Slightly Off Balance Read online

“That’s what I heard—I have no idea what she really said.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were having oral sex on the Ferris wheel,” Tansey giggled.

  “Don’t get too excited, slut. I wasn’t doing the oral sex thing until I was already hanging upside down.”

  “What?” she said, scrunching her nose up in confusion.

  “You didn’t keep watching the live video, did you?”

  “When I got out of the store with the Klondikes, you were halfway down the Ferris wheel. What did I miss?”

  Uncle Mike passed his phone to her, and she watched the screen.

  “Holy shit!” Tansey giggled. “I missed the best part! His nose is right in there!”

  “His nose was up close and personal. His mouth was—”

  “Stop!” Uncle Mike ordered. “I love you two dearly, but you are not having this conversation while I’m in the house.”

  We turned to look toward the kitchen as we heard the back door open. High heels clacked across the wood-plank floor, and my sister turned the corner, glaring at us.

  “You just had to embarrass me in front of the whole town, didn’t you!” Darlene hissed as she stormed into the living room.

  “You forgot to lock the door, Uncle Mike,” Tansey said.

  “You know you aren’t allowed to wear shoes in my house,” I said. “In fact, you’re not allowed in my house. I distinctly remember telling you I didn’t want to see you again.”

  “What did you hope to prove at the carnival tonight? Huh? If you thought you could steal my boyfriend with that juvenile move, you were wrong!”

  “You have a boyfriend?” the three of us asked in unison.

  “The fireman! Rod Thurman! We’re dating! And you shoved your hoo-hah in his face! And filmed it!”

  “First of all, I think he shoved his face in her hoo-hah,” Uncle Mike chuckled.

  “And, she wasn’t the one filming it,” Tansey added.

  “Rod is dating you!?” I asked again, still trying to get past the boyfriend comment.

  “You’ll pay for this,” she screamed, pointing a finger at me before she stormed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!”

  When the door slammed shut, Uncle Mike jumped off the couch and ran to lock it.

  “Why do I always hear the Wicked Witch theme song in my head when she’s around?” Tansey laughed.

  “She has a boyfriend?” I asked Tansey.

  Uncle Mike returned, picking up the remote and backing the video up so he could replay the part that he missed during my sister’s tirade. “Word in the precinct is that Rod lost a bet and had to ask her out. That was about two months back. I heard it was the shortest date of his life and he wished he would’ve worn a chastity belt because she kept trying to shove her hand down his pants.”

  We heard the back door open again, and I turned to glare at Uncle Mike.

  “I locked it; I swear!”

  “It’s just me,” Aunt Carol called out. “I brought dinner, so put the ice cream away.”

  I grabbed half a Klondike out of my former bowl as Uncle Mike hurriedly ate the other bar. Tansey was barreling through her own bowl at a pace that was guaranteed to freeze brain cells.

  “Okay, fine,” Aunt Carol said from the entrance to the living room. “Eat your dessert first, but when you’re ready, I have pot roast and potatoes in the kitchen.”

  Aunt Carol walked into the living room and leaned over the back of the couch, kissing me on the cheek.

  “I’m glad you lived, Tweedle-Dee. And your mother wants me to have a conversation with you about public sexual acts. I told her that if Rod Thurman wanted to give me oral sex, I’d do it in the middle of town square.”

  I smiled up at Aunt Carol.

  “Your husband is sitting right here!” Uncle Mike complained.

  “My husband is diabetic, overweight and eating ice cream before dinner. Maybe he needs a few mental images of what my life will look like when he dies,” she grinned before walking into the kitchen.

  “God, I love that woman,” Uncle Mike sighed.

  “It takes a special kind of woman to tolerate you,” I giggled.

  “Tweedle,” Aunt Carol called. “Where are all your dishes?”

  “At the nursing home.”

  “Why on earth would all your plates and bowls be at the nursing home?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night so I made blueberry cobbler. Then I made apple cobbler. Then I made peach cobbler.”

  “And what does that have to do with your dishes?” Aunt Carol asked from the kitchen doorway.

  I dragged myself off the couch and went to search for plates.

  “Well, I didn’t want to end up eating all that damn cobbler, so I divided it between all my dishes and then took it to the nursing home. Except the nurse said it was too late for dessert, so we had to put it in the refrigerator. I was supposed to swing by after work, but I sort of forgot.”

  “I’ll run by tonight and pick them up,” Aunt Carol said, rolling her eyes.

  Opening the pantry cupboard, I pulled out the four-person picnic basket set that my mother had given me last year for Christmas. I had never been on a picnic in my life, but inside the basket were four perfectly clean plates and real silverware. I held up the basket, showing her my find. She shook her head at me and rolled her eyes again.

  Tansey grabbed the blanket from inside the basket and carried it out to the living room. I followed her with the plates and silverware, and Uncle Mike helped Aunt Carol carry the food.

  We had the perfect picnic, free of bugs and slobbering dogs, while watching The Big Bang Theory.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, I contemplated calling in sick, but Uncle Mike made an early morning visit to my house and ordered me to get out of bed.

  “You might as well get it over with!” he hollered from the kitchen. “Your aunt said if she sees your car in the driveway still by midmorning, she’ll drag you over to your mother’s house.”

  “I’m up. I’m up!” I grumbled, forcing myself out of bed and into my bathroom.

  I quickly showered and tried on three outfits before I settled for a comfortable cotton shirt and long skirt. Even after the debacle with the Ferris wheel, I preferred a skirt over having denim swishing between my rounded thighs.

  In the kitchen, I found a to-go coffee sitting atop a note from Uncle Mike.

  Tweedle—show them what you're made of. Love, Uncle Mike.

  I folded the note and stuffed it in my bra in case I needed that extra kick in the ass later in the day. I grabbed my keys and to-go coffee, heading out the door.

  “You can do this, Sullivan!” I chanted to myself.

  Only a block away, my car started speeding up on its own. At first, I thought I was having a blonde moment. But with my foot completely removed from the accelerator, the car continued to increase speed.

  I slammed both feet on the brake—nothing happened.

  I pulled the keys from the ignition, shutting the car off. It slowly coasted to a stop.

  I sat there trying to decide what to do. The sun was just beginning to crack the sky, and the streets were empty. No one was around this early in the morning to consult, and Uncle Mike would already be at work. I could leave the car and walk the rest of the way. Or I could start and stop the car all the way to work. Why not? There were no other drivers around.

  Decision made, I started the car and maneuvered a few turns until the speed climbed to double the city speed limit. I turned the ignition off and coasted another block. I was now two blocks away from the bakery. On a typical day, I’d park behind the bakery in the back lot, but I wasn’t sure whether I could pull around the dumpster and maneuver into the small parking spaces. The on-street parking offered angle slots which would be easier. On the negative side, if I overshot the timing, I’d launch over the curb.

  I took a deep breath, restarting the car and aiming for Main Street.

  Cutting the engine with thr
ee-quarters of a block to go, I took advantage of the empty street and swung in a wide counterclockwise circle to get the car to face the right way. The bakery was directly in front of me, but I was going too fast. I wasn’t going to slow down in time.

  Opening the driver’s door, I dragged the heels of my shoes on the asphalt as I reefed on the emergency brake with all my might. Half hanging out the door, I couldn’t see how far away I was from the sidewalk, but I felt the car ricochet off the curb. The impact stopped the car but tossed me the rest of the way out of the car, onto my ass on the asphalt.

  Sighing, I rolled over, climbing up off the ground, and brushed the dirt and grime off my clothes. I grabbed my purse and closed the door before surveying the area. Surprisingly, the car was parked perfectly between the white lines and six inches from the curb.

  “That-a-girl!” I thumped the roof.

  Starting for the bakery front door, I stopped when I realized my shoes felt funny. Looking down, I realized that half the tread on the shoes was gone. Luckily, I kept a locker at work filled with spare clothes, including shoes.

  I was sixteen years old when I started working at the bakery. Ten years later, forty pounds heavier, I still loved working there, despite having to get up at the crack of dawn.

  The best part of working in a bakery was that everyone was in a happy mood while they filled themselves with cake, brownies, donuts, or muffins.

  Today though, the customers’ sugar highs were only fueling the jokes and laughter at my expense. Twenty minutes after we opened, I decided to spend as much time as possible in the kitchen. And I was still hiding in the kitchen when I heard my mother’s screechy voice yelling at Samantha.

  “I know she’s here. Her car is parked out front. How dare she show her face in town after what she did yesterday.”

  I chose to show mercy on Samantha and to face the firing squad myself.

  “Good morning, Mother,” I smiled, stepping through the swinging door and behind the bakery counter. “I made cream puffs. Would you like one?”

  “What do you think you’re doing? As if you haven’t done enough damage to our family’s reputation!”

  Samantha looked at me, looked at my mother, and then—like any sane person stuck in the middle of a family feud—bailed for the safety of the kitchen.

  “Is that a no to the puffs? How about a chocolate éclair?” I smiled brightly.

  “And that underwear! What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that it was on sale, in my size, and in comfy cotton to make my butt feel all cozy. Though, if I could have predicted flashing my ass to the whole town, I’d have worn the ones with the pastel confetti design. Or maybe the colorful rainbow ones, but those may have made my butt look crooked from the angle of the videos. Wouldn’t want the neighbors thinking my ample backside was crooked, so probably the confetti design.”

  “You’re going to hell.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it, but you never know. I’m still young. I might just murder someone yet.” The thought of pushing my mother and sister down a flight of stairs popped into my head, but I shook the thought away. I’d never kill them. Maybe maim them a bit, but never kill them.

  “You ungrateful, spiteful girl,” Mother snapped, before pivoting on the ball of one foot and stomping out of the bakery.

  The handful of regulars sitting at the nearby tables clapped and cheered. I stepped out from behind the counter and took a bow, which led to louder claps and cheers.

  “I swear, I hear the Wicked Witch theme song every time I see your mother,” Samantha giggled, peeking her head out from the kitchen.

  “Seems to be a family theme song. Tansey hears it when my sister’s around.”

  “Well, lucky for us, you’re Dorothy in that movie.”

  “Oh damn. I’m all out of ruby red slippers,” I grinned. “How will I ever get home?”

  “I would give you a ride,” a male voice answered from behind me.

  Shit. I knew that voice. I turned, and there he was. Rod Thurman.

  Looking out the storefront window, I saw the town firetruck parked in front of the bakery. The other firefighters were loudly encouraging Rod.

  “I’ve had my fill of firemen lately. Either leave or place an order.”

  His grin widened as he leaned forward on the counter.

  “I’ll take a dozen donuts.”

  I turned into the kitchen, pushing Samantha back as I entered. I pulled out a bakery box and smashed up twelve day-old raspberry-filled donuts into a mushy mess before closing the lid.

  Storming back to the counter, I tossed the box in front of Rod.

  “On the house. Thank you for saving me yesterday.”

  Mimicking my mother’s move, I turned on the ball of my foot and stomped back into the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Samantha giggled.

  Samantha, a good fifteen years older than me, owned the bakery. Most business owners would have been having a meltdown after watching me smash up the donuts and give them to a customer. Samantha appreciated my humor and knew that my baking skills were worth a few ruffled feathers.

  “He deserved it,” I said. “He was sticking his nose into my business without permission.”

  I saw the trash was getting full, so I pulled the bag.

  “He can stick whatever he wants into my business, any day he wants,” Samantha giggled before returning to the service counter.

  I shook my head and carried the bag of trash out to the alley. The lid of the dumpster slamming shut startled me, and I watched a teenage boy, hurrying away. His clothes were worn and dirty; his untrimmed hair, oily and uncombed. He glanced back and quickened his pace when he saw me watching him.

  “Hey, kid,” I smiled, stepping toward the dumpster. “You hungry?”

  He turned to look at me but continued to back away. His eyes danced in every direction, only occasionally looking at me directly.

  “I won’t call anyone. Just wait here. I’ll bring you out something to eat.”

  I wasn’t sure whether he’d still be around when I came back, but after tossing the trash bag in the dumpster, I went back inside. I pulled my lunch from the refrigerator, added an apple, and snatched a handful of oatmeal raisin cookies. I wasn’t surprised to see the kid gone when I went back out to the alley. I walked to the end and set the food on the sidewalk, hoping he would see it. I didn’t know who he was, which was rare in a small town, but I had worked enough with the homeless to know what someone looked like when they were hungry.

  Chapter Four

  Samantha took pity on me by eleven and let me leave early. Our prankster regulars kept bringing me in underwear. Some had funny designs. Some were fancy satin little numbers. Some looked downright uncomfortable to wear. And all of them were embarrassing to get as gifts in a bakery shop.

  Carrying an oversized bakery bag filled with undies, I strolled at a whimsical pace down the sidewalk, peeking into several store windows. I didn’t dare enter any of them on a day when everyone was seeking to offer me a good-hearted ribbing.

  Rounding the corner, I slammed into someone with enough force to knock me backward. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me forward to stop my fall. I tried to move a leg off to the side to balance myself, but it was tangled with the other person’s leg. In a blink, we were crashing down on the cement sidewalk.

  It took me a minute to realize I wasn’t hurt. Whoever was under me had broken my fall with their own body. I looked up—and froze.

  Brilliant, blue, intense eyes focused on my own. “Are you hurt?” Reel whispered, cupping the side of my face.

  Only inches away, I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.

  “Deanna,” he whispered, lifting his head closer to mine. “Are you hurt?”

  I found myself leaning toward him, eager to close the space between us and kiss him, but his words finally penetrated my brain, startling me. I pushed back roughly and turned my face away so he couldn’t see the embarrassme
nt glow on my cheeks. “I just flattened you to the sidewalk, and you’re worried about me?”

  “Answer the question,” he ordered.

  “No,” I sighed, rolling off him. “I’m fine.”

  Reel sat up and pulled me into a sitting position beside him. Grabbing each appendage, one at a time, he inspected me for damage. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

  “You skinned your knee,” he said.

  “I did that yesterday.”

  “At the carnival?”

  I shook my head no as I rolled over on all fours, climbing up into a standing position.

  “Mr. Nicholson’s dog got loose again, and I was trying to help catch him. Little shit tripped me.”

  “Mr. Nicholson or his dog?”

  “Did you just make a joke, Reel Thurman?”

  “It happens on occasion,” he shrugged.

  I looked at Reel and the surrounding sidewalk. The bakery bag had torn during our fall, and both Reel and the sidewalk were covered in colorful panties of all sizes and colors.

  “Explain this,” Reel said, holding one of the pairs out in front of him.

  “I was on my way to the church store to donate them,” I said, grabbing the pair he held and several more that draped over him. “The good townsfolk of Pine Valley were generous enough to supply me with new underwear options.”

  Reel grabbed another lacy pair that wouldn’t have fit me at the age of ten.

  “Because of the Ferris wheel yesterday?”

  “Of course. Why else would they be buying me underwear?” I said, rolling my eyes. “And I’m sure you can imagine that the jokes about how your brother saved me won’t be dying anytime soon either.”

  “How is Rod saving you funny?” Reel asked, getting up from the sidewalk and helping me gather the underwear, stuffing them into the ripped bag.

  “You didn’t watch the video?”

  “No,” he said, seeming angered by the question. “I was told I shouldn’t watch it.”

  “Who told you not to watch it?”

  “Rod called to tell me you had an accident on the Ferris wheel but that you were fine, but not to watch the video.”