Sidewalk Flower

by Carlene Love Flores

  “Yes, that sounds about right and I’ll tell him for you.”

  “Okay. Oh, one more thing. You should probably drop him off at the studio. I’ll come get him from there.”

  “Yes, sir.” He hated it when she called him that. “Hey, give Maryella a big kiss for me.”

  “Will do. Love you, Trissy.”

  “Me too. Bye.” Hearing his forced whispers always managed to sting her tongue and shorten her goodbye. She set her phone on the dresser and went back to her space on the bed. She had almost wiggled herself into the same perfection when she spied Lucky naked through the bathroom door. He was beautiful. He was strong. She wished he were hers and only hers.

  * * * *

  Lucky finished drying himself and then pulled on his boxers. He hung his towel on the rack and ran his hands through his damp hair then walked over to the vanity and pulled it back into an elastic band. He could see in the mirror’s reflection that Trista was already in bed but not asleep. Her curious gaze slowed his steps.

  “I’m sorry, I know it’s early but I’m not up for much of anything right now. Luckily breathing is one of those involuntary things or else I’d be in trouble.”

  Her sense of humor softened his fears of how to approach her. When she should be closed off from the world, she’d stayed open to him. He walked over and grasped her hand then tucked it back under her covers. After a long yawn, he climbed into his side of the bed. “You and me both, darlin’.”

  After turning off the TV, he reached his arm over hers and found her hand to hold. Trista drew it toward her chest, and kissed his knuckles. The intake and release of his breath pushed a curl past her jaw. If they’d only known each other a little longer, he’d have asked her to be his right now.

  “So, I had a dream about you last night.”

  His heart sank.

  Her dreams had been unpleasant. He found it strange that she would want to identify him as the cause while they lay there so softly together.

  “You did? I hope it wasn’t bad.” The echo of her pleadings flashed through him.

  Trista paused. “No, it was very nice.”

  He was glad but couldn’t forget the way she’d looked and sounded last night during her restlessness.

  “Did you want to tell me about it?” he asked, staring at Trista’s messy, tangled bun right in front of his face, and wondering how she could sleep with a knot like that on the back of her head.

  With her lips resting on his hand that she held near her face, she began, “I was sitting on Gramma’s couch, watching TV, I think. Some boring program I wasn’t interested in. You walked up to me, got down on one knee, and bent yourself over me. Then, you kissed me. Right there in front of Gramma, you didn’t even care that she could have gone to get her shotgun. It was amazing.”

  “Whoa, you knew she had a shotgun and you didn’t try to stop me?”

  “No, I didn’t want you to stop.”

  “So even though my life was potentially in danger, you let me keep at it?”

  Trista smiled, a little wider now. “You were so into it; Gramma could see your tongue action and everything. It was really too good to stop. I had to see what you might do next.”

  “Hopefully gain my senses back and a shred of self-preservation.”

  “I wouldn’t have let her shoot you. I promise.”

  “I don’t know, it sounds like you may have been a little distracted.”

  “I was,” she whispered.

  Her lips came together against the skin of his hand and he wanted to roll her into his chest, to feel her anxiety die against his embrace. If he could force out all her pain, there’d be plenty of room for the love he wanted to make with her. His penis throbbed and grew at the image of her pulling his hair back so he could suckle her breasts while he thrust himself into her. He wouldn’t stop until she forgot why they’d spent the night in this room. Their hands locked firmly together; he noticed instantly when she criss-crossed and pressed them into the x-pattern over her chest.

  “Trista, you do that a lot.”

  “Do what?” she asked, seemingly unaware of the habitual motion.

  “Rub your wrists together.” He swallowed hard and then asked, “What else did you dream about last night?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard you say, ‘Please don’t’ and ‘No, stop’, and when you said those things, you rubbed your wrists together. When you said just now that you dreamed of me, I worried I’d done something that made you uncomfortable.”

  “No, Lucky, it’s not you. That wasn’t about you last night. That was after I had the good dream, about our kiss. And I don’t know why I’m doing it now. I’m sorry.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it.” Now that he’d seen her through today, it was like he had this calling to jump headfirst, full speed ahead, into everything where she was concerned. “Do you trust me, Trista?”

  “Yes.” She broke the hold of their hands and rolled toward him. “I do.” She allowed him to place a kiss on the underside of her wrist.

  Go on, you can tell her.

  The only other souls who knew about this were his dad, Uncle Bear and the now crippled old man who had done the preying. He pulled their entwined hands up to his lips and kissed her side.

  “I trust you, too.” He hated taking himself back to that place, but letting her know she wasn’t alone meant more to him. “When I was little, I used to help my dad out in his shop making little toys out of his wood scraps. He saw that I was good at the family trade but I think it made him sad, too. I think he felt bad, maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to judge a grown man’s feelings. But I kind of felt like he wanted more for me. Anyhow, Jaxon had just taken off and Dad had seen me playing around with his guitar. My school music teacher had told him once that I should have lessons. I guess Dad saw it as a possible way to open up some doors for me or expose me to other stuff outside of our shop.”

  He blinked more from nerves than anything else, then began again. “There was a man who helped out at the shop, doing odd jobs and he said he could give me some lessons. We didn’t have much money and the guy offered to do it cheap. So I started meeting him at my house after school. Dad and Uncle Bear would be working in the shop.”

  He paused again but kept his eyes locked on Trista’s. A man didn’t whisper, but his voice became deeper when what he was trying to say was this difficult.

  “A few weeks into these lessons and the man started having me sit on his lap. At first it was just to teach me the proper way to hold the guitar. I was too small to hold his on my own so he would be right there behind me, helping me out. He went from wearing jeans to shorts. And finally one day, he didn’t have any pants on. Or, um, underwear. He, uh, made me sit there on his lap.” He wouldn’t cry but couldn’t help coughing out a raspy, choked cough.

  “That’s why you don’t play anymore. Oh Lucky, shh, I’m sorry, hun. I’m so, so sorry.” She brushed a fingertip along his cheek. “You don’t have to say anymore…”

  He knew so much about her, and felt guilty at what he had yet to share. Of his own will, he regained his composure and started again. “One day, I was sitting there, with my own pants pulled down on his naked lap when Uncle Bear walked in. I had purposely left the money I was supposed to give the man for the lesson on the desk at the shop. I didn’t know if my dad or uncle would find it and I was so scared they’d actually come find out what was going on. But I didn’t know any other way to make it stop. Uncle Bear told me to go to my room and wait for him. I could hear each separate thud the man’s body made up against the brick wall of our house. I never saw him again but I overheard my uncle telling my dad a few days later that he’d driven the guy out of town and when he dumped him in the road, he’d watched the bastard crawl to get out of the way of the cars. Uncle Bear said that man wouldn’t be walking anywhere ever again.”

  Finally, he could look down. He’d told her everything. The room was completely silent and dark
behind its heavy curtains. He trusted that she understood what he’d gone through. And now he hoped she’d feel the same comfort in confiding to him.

  * * * *

  Trista waited for the solemn stare of sad blue eyes to return to her. When they did, she stroked Lucky’s hair and began with what she figured Jaxon would have left out.

  “After momma died, I stayed living with my stepfather, in the house you found me by today. After a few months, he started coming to my room, then taking me to his. At first we just slept together but when I turned eleven, we started having sex.” Her cheeks drew in as disgust swirled around inside her. The gritty taste of dirt stained her tongue and she cussed herself for being so weak. Her eyebrows pulled together and she didn’t know if she would make it as far as Lucky had. If she didn’t feel sick over letting his confession have been in vain, she’d have never been able to spit this out.

  She inhaled so deep that the flap of skin hanging in the back of her throat dried out and made her gag.

  This was humiliating. He shouldn’t know this part of her. How could it not change the way he saw her? Her feelings hadn’t changed for him but what happened to him hadn’t been his fault. He hadn’t followed along without argument for two years. How could he not be disgusted by her?

  If there really was a god who answered prayers, she’d beg him to help Lucky see past this. So she could tell him about the good things that had happened in her life and hear about his. She hoped he could let this fade into the past where it belonged.

  “I just—I can’t. I can’t go back there anymore.”

  “I don’t want you to, darlin’. I just want you right here, with me now.”

  “Thank you, Lucky.” She lay back flat on the mattress, worrying less about sending him hightailing it for the door. The nicest part? He wasn’t running away but he wasn’t climbing on top of her either. She was able to have a moment to herself, even though he laid right there on his back next to her.

  “Hey, tomorrow I’m gonna take you to one of my favorite places. It’s about half an hour from here. Okay? No more sad stuff. I promise.”

  “Trista, I just want you to know that I’m okay with everything. I want the happy stuff but I’ll take the bad, too.”

  “I know, Lucky. You’re a good, good man. Too good, probably.”

  “No, you wouldn’t say that if you knew…oh never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

  “No, I want to know. Please, tell me.” She’d seen remorse like that tinted with a play of attraction in plenty of guys. Seeing it in Lucky’s baby blues scared her for a second.

  “No, Trista. Really, get some rest,” he said while fighting with his extra pillow. His fists clenched it to his chest; he stared straight up.

  “You want to have sex with me, don’t you? And you feel bad about it. Well, don’t. I know it’s your way of wanting to make everything go away. I understand. Really, I know a lot about you men. The good and the bad. And what you’re feeling is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Still without facing her, he spoke to the ceiling, letting out a self-loathing chant. “Trista, what kind of ass wants to…make love to their…friend, who went through what you did today? I mean, what kind of ignorant, selfish ass thinks about that?”

  “And, I’m on my period. You forgot about that.” She poked him in the rounded muscle of his shoulder.

  “And that, too. Thanks for reminding me,” he said sullenly.

  It had gotten a sort of reluctant smile out of him. But then he frowned again and sunk his head further down into a pillow. He shouldn’t be but he was still angry with himself.

  “Come here, Lucky. Please.” Once he faced her, she captured him with clear, wide eyes and spoke the truth, “You don’t want to have sex with me; you want to make love to me. You want to comfort me. Hold me and make sure nothing bad touches me, at least not tonight. Not right now, here in this room, with you. Right?”

  His brow crinkled and his knees bent until they made contact with her thighs, like her understanding of his true intentions had broken him. “Yes. I swear that’s all I want.”

  There wasn’t a snuggling position invented to get her close enough to him. The unmistakable hardness of his erect penis, the one he was so ashamed of right now, pressed against her tummy. “There is nothing wrong with this, Lucky. It’s beautiful.” She stroked him a few times and heard Lucky moan low in his throat. “I’d kiss him right now but I’m—

  “Oh no. No. I don’t expect that, darlin’.”

  “I know you don’t. But look at me. I would. I want to. I’m just so wasted right now. He really is beautiful.” She smiled but even that took too much energy. She nudged her knee in between his muscular thighs, attaching herself to him.. They could only have been closer if making love was an actual possibility that night.

  “I never felt safer or more comfortable or more protected than I do right now,” she said through a yawn.

  “Good. That makes me happy. Good night, Trista.”

  * * * *

  What Lucky really wanted to say was that he’d fallen in love with her tonight. Instead, he kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her back until he heard her snore. He reached down and removed her sweet hand from his cock and kissed it before placing it close to his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  “So where are we headed? I’m hungry. Aren’t you? That beef is starting to look real good.” Lucky’s stomach rumbled loudly as they drove past several herds of grazing cattle.

  “We’re almost there. Just be patient.” Trista patted his thigh as she drove them along historic Route 66. She had to remember that she had a solid and tall country boy with her who required regular feeding.

  It had to be hard to believe her promises of food when all they could see in the stretch of road up ahead were more of the same things they had been passing for the past fifteen miles.

  Green spring grass grew in patches along the sides of the historic route, some trees stood here and there that had begun to get their leaves, a few cows hung out near the rotted, weathered wood of the fence and a few unfriendly potholes made the roads hell to drive on. It was decidedly country.

  “Trust me. We’re only a few miles away now. Just keep your eyes on your side of the road. I don’t want you to miss it.”

  “Miss what?” He purposefully watched her instead.

  “You’ll see, just watch.” She nudged his cheek back to the right as a group of motorcyclists passed them going the opposite direction. The tail gunner flashed her the peace sign as they crossed paths. She returned the favor, admiring the blur of patches sewn onto the back of his black leather vest, a stand-out gold star in the center rimmed by the numbers, 3-7-8.

  Lucky’s stomach gurgled again. “Maybe I can go catch something to eat.”

  She shook her head at his hungry impatience and flicked him in the shoulder, grinning widely. Her country bumpkin had an impressive appetite. The thought made her mouth water.

  She guessed Lucky wasn’t one to skip breakfast or wait this long to eat it. It made sense. The work days were long when you were responsible for your own home and business. Best to start the day fueled up and let the coffee thermos take care of the rest was what Gramma had always said. She pictured Lucky sipping from a thermos cup, chopping wood. Yummy.

  He began an even yummier series of stretching movements, balling his hands into fists and curling them up to his shoulders. His elbows jutted out and he grunted in satisfaction.

  “Hey, look, you’re gonna miss it.” She’d almost missed it too, watching him.

  Lucky sat forward and squinted. She couldn’t help but bite in on her lower lip as they came closer to the shiny, silver metal of their destination. She had to admit it stuck out like a sore thumb. Eye sore or not, who wouldn’t marvel at a fifty-foot tall, gigantic, neon-lit, coke-shaped bottle? With a bendy straw sticking out the top?

  “It’s cool, huh?” Her Kool-Aid smile was in full effect.

  “Yeah, but what is it?” he asked, h
is eyes not having left the spectacle yet.

  “It’s a giant soda bottle.”

  “Thank you. I kind of figured that much out.”

  “Welcome to Pop’s.” She pulled her Jeep up to an empty fuel pump. “It’s a gas station slash diner slash soda pop store.” She dug out her wallet and was fiddling with extricating her debit card from her driver’s license while giving the Captain Obvious explanation to Lucky. Man, it felt good. She felt good.

  “Hey, put that back. I’ll get it.” Lucky waved a hand in the direction of her fiddling.

  He hopped out and made his way to the cashier inside Pop’s, giving her a chance to admire his Levi jeans and the way they hugged his butt.

  Too bad it wasn’t nighttime, but even without the giant colored LED lights making the bottle glow, it was still amazing. She wondered what Lucky thought of the hundreds of brightly colored soda bottles lining the inside walls. And the wall coolers that cased more brands and flavors of pop than she’d ever imagined existed.

  At thirteen, she had been mesmerized. And hadn’t wanted to leave. At thirty-two, she wasn’t ashamed to admit this place still brought her the same joy.

  Lucky strutted back through the silver and glass doors. She was waiting for a thumbs up to start pumping but her long, lean friend walked over and took the handle from her. He leaned up against the side of the Jeep and pulled her into him while the gas pumped.

  “Wow, now that was a sight to see. Very cool.” The sparkle hadn’t left his eyes.

  “Isn’t it though? And did you see that they have a counter and a kitchen that serves real, hot food?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I already know what I’m gettin’.”

  His dip back into deeper southern slang was hot. She remembered how to talk the talk. “Whatcha gonna order, good lookin’?”

  “Country fried steak, biscuits an’ gravy. Side o’ bacon, side o’ sausage, order o’ home fries. And a coffee.”

  “And let me guess, you’ll take that black. Geez, that’s a lot of food.”