by Ashley Logan
Smiling a little, I nod. “Wonton soup with either rice, or sesame toast. I haven’t decided yet. Um. Lennox?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Thank you. For yesterday. I feel much better today.”
He looks me over and nods, but says nothing.
“I... need to talk to you about something. Something... hard to talk about.”
Considering that a moment, he stops packing my groceries into the thick paper bag with his name scrawled across it in logo form. “Would you like to meet me for a drink after work?” he asks carefully. “My work, or yours.”
“Oh. Um. I don’t drink. But yes. Maybe?” I nod. “That is probably a better idea than turning up here and forcing a conversation on you. Sorry to disturb you at work.”
Looking at me strangely, he continues bagging. “You’re not disturbing me. You’ve waited so long in the cold that it’s almost closing time. When Linc gets back in a few minutes, I could walk you home, or to O’Malley’s if you’d prefer somewhere less... populated. You don’t drink?” he asks, loading the last of my vegetables.
I shake my head, and he just watches me a moment.
The bell jingles and familiar laughter enters the store. Turning at the sound, I smile at Nate and Quentin as they accompany Lincoln through the door.
“Hey guys! Didn’t expect to see you until work later,” I say to the twins as they rush me for hugs.
“Hey pussyKat. You on dinner?” Q asks, probing the bag on the counter as Nate eyeballs the contents. “Is there enough if we come too?”
“As if you need to ask. We all love it when you come over, it’s like old times - but don’t call me pussyKat. It weirds me out. What’s Hayles up to?”
“Abandoned me to visit her mom for the week now that she’s got a break from work,” Nate says with a fake sob.
Q rolls his eyes and pulls a face at me. “He fakes it in public, but at home the tears are real. I’m considering a stint back in the apartment just to get away from it. Vi’s room still empty?”
Trying not to laugh, I nod. “Scar’s is too most night’s now that she and Bruno are basically shacked up,” I add, because I know that if one of the twins comes, both will.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nate says, pretending to give Q an evil glare.
“You guys just come from group?” I ask, checking the time. If their No More! (Drugs) support group just finished, I have about an hour before dinner needs to be ready. Crud. How long was I standing outside building up my nerve?
“Uh-huh,” Q answers, breaking off the end of one of my garlic chives and eating it. “Why?”
Turning back to Lennox, I give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Again. I took too long. Um, tomorrow? Maybe?” I ask, handing over cash for the produce. “It’s important.”
Nudging the bag towards me, he nods. “I’ll be here.”
Nodding myself, I grab the groceries, say hi and bye to Lincoln, and tell the twins I’ll see them soon before rushing out the door, my mind already running through the most efficient method for getting dinner served on time.
“HE’S WHAT?”
Squinting at Q, I wrap my robe around me more tightly and quickly tidy my station in the dressing room as panic mode kicks in.
“Don’t rush or anything,” Q says, gesturing with his hands for me to slow down as the others begin to fuss around me. “Lennox says he’s happy to wait. Nate’s just poured him another drink while the club empties out.”
“But why is he even here?” I ask, getting more anxious as I feel the nerves of the other girls feeding into my own.
Shrugging, Q tries to look innocent and fails miserably.
“What did you say after I left the store?”
“Nothing!” he swears. “I just said you were a great girl and he could do worse!”
“And what? Suddenly he can’t wait to see me! What happened?” I demand, standing up and backing him out of the dressing room.
“Nothing! I promise. I think you scared him - what you said about something important. I think that’s why he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.” Looking to the others for help, Q lets out a sigh of relief when Reeni places a hand on my shoulder.
“Easy girl. He’s just the messenger.”
Releasing a heavy breath, I soften when I see Q’s expression.
“Quentin, I’m so sorry. I panicked.”
“It’s fine, Kat. Maybe take your time and chill out a bit before coming out. Whatever’s going on inside your head is scaring me some, so it must be worse for you. I could ask him to leave, if you want?”
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. “No. It’s fine. Tell him I’ll be out in ten.”
Giving me an encouraging smile, Q nods and backs away down the corridor on his way back to the bar.
Flopping into my chair, I close my eyes and groan. “He’s here now?”
Scar slips into the seat beside me. “Looks that way, babe.”
“What am I going to wear?” I moan, looking down at myself. “I came downstairs in my robe.”
“So wear the robe,” she says with a toss of her hair. “He’ll love it. He probably just saw you in a whole lot less, you know.”
Folding forward, I put my head between my knees as it becomes dizzy. “We’ll go somewhere else to talk. I can’t wear my robe!”
“We can check the racks,” says Reeni, rubbing my back a moment, before moving in that direction. “There’s got to be something in here that works for an off-stage rendezvous. How sexy are we wanting? Fuck me now, or fuck me later?”
“Omigodomigodomigod. I can’t do this. I still haven’t worked out what to say.”
“Just wing it,” Teeny says, winking at me in the mirror. “You have to. There’s no way to predict his side of the conversation unless you plan on writing him a script.”
Nodding, I haul myself out of the chair. “You’re right. I’m being silly. I just need to do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” Moving towards the costume racks, I shake my head as Reeni holds up a silver sequined mini-dress. “Urgh! There are no pants on my rack!” I cry in frustration as I flick through. “What about Benji’s? His legs are about my size.”
“Way ahead of you,” Nina says, holding up Benji’s pinstripe three-piece suit. Hanging the jacket back up, she nudges me aside and pulls out a slinky maroon camisole from Scarlett’s rack.
“Prez, you’re a genius!”
Dropping my robe, I pull on the pants over my thong. Unsure of keeping my gals in check without a bra, I’m pleasantly surprised that the waistcoat keeps them secure enough.
“Don’t forget bling,” Teeny says, beckoning me lower so she can slip her necklace around my neck. “Perfect,” she says as I straighten.
Strapping on my favorite black stilettos, I look in the mirror and have to say that I don’t look half bad. My hair is still braided around my head from my set, accentuating my long neck, and the sparkle of Teeny’s necklace draws attention to my cleavage, but the lace of the camisole keeps things concealed enough to be tasteful. The outfit is really quite stylish.
“Okay. I can do this. Thanks guys.” I give them all a brave smile and move to the intercom. “Is it safe to come out Bruno?”
“Come on out, Kat. Door’s closed. It’s just us at the bar.”
Taking a deep breath, I look around my group of friends. “Wish me luck.”
Well wishes and confidence boosting calls follow me down the hallway as I try to keep my head up and my dinner down.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sitting quietly among the others as they talk about their night, Lennox appears subdued by comparison. Standing when he sees me, his eyes travel down my body and back up to my face where they stay. Visibly swallowing, he clears his throat and the other guys turn to acknowledge my presence.
Benji raises his beer in greeting, already returning to his conversation with Smith when he swivels straight back around on his bar stool. Hesitating briefly as he looks to the others, he slides off his stool and meets me a
short distance from the group.
Studying me closely, he leans in and whispers, “Is that my suit?”
“Yes. It was better than my robe or a sequined mini-dress. I hope you don’t mind,” I whisper back.
“Looks way better on you,” he says, still in hushed tones as he eyes the outfit again. “The guy doesn’t stand a chance. If he gets too excited, remember that suit is dry-clean only,” he adds with a wink. Smiling secretively, he takes another sip of his drink and returns to his seat shaking his head.
Lennox steps forward. Dressed in jeans and a navy shirt, he holds a charcoal woolen coat in front of him. His shirtsleeves are rolled to the elbow as usual, the crisp lines where his shirt has been pressed are obvious, and his hair and beard are well-groomed. Classic Lennox Green.
“You look beautiful, Katarina. I hope you don’t mind that I came to see you tonight.”
Taking a deep breath, I link my hands together to keep my fingers still. “Um, why did you, exactly?” I ask, trying not to throw up from nervousness.
Looking briefly at the others, Lennox comes closer. “After seeing you in the street, struggling with whatever you need to say, I thought you might sleep better tonight, having gotten it off your chest.”
“Oh.” I nod. “That’s sweet.”
“And selfish,” he adds. “I might sleep better knowing as well. I’m kind of going crazy wondering about it,” he confesses, his eyes searching mine.
Nodding again, I take a deep breath. “Okay. Shall we go somewhere more private?” I ask quietly, thanking Smith as he drapes his coat around my shoulders on his way past. “There’s a quiet bar a few doors down that’ll be open a while longer.”
Giving me an odd look, Lennox nods and gestures for me to lead the way.
Slipping my arms into Smith’s sleeves, I watch Lennox don his coat before we head out.
“I was thinking about what you asked me yesterday,” I say, pulling Smith’s coat around me tightly as the cold hits me, grateful that it still holds some of his warmth. “You asked who takes care of me, and I said that I did. It wasn’t the whole truth. Everyone takes care of me,” I say, looking up to find him watching me. I like the way he looks at me - as if I’m talking even when I’m not.
“I’m wearing Teeny’s necklace. And Scarlett’s top under Benji’s suit. Prez put me together. Smith gave me his coat so I wouldn’t have to run upstairs to get mine. Everyone takes care of me.”
His eyes move down my outfit again, lingering at my feet. Smiling a little, he grates his teeth over his bottom lip and scratches his cheek. “This it?” he asks, gesturing past me to The Watering Hole.
“Uh huh.”
Smiling as he shakes his head, he takes my hand and leads me inside.
“What’s so funny?”
“Apart from The Watering Hole being downwind of Beavertown and Beyond the Horny Buffalo?” he asks, unable to keep a straight face.
“I didn’t say it was classy. I said it would be quiet this time of night,” I say with a grin as we approach the bar. “It could be worse. We could be entering The Lubed Hole, or The Gaping Hole, or - heaven forbid - The Wrong Hole.”
“What’ll you have, love?” Maggie the older barkeep asks.
“Hot Chocolate please Mags. Lennox?”
“Ah, I was going to get a beer, but hot chocolate sounds good. Two please,” he confirms with Maggie before giving me an interesting look that could be interpreted as disbelief, mock horror, real horror, or even partially-veiled amusement. I decide it’s probably best not to figure out which just yet.
Tugging him over to an empty booth, I slide in on one side. Hesitating a moment, he shrugs out of his coat and slides into the opposite side, tossing his coat next to him.
“I would’ve offered to take yours, but you already sat,” he volunteers.
“Oh.” Looking down, I pull my arms from the sleeves and let Smith’s coat fall behind me. “Sorted.” I study him over the empty table. “You look as nervous as I feel.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you want to get that beer after all? I know the guys say it ‘takes the edge off’, or whatever.”
Looking at me sideways a little, he leans back. “When you say you don’t drink...”
“I mean I don’t drink. Not that I mind if other people drink. Well, I mind if my siblings drink, but that’s different.”
“Even Tim?”
“Tim does drink a little and I don’t like it.”
“Because you used to drink?” he asks as if the answer might blow him up.
“Huh? No. I don’t drink, period. Never have, never will.”
“Oh,” he says, his shoulders relaxing significantly. “That’s... good, I guess. Any particular reason?”
“Both my parents were alcoholics. Dad was a lousy drunk with poor coping skills, and Mom was a closet drinker who ruined my life with her selfishness and lies.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I can see why you’ve made the choice you have. They’ve both passed?”
“Mom has. My dad left not long after the twins were born and we haven’t heard from him since. Probably ran back to Canada - that’s where we lived before we moved to Franky-town so Mom could look after Grandma. Presumably he’s dead. He’s as good as dead to me, anyway. And on that happy note, hot chocolate?” I ask, leaning back as Mags sets them in front of us.
Thanking her for us both, Lennox pulls his closer, inspecting the little chocolate fish on the side carefully.
“Allergic to fish?” I joke, biting the head off mine.
Smiling he eats it in one bite. “Just making sure it wasn’t looking at me - out of habit. Kimber says I can’t eat things with eyeballs on them; freaks her out.”
“I see.”
“Mm,” he agrees, spooning some of the foam from the top of his drink into his mouth.
“So your parents are alive and relatively non-alcoholic?” I ask, making awkward conversation as I try to build up the courage to spill my guts.
Coughing a little at my phrasing, Lennox clears his throat. “My father passed when I was twelve and my Mom enjoys wine. I grew up on a vineyard, so... there’s that. Possibly she is an alcoholic, but she’s still manages to run her empire, so it’s hard to tell.”
“A vineyard... Is that where you got your love of growing things?” I ask, taking a moment to follow the vines on his arms. One arm is like a jungle, but the other is more of a garden. Both tattoos continue beyond the rolled cuffs of his shirt and as I think of what his arms look like beyond them, I realize for the first time that he could be completely covered in artwork beneath that navy fabric. What must he look like without that shirt?
“Most likely,” he replies to... I can’t even remember what question I asked. His voice was deep and probing though, so I quit wishing for x-ray vision and look to his face. His eyes are on my lips and I reach up to touch them, apparently breaking the spell, because he looks away.
Blinking, he clears his throat. “Your shoes,” he says, making me look down. “Who chose those for you?”
Looking back up, I frown. “I did.”
Nodding, he sips his hot chocolate and smiles. “I like them. Whereabouts in Canada are you from?”
“Thunder Bay, Ontario - Dad’s hometown. Franklinville was Mom’s.”
His eyes stay trained on me, taking in more than just my words. “What did you want to be when you were young?”
Shrugging, I scoop a marshmallow up in my spoon and pop it in my mouth. “How young?”
“Seven.”
“Ballerina. You?”
“Batman.”
Snorting a laugh, I look at him, imagining him in the mask. “The beard adds an interesting twist.”
Chuckling himself, he shrugs. “Time changes people. What did you dream of doing when you were... fifteen?”
“Honestly? I was already doing most of the parenting in our home by then. I didn’t think it was so bad at the time, because Mom would still go to work and seemed normal-i
sh for her. I still loved dancing, but I knew at that stage I’d never be good enough to make a living from ballet. I was okay at school, but not good enough for scholarships, and we didn’t have the money for college, but I’d have been happy enough to resign myself to small town living. I dreamed of marrying the boy next door and owning a house down the street to raise all our babies in.”
Laughing at myself, I shake my head. “Now I can’t think of anything worse.”
“Which bit?”
“All of it,” I reply. “I’ve already raised a family and I’m only twenty-four. Now I don’t know if I’d ever want my own. I can’t stand the idea of living in Franky-town for the rest of my life working as a waitress or the like, and I already own a house there. It’s over-rated. All I do is worry about maintenance, save for the cost of maintenance, and pay more than I want to on maintenance.”
“And the boy next door?”
I gulp and would’ve choked on the marshmallow I’m slurping if it didn’t slide disturbingly right down my throat before I could gag on it.
“He’s kind of the thing I need to talk to you about,” I say quietly, tucking my teaspoon back onto the saucer.
“Do you still love him?”
Staring at the table, I shrug. “Not in the same way. We haven’t really seen each other for seven years, but we grew up together. He’s like family.”
“He saw you as a sister?”
I shake my head again. “Maybe at first, but no. He was there - when I was home. Not the whole time, but for a few days. He um, kissed me.”
Lennox inhales deeply, holding his breath a while before releasing it. “And?”
“And nothing. I ran away, he left town again, and... nothing.”
“Did you run from him for the same reason you run from me?” he asks slowly, as if testing the water.
“Not exactly, but... yes? It’s complicated. I can’t have that dream anymore Lennox, but I don’t want it either.” Growling, I lean back in the booth and sigh. “This is hard. I only know part of what I want, but I don’t deserve it, so I feel guilty for wanting it.”
Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on the table. “If I told you I did something awful, would you...”