Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (22 page)

“
The Wanderer
” by Marc Broussard

“THANKS FOR COMING out tonight, everyone. As always, my first song goes out to my girl. Love ya, babe.”

Adam’s eyes never leave Sara’s as he strums the first few notes of “She is Love” by Parachute. Sara places her hand gently over her heart, closes her eyes, and lets his voice wash over her.

God, I want that.

The Courtyard is packed for open mic night, but Sara and Cain came early and saved us a table front and center. The outdoor patio has brick floors and a scattering of wrought iron tables and chairs. White twinkle lights are strung through wooden trellises, and the wooden stage is low and intimate.

“I’m pretty sure I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Can we dial down the cheese just a notch, please?” Marlo asks as she sticks her finger in her mouth, pretending to gag.

I give her shoulder a good-natured bump and laugh. “Aw, come on, Marlo. It’s sweet. I’d give anything for someone to look at me like that.”

Marlo narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head. “I’ve learned my lesson about ‘that look,’ and I plan to steer clear, thank you very much. I want no part of it or the plethora of shit that will most certainly follow behind it.”

“Aw, Marlo, how about you give it a rest, huh? Alex looks like you just pissed in her Wheaties.” Cain gives her a stern look, not that she gives a shit.

“Pipe down, Jolly Green Giant, I’m not trying to scare her.” Marlo pats the top of my hand and smiles. “That look was made for girls like you. You believe in heart and flowers, and unicorns that fart rainbows. I promise, your Prince Charming is right around the corner.”

“Thanks, I feel much better now,” I mutter with an eye roll.

“I, on the other hand, require less, how should I say it … pampering,” Marlo says with a sly smile.

“I’ll never understand what you have going with that paramedic,” Celia says, shaking her head.

“Mike and I have a mutually beneficial arrangement. I like the orgasms he gives me, and he likes my tits. It’s a win-win.” Marlo shrugs unapologetically.

“I’m not touching that one with a ten foot pole. Speaking of Prince Charmings, how did a certain golf game go, Alex?” Celia asks, expectantly leaning across the table toward me.

“It was a disaster. I can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

“Aw, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Sara offers with a timid shrug.

“You don’t think?” I ask and then proceed to tell them just how horrible it was.

All at once, they blast me with their opinions.

“That jackhole.”

“Douche city.”

“I’ll kick that fucker’s ass.”

Celia shakes her head as the others call out insults. “Remember what I told you. You’re gonna have to fight for the both of you.”

I sigh and nod at them. “It’s a set back, absolutely. But I’m not ready to throw in the towel. He’s gonna have to do better than that. Or worse, I should say.”

Celia slaps her hand on the table and stands. “There’s my girl. I knew you had it in you. Now, the ladies room is calling. I’ll be back.”

“I know she’s right, Alex, but please be careful. There’s a fine line between fighting and being someone’s doormat,” Sara says.

“Excuse me,” Cain says gruffly, standing up and walking away.

“We’re here for ya, girl.” Marlo wraps her arm around my shoulders and plants a big kiss on my cheek.

“Ugh, Marlo!” I fuss as I wipe my cheek. “Now I have lipstick all over my face.”

“Couldn’t be helped. You’ll live.” She laughs as I grab a napkin and start wiping.

“Hey, babe, you ready to head home?” Adam asks as he walks up behind Sara and nuzzles her neck.

“Hmmm. I may stay at my house tonight,” she says with closed eyes.

He stands up and tips her chin up to meet his gentle eyes. “Not happening, love. I need you next to me.”

“Ugh, why don’t you two just get it over with? You haven’t slept at your house in ages, Sara. And I’d know, living two doors down and all. I’m best friendless all the damn time.” Marlo rolls her eyes and crosses her arms with a huff.

I grab my purse and push my chair back. “I’ll be back, y’all. I need to wash off the remnants of Marlo.”

“You know you love me,” Marlo shouts as I leave the table.

The restrooms are at the far end of the bar, so I cross the room, weaving in and out of the tables. Since the bathrooms are located indoors and open mic night takes place on the outdoor patio, things are a bit deserted when I step inside. I round the corner and stop cold at the sight before me.

Celia is backed up against the wall and Cain is in front of her at eye level, knees bent, arms wrapped around her waist. Forehead to forehead, he whispers softly but forcefully as she shakes her head over and over. She grips his shirt in her hands as if it’s the only thing keeping her standing upright. A sob escapes her just as his lips crash hungrily to hers. Her hands leave his shirt, only to dive into his hair.

The kiss ends as quickly as it began when Celia pulls away and ducks under his arm, running to the bathroom. I hear his hushed apology right before the wall shakes with the force of Cain’s fist. He drops his forehead to the wall, and his shoulders heave in frustration.

Cain straightens, squares his shoulders, and runs his hand over his face before turning to me. My presence takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. He walks toward me and stops when we’re shoulder to shoulder.

“I need to leave. Can you please bring her home?” He never looks my way, his temper obviously boiling under the surface.

“Of course,” I whisper.

Before I can offer any reassurance, he’s gone.

It looks like I won’t be the only one fighting.

“Thank fuck I can drive the ball today, because my short game is pathetic,” Cain laughs as he digs his ball out of the hole.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” By the look on his face, my attempt at stroking his ego failed miserably.

“It took me four strokes to put the ball in the hole, and I was ten feet away. That’s the definition of bad, Alex.”

I bend down to examine the angle of my ball in relation to the hole and lift my eyes to Cain.

“So are we going to talk about Friday night?” I stay crouched and still, waiting for his response.

“Nothing to talk about.” He turns his back to me and walks to the golf cart to put away his putter.

“I disagree.”

I stand, set up my stance, and lightly tap the ball. It rolls slightly to the left, but follows the tilt of the green at the last second, falling into the hole with ease.

After placing the flag back in the hole and saving my club in my golf bag, I hop into the cart next to Cain. I’m driving today, so I face him, refusing to start the golf cart until he answers me.

“What do you want me to say, Alex? It turns out that Celia thinks you should fight like hell, but me? I should just fucking let it go.” He looks away and shakes his head. “I’ve been in love with her since the first day I met her. She was sitting on the porch, waiting for me to bring the keys to the rental house, with her big blue eyes and a fucking flower in her hair. She looked like a lost little fairy. I cancelled my plans for the day and hauled in every single box she had.”

“I’m sorry, Cain.” I squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ve never lost someone I loved, and I know it’s a stupid cliché, but I have to believe that time heals all wounds, right?”

“No offense to those who can’t defend themselves, but this guy has been screwing with me from the grave for years.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “How about your guy? Did you return his driver’s license?”

I maneuver the cart to the next hole and huff in frustration.

“Yeah, that went about as well as the golf game. I got a lot of ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ and ‘Why couldn’t you just give my license to the secretary?’ for my trouble. I’m trying to keep my head up, but he’s making it hard.”

Cain grabs his driver from the back, strolls to the tee box, and pushes his ball and tee into the grass. After a few practice swings, he laughs to himself and shakes his head.

“What?” I ask.

“We are a fucking pair, you know that? Gluttons for punishment. Our lives would be so much easier if we could forget about Celia and West, marry each other, and live happily ever after.”

We lock eyes and remain silent as time passes. We both break into huge grins and dissolve into fits of laughter. I laugh so hard tears run down my face, and Cain’s raucous laughter earns us a few stern looks from passing golfers.

He wipes a finger under his eye as he addresses his ball.

“Whew! I really needed that.” He chuckles and squeezes my shoulder.

“Me too, Cain,” I say with a laugh. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Yep. Tomorrow, let the head banging against the proverbial wall recommence.”

“You lost fair and square, Cain. Stop crying like a little bitch about it,” I say with a laugh.

“I’m not crying, I’m just saying. For a girl, you’re freakishly good at golf. I feel like I’m being hustled every time we play.” He slaps my back, making me trip forward a few steps. The damn brute doesn’t know his own strength. “I’m going return the keys, I’ll be right back.”

I sit on the bench to change my shoes and wait for Cain, until a young boy’s laugh catches my attention. My attention turns to the driving range where I see the boy in question from a distance. There’s a man standing next to him playfully tousling his hair. It almost looks like … it couldn’t be, could it?

I start walking toward the pair, but it doesn’t take long to confirm my suspicions. Their attention is directed to the range and each other, so they are oblivious to my approach. I take the opportunity to listen to their exchange.

“I can’t wait to play on the course. I’m gonna be an awesome golfer,” Timothy says with the kind of excitement only a child possesses.

“You’re gonna be great, bud. But we need to practice on the range and the practice putting green for a while longer. Remember, this game is all about patience.” There’s gentleness in West’s tone I rarely have the opportunity to hear.

I cross my arms protectively and clear my throat. “What a surprise,” I say with forced cheerfulness. Timothy turns around, and his eyes light up when he recognizes me. “Hey Timothy. I didn’t know you were a golfer.”

An infectious giggle erupts from Timothy’s lips. “Hey, Miss Alex. I’m not a golfer yet, but West is showing me how to play. He’s the best golfer, so I know I’m gonna be awesome if he’s my teacher.”

“He is definitely a great golfer. He beat me just last week,” I admit with a somber head nod.

“Yeah, but you’re a girl. He’s supposed to be better than you,” Timothy replies matter-of-factly.

“Bud, I think we need to have a little talk about how to woo the ladies,” West chuckles and puts his hand on Timothy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you to practice your putting for a few minutes while I talk to Miss Alex?”

We both watch silently as Timothy grabs his putter and runs to the practice green with a handful of golf balls. West stares at the grass for a moment, puts his hands on his hips, then looks up at me. I raise my eyebrows in question.

“I’m teaching the kid to play golf, Alex. There’s no need to talk it to fucking death, all right?” he snaps with an insolent glare.

“Oh, I think it warrants a small conversation, at the very least.” I cock my head to the side. “Did you know Timothy before I saw you talking to him at the gallery?”

“Fuck,” West says on a sigh. “All right, here we go. No, I didn’t know Timothy. After I left the gallery that day, I called Caroline and offered my help.”

I stand silent, utterly confused, and wait for him to continue. He doesn’t say another word, but raises his hands as if to say, “Are we done here?”

“How in the hell do you know Caroline?”

None of this makes any sense. If West and Caroline are acquainted, then why didn’t she say so when I asked for help finding him? That would have come up, wouldn’t it?

He looks to the ground, obviously stalling. He has to know I’ll wait him out. Surely he remembers how stubborn I am. He looks up, glaring at me, and I shrink slightly under the pressure, but only slightly.