Beneath the Palisade (23 page)

“Ian and I—” Harper was interrupted by Eunice entering with his diet soda.

“Thank you, Eunice. Ian, are you sure you don’t want anything?” Tiffany asked while Eunice hovered over him in neutral.

“I’m good. Thank you.” Eunice grabbed her stomach and bolted out the door.

“Okay. Harper, you were saying?” Tiffany adjusted the legal pad she had in front of her.

“Ian and I have been entertaining the idea of relocating to the North Shore. One of the things we’ve discussed is purchasing either an existing B&B or a large enough residence that could be converted into one.”

“Your assistant mentioned that. I have a few ideas. Any specifics? Do you guys have a wish list you’re working off of?”

“Not sure we’ve gotten that far.” Harper looked over and shrugged.

Ian had thought quite a bit about what he’d prefer. In his dream, he pictured fabulous landscaping with a view of the lake. A large Victorian structure with a huge porch. “We’d like the house to be on a good chunk of land. And if possible, either on the lake or with a view of the lake.” It was his turn to look over to Harper, who nodded.

“Okay, well that helps. It limits the choices, but I still have some ideas.”

Ian liked Tiffany. He liked her comfortable manner. She was warm, friendly, and at first glance seemed confident and competent. And the much feared boob issue was all but forgotten.

“Do you have an idea of what you’d like to spend?”

“We don’t.” Harper didn’t wait for a signal to take the lead, which was fine. They hadn’t discussed finances. “I’d like to shoot for the moon and then scale back if needed.”

Where have I heard that before?

“Great. Why don’t we do this. What are your weekends like in the next couple of weeks? I’d like to research what’s available and have you come back this way for a few showings. Sound like a deal?”

“That works for me. Ian?” Harper looked over for his approval.

“Sounds great.” He was pumped. Giddy. In the brief time they had spent with Tiffany, he’d realized for the first time that his dream to run a B&B could in all likelihood become a reality. How different life would be if Harper had been taken away from him. Ian promised himself to try and make every moment of their lives together count.

Chapter 8

“
B
OY
, with all that work, I know you got money. Give me a twenty.”

Only a few days before, Alex had handed over two hundred dollars to his dad so he could buy used tires. He wondered how much of his money had gone to the tires and how much had gone to cigarettes and whiskey.
You’re not my father, you’re a piece of shit. A living, breathing piece of walking shit.
He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty.

“Here. Any word on when they’re going to bring you guys back?” He tossed the bill onto the table and stepped out of the room. The stench, sweat, and who knew what else made him gag.

“Oh, so you’re the big man of the house now, is that it? Come here when I’m talkin’ to you.”

Alex made himself step back into the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent time in here—sometime last year when the old man was still working.

“Big important man because you’re workin’ and I’m not. Don’t test drive that uppity attitude of yours around here again if you know what’s good for you. If I get out of this chair, you’ll wish you’d never been born. You hear me, boy?”

The creature inhabiting the broken-down recliner looked nothing like the man that had married his mother. If he didn’t get ahold of himself and lay off the booze, the chances of him getting on the payroll again were slim to nothing. Alex didn’t care. He only had a few more months to go and he’d be long gone. If the drunken bum stopped breathing and sat rotting in that chair for a month, nobody would miss him. The lazy son of a bitch would be better off dead.

Now wasn’t the time to get into it. He had places to go. “I was just asking, is all. I’m going to be late.” Checking himself in the mirror, he was satisfied with the image looking back. The light blue shirt he’d picked up recently at Pamida looked good against his tanned skin. He hoped Mike would think so too.

Traffic was heavy coming from Duluth. Every other vehicle that passed was either an RV or pulling some kind of camper trailer. He was thankful to be headed in the opposite direction. Tourists could be pretty pokey, slowing down at each vista to gawk at the lake or, worse yet, jerking their car over to the side of the road and stopping to snap a picture.

Alex stepped on the gas, and old Zits rattled and shook as he sped toward his rendezvous at the motel. The last few days had been agonizing. He doubted there had ever been a time when he’d wanted or needed anything as much as this. In his mind, Mike was no longer a stranger. He’d replayed and expanded on their brief time together until he’d elevated them to relationship status and jerked himself raw in the process. Condoms tucked away in his wallet ensured he’d be ready for whatever the night had in store. He’d waited long enough. It was time. Time to embrace who he was and jump in with both feet.

Shortly before five, he pulled into the motel and parked Zits next to a white van. The plan was to hang out in the parking lot until Mike spotted him from his room. He refused to let his nerves get the best of him. This was easier said than done. The anticipation, the speculation, and the vivid memory of their previous encounter all seemed to gang up, choosing the moment he stepped out of the car into the parking lot to unleash their most enthusiastic attack on his confidence.

He hadn’t expected the awkwardness that overwhelmed him as he waited. How many eyes were on him as he stood next to Zits, waiting?
Who gets out of their car and just stands here like an idiot?
On the verge of climbing back in, it occurred to him he hadn’t spotted Mike’s Range Rover. The motel parking lot was laid out like the letter L, wrapping itself around the building. Heading past the single row of parking spots nearest to the office, he turned the corner. There weren’t as many cars parked this far back. It took only a moment for him to realize Mike’s car wasn’t here either.
Maybe he’s running late? Maybe he has another car?

Pangs of disappointment threatened to destroy his fantasy of what this night would be. On the drive over, he pictured Mike, eager, like he’d been before, peeking out of the window waiting for him.
Please show up, Mike. I need you.
Those eyes—he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched and analyzed. Could someone peering out their window mistake his intentions? Are they watching their car, fearful he might be a thief? Unable to ward off the gnawing insecurity, he crawled back into Zits and waited.

It was five fifteen.
Why didn’t I give him my cell phone number?
He’d picked up nothing about Mike to make him not want to trust the guy or think he might not be sincere. After all, he’d been the one that had initiated their first meeting and, at the restaurant, worked out a date and time for their next hookup.
Simmer down. Something came up. Traffic was heavy, and he’ll be here soon.

A man and a woman appeared out of nowhere in his rearview mirror. Each had an enormous ice cream cone. The man held the woman’s cone while she fished their room key out from the pocket of her shorts and opened the door. He heard them laugh before they hustled inside, closing the door behind them.
Come on, Mike. Where are you?

It was now 5:33. He remembered Mike telling him he would be at the motel sometime between four thirty and five. If that was the case, soon he would be a whole hour late. Something wasn’t right. He’d gone back and written down the date and time they were to meet the minute Mike left the restaurant. There was no way he could have mixed it up. Frustrated and fighting off waves of disappointment, he decided to get out and walk around. If something unforeseen had detained Mike, he hoped it wouldn’t screw up the entire night. He didn’t care what time they…. As he stepped out of the car, a navy Range Rover whizzed past, turning the corner.
All right! He’s here.

No more waiting. Alex slammed the car door and walked across the parking lot. The butterflies were back. The big date was on.
Stay cool, Alex. Let Mike call the shots
.

Rounding the corner, he was stopped in his tracks when the door of the Rover opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out.
What the fuck?
He was stunned. How could this be? He watched her long enough to come to grips with the fact that she wasn’t Mike before making a beeline back to his car.

It was now 5:54.
Please don’t let this night go in the shitter. Please….
He felt like crying. He’d waited weeks for this. This was a special event. A milestone. An opportunity he’d fantasized about for as long as he could remember. And Mike, he liked Mike. He was handsome, and Alex felt safe with him. What about all of the different scenarios he’d envisioned them in—camping, traveling, having dinner together in nice restaurants.
Please, please don’t stand me up. I’m a nice guy. I deserve this!

He’d waited past six thirty before it dawned on him that the one thing he and Mike had in common was the Lip Smacker. Not having exchanged cell numbers, it was possible Mike had left a message for him there.

“Hi, Audrey. It’s Alex.”

“Alex, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you guys busy tonight?” Maybe if he chatted for a minute, she’d tell him someone had called so he didn’t have to ask.

“We were swamped until about fifteen minutes ago. Everyone came at once. You know how that is. Just a second…. Thank you, please come again. Oh good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Yes, I’ll make sure she gets the change. Sorry about that, Alex.”

“Audrey, did anyone call tonight for me?” She was busy. This was no time to chat.

“Not that I’m aware of. I’ve been by the phone for most of the night. Did you lose your cell phone, honey?”

“No, was just wondering, that’s all. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have a good night.”

Miserable beyond words, he leaned his head against the window and watched a teenage girl plug money into the vending machine from his side mirror. When she’d retrieved her soda, she ran back up the stairs to her room on the second floor.

Unwilling to give up, he sat for another half an hour before he decided to try one last thing before throwing in the towel. Getting out of the car, he crossed the parking lot to the motel office.
What can I say?
He needed a reason for being there. He could say he was meeting someone about a job offer.
Yeah, that works.
He’d tell the person working in the office he was meeting someone here named Mike and then apologize for not knowing his last name. Hopefully the desk clerk would play along with him and look to see if any Mikes had reservations to stay that night.

A bell tinkled when he stepped through the door into the little office. The sound from a television drifted through the doorway. He walked over to a wire rack in the corner filled with sightseeing brochures.

“Hello, can I…. Alex?”

Startled to hear his name, Alex turned around to discover Peggy Munson, a girl he’d just graduated with.

“Peggy, oh hi.” He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“What are you doing here? Do you need a room?” Peggy laughed, knowing Alex lived only forty minutes away.

“No, I….”
What the hell am I going to say now?
“I was supposed to meet someone.”

“A guest staying here? What’s the name?” Peggy moved over to the computer at the end of the counter.

Devastated to the point of tears, he turned around and fled the office.

He heard Peggy calling his name as he fired up his car and tore out of the parking lot.

“I hate this motherfucking town! I hate my motherfucking life,” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Several weeks of blissful anticipation made the disappointment of not having his evening with Mike unbearable. He choked back huge, angry sobs. A stream of steady tears clouded his vision as he fought to keep Zits on the road.

“
I
AN
! Ian! Iaaaaan!” Harper led the cheering at the top of his lungs as Ian chugged his beer, slamming the empty mug down on the table.

The group of close friends gathered together at Merl’s stomped and hollered their approval. After a tally of all the participating city teams, Ian had the best batting average in the league. A first for the Hornets.

“So, champ, how does it feel to be number one?” Andy blew beer suds in Ian’s face.

“A lot better than it feels to be number forty-three.” Spencer beaned Andy with a peanut.

“Hey, Harper,”—Ian gave him a playful shove while the gang recovered from their cheering session—“show these guys the picture of Tiffany’s billboard. You guys,”—Ian poured a beer—“you have to check this out.”

He complied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “She’s been blessed.”

“Let me see.” Allison snatched the phone out of his hand. “Holy shit!”

“Wow.” Spencer wiggled his eyebrows after sneaking a glance. “Maybe we should look for some property up north, huh, babe?”