“I don’t make deals with the devil.”
“Fair enough,” she says, with a strangely shy smirk. “I’m envious.”
I sit up straighter. “Of me?”
“Of you and Roy…”
She pauses, as if waiting for me to react, but I don’t. Externally, at least. Inside, I love that Blanche is jealous of something I have, ’specially something she’s never taken seriously.
“It’s just that…” she continues, navigating Big Bertha ’round a bend. “Well, Buck is amazing. I’ve been fighting it, but I could see us one day getting … hitched.” She forces the word out, sheepishly glancing at me.
Blanche Caldwell has my full attention.
“Stop that,” she says.
“Stop what?” I ask.
“Looking at me like you’ve just seen a unicorn.” She takes a deep breath. “Anyway, like I said, I’m envious ’cause I wish me and Buck was like you and Roy. I wish Buck was my first and only boyfriend. Kind of like a tooth.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got the same teeth your whole life.”
“Huh?”
We bounce over the tracks into Cement City.
“We’re not sharks, Bonn, that loses one and grows another.”
She says it as if the concept is obvious, which it ain’t. It never is with Blanche.
“What ’bout baby teeth?” I ask.
“I reckon I forgot those existed.” She laughs, then her face lights up. “Aha! All those other boys were simply my baby teeth. So they don’t count. Buck is my adult tooth.”
“But we have like thirty-some adult teeth.”
Blanche growls and slows Big Bertha as we approach my house. “Stop poking holes in my tooth analogy, will ya? I’m all balled up now.”
I laugh. “So what you’re sayin’ is that Buck is important to you and the rumors are takin’ away from that?”
“We ain’t sharing him.”
Blanche’s voice is so serious I almost raise my hands defensively. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”
“I think you should tell Roy ’bout Doc’s.” She glances over at me, as if she wants to make sure I’m listening. “It’s only a matter of time before he finds out for himself, and it’d be best if it came from you. Besides, I could see him liking it there.”
“I don’t know,” I say, and I mean it. Before, I was ready to share that world with him, also believing he might enjoy Doc’s. But now there’s this Henry-sized fear standing in the way.
“Think ’bout it. In the meantime—and I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this—don’t do anything stupid to mess things up with Roy. The gossip mill would love that.”
I mumble some type of reassurance as I get out of Big Bertha, then race inside my house, as if it’s a safe haven, as if I’m running away from the memory of Henry’s body pressed against mine, the shelves digging into my back, the feel of his lips on mine.
15
As the days go by, the gossip escalates. Both Roy’s skepticism and Blanche’s annoyance escalate right alongside it. But, being Blanche is louder, her worries are front and center, and she’s hounding me on a daily basis ’bout finally telling Roy ’bout my flapper alter ego.
Tonight’s the first night all week that she hasn’t uttered a word ’bout it. I’d almost rather she would. Her yammering serves one good: it keeps my mind off my ma.
Blanche pours a drink, slides it to Mr. Champagne Cocktail, looking quite pleased with herself. Nothin’ new there.
“Hey,” she says, her voice seeming hesitant, “ain’t that the boy who followed you out of the back room? Haven’t seen him since then.”
Henry and I lock eyes, and a blast of heat courses through my body. He smiles wickedly at me.
“I think so.”
He turns away, strides ’cross the room, shaking hands, patting shoulders, throwing back his head in laughter.
“Bonn,” Blanche says, “you never told me why he was back there with you.”
I bite my lip and drop beneath the bar to get a new bottle of whiskey. When I stand, I come clean to Blanche as fast as possible. “I made a mistake, let him kiss me.”
“You let him?”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t stop him.”
Blanche shakes her head. “And now,” she says, slowly, “we’re in this predicament.”
“It’s fine. Henry is fine. It’s no big deal he’s here.”
“Yeah,” she says, drawing out the word. “Why don’t I have Raymond ask him to leave?”
“God, no. That’s so embarrassing. It’s fine.” I give Blanche a pointed look when she opens her mouth, and say, “Really.”
Blanche doesn’t look convinced, and I ain’t too sure, either. I discreetly watch Henry as the night wears on, hating that I do. Eventually, he swaggers toward the bar, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m okay,” I whisper to Blanche.
She taps her fingers against a bottle, as if she’s deliberating, but eventually she curses and turns to Mr. Champagne Cocktail to see if he’d like another drink.
“Hi, Bonnelyn.” Henry casually slings his jacket atop the bar. “Miss me?”
“It’s been a while,” I say, and wipe down a spot on the bar that ain’t even wet.
He smiles. “I’ll take a drink. And, another kiss.”
I reach for a glass and steel my nerves at seeing him again. “I can get you that drink, but I’m afraid there won’t be another kiss.”
“Aw, Bonnelyn, I do recall you kissing me back.” He flashes a smile. “Don’t punish me for being away for so long.”
“I’m not. Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“’Cause of your boyfriend fiancé?”
Hearing Henry acknowledge Roy turns my stomach.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Henry adds.
And that comment toughens my resolve. “Sorry, Henry, bank’s closed.”
“You’re kidding, right?” His demeanor shifts, hardens. “You’re going to tell me no?”
His name may be Henry but his narrowed eyes are nothin’ like my daddy’s. My daddy’s eyes were never cruel.
“Sweetie,” he goes on, his voice patronizing, “girls like you are a dime a dozen.”
I clench the glass. “I reckon it’s time you’re on your way then. Like I said, you ain’t going to get another kiss from me.”
Henry turns, leaves, goes straight for the door.
I let out a breath and put Henry’s empty glass back, my hand not quite steady.
Blanche is immediately at my side. “Real glad to see he’s gone.”
“Yeah.” I exhale.
“Don’t worry ’bout him. Henry’s on his way out. Things with Roy and you are good. Buck and I are good. All is good. Who knows, maybe things are ’bout to get even better.”
“Yeah?” I drop my hand to the bar, right atop Henry’s jacket. “Ah, shoot. He forgot his coat.”
Blanche rips it from my hands. “I can take care of that for ya.”
“I’d feel better returning it now.” I move to take the jacket from Blanche, but she holds on. “I know what I’m doing, Blanche. This way, he doesn’t have a reason to come back.”
I yank the coat free.
“Bonn—”
I’m ducking under the bar’s partition before Blanche can say another word.
This chapter of my life, I just want it to end. No loose ends, or jackets.