by Leslie Pike
Cock blocker, hard-on destroyer, mistress of bad timing. My sixteen-year-old self speaks up in my mind. What the hell, Mom? But I know she stays hidden from sight, not wanting to embarrass us. Farrah sits up and smooths her dress.
“Yeah?” I call.
“You’ve got to come back. Everything’s okay, but Max fell off a boulder and hurt his ankle. Gregory couldn’t get him back because he thinks he fell into a patch of poison ivy. The men are going for him now. Sorry, son.”
I hang my head in defeat, but quickly recover. “Okay, we’re coming.”
I wish that were true.
CHAPTER FIVE
FARRAH
“It’s not a good idea for the owner to be here when buyers are looking,” Becky says.
I hook the hummingbird feeder under a hanging basket of flowers that adorns my parents’ backyard. I still think of this as their place. It’s never going to be mine. Not really. Almost immediately I hear the hum of two birds waiting for me to move away from the sugar water.
“Nash is picking me up in a half hour. And by the way, it’s a holiday, why are you working?”
“Realtors have no holidays. If a client wants to see a property, we say yes.”
“How do these people even know about the house? It doesn’t go on the market for two days.”
“They’re friends of an agent in our office. He told them they’d better jump on it if they’re interested. It’s going to go fast, Farrah.”
I feel no enthusiasm hearing the news. And yet I know this is exactly how I hoped it would be, quick and painless. Silicon Valley and everything within a hundred miles of it has become cat nip to the techies. No property sits. But I want things to move slower now. I need some time.
“Well, you look thrilled about it,” she says dryly.
“I am. No, I am. Good job.”
She’s not buying my half-hearted gratitude. The doorbell sounds.
“That’s them. Stay out here. Feed your little flying feathered fuckers. I think that’s their Latin name.”
I laugh as she waddles away headed for the front door. “Walk slow!” I say to her back.
Taking a seat at my round glass table, I prop my feet on one of the other chairs. This is a beautiful yard. I remember sitting right in this spot while my mother told me about her life. I taped both her and my father’s stories. When she got sick I realized there were so many questions I hadn’t asked. I made hour long tapes about every one of their decades. It’s been too painful to watch them yet, but I know they’ll end up being my greatest treasures. I can still see them both laughing while they relived their childhood and teen years. It was moving watching their faces as they talked about the day they met. How they knew right away that it was true love.
Becky’s muffled voice can be heard from inside the house. She must be giving them the grand tour. I close my eyes and absorb the sun on my skin and the sound of the birds. Not two minutes later I hear the french door swing open.
“Good morning, Cleopatra,” Nash says.
I turn to find him standing tall in all his glory. A white T-shirt and navy shorts look awesome on him. God, the man is fine. I haven’t seen him since last weekend when Max hurt his ankle. We’ve only talked on the phone. It’s been torture. All I want to do is touch him.
“Morning. I was just getting my vitamin D. Did you meet Becky?”
“I introduced myself. But her clients drove up in front, so our conversation was short.”
He comes around my back and puts his hands on my bare shoulders. He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You’ve got great looking legs. This is the first time I’ve really seen them.”
The chill goes from my ear down my spine and then back again.
“I wore the shorts just for you. Well, and it’s going to be ninety-three degrees today.”
“Let me see,” he says taking my hand and pulling me out of the chair.
He spins me around and I do a little pirouette for his pleasure. It makes us both smile.
“So, how’s Max doing?”
“He’s still hobbling around, but the poison oak rash is gone. He’s looking forward to seeing you today. Don’t be surprised if he tries to light a firecracker behind your back.”
“What?!”
He laughs at the panic on my face.
“That’s what boys do. I’ve given him instructions not to, but it’s anybody’s guess when the cousins join forces. In fact, Max is spending the night at Lana’s.”
He says that last little bit of information as if it’s just conversation. I know better. A fantasy of he and I in my bed passes in front of my eyes.
I come close and take his face in my hands. “I’ve missed your face.”
“I’ve missed what I haven’t seen yet. I know it’s going to be stunning.”
He leans in for a kiss. A kiss in the garden, with the birds, and the butterflies, and the crushing sexual tension. Perfect.
“We’ve got one stop to make before we head for the park,” he says.
“Where’s that?”
“I want you to meet someone.”
We try to make a quiet move through the house, so as not to disturb Becky and her buyers. I hear the female client saying, “Well, this’ll have to go.” About something in one of the rooms. What the hell? I walk out and shut the door before I hear any more stupid comments.
“We’re stopping by the pet hospital. Then the day’s ours.”
On the way to our destination, I’m mulling over the buyer’s comment. Why should I care if they want to change something in the house? I’m sure a lot will change. But it’s sticking in my craw.
“You okay?” he says.
“Oh, yeah. It’s nothing. So, who am I going to meet?”
“I don’t know his name, but he’s a great guy. You’ll see.”
His eyebrows lift in a mysterious expression. We park in front and Nash gets out and opens my side. As soon as he unlocks the door to his practice, I hear the dogs barking in the back.
“I’ll be here in the waiting room,” I say, not in the least bit interested in being there among them.
“No problem. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I pass the time looking at the oversized photos of animals that are displayed on the walls and think about how I’d draw them. That’s one subject I’ve never attempted. Fear of dogs has shaped my life in many ways. But artistically I’m intrigued. Their coats would be the most challenging, their expressive eyes the easiest.
The door opens and out comes Nash and the Labrador I ran over. He’s limping and his eye is bandaged, there’s shaved patches all over his body. But he’s beautiful.
“Here’s your friend. Sit down and he’ll come to you.”
It’s hard to be afraid of this creature. I sit down and he comes to me slowly. He’s looking up at my face and his tail’s wagging as if we’re old friends. He rests his head on my knees. Oh, melt. My hand reaches out and I pet the top of his head. It’s the first time I’ve ever sincerely wanted to do that. When I pause, he lifts his head against my hand as if to say don’t stop.
“Hi, old timer. Glad you don’t hold grudges. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
Nash doesn’t say anything at first. He just lets the dog and I have a moment. The dog’s chewed tail hasn’t stopped wagging.
“He’s a sweetheart,” Nash says.
“What’s his name?”
“Don’t know. He doesn’t have a chip and nobody’s claimed him. I’d say he was living on the streets for a while. Someone probably dumped him. Shay’s going to foster him till we can find a family that wants a skinny senior dog with a limp and a wonky eye. It won’t be easy.”
My shoulders drop with the news.
“Someone must want to care for this beautiful soul.”
“Max does, but he knows the rule. We can’t take every dog that doesn’t have a home.”
“What happens if you can’t find him one?”
He gets a serious look on his face.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“The Rainbow Bridge?”
He’s surprised. “How do you know about that?”
“Your son asked me if my dog was crossing over it that night.”
“It’s a possibility, but I’ll do everything I can not to make that happen.”
In the dog’s eyes I see more than I anticipated. There’s goodness and love there, all expressed in a simple look, and it’s aimed my way. It absolves me of any wrongdoing. It heals me as if I was the injured party.
“What shall we call him?” Nash says.
“I don’t know. I’ve never named a pet before.”
“He deserves a name.”
“Let’s let Max do it.”
“Oh no! I don’t want him to get more attached.”
“No, you want me to,” I say.
Neither one of us denies that’s true.
“How about Prince?” he says ignoring my last statement.
“I don’t like that. It’s too meek for such a survivor.”
“Okay. Think about it. I’m going to put him back and we’ll head out.”
I give the old boy one last bit of love and watch as he’s lead away. He doesn’t want to leave. Oh my God, now I understand how easy it would be to fall in love with a dog.
“Wait! I’ve got it. What about OG? You know like he’s a tough old gangsta. He weathered the wars.
Nash smiles and pats the dogs head. “I love it. You do too, right OG?”
CHAPTER SIX
NASH
Fireworks are still a half hour off, but I’d swear I see the light of sparklers in her eyes. And then there’s that Roman Candle waiting to go off in my pants. This has been a hell of a great day. I feel . . . happy. Balloons and hot dogs, face painters and kid’s games, everywhere you look people are having fun. We talked with Shay and Sherriff Baudouin, who Farrah was already acquainted with. I could tell the women hit it off right away. It was a good conversation because Shay assured Farrah OG would find the right home and family to love.
The whole town seems to have turned out for the celebration and the Santini’s represent. Lana and her family have been here all day, along with my parents. We’ve got a blanket and chairs laid out on the field to watch the show. Alexander and Joseph joined us a few hours ago, not wanting to miss any of the dancing. The only time I’ve seen them out of their love bubble is when they’re trying to slow dance. It’s a bone of contention that they both want to lead.
Mom locked down our platform early in the day. It’s positioned overlooking the open field. God help any interlopers. They’d have to deal with Sophia. There’s benches lining the rail and white lights strung around the perimeter. It looks romantic. Maybe that’s just how I see it. Music streams from the system and all the generations get their share of songs. Right now, the 1970’s “YMCA” is playing. Robert and Lana are teaching Melanie how to spell out the letters with her arms. My father holds Boo and spins her around, singing and laughing. Alexander and Joseph are getting their groove on while Mom’s trying to coach Gregory in the art of dancing with a girl. His first school mixer will be in September. Poor kid, it looks like he’s going to need more time. Farrah, Max and I sit watching from the top of the wooden steps leading to the dance floor.
“I think you’d be a better dance instructor than Nonna.”
Farrah’s intrigued. “Is that right?” she says to Max.
“He’s good. Watch. Go do it, Dad.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence, son.”
I get up and make my way to my pupil.
“Let me have a try, Mom.”
She touches Gregory’s face and gives me a grateful look. “Good. I’ll wait for a slow dance with your father.”
Just as the words leave her mouth, the song changes to Diana Krall’s “If I Had You”.
“Oh, Valentino! Dance with me,” my mother calls.
“Okay this song’s perfect, Gregory,” I say turning his shoulders to me.
“There won’t be any old songs like this.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the pace of the music you need to pay attention to.”
“I’m hopeless. Maybe I’ll just stick to the fast songs.”
“Then you’ll miss the best part. Don’t you want to hold the girl?”
He gives me an embarrassed grin. “Yeah.”
“Okay. First you need to find the beat. It’s easy. Just listen to the timing. Watch me.”
Swaying side to side, I clap my hands to the rhythm.
“See? One, clap. Two, clap. Hear it? That’s the beat. Now you know how fast or slow to move. Then you make it smoother.”
I dial down my exaggerated steps, and instead of a clap I brush the palms of my hands to the beat.
“You don’t have to move much. Less is more when you dance. Then you take the girl in your arms, and she’ll follow your lead.”
He’s watching and he’s eager. But both his steps and his claps are off. I keep dancing in front of him, trying to show him the way. There’s frustration on his face. Meanwhile, Krall’s sexy rendition is burning a hole in my heart. I notice all the other couples are lost in the music. Why am I dancing with a thirteen-year-old boy? That’s when I hear someone behind me following my rhythmic beat, hands softly and perfectly in sync. I turn my head toward the sound. Farrah’s walking down the steps in time to the music. She’s mirroring my movements, but her femininity elevates the dance. It looks a thousand times better than what I’m doing. I turn to face her. Lana calls to her son.
“Gregory, come here. Dance with me.”
Gregory breaks away and takes the rest of the world with him. It’s only Farrah and me. I’m keeping the beat with my hands. When she reaches the dance floor she pauses on the downbeat, just for a few seconds to make sure I’m enjoying the show. Then she keeps moving toward me. I’ve never been so turned on by the look on a woman’s face. We’re completely dressed, we’re not touching and there are no words said. But it’s one of the most sensual moments of my life. She melts into my arms.
We’re dancing. Slow and smooth, she effortlessly follows my lead. These lyrics were written for us. There’s nothing I couldn’t do if I had you. Her head rests on my shoulder, and as I hold her against me I feel more alive than I have in years. Maybe ever. It’s beyond desire, and something greater.
It gets quiet on the dance floor. Now I’m aware of the others. They’re dancing with their partners, but they’re watching us. I’ve got a feeling they’re not going to buy the “just friends” thing anymore. If they ever did.
As the song ends I hear Joseph’s comment to Alexander. “Why don’t you dance with me like that?” He slaps his partner’s arm for emphasis.
The voice over the sound system interrupts the music, but not our spell.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for the Fireworks Extravaganza! The show will begin in ten minutes.”
The rest of the group gathers their belongings, but I don’t want to make any quick moves. What I’m feeling is too good to let go.
“Are you interested in seeing the fireworks?” I whisper.
“Not the ones here,” she answers.
That’s all I need to know.
There’s a state of mind leading up to the first time. Anticipation, excitement, impatience. That’s how it usually plays out for most men. But up until now there’s also what I know will happen afterward. Anticipation to leave, excitement to get back to Max, and impatience to cut the small talk that’s only polite to stay for. That’s what occurs when you have no interest in getting to know a woman and you chose women who want the same of their men.
This is all new.
We’re driving to her house in silence. But there’s fireworks going off everywhere across the sky, and they mirror the shooting stars in my heart. I feel like a schoolboy writing bad poetry about his first girlfriend. I think both of us are deep inside our thoughts, wondering how it’s going to be. There’s something
about it that feels like the first time when I was sixteen. It’s going to be something I’ve never had, and I’m a little nervous. That’s laughable. I’m too experienced to doubt my abilities. Nobody’s ever complained. But this woman . . .
“Are you having second thoughts?” she says.
“What? God no. Only about going the speed limit. That I might do differently.”
I reach out for her hand.
“What about you?”
She just smiles and shakes her head, definite in her choice.
“Finally,” I say as we pull into her driveway.
“I’d like to take a shower first,” she says.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” I give her my best smile. “No more waiting. Come on, help a man out.”
She nods in agreement. “I can do that.”
We get out of the car and walk up the steps to the front door. As she puts the key in the lock, I’m kissing her velvety-skinned neck. The scent is intoxicating. My arms are wrapped around her waist, and her head is leaning back to give my lips better access. She stops to let my hand take its first touch of her ample breasts. God. I can feel the erect nipples through the fabric. I want to have them in my mouth. She reaches back and touches me.
“Open the fucking door,” I beg.
Once inside she throws her purse to the nearest chair and kicks off her shoes. The low lighting in the room and on the staircase sets the scene perfectly.
“Follow me,” she says.
“Anywhere.”
She starts up the stairs, but slowly. First her shirt is lifted over her head. It flies in the air and lands on the banister, sliding down to the floor.
“God, woman,” is all I can say.
The bra comes next. Her naked back is beautiful, flawless. She doesn’t turn around, but just stops. Unbuttoning her shorts, she slowly takes them down and off. Fucking goddess. The deep scar high on her right thigh is going to be kissed later. Another step. She’s wearing those sort of see through half panties that rest low on the hips. Most of her full cheeks are exposed. I’d like to grab the fabric that’s lost between them with my teeth and rip them off. Her confidence is an aphrodisiac. She’s at the top of the stairs.