Inn & Out (A Romantic Comedy) (Five More Wishes Book 2) (7 page)

“Come on, Bert,” Jean says, standing. “Let’s get those floorboards done.” She shuffles to his chair and pushes him out of the kitchen on the double. I don’t blame her. I want to get out, too. Thor might not be standing on a landmine, but he’s ready to explode.

“What did I do wrong?” Bert complains, as he’s being wheeled out. “Sitting there with a jailbird, but I’m the one he’s going to kill?”

I can feel Thor’s eyes bore through me like lasers.

“I’ll clean up,” I offer, standing and avoiding his gaze. “You can go…do, you know.” I pick up the dirty plates, but Thor doesn’t leave.

“Jailbird?” he asks. I whistle and look away.

“I find that term offensive.”

“But accurate?”

I focus on a crack in the ceiling. “Well…”

“What did you go to prison for?”

“None of your business,” I say, dropping the dirty plates into the sink.

“It is my business. I’m in business with you. Therefore, you’re my business. I need to know.”

“It’s bad manners to ask.” I turn on the water, and I’m grateful for the terrible racket, which drowns out our voices. I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t want to be the ex-con. I don’t want to be the jailbird. That’s not who I am. Not that I know who I am these days, but I know I’m not that.

“Bull hockey. I want to know,” he says, hovering over me, as I wash the dishes. He’s more than a foot taller than I am, and I’ve felt his muscular arms around me, his warm hand on my ass, and his talented tongue in my mouth. But now he’s looking at me like I’m less than he is. It’s the brand I was given the minute that my ex-boyfriend framed me, and I was imprisoned because of it. As long as I don’t escape this life and get a new one, I’ll always be known as a criminal and society’s outcast. I hate this, and I want to escape as soon as possible. My soapy fingers let a glass slip out of my hands and fall into the sink with a crash, breaking the glass into tiny pieces. The water turns red as blood from a cut on my thumb runs down my hand. Thor turns off the water and gently takes my injured hand, wrapping it in a towel.

“Come on. Let me fix that.” Helping me to a seat, as if I’m going to break like an egg in a spoon race at a picnic, he takes a small first aid kit out of a drawer and puts it on the table. Gently, he unwraps the towel and cleans my thumb, stopping the blood flow. “So tell me,” he says after a minute. “Why were you in prison?”

“Fine,” I say, annoyed. “I’ll tell you. I cut off a man’s penis.”

Thor drops my hand and leans back in his chair, as if he was hit. “You…what?”

“Snip. Snip,” I say, scissoring the air with my fingers.

He puts his hands in his lap. “You cut off a man’s dick?”

“He annoyed me.” I shrug. “He kept asking me irritating questions. So, I cut it off.”

Thor’s face is drained of color. He looks more scared than when he thought he had stepped on a landmine. “You cut off his Johnson?”

“No,” I say. “I didn’t. I was kidding. But now you don’t really care what I did. Right?”

He’s not totally convinced. He still bandages my thumb, but he keeps a penis-distance away from me at all times, as if I could whack it off at any moment. We clean the kitchen together, and just as he’s about to go outside, again, we see through the window an army of golf carts drive up to the house. Women in yoga pants get out, holding boxes bursting with streamers and other decorations.

Oh my God. My Kinkos run worked.

“What did you do?” Thor growls at me, as if he has Spidey sense.

“Oh my God, I’m Warren Buffet,” I announce. “I’m a master of industry. It worked! I’m going to get out of here soon.”

I bolt for the door. “What did you do?” Thor shouts after me.

“Don’t set up there, Tiffany! The kids will fall over the cliff!”

“But think of the pictures! Gorgeous views!”

“We’ll go in back. There’s picnic tables there, too!”

Without asking me or Thor, they decide on the spot where Thor was trimming trees for their event. There’s a lot of hair extensions going on, in addition to the yoga pants. So far, I’ve counted four Tiffanys and three Brittanys and the rest of the yoga pant, and hair extension women have gender neutral names like Devyn, Jordyn, Terri, and Bud. They’re buzzing around like bees with bags of tulle and rolls of crepe paper and a pile of Congratulations! banners.

“Hello, I’m Beryl,” I say, putting my hand out as a Brittany walks by. Before I can shake her hand, I’m pulled roughly from the collar of my shirt, and I fall backward into Thor’s hands. He turns me around and grips my shoulders, leaning down so that our faces are nearly touching.

“What did you do?” he demands.

“Nothing. How dare you?” I say, swatting Thor’s hands off of me. Bud approaches and hands me the flyer I made today at Kinkos and a check for three-hundred-dollars. “Thank you!” I exclaim, giving her an impetuous kiss on her flawless cheek, which is coated with a half-inch thick layer of natural minerals foundation that I would kill to own. I wave the check at Thor in triumph. Three hundred dollars. Wow. I think about all the things I can buy with it. I wonder how much a Fiat costs. Or new flip-flops.

“What is that? What is this? What’s happening?” Thor demands, like the world has tipped on its axis, and he can’t hold on.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you your share. How about ten percent?” I fold the check and put it under my bra strap, just like I’m a star in a movie from the 1930s. Bud follows the other women, who are carrying folding chairs to the now infamous bed warmer area. “It’s a good thing you trimmed those trees, right?” I say to Thor and head in their direction.

He runs after me. “What’s going on? What did you do? What’s the check about? What are they doing?”

“I’m making this place make money now. If we can’t use the house, we’ll use the grounds. This is the first event.”

“What event?”

“I don’t know,” I say, truthfully. “Maybe something about yoga with folding chairs.”

“Beryl, this wasn’t our agreement.”

I keep walking, trying to ignore him as much as possible. “I didn’t agree to anything. I inherited half of this dump, and we need to make it profitable so that you can buy me out. This is step one.”

I sound so professional and smart that I impress myself. Take that, world. Beryl Meyer is a smart businesswoman. We reach up to the group of yoga pants, and I offer to help set up whatever it is that they’re setting up.

One of the Tiffanys hands me a folding chair. “It’s the Summer Island Happy Elementary School Kindergarten graduation ceremony and celebration,” she explains. “The school was flooded this morning when Janice Lessing’s sensory deprivation tank sprang a leak in the auditorium. Luckily, Brittany K. saw your flyer in the window at the Click-Clack Tappers store.”

“Your flyer?” Thor asks.

“A kindergarten graduation,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. “That’s great for word-of-mouth. We’ll get the wholesome, family vote.”

Thor shakes his head. “We’re not running for city council, Beryl.”

“It’s still good. Three hundred dollars will come in handy, don’t you think? And it’s only the start.”

Thor opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Perhaps my logic is wearing off on him, I think at first, but then I see what he’s staring at. “Who’s that?” I ask, following his gaze. He’s staring at a woman with enough cleavage to hide the entire Led Zeppelin collection on vinyl. Even in her yoga pants and spandex shirt, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. Their eyes meet, and a small smile stretches over her perfect face with her perfectly lined lips. I’m not wearing a stitch of makeup, and my boobs could fit into her bra five times. Okay…six times.

“Thor, so good to see you,” she says, covering the distance between them with her hand outstretched. Thor stares at it for a second, as if he’s expecting to find a snake attached or some kind of weapon. Finally, he shakes her hand. She steps forward, pulling his hand in close to her flat stomach, letting his hand graze the underside of her enormous shelf of ta-tas.

“Hello, Jordyn,” he says. “How are you?”

“I didn’t know you were back from saving the world,” she purrs. “I thought I would get a call when you got back.”

She smiles wide, and her teeth are blindingly white, like they’re painted with neon Elmer’s glue. Thor is smiling, too, but only with one side of his mouth, as if he can’t decide on a facial expression.

“I’ve been busy getting the High Tide up and running. Eleanor left it to me,” he tells her, taking back his hand. His gaze slides toward me for an instant and then back at Jordyn. I decide not to correct him about his inheritance. For some reason, I want Jordyn to think that Thor got the whole enchilada.

She runs a French manicured nail up Thor’s torso, and I notice that she’s wearing a mammoth-sized wedding set on her ring finger. One giant-sized diamond with a bunch of smaller ones. Her rings would probably pay for the inn’s renovation. Thor doesn’t look at it. Instead, he’s looking right at me, and I can read so much in his face…sorrow, fatigue, and an apology.

“Well, then,” I exclaim, clapping my hands together. “Let’s get the show on the road.” I lift Jordyn’s hand off of Thor’s body and wrap her claw around the back of my folding chair. “Here you go. I think Brittany K. wants you.” I stand between her and Thor and shoo her off.

Hey, I was in prison for two years. I can handle one egomaniac stay-at-home mom.

“Fine,” Thor says, once Jordyn’s gone.

“Fine?”

“We can do the events. It might speed things along. You didn’t have a terrible idea.” He says the last sentence like the words are glued to the roof of his mouth and he’s having a lot of trouble getting them out.

“I didn’t have a terrible idea?” I ask and throw my arms around his neck. I give him a wet kiss on his cheek with a loud smacking noise. Thor repays me with a wide smile. “I have some other ideas about the formal dining room. How about…”

“One not terrible idea at a time, Beryl,” he says, interrupting me with a finger on my lips. “First, let’s get the kindergarteners graduated.”

***

The yoga pants ladies set up the folding chairs and a small stage in record time. I help decorate, while Thor is used for heavy lifting. “Not bad,” Thor says, as we wait for the graduation to begin. We’re standing in the back behind the chairs, watching the High Tide’s first special event. The yoga pants are gone, and in their place are sheath dresses and four inch heels. The women have come back with their children and their husbands. There are about thirty people in all.

The venue is beautiful, decorated with crepe and tulle, banners and streamers. The chairs sit between the trees, which stand tall and lean just enough to give the guests shade. Thor did a good job thinning out the trees. Still, I’m filled with ideas on how to make the area look nicer. The picnic tables should be painted, but I also think it would be great to plant some pretty flowers around the trees, and a playhouse and jungle gym for the kids would be awesome.

The mothers are giving their children a last-minute touchup, making sure all the buttons are buttoned, the dresses smoothed out, and every hair in place. Then, the kindergarten teacher puts on a Simon and Garfunkel medley, and everyone sits down. The teacher makes a speech about how much the children have matured and all of their different accomplishments in gluing, scissoring, and building blocks. There’s something else about reading and writing, but I’m partial to arts and crafts so I’m focused mainly on that part of the speech. Finally, the kids march solemnly across the makeshift stage to retrieve their kindergarten diploma.

It’s a very touching moment, but I’m surprised when Thor slips his hand into mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. Keeping vigilant about my vow against men and relationships is hard, but I must remain strong, no matter how seductive it is to play house with a man who could grace the cover of any good romance novel.

But holding hands doesn’t exactly mean we’re in a relationship. What could it hurt for me just to enjoy this moment? We worked together to put on a successful event at our inn, and that deserves some bonding celebration. So, I keep my hand in Thor’s and step a little closer to him, feeling the warmth waft from his perfect body and smelling the yummy deep musk that he has from an honest day’s work.

As the children walk across the stage, the parents jump out of their seats with their phones and tablets in their hands, ready to record every second of their children’s milestone. Snap, snap, snap go the iPhones as they take pictures. Most of the children get their diploma before there’s a disruption among the audience.

“Get out of my way, moron. I missed the picture of my daughter getting her diploma!” A large man next to one of the Tiffanys shouts at another large man next to another Tiffany. The other large man gets in front of the first large man, chest bumping him.

“Who are you calling moron? You’re the moron who doesn’t know how to use your God damned phone!”

“Language!” the kindergarten teacher calls out from the stage in a Mary Poppins singsong voice.

“Fuck you with your language!” the Tiffany with the second large man shouts back.

The first large man grabs the second large man’s phone and throws it onto the pile of dead branches away from the ceremony. The second Tiffany grabs the first large man’s phone and throws it, knocking it into another large man’s head.

Now, it’s a free-for-all.

There’s all kinds of large men and all kinds of not large women attacking each other. A band of Tiffanys start ripping out a group of Devyns’ hair extensions.

It’s bedlam. It’s a Kid Rock concert. My mouth is open, and my eyes won’t blink, no matter how much I tell them to. I guess I’m having a physical reaction to the shock and horror of watching upper middle-class parents bitch-slap the shit out of each other. It’s just a matter of time before someone gets killed. At the very least, there’s going to be a lot of bald women by the end of today. I’m sure that this is no big deal to Thor, since he’s a veteran, but when I turn to look at him, his mouth and his eyes are doing the same thing that mine are. His face is wide open, as if it’s trying to take in the scene but is having a hard time.