by Ashley Logan
“It didn’t matter?” Rosemary asks, leaning in and holding me in place with her hands on my knees. “Is that what you just said?”
Shrugging again, I take a bite of a new cookie and avoid her eyes.
“Kat, if you like the guy, and he kissed you, how could it not matter?”
“Because it doesn’t. For the same reason it wouldn’t matter if the boy next door walked in here now and asked me to marry him. That might have been my goal in life once, but it’s not anymore. A kiss doesn’t have to mean anything. A kiss can mean nothing if I need it to. I have responsibilities. I’m not about to stop dancing to make some guy happy when it’s the dancing that lets Tim and the girls have the life that I couldn’t have. So. Yeah. That’s all.”
All three of them stare at me.
“But what about your happiness?” Emi asks in a soft voice.
“The kids are more important than whether I get a man or not, Emi. The money I couldn’t get anywhere else keeps Tim supported with babysitters so he can still have a life while he stays with the girls. Jem will get to go to college. She never would have got to do that even if Mom were still alive and Dad was still in the picture. There was no money for that, and she’s so smart. Way smarter than I ever was. She deserves a chance to leave small town life and see the world. Ros and Li-li are only eleven! There are still so many years left before we even know what they’ll want to be, but they’ll be loved until we do, and kept healthy, warm and fed, because my dancing pays for it.”
“But you said he already knew about your dancing. And he still kissed you,” Rosemary points out, damn her perceptive soul. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“It means he thinks I’m easy and took advantage of the presence of mistletoe.”
“Uh-uh. Don’t change him from a sweetie to a meanie in one breath. He’s one or the other. Sweet, I’m guessing, by the way you’re all twisted about it. He didn’t take advantage of mistletoe. If he didn’t want to kiss you, he wouldn’t have. I’m assuming he didn’t accidentally trip and fall on you with his lips Kat, so if he knows about the dancing, and kisses you on purpose - what does it mean?” Rosemary fixes me with a hard stare and Emi and Trish keep hushed as they sit frozen on their perches.
“It means he doesn’t know enough to keep his lips to himself. What time is it? I’ve gotta go, I’m on dinner, and I need to run through some steps before work tonight. I need some generous tips to cover anything that comes up over the break. I’d really like to take the kids away somewhere. Niagara Falls maybe,” I say in a rush. Rolling my chair backwards as far as possible, I squeeze out of the gap created between the wall at my back and the triad of wonderful, caring, but entirely too nosy women to the front.
“Kat, don’t rush off,” Rosemary calls after me as I dash out the back to retrieve my coat. “We didn’t mean to push. We love you!” All three gather in the cramped space where we keep our coats, throwing their arms around me. “You don’t have to tell us anything,” Rosie says, leaning back to look me in the eye.
“But if you do want to tell us anything, or ask for advice, we’re here, okay?” Emi adds with a gentle squeeze.
“And if you want us to do your hair before you go, we totally should, because if you’re going to tell him to back off, he best know what he’s missing.”
Sniffing a little, I start pushing them back. “Don’t be silly. And thank you, but I don’t want to look like I’m playing games when I’m not.” Wiping my eyes, I run a hand over my hair. “Wait. Does my hair look bad?”
The girls assure me it doesn’t, yet still somehow convince me to sit in front of the mirrors. Trish hands me another glass of juice as Emi retouches my eye make-up and Rosemary combs out my hair.
“Nothing fancy,” I warn her as her eyes take on that sparkle she gets when she’s about to get creative. “I have to wear a hat. It’s beyond freezing out there.”
“Braids?”
“Like Pippi Long-stockings? You realize my hair is red right? I mean, not flaming red, but come on.”
Giggling, Rosie takes another sip of her bubbles. “Not Pippi braids. Grownup braids.” I scowl at her in the mirror. “One braid?” she adds hopefully.
“Fine. One braid. That will be covered by a hat.”
“I get it,” she says merrily as she starts parting my hair.
AS I NEAR GREEN’S PRODUCE, I slow to a stop. Lennox is shoveling snow out front and it looks as though he may have been at it for some time, because while dirty snow is piled high on one side, the sidewalk has been mostly cleared right down to the corner. Still in his shirt, he’s lost the tie, and his top button is open. Sleeves still rolled to his elbows, he’s focused on his task as his breath steams the air around him. He’s wearing the gray hat.
My own breaths begin to come and go more quickly. I can’t seem to hold any air at all. The pulsing in my ears is back, so I know my heart is pounding again. I can do this. I’ll just tell him, and go about my business as usual. It’s best if we do this out here, where we can be alone.
Looking up as he tosses his last scoop onto the heap, he sees me. Standing tall, he rests both hands on his snow shovel and flashes me one of those dazzling smiles that warm me to the core. Unable to keep from smiling back, I sigh at myself and march ahead.
“Nice hat,” I say quietly as I get closer. It looks just as I imagined it would. Very fetching!
Touching his fingers to his head, he smiles in thanks. Maybe it’s good that he’s not a big talker. The conversation will be a short one.
“Um, Lennox?”
His face becomes serious as his eyes regard me carefully.
“About the kiss-”
As soon as I say the word, his eyes close and he takes a step back. Nodding as if he understands, he starts for the door and I follow.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
Turning slowly, he sighs. Looking down at himself, he then looks to me and shrugs. “You wish it didn’t happen. What else is there to say?”
How can he know that just from looking at me? Raising one shoulder in a half shrug, I wonder how to explain that it has very little to do with him; that I actually like him very much.
“I liked it.” The admission is barely above a whisper.
Smiling sadly, he gives a slight nod. “Me too.” Without another word, he takes his snow shovel through the door. The bell above celebrates his return and the door closes behind him.
Alone on the sidewalk in the cold, I shiver. If I didn’t need vegetables to make dinner for a dozen hungry dancers in a few hours, I wouldn’t go in, but I’m a big girl and I’ve dealt with more uncomfortable situations than this. Taking a deep breath, I push through the shop door.
Lincoln turns to me as I enter. The heavy plastic curtain behind him is settling back into place and I sigh.
“Hey, Linc. Just here to pick up that first order, if it’s ready.”
“Just bagged the greens myself,” he says with a sympathetic smile.
Awkward.
“Anything else today, Kat?”
Looking around the store, my eyes fall on the stack of bunched rhubarb. Collecting a bunch, I take it to the counter and get out my wallet. Lincoln adds the rhubarb to the box and hands me back my change.
“Don’t much care for the stuff myself,” he says, nodding at the red stems. “You know who does like rhubarb?” he asks conversationally, leaning on the counter.
Exhaling roughly, I shrug and pull the box towards me.
“Kimber. Even likes eating it raw. Have you done that? Eat it raw?”
Smiling, I nod.
“Talk about sour. Pretty sure it’s meant to give you a stomach ache if you eat it raw, but it doesn’t seem to bother her none. Nix reckons she’s part goat. Probably the bit she got from his stubborn ass.” Catching himself with the unprofessional vocabulary, he clears his throat. “Behind,” he corrects himself with a cheeky grin. “Anyway, see you tomorrow Katarina,” he says, waving me off.
Returning his
wave, I make my way back out to the street and head for home.
CHAPTER THREE
The good thing about living with so many people, is that someone is always around. As I approach the door to Beyond from one direction, I see Bruno and Cooper approaching from the other, both wearing the hats I knitted them. Bruno quickly relieves me of my cargo and Coop holds the door for me like the gentleman he is. Thanking them both, I try not to laugh as they peer into the box and try to guess what I’ll be making for dinner.
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Sicilian pasta.”
“Minestrone.”
“Irish stew.”
“Stuffed peppers with chicken and spinach salad.”
“Shitake, ginger and tofu stir-fry?”
“Cassoulet?”
They look to me for confirmation and I smile. When these guys first joined the crew, their menu cards were fairly simplistic. In fact, I seem to recall Coop reading out shitake as ‘shit take’ mushrooms when he saw it on my list, which had reminded me of my brother doing the same.
“This isn’t all for the same dish, but those are all good guesses. Tonight however, I will be making a green salad and baby potatoes to accompany the salmon en croute.”
Coop looks to Bruno for help. “Which is...?”
“Undoubtedly delicious if Kat’s cooking it,” Bruno says with a shrug as he looks to me. “You okay, Kat? You look a little flushed.”
Holding the back of my hand to my face as I hang my coat and scarf onto my hook at the top of the stairs, I shrug. “Just pink from walking in the cold, I’d say.” Taking off my boots, I put them on the rack below the coats and put on the slippers I’d traded them for before I left this morning. Taking the groceries from Bruno so he can discard his winter garb too, I give him a smile of thanks.
Setting the groceries on the kitchen counter, I continue through the kitchen and down the hall a short way to my room.
“Hey Lex,” I say on my way past her room.
Lowering her book, Alexa rolls off the bed. “Hey Kat. Thanks for the hat and the cookies. I didn’t get them till this morning, but Damon and I already ate them all. I really wish you weren’t a domestic goddess sometimes. If we didn’t get so much exercise, it would be a serious issue.”
Chuckling a little, I shake my head. “Glad you enjoyed them, Lex. I’m just going to change before I get started in the kitchen.”
“Cool. Remind me when it comes time to eat, that I only need one helping,” she says, leaning against her door frame. “I hate dancing on a too-full stomach and it always seems to happen on the nights you cook.” Narrowing her eyes, she studies my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Why?” I ask, touching my cheeks again. “Bruno said the same thing. Are my cheeks wind-burned or something? They do feel a bit warm.”
Regarding me a moment longer, she chews the inside of her cheek in thought. “You’re on dinner.”
It’s neither a question nor a reminder, simply a statement of fact.
“I know.”
“You’ve been to Green’s.”
My cheeks start heating from within. “Yeah. Of course.”
Alexa attempts to suppress a smile. “And?”
“And the salon,” I reply flippantly. “Just a regular, average day in the life of Katarina James. Nothing to write home about,” I add with a shrug as I move to the next door along. “Tim’s picking me up tomorrow at noon,” I call over my shoulder, changing the subject as I start pulling off my ‘salon clothes’.
Alexa comes to stand in my doorway. “What did you do there?”
“Where?” I ask, pulling off my shirt and bra and tossing them in the hamper before shrugging into a semi-supportive tank top. Rubbing at the thin red grooves left by my bra, I re-adjust my top. It’s hard to get the right chest support without leaving marks, and a professional stripper shouldn’t have unsightly red stripes that remind men they’re not perfect.
Perfect. Nobody is perfect. Especially here at Beyond the Horny Buffalo.
A classy adult entertainment establishment with a ‘look, but don’t touch’ policy, Beyond is more than some tasteless strip joint. All of us are trained dancers, and all of us are working through real issues surrounding our sexuality. I may not be scarred, or have a history of abuse, like some of the other dancers, and though I can definitely be socially awkward, I’m not crippled by it like Coop can be, but I have my own tales of woe, and I need this job for much more than the money it brings in for my family.
Alexa clears her throat. “Are you ignoring me, or are you thinking about what you did at Green’s with a certain bearded hottie?”
“Hottie?”
“I presume you think he’s hot,” she says with a shrug as her face becomes thoughtful. “You’re right. Hottie doesn’t suit him at all. Beefcake? Ox. Tiger? Too stripy. Panther? Lion-heart. What is the best animal descriptor of a strapping, virile, red-blooded, yet sensitive hunk of man? Bear?”
My cheeks flame impossibly redder and I turn away to find my yoga pants, trading them for the leggings and skirt I wore to work at the salon. “Are you done?” I ask as I flip my thick braid over my shoulder and pull on a loose t-shirt.
“Only if you tell me what happened at Green’s.”
“I made some orders. And delivered cookies and hats. Kimber’s matched her eyes perfectly. I also ate a banana, spilled a basket of apples and... the rest is a secret.”
Snorting, Alexa folds her arms over her chest. “A juicy secret?”
“There was no juice!” I snap. “I got to see out the back, but I’m sworn to secrecy about what was out there. It was pretty amazing though. A total shock. I thought it would just be boxes or something. It’s actually a huge space.” Innocent words flow from my mouth, streaming behind me as I head back to the kitchen.
Alexa leans against the counter as I open the full length freezer. “How amazing? On a scale of one to ten. One being a yawn, and ten being... eye-bulging.”
Sighing, I shrug as I set several packs of pre-rolled pastry on the counter. “I don’t know. Ten? It was pretty incredible.”
“It was, or Lennox was?” she presses.
Not looking up, I start pulling vegetables from the box on the counter. “Both I guess, considering he’s responsible for it.”
“Kat, seriously. Can you be any more annoying? Just tell me how far your panties dropped from the following choices. A) Not at all; B) to your knees; C) to the floor; or D) so far through the floor that they were burned up by liquid hot magma.”
Laughing, I look at her and shake my head. “Like literally, or figuratively speaking? Because they literally stayed on my ass.”
“And figuratively?” she asks leaning in and resting on the kitchen island as I chop veggies for a big pot of soup.
“They may have dropped to the floor, but I hoisted them up quick-smart,” I inform her in a flat tone. “There will be no panty-dropping for me except maybe on stage.”
Sighing, Alexa leans back against the counter again. “Will you just forgive yourself for whatever it is already? You deserve some goodness too, you know.”
“And maybe good people like the Greens deserve better,” I reply, tossing diced celery into the pot and starting on carrots.
“Better than Saint Katarina?”
My eyes flick to hers in warning. “You don’t know everything, Lex. Just leave it be.”
“I know you’re an amazing big sister, to more than just your siblings. Your heart is filled with love and you take care of everybody - sometimes to the detriment of yourself. In the time we’ve known each other, you have never once been involved with a man. At first I thought it was because you were hung up on losing the boy next door, but since it has become clear that you are completely hot for Lennox Green, and he for you, I can’t understand why you keep depriving yourself.”
“You don’t have to understand my choices, only that they are my choices.” Softening a little, I shake my head. “I love you Lex, but would you mind please
giving me some space? I’ve got a lot to do before dinner.”
Sighing, Alexa moves in front of me. Staring up at me a moment, she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me in for a hug. Upon releasing me, she leaves without another word.
I DON’T HAVE A GREAT night in the club. Well, the audience probably didn’t notice, but I wasn’t feeling myself when I hit the stage. I should have practiced more, but my brain was all stupefied from kissing Lennox Green and I did some things I hadn’t planned, and wouldn’t normally do. I know what men want. Normally I dance for them, playing to their desires, but today I indulged in some of my own. It does happen sometimes, and while it feels awesome at the time, I tend to feel unsettled afterward, as if I’ve done something wrong.
As soon as debrief is over - where Ireeni did her best to convince me I was the hottest she’d ever seen me, I leave the living room for the kitchen, throwing myself back into cooking. The kitchen is as much an outlet for me to express myself as dancing on the stage downstairs.
Pulling out pie dishes, I line them with pastry and fill them with the apples and rhubarb I’d stewed earlier. Nina Pryzbylewski, my boss/great friend, comes to stand on the other side of the island as I top the pies with different designs. I don’t look up, because it’s unusual for Prez not to retire upstairs after debrief, and therefore I know she’s going to say something about not expecting so much of myself or some variation along the same line. I feel like everyone’s put in their two cents today.
“I’ve got early appointments tomorrow,” she says, pressing down a hump of pastry on the edge of one of the pies. “So I probably won’t see you until the new year.” Looking up, I note her concerned expression. “I hope you have a great holiday, and enjoy the time with your family, Kat. I hope they spoil you rotten.”