Coming Home- Rock Bay 1 (2 page)

A
FTER
that, he’d tried to find another job, really he had, but apparently, the market for guys with few real skills who’d spent the last fourteen years relying on their looks had finally dried up.

And then there was the eviction notice.
Tally wanted to groan just thinking about it. It had been exactly one week, five hours, and twenty-three minutes since he’d gotten fired that he came home to the last in a long line of shitty apartments, only to find his stuff piled out in the hallway and a glaring final eviction notice tacked to his door. Like he had the damn money to pay his rent. That notice had landed him broke, newly homeless, and with the exception of his mother, who refused to speak to him, and one grandmother who he hadn’t seen in nearly fifteen years, he was completely and utterly alone. So he’d made an extremely humiliating call to the long-lost grandmother, the kind of call that no thirty-two-year-old man should ever have to make, and he hit the road—back to the town where he’d once been a god but was now something like the sludge that was collecting in the ditch on the side of the road. If he’d had a different choice, other than perhaps a park bench and a tarp or selling his ass for dinner, he’d never have chosen to go back to a place where his family’s name was practically a cussword.
But that’s where he was going. Back to Rock Bay, Washington, small town USA, south and west of Seattle—almost in Oregon, almost on the ocean, almost quaint and picturesque, but missing the mark every single time. Home sweet home.
He’d ruled the town once, a bit less than benevolently, but left under a cloud of shame years before, vowing to never return. Didn’t quite work out that way, did it? Well, they were going to have to put up with his presence again. At least until he got his shit together enough to leave—and this time for good.
Tally slowed when he noticed the faint lights of town gleaming wetly through the rain. He unconsciously let up on the gas a little more every time one of the distant landmarks grew clearer. And then he was there, pulling onto Old Main, the street that ran through the center of Rock Bay.
The prodigal son returns.
He felt like he was on the walk of shame to beat all walks of shame. Even though there was no one out, the wet streets gleamed bare in the late night storm, Tally felt people’s eyes on him, boring under his skin. He could feel them judging him for his past and the sins of his family. He wanted to turn back, run like blazing hell—he would have if he’d had any other choice. He didn’t.
Welcome back to Rock Bay—home of everyone who doesn’t have any other goddamned choice.

Lex sputtered, droplets of chocolate-flavored merlot decorating his once-pale-blue polo. He’d been lounging in his best friend Amy’s living room after their usual Saturday night dinner and video game standoff. She’d lit a fire to warm the still crisp early spring evening. The flames smelled green, like new cedar and apple wood, and they gleamed off her rich burgundy leather furniture and the shiny white molding she’d installed the spring before.

The whole night had been peaceful and relaxing. Almost. Lex had wondered how much longer it would be before she started bugging him about finding a guy. Amy usually didn’t last more than a week or two. Apparently those two weeks had passed. Lex poked her in the side, causing her to flinch and nearly spill her own wine.

“Like you can talk, Ames. I can’t even remember your last girlfriend.” Amy made a bratty face at him from under her mane of sandy brown streaked waves, and he snorted into his wine again. “Better be careful. You know what your mom always said about making faces.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll stay like that forever. Besides, I don’t need a girlfriend. I have you.”
Lex rolled his eyes. “I am
not
your girlfriend.”
“Can you be my gay boyfriend?”
“I only think that works if you have a straight boyfriend too.” He grinned, anticipating her reaction.
“Eww. Gross.”
“Exactly. Which is why I said you needed a girlfriend.”
Amy cocked her head to the side. “Wait, you didn’t say I needed a girlfriend.
I
said
you
needed to get laid. Nice attempt at misdirection,
Alexis
.”
“Bite me,
Amelia
.” The insult was tempered with a grin. Lex loved their little spats. It was the most entertainment a guy like him could hope for on a Saturday night in Rock Bay. “How ’bout this. You find me one decent gay guy within a fifty-mile radius, which I think is impossible because I’ve already met all three of them, and I will do my very best to get laid.”
She snickered. “Okay, then you find me a decent lesbian, and I’ll do my very best to make her my girlfriend.”
Lex sighed. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“You’re never going to leave. You love this place.”
“I know.” Lex looked at his watch. “Hey, I’d better go. Gotta be up to get the shop open for the before church caffeine injection.”
“Yeah,” Amy mocked with a grin. “Wouldn’t want them to have to gossip without their fix.” It was well-known that the main purpose of church for most of the townspeople was rampant and unapologetic rumormongering. “Tiki, come say goodnight to your uncle.”
An adorable and over-loved little French bulldog came waddling around the corner from her bed, nails clicking on the pale birch floor. She grunted and nudged at Lex’s hand, ready for attention.
“Goodnight, princess,” Lex crooned, pulling her into his lap and nuzzling kisses into her furry neck before sending her back off to bed with a pat on her rump. Then he stood and gave Amy a hug before heading for the door.

T
ALLY
pulled up to his grandmother’s house, surprised that his memory of it was so clear after fourteen years of trying to forget. The miniature gingerbread Victorian was everything he’d remembered. Painted in shades of mint green, white, and dusky rose, it was delicate and dainty, exactly what his survivor of a grandma was not. The yard was surrounded by a meandering white picket fence, and, even in the dark, Tally saw a riot of early spring flowers popping around the white boards.

As soon as he turned the car off, the front door of the house was opened, and his grandmother, still standing tall and straight, waited ready to greet him.

Tally hid his first smile in weeks and reached into the back seat to grab his few bags.
His grandmother settled him in her sunny yellow kitchen with a mug of tea and a chicken salad sandwich, muttering about how skinny and pale he was. It was true. He had gotten skinny, and his skin hadn’t had the glow of pampered youth in years—but his dark brown hair was cut as expensively as he could afford, and he’d tried to keep his few well-made and carefully chosen clothes from falling apart for as long as possible.
His grandma had gotten noticeably older. Her hair, once tied constantly in a thick salt and pepper ponytail, had grown mostly white and been cut into a practical shag. The weirdest part was seeing that she’d gotten smaller—and he knew she had since he was the same height he’d been at eighteen. Tally realized that it was a fact of life, people grew up, got old, changed, but it was still a bit of a shock to see someone who’d remained unaltered in his memories for so many years showing the wear and tear of time.
“Eat your sandwich, boy, then I’ll take you to your old room, and you can get some sleep.”
“Grandma, I’m not a boy.”
She rolled her eyes, looking for a second like the sassy rebellious teenager he knew she’d once been. “This is my house, Tallis Carrington. I’m glad you’re here, but while you are, I’ll call you anything I damn well please. Now finish your sandwich so I can put you to bed. You look like the ass end of a horse. You need sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tally forced out, nearly choking on his sandwich.
He’d nearly forgotten about his grandmother’s mouth, even if he had inherited it. Honestly, most people around Rock Bay would probably be surprised to hear Tally call anyone ma’am, but he’d never be able to manage the level of disrespect with his grandmother that he’d shown most everyone else. He took another bite of his sandwich and a long, appreciative swallow of his tea, which she always mixed with honey and a generous dollop of whole milk.
It felt good to sit in that old kitchen, full of warmth and cheer even on a cold, wet night. And, as much as Tally might protest, it felt even better to be tutted over and treated like a boy for five minutes. He’d been in charge of every miserable little part of his life for so long that it was nice to be taken care of for a change.
He finished his tea and sandwich, then placed the cup on a plate that only contained crumbs. It was hard to stand, warmed inside and full, but there was no way he was spending the night on one of his grandmother’s spindly wooden kitchen chairs, so Tally rinsed his dishes and put them in the sink. Then he followed his grandma, dragging his bags lethargically, up to the room he’d slept over in as a kid. He kissed her on the cheek and shut the door before sinking gratefully onto the twin bed that had been in the room since the dawn of time. He stared unseeingly at his bags for a minute or two, then, fully dressed, fell backward on the bed and passed out.

T
ALLY
looked at the folded paper in his hand. The day so far had been yet another among the recent multitude of object lessons in humility. The grocery store with a line of people ten deep would rather say they weren’t hiring than even consider talking to him. The man at the hardware store had simply removed his “help wanted” sign before Tally could even ask for an application. It seemed like all they did was look at his face and decide that he was the same worthless asshole he’d been back in high school—not to mention the son of the town’s dead pariah. He wished he could say “fuck them all,” but the time of his life when he had the luxury of doing whatever he felt like was long gone. He had no choice but to suck it up and face rejection yet another time in hopes that someone,
anyone
, wouldn’t remember him.

What was left? He looked at his newspaper, which listed the meager job offerings for the small town of Rock Bay. The city was hiring street crews and grounds maintenance for town hall—his father’s old office building. Shit. Even if they would hire him, he couldn’t imagine mowing the lawn and planting shrubs in front of the building he’d once teepeed just to piss off his parents. The grocery store was obviously out and the hardware store too. The florist was hiring, but Tally knew the owners were the parents of a girl he’d once dated. She’d always wondered why he wasn’t very interested in her. It wasn’t like he could tell her he was gay. The whole thing ended badly with her crying and her parents hating him, and he wasn’t about to relive that experience. Once had been more than enough.

The only place left on the list that hadn’t rejected him or been crossed out due to sheer humiliation potential was called The Rock Bay Coffee and Sandwich Company. Great, like he knew a damn thing about coffee, other than how to drink it. Tally shook his head. Not much of a choice, was there? At least the coffee shop hadn’t been there back when he was a kid. If there was one bright side it was that he had a fighting chance of not being recognized. He checked the ad again and flinched at the listed hourly pay. With tips, he’d made easily three times that in Seattle. But Seattle was no longer on his menu. Hopefully the Rock Bay Coffee and Sandwich Company would be. Tally took a deep breath and headed to the corner of Old Main and Marshall Streets, where he prayed to find some small form of redemption.

The coffee shop was in one of those turn-of-the-century brick buildings that seemed to line the streets of small towns all over Washington. From the outside, the place looked cheery and inviting, nestled among the renovated lofts at the far end of Old Main. A good sign, Tally hoped. The door was flanked by two potted Italian cypresses and inlaid with stained glass. There was a quaint hand-painted “open” sign dangling from a hook near the top. The hinges squeaked when Tally pushed it open, but even the squeak was oddly homey.

Inside the shop was even better. Warm and fragrant, the air drew him in and enveloped him. The walls had been painted spring green and decorated with framed black and white photographs of the surrounding beaches. Miles of old woodwork and wainscoting gleamed glossy white, and the floors were stained a warm cherry color. He longed to sink into one of the soft, cushy armchairs and close his eyes for about a week. But he couldn’t. He had work to do—and at that moment, his work was convincing one damn business in his wretched hometown that he wasn’t the big loser they all seemed to think he was.

Tally heard a shuffling sound coming from behind the granitetopped counter.
“Hello?” he called tentatively. “I’m here to fill out an application.”
There was a small crash and a muffled “
shit
.”
Tally leaned over the counter to see what all the fuss was. There was a man kneeling on the floor trying to hold a halfway slit bag of coffee beans together while at the same time balancing a stack of white plates with his knee so they didn’t crash to the floor and break. Tally fought laughter as he leaned over to right the stack of plates.
“Thank you so much!” came a relieved voice… a relieved voice that made Tally’s heart pound in his chest, throbbing and trying to be noticed as if it were saying “pay attention to this one.” The rest of his body responded in that one short moment, hardening, quickening, coming to life. Tally gave himself a mental slap on the wrist.
Really. Not the best time for that.
The man started to stand, turning slowly with the slit coffee bag still balanced on his thigh.
“Hey, not a problem. My name is—” Tally’s voice stuck in his throat, like he was some little kid with his first crush. The other guy’s name must have been
gorgeous
—sandy hair somewhere between brown and blond, a little shaggy and curling at the ends, big hazel eyes with long curly lashes and a mouth that Tally could have spent hours kissing. Tally wanted to drool. He stuck out his hand and tried to repeat himself. “My name is—”
After one look at Tally, the stranger’s beautiful face had gone from friendly to scathingly irritated in a matter of nanoseconds. “Yeah, I know who you are. I don’t really think I need the help after all.”
Not another one.
Tally started to panic.
“Listen….” He paused, hoping for a name.
“Lex,” the man supplied grudgingly.
“Listen, Lex,” Tally repeated. “I know everyone in this town hates me. Obviously even people I’ve never met. But I really need a job, and you wouldn’t have had an ad in the paper if you didn’t need someone to help you. Couldn’t it maybe be possible that you might put aside whatever it is that you’ve been told about me and my father and just take a chance that maybe I’ll be a good employee?”
Lex cocked his head to the side, regarding Tally silently. Talk about nerve-wracking.
“Everything I know about you tells me you won’t.”
Tally backed away toward the door. “It was a long time ago,” he mumbled. “People change. Even me.”
Or maybe people were never really what they seemed.
Lex gave him one more long pensive stare, completing Tally’s humiliation. Everyone who remembered him hated him, and it seemed that his reputation had spread to gorgeous strangers as well. He wanted to crawl back to his grandmother’s house and hide in his room to lick his wounds.
Was I really that bad?
He reached for the handle on the paned- glass door.
“You know what?” Lex’s voice surprised him. He froze. “Fine. I’ll give it a try. Not like I’ve had any other takers.” The last part was mumbled, but Tally heard it just the same. “I start early. Five on weekdays, six on Saturday and Sunday.”
“That’s okay,” Tally said quickly, ready to agree with nearly anything.
“Do you know how to make coffee?”
“No, but I worked in restaurants for years.”
Please let that be enough.
“I’m not going to want to tell you how to do things twice.”
“I learn quickly.” Tally hated to feel hope welling in his chest, but it was there—faint yet insistent. As grudging as beautiful Lex seemed to be, there was finally someone willing to give him half a chance.
“Then I’ll see you in the morning. Five. Not even a minute late.”
“I’ll be here,” Tally answered. “But don’t you need me to fill out an application—or at least a tax form?”
Lex looked at Tally for a long moment, confused and unblinking, then it seemed to dawn on him what Tally was talking about, and he turned, flustered, to rifle through a drawer. “Just bring this with you tomorrow,” he muttered, thrusting a thin sheaf of papers at Tally.
“I will,” Tally assured Lex with a tentative smile
. That wasn’t so bad
, he told himself.
Now I just have to get through tomorrow.