by Fields, MJ
The hand that is gliding up and down my rib cage falters. His fingers are hot on my skin as they just sit there, motionless. His chest isn’t moving either, so I lift my head to make sure he’s still alive.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
His eyes look closed, but they’re really just looking down toward the sheets.
I lean up on an elbow. Now, I’m starting to worry. “Adam?”
“I ruined you.” He turns to face me, his gaze drenched in conviction. “My words that day…they utterly destroyed you.”
“Let’s not get carried away. I have hooked up with guys. Plenty of guys. I get picked up all the time at the bar, and my girls love to set me up. I might not have rounded home base, but I’ve certainly—you don’t want to hear any of this, do you?”
His nostrils are flaring, and a growl is coming out of his throat.
I sigh and continue, “What I mean is, yes, your words affected me so much that I was afraid of being with anyone because you would have been right. And, if I’m honest, I’m glad I haven’t been with anyone because, last night, this morning, this afternoon…” I bite my lip because I can’t even speak.
With his thumb, he pulls my lip out and traces my mouth with his finger. “What about the dances, the sexy outfits, and the flirting? You have no idea how much that has eaten away at me over the years. That’s why I was in the bar. I wasn’t scouting the room. I was checking up on you. I was prepared to kill anyone who came near you.”
I playfully bite his thumb and then release it. “I was so angry with you. Mostly because I wanted to talk to you more than I’d wanted to talk to anyone. I have so much to tell you.”
He pulls me into the nook of his arm and wraps his arms around me. With our faces close together, he says, “Then, talk. Tell me everything. All seven years.”
So, I do.
I talk. We talk. It’s the most magical moment of the last twenty-four hours.
I’m hanging blinds in a bedroom, the home almost ready for the Montgomery family to move in. Handicap fixtures have been installed in the bathroom and kitchen, and the hallways are four feet wide to accommodate a wheelchair.
I’m excited to see the home almost finished, yet sad for the project to end. I wonder where Adam and I will work next. Homes for All Souls means a lot to him, and now, it means a lot to me.
Staying away from him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. We decided it would be best not to work around each other. Hell, we decided not to see each other at all. He still stops by the bar every night whether he’s on or off duty. His patrol car is always watching as I walk to my car every night.
We don’t have an excuse for him to drive me anymore, so we take two cars to the work site. Whenever I get a chance, I look outside where he’s laying sod on the front lawn. Each time I sneak a peek, he always seems to be looking up my way.
At lunch, he leaves my brown bag with my name on it on a cooler while he takes his and sits under our tree in the field. He always includes a dessert of some sort. Today, it’s Hershey’s Kisses. I pop one in my mouth and take out the neon-orange Post-it he placed inside the bag.
It’s only been a few days, and it feels like an eternity.
I’d wait a thousand more if it meant you’d be mine forever.
I try to hide my blush as I fold the paper into my pocket. When my lunch is finished, I walk over to Toby’s office trailer and rip out a sheet of loose-leaf.
You once told me you loved the smell of coconut.
I’ve worn coconut perfume every day since then, just hoping you’d notice me...or my coconuts.
Do you like my coconuts? Because they like you.
Making sure not to put any names on the note, I fold it and place it in my back pocket. I walk outside and over to his toolbox. I make sure he sees me put the note inside, and I close the top. I walk my sweet ass inside and finish hanging blinds.
Making my way to the dining room, I drill the holes in place when Rick comes in, holding Adam’s red-and-black toolbox.
“Here you go,” he says as he puts it on the floor.
“What’s that for?” I questioningly eye it.
“Adam said you needed it.”
“Oh.” My eyes shoot wide. “Yes. Thank you.”
As soon as Rick is out the door, I hurry down the ladder and over to the toolbox. Inside is a piece of loose-leaf, perfectly ripped at the seam.
Your note is just like you—sweet and spicy.
First, I will start with the sweet. The alluring smell of your perfume has been haunting me for years. Not because of the scent. Because of the girl who wears it and the memories it evokes.
That day in the driveway, you were going to ask me a question. I knew it was if I felt that thing that was happening between us. The answer was going to be yes. The answer was going to be that I dreamed of you and the smell of your perfume that had been left on my shirt after spending the day with you. The answer was that I was tired of fighting it and wanted it to be you in my arms, not some old shirt that I refused to wash because it was all I had of you. I wanted you. I needed you.
And that leads me to the spicy. Now that I’ve had you, I have seven years of dreaming to make up for. I will start by licking that sweet scent off your skin, starting with your inner thigh. I will continue until I am buried in my most perfect heaven—sucking, licking, tasting you until you are drenched with your need for me and screaming my name.
Have I mentioned how much I love to hear you scream my name?
The room suddenly feels hot. Oh-so very hot. I put the note in my bag and search for something to write on. All I have is a coaster and a Sharpie. It’s so pathetic, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I tap the Sharpie on my chin as I take a moment to decide if I should go with sweet or spicy.
Your name is the last name I plan to ever scream.
Score one for me being sweet and spicy in one line. I place it in the toolbox, head downstairs, and look for Adam. He’s watering the sod as I walk over to him.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, reminding me of the rules we made.
I hold out the box. “Then, I wouldn’t be able to tell you something.”
He closes an eye with a pensive look.
“I can’t wait until I can wrap my mouth around you and suck it so good that your knees will drop to the floor.”
With a cordial smile, I strut back into the house. Okay, I went double spicy. But this is so much fun.
By the time the day is over and I’m packing up to leave, I’m slightly disappointed that the toolbox hasn’t worked its way back up to me. I say good-bye to the crew and look back toward the houses. I don’t see Adam or his car. It’s surprising that he would leave before me.
I climb into the Blue Whore and start my drive home. I’m not yet on the highway when a red light flashes behind me. There’s no siren, just the flash of a single police light shining in the sunset. I look at the speedometer. I’m not going over the speed limit. My seat belt is on, and I’m not on the phone. With a huff, I put my blinker on and pull over to the side of the road.
When I see past the light, I notice it’s not a police car at all, just Adam’s pickup truck with a removable light that he placed on the roof. When he steps out of the truck, he strolls over to the side of my car.
I roll down my window. “Yes, Officer?”
He leans down, his elbows on the window frame. He slides off his sunglasses and looks into the car. “Do you know why you were pulled over?”
“Busted taillight?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Alluring coconuts?” I tease with a shimmy.
He smiles and shakes his head again.
I frown. “Want me to make good on that blow job?”
He laughs lightly and says, “No.” He brings his hand to the side of my head, weaving his fingers in my hair, pulls me in, and whispers against my lips, “I just wanted to kiss my girlfriend good-bye.”
This kiss is passionate. The h
airs on the back of my neck stand straight. I fall into the kiss. When he pulls away, my lips are still yearning for more.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too.” I take his hand and kiss his knuckles.
Score one for Adam for being sweet times a thousand. It trumps my spicy by a long shot.
He gets in his car and drives off. As I pull away, I look through my rearview mirror and see another car in the distance, pulled over onto the side of the road. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a red, Mercedes-Benz. I only know one person who drives a car like that.
I turn around and start driving toward Victoria’s car. As soon I see her sitting in the driver’s side, she hits the gas and speeds down the road. By the time I make another U-turn and am about to catch up to her, she’s entering the highway and weaving through cars.
I slam my hand on my steering while and curse into the empty car, “Crap!”
Like déjà vu in the nightmare that has been the last few weeks, I can’t find Victoria.
Twenty-Five
“Who the heck is texting you so much that you can’t put your phone down?” Suzanne asks from the other side of the bar.
I bite my lip at the text Adam just sent.
It’s a picture of assless chaps with the message:
Would you rather have me or McConaughey in these?
My answer:
McConaughey.
He replies with a series of red devil-face emojis. I reply with angels and a couple of kissy faces before sliding the phone into my pocket.
“No one. Just my stupid brother being an idiot,” I reply with my head down.
I know she’s looking at me, waiting for some sort of answer. Suzanne and I have been best friends since we were kids. She knows there is something going on between Adam and me, but I don’t want to tell her about it just yet. There are too many open-ended things, and to be honest, I kind of like the forbidden nature of our relationship. The secret notes, texts, meeting on the side of the road are all a part of the thrill of our courtship. I’m not ready to let that go.
I make a couple of rounds of drinks. Candace and Noreen are filling up the tip jar faster than most nights. Tonight is Fire and Ice night. I had the staff spend all week practicing making a few specialty drinks, and it’s going over well.
Looking at the clock on the wall, I know the time is coming up. I clear the bar of any drinks, straws, and napkins. Then, I ask everyone to grab their belongings from the top of the bar. I wipe it down and wait for my cue.
Paulie plays “Lit Up” by Buckcherry for the hourly fun we have planned. I take the lighter fluid and pour a long line down the bar. Noreen and Candace tell everyone to stand back.
“All right, all right, all right, where are all my party people tonight?” I shout from behind the bar.
The crowd cheers, ready to get their night started.
I pull out the lighter and hold it in the air. “Who’s ready to set this place on fire?” I ask.
I listen as they chant louder. I put the lighter to the fluid and watch it go up in flames. People clap, and others cheer while some jump back. The flame isn’t actually that big. It’s more for effect.
“Flaming Doctor Peppers for the next hour!”
When the flame dies down, I line the bar with shot glasses and pour amaretto into each of them. We served flaming B-52s the last hour and couldn’t keep up with the demand. This way, the drinks will be ready when someone orders one.
The girls fill drafts of Yuengling into pint glasses as the orders are made. They’ll take the shot glasses, add rum, and light them on fire before dropping them into the drafts for people to chug.
After forty-five minutes, Paulie drops a bucket of dry ice in the corner and lets it waft over the back area. I made him play “Break the Ice” by Britney Spears, and if he wasn’t already morally bound to sell the bar to me, he would have reneged on the deal.
The night is long and one of the most exhausting we’ve ever had. But it’s a moneymaker. As the crowd parties on, I see we’re running low on rum. The barback has been busting his ass all night, so I decide to take it easy on him and walk to the back to get it myself.
I’m walking past the office when I see Paulie standing in there, looking at the monitor. A smile is on his face. I catch myself on the doorframe and swing my body into the office.
“Whatcha doing there?” I ask.
His thick white mustache hides his mouth, so sometimes, it takes a moment for me to figure out if he’s happy or sad. He’s just looking back at the security monitors, the ones that show the inside of the bar. A look of astonishment is in his eyes.
“Thirty-five years, I’ve had this place. If you’d told me then that we’d be lighting the bar on fire and playing Britney Spears, I would have told you, Over my dead body.”
I let go of the doorframe and step further into the room. “Technically, Brit-Brit wasn’t around then, so you never would have said that.”
He laughs through his nose. “Smart-ass. Debbie Gibson. Is that better?”
“Much. Now, what’s this about? You’re not changing your mind, are you?”
One cheek rises up, showing off a dimple. “You see that there?” He points to the monitor. “That’s a successful business idea. This was a cowboy bar. A cowboy bar in the southeast corner of Ohio. What was I thinking? It was crazy then, but I kept it alive. I had a good run. Until I didn’t.”
He looks around at the pictures on the wall. It’s covered in photos of years of good times had in the bar. He had darker hair back then. Always a mustache. He was bit thinner, too, but I’d never mention that. The guy is still looking good for sixty-five.
Some of the more recent photos have me in them. I look up at one in particular. It’s Paulie and me behind the bar. We’re practicing our bottle-juggling moves from the movie Cocktail.
“When you interviewed to work here, I thought you’d last a few months. Man, did you surprise me. I never had a barback who worked as hard as you. You cleaned, and you restocked. You were here early and stayed late. You worked on through the summer.
“I thought, Eh, this kid just wants to get a few bucks. She’ll be gone in the fall.
“You stayed, and I’ll be honest. I was upset when you dropped out of community college. I told you that then, and I’ll say it again. It was a mistake. You’re too smart.”
This conversation is not going in the direction I thought it would go. My high from the Fire and Ice is drifting to a dismal smoke.
“Do you know why I’m selling the bar to you?” he asks. “Because you’re so smart.”
The compliment totally goes to my head because I laugh out of embarrassment. “I’m not that smart.”
“Leah, you’ve turned around a has-been country-themed bar that’s been in the same neighborhood for thirty-five years and breathed new life into it. You pack it every weekend. One of our best nights is Mondays. Do you know how hard that is?”
“Is that why you let me throw all these themed nights?”
“You’re getting a little carried away, but you’re finding yourself. What kind of bar is McConaughey’s going to be? With all the wild antics, what are you going to keep?”
“Well, the cowboy decor is going, especially the bull. I’m sorry.”
“I only kept it for you. Was happy to see you break that record. What else?”
“I’ll keep a few cowboy elements, like the Stetson. It works with the McConaughey essence and brings history to the place.
“The wrecking ball is never making an appearance again. That was a bust. Fire and Ice Night is a keeper. I might make it a weekly thing. I showed you my plans for the lounge. I want to have that where the bull is, overlooking the dance floor. I’m going to add a sound system. Nothing crazy, but I want to kick up the music a little bit.”
“That’s good. I’m proud of you, kid. You’re gonna be amazing.”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
“You’re hard not to believe in. Why els
e would I hand my prized possession over to a twenty-three-year-old kid who’s wearing a onesie?”
I look down at the red unitard I’m sporting tonight.
“Now, get back out there, and set this place on fire.”
I rush up and give him a huge hug.
“Thank you,” I say again. This time, it’s for more than selling me the bar; it’s for being my friend.
I get the rum that I originally set out for and bring it to the bar. Suzanne is now in the back of the bar with Rory, sucking face, as they did the first night they hooked up. I grab my phone and look at the series of texts from Adam. I missed a bunch.
I hope you were kidding or else I’ll have to kick someone’s ass. And, by someone, I mean, Matthew McConaughey. How long do you think the drive to Austin, Texas, is?
Looks like you’re working hard. Drive ’em crazy.
Not too crazy. I want all your crazy.
And, now, I’m texting you like a stalker. Can you reply and let me know you’re okay?
I would drop by for one of my interrogations at your bar that you love so much, but I just got a call. I’ll be by to watch you walk out. I love you.
I reply to his text.
I want to see you, and I don’t care what the consequences are. I’m coming over tonight. Leave the door open.
I look up at the clock. Only two more hours to go. The suspense of seeing him is quite surely going to kill me.
I do what I do best and get back to work. Beer is poured, and drinks are mixed—in this case, also lit on fire. We keep the crowd thick for longer than most nights. Juice and Ron have kept the place trouble-free, and the girls have been working hard tonight. I’ll leave all the tips for them to share. They’ve earned it.
When it’s time to close up, I gather my things and walk out the back door. Ron, as usual, walks me to my car. We look to the corner, and for the first time in forever, Adam’s car isn’t sitting there.
“He must be on a call,” I say, knowing that’s most likely true.