In Search of Lucy: A Novel Read online

  IN SEARCH OF LUCY

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2011 Lia Fairchild

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781612182834

  ISBN-10: 1612182836

  IN SEARCH OF LUCY

  BY LIA FAIRCHILD

  This book is dedicated to my best friend for the last twenty-five years, who also happens to be my husband, and to my two beautiful children.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  What’s the point? Lucy Lang contemplated this again for the hundredth time as she climbed into her faded, light gray Honda Civic. She plopped down in the driver’s seat and tossed an empty Starbucks cup onto the floor. What’s the point of even going to work today? Sixteen months later and she was still a receptionist at Amy’s Nails. At thirty years old, there definitely should be more to life than this. But what?

  After spending most of her life taking care of other people, she wasn’t exactly sure how to take care of herself. In reality, Lucy began her life—if you could call it that—three years ago when her mother took off for the last time. Three years and nothing to show for it but financial debt, professional setbacks, and the monotony of everyday life. Days that started and ended pretty much the same way: alone.

  It was late spring, and the weather could not have been more perfect. It was finally starting to warm up, and Lucy hated being cold. She was usually chilly when others were just fine. Even in her own apartment she habitually wore sweatshirts. Long, baggy ones that hung past the knees on her slender five-foot-six frame. While she didn’t happen to notice or appreciate this sunny day, she did take note of the clouds—fluffy interspersed clouds that caught her eye because they reminded her of the opening of The Simpsons.

  Lucy glanced around the floor and passenger seat before snagging a black hair band hidden halfway underneath the seatbelt. She pulled back her wavy brown hair into a ponytail, then put the key in the ignition and turned. After several sluggish grinds, the engine started. At least she got lucky today. A few times a week, she had to pop the hood and spray some mystery gunk into the engine just to get it to start. A wave of panic brushed over her as she realized that the can was almost empty.

  As she cruised along, her memory took her back to when she first got that can a few months ago. She had just picked up some groceries and walked back out to her car. After squeezing them in the backseat against a pile of clothes, which were piled on top of a stack of notepads, papers, and drawing pads, she rummaged through one of the bags and pulled out a variety box of donuts. Lucy could never wait until she got home for the something sweet she purchased at the store. She wasn’t concerned at all that someone would see her. In fact, she rarely cared what people thought of her, which was one of the reasons she didn’t have many friends. There were several casual acquaintances she came in contact with, of course, but there were really only one or two people that she, reluctantly, considered friends.

  With a chocolate donut in hand, balanced against the steering wheel, she put the key in the ignition and turned. Just revving. She tried it again. More revving. “C’mon!” She stopped, took a bite of the donut, and glanced around the parking lot. She tried again, pumping the gas frantically as she turned the key. “You piece of shit!” She banged on the dashboard with her free hand. “Crap!” she shouted with an exploding exhale that left her slumped over in her seat.

  “That’s not gonna do it!” a muffled voice barked from the other side of her window.

  Startled, she dropped the donut and snapped her head to the window. She saw a gray-haired, blue-collar-looking man staring at her. “Geez, man, you scared the crap out of me.” Lucy motioned with her hand for him to step back so she could open the door. She got out, leaving the door open and looking at him blankly as if to say, “Well?”

  “Thought you needed some help,” the man said.

  “Oh…it won’t start,” she said, dropping the attitude just a bit.

  “Why don’t I take a look for you,” he offered as he walked around to the front of the car. “Pop the hood.” He motioned with a pumping thumbs-up for her to comply.

  She got in the driver’s seat and reached down to pull the handle. While she was down there, she retrieved the fallen donut and chucked it out the door.

  “I got groceries back here,” she shouted, leaning out the door.

  “Hold your horses, missy,” he volleyed back. Without moving from his concentrated stare on the engine, he said, “I think I may know what the problem is.”

  As she waited, she wondered if he had a family. She thought he was probably the type of dad who teaches you how to change a tire before you go off to college. Or the kind you call when something really exciting happens in your life.

  Lucy wouldn’t know about that. First of all, nothing exciting ever happened to her. And second, she didn’t have a father. Her stepfather, Tom, died when she was twelve, and she never met her real father. Tom had married her mother, Linda, when Lucy was just five years old, and her half sister Katie came along right after Lucy turned six. They actually had a happy little family for about five years before Tom passed of a heart attack.

  Tom was one of those flaky, charmer types who was all talk but never came through in the end. The girls loved the charming part, and in the beginning Lucy was too young to notice the flaky part. Towards the end it got to Lucy and her mother. Linda began to drink more than casually when Katie started school. Once it was just the three of them, the situation got much worse and Lucy was forced to take control of the family. Unfortunately, while Lucy struggled to keep her family together, her mother succeeded in pulling it apart.

  “Hold on a sec,” the man said, jolting Lucy from her thoughts. He briskly walked to an all-white pickup truck about six spaces down the lot. “Let me just get something from my truck.”

  Waving a hand in the air and not looking very confident he would return with a solution, she gave a halfhearted, �
�Yeah.” She sat and stared at him as he rummaged through a giant gray lockbox in the back of his truck.

  What if he wasn’t just a nice man trying to help? What if he was a psycho and now he would lure her back to his truck to kidnap her? Who knows what would happen then. What choice did she have anyway? It’s not like she had AAA or some capable boyfriend or BFF to call. Who would really miss her anyway if she was snatched away from her meager existence? Maybe it would be a good thing if he was a psycho. She’d often thought about the different ways she could end it all. This, however, was definitely not one of the scenarios.

  Quick and painless was more of what she was looking for. And something that didn’t take too much effort. Lucy had run through the possibilities in her head more than once. Drug overdose? Pretty tough to get your hands on something that would do the trick. Slit her wrists? Too gross. And she didn’t have the guts to do that anyway. What about smoking in bed? Maybe she’d pass out from being drunk. That was believable since she spent many a night overindulging in cheap wine or beer and then falling asleep in front of the TV. Definitely not an option though. She didn’t smoke, and the whole apartment building could burn down. Even though she appeared to be a loner, she still cared about people and didn’t want to hurt anyone.

  Chugging back with a can in one hand, raised up like he was carrying the Olympic torch, the kind man cheered, “Got it.”

  Usually people who were so positive and cheery annoyed Lucy. But something about this guy was kind of cute. Must be the dad thing. She trusted him and wanted someone like him to take care of her.

  “Great,” she said. “What is it?”

  He waved her over to the front of the car. “Let’s try spraying some starter fluid in the carburetor. It used to work great on my wife’s old Honda.” He shook the can and then gave it three squirts. “Why don’t you try to start it up?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Okay.” She walked around him to the driver’s side, hopped in, and turned the key once again. More revving. “Keep going?” she yelled.

  “Yeah, try it again,” the fatherly type answered back.

  She let out a breath and gave it another try. After a few seconds, the engine roared to a start. Lucy revved it up a few more times for good measure, checked that the brake was on, and hopped out. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He reached out to her with the can in his hand. “Here, you keep this for next time.”

  “Thank you.” She took the can from him and gave him a closed-mouth smile.

  The kind man gave a kind wave and turned to walk away.

  “Wait…uh,” she said. She ducked inside her car and turned back around instantly holding the open box of donuts. “My name is Lucy.” She reached out with the box and smiled, bigger this time.

  The man dipped a hand in, grabbed a plain donut, took a bite, and gave her a nod. Then he turned and walked away. He didn’t say another word. Not even his name. Lucy stood frozen for a minute, shrugged, and resumed her spot back in the driver’s seat.

  Now on the main road headed toward Amy’s, Lucy sported a small smirk thinking of that old man on that day. The moment was short-lived as the ring of her cell phone jolted her back to reality. She knew from experience that it was most likely work or a utility company checking on a late bill. She reached for the hands-free button and gave it a tap. “Yeah, it’s me,” she droned.

  “Lucy, Lucy, it’s Amy. You get lattes this morning?”

  Lucy hated the way Amy said her name. It sounded too much like Ricky Ricardo in I Love Lucy even though he was Latin and Amy was Asian. And “Amy” wasn’t even her real name. Mickey Chin, the owner, gave all the ladies American-sounding names because he thought it would be better for business and easier for the customers. Amy, Mickey’s wife, was really Lan. Suzie’s real name was Sunee. Kim was actually named Kim, but that sounded American enough for Mickey.

  When Lucy accepted the job from Mickey, she agreed to answer phones until a spot opened up to do nails. Somehow, answering phones grew into making coffee, running errands, and cleaning the stations. Mickey seemed to be in no hurry to move her into a technician spot. Granted, it’s not like business was booming, and she hadn’t had a day of experience since getting her license. She had the talent, though, and was actually an exceptional artist. She had a love for all things paint, and growing up she had dreamed of being an artist. Like most children, she started out drawing and coloring. Eventually she began to try and re-create her sketches as paintings. She used to paint with her mother, and when Katie was old enough, all three of them would paint together. Those were some of the few good memories Lucy had to look back on.

  “Sure, Amy.” Lucy tried to sound cordial. “I’ll pick them up and be there soon.”

  “Okay, Lucy, thank—”

  Lucy hit the hands-free button, cutting Amy off in mid thanks. “Oops, so sorry,” Lucy delighted, doing her best imitation of Amy’s voice.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lucy opened the front door of Amy’s Nails holding a tray of coffee in one hand, and a black oversized purse was flung over her other shoulder. The familiar and somewhat pleasant smell of acrylic wafted instantly under her nose. It’s a smell that most people find unappealing and most women simply tolerate to feed their vainness. But to Lucy it represented yet another path to a creative outlet as well as the road back to being a financially stable adult. In this economy, and without a college degree, this was about the best she could get. She’d spent some years waitressing, but after seeing what that did to her mother, Lucy didn’t have much tolerance for it.

  The entry and setup of the salon was very inviting walking in. Although, Lucy felt the front window display was definitely too drab. There were four stations to do nails and six chairs for pedicures, three on each side facing each other with a television hanging from the ceiling in the middle. Pink and black designs were splashed about on the walls, while one wall was covered with every nail color you could possibly think of. There was a black L-shaped vinyl couch in the front for customers to sit on while they waited.

  “Oh Lucy, thank you so much,” Amy squealed as she rose from behind the counter and scuffled across the floor in her fuzzy pink slippers. She quickly snatched the tray of coffee from Lucy. “You so awesome, girl!” Unlike the other women, who wore sandals to show off their various artistic painting skills, Amy always wore slippers. She was in her early forties, and although she tried to talk and act young, she was very mature and motherly. She often gave Lucy advice and was the only one there who truly seemed to like her.

  Amy also was appreciative and recognized Lucy’s hard work—when she worked hard, that is. Kim and Suzie didn’t seem to respect Lucy, especially Suzie. At times, when they were having conversations in Chinese, Lucy felt as though they were speaking about her. Once in a while one of them would glance up at her and give a disingenuous smile. One time she even noticed Amy giving them a disapproving look and then scolding them in Chinese.

  Amy took the coffee over and passed one to Suzie and another to Kim. Of course there was no thank-you to be heard from either of them. Watching Amy carry the tray, Lucy imagined it was a cocktail tray and dreamt of sipping a margarita, rocks, salt, stretched out in the sun.

  Suzie, who had shorter-than-shoulder-length hair, had really hairy arms, so she wore long sleeves all the time. Even in the heat of the summer. She was also about eighty pounds overweight, and she liked to balance her cup on her stomach. She promptly got her newly acquired coffee and perched it right into place, then resumed her conversation with Kim and the customer Kim was working on. The woman was a semi-regular who always selected the French acrylics. You couldn’t tell from her face, which was pulled freakishly tight, but her hands said that she was probably around mid-sixties.

  “It’s really getting on my last nerve, Kim,” the woman said. She had one hand resting in a bowl of liquid and the other being rubbed by Kim’s hands.

  “He needs to get a hobby or find some kind of project,” Suzie chimed in.

  Th
e woman continued speaking, but as she got more riled from her conversation, the hand in the bowl began splashing around. “All this time off and nothing gets done. He spends hours watering the landscaping, and then the rest of the day he goes to Home Depot to exchange some tool or a load of bricks.”

  Kim sat silently working. This was her usual routine. She didn’t like to talk to the customers much. She just let them drone on about work, husbands, or the state of the economy. Eventually, Amy or Suzie would jump in if necessary. Amy scuffled across the room to the woman and rubbed her back. “Mrs. Gordon, you need water? We have bottled water and iced tea in back.”

  “Water would be nice…thanks.”

  “Lucy, why don’t you bring Mrs. Gordon a water?” Suzie instructed. She had already downed ninety percent of her coffee and was swirling around the last bit.

  Already aware the request was coming, Lucy rolled her eyes and walked to the back. She added sarcastically, “You want something too, Suzie? Looks like you already took care of that grande I got you.” Lucy grabbed a cold water from a mini fridge in the back and walked back to the station. “Here you go, Mrs. Gordon,” she said a little too sweetly.