I looked over at Ethan, who was bouncing in anticipation over at the gate, and I walked toward him. I didn’t want to watch what was going on between Grace and her friends. “’Sup buddy?”
“Nothin’” He rocked on his heels, staring down at his shoes. “My shoes are new.”
I nodded. “Are they fast?”
His head tossed upward, and his breath caught. “How did you know?” he whispered at me with big eyes. “Don’t tell my mom. She doesn’t like me running too fast, but I can’t help it, it’s my shoes.”
My heart swelled at hearing his fantasy. Wow.
“Okay, let’s go,” Grace chimed, swinging her oversized burlap bag over her shoulder. “I’m parked over there.”
I unlatched the gate, and Ethan took off running. “Don’t go too fast!” I shouted, and he slowed down. I looked at Grace. An easy smile crossed her lips, but she didn’t look at me, keeping her eyes on her son as he stopped at the side of a white Lexus SUV parked at the curb. She held out her arm, keys dangling from her hand, and clicked to open the doors as we stepped closer.
“Get in!” she instructed happily, and Ethan pulled at the handle.
“How old is he?”
“Four. He starts Kindergarten this fall.”
I nodded, impressed at his maturity. “He’s very well-spoken.”
Grace’s eyes gleamed at my compliment. “He’s in preschool. I usually have him there every day, but today I just wanted to spend some time with him.” She bent into the car, saying something to Ethan that I couldn’t decipher, and then shut the door. “It was great running into you.”
My stomach tumbled. “Do you wanna…”
Grace hung her head, shaking it unfavorably. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She smiled sadly and turned to walk away.
“Please have dinner with me tonight.” The words popped out eagerly, more urgent than I’d wanted. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Gabe didn’t think it was a good idea.”
She spun back to face me, her mouth hinging open. “He said that?” Hurt laced her voice.
I sighed. “Not exactly.” I regretted throwing Gabe under the bus.
“For some reason I think you’re just saying that, Jake, but it’s okay. It probably isn’t a good idea.”
I looked inside her SUV and Ethan was happily playing on a gaming device. “Grace, do you know anything about me?”
Her aqua eyes scanned my face. “I hear you on the radio, and read in The Beach Reporter about your friend’s memorial service at the Manhattan pier. That’s the extent of it.”
I sucked in a breath. “I’m a fucking train wreck, Grace. I’m a recovering addict. I’m such a mess that the love of my life is marrying another man. Not calling you had nothing at all to do with what Gabe shared with me about you.”
Her shoulders relaxed and empathy splashed across her face. “I’m sorry. Um…why don’t I call you after Ethan’s swim class.”
I was surprised at how easily her tone changed. I quickly took out my phone from my pocket. “Give me your number.”
Grace and I exchanged phone numbers, and she hastily left. It was the strangest, yet most interestingly honest interaction I’d ever had with a chick I didn’t know. A woman. This was a grown woman I was dealing with.
8
A funky melody coursed through the dimly-lit and artistically creative interior of the Pamilla Concina y Tequila restaurant, an upscale home-style Mexican joint. Intricately stacked white-painted River Rock covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and heavy, black, medieval chains hung around the perimeter walls. It was still early, happy hour time. Hipsters and beach locals alike filled the place. An interesting mix, I thought as I turned out to face the promenade patio from the front door. I wondered if these hipster/Hollywood looking types lived here.
A twenty-something brunette hostess with a delicate lip piercing greeted me in an aloof manner, like it was some fucking privilege for me to be there. “Hello, your reservation name?” Until it dawned on her who I was, and she did a double take and pointed at me knowingly.
“Jake? Rita’s…”
I nodded, giving her a tight grin. “That’s me, and I don’t have a reservation.”
Starry-eyed, she blinked twice, hugging a stack of menus to her chest, looking past me. “How many?”
“Two. My friend will be here soon.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll squeeze you in.”
She looked behind her, and I followed her gaze. Eyes were on us. I felt like I was at some Hollywood hot spot, where everyone looked at every person who walked through the door. What happened to my beach town?
I followed her to a cozy little table for two, set against the back wall – nice.
“My name is Marina. I went to school with you. I was in Alyssa’s class.” Great. She handed me a red embossed menu and placed the other one on top of the table setting across from me. I smiled and nodded, thanking her. “Um, okay, your server will be right with you.”
I purposely faced the wall. I didn’t want anyone to notice me. I was the only one sitting alone, and Grace would surely know it was me, waiting for her. I scanned the menu and drank from the ice-filled water glass the tattooed arm waiter brought me. Finally, I felt the warmth of Grace’s hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Her soft voice filtered out as she bent close to my ear.
I stood, hugging her, getting a glimpse of her in tight black denim jeans with strategically placed shredded holes in the legs. Her black blouse was silky, and a tad bit see through, with a teasing hint of a lace bra. She barely hugged me back, shifting to move to her seat. “No worries,” I offered as she slid past me, sitting against the wall. I caught a whiff of her perfume; a romantic, feminine scent – a grown woman’s scent. I stared at the gorgeous, aqua-eyed lady sitting in front of me, feeling completely out of my league, undeserving of her eyes on me.
I shouldn’t have pursued this. I sat, feeling awkward, and cleared my throat. Grace smirked, leaning toward me. She glanced in both directions, making sure nobody was listening. “Maybe we should have just met for coffee.”
I chuckled nervously, embarrassed she saw my trepidation. “You’re probably right.”
“No. I’m teasing.” She shook her head, smiling, and her black hair shimmered, falling from her shoulder and covering the opening of her blouse and her subtle cleavage. Grace looked around the room. I studied her more closely; her long black eyelashes and the curve of her jawline down her neck. She was certainly an exhibit of fine beauty.
Her eyes met mine. “I haven’t been out to eat in a long time,” she whispered, playing with the napkin on her bread plate.
“How long?” I wanted to milk her for anything and everything. I wanted to know exactly why she cried her eyes out at my show. I wanted to know about her loss, intimately.
Our bearded waiter with colorful inked forearms greeted us again. “Welcome to Pamilla. Have you been here before?” He clasped his hands, glancing between us.
I shook my head no. Grace said she’d read about it the local paper. I made a mental note that she must read a lot. His nametag read Jon, and he introduced himself as such. We ordered our drinks; an iced tea for her, and for me, a soda water with lime. We thanked Jon, and Grace smiled back at me, taking in a deep breath.
“To answer your question,” she continued, playing with the silverware in front of her, “I haven’t been out to a restaurant in a couple of years.”
I nodded slowly, not really believing it. “As in you’ve only cooked at home?”
She shook her head yes, and it was still hard for me to believe. I felt the weight of her answer fall on my shoulders. I felt strange for being the first person to ask her out. I feared her expectations.
Her happy expression faded. “I don’t want to burden you with my sob story.” She tried smiling, making light of the loss of her husband. Her mouth hung open. “I admit that after you told me about yourself, at the park, I talked more to Gabe and then I actually plugged in my co
mputer and read all about you.”
I nodded, feeling ashamed. “Not pretty.”
She shrugged and took a drink of the tea Jon had placed in front of her. She arranged her setting and looked back at me. “Life fucking sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”
The f-bomb totally through me off, making me smile, almost laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. I just didn’t expect that to roll out of your mouth.”
She laughed too. “I don’t think I’ve said fuck in two years, either.”
We chuckled together for a moment longer, and Grace was the one who took over the conversation. It was more about validating what she’d read about me. I confirmed everything. Most of what she’d asked about was true, surprisingly. Then the conversation moved to the more present day.
“So you said Alyssa is marrying someone else now?”
I bit down on my bottom lip, hard, nodding yes. “Pretty much.”
“And you’ve decided she’s not worth fighting for anymore?”
A shock vibrated through me. Was I really going to go there with Grace? This beautiful woman, who was starting a new life? And me, a man (albeit younger than her) with the option to start a new life right then and there, cutting Aly out of it once and for all?
I gulped. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Part of me wants to run right out of here, and the other wants to say fuck it, it’s over.”
Grace’s eyes roamed my face, and I watched her swallow, blinking at me. She sighed deeply and licked her full lips. A weird vibe coursed around, and she shook her head, looking down at her hands.
I instantly felt bad. Here I had the option of trying to get back with my love, and Grace would never have that chance again, just like Sienna.
“I don’t mean to get so heavy, Grace. I’m sorry.”
She gave me a sad, lopsided smile, and then sat up straight, with a more upbeat air. “Okay. Let’s stop feeling sorry for ourselves. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the one that got all…heavy…as you say, asking too many personal questions.”
Oh, just you wait until I have my turn.
Her willingness to lighten the mood invigorated the moment. I watched her look over the menu she’d taken into her hands. I did the same. We discussed the menu and compared it to other Mexican joints in the area (Grace had lived in the South Bay for over ten years herself). We ordered tacos: she, the chicken and steak, and I, the fish and shrimp.
“Do you eat seafood?” She nodded. “You wanna share?”
“Sure,” she agreed and lifted her glass filled with iced tea. I picked up my water glass. “Cheers to new beginnings.”
Our glasses clinked together, and I wondered if she wasn’t drinking alcohol because of me. “You don’t drink?”
She laughed mildly in spite of herself. “Not in two years.”
Now it was my turn to ask questions. “What have you done the last two years?”
Her head tipped down, and then she met my gaze. “Much like you, I’ve just been trying to survive.”
The next question tumbled out of my mouth like a disgusting loogie. “How did he die?”
Shock registered in Grace’s eyes, and she gulped. I wanted to punch myself in the mouth. The look on her face told me she could burst with tears at any moment, and I held my hands up. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that…”
But before I could say another word, she blurted out the answer. “He died in a plane crash.” She held her breath and touched her cheek, running her fingers down her neck.
My hands went numb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…” I couldn’t even finish my thoughts. I just hung my head in embarrassment. Grace had no idea about how my dad, Michael, died.
Similar tragedy. Instant. Permanent. Forever. Leaving behind a young son.
She reached over and rubbed the top of my hand, sending a chill running up my arm. “Jake, it’s okay. I don’t know what either of us expected this to be. I was flattered you wanted to get to know me.” She looked around the room again, as if searching for someone she might know. “I’m not ready to be out in a social situation. I don’t know what to talk about, but you don’t need to tread lightly. I’m a big girl. I’ve made it this far.”
She smiled and pulled her hand away. I wanted to reach out and grab it back. “Thanks for being a good sport and not kicking my teeth in for the direct, insensitive, question.” I laughed nervously. “I guess I need some etiquette classes or something.”
My remark made her giggle. “Sorry you’re the guinea pig.” She took another sip of her tea and sighed again. “You’re the first person other than family and very close friends…and Ethan’s teachers…who I’ve shared that with.”
“The first one outside your circle, in two years?”
Her eyebrows rose up her forehead, silently telling me, no shit, that’s what I keep saying.
I wanted to know more. I wanted to know his name and what he did for a living, and what kind of plane crash it was. There’d been jetliner crashes in other parts of the world, and smaller ones in the US, but which? The odds were it was a small plane crash. I was too chicken to ask, and thankfully our food arrived. Spicy, marinated quality aromas filled my nose, making my mouth water.
“Thank you!” Grace said cheerily to Jon as he placed her steaming plate with three smallish tacos and a pile of rice and garnishes in front of her.
Mine looked similar. Her eyes twinkled, and she picked up her fork, holding it out to me. I knew exactly what she wanted. I cheered food the same way – though it’d been years since I’d raised my fork to anyone.
“Cheers, Grace,” I said, lifting my fork and tapping hers.
Her head tilted to the side, and a smile peeked at her lips as she stuck her fork into her rice. I didn’t expect her to look up, and she caught me watching her. Heat rushed out of my collar instantly, and I watched as color filled her fair cheeks.
My attention was making her blush, and it made me feel delighted.
“Um,” she almost giggled, looking back down at her food, tossing her rice with her fork. “You’re one of the very few people who never hesitated to raise the fork,” she said, taking a mouthful of rice.
“I do it on occasion, too. Great minds.” I winked and lifted my tortilla filled with shrimp and cilantro. “These are gonna be so fuckin’ good,” I said, biting into it.
“Ok. My turn. Steak it is.” She began eating her taco.
“Damn,” I said, swallowing.
“Oh. My. God,” Grace said through a mouthful, and her eyes rolled upward. “This is so good.”
We ate. Giving our praise to the food when Jon checked on us, then when our empty plates were being removed by the busboy, Jon had to ask to take picture with me. I was completely disappointed and irked, more than I think I’d ever been by someone asking. He’d acted as if he had no idea who I was the entire time, and I was stoked to be just a regular guy having dinner with a beautiful woman.
It got worse from there. As Jon bent to pose next to me, with Grace taking the picture with his camera phone, it opened the door for other people to ask for pictures as we passed the bar. Grace took it all in stride, and we left with a trail of people tittering in our wake.
“I’m really sorry. It’s never been this way before, here.” I grabbed her hand, moving her in front of me as we stepped out into the patio area, and steered her out of the restaurant by the small of her back. I could practically feel her skin through her thin blouse.
“It’s okay.” She nudged my shoulder with hers, taking her hand away from mine. “It doesn’t bother me. I wasn’t surprised.”
“Yeah, but it sucks. I haven’t been out in Hermosa in a long time. This place has changed tenfold,” I said looking around at the paved promenade with its bars, restaurants, and stores bursting with patrons on each side. Relief took the place of agitation with each step away. “I don’t believe that would have happened in Manhattan.” I shrugged. “Next time I’ll pick a place in Manhattan.” Grace smiled at my remark wit
hout a word, and I realized I’d made an assumption that she wanted there to be a next time. “That is, if you’ll have dinner with me again?”
She looked up into the sky and over to me, opening her mouth to speak. A piece of her silken black hair blew over her eye, and I fought the urge to tame it. Then instead of answering me, she closed her mouth and looped her arm into mine as we strolled onto The Strand, the smoothly paved sidewalk along the beachfront. I had no idea where I was walking to, except toward home, as I’d planned.
“I walked here. That’s the only thing I’ve done in two years…is walk and wave to people.” Her grip tightened on my arm ever so slightly as she continued. “Always looking like I had somewhere to be, so they didn’t try to stop me and I wouldn’t have to say the words over and over again.”
I totally understood that feeling, for different reasons. “I get that.”
She breathed in deeply as she stared out at the setting sun. I didn’t think she heard me.
“It worked out then. I get to walk you home. I’d planned to walk home, too.” I felt silly about asking her out again, and blew it off, reminding myself that she’d said she wasn’t ready to be social, and all this was just a moment with a beautiful woman.
The springtime ocean breeze had a bit of a bite, and I’d wished I’d brought a jacket. Grace’s fingers stirred against my arm, and I took that thought back. I wouldn’t have been able to feel the warmth of her hand if I were wearing a jacket, and that thought brought on a tune in my head – The warmth of her hand. A melody followed.
“Grace, what was his name?” I couldn’t help myself any longer. I had to know.
She didn’t hesitate. “His name was Phillip.”
“How did you two meet?” Her grip loosened on my arm, and I feared she’d let go. I pressed her hand into my arm. “We don’t have to go there.”
She smiled softly, nodding once, and stared off into the distance. Her smile grew more pronounced, and I assumed she may have been recollecting perhaps their first meeting or date. I didn’t expect her to talk about him with each passing second, so I offered up my intentions.
Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5) Page 6