Page 39 of What Hurts Us

The boiled potatoes, green beans, and smoked meat hit the spot. We ate in companionable silence. Layla devoured her barbecue chicken and, every so often, would move her corn sticks around to the other side of the tray. I watched her for a minute before plucking my hushpuppies out of one of my plate sections and swapping with her.

She didn’t argue, just watched out of the corner of her eye as I picked up one of the corn sticks and took a bite. She picked up one of the hushpuppies I’d given her and wolfed it down.

“Corn sticks are an acquired taste,” I conceded.

She smiled around the hushpuppy. “I don’t think I’ve acquired it.”

“Don’t blame you. Anyone’s corn sticks but Gran’s are inedible.”

Layla cut her eyes back to the long line. “She seems sweet. Are you two close?”

“Yeah.” I wiped the grease off my fingers with a quarter-ply napkin. “I lived with her for a while when I was a kid.”

Layla lifted her eyes from her plate and studied me for a moment. I could tell she wanted to ask why, but—much to my surprise—she didn’t pry.

“That’s great that you two have that relationship,” she said between bites of snap beans.

“Layla?”

I looked up and found a woman with sunny blonde hair and dimples like craters dotting her cheeks.

Layla wiped her mouth. “Beth! Hey!”

Beth eyed the empty seat at our corner of the long, communal table. “Mind if I join?”

Layla quickly corralled our mass of used napkins and cleared the space. Beth took a seat and tore into the pouch of plastic cutlery. “Cal, this is Beth Hale. Beth, this is Callum Fletcher.”

She offered a little wave before stabbing her fork through a potato. “I was going to eat in my car, but I saw you and figured it wouldn’t hurt to say hi.”

“I’m glad you did,” Layla said. “I’ve been meaning to text you to see if you wanted to get a drink sometime, but things have been a little crazy.”

“First responder schedule. I get it,” she said nonchalantly.

Filling me in, Layla explained that she knew Beth’s brother from her time working in Beaufort.

“Cooking for one gets a little tiring, and I’m always down to support a fire department,” Beth said as we ate. She looked over at me and added, “My brother’s a firefighter.”

“How’s your school year going?” Layla asked. “Settling into the swing of things?”

Beth laughed. “College kids are the worst—only second to egotistical professors.”

While Layla and Beth chatted about Beth’s job as a graduate teaching assistant, I stacked our now-empty plates and utensils and took them to the garbage can anchoring one corner of the tent. The dessert table called my name. Thick slices of pig pickin’ cake, seven-layer cake, red velvet, and caramel cake were lined up like soldiers. I handed Sepideh a couple bucks for three slices, deciding to let the girls pick their favorites. I’d take whatever was left.

“Cal!” A shrill redneck valley girl voice called through the melee. Brandie Jean sided up to me with a to-go box in one hand. Her nails sunk into my bicep. “Twice in one day—I’m a lucky girl.”

I looked out of the corner of my eye and spotted Layla and Beth staring at us. Layla’s ass had come out of her seat, but she didn’t jump to my defense the way she had earlier at the store.

I guess it was my turn to shake the blonde piranha. “Small town,” I said dismissively as I grabbed slices of red velvet cake, caramel cake, and pig pickin’ cake.

“I’m really looking forward to the date auction,” she said, trapping me between the table and her oversized bust. I arched backward. “But who needs to wait until September, right?” She tossed strands of teased blonde hair over her shoulder. “If you’re free this weekend, I’d love to come over and cook you dinner.”

I glared over her shoulder to Beth and Layla, who were laughing their heads off as they watched me try to ward off the woman who kept popping up like a bad penny.

“That’s real nice of you, BJ, but I have plans with mygirlfriend.” An evil thought cropped up in my mind. “Say, you wear a lotta jewelry. Do you have any recommendations for where I could take a ring to get it cleaned?” Dropping my voice, I said, “I want it to look perfect before I give it to Layla.”

Brandie Jean looked absolutely gutted. Her eyes welled up with tears and, for a moment, I felt a little bad about the whole charade. The problem was that BJ couldn’t take a hint. I’d been trying to shake her for months. It took the nuclear option of asking a stranger to pretend to be my fiancé to get her to leave me alone. Even then, it barely worked. Especially considering BJ had just asked me out with Layla a few feet away.

“Heirlooms Jewelry on Main Street,” she sniffed. “Ask for Tammy. She’ll treat you right.”

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