Chapter 14

The shrill peal of the doorbell wakes Beth with a start.

Lifting her head gingerly from the pillow, she peers with momentary confusion at the clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor – the bra, the black dress, the heels… until the memories of last night begin to filter through the oppressive weight of her hangover.

Heart lurching uncomfortably as they do, she slowly turns her head to confirm what she knows to be true, but still has to double check - that she is, in fact, alone.

Taking in the vacant mattress to her right, a short burst of relieved laughter escapes her, and her hand jumps to cover her mouth in disbelief.

Is this actually my life now?!

The doorbell rings again, longer this time, and impossibly louder too.

Groaning in protest, she pushes the covers aside and is perplexed to see that all she has on is a pair of black lace panties.

Having no time to dwell, she grabs her robe and heads down the hallway towards the front door, hastily securing the garment around her as she goes.

"Ah hah!" cries Annie, as soon as the door swings open, "I knew it!"

"Knew what?" asks Beth tiredly.

"Wait," says Annie, as she takes in her sisters rumpled appearance, grinning from ear to ear, "Do you have company?"

"No!" exclaims Beth, with more indignation than she's probably due, given her own recent doubts. "What are you doing here, Annie, don't you have work today?"

Shaking her head dismissively, Annie holds up a towering tray of Starbuck's cups and says, "I called in sick. I had an inkling that you might be needing the sugary goodness of a Toffee Nut Latte, to take the edge off whatever poison you pumped into your system last night."

If the patronising edge to her words wasn't enough, one look at her sister's self-satisfied smirk tells Beth that she's enjoying this way too much. And, once again, she has that strange feeling that somewhere along the way, while she was busy not paying attention, the world as she knows it has become utterly changed.

"So, are you going to let me in, or are we just going to stand out here freezing our tits off?" asks Annie impatiently, her eyes dropping pointedly to Beth's chest.

Resisting the urge to quickly adjust the material of her robe, Beth stands silently aside and watches Annie strut down the hall to the kitchen, knowing that she's in for a long morning.

"What are your plans for the day?" Annie calls over her shoulder, and then continues, before Beth has the chance to reply, "Because I thought we could take a little road-trip to Indiana."

"Right," Beth laughs in disbelief, "Because everyone knows a 9-hour round trip is the world's best hangover cure."

Grabbing one of the take-out cups that Annie's holding out to her, she takes a mouthful of the overly sweet, but entirely delicious, concoction inside, and waits silently for her sister to justify her crazy idea.

"Okay," Annie starts, her excitement palpable, "So you know the way Darren was hooking me up with access to the dark web? Well, I think I actually found a supplier!"

"Seriously?" asks Beth, the fog in her brain beginning to clear as she focuses her attention more keenly on Annie, "How did you find them?"

"Once you're in, it's actually boringly easy," says Annie, "You can buy anything on there – and I mean anything." She shudders, and Beth knows better than to ask for details.

"Okay, so what did they say?"

"That for the kind of quantities we're talking, it requires a face-to-face. They said to be at this bar, The Slippery Noodle, at 2.30 this afternoon."

"Wait," Beth holds up a hand as she processes this, "You've already arranged this? But it's almost 9.30!"

"Yeah, I guess we'd better get going then," replies Annie unapologetically, "Chop, chop!"

Instead of springing into action, Beth holds her sister's eye as she weighs up the importance of this meeting, against the world of discomfort it's going to bring her, in her current state.

"Fine," she says eventually, "But I'm driving."

They're on the road in record time, and, as they leave the sprawl of the city behind them, Beth suddenly realises, "Shouldn't Ruby really be here for this?"

"I stopped by on my way over to yours," says Annie, "She has plans with Stan and the kids – last minute Christmas shopping or something."

Nodding, Beth replies, "Probably just as well. We could be walking into an ambush."

"Well, we've gotta stick our necks out sometime, right? Besides, it's not like we fit the profile of your average illicit tobacco trader, we can always plead ignorance if things go south."

"Speaking of," Beth muses, "How are they going to know it's us? Did you get a phone number?"

"Uh, no," answers Annie reluctantly, "I said I'd be the one with the rose."

Choking on a laugh, Beth splutters, "It's not a blind date, Annie!"

"I don't know," replies Annie defensively, "I just panicked! And it kind of is like a blind date – what did you want me to say? 'We'll be the pair of pasty white bitches'?"

They continue in silence for a couple of minutes, before Beth glances sideways at her sister and says pointedly, "So, I assume you brought a rose?"

"I just knew you'd ask that!" Annie snaps, "Isn't this supposed to be a three-way partnership?!"

Biting her lip, Beth smothers the laughter that's bubbling up her throat, and allows Annie her unwarranted moment of indignation. They have all been working equally hard over the past weeks, to scope out the viability of their new venture. It hadn't been hard to establish the presence of a high demand in Detroit for illegal tobacco products, however, on the surface, much of this demand appeared to be coming from individual users. They were all in agreement that this was not the target market they wanted to pursue, and instead they set their sights on legitimate, licensed retailers.

It had seemed like a daunting task, trying to figure out which retailers might be open to purchasing from them, but then Beth had realised that they already knew that a number of local businesses are involved in money laundering for Rio. And then it was just a matter of identifying those businesses.

That particular task had fallen to Annie, who had gotten Brian stoned and then chit chatted with him about his delivery work – where it might take him on a daily or weekly basis. And, over the course of a couple of hours of very subtle probing, a hazy picture had emerged.

They had divided the relevant business between the three of them, and had then approached the store managers for a hypothetical discussion on cost-savings.

Currently, five stores have committed to the purchase of a small number of cartons of cigarettes each, and Beth believes that those numbers will quickly grow once their business is fully operational.

The plan for transportation had been Ruby's idea. They had been discussing carrying the goods themselves by car, when Ruby had asked, "What if there were a whole truck-load of cars, traveling at the same time? Without the need for a driver?" And Beth had instantly caught her drift. It had taken some doing, convincing Dean to allow them to involve Boland Motors in their supply chain, but he'd given in in the end, for reasons he hadn't cared to share.

Then there was just the matter of start-up capital and sourcing of the goods.

Beth has agreed to invest a large portion of her savings to cover all of the initial costs, which she plans to recoup in the future, as the business grows.

And lastly, Annie had suggested accessing the dark web to try to find a supplier, something which she now appeared to have done.

So far, it has all fallen into place quite quickly, and – dare she think it – easily, and Beth is really starting to enjoy getting her head back in the game.

And, if all of it helps to distract her from the bothersome thoughts of Rio that are never too far away, then that's a bonus she's absolutely going to take.

"How was the staff party?" Annie asks her now, evidently over her momentary strop.

"It was… interesting," smiles Beth, "A lot of fun, actually."

Studying her, from her slouched position against the passenger door, Annie asks insightfully, "So, who's the guy?"

There's a pause as Beth considers this, and then she answers, "Just a guy from work – Alex; our CFO. It was nothing really, but nice. Fun, you know?"

Grinning, Annie presses her, "So, what happened?"

"Not a whole lot," Beth replies slowly, as she thinks back on the previous night. "Well," she corrects herself, "There was a lot of drinking and laughing, but that was as far as it went."

After nothing had come of the suspicious black car she had seen, and she was privately overwhelmed by relief, she had found her resolve to keep her alcohol intake to a minimum slipping. And Alex had been no help – matching her drink for drink, and insisting on paying for the lot.

She had found him to be surprisingly good company and, although they had mingled with other colleagues over the course of the night, they had been drawn together so often that they'd eventually just acknowledged it with a joke and stayed by each other's side.

And, before they left to go their separate ways, he had asked her out.

"But," she continues quickly, "I think we're going on a date. On New Year's Eve."

"What?" laughs Annie in surprise, "This guy is either moving way too fast, or he's a total player. It's kind of genius actually; ask someone out on the loneliest night of the year, and you're pretty much guaranteed to get laid."

"Hey, no guarantees here," replies Beth mildly, "And he's already attending a party that evening, so it was convenient. But I do think he's a bit of a… commitment-phobe."

"And that's not a problem?" Annie asks carefully.

"No," Beth replies thoughtfully, "It's actually a good thing. I don't have the headspace for anything remotely complicated right now."

And then she's wincing internally at her inadvertent choice of words; the atmosphere around her heavy with the weight of that particular memory.

Staring at the road ahead, she doesn't want to know if Annie has noticed the change in her demeanour, although the short silence that follows speaks for itself.

"Well, at least one of us has prospects for a holiday bone," interjects Annie brightly, and Beth forces a smile for her benefit.

The remainder of the journey passes uneventfully. They stop briefly for a deliciously greasy take-out lunch, and manage to buy a bouquet of roses too - they're orange, but they'll have to do.

Walking into the designated meeting place a couple of hours later, they do their best not to stare too obviously at the other customers as they make their way to a vacant table. It's a long and narrow space, with a bar against one wall and small round tables against the other, and it should feel dark and crowded, but the surprisingly good lighting and the all-wood-everything gives it a polished and yet warm feel.

"What do you want to drink?" Annie asks, glancing around surreptitiously and adjusting the position of the single orange rose that she's twirling between her fingers.

So far, no one seems overly interested in them.

Tempted to order a Bourbon, but knowing that what she really needs is an energy boost, Beth replies, "Just a Coke, please - lots of ice."

As her Annie steps over to the bar, Beth takes the opportunity to have a proper look around. Despite having the potential to be a really popular venue, apparently it's a quiet day, and she's able to check out the other customers without drawing much attention to herself.

They're a mixed bunch, and she's disappointed to note that their alleged supplier could be almost any – or none – of them.

Glancing at her phone as it buzzes in her palm, she sighs as she sees Dean's name appear beside a new WhatsApp message. They've agreed to spend Christmas Day together, along with Dean's mother, to try to make the holidays as normal as possible for the children, and Dean is taking every opportunity to message or call to confirm every single detail of the day ahead – none of which he paid the least bit of attention to over the past twenty years.

Deciding to ignore it until later, she looks up in anticipation as Annie returns with her very large glass of icy hangover relief.

Taking a long sip, she can't help asking, "Are you sure they said 2.30?"

And Annie, who pauses now in the motion of raising her beer bottle to her lips - her irritation evident - assures her, "Yes, Beth, I'm positive."

When they're still sitting there, alone, an hour later, both of their tempers are running thin.

"Maybe they meant 2.30am," Beth suggests, and Annie clenches her fist tightly around her second bottle of beer.

"I swear, if you even try to suggest one more time that I fucked this up–"

"Babycakes1987?" drawls a deep female voice from behind Beth.

"Excuse me?" asks Beth indignantly, but Annie is already smiling nervously as she responds, "GotGoods4u?"

"You know," the woman says conversationally, as she pulls up a chair, "Your handle suggested y'all'd be unusual folk."

Glancing quickly at Annie and trying to stifle the giggle that's rising in her throat, Beth merely smiles politely as she takes the newcomer in.

She's a small woman – must be in her late fifties – dressed in simple jeans, a check-shirt and tan cowboy boots. But it's the very visible, very large gun at her hip that really draws the eye.

Unperturbed by the curious looks she's receiving from Beth and Annie, the woman picks up the long discarded rose and gives it a sniff before setting it aside, her disappointment obvious.

"Alright, enough of the small talk," she says abruptly, "Why don't you tell me what we're doing here?"

"Um," Annie swallows thickly, "To discuss those goods you've got for us?"

Silence.

"What my partner over there is trying to say," Beth jumps in, "Is that we're in the market for a particular product, that we're hoping you can help us with."

"And why would I do that?" the woman asks mildly, leaning back in her seat.

"Well," replies Beth brightly, determined not to let her irritation show, "I'm assuming profit, primarily."

Grinning now, the woman adjusts her holster so that she can lean in to the table and lower her voice. "You could be right there, sugar. So how much do you want? 'Cause if you're lookin' to save a few bucks on your nicotine habit, then I ain't your woman."

"We thought we'd start relatively small, as we establish our consumer base – maybe 1,000 cartons – and then adjust for growth as time goes on."

The woman nods and asks, "Would y'all be lookin' after transportation yourselves? 'Cause, if not, that'll cost extra."

"Yes, we'll take care of transportation," replies Beth, "What city in Missouri do you operate out of?"

But this is simply brushed aside. "All in good time. Let's talk price before we get into the nitty gritty."

The negotiations go more smoothly than any of them expect – that is, after their potential supplier initially tries to charge an exorbitantly high rate – and, once they're done, there's a new, if delicate, respect between the three of them.

"Things are going to slow down a bit over the holidays, but I can have your order ready the first week in January," the woman is telling them now, "I'll send you a link for the money transfer and, once that's through, you'll get the details."

Without another word, she gets up and walks out of the bar, leaving Beth and Annie staring after her.

Glancing at each other, with twin expressions of tentative excitement, they reach for their glasses and clink their decidedly tepid drinks together in a toast to their very first deal.

"You know what I'm just dying to know?" Annie asks suddenly, "How do we classify as 'unusual folks' in this picture?"

And then they're both dissolving into giggles.

/\/\/\/\

The following days sweep past in a blur of activity, as the house is cleaned, food is prepped, and presents wrapped, in preparation for the big day. The kids are on holidays and, although it's totally chaotic, Beth is loving having the time to spend with them.

Sure, sometimes she's so worn out and her patience is so thin, that she's on the verge of screaming her lungs out at the sound of yet another, "Momma, can I…". And yet, these beautiful little souls ground her in a way that nothing in life has ever done; before or after becoming a mother. And so, she's cherishing these moments, knowing that they're fleeting, and filing them away for a day when her house is no longer filled with the contagious exuberance of these four little humans.

Three of her troop still believe in Santa, and their excitement grows impossibly stronger by the day. Even Kenny – who has been a vehement non-believer since his discovery of the stash of Santa presents in the hot-press three years ago – is caught up in the magic of it all.

Beth is determined to make this year as wonderful for them as it always is, even if that means playing happy families with Dean and her mother in law.

In the end, it's actually not as bad as she thought it would be, despite Dean's persistent and obvious attempts to recapture the long gone version of themselves that they're pretending to be, and his mother's equally obvious comments about how good they are together. The house has been filled with the excited shrieks and happy chatter of her children from very early that morning, and it's really all Beth could have wanted from this holiday. As evening draws in and Dean and his mother are finally getting ready to leave, Beth is surprised to find that she actually means it when she tells them, "Thank you for coming, it was a lovely day."

It's only when the kids are in bed, and the seemingly endless clean-up is complete, that she finds herself wishing she could share these final hours with some else. Someone who might cuddle up with her on the sofa, in front of the diminishing glow of the fire, and share a bottle of wine as they recount the highlights of the day.

And if, for a moment, she happens to picture that someone with dark, cropped hair and smooth, honeyed skin, then it's definitely down to the alcohol – nothing more.

/\/\/\/\

Parking behind a long trail of cars that line the drive, Alex smiles over at her and says, "I had no idea you lived in this area – you'll probably know more people here than I do."

Beth is equally surprised. It's New Year's Eve and they're headed to Alex's friend's party, which, they have recently discovered, is actually situated close to Beth's neighbourhood. The house they have arrived at – if you could describe this beautiful mansion in such simple terms – is less than a fifteen minute drive from her own home, albeit in an area where everything is known to be simply bigger; properties, cars, diamonds – you name it.

"What did you say your friend's name was again?" Beth asks curiously. It's a small community and, even though they are bound to run in very different circles, she'd be surprised if she didn't at least know of them.

"Richard," he replies, as he opens his door and starts to get out, "Richard Townsend. We went to University together."

Not recognising the name, she picks up her purse and waits as Alex grabs the wine from the back seat of the car and comes around to open her door, reaching out a hand to help as she steps onto the drive in her spindly heels.

As they walk along the car-lined drive towards the house, Alex offers Beth his arm and she gratefully accepts it, taking the opportunity to switch her attention from the safe placement of her feet on the ground to the impressive building before them. It's a large plantation-style mansion of brilliant white, with two stories of tall, period windows, and six towering pillars that stretch from the lower porch to the eves of the roof above. Each of the brightly lit windows is decorated with a holiday wreath, while the upper porch and large front door are decked out with garlands of pine, intertwined with deep red ribbons.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" asks Alex wryly, as they mount the shallow steps towards the front door.

"It's beautiful," Beth murmurs, peering behind her to make sure she won't be overheard, "But, this style of architecture isn't really my thing."

She's being diplomatic and he knows it.

"No," he agrees with a grin, "I can't say I would relish living in a throwback to the era of enslavement either. But," he leans forward to ring the bell, "I promise these are nice people, you'll like them."

Within seconds the door is being whisked open by an immaculately dressed, blond woman, who takes one look at Alex and lets out a small shriek of delight, darting forward to embrace him.

"Alex! We weren't sure if you were coming, it's been an age since we've seen you."

Smiling politely as the two disengage, Beth holds out her hand and offers, "Hi, I'm Beth. You have a really beautiful home."

"Thank you, Beth, it's lovely to meet you," replies the woman, with a warmth that instantly puts Beth at ease. "I'm Darcy," she continues, her smile impish, "– Richard's better half."

Ushering them deeper into the grand entrance hall, Darcy shows them where to stash their coats, watching them with open curiosity.

"So how did you two meet?" she asks, and Alex laughs.

"At work actually," he replies, helping Beth out of her coat, but anything further that he might have said is replaced by silence, as he takes in the vision of his date in her dark red dress.

Feeling the colour rising to her cheeks beneath his appreciative gaze, Beth runs her hands nervously down her sides. It's a daring piece; form-fitting with a deep neckline, each aspect of the expertly tailored dress serves to clearly accentuate her natural curves and leaves very little to the imagination.

Grinning at the pair of them, her eyes sparkling mischievously, Darcy says, "I think I can speak for both of us when I say that you look absolutely ravishing, Beth. Now," she continues brightly, "Why don't you come through to the dining room with that wine and I'll fix us up some drinks."

They are soon swallowed up by the lively throng of the party, and Beth is happy to find Alex's company, and that of his friends, to be at once comfortable and highly entertaining. In fact, she's having more fun tonight than she has in quite some time.

Although she has recognised some of the faces around them - from the grocery store or the kid's school - she's relieved not to run into anyone that she knows well, and thereby eliminates the risk of having to explain what she's doing here with a man other than Dean. She hasn't made a secret of the fact that they're separated, but she doesn't want people gossiping about her life - or her children's lives - either.

As midnight fast approaches, and everyone gathers on the rear deck for the fireworks – with the count-down on their lips and fizzing glasses of Champaign in their hands – Beth's ease in Alex's presence takes a nosedive, as her nerves begin to build.

"Ten!"

Does he expect a kiss?

"Eight!"

Do I?

"Six!"

What if he leans in and I don't want this?

"Four!"

What if he leans in and I do?

"Three! Two! ONE! Happy New Year!"

Then there's no time left for thinking, as the fireworks explode overhead and Alex does lean down, blocking out the golden starbursts against the night sky and the cheering crowd around them.

And… she finds that she doesn't not want it.

It's actually pretty… nice.

Drawing back a couple of moments later, Beth smiles shyly as she clinks her Champaign flute against his and murmurs, "Happy New Year, Alex."

"Happy New Year, Beth," he replies easily, lips twitching into a grin, "They do say 'start as you mean to go on', do they not?"

Laughing at his forwardness, she takes another sip of the bubbling liquid and replies, "You know, my sister, Annie, was pretty impressed that you asked me out on New Year's. But she couldn't decide whether it was a sign that you were eager for a relationship or a total player."

There's a slight change in his body language as he asks carefully, "And what do you think?"

"Well," she considers this, her tone amused and free of judgement, "I think 'player' might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm guessing you're not here looking for your soulmate either."

The tension in him relaxes as he grins in response and says, "I couldn't have put it better myself."

/\/\/\/\

A couple of hours later, the party is still going strong, but Beth is ready to call it a night. It's been a lot of fun, it really has, but what she needs now is her bed – which she has no intention of sharing. At least not tonight.

Alex, who has been careful with his alcohol intake, has insisted on driving her home, even though Richard has convinced him to return to the party after he does.

The journey is over in a matter of minutes and, as they turn on to Beth's street, they're discussing the absolute delight that is left-over turkey/stuffing sandwiches, and, of course, it's making her hungry.

"There's absolutely no hidden meaning to this invitation, but would you like to come in for a turkey sandwich?" Beth giggles, as they pull up in front of her house.

"I thought you'd never ask," he grins, turning off the engine decisively.

Unlocking the front door, she's conscious of Alex close behind her and hopes that he knows her offer is genuinely limited to a sandwich.

But she needn't have worried.

As they walk down the hallway to the kitchen, Alex removes his fitted dinner jacket and begins to roll up his shirt sleeves, asking, "Where will I find a bread board?" as he circles the kitchen island and begins to open cupboards at random.

Pointing him in the right direction, Beth sighs with relief as she kicks off her heels and removes her own coat, before going to the fridge to pull out the containers of leftover turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce, and pile them on the island. Grabbing a loaf of bread, she drops it down onto the counter in front of Alex, who looks like he means business where these sandwiches are concerned.

Pulling out a stool across from him, she's about to sit down and enjoy the view of someone else preparing food in her kitchen, when, inexplicably, the doorbell rings.

Glancing with surprise at the kitchen clock – 2.15am – and then at Alex, whose eyebrows are raised slightly in question, she hesitates for a moment, as various possibilities flicker through her mind.

"Go ahead," Alex tells her easily, adding, with a smile of self-deprecation, "I think I've got this covered."

Lifting her usual purse down from the hook in the hall, where she left it earlier in the evening, Beth slides her hand inside until her fingers brush against the cold metal of the gun. Clasping it safely in her hand, beneath the leather of the purse, she steps forward and swings the door open.

"Hey," comes a deep drawl.

And, honestly, she had not expected it to be him.

Yet, here he is, standing on her doorstep, with all the casual ease of a neighbour stopping by for a cup of tea - at two in the afternoon instead of two in the morning.

"What are you doing here, Rio?" she asks abruptly, forcing her hand to relax on the gun as she slips the purse up and over her shoulder.

It's a cold night, and her arms and legs are bare, but adrenaline, and a swiftly rekindling anger, are keeping the chill at bay.

For Rio's part, he's characteristically underdressed for the weather – in jeans and a light jacket – but at least he's had the sense to wear a beanie hat, and his hands are burrowed deep in his jacket pockets, as he takes her in; bare feet, maroon dress, and lightly tousled hair.

He doesn't answer her, and the silence hangs between them.

Then, "You look good."

Refusing to let the comment affect her, she asks again, her impatience palpable, "What are you doing here?"

A casual shrug of his shoulders, "I was in the neighbourhood."

"Right," she responds tersely, "Well, thanks for stopping by."

He laughs briefly at her sarcasm, and she starts to withdraw into the house, but then-

"Look," he murmurs gruffly, clearing his throat as his eyes dip again to her freshly painted toenails, "There might have been a–," he pauses, searching for the right word, "Miscommunication between us, last time we spoke."

Her heart lurches in her breast, but her tone implies boredom as she replies, "Is that right."

"Yeah, I wanted-"

"Beth?" Alex's voice interrupts from inside the house, "Is everything ok?"

Beth, whose gaze has not left Rio's, sees his eyes flare in surprise, before his customary, impassive mask slips into place.

Feeling Alex come to stand behind her in the doorway, she glances back at him, recognising how at home he looks, with his sleeves rolled up and a tea towel draped casually over one shoulder, and notices too how it's evidently not lost on Rio, who takes a small, possibly involuntary, step back.

Rio's eyes flicker to hers once again, and she can read the sardonic amusement there – as he wants her to do – and can almost hear his voice in her head sneering, "This guy?"

Ignoring him, Beth tells Alex, "Everything's fine. This is Rio, my neighbour - he saw the lights on and popped over to wish us a happy new year."

Although she had intended to needle Rio with her words, she gets no satisfaction from watching the minute grimace that tightens his features before he forces a smile for Alex's benefit.

What had he really come for?

Apparently oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them, Alex holds out his hand and says smoothly, "It's nice to meet you Rio, I'm Alex."

There's a slight hesitation, before Rio briefly clasps the hand he's been offered and nods silently in acknowledgement.

"You hungry?" Alex asks, and Beth resists the urge to elbow him in the side. Hard.

"Nah, man," Rio replies easily, "Thanks, but I'd best be getting back."

Needing for this moment to be over already, Beth says pointedly, "I'll see you around, Rio."

And he just looks at her, with that signature intensity that makes the rest of the world fade into obscurity, as he nods again and murmurs, "Happy New Year, Elizabeth."

Then he's walking away, and, inexplicably, it's all she can do not to call him back.