Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (70 page)

“You could, at least, keep your tongue in your mouth, Ainsley Michelle.” My mother’s scolding tone makes me roll my eyes. “For God’s sake, and right in front of Elliot, too.”

“Let it go, mother,” I reply, turning myself toward the window.

“He gave you up, remember?” she continues as if I never spoke. “Those thoughts you’re having right now lead to actions and those have repercussions for all of us. Tread carefully.”

“Adam and I are over, mother,” I snap, the words burning my lips as I speak them. “I may not have been the one who called it off, but I sure remember it all too well.”

Adam

‡

“P
ass me that
box of nails would ya, Sebastio?” I shout above the sound of the sound of nail guns and power saws as we put the roof of the
Garden Grille
together. The sun beats down on me and I welcome the burning of the sun. It sure as fuck feels better than having a hole punched in my chest again at the sight of seeing Ainsley.

“Fuck roofing, man,” Sebastio complains, tossing me the box. “It’s hotter than hell up here. At least on my boat, I can dive in the water to cool off.”

“That’s why you never catch anything you lazy fuck. You’re too busy jerkin’ off,” I reply.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he shakes his head. “I never jerk off when I’m out on the water, man. If I pull out the Ol’ Salty, the only thing I’ll catch is every woman from here to Boston.”

“There is nothing okay with anything that just came out of your mouth,” I deadpan. “Seriously, why do I take you in public?”

“Shit, I just want to know what you did before me.” Grabbing the nail gun at his feet, he grins. “I can’t wait until Friday, you know what rhymes with Friday, Adam?” When I don’t answer, Sebastio steps closer, his boots now right in front of me. “Rum.”

I laugh, hammering the first three nails to secure the shingles now that the new boards are in place. “I don’t think it does, bro.”

“It’s your crushing of my dreams that is seriously tearing this friendship apart. What about my dream of becoming a pirate?” he asks, glaring down at me. “Are you going to ruin that too?”

Holding up my right hand, hammer and all, I shake my head in mock horror. “I fully support your quest, Captain Cock Swallow. There’s a power saw with your name on it any time you decide to get fitted for that peg leg.”

“That’s all I ask.” Satisfied with my answer, Sebastio walks over to Donnie, our crew manager, leaving me to my work.

The noise around me fades into the background as I try to focus on the task at hand, but she invades my thoughts. The only woman I ever loved, or would ever love. I was no more than a toy in her game. I thought what we had was love, a chance at forever with someone who understood me. Every time she said she loved me, I fucking believed it, all while it was nothing but her chance to slum it in middle class before she became who she is really supposed to be.

The days at my father’s cabin were the best of my life. While lying beneath the stars on the dock, I listened to Ainsley tell me all about how she hated everything they wanted her to be. Nothing about that life appealed to her and more than anything she wanted to just disappear, with me.

“We could just leave, Adam.” Leaning up on her forearms, she watches me carefully. “After graduation, we can just pack up and go. Start our lives somewhere else, anywhere that my family isn’t.”

Pulling her down against my chest, I crush her lips to mine. Softly and slowly I take her mouth, my hands sliding into her brown waves. The sweet taste of her only makes me sure of one thing: I’d do anything for this woman. “That’s what we’ll do then, Ainsley. Where you go, I’ll go. Always.”

Except she didn’t want me to. She made decisions about our future, life altering choices, all without giving me a second thought. I hate that, in all this time, she still haunts me. I hate how just seeing her brings up all this shit that I buried. Most of all, I hate that I still love her so much.

Ainsley

Early Friday afternoon,
I walk through the foyer of the enormous house that should be comforting to me, but the deafening silence damn near making me stir crazy. I’ve been home for days, but haven’t left the house. I don’t know what I was thinking even coming back here in the first place. Everything in Kittery reminds me of Adam.

Elliot calls and has sent flowers, all in the effort to win me over, but it isn’t working. Even though my mother scolds me for my lack of manners, I cut the calls short and every gift sent is left untouched. I have eaten in my room, though even if I had gone downstairs, my parents don’t eat there either. I’ve said a handful of words to my father, mostly by phone. Busy man running an empire, apparently. My mother pushes and nags, only to dive for the safety of her suite where I am just as happy as she is for her to remain.

“Lunch was lovely, Martha” my mother says to our housekeeper, her heels clicking across the floor as she heads for the marble staircase that leads to her suite. “Oh, Ainsley, there you are. Be ready at six if you want to greet your father before Elliot arrives. After days of ignoring the sweet gifts he has sent, the least you can do is be ready on time when he comes to pick you up.” Her tone leaving no room for doubt. I am expected to be downstairs and ready at six and that’s that.

Rolling my eyes, I bite my lip in an effort to mind my manners. It would be considered rude if I told her what I really want to do. I have no business speaking out of turn. I don’t get a vote in my own life.

Without a word, I head down the hallway toward my room, sure that she won’t follow. Sitting at my desk, I kick off my shoes and exhale roughly as I stare at the ceiling.

“Don’t allow yourself to hide away in here,” Martha says, shoving into the room with a handful of dresses on hangers. “You really should open the drapes, let the light of life filter in. The sun is nature’s very own mood booster,” she scolds, lying them onto the bed, she walks over to the window and she jerks open the drapes, letting the sun fill the room. Kneeling on the padded window seat, she flings them open wide and I can’t help turning my chair to stare out at the water. The only thing I loved about living in this house was the view from my bedroom window.

The ocean.

The horizon as far as you can see and endless limitations beyond it. A world of opportunity laid at my feet, ripe for the taking. I used to sit there on the window seat and dream of all I would do once I escaped here. I felt like a prisoner, locked away in this life, with no one to rescue me.

Until Adam.

He was my knight, even if I know now he didn’t want to be. He gave me the hope that I could leave this life and have something for myself that meant more than money and possessions.

So much for hopes and dreams, huh?

“I won’t let you sit in this room and hide away. Cabin fever will turn you into a homicidal maniac, I’ve seen it in the magazines at the grocery store. I have no idea why in the hell you ever came back in the first place.” The years have been good to her, even as hard as she works around here. Her black hair is peppered with white and she has laugh lines that show her age now, but being able to laugh at all around here is a damn miracle.

“It’s good to be home,” I lie.

“You’re a horrible liar, girl.” Pushing back to meet my eyes, she smiles. “I’m glad you’re home because I’ve missed you, but you’re miserable.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Walking around my large cherry wood canopy bed, Martha takes the dresses and opens the doors leading in to my walk in closet. “Your mother sent for these things now that you’re back, but I had some things picked up just in case.” Stepping out, she hands me a black tank and jean shorts, along with my favorite pair of Chucks, her smile spreading ear to ear. “I know how you used to love sneaking out to the docks. You can’t exactly do that in designer bullshit,” she teases. The thing I always loved about her most, was her ability to see through the veneer my parents put on everything.

“I don’t know if I want to go back there yet,” I reply. That place was special, but more so because of Adam.

“Go on, now,” Martha scolds. “The fresh air will do you good.”

“Fresh air is the least of my worries,” I mutter under my breath.

“Either you get changed, get out of here and take a walk or I’ll go to the kitchen and get that old wooden spoon I used on your rear end when you used to steal the cookies off the cooling rack.”

“Fine,” I groan, pushing to my feet. “I suppose you’ll cover for me?” I ask, walking into my ensuite bathroom to change. “I won’t be gone long, I need to change for dinner.”

“I know the drill.” Martha waves me off, batting her eyes innocently. “Why, I was just informed that Mrs. Carter has retired to her suite for the remainder of the afternoon. While filling the decanter of bourbon in her dressing room, I was told she is not to be bothered.”

“That bad, huh?” I ask, shuffling out of the dress and into the shorts and tank.

“Ainsley, some things never change. Now, go hit the wall, girl.”

Stepping out of the bathroom, I hop from foot to foot as I slip my sneakers on my feet. “Thank you, Martha.” Walking over, I kiss her on the cheek before hurrying from the room and out the back door.

Making my way through the trees that cover the back corner of the estate, I avoid the padlocked gate completely. Locked doors were always a part of my life, but I found ways around them. I smile when I make it to the seven foot high stone fence and see my initials still carved in the tree that Martha had forbidden the groundskeeper to cut down when I was thirteen. Angling just over the fence, the tree, allowed my escape to the docks every night growing up.

Gripping the branch, I pull my legs up and shimmy up the branch before lowering myself to the ground on the other side. My mother would come unglued to see me dangling from a tree like this; or worse, drop her drink. My hair whips in the wind as I walk up the secluded beach my parents prefer over the hustle and bustle of the busy docks that I always loved.

The sound of the water, the smell of the sea air, all begins to lift my foul mood. Walking down the dock, I pass the Lobstermen hauling in their catch for the close of their day. No one pays me any attention as they hustle by me. I don’t mind, though, there’s only one place I want to be. It calls to me like a siren song, it always has.

Navigating my way beyond the boating dock, I smile once I am at the end of the pier on the waterfront all alone. I drop to my ass, letting my feet dangle over the side. The tips of my sneakers are nowhere near touching the water, making me want to just dive into the cool depths. I stare out further as it laps against the rocky shore of the harbor and absorb it all. I could sit here for hours, completely content to just let my mind wander.

That’s exactly what I do. I let my mind begin to process everything over the last few days. I am back in Maine, for the first time in over four years, and instantly my life is being plotted and planned out for me like a shopping list. It’s like a runaway train that I’m helpless to stop.

Are you really that helpless, Ainsley?

My mind wanders back through all the unhappiness and pain of the last several years. Pulling off my glasses, I shove them into my back pocket and settle on my stomach. Hanging my head over the edge of the dock, I stare down into the water at my blurry reflection. It is funny how accurate the image it is.

There is no real clear view of who I am. People tend to make up whatever they want since the real vision of me is blurry unless you really focus up close. From afar, my parents see a puppet, the kids in school always saw an over-privileged princess, and Elliot sees an obligation to be filled to our families along with dollar signs. No one ever cared to get close enough to see beyond any of that, no one wanted a clear vision of who I was.

There was a time when someone did, or so I thought…

Closing my eyes tightly, I think back to a time when I was truly happy. Days on this very dock. Stolen moments, sweet kisses… Adam.

“Don’t tell me that you dropped your glasses again.”

My eyes fly open, and I bolt to my feet. “No, I didn’t,” I snap, pulling them from my back pocket and sliding them back on my face.

Adam’s eyes are locked on me from beneath the brim of his black baseball cap. The nearly faded fishing hook and embroidered writing barely readable, but I don’t need to know what it says. I bought it. “You still have that hat?” I ask, unable to believe that he kept it after everything he said to me.

Pulling the cap from his head, he grins as he stares at the words ‘Support your local Hookers’. I can almost see the memories playing in his head of that day. His eyes brighten and that smile spreads across his face. My smile, the one that was meant only for me. His eyes meet mine and just as quickly it’s gone as he shoves the hat into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Yeah, I don’t just throw something out when I’m tired of using it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Adam?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.