Lost Highlander

  Lost Highlander

  By Cassidy Cayman

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  at cassidycayman.wordpress.com

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  Chapter 1

  Evelyn hoisted her shiny purple bustier while waiting for her drink order to be up and sighed, catching a depressing glimpse of the little digital clock behind the bar. Only ten o’clock. Barely an hour into her shift and she was utterly exhausted. How was she going to stay awake, let alone sparkling and perky, for four more hours? Layla, the bartender, plopped a tray of beers onto the bar in front of her.

  “Cheer up, sweetie,” Layla said, flipping her long blonde extensions over her shoulder.

  Great. It’s noticeable, Evelyn thought, forcing a smile-like grimace onto her face to try and hide her mood. Nobody tipped a sour puss. She tried to put aside all thought of the long, arduous shift ahead of her, and really tried to banish the thought of the paper she’d barely started, that was due in three days. She gripped the tray of beers, preparing for battle.

  To add insult to injury, she felt a firm slap on her spandex mini-skirted ass. With her eye out for the nearest bouncer, she whirled around, fully prepared to start hollering at whoever dared do such a thing to keep his filthy meat paws to himself or he’d earn a trip headfirst out the back door. She stopped short and clamped her lips together against the swear word that was about to squeak out. It was just Landon, one of the regulars, standing there with his hands raised in a mock display of surrender, a goofy grin on his dumb, somewhat cute face. He was completely harmless, sort of sweet, and tipped with fifties most of the time. She decided to forgive and smiled at him, an almost borderline real smile.

  “Sorry, Evie, I just couldn’t resist. You’re so shiny!” Landon raised his beer bottle in a toast and nearly succeeded in being charming.

  God, she must be exhausted to be so close to falling for his crap. He’d been coming to Hoochie Mama’s since before she started waitressing there three years ago. He was in some sort of tech sales and either made a killing or just spent his money really unwisely.

  He’d asked her out once, and since he was kind of sweet and goofy cute, and clearly worked out a lot, she almost said yes. Then she remembered he was a regular at a strip club and turned him down, hiding behind a strictly made up Hoochie Mama company policy of not being allowed to date the patrons. He accepted this with good grace and kept overtipping.

  “Landon, honey!” she shouted over the music and raised her fist for him to bump.

  He loved fist bumping and sometimes added the exploding spirit fingers at the end, which never failed to crack her up.

  “What’re you doing getting your own beer? Sit your ass back down at your table and I’ll be over as soon as I deliver this tray to those old fogies over there.”

  She swung her auburn hair in the direction of the fogies with an exaggerated eye roll, to let him know that she wouldn’t be having any fun at all until she got to his table. The old guys in question were also regulars and had been staring reproachfully at her since their tray of beers had hit the bar. As soon as Landon skulked back to his table to high five all his perpetual frat brothers for having smacked her behind, she ran to the other table, letting her ample bosom pop a little bit more than she would have liked in an attempt to keep the peace.

  “Sorry, gentlemen,” she baby hollered, which was harder than one would think. “Some guys just don’t have any manners at all.”

  She shot Vern a quelling glare when she saw his hand snaking out from under the table, headed in the direction of her ass. He must have seen Landon get away with it and thought he’d have a chance as well. But Vern wasn’t at all sweet or cute and his tips were insulting. She chatted up the old guys for what she thought was a fair amount of time, considering they’d mostly spend their dirty old one dollar bills on the dancers and probably forget about her completely.

  She continued her rounds, dodging hands and pretending to laugh at stupid jokes, commiserate with whiny sad drunks, and make everyone feel like they were the most important person in all of Dilbert, Texas—nay, the world. Occasionally she’d pause to chat with one of the other waitresses or listen to the dancers complain about their loser boyfriends or how much their thighs chafed from the pole.

  One night, after closing and too many tequila shots, she’d gotten a quick lesson on twisty pole acrobatics from one of the dancers and then pulled her groin muscle so badly that she’d had to take two weeks off work and hobble to her classes on crutches. She told everyone outside of work she’d strained her muscle in Zumba class, and never so much as got up on the stage again after that. She made plenty from waitressing, thank you very much. More in the two nights she worked at Hoochie Mama’s than she could make at a full time office job, though it still wasn’t enough to cover her graduate school courses and the rent on her miniature apartment, even with the modest financial aid she got from her university for being an exemplary student.

  After what seemed like hours, and a disappointing tip load for all the schmoozing she was doing, even after securing and mesmerizing Landon’s table of pumped up man-children, she slid behind the bar, ducking down below eye level to eat a few peanuts and swill down some diet coke to keep her going. The clock read shy of eleven o’clock and her heart nearly broke. Less than an hour had passed and she felt like she’d just expended as much effort as a World War II triage nurse after an air raid. God, some of these men were high maintenance cry babies. Layla must have seen the despair in her eyes as she huddled under the bar, shoveling peanuts into her face.

  “Girl, you look like a zombie, go take a break.”

  Evelyn dragged herself back to her feet and with a grateful look at Layla, sneaked off the floor to the changing room. Shuffling her feet through the disgraceful mess of thongs and tassels and mile high shoes with broken ankle straps, she made her way to her tiny locker, brushed inch deep glitter off the nearest bench and dug out her phone, thinking she could take a few minutes to compile some notes for her paper, ‘Societal Conceptions Regarding Female Versus Male Single Parenting’ that was due in three days. Or just read a few pages of Highlander’s Embrace, the most recent of the steamy romance novels she carried with her everywhere she went.

  “What the heck?” she muttered, seeing that there were fourteen missed calls and three messages, all from her runaway best friend, Piper. Slightly annoyed, she clicked it to speaker and listened.

  “Evelyn, look, I know I haven’t called you in a few weeks, I’ve been so busy getting things sorted here, but I really need a … Can you just call me back the minute you get this. Don’t worry about the time difference, just call me. Uh, please.”

  Evelyn pressed delete. Typical, she thought. Don’t hear from her in ages and then she needs something.

  “Evie, please call me back right away. The second you get this. There’s a bit of a situation and I really need … what? What is he doing? … Crap.”

  The second message ended abruptly and Evelyn had to admit she felt a tinge of worry at the distress in Piper’s voice. She quickly deleted the message and played the third.

  “Evelyn. By all that is holy, you better call me.”

  Piper sounded angry and distracted. Evelyn could almost picture her talking at the phone, but concentrating on something else. The messages were only about a half hour old, which meant that it was around four thirty in the morning in Scotland. That fact was the most alarming. Piper was neither a night owl, nor an early bird.

  Over the years Evelyn had seen her fall asleep and stay asleep even under the most worrisome of circumstances, including the threat of being expelled from school, multiple bad boyfriends, and her parents’ ugly divorce. Something serious was keeping her awake. She was just about to dial Piper�
��s number when the phone buzzed to life. Evelyn immediately answered.

  “What is it?” she said, worried for her best friend, but mostly skeptical. She’d been left out of the loop for over three weeks now, ever since Piper’s great-grandmother died and left her the family estate in Scotland.

  “Oh my God, Evelyn, where have you been!” Piper demanded in a tinny, far away voice.

  “Are you kidding me?” Evelyn waited through the annoying transcontinental echo for what she hoped was going to be a heartfelt apology for being forgotten and ignored. Instead she heard an impatient huffing sound.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t called since I got here, but you cannot begin to understand the piles of—oh my God, Evie, listen. Please, can we just pretend for a second that I’m not a big dick for not calling, because I have a real problem. I need your help!”

  Evelyn stood up and began pacing through the stripper debris, trying to maintain her dignified wounded pride.

  “Evie, please!” Piper cried.

  Evelyn heard the pathetic plea again due to the long distance echo and her heart melted enough to at least hear what she had to say.

  “What’s wrong?” she said, kicking a glossy vinyl thigh high boot out of the way as she continued to pace. There was a sigh and a scuffling noise from far away Scotland.

  “I really need you to come here and help me with something. Can you get away for a few days? Or a week, a couple weeks?”

  “Are you crazy? I’m at work right now, and I have class tomorrow and a major paper due in three days. I can maybe visit when the semester’s over. Piper, what is going on?”

  “I think I may be crazy, actually.” Piper made a choking sound and then must have put her hand over the mouthpiece because it sounded like she was saying something, maybe to someone else.

  “Is somebody with you right now? Are you in trouble? Can you speak freely?” Evelyn started actively freaking out, thinking of all the Lifetime television movies she’d ever seen.

  Why had they never worked out a code word to let the other one know if she was in trouble? God, the oversight.

  “Piper?”

  “I’m fine. I mean I’m not fine, but I’m not in danger.” Piper laughed mirthlessly. “I know you have classes but can’t you please just take a leave or something? Can’t you do that with grad school? I’ll buy your ticket. Please. I can’t tell you over the phone what’s going on. You’d never believe me. I can’t … Just, you have to be here. I’ll buy your ticket.”

  Evelyn sat down on a bench without looking first and raised a cloud of glitter. Piper sounded wired and distraught, two things she never sounded. Piper was calm and cool, always. It was how she could shoplift anything, cheat on any test.

  “You still have a valid passport, right? Oh God, please tell me your passport isn’t expired!”

  “It’s still good, we went to Mexico two years ago, remember?”

  “Can you come right away? I need you right away. I promise this isn’t something stupid. I promise, Evie!” Piper now sounded like she was hyperventilating.

  Evelyn’s head began to pound. How could she possibly manage a trip to Scotland right now? A tiny part of her however, was doing handstands of happiness at the thought of getting away from it all. Her current paper was boring the living daylights out of her. The subject she’d chosen was so far out of her range of interest she was questioning the entire last five years of her life.

  And she worked as a waitress at the most notorious strip club in three towns. She was twenty five years old and didn’t have a clue what she was going to do when she ended up with her master’s degree in gender studies, if she ever ended up with it. Could she possibly put her crap life on hold under the guise of helping her oldest and best friend? Could she do that, or was that cheating? She realized she had been holding her breath for quite some time and let it out in a rush.

  “I don’t know, Piper,” she said, feeling lame.

  She remembered the time in seventh grade when Piper stole her neighbor’s tractor and drove it twelve miles to Eagle Valley to get Evelyn a copy of some dumb cd she’d wanted for her birthday, but was banned from the Dilbert Wal-Mart due to explicit content. She’d gotten a ride home in a cop car, but not before she bought the cd.

  Evelyn sighed. “When would you need me to be there?”

  “Oh, thank you! You don’t even know how you’re saving my life. We’re lost here, we’re just going nuts …. “

  “When? I have to make some calls, get somebody to watch my apartment and cover my shifts here.” There was a long pause. “Piper? Are you still there?”

  “Uh, can you leave tomorrow at 5:40 out of Houston?”

  “What?” Evelyn stood up, showering glitter everywhere. The time sounded awfully specific. “Did you already buy a ticket?”

  “Well, yes,” Piper said in a small voice. “I just knew that I could count on you. And I would have died if you said no, so it wouldn’t matter if I wasted money on the ticket. I’ll email you all the information. You’re saving me, you really are. I’ll see you soon!”

  After they said their goodbyes Evelyn didn’t know whether to feel outraged or flattered. She settled on a mixture of both. Her stomach roiled violently, like she was about to walk out onto a stage in front of a packed audience, without knowing any of her lines. I’m very possibly screwing everything in my life right up, she thought, and headed out to try and explain why she had to leave early, and that she might not be back for a while.

  Chapter 2

  After checking the internet to see what the weather was going to be like in Scotland and dismissing it as not being possible, Evelyn hurriedly packed, not really knowing what she was in for when she got there. A couple pairs of jeans, tee shirts and a few light cardigans for the evenings, one nice dress just in case, and one of her more demure Hoochie Mama ensembles, also just in case. She stared at the shiny black tube dress and thought how stupid she was being, but couldn’t make herself take it out of the suitcase. Something was telling her she might need a going out on the town outfit.

  Lordy, I have a lot of slutty clothes, she thought as she perused her closet. A quick run down memory lane reminded her she’d been working at the bar for more than three years, and whenever she saw a sale sign in one of the cheap junior shops she went in and ransacked their clearance racks for micro minis, sparkly halters and trashy, toweringly high heels. The comfortable tee shirts, staid blazers and jeans she wore to classes took up a much tinier space in the closet, and was getting more crowded out by the year.

  She hated doing the math in her head, how much she could make if she worked every night, just gave up on getting her advanced degree, which was proving to be more difficult and time consuming than she had at first thought. When she had met people in the past who gave up on their master or doctorate degrees after working so long and hard, she’d dismissed them as crazy or lazy or just plain idiots unable to get the job done, but now she knew how desperately difficult the research and work that went into it was, not to mention the stupid university politics and the extreme drain on her wallet. Being a full time cocktail waitress seemed like a completely viable option to her sometimes, especially on nights like this when she was sleep deprived and behind schedule.

  “Oh, what the hell,” she said to her wardrobe, pulling out a hot pink sequined mini skirt and its coordinating satin halter top to add to her suitcase. Surely they had nightclubs in Piper’s new town. Evelyn knew she could definitely use a night of mindless dancing, and from the stress level in Piper’s voice, she could benefit from one as well. After zipping up her suitcase and hunting frantically for her passport, Evelyn poured herself a glass of wine to try to help calm her frazzled nerves so she could sleep.

  She tried to imagine what could possibly make Piper need her to drop everything and fly more than four thousand miles at a moment’s notice. She came up with nothing. Piper had always been as cool as a cucumber, a veritable criminal mastermind. Evelyn smiled as she poured another glass, ex
hausted but way too wired to sleep.

  Evelyn had moved from Austin to Dilbert right before sixth grade, and was certain her life was over because of it. Shy, too tall for her age and slightly nerdy in her interests, she’d had a hard enough time making the two friends she had back in Austin, girls she’d known since preschool and who’d become her friends almost by default, other slightly awkward kids who’d herded together for protection and the dreaded group projects. When Evelyn started her first day of school in her new, horrible small town, she was sure she could never be more miserable.

  Hester Hastings Middle School had a lot of classes in portables that were color coded and set up in a bewildering maze, and Evelyn had accidentally gone to the cyan portable when she should have been in the turquoise one. As a result, she was late to her first Spanish class. The teacher, being a tyrant who’d seen far too many years in the trenches, mistook Evelyn’s frustrated apology for sass and gave her an after-school detention.

  Mortified and scared out her wits, Evelyn had creeped into the periwinkle portable after last period and slid into the only open chair. The class was filled with exactly the kind of kids she had always seen in movies with detention scenes. She remembered vividly that one of them even had an eyebrow piercing. She could barely bring herself to raise her eyes from her book until the girl next to her poked her lightly in the arm with the eraser end of her pencil. Evelyn jumped as if she’d been shanked, but saw that the girl, a tiny button nosed elf with the cutest dark brown bob and twinkling hazel eyes, was smiling at her and didn’t seem especially vicious.

  “What’re you in for?” she asked, which seemed hilarious to Evelyn, even now.

  “I was late to Spanish. I’ve never been to detention,” Evelyn answered, feeling like she needed to defend herself. The injustice of it stung.

  “Oh, me neither,” the girl said with a smirk that made Evelyn wonder at the truth of her statement.