with the leash, and the dog treats tightly in my hand as I waited for him to answer the door. He probably couldn't even hear the doorbell ringing over the very loud singing of 30 Seconds to Mars lead singer Jared Leto.

I had to smile at that, at least he had good taste in music. I gave the doorbell another jab and sighed. Ten more seconds, I told myself, that's how much longer I'll wait. If he doesn't answer then I'll just leave and act like I was never here and he can go on thinking that I'm the world's most evil neighbor. I don't need him trying to be my friend anyway.

The seconds ticked by slowly as I hummed along to the radio. As the chorus ended, I turned and began walking down the path, cutting across the lawn to own my own front porch. The door opened, golden yellow light spilling out into the dusk that was beginning to settle on the lawns, and Track Pants poked his head out, Closer to the Edge filling the night.

"Hey!" he called spotting me. "Did you see any kids run away from my porch?"

"Um no, why?" I shifted the bag in my hands, suddenly nervous.

"They've been doing it all day – ringing the doorbell. It drives Zeus bonkers. Someone was just out here ringing it. I ignored it because I thought it was them."

"That was, uh, that was actually me." I stepped off the porch and headed across the yard to his house. "I wanted to apologize for this morning. I was rude." I held out the bag, it hung in the gap between us before he finally reached out and grabbed it.

"What's this?" he asked, poking his hand into the bag.

"It's for your four legged friend. Like I said, I just wanted to apologize. I was rude."

"No," he said, putting the bag down on the porch. "You were right. Zeus, he's a giant pain in the ass. Nosy as hell too."

"Yeah, I can tell." I laughed automatically. Knock it off, I told myself. "Okay, well, I should probably get going." I pointed down at my feet. "These things are killing me."

Paul smiled; raising his hand to his forehead he raked his fingers through his hair. "Sure, sure. See you around, I guess."

"Yeah, see you." I turned and crossed the lawn, glancing over my shoulder as he climbed his steps and entered his house. He definitely didn't come across as being heartbroken, I thought. Charming as a snake, yes, but heartbroken, no.

I unlocked the front door and kicked off my shoes, sighing in relief as I padded, barefoot, down the hall to the kitchen. I glanced out the window over the sink and caught a glance of Paul in his window. He was standing at the stove, his back to me, playing the drums with a pair of wooden spoons. I smiled and chuckled softly and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the window sill.

I shook one out and headed outside, flopping down on to the chaise. I breathed in the cool night air. Today, for the most part, had been a good day. The first one in a while. I lit the cigarette and exhaled the blue smoke into the thick air.

"Hey," a voice called from the yard next door. I turned and glanced at Paul's darkened figure standing on the patio behind his house. "Have you had dinner yet?"

I sat up and glanced over at him. "No, not yet, why?"

"Isn't that what new neighbors do, have dinner, get to know each other?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," I told him.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Yeah," I echoed, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"You know how bad that is for your lungs?" he asked.

"Do you know how much I don't care? I retorted.

"You should care about your health."

"Yeah, well, I don't." I could feel the old anger seeping back in. Sam berated me for smoking too.

"Why do you do that?" Paul asked, coming closer to the hedges.

"Do what?"

"You go from perfectly fine to pissy in record time."

I pushed myself off the chaise and glared at him. "You don't know me," I snapped at him. "So stop standing there acting like you've got me all figured out."

I turned, snubbed the cigarette out and stormed inside the house. This, I thought, glaring out the window, was going to be interesting.

000000

Back to December by Taylor Swift

Watch It Burn by Push Play

Closer To The Edge by 30 Seconds to Mars

None The Wiser by The Script

00000

Please ignore my recent 30 Seconds to Mars infatuation...unless you love the band..lol...hope this chapter finds you guys still enjoying the story. thank you for reading and reviewing.