Robyn Carr - A Summer in Sonoma

“It’s okay, Cassie. That doesn’t sound foolish. Sometimes you just can’t tell…”

“If you can’t tell, then what are you supposed to do?” she asked, more of herself than him. “I’ve dated some real jackasses, but never one like that.”

“As I understand it, most assaults come from someone you know,” he said. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Assault,” she said, trying out the word. “I guess that’s what that was.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what that was.” He cleared his throat. “Um, he know where you live or anything?”

“Well…I never gave him an address, but he knows my last name, where I work and the general vicinity in which I live…”

Walt reached inside a breast pocket in his vest and pulled out a business card. He passed it to her and she read it. His name was on a card for Riders, Inc., a motorcycle dealership. Sales and Maintenance, it said. “In case you need a witness or some backup of some kind. Don’t hesitate. Really. I wouldn’t mind another crack at him.”

“You work on motorcycles?”

“Yep. And other things. Bikes are my specialty.”

“How many motorcycle mechanics have business cards?” she asked.

“Probably more than you think. Motorcycles—big business. People are very fussy about their machines.”

“And you fix ‘em, huh?”

“I’ve been fooling around with bikes for about…gee, I guess sixteen years or more. Since I was just a kid.” He frowned as he watched her lift her coffee cup to her lips. “Looks like you might’ve hurt yourself there.”

She put the cup down and looked at the back of her hand. One of her knuckles was bluish and puffy. She smiled sheepishly. “I socked him in the face. I think I got his eye.”

“Good for you.” He smiled.

“Listen, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to get out of here now.”

“Sure,” he said, reaching for his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“No, let me get the coffee,” she said, her hand in her purse. “It’s the least I can do…”

“Taken care of,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll just get you to your car—”

“Um, please don’t take offense, but I think I’d almost feel safer alone.”

“I get that,” he said. “But, hey, I know the owner here. Want me to ask one of the managers or bartenders to walk you out? Just to make you more comfortable?”

“No. Really. But thanks for everything.” She scooted out of the booth.

“Cassie,” he said, picking up his card from the table and pointing it at her. “In case you change your mind about the police. Or just in case he gives you some trouble and you need a little help, or want a witness to back you up. Huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just forgot.”

“Not a problem. Be careful now.”

She gave him a wan smile and walked out of the bar. She was barely outside when the darkness and the silence just freaked her out. She turned around, went right back to his booth and said, “Um, sorry, could you please take me out to my car? It got really…It just got so quiet out there.”

“Sure. Be glad to. You have a cell phone?”

“I do,” she said, nodding.

“Okay, you’ll be fine.” He slid out of the booth and cupped his hand under her elbow, escorting her out in a very chivalrous manner. “You’re just going to lock the car doors, get your cell phone handy, watch the rearview mirror. But I guarantee you, he’s going to leave you alone. I mean, come on—he left you with me. ” And then he chuckled. “And remember, Cassie, I know the plate number.”

“You didn’t write it down or anything…”

“XKY936, teal-blue Tahoe,” he said. “I think it might be good to go see a friend, talk it out, be around people where you feel safe. But really, your bad date—he’s going to pretend none of that ever happened. Just the same, if he calls you or drops by, no excuses. Call the police first. Then call me—I’ll tell them everything.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“You’d do the same thing,” he said. They arrived at her car and she used the remote to unlock it. He held the door for her. “You’re still a little upset, so drive carefully.”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

Cassie drove straight to Julie’s house. She and Jules had been best friends since seventh grade. But while Julie married at nineteen and started her family, Cassie was still single at twenty-nine. Julie and Billy had been together since their junior year in high school. They were like a Lifetime movie—the star quarterback and the head cheerleader. The perfect couple. They were scrapping a little these days, but they’d get it together, as usual. After all, they had three kids and a dog—a lot to bicker about.

What Cassie would give to have a guy like Billy in her life. She didn’t have a crush on him; he’d become like a brother because Julie was like her sister. But still…

She could hear the chaos in the house when she rang the bell. It was only eight-thirty; Julie would be right in the midst of trying to round up the kids and get them to bed. Julie opened the door with a mother-shout over her shoulder to Get in that tub! Then she looked at Cassie. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Didn’t you have a big date?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course! You didn’t get stood up, did you?”

“No. Very bad attempt at a date,” Cassie said, stepping into the foyer. The place was suffering that end-of-a-day wreck, as was Julie. Her blond hair had gone limp and was flopping in her eyes, she was braless in a T-shirt, shorts, her bare feet dirty, her face with no makeup. And behind her, chasing each other through the family room and kitchen, were a naked three- and four-year-old with a barking German shepherd in pursuit.

When the kids saw her, they yelled, “Cassie!” and ran to her. She stood in the entranceway with one nude child hanging on each leg.

But Julie just stared at Cassie. “What happened?” she asked.

Cassie said, “I’m going to help myself to a glass of wine, if you still have some. Then I’ll tell you all about it.” She shrugged and her eyes welled up. “I don’t feel like going home right now.” She sniffed back the tears and said, “Go. There are naked children running wild all over the house.” Cassie bent down and kissed the top of each little head.

“The bottle you left a week ago is still in the fridge,” she said, running a hand through her lank hair. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’ll be fine.” The kids broke free and ran off, followed by their mother. Cassie threw her purse onto a chair and headed for the kitchen. Then she turned back and flipped the dead bolt on the front door.

In the kitchen she found a wineglass and poured herself some cold white from the refrigerator; she’d gotten in the habit of bringing a big jug of wine over when she came. Julie and Billy were on a tight budget and didn’t splurge on extras—even the kind that could give you a shot of relaxation at the end of a long day, with a husband working two jobs and a wife managing three kids almost entirely alone.

Cassie went into the family room and sat down on the sofa, kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the coffee table. Within what seemed like seconds, Jeffy came into the room. He was nine. He went right to the couch and sat so close to Cassie, he was almost on top of her.

“Wanna see what I’m doing?” he asked, balancing a small laptop computer on his lap. Cassie remembered—this was an old laptop handed down by Julie’s brother.

“You bet. Whatcha got here?”

“I’m making skyscrapers. See? You can get between them with ships and catwalks.”