Fresh Ice (32 page)

She blinked, then smiled, as if he’d just told her a joke she didn’t quite understand. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m the reason Jason cleaned out his bank accounts.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I’m not the hero you think I am. I’ve done horrible things to those close to me. I’m the one who came to Jason’s shop and I took his money.”

Her eyes darkened, but she still looked unconvinced. “But...why? Why would you...how could you?”

Serena’s words flashed in his mind. “I was in Milwaukee a lot. I found out where Jason was. I told him...” the lie choked Quinn, “I told him that if he didn’t pay up, I’d start making noise about the fact that he raped a minor, got her pregnant, and took her, against her parents’ consent, across state lines. I told him I wouldn’t stop there, that I’d start using words like ‘steroids’ and ‘narcotics’ in my sports casts when talking about skating greats of the past. I promised him I would destroy his past, present, and future if he didn’t give me cash. I’m a very popular sports personality, Izzy. It would have been easy.”

Izzy put a hand on the table, as if unable to keep herself steady. Her eyes were black, dead. “Why would you even care about Jason or about me?”

Quinn shrugged, attempted to be casual as, again, Serena’s words came out of his mouth. “He had you. He had you and I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman.”

Her face flushed. “This was all about sex?”

Quinn’s stomach churned, and he ached to stop the charade and take her in his arms. “This was about destroying what stood in my way. This was about ownership.” He closed his eyes, hating himself.
It’s Sally all over again.
“This was about making very certain I got what I wanted. Once I found you again, I didn’t let anything stand in my way. Nothing.” He released this final word and he went cold.

Silence hung like a heavy curtain. Quinn leaned against the counter and stared at his shoes.
Please don’t make me say one more word.

“So what, you were at his funeral to do a victory lap? Pick up your trophy?”

He didn’t respond.
Just curse me and leave. Go and be safe far away from me.

“And the cash, the lottery ticket. That was what, to buy me?”

Damn you, Serena.

“We lost the house, we lost everything.” Her voice grew stronger, her anger heated her words. “I moved here on a prayer and a lottery ticket. Then I met you that night after I told off Adele.”

Quinn squeezed his eyes tighter shut, willing the tears in.
The most beautiful coincidence in my life and it’s become part of a twisted, revisionist memory.

“I thought you were my friend. I fell for it all.” Her laugh was a short, sharp bark. “Is this your idea of some sort of joke? Wait, are you drunk?”

Damn you, Serena!

“Baby, if I were drunk, you’d be a whole lot more naked and I’d be way less charming.” The words stung as they left his mouth.

Her hand connected with his face so sharply, he thought she’d hit him with a tire iron. He locked eyes with her. He struggled not to wither beneath the fury in her gaze.

“I trusted you. I gave myself to you.” Her voice was low. “Worse, my daughter, who loved her father, trusted you. No matter what you took from me, you took Jenna’s father away from her.” Izzy stormed to the elevator and punched the button. “Go to hell, Quinn Murray.” She was gone.

I very well might.

***

It was quiet at Chance’s.
What’s the use in trying to be good anymore? The only thing that mattered was Izzy, and she’s out of my life for good.

Quinn sat at the bar and stared blankly at the TV over Chance’s head.

“Hey, Quinn, haven’t seen you here in a while.” Chance wiped the bar in front of Quinn and set a glass in front of him. “So, the usual?”

“Quiet night here, Chance.”

Chance nodded and looked over the railing to the smattering of people downstairs. “It’s early. I’ve got a band coming on at ten.”

“What’s he doing here?”

Chance followed Quinn’s gaze. “Oh, Collier? He called me this afternoon. Said he was back from a terrible week in New York. Some Middle Ages themed restaurant or some such bull. Probably wanted to get discovered. Don’t know why those indie guys do that. This right here is Music City. This is where you come to get discovered.”

“He wasn’t in New York for that.”

“Oh, you know him now? I wasn’t aware you were friends.”

“Not friends. He’s my competition.”
For a prize I’ve given up.

Quinn dragged his gaze away from the stage and nodded toward the rows of bottles. “Make it the old usual, Chance. I’ll get this party started the right way.”

“Quinn, no.”

Quinn glared at him. “I didn’t stutter, did I?”

Chance reached for one of the bottles and set a shot glass in front of Quinn. He paused, the bottle hovering over the glass. “Are you sure about this?”

Quinn stubbed an angry finger into the scarred wood of the bar. “Set them up, Chance. It’s been way too long.”

Chance reluctantly poured a double bourbon. Quinn drained it with a single swallow. “Another.”

Below them, Collier began to play a song on the piano.
Funny, I didn’t realize he played the piano. Talented cuss.

Quinn emptied the second glass as quickly as the first and pushed the glass toward Chance. “Another.” He then turned his attention to Collier whose low, graveled voice was just loud enough to reach the upper level.

“Good evening, y’all.” Collier didn’t look at the audience. “My name is Collier James. I’m one third of the Terrible Troubadours.”

Quinn felt a perverse pleasure that no one applauded. The third drink woke a corner of his brain long dormant. He found supreme humor in someone else’s discomfort. Chance handed him a fourth, and this one Quinn carried to the balcony rail, the same spot where he’d seen Izzy that first night.

The irony was not lost on him.

“Anyway, I j
ust got back from New York City.”

Here a few of the sparse audience booed.

Collier raised a hand. “I know. I don’t like that town any more than y’all do. It’s dirty and it’s cold. It’s not like Nashville, which is home.”

He’s good. There are about nine people down there and he’s taken them from boos to cheers.

“Anyway, while I was there, I wrote a song, and I wanted to see what the very discerning music listeners here in Nashville thought of it. My friend Chance was good enough to give me some time this evening.” Collier stopped playing random chords on the piano and looked beyond the stage lights. “I hope you like it.”

Quinn drank slowly, the bourbon started to melt into the corners of his brain. The lyrics of the song, framed by Collier’s deep throated growl, spoke of love lost, loneliness, and the ache of longing.
Damn, he’s good.

Quinn waved his empty glass at a waitress, who wasted no time getting it filled. Sipping the drink, Quinn lost himself in the amber liquid and the song.
Good job, Collier, you nailed it right on the head. That’s exactly how I feel at this precise moment. Like beautiful melodic shit.

You, however, get to go to the coffee shop tonight where an unattached Izzy will finally be yours.

The song finished. Collier acknowledged the small audience. As he stood to leave the stage, he looked up and his gaze met Quinn’s. Quinn raised his glass to Collier and nodded.
You’ve won by default, but you still won.

***

Izzy stormed up the stairs and slammed her door. She fell on the bed and buried her face in the pillows.
Quinn, how could you have done this?

How could you have been such a good liar?

Her tears burned as they wet the linen pillowcases. Her arm and shoulder ached, reminding her too much of the woman who attacked her.
I need a drink.

She sat up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and stared out the window. “The one time in my life I want a drink. I don’t have a drop in this place.”

She didn’t want one drink; she wanted to blot out the last two days completely.

Wait. I have the bottles of wine from Quinn’s place.

She slipped off the bed and went to the cabinet where she found the three bottles of pinot noir. She pulled out the first bottle and stared at it, remembering the night they shared his bed, feeling his hands on her, his lips.

I was a fool again. I was blinded by a nice smile and good hands. Again.

She poured herself a glass.
Ice.
Her freezer held two things: a bag of pizza rolls and a large chunk of ice that had once been a bag of cubes, but, thanks to a power outage one afternoon, was now one very large cube.

Izzy grabbed a butter knife and chiseled off a handful of chips. She dropped them in the wine and drank deeply.
Here’s to forgetting everything; Jason, Quinn, skating, everything, once and for all.

***

How he got on stage, Quinn had no idea.
Why is it I can never remember anything when I’m drinking?

Doesn’t matter. This band sucks and I’m going to get them off the stage so everyone will feel like partying again. That’ll make Chance happy, and since he’s made me happy, I should return the favor.

The minute he stepped on stage, the crowd recognized him. The cheers were genuine. Quinn shot a bleary glance at Chance, who stared at him from the balcony with a mixture of concern and avarice.

Dance, Monkey, dance. Give the crowd what they want. Sing a song, party all night, slam that guy into the boards.

Ruin some guy’s life. Help get him murdered. Screw the Boss on demand.

Give up any chance of happiness.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the band you paid to see sucks.” He gave the lead singer a shove. The crowd roared in approval as the band left the stage.

Quinn stared into the blinding spotlight. “Excellent. Now we can really party.”

Again the crowd roared. “Okay, now, remember, I’m not a singer, but I can do better than those jokers. Ladies, if you’re very, very good, I might even take off my shirt. And guys? You’re welcome.”

Dance Monkey, dance.

Everything faded to black.

***

Izzy sat on her bed, staring blankly at the movie she’d stuck in the DVD player. She poured herself a third glass of wine and drank it more slowly than the first two.

A gladiator movie with lots of dead, bloody guys in it is perfect for me. If only I had a sword…something…to plunge deep into his heart. Make him feel the way I do.

Her glass emptied, Izzy climbed out of the bed and headed to the kitchenette.
One more glass and I’ll go to sleep and forget…everything.

She stared at the screen again, in a moment when the bloodied gladiator somehow became a romantic hero.
Nope, not perfect anymore.
She pushed a button on the remote and the screen went dark.

Draining her glass again, Izzy headed for the kitchen and a second bottle. She poured the wine with an unsteady hand, and an even weaker resolve. Quinn’s image, his beautiful eyes pleading, flashed through her mind.
How can I possibly forget how much I love him?

Izzy closed her eyes and heard, again, his last words, the words that explained Jason’s death once and for all, the words that broke her heart. She emptied her glass quickly in a vain attempt to drown out his words, the cold tone of his voice.

How could I possibly love anyone so cruel and selfish?

She filled her glass once more and took unsteady steps to her bed.
It’s too quiet.

She pawed through her small pile of CDs and found the one Collier gave her.
Perfect. Sad sailing songs.

She put the CD into the player, turned on the music, and floated on a river of heartbreak and pinot noir.

Sunlight burned through his eyelids. He eased one eye open, and closed it immediately.
How the devil did I get home?

Summoning every bit of strength, Quinn sat up. His head spun, he was dangerously close to a serious bout of the dry heaves. A strange grinding noise in the kitchen caught the attention of his percussive brain, and he got out of bed.
Someone had no trouble stripping me naked.

He grabbed his sweat pants and pulled them on. “Who’s there?”

The noise stopped for a moment and Quinn thought he’d imagined it. Then the scraping and banging sound continued.

He lurched into the kitchen.
Serena. I should have known.

“Good morning.” She waved a plate under his nose. “I made you another breakfast, in case you’re still hungry.”

Bile bubbled in his throat. “Still hungry? I’m not hungry. How…how did…”

Serena set two plates of eggs on the table. “Don’t you remember? Of course you don’t. You don’t remember anything when you’re drinking.”

“I don’t remember you being anywhere near me.”