“Thanks,” he said, turning away quickly.
“Don’t mention this to Darby,” I said. “She’ll be embarrassed. Just pretend it never happened.”
He nodded. “True. I didn’t think about that.”
I shook my head once, bending to my knees. “Anything I can do to help.”
Zeke kneeled next to me. “Seriously. It’s not like that.”
“Seriously,” I said, beginning to wipe up the mess. “I don’t care.”
chapter eight
clean
Zeke
N
aomi went to get a new bucket of water because the one we had been using was full of Darby’s vomit and God-knows-what-else that had already saturated the bar’s tightly-woven carpet over the years. I tried not to think about the fact that my hands were dark and sticky, thankful the lights were dim so I couldn’t see exactly why. I scratched my nose with my forearm, then swore under my breath when my hand brushed across my jeans, but my knees were already wet so it didn’t really matter.
“Hey,” Watts said, kneeling next to me. “You know she’s married, right? She wears her ring on the middle finger.”
“Why the middle finger?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, but imagine what kind of man she married. That’s a hard pass, brother. I don’t want you getting assassinated.”
I nodded, not really paying attention.
“How did it go tonight with Darby?” he asked.
“About as well as it ended,” I said. “She was tired, wasn’t feeling great, but she insisted on going anyway.”
“What was that?” Naomi asked, setting down the bucket of fresh water. “You tried to take her home?”
“A dozen times, but she insisted she was fine.”
Naomi made a face.
Watts interjected. “He tried to take her to her home. To rest.”
I frowned at Watts, confused at why he’d elaborated on something so obvious. It occurred to me that Naomi didn’t know I had sisters and a foster mom who I’d take a bullet for, and she didn’t know I’d tried to protect my mother from guys like that for the better part of my childhood.
I turned to Naomi. She seemed to believe Watts, but she didn’t deny needing an explanation in the first place. She thought I’d meant I was trying to take Darby to my place when she was sick.
“You think I’d try to take advantage of an ill woman? Wow,” I said, scrubbing harder. My forearms were burning, my wrists aching from being on all fours, but I was used to it. I was not, however, used to a woman thinking I was a douchebag.
“For half a second,” she said, defensive. She took a swig of her beer.
“Half a second too long for anyone to think I’d do something like that.” For Naomi to think I’m exactly the kind of man I hate.
“It was the way you worded it,” she snapped. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“How are we full-blown fightin’? I barely know you.”
“I have that effect on people,” she grumbled.
I’d missed something. The conversation rolled backward in my mind. That look on her face before … it wasn’t disgust. Wait a second…
“Why are you looking at me like that? Quit smiling,” she said.
I couldn’t. The smile was permanent. “You were jealous?”
“Fuck no,” she said, scrubbing harder.
“C’mon. For half a second you were jealous,” I prodded.
“Like you pointed out just a few seconds ago, I barely know you,” she said, out of breath.
“So?”
Her movements slowed, and she sat back on her haunches. “That must’ve been some date if she felt like puking but refused to go home until she actually did.”
I breathed out a laugh, tossing the rag to the floor. “She let Trex take her home. It’s safe to say I’m out of the running. But, like I told you, we made these plans before I met you. Trex has been in the picture while I’ve been out of it. I liked her, sure, but we’re just friends.”
Naomi’s expression softened, her scrubbing slowed. “Well, then let me apologize for Trex. He’s sensitive about her.”
“No, he was right. I should’ve taken her home no matter what she said. I knew she wasn’t feeling well.”
She soaked a rag in the suds and began to scrub. Her toned arms tensed as she pushed and pulled the wadded fabric against the carpet. “When he realizes what really went down, he’ll feel bad. That’s not really like him. He thinks she’s something special.”
“She is.”
Naomi looked up, annoyed. “You going to help or not?”
“Oh,” I said, getting on my knees and reaching across her to soak my rag. The water was already disgusting again, but I kept going, anyway.
We rinsed the carpet then lay towels over the soaked spot and stepped down. Once we couldn’t pick up more moisture, we picked up the soaked wads of fabric and tossed them in an empty laundry basket Jerry had brought over.
“I’ll take back the bucket,” Watts said, leaving Naomi and me alone.
“So … are you two going to start fighting over her or…?” Naomi asked. “Because Trex is my best friend, and I’ll take his side.”
“I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” I said, smug. She didn’t want me with Darby any more than Trex did.
“I happen to have seen you fight—over a girl—and she happened to be me, so I know that’s not true. You at least fight for honor, and that’s pretty cool.”
I looked down at the ring on her middle finger. “What’s that about?” I asked, gesturing to the gold band. The coldness in her eyes returned, and I instantly regretted my question.
She stood, looking down at her wet, filthy knees. “I’d better get washed off. Pretty sure every STD in existence is hiding in that carpet.”
“Right behind you.” I stood as she walked toward the restrooms.
Watts stood next to me, grabbing me before I took the first step to follow. “I don’t think she’s married.”
“Yeah, doesn’t really make sense for her to wear the ring on the wrong finger to confuse her situation just to beat someone’s ass for flirting.”
“Actually, I could see her doing that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Do you like her?” Watt’s asked.
“I don’t know yet. Not if she’s married. I thought I liked Darby, though, and look how that turned out.”
Naomi disappear into the Men’s room and Watt’s froze.
“Did she…?” he asked, trailing off.
“She sure as shit did,” I said, chuckling. “The women’s room is around the corner, and Naomi doesn’t seem to care about things like that.”
“Is she a … a…?” Watt’s said, again unable to finish his sentence.
I laughed out loud, then cleared my throat. “No.”
“I mean … she fights like a dude.”
“Women can fight, Watts. Haven’t you seen MMA? Amanda Nunez? Cyborg? Holly Holmes? Ronda Rousey?”
“Cyborg? What the hell are you … no. I mean, I know what MMA is, but I’m not a fan of watching anyone beating the shit out of each other for sport, so no, haven’t heard of ‘em,” Watts said. “You think Naomi’s MMA or a dude?”
I shook my head, leaving Watts standing in a stupor.
chapter nine
a different distraction
Naomi
T
he cold water rinsed the suds from my hands, and I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser. Zeke did the same, stealing glances. He glanced around with a smirk on his face, getting a towel for himself. “You’re in the men’s restroom. The women’s is around the corner.”
“Yeah, I was in there earlier. Believe me, this is the cleaner of the two. And, I’ve showered, shit, and shaved around many a man. The men’s john in a dive bar is actually pretty nice compared with some of the places I’ve had to squat and piss.”
Zeke chuc
kled. “Watt’s will be glad to know you have to squat.”
I tilted my head. “Were you about to ask if I have a penis?”
He shook his head emphatically. “No. Nope. I think you threw Watt’s for a loop coming in here, though.”
“If I was transgender, I’d be in the women’s restroom, genius.”
“I just told you it wasn’t me questioning you.”
I rolled my eyes and left him alone to sit at my table. For a reason I couldn’t put my finger on, what Zeke said bothered me. I looked at my arms. They were clearly toned, and yes, a beautiful little egg shape formed when I flexed, and I didn’t have the biggest tits in the room, but I had never been mistaken for a guy before.
Jerry waved me over.
“What?”
“Cheer up. Someone bought you a shot.”
“Who?” I said, looking over my shoulder. Zeke was on his way back to his friends from the restroom, smiling and nodding once when they inexplicably cheered his arrival.
“They said it was for taking care of Trex.”
“Oh,” I said, hammering it back and setting it on the counter. They. Not Zeke. Because his friends thought I was a man. “Tell Trex’s friends I said thanks.”
“What’s wrong?” Jerry asked.
I tried not to peek at my arms before I spoke. “When you first met me … were you confused about my gender?”
Jerry laughed out loud, his belly bouncing with the roars coming from his mouth. Disgruntled, I glanced over my shoulder to see if Jerry had drawn attention to us. He hadn’t.
“No, Naomi. Who told you that?”
“Zeke.”
“It’s because you can beat ass better than he can, and he needs to feel better about that. Also, you went into the Men’s room without skipping a beat. Their boy brains have to try to put together the puzzle of you, even if it’s stupid. Because, sister… Christ, how can I say this while still respecting my wife?” He looked up, thinking aloud. The answer came to him, and he cleared his throat. “You’re all woman.”
I nodded, his words licking my wounded ego.
The liquid from the shot glass still burned my throat as I walked back to my table. The music was getting louder, more people were filtering in through the door, and some of the hotshots were already on the dance floor with the fairer sex. You know, the ones who act like girls.
Zeke came over and sat, leaning his elbows on the wood, seeming content to watch his friends from afar. We didn’t speak, and it was actually sort of nice not feeling like the silence needed to be filled.
“Can I get you another beer?” he asked finally.
“Sure.”
He signaled Jerry, who ran a bottle over.
I thanked them both with a nod and took a swig. The bottle clanked against the table when I set it down. “Don’t you drink?” I asked.
“Not tonight. I was driving Darby around and … she seems happy with Trex?”
I shrugged. “How would I know?”
He stared at the door. “She just smiles a lot more when he’s around. I’m happy for her.”
“I bet you are,” I scoffed.
He leaned on the table, annoyed but not angry—yet. Three deep lines formed on his brow, making him a hair more attractive than before. “Are you always this mean? You’ve got at least one friend. Trex rushed over here to save you from Watts. You can’t be this horrible all the time.”
“She needs another shot,” Jerry said, putting one in front of me. “She’s not as uptight when she’s had a couple.”
I tossed it back, feeling my head begin to swim into the shallows of beer and bourbon.
I chuckled, a legitimate laugh, and it surprised me. I chugged the rest of the bitter liquid and stood. “I am this terrible—all the time. Thanks for the beer.”
I put a twenty-dollar bill on the table for Jerry and waved goodbye to him, then tossed the bottle in the trash on my way to the door, waved goodbye to him, and pushed the horizontal bar to open the door. I took a deep breath; summer and city filled my lungs, but it couldn’t have been more different from Vegas; thin and crisp, even though it was warm. Asphalt and a hint of food mixed with the indigenous trees one might expect to smell in Colorado.
In Vegas, I worked security for hotels and then the private sector. The thin but constant sheen of sweat on my skin reminded me of my desert home in Arizona and still busy enough to provide me with the distraction I craved, from missing Matt; from memories of my deployments. And the laws were a little more lax there. A scuffle on the Strip wasn’t unheard of.
I exhaled, stopped at the curb, and fished my keys out of my pocket, balancing an unlit cigarette between my lips. The door closed a second time behind me.
“No Uber tonight?” Zeke asked.
I paused. He was right. I’d drank enough to forget I’d drank too much to drive.
“I can drive you, then I’ll Uber home,” he offered. I glared at him, but he was unfazed. “What? You’ve been alone with me before, and besides, we both know you can kick my ass, probably faster inebriated. I’ll never admit I said that, by the way.”
“Fine,” I said, handing him my keys. “The matte green FJ,” I said, pointing.
Zeke smiled. “Army green. I would have guessed that was yours.”
I frowned. I hadn’t considered it Army green.
We walked together across the street, and he opened my door. I pushed it shut. “Don’t do that.”
“What? Open the door for you?”
“Do I look like I need you to open the door for me?” Fuck. I’m slurring.
“Yeah. You kinda do. Quit being a dick.”
I opened the door again and crawled in. Zeke jogged around and opened the driver’s side door, adjusting the mirror and the seat, checking for headlights and the blinkers like he was about to take a test. He reached for me, and I shoved him hard, his back hitting the driver’s side door. The FJ rocking a bit as he stared at me in shock, his hands up.
“The fuck?!” he yelled. “I was getting your seat belt, Naomi, damn!”
I slowly reached for the strap and pulled it across my chest, clicking it into the buckle. “Whoa. Habit. I thought you were coming in to … should I get an Uber?” I asked.
Zeke leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “No. I’m fine.” He rolled his head to the side—his temple still resting on the wheel—to meet my gaze, a look of disbelief on his face. “I mean, we’ve been alone together before, and you didn’t feel the need to defend yourself.”
“I know. It was just instinct.”
“Your instinct told you I was a threat?” he asked in disbelief.
I breathed out a laugh but instantly regretted it, straightening my face. “No.” I cleared my throat. “No, it’s just when someone comes at me and I’m not prepared for it … usually I’m better at deciphering it was a bad call.”
His brows shot up. “You’re not even going to say you’re sorry?”
“I’m…” I sighed. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Zeke’s jaw ticked under the skin, and then he backed out of the lot, pausing at the street. “Where am I going?” he snapped.
I pointed. Zeke drove forward, then turned left. I gave him directions all the way to my house. It was the only time we spoke. I could tell he was mad, and I felt guilty for such an extreme reaction, but not enough to beg his forgiveness. I coached him for every turn, feeling antsy the closer we came to my house. Finally, Zeke turned down my road, and we crept by the street-parked cars and dark houses. Zeke turned into my drive and parked.
He rubbed his shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” he asked without looking at me.
I glared at the dark windows of my house knowing the moment I walked inside a heavy, awful loneliness would set in.
“No, probably not,” I said, feeling the alcohol cloud my thoughts.
He shot me a curious look. “Don’t make me feel bad for you. Not after you just sucker punched me.”
“Well, too late. Are you going to be okay or not?” He was trying to match my tone but failed. Zeke didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
After a few moments, I blurted out what I was thinking. “You wanna come in?”
Zeke’s brows pulled together. “Why? So you can shoot me?” I stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. He chuckled too, but then his smile faded. “You got a husband in there?”
My smile vanished too. “No one’s in there.”
Zeke seemed to sympathize with whatever expression was on my face. “C’mon. I’ll walk you inside.”
He walked around the FJ, but let me open the door, and then he let me lean on him until we reached the porch. I jammed the key in the lock and twisted, then pushed. I tossed the keys to the shallow wooden bowl that sat on the entry table.
Zeke shut the door behind him and put his hand in his pocket. “You need anything else?”
I shook my head and pointed at the refrigerator. “There’s ice packs in the freezer.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. He reached for his phone. I reached to stop him but pulled my hand back the moment my fingers touched his. “You don’t have to go.”
He shrugged. “I can stay for a while … if you want.”
“Stay for the night.”
He only thought about my offer for a few seconds before answering. “Okay, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to stifle another laugh, but failed. “Thanks.”
I grabbed him a small ice pack then escorted him down the hall to the master bedroom. Zeke held the ice to his nose for the second time in as many times as I'd met him.
“Nice place,” Zeke said, glancing around the darkness. The bed was highlighted by the light in the hall. “Is this your…?”
“My bedroom.”
“You want me to sleep in here?” He pointed with his free hand.
“Is that a problem?”
“Nope.” Zeke took a few steps inside.
I fell onto my back on the bed, interlaced my hands on my middle, and stared up at the ceiling. Zeke mimicked my exact movements, except once he was on his back, he crossed his arms behind his head.
The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 8