Reason Is You (9781101576151) (4 page)

I felt sick. But I grabbed a pen and filled out my information blindly. Previous work history—
seriously?
I left it blank.

“Are there really that many people that want fishing guides here? I mean, don’t most fishermen already have their own spots?”

Marg sorted out Miss Olivia’s soaps. “You’d think, huh? You’d be surprised what people’ll throw money at.”

She perched tiny glasses on her nose and scanned my application
quickly, looking up at me like I’d secretly plotted to kill the president. “No previous work history?”

I smiled. “Nothing relevant.”

“Hmm,” she grunted and looked back down. “Be here tomorrow at six.”

“In the morning?”

“Very same.”

I turned for the door and somehow made it out. Miss Olivia and Marg exchanged a few more niceties and then Miss Olivia followed me out. I leaned against my car door as she stopped to face me.

“I’m in hell.”

She laughed softly as she ambled on to her car. “Get some rest tonight, you got an early day tomorrow.”

“So I heard.” I licked my lips. “I have to go out on the river.”

She nodded and her hat bobbed with it. “You’ll be okay. Just breathe.”

I lifted my hair off my neck and inhaled the scent of old dust. “Yeah.”

“Gotta go cook me some beans, now.”

I blinked my drama free. “Who’s snapping them for you, now?”

She waved me off. “Girl, I buy ’em in a can now. Don’t got time for all that mess.”

I smiled as I sunk into my car, cranked the ignition, and listened as the air conditioner groaned its death rattle.

“Of course.”

B
OJANGLES
met me at the car, all tongue and wet slobbery love. At that moment I could have ridden him into the house. No one was home, and I was so grateful. I didn’t need any more witnesses to my pathetic state. I just wanted to go have a meltdown.

My clothes felt oppressive and sticky. I stripped on the way up the stairs, and was down to my bra and panties and almost out of them as I walked toward my bed.

“Nice.”

I whirled to see Alex draped in the chair by the window. His old spot. He had a half smile on his face but new interest in his eyes as he panned down.

“Shit!”

I stumbled backward over a pair of shoes, missed the bed, and landed flat on my ass on the floor. I yanked at a corner of comforter and pulled half the bedding over me while he tried really hard not to laugh.

“Damn it, Alex, you can’t do that.”

He grinned, and my insides went all wobbly. “Do what?”

“Just—be there like that. Without warning.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“Well, I was a kid then. Probably didn’t do much parading around in the buff, either, I don’t think.” I blew out a breath to calm my heart rate. “Oh, that’s a lie. I probably wished you’d catch me.”

His eyebrows raised. “What?”

I struggled to sit normally while still covered. “Hey, I was a hormone-ridden teenager and not exactly on anyone’s A-list.”

He grimaced. “God, please stop there.”

I laughed. “Why?”

He shook his head and held a hand out. “Because that’s just—no.”

“What—you were hot. You don’t think girls fantasize about—”

Alex stood up and waved both hands at me, his face taking on a look like he’d just inhaled vomit. “I don’t want to know this. That’s just—” He did a body shiver.

I grinned. “You never thought about me like that?”

He turned a look on me. “When you were a kid? Do I look like a pervert to you?”

I sighed dramatically. “Joking, Alex, you can quit the panic attack.” He rubbed at his face and sat back down. I had to laugh, in spite of my predicament. “Look at you, all shivery. You sure weren’t that turned off when I walked in here.”

“You’re an adult. And half naked. It’s legal.”

“Well, unless you plan on watching me sit on the floor all evening, I need to get up,” I said, waving a corner of comforter.

He gave me a long look and then put his head down. “Get dressed. I’ll wait.”

I smiled and took my time pulling clothes from the dresser to put on.
Mess with me, will you?

“Okay.”

He sat back and tilted his head to one side as I dumped my bag out, found some aspirin, and downed it with the previous night’s bottle of water that sat half full on the nightstand.

“Bad day?”

“Surreal.”

“Tell me.”

My head was too clogged. The room felt still and jittery at the same time, like the air was nervous. I tugged on the ceiling fan cord to stir up some breeze.

“Do you know where Riley is?”

Minimal movement of his head. “She didn’t check in.”

“Alex, please don’t mess with me today.”

He sat forward again and rested his forearms on his knees.

“I haven’t seen her. Your dad is out. Now breathe and talk to me.”

I dropped forward onto the bed on my stomach and grabbed a small pillow to hug. I swear I was sixteen again.

“Mom?”

I dropped my head into the pillow. Correction.
She
was sixteen.

“Mom? You upstairs?”

My head jerked upward. “Go! She can see you.”

Alex stood with a tired sigh and walked around a corner of the room and was gone. He never just went poof. He always walked away.

“What the hell?” Riley said just outside the door.

“I’m here, boog.”

She entered holding the clothes I’d discarded on the way up, looking around the room.

“Do I want to know?”

I shook my head. “I was hot and disgusted and couldn’t get them off fast enough.”

“Okay.” She dropped them as if they were covered in slime and flopped onto the bed next to me.

I handed her a pillow. “What’s up?”

“This town is so lame. I don’t know how you grew up here.”

“I was lame.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I walked around today, it’s like freakin’ Mayberry.”

I laughed bitterly. “Not quite.”

“Seriously, there’s nothing to do.”

“You know the rules. Keep saying that and I’ll find something for you to do.”

The famous eye roll and she flipped over on her back to stare at the ceiling.

“I’m sure Pop could use a duster, maybe a raker, most definitely a mower—” I began.

“Think he’d pay me?”

I glared at her. “He’s
feeding
you. You have a bed and a shower. That’s payment enough.”

She focused back on the ceiling. “So what’s got you so grumpy today?”

“Irony.” That earned me a blank look. “I went off to college for higher education so I would never have to grovel at this town’s feet again.”

“And now you’re groveling?”

I closed my eyes as my brain put the words together. “Got a job at the Bait-n-Feed.”

Her face scrunched up. “Wow.”

“Yeah. At six in the morning.”

“For real?”

“Doesn’t get more real than that.”

She fiddled with her pillow. “Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s life, boog. Not always how we plan it.” Sounded all parental, but I didn’t buy it. I thought it pretty much sucked.

She sat up. “Well, don’t wake me up. That’s still night as far as I’m concerned.”

“Maybe I’ll come climb on your bed and put my makeup on,” I said, shoving her.

“You need makeup for that place?”

I dropped my face into the pillow. “True,” I mumbled. “Maybe I’ll just stay in my pajamas. Save time.”

She shoved at my arm and I felt her get up and leave. If I hadn’t been starving, I would have stayed in that spot all night.

“Alex, I don’t suppose you deliver?” I attempted.

Nothing. He was gone. Oh well, it was always a fifty-fifty shot.

M
Y
alarm clock sung at five a.m., but I’d stared at it through two, three, and four as well. I’d forgotten the energy of that house. The feeling of never being alone in my own skin. I cleaned up, threw on jeans and a stretchy T-shirt, brushed my hair into a ponytail, and called it good. Then I went for a little mascara and lip gloss only because my inner girly girl said to quit being pathetic and step it up a little.

I backed up and surveyed myself in the big, oval gold-leaf mirror that had hung in my bathroom since I was seven. My outer forty-year-old told me I needed some powder, maybe some Botox, a little Sheetrock spackle.

I smelled coffee, which meant Dad was up. As if on cue, Bojangles bounded in all a-wiggle and stuck his nose right up my ass.

“Okay!” I moved quickly. “I’m coming.”

He followed me down just to be sure.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dad looked up from the crossword puzzle he pulled from the newspaper. Already in his blue hat.

“Morning.” I headed to the coffeepot. “Although Riley says this doesn’t qualify as morning.”

He chuckled. “I used to agree with that. Now, I’m up before five whether I want to be or not.” He pointed to the cabinet. “I got you some creamer. I know you like that better than milk.”

I chuckled silently. “Thanks, Dad.”

I sank heavily into the worn wooden chair, as Dad peered at me over his reading glasses and set his pencil down.

“You look like you’ve been beaten with a stick.”

“Not yet, that’s later.”

He sat back and took his glasses off.

“Dani, I know coming back here wasn’t in your life plan. And this job is ridiculously beneath you.” He rested his arms back on the table. “But, honey, this is temporary. You’ll get your feet back under you. Life’s not perfect.”

“That much I know.”

“Do you? Because you sure keep expecting it to be.”

I frowned into my coffee. “I just get tired, Dad.”

“We all get tired, honey.” He got up and poured himself another cup, then turned slightly, his thick white eyebrows raised. “But you have to put that weight down sometimes. You carry it around with you twenty-four-seven.”

His chair scraped the wooden floor as he sat back down, and I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little bitter right now, okay? I just have to get through some things and then I’ll be fine. I’ll make peace with it.”

He squeezed my hand. “What about Riley?”

“I’m terrified.”

“Of?”

“Of my crap landing on her. Of this town drowning her in it.”

He toyed with the rim of his cup. “What about—”

“Yeah. Now she’s got her own. And people will look for something odd because of me.”

“So, don’t you think we need to talk to her?”

I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah, that seems to be the popular vote.”

“Or lock her in the attic.”

I smiled in spite of the turmoil sucking my brain cells. “Riley would just carve a hole in the roof.”

M
ARG
was making a second pot of coffee when I arrived. Or it could have been the fifth for all I knew. She gave me a once-over when I walked in and chuckled as she turned back to the coffeepot.

“Wasn’t sure you’d show.”

“Why’s that?”

“You weren’t exactly doing cartwheels about it yesterday.”

I laughed and panned the room. “I’m too old for cartwheels, Marg.” I met her eyes. “I’m here because I have to be. I need the job.”

Her sharp gaze narrowed for a moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “Fair enough.” She lifted the hinged countertop piece to allow me in. “Come on back here.”

Guess I passed.

“We have two guides, and they’ll be here shortly. You’ll go out with one this afternoon and the other tomorrow.”

“Just two?”

“Well, there’s Bob that makes bait runs every morning, and technically could do any of the river with his eyes closed if he wanted to, but that’s not his thing.”

“Okay.”

“He’s not much of a people person. You’ll see later.”

I ran a hand along the counter as I panned the walls so thick
with merchandise, I couldn’t tell what color the room was. “So he’s already out today?”

“By five every morning; that’s why I’m here. He lives next door.”

I vaguely recalled a mobile home and a golf cart next to the store. I smiled. “Why not just give him a key?”

“He steals.” The coffeepot beeped. “You want coffee?”

I blinked. “Um, sure.”

“Cups are underneath. Help yourself.”

It went on from there. I learned where the fishing licenses were and how to do them. I learned how to run the register, look up and post the daily tides. Sabine Pass is a saltwater connection between the Neches River and the Gulf of Mexico, so where many rivers aren’t affected by tides, ours is. I was shown where the guide schedules were (on the wall), where their rate charts were (in a drawer), and all about the five different types of deer corn. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I don’t think so.

And bird feed. And garden supplies. And of course, all the fishing gear a small country could possibly need.

The phone interrupted her spiel on jigs, sinker weights, and swivels, and I took the opportunity to find the bathroom, which was down a hall marked by door beads. At least it wasn’t fish hooks.

When I returned, Marg told me that I would work till three every day so to bring my lunch or eat chips out of the machine. And that after a couple of days I’d be on my own after twelve, because that would be her new hours.

“We close at three?” I asked as I counted suet trays.

“No, but the new owner comes in from noon till six. Noon to three gets busy, needs two people. He’ll make sure the bait’s okay for the night.”

I turned midway through counting. “The bait?” I checked out the multicolored wall of faux fish. “Do they do something?”

Marg laughed like you do when a child says something cute. “Not
that
bait, back here.”

She headed down the same hallway, past the bathroom, which she pointed out wasn’t open to the public, through another door to a small room that opened to the outside and reeked so badly I stepped backward.

“Oh—wow.”

“You get used to it,” Marg threw over her shoulder. Two large vats filled with what appeared to be thousands of mud minnows and live shrimp squatted like giant moonshine stills. These I’d fished with as a kid, but I’d evidently either blocked out or entirely missed the
LIVE BAIT
sign out front.

“Bob pretty much keeps this all maintained,” Marg hollered over the noise of the aerator churning oxygen through the water. “You just have to come fill people’s buckets.”