by Selena Kitt
She put the bottle of wine and munchies she had brought on the food table. The group was mostly couples, all of whom seemed to know one another. No one was wearing name tags or anything. Shit. That would make it harder to meet people.
She wasn’t quite sure where to go, but if in doubt, head for the bar. A good looking young guy in a white jacket, probably a college kid, was pouring drinks.
He greeted her with a smile. “You’re new here.”
Melissa smiled back. “Is it that obvious?”
His eyes sparkled. “Not because you look different. Well, you do in a way. I just remember all the best looking women.”
Melissa felt herself blushing. “You must get nice tips with that line.”
“Hey, I mean it.” He looked over her shoulder. “I hope you aren’t upset. Is your husband the jealous type?”
Melissa couldn’t help laughing. “No, not really.” Inwardly she thought, I wish he was sometimes.
The bartender was relieved. He had a great smile. “Good. I like the job, I’d hate to get fired. What can I get you?”
“A dry white, if you have it,” she said.
He poured the wine and handed it to her with a flourish. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
Melissa gave him a smile and turned back to the party, looking for Richard. She didn’t see him anywhere, so she walked around the pool and into the main building, looking for someone to talk to. There weren’t too many people inside, the weather was too nice. She left by a different set of doors, onto a patio that curled around the other side of the pool. The patio overlooked the tennis courts below, and to the left she could see the edge of the lot where she had parked.
A few long tables were half empty at the far end of the patio. She ambled over toward the table closest to the railing, listening to the hum of conversation. She chose the last table where she could see both the entrance from the lot and the bar so that when—if—Richard showed up, she’d see him.
Just as she arrived at the table she had scoped out the two couples who were sitting there got up to leave. One of the women saw Melissa and said, “I’m sorry, we have to go, we had just stopped by before heading out.”
“That’s okay,” said Melissa.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” asked the woman. “I feel funny just leaving you here alone. I’m Nancy.”
“It’s fine, really,” said Melissa.
Nancy introduced the others and they asked a few questions about Melissa, but it was obvious they were in a hurry to leave. “Tell you what,” said Nancy. “I’ll try to send a few people over your way as we head out.”
The couples left and Melissa sat down at the now empty table. More people were arriving, still mostly couples. She did see one or two older men alone, and one older woman. Down below she spied a group of four, two guys and two women, walking across the parking lot. Much younger, college age, dressed in tennis outfits and carrying rackets. They stopped in the lot, the guys pointing toward the pool. One of the women shook her head. Melissa heard some laughter, and then the group split up, the women heading to the courts, the guys disappearing around the corner near the pool.
Melissa glanced at her watch. Six forty five, and still no sign of Richard. She considered calling him but realized it would just make her upset. He’d either make it or he wouldn’t. She could argue with him later. Right now she’d just enjoy the sunshine and her wine.
She watched the two women begin to hit some balls on the tennis court. Melissa had tried tennis a few times, it wasn’t for her, but she understood the appeal. A good way to be outside, get a little exercise.
Beyond the tennis courts there was a large garden, and then the houses started up again. It was like a dozen other upscale, created communities Melissa had seen, not bad at all, but a little antiseptic. She hoped that all the people living there were not.
“I think you need a refill.” The voice came from behind Melissa. Smiling, she turned her head, expecting to see the young bartender. Instead it was the two tennis jocks. They must have come in from another entrance.
“I’m okay,” she said, “but thanks.”
“Really, it’s no problem,” said the taller of the two, his bright blue eyes and styled hair making her think of some modern day Ken doll. Did kids still play with prim and proper Barbie and Ken dolls?
“I can get it for you,” said the Ken doll. “I’m Jake, by the way. And this is my friend Bob.”
Melissa offered her hand. “Melissa.”
“What kind of wine are you drinking?” asked Bob. He too was blonde, a little stockier, more like a wrestler.
“I shouldn’t,” said Melissa. “One’s my limit.”
Jake smiled. “On a weekend?”
“You guys barely look old enough to drink,” said Melissa, and immediately regretted it, she didn’t want to appear judgmental.
But they both laughed. “Well, you are drinking, and you can’t be much older than we are,” said Jake.
“Boy, everyone has the lines here.”
“What?” Jake appeared confused.
“Nothing.” Did he really think she was close to their age? In a few years she could be their mother. The thought made her a bit sad. Now that second drink didn’t sound so bad. “I asked the bartender for a dry white, it was pretty good. The same thing.”
Jake nodded and went to the bar. Melissa turned to Bob. “Are those your girlfriends down on the courts? I thought you’d be playing tennis.”
“Nah. I mean, we were going to hit a few balls, I’m not really that much into tennis. Jake’s okay at it. They twisted our arms. And they aren’t our girlfriends, we just live down the street.” Bob stood there, looking down on her, and then said, “Mind if I sit down?”
Melissa laughed. “You certainly don’t have to ask my permission.” She thought it was cute, he was so polite. Kids.
Jake returned with the drinks, carefully setting down her wine with a napkin, and passing a beer to Bob.
“Thanks,” Melissa said. She looked around, still no Richard. Well, she had come to meet the neighbors. A couple of kids was not what she had in mind, but they were neighbors, so she would make the best of it. “Are you in school?”
Jake took a swig of beer. “Just graduated. I’m going to start a job in the fall, Bob is going to grad school.” He glanced at Bob, a small smile on his lips. “We’re taking the summer off, just, you know, looking to have some fun.”
Melissa was reminded of her conversation with Julie a few days ago, talking about college. About having fun. She tuned out for a second, thinking about it. When she refocused, Bob was saying, “We haven’t seen you before.”
Melissa turned to him, realizing she was being a little rude. They had probably noticed her sitting alone and were trying to be nice. “My husband and I just moved in, we live over on Claremont.”
“I live in the next block, on Fairview,” blurted Bob. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“I guess so,” said Melissa, still a bit distracted. If Richard didn’t show up in a few minutes she was going to randomly pick some couple, walk up to them and introduce herself so she could tell herself she met some adults, and then leave.
“Where’s your husband?” asked Jake.
“He had to work,” said Melissa. Then, realizing she was making an excuse for him, said, “He should be here soon, but he has a lot going on.” It sounded lame.
“No problem, we can keep you company,” said Bob.
Melissa was about to get up, make her excuses and leave, when she heard a roar from the parking lot. A motorcycle came into view, muffling down as it pulled in the drive. A Harley. Melissa remembered her first ride on a Harley, that seemed so long ago. . .
The rider pulled to a stop at the edge of the lot, not really a parking place, snapping down the kickstand as he killed the engine. He was wearing leather, and Melissa’s eyes were drawn to him, he looked quite out of place.
She watched him as he pulled off his gloves and stret
ched a little, like he just had a long ride. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, which surprised Melissa, wasn’t that the law? She didn’t know, she hadn’t been on a bike in a long time, and never in this state. Richard hated bikes, said they were dangerous. . .
Intrigued, Melissa watched the rider pack away his gloves. Bob and Jake were prattling on, she mumbled a few responses, her eyes on the biker. It looked like he was heading off in the other direction, but he turned toward the patio, looking up, right at her. No, she must be imagining it, he was just looking at what was going on at the pool. Still, his eyes seem to linger on her, although he was too far away for Melissa to know for sure.
He crossed the lot, heading toward the party, all black, stark against the concrete. He was slender, not skinny, but tight, like a coiled spring. He had one of those confident walks, not quite a swagger, but one that said he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him, about how he dressed, about where he parked his bike. Not too fast, not too slow.
“I see you noticed our black sheep,” said Bob.
“Huh? What?” Melissa tore her eyes away from the biker.
Jake snickered. “That’s Vern.”
“And definitely not Vernon,” said Bob. “He beat somebody up for calling him that. Well, that’s what I heard, anyway. Thinks he’s kind of hot.”
He is hot, thought Melissa. But Bob and Jake were too young, and too—she wasn’t sure what, but whatever they were, they wouldn’t understand. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Melissa tried to keep her voice even, disinterested. “Does he live here?”
Bob laughed. “I guess you can say that. He’s bang—he’s living with a woman over at the Oaks.”
Vern stopped just below the patio. Melissa was looking down on him, and from here it was obvious he had a nice physique, his slim waist giving him a wonderfully formed V. Not like Bob’s build, more like a boxer. No, that wasn’t right. More like a cowboy who threw bales all day, all his muscles tight from the work, not from the gym. Or one of those lean lead rock band singers, not an ounce of fat, probably wired from doing too many drugs but still looking good.
The biker looked up, catching her eye, letting it linger just a bit. Without thinking about it Melissa sat up straighter, cocking her head, moving her hair behind her ear. Reacting instinctively to the alpha male, knowing it immediately, feeling the heat, not able to resist. She tried to meet the biker’s gaze but his eyes had passed on, like he noticed her but she didn’t quite measure up. Melissa shrugged, what was she expecting? But she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“He won’t come up here,” Jake was saying. “He doesn’t bother with any of us.”
Vern disappeared around the corner, Melissa turning to look at the stairs on the other side of the patio, hoping Jake was wrong. She sucked in a breath when she saw the biker there, passing the pool, heading for the bar.
“That’s interesting,” said Bob.
You bet it is, thought Melissa. Interesting is not the half of it. She watched as the people at the bar gave the biker room, another alpha reaction. Like a lion parting the gazelles.
Without really thinking about what she was doing, Melissa got up. “You boys were nice to keep me company,” she said. “I think I see someone familiar and want to say hello.” She gave them a quick smile. “Bob and John, wasn’t it?”
“Um, Jake.”
“Sorry, Jake. Thanks again.” Melissa wove her way through the tables, heading in the general direction of the bar. She hadn’t really seen anyone she knew, she just felt—drawn, uncontrollably drawn, to the biker.
And though she didn’t know this biker at all, she had known a few guys like him. Different. A little unsafe. Rough.
The biker turned from the bar as she approached, a beer in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the patio. He caught Melissa staring at him, and she looked away, reddening, but not before she caught a slight look in his eyes. Interest? Amusement?
Melissa realized she must look like an idiot. Had she been walking fast? She looked back toward the bar, but Vern had turned away from her, now taking a long pull of beer, surrounded by the crowd at the bar but somehow separate, distinct, and not only because of his clothing.
Melissa laughed to herself. What was she thinking? That the biker had come up here because he had glimpsed her from the parking lot?
Don’t be ridiculous. She turned away from the bar, heading toward the doors, almost bumping into a young couple. The woman, pretty, dressed in a blue strapless dress, said, “We were just coming to see you,” even as Melissa was apologizing for almost knocking them over.
“Looks like you were in a hurry to get to the bar,” said the man, laughing.
“What? No I was just—” Melissa laughed uneasily, wondering what they were thinking. “I guess I needed another drink!” she joked, trying to hide her nervousness. She glanced over at the bar, but the biker was gone.
The woman was speaking. “Nancy told us to look for you. Melissa, right?”
Melissa pulled her attention back to the couple. “Yes. Melissa Evans. My husband Richard and I just moved into the neighborhood.”
They shook hands. They were about her age, both tanned, outdoorsy types, in good shape. “I’m Frank,” said the man, his grip nice and firm, Melissa immediately liking him, hating how some guys treated women like porcelain. “And this is Susan.” Another thing Melissa liked, no stupid comments about ‘my little woman’ or anything.
“C’mon,” said Susan. “We need a refresh too.” She led them over to the bar where they got drinks and chatted. A few other couples joined in the conversation and soon Melissa was having problems remembering everyone’s names. She relaxed for the first time since arriving.
Until she glanced past Frank and noticed the biker against the patio railing, alone, looking right at her. Melissa froze for an instant, then, catching the look on Frank’s face, turned her attention back to him. When she glanced over again the biker had turned away from her, looking over the railing, his black pants tight against his body, his ass a tight drum. Melissa noticed a mark on his arm, some ink. It was too far away to see what it was.
During the conversation she would sneak a look every so often, her mind only half on what the others were saying. In the brief instant their eyes had met, Vern’s features were locked in Melissa’s mind; slightly thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, one of those permanent five o’clock shadows, raw. He wasn’t big but he exuded a sense of precarious power.
She forced herself back to the conversation, wondering about her reaction, something she certainly had felt now and again toward strangers before, but not quite like this. And not for a long time. Why now?
As if in answer to her question she noticed Richard, across the pool, leaning against the building, staring at her. Obviously he saw her but he hadn’t come over.
Even after seeing her notice him Richard paused, as if composing himself. When he started across the patio, he had an odd look on his face, a little bit of confusion, or surprise. Melissa couldn’t tell.
What was that all about?
“Here you are,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, the same old Richard, cordial and refined. He turned to the couple and introduced himself. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
They chatted, amiable, talking about nothing in particular. Melissa felt her attention wandering. Trying not to be obvious, she looked around the crowd, searching for the biker. As she turned toward Richard she glimpsed, just for a moment, the same look in his eye, the surprise, as if he had just caught her at something. But then it was gone, he was talking to Susan, and Melissa risked another glance around the pool. But the biker was gone.
Chapter 6
That night Melissa lay in bed waiting for Richard. He had been cool to her since they had come home from the community center, a bit distant. When she had asked him about it he had given her a strange look, and then mumbled that it was nothing. She could tell something was bothering him and would ask him about it again tonight.
But it was after midnight and Richard still had not come to bed. Melissa thought briefly of going downstairs, but if he was working late because she asked him to go to the event she’d feel guilty. So she finally turned off the light. It could wait until morning.
But the next morning Richard was not there. She couldn’t tell whether he had even come to bed. The house was quiet and empty.
He hadn’t left a note, which was odd, since that was something he always did if he had to leave early. Busy as he was, he was always thoughtful. But this time, nothing.
Melissa went to work, but fretted about it all day. Finally, able to stand it no longer, she sent Richard a text, asking whether he’d be home for dinner.