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Julia, the woman from Satin Novelties, saw me at the same moment I spotted her.
“Jessica! Hey!” She waved me over, a big smile on her face. She had an empty chair at her table and she motioned to it. “Need a seat? I promise I won’t talk your ear off. I can’t believe how busy it is here today.”
I accepted gratefully, taking the chair across from her. She was halfway through a sandwich and a coffee, an open textbook in front of her and a notebook under her right hand.
I was hesitant to reconnect with anyone from high school at this point. But Julia and I had been in different grades and in entirely different circles. She’d seemed nice enough at the shop,so maybe I could risk getting to know her better.
“What are you studying?” I said, trying to read her massive book upside down. There were some complicated diagrams that looked like organs.
“Human Physiology,” she said, sighing heavily. “I’m a nursing student. As much as I love selling porn and dildos, it doesn’t pay quite enough to live on. Did you already graduate?”
She spoke loudly, without a care about who heard her. Some folks sitting beside us shot her a dirty look, but she brushed her hair over her shoulder and paid them no mind.
“Yeah, I graduated in June,” I said. “Architectural Design.”
“Oooh, so you’re like, artsyandmathematically inclined,” she said. “Are you going to design skyscrapers? Will you build the next Burj Khalifa?”
I laughed. “Damn, wouldn’t that be a dream? Actually, I’m more interested in designing houses. Especially restoring older homes.”
“You must love what Lucas and the guys have been doing with their old house, then,” she said, leaning forward in her seat. “I’ve only seen it a couple times, but damn, I remember what it looked like before.” She grimaced. “I’m pretty sure it was almost condemned when they got it.”
“I believe it,” I said. “I think that old place could be really beautiful. It seems like they’re putting in a lot of work.”
“Sooo, how are you and Vincent?” she said. “Or you and…the guys…all of them.” She laughed awkwardly. “I never really know how to ask. Sorry.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Wait, you know about all that? About them sharing with each other?”
“Oh, yeah.” She waved her hand as if it was old news. “They’ve always had their own unit going on, as long as I’ve known them. Lucas has always been open about it, being polyamorous and all that. I think it’s cool. Love should be free and ethical, in myopinion.”
“Do they date much? I mean, have you ever seen them try to bring anyone else in?” It was a question I probably could have asked of them directly, but it felt like demanding information I didn’t have a right to. After all, we weren’t dating…technically.
That technicality was hanging by an increasingly thinning thread.
Julia screwed up her face in thought. “Not really. There was a girl last year, but she didn’t stick around very long. And there was a guy the year before that, but the same thing. Didn’t stick around. They keep to themselves, but I don’t blame them. People around here aren’t very open-minded.” She leaned even closer, lowering her voice. “When Satin Novelties opened, people literally stood outside with picket signs. Like they thought we were corrupting the town or something.”
She was easy to talk to and quick to laugh. No matter what topic we switched to, she never skipped a beat and I never heard a negative word from her mouth about anybody. It felt like hardly any time had passed as we finished our food.
“Here’s my number,” she said, handing me a folded sticky note. “If you ever want to hang out or grab breakfast, shoot me a text. I’m not really into jogging, but I love a good hike. We should go together sometime.”
I was still smiling as I took my plate and cup back inside, dropping it off at the counter before I left. Julia seemed like a genuinely kind person, not like she was simply putting on an act or trying to get on my good side. When she asked questions, she acted sincerely interested. It still stunned me that the whole reason she knew the boys was because she’d managed to get on Lucas’s good side.
I hadn’t even realized how desperately I’d needed this. Just some time to decompress, and genuine conversations with women who weren’t eager to stab me in the back the second theygot the chance.
I’d only just made it out the door to head home when I ran smack into someone coming in the opposite direction.
“Oh! Excuse me, sir, sorry,” I apologized hurriedly to the man I’d bumped into, edging around him on the sidewalk. But then I lifted my eyes, looking at him for the first time, and a flood of ice-cold fear washed through my veins.
He was in his fifties, at least. Tall and skinny, a tattered t-shirt and jeans hung loosely from his frame. His hair was grown out, streaked with gray, shiny with grease. His hollow cheekbones and dark eyes were far too familiar.
It was Reagan Reed. Manson’s father.
I stuttered for a moment, my mouth gaping at him, before I hurriedly tried to turn away. But he grabbed my arm, yanking me back toward him so hard that I gasped. His hold was like a vice, and I could smell alcohol and cigarettes on his breath.
But as quickly as he grabbed me, he let go.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. I mistook you for someone else.” It sounded as if he’d been gargling with rocks. “You’ll have to forgive an old man for his poor eyesight.”
“Oh, yeah…sure,” I said, rubbing my arm where he’d gripped me. Was I supposed to run? Stay? Call for help? Did Ineedhelp? Vincent had said Reagan “freaked him out,” and I knew he’d been abusive toward his wife and son, but he was an old man now, thin and frail looking.
