Rapids Bay is not a big town. There is one main drag down the center where all the businesses seem to have congregated, then the standard neighborhoods, schools, and whatever else you would expect to see in the classic Midwest town before civilization all but ends and farm land takes over to the south and woods to the north. The town is bracketed by the Mississippi on one side and the highway on the other. It’s not as small as some little drive-through farming communities I saw on the drive from the airport; there is enough to make it feel livable without being overly isolating, but it's still a significant culture shock for someone used to the insanity of San Francisco like I am. I thought banjos were preceded strictly in the south, but damn if I don't look for one to pop up here as well.
Even so, with the limited options in a town like this, you wouldn’t think I would have such a hard time deciding where to go or what to do. In the week I have been here, Aiden and I haven’t done much more than waste time around the hotel room and living off the extremely small selection of take out available around here. He was too busy with work to want to ever leave the room, and any time I went to explore on my own, he threw a hissy fit about how he had a plan for us, and my leaving was screwing it up. So being the doormat I somehow had turned into, I stayed and watched crappy cable, read, or watched him pace in the little room yelling at whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the calls he was on from sunup to sundown.
Seriously. How the hell did I stay with him for so long? That meek little mouse, the shy and retiring woman, is not me, not in the least. The dick wasn’t even that good. I can’t for the life of me figure out what I ever saw in him or what made me stay. Other than I just got comfortable and lazy. Leaving felt like work, and why mess with a comfortable life if I didn’t have to? Plus, that's supposed to be the plan for this stage of my life, right? Start finding someone to settle down with, pop out babies, ugh gross. When did I become Betty fucking Crocker? No, just no.
God, even thinking about it now makes my skin crawl.
It’s time to move on and become the Sloan I used to be, the Sloan I want to be again. And I can start out by exploring the town.
After dealing with the misogynist from hell and the douche canoe ex, I am in desperate need of a pick me up. It’s not even noon yet, and I don’t think the new stranger in town day drinking is a great look… so coffee it is. I think I saw a coffee shop on the corner up the road.
The building I inherited from my dear old uncle… shit. What was his name again? I really feel like I should remember that. But yeah, the building I inherited, along with the old depot next to it, sits at the end of a long stretch of road that climbs up a gentle hill before branching off onto the other major roads of the town. I have to admit, the little downtown area on this side of the hill is freaking adorable. Once you get past the depot, which I know is some kind of business now but can’t for the life of me figure out what it is, both sides of the wide street are lined with cute little two-story brick buildings, giving it the classic ‘Main Street U.S.A’ vibe.
Deciding standing on the sidewalk staring off into the middle distance as I have an argument with myself isn’t a great look for the new girl either, I make my way around to the coffee shop. Before I can pass the depot, someone steps out a side entrance and directly into my path, sending me stumbling back to avoid getting a face full of metal door. With a curse, I attempt to regain my footing, but I must catch my heel on an uneven piece of sidewalk or something because I feel myself going down. Just fucking great. How is this my life? I’m about to break my ass after dealing with the pain that's been there for years. Damn, my karma should be off the charts for good, seeing how long I dealt with Aiden. Karma, thy name is bitch, and she hath a hold on me.
Before I can land on my ass, a strong arm snakes around my waist and pulls me against a warm, hard body, saving me from a bruised tailbone. Though honestly, when I look up and see who caught me, I don’t know if a bruised tailbone would have been better than the utter embarrassment I’m feeling now as I stare up into the most captivating set of dark eyes I have ever seen.
I must have been caught up in those eyes for too long, because a devastating smirk tugs at the corner of my savior’s lips. That move and the little chuckle I hear rumble in his chest is enough to break whatever spell I fell under at his touch. I shake free of his hold, stepping back and running a hand over my hair self-consciously. His hand slides from around my shoulders and trails down my arm, settling around my wrist.
“Chicks are always falling for me but that’s the fastest I’ve seen yet,” he says, that smirk turning into something entirely too self-satisfied.
Gross.
“Heh, not on your life, buddy, be sure to give those poor things my regards,” I say, trying and failing to hold back a snarl of feminist disgust at that line. I tug my wrist from his hold, and he tightens his grip momentarily, that damn smirk only getting more oily. I tug again, and this time, he lets go, but I overcorrect the sudden change and end up on my ass.
“Ow, dammit!” I say, this time not even bothering to hold back the venom in my tone.
“Hey, I was gonna make that ass hurt either way.”
“Do you hear yourself when you talk?” Seriously, who says shit like that? Nothing like a shitty personality to take someone from Hot to Not in two point five seconds flat.
“Yeah, your mom did last night,” the asshole says with a wink. A freakin’ wink. There is no way this guy is for real. No one is this unaware, are they?
This is clearly not my day when it comes to the male portion of our society. As if the old misogynistic inspector and my douche canoe of an ex weren’t enough… this guy is just the asshole icing on the dick cake no one ordered.
With a huff, I crawl to my feet, wiping the dust off my jeans, and brush past him without sparing him another glance. “The 90s called and want their joke back, bro,” I call over my shoulder, throwing up deuces as I pass and continue on my way to the coffee shop.
As I keep walking, I refuse to look back or spare another thought for the dude-bro, but I can’t help looking around surreptitiously for hidden cameras or something; the only rational explanation for today is that Ashton Kutcher is about to pop out from around a corner with a trucker cap on and scream I’ve been Punk’d. Seriously, that is the only explanation.
I hear a booming laugh echo behind me, but thankfully no other horrible attempts at pickup lines or, god forbid, footsteps follow me. I am so ready for that coffee, though now I wish I could get it with a shot… or three… of something much stronger.
When the coffee shop's heavy, antique-looking door closes behind me, I can’t help the sigh of relief and contentment that puffs from me. This place feels like home. It’s a quirky, comforting mix of old and new, comfortable and weird. One wall is taken up by a long, well-loved wood bar top that looks original to the building with its worn dark stain, ornate carving down the sides, and brass foot rail along the bottom. The opposite wall has mismatched tables, chairs, and couches along the exposed brick. Everything from the rugs on the worn wood floors to the lighting is a mashup of styles, textures, and ages, giving the whole place a warm, inviting vibe that I instantly fall in love with.
“Ah! The elusive new girl finally emerges!” a deep voice calls from somewhere ahead of me and I quickly look to find the source. Do they mean me? A handful of patrons are scattered around the various seating areas, but no one else seems as out of place as I feel now.
My attention snags on the mountain of a man behind the counter, staring directly at me with a broad grin. As if his considerable height, at least 6’3 or 6'4, wasn’t enough to be imposing, he is sporting one of the most impressive ginger beards I have seen outside Game of Thrones. Come to think of it, he looks like… damn, what was his name again?
“Tormund!” I blurt entirely too loud. The giant behind the bar throws back his head and laughs, the sound easily filling the space. Honestly, with his head thrown back and hands on his hips like that, it only reinforces the resemblance to the ginger wildling.
“Oh, I like you already!” he says with a smile once his laughter dies down. “What can I get you, new girl?”
I cringe slightly at the name. “That really what we are going with?” I ask as I take the final few steps up to the bar.
“What, not a fan of the TV show? Alrighty then. I’ll think of something better. Until then, how about your real name at least?”
“Alfie, leave the poor girl alone. The last thing she needs is you scaring her off,” a feminine voice calls from behind a hidden doorway to what I can only assume is storage or something. The sound of footsteps on stairs is quickly followed by the appearance of a woman I would guess is about my same age, with a bright smile and a riot of brown curls.
“Oh, he wasn’t scaring me off. Takes more than that to send me running. If everything else I’ve been through this morning hasn’t sent me running for the hills, I’m not sure much could at this point,” I say with a rueful smile.
“Well, that just won’t do. Alfie, make the woman a Pure Bliss,” the woman directs to the Tormund look-a-like before turning back to me with a soft smile. “On the house. Gotta do what we can to keep the new blood around!”
“Thank you. You really don’t have to do that. Not sure what a Pure Bliss is, but I’ll take it with an extra shot…. Bonus if that shot is booze,” I say with a chuckle, only partly joking.
Both of them laugh as the guy, Alphie, gets to work. “Sorry, nothing stronger than espresso here. Gotta head back down the hill to the Spirit of Hops for that. Name’s Anya, by the way, and that’s Alfie,” she says, nodding toward him.
“Sloan. Nice to meet you,” I offer with a genuine smile. Maybe this town isn’t all ridiculous assholes after all.
“So, Sloan, what’s your story? All anyone knows is you are some long-lost relative of Old Wayne.”
“Wait, you even know that much?” I ask, surprised. Also, I’m a little ashamed I didn’t know his first name was Wayne until now. All the lawyer said was, ‘Mr. Kennedy,’ which makes me feel shitty.
“It’s a small town, hun. Everyone knows everyone around here, and I own the only coffee shop in town. If anyone knows anything, it’s the old ladies who meet here every morning after water aerobics at the community center to gossip… entirely too loudly, so anything they know, I know, whether or not I care to.”
I can’t help but laugh along with Anya’s rueful chuckle. “Wow, so the stereotypes aren’t all that far off, are they? Small towns really are… small.”
“Everyone is in everyone’s business, can’t be helped. Take it you aren’t from somewhere like that, are ya?” Anya asks.
“Not even close. First Seattle, then San Francisco for the last few years. This might as well be a different planet compared to what I’m used to. Oh, shit… no offense,” I wince.
“None taken, hun! I grew up in LA, so I know what you mean better than most. It’s a different planet and a whole other breed of people up here. But don’t worry, you will settle in just fine before too long.”
That surprises me. “LA? Really? I never would have guessed you weren’t a local.”
“Oh no, Anya here waltzed into town with that same dazed and confused look you’ve got goin' on, and I mean that in the best way possible. You big city folks just don’t know how to handle us small-towners… especially small Midwest towns. Pretty sure you California types think of us like simpletons, again, said only with love,” Alfie explains, and I know I should be offended, but his easy smile and bright eyes are making it damn near impossible to be mad at him. “But like I was saying, Anya waltzed in a few years ago for, what was it again?” he directs his question to Anya as he expertly pulls an espresso shot for my drink.
“Dance competition at the local college,” she provides.
“There’s a college here?” I blurt.
“Yep, not nearly as small a town as they all want outsiders to believe. It’s got the vibe, but not the size,” she says with a wink.
“As I was saying…” Alfie cuts in, drawing our attention again. “She came up for the competition and just… never left. We won her over with our midwestern manners and charm.”
“More like the college offered me a job and the rent here is laughable compared to back in LA,” Anya says out the side of her mouth toward me.
“MANNERS AND CHARM,” Alfie calls over the sound of the steamer, making us both laugh.
“He’s not wrong, though. I was a dancer most of my life, went to school for it, then an injury sidelined me while in college. After that, I started teaching, came up here for a competition, and the college offered me a position teaching a couple of classes and coaching the dance line. I didn’t have much tying me down back in LA and I had been staring down the wrong end of my twenties, so I figured if there was ever a time to make a change, that was it.”
“So how did you go from teaching and coaching to owning a coffee shop?” I can’t help but ask.
“I still coach, and I love my girls for sure, but I had never really loved teaching, and after a couple of semesters at the college, I realized it just wasn’t for me. I was in here one afternoon chatting with the previous owner when he mentioned he probably had to close by the end of the year. He was getting up there in age and didn’t have the energy or will to keep it going how it deserved. I had some savings, so I made him an offer there on the spot. Honestly, I can’t tell you how little thought I put into that decision, but it was the best I’ve ever made. He took me up on my offer, and the rest is history. That was five years ago, and I’ve never regretted it a single day.”
“That’s amazing! And you don’t miss the city at all?”
“Honestly? Not at all. But if I ever get the itch for that energy, the Twin Cities are only about an hour and a half away. Minneapolis has an awesome vibe and a great theater scene, if that’s your thing. Super easy to get your fix for a weekend before coming back to the real world up here again.”
I can’t deny the appeal of what she’s describing. I have never felt the desire or need to live anywhere but the city, but I feel a solid connection to Anya and her story. Maybe I see more of myself in her than I am fully ready to admit to at this moment.
“So you stayed and kept the coffee shop going, and what, fell in love with Tormund over there?” I ask, only half teasing. The banter and energy between those two is infectious. My question makes both of them burst out laughing though, to the point he almost spills my drink.
“That big lug? Not a chance. He’s like a brother or annoying cousin you can’t get to go away,” Anya says, with not a small amount of affection coloring her tone. I don’t miss the flash of something crossing Alfie’s expression. I can’t quite place what it is exactly, but something tells me he isn’t a fan of that brother title.
“Enough about us. What’s your story?” he asks, finally passing me my drink. I get the distinct impression he’s changing the subject. Interesting.
“Not much to tell. I’ve been in San Francisco pretty much since college. Two weeks ago, I got a call that an uncle I didn’t even know had died and left me something in his will and that I had to come out here to claim it. So I hopped on a plane, met with the lawyer, and now I guess I am the proud owner of that building at the bottom of the hill that I have absolutely zero idea what to do with.” I’m sure I sound more jaded and bitter than I intend, but after the last few days, I can’t seem to help it.
“Can’t say it wasn’t a surprise to hear Wayne had left the place to someone. As far as I know, no one even knew he had any family to speak of,” Anya says with a slight frown.
“Yeah, I guess he was my mom's estranged, much older brother. The lawyer didn’t have much information to give me other than I had been called out by name in the will, so he must have known about me to some extent.”
“Interesting. Well, Wayne loved that place. His bar was his baby until he got sick and couldn’t handle it anymore,” Alfie says.
“Sick? The lawyer didn’t even tell me how he died. Honestly, I didn’t even know his name was Wayne until you guys mentioned it. All I had to go on was, ‘Mr. Kennedy,’ and the slight relation to a mother I haven’t seen in almost fifteen years.” Okay, now THAT was bitter. Oops.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t know him very well. He had already closed the bar by the time I came around, but I’ve heard so many stories. Everyone in this town loved him. He was born and raised a couple of towns over, I think. I hadn’t heard about a sister, but that’s not saying much.”
“He was the best. I grew up down the street from him, and he was always egging us delinquents on when we started stirring up shit around town,” Alfie says, looking proud of his younger self. “He was causing trouble right until the end there. Early onset dementia knocked him out of commission about ten years ago, and from what I heard, he was still raising hell in the nursing home until he passed.” The soft look in Alfie’s eyes is enough to get me choked up.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I had no idea…” I trail off, not sure what else to say. The mix of emotion running through me is all a little too much to process right now. I’m sad and upset I missed out on knowing the man Alfie speaks so highly of, especially when all I have wanted since my mother always made it perfectly clear I wasn’t wanted and never lifted a finger to do anything to take care of me, is a family, some kind of connection to another person. I’m jealous that people that have no blood relation to him at all feel that strongly about him and have those connections, and I’m bitter once again at my flake of a mother.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes and my throat closes up with emotion. I can’t do this right now. Not today, not after everything else that’s happened this morning. I make my excuses as politely as possible, but I all but flee from the coffee shop like my heels are on fire.
When I hit the sidewalk, I’m unsure where to go. I need to get out of the public eye. I can feel a breakdown coming on and the last thing I need is the town gossip tomorrow to center on the crazy new girl ugly crying in the middle of town. Looking back down the hill, thinking maybe I could go sit inside the building for a while, I see the asshole from earlier pacing out front like a crazy person. I can’t tell if he’s on the phone or talking to himself, but either way, I want nothing to do with that mess. That’s when I realize Aiden had taken the car, my only form of transportation, when he threw his hissy fit earlier. Awesome. Looks like I’m walking back to the hotel on the outskirts of town by the highway. Because of course, today only gets better and better.