Fury (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

My truck started, but barely, and I tore out of our driveway not bothering with my seatbelt, kicking up dust and rocks as my tires spun against the loose gravel. I’d replaced my stereo because I couldn’t stand radio, at least not Kalispell radio, and plugged my phone into the audio cable. Bastille’s “Dreams” remake blasted and I turned it up, letting the painful lyrics wash over me, fueling my desire to get plastered as quickly as possible.

I entertained myself with thoughts of strangling Spencer Blackwell with both hands then beating the shit out of him with my fists.
Fucking bastard
. I pulled into the local pub and put my piece into park before tucking my left foot onto the emergency brake.

I disconnected my phone and the stereo went silent, reminding me of how alone I really was. I turned the engine off and absolute silence surrounded me. I couldn’t take it. My door creaked with age as it swung open and I slammed it shut, unable not to. The fury raging in my blood was more than I could contain.

Before heading inside, my hand went to the empty space between the cab and the bed and searched for the bottle of whiskey I always had wedged in between. I took a large swig, not wanting to spend too much of my savings on the liquor inside the crap establishment. After all, I was going to need it. Revenge was a costly business.

I took one more swig for good measure and wedged it back in its usual place then wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. My hair swung in my eyes. It was still a little wet from my shower, and I thought about tying it back with the extra leather tie I usually kept in my glove compartment but thought better of it. It helped me hide, and I wanted to hide.

I looked around me. The lot was full, but I only recognized a few cars this time, which was good because I had no intention of making conversation. Regardless, most of Kalispell had stopped trying because I’d rarely done any responding since Cricket cut out my fucking heart and ate it raw. The hair was only insurance.

I took two deep draws of air, gulping it down, desperate for it to soothe me but, of course, it didn’t. I let each escape my lips in shaky breaths and clenched my fists over and over before deciding to head inside.

My boots crunched the gravel beneath my feet as I headed toward the door. When I entered, I ducked my head toward the floor and let my hair cover me, not that it did any good other than to conceal me. I could still feel the heat of their stares, though, still feel the pity in their gazes. I wanted so badly to yell at them to fuck off, but I kept as much composure as possible. I couldn’t get kicked out of the only real bar in Kalispell.

I picked a stool at the end of the bar, the same stool I always did—in the corner and in the back because it was dark. I sat and met Vi’s eyes. She sauntered over to me, placing her elbows on the bar top, giving me a clear view of her generous chest. I held back my eye roll.

“Hello, darlin’,” she drawled. “You look like shit.”

“The usual, Vi,” I told her as quietly as I could.

“How ’bout a kiss first?” she asked, leaning in a bit more.

“Christ, Vi, how many times? Huh? Just get me the gosh damn drink.”

She laughed. “Already worked up, I see. I like it,” she said, winking.

Vi, or Violet, was thirty-nine years old, had lived in Kalispell her entire life, and had worked as a bartender for more than fifteen years. I could tell at one time Vi had been a beautiful woman, but I could also tell she had heard many hollow promises from equally hollow men and that she obviously believed them all. Otherwise, why would she still be there? I watched her tired eyes and her slightly too-forced smile. She had the look of someone who used to be chased but had graduated to the chaser. She looked miserable.

She left and returned with an empty glass and a bottle of Jack. She set the glass on the bar and filled it to the brim. She was being generous. She was always this way. She told me once she hoped I would drink it all away and decide to take her up on her offer. I told her that would be a cold day in hell, to which she only laughed.

“Drink up, buttercup,” she said, smiling lasciviously.

“I will,” I told the bar top.

I watched the world around me through the breaks in the hanging strands and six glasses later, I was starting to feel numb. I lifted my head a little, feeling slightly relieved, feeling like I could breathe a little deeper now that the ache wasn’t so severe. I continued to search the crowd, not knowing who I was looking for.

A quiet but persistent nagging awareness took residence in my chest for some unknown reason as I watched a girl dance on her own in the middle of the dance floor. Others around her paid no attention to her, but she was the first person my eyes were drawn to. I studied her.

              Her hair was tucked into a blue scarf, little tendrils peeking through and grazing across her neck whenever she moved. She was extraordinarily tall and her hips and rear end were more indulgent than I’d ever considered. She turned, giving me her silhouette. Her stomach was flat and her breasts were full. She was beautiful, I could tell, even if I couldn’t see her fully through the low lights.

              “Jeez,” I said, swiping a hand down my face. “I’ve had too much.”

              But I still couldn’t stop watching her. She wore worn jean cutoffs, a fitted button-up with the sleeves rolled up her forearms, and ankle boots. She rolled her shoulders playfully, enticing someone she knew just off the dance floor. Another girl joined her side and they did the robot. She threw her head back and laughed.

This shocked me almost sober. “That laugh,” I whispered to myself. “That laugh,” I repeated. I knew it but couldn’t quite place it.

She took her friend’s hand and twirled her around the floor. She was so full of life. So my exact opposite.

She skipped in place and raised an arm in salute to her friend before turning toward me.

That’s when I got a good, clear look at her. I gasped and placed my hand on the back of my head, my elbow on the bar top, ducking my head down lower to hide myself further.

             
Please, please, please do not recognize me
, I thought, still watching her from the corner of my eye.

              She stood two seats down from me. “Vi!” she said, laughing a little. “Vi!”

              Vi turned toward her. “Hey, baby! What’ll it be?”

              “Can I have a water, please?” she asked, sitting down and releasing a breath of exhaustion. She continued to smile, and it ate a little at my gut.

              “Of course,” Vi answered and started to pour water into a clear plastic cup. Vi’s eyes pinched a little. “Hey?” she said.

              “Yeah?” she asked.

              “How come I never see you drink anything harder?”

              Her face fell a little but picked right back up. No one would have noticed it but me. “I’ve never had good luck with alcohol,” she admitted a bit sadly.

              Vi was quick enough to recognize something there that didn’t want to be said and let it go with a nod, handing over the water without another word.

              “Vi!” someone else called out, and she walked their direction.

              The girl took a long drink from her water and set it down, turning toward the crowd and surveying the dancers. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, some private joke she shared with herself.

I looked on her for a long time. Long enough for my heart to calm itself. Long enough to struggle with myself in an internal argument. Finally, I decided I wasn’t watching her because I found her attractive, though I knew she was. Only that I was wondering what she was doing there.

              She turned around in her seat after catching her breath and glanced at me. For a moment I believed she didn’t recognize me, but I was wrong. A second scan confirmed it for her. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes.
Shit
.

              “
Ethan?
” she asked. “Is that
you?
”

              “Hello, Finley,” I answered.

              “How are you?” she asked, somehow devoid of the pity I’d often heard in so many greetings since Cricket. I was grateful to her for this.

              “I’m fine,” I slurred, lifting my head a bit to meet her eyes.

              A grin met her lips. “You were always a terrible liar.” Her smile fell a little. “What are you doing here?”

              “I’m drinking.”

              She narrowed her eyes. “You hate drinking.”

              “I learned to love it,” I said, downing the remaining contents of my glass, letting it burn.

              She looked me up and down, making me feel self-conscious. “But apparently it doesn’t love you.”

              “Thanks,” I snorted, acting like I didn’t care. But I did.

              “You look terrible,” she said, ignoring me. “Are you even eating?”

              “I’m consuming the daily recommended calorie intake,” I hedged.

              “Ah,” she answered, examining my empty glass.

I shook my head and signaled to Vi for another.

              Finley narrowed her eyes once more. “Can I get a basket of chicken tenders too, Vi?” she added.

              “Sure thing,” she said, ringing up Finley’s food before grabbing the bottle of Jack and filling me to the top.

              Finley examined my glass but didn’t say a word.

              “What?” I asked, feeling defensive.

              “Nothing,” she answered, looking at her hands.

              “Judging me?”

              “Not at all,” she said and looked me dead in the eye.

This look froze me, and the glass slipped from my fingers and back onto the bar top, spilling a little from the rim.

              “I’ve done that very thing,” she said, gesturing toward my glass.

              “Drink ’til you’re numb?”

              “No,” she said, “succumb to a vice in order to forget.”

I leaned forward, stunned by this admission, and my eyes found hers. “What, Finley?”

She hesitated, started to open her mouth, but someone called her name and she turned around. It was an ex-classmate of ours, couldn’t remember her name, the one she’d been dancing with, and I found myself feeling anxious all of a sudden. I hadn’t felt anxious in a long time. Hadn’t felt anything, really, other than severe pain and shame, in a very long time.
Huh
.

“Finley, Chris is gonna give me a ride back home. You cool?” the girl asked, eyeing me. She knew. The whole town knew about my tumble down the rabbit hole.

“Yeah, Holly Raye. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she answered, her brows scrunched in confusion.

Finley was surprised by Holly Raye’s apparent worry which I found odd.

              “Okay,” Holly Raye said, kissing Finley’s cheek.

Chris was waiting by the door for her, and we both watched them leave, afraid to speak, our earlier moment gone.

              Vi walked up with Finley’s chicken tenders and set them in front of her. Her fingers found one but lifted up quickly with a tiny gasp.

              “Hot,” she whispered, resting her fingers against the side of her water glass.

              She let them cool for a few moments and we sat in awkward silence. I wasn’t sure what she was still doing there. I didn’t have any clue why she had even started to talk to me either. I mean, I knew in high school she’d had a crush on me, but I figured it was long gone. She used to stare at me a little doe eyed, and I had always done my best to be kind to her but not too kind. I’d considered her a friend but nothing more, even if I did take solace in my conversations with her. I’d never admitted that to anyone then, though, not that I was ashamed or anything. It’s just, I was in love with Cricket.

             
Cricket.

              The ache in my chest burned deep, a restless reminder of all I’d lost. And suddenly I felt guilty for finding Finley attractive even when I thought she was a stranger. Even after Cricket left me for Spencer.