by Magan Vernon
“Thanks,” Sam said, forcing a smile.
“Are you two on a date?” He pointed between the two of us.
“Yes we are,” I said. I shouldn’t have continued the conversation, but what the hell? It would be an interesting story.
“I had a date once. I married her too,” he began. “I bought her a ring. That ring was seventy-thousand dollars, but she was worth it.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of money to spend on a ring. I would have maybe used that on a down payment on a house, or a really fancy car,” Sam said.
I highly doubted the guy that reeked of gin and cigarettes spent that much on a ring, but maybe he did. Maybe that’s why he was hanging out on the L; he didn’t have any money left.
“When you love someone, money doesn’t matter. I’d do it again in a heartbeat even if she did leave me for my brother,” he said, shaking his head.
“Good philosophy,” I said, because I had no idea what else to say.
“Are you two from around here?” He pointed at us again.
“Yeah. Sort of,” I said.
“I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve been here since before Daly. Back when Chicago was Mob country!” He put his fist in the air. “My girl and I used to go down to The Green Door Tavern where we sat and talked all night with Capone himself!”
I nodded and smiled politely. There were a lot of guys like him in rehab. I didn’t know if they were actually addicted or if it was just their vice to keep them happy. The more pills they were given to straighten them out, the loopier they became and the crazier their stories got.
“You know!” He put his fist down and patted his pocket. “When you get some money in your pocket you should take this young lady on a carriage ride downtown. A pretty lady like that deserves to feel special.”
I took Sam’s hand and squeezed it. “Yeah. She does.”
Sam laughed. “But maybe not on a carriage ride. I’ll take the seventy-thousand dollar ring instead.”
The guy laughed, exposing his blackened teeth. “You hear that, sonny? You’d better get on that.”
“I’ll definitely get on that,” I said and winked at Sam.
She squeezed my hand.
The train stopped and it was our time to get off. We said goodbye to the guy, but he’d already made his way to the next couple to entertain him.
I stepped off the train and didn’t let go of Sam’s hand as we walked down the stairs to the street below. She swung our hands between us like kids do with their parents. We’d never actually walked and held hands before. Hell, the only time I really ever held hands with a girl was when she was leading me to her bedroom. This was a whole new thing for me and I kind of liked it. There was something strangely intimate about holding hands. It was like telling the world you were with that person without making a big scene.
“So, where are we headed that you have a reservation?” Sam asked.
I turned down Michigan, heading toward the Congress Hotel. All the universities were on this part of Michigan and the other side was shopping. Grant Park was across from us and decked out for Christmas.
Sam laughed. “Don’t tell me. You have plans to hop on a carriage ride to take me down Michigan, then we stop to go ice skating and for hot chocolate afterward?”
I winced. Okay, maybe my original plan was a little too cheesy.
“You’re wrong. That’s not what I had planned at all.”
“Liar.” She smirked.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I have something much better in mind.”
We turned a corner just past the Crown Fountain toward Wabash. The place I was looking for was sandwiched in between a nail salon and a 7- Eleven.
“Are we heading toward jewelers row? You know I was totally kidding about the 70K rock, right?” Her eyes widened.
I laughed. “That guy didn’t seem to think I had enough money in my pocket for a carriage ride, what makes you think I could afford to get you a ring?”
She smacked my shoulder playfully. “Hey! Are you saying I’m not worth that much?”
I lead her down a small alleyway until I saw Jam’s car toward the back. The guy always knew how to make an entrance.
Sam came to a halt, her boots practically digging into the ground.
The car door opened and one of Jam’s expensive leather loafers hit the ground, followed by the other, until the six-foot-seven inch black man in the Armani suit got out of the car.
“Tripp Chapman, the man, the myth, the legend!” He crooned. The guy had the voice of an old blue singer.
I laughed. “And if it isn’t Jam Sammich!”
Sam tugged my hand and pulled me toward her. She lowered her voice. “Did you seriously bring me on a date to meet your drug dealer?”
Jam stomped his foot. “Seriously? You think because you meet a black man in an alley named Jamal that I’m a drug dealer?”
Sam gasped. “I didn’t say that.”
“Look, my big ol’ ears could hear you plain as day and I’m not a drug dealer. I’m a real estate investor and one of Tripp’s fraternity brothers.” He stepped forward and put his hand out to Sam.
Sam put one hand to her chest and let go of my hand to shake Jam’s. “I’m so sorry. I seriously didn’t mean anything by it.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. I get that all the time, especially when I meet shady people like Tripp in dark alleys.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, yeah.” I patted his back and gave him a one-armed hug before I stood next to Sam again. “Jam and I were pledge brothers. His big brother gave him the name because he decided a guy named Jamal that was that tall needed a nickname that wasn’t so menacing.”
“Jam, this is my friend and assistant, Sam,” I said.
Jam’s eyes did the once over on Sam before raising an eyebrow. “Friend and assistant, ey?”
Sam looked between the two of us again, folding her arms across her chest. “So...we’re here meeting him in a back alley to swap fraternity stories?”
Jam shook his head and pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket. “No. What my fraternity brother probably failed to mention, is that I’m a real estate investor and he called me up asking if I knew of any properties for his new business. This one recently came on the market and I thought it was in a perfect location. It’s close to the universities, which can help with some clientele, and the owner is ready to lease this place out as soon as possible.”
He jingled the keys and approached a metal door, where a single light bulb hung overhead.
“You already found a place for Chapman Charities? That was quick,” Sam said as we followed Jam into the building.
He flipped on a switch and fluorescent bulbs came to life over our heads, revealing that we were in the back of a stainless steel kitchen, complete with a stone pizza oven.
“Wait...are you abandoning the non-profit dream for a pizza place?” Sam asked, scanning the room.
“You ask a lot of questions before getting half the details,” Jam said, shaking his head.
Sam shrugged. “I’m inquisitive.”
Jam smirked and led us out of the kitchen. He turned on another light, where a dim glow was cast over a large, red room with a yellow border that had dancing tomatoes on it.
I let go of Sam’s hand and stepped in front of her, holding my arms out. “Look at this place. For the rent price, it’s huge. Can’t you just imagine a front lobby here? Use the kitchen area as a back office, maybe section that off with the back party rooms for counselors.”
I stepped toward the window and motioned Sam to come with me. “Look. From here you can even see your classes. I mean, depending on which college you want to finish your bachelors at.”
Sam turned toward me, her eyebrows raised. “Which college I’m going to?”
I glanced back at Jam, who raised his hands. “I’ll give you two a minute.” He walked toward the back kitchen.
I waited until the door closed behind him before I turned back t
o Sam. “Look, I started talking to Jam about some things and he was telling me about grants for these types of businesses. I went looking into the grants and found information about hiring employees and found that I could do something like a college internship or even tuition reimbursement for employees.”
Her face was still. Fuck. She didn’t like that idea. I rubbed the back of my neck. Why did I have to be an idiot and screw things up?
“Or you don’t have to do any of that. You can do whatever you want. Actually. You don’t even have to work here when it’s set up.”
“Tripp?” She whispered.
I looked back at her, but before I could say anything else she pulled me into a tight embrace, burying her face in my neck. “Everything you’ve done for me has been so surreal. This is all just amazing. I can’t believe you would do all of that for me.”
I put my arms around her, holding her close and inhaling. She was warm against me and even though she’d been working all day, she still smelled clean and fresh. She smelled like home.
I heard Jam’s shoes on the hardwood floor before I saw him. With Sam still in my arms, I turned toward him and smiled. “Yeah. I think this is the place.”
Chapter 19
After saying goodbye to Jam, we stepped back out onto the sidewalk, my arm still around Sam and the smile still on her face.
“So what are your plans now? Still thinking you might have enough money in your pocket for a carriage ride?” She raised her eyebrows.
I leaned back. “Do you really want to do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on one.”
“Well, I had planned on a big, romantic five course dinner by my parents' chef, followed by croquet at the country club...”
Sam laughed and smacked my arm.
“Okay, okay! I guess we’ll change plans and grab some hot dogs from a vendor and find one of those damn carriages.”
She squeezed my side. “That sounds perfect.”
We walked down Michigan Ave toward Grant Park where there was a small hot dog stand right near the giant bean.
“Two Chicago style dogs,” I said to the older gentleman behind the cart.
“And ketchup on mine!” Sam added.
I stared at her. “Seriously? You don’t put ketchup on a Chicago dog. That’s un-American.”
She raised her eyebrow. “I like ketchup on my hot dogs.”
“You don’t need it on Chicago dogs. It has everything you need.”
I pulled out my wallet and handed the man a large bill and he handed us the hot dogs. He was about to hand us some change but I told him to keep it.
We turned and I handed Sam her hot dog before unwrapping mine. “Look at the majesty of this thing. You’ve got a nice, plump hot dog nestled in a steamed poppy seed bun. Then they cover the dog with mustard, relish, chopped onions, tomato wedges, pickle spear, a couple of spicy sport peppers and finally, a dash of celery salt. The perfect combination of toppings.” I took a big bite and let the juices run down my throat. There was nothing like a Chicago dog.
Sam wrinkled her nose. “It would be better with ketchup.”
“I think you just like to be a pain in my ass,” I said, before taking another bite.
She smiled. “That too”
“If you’re not going to eat it, then I will.”
She held the hot dog out of my reach. “No. I need this before my carriage ride. If you’re going to woo me, I need every experience.”
She unwrapped the hot dog and took a small bite, closing her eyes and moaning before licking her lips. Then she opened her eyes. “Oh yeah. It totally would be better with ketchup.”
I shook my head. “Just when I thought you might give in.”
“There’s only so much I let myself give into,” she said, picking off the onions.
“And am I one of those things?” I asked, before I even thought about what I was saying.
“Yes,” she whispered.
I bumped her shoulder. “So, you’re saying that you kind of like me?”
She sighed. “I’m saying like this hot dog, I’ve gotten used to you. It wasn’t what I thought I wanted at first, but the more time I spend with this hot dog the more I’m like ‘yeah it’s a pretty good hot dog'.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re comparing me to food.”
“I saw the way you ate that hot dog. It’s more than just food to you.” She laughed.
“Yeah. Maybe it is.”
I didn’t know if she was talking about us or the food, but Sam was definitely more than just another girl now. She was someone who I spent almost all of my time with and hadn’t gotten sick of. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen in the honeymoon stage of a new relationship.
Or maybe this was something else.
I wanted to bring up what happened that morning. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t mean I didn’t like her, but I didn’t want to come off like a pussy either.
“You know, it was probably a good thing you turned me down this morning or this date wouldn’t be as fun.”
“Come again?” I raised an eyebrow.
She picked the onions off her hot dog. “You’re going to totally judge me for this, but usually most of my dates have been just hooking up. I haven’t had a real relationship since college and that ended with him in bed with another dude. It’s kind of nice to have a change.”
“Yeah. Change is good.”
We stood in silence for awhile before Sam finally spoke.
“Oh! Look! A Carriage!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me along as fast as her booted feet could carry her.
An older man sat on top of the high red carriage with two large Clydesdales in front of it.
The man looked down and raised his top hat. “Good evening, young lady, sir,” he said in one of the worst, fake British accents I’d ever heard.
“Hello, sir, we’d like to do a carriage ride.”
He nodded. “Very good, sir. We have our twenty minute ride that’ll take you through the inter city and Lake Michigan. Our thirty minute ride or the forty-five minute that’ll include the lake tour.”
I handed him a large bill. “The longest one you’ve got.”
He smiled. “Very good sir.”
I opened the back door to the carriage and held out my arm. Sam put her hand in mine and stepped on the small stair. As soon as she took her place on the leather bench seat, I slid in next to her and shut the door.
“Are you two from around here?” The carriage operator asked.
I opened my mouth to speak but Sam spoke first in a Southern accent that was even worse than the man’s British one. “No, sir. My fiancé and I are from the hills of North Cackalacky. He wanted to take me to see the lights of the big city at Christmas time.”
Sam looped her arm through mine and shot me a wink.
Not many people would recognize me on the street. Not a lot of normal people followed politics, which is what I kind of liked. No one expected me to have an opinion on the state of Illinois taxes or any of those other issues when they didn’t know who I was. Despite what my tattoos and stint in rehab said, I usually did try not to stick out too much.
“Yup, my girl loves the big city,” I said in an equally bad Southern accent that sounded more like Dirty Harry than a cowboy.
“Well we’re glad to have you here. Tourism drives this city,” the carriage operator said.
I leaned in close to Sam’s ear. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s all the drunken sports fans and loud mouthed politicians that do.”
She giggled. A genuine giggle that lit up her whole face and shook her body against me. “You need to work on shaving, Swampy,” she said, running her hand along my cheek.
I turned toward her, our lips not even an inch apart. Her cool breath was blowing on my mouth.
“You sure you want to keep calling me Swampy?” I whispered. “Maybe I’ll have to come up with a nickname for you.”
“And what would that
name be?” She asked, tracing my jawline with her ring finger.
I briefly closed my eyes, relishing in her touch. When I opened them, all I could concentrate on was how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She wasn’t wearing all of the dark makeup she usually did and was just natural. Raw and beautiful.
“I can’t think of a nickname right now when all I can think about is how sweet you taste.” I leaned in, so that my lips hovered above hers. “All of you.”
With those words, I sealed my mouth to hers and pulled her toward me. Her tongue danced behind my lips and rolled against mine.
I wanted to stay in that moment forever and forget the world. When I was with Sam I could forget all the bad things and just focus on her. Get lost in those lips.
The carriage came to a sudden halt and we jolted forward, breaking our kiss.
I turned away from Sam and stared at the carriage operator, raising an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” I asked, ditching my pseudo-Southern accent.
He laughed. “Sorry to do this to you two lovebirds, but the ride is over and I’m guessing so is your reign as a couple from the south?”
Sam laughed and licked her bottom lip. “Just like your ride as a wannabe British carriage driver?”
He winked. “You got it, baby doll. I’d keep going around the park, but the horses need a break. Come back in an hour and we can pretend to be another nationality. Maybe Italiano?”
I laughed and opened the door, helping Sam to the ground. “You’ve got it.”
I took Sam’s hand and we headed down the sidewalk. “So, what now? You want to walk around the block and come back?”
She ran her thumb along my knuckles, briefly grazing the brass knuckle tattoo on my hand. “I think I want to go home. Our home.”
I smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
***
It wasn’t a long walk back to the apartment and there was no way in hell I was going to go with her back across town to get her car. Not when my dick was ready to bust out of my pants the minute she told me she wanted to go home.
I thought I wanted to wait. But now we’d had the romance and every time she’d kissed me, it was getting harder and harder to resist her. It may have been a short walk to the building but it felt like forever.