Rising from my seat, I held out my hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Barrington. You were always straightforward with me when everyone else tried to make rainbows out of rainclouds. I appreciate that.”
He shoved out of his chair to take my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “In fairness to the ‘others,’ you can’t have a rainbow without the rain clouds. But you can’t rush it. Splendor comes in its own sweet time.”
After saying goodbye, I tried to escape before the receptionist caught me. But she pretty much blocked the door until I agreed to sign the photocopy of the Miss Wheat Princess portrait she’d made. When I went to sign my name over my face, she stopped me. I wound up begrudgingly penning my signature at the bottom of my matching lavender heels. If I’d known what was coming for me that following year, no way I would have been smiling like my life was dripping in win.
After the front door blockade finally moved, I hoofed it to my car as quickly as my sandals would take me. I’d been expecting an easy, no-surprises meeting with Mr. Barrington. Instead, I’d gotten Wheat Princess fan-girled and smacked with the knowledge Grandma had left part of her estate to Canaan, who’d played a pivotal role in her life the past five years.
That was the last meeting I was attending with any kind of expectations.
My phone chimed in my purse as I turned on the engine. It was a local number, but one I didn’t recognize. Instead of letting it go to voicemail, I answered. It wasn’t like I could be surprised by much else today.
“Tonight. Eight o’clock.” A female voice greeted the moment I picked up. “What are you doing?”
“Reevaluating my life?” I answered since I recognized the voice.
“Reschedule that self-reflection moment with yourself. You won’t want to miss what I have planned for you instead.”
“The last time you planned something for me, I wound up wrestling in a mud pit with some chick named Bunny.”
Rachel’s laugh echoed through the phone. “And every boy at our high school was waiting beside your locker that next Monday. At least until Canaan came along and threatened to staple their eyes closed if they so much as looked your way again.” I heard the muffled ruckus of the bowling alley in the background as Rachel seemed to be moving to a quieter spot. “That was right around the same time you two made yourselves official.”
“Ahh, the beginning of the end. Such fond memories. It’s like the good townspeople of Farmington have schemed to bring up every one of my best memories from here today,” I grumbled as I pulled out of the parking lot. The next person to bring up any off-limits memory from my past was going to wind up with the impression of my palm on their forehead.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re touchy about the topic of your ex. We get it already.” I could imagine Rachel’s face as she talked. “That’s the reason I’m calling. To get your mind off of the ex in question, not to mention all of the other drama in your life at the present time, and have a good time with us.”
“With us? As in you and Brian?” I waved at the car I’d accidently whipped out in front of. Apparently those laws against talking with your phone to your ear while driving weren’t totally baseless. “No offense, but I’m not sure spending time with a married couple is a good way to get my mind off of the guy I married.”
“No, dum-dum. Not with Brian and me. With the girls and me.” I heard the eye roll in her voice.
“The girls . . . ?”
“Riley and Kendra and me. The whole gang from Farmington High, back together again.” The cheerleader in Rachel surfaced right then, and I could practically picture her flipping back handsprings and shaking her pom-poms.
“Impromptu backwoods mud wrestling won’t be involved?” I asked, never knowing with the likes of Rachel.
“No. And I can also guarantee that the former Mr. Maggie won’t be anywhere around either.”
This night was sounding more tempting by the word, and I still didn’t have a clue what she had in mind. “I was planning on packing tonight . . .” I said, but it was a weak attempt. The noise and distraction of those three girls would be more than enough to drown out any unpleasant emotions.
“And I was planning on giving Brian a BJ to return the favor from last night, but duty calls.”
I shuddered at the faint thought of those two together like that. “Where exactly is the address of duty calling?”
“The Barn. You remember it right?”
“Is that place still around?” I asked.
“That place will still be around when the rest of us aren’t.”
The Barn was just that—an old barn that someone had turned into a kind of community gathering place. A few nights a month, they did family nights with big barbecue dinners and bingo. A few other nights a month, they did dancing and live music for the twenty-one-and-older crowd. As Farmington went, it was the SoHo of refinement. Which, yikes.
“Eight o’clock. I’ll see you there.”
Rachel gave one of her squees before we hung up, while I caught up to the realization that I’d agreed to meet a bunch of old friends at The Barn . . . and was actually looking forward to it.
The rest of the day I spent getting some of Grandma’s things boxed up and organized. The work was a welcome distraction, though it didn’t keep me from continually sticking my head out the side window to see if Canaan’s truck had magically appeared by the garage.
I wondered if he already knew that Grandma had left it to him. If he didn’t yet, he would soon. What would he do when he found out? Stuff all his junk inside the garage and move back in? Surely he wouldn’t want to camp out again in that microscopic-sized hole that had doubled as a newlywed pad.
In reality, it hadn’t been that bad of a first place. If it hadn’t been for the constant fighting and nights I spent worrying, I probably would have had fond memories of that small apartment.
It took me an hour to get ready for the night, most of that time wasted trying on and tearing off the entire contents of my old closet, which Grandma had left intact. By some miracle, I still fit into my old clothes, although the majority of the jeans clung a bit too decisively to my hips and ass. So most of them still fit.
At the end of all that, I settled on a simple red summer dress and my favorite tan boots. I’d suspected slipping into the pieces of my past would feel awkward and unusual, like I was an adult trying on clothes in the kid’s section. Instead, I felt just as comfortable, if not more, in my dress and boots as I did in the blazers and patent-leather flats I lived in back in Chicago.
I told Rachel I’d meet them all at The Barn, mainly so I had my own mode of transportation and could escape if need be. By the time I pulled into the grass field that was the “parking lot” of The Barn, it was already overrun with jacked-up pick-up trucks and classic sports cars. A good handful of the vintage cars I recognized from having spent endless hours camped out in a certain auto body shop that specialized in restoring classic cars.
More memories flooded my mind when I thought about that old garage. Grease smears down sweaty patches of skin. Uneven breaths in the back room when the shop was closed up for the day. Watching meteorites from the backseats of cars that were worth ten times our lives back then.
My chest felt ripped open from thinking of them all. I was convinced memories were the act of hell, because why else would they hurt so badly?
The music from inside was blaring, rattling my rearview mirror it was so loud. Giving myself a quick pep talk, I left my car before I could change my mind about this whole night. Dancing, old friends, a few drinks—sounded like exactly what I needed.
Besides, if I hung around at Grandma’s, Canaan would likely make an appearance. He was already two for two nights. Wasn’t going to make it three for three.
My boots crunched through the gravel as I headed for The Barn, and I swore I was a good hundred feet back when a man paused at the door to hold it open for me, tipping his hat as I passed.
So Farmington had its merits. As long as a girl didn’t go and fall in love
with the resident rebel who was hell-bent on self-destruction.
When I stepped inside, I took a minute to survey the scene before throwing myself into the mix. A live band was playing some mix of rock meets country while so many couples were working the dance floor, and staring too long made me dizzy. The bar was almost as packed at the back of the place, and just about every table was taken.
The place was hopping, Grandma would have said. Right before sashaying up to the bar and ordering a bottle of beer then getting out there and dancing some version of a line dance meets the Lindy.
“I barely recognized you dressed like the old Maggie Church I remember.” Rachel appeared from behind me, her arm ringing around my waist as she steered me through the crowd. “The girls are this way.”
She pointed her beer in the direction of a few hundred people. It wasn’t hard to pick them out though. Riley and Kendra had stood out from the crowd back in our preschool days, and twenty years later, nothing had changed. As evidenced by the army of men circled around them, waiting for their chance.
Their chance to get their hearts turned into cardiac tar-tar if Kendra and Riley were anything like they used to be. I’d been the artsy, hippie chick in high school who somehow made friends with the cheerleaders. Stranger things happened—like the same artsy girl winding up married to the town badass.
“Maggie fucking Church!” Riley cupped her hand around her mouth and shouted, raising her beer in the air. “My baby girl’s come home!”
Before I could brace myself, Riley and Kendra descended upon me, a tangle of arms and boobs mobbing me.
“The big city girl decided to come back to her country roots.” Kendra was so tall that as she hug/shook me, I felt like I was getting motorboated by her breasts.
“If not my roots, at least my boots,” I said once the overeager duo let me come up for air.
They tipped their beers at my tan boots and took a drink.
“So Chicago. What in the hell is there to do in Chicago?” Riley’s sterling silver and turquoise earrings jingled when she shook her head.
“Um, pretty much anything you want,” I answered, nudging Rachel in thanks when she whispered that she was going to get me a drink STAT.
“Yeah, but the guys. What are they like?” She gave me a look like I better give her the truth or else.
“Varied?”
“Manly men? Or just a bunch of those metro, hipster boys who get facials and highlights and all the rest of that girly shit?” Kendra adjusted her halter top as she inspected the line-up of men inching closer.
Growing up in the country, where boys started helping their families around the farm or business from the time they could tie their shoes, there wasn’t a shortage of high school boys who looked like damn gladiators. A girl got spoiled in this corner of the world.
“Like I said, the selection is varied. You can pretty much take your pick of whatever type you’re into.”
She blinked at me before ringing her arm around some random guy’s neck and pulling him into our circle for a minute. When she punched him in the stomach, it made a hard smack instead of a subtle thud. Then she took it upon herself to tug his plaid shirt from his pants to display his just-as-hard-looking-as-sounding stomach.
“This is everybody’s type,” she announced, waving her hand across his abs, game-show style.
“You two have not changed one bit.” I gave the random ab man a look when he shot me a wink.
The guys here were forward too, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I didn’t like the dating guessing game of Are You Into Me? It was a huge waste of time in my opinion.
“You haven’t changed much yourself either.” Riley pinched the ends of my dark hair and gave a wink. “You’re still our innocent-looking Wheat Princess, who’s got a total devious side behind those doe eyes.”
I swatted her hand away when she gave my hair a few pulls with a certain glint in her eye. “I think you’re describing Kendra.”
“Except this tramp stopped being innocent looking in second grade.”
Kendra gave a curtsy then sent the ab man back to his clan of other hard bodies.
“Rachel says you’re some big-time artist in Chicago.” Riley bumped her shoulder against mine. “I know a famous person now.”
“In the scheme of Chicago, I’m not big time and I’m definitely not famous. Sorry to disappoint you.”
That was the moment Rachel reappeared with my drink. She’d gone with a bottle of beer, just like everyone else in the place was holding. Despite my aversion to it, I actually found myself enjoying it. A glass of red wine or a heavy, dark beer would have clashed with the whole vibe.
“So you girls know what I’ve been up to. What have you two been doing? Besides tearing through men like it’s a contest?” I clinked my beer against all of theirs and we took a drink together.
“I’m managing my parents’ diner now,” Kendra said, stabbing her thumb in Riley’s direction. “And this chick is a bona fide entrepreneur.”
Riley waved. “It’s just a little beauty salon. Nothing major or anything.”
“The best beauty salon this side of the county line.” Rachel nudged Riley, giving the ends of her hair a flick.
“Well, shit. Look at you all.” I motioned at the trio of them. “We’ve got a business owner, a manager, and an entrepreneur. All women from a small conservative town. You all are my heroes.”
“Yeah, and you’re just a famous artist in Chicago.” Kendra lifted her eyebrow at me.
“Scratch the famous part. But Chicago is way easier for a women to make it in than Farmington, Missouri.” Lifting my half-empty beer, I felt the urge to make a toast. “To us. The most empowered, badass bunch of women I’ve ever known.”
Three more bottles stabbed into the air before clinking together. Then the four of us drained what was left of our beers before letting out a whoop.
“Hold that thought. I’m getting us another round.” Riley lifted her index finger and turned. She didn’t move, but instead she set her hand on the closest guy’s shoulder, whispered something in his ear that had him grinning ear to ear, and lifted four fingers at him.
He tipped his hat and started straight for the bar.
When I gave her a look, Riley shrugged. “Part of being so empowered includes knowing how to work the male species. I’m a pro.”
“A veteran pro,” Rachel added, roping her arm around mine as she surveyed the room the way a surgeon might appraise a patient on the operating table. It was calculating in nature. “We need to find you a man.” The protest was on my lips when she pinched them closed. “Not one for life, but one for the night.”
“A one-night stand is definitely not what I’m looking for.”
Rachel’s head shook. “Who said anything about a one-night stand? Why can’t you just dance and share a few drinks and laughs? Men aren’t only good for sex, you know.”
Riley and Kendra both choked on a laugh.
“Whatever you say, Rachel,” Kendra huffed.
Shoving the two of them aside, Rachel moved behind me and dropped her hands on my shoulders. “Close your eyes. I’m going to give you a spin, and whoever you wind up facing when you stop is the lucky guy for the night.”
When she went to spin me, I braced myself so she couldn’t budge me. “There are hundreds of guys in here. Any direction I stop, I’m going to wind up facing a few dozen.”
“Fine. Then the first one your eyes land on.”
“I’m not playing this adult version of Spin the Bottle. No thank you.” I held my ground once more when she went to spin me.
“Protest one more time and we’re going to start wondering why you’re so against flirting the night away with some cute stranger.” Rachel’s head tucked around my shoulder. “You might have us start believing that the whole reason you don’t want to meet some other guy is because you’re still hung up on the guy.”
“The guy?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Maggie May Church. I will
expose your true feelings so quickly you won’t even feel the slice.”
The strapping young man who was the latest victim in Kendra’s web returned, four bottles of beer balanced in his hands. I was the first to take one.
“Yeah, come on, Maggie. You used to be game for anything. Let loose a little.” Kendra roped her arm around the cowboy’s neck, keeping him from leaving. Not that it looked like he was in a hurry to go. “Where’s the Maggie Church who used to take any dare without blinking?”
Half of my face pulled up. “Still licking her wounds.”
“Come on. Canaan was five years ago. Paleolithic history.” Riley clinked the neck of her bottle to mine and waited.
“You can’t move on from him when every decision you make takes him into consideration.” Rachel waited, giving me a chance to reply.
I wanted to argue that Canaan had nothing to do with my decisions anymore, but she was right. He had a lot to do with most of them, whether it was avoiding guys like him or ordering Pepsi instead of Coke just because I knew it would have pissed him off. For someone who’d supposedly left him in the past, he was sure taking up a lot of space in my present.
Closing my eyes, I gave in with a grumble.
Rachel started to spin me; she wasn’t in a hurry to stop spinning either. “Okay, when I let go, you can keep spinning or stop or whatever you want. But the first guy you lock eyes on is the one you’re shimmying that juicy ass up to right after.”
Like that was her cue, one of them took a whack at my juicy, also known as chunky, butt.
“If you don’t stop soon, I’m going to be puking my guts up on said guy instead.”
“Oh. Right.” Rachel’s hands let me go.
It took a few more spins for me to stop myself. I had to reach out for someone to steady myself to keep from toppling over. It happened to be Kendra’s boob I got hold of.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not that kind of girl.” Kendra’s voice mocked appall, even as she gave her chest a shake.