Page 9 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Gage.

Come home to me.

I can’t. Not yet. Just… know I love you.

After that, I set my phone down and cry into my pillow. My text messages ping several more times before he realizes I’m not going to answer, and he stops sending them.

My alarm buzzes much sooner than I’m ready for, having stayed up half the night thinking about my Gage. But worrying about Gage won’t get me to work on time. So I force myself out of bed, dragging my feet to the shower, where I pull off the T-shirt that I slept in.

The air feels lighter, freer in Smithfield. Despite still being tired from so many weeks of sleepless nights in Kentucky, I feel a budding confidence that my new home will give me the new start I so desire, and this budding confidence shines through the smile on my face. The same smile I shot to everyone on the street while running my errands yesterday, every single person I passed.

One of the stores I stopped at was a little souvenir shop where I picked up a new Tee and some shorts. They even had Smithfield souvenir underwear, so I picked up a pair. After work today, I’ll head up to one of the superstores in one of the bigger towns nearby. I’ll get it figured out.

I arrive at the filling station with five minutes to spare, giving out a different, grateful smile to the old guy holding the door open for me.

“You know,” I start, “I never introduced myself to you. Here you are, taking a chance on a no named woman. I’m Livvy Baxter. My friends call me ‘Liv’.Youcan call me ‘Liv.’”

“Well, Livy Baxter that I can call ‘Liv,’ it’s a pleasure. I’m Smitty. Smitty Longe. But I’ll only answer to Smitty, so you understand. None of that Mr. Longe business. Mr. Longe just feels too stick-up-your-ass for a town like Smithfield.”

“Well, okay, Smitty. Show me the ropes.”

First thing first, he hands me off a set of keys, one for the front door and one for the back, hooked to one of those red, plastic wrist bungees which I slip around my wrist.

“We don’t have many employees. Just you, Krissy and John are fulltime. Then we have a couple of part-time kids who come in on the weekends, me and sometimes my wife come in when we’re short-handed.”

I nod, showing my understanding. It’s pretty easy. Smitty takes me in the back storeroom so I know where to find the stock for the shelves upfront. He has everything separated according to which shelf the dry goods go on and there’s a walk-in cooler for the refrigerated items. They’re separated similarly. That way he always keeps track of what he’s getting low on in stores. It’s a pretty streamlined operation considering he doesn’t use a computer.

Even his cash register is old school. But it all adds to the ambiance of the place. A real step back in time.

Customers move in and out of the store throughout the day. A little after noon, Smitty’s wife—she introduces herself as Georgie—walks in carrying a small Styrofoam cooler filled with homemade barbequed short ribs, macaroni and cheese, a creamy slaw and cornbread muffins for all three of us to eat. Though, I think my cornbread is better.

We sit behind the counter eating and shooting the shit, Smitty or myself only stopping to ring up customers. The ones Georgie seems to know well, she offers a rib or cornbread to. Once they leave, she entertains me with some anecdote involving the customer. I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in ages.

The backdoor of the store has a doggie door from which a severely pregnant tabby cat lumbers through and stops by our feet. I feel so bad for her that I offer strings of pork with my saucy fingers. She, giving me grateful kitty eyes, snatches the meat from me and swallows after only a couple of chews. She licks her lips and purrs. Then rubs her head against my leg.

What else could I do but share the rest of my lunch with her?

At the end of my day, Smitty declares that I “know my shit now” and he sets up a schedule for the days I’ll be working by myself. After spending the day with the old coot, I kind of don’t want to work alone. He’s been a hoot, and his wife was even better.

Once I meet and hand off the running of the shop to second shift Krissy, I drive the truck to a bigger town outside Smithfield. A town with a superstore where I can pick up clothing on the cheap. I buy some new things there. But there’s also this cute little second hand shop, like a Goodwill, but not, where I put together a ton of sweet outfits for practically nothing. And because I can, I pick up dinner from a Chinese takeout to bring back to Smithfield with me.

My mouth waters from the enticing aroma of noodles and sauce filling up the cab.

At home, I dump my new used clothing in the washer, then wash my hands before sitting down at the small kitchen table to eat my dinner. I’d neglected to grab a drink beforehand and move to the fridge to grab a bottle of lemonade. As I close the refrigerator door, my eye catches my phone resting on the counter, causing my heart to begin pounding. Because on the other end of a contact, with just a push of a button, Gage would answer. I never imagined I’d miss him so much. Stupid, right? I love the knucklehead—no, more than that, I’min lovewith the knucklehead. During our entire childhood, he was my favorite person to share a meal with.

Sharebeing the operative word. Even after we reconnected, after he’d tried so hard to bring me back to good, ruining his lifelong friendship with his best friend in the process. My big, bad, biker shared everything. Even if it was the last bite of his favorite meal. His brothers, with the exception of Boss, called him a “pussy” or “pussy-whipped.” And he’d only smile big and brightly at them and answer, “Yep.”

Suddenly, the texting that we’d done last night doesn’t seem enough. Not with this overwhelming urge to hear his voice consuming me. Which means I do what I shouldn’t and presscall.

He answers on the first ring. “Liv? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay, Gage. Just missing you.”

His laugh comes soft-like through the phone. “There’s a remedy for that. You could always come home… or tell me where you are so I can come get you.”

“Don’t. Don’t keep offering that because I’m gonna break. It’ll just take a while to get over you is all. I’ve loved you my whole life.”

“Then why do you want to get shot of me so badly? It’s only been you for me since the day I saw you, pigtails in your hair, roughing up some older kid twice as big as you because you’d caught him beating on a stray dog. Blood and I waited to see if he tried to hurt you, ready to rush in, even though we were younger and smaller than him, too. But you didn’t just hold your own, you bested the fucker.” He pauses to laugh. And I can imagine him shaking his head at the memory. “That was the day you took my heart, Livvy.”

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