Packing Heat

by Zuri Day

  “Oh my gosh, really, Doug?”

  “Well, not verbatim but . . . something like that.”

  “Where does she work?”

  “An agency called H.E.L.P. They help young people get their lives together.”

  “I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds like a good cause.”

  “It is. My niece was going through some things and the program helped turn her around.”

  “Where and when?”

  “I don’t know all that. Told her I’d tell you about it and if you’re interested, give you the number to her office.”

  “Yes, I will definitely give her a call.” He relayed the number. “Thanks, Doug. Wow, I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem. Later we can negotiate my agent or manager compensation . . . whatever they call the person who books you jobs and makes you money.”

  “And here I thought you were just being nice.”

  “I am. And when you pay me, that’s what you’ll be doing.”

  “Ha! You’re a trip.”

  “I get it honest.”

  “Your dad’s a jokester?”

  “No, my mom.” A companionable silence fell as neither seemed in a hurry to hang up the phone. “So what did you do today, go to church?”

  “No, I didn’t make it to church this morning.”

  “But you’re usually there.”

  “As often as possible, but not as regularly as when I sang in the choir. What about you?”

  “Christmas and Easter when I was a kid. But now I’d look kind of stupid just showing up for the candy basket.”

  “You. Are. Stupid!”

  “Hey, I’m keeping it real. Speaking of, what are you doing later?” The flirt was back.

  “I thought you said you weren’t trying to date me.”

  “I’m not. I just asked what you were doing. As a friend.”

  “Uh-huh. Your friend is going over to her cousin’s house to spend time with her newest niece.”

  “Better be careful. Babies are catching.”

  “Not unless it’s by way of immaculate conception.”

  “Dang, drought season, huh?”

  “You know what?”

  “Ha! Girl, I’m playing.”

  “Let me get off this phone before I say something I later regret.”

  “Something like me helping you make it rain?”

  “Bye, Doug.”

  “So you’re afraid to go out with me?”

  “Of course not. Why would I be afraid?”

  “Since I’ve said I don’t want to date you either, I have no idea.”

  “I hesitate because men sometimes say one thing and mean another.”

  “I tell you what, if I ever want to hit it, I’ll make sure the request is very clear. Now, do you want to go out or what?”

  “Where?”

  “Do you like to bowl?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

  “Never! What was your fun growing up? Skating?”

  “No.”

  “Parties?”

  “Are you kidding? Not with my mom.”

  “What did you do for fun?”

  “Hung out with my cousin mostly. We both love music and could spend hours in our rooms just reading about the lives of our favorite artists in music magazines, playing their hits and trying to match them note for note and dance move for dance move in front of my mirrored closet doors.”

  “Was Nick Starr one of your favorites?”

  “Yep, I had a huge crush.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s why you want to be on his show so bad. You’ve still got that crush.”

  “Trust me, I am not his type in any shape, form, or fashion. So there is no delusional fantasy happening, just a sistah with a passion wanting a break.”

  “Let’s take one now.” When she remained silent, he pushed his luck. “Where do you live? I’ll pick you up.”

  “Thanks, but Lionel, Mom, and I are spending the day together. Lately, we haven’t done that enough.”

  “I hear you. Then what about next weekend, say Friday night?”

  “To go bowling.”

  “Trust me, you’ll have a good time. I’ll pick you up.”

  “No, I’ll drive myself.”

  “Damn. Okay sometime between now and then I’ll text you the address.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  17

  The week flew by. Once again Jan wasn’t this week’s reality show pick. But she was still in the running. Even more, on Friday night she found herself doing something she hadn’t done for months. Going on a date-that-wasn’t-really-a-date. She’d been so focused on singing and work that it had taken Crystal to remind her how long it had been.

  “You? Going out?” She’d marveled when Jan called and shared the news.

  “Don’t act so surprised,” had been her response.

  “Don’t act like this is routine,” Crystal had countered. “When is the last time you called and told me about a date?”

  It had been six months ago exactly, a doozy of a disaster that began as an invitation to see Jill Scott and Erykah Badu in concert. Unfortunately the date thought a night of sex was included in the ticket purchase price. Toward the end of the concert he asked her to come over and spend the night. She informed him that after the concert she was going to her house, not his. Five minutes later the jerk went to the restroom and never came back. The subsequently required taxi ride cost Jan a bill with Ben’s face on it. So when Doug suggested he pick her up and they ride together, she told him she’d meet him instead.

  She entered the bowling alley and was immediately assaulted with a cacophony of sound: balls rolling on wood, balls striking pins, arcades pinging, music playing, and at least fifty people chattering at once. After a quick look around and not seeing Doug, she reached for her phone. At the same time, someone tapped her shoulder.

  “Looking for me?”

  “Hey! Where were you?”

  “In the other room. Playing pool.”

  “The bowling alley seems to be a happening place. Who knew?”

  “And here it took almost a month for you to go out with me. See what you’ve been missing?”

  She looked around her. “A lot of fun, from the looks of things.”

  “I’m glad you recognize. Come on. Let’s get you some shoes and get started.”

  “Why can’t I wear my own?”

  He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’ve never bowled.”

  “I’m not into sports. That’s not illegal.”

  “It should be. Bowling alleys use a special wood on their floors. Regular street shoes will mess it up. So you have to wear bowling shoes. Did you bring socks?”

  “I have to wear their shoes and socks, too?”

  “Man, newbies.” He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” Taking her arm, he told her, “Come with me.”

  They walked to the other side of the counter. Jan’s brow raised. “A vending machine? With socks?”

  “Yes, for people like you.”

  After getting Jan properly outfitted, they went to their assigned lane. Doug lifted several balls from the holder before choosing one for Jan. “I think this one will be good for you,” he said.

  “Why, because it’s lavender?”

  “No, because the balls are different weights and this one is lighter.”

  “So, you think I’m a lightweight?”

  “No, I know you are. Put your fingers in the hole, like this.” She complied. “Now watch a master at work.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You really need to work on your self-esteem.”

  Doug’s demeanor switched from playful to serious as he walked over to the lane and crouched slightly while studying the pins. Jan watched, noting his nice arms, long legs, and cute butt. He’s not a bad-looking guy. Though she wouldn’t call him “hot,” as her cousin had. Jan preferred her men in suit and tie, well-coiffed, understated fine jewelry. She’d dated a couple men who
fit this bill. Had their character been as polished as their wardrobe, she’d be like Crystal right now . . . married with children. Nick Starr fit that bill. But for the chance to be his missus, she’d have to get in the back of a very long line.

  After studying the lane, Doug took his arm back and then swung it forward, releasing the ball midway. It swiftly rolled down the middle toward the center pin and hit it, which knocked down all the rest.

  “Bam!” He turned to her. “Did you see that?”

  “You knocked down all the pins.”

  “Yes!”

  “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

  He gave her a look. “It’s not as easy as I make it look.”

  “You threw a heavy ball at them. How hard can it be?”

  “Get your smart behind over here and I’ll show you.”

  Over the next hour Jan learned that not only was knocking down all the pins difficult, for a newbie like her it was downright impossible. For the first several tries she hit nothing but the gutter, no matter where she aimed. Finally, Doug came and stood by her side.

  “Let me show you something. Copy my moves, okay?” She nodded. “After focusing on that first pin, and envisioning your ball hitting it squarely in the middle, you want to bend your legs just slightly, balance your weight equally.”

  “There’s quite a bit of it.”

  He gave her stretch skinny jeans and fitted top emphasizing the girls a quick once-over. “There’s just enough. Okay, bend your arm a little, like this.” He took her arm, angled it slightly, then pulled it straight back. “Now, keep your wrist straight.” He touched it. “Tighten it up a little more. That’s it. Okay, when you’re bringing the ball forward, you’re going to rotate your hand, wrist, everything this way, to the left, and let the ball go somewhere around here.” He placed his ball low, near his ankles. “Then you just—” He released the ball. It slowly rolled down the middle of the lane and even without the added force, knocked over eight pins.

  “Now, your turn.”

  Maybe, but Jan didn’t plan on hitting pins. That’s because after his “just enough” comment, and his quick body scan, his lip perched just so and his fingers gently touching parts of her anatomy . . . she hadn’t heard another word he said. He hadn’t meant it to be an intimate gesture, she knew, but it had been so long since she’d been handled with such skill that his hand on her wrist alone had produced a heat wave down south. If he’d hug her right now like he hugged her in the parking lot, Jan was almost sure there’d be an orgasm in lane six.

  “How long are you going to study those pins?”

  “I’m almost ready.” Yes, she was. Ready to stop playing and handle a different set of balls.

  She forced these thoughts away, concentrated, and released the ball. Where Doug’s ball looked like the electric slide, hers looked more like the wobble. But it didn’t go into the gutter. Instead . . . she knocked down a pin! Jan whooped as if she’d hit a strike. For this first-timer, it was close enough. In their third game, she even hit a spare.

  They played a few more and then turned in their shoes. “Want to grab a bite?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve got a lot of running to do tomorrow and it’s been a long week.”

  They walked outside. “Where are you parked?”

  “Over there.” They began walking in the direction she pointed. “That was fun.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. After you got the rhythm of that swing, you did okay.”

  “I was horrible.”

  “It was your first time. You were fine.”

  “That’s putting it kindly. You’re a pro.”

  “I’ve been doing it for a long time, since I was a kid.”

  “So you like bowling, motorcycles . . . what else?”

  “Sports, mainly football. Video games. And just about anything with barbeque sauce on it.”

  “Oh no, you’re one of those.”

  “What’s wrong with barbeque?”

  She shook her head. “Not that. The video games?”

  “What’s wrong with those?”

  “They’re addictive. My brother can play for hours.”

  “There’s worse things he could be doing.”

  “Better things, too.”

  “That’s you right there, right?” She nodded. “Do you have gas?”

  “Ha! Yes, a half a tank.”

  They reached her car. She hit her key fob. The doors unlocked. “Thank you, Doug. You’re pretty cool to hang out with. I really had a good time.”

  “You’re welcome.” His eyes dropped from her eyes to her lips. He took a step forward.

  She took a step back.

  “Where are you going? I was just going to give you a hug.”

  “That’s not what it looked like.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “Like you were going to . . . never mind.”

  “What, kiss you?” He took another step. She was back against the car. “Like this?”

  He licked his lips as his head bent slowly toward hers. Just before touching hers he stopped. Waited. She leaned in. Their lips touched. Simple. Innocent. He kissed her once. Again. A final time.

  “Call me when you get home, okay?”

  “Okay,” she managed, hoping her noodle legs wouldn’t give out before she got into the car. Once inside she waved him away, squeezing her thighs to calm her throbbing nub. Was it because she’d been celibate for eight months? Or was it because Doug had done the kissing? What was it about that man that so turned her on?

  She didn’t know. But in this moment she admitted the truth to herself. She wanted to find out.

  18

  For Jan, Saturday morning came early thanks to Crystal’s wake-up call.

  “What do you want?”

  “Is that any way to answer the phone?”

  “It is when the caller is your cousin, it’s not yet eight a.m., and you work the p.m. shift.”

  “Actually, it’s a minute past eight. Being the considerate person that I am, I made sure of that.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jan yawned, stretched, and waited for conversation.

  “So . . .”

  “So, what?”

  “Your date, that’s what! How’d it go?”

  “Why do you keep calling it that?”

  “Because when two people go out, that’s what it’s called.”

  “We went bowling. It was fun.”

  “Bowling?”

  “That’s how I felt. You know I’m not sports oriented.”

  “That’s why I’m surprised. Both that you agreed to play and that you thought it was fun.”

  “It was. I’d never been to a bowling alley and was surprised to find it a popular spot on a Friday night. Have you ever bowled before?”

  “No, but Brent does and if you can learn how, then I know I can.”

  “Whatever.”

  “It could be a great double date.”

  “Who said I planned to go out with him again?”

  “You don’t?”

  Jan sighed and adjusted the pillow as she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Doug is a good enough guy and after hanging with him last night I admit he’s a little cuter than I gave him credit for, but . . .”

  “But, what?”

  “Girl, you know why. I’m not trying to get involved again with someone in whom I don’t see a forever kind of future. I tried that before and we both know what happened.”

  “You can’t judge all men on one experience.”

  “You asked.”

  “He’s a nice-looking guy, works full-time, appreciates your singing, and is obviously interested in you. What’s missing?”

  “Drive. Ambition.”

  “How do you know whether he’s ambitious or not?”

  “If he was, he wouldn’t be working at a post office.”

  “Seriously, Janice? You work there! So do you know how crazy that sounds?”

&nb
sp; “For me it’s temporary. For him, it’s a career.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Cuz, we’re not twelve anymore. Don’t you think if your knight was going to ride out of that fairy tale and down your street it would have happened by now?”

  “Who’s to say it still can’t happen? I’m not going to lower my standards just because it’s taking me longer than it took you.”

  “I’m not saying you should lower your standards. But you may want to redefine them.”

  “I just know what I want. And I don’t see the benefit of dating someone just to say I have a man. Even though he is a good kisser and it has been a while.”

  “So there is a physical attraction. At least now I know you’re alive.”

  “Yes, after last night I had to admit that to myself. He’s funny, too, but life is serious. After a while his carefree attitude would probably get on my nerves.”

  “His attitude is probably just what you need to loosen up.”

  “I’m not uptight. I just don’t have time for foolishness.”

  “It’s not foolish to be happy. Maybe if you let go of past hurts and current expectations, and unlock your heart, you’ll find that out.”

  They talked a bit more before Crystal was called to mommy duty. For Jan, the rest of the weekend dragged. Doug didn’t call and she refused to call him. Told herself there was no reason. As if there had to be. Told herself that it didn’t matter. But it did.

  On Monday morning, Jan called Cynthia. Doug had stated that his sister-in-law worked nine to five-thirty, so being considerate, like her cousin, Jan waited until a minute past the hour to do so.

  “Good morning, this is the H.E.L.P. Agency. How may I direct your call?”

  “Hi. May I speak to Cynthia Carter?”

  “May I tell her whose calling?”

  “Jan Baker.”

  “One moment, Ms. Baker.”

  It was a potentially low-paying gig for an office party, but Jan was still nervous. While waiting for Cynthia to answer, she paced the room.

  “Hello, Cynthia Carter.”

  “Hi, Cynthia, it’s Jan Baker, the singer who works with Doug.”

  “Yes, Jan. He said you’d be calling. How are you?”

  “I’m good, and you?”

  “I’m fine. Glad you called. I really enjoyed you and the band the other night. Is there any chance you’re available for a holiday party on December 26th? That’s a Saturday night.”