Then Kiss Me

by Jade C. Jamison

  Once outside, we found an ashtray at the edge of the sidewalk, one of few designated smoking areas on the block. I gave him the pack after I lit my cigarette and watched him take one in his lips. God, I could watch him do anything. He caught my lusty stare and smiled, handing the pack back to me, and I shoved it in my purse.

  I glanced over and noticed the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. “Oh, yeah,” I said and lifted up his sleeve. It was plain black script and it said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” I said, “That’s a cool take on that quote.”

  He grinned. “Actually, that’s the real quote.”

  I’d remembered something about those not remembering history being doomed to repeat it. This was a new one on me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. The guy’s name was George…something. Can’t remember his last name. He was a philosopher.”

  “So why’d you have it inked on your arm?”

  He grinned. “‘Cause I’m one of those fucking idiots who forget and repeat the past. So it’s kind of like a string around the finger, only a lot more permanent.”

  “Not a bad idea, though.” I hadn’t removed my hand from his arm. His skin was smooth but firm beneath my fingers, and the letters alone were art. Yeah, I could try my hand at coming up with some tattoo art. How cool would that be to have someone like Scott wearing my art permanently? God, that idea made me hot.

  So when I finally let his sleeve drop and looked up at him, I could tell it was pretty evident where my mind was going. His lips were parted and his eyes dark. But he swallowed and said, “You about ready for some pool?”

  I let the air out of my lungs. Yeah, prolonging the need longer would make for an awesome night later. Much as I wanted him, I could wait. “Sure,” I said, crushing my cigarette into the tiny standing ashtray. Twilight was descending and it was getting cool. My jacket was in his truck, and I knew I’d need it when we left, but the air felt perfect right now.

  Scott pointed directly in front of him. There was a bar right next to the pizza place. From where we stood, it looked pretty dark. “There are pool tables in the back.”

  “Can I lock my purse in your truck?” I didn’t want to have to worry about the damned thing.

  He let me put my purse in his truck and then he took my hand to guide me inside.

  Oh…his hand. That didn’t help my desirous state. When we stepped inside, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The place was only half-full, but Scott led me to the back. There were several pool tables back there and the lighting was brighter. There were two guys in the corner playing pool, but the other tables were free.

  “Let’s get some music going first.” We walked over to the jukebox in the corner. Scott had obviously used this machine before and started picking one song after another…some I knew and some I didn’t. I was looking forward to hearing his choices, though. Then he pulled up Lamb of God’s “Set to Fail,” a song I’d last heard when a certain someone was making me ridiculously hot prior to orgasm. “This has become one of my new favorite songs,” he said and looked at me, winking.

  Jesus…why was I blushing again? Or was I just feeling hot?

  “Your turn. You pick some.”

  Not to be outdone, I found Lamb of God’s “In Your Words,” another one of the songs we’d been getting busy to. I looked at him and grinned. Then I started searching for some of my favorite songs. I picked a crazy amount of Slipknot—“Psychosocial,” “Duality,” and “Before I Forget.” Then I chose a couple of Ozzy tunes, Static X, and System of a Down until I’d used up the rest of the money Scott had sunk into the machine.

  “Definitely hope for you yet,” he said and then led me over to a pool table.

  In a matter of a few seconds, Scott had dropped in some quarters. I heard the balls dropping out of the table and Scott already had the triangle out and was racking them up. “You know,” he said, a sly grin covering his face, “we could make this interesting.”

  Ooooh…I liked the tone of his voice. I was already quite interested. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. We could place a bet.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “A bet? Like what?” I was growing more intrigued.

  “Not money—that’s too easy.” Yeah, and after our little discussion earlier, probably a sore spot.

  I thought about it while he pulled the triangle off the balls. “Okay. How about this? If you win, I’ll do a sketch of you and sign it.” I grinned. “You know it’ll be worth a lot someday.” I started laughing.

  He smiled. “You’ve got the idea. Okay…so if you win, how about I give you a couple of drum lessons. Would that be cool?”

  Whoa…I’d never thought of that before. But, really, making music was a lot like art. It was creating something out of nothing. Actually, it wasn’t nothing. It was making something out of pain or love or other emotions. Yeah, I could really enjoy that. Besides, I thought having Scott as a drum teacher might be…erotic somehow. Yeah…I could get into that. I could tell from his eyes that he knew from my expression what my answer was. And holy shit. If people could just fuck with their eyes, well… I took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. He whispered, “And I’ll sleep with you.”

  I slapped his arm, feeling playful. I grinned. “You don’t want to come off as easy, do you?”

  He smiled back and his forehead touched mine. He gazed into my eyes. “Oh, it’s okay if you think I’m easy, just as long as you know I’m not cheap.”

  Oh. Wow. We were joking around and having fun, and yet that silly little sentence was weighed down with a crazy amount of meaning. But what exactly did he mean by it? I was going to have to pay somehow… No, it didn’t feel ominous, just…well, what I said. Weighty…heavy. I had to be responsible for something, but I didn’t quite know what. And because I wasn’t sure how to reply, I instead planted an innocent kiss on his lips. “So…pool. Just so you know, I’m not very good at it.”

  He stepped back toward the wall and examined the pool cues, pulling two down. After giving each a cursory glance, he handed one to me. He had a devilish grin on his face. “Are you expecting a handicap?”

  I laughed. “No…the bets as we placed them still stand.” I felt that blush threatening to spread over my cheeks again. “I’m a big girl.” My voice got quieter. “Besides, it’s kind of a win-win no matter what.”

  His smile grew wider. “That’s kinda what I thought too.”

  “Just don’t laugh.”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “So how do we decide who goes first?”

  He waved his hand across the table. “Ladies first.”

  A cocktail waitress approached us and asked, “Either of you need a drink?”

  “I’d love a Bud,” Scott said and the waitress nodded. “How about you, Casey?”

  “Make that two.” I didn’t want to drink too much. I planned on working out later and I needed to be at my best. And I really didn’t want him to keep blowing money on me. Beer was bound to be less expensive.

  So I leaned over the table and aimed at the top of the triangle. I broke and actually landed a solid in the corner pocket. Whew. Now it didn’t matter how good a player Scott was. Whatever the case, I got a ball in. Anything else would be gravy. I smiled and then moved to the side of the table, aiming to get another solid in the side. The second attempt, however, wasn’t as successful. Scott, on the other hand, turned out to be an excellent player and got a majority of his striped balls in on his first turn.

  When he finally turned the play back over to me (with one ball left to sink, not including the eight ball), I said, “Hmmm. Looks like I’ll be digging out my pencils.”

  “You can’t be too sure. Don’t give up so easily, Case.”

  I smiled at him. That was sweet. I was trying to line up my next shot when the waitress brought our beers over. Scott paid her. Good. He wasn’t running up a tab so we could leave whenever the whim hit us
…and if I had any say in it, it would be sooner rather than later.

  Still…I couldn’t help myself. “Sure you don’t wanna split the tab?” I asked.

  “Knock it off. I got it.”

  I sighed. I’d almost gotten a ball in but it bounced instead of going down. I could tell that I’d improve with time, but I didn’t want to play long enough tonight to get good at it. “Your turn, by the way.” I nursed my beer while he sunk his last ball. So…he wasn’t just going to win, he was going to do it decisively. “I won’t give you cooties, you know.” He looked up, a question in his eyes. “Sleeping with me if you would have won…I wouldn’t have given you anything. Didn’t know you were so afraid to lose.”

  He grinned. “Oh, shit. I should’ve thrown the fuckin’ game.” He took a swig of his beer and then walked up to me, wrapping his hand around my waist and pulling me close. Mmm…I really liked when he did that. “If I did it now, though, you’d know I was doing it on purpose.” A quick kiss on my lips, then he winked and released me, walking back to the table. “Told you I wasn’t cheap.”

  Somehow I felt relief, finding out that’s all his comment had meant earlier. Still, I couldn’t help but feel he meant something else…like he wanted more…much, much more.

  Chapter Ten

  I HEARD SOMEONE yell our names from across the noisy room over the sounds of “BYOB,” one of the System of a Down songs I’d picked. Scott looked up from where he’d been leaning over, examining the black and white ball damn near the center of the table. I followed his eyes and spotted Jim and Julie.

  Oh, fuck…really? Well, maybe they’d take a hint. The two of us were on a date, after all. And, if not, Casey, you can play nice for a little bit, right? Right?

  Right. So…I smiled as they walked over. Julie gave me a quick hi as they got close and Jim gave Scott a brotherly slap on the shoulder. “What’s up, man?”

  Scott furrowed a brow and said, “What the hell’s it look like?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’m quite obviously getting my ass thoroughly kicked.”’

  Jim laughed and looked over at me…and then did a quick scan of my legs. Seriously? Right there in front of his supposed friend and wife? What a creep. Not that I’d needed my suspicions confirmed.

  Scott said, “It’s your turn, Casey.”

  Oh…how’d I miss that? Great…these guys were going to get to watch my utter failure too. But I took my time and lined up a shot…and made it. Whew. At least I wouldn’t be totally humiliated.

  My next try, though? Not so hot.

  And had Scott just bypassed his own turn so I could save face? I hadn’t caught him missing a shot.

  He then put me out of my misery and won, sinking that goddamn smug eight-ball in a corner pocket. He raised his eyebrows, smiling at me, and said, “You owe me now.”

  I didn’t care what our guests thought or if they could even tell it was something private between the two of us. I just smiled at him. Sketching him really would be a win for me. I could spend a couple of hours staring wantonly at him, taking in every tiny detail, and he wouldn’t even have to know what I was thinking. But, of course, he would. And so, I thought, that could be lots of fun. It would probably take me weeks to finish the thing.

  Jim broke me out of my reverie when he asked Scott, “Wanna play doubles?”

  He cocked his head and looked at me. “I’m game. Casey?”

  How could I say no, especially if Scott wanted to? Well, one game wouldn’t hurt, I supposed, and he had been spending all kinds of money on me. The least I could do was be gracious. “Can I go have a quick smoke outside?”

  Scott gave me his keys so I could get in his truck and Julie said she’d join me. It felt awkward, because Julie and I didn’t seem to have much in common. But she didn’t seem uncomfortable at all and spent the entire time outside telling me about some TV show she liked. It was about vampires and she told me about an episode she’d watched the night before. And, as if that hadn’t been enough to make me wish I were deader than the vampires she couldn’t stop chattering about, she started going on and on about her job at the dry cleaners. By the time we were heading back in, I felt exhausted. Julie could talk.

  When we got back to the pool table, Jim handed Julie a beer and told her she could go first. Hmm…Scott and I were definitely going to lose. I knew that even before I saw what a decent player Julie was. She got three balls in before missing a shot. Great…I was going to be completely humiliated.

  Scott looked at me and said, “You go first.” I managed to get a ball in—how, I don’t know. I got ready to shoot again and Scott said, “Hold up.” He set his beer down and told me to go ahead and line up my shot again. So I leaned over the table and he got behind me, repositioning my arms and telling me how hard to shoot it. Jesus…I could feel his warmth through his shirt, even more pronounced against the air conditioning blowing down from the ceiling. He was distracting as hell. But somehow I managed to make the shot as directed, and it worked just like he’d said it would.

  Jim was laughing, but it wasn’t humorous. Or was it just me who saw it that way? He said, “Hey, that’s cheating.” Wait a minute—it sunk in as I watched him. The guy was already drunk. I looked over at Scott for a cue. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Fine…I can do it myself.” And, of course, I missed the next shot. This wasn’t turning out to be as much fun. I hoped Scott felt the same way. Maybe we could leave after this game. I walked over to Scott, placing my hand on his chest, and said, “I’m going to the ladies’ room, but I have no doubt you’ll have the game in the bag by the time I get back.”

  He grinned. He acted like he wanted to give me a quick kiss but he wasn’t comfortable doing it in front of Jim and Julie. I smiled back. That was okay. I knew how he felt.

  I paused for a moment, standing beside Scott. Jim was getting ready to shoot and I wanted to assess the competition. He made his first shot. Shit. Even three sheets to the wind, he seemed almost as good as Scott. I was certainly the weak link here. So I turned and headed to the ladies’ room.

  I used the facilities and then washed my hands. Then I checked myself in the mirror, making sure I looked okay for my new guy. I’m not vain, but you know what that’s like…you’re dating someone new and you always want to look your best. So I checked my makeup and my hair, and once I was satisfied, I stepped out. But before I got to the end of the hallway, Jim turned the corner. “Hey,” he said, in what I thought was just a friendly gesture on his way to the men’s room.

  “Hey,” I said back, starting to walk around him.

  But he grabbed my arm, preventing me from going any farther. He got close, invading my personal space big time, and said, “So, Casey, you’re giving it to Scott, huh?” He sneered. He looked a little pissed too, and I couldn’t quite figure out what the fuck his game was. He was so close, I could smell tequila on his breath. Yeah, he was definitely drunk. And as I examined his red-tinged eyes, the words Wendy had spoken to me not so long ago came rushing back. Suddenly, I felt frightened, and I’d always thought I didn’t scare easily.

  Rather than show my fear, because I thought a sicko like Jim would just get off on it, I decided to be strong and angry, hoping it would instead scare him off. I tried pulling my arm away, but his grip was too strong. “That’s none of your business.”

  He pushed me against the wall between the two restroom doors. “Oh, but it is. You see,” he began, allowing me another smell of the tequila on his breath, “Scott and I are best friends, and best friends share everything.”

  A sense of horror coursed through my veins. Jesus…it was true? Why hadn’t Scott even indicated anything? Was that what he’d meant when he’d said he wasn’t cheap? I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I tried to jerk my arm away and still couldn’t. He grabbed my other arm, getting closer and pinning me to the wall. “Let go of me,” I growled. I knew yelling wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, as I heard the sounds of Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” d
rifting down the hall.

  “You think we haven’t shared things before?” Jim’s eyes narrowed. Things? So I was just an object to him? I couldn’t quite process my thoughts before he said, “Ask Wendy. She’ll tell you.”

  Yeah, Wendy…she already had. What. The. Fuck? And how the hell could I get out of my predicament? The only thing in my favor was that Jim wasn’t dragging me down the hall. And, somehow, I’d managed to verbally stand my ground. At least, I hoped that I really had been able to contain the fright I was feeling. “I said, let go of me.”

  A big guy wearing overalls with thinning brown hair started walking down the hall, and then Jim let go of my arms. Chickenshit. But I knew I got lucky. I took a deep breath. Jim started stumbling toward the men’s room as the man got closer to us. Jim said, “Think about it,” and then walked into the men’s room.

  “Go to hell,” I muttered under my breath. I smoothed out my skirt with my hands and ran them over my hair as well. I took another deep breath and nodded, then started walking down the hallway. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of this…not yet, anyway. I had to process it. I had to decide if what Jim had said had any truth to it and the only way I could do that would be not talking about it…yet. So I tried to act normal when I walked back to the pool table.

  Scott and Julie were standing diagonally across from each other talking. When Scott saw me, he said, “It’s your turn,” and he helped me set up my next shot. Not wanting to be accused of cheating, though, he just told me what to do, rather than touching me. I was glad, but for different reasons. I still didn’t make the shot, even with the guidance, but I wasn’t surprised. I was still shaken up. “That’s okay,” he said, trying to be reassuring, and handed me my drink. I was feeling paranoid now, though, and didn’t plan to drink anymore. So I held it up to my lips and tilted the bottle but didn’t actually drink a sip. I planned to ask the waitress for a glass of water next time I saw her.

  Julie stood over the table and she looked like she was counting the balls that were left. As I set the bottle down, I noticed my hands were shaking. Jesus…I really could have used a drink, but no way was I going to risk it. If these guys really shared, with me at any rate, it’d have to be without my consent, and I’d heard far too many stories of women trusting their dates, having a drink, and then waking up the next morning knowing something was wrong but having no clue about what had happened.