Underestimated Part 3

Phyllis brings pastries from her bakery on Sat.u.r.days and Millie brings the best deli sandwiches ever on Wednesday afternoons. That empty cold case by the counter is where you will put them. We always sell out of them or pretty close to it anyway."

"If the pastries and deli sandwiches do so well, why don't you sell them every day?" I asked, curious.

"Nah, that's too much work, besides I don't want people hanging out in here every day," she teased.

I did like Starlight and Lauren was right, the lady was as Bohemian as you could get. I don't think the devil could have p.i.s.sed her off.

I was slowly beginning to relax and fall deeply in

love with my new life. I would almost say I had a delightful routine going. Wake up and laugh to Lauren and Levi in the morning, laugh some more with Starlight during the day, drink too much coffee, eat dinner with Lauren, and walk on the beach. By the end of the week I knew everything that I needed to know to be able to keep the shop up and running, not that any monkey couldn't learn it, but still. I liked my job other than the fact that it needed a good cleaning which I was planning to talk to Starlight about that day, her last day with me. I didn't want to step on her toes, but come on, I didn't know how in the world she kept her books up with the mess in the office.

It was well into the afternoon when I finally worked up the nerve to ask.

"Starlight, I was wondering if it would be okay if I done some cleaning and organizing while you were away," I asked, really fast. I always had a problem with asking for things, even growing up, and it was worse with Drew. He always made me earn it one way or another.

Why was my heart beating so fast? It wasn't like I asked to remodel the place or anything. The worse thing that could happen was she would say no.

"Honey, you do whatever you want to do here. I don't plan to spend much time here, now that I have you.

You're going to be running the joint, so make it your home."

I smiled, relieved as I relaxed.

Friday was the busiest day I had seen since I had started. I sold some of the clothing articles to some high school girls and some of the Indian figurines to some tourist. The coffee had to be replenished throughout the day and we opened up one of the boxes in the back and restocked the shelves with figurines.

"Where do you get these?" I asked Starlight, unwrapping a family of picnicking figurines.

"I go to this trade show in Las Vegas twice a year.

I will take you some time. It's the coolest thing ever."

My heart sped up at the mention of Las Vegas. I wouldn't be going anywhere near that trade show.

"How do you get the things here?" I asked.

"They s.h.i.+p it to me after the show."

"There isn't a website to just order the things?"

Starlight shrugged her shoulders as she continued to unpack the little knickknacks. "Maybe, but the trade show is too much fun for that," she smiled at me.

Starlight showed me where to find the petty cash, once she remembered where it was herself. She explained that I could use anything from the storeroom that I wanted and to replenish the shelves with whatever I wanted. I was looking forward to getting my hands on the rat race.

Lauren and I ate the meatloaf special for supper at Millie's, and it reminded of my Grandma Joyce's. We got the warm apple pie for dessert and then I let her talk me into going to the town bar. I had never been to a bar in my life. I'd been to elaborate restaurants and fancy clubs, but never to a bar. I didn't want to go to a bar. I just wanted to go home to my little house, sit on my deck and gaze at the beautiful sky overlooking the ocean.

"Come on, please," she begged.

I acquiesced, against my will. Why not? I had done things against my will my entire life, at least Lauren had my best interest at heart, sort of.

It was just a small bar with an old wooden floor, but the place was hopping, and packed to the gill. There was a band playing toward the right with an area cleared for dancing. A nice looking guy waved us over and we sat at the table with him right in front of the guy singing something about a long black train.

"This is Joel, Riley," Lauren introduced the guy and then he kissed her.

I wondered if this was the same guy that had spent the night with her the weekend before. Another guy joined us, and she introduced him as Levi. It was nice to put a face with the voice. We were both brought beers. I took my wallet from my purse and Levi put his hand over mine.

"You are offending me, put that away," he demanded.

I jerked my hand away, not realizing that I did it with so much conviction.

"Whoa," he stated, putting both hands in the air.

"Sorry," I said and noticed the puzzled look on Lauren's face over my reaction. "Thank you," I said and turned my attention to the singer on stage.

Can someone say...Idiot?

I kept my attention on the stage, not knowing how to act around people. I felt like such an outsider, and didn't know what I should or shouldn't say. The two men and Lauren did all of the talking, and although they did try to include me, it was awkward for me. I was never allowed to speak when I went out with Drew. He was afraid that I would embarra.s.s him or myself, so I played the pretty obedient wife and stood to his side. I noticeably shook my head, trying to rid the thoughts of my memories of being in the presence of Drew.

Lauren stood and made me follow her to the bathroom. There was only one stall in the bathroom, and we waited outside the door for it to be unoccupied.

"What is your deal, girlfriend?" Lauren asked.

I feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you seen Levi staring at you? He likes you, and you haven't even noticed. You're off in some other time."

I groaned. I didn't want Levi to look at me. I didn't want Levi to like me. I didn't want Levi to do anything. I wasn't interested in Levi. "I just don't think I like being here very much, Lauren. I have never been to a bar."

"You're joking," she implied as the door opened and she pulled me in with her.

Lauren dropped her pants and immodestly used the toilet, holding herself up from sitting on the seat.

"I think I am going to take off. I have to open the shop in the morning for the first time by myself."

"Ry, it's only nine o'clock. You're just going to go home and sit by yourself."

"I'm okay with that," I a.s.sured her, trying not to look at her squatted on the toilet. I was okay with that. I was used to spending my time alone.

"You can't tell me that you don't think Levi is cute."

"Lauren, please don't try and fix me up with anyone. I don't want anyone, okay?" I pleaded.

"Okay. If you really want to go, I will get a ride with Joel."

"So, are you going to tell me about Joel? Was he your company last weekend?" I asked, not wanting to talk about me and my hang-ups with men at the time.

"I guess we are monogamous. He works on the oil rigs all week and is only home on the weekends, best kind of man to have," she added, teasing.

I didn't go back to the table with Lauren. She was giving me an easy out, and I was taking it. She gave me her keys, and I drove her jalopy of a car back to her house. I thought my ninety three Honda was bad, that thing was running on one cylinder.

I didn't leave the porch light on, not knowing that I was going to be out past dark. I walked across the road to my house after parking Lauren's car, and my heart begun to beat in rapid thumps again. I hated being frightened all the time. There is nothing in there, Morgan, I said out loud and then shook my head at calling myself Morgan. I unlocked the door and pushed it, standing on the porch, peering in. I reached my arm around to the side and flipped on the light without entering. I shook my head again at how silly I was being.

I lay in my comfortable bed and stared up at the ceiling. Would I ever be normal again, wait, have I even ever been normal? What exactly defines normal? My mind drifted to my childhood, and that too, I was sure was as anomalous as imaginable. My Grandma Joyce was probably the most usual person from that time of my life.

There were a few things that she had told me that were probably not the healthiest things to be telling a little girl.

I remembered sitting on the front porch of her one room cabin and listening to the stories of her childhood and living through the hard times on the mountain. She had always told me that no matter how bad I thought that I had it, somebody else always had it worse. I am not sure that was possible, but then again, I'm sure it is. I could have been born a lot worse off than I was, I suppose.

I thought about little Justin, although I am sure he's not so little anymore. He had been put into foster care almost seven years ago. He would be twelve years old this summer. I hoped he was adopted and had a good life. I hated the thought of him being strung about from foster home to foster home. I hated my mother for so long for leaving us and forcing him to live that life, then again my dad could have kept it from happening if he wanted to. I couldn't imagine choosing my alcohol over my son. My mother, I could almost forgive. I said almost. I still hated her for not taking us with her, even though I could understand her running away from her life of h.e.l.l.

I was raised in the Appalachian Mountains, a small town in West Virginia where poverty is real, and still exists to this day. I was raised to believe that you grew up, signed up for welfare, and had lots of babies so that you could get more welfare and more food stamps.

That was normal, and then after moving to Las Vegas and living the life of luxury that became my normal. Now, well, now this was normal.

I finally drifted off to sleep, thinking about the two bedroom trailer, and my home from the time that I was born until my eighteenth birthday. The dream was so real this time, not that I didn't say that every time that I woke in a panic, but this one was worse.

I was huddled up to the only heat source in the house. The wood stove was barely throwing off any heat. I tried to bring some wood in, but it was frozen, and my fingers weren't strong enough to pull any of the pieces apart. It was late, and my dad wasn't home from the bar yet. Justin was no longer there, so I had to be at least seventeen. I sat with a blanket leaned against the stove with my back. The metal was barely warm, and I knew that it would be completely burned out within the hour.

It was the first time that my dad ever hit me, besides being whipped by his belt anyway. The first time was the very first time that he had come home in a drunken stupor after my mom had left us. I guess it was my responsibility to fill her shoes. I heard the old truck pull into the drive and I ran to my room, wrapped in my blanket. He started yelling as soon as he opened the door and realized the fire was almost out.

"Morgan! Get your stupid a.s.s out here."

I didn't move. I hoped that he would think that I was asleep and just leave me alone. He didn't.

"If you're not out here by the time I count to three, I am going to beat you to a pulp."

Although I knew he was going to do it anyway, whether I went then or ten minutes later. I walked out. He slapped me across the face, not giving me time to explain that I had tried to bring wood in. I could handle the slaps in the face. I would have chosen those over the sound of his leather belt being pulled from his belt loops any day.

I could feel the burning stings on the backs of my legs and my back when I woke, out of breath and panting like an overheated dog. I grasped my nightgown at my chest, and squeezed the material in a tight fist, trying to tell my heart that it was okay, and I was safe in my own home in Maine. I brushed the damp hair from my forehead and got out of bed. It was too early to be awake, and I knew I needed to sleep, but I couldn't. I was too freaked out. I made a cup of hot tea. Starlight had given it to me the day before when she had told me that I looked tired. She said that it was a relaxing tea and would help me sleep. I dozed back off on the sofa, wrapped in the fuzzy warm blanket from the back of the couch. I woke to the sound of my alarm going off in my room.

I yawned, still tired as I drove the short drive into town. I parked my car in the back and unlocked the door. I had no sooner gotten the first coffee machine brewing when I jumped, startled at the tap on the door. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the town sheriff, smiling at the door, remembering Starlight telling me that he hung out there on Sat.u.r.day mornings.

"Good morning," he said, stepping in as I unlocked the door for him, "Didn't mean to startle you," he added.

"Good morning," I returned, and continued to get the five machines up and running. "I guess I am not quite as fast as Starlight," I said as he sat at one of the small tables.

"Actually, I'm a little early this morning. You're fine," he a.s.sured me.

Phyllis showed up with the pastries next.

"Morning, Sheriff," she spoke, placing the goodies on the counter.

"Good morning, Phyllis. Please tell me you brought those little raspberry filled Danishes today."

"You're in luck, I did," she smiled.

Phyllis didn't stick around and had to get going to open her own little shop.

"Coffee is ready," I said to the sheriff, not turning to look at him.

I walked behind the counter with my own cup of coffee, and he poured himself a cup.

"My name is Dawson, by the way," he said stirring the cream into his coffee.

I snickered a little on accident.

His eyebrows rose as he looked at me. I felt my face blush from embarra.s.sment.

"What?" he asked, and my face became even redder. I was sure of it.

"I'm Riley," I said, trying to smooth over my dreadful outburst.

"Nice to meet you, Riley. Why are you laughing at me?"

I couldn't help but laugh again. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was just thinking how much your name fits your job description. You know, sheriff in a small town by the name of Dawson."

He laughed too and sat down with his pastry and coffee.

"So what brings you to this small town, Riley?" he asked, and I didn't want to answer questions for a cop. I hated intimidating men, not that all men weren't intimidating to me, just some more so than others, and a uniformed man with a gun was one of the others.

"I'm not sure I have figured that out myself yet, sheriff," I said, and busied myself wiping down the counter in front of me.

I wished someone else would come in, preferably the same s.e.x as me.

He snorted. "You can call me Dawson," he said, and I blushed again. What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me?

I only smiled and pretended to be busy. He read his paper, and I was happy to see the three older men that seemed to drink my coffee faster than I could make it, come in for their morning cup of Joe. I knew them by name because Starlight had told me, and although they were all exceptionally friendly, they never really spoke to me. I think that is why I liked them so much.

I was getting a little nervous when another group of men came in, pouring coffee and eating the pastries.

How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to remember who ate what, and how much to charge each of the five construction workers? I was now alone with nine men, and for absolutely no reason I felt extremely uneasy.

I was never so happy in my life to see Lauren come bouncing in. She got a cup of coffee and sat on the stool behind the counter with me.

"I almost commented on you being up so early, but I forgot that you rise with the chickens every morning," I smiled.

She licked the strawberry filling from her pastry.

"I have always gotten up with the chickens. My dad used to deliver the newspaper, and I was forced to get out of bed at five in the morning to learn some responsibility,"