“Milk please.” Smiling, I nervously kick my feet back and forth under the safety of the bar top. Our conversation has skirted around everything but his shop and the dead body they found in it. My insides are turning in circles as I rack my brain for what to say next.
“So, did you get all your errands ran?” I promptly cringe at my stupid comment. Of course he didn’t finish everything, there was a dead body found in his store.
“Not really.” Greyson sets a plate down in front of me, piled high with golden brown fluffy waffles. Reaching into another cupboard, he pulls out a container of syrup and generously dumps some over his plate. “Everything is basically on hold until things get sorted out.”
“Need any help with things?” Grabbing the syrup, I pretend to pay close attention to filling every large hole of the waffles. Anything seems better than looking into his sad eyes and realizing I am doing nothing to help his situation.
“Thanks, Charlie. But there is nothing really that can be done.” Greyson takes up the stool next to me, and immediately stuffs a large bite into his mouth. His eyes are casted downward on his plate as he slowly chews the massive bite slowly.
“Thanks for the waffles,” I ramble rapidly, fumbling with my fork and knife awkwardly in my hands.
“Not a problem. Everyone has to eat at some time, right?” His eyes still have yet to leave the plate. Just a simple motion of cutting another bite and shoving it into his mouth.
“Right,” I reply. Moments like this are reminders why I don’t even try to have relationships with people. I can never think of the right thing to say, nor does my presence do anything to help aid in comfort. My mom and Samantha were the only two people in this world who could have a somewhat interesting conversation with. Making friends and being friendly are too different things. Friends care about one another, say the right things in hard times, and can lift damaged spirits. Being friendly is like putting a Band-Aid on something. There is some instant relief in whatever you are trying to help or fix, but then you always have to rip that shit off later on. It might feel good for a second “So, did you know I’m a recovering alcoholic?”
Chapter 14
Greyson
A warm pile of fluffy waffles, drowned in syrup normally makes any day better. Actually, any day that I allow myself to carb load without paying for it later at the gym should be a good day. Fuck, the fact that I didn’t have to beg or plead with Charlie to do something with me should be a reason to cheer the hell up, but everything just seems bleak. I don’t even know the guy that perished outside the store, but once I find out his name, it will forever haunt me. The shop is always going to be known as the place where the robber when through the front window and died. Things like this aren’t easy to shake, not to mention to forget. Really, should I even try and put it past me? It’s not like I knew the guy, well hopefully didn’t. Usually things are easy for me to sort out, and now I’m struggling to even gain footing on the whole fiasco.
“So, did you know I’m a recovering alcoholic?” Charlie’s voice comes rushing out expectedly. The look of sheer terror flashes over her face as she quickly glances back down at her plate and forces another bite into her mouth.
“What are you talking about?” I question, cocking my eyebrow in wonder. I know Charlie has demons in her past, but I didn’t expect those words to fall out of her mouth. Usually it’s a male that breaks a female down. Destroys their views on love and life, makes their future look dull and lackluster. I truthfully thought Charlie ran away from an ugly relationship, thus giving me the cold shoulder for so long.
“I had a problem drinking. Technically, I still do. They tell you the first step in overcoming your problem is admitting it. So, I have a drinking problem is more like it.” Her eyes never stray from the fork she grasps tightly in her hand. The color of her skin starts to whiten a little, and her shoulders tense at the admission of her truth.
“I didn’t expect that,” I remark, setting my fork down next to the plate and turning slightly on my stool. What’s left of my numb and confused body is desperate to scoop her up into my arms and hold her close. But, I don’t.
“Yeah, it’s not something I really like to share. Kind of like a shameful dirty little secret that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Everyone has secrets, Charlie. Some are just easier to deal with.”
“Well, I just don’t have secrets, Greyson. I have boat loads of problems that I choose not to deal with.” Charlie tries to laugh lightly, but her voice fails her. A small hiccup emerges, followed by a quick sniffle of her nose. I know the signs women display before they combust into tears right in front of you, and Charlie is starting to exhibit the classic behavior.
“Well, aren’t we just the perfect match.” Trying to make light of the situation, I silently pray the water works don’t appear.
“Greyson, what happened to you this morning is awful. This might sound like a complete bitch, but, you have the option of getting over it and dealing. Things happen in this world that are just fucked up and beyond comprehension sometimes. But, you have to remember that dealing with it only makes it better.”
“Do you take your own advice?” I question, catching a glimpse of her sparkling dark eyes.
“Some things don’t apply to me.” Charlie stabs another bite of waffle on her fork and shoves it into her mouth, signaling that part of the conversation is done.
“I’m willing to help you, if you don’t mind putting in the effort for me?”
“We can do something like that,” she replies, hopping off the stool and walking her dish over to the sink. It wasn’t an immediate no, but it also didn’t sound too promising. Maybe helping Charlie put herself back together would somehow, in the end, help heal me.
“Sounds like you are growing on me, Charlotte.” Letting a smirk travel across my face, I fold my arms underneath my chest and watch as she rinses her plate off in the sink. Her body seems to relax a little once her full name rolls off my lips. It’s like there is almost a different side to her once the full name is used instead of Charlie.
“The name’s, Charlie.” She grins while opening the dishwasher.
“You know that you confuse the hell out of me, Charlie?” The playful banter she is showing has my downed spirits lifting, almost pushing this morning’s events to the back of my mind.
“I have to keep you on your toes, Greyson. What else am I going to do besides run, work, and keep you guessing?” Laughter erupts from her lips. My eyes are immediately drawn to the sound; something so unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar in the same sense.
“Are you going to get that?”
“Huh?” I question, shaking my head from the haze that occupied it.
“Your phone, Greyson?” Charlie points to my cell ringing on the counter next to me.
Startled, I snatch it off the counter and slide to answer the call.
“Hello?” my voice stammers.
“Greyson? This is Officer Bacca.”
“How goes it?” My insides start to tighten again, swiftly bringing me back to this morning’s event.
“The preliminary workup of your business is done. We will need access to it for the next couple days, but might I suggest you coming down here to secure the facility before nightfall.”
“Alright, I’ll be right here,” I ramble, pinching the bridge of my nose forcefully to try and relieve some pressure in my head.
“There will be an officer on scene until you arrive. Thanks for the cooperation, Greyson.” Officer Bacca ends the call and I set the phone back on the counter.
“So, where are we going?” Charlie asks, cocking her head to the side.
“I guess the store.” Stepping off the stool, I stuff the phone into my pocket and snake the keys off the end of the bar top. “Do you want me to drop you off?”
“I can come with you if you want. It’s not like I’m working today.”
“Alright, then. Let’s go.”
“So, how long have you had t
he shop?” Charlie asks. The truck windows are rolled down and the cool breeze from the afternoon air is sending her hair whipping around her upper body. It takes all of my focus to keep my eyes on the road ahead of us, and not watching how absolutely incredible she looks sitting next to me.
“Couple years. I bought it from the guy I apprenticed from before he decided to retire.”
“So you like it?”
“Creating things is my passion. Tattooing my art on people and giving them someone beautiful and different is one of the best feelings in the entire world.” Glancing over at Charlie quickly, the smile on her face is amazing.
“Did you do the paintings in your house?” Charlie shifts in her seat, tucking her legs up underneath her body.
“Yep.” A smug smile spreads across my face. The paintings I have in the living room had instantly drawn Charlie in the moment she laid eyes upon them.
“You have some serious talent, Greyson.”
Those few simple words Charlie just spoke completely turns my entire world upside down. I have always known of my talent, and that people think my designs are wicked. But, everything seems to finally come together once I hear that she thinks I have talent. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know this woman belongs in my life.
The red and blue lights are still flashing as we turn down Second Street toward the shop. Glancing over at Charlie, she grimaces as we slide into a parking spot a couple spots down from the building. Sighing, I shut off the truck and force myself to climb out.
“Greyson,” Officer Bacca calls out while heading in my direction.
I glance back at Charlie tentatively taking the step up on the sideway, staying a few steps behind me.
“Here is a company that does crime scene clean up. Give them a call; they are really efficient in getting this all taken care of,” he says while handing me a white business card.
“Thanks,” I reply, grabbing the card and stuffing it into my back pocket.
“You might want to sweep up the glass and board up the windows before leaving for the night.”
I go to agree with him, but the words won’t seem to come out. Instead, I’m left standing there with my mouth tightly shut, offering no reply to Officer’s suggestion.
“We will make sure it gets done,” Charlie buts in. I can feel the warmth of her skin next to me, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the stained red concrete ahead of us. “Charlie Emmerson.” Sticking her hand out to Officer Bacca, Charlie takes control of the scene without even wavering.
“Pleasure to meet you, Charlie. If you need anything, Greyson knows how to get hold of me.” Officer Bacca tips his hat with a smile and wanders across the street to his patrol car.
“So, do you have a broom and dustpan somewhere in there?” Charlie asks, peering through the broken window.
“In the back, but be careful of all the glass.” Charlie rolls her eyes at me, then carefully steps around the stain on the concrete and enters the darkened shop. “Light switch is on your left.”
Looking around, I grab the yellow police tape and start yanking it down. I should probably give this company a call, since I don’t know the first thing about cleaning up, and Cameron wasn’t able to get a flight until tomorrow afternoon.
“They really did a number on your place. You barely have anything left in the back rooms.” A frown on Charlie’s face emerged as she handed me a broom.
“We were starting the remodel today, so actually most of the stuff is in storage already.”
Charlie lets out a massive breath, followed by a small smile.
“Thank god. I really wasn’t looking forward to you going in there.”
“You and me both,” I let slip off my tongue. Dealing with the outside is one thing, seeing the damage they caused inside is another. Charlie hands me a broom, and I begin the daunting task of sweeping up the millions of glass shards on the pavement.
“Why don’t you take the truck and go home.? I can get a ride back to your uncles later to pick it up.”
“I can help, Greyson. Really, it’s no big deal.” Charlie shakes her head while continuing to sweep. She really doesn’t need to be here. My store, my mess to clean up. “Besides, I don’t have my wallet on me anyhow.”
Hearing her reasoning behind helping makes me snort. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be helping someone clean up glass and blood when I didn’t have to. But, then again I don’t want her getting pulled over and the poor truck getting impounded because of not having her license.
“I can’t believe you draw,” Charlie mutters, bending down with a dustpan to pick up the first pile.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I blurt out, desperate to take my mind off the task before us.
“Nope. I’ve always thought of getting one, but then never had the money or was sober enough to follow through with it.” Charlie holds open the black garbage bag for me to scoop my pile into.
“What did you want to get?”
“Well, thankfully I never followed through with it, because my ideas back then were pretty lame.” Charlie laughs as her eyes start to shine in the afternoon sun. Seriously, this woman is gorgeous.
“Ah, but those tattoos are the best to have. I believe every tattoo should tell a story. It can be something heartfelt or even stupid, but there needs to be reasoning behind each piece of ink.”
“So, I should have got a bottle of beer, a stripper pole, and a tombstone to tell my story?”
“You were a stripper?” Cocking my head to the side, I can’t envision someone like her getting naked for men on stage.
Charlie chuckles and shakes her head. “No, but I was kind of trampy.”
“Haven’t we all been,” I banter back, finally letting the permanent frown on my face disappear. Normally I would fight through these challenges alone. Getting things done and out of the way is something I strived on, and doing it alone was basically a given. Growing up I didn’t have much, and what I wanted I worked for. Just like the shop, I put one hundred percent into everything I touched, and relying on someone wasn’t an option. The only other person who has ever stood by me through thick and thin has been Cameron, and even that relationship has its rocky moments at times. Having Charlie offer her help, and being so open to receiving it makes me question the morality I have built my entire existence on. The shop is my life, creating art gives me purpose, and working for the bar lets me feel like I’m helping someone else. Reality is I use the bar as my own selfish way for easy hook ups. Using the excuse that I’m helping Mark only makes the conquest for dropping panties that much easier to deal with in the morning when I can’t remember the chick’s name. Standing here, picking up glass and staring at the dried blood on the concrete makes me really start to question if what I’m doing is really worth it.
“Do you, by any chance, have a shop vac? I really think it would be easier to get all this crap off the sidewalk then what we are doing with these brooms. Not to mention, I think you are going to have to throw them away after this. Getting the glass out of the fibers isn’t going to fare so well.” Charlie glances down at the broom and gives it a tap on the concrete.
Reaching into my pocket, I yank out the business card and open my cell phone. Punching in the numbers carefully, I sigh while waiting for the other line to pick up.
“Good afternoon. I have a store that needs to be cleaned up after a police investigation,” I ramble into the phone.
Hopefully they can get over here soon and take care of the outside issues. Then, I can run to the hardware store for some sheets of plywood to cover the missing windows. Boarding this place up and walking away is the only thing my mind and heart can agree on this moment in time.
Chapter 15
Charlie
I’ve never been a fan of blood. There is something about the dark red mixture that sends chills down my spine and makes me want to run screaming in the opposite direction. There have been too many instances in my life that the sight of blood led to other horrible things, thus leaving me t
o eliminate all medical fields from my future career opportunities.
But I have to face it. Greyson seems so distraught and lost in what happened today, that if I panic and freak-out over the stain on the concrete next to me it will only push Greyson over the fine edge he is already straddling. But, looking at the nasty looking spot on the concrete makes my stomach all queasy and……. “Does that look like Santa?”
Greyson tilts his body to the side, and then cranks his neck in an extremely awkward position. Seeing this tall, completely stacked, delicious looking male in some weird contorted way actually is turning me on in a nasty, cleaning up a crime scene kind of way.
“Huh. I guess it kind of does.” Greyson scratches the side of his face, and I notice the stubble emerging on his cheeks.
“You need to shave,” I blurt out, promptly coving my mouth in sheer horror for what busted out of my mouth.
“Well, aren’t you just the chatterbox tonight,” Greyson scoffs, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter the longer he stares at me.
“Sorry,” I reply sheepishly. Another point proven where I am absolutely no good in situations like these.
“You can stop sweeping; the clean-up company should be here soon.” Greyson props his broom up against the window pane while dropping the garbage bag to the sidewalk. His shoulders start to droop once again, and the darkness starts to return to his eyes.
“Food?”
“We just ate, Charlie. Besides, once they get here I have to run to the hardware store and get some plywood to board up the window. I can run you home before then.”
“Why are you still trying to get rid of me, Greyson? Do I smell? Or maybe you have a hot date tonight?” My body instantly takes a defensive stand; hands instinctively finding my hips, eyes narrowing, and my mouth tightly forming a very recognizable frown.
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