Mary Sullivan - Beyond Ordinary

“The bar’s not open for another hour.” Something in his voice—disapproval, maybe—set her hackles on edge.

“I’m heading in for a job.”

“You don’t want to do that.” The helpful man of a minute ago was gone, replaced by a hard-edged judgmental prude.

“How is it any of your business?”

“I plan to close this place down.”

“Why would you close Chester’s?”

“You saw the bikers last night. They’re ruining the town. Decent people stay away.”

The implication being that she wasn’t decent. Surprise, surprise. The town’s attitude hadn’t changed about her. Why should it have?

Timm had always seemed different, though—smarter—and she was disappointed to find he was no better than the rest of Ordinary’s residents.

Obviously, attending college made no difference in how the townspeople viewed her. They still had her pegged as the trailer-trash girl with the slutty mother.

“Great talking to you,” she said, her sarcasm tainting the sunny day.

Without a word, his expression flattened, and he turned and walked away.

Angel opened the door of Chester’s Roadhouse, irritated by Timm’s assessment of her. Seemed that, in his eyes, the bar was exactly where she belonged.

Stepping into the dark interior, Angel shook off her funk. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness. It was at least ten degrees cooler in here than outside, thank goodness. Must cost Chester a fortune to air-condition, though.

The place smelled like beer.

Chester had spent his money freely decorating the huge room. Red leather and oak booths lined two walls. The center of the room housed chairs padded with the same upholstery surrounding large round tables.

Angel approached the bar.

Chester was doing well for himself. The bar must bring in good money.

“Hey, Freddy,” she said to the bartender, recognizing him from school. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

“Hi, Angel.” Freddy was a good guy, not too handsome, but not ugly, either. He leaned on the bar and assessed her. “You’re looking well. College treated you okay?”

Angel ignored her spurt of guilt for not finishing and smiled. “I did all right there.”

“What can I get you? Bar isn’t open yet, but I can pour you a soft drink.”

“Thanks, but nothing. I’m here to see Chester.”

Freddy indicated a nearby archway. “Down the hall, last door on your left. Should be open.”

Angel made her way to Chester’s office, where she found him sitting in a leather office chair behind a huge desk covered with piles of papers.

She rapped on his open door. “Hey, Chester.”

He looked up, startled, and smiled. “Angel. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you. When did you blow back into town?”

Angel smiled. “Last night. I’m here for the bartending job in the paper.”

Chester leaned back in the chair and wrapped his fingers behind his head. It made his biceps look huge. Angel totally understood Mama’s crush on him.

“How’s Missy?” he asked quietly. He always asked about Mama.

“As good as can be, considering who’s living with her right now.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” He frowned. “Hey, I thought you finished college. Is the economy so bad you can’t get a job even with a degree?”

Angel sat in the chair in front of the desk. “I’m hanging around for the summer. To help Mama with the wedding and to take care of her place while she and Phil take a honeymoon.” The lies rolled off her tongue easily. If she felt any guilt about lying to a good friend like Chester, she ignored it.

Chester shuffled papers on his desk. He blushed the way he always did when Missy was around.

“So, I see you’ve got Freddy working behind the bar. What hours do you need me for?”

“Freddy’s going to night school.”

“No kidding? What’s he studying?”

“He wants to be an accountant.”

“Cool. I can mix drinks. I worked as a bartender in Bozeman when I was at school. Do you need a reference?”

“Nah. I trust you, Angel.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “I need a bartender for the evenings—from six until one-thirty. There’s usually a bit of cleanup after the bar closes, but you’d be out by two, latest. I’m usually here until three, going through the receipts and counting the cash, so you’ll never be alone.”

He stood to walk her out. “You’ll be a great asset here, Angel. With your looks…” Chester grinned. “You’re a hell of a lot prettier than Freddy is.”

Angel laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at having fun, too.” She knew her place. Knew exactly her value. Here in Ordinary, she was a party girl, through and through.

She left the bar after agreeing to start work that evening and walked down the street to the candy store, Sweet Talk. While she was home, she would reconnect with the only other family she had.

Two years ago, she’d found out that she had a half brother—Matthew Long. Matt’s dad and Missy had had a relationship for years when Matt was young and Angel had been the result of that affair. Mama had never told her who her father was.

Not kosher of Mama to sleep with another woman’s man, but so like Missy.

Fortunately, them both being only children meant that Angel and Matt had latched onto each other. From the very beginning, he’d insisted that he was her full brother—there was nothing half about their relationship, he was her brother in every way that counted. She couldn’t imagine being closer to him than she was now. And she adored his wife and children.

In fact, she needed to pick up candy for her nephew and niece, thus the visit to Sweet Talk. For six-year-old Jesse, she chose a chocolate rabbit that wore a housecoat and carried a candle and a book, all decorated with icing sugar dyed in pastels. For two-year-old Rose, she bought a small chocolate rabbit with pink lips and a pink icing dress. Adding to her purchase, she selected a bag of humbugs for Jenny and salted Dutch licorice for Matt.

She tipped her head through the doorway to the candy-making room and waved to the owner, Janey Wilson. Looked as though Janey was about to pop out another kid. How many were Janey and C.J. up to now? Four? Five?

Angel returned home to ask Mama if she could borrow her car to drive out to Matt’s ranch.

Angel stepped into the quiet house. She’d noticed that the garage door was open and the car gone. Nuts. When she walked into the kitchen, she found that she wasn’t alone.

Phil sat at the table, drinking coffee.

He glanced up when she entered, his eyes skimming her body before settling on her face.

His demeanor always surprised her—so mild-looking, yet there was something behind his pale eyes that sat wrong with Angel. Something like…a banked hunger, as if he could never get enough to satisfy his cravings.

Not a tall man, why did he seem so much bigger than he actually was? Wiry strength threaded his forearms, though, and crafty knowledge gleamed in his eye. Angel would be a fool to underestimate him.

“Where’s Mama?”

“Grocery shopping.”

Phil had a mass of grocery-store coupons spread neatly across the table. Angel felt vaguely nauseous. Mama was still hoarding those stupid things?

“Don’t tell me you collect coupons, too?” Angel asked, her tone derisive.

“Why not? If you work at it hard enough, you can save a lot of money.”

Angel turned and poured herself a cup of coffee. Mama had pinched every penny until it squeaked and her obsession with discounts and coupons had sparked a loathing for them in Angel.

“What’s so wrong with using coupons?” Phil asked.

She wasn’t about to tell him that they reeked of poverty, and reminded her too much of growing up in that crummy old trailer.