Never Been Kissed (16 page)

“What are we doing?”

“Getting some food, you can stay in the truck,” he told her, turning off the car and popping open his door. But of course her door popped open too and she was carefully sliding herself out.

It wasn’t his job to yell at her, to show her the dangers. So he bit his tongue and shoved his keys in his pocket.

The bell over the door rang out as he stepped in and then turned, holding the door open for Ashley.
Christ,
he thought, looking at her face with new eyes, she looked rough. He took off his glasses and handed them to her.

“Put these on,” he said.

She did what he asked without comment. Going through the airport she’d been in a daze. This was the first time she was totally cognizant of being out in public. And people were staring.

“Well, will you look what the wind blew in,” a voice rang out and Brody turned, a smile on his face, to find Cora behind the cash register.

Their affinity, such as it was, was based solely on his love of her food and her love of feeding people. He imagined that she had the same relationship with half the town, but that didn’t change its power. At least for him.

It was why she was so successful. And why she deserved to be.

“Hello, Cora,” he said, leading Ashley to a booth near the front of the restaurant. As they passed, the couple at the table closest to the door turned to watch.

Ashley just didn’t blend in with those bruises. And
she was shuffling, her whole body tense, her breath shallow. She needed a Percocet.

He should have taken her home first and then come. But maybe he’d wanted to show her that she did need him—in no uncertain terms.

Brody held her elbow, helping her sit.

“You okay?” he breathed.

“Just peachy.”

When he walked over to the counter to order, all the welcome was gone from Cora’s face and she was staring at Ashley with the kind of intensity that put Brody on full alert.

“Hi,” Ashley said, catching Cora’s eye.

“Hello yourself,” she said, carefully, like Ashley might spook. “You okay?”

“What makes you ask?” Ashley said, trying for a joke. Brody was going to have to tell her that not everyone found her funny.

Brody rocked back on his heels, “She’s fine—”

Cora put up her hand, exuding a whole lot of
don’t mess with me, boy.
“I’m talking to her.”

“I’m fine,” Ashley said. “Honestly, Brody is taking care of me.”

“Looks like he’s doing a great job,” Cora muttered.

“You’re the second person to say that,” Ashley said, looking up at him through his sunglasses. “That doesn’t bother you?”

Not as much as seeing her in pain. Not as much as his shadowy reasons for bringing her in here made him feel like a bully.

“Cora, we’re going to take some food to go,” he said, ignoring Ashley’s question, but Cora was still looking at Ashley. “Cora?”

She shook her head, as if coming up out of a trance, or a memory. And her eyes were haunted. Cora didn’t
talk much about her past, but he had the sense it wasn’t good.

“What happened?”

Brody stepped closer to the counter to whisper: “Some bad guys got a hold of her, and I’m trying to keep her safe.”

After a moment she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That crack about not doing a good job—”

He waved it away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re one of the good guys, Brody,” she said and he would have waved that away too if she hadn’t straightened her spine and grabbed her order pad.

“What can I get you?”

He ordered the brisket sandwich for himself. With the works. “What would you like?” he asked Ashley, pointing to the menu on the table.

“An omelet,” she said. “With lots of vegetables. And cheese.”

Cora smiled and wrote it down. “I can fix you up. You want some coffee while you wait?”

They both nodded. Brody sat down across from Ashley in the booth and a moment later a waitress brought over two steaming mugs of coffee.

Ashley pulled off the glasses and Brody didn’t try to stop her, they weren’t fooling anyone.

“You want a pain pill?” he asked.

“I can wait,” she said and blew over her coffee, making ripples across the top, before taking a sip. “Oh.” She sighed. “That’s so good.”

Brody smiled before swallowing some. “My brother takes Cora’s coffee as a personal affront,” he said.

“That’s because your brother is jealous,” Cora told him, her chocolate eyes laughing. “Plain jealous.”

The bell rang and two men came in holding small digital video cameras. Brody put down his cup.

“Hey, Cora,” one of them said, a short man in a Red Sox hat. “We need to shoot some B roll.”

B roll?
Brody thought and stood up, in front of Ashley. Cora caught his movement and the cold look on his face and shook her head.

“Not now, guys.” Cora waved them off and they both scowled.

“What do you mean not now?” the taller of the two said, looking around. Brody immediately pegged him as a troublemaker. It was in the sour look around his eyes, the lines around his mouth indicating a constant frown. This was a guy who did not give a shit. “It’s not like you’re busy.”

“She said not now.” Brody’s voice drew both men’s attention. The shorter one, in the Red Sox hat, seemed to realize Brody wasn’t fooling around and he turned off his camera, putting it down by his side.

The brains in the operation,
Brody assessed.

“We can come back,” Red Sox agreed but the taller man shot him a wide-eyed, pissed-off look.

“When? We’re already behind and we’re filming at the football game tomorrow for twelve hours.” Tall guy turned to Cora. “It’ll take five minutes.”

“You can wait five minutes,” Brody told the men. “And then you can tape all you like.”

“Holy shit, who the hell are you, man?” the tall guy asked. He shook his head. “Fuck this. Cora, five minutes and we’re out of your hair.”

Brody reached over and grabbed the camera, pulled out the memory card and dropped it on the ground.

“You can pick that up and go, or I can smash it. And then I’ll smash your camera.” Brody held out the camera, offering him the chance to leave with whatever work he had on the card intact.

It was a way to keep the lawsuits at bay.

“Darryl,” Red Sox said, “it’s not worth it. We’ll wait outside for five minutes.”

“I’d listen to your friend, Darryl,” Brody told him. After a long moment and a posturing stare down, the taller man knelt, grabbed the chip, and swiped the camera from Brody’s hand.

“Asshole,” he whispered under his breath and left.

Brody waited until the men were gone and he couldn’t see them before he turned and helped Ashley to her feet. “Cora,” he said. “I’ll be back for the food.”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ll bring it by. You above the bar?”

He nodded and started to lead Ashley away.

“My coffee,” Ashley said, reaching for the mug. But Cora, not missing a beat, grabbed a to-go cup, filled it, and handed it to her as Brody led her out the door.

He helped her into the car and then walked around to the driver’s side. He scanned the cars parked beside the truck, the windows along the street, the park on the other side of the road. No sign of the camera guys, or their cameras.

“What … what was that?” Ashley asked, putting the sunglasses back on. “B roll?”

“I have no idea,” Brody said, backing up the truck, “but I know who will.”

It was time to talk to his brother.

You could have knocked Sean over with a feather when Brody walked in through the back door of the bar on Monday afternoon.

“Hey, man,” Sean said, trying to keep it cool. “What are you doing out of captivity?”

Brody smiled and Sean had that singular little brother pride that came with making his big brother laugh. As Brody made his way around the bar to the tall stool at
the corner, Sean pulled him a tall draft of the Hogs-Head he liked and slid it toward him across the bar.

“Fancy moves, bartender,” Brody said and took a swallow of the beer.

“Wait until I bust out my Tom Cruise
Cocktail
routine.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You should be.”

Brody took another sip of the beer in front of him, just as some of the crew from the show came in and sat down in their corner table. Almost immediately they had their phones out. Their representative, Gary, a short guy in a Red Sox hat, came up to the bar.

“Hey, Gary,” Sean said, but the guy stopped in his tracks when he saw Brody.

“Holy hell, man, you’re everywhere,” Gary said, lifting his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Me neither,” Brody said and took another sip of beer, managing to look totally nonchalant and yet utterly badass.

Gary ordered their drinks and scampered back to the table.

“What was that about?” Sean asked, pouring drinks and setting them on a tray.

“I ran into them at Cora’s,” Brody said. “They were taping and I asked them to stop.”

“Did you use your words, like a big boy?”

“Who are they?”

“They’re filming that reality show
What Simone Wants.
”

“You’re kidding. Here?”

“Happened over the summer. Remember when Monica Appleby was here to write that book about the night her mom killed her father?”

Brody nodded, but he couldn’t stop the smile that flashed across his face. No one could when they thought
of Monica. She’d been like a gale force wind of fresh air through here a few months ago.

“Well, Simone followed Monica to beg her not to write the book. After Jackson blew the Maybream competition, Simone, as a favor to Monica, offered to film the last season of
What Simone Wants
here, to help the town and the economy.”

“Sounds like a double-edged sword.”

“It’s all right,” Sean said, putting three gin and tonics on a tray, as well as a vodka soda and a Jim Beam on the rocks. “They drink a lot.”

“How long are they in town for?” Brody asked, jerking his head back at the film crew.

“Another month. Actually, I’m not sure. Why?”

Brody ran his hands over his face and into his hair. “Because the girl … Ash. She needs to stay hidden, and that can’t happen with a film crew in town, can it?”

“There are a lot of rules about where they can film. And anyone they shoot has to sign a waiver; if they refuse, their face will be blurred out.” Brody looked like he was chewing nails. “Not good enough?”

“For Ashley?” Brody shook his head. “No.”

Jay-sus. Jay-sus.
Cora huffed her way up the fire escape stairs, her arms full of food.

You gotta get in shape, honey. You can’t even climb stairs without needing a nap halfway up.

Though in her defense she was carrying probably forty pounds of food.

I might have overdone it with the jars of soup. And the loaf of bread.
The bottle of wine was probably a mistake, too. Of course, not if they offered her a glass.

Right foot. Left foot. Stop for a breath.

This had been quite a day. The thing with her mom. Sean. And seeing that bruised girl with Brody had just sent her spinning right back into the past.

It was as if she’d been knocked loose from her life, the routine and rhythm that dictated her days were out of whack.

With a sixth sense she guessed she was at the top of the stairs, and with her arms full, she reached out with her foot to kick the bottom of the door. No response.

Oh come on,
she thought. There was no way she was taking this food back down the stairs. She turned sideways to look in the window, see if she could find some sign of life.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, so startled she nearly dropped the food. That woman had looked rough with the sunglasses and hat on in the café, but without the camouflage, the face looking back through the window at her was bad.

Real real bad.

“I’m Cora,” she yelled when the woman just stared at her. “From the café. I’ve brought food.”

When the woman smiled, her face actually looked worse, but soon the door was open and some of the bags were being taken from her hands.

“Come in,” the woman said. “I’m sorry, it took me a second to realize who you were.” She set the bags on the small counter on the other side of the door and then stepped aside to let Cora in with the rest of them.

“Where’s Brody?” Cora asked, surprised he wasn’t standing watch over her. That was some very protective vibes he threw out at the café earlier.

“Downstairs talking to his brother.”

“Sean?”

“He has more than one brother?”

Cora shook her head. “One Sean is enough.”

She thought of Sean when he came into the café a few days ago; something had clearly been bothering him. Something heavy sitting on his wiry shoulders and clouding his bright blue eyes. Even his hair had been messier than normal and she’d been tempted for just a minute to ask him if he was all right. But then he’d made a crack about her ruining him for other women and so she made an even meaner crack about his being unnatural.

She realized now that he’d been stressing out about this woman and his brother.

“This is a lot of food,” the woman said. “Didn’t we just order a sandwich and some eggs?”

“Well, I figured the cupboards up here would be bare.”

Cora shook out her hands, numb and now tingling from the weight of the plastic bags, before opening the fridge.

“Beer,” she said, staring at the six-pack in the empty
fridge. “Half of my salad. And nothing else. That’s actually better than I expected.”

Cora kept a nice stream of chatter going, the whole time taking in the apartment. It looked like Sean managed to keep the place clean, which was a plus. What the stuffed bear and all the mounted fish were doing lying around, she had no idea.

Cora put the soup and Brody’s sandwich, some of her chicken and dumplings and a big square of brownies in the fridge.

“Smells really good,” the woman said, sitting cross-legged on the futon. If she had to guess, Cora would say the woman was thirty, maybe younger, hard to tell with the bruises. But she was tall and thin and her brown hair was long and curly down her back. Her eyes were nearly the same color as her hair, and she looked a little doped.