by Mia Soto
“I want to go out.”
I hear Sam in the background. “Mama ma ma ma…”
“Yes, darling, it’s Mama.” Mom is laughing again. “Who you goin’ out with?”
“George.” I haven’t called, but my brother is always up for a drink.
“Well you two be careful.”
“I’ll come spend the night.”
“Just leave him. We’ll be fine.” Now that Sam’s sleeping through the night Mom doesn’t mind watching him so much. She hangs up.
I call George, “yo.”
“Yo.” I can hear the baseball game going in the background.
“Feel like a drink?”
He thinks about this for a second. “Yeah, I could do that.”
He’s got a slow, lazy voice. He works a semi-technical job that he does nothing to try advance within. He’s happy with his home and uncomplicated life. There’s a girl he secretly loves, but he’ll never tell her because that would mean actually doing something about it.
“The Dog?” He asks. I sigh. Mark could show up there. “The Iguana?”
There’s a fifty/fifty shot Mark could show up at either of these holes in the wall. I know George isn’t going much further than one of these two places so I choose The Dog. I can at least stumble home to Mom’s from there.
I run home and change into some jeans. I look at my stretched out and stained t-shirt and decide to upgrade. I fumble through my drawers until a black silky thing pops up. It has a plunging back, and I never wear it anymore. I put it on. I go to the bathroom and decide on some makeup. I never put make up on these days. I’m not sure what I’m celebrating here. My third homicide? Oh no, Margo, you’re being hard on yourself. With any luck I’ll get out of this one with attempted homicide. I grab a pair of strappy stiletto black sandals that I haven’t worn since my Big Apple days. When I look in the mirror it is New York babe, Margo, looking back. She’s casually cool, exotically hot. Again, I’m not sure what I’m celebrating here.
Chapter 5
Huevos Dios Mi
4 eggs
2T of cream or milk
1T chopped chives
3T of shredded cheese (any)
2T Butter
Salt and pepper
For the Pico de Gallo:
2 tomatoes
1/8 red onion minced
1/8 green pepper minced
1 garlic clove
2T cilantro
1-2 limes juiced and zested
¼ jalepeno minced
1t cumin powder
4T of extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper
To make the pico mix the ingredients together to taste and chill.
To make the eggs, whip all four eggs with cream and salt and pepper. Heat a skillet to medium heat with 2 pats of butter. Pour in the eggs and let sit for a few minutes. Then push the eggs away from you letting the omelet create ‘folds” between the cooked layer. Keep doing this until the eggs are only little runny. Add the onions and cheese and fold the omelet over to melt. Slide onto your plate. Serve with the pico and sour cream. Enjoy!
I meet George out front of The Dog a little after ten. Ten is early for The Dog, and the place is only half filled. We go to the bar to order our beers. I open a tab. I have some drinking to do tonight. Babette – I have no idea if this is her real name – is all smiles for us. George is a regular, and I’m tight with the man she lurves.
“I saw Officer Yummy a few days ago.” She must mean last weekend. “Guess you two have moved on.” Maybe she doesn’t mean last weekend. “He was chatting me up something good.”
“Oh yeah?” I smile as she hands me my Stella. I’m all about the Euro trash beers.
“Would you be upset if I gave him my number? If he asks that is,” she adds hastily.
I smile, “No, Babette. You’d be an idiot not to give Mark your number if he asks.”
She beams, and that’s the truth of it. Mark is a catch. Right now he’s like a dolphin caught in a tuna net. Someone needs to help him get free before it ends badly. I don’t know what kind of voodoo, gris gris mind games I have over the men in my life, but when they fall, they fall hard, and they never get over it. It’s not a power I enjoy. My ex is example number one. He loves me even still, and he will, I know it, forever. And there is just nothing I can do to help him get over it. I’m really trying hard to spare Mark this same tragedy.
George and I head to a corner and spend our first two beers in each other’s company. Then Stacy, George’s secret love, appears and all bets are off. I’m on my own other than the occasional drive by “hi.”
About eleven thirty George comes by. “Hey we’re all thinking about going over to Hyde Park.”
I’m four beers in which are about two beers more than I need to get drunk. I nod. I’m not going to Hyde Park. I’m going home so I need to start thinking about sobering up a little. So I order another beer. Half way through this beer Stacy and George walk up.
“We changed our minds,” Stacy says. “My sister is coming here instead.
“Great,” I’m painfully intoxicated. This is not going to end well. I’m wondering if a cab will take me home the five short blocks to mom. Unlike New York, around here cabbies get offended with that kind of ride. Well, I guess they kind of do in New York as well, but they eventually do it anyway. I’m just not sure I can stumble home from here this intoxicated. Another difference between New York and Tampa, it’s safer in New York. Not that bad things can’t happen but with seven million people milling about unless you do something colossally stupid it’s hard to find yourself alone and vulnerable. Around here, the sun goes down and the crazies come out and they have lots of open space and shadows for working their craziness.
“Sis keeps dropping her clients.” George thinks this is hysterical.
“Don’t listen to him Margo. I know it’s just an accident.” Stacy is smiling at me. She’s a sweet girl who can’t seem to make up her mind about the men who love her. It’s hard to be more sympathetic since it’s my brother she’s leading on.
“All I’m sayin’, Stace,” His arm is slung around her neck, and he is in seventh heaven. “Is next time you baby sit – don’t eat the cookies.” Stacy is also my babysitter.
“Funny,” I say with a sarcastic smile. They wander away again. I’m on beer six, but I’ve only taken a few sips. The wall is fast approaching. I’m leaning against a wall in beer, prayer position contemplating my drunkness when a guy in a faded Metallica t-shirt and stone washed jeans comes up and asks me to dance. He’s not the first interested party tonight, just the boldest. The Dog doesn’t have a dance floor. Poison is playing right now on the jukebox. And furthermore, take a hike buddy. Only I say it more like, “no thanks, maybe later,” with an understanding smile to boot. He moves away to lick his wounds.
I’m still leaning against the wall, but now I’m thinking about calling Denise. Maybe it’s a bad idea. I don’t want to know. No, do it – just like a band aide, right off. Then I’m thinking I’ll text her. Would that be rude to text someone to see if their cheating spouse lived through his car accident? Then I’m smiling because isn’t this a Seinfeld episode? I’m trying to recall the episode when Metallica man reappears. I guess he thinks the smile on my lips means I’ve reconsidered. He insists. I insist. He insists more. I insist more. I turn my head to plot an escape route from this weirdo when I see Mark. He’s walking toward us, and he’s not smiling. Metallica man follows my gaze to Mark’s take your hands off her glare, drops my arm and disappears. I guess he’s not as in love as he thought. I’m thinking fifty/fifty shot means about one hundred percent chance in this town. Tears swell at the gentle smile Mark is giving me now that Metallica man is gone. I’m wrapped in his arms in another second, and he’s talking in my ear.
“I know, baby. I heard.”
I’m not going to cry, false alarm. I’m just enjoying being in his arms when he says, “You may need to find a new profession.” I slap his arm. “You’re beco
ming notorious at headquarters.”
Now I push him away. “You know I wasn’t even crying until I saw you.”
He’s smiling. “So I bring it out in you?”
“Must be.” I’m agitated. He’s got my chin between his thumb and fore finger and is bringing my mouth to his. For a few moments before we both get too heated for public display, I enjoy that lovely, lovely mouth that knows exactly how to kiss. I could do this all night.
“Baby,” he says softly against my lips when we finally break, and I can’t help but smile as he places a few more gentle kisses on my mouth. Maybe make up sex is to follow this make up kiss. I can only hope. When he steps back, I see Babette behind the bar looking crushed. I guess we haven’t moved on as much as she thought. I want to tell her that she wasn’t wrong. We did try. It just seems neither of us is ready to let it go, whatever it is. Give it some time. I’ll do something that will screw everything up; trust me Babette. Then maybe it’ll be your moment.
Right now though, Mark eyes are for me alone. Women are doing their best to get his interest in spite of the attention he’s giving me. He’s hot, movie star, he must be gay gorgeous, hot. In another lifetime, I’d be right in the mix trying to steal him away. In this one, my indifference seems to be feeding his interest.
“How are you?” He’s leaning into me and honestly helping keep me vertical.
“Drunk.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” I guess I’m not as suave as I think I am. “I like this.” His warm hand is running up my naked back and giving me shivers all over. “Did you wear it for me?”
I smile, “Sure. I wanted to be the best looking MILF out among the twenty year olds.”
His mouth is a wet whisper on my ear. “That goes without saying, beautiful.” My body is reacting in a very reassuring way. I can’t control my goose bumps. I also can’t control the spinning.
“I think I need to go home.”
Mark is still smiling. “And how are you going to get there?”
“Walk,” I say confidently.
“To your home?” He seems stunned. No one in Tampa walks anywhere.
“No, Mom’s.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll take you home.” He’s taking my hand and leading me away.
“Wait I have to tell my brother.” I slow him down. George is shooting pool, and we wait for his turn to be finished.
“Hey I’m going.” George is giving Mark the once over. Mark could wipe the floor with George if he wanted. For all of his apathy, George loves me.
“I know him George. He’s a good guy.” I feel Mark’s hand tighten on mine. George nods, and we head on.
“Do you have a tab, baby?” I’m thinking about how much I like that he calls me baby. My ex had no pet names for me. And before that, if I had them, then I’ve forgotten them. I just shrug an answer. The world is spinning in a bad way right now. He leads me to the bar and wraps my arms around his waist to keep me close in the packed space.
“Hey, Babs, does she have a tab?” I’m resting my head on his back thinking about how rock hard this guy is. I’m wishing he is naked right now. I’m hoping that’s where we’re headed. Good lord, I’ve turned into a slut. I don’t even know this guy that well. In another second, he unwraps my arms and takes my hand again. “Ok, let’s get you home.”
He gives some kind of alpha male, army signal to his friends, and I vaguely recall that he said he was in the Marines once. They signal something back. I don’t bother trying to figure it out since I’m fighting back the urge to throw up everything I’ve eaten for the past five days.
“Do you remember where you parked?”
“In the lot?” We’re standing in The Dog’s lot which accommodates about six cars. He’s shaking his head with a smile. I can see he’s debating whether to leave me with George until the car is found or drag me off on the search when I remember where it is.
“Wait! I know where it is. Over there,” I point at an empty strip mall. He looks dubious. “No really, behind the store.”
My hand is in his again as we walk to the street where my car is sitting. He gets me in and straps the belt around me. I curl up immediately and rest my head back. I’ll just sleep until I get home. His right hand is stroking my hair and neck with the nicest caress I’ve know lately as he drives. Then the car is off, and he’s talking to me.
“Margo?” I guess I don’t answer. “Margo?” He gets out and opens my door. I fall out a little, but he catches me and unstraps me. “Come on baby,” he picks me up, and we head up the stairs.
Crazy neighbor is out. Her music is blaring. I don’t open my eyes to catch her ensemble. The bright hall light is not a friend right now.
“Wow, she’s drunk,” crazy neighbor says. Mark grunts and puts me on the ground and starts fishing through my purse for my keys. I’m leaning into him, kissing his neck and nibbling on his ear. I can tell he’s struggling with control, and losing.
“Margo,” he finally says. “Help me out, where are your keys?” I shrug and fall back into the door, pulling him with me. My mouth is hot on his until he can tear away. “Baby, I’m going to make love to you all night tonight. But we have to get inside first. Where are your keys?”
“If you get bored with her, I’ll be happy to take you up on that offer.” I hear crazy say. She really must be crazy. I’d never inject myself into a situation like that.
Mark finds my keys in my back pocket and opens the door before he says, “not even in your dreams lady.”
We’re inside my dark apartment, and Mark has leaned me against the counter and broken free of my mouth again. “Wait. Let me help you out first. So tomorrow isn’t so hard for you.”
He tries to move away, but I pull him back with a smile. I kiss my way down and then back up as I pull his grey knit, and nicely fitting I might add, t-shirt over his head. He’s not stopping this and next thing I know we’re struggling our way down the hall tearing at each other’s clothes. Halfway to the bedroom he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him. I push back the image that I’ve been in this same position with another man not so long ago. I really am turning into a slut. It’s all hot, heavy and heavenly after that. My head is spinning, and now I’m not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the rocking sex.
He’s lying on top of me kissing a gentle path up the curve of my shoulder and length of my neck. It feels all happy and tingly.
“So I’m forgiven?” I ask, and he laughs softly.
“I’m thinking about it.” He continues kissing his way to my mouth. Probably not the effect he’s looking for but a wave of nausea hits me.
“Well, while you’re thinking, I’m going to go throw up.” Only totally drunk would I say something like this to a man in my bed. He laughs outright and lifts his head before he realizes I’m serious.
“You ok?”
“I will be. Just let me up.” This is why I don’t like to drink. This is why I quit drinking like this a long time ago. He rolls off and lets me up. I feel for my shorts and tank which I always keep under my pillow. It’s a weird habit, don’t ask. Once in the bathroom, I do exactly what I said I would. And however disgusting it is, I feel a thousand times better. I feel so much better that the idea of getting up, cleaning up and getting back in bed is just too much to contemplate. I rest my head on the closed toilet and consider sleeping there. During my contemplations, I must fall asleep because Mark comes to get me. He makes me brush my teeth and wash my face. Despite the effort, I feel even better. He gives me two Advil and makes me eat a piece of bread. I laugh when he hands that to me.
“College trick,” I say as I eat a bite.
“Marine trick,” he smiles. I can only eat a few bites, and he lets it go at that. “Alright, in bed.”
I’m in his arms falling asleep when I ask, “Can I have a rain check on that offer?”
He lifts his head slightly. “What offer?”
I smile through closed eyes, “The one where you make love to me all night.”
He set
tles against me again and gathers me in tighter. “Baby, that’s a standing offer, whenever, wherever.”
My sigh is happy. “Good to know. Thanks for taking care of me.”
He kisses the back of my head long and soft, “anytime.”
***
It’s a brutal morning, and I throw a pillow over my head to block out the light that’s starting to seep through my blinds. He moves next to me and pulls me close. I groan.
“How’s it going, ok?” He’s lifting the pillow to get a look.
“No, definitely not.” My voice sounds like a seventy year old smoker. I wonder how sexy he thinks that is. “What time is it?” My voice is muffled under the pillow
“Seven,” he’s caressing my stomach. In spite of the fact that I feel like I was hit by a Mac truck, the butterflies start nibbling at all of my sensitive parts. It’s just something about his hands on me.
I sigh, “I have to get up and get Sam.” Poor kid, Mommy abandoned him to go act like a co-ed.
“Ok,” he’s kissing me under the pillow. It doesn’t take much convincing to go from hurting to hot. It’s a nice long interlude before I really am sitting up and preparing to get out of bed. I have the sheet pulled up around me. He’s resting against the backboard caressing my back. I smile at him over my shoulder.
“Am I forgiven now?” He nods with a slow smile. “Good, I’m going to shower.”
When I get out, he’s dressed and in the kitchen looking in my refrigerator. It’s still empty, unless he has a hankering for applesauce and whole milk.
“This is pitiful.” He closes the door with a shake of the head.
I smile as I check my iPhone. It’s really Sam’s iPhone. One year olds are pretty busy people. I never knew it. After multiple times over scheduling, I decided I needed more than just a cell phone. I still can’t use half of its functionality. I have five new voice mails, and they are all from new clients wanting me to cook for them. Normally, I’d be thrilled about this. That’s a lot of new business. Today, I’m not so sure. I’ll wait to call them back until tomorrow. He’s watching me from the kitchen with a smile.