PosterBoyForAverage

by Sommer Marsden

  Mike chuckled. “Exactly. You understand.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, reflexively.

  He cocked his head as she passed off a mug to him and indicated the cream and sugar already set on the table. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  She shrugged, ducking her head to avoid his gaze. Then, for some reason, a very vivid memory of him pinning her down, fucking her, filled her mind’s eye and the mild heat in her cheeks turned to an inferno. “I don’t know. It’s none of my business, I guess. I feel…intrusive.”

  “I’m in your house,” he said.

  “And it still doesn’t give me a right to comment on your life.” Aubrey pulled her robe tighter and forced herself to sit on the other stool. She didn’t want to sit though, she wanted to pace. He had her feeling all kinds of fucked-up things. Worry, excitement, fear, concern…arousal. She was one big raw nerve ending.

  He took her hand. “See why I’m a big mess to have in your life?”

  “So are you taking that choice from me? The having-you-in-my-life part?” she asked. Before he could answer, Aubrey jumped up and found the loaf of bread. She loaded the toaster. She could tell he was waiting. Waiting for her to sit.

  She didn’t want to sit.

  Instead, she found the butter and the jelly, all the while running through an idea she’d had for the cover to the Checkered Horse novel Light for Dominic. Of course, her mind kept wanting to put Mike—her handsome Mike, standing in the sun—in the hero’s position on the cover.

  “Are you going to flutter about until I come tie you to the chair?”

  She snorted, surprising herself. “Oh that would be interesting. What would you do when you had me tied to the chair?”

  When she turned to face him finally, her stomach dropped. His eyes were darker blue, storm-cloud blue-gray, and his jaw was taut. Between her thighs she grew wet and welcoming. Best to try to act as if she wasn’t.

  “I can think of a lot of things, Aubrey.”

  The way he said it, the steel in his voice, went right through the center of her. She sighed audibly before she could stop herself.

  “Isn’t this where you tell me you’re bad news? No good for me? I could do better? And all that alpha-male movie-hero bullshit?” she snapped. She was only mildly surprised that she was getting pissed off.

  Mike stood, grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the bar.

  “The toast,” she said.

  “Fuck the toast.”

  His word choice surprised her. He wasn’t much of a cusser. Probably a result of having children. “But it’s—”

  “What’s important right now is you. And me.”

  That shut her up. Wasn’t it too soon for there to be a “you and me” between them? And yet it didn’t feel too soon. In fact it felt long overdue, if she were honest. Their chemistry was volatile, the draw to him undeniable.

  Aubrey forced herself to sit still and look at him. Even though under that gaze of his, she felt naked down to the core of herself.

  “I am bad news. I am no good for you.” He grinned at her. “You have a good life, Aubrey. You have life by the balls. You have your own business, your own way of doing things, your own seamless life.”

  Bruce trotted in, drawn by Mike’s soothing voice. Mike glanced down and chuckled softly. “You even have your own superhero.”

  Aubrey’s eyes prickled. “But?”

  “But nothing. I’m not telling you anything. I’m not taking any choice from you. I’m just saying, think about it before you jump in with both feet when it comes to me. I’d hate to mess this all up. I can stand being a booty call.”

  Her mouth popped open. The look on her face was enough to make him laugh outright. “What? You’ve never had a booty call?” Mike teased.

  “Yes, I mean, well…yes! But you weren’t. I was concerned. And…” She let her words trail off. She wasn’t willing to emotionally skewer herself by saying she’d missed him. “And I…you’re nice.”

  He took her face in his hand and kissed her. His lips were soft, tentative, warmed by coffee. “I think you’re nice too. I like you very much, Aubrey. Enough to tell you to run,” he said, smiling. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was a wry, somewhat sad smile. “Run fast and run far but don’t get tangled up with me. My life is a knot of stuff. Sons I adore, one who’s ill, an ex who wants to be friends one day, doesn’t want me in her life the next, but always wants me to fix everything when bad shit happens. Which, given Chuck’s issues, is often. I work on roofs, for God’s sake!”

  “So?”

  He shrugged. “So nothing. It is what it is but you—”

  “Deserve more?” she asked.

  He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Well, you do.”

  “That’s your opinion.”

  “It is my opinion.”

  “You have a very low opinion of yourself.” It hurt her heart that that was how he viewed himself.

  “I’m just stating the facts.”

  “You’re also an up-and-coming model,” she said, taking his hand. She squeezed it. She wanted to take him back to bed, make him see himself the way she saw him. Make him forget all the stress and worry. But she saw the way he kept glancing at the clock. He had to be somewhere. Probably with his son.

  What she said made him laugh harder. “Jesus, Aubrey. I’m anything but. You took pity on me and I let you. I’m an average guy with an average face.”

  She stood abruptly. “I did not take fucking pity on you, Mike Sykes. I saw something in you. And for your information, the publisher saw it too when I brought my usual stack of men for her to look at. I don’t take pity. I take my job seriously. I take my work seriously.”

  He looked startled and then sorry. “Aubrey, I—”

  “It’s fine. You might as well get ready. I assume you need to be somewhere.” She turned her back to him, effectively dismissing him. It was something she was aware she did—Bradlee had called her on it often enough. But so what? Wasn’t he dismissing her? Her draw to him. Wasn’t he turning his back on what they might have a shot at?

  Yes, he was.

  * * * * *

  “Come to dinner,” Bradlee said.

  Aubrey curled the old-fashioned phone cord around her fingers and her hand the way she had as a teen. When the blood trapped in her fingers turned them pink, she flicked her hand and watched it unwind.

  “I can’t. I’m working. And I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight.” She glanced at the laptop on her dining room table. She’d brought it downstairs, not wanting to work in the bedroom. It still had the scent of them. The vibe of them together. And if she shut her eyes, her close proximity to where they’d spent the night together filled her head with clear, colorful but unwanted images.

  On her computer screen was a cover, half-done, that had been half-done all day. Light for Dominic was a disaster and she knew why. It was because she kept trying to wedge a picture of every other model at her disposal into the hero pic instead of using Mike. Who it had been in her mind, all along.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes?” Aubrey said, snapping out of her daydream.

  “I said your niece would absolutely love to see you. And I would because my husband is still away and next to him, you are my best friend in the whole world.”

  Aubrey caught the hint of sadness in her sister’s voice. “What time?” she asked, letting it go.

  “Six?”

  Aubrey glanced at the clock. That gave her two hours to take a shower and get there. But whom was she trying to impress?

  “And what are you feeding me?” Aubrey tried not to laugh.

  “Oh Christ, now you’re just being a brat.” Her sister giggled. Which was a good sound to hear, given a moment ago she’d sounded somewhat down. “That sausage lasagna you love.”

  “I’ll be there!” Aubrey said, brightening. “I’ll bring a bottle of Moscato to go with it.”

  “Isn’t pasta supposed to be red?” Bradlee asked.


  “Who knows? I can never keep that stuff straight. I’m in the mood for Moscato. You? I can get something else.”

  “Hell no. I love Moscato. I’m in. I’m in for a good two or three glasses.”

  Aubrey laughed. “Then I’d better get the big bottle.” She heard Laura calling something out in the background. “What did she say?”

  “Not to forget to tell you that she made dirt for dessert.”

  “Um…yay?”

  Bradlee chuckled. “It’s a dessert. With cookies and whipped topping. Just don’t worry. You’ll love it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Aubrey said. “I have to go shower.”

  “One last thing,” Bradlee said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Once she goes to do her homework you can tell me all about it.”

  “All about what?”

  “All about your night with Mr. Roofer.”

  “I—how the hell did you know?” Aubrey sighed.

  “Sisters know things. We haff vays,” Bradlee said in a horrible accent she could only assume was to be an interrogator impression.

  “Yeah, yeah. If I drink enough wine I might think about it.”

  “Good. I’ll make sure you drink enough wine. Because I want to know. Everything.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Did you ever go out with Mr. Mike next door?” Laura asked, spearing a single cucumber from her salad and chomping it with way more vigor than any ten-year-old should.

  Aubrey almost choked on her mouthful—large mouthful—of lasagna. “I…what?” she squeaked.

  “Well, I figured at some point you and Mr. Mike would go out.” She said it matter-of-factly as she found another cucumber and captured it.

  “Why?” Bradlee asked, leaning in. It made Aubrey feel better. At least this wasn’t something her sister had cooked up with her niece.

  “Because he looks at Aunt Aub the same way Sammie Ann Flynn looks at Matthew Johnson in school.” Laura shrugged and snagged a piece of sausage out of the gooey cheese on her lasagna. Aubrey had noticed she liked to deconstruct her food as she ate it.

  “And how is that?” Aubrey asked.

  “Like this.” Laura pulled a face that left the adults snickering.

  “That looks like a sick cow,” Aubrey said.

  Laura shrugged again. “Well, that’s the look. I know because I’ve tried it in the mirror. And that’s how Mr. Mike was looking at you at the cookout when you weren’t paying attention.”

  “And how did he look when I was paying attention?”

  Laura rearranged her face into a semblance of calm normality. “Like this, I guess.”

  “Good to know.” Aubrey caught Bradlee watching her and decided to try to keep Laura as close to her as she could. If her sister got her alone…

  “So no date yet?” Laura finally ate a big bite of lasagna.

  Maybe Laura wasn’t so safe after all.

  “Yeah, no date yet?” Bradlee chuckled, turning to face her sister.

  Aubrey sighed and took another big bite of her dinner. She pointed. “Sorry. Mouth full.”

  Bradlee rolled her eyes. They ate for a few more minutes and Aubrey realized her plate was nearly clean. It had been ages since she’d had a home-cooked meal. Even longer, she thought, since she’d prepared a real home-cooked meal.

  Laura told them about the volcanoes they’d made in science class, the caterpillar she’d found at the bus stop and her friend Brenda’s dog’s litter of puppies. Then she made her own sick-cow face and Bradlee laughed. “Good try, kiddo. Go get dessert.”

  “But they’re so cute and small and free…”

  “Puppies are never really free. Now go!” Bradlee said with no real heat.

  “Fine, fine,” Laura said as if her mother were sending her off to clean the litter box instead of get her dessert.

  Aubrey hid her face behind her hand. “My God. She is growing up,” she said, trying not to laugh.

  “Don’t I know it. Lord. By the time Timothy gets back she’ll be about thirty. At least emotionally. So tell me, before she gets back, what happened? I know something did.”

  “We…he…”Aubrey shook her head. She found it hurt to talk about it, to even think about it. Not because he’d told her they weren’t going to work, but because he put it upon her to apparently discover he wasn’t worth it. While she still thought he was. “He came home late. I asked him in for wine.”

  “But you didn’t have wine?”

  Aubrey bit her lip. Remembering. “Eventually.”

  “But first you had Mike?”

  She sighed. Finally she nodded. “Yes. More than once.” Then she laughed.

  “And it was…” Bradlee stared her down. Her blue eyes almost exactly the same shade as Aubrey’s.

  “Amazing. There was this connection I don’t think I’ve ever felt.” Aubrey put her head in her hands and groaned.

  “And that is bad?” Bradlee asked, tapping her on the head the way their mother used to when they were being silly.

  “Yes, it’s bad! I sound like a goddamn Hallmark card!”

  “So?”

  “So, I sound so…” She shook her head. “Oozy and flowery and girly.”

  “You are a girl.”

  “I’m a manly girl!” she said.

  Bradlee looked surprised. Surprised enough that it made Aubrey laugh. She mumbled, “You know what I mean. I’m not a girly-girl. I’m a realist. I’m logical.”

  “Love has shit to do with logic,” Bradlee said, tapping her head again.

  “Who the hell said anything about love?” Aubrey hissed.

  “Here we go. Dessert. Voila,” Laura said. Only she said it like “Viola”. Aubrey smiled, despite the big bowl of what really did look like dirt. Her niece gave out bowls and she dug in, serving her mother, herself and then her aunt.

  “And what is…” Aubrey pulled out a gummy worm.

  “Worms! In your dirt!” Laura said.

  “Of course,” she said softly.

  Bradlee leaned in. “If you’re going to date a man with kids you have to adjust to the occasional gummy worm in your dessert.”

  “I’m not dat—” But she stopped talking, shook her head. She remembered how she’d felt the night before. She remembered how she’d felt seeing him with his boys. How she felt when she was with him.

  She stopped arguing and ate the damn worm.

  * * * * *

  “Sure you can’t stay?”

  “Slumber party!” Laura yelled from behind her mother.

  “I’m sure,” Aubrey laughed. God, how she loved these two crazy females.

  “I don’t mind. Another body in the house would make me happy.”

  Aubrey grabbed Bradlee and hugged her. “He’ll be home soon,” she said softly. It was very easy, considering how flawlessly her sister handled all things—even the absence of her husband—to forget Bradlee was alone.

  “I know,” Bradlee said, going a little rigid in her arms. “He will be.”

  “Now I’m going to go home and gaze hopelessly at my next-door neighbor’s house.”

  Bradlee pulled back, gasping. “You are not!”

  Aubrey laughed. “True. I am not. No worries. I’m only joking. I probably won’t see him for ages.”

  Aubrey unlocked her car and waved to Bradlee, who finally went in and shut the door.

  “Dinner?”

  The voice startled her so badly she dropped her keys and turned around, fists up.

  “Whoa, sorry. I should never have scared you that way,” Mike said, raising his hands in the air to show he was harmless.

  Aubrey expelled a huge breath. “Jesus. Do you make a habit of scaring the bejesus out of women?”

  “Only the beautiful ones.” Mike laughed. But there was a tinge of sadness under his laughter. Remembering this morning as she was, perhaps? “And what is bejesus anyway?”

  “I have no idea,” Aubrey said, still rubbing her chest above her heart. “But you scared it right out of me.
What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Stalking you,” he said, his face straight, his voice low.

  She shook her head and he caved, grinning.

  “Actually, Joshua’s best friend lives two doors down. I had no idea that your sister even lived here.”

  “She hasn’t for long.”

  “And I don’t drop Josh off usually. His mother does. But Patrick, his friend…” he shrugged. “I’m rambling.”

  “No, you’re fine.” She wanted to touch him. She wanted it badly. Instead, Aubrey pushed her hands into the pockets of her green pants and clenched them into fists.

  “Patrick’s mom invited him to come spend the night even though it’s a school night. It’s stressful when Chuck ends up in the hospital. It’s hard on everyone. This way, he can get up with his best friend in the morning and go with him to school. It will make it easier.”

  It clicked in her mind then. He’s protecting you.

  The problem was, she didn’t need protecting. If she did, she’d say so. Still, it twisted in Aubrey’s heart, the realization that he wasn’t pushing her away. He was shielding her.

  “That’s really nice of her,” Aubrey said.

  “Josh can be hard though.” Mike scuffed the tip of his running shoe against the curb. “He wants to be around for everything. Even the hard stuff.”

  Click again. She almost heard it click inside her head. And that was Mike. Mike was having a very hard time not being there for Chuck. Even for the bad stuff. Did he feel guilty because when his son was having a panic attack, he’d just been climbing out of bed with Aubrey?

  Never underestimate the power of guilt.

  “I think when you’re a stand-up guy…kid,” she amended, “it’s hard not to want to stand by people even for the hard stuff.”

  He nodded.

  “Dad, what are you doing?” Joshua was in the doorway, another boy about the same age stood behind him.

  “Talking to my neighbor. You remember Aubrey?”

  Aubrey waved even though her stomach clenched a little at “neighbor”, even though that’s what she was. “Hi, Joshua.”