“Payton, I need two My Head Hurts and one People Will Die, ASAP. Oh, and I hear congratulations are in order! Benjamin just told me the good news.”
Bettie snorts and I grab the hand-towel draped over my shoulder and whip it against her ass as she walks by me to get started on the order.
“Hi, Mark. And I’m not sure what Benjamin told you but-”
Mark, who works with my ex at a brokerage firm across the street, holds up his hand and cuts me off when his cell phone rings, bringing it up to his ear and talking so loudly I’m sure people back home in Kentucky can hear him. Leaning over to the register, I grab the framed sign sitting next to it that says, “Anyone caught working will be shot or sold to the circus,” and hold it up right in front of his face.
He wisely ends the call with a sheepish shrug as Bettie comes up next to me, humming the Jeopardy theme song under her breath while she sets the cups of coffee on the counter in a to-go container.
“Sorry about that, Payton. I forgot about your crazy no work rule,” Mark apologizes as he picks up the cardboard tray. “I hope you go easier on Benjamin when he’s in here. My man needs to work a hell of a lot more to pay for the big, fancy wedding you two are going to have.”
He gives me a wink and starts backing away, the phone ringing in his hand again and his booming voice filling the quiet space when he answers it. He moves faster across the shop until he’s out the door, all before I can say anything to him.
“You can take those coffees back to the firm and shove them up Benjamin’s ass! Or better yet, bend over and shove them up your OWN ass for insinuating I need a man to pay for anything!” I shout across the shop, getting a few weird looks from the handful of customers sitting around and enjoying their coffees.
“That was nice, but it might have been more effective if you said it TO him, and not yelled it across the shop like a crazy person after he was already out the door,” Bettie laughs.
“He’s the third person today to come in here and congratulate me. What the hell is Benjamin thinking?” I mutter, heading over to the sink to start cleaning the pile of dirty mugs.
“I believe his exact words when he came in yesterday were, ‘I know you really meant to say yes, you were just surprised. As soon as you start wearing that gigantic ring the size of the Sears Tower that I’ve been bragging to everyone about how much it cost, it will sink in that you’re going to be Mrs. Benjamin Montgomery!’” Bettie says in a deep voice. “I’m paraphrasing, of course. He actually said the dollar amount out loud, but I’ve blocked it from my mind. Even just the idea that you have a piece of jewelry that costs more than my car shoved into the back of your nightstand drawer makes me want to stab you in the face.”
I sigh, turning off the faucet when the sink is full of water and soap bubbles, wondering how on earth I’m going to convince Benjamin that I meant it when I told him I didn’t want to marry him. I moved to a big city like Chicago because I was tired of living in a small town where everyone knew your business. And also because the only place that sold coffee was the one, full-service gas station on the town square and they wouldn’t know what fresh coffee beans were if a bag smacked them in the face.
“I don’t know how many different ways I can inform him it’s over,” I complain to Bettie with a sigh, rinsing off a blue coffee mug that says Washington, D.C. on it, under a picture of the White House. “With Benjamin lying to everyone he knows and telling them that I said yes to his proposal, and most of those people being customers of Liquid Crack, it’s like living in Bald Knob all over again when they come in here.”
That thought makes me shudder even though I’m up to my elbows in hot water. There are a multitude of reasons why I haven’t been back to my hometown since the week after I graduated, and the gossip mill is just one of them. I love the hustle and bustle of a big city, I love the noise, I love that everything you need is within walking distance, and I love that you can stroll down the block every day at the same time and never see the same people. If Benjamin would just accept the fact that I don’t want to marry him, I wouldn’t be standing here on the verge of getting hives at just the thought of Bald Knob. I love Chicago, but Benjamin and his denial are starting to ruin that for me.
“You know every time you say Bald Knob I picture a town square with a giant stone statue of an old guy with his dick hanging out. And people flocking to the statue to touch his ‘bald knob’ for good luck,” Bettie laughs, making the same joke she always does on the rare occasion that my hometown comes up in conversation.