The Icehouse was awash with sun bleached hair, loose linen, bronzed limbs and flip-flops. The vibe was beach casual. A blackboard of specials featured locally caught ocean creatures in rich broth and generous lobster tails floating in garlic butter for those willing to part with sixty dollars a plate. The glass concertina doors pushed back to let the balmy July breeze sweep through.
It lacked the pretentiousness of the fine dining establishments in Capeside, but still managed a full house most evenings that the tourist crowd descended on the town.
Joey Potter knocked back a crisp glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and quickly made inroads with the second.
She noticed a man in her periphery, mid-fifties, short. He sported dirty jeans and a worn t-shirt. Eyes beady like a crow.
When she first came in, three bar stools separated them, but now, none did. He began a conversation with her and offered to buy her a drink.
She refused.
His compliments about her hair, her skin and figure had begun nicely enough, but now he was creeping closer, and talking faster and invading her space until her back was pressed hard against the stained ash bar. She'd officially run out of room, there was nowhere to go and his rancid breath whispered in her ear that he'd never been intimidated by a taller woman.
Joey's eyes scanned the room, falling against a lone man sitting at a booth.
"Oh look, my fiancé's here! I must have missed him coming in the door."
Joey scooped up her handbag.
The man's head swiveled observing the booth, but before he had a chance to say anything further, Joey left.
Pacey sipped his beer, scanning his eyes around the room, and looked towards the door. Glancing at his watch, he realized he was a tad early, but it was nice to be off his feet. He wasn't quick to rush back behind the bar. Instead, he'd enjoy just a few moments of peace.
His moment of solitude was short-lived when a tall brunette materialized as he ran his fingers up and down the beer bottle, letting the condensation trickle down his index finger.
She slid into the burgundy booth opposite with a wide eyed, pleading look. This woman was lean and stunning, a chambray shirt over black jeans, casually cool. Her hair was scooped into a high ponytail atop her head and pieces of it flopped over her eyes.
Wineglass with only a few mouthfuls left rested beside his beer. She leaned forward conspiratorially, voice low.
"If Receding Hairline over there comes over, you're my fiancé, okay?"
Pacey paused a beat before relaxing in his seat and replying, hushed, mimicking her.
"Wow, not just a boyfriend. I'm instantly husband material?"
She grinned, pleased he was willing to play along.
"Boyfriend communicates significantly less commitment."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, boyfriends merely yell abuse at weirdos in bars. A fiancé subtly suggests a right hook element."
He raised an eyebrow. "So to avoid creepo over there, you thought I looked like a safe bet?"
She smiled. It was lopsided and endlessly endearing. "Your eyes were kind. I didn't get an America's Most Wanted vibe."
"Wow. Glowing praise." Pacey smirked.
"You're welcome."
He cocked an eyebrow. "But how do you know? I'm just as likely to have a basement full of bodies as the next lone guy in a booth."
Joey glanced at him, traveling up and down his form. He was mid-thirties, that sun kissed glow that was a telltale sign of a Capesidian in summer. A short beard smattered with grays softened the blow of the aquamarine Hawaiian shirt draped across his chest, embellished with pink flamingos. Joey wished for sunglasses.
Rolling her eyes, she gave a wry smile. "Please. Your basement is a converted second closet - a homage to Hawaiian shirts, clearly." Waving a hand at his ensemble.
"You make a hell of a lot of assumptions for someone who just sat down at my table."
"Am I wrong?" She held his gaze.
Pacey merely chuckled in response, took a sip of his beer and Joey brought the glass to her lips. She held his gaze, grinning. A blood-alcohol at cruising altitude of tipsy made her chattier than normal. Would she normally barrel in to sit opposite a stranger? No, never. It was a concoction of circumstance that brought her here, and wine, and she wasn't hating the interaction. Not even a little bit.
"If I put a ring on it, where is said ring?" Pacey pointed to her bare fingers. He noticed a faint outline. A telltale suntan mark that suggested a ring had once found her finger home.
"Thankfully, he didn't pry any further." She glanced at Receding Hairline and he stared back. Pacey leveled a glare at him before leaning across the table, taking her hands in his and gazing adoringly across the table. She held his puppy dog eyes.
"Oh, lover, oh.. " he started, then realized he didn't actually know his faux-bethrothed's name yet.
"Joey." She helped him along.
"Joey? As in baby kangaroo? As in Josephine? Josephina?"
She rolled her eyes and grumbled.
"Joey, shall we start on the guest list? My uncle Marv is, naturally, stricken due to last year's Thanksgiving incident. But thoughts on Aunt Doris? She simply cannot be seated near Peter. You know what happened last time."
"I thought we were going to keep it small, sweetie? Under two hundred, remember?"
"Oh honey, you know how I feel about making sure everyone is there to celebrate our special day."
They chuckled, both surprised at such easy camaraderie and bullshit with a stranger.
Pacey rubbed his palms together. "Okay, give me a quick rundown of Joey so, if spontaneously quizzed by your barside creep I can respond accordingly."
Joey tapped her chin. "My blood type is AB if that helps?"
"Immensely. "
"I like a probiotic yogurt every morning with my coffee. "
"You should never neglect your gut health." Pacey nodded.
"Although I often wonder if the caffeine kills the good bacteria. Oh, and I like my coffee strong with just a dash of milk, and I like to pretend my favorite books are very serious literature endeavors, but I'm actually partial to those terrible paperback romances."
"Me too!" Said Pacey.
"You love tawdry romances?"
Pacey laughed, his eyes crinkling into deep lines.
"I meant the coffee with cream. "
"Oh."
"But I wouldn't say no to a cheap romance book. The kind where Fabio sweeps some maiden off a pirate ship. They get pretty steamy," said Pacey.
"And useful if you ever need a thesaurus for the many and varied words in the English language that describe a male appendage." Joey's eyes sparkled with amusement. "But, you know, I read them for the storyline and the poignant character development."
"Sure you do." He winked and held her gaze for a moment before relaxing.
"What about you?"
Pacey took a swig of his beer and began. "Blood type O. General underachiever. Coffee with cream, as I mentioned. I hate cats. My ex didn't. But her new lease is strictly no pets, so unfortunately I have been granted sole custody. His name is Cat Stevens. He's a Ragdoll who spends his evenings plotting my demise. He's also allergic to cat food and has a medication regime more stringent than my ninety-year-old grandmother, so that's fun."
"When you're trying to call him inside, do you just yell 'Cat'?"
Pacey laughs. "Oh no, this feline is much too delicate to touch a paw to grass. He prefers to lurk indoors and sharpen his claws on the only suit I own."
"You're really making me glad I don't have any pets."
Pacey smiled and his eyes darted towards the man at the bar, who was sipping a cocktail and watching them.
His smile turned to a frown.
"So was this a blind date set up with Mr. Receding Hairline or just a barside meet-cute gone sour?" Pacey asked.
"Ew. Blind date! If anyone I happened to call a friend set me up with him, they'd be off the Christmas card list."
"Who sends Christmas cards anymore? What are you, eighty?"
Joey shook her head, ignoring his comment. "I was hungry. I heard this was a decent place for a meal. How dare a recently divorced woman dare to go out for a wine or three and want not to be hit on!"
"In Receding's defense … beautiful women around here are few and far between."
She rolled her head back, wisps of hair teetered back and forth on her shoulders. "Oh no!"
"What?"
"Are you trying to hit on me now? Man who sits alone in the booth, looking all non-predatory."
Pacey put his hands up in defense. "Relax. I'm just stating facts. While normally I would hit on you, I have recently found myself minus a fiancé, so I'm firmly in the wound-licking phase. Even gorgeous brunettes cannot tempt me right now."
Joey's shoulders slumped. "Ahh, a fellow card-carrying member of the broken heart club. How recent?"
"A little over a month now."
"Sorry."
"I'll live. You?"
"Well, it's been over for years in practice, but I just signed the divorce papers today. A formality, really, but the final nail in the proverbial coffin."
Pacey held up his beer bottle.
"To relationships ending. And immediately finding yourself engaged to strangers in a bar."
They clinked and finished the dregs of their glasses.
"Was the break up bad?" Joey asked, prying while twiddling the chain of a simple necklace.
"Not especially dramatic. Just the old We're On Different Paths spiel. Which, in hindsight, meant she wanted to be on a path that involved having lots of sex with her colleague, Leonardo Frazer MD."
Joey let out a sad breath. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, I'd prefer to know now than waste another year. What about you?"
Joey sighed, lethargic from explanations to every acquaintance at the shock of their split. "We were on a slow path to misery. Glorified roommates. There was no spark, you know? The relationship was comatose. Unresponsive for so long, it was time to pull the plug. My ex was a decent guy. But, is decent enough? Is decent something you want to commit to forever?"
"Obviously, the relationship had run its course."
"Yeah. It doesn't make the whole thing any easier. You still have to reform your whole life. We'd been together since we were young. Very young. Sometimes I feel like I don't know who I am without him."
"That sounds confronting."
"It's terrifying. I guess that's why I'm here, you know. My first time ever in a bar by myself, putting myself out there, boring a poor stranger to death with my tales of woe."
Pacey shook his head. "Tales of woe are my specialty."
A waitress walked by and Pacey called out, "Jane. Can you bring me another one? And my fiancé would like a…?"
Joey glanced down at her empty wineglass and Jane shot Pacey a confused glare.
"A Sauvignon Blanc please."
"Sure, Pacey, be right back."
Joey stared at him, confused.
"Pacey?"
He nodded.
"You make fun of my name. And your name is Pacey?"
"I feel like we really should have got these issues sorted before committing to spend our lives together."
Joey made some rapid hand movements between Pacey and the bar. "Why does that waitress know you by name? And why do you know her name? I didn't pin you as the bar fly type."
"You sure had a lot of assumptions about me in the whole two seconds before you joined me at my table and committed to marriage."
Joey stared at him, incredulous. "I'm very perceptive like that."
"While I do spend much of my time at the bar, it's not because I'm drinking. I'm normally behind the bar."
"Ahh, resident bartender?"
"Well, a lot of the time, yes. But, I actually own this place, so I kind of do all the jobs around here."
"You own this?" Joey's eyes grew and she took a moment to glance around the establishment.
Pacey nodded. "Yeah. Well, me, the bank, and presumably my ex-girlfriend now has a stake in its proceeds."
"Wow." Joey couldn't help but be impressed. The bar was pumping, the food smelled amazing. He was clearly doing something right.
"Wow, like you assumed I was a male model, not a bar owner?" Pacey joked.
She laughed and it woke up something in Pacey that he thought had died a month and a broken heart ago.
"No. Wow, like this is a lovely place."
"Thank you."
Pacey let his eyes drift to hers. He held them for a second longer than necessary.
"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here?" he asked. If she was, he would have known her face. He would have remembered someone like that.
Joey shook her head. "I grew up in Plymouth, not far from here, but I flew out from California yesterday."
"A permanent move?"
Joey shrugged. "My sister lives here now, so while I'm inbetween places, I'm going to stay with her. Assess my options."
Pacey gleamed, "Well, don't let summer season taint your Capeside experience. At the moment, it's just full of fat walleted summer house wanderers who browse the boutiques, tan themselves into oblivion by day and drink fifty dollar jugs of margaritas by night. Over winter, it will calm down, store prices will halve and you'll actually be able to find a parking space."
"You should be a realtor."
Pacey chuckled, "That's actually not the first time someone has said that."
She looked over at Receding Hairline to see if he was still watching her. He'd found his next victim in a redhead with a miniskirt and a Negroni.
Pacey followed her line of sight. "Do you think Miniskirt will be wooed by his charms?"
Joey shook her head. "Surely not."
Receding sidled up to Miniskirt and said something that elicited a nervous laugh and a sideways crab walk in the other direction.
"What did he say to you?" Pacey asked Joey, but his eyes remained locked on the couple at the bar.
"He asked if I was alone and wanted a drink. When I said no, thankyou I was fine. He engaged in some small talk, one sided small talk that had a distinct anesthetizing effect. It was counteracted by his breath, which smelled like beer and pickled onions. He rambled about the prevalence of a new breed of endemic jellyfish swarming the beaches here. Boring conversation I could take, but kept trying to touch my arm as we spoke. He inched closer and closer until his body was almost completely pressed against mine. Until I spotted you, in that delightful shirt, and used you as my out."
Pacey pulled at his clothing. "See, my basement of shirts is an excellent investment."
With raised eyebrows, Joey answered. "Excellent might be a stretch."
Pacey smiled despite himself.
"Did you feel uncomfortable with him?" He asked, tilting his head.
Joey glanced back as the man made the same moves with Miniskirt. He tried to touch her around the waist, and she visibly recoiled. When she made to walk away, Receding grabbed her arm and Pacey was out of the booth and by the bar before Joey registered his absence.
She couldn't hear the exchange from the combination of distance, soft rock through the speakers and forks hitting ceramic plates, but the body language spoke volumes. Pacey leaned close to the man, spoke something in his ear and took a step back, glowering at him.
Receding held his hands up as though wrongfully accused, but then downed the rest of his drink and exited the premises swiftly.
Pacey nodded to the security guard by the door. He returned the gesture. A silent conversation. He slid back into the booth in a single fluid movement.
"Problem solved," he said with a smile.
"Is that your solution to bar creeps in your establishment?"
Pacey shrugged. "One of many solutions I vacillate between."
"It seemed to work well."
"Some it works for, others need some more stern reminders about behavior."
"I have no doubt."
"What did you tell him?"
Pacey smirked, "that he should never ever hit on my fiancé again."
"Haha. I call bullshit."
"It worked, didn't it? Intended result achieved."
"Well, it was very impressive. I owe you one." Joey held up a glass and Pacey's eyes tracked behind her. He shuffled in his seat.
"I'm glad you said that. I'm going to take you up on that now."
"Pacey!" A man slapped him on the shoulder and stood outside the booth. Pacey jumped up and slid to Joey's side of the booth and gestured for the man to sit.
"Hi." The man glanced awkwardly at Joey.
She gave a single wave.
"Doug, Joey, Joey, my brother and notorious Sheriff of our little beachside paradise, Doug."
He extended his hand and another man scootched into the booth besides Doug, nursing two beers and a raised eyebrow.
"Pace, speak to your barman, please. He made me pay for these drinks. I mean, what are we, chopped liver?"
"It's a friends and family discount Jack, not a free ride."
"Whatever. You're getting the next round." He paused before glancing at Joey and serving Pacey a raised eyebrow. He thought Joey didn't see.
She did.
"Um, Hi."
Pacey rolled his eyes.
"Jack, this is Joey. Joey, the man with the mouth agape and the dramatic look of shock, is Jack."
Jack plopped beside Doug and kicked Pacey beneath the table.
"It is not a look of shock, it's a look of happiness. It's a pleasure to meet you, Joey."
She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Likewise."
"Pacey, why didn't you tell us you were seeing anyone?" Doug asked, eyes belaying his shock.
Pacey looked to Joey for cues, and only found her deep brown eyes staring back, eagerly awaiting his explanation.
"It's just new. I didn't want to make a big thing of it, considering."
Jack beamed. "Totally understandable."
Joey's heart rate increased, this wasn't exactly what she meant for their quid pro quo. But, what was the harm? He had helped her. The least she could do was repay him.
Pacey turned to Joey and swiftly changed the subject. "These two have, after many tumultuous years, caved under the pressure of Aunt Doris and decided to tie the knot."
"Wait, Aunt Doris is real?" Joey smiled and Pacey grinned back. Jack and Doug exchanged a glance.
"Doris is an icon, and not to be trifled with."
Doug laughed, "If she says you should get married, well, then you damn a well better get married."
Joey placed her hand on Pacey's, just as he'd done with her earlier. Her hand was warm and soft, familiar somehow. She smiled at him reassuringly and Pacey tried to steer the spotlight back on Jack and Doug.
"Have you thought about the menu ideas I sent through?" Pacey asked.
Jack launched into a debate with Doug about the chosen canapes, and Joey sat back, listening to the crab or no crab discussion.
It was surprisingly easy, watching the three of them quip and debate and they paused regularly to ask Joey's opinion regarding various facets of wedding etiquette.
As talk continued, a waitress brought to the table plates upon plates of food until it lined the booth from one end to the other.
Doug and Jack didn't wait, simply shoveling tastes in mid-discussion and humming gentle oohs and ahhs of appreciation.
Pacey caught Joey's eye and inclined his head to the food.
She sampled a tiny, fried long item, not dissimilar to a squat french fry.
It danced on her tongue. Light, crispy, crunchy, a slight chili kick.
"What is this?" She finally asked when there was a moment's break in the wedding discussion.
"Fried whitebait, chilli Aioli," Pacey shrugged.
"Holy crap"
"What?"
"This is amazing!"
Pacey grabbed a few, dipped them and loaded them into this mouth, smirking. "You say that with such surprise, Joey. Did you think my restaurant would serve anything less than ' amazing'?"
"I am surprised. Who would have thought eating tiny fish whole would be so delicious?"
Jack nodded his head to Pacey. "Add that to the list of appetizers."
"Yes, do!" Jack said.
Pacey chucked as Joey went back for seconds, then thirds.
"You know, Joey. Pacey makes this aioli from scratch every morning." Jack said, watching between them.
"Really? I don't know what aioli making consists of, but consider me impressed."
"It's only oil, garlic, eggs and ... " Pacey started.
Joey held up a firm palm. "Don't ruin it for me, let's keep it magical."
Pacey laughed. "Deal."
Joey scooped the last of it onto the fish, and when all dipping items were gone, she swiped an index finger around the ramekin to ensure there was no further drop unaccounted for.
She then lost herself in his pesto arancini, floating away on a carb cloud while they talked menus for a while before it morphed into chatter about everything but. Drinks appeared like sorcery before them, an empty glass disappeared and a new one was in place before she noticed its absence.
It wasn't long before she settled into a casual ease with the trio. Long forgotten was Receding Hairline and a day that held such depressing connotations. Yes, she'd signed divorce paperwork today. Her marriage was officially over. But maybe the universe was reminding her that her life wasn't ending. New city, new friends, new fake-boyfriend slash fiancé might just await her on the other side.
Pacey's arm outstretched on the booth behind her. It wasn't strange, or lecherous, having known him for the better part of 90 minutes, but time slipped from her grasp and she was enjoying herself so much that when Jack and Doug stood to leave, she was rue to know that it was over.
"It was lovely meeting you, Joey."
"Likewise."
"You know, it's easy to add in a plus one if needed for the wedding. Considering we know the chef and all." Jack wiggled his eyebrows.
Pacey chuckled, "The question is, is there enough aioli in the universe to satisfy Joey?"
"Ha-ha," Joey punched him in the arm and Pacey rubbed it, wincing dramatically.
Doug and Jack gave them a long stare with mutual grins.
"I'm serious, Joey," said Doug. "I haven't seen Pacey smile like this in a long time."
Joey grinned nervously, unsure of how to respond. Pacey just rubbed the back of his head and tried to usher them out. Jack and Doug finally disappeared with promises of brunch later in the week.
"Thanks for that. Sorry to throw you under the bus," said Pacey.
"It's fine, my taste buds were sufficiently tantalized, consider us even."
"Ugh. I don't know why I agree to cater for family and friends."
"It must be hard, especially when you want to enjoy the wedding."
"Yeah. Nothing says overextending yourself than Best Man slash caterer."
"Speeches and hors d'oeuvres."
Pacey shook his head, took a swig of beer. Their interaction had that special, peculiar charm that only familiar friends had. Everything felt easy, fun somehow in ways that circumvented awkwardness of meeting someone new.
"Why did you need a fake girlfriend with them? They seemed lovely, and understanding."
He raked long fingers through his hair.
"There's an undercurrent from everyone I know of needing to move on. You know, being thirty something and finding out you've wasted six years on someone who didn't really love you. They've been pushing me into 'getting out there again'. Jack tried to sign me up on a dating app last week to find a rebound, but it's just not me."
Joey's mouth opened in feigned shock. "So they think I'm the rebound."
Pacey laughed.
"Sorry. Should I have specified between fake girlfriend and fake rebound?"
"No. It's fine. I get the rebound thing, though. After a big relationship, it makes sense. It's hard to come out unscathed. You need a test relationship, like a trial. Someone to screw up with and load all those emotions onto and… you know…"
She motioned with her hands and bobbed her eyebrows to insinuate the end of the sentence.
Pacey continued for her. "Someone to fuck your ex out of your head?"
Joey laughed.
"Well, I didn't want to say it out loud. But, yes."
Pacey looked at her for a moment. His eyes darkened, and she could have sworn he was going to say something. But he remained silent.
Joey tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled her brown eyes from his blue. "My sister is the same. I got here yesterday and she already signed me up for speed-dating! I guess because I was with my husband since my teen years, she feels like I missed out on all the fun of casual sex."
"She's not wrong. It can be lots of fun," Pacey teased.
"Remind me of that fun when I'm with a revolving door of single bachelors giving me a five-minute spiel about their stamp-collecting hobbies and how much they enjoy golf."
A waitress strode up to the table and smiled nervously.
"Pacey, Chas and Nicole both called in sick for the breakfast shift."
Pacey groaned and rested his head against the tabletop.
"Thanks … I'll deal with it."
The waitress departed with a sympathetic look.
"The many perils of owning such a fine establishment?" Asked Joey.
"Yes. Good staff. Impossible to find. We rely on teenagers, who, at the first scent of decent beach weather, all inexplicably come down with a 24 hour flu."
Reaching out, Joey grabbed her handbag and finished the last of her wine.
"I'll leave on your quest to find suitable replacements."
Pacey ran his fingers through his hair. "Don't suppose you can cook an egg, or wait tables?"
Joey laughed. "I refuse to admit to any such skills."
"Probably safe."
She stood, a little awkwardly.
"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Pacey."
"Hey, I just told a creep to fuck off. You charmed my brother. That is no easy feat."
"I'm also available for funerals and bah mitzvahs," said Joey. From her bag she produced a fifty-dollar note, tried to pass it to Pacey, but he shook his head and pushed back her hand.
Joey knew this was the time when she should leave. But she struggled to make her legs walk away.
She stuck out her hand. "It's been lovely to meet you, Pacey. You made my divorce day at least fifteen percent less terrible."
"Can't ignore those figures."
"I hope you get over that wound-licking, rebound phase and you meet someone lovely who never, ever leaves you for a Leonardo."
"I'm sure I will," Pacey smiled. "Now that your divorce is finalized, I'm sure you'll meet someone, too."
Joey smiled back. "I'm sure I will."
And she walked out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air.
Pacey grabbed the empty glasses from the table, straightened the salt and pepper shakers, and went back to work.
