The Temporary Promise Read online

  The Temporary Promise

  By Bonnie Dee

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Bonnie Dee on Smashwords

  The Temporary Promise copyright © 2014 by Bonnie Dee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Chapter One

  “Come to Mattress Town for the best deal around, and may all your dreams come true.” Tara froze with a huge cheesy smile plastered across her face until the director called “Cut.” The grin instantly disappeared, and she rubbed her cheeks, which actually ached from smiling so much. Twelve takes for a half-minute commercial? The guy seemed to think he was filming a blockbuster movie instead of a local ad, and Tara had a date to get to.

  “Can you give me one more take, dear?” McClean asked. “And this time press your hand on the mattress to demonstrate how firm it is.”

  Which she’d already done a few takes ago, but Tara only smiled her big cheesy smile. “Sure thing.” She took her place again and waited.

  This might not be Shakespeare in the Park, but at least it was a paying gig. She had to stay focused on the positives. Since she’d returned to Cinci, she’d always managed to keep a little something happening other than her waitress job. Some roles in regional theater and a few commercials for local businesses was a helluva lot better than she’d done in New York, where she’d been one wannabe actress in a pool of hundreds.

  One African-American actress. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that didn’t limit her options. Casting directors were looking for certain types, and too often, she wasn’t it. After clawing and scrambling and taking any role she could get in off off-Broadway theaters, while working long hours in a deli, Tara had finally abandoned the Big Apple. Nearly broke after three years of trying, she’d flown back to Cincinnati. It felt a little like failure, but a lot like coming home. To tell the truth, she’d been happy to be back in her city on the river.

  “Okay, Tara. Action,” McClean called, and Tara moved through the store, smiling and loving the hell out of those mattresses. The camera held on her beaming face once more.

  The director said he had enough coverage and this take was a wrap. The crew was released like kids from school, and Tara hurried out to her car, rapidly typing a text to Dre.

  On my way. Still free to meet up? Let me know.

  Her car door hinges screeched as she opened it. She could really use a new vehicle, but it was last on her list of things to spend money on. Right now she was saving for a ticket to attend her friend Bree’s wedding only a few months from now in LA. An opportunity to see that wild child walking down the aisle was worth continuing to drive a clunker for a while longer.

  No problem. I’m late too. Looking 4ward to see u. Dre’s response arrived before Tara started the car. She smiled, picturing his thick fingers typing the message, big football hands which could catch a pass or touch a woman with equal dexterity. Good to have friends with benefits like Dre Rodgers, especially on a long day like this one had been. No strings, no attachment, just some good fun and a stress reliever with her Bengals buddy.

  Tara had just started the car and put it in gear when two more texts arrived in quick succession. One was from her friend Corinne: Sitch with Dawes reaching crisis point. Need to talk. Call me later.

  Tara sighed. Corinne’s borderline obsessive crush on her married coworker was getting really old. Graci’s more joyful message brightened her day. How about a double date? Crash is really into you. Could be fun. Let me know.

  Ah, Graciela, newly in love and wanting everyone else to share in it. She and Neal were adorable together, on the surface so different, but underneath, soul mates. Tara liked Crash, the drummer in Neal’s band, well enough. They’d hooked up a couple of times. But she wasn’t sure she liked him enough to make a formal date of it. Still, this seemed important to Graci.

  Why not? Set something up, she typed back.

  She put the Volvo in gear and drove out of the nearly empty Mattress Town parking lot. It was well after hours, which was why they’d been able to shoot the commercial there. Her stomach grumbled about missing dinner, and Tara shushed it. Probably she and Dre would eat together before they did other things.

  But Graci’s parents’ house was so nearby, it was hard not to turn toward it. Mrs. Ramirez wouldn’t let Tara stop and visit without loading her up with food. Unlike Tara’s takeout mom, Mrs. R lived to cook. And Luis might be there, which was always fun. Graci’s brothers had been like Tara’s own. From middle school through high school, she’d spent more time at Graci’s house than her own. Or if not Graci’s, then with one of the other Fabulous Five—Corinne, Adya, or Bree.

  The five of them would make a good chick flick, she thought—the careers, romances, and sexual conquests of five childhood friends now separated by time and distance. Of course, in the movie, the drama would be ramped up. Maybe a life-threatening illness or secret baby, and all of their careers would be more glamorous. Rather than an occasionally employed actress, Tara would be a successful Broadway star, perhaps struggling with drugs and alcohol. Graci must be written as anything other than an accountant. Corinne’s career as a coordinator for corporate events had a certain panache, while Bree worked as a costumer on movie sets, which was awesome. As for Adya… Well, no one was really sure what the Mysterious One was up to.

  Of course, the movie of their lives would have at its heart the enduring friendship of five women, their strength in adversity and support of each other when romantic relationships crumbled. A certain audience still missing Sex and the City would eat it up.

  The car’s engine started making that clattering sound it had been doing lately, only much louder. Tara searched for a place to pull over, but now she was on the highway. She took an off-ramp onto the city streets just in the nick of time as her car died. She drifted to the side of the road and parked.

  “Just fucking wonderful.” She slapped her hands against the steering wheel, then snatched up her phone and searched for a contact. Graci’s older brother, Hugo, owned a garage where Luis also worked as a mechanic. One of them would help her.

  A receptionist answered the phone at the garage. Tara explained who she was, asked to speak to one of the Ramirezes, and waited while she was put through.

  “Hi, Tara. What’s up?” It was Hugo’s voice, always slightly impatient and irritated when he spoke with her, as if Tara was still his kid sister’s sidekick who’d once filled his body-spray bottle with Windex.

  “A little car trouble. The engine just died all of a sudden. Can you help me?”

  “Is the car out of gas?”

  Tara bit back her annoyance at the assumption she was an idiot. “No. It’s no
t out of gas, and I don’t think the gauge is broken. It just conked out. I had to pull off the road.”

  “Did you call a tow?”

  “I can’t afford a tow. That’s why I called you. Could you send Luis to help me? I wouldn’t ask, but I’m really broke and pretty desperate.”

  A long-suffering sigh blew into her ear. “Luis is in the middle of a repair.”

  God, she wished she’d asked for Luis specifically. That was who she’d really wanted to talk to, the brother she actually liked, the one who wouldn’t give her crap, who’d be there for her without a moment’s hesitation.

  Hugo sighed again. “I’ll send him. Where are you exactly?”

  Tara gave directions. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry to ask for help.”

  “It’s all right. You’re family. But if Luis can’t fix it, you may have to have a tow anyway.”

  “Got it. And I’ll pay you back somehow. I’m just a little strapped right now.”

  Tara waited in the car, and within fifteen minutes, Luis’s car pulled up and parked in front of hers. She got out of the car, grinning at the familiar stocky figure with the powerful shoulders stalking toward her. She trotted over to give him a big hug. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  “No problem. Wanna pop the hood for me?”

  “That sounds dirty,” she teased.

  “Only to you. You always did have a one-track mind.” He flashed white teeth, but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes.

  Tara released the hood latch. Luis bent over the engine, tightening this and checking that while she stood by, watching his expert hands move. Grease stained his fingertips, and the gray T-shirt stretched over his chest. Luis was short yet muscular. He’d done some wrestling in high school before he lost interest in it, but he still looked capable of pinning a larger man to a mat if he chose to.

  “How has it been being back from Afghanistan?” Tara asked. “Do you like working with Hugo?”

  “Like? That’s a strong word. I appreciate him giving me a job, but you know we’re like oil and water. Always have been.”

  “Yep.” She remembered the fights, sometimes physical, that used to rage in the background between the brothers, which she and Graci had ignored, being much too busy discussing the soap opera of middle school.

  Luis unscrewed a cap and checked the oil, holding up the dipstick and examining the black sludge on the tip. “When was the last time you had your oil changed?”

  “Um. A while ago.”

  “Well, it needs it. Want to try to start the engine?”

  “Sure.” Tara got in and turned the key. Nothing. “So does this mean the battery’s dead?” she said to show him she had some clue about how a car worked.

  “Yeah. I’ll give it a charge and see if it holds long enough for you to follow me back to the garage. Either you need a new battery or the alternator’s dead.”

  He went to turn his car around to face hers. Tara watched him walk away, the squared set of his shoulders and erect gait very military now. She wondered what it had been like for him overseas and if it would be too intrusive to ask him about it. Obviously, something had happened. He wasn’t the same easily smiling guy he used to be. But she didn’t know if a specific event or just armed combat in general had changed him.

  Luis attached jumper cables from his running engine to her cold dead one. Seemed there should be a sex analogy in there worth cracking a joke about, but Tara couldn’t find it.

  “How’s the acting going?” Luis asked as he worked.

  “Fantastic. I just spent the last almost eight hours in Mattress Town, creaming my jeans over how firm and hard their mattresses are.”

  “Cool. What happened with that soup commercial? You said the company might go national and use you in more of their advertising?”

  “Nature’s Goodness. Yeah, well it turned out ‘the organic alternative’ isn’t going to land the deal they’d hoped. So that didn’t pan out.”

  “Sorry. I get a real kick out of seeing you in that ad every time. You make a cute mom, all homemakery and shit.”

  She laughed.

  “Okay. Give her a try,” Luis ordered.

  She got in the car, crossed her fingers, and prayed to Jesus, then turned the key. After a brief hitch, the engine turned over. She fed it some gas, and it roared.

  “Good. Dial it back.” Luis came over to talk to her through the window. “We’ll let it run a minute to charge before I take off the cables.”

  “Okay. I can’t thank you enough for coming to save me.”

  “Well, you’re not saved yet. Still need to go to the garage so I can check a few things.”

  Tara checked the time. “No way I’m going to make my date, then.” Her thumbs flew over the keyboard as she texted Dre.

  Luis crossed his arms on the window frame and tried to read her text over her shoulder. “Who’s the guy?”

  “None of your business.” She held the phone away so he couldn’t see her message, then added, “If you must know, Dre Rodgers.”

  “Dre Rodgers, the Bengals’ wide receiver? No kidding? Nice one, T.”

  “We’re just friends.” Who sometimes screw.

  Her phone chimed as a message came in.

  “He’s awfully eager,” Luis said. “Seems like he’s been waiting for your text.”

  “Shut up, Goober.”

  Tara read the message. Her delay wasn’t a problem. He’d still like to see her later. They’d skip dinner. She pictured the rumpled sheets on his big bed, so white against his ebony skin. Visions of hard football-player muscles dancing in her head, she typed back: Sure.

  Luis gave a low, suggestive chuckle as he reached out and touched the dimple in her cheek. “Look at that smile. ‘Just a friend,’ my ass.”

  Tara snapped her fingers at him. “Shut. It.”

  He continued to laugh as he walked back up front to disconnect the two cars. It was good to hear. She’d forgotten how warm and throaty his laughter was and how much his sense of humor had always matched hers. The brother she’d never had. Except, face it, she’d had a bit of a crush on Luis back in the day and could never see him without a tiny flicker of that old interest stirring. Nothing had ever come of it, though…except for that one incident…

  Luis slammed her hood closed, and Tara jumped. He patted the hood in a good-to-go gesture, then got into his car and pulled out into traffic. Tara followed.

  Chapter Two

  Hugo’s garage was usually very busy. In fact, Tara knew he planned to open a second one across town. But right now the place was closed. She and Luis were the only ones in the bay where he poked around under the hood and she perched on a grungy old stool and watched him. Not even a radio was on, and the silence was a little unnerving.

  “Do you like doing that?” she asked him. “Troubleshooting car problems.”

  “It’s okay.” He paused. “I like that there’s very little chance it will blow up.”

  “That must have been pretty intense, doing bomb disposal.”

  “It could get hairy.” He didn’t add anything else.

  “Did you have any close calls?” she asked. There was a fine line between trying to get him to open up and prying. In fact, they were pretty much the same thing.

  “A few.”

  “Want to tell me about them?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.”

  He shot her a look. “I’m not trying to shut you down. It’s just… All that’s over now. I don’t see much point in dwelling on it. I’m here now.”

  She smiled. “You are. And we’re all glad about it. I missed shooting the shit with you.”

  “So tell me something interesting about Dre Rodgers.”

  “Uh—no. I’m not talking to you about some guy I date. I mean, who I’m friends with.”

  “Okay, then. Tell me something about this Neal guy my sister’s dating. Is he cool? What do you think of him?”

  “I don’t really know him too well. I’m friends with somebo
dy else in the same band, so I’ve seen him a little now and then. He’s very nice, and he sure makes Graci happy.”

  “A tattooed, unsteadily employed musician. Doesn’t sound much like Graci’s style. But she does seem happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.” He abandoned the engine and leaned against the car, facing Tara. “You think it’s serious, then? Like marriage serious? Graci just got out of an almost two-year engagement.”

  “I know. The timing’s not great, but she seems to feel like Neal’s the one.”

  Luis snorted and shook his head. “The one. Does anyone still believe that crap? You girls read too many fairy tales.”

  Tara put her hand to her chest. “Hey, it’s not me saying it. That’s Graci’s thing. She’s way more traditional than I am. I believe a person can have a number of legitimate relationships in their lives. I know I’ve had a few.”

  “I think my sister was always a little starry-eyed.” He cocked his head and studied Tara. “Not you, though. You looked at the world as it was and liked it anyway, and you always seemed so happy. That’s what I liked about you.”

  Tara dipped her head and fanned her face in mock humility. “Go ahead. Tell me more wonderful things about me.”

  “You’re a good kisser.”

  Her face burned as she blushed in earnest. “Oh, hell no. You are not going there.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” He twisted the greasy rag he held between his hands. “Graci’s quinceanera. That was one weird night.”

  Tara winced at the recollection of the way she’d thrown herself at eighteen-year-old Luis. Bree had snuck a flask into the party, and Tara had drunk more than her share of it. After giving Graci advice about acting on her feelings for a boy she liked instead of waiting for him to notice her, Tara had boldly decided to take her own advice.

  “You marched up to me like you were pissed about something,” Luis remembered. “Grabbed my arm and dragged me outside.”

  “I didn’t drag you.”

  “I remember dragging,” he teased, “and you throwing your arms around my neck and attacking me.”