Eye of the Tiger

by Melanie Greene

  Thirty minutes later, he maneuvered himself to meet Natalie in line at the bar. "Hey."

  "It's going okay so far." She held up crossed fingers.

  He sighed. "You look great."

  "You don't have to sound so morose about it."

  "I've seen you embrace at least four people tonight, but haven't gotten my hands on you yet. And I lied. You don't look great. You look hotter than the Fourth of July."

  "I ran into some old clients. And that was the worst line I've ever heard. I'm speaking as someone who's heard a lot of lines."

  He didn't doubt it. "It can't be the very worst."

  She requested her Chianti, and his beer. He dropped a tip in the jar and led her to a service hallway. The catering staff moved in and out of a door to the left, so they slid into the right-hand door's vestibule. The door itself was locked, but they had a little space to talk without risking being overheard.

  "They don't suspect, do they?"

  He shook his head. He'd just noticed the subtle gold necklace she wore, with a small ruby drop that beckoned from right above her cleavage. Her earrings were bright clusters that tried to force his gaze to her eye level, but they were fighting a losing battle.

  "Evan?"

  He swigged beer. Half the bottle gone trying to lower his core temp. "I don't think they do. Even Dad hasn't been hinting."

  "My mom has."

  "Yeah, well. She would."

  Her teeth gleamed more than the earrings. They drew him forward.

  "If you touch me, I wrinkle."

  "If I touch your pants, they wrinkle," he corrected. "Maybe you shouldn't wear linen when you don't want people to know I grope you."

  "Maybe," she leaned in, "you shouldn't grope me if you don't want people to know you grope me."

  Her fingers traced his collar, drew down the center of his tie. He swallowed. "My shirt would wrinkle, too."

  "Your pants won't."

  He let her palm continue its path in that direction. Let her feel how hard it was to redirect her fingers to a more polite handhold. "The fireworks haven't started yet. And they're supposed to be outside."

  Her lips, parting. Moving in. Bodies still not quite touching, linked only by their fingers, but generating enough heat to wrinkle her damn linen no matter how much sizing she might have ironed into them. "Pow," she said, almost silent, the ‘P’ chasing the breath of air that touched him just before her kiss.

  Playing with damn fine fire. She'd had fun catching up with his parents, and gotten a lead from a couple she'd sold a Rice Village four-bedroom to the year before, but mostly she'd been aware, all night, of Evan.

  They should have made time to meet before his parents arrived. It was a hormone thing. After weeks of fervid sex, it was difficult to back-burner it for five days in a row. They had to wait until Tuesday for Marisa and Koray to head back to Atlanta. So a little light necking would appease the demon.

  Why not get full use of her strongest lip stain, after all? She hadn't worn it solely for its ability to not leave prints on glasses. Elaine wouldn't be able to pick out a single smudge. She could suck off Evan’s hard-on and still have perfect lips.

  The cool condensation of his beer bottle slid past her elbow, reminding her to keep her wine upright even as the rest of her tilted into him. He tasted boozy and spicy and happy. His thumb drew shapes inside her wrist, drew out goosebumps on her arms, drew fanciful fantasies about picking the lock to the storage room at her back.

  Evan shifted the longneck to his other hand and took his damp fingers to her neckline. She shifted, careful. So careful. If he touched her breasts, she'd sink, and so much for the pants. So much for the clips in her hair. So much for his tie, and she knew by now how fussy he was about his ties.

  He didn't touch them. She wanted it, she wanted the cool glass to brand her skin, followed by his hot mouth. But they were each somewhere near half-sensible, and between them that made for just enough restraint. Lips, fingers, lips again, that was all they were letting touch.

  "I've got another limerick for you." His voice was a match igniting the fuse of her nerves.

  Nat watched his mouth, waiting for his next move. Waiting for words to make her laugh, since each indrawn breath tightened the tension in her chest.

  "Okay, here goes: Now don't tell my folks how I cussed / When I first got a look at your bust."

  His saying it, his eyes fixed on her chest, killed the humor. Her breasts swelled, pressing tighter against their confinement. He was shielding her some. Enough that she didn't stop herself from strumming her nipples.

  Now his voice was the rough grit for the match to spark against. "Your grip on my cock / Had me hard as a rock."

  She was wrong about her makeup. She was going to bite all the color off if he didn't shut up. She wanted to lower his zipper, pump that cock. Feel him thick and salty against her tongue. Wanted his sure fingers to stop the bucking of her hips in the empty air between them.

  He wrapped his palm across the nape of her neck and held her for his firm, sure kiss. His tongue doing what it could to ease the terrible tension between them, but bringing it all right back when he broke off for his last, incendiary line: "And I was desperate to thrust and thrust."

  She retreated. Careful. It was that or wrestle him to the floor, public hallway or not. He leaned against the opposite wall. They both worked on restoring breathing. A last sip before lining her empty glass and his empty bottle along the baseboard. Her own hands on her own body. His hands on his. They were watching each other straighten, adjust. She touched her lips, and he nodded. She nodded at his tie.

  When Marisa and Koray found them, they might have passed for casual. He projected interest in the potential sale of the house around the corner from her clients.

  "Leticia showed us pictures from some of your double dates," Koray said. He was protecting his cards, and Natalie scrambled to think up the best bluff. They knew about Luke's initial need for a wingman, and her subsequent friendship with Leticia was a thin rope, but maybe enough to cling to.

  Evan said, "We've had some fun using some of the unclaimed client tickets. I'm getting to know Houston."

  Yes, the tourism angle. She and her mom had met his parents on a group tour; they understood about arranged activities.

  "The one of you two kissing after Houston scored is my favorite," Marisa said. Marisa may as well never have heard of a poker face in her life. Evan's brow wrinkled as he looked between the three of them, which is exactly how Natalie would have looked if she hadn't temporarily frozen.

  Koray pulled them both into a hug. Kissed both their cheeks. Marisa said, "Elaine hinted about this, but I dismissed it as wishful thinking. You've both been just a little too sneaky to be believed, but still. I'd decided to believe you until I heard otherwise. And now, I've heard otherwise. Koray, let the children go. It's my turn."

  As his mom leaned up to hold Evan in place for a kiss, his eyes met Nat's. She shook her head. She'd been completely drained of every thought but one.

  They should have gotten sex out of the way before his parents came to town.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She fled. No other word for it, As soon as his parents gave her an opening, she babbled something about networking, and fled. Not like he could blame her, because this was two things: a disaster, and all his fault.

  He'd been too private and proud to explain all the elements to Luke, to ask Leticia to keep the true nature of their relationship quiet. Nothing wrong with what he and Nat were doing. Plenty of others in the world in the same position. He felt pathetic explaining that two consenting people in their thirties were keeping their relationship secret because their moms wanted to play matchmakers. So he'd played the odds that they could manage the story, and lost.

  "How long has this been going on?" Dad asked. He'd yet to stop smiling. Mom's eyes were bright. She kept reaching up to fluff his hair, like she'd done before every big event his whole childhood. Their happiness slayed him. He knew they had these b
ig dreams about all their kids finding love and whatever, but they weren't usually so overt. Well, that wasn't true. They'd been blatant about Natalie, in all those emails from Turkey, telling everyone how sweet she was, how bright and fun, how thoughtful. Each new one prompted Danny to text, "I hear Evan's getting married." Or Ben to say, "Evan's in looooove." Or Alice to play with different color combinations of heart emojis.

  It was hard to credit that his siblings were almost all in their forties. They'd been teasing him throughout his life, and a little middle age wasn't enough to stop them. On some level, he'd thought his parents were also joking around. Acting more invested than they really were. Even though their hopping on board Elaine's matchmaker train generated, they had to know, fodder for the siblings.

  The way Mom and Dad vibrated right in front of him made him wonder if they'd noticed the snark from their older kids. "I just knew you two would work," Mom said. "The day we met her, right, Koray? Such a trooper, when her luggage was lost, and did we tell you about her shoes? She only had the ones from the plane, and Elaine's feet are so small, she couldn't help--"

  "I know about her shoes, Mom. She told me how you and Dad took her shopping."

  It was hard to believe, but Mom's eyes got even brighter. "Did she? Well."

  "A sweet girl. You told me you weren't dating, but your friends told us about dinners and plays and games. Are we going to find out you're married from some stranger's photo stream some day?"

  "Not if they don't tag me, you won't." He should shut up before Dad redoubled his cyber stalking. He'd probably have alerts for Natalie set up by the fireworks finale. If he didn't already.

  "You're talking marriage? Oh, Evan."

  "Mom, no. Retreat a few steps. It's just, you know, casual. That's why we didn't say anything. We know all you parents are trying to get us together."

  "I never said that." Mom put her hand to her heart, looking in her star-spangled dress more pledge of allegiance-ready than shocked.

  He rubbed her upper arm. "Subtlety is not your middle name."

  "So you lied to us about dating Natalie because you're not serious about her?" She'd gotten all crestfallen, and he floundered.

  "Well...I suppose it started out that way."

  "In case you decided she's terrible?"

  "I wouldn't date someone terrible."

  Dad interrupted the interrogation. "Seems you're past the point of deciding she's not terrible. You're kissing in hallways and have been for weeks. Are you seeing anyone else?"

  "What? No, of course not."

  "So you're exclusive."

  He'd never put it like that. "We--yes, okay, we're exclusive."

  "And that's not serious for you?"

  "Dad."

  "I know I'm an old married man and I don't understand kids these days. You don't have to remind me I'm obsolete."

  "No one thinks you're obsolete."

  Dad squared up to him, close so his serious tone was impossible to miss. Every time Dad did this, Evan's shoulders automatically firmed, as if Dad were an anti-masseuse. "Oğlum, all we want is your happiness. Yes, when your mother and I met Natalie, we felt she could be part of that for you. I understand why you kept it private at first. But now we know, I'm asking for you to include us in your news. We'll try to not be overbearing--your mother will, anyway, and I promise to listen to her. Can we celebrate this news with you now? Can you keep us informed, so if there is an engagement, we hear about it from you first?"

  Evan nodded. Dad squeezed his shoulders. When he leaned in to kiss Evan's cheek, Evan suspected he was hiding tears. All this time, it seemed his parents had held back. Because now that they thought he and Natalie were a real thing, each of them glowed with joy. He cleared his throat. "No engagement just yet."

  Mom broke into their circle, taking one of Dad's arms for herself. "Okay, but how serious is serious? Are you discussing the future? Will she come to New Orleans for Chloe and Ben's birthday weekend?"

  "Calm down. You ought to at least let us move in together first."

  "You're moving in with her?" Dad laughed and clasped Evan's back. His mom threw herself into the group hug. Just as well, because with them pressed into him, neither could read Evan's expression. He was sure it was horrified. Damn his go-to defensive joking. Now they believed him, and any pinch of reserve about butting into his romantic life had dissipated.

  His problem was, his whole life he tested the waters by joking about his plans. It allowed him to calibrate how much trouble he would be in if he failed to follow through. 'That's nice, dear' meant he could turn back to shore unimpeded. If his throwaway lines had them jumping to chart his route and wish him a good voyage, he knew he couldn't easily veer off course. Quitting baseball after junior year? They'd given him free rein to talk it through with the coach. Going after a summer internship at Mom's firm? They brought him in every afternoon for a week to observe various departments, so he could speak knowledgeably about workflow during his interview.

  Not that moving in with Natalie was on a par with quitting baseball. He had no idea why he'd said it. Dad's big speech about missing out had made him queasy, and this celebratory hug was a thick dose of anti-nausea meds. Hard to swallow, but soothing in the end. He and Natalie would make a plan, work something out. They'd been excellent communicators so far. She'd understand about it being a parent-son thing. Their secret was blown. She'd see how telling them what they wanted to hear meant a measure of peace.

  He needed to alert her in private, and fast. Very fast. Mom dabbed under her eyes, offering up a wry smile for a passing waiter. Dad slung an arm across him, pulling him into a walk and talk back to the party. Evan palmed his phone. He would text her, get her away again, warn her.

  Tell her he'd taken the flopping fish of their being caught and flipped it from frying pan into fire. And all before the fireworks had begun.

  Her intention had been to confess a little light dating to Elaine. Explain they'd kept it under wraps because it was no big deal. An occasional group thing. Evan would spin it the same way with Marisa and Koray, or close enough.

  Her mom, though, had gone invisible in the crowd. Natalie did run into Lionel Harbison. He was on the Board of Trustees of Houston Health and Housing, and back in March they'd met at Houston Green's Spring Gala. She updated him about her progress towards becoming a housing counselor. She couldn't get certified unless and until she found a position, but that hadn't stopped her from reading up on the Dodd-Frank Act and taking several online training courses on the six competency areas of the exam. Lionel hinted that she should keep an eye on job postings, which was distraction enough for her to take her eye off Elaine. By the time she shook Lionel's hand, she'd lost her mom.

  The Lees were also lost in the crush. As darkness descended outside, more guests were arriving to be in place for the launch of the various firework shows. The downtown ones would be the clearest, of course, but those at Hermann Park and the Galleria meant viewers at any of the windows would be treated to sparkly explosions. She headed to the northern-most area, hoping her mom had staked out a good spot and stayed put.

  Evan texted while she was talking to Lionel, but wasn't answering her return message. She caught sight of him talking to three bald men, his self-assured stance and firm, serious nods at odds with the barbershop quartet vibe they projected thanks to their patriot-hued attire and the one guy's hat. She would have approached, but Elaine came barreling out between two chattering groups and smothered her in a hug.

  "Marisa just told me. I thought something was up when I brought over the empanadas, but not this. It's not like you to keep such big secrets from me. Mazel tov, Natalie. I'm so proud of you."

  "Proud?" She extricated herself. "Mom, it's not a pride thing. I'm not Dr. Frankenstein. I didn't create him from parts. Just because we happen--"

  "Oh, I know, I know. You've given me all the lectures about femininity and power and so on. Don't start again."

  "Feminism. Not femininity."

  "Whichever
. My point is, after Chris, you were so shattered."

  "I wouldn't say shattered. Confused, and hurt. Angry."

  "Shattered, like I was when your daddy left me at the chuppah, and I didn't think you'd easily come to trust again, and here you are, moving in together."

  "Not shattered. And Dad broke it off before your wedding day." Her mom was overfond of her story of standing alone under the chuppah--rarely mentioning that in one sense, she hadn't been alone. She'd been carrying Natalie when her fiancé broke it off, three days before chuppah construction began.

  The rest of Elaine's giddy-fast words caught up with Natalie, hushing her up about the past. For years, she had shown obvious tear-downs like they were redeemable, and nodded thoughtfully when buyers made offers so lowball a pee-wee player wouldn't swing at them, and shared office space with Carter. So she knew how to keep her face calm while thinking fast.

  "About moving in," she began.

  "I take it he's going to your house? Because that condo of his, how would you fit your sofa in there? And you must use your sofa, it's too gorgeous to give up."

  "Mom, slow down. The truth is, we haven't quite talked through the logistics. I mean, nothing's certain."

  For example, she was certain they'd never talked about living together, yet here her mom was, rearranging her furniture. It was one thing to be busted. This was another, entirely alien, thing. She hadn't even lived with Chris, and they'd been together three years. In an actual relationship. With proper romance and dates and weekend getaways and stuff. Well, one weekend getaway. Between her job and his flight schedule, they hadn't managed more. Gillian had added that to the pyre of reasons Chris hadn't been good enough for her, but at least Chris had never moved in while Nat's back was turned.

  All it took for a man to earn Elaine's approval was ownership of a hammer and an aura of capability. The hammer was negotiable. Her enthusiasm for Nat's future with Evan was stratospheric now that she thought her daughter would have a man not only in her life, but actually in her house, taking care of all those outmoded gender-role things. Waxing the car and moving boxes in the attic and configuring the sound system.