Page 32 of The Fall Back Plan
“Yep.” Sophie’s eyes are sparkling, reflecting the excitement I feel for our match.
This feels like . . . fun? I barely remember the last time I had any that didn’t involve drenching Ry with a pressure washer.
“Okay, Mary Louise will decide who rang first,” Ry says. “Tie goes to whoever got the last question right. You can’t pick the same category two turns in a row. First one to answer twenty correctly wins. Ready?”
We both give him a short nod then smile at each other. We’re acting like we’re at a starting line waiting for the pistol to crack.
“First category is music,” he says. “What group got a spot on the charts with a cover of the song ‘La Bamba’?”
Our bells chime at the same time, and Mary Louise groans. Ry shakes his head. “Getting caught in a nerd showdown was not on my to-do list today. All right, Jo. You go since you’re my boss.”
I smile at Sophie. “Take it if you know it.”
“Los Lobos.” No hesitation, and she’s correct. “I pick headlines.”
And we’re off. It’s a neck and neck battle, and we’re tied at sixteen when I miss which boxer had the nickname “Marvelous.” It’s Marvin Hagler, a person I did not know existed until this question, and Sophie pulls ahead by answering a question about the name of the filly who won the 1988 Kentucky Derby.
“Winning Colors is my enemy now,” I say, glowering. It only makes Sophie laugh. “Movies,” I say, trying to claw my way back to a tie in my strongest category.
Ry is halfway through a question about Alan Rickman when the front door of the bar flies open. I don’t even have to turn to guess who would shove it with that much force, but I do. Sure enough, it’s Bad Apple Shane.
I start to rise, but Mary Louise is already on the move, and she presses her hand against my shoulder to keep me down. “I got this,” she says. We turn to watch.
She walks over to intercept Shane, stopping in front of him, her arms folded. I don’t hear what she says to him, and that’s part of why Mary Louise is perfect for this job. She’ll try to defuse before anything else. She’s not talking big and forcing Shane to save face.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. Shane’s chest puffs out, and he shoots a hard look past her to me.
I get up so I can keep an eye on him from straight on, keeping my movements as casual as possible. Sophie follows suit, leaning on the table, but I sense the tension in her; she’s ready to move if she needs to.
“Tell that trifling—” Shane starts, using a term I don’t much care for.
“I’m right here,” I say. “Tell me yourself.”
Mary Louise’s shoulders tense. She doesn’t like that I’m getting involved, but I have to calculate the risk here. If I let her handle him completely, the evidence up to this point suggests that he’ll turn up again sooner than later. Especially if a visit from the sheriff hasn’t done the trick. But his buddies aren’t here. That could mean he was furious enough to come here without them, but it could also mean a chance to let him get whatever is bothering him off his chest, so he’ll drop it without having to put on a show for them.
Ugh. Toxic masculinity. Give me a Ry any day. Or . . . a Lucas.
“It’s okay, Mary Louise. I’m not in danger with all of you here. What do you need to say to me, Shane?” I’m not using his name to be polite. I’m using it to remind him that I know exactly who he is.
“You sic the sheriff on me?” he demands.
“Nope.”
He pauses like he’s waiting for me to say more. Good luck. I don’t owe him explanations.
“You better not have,” he says.
“The sheriff does what the sheriff wants to do,” I tell him. “I’m not in charge of his investigations.”
“Yeah, well, he better not bother me again.” It’s the tough-guy bluster.
“You should probably tell him that,” I say. I watch his face grow slightly redder. That’s a lot of anger trying to find its way out, and a matching anger is surging inside me. I’m caught between warring impulses. As a kid, I learned how to placate my dad to avoid most of his eruptions. I did the same thing with the mean kids at school, becoming invisible whenever I could, trying to do everything perfectly so if I caught anyone’s notice, there was nothing to criticize.
It had taken a long time, but as a woman in a very testosterone-driven office, I’d learned to assert myself more. At first, it was setting boundaries around how I would let them speak to me, or not letting them get away with taking credit for my work. Over time, I’d learned that the best defense was a good offense. They learned not to push me if they didn’t want the smoke.
I hate that my stronger instinct is to placate Shane and get him out of here without incident. But pushing back on Shane right now will only antagonize him.
I force myself to take a quiet, calm breath through my nose, then another. I slide my hands into my pockets so Shane won’t see me clench them so hard that my nails bite into my palms.
