by Towne, L. E.
“First time. Hopefully, next time will go a bit smoother.” He flashed a devastating smile.
“Next time?”
“Come on. How many other speakers on your list can perform a Heimlich maneuver in the middle of their speech.”
“And still keep their place,” she added.
“And still keep their place.” He really did have the warmest smile. It was a rush. All of it, a rush to the airport, a rush having an amazingly attractive man flirt with her. Something that hadn’t happened in a very long while.
St. Louis to Denver was not a long flight, but it’d been a long day, and just the effort of negotiating the airport, the parking lot, and the long drive from DIA to the house in Westminster was exhausting. Jonathan had been working late in his office upstairs when she dragged herself into the house.
“Hey,” he’d called out when he saw her. He stopped for a moment and leaned back—the chair making its familiar squeak with the movement. His face was in shadow, away from the desk lamp, and her gaze dropped to his hands, visible in the dim light. Jonathan had beautiful hands, not large, but perfectly proportioned and well-manicured, a bit of dark hair at his wrists. It had been a long time since she’d felt them on her. The chair squeaked again and she’d remembered how pleased he’d been when they’d purchased it. They’d been living in England, in a tiny flat on Rockdale Rd in Medway. The St Andrew’s Church bazaar had a rummage sale and she’d made fun of the rickety chair, in all its ripped leather glory, but he’d loved it.
“Jonathan, where are we going to put this? We don’t even have an office.” She’d spun one of the old fashioned casters on the base of the chair as they heaved it into the back of a borrowed truck.
“Not yet, but we will. We’re not always going to be skint. I’ve been upping the ranks for a bit now. The money’s just ‘round the corner, isn’t it?” He used his reckless smile—the one that belied his excellent proper heritage and made him irresistible.
After shlepping the awkward chair up two flights of steps and into their flat, she’d swiveled in it like a child with a new toy while he fetched their last good bottle of wine—a gift from his parents the Christmas before.
“To us,” he toasted and they drank. He lowered himself into a cross-legged position in front of her and turned on the cheap stereo. It wasn’t just a flick of a switch. Jonathan was a fan of vinyl, and he’d found an old Moody Blues album at the same sale. Not mint, but the plastic was still on the cover and the liner notes were intact. He stretched a long arm out and carefully placed the needle on the spinning disc and the opening strains of Knights in White Satin came warbling out from the speakers in the corner. He stayed where he was and stroked her calves as he leaned back, his neck against the seat, between her knees. They were quiet, listening and drinking until he put the wine glass down and turned toward her. Hands sliding under her mini skirt to skim panties down and off as his mouth trailed up her thigh. When the song finally came to a crescendo, so had she. Side A of that album was twenty-four minutes long, and they’d left it skipping for some time after that before they’d finished—both of them sliding to the floor in a sweaty, exhausted heap.
That day at the church bazaar had been a good day, but it was so long ago, before Eli, before settling in Denver. There hadn’t been a lot of good days lately. The chair squeaked again and she had been filled with a sudden fondness for the man seated there.
“You’re up. You working? Or waiting for me?” Az had put her bag on the stair landing and stepped into the office, kicking off her shoes. The banker’s lamp on Jonathan’s desk was the only light source in the room and he looked tired in the amber light.
“Both. How was the luncheon? Everything go well?” He wiped a hand across his goatee. It was filled in and thick now, whereas those years before he had just started to grow it out and she remembered how the whiskers felt.
“Ah, some nurse tried to choke herself to death on strawberry shortcake and then wanted to sue the hotel over it. If Ross hadn’t jumped down and given her the Heimlich, I think she would have had a pretty good case.” Az spoke with some admiration, remembering Ross jumping to the woman’s rescue like some superhero in a three piece suit.
“Wow, sounds like some excitement.” Jonathan rarely found her work exciting. He thought it involved lots of running around keeping people from getting too drunk, too loud or arrested at conventions. Thinking about the strawberry incident, Azure had to concede that perhaps he was right.
He was educated as an academic researcher, the field of bio electronics, but he’d accepted a job in Denver, mostly because he’d wanted out from under his family’s severe scrutiny. Aerotech paid him really well to be a risk and compliance advisor for their software division.
“So, who’s Ross?” he asked.
“Oh, the speaker I hired. The new one. He did well.”
“Apparently, if he saved a woman’s life.”
“Yes, well, it’s been a really long day. You staying up long?”
“I’ll be along. I just want to finish up these reports.” His head was already into his paperwork. Az headed up the stairs and stopped into Eli’s room to check on him. He was a sleeping cherub, his little arm wrapped around a stuffed elephant.
Azure remembered taking a quick shower and donning a flimsy nightie instead of her usual flannel pjs that night. The earlier meeting with Ross had given her libido a boost or perhaps she was simply trying to revive something her marriage once had, back in the days when they would buy crappy furniture and use it as a sex toy rather than an office chair. Regardless of her intentions, she’d been fast asleep by the time Jonathan came up.
-4-
The Rigo Mortis Zombie Club was one of the few dive bars Ross could get his friend Jack to patronize. In spite of its blue collar musty atmosphere, Rigo made Jack’s favorite adult beverage, premium vodka martinis.
“She’s married.” Ross said. They sat on stools at the far end of the bar, and Ross’s reflection looked as if he belonged, whereas Jack had the appearance of a Michigan Blvd Banker—Saville Row suit, brushed silk tie.
“So are you,” Jack answered. “For all intents and purposes, so what?”
“You could have told me. All the things you said, you never mentioned she was married.”
Jack studied his martini. “You’re a smart guy, I knew you’d figure it out, but since were on the subject, I think she has a kid too.”
Ross sipped his drink and thought about that. Azure with kids. He liked kids. His sister had kids, twin girls that mobbed him every time he visited.
“No wonder she was in such a hurry to get home then, we almost missed her plane.”
“And what were you doing that you almost missed her plane?” Jack teased.
Ross frowned at him. “We shared a cab to the airport and got stuck in traffic. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“My gutter brain is one of the things you like about me.” Jack plucked an olive from his martini. “Why are you so interested anyway? I’ve seen you over the moon about some co-ed many times back in the day, but this is a little over the top, even for you.”
“I’m not interested.” Ross became engrossed in the corner flat screen, showing a local college game. “She’s just different. There’s something, well, lots of things unusual about her.”
He turned back to his friend, who raised his eyebrows above his wire-rimmed glasses.
“She pays attention, seems to know what works. “ Ross said. “Okay, for instance, my speech at the symposium.” He thought back to two months before, was it really that long ago? “Dani was all hyped over this stupid joke she liked, but it was kinda racist, and class-ist. It was funny, but not exactly right. She thought I should use it as an opener. I didn’t. I changed at the last minute and told the story about us in college.”
Jack groaned. “Not the drunk dean’s assistant one?”
“Yep, that one, of course that one. It’s one of our classic stories.”
“Thank God you w
ere sober and I was brilliant.” This was why they were friends.
“Yes,” Ross said, “that’s exactly the way I remember it. You were drunk and I was stupid. “
“Anyway.”
“Anyway, I told that story, and she remembered it. I told her the joke and she laughed but agreed, I shouldn’t have used it. And then, she pinpointed why, laid out exactly why it wouldn’t have worked and why the story did. She hit it. Exactly.”
“So, she’s cute, can hold a conversation, and apparently thinks you’re a balla.”
“Balla?”
“Of course,” Jack nodded, as though he talked like a normal person, not some alien rap artist.
“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Jack.”
Jack shrugged. “So she has really low standards.”
“Thanks man, really.”
“Remember when you first met Danielle? It was the same thing, ah she’s so different, she’s got this great laugh.”
“She does have a great laugh. Not Dani, but Azure. Az has a great laugh. Dani doesn’t laugh so much anymore, I can barely remember it.”
“My point is, your hormones are working overtime, buddy and they’re gonna get your ass in trouble. She’s married, you’re practically married, forget about it.”
“Yeah, I know. I know.” Ross took a drink. He should get off this subject. “Azure Worth knows what she wants, most women don’t. Most of the time, they can’t decide what to choose on a menu. Let alone life choices. Remember Stacy in college? She was gonna be dean of economics before she was forty. Last time I heard she was a groupie for some Mexican band in Cuernavaca.”
“Life happens. Plans change.”
“Not if you know what the hell you want.”
“Not everyone is like you Ross.” Jack polished off his martini. “Not everyone has the grand plan.” He signaled the bartender for the tab.
“You’re going? It’s early.” Ross glanced at his watch. Too early to go home.
“Gotta jet.”
“Dude, you need to quit browsing Urban Dictionary. It doesn’t work for you.”
Jack slid off the bar stool and signed the credit card slip.
“You kidding? It’s dope.”
Ross laughed. “Seriously, stay, I’ll buy the next round.”
“Can’t, Sienna’s sister’s in town and we’re entertaining.” Jack finger-quoted the last word. He paused and looked at Ross’s half-finished beer. “Drink up and come with. Her sister’s cute. She doesn’t know what the hell she wants either. You’d like her.”
Ross laughed and declined the last minute invite. Dani was off doing a car show in Detroit, so he was alone. But he didn’t feel up to much company.
Two blonde women were seated at the window, just to the left of Jack’s retreating figure. One of them caught his eye, looked him up and down and turned away. The other flicked her hair back. He drained his beer and focused on the TV. The bartender brought him another beer, and he laid a five dollar bill on the bar. His eyes flicked to the mirror, and he smiled when he saw they were still watching him.
Back in the day, Jack would have stayed, and the two of them would have bought the blondes a drink or two, maybe hit a dance club, and he would have ended up with at least one of them. These days, Jack was crazy busy and looked forward to going home to Sienna and her vegan recipes, and Ross should have looked forward to going home to Dani.
He checked his watch. At this moment, Dani was probably dressed in a skimpy outfit standing by some luxury car. It’d be another two days before she got home. It wasn’t fun work by any means, judging from her call last night, but it paid well.
A sportscaster rattled on about the newest outfielder for the Cubs. Underneath the talking head, baseball scores sped by on a ticker. The Braves lost, always a favorite team for him and his brother. Maybe he should call Ben and see what he was up to. He’d see him on Sunday for dinner at their parents’ house, so maybe not. If he talked to Ben, he’d have to give excuses as to why Dani wouldn’t be at the family dinner again, and he didn’t want to get into it.
He munched on pretzels and thought about ordering a burger. The only thing in their freezer was a bottle of vodka and Lean Cuisine. By the time he finished his beer and headed home, the two women by the window were gone. In their three years together, he’d never thought of cheating on Dani. Just to avoid going home to an empty apartment wasn’t a reason to start.
That night, eating leftover restaurant pasta and surfing on his computer, he couldn’t quit thinking of Jack’s words. Az could be potential trouble for him. It felt like a really long time since someone understood him and she really seemed to get how driven he was, his life-plan, and she didn’t mock him for it. Was she the same way? She was a planner after all, but her methods were completely chaotic and disorganized to him, yet it all seemed to work. He’d meant to keep their conversation casual, business-like and surface, but the way she looked at him when she asked a question made him too talkative.
Days after St Louis, she’d hired him for another event, this time in Memphis. A work-life balance panel. He was going to be the HR panelist with two professors. As he sat there in his empty apartment, he found himself wishing Memphis were this weekend instead of next month.
He browsed the CTC website events schedule, mentally ticking down the lists of small workshops they hosted in Iowa, Kansas, Colorado. There was no way of telling which events were hers. Not that it mattered, because he wouldn’t speak at one until Memphis.
Opening the fridge, he looked at the spare glass shelves, pulled the notepad off the door and scribbled a quick grocery list. Dani would give him hell if there was nothing to eat when she got home—it was his week to shop. He shut the fridge and poured himself a Jameson, plopped a single ice cube in it and went back to his email.
There was an offer from Bradford Accounting in Sioux City, Iowa. They needed a fill-in guy for a workshop, something about management practices. It was a two-day gig next week, and he initially wasn’t going to take it. The fee was very low, and they didn’t pay for travel, he’d barely break even if he brought his own food. He flipped back to the CTC schedule again, noting they had a conference in Sioux City the same week.
Azure
She’d been hosting a training session for about a hundred people in a Holiday Inn. It was an early Wednesday morning and she’d hit the tiny workout room before daybreak, trying to get a quick jaunt on the treadmill before the rat race of her day began.
She couldn’t tell if this was memory, or dream, and somewhere in the foggy regions of her sleep deprived brain, she hoped it was a dream.
Above the steady beat of her trainers on the treadmill, music pushed her forward—the girly voices and heavy bass thump of the Veronicas blaring in her ears. She shifted, comfortable in Jonathan’s old sweats and a ragged T-shirt. She was well into ten minutes, a light sweat across her forehead when someone stepped up to the treadmill next to her. She felt the presence and kept on running, eyes closed. It took another two minutes before she actually saw him. Ross Berenger, the new consultant she’d hired the month previous was jogging beside her, his own I-pod cords hanging from his ears.
Azure’s surprise must have blazed across her face because he gave a short laugh, said howdy and kept on going. She stumbled just slightly, losing the rhythm of her step and her focus on the music.
Finding herself worrying about how she looked, she wondered if she was breathing too hard. Were there sweat stains under her arms? Did she smell? And most of all, why was she such a doofus, thinking this way? She managed another five minutes before giving up, switching the machine off and stepping away. She tried not to let the wobble in her legs show as she walked to the shelf of towels. Consciously sucking in her stomach, she wiped a substantial glow from her face and gulped water from her reusable water bottle.
“So Ms. Worth, this is the last place I expected to find you.” He kept jogging. The ear buds now hung lax around his neck. His voice was smooth and even, not even r
emotely out of breath. She turned toward him. He looked extraordinary. His brown hair was conservatively cut, but had an unruly thickness that made her want to run her hand along the top of his head. She could see herself doing that. But he was tall, out of reach and running and she didn’t know him remotely well enough to even be thinking such things.
“Really? Where were you expecting to find me?”
“Oh, I dunno. The bar maybe, or making sure the strawberries are non-lethal in the banquet hall.”
She laughed at his reference—an incident that happened at his first speech in St Louis.
“The bar? At five am? This is Sioux City, not Vegas, but checking strawberries? That’s definitely on my list.”
“Good thing…and true, it’s not Vegas.” He switched off the treadmill and stepped down, coming toward her. The barest trace of moisture gleamed in the hollow of his throat above his black v-neck shirt. The dark fabric clung to his chest and shoulders and his biceps flexed as he grabbed a towel. Up close, his eyes were the same as she remembered the first time she met him—a clear startling jade.
“But now I know where to look for you in Vegas. If we ever do a conference there,” he said.
Az liked the sound of his voice. It wasn’t the deeper timbre he used for speeches, but softer, with a definite mid-western everyday accent.
“I like Vegas,” she said in a lame squeak. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s on the schedule for us, CTC, I mean.” She had to clarify the use of inclusive pronouns, not wanting him to think ‘us’ meant ‘us’. He didn’t reply—simply wiped the white terrycloth across his face, through his short hair and over the back of his neck. She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t expect to find you here…in Iowa, I mean.”
“I do have clients other than Conway Titensor, you know.” He flashed a row of even white teeth and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “I’m teaching a course on middle management for Bradford Accounting.” He shrugged, rolling cotton encased shoulders as though loosening up to bench press a few hundred pounds. Azure’s mind drifted—maybe he could use a spotter. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Worth.” He turned away, attitude abrupt as though he’d been insulted at her change of subject.