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SITTING AT A ROUND table, among a crowd of the usual Critter drunks, Lola took a sip of her pink and orange cocktail. She inclined her head at the door where Ajay had just chased after Emily. "What's the deal? They a thing?"
Brook downed the last of her draft beer. "I don't know but I'm not one for drama."
Lola glanced at her phone. "I got to go. I have an early class."
"I'll buy tonight. You bought last time."
Lola waved and headed toward the door.
The night air was especially humid. Lola heaved a sigh as she spotted her car that was clear across the damn parking lot. Was easy to spot since it was the only car in the vicinity.
She'd counted herself lucky, though, to even get a spot in the lot. Oftentimes, Critter's parking lot would fill early in the evening and late-comers would half to park at the First Baptist church across the way.
At least, she didn't have to walk all that way. One silver lining.
As she neared her car, she fumbled in her purse for her keys. A click of the fob.
Beep.
Doors unlocked.
She opened the door, sat behind the wheel and started the car.
Shifted to gear.
Eased down the gas pedal.
The car rolled forward and stalled, which was weird because the car wasn't a year old. She turned the key again. The engine never turned over.
"Great." She tapped her forehead on the steering wheel. Closed her eyes. Held her breath. And turned the key.
Engine clicked but never sparked.
Dead.
The driver's door flew open.
Lola audibly gasped. Jumped. Turned to look.
And saw a tall blond man with a cupcake in his hand.
"My Sweet."
––––––––
EMILY'S PARENTS WERE sitting in the living room watching TV when Emily burst through the front door, her face puffy, red and swollen.
Sean rushed to the foyer. He gripped his daughter by the shoulders, looked into her weepy face. "What!"
"Daddy." Emily circled her arms around her father's waist and buried her swollen face against his chest.
His hand ran down the back of her head. "Sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong."
Gail approached. "Let me handle this one."
"The hell I will." He pushed her to arm's length and looked down at her. "Just a need a name."
"Oh good heavens." Gail snatched Emily's hand. She glared at her husband. "I said, I got this."
"You sure?"
"Yes. Now go."
Gail led her up the stairs and into her daughter's bedroom. She sat beside her on the bed, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Is this about a man?"
Emily nodded.
"Want to talk about it?"
Emily shook her head.
Gail scooted back on the bed until she was against the headboard. Emily laid across her mother's lap, the side of her face on her mother's midsection.
She cried.
Cried some more.
And Gail held her baby girl, sliding her fingers through her long brunette hair. "They'll be other men."
With the back of her hand, Emily wiped her runny nose. "I don't know why I'm so upset. It's stupid."
"You liked him?"
Emily hiccuped. "Yeah. I guess. I mean, no! We weren't even a thing. Well, we went on one date, hardly a whirlwind romance."
"I see."
"He isn't the man I thought he was."
"Ah huh."
"I thought . . . I don't what I thought."
And with that, Emily buried her face, once again, in her mother's lap.
And cried.
And cried.
And cried.
About an hour later, Emily's sobs finally fell silent. Gently, Gail slid from under her daughter. She slid a pillow under head and pulled the comforter over her curled body.
She kissed her daughter on the forehead before tiptoeing across the bedroom. With ease, she twisted the door handle and opened the door. She stepped into the hall. Slowly, quietly, she closed her daughter's bedroom door.
As she made her way down the hall, she felt herself smile.
Her daughter was in love. Heartbroken, but in love.
Bittersweet.
Wasn't too long ago when Gail had her doubts as to whether Emily would even live long enough to fall in love.
She turned into her own bedroom to find Sean on the bed.
He pointed the remote at the television and shut it off. "Well?"
"You're gonna have to trust me to handle this one."
"I'm her father and I demand to know who or what brought my little girl to hysterics."
Gail kicked off her slippers, climbed under the covers and switched off the lamp. "Goodnight." She turned on her side and closed her eyes.
"Gail?"
"She has a broken heart."
"Well, what's the son of a bitch's name? Does he work at the restaurant?"
"Let it go. This is a part of her life you can't control."
"Watch me."
"You can't go around shooting everyone who break's her heart."
With a huff, Sean turned onto his side and dropped his head on the pillow. "Maybe I can't kill the son of a bitch but I can make him wish he never set eyes on my daughter."
"Go to sleep."
Sean adjusted his pillow. "He best never set foot in this house."
"Yes dear."
"Never."