Caged(31)

       
         
       
        

Molly had barely taken a drink when a guy plopped down at the barstool next to hers.

"My buddy over there thinks he knows you."

Lame pickup line. "What's your buddy's name?"

"Alan Rossdale."

She pretended she was trying to place him. "I think he graduated a couple years ahead of me."

The guy scrutinized her. "You're from around here?"

"Yes. What's your name?" she asked, even though she knew it.

"Marcus Olney."

"Ah. The football player. You were in Alan's class."

He grinned. "How we survived high school is a miracle. So, pretty lady, what's your name?"

"Molly Calloway." And she waited for the jaw to drop.

There it was.

"But you're . . . Well, shit. You don't look nothin' like you used to."

"We all change." Some of us for the worse. Marcus, the good-looking, well-built quarterback had morphed into a pudgy average Joe with thinning hair.

"Why are you back here?"

"For my grandma's funeral."

"Right. I'd heard about that. Sorry."

She'd fantasized about this scenario when Marcus was the senior-class stud and she a lowly freshman-him taking notice of her. But now he didn't interest her at all. She didn't want conversation. She wanted to drink alone and wallow.

"How long you staying?"

"Depends."

Marcus rambled about this person or that person, not noticing Molly hadn't chimed in at all. His rude behavior, half facing her/half facing the room, rankled.

When the bartender strolled by, she asked for a glass of water since she'd drained her drink.

Thankfully, her hamburger arrived, and Marcus mumbled about letting her eat and left.

She'd finished half her burger when the barstool creaked again.

"Hey, cuz. I heard you were trolling in here."

Brandi. She'd definitely end up with indigestion now. "Word gets around town almost as fast as you."

"You've got a bitchy attitude these days, doncha?"

The hamburger turned to dust in her mouth. Still she managed to chew and swallow. "I'm just trying to get through this an hour at a time."

Brandi rested an elbow on the bar. Her whiskey-laden breath stirred the air. "You like playing the grieving granddaughter? Think it'll get you attention from guys like Marcus and Alan? Dream on. No matter what you look like now, they'll picture you like everyone else in town does: a sad, fat, unwanted girl."

Molly spun her chair and faced her cousin. "And they see you as you've always been? A skanky bitch with a mean mouth?" 

"Watch yourself."

"Or what? I'm beyond being bullied by you. In fact, I feel sorry for you. Talk about stunted growth. You haven't changed since third grade. You can't even come up with new insults."

Her booze-dulled eyes narrowed. "So your backbone was hidden under all those rolls of fat."

Molly laughed.

Marcus cleared his throat. Then he made the time-out sign. "Ladies, let's set aside the family shit for one night."

Where had he come from? And who the hell was he to butt his busted nose into their business?

Brandi put her hand on his chest. "You're right, Marcus. Where's Alan?"

"Right here." He parked himself on Brandi's other side. "Hey, Molly," Alan said, ignoring Brandi completely. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course she remembers you. Everyone knew who you were," Brandi assured him.

Alan tried to send Molly a smoldering look. "We'll have to catch up."

Right. You never deigned to speak to me before, and I'm not so hard up that I'll swoon at your feet now. "I'm only here for a short while, and I'll be busy."

"I'll make time for you."

"Are you seriously trying to pick me up on the day my grandma died?"

Alan blinked in confusion.

Brandi snorted. "I'm thinking she'd be more into you if you had tits and a pussy."

Silence. Then Alan sneered. "You're gay?"

Unreal.

Molly handed the bartender cash and said, "Keep the change."

"See? She's not denying it," Brandi said.

"I'm not gay, but it wouldn't be your business if I were. And for your information, I have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend. Uh-huh. Why haven't I heard anything about this"-she made air quotes-"boyfriend before now?"

"Because I haven't talked to you in a year. Oh, and because I can't fucking stand you."

A nasty look crossed Brandi's face. "What a faker you are. Acting innocent when you have the mouth of a truck driver. I'm sure Grams would be ashamed of how you've treated me on the day she died. You're not the only one grieving for her." She affected a sad look. "Even the reverend had to get after Molly today for acting out."