Running Home to You (The Running Series) (16 page)

“You said ‘looked’, as in the past tense.  What happened to her?” I ask, curious to hear more about this girl who resembles me.

“She died on tour.  She never made it home.”  He reaches up and rubs his face as if he’s trying to erase the painful memories from his mind.

Reese notices another tattoo, somewhat hidden from plain sight.  She takes his hand and turns his arm, palm up, so we can all see the writing along the inside of his arm.  She reads it aloud, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.” 

Ryker pulls away.  “Sorry, but that one’s for me, and me alone.”  I immediately hurt for him.  I can’t help but wonder what happened to this man.

Emmy, as usual, tries to lighten the situation by showing off a few of her tattoos.  “See this, it’s my derby skate.  It shows how badass I am.  The flowers all around it show how sweet and sexy I am.”  She giggles, tosses her golden hair over her shoulder and shakes her ass a little just to punctuate that last statement.

Ryker’s the one who notices something I’ve never paid attention to.  “All the flowers are shades of pink.  Except this one,” he says, pointing to the single bright orange flower hidden among the others.  “Why is this one different?”

“It’s a lily.  My mother’s name is Suzette.”  We all look at her, not immediately seeing a connection.  “The name Suzette means ‘graceful lily’.  Get it?”

“Well, I love them all,” Reese adds.  “Are you getting any more?” she asks.

“Actually, I always wanted a sugar skull, right here,” she tells us, pointing to her bicep.

I can’t imagine why anyone as cute and lively as Emmy would want a skull tattooed on her arm for the rest of her life.  “Seriously, Em?  A skull?  They’re so ... I don’t know ... morbid.  You really want that?”

Ryker defends her choice, “Actually sugar skulls are bright, colorful celebrations of life.  They’re usually covered with flowers, or other significant symbols.  They represent the joyful bond between life and death.  They can be fun, serious, silly, or a little bit of everything.”

“Well, I want mine to be all of that.  The only reason I haven’t gotten one yet is because I don’t know exactly what symbols I want.  I have a skate to represent my derby life.  I have flowers to represent me, my mother and my sisters.  I need one to represent my job, but I’m not sure how I can do that.”

Ryker goes over to the bar, fishes around for paper and a pencil, then sits at the bar doodling something.  We all gather around him, watching as he skillfully draws the outline of a skull.  In each eye socket is a wedge of citrus.  “One is a lemon, the other is a lime,” he tells us.  “This,” he explains as he adds something to the center of the skull where the nose belongs, “is an olive.”  He adds mint leaves on the chin, maraschino cherries on the cheeks, a shot glass and bottle caps in the background, and a worm slinking out between the teeth. 

He hands the drawing to Emmy.  It’s a beautiful work of art.  She takes one look at it and squeals in delight.  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.  I love it.  It’s amazeballs.”  Emmy holds it to her chest and rocks back and forth.  “Ryker, you’re amazeballs, too.”  She kisses him on the cheek.  “Who’s coming with me?  I can’t wait.  I want this right now!” she exclaims.

Marcus walks in and rallies us all back to our stations.  “No one is leaving right now.  Ladies, sorry, I hate to break up this little love fest, but we have work to do.” 

“Sorry ’bout that, boss.  Reese, Natalie, come on.  We still have lots to do before next week.  The clock’s running,” Ryker quickly escorts his crew back into the kitchen and we all get back to business.

While Ryker systematically works to bring the badly needed discipline to our kitchen crew, we all improve day after day, and now, by the end of June, we have something we can all be equally proud of.

With only one week left until our official Grand Opening, I find myself spending more and more time at Rush and less time at home.  Natalie and I have added a few desserts to our growing menu, including my S’mores creation.  We make a few minor changes like removing the cookie cracker and replacing it with a dark chocolate brownie.  Natalie keeps the honey and cinnamon flavors to create an inspired ice cream to pair with the treat.  Derek creates a specialty drink pairing.  He calls it a Touchback.  Its base is a bittersweet grapefruit juice.  He says the salty chocolate and the grapefruit complement each other, while the liqueurs draw out the bitterness of the dark chocolate and add a sweet finish.  One taste and I’m hooked.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to enjoy a dark-chocolate brownie without this drink in hand.

“So Derek, besides the grapefruit juice, what else is in this?” I ask.

“Come on back here, Jette, and I’ll show you.  It’s easy to make.”  Derek starts lining up the ingredients as I slip behind the bar to join him.  “First, you have to muddle some honey and grapefruit.”  He pours the honey and tosses in a large wedge of grapefruit, then hands the glass to me.  “Go ahead, muddle away.”

I grab the muddler and begin to mash the ingredients together.  Derek takes one look at what I’m doing and stops me, “Are you trying to destroy evidence or muddle some citrus?”

“What?  Am I doing it wrong?”  I stop and look over at Derek who’s standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at me.  I drop the muddler and back away.  “Forget it.  You do it, Mr. Marvelous.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.”  He grabs me by the waist and drags me back.  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you the proper way to muddle?  Try again.”  He hands me the muddler and waits for me to do something.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” he asks.

“Both, I guess.  I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Okay.  Here, I’ll show you.”  He holds my hand, and together we muddle the fruit and honey.  “The trick is to push and twist.  You were pounding and mashing.”  Slowly, he helps me apply just the right amount of pressure with the proper twist of the wrist.  “If you do it right, it will release the perfect amount of juice and oil.”  I can sense a devilish grin spreading across his face.  He whispers in my ear, “But be careful not to pound too hard, Jette.”

I give Derek a playful jab in the gut and as I do, we hear the front door slam closed.  Standing stock-still is Evan.  At first he says nothing, not a word.  He just stands there staring at us seething with anger.  Knowing Evan as well as I do, I can sense he’s trying to calm himself and temper his reaction. 

Hoping to underplay the scene he just witnessed, I grab the glass and offer it to him.  “Derek taught me how to make a Touchback.  Want to try some?”  Evan walks to the bar, grabs me by the wrist, and leads me into my office.  As we’re walking away, I hear Emmy lecturing Derek.  “Nice job, slick.  Don’t you know how to play nice?”

Evan slams the door shut.  Whatever he has to say isn’t going to be good.  I can hear the muffled tones of Emmy berating Derek for that little performance.

“What the fuck was that, Juliette?  Is this what you do here all day long while I’m getting the shit beat out of me by a bunch of rookies?”  He paces around the small office, clearly hurt and agitated.

“I’ve told you before, Evan.  It’s nothing.  I seriously don’t know why you’re getting so upset.”

“And I’ve told you that I don’t like the way he puts his hands all over you.  You won’t listen to me.  You won’t ask him to stop.  So I have to ask myself why.  Why won’t you tell him to stop?” 

He stares at me, waiting for me to say something.  “I’ll tell you why – you like it.  You don’t want him to stop.” 

He takes a deep cleansing breath, and then continues, “Am I right?”

“Evan, please. You know there’s nothing going on.  Derek doesn’t mean anything by it,” I try desperately to explain.  I walk over to him and try to wrap my arms around his waist.  He peels my arms off and walks away from me.

Evan marches into the restaurant, walking straight over to Derek.  Fear of what is about to happen freezes me in my tracks.  Evan warned me about what he might do next time and I didn’t listen.  By allowing Derek to continue to flirt with me, I knew deep down inside that this could happen.  I watch in horror as Evan walks behind the bar and stands nose-to-nose with Derek.

“Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once.  I thought we were past this, but I should have known better.  I will not be made a fool of by anybody, especially someone like you.  Keep your fucking hands off her, Derek.  You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

Before Derek can say anything, Evan walks over to me and adds, “I don’t know what kind of fucking game you’re playing, but I’m this close to cashing out and walking away!”  Evan is looking at me with an anger that I’ve never seen before.  It’s disturbing.

Evan turns away from me and storms out the door.  Should I run after him?  Beg him to forgive me?  Try to explain away what he just saw?  No.  He’s too upset, and frankly so am I.  He needs time to cool off and I do, too. 

Marcus and Ryker emerge from the kitchen to see what all the fuss is about.  They saw and heard Evan’s final declaration, loud and clear.  Marcus heads straight to Derek to get to the bottom of the situation and Ryker comes to check and make sure I’m okay.

“Stop, let me see,” he insists.  I look down, and I find myself rubbing my wrists.  Did Evan hurt me?  I don’t believe so.

He gently takes my hands in his and turns them over, carefully inspecting my wrists for marks.  “I’m fine, Ryker.  Nothing happened.”

“Big Mac’s got a bit of a temper, doesn’t he?  Has this happened before?  Has he ever put his hands on you before, Jette?  You can tell me.”  Ryker seems genuinely concerned that I might be in an abusive relationship with Evan.  Perhaps that’s because he really doesn’t know Evan.  In the month that he’s been here, he’s only met Evan once.

“Ryker, relax.  There’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about.  Evan’s under a lot of stress right now, and he just walked in on Derek flirting with me.  He has every right to be upset.” I try to rationalize.  “He warned me about getting too close to Derek.  I knew better.”

“Will you stop and listen to yourself?  Do you know what you sound like?  You sound like those women who take abuse day after day because they convince themselves they deserve it.”  He’s looking down at me with sincere worry.

Ryker explains, “Remember my desert rose with the big green eyes?” I nod.  “She’s not alive anymore because the man she loved lost control.  I’ll be damned if I’m going to just sit back and watch it happen all over again.”

“I know what this may look like, but honestly, it’s nothing.  We just had a fight.  It happens all the time,” I reassure him.

“You guys fight like that all the time?” he immediately responds.

“No.  I just meant that couples in general have fights.  Evan and I hardly ever fight.  Ask anyone – they’ll tell you,” I try desperately to explain.  This conversation isn’t going very well.  “Can we please just drop it?”

“Okay. I’ll drop it, for now.  But I don’t like what’s going on.”  Ryker returns to the kitchen, but I’m not at all certain that I’ve convinced him there’s no cause for concern. 

Before I even have a chance to try and calm myself, Emmy is at my side.  She takes me by the hand and escorts me to a booth in the corner of the restaurant.  “Spill.  What the hell was that all about?  Is everything okay with you two?” she asks.

“I don’t know, Emmy, I’m so confused.  We have our moments, but that’s all they usually are – moments.  This was different,” I sigh.

“I’ll say.  I think he just needs a reminder of how much you love each other.  Why don’t you go home, light some candles, and tie a big red bow around yourself?  No, wait – I’ve got it.  Get a sexy cheerleader costume – you can borrow mine.  Put your hair in pigtails and make up a cheer for him.  But make sure you bounce up and down a lot.  And don’t wear a bra.  Or panties!  He’ll forget all about this nonsense.  You’ll see.”  Emmy looks so hopeful.  She thinks it’s a simple fix, but nothing could be further from the truth.

A
fter I finish up at work, I decide to take the long way home and stop at Auggie’s for a visit.  I haven’t seen him in nearly a week and I need to talk.  Relief washes over me when I pull up and find his car parked in the driveway.  I knock on the door, cautiously open it, and call inside, “Anybody home?”

I’m immediately rewarded with a cheerful, “Jepetto!  Come on in, girl.”

We sit together and chat a little about Auggie’s work and love life.  He’s terribly happy on both fronts.  He just closed on a house in Manasquan that sold for almost a million dollars.  He and Lucas seem to be hot and heavy.  Auggie tells me all about the last play they saw, Chicago, currently starring one of the contestants from American Idol or the Voice – I’m not sure which.  He shares with me the pictures proudly stored on his iPad that were taken backstage, hobnobbing with the entire cast.

My mood immediately sours as images of the previous headliner, Averee DeVeau, come rushing into my mind.  She accepted an offer to do a short stint on Broadway starring as Roxy Hart just so she could be closer to Evan.  The ramifications of her intrusion into our lives are still being felt today.  Evan’s physical scars left behind will heal with time, but I’m not so sure about his emotional scars.