"I don't know if sexy is the look I'm going for."
With a slant of her eyes, Heather challenged her. "Really? You do realize you're in a short dress and have your hair up saying 'Sex me, Mark,' right?"
"Sex me? Did I hear you right?"
"Yes, I did, and I know you're thinking the same. Anyway, you need to go."
Beth gave Heather a quick hug. "Thanks. I appreciate everything."
"No problem. Now go!" She shoved Beth out of the room and out the door to Mark's.
A short ten minute walk separated Beth's apartment and Mark's house. The place had a cute, wraparound porch; not exactly where she imagined a bunch of college guys would live. She gripped her hand on the railing as she carefully stepped to the door. Her gut tightened as she pushed the doorbell. Moments later Mark opened the door, a single rose in his hand. "Good evening, Beth," he greeted her.
She took the rose. "Thank you. As though the flowers you already sent weren't enough."
"They weren't. I would have sent you more if I could, but I'm still a college student on a college budget." He moved out of the way to let her in.
She walked into the room and stood next to the doorway, clutching her purse in her hand. The outside of the house proved deceptive based on the small size of the living area she stepped into. A TV hung from the wall with an entertainment unit underneath, a desk against the opposite wall, a love seat, sofa and a chair. "A little cramped, I see."
"I live with three other guys; of course, it's cramped. We each have our own room, though, and mostly clean up after ourselves. Since rent is split four ways, this place is a steal."
She made a mental note to hurry and find a job so she would be able to start paying Heather rent. "You may be crammed in here, but having an entire house beats a small apartment." He led her into a dining area, complete with a long dark table and a stunning chandelier above. "Wow," she said.
He turned a dimmer on the wall, lit two candles in the center of the table and asked her to have a seat. "I prepared us chicken marsala paired with grilled asparagus and a light salad."
"You're quite the chef."
He pulled her chair out for her. "My mom taught me well. She always made over the top dinners. Eventually, I started to help her and learned a lot."
The sweet aroma of the wine sauce tickled her taste buds as he placed the plate in front of her. Sliced mushrooms mixed in with the chicken, and the green spears of asparagus added a splash of color. "Your mom is a great cook, too, then."
He brought them each a glass of water, and joined her at the table. Beth couldn't wait to dig into the tender chicken. "Tell me about your family," he insisted.
The food looked on a professional scale, and was anxious to experience the flavors, but she didn't want talk and eat at the same time. She set her fork down on the plate. "Well, my parents are still married. My dad is a financial advisor and my mom is finishing school."
"School? That's admirable. What's she studying?"
"Horticulture. She loves plants and flowers." Before he asked another question, she sampled the chicken, the flavors exploding in her mouth. Had she ever had chicken this good before? "This is amazing."
Mark actually blushed. Pink cheeks were cute on him. "Thank you."
She'd eat after she asked some questions. "Tell me more about your family. You told me about your parents and brother. What else?"
Mark spoke of his dog, a black lab mix called Domino, and his sixteen-year-old cat with fur so white he named her Ghost. She listened intently, taking in every word, consumed in his excitement as he shared with her. A couple weeks with Harvey and she barely knew a thing about him. Two dates with Mark and she could recite his family tree.
"First kiss." Mark swirled his water in his cup. "Who? When? How was it?"
The napkin on her lap caught the water she spit out of her mouth. Nice job, Beth. "What?"
He set his glass down. "I want to know about your first kiss. What kind of competition am I up against?"
"Chris Helms is hardly competition." Beth rolled her eyes and tossed her napkin beside her plate. She laughed shyly. "Are you hot?" She touched her hands to her cheeks.
"Why are you embarrassed? Heather was my first kiss."
"She was?" Fabulous. He competed with a gap toothed second grader she stole a peck from on the playground, and she faced the all-time favorite in Spin the Bottle.
He chuckled and brushed the little hair on his head forward with his hand. How cute he could simply use his fingers as a comb. She wondered how soft it was and found herself wanting to touch it. God, she had it bad.
"Yeah, she was. We were twelve, I think. It was like kissing my sister."
Okay, she was safe. Heather was harmless, and her heart could now return to normal pace. "I have no idea what kissing a sibling would feel like. Since I don't have a brother or sister, I guess it'd be like making out with Lucy." Her lips on Lucy's? She shivered at the creepiness. "Okay. No big deal about Heather."
His smile warmed her, and he seemed full of them tonight. "Next question. What scares you?"
Oh, what didn't scare her? Right now, messing up this date. She'd go with an easier answer. "College kind of frightens me," she told him.
He wrapped his hands together and rested his chin on them. "What scares you about this place? College is a glorified high school."
"To be honest, that's exactly why. I'm afraid this will be too much like high school. I'm tired of all the pettiness, the cliques, and the bullies."
"Did someone bully you?" He asked, his voice rising in concern. "I can't imagine anyone bullying you."
"I wouldn't say bullied. I have had my share of not-so-nice remarks. I'm glad I was spared what some of my classmates weren't. Let's say I wasn't the prom queen or even on the court. Not by a long shot."
"Don't worry, Beth. You don't have to be a prom queen here."
He stood from the table and made his way to the entertainment center. He turned on the radio, and a slow tune by Maxwell took over the airwaves. He walked over to her and reached his hand out toward her. "Come here."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and graciously accepted the invitation. They made their way to an open space in the living room. She shivered as Mark let go of her hands and moved his to her waist, pulling her close to him. There was nowhere for her to put her hands except around his neck. Awkwardly and cautiously, she laid her head on his shoulder. They swayed back and forth, and she inhaled, the sweet smell of his cologne filling her nostrils. She rather liked his fingers against the small of her back, almost massaging her. She reflexively pulled him tighter. Both of their bodies relaxed, and Mark chuckled. He kept moving up her back until the cloth ran out and he touched her skin. She had no time to think when he kissed her.
His lips pressed against hers with brute strength, clinging together. He began to walk forward, forcing her backward until she fell onto the couch. The kisses kept coming as he leaned over until he was on top of her. As they shifted their bodies so they lay side-by-side, she let out a small groan and wrapped her legs with his so they resembled a pretzel. Her butt clenched when he swooped his tongue around another time before stopping. She opened her eyes, his face almost touching hers. "Did you like that?"
His breath hot against her cheek, she whispered, "I did. I do. I want to keep going."
They continued on the couch for a while, wrapped in each other's bodies. She kept her hands resting on his cheeks as they kissed, tilting her head slightly to allow him to peck on her neck. He twisted her nipples with his thumb and forefinger and she arched her back in pleasure. Her desire for him grew each moment his lips touched her flesh. In her mind, they were already naked, and he was pressing himself inside of her. Pure torture. She clenched the muscles inside as though doing so would stop her feelings, when in fact, the exact opposite happened. Keeping his head in her hands, she carefully moved his face away from hers.
"Mark," she stopped him. She pulled away and put her hand on his chest. "We can't. I can't."
"It's okay." He grazed his finger down her cheek.
"I'm not sure I'm ready for this type of relationship. Not after everything that happened with-"
He put his finger to her lips. "Shh," he whispered. "You don't have to explain. I understand. I get it."
"You do? You're not upset?"
He rolled away from her and sat up. He helped her. "No, I'm not upset. Why in the world would I be? I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do."
"Well, don't think I don't want to, because, believe me, I want to."
"Me, too," he said, "but you're not ready. I like you. I'm not going to push you. It's not worth it. This thing between us is great. I don't want to mess this up." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "You let me know when you're ready. How about a movie instead?"
A breath escaped. "Great idea." And safe, she wanted to say.
After they settled on a film, she nestled next to him, swinging her legs onto the cushion next to her. Mark pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She tossed her arm over his chest, his heart pounded against her hand, and knowing he was just as nervous brought comfort. Throughout the movie, he'd reach down and hook his fingers with hers, and she couldn't help but wonder if waiting was the right choice. The touch of him excited every part of her body, making it difficult to concentrate on what happened on screen. Mark wasn't pushing anything, though, and as soon as the end credits faded against the screen, Beth left before she gave into temptation.
"Whew," she trembled as she tossed her phone onto the dashboard. Laying with Mark through a two hour movie was a feat in itself. A deep breath eased the tension she held, but the soft tingles Mark gave her remained. Gosh he made her feel good. That was it, right? That was how love was supposed to feel.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Fifteen minutes before closing. During those last minutes, the store rarely saw one customer, making it the opportune time for Harvey and Ricky. In and out. Simple.
Harvey parked the Bonneville around the side of the building. He didn't recall any cameras on that side of the building. The otherwise empty lot served as a great sign. Additional people inside would only complicate the situation.
"These things are hot!" Ricky complained as he pulled the ski mask over his head.
Harvey slipped his on as well. "This coming from a guy who wears a trench coat in the middle of summer?"
He scoffed at him. "Let's just get our money and be out of here. I got things and girls to do."
Harvey doubted Ricky had a slew of women waiting for him. The only thing he had to do was smoke some weed. He didn't do anything worthwhile. In the remote chance a girl offered to fuck Ricky, he'd probably be to stoned to even pop a boner. Ricky agreed to help, and Harvey would tell him when they were done, and he'd be able to return to his loser life. "You got the gun?"
"Gun!" Ricky laughed. "I couldn't get my hands on a gun. I brought my knife, which is enough to scare the guy. We're only planning on making him piss his pants, right? Freak him out and take his cash?"
Harvey hadn't thought that far in advance. His plan consisted of four steps. Walk in. Demand money. Take the dough. Leave. He hadn't considered if Nelson tried to pull out some ninja moves he had hidden in his back pocket. "Maybe this isn't a good idea." He would call the whole thing off, and deal with his father's wrath.
"No. You're not backing out on this. I need my money. You know you do, too."
The cotton fabric started to stick to his face, his neck wet from his now sweaty hair. "Fine. Let's get this done. I can barely breathe in this thing." They opened their doors and jumped out of the car, walking rapidly toward the building. "I get the money, you take care of Nelson," Harvey directed.
Chimes echoed through the air when Harvey paraded through the door, Ricky rushing in behind him. Shit! Nelson stood behind the counter writing something in a notepad. "Put the pen down and your hands up!" Harvey yelled.
Nelson dropped the pen and did as Harvey demanded. His lip quivered as he backed up into the wall. Ricky jumped over the counter and pulled Nelson against him. He flicked out his knife, and touched the blade to his neck. "Now you're going to walk slowly to the register and open it up. If you try to move too quickly, I'll plunge this knife right into your neck. You understand, fucker?"
Hands still in the air, visibly shaking, Nelson scooted across the tiny carpet between the wall and the register. Ricky stayed on top of him. While Nelson punched on the keys to open the register, Harvey pointed to Nelson's office to indicate he'd check for more money there.
The desk sat in the center of the spotless room as though trying to own the space as the best thing in it. A single piece of paper lay on the desk, a pen laying across, looking straight out of a damn catalog. He rushed around the desk and started opening drawers. The third one wouldn't open. "Fuck, locked." He slammed his hand on the table. "Where's the key to the drawer?" Harvey asked as he raced back to the front of the store. If this took much longer, they'd get caught.
Nelson shook his leg. "Pocket." He whispered.
Harvey motioned to Ricky to grab the key out of Nelson's pocket. "I don't think so. Do that shit yourself."
Reaching down a man's pants didn't top Harvey's agenda that day, but if it got the job done, he'd do it. He let out a puff of air before stepping behind the counter. "Which one?" He asked Nelson, who pushed his right leg out slightly to allow access to the pocket. Harvey slid his hand into the pocket, grabbing the keys as fast as he could. He would never do that again.
Without acknowledgment of any sort, Harvey went back to the office, put the key in and the drawer opened. As he thought, he found the metal box there, but it had a small keypad for a combination. He yanked the box out and ran to the front of the store. "Write down the code." He shoved the paper and pen over to Nelson. That stupid notepad finally came in handy.
As Nelson struggled to write down the five numbers while being unable to look down at the paper, Harvey almost grabbed the knife from Ricky. He still didn't believe they were doing this, stealing from Maggie's cousin. His sponsor's relative. He stole from Beth's family and now Maggie's. Didn't another option exist for him? His father or rehab couldn't be the only choices he had. How hard could finding someone to live with until he got his shit back together be? He froze for a moment, watching Nelson cower, the fear in his face pleading with Harvey. Even if he wanted to change his mind, it was too late. He grabbed the paper from the counter and motioned for Ricky to follow him. Ricky threw Nelson down to the ground. They sprinted out the door and sped off.
"Holy shit, Harvey! We fucking robbed a store!" Both Ricky and Harvey ripped their masks off as they drove excessively over the speed limit to get out of town. "Slow down, dude. We don't want to get pulled over before we even cross over the county line."
Harvey lifted his foot off the pedal until he coasted to a slower speed. Nelson probably called the police already. Where did they go now? He couldn't waltz into his house with a stolen lock box with who knows how much money. He hadn't thought the plan through, if the half-assed job they did was considered a structured plan, anyway. Go in, steal the cash, and pay his debts off. Easy, but the things that seem so simple end up being the opposite.
"Son of a bitch!" Harvey slammed his hands on the wheel.
"What?" Ricky asked. "Forget something?"
He banged his palms against the steering wheel four more times. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"What do you mean what are we gonna do? We're going to open up the box and get our cash."
They drove down the highway, about five miles out of town. "And then what? I can't go to prison." He kept driving into the black night, his headlights the only illumination on the road.
Ricky tossed the lock box in the back seat. "We're not going to jail. I thought you had this all figured out. Relax, dude. He had no idea who we were."
Harvey hoped Nelson didn't realize the truth behind the voices and masks. Only their eyes and mouths
could be seen, and they tried not to speak too much. Most robberies ended up being random, right? Usually a gas station or bank was robbed, not an auto supply store, but stealing money was stealing money, no matter where the cash came from.
"How much did we get?" Harvey handed Ricky the scribbled combination. "Open up and see."
Ricky reached into the back and grabbed the lock box again. He punched in the code, and started counting. "Six-forty-eight and change."
"Okay. We'll split it down the middle."
"Fuck that. I'm taking five hundred. I held the knife to the jerk's throat."
"I don't think so." Barely anything would be left for Harvey if Ricky took five hundred. The amount they got wasn't enough anyway to pay his father and Ricky. He'd really screwed up. He'd have to rob another store, and another, and another. This couldn't work, and a never-ending cycle was being put into place. He had to take all the money, every last bill.
The car slowed to a stop. "What are you doing?" Ricky asked.
"You're gonna get out here." He slammed the box shut and grabbed it from Ricky.
Ricky reached into his pocket, took out a cigarette and lighter. "Like hell I am." He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. "Let's go."
"I'm serious. Get the fuck out of my car." Ricky continued to look back at Harvey, a smirk forming across his face. Harvey realized how idiotic is was bringing Ricky in on his plan. He should have done it himself. Had he done that, there'd be no question about splitting the money. Ricky's smile widened, angering Harvey even more. It only took him seconds to jump out of the car, open Ricky's door, and yank him out. "I said you get out here. I wasn't kidding." He slammed the door shut.
Ricky lay on the side of the road, dumbfounded, and Harvey drove off, knowing all too well where he had to go.
Three pins. Beth only needed to knock down three pins to win the game. She stood at the approach, her feet planted at the dotted line, the ball close to her chest. The scores on the board read: Heather, 125; Mark 170; and Beth, 168. Destiny's Child belted out Independent Woman on the speakers while she gripped the ball, her fingers sweating in the holes. She took a step forward, two, three, pulled her hand back and rolled the ball down the lane.
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