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“Excuse me.” My mouth works before my brain does.
Both women turn to look at me.
“I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but would you two happen to know a woman named Dillion?”
Woman One’s eyes narrow. “What’s it to ya?”
“I’m her neighbor.”
That gets me some more raised eyebrows. “You have a place on the south side?”
“My grammy did. Grandma, I mean. Bee Firestone.”
“You’re Bee Firestone’s grandson?” Woman One seems to be the talker of the two. This gets me another head-to-waist visual inspection.
“Yeah. She gave me the cottage. So I’m living there now. Next door to Dillion. Who everyone apparently calls Darlin’ for whatever reason. There isn’t even an r in Dillion, so I don’t get how that even happens.”
Woman Two laughs, big and loud.
“Why is that funny?”
They look at each other. “Because Dillion is nobody’s darling.”
“And that’s funny?”
“Look, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Dillion was always determined to get her ass out of here, and she did. Worked hard to do it too,” Woman One says, slightly defensively.
“When you come from a place like this, you can try to fly all you want, but your roots always bring you back,” Woman Two says.
They clink their glasses and take another drink.
“Right. Of course.” But I don’t really get what they mean, because I’ve never lived here. Sure, I’m happy to be back, in part because it reminds me of good times and Grammy Bee, but also because it means escaping Chicago and all the crap that’s currently going down as a result of the missing money.
I don’t know what it’s like to come from a small town. I only know what it’s like to visit one. But I guess I’m learning, because here I am, sitting in the local bar, not fitting in because I’m from the city, when really, the only place I’ve ever felt comfortable is where I am right now. Not the bar, but Grammy Bee’s.
I keep sipping my drink, listening to the two women whisper-gossip about everyone in town. Apparently Tucker the Fucker has earned that title. It’s amazing how much everyone is up in everyone else’s business.
“Oh hell.” Woman One nudges Woman Two. “Speak of the devil.”
I follow their gaze across the bar. Leaning against the wall near the pool tables is Dillion’s brother.
“Has he lost weight? He looks thinner, doesn’t he?” Woman Two observes.
“Mmm. He was always lean, like a runner, but I don’t know—he’s not looking good these days.”
“Too bad, really. He’s a good-looking guy, but a real mess.”
“Didn’t Sadie McAlister go out with him for a while?”
“That’s right. I heard he got her pregnant, but she miscarried.”
“He’s had a rough go of things, eh? Makes you wonder if some of his sister’s shine is eventually going to rub off on him one of these days. Lord knows he could use it.”
They sigh and sip their beers.
I sit there for a while, listening as their conversation veers away from Dillion’s brother. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, living in a place where everyone knows about the mistakes you’ve made. It would make it impossible to live things down, or hide who you are. I watch Billy pound beer after beer. It’s not my place to intervene, especially since he doesn’t even know me.
A guy with a full-sleeved tattoo takes the seat beside mine—it’s the only empty one left—and the bartender nods to him. “The usual, Aaron?”
“You got it.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, sets it on the bar in front of him, and then turns to give me a nod. “You’re new around here, yeah?”
“That obvious, huh?”
He cracks a smile. “Everyone knows everyone. You’re familiar but not known, if you know what I mean.” He holds out his hand. “Aaron Saunders. I’m a local.”
“Van Firestone. I’m staying at Bee Firestone’s place.”
His grin widens. “You’re the grandson. The one she left the cottage to.”
If I was in Chicago, this conversation would be unnerving, but I’m finally figuring out small-town life. People knowing things about you is not weird here. “Uh, yup. That’s me.”
“You’re driving my friend Dillion up the wall these days.”
“You’re friends with Dillion?” I want to ask what kind of friend, but I bite back the question.
“I work with her, for her dad’s construction company.” He flips open his wallet and pulls out a ten-dollar bill. “She seems to think you’re working on Bee’s place for no reason, since you plan to sell. Or build or whatever. Gotta say, not much rattles Dee, but you sure seem to.”
“A lot of people think I’m planning to do a lot of things with Bee’s place, none of them accurate.” I kind of like the fact that I get under her skin enough that she’s talked to this guy about me.
The bartender returns with Aaron’s drink. At first I think it’s a Guinness with an excessive amount of head. But I realize it’s ice cream floating in a glass of root beer. Aaron tips his head in the direction of Dillion’s brother. “Can you do me a favor and pour me a pint of the near-beer stuff for Billy? I don’t think he needs to drink any more, judging from the state of him.”
