The Date Deal, page 2
I hop up the stairs to the back entrance of the bar and push the door open. I’m a few minutes early, so I take a deep breath to get ready, slip my apron on and get into place.
“Taber,” the manager, Seth, yells from his office. “Get in here.”
My heart jumps up to my throat because that is not his happy voice. In fact, it sounds an awful lot like the voice he used when the fired the singing waitress. I can’t think of one reason he’d be using it with me.
I make sure my apron is in place and I step into his office. He’s not the first thing I see which is notable only because he was a linebacker in college and is about as big as my entire room in the apartment. The first thing I see is my fellow co-worker, Justine.
She won’t look at me which is odd. She’s always jovial, almost to the point of annoying the piss out of you.
“Sit down.” Seth steps between us, blocking my line of sight and I take a seat in the wooden chair by his desk. “I’ll give you one chance to come clean and then I’m calling the cops.”
It takes a few seconds for it to register that he’s talking to me. Even then I say, “Who, me?”
“Don’t get smart, young lady.” And still he stands there like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about.
“Seth,” I say. “If I had any idea what this was about…”
I leave the sentence open hoping he’ll fill in the blank, but he’s content to let me wonder. I can’t see Justine from where I’m sitting. Does she have a clue?
Finally Seth breaks the silence. “We’re five hundred dollars short of what we should have been for Saturday night.”
He doesn’t have to say anything more as scenes from Saturday night flash through my head.
It’s forty-five minutes past time for me to leave and I need to get to the apartment so I can go to sleep. I have an early morning interview with a woman from a local preschool about teaching music classes. Unfortunately, she can only meet before church.
The bar was crazy, but since I’m the lead server, I can’t leave until we clean the place and everything adds up with the piles of receipts and cash at my side. I’m muttering under my breath, but I’m finally ready to fill out the deposit slip and put everything inside the safe.
Then Justine walks up….
“Damn it, Justine,” I say. “What the hell did you do?”
“You two closed on Saturday,” Seth doesn’t give her a chance to answer. “You were the two here and I’m missing five hundred dollars.”
“I’m sorry, Carsen,” Justine says and I breathe a sigh of relief for the first time since I walked into Seth’s office. She’ll tell him she took the envelope and deposit slip from me and I’ll apologize for giving it to her. It was my responsibility as lead server and I shouldn’t have passed it off to her.
Seth’s expression is unreadable as Justine recounts what happened. She admits to taking the cash and doctoring up the deposit slip and promises she’ll pay him back with interest. She’s out of a job, but Seth isn’t going to press charges, so there’s that.
“Carsen,” he says when he’s finished with Justine. “I have to let you go as well. I can’t trust you anymore and I can’t have people working for me I can’t trust. It's a shame it’s come to this, because you’ve always been such a good employee. Unfortunately, I can’t overlook this.”
And just that quickly, everything I’ve been struggling to build for almost two years comes crashing down. Without this job, I can’t pay the rent due next week. I'm barely making it to start with. There’s nowhere else to live any cheaper, it’d been a stroke of luck I’d found the apartment.
I take my apron off and leave it on Seth’s desk when I tell him goodbye. There’s no choice but for me to go back to Atlanta. Nashville may have beat me this time, but I vow to come back. I’ll come back smarter and better prepared, and I will never, ever trust anyone to do my job for me again.
Three
“Do good anyway.” Mother Teresa
It’s not that I’m delaying getting to Atlanta, I tell myself as I pull into the gravel parking area of the public park and campground three hours away from my destination, it's that there’s no reason to get there so early. Besides, I’ve never seen this park in the winter. I step out of my car and wrap my coat tighter around my waist.
I can’t believe there are people camping here in January. January. I will never be confused with a hard core camper, but in the summer, when it’s warm, it's fun to hang in the great outdoors with friends. For a night or two. In. The. Summer.
There’s a path leading to the administration building and historical center and another to the campsites and scenic areas. I’m not sure how scenic I’m going to think anything is in January, but I’m sure as hell not going to the admin building or the historical center. I want to kill time, not die of boredom.
I stop at the water’s edge and, okay; it is relatively scenic. You can’t see the falls from my location but you can hear them. The path I’m on continues for a half mile or so and leads to the fall’s basin. It’s rained recently, though, and the sky is overcast enough to suggest there might be more.
I stay where I am and close my eyes, enjoying the serenity. My fingers itch and I wish I’d had the foresight to bring my notebook and pen when I got out of my car. Maybe, here in the woods and in relative solitude, I’d be able to find my music again.
I haven’t played, sang, or written a note since deciding to return to Atlanta. I miss it, but each time I reach for my guitar, I’m reminded that I’ve failed and I’m unable to continue. On my drive so far, I’ve only listened to talk radio. The only good thing I can say about that is it occupies my mind so I don’t have to think about what I’m going to do once I reach Atlanta.
I’m pretty sure I can crash at Elliott’s, but as far as a job? Who knows?
A shrill scream pierces the silence and stops within seconds. It takes a minute or two for my heart to slow and for the rest of my body to understand that there’s no visible threat.
Once I can breathe, I process what I heard. The sound definitely came from a female. And whoever she is, it wasn’t a happy sound. I look around what I’m able to see of the campground. Not a lot, but enough to see that no one is running to where I believe the noise came from.
I strain my ears, listening for any sound coming from that direction, but there’s nothing. I know I heard something, though, and it wasn’t a happy sound. And since no one else appears to be checking it out, I will.
I walk to my left and there’s a path leading to the woods. It’s not very well marked and the more that I look at, it doesn’t appear to be an official campground path. Is that even a thing? I don’t know, but this one looks like it’s been made over time as opposed to being a planned place to camp for the night.
I don’t hear any further screams or even whimpers. But I know I didn’t make that one up. I take a few steps down the not-really-a-path, but before I can find a hint of anyone else being nearby, there’s a rustle of leaves just ahead of where I am and seconds later, a couple walks out.
I know immediately the woman in front of me was the one who screamed. Or at least I’m ninety-five percent sure. Her eyes are wide with fear, but she won’t look at me. I can’t say the same for the man at her side.
He’s a foot and a half taller than her and he’s got a death grip on her arm. He’s whispering something in her ear, but from the set of his jaw and the way she flinches, he’s not telling her sweet nothings. He’s staring right at me even while he’s saying whatever it is to her.
They’ve obviously been camping here. For a while, is my best guess, based on the state of their clothes and his hygiene. Of course, who am I to judge, maybe he has an aversion to razors, toothpaste, and soap.
He stops talking to her when it becomes obvious I’m not moving out of their way.
“Move over,” he says.
“Such a beautiful day for a walk,” I say, keeping my eyes on the woman at his side, like he hadn’t spoken a word. She’s cleaner than he is, though for the life of me, I don’t understand why she’s hanging onto him the way she is. “But then I heard someone scream, and I had to make sure whoever it was is okay. Did you hear it?”
She doesn’t answer, she glances up at the man. He pulls her closer to his side. “Yeah, she heard it. She’s the one did the screaming. She went to go to the bathroom and saw a snake. I’m not sure who was scared more, my wife or the snake. Now move.”
They’re married? I glance down and spot a plain gold band on her, but he’s not wearing one. She doesn’t correct him and it sounds like something that could have actually happened. I don’t get a good vibe from the man, but that’s not a crime. We’ve been standing together for several minutes the woman hasn’t tried to get away or signal me.
I’m torn as to what to do, but lacking any evidence, I step off the path to let them pass. It’s only when I turn to go back the way I came that I see him yank her hair back. She lets out a whimper of protest, but her husband covers her mouth.
Rage builds up inside me because the jackass knows I’m not twenty feet away and the son of a bitch is treating her like she’s his personal rag doll. I push my sleeves up. Or at least the best I can with my jacket on.
“Oh, no you don’t. Not today, Satan.”
* * *
TATE
“Thank you for taking time to speak with me today,” Todd Wilkins, one of the park's managers says as I stand to leave.
“Thank you for arranging the meeting,” I say. Todd’s an old friend from my college days. He’s one of the few people I work with who knew me before I made it to the major leagues. I enjoy working with people like him because they know I’m nothing special.
Todd heard of my interest in summer internships for teens. Specifically, the teens who find themselves at my camp and want something more than what I offer. At the moment, and for the foreseeable future, that consists of the culinary arts.
Todd and the park, however, might provide numerous opportunities. We’d spent the better part of the last hour going over details and matching up where our needs and wants overlap. We aren’t finished by a long shot, but we’ve started and that’s what’s important.
I’m getting ready to ask him for a followup meeting at the camp, when his phone beeps rapidly, five times in a row. He’s stunned for a second, but he shakes his head and answers.
His expression is unreadable while he listens to whoever is on the other end.
“I want everyone up here in my office. We’ll let everyone have a say and then we’ll determine what to do.” he says. “What do you mean you've already contacted the police?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, there’s a frown on his face, and I get the impression he’s holding back only because I’m in the room.
I can’t help but wonder what’s going on and why the police are involved. But I’m not learning anything by listening to Todd’s side of the conversation.
“Fine,” he finally says. “I want everyone up here and the police can talk to us here.” He ends the call with a sigh.
“Do I need to leave?” I ask.
“No. It might be a good idea for you to be here.” He nods to the small conference room next door. “Let’s go in there.”
We walk into the next room and he fills me in on what’s happened. “There’s a couple camping here. I’ve never met either of them, but from what I understand, the man is cantankerous and lost his job about a month ago. He’s claiming a woman attacked him as he and his wife were walking about an hour ago and wants her arrested for assault.”
“The woman attacked him unprovoked?” Very odd, but maybe she’s an ex or something.
“That’s what he said.” Todd is getting ready to say something else, but a rant from someone approaching from outside cuts him off. I take it to be the cantankerous man.
Before they make it inside, a car pulls up and the man’s voice grows louder. Todd steps out of the room and within minutes everyone is filing inside.
First inside is obviously whoever called Todd, based upon the park uniform he’s wearing. Next is the camping couple. The man is silent, but his gaze is murderous. He doesn’t appear injured, but then I notice how he’s cradling his right hand. His wife looks scared to death.
Behind her are a uniformed sheriff’s deputy and someone else, but the deputy is blocking the last person. I assume it’s the ex. The deputy keeps walking so he can shake Todd’s hand and all the air escapes me as I get my first look at the woman who caused this fiasco.
She’s of average height and her jeans hug her body. All it takes is the mere sight of her luscious curves to awake parts of my body I thought were forever dormant. She's looking to the side so all I see are waves upon waves of windblown dark hair. The waves are a knotted mess and I have an overwhelming urge to rank my fingers through to untangle them.
She turns toward me, almost as if I spoke her name or brushed her shoulder, and for a second, I’m frozen in place. There’s something familiar about her eyes. So familiar, I feel as if I know her even as I tell myself that’s impossible because there’s no way in hell I’d ever forget meeting her.
There’s no spark of recognition in her eyes, which is not only further proof we’ve never met but also means she doesn’t recognize me. Usually this would make me happy but for some reason I want her to know me.
Todd convinces the couple to sit down. The woman drops into a nearby chair as if she’s been on her feet for days. Beside her, her husband shoots her a look of warning while he takes the seat at her side. I don’t imagine the way she flinches when he scoots his chair closer. A quick glance across the table to the unknown woman and the frown she’s wearing shows she didn’t miss it either. In that second I realize she is not an ex and as I look back to the couple, I’m seeing what happened.
The sheriff begins by taking a pad and pen and addressing the mad as hell camper who still looks like he’s pissed at the world. “Mr. Holt, you’re the one who called. Start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”
“My wife and I were walking down the path from our tent to the lake. We were going to see if we could catch something to eat. We’re walking along, minding our own business, and this one,” he waves at the woman across from me, “runs up behind me and jerks my arm.” He holds out the arm in question and there are three large red scratches down the back of his hand. “I ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing. And she said she’s trying to make sure Bit here is safe. I tell her to get the hell away from us, but she won’t leave.”
She is rolling her eyes, but I’m impressed with how patient she is waiting for her turn to talk. Holt babbles on for a few more minutes before the sheriff cuts him off and nods to her.
“Your name, ma’am?” he asks.
“Carsen Clarke,” she says.
“You’re from?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve been living in Tennessee, but I’m moving to Atlanta.” She stops and looks at the sheriff and at his nod, she continues. “I stopped here to stretch my legs before heading into Atlanta. My walk took me down by the lake and I was getting ready to turn around and make my way back to my car when I heard this horrific scream. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it from here. I waited a minute and looked around, but no one came running or anything and I decided to check it out.”
She looks over to Holt, she’s probably expecting him to jump in and say something, but he’s just sitting there. Sure, he looks mad enough to spit nails, but he’s not interrupting. She glances at me, no doubt trying to figure out how I fit in this group. I give her a small smile and she continues.
“I walk back toward the woods where I think the sound came from and the Holts come out and join me on the path. Right away I notice something looks off with Mrs. Holt, but he doesn’t make any sort of aggressive moves, so I say nothing to Mrs. Holt. They walk past me and for some reason, I turn around. That’s when I see him jerk her head back by her hair. She tried to get away, but he grabbed her upper arm with his free hand and kept her at his side.”
Holt pushes back and for a second, I think he will lunge across the table at Carsen, but a warning glare from the sheriff keeps him in place.
“Go on, Ms. Clarke,” the sheriff says, keeping an eye on Holt.
“I couldn’t stand the way he grabbed her and yes, I jerked his arm. I’d do it again in a minute.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her seat.
“Mrs. Holt?” the sheriff asks. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”
Is he fucking kidding? I narrow my eyes at him. Surely he’s not stupid. He has to know there’s no way that woman will say anything that conflicts with what her husband has said. And if he happens to be abusing her, for damn sure she’s not about to say so in front of him.
“No,” Ms. Holt says in such a low voice, it’s hard to hear, and she seems to sink into her seat. “I have nothing to add.”
Carsen looks like she’s about ready throw something and I don’t blame her. Before I leave, I'll make sure Todd has someone nearby to keep an eye on Mrs. Holt because I think she’s lying. If Todd won’t do it, I’ll travel back here and do it myself.
The sheriff’s deputy stands and asks the Holts to step outside. I’m glad he’s talking to them privately, but I’ll admit I’m curious about what he’s saying. I don’t have to wonder for long because within minutes, Holt’s voice fills the room we’re in.
Todd exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. I suspect he’s trying to decide if he should have the couple removed from the park and if so, on what grounds, and weighing the potential consequences for Mrs Holt no matter what he does.
Sometimes being in charge sucks and today is one of those days for Todd.
The sheriff walks back into the room. Todd stands up to talk with him. They’re on the other side of the room and talking so low, I can’t make out what they’re saying. To my right, the pull of Carsen is tangible and I realize this might be my only chance to talk with her.
