The Identicals by Elin Hilderbrand

Author:Elin Hilderbrand [HILDERBRAND, ELIN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Contemporary Women
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2017-06-13T00:00:00+00:00

A man sits next to her at the bar. He’s tall and good-looking in a wealthy-jerk kind of way. He’s wearing a pressed red-and-white gingham shirt turned back at the cuffs and a golf visor printed with the name of some bank, even though it’s dark outside.

He says, “What’s up, pretty lady?”

Tabitha rolls her eyes.

“You look like a tourist,” Visor Man says. He signals the bartender, and a gin and tonic lands in front of him. He takes most of the drink in one swallow. “Are you a tourist? Don’t tell me: let me guess. You’re from New Canaan, right? Or no, wait: Greenwich!”

Tabitha takes offense. If anyone looks like a tourist, or at least not like a local, it’s this guy. He’s wearing an Audemars Piguet watch with a black lizard strap, which Tabitha knows costs five figures. He has a way about him that broadcasts a lifetime of privilege, private schools, and money, money, money.

“Neither,” Tabitha says. “I live on Nantucket.”

Visor Man throws his head back and laughs. “What a coincidence!” he says.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. Coincidence? Does she know this guy?

“I’m the man from Nantucket!” he says. Tabitha closes her eyes and hopes that when she opens them again, this jerk will be gone. But… he remains. There is also, however, a second shot of Jägermeister, which has materialized out of nowhere. She throws it back without hesitation.

“I’ve been to Nantucket, you know,” Visor Man says. “I’ve been to the Chicken Box. You ever been there? Great bar, live music, but no chicken. Not one piece of chicken.”

When the music stops, the noise of the crowd gets louder. Tabitha would like to get this guy off her shoulder; he’s drunk. But he is, at least, someone to talk to, so she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for thirty seconds longer. “I haven’t been to the Box in a long time,” she says. She peers over the bar into the kitchen. Is anyone working back there? “Do you happen to know if I can still order a burger? I’m starving.”

Visor Man is absolutely not listening to her. “Where’s your husband?”

“I’m not married,” Tabitha says.

“You’re divorced?” Visor Man asks. “Did you come out to the Vineyard with your big fat alimony check looking for some action?”

That’s it, Tabitha thinks. She’s done. This guy is such a jackass that he makes Captain Peter look like a catch. Where are all the nice, normal men? she wonders. The ones with interesting jobs, smart senses of humor, and compassionate, kind hearts? They’re at home, she thinks. With their wives and their well-behaved children. They’re certainly not out at a bar like this, looking to pick up someone like her. She needs to meet someone during the day. She should take up sailing, maybe—or golf.

She needs to break free of Visor Man posthaste, but the bar is crowded and there’s nowhere else to go. Then Tabitha feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Franklin Phelps holding his guitar by the neck as though it were a strangled goose.

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