Surfacing,

Part Five

By Lauren

She realized that she was standing on the edge of the dance floor at Millennium, and the “Happy New Year’s Eve 2002” sign over the bar told her that it had been about a month and a half after the conversation with Michelle at Company.

She felt a tapping on her shoulder. “Hey, you’re Drew Jacobs, aren’t you?” a male voice shouted over the pulsing dance music.

Drew whirled around, ready to spit out a smart remark, when the young man’s eyes locked on hers. He was cute—there was no doubt about that. In fact, he was more than cute, he was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Hi,” she said coyly, the annoyed expression on her face melting into a flirtatious smile. “Yes, I’m Drew. What’s your name.” 

He smiled, accepting her hand and shaking it. “Ben Reade.”

“Ben Reade…Reade sounds familiar,” Drew said, taking Ben by the arm and leading him over toward a booth. 

“My dad is the co-owner of the Journal,” Ben offered. “He moved back to Springfield two years ago.”

“The Journal…oh, now I know. Fletcher Reade is who I place ads for Millennium with,” she said with recognition. “So, now that I’ve established who you are, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

Ben’s face flickered. “Um…well, that would be nice, but it’s not exactly why I came.”

Drew’s brow furrowed, and she tilted her head coyly. “Well, Ben, if you didn’t come here to have a good time on New Year’s Eve, then why did you come here?”

“The Help Wanted sign in the window,” he said, pointing toward the door of the club.

“Oh,” Drew said, happy that the dimly lit room hid her blush. Oh, well, you couldn’t have anyway, she reminded herself.

Remember, you and Jesse are engaged again. And this time, it’s for good.

“Right this way,” she said, motioning for him to follow. She walked over to the bar, where Danny and his priest cousin were sitting and talking. “Hey, Danny,” Drew greeted them.

Danny took a long swallow of whatever he was drinking. He looked up at her. “Oh, hey, Drew, what’s going on?”

“Busy as usual,” she replied. Conversations with Danny were still tense and awkward for Drew. “Where’s Michelle?”

“She had to go to the ladies’ room,” Danny answered. “Again. She should be out any minute.”

As if on cue, Michelle appeared, six months pregnant in a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. “Hey,” she greeted Danny, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Danny said lightly.

She laid a long, deep kiss on his lips. “Yes,” he said huskily, his eyes closed, one hand resting lightly on her stomach.

Michelle laughed. “Oh, hi, Drew,” she said off-handedly. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Drew said automatically. “How are you and the baby?”

“I’m tired,” she sighed, carefully mounting the barstool next to her husband. “And the baby is either break-dancing or practicing his soccer kick.”

Drew laughed amicably. “Good to hear that he or she is in good shape.”

Michelle’s eyes focused behind Drew. “Why, Ben Reade, is that you?” she asked incredulously.

Ben’s face lit up. “Michelle Bauer. It’s been a long time,” he smiled, leaning over the counter and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“You two know each other?” Drew asked, confused.

“Ben went to grade school with Bill and me,” Michelle replied, her grin widening. “Where in the world have you been?”

“Oh, off at college, playing tennis and trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do with my life,” Ben said lightly. “And it looks like a lot has changed since the last time I was in town.”

Michelle laughed, her hand dropping to her bulging belly. “It definitely has,” she said, looking over at Danny conspiratorially.

“Ben, this is my husband, Danny Santos.” 

“Santos?” Ben asked, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed Danny’s face.

“Related to Carmen Santos?”

“She’s my mother,” Danny said, his tone growing icy. He raised his glass and threw the rest of the liquor down his throat with a flick of the wrist.

Danny grasped it and shook it quickly. “Same here.”

“Ahem,” Ben said, clearing his throat and looking at Drew. “Drew?”

“Oh, oh, right,” she stammered. “The job application. Just a second.” She squatted down behind the counter and rifled through a shoebox full of papers. “You’ll have to excuse me, the filing system isn’t exactly first-class.”

Michelle snorted from behind the bar. “What filing system is that, Drew?”

“Shut up, Michelle,” Drew snapped. Her nerves were already beginning to wear thin, and Jesse had yet to show his face. He had left for New York two weeks before, for an art gallery opening, but was supposed to be back that night to help out with the New Years’ crowd.

“Here it is,” she exclaimed, pulling a creased sheet of paper from the box.

She spread it out on the counter, trying to press out the wrinkles.

“Hey, Carlos,” Michelle said, knocking her fist on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Could you get me a glass of water?”

Carlos stormed over, an angry expression plain on his handsome face. “You want a glass of water? Get it yourself. Listen, Drew, the customers are hassling me again down there, and I’m getting sick of it!”

“Come on, Carlos,” Drew pleaded. “You know that they don’t mean anything.”

“I’m overworked, I’m underpaid, and I’m harassed by all the drunken frat boys,” Carlos continued, unfazed. He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “I’d say that all adds up to a resignation.” He whipped off the half-apron he was wearing and threw it down on the counter in front of Drew. “Find yourself another lackey. I’ve had it.”

With that, he stormed out of the club, rain blowing inside as he opened and shut the door.

“Well,” Michelle said, biting her lip. “I guess I will go get that glass of water myself.” She started to ease herself off the barstool, but Danny put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, “Don’t get up, I’ll go get it.” He walked behind the counter and over to the other end of the bar, where some of the patrons were still complaining loudly and drunkenly.

“Of all nights to quit, of course he chose the busiest of the year,” Drew moaned, her face in her hands.

“Come on, Drew, it could be worse,” Michelle pointed out. 

“Your little Miss Sunshine act is accomplishing nothing but being another pain in my ass,” Drew snapped, her eyes blazing.

“Um,” Ben said, clearing his throat.

“What do you want?” Drew asked shortly. “Go fill out your job application.”

Ben laughed. “I’m finished with it,” he said, handing it to Drew.

She snatched it from his hand and scanned it. “Hey,” she said, an idea dawning on her. “How would you feel about starting immediately?”

“Immediately?” he asked.

“Did I stutter?” she shot back, her temper still flaring.

“No, sorry…well, it’s not like I have anything better to do tonight…” he admitted.

“Great!” she said, clapping her hands. “You went to college, I’m assuming you know something about liquor.”

“Uh…” he hesitated. “Uh, yeah, I do know a little…a little about liquor.”

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, picking up Carlos’s abandoned apron and handing it to him. “Then you’re hired.”

“As the bartender,” he stated, staring at the apron.

“You can handle that, right?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“Yeah…yeah, that will be fine,” he said, tying on the apron.

“Okay! Well, Danny used to tend bar, why don’t you go over and have him show you around your new domain?” she suggested.

“Okay,” Ben agreed, walking over to Danny, who was arguing with one of the unhappy customers.

“I…want…another…drink,” one obviously drunken guy slurred, attempting to enunciate his words clearly.

Danny leaned over the bar and got into the customer’s face. “No,” he said loudly and clearly. “You’ve had enough.”

“I want another damned drink!” he shouted again.

Danny had had enough, and grabbed the young man by the collar of his shirt.

“Do I need to shove the glass up your ass?  You’ve had enough. Now find someone who will clean you up when you start puking and get out of my face.”

The customer cowered in front of Danny, muttering a few random cuss words.

Drew smiled and shook her head as Ben watched the scene with a nervous expression.

“Poor guy,” Michelle said, watching the drunk stagger out of the club.

“Since when have you ever had any sympathy for drunken frat boys?” Drew asked with a raised eyebrow.

“How would you like being in an alcohol-induced stupor and having Danny get up in your face and scare the hell out of you?” she asked plainly, grabbing the glass of water that Danny had slid down the countertop to her.

“Point taken,” Drew conceded.

“So,” Michelle began, sipping at the water, “any new leads on the father situation?”

Drew leaned against the counter, picking at a piece of dried food with her fingernail. “I checked out all the addresses and phone numbers, but nothing turned up.”

“Do you think the men could have given Selena false names?” Michelle questioned, resting her elbows on the table. 

“It’s possible, I guess,” Drew concurred. “I don’t know, it’s just really frustrating to have the information and not be able to get anywhere with it.”

Michelle nodded. “You just have to stick with it, I guess.” 

“Hi, could I get a cup of coffee?” she asked Drew, sitting down at the counter on the other side of Michelle.

“Hey, tell Danny I’m taking off,” the priest said to Michelle.

“You’re not staying for the countdown?” Michelle asked, puzzled.

“Nah, I’m tired, and I have confession tomorrow morning. Just tell him I said goodbye, okay?” he requested.

“All right, Ray. We’ll talk to you later,” Michelle agreed.

“Take care of yourself and my little cousin,” Ray ordered, kissing her on the cheek.

“Will do,” Michelle replied. Ray waved to Danny, who looked up, surprised, and waved back.

Drew grabbed a navy blue coffee mug with “Millennium” printed on it in silver letters and filled it, setting it down in front of the young woman, who had pulled out a hairbrush and was pulling it through her wet hair.

“Thanks,” she said, picking it up and taking a long drink, wincing as it slid down her throat.

Michelle turned to the young woman. “Marah?” she asked. “I thought you were away at law school!”

Marah smiled, tucking the brush away in her purse. “I transferred back to Springfield U last semester,” she explained. “I was supposed to meet some of the people from my criminal law class for drinks, but they backed out.”

“That’s too bad,” Michelle said. “I mean about the people backing out, not that you moved back to Springfield. Was Stanford getting a little boring?”

“No, Stanford was anything but boring,” Marah said wistfully. “But with the Spauldings putting the squeeze on Lewis Oil yet again, I decided to move back to help out.”

Michelle nodded. “I remember Bill saying something about the latest takeover last time I talked to him, but he didn’t mention anything about you being back.”

“I actually haven’t seen Bill yet,” Marah admitted. “But I didn’t move back in with my parents, so I don’t see Matt or Vanessa much either.”

“No one sees Bill a whole lot,” Drew broke in, resting her elbows on the table. “I don’t know if you remember me from before you went off to school, but I’m Drew Jacobs.”

Marah glanced over at Michelle, her eyes knowing. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Marah Lewis,” she said, offering her hand.

Drew shook it quickly, and Marah turned her attention back to Michelle. 

“Bill doesn’t get out of his office very much,” Michelle mentioned. “He’s glued to that computer of his.” 

Marah nodded. “That sounds like my cousin.”

“So, did you get your own apartment?” Michelle asked.

“No. Did you know that my aunt Trish bought the Jessup farm from my aunt Cassie?” she questioned.

“Cassie had mentioned in passing that someone had bought it, but she didn’t say who.”

“Well, I moved out there to help out Aunt Trish. And, to be honest, I was getting kind of sick of being around my parents’ house. My mother and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye for a few years,” Marah admitted. “Sometimes I wish that Daddy had left Mama and that bratty little brother of mine in San Cristobel.” Michelle laughed. “It would have saved all of us a lot of work.”

Marah nodded. “How’s Danny doing? Daddy told me he’d been in the hospital.”

“He…he was in an accident,” Michelle said carefully. “He was shot in the shoulder. He wasn’t in the hospital very long, and he’s fine now.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t serious. And how about the baby?”

“Healthy as a horse, according to Dr. Sedwick,” Michelle replied, grinning down at her swollen belly. “It’s started kicking, and you wouldn’t believe how strong it is already!”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“No, we’re going to be surprised,” Michelle said, beaming.

Marah nodded again, her eyes catching on something farther down the bar. 

“Ben!” she called out.

Ben’s eyes flew over to the other end of the counter. His face lit up.

“Marah, I thought you were going out with Emily and all the rest.”

“They backed out on me,” Marah said mournfully, standing up on the rungs of the stool to kiss Ben lightly. “Since when are you working here?”

“Since tonight,” he said, drying off a glass with a well-worn dishtowel. “I needed the second job to help pay off my college loan.”

“I knew you’d talked about it, but I always figured you’d take that temp job at Lewis Oil that Aunt Trish offered you,” Marah said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“I didn’t want to accept another handout from Trish,” he replied, his voice a little tighter.

“Wait, wait, hold on a minute,” Michelle said, her eyes confused. “You two know each other?”

“Well…ah…you could say that,” Marah stammered, her smile growing a little wider as she looked up at Ben. “Ben’s already working as a hired hand on the farm.”

“Trish Lewis has been very kind to me,” Ben said fondly. “But, Mar, I needed to come out here and get a job on my own, not just because you and I are…well, we mean something to each other.”

Marah sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine, pour your little drinks, offer advice to poor lost souls.”

Ben laughed, his attention turning to Danny, who was looking over his way.

“I don’t plan to play teacher all night, Reade,” Danny said impatiently.

“Gotta go,” Ben said, leaning down and planting another kiss on Marah’s lips. “Stick around, I’ll drive you home after my shift. By the way, Drew, how long is my shift?”

“You can just use Carlos’s schedule for tonight,” Drew instructed. “I’ll get you something more permanent by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great,” Ben said, hurrying back over to where Danny was standing. 

Michelle broke into a fit of laughter after Ben left. “What?” Marah asked self-consciously, her cheeks deepening to a shade of scarlet.

“Nothing, nothing, that was just completely unexpected,” Michelle giggled.

“What was completely unexpected?” Dahlia asked, sitting down in the seat that Danny had vacated.

“Oh, nothing important,” Michelle said. “Oh, Dahlia Crede, this is Marah Lewis.”

Dahlia shook Marah’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you. Any relation to Billy Lewis?”

“He’s my uncle,” Marah said, then, “well, my half-uncle, anyway. It’s a long story.”

Dahlia nodded. “He used to run a restaurant with Hamp Speakes.”

“I remember that,” Marah agreed. “Blue Moon or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Dahlia said. “So what’s going on around here?”

“Not much,” Michelle said. “Danny’s training the new bartender.”

“Oh, having problems holding down employees again, Drew?” Dahlia asked sarcastically. “What did you do this time? Did Carlos accidentally find out that you’re really a blood-sucking vampire?”

“Nice to see you, too, Dahlia,” Drew sneered, opening the register and ringing up a customer’s ticket. 

“Can we have one night of peace and quiet?” Michelle asked, throwing up her hands. “Listen, Dahl, I hate Drew as much as you do or more—“

“Damn straight,” Drew interrupted.

“—but please, let’s not scratch out each other’s eyes before we have a chance to count down to 2002,” Michelle requested.

Dahlia rolled her eyes, then tensed. “Oh, no,” she breathed, her eyes fixed on a booth toward the back of the club. She turned around, hiding her face with her hands. “He didn’t see me, did he?” she hissed.

“Who?” Michelle asked, turning around and craning her neck to see.

“Stop that, don’t look!” Dahlia whispered, grabbing Michelle’s arm and pulling her back around.

“Dahl, what in the world are you talking about?” Michelle asked in a stage whisper.

“Now this is entertainment,” Drew mused, watching Dahlia squirm. 

Marah drained her coffee cup and watched Dahlia and Michelle with an amused look on her face.

“Back there, in the booth,” Dahlia whispered.

“I’m going to turn around and look now,” Michelle said calmly. “This time, don’t grab my arm and give me a heart attack.” 

“Just don’t be obvious,” Dahlia ordered.

Drew burst out laughing. “This is just classic, that’s what this is.”

Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “If you so much as squeak, Drew, I will tear out your voice box and play street hockey with it.” 

Marah bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Let the eye-scratching commence,” she said under her breath.

Drew and Dahlia gave her a look, and she held up her hands defensively.

“I still don’t see anyone, Dahl,” Michelle sighed, turning back around. 

“It’s David Grant,” Dahlia said carefully. “He’s been hounding me for a date ever since he broke up with Pilar.” 

“What’s wrong with David Grant?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing. I’m just not going to fall into that stereotype,” Dahlia said calmly.

“What stereotype is that? The girlfriends of gorgeous, very available policemen stereotype?” Michelle offered.

“Ha, ha,” Dahlia laughed sarcastically. “No. Don’t you get it? He’s black.”

“Oh, yeah, we all forgot, you grew up in a house devoid of mirrors,” Drew scoffed.

Dahlia started to rise up out of her chair, saying, “Somebody get me a stake!”

Michelle pushed her back down by the shoulder. “Now, ladies,” Michelle warned. “Violence solves nothing.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dahlia disagreed. “Think about it, a life without Drew. I believe that ancient peoples called that Utopia.”

Marah snorted.

“Never mind, never mind,” Michelle said. “Back to David Grant. You’re not going to date him because he’s black?”

“I’m not going to date him just because he’s the only black guy in Springfield at present,” Dahlia amended.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Marah piped up. “The guy is completely gorgeous, available, and sweet, and you’re not going to date him just because he’s also black?”

“If this were a television show,” Dahlia began, “I would automatically be paired up with him because we’re the only African-Americans here.”

“Is that so bad?” Michelle asked. “The guy is completely hot!”

Dahlia sighed. “You just don’t get it. I don’t want him to date me just because I’m the only black woman in Springfield besides the always wonderful Vicky Spaulding.”

“You don’t think he wants to go out with you just because you’re a nice person?” Michelle asked. Drew opened her mouth, but Michelle continued, “Don’t even think about it, Drew.”

“Let’s just drop it. You guys aren’t black, you wouldn’t understand,” Dahlia said quietly.

Danny walked up behind Michelle and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Why did Ray take off?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said, turning her head to him. “He just said he was tired and to tell you he’d see you later.”

“Um,” Danny said.

Drew watched them and automatically wished that Jesse were there. Why was he so late getting back from New York? Suddenly, Jesse walked through the door, rain-drenched. Drew hurried out from behind the counter and ran over to him.

“Jesse! I’m so glad you’re back!”

His face was sober as he enveloped her in his arms. “I missed you so much,” he said against her hair.

“Why were you so late getting home?” she questioned, resting her cheek comfortably against his shoulder.

“Drew…there’s something you should know…” he said carefully. Drew felt overwhelming sadness flood her body as she remembered, but then the flashback ended, and the comfortable, warm darkness covered her and dried her tears.

Part 6

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