Page 19 of Little Secrets
Sal’s father died three months later, and by then the bar was in shambles, badly managed by Fred’s sons and losing customers quickly. At Sal’s request, Marin and a bunch of friends took Sal to the bar after the funeral and reception, and after several tequila shots and a few rounds of Coors Lite, Sal approached the sons and offered to buy the bar from them. They didn’t take him seriously at first, annoyed at the drunken cockiness of the college kid with the loud friends. Sal explained that he’d inherited just enough money to buy it outright, in cash.
A week later, the deal was done. He dropped out of PSSU once the papers were signed, and none of them were surprised; Sal’s grades were lackluster at best, and the only thing he’d resented more than his father was school.
Sal Sr., a winemaker who’d studied in Italy under his father, would have hated that his only son had passed up working in the family winery to buy a bar in the city instead.Hated.
It felt a bit radical back then, a twenty-one-year-old college dropout buying the bar they used to get drunk in after exams, but in hindsight it wasn’t any more radical than Marin marrying Derek right after graduation. It’s easier to make spontaneous, life-changing decisions when you’re young and fearless and have nothing to lose. Luckily Sal turned out to be a pretty decent business owner, and in a neighborhood where bars and restaurants come and go, Sal’s Bar is still here, still profitable.
Marin and Sal were still technically together when he bought the bar, and she’d been against the decision. It seemed like another one of Sal’s harebrained ideas, and she was adamant that he should finish school. They fought a lot about it, but in fairness, they fought all the time. Fighting and sex were two things their relationship had a lot of. The sex, from what Marin remembers, was great. The fighting, not so much.
They’re better as friends.
“If I killed her, you think I’d do okay in prison?” she asks Sal. “I think I would. I’m a tough bitch. I’d probably run the place.” She downs the second cocktail faster than the first and taps the side of the glass. “Hit me again.”
Sal stares at her, and she can tell he doesn’t like how she’s acting or how fast she’s drinking. He’s seen her like this before—out of control, on the edge of losing her shit—but never in public. She’s making him nervous.
“I’m not driving home.” She rolls her eyes. “Relax.”
In fact, that was the first thing she said when she got to the bar: that she’d be taking an Uber home, and that she needed a cocktail, or five. Sal, not assuming anything was seriously wrong, asked if her SUV was in the shop again.
It was a fair question. Derek had bought her a Porsche Cayenne Turbo for her birthday three years before, and it’s been to the mechanic more than she’s been to the doctor. She has a love/hate relationship with that car. She was thrilled when she opened the front door of their house on the morning of her fortieth birthday and saw it parked in the driveway, angled for maximum impact, pearly white and glistening underneath a giant red velvet bow. A couple of the neighbors came out to see what all the fuss was about, but considering the neighborhood they live in, it really wasn’t that big a deal. It wasn’t even the first time that year someone on their street had received a car as a present, delivered in the exact same way.
Marin learned two things that day. One, the dealer keeps the bow. Nobody needs a red ribbon the size of a hydrangea bush for any purpose other than gifting someone a car; besides, those bows are custom-made and expensive, so the dealer takes it back once the car has been delivered to the recipient. Two, nobody really buys someone else a car. Derek didn’t walk into the dealership and charge six figures to his credit card. He leased it for four years on her behalf. The car qualifies as a business expense, something she can write off, and it makes zero sense to own it when it’s a depreciating asset. But he paid the deposit and taxes up front (also a write-off), handled the paperwork, and chose the color. He knew she would love the pearly white, and he was right.
This is what rich people do. If they can finance something, they will. It’s all about maximizing cash flow; debt is only a number on paper. It’s why she’s not sure how to feel about the Porsche. It’s like half a gift. They did get a cute photo out of it—one of the neighbors snapped a picture of them sitting on the hood looking like pretentious jackasses while Derek kissed her on the cheek. It was her most popular picture on Facebook that year.
It’s now two in the afternoon. She should have gone back home to sleep after her coffee-shop stakeout this morning, but she drove around for a while, attempting to clear her head. Her thoughts are getting darker, and instead of scaring herself with them, she’s starting to find comfort in them.
Marin is starting to imagine McKenzie Li gone. She’s starting to imaginemakingMcKenzie Li gone.
“I can’t believe you went to her coffee shop,” Sal says. “That’s some serious stalker-level shit right there.”
“It’s nothercoffee shop. She works at the Green Bean.” She taps her nails on the side of her glass again to remind him it’s empty. “We can go over there right now, if you want to take a look at her.”
“Fuck no,” he says, and his face is as close to shocked as she’sever seen it. “We’re not going there, and you’re not going there. Ever again. Okay? Stay away. Don’t talk to her. The first step to fixing your problem is understanding what, exactly, your problem is. Or in this case, who. This is all about the snake you married. If you want to kill anyone, kill him.”
She’s listening, but she’s not hearing him. After another pointed look and another tap of her glass, Sal sighs and goes to make her another cocktail.
Marin often wonders what would have happened with them, had she never met Derek. It wasn’t easy being Sal’s girlfriend. He’d had a tough childhood and was plagued by demons. Neither of which were deal breakers, by the way, but what she couldn’t get past back then was the lack of direction in his life. He was fun to be with, but aimless. He hated school, and he seemed to have no ambition, no goals beyond whatever he had planned for the weekend… and sometimes not even then. It drove Marin nuts.
They had a big fight after his father died, after Sal bought the bar, and mutually decided to end things. It wasn’t their first big fight, or even their first breakup, but he was in a dark place and things were really intense. She needed space. She impulsively took off to Cabo San Lucas with a group of her girlfriends for the weekend, and that’s where she got together with Derek. They already knew each other a little; he was a friend of a friend, and there’d always been a spark, but she could never do anything about it because she had a boyfriend. But on that trip, she was technically single, and Sal and all his demons were two thousand miles away. It felt so good to be with someone who was in line with her, who was as ambitious as she was, who had a clear plan for what he wanted his life to be. The thing that attracted her to Derek the most was his drive.
By the time the weekend was over, she knew Derek was the one. Knew it in a way she never felt with Sal. When she returned fromCabo, Sal wanted to get back together, and in truth, he had every right to expect they would—fighting and making up had always been their pattern. But not this time.
“I’ve met someone,” she told him. She hadn’t even unpacked yet. She had just gotten home, and it was late, and Sal wanted to come over. She suggested they meet at their favorite twenty-four-hour diner instead. The Frankenstein was three blocks from the apartment she shared with two other girls, and when she arrived, hair still wet from a quick shower, he’d already ordered for her. She always got the same thing. Eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon, wheat toast.
“Met someone? Who?” Sal asked.
She told him about Derek.
“So you had a fling.” Sal winced. “The thought that you were with someone else makes me sick, but I guess I can’t get mad, because we were broken up. I can be hurt, though.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t. Not really. It had ended for her the moment she kissed Derek.
Sal grabbed her hand. “So tell him to get lost, and come back to me. Mar, it’s you and me. There’s nobody else for me but you. We can fix this. I know things got… weird after my dad died. But it can be better.Ican be better.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. “I want us to stay friends. But we want different things. You’ve got the bar now. And I’m with Derek, and we’re both done with school in a few months. Everything’s… different. And maybe that’s the way it should be.”
Yes, things with Derek had moved fast. But when you know, you know. Sal was never meant to be the great love of Marin’s life. He could never fill her up completely, for reasons she could never articulate. Whatever X-factor was supposed to exist between them back then just didn’t. For her, anyway.
