Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(19)

“We met at the café,” Mia tells her. “I told her about the show.”

“Oh,” Aerial draws out. “I see.”

“Are you coming?” Mia asks me.

“I’m going to try. Okay?”

Aerial cuts in, giving Mia a pointer about her back handspring. I’m too distracted by my phone to pay much attention. It’s a number local to Tennessee, but I don’t know it.

“Hello?” I ask, turning away from Aerial.

“Neely? It’s Claire.”

“Oh, hey.” I laugh. “How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom.”

“Naturally,” I say, shaking my head. “What’s up?”

“Mucker’s tonight. Nine o’clock. Be there. This is not a request.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“I do. Be there or I’m coming after you,” she insists. “I’ve told everyone you’ll be there, and I don’t go back on my word. So, come. Okay?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Aerial smiling at me. I consider telling her no and spending the night brainstorming ways to get my life back together. But something about the way Aerial looks at me, and the way Claire seems so determined, makes me reconsider. Maybe I need a night away from the pressures of New York after all. If it’s weird at Mucker’s, I can always leave, and if nothing else, it will give me good stories to entertain Grace with.

“Okay,” I relent. “I’ll be there.”

“Yay! Let me know if you need a ride.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Except for the ache in my cheeks from smiling so hard.





CHAPTER SEVEN

NEELY

And then that movie star walked in. What’s his name?” Grace asks. The phone muffles as she bobbles it on her end. “You know who I mean. He’s in that movie I love.”

“Oh, him,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I know exactly who you mean.”

“Damn it. Now it’s going to drive me nuts.” She takes a breath before carrying on about her story from dinner. As she delves into the whos and whats of her evening, I tune out and focus on mine.

Mucker’s sits before me like an old friend. The one-room sandwich shop, with its basket of fake ferns hanging by the front door, may as well be holding its arms wide open. It’s been a staple of the community for fifty years. Focusing mostly on pizza and burgers with a decent selection of beer, it’s the place to go in Dogwood Lane once the sun goes down. It’s the only place, too, but that’s beside the point.

There’s a door inside that opens into a lot that was once a dilapidated basketball court. The owners bought it years ago and put a brick wall waist high around the perimeter. With some added shrubs and black iron fencing, it’s a cozy little patio that gets more use than the seven or eight tables inside the actual pub.

As Grace chatters on, I do my best to figure out who’s here. The shrubs are so big, and the only light comes from an outdoor lantern hanging above the door and haphazardly hung string lights around the fencing. It’s difficult to make out anything, or anyone, for sure.

It’s the “anyone” part that has my palms sweaty.

“And we were supposed to listen to a comedian uptown, but screw that.” Grace sighs. “I’ve had enough action for one night.”

“Sounds like it.”

She snorts. “Whatever. You weren’t even listening.”

“I was too!” Moving up in the driver’s seat, I shake the fog from my head. A warm breeze billows through the open car window. “You told me all about . . . dinner . . .” I scramble to come up with something else she talked about but fall short. “And your outfit?”

“It’s a good thing I love you.” She laughs. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Not what I should be doing.” My index finger touches my lips, and despite all the germs I know are on my fingernail, I bite it anyway. “I’m so stupid, Grace.”

“You better not tell me you’re at home throwing a pity party. I swear to all that’s holy I’ll be on the next flight to Tennessee.”

Someone stands on the other side of the fence. A blue cap rises just to the top of the shrub, and I can barely make out a Dodgers logo.

“Shit . . .” I whisper, but not soft enough to slip by Grace.

“Okay. What are you doing?”

A burst of laughter comes from the other side of the shrubbery. Several voices ring through the mix and swirl around me. My chest rises and falls in deep, steady succession, but it takes a lot of effort to keep it that way.

“I took your advice.” I gulp. “Again.”

“Does it involve hay and flannel? Because if it does, I’m jealous.”

“No.” I laugh. “I’m sitting in front of Mucker’s.”

“Which is?”

“A little pub sort of thing. I ran into an old friend, and she invited me out tonight.”

“That’s great. Exactly what you need. Go have fun and let your hair down.”

My laughter fills the car. “That’s a random saying for you to spout.”

“I was with this banker last night, and he said it.” She groans. “He had an accent that he said was British, but it kind of wore off in the middle of sex. I’m not sure about all that, but his skills in the sheets were sublime. I had no idea an investment banker would be that thorough.”