The First Taste(100)

My muscles clench, some animal reflex to feeling threatened. “Good thing I’m too busy to worry much about it,” I say, which is only partly a lie. I haven’t thought about Shana since seeing Amelia this afternoon, that’s for sure. My stomach drops. Dusk is setting in. Amelia must be expecting me soon.

“Is that Bell’s mom?” Sammy asks, saving me from my own thoughts. We all look at him. He taps his crayon on the table.

He might be too young for this conversation, but he looks about as concerned as I feel, and it’s a small comfort. “Remember the woman who gave Bell the red envelope?” I ask him.

He nods. “That was her?”

“Yeah. But Bell and I haven’t talked about that yet.”

“I won’t say anything,” he says, nodding.

“I think I have some garlic,” Flora says. “Want to take it with you?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What for? I have garlic at home.”

“Not for cooking,” she says, a smile sliding over her face. “For warding off evil.”

“What evil?” Bell asks, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “Zombies? Monsters?”

“Something like that,” I mutter and point at the drawing. “Look—Sammy’s coloring outside the lines.”

“What!” She grabs his crayon. “What are you doing? Do you have a stick up your ass?”

“Bell Beckwith,” Flora scolds, but the rest of us burst into laughter. She has no idea what she’s saying, but she looks pleased with herself to have gotten such a raucous reaction.

“I don’t know where she gets this stuff,” I say, looking pointedly at Pico and Randy.

Flora dishes out pasta. Except for Myra and Flora, we each eat portions as big as our heads, Bell included.

Later, while Bell’s in the bathroom, Flora says, “Why don’t you all go get a drink? I can watch the kids.”

I shake my head. “I’m not in the mood to fight with Bell tonight.”

“She won’t even notice. Sammy’s here.”

She means to comfort me, but her words sting. Is that what I have to look forward to? Bell blowing me off for boys? I make a mental note to revisit the idea of locking her in the house until her hair is gray.

“I can help.” Sammy rolls his eyes but blushes. “I’ll even watch Beauty and the Beast.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “You’d do that?”

He suppresses a smile. “Sure.”

He knows Bell’s moods, her favorite movie, and he’s got her back. Maybe I don’t have to be so terrified of what’s to come. “You’re a good man, Samuel.”

“Thanks, Mr. Beckwith.”

I grin. “Call me Andrew.”



Buck, Timber Tavern’s longest standing bartender, hands me a pint. “You got company, Beckwith,” he says, nodding behind me.

I close my eyes and sigh. What now?

“Hey,” I hear.

I look sideways as Denise slides onto the stool next to me. “What’s up?” I ask.

She sets her purse on the counter. “I’ll have a Stella,” she tells Buck, waiting until he serves her to speak again. “It’s nice to see you, Andrew. Been a while.”

“I’ve been busy.”

She nods. “I’m sorry about before, when I yelled at you. It’s just, like, I care about you. You know? And Bell.”

“I know.” I take a seat too and lean my elbows on the bar. “Truth is, you’re probably right.”

“Am I?” she teases.

“I guess. Bell and I are codependent. I just don’t know how to parent any other way. I don’t know if I want to.”

“I know I don’t have children, but I have three older brothers.”

I take a swig and recall all the times I blew Denise off, especially right after sex. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“And I’ve been doing lots of thinking about this,” she continues. “You aren’t doing her any favors by scaring off women who get too close.”

I look over at her. Pico, Myra and Randy are nearby, cracking balls on the pool table while they wait for me to start a game. “By women, you mean you.”

She shrugs. “Just someone who might want to be part of your lives. You’re not going to be able to fight her battles for her forever.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, folding one corner of a cardboard coaster. “I can’t think of anything better to do with my time than follow her around and make sure people treat her right.”

She smiles a little. “You’re a good dad. I bet you’d be even better if you were happy.”

“Christ. What is it with you people? I am happy—”

I stop when I catch her wide-eyed expression. “Shit,” she says as color drains from her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” I turn on my stool to follow her gaze. In the doorway, dressed in head-to-toe, skin-baring black clothing, is Shana. Scanning the bar. She spots us, narrowing her eyes.

“What the f*ck,” Denise says. “Did you know—”

“Yeah,” I say. “She got back about a week ago.”

Shana strolls toward us. “Well, well, well,” she says. “I guess the rumors are true. I didn’t think you had it in you, Denise.”