Good Wood (Carved Hearts)

by L. G. Pace III

  “A woman as lovely as you should not be watching lesser women dance.” He proclaimed, and unable to resist his friendly eyes, I allowed him to pull me to standing.

  “Watch my purse!” I called to Stacy taking one last sip of beer for courage.

  As we approached the dance floor, the band launched into a cover of “Jackson”, the old Johnny Cash and June Carter tune. I’m no dancer, so watching Francis launch into expert two- step moves was both humbling and overwhelming. I shook my head wide-eyed and was about to walk away when I noticed Joe wandering in our direction. He was with some redhead in a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt who had her finger through his belt loop.

  “Teach me!” I called over the music. Francis nodded and pulled me into a waltz like stance. Asking Francis to teach me wasn’t a tough call. Sitting by like a wallflower while Joe pawed all over some 19 year old on the dance floor would be an epic fail. It wasn’t happening.

  Fortunately, Francis was a skilled and enthusiastic instructor. He led me like a pro, spinning me around and guiding me through several repetitive steps. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe walk away from his admirer. I managed to avoid stomping on Fran’s feet but I could feel him watching us. Two other couples joined us and at one point during the song we traded partners with one of the other pairs. I nearly tripped dancing with the much taller cowboy who was probably one hell of a sex God circa 1987. The gathered crowd hooted and hollered, egging us on.

  Thankfully, I’m a quick study at everything I do, and managed not to embarrass myself too badly. Silently, I congratulated myself of the decision to wear cowboy boots and not flip flops. The whole thing turned out to be a lot of fun. By the time we were done, I had a stitch in my side-more from laughing at myself than any sort of physical exertion.

  Francis bowed to me theatrically and I gave him a huge hug. The band took a break and a Willy Nelson ballad blared out of the speakers. Francis hummed along as we danced.

  “Where on earth did you learn to dance like that?” I asked. A momentary flicker of raw emotion cracked his veneer.

  “I wasn’t always like this.” He replied, and the frank look in his eyes nearly made me cry. Then just like that, he plastered on his signature car salesman façade, “I don’t know about you, but I’m parched.” I forced a grin and hooked arms with him once more.

  “We need a shot after that!” I decreed. I tugged him along, breezing by Joe and his ginger friend without so much as a sideways glance. Spotting Stacy and Mac at the bar with Charlie, I headed in their direction.

  “I want a shot of Patrón!” I called to the bartender, and then turned back to my companions. “Who else wants one?”

  “I think I’m going to go…” Stacy started, handing me my purse and the rubber banded bouquet from Fran. She picked her purse up and slung it over her shoulder. She batted her doe eyes at me, evidently forgetting I was female. “I have a hair appointment in the morning.”

  “Yeah. Me too. I have a bunch of errands tomorrow, too.” Mac blurted. Mac was a terrible liar-especially when he was intoxicated. Then he nonchalantly turned to Stacy, “you want to share a cab?”

  “Ugh. For the love of God, just go...” I tossed my shot back and narrowed my eyes at them both. “We don’t need to hear about what you’re sharing.”

  Rather than argue or act even slightly offended, they both just waved and slunk off into the darkness. I turned to Charlie, who seemed to be having some sort of internal debate. That’s when I realized Francis wasn’t around and cringed. I hated rejecting people, but I didn’t find Charlie attractive in the slightest. I decided to just rip the old Band-Aid off and be done with it. I turned and looked back in the direction of the dance floor. Francis had his hand on Joe’s shoulder and they seemed to be having a serious conversation. I secretly hoped he was calling Joe out on being such an asshole.

  “Well? Are you coming to Sixth Street, Charlie?” I asked, feeling the fantastic burn of tequila working its way into my bloodstream. Though the temperature had dropped now that the sun had set, I was feeling just fine in my spaghetti strapped dress. Charlie ran a hand over his white blonde hair and glanced over his shoulder at Joe and Francis. He turned back to me and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Will it be just us…or…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking in the direction of my chest. What normally might have creeped me out any other time just made me punchy in my current state. I waved to the bartender, holding up my shot glass.

  “Why, Charlie. Are you hitting on me?” I focused on him aggressively, and found the way his pale skin reddened highly entertaining.

  “Uhhh…n-no.” He stammered.

  “No?” I pressed him and watched his eyes shift around uncomfortably.

  “Molly. I’m heading out.” Francis called as he approached us with Joe at his side.

  “Me too. I need dessert. Charlie was just leaving, as well.” I informed them. The unmistakable look of relief on Charlie’s face made me giggle out loud as I downed another shot. “Thanks for coming out and thanks so much for the flowers!”

  I gave Francis a loud smacking kiss on the cheek that left a fabulous red lipstick impression. He looked genuinely pleased, and when Charlie offered him a ride, he nodded.

  They headed out of the western archway into the parking lot and Joe stepped into the vacant spot left behind by my barstool. “You’re not driving, are you?”

  “Hell no.” I slipped the bartender a twenty and stood. “I’m cabbing it to Sixth.”

  “I thought you wanted dessert. There are a lot of great places right here in SoCo.” Joe sat down, and I noticed he sounded a little slurred when he spoke. “No offense, but you seem like you’ve had enough to drink.”

  I cackled at that. “I’m pretty sure you’ve had a lot more to drink than I have.”

  “Could be, but I do this all the time.” He replied, and then as if to prove his point, he polished off his bottle of beer.

  “I’ll live. Thanks for the present, by the way. It’s absolutely perfect. You’re an artist. You didn’t need to give me anything, but I love it.” I picked up my purse and flowers and turned to go.

  “Hey, wait. I’ll walk with you.” He started to stand.

  I shook my head and brushed my dark bangs out of my eyes. “You don’t need to. I’m fine.

  “Maybe I want something sweet too.” His level expression did nothing to prevent my mind from shooting in a naughty direction. I tried to squelch the mental pictures, but giving them any attention just made it worse.

  “Oh, yeah? What’d you have in mind?” I murmured coyly.

  He rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Anything but Amy’s Ice Cream.”

  I gaped at him. “How can you not like Amy’s? That’s un-American.”

  He frowned, and I could tell I’d touched a nerve. He paused mid-step, coming to a complete stop amidst the crowd.

  “Come on. I know a place.” I nodded to the southern arch that led back to the street. As I walked down the small incline, I realized how right Joe was. I could feel the alcohol coursing through my veins and I knew if I stopped drinking now, I might feel alright in the morning. I’d walked about fifteen feet before I turned and saw he’d paused at the archway.

  “Are you coming or not?” I called over at him and I winced when it came out a little louder than I meant to.

  “I can’t go to Amy’s.” He replied gruffly, and the anguished look in his eyes drew me back to him. A voice inside me told me I was on a suicide mission and that Joe’s demons were way outside my weight class. Still, his lost expression tugged at my heartstrings. I walked back and stopped a foot in front of him.

  “We’re not going to Amy’s.” I spoke in a calm tone, though I felt anxious at the vibe he was giving off. Whatever his beef was with the ice cream joint, I could tell it was a hard limit for him. “There’s a food truck down that way that makes the absolute best donut holes you’ll ever taste. I think you’ll like the lemon glaze.”

  He locked eyes with me for a moment and I
held out my hand to him. He didn’t move, not even a fraction. His mixed signals were grinding my gears. Bound and determined not to let him ruin what was left of my birthday, I shrugged.

  “Fine.” I forced a light hearted grin. “Your loss.”

  I turned away and dropped the smile. Heaving a large breath that was a combination of exasperation and relief, I walked away. My feelings for Joe were too complicated for my tipsy brain to puzzle through, so it was best for me to be on my own. I was pretty used to it.

  I crossed the alley and passed a long line outside a crowded night club. The thumping music was downright grating, and I zig zagged through the milling people. Dodging the loiterers slowed me a bit, but I finally broke through and out of the bright lights radiating off the club. The next block was much darker, and the lack of noise and people soothed me. Climbing vines on the buildings swayed in the gentle breeze. Enchanted by the funky retro architecture, I took my time, admiring the stucco walls which had been overtaken by greenery. I reached an archway and paused to peek through at the lush garden courtyards of the small inn.

  “Hey, baby. Where ya’ goin’?” I spun around and saw two lanky figures huddled under a tree near the street. They looked like a couple of Hollister rejects, and I was more startled than threatened when they leered at me with unsavory smiles. Like any woman with half a brain, I kept on walking, but the next thing I knew they were flanking me.

  “What’s your name, gorgeous?” The taller of the two asked.

  “Fuck entirely off.” I replied, my eyes focused straight ahead. The man on my right grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me to a halt.

  “I knew you were a bad girl the minute I laid eyes on you. But that’s no way to talk to a guy who wants to buy you a drink.” He still wore a Cheshire smile, but his dark eyes had a hard edge. I couldn’t believe how young he was-maybe not even out of high school. He looked like he was on something. I swear I could actually feel his sidekick behind me. My heart rate doubled at the sheer balls on him, actually laying hands on me. I yanked out of his grip and stepped back from them both.

  “Keep your hands to yourself.” I snapped, dropping my purse and flowers, ready to throw down. With a condescending smirk, the second guy reached out toward me, but then he yanked his hand back as if I was radioactive. I saw their eyes shift away from me to my right. The expressions on their faces reminded me of every victim in every horror film I’d seen at the Alamo Drafthouse.

  That’s when a familiar voice snarled from right behind me. “That ain’t no way to talk to a lady, boys. It’s passed your curfew. Now git.”

  They bolted off across the street, dodging honking cars. I turned to see Joe snatch up my purse and flowers. I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life. He held them out to me. I slowly took them from him, realizing as I slung my purse over my shoulder that I was trembling. I wanted to thank him, but I couldn’t seem to speak. He surveyed me as if assessing me for signs of damage, and then took my hand in his. There was a fiery look in his eyes that I found encouraging considering his earlier mood.

  “Come on.” His gritty voice seemed thicker than usual. “You promised me something sweet.”

  Before I had to reply, he tugged me in the direction of downtown. We walked silently hand in hand for a couple of blocks. My mind was reeling from the encounter with the men and the fact that Joe refused to release my hand. When I finally snapped out of my swirling thoughts, I realized we were at a stoplight. I turned my head to the right.

  Amy’s Ice Cream.

  The line in front of the cheerfully lit corner parlor stretched further than the one at the nightclub had. I casually looked over at Joe. He stared straight ahead, his shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed slightly. I adjusted my hand in his, entwining our fingers. The street light seemed to take forever to change and the air felt heavy around us. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and he gave me a swift sideways glance as the light changed.

  We walked for another block when we came to a graveled lot that housed three food trucks. Each was lit up with twinkling lights. The smells from the Peruvian truck were tempting, but it was the silver bullet-style trailer behind it we were after. I reclaimed my hand and pointed toward it.

  “You want me to eat something from a place called ‘Glazed Balls?’” He uttered a genuine laugh. The sound soothed my jangled nerves and I joined him with laughter of my own.

  Minutes later we were biting into layers of dough and sugar. He’d ordered a traditional cake donut hole, and I’d ordered the lemon glaze. He made a lusty sound as he chewed his first bite and I nodded in agreement.

  “My god.” He said around a mouthful of carbs.

  “I know, right? Taste this.” I replied, offering him a bite from the untouched side of mine. He shook his head. “Taste it, Joe!”

  He relented and after taking a small bite his eyes went wide as he slowly savored the citrus glaze. “Wow.”

  “Told you.” I nodded smugly.

  “If I keep hanging out with you I’m going to get fat.” He remarked. I watched him take another bite of his treat, and my eyes were drawn to his lips which were coated with sugar crystals. I wasn’t certain if it was the influence of the alcohol or the adrenaline rush from my close encounter with the Proactiv duo, but I really wanted a rain check on our thwarted kiss.

  “Ummm…Joe?” My voice sounded all airy and high pitched. I stood and took a step toward him. Seated like he was, I had to look down into his eyes.

  “Hmmm?” He grunted, swallowing his bite. When he looked up, surprise registered on his face due to my sudden closeness.

  “You have something right here.” I whispered, and though I’d planned to wipe his lips with my napkin, I surprised myself by leaning forward and capturing his bottom lip between mine. I sucked on it gently, feeling the sugar flood my tongue. When his hand slipped behind my neck pulling me further into him, he tasted even sweeter. His tongue slipped into my mouth, grazing mine cautiously and then slowly gliding across the roof of my mouth.

  A whimper escaped me and was lost in the midst of our intensifying kiss. His other hand came up and gripped my hair and I heard his food drop to the ground beside us. Mine was crushed somewhere between our chests, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was having more of him. Because kissing Joe felt way more incredible than I’d even imagined.

  His mouth broke free from mine with some effort. “Molly.”

  “More.” I demanded like a petulant child, my wrists slipping around his neck. It was my birthday, dammit. Drunk and selfish, I wanted to fulfil the first item I’d ever had on a bucket list. I wanted Joe Jensen in my bed. He pulled his mouth back from mine just far enough to speak against my cheek.

  “Jesus. I’m trying to get you home safe, not become the big bad wolf everyone always warned you about.” He took a step back from me and looked around like he was searching the air for some solution. Torn. With a frustrated sigh, he raked a hand through his hair. Noticing the undeniable bulge in his jeans, my ache for him intensified. I needed him to see things my way.

  I felt my lip curl as I held his eyes with mine. “Aren’t you gonna eat me like the story says?”

  His jaw tightened and his features transformed as he looked at me like he was ready for some more dessert.

  “You’d better watch that smart mouth, little girl.” His tone darkened as he pulled me toward the street.

  “Or what?” I challenged. The taunt in my voice was obvious.

  “I’m not made of steel.” He practically whispered as his eyes dropped to the bulge in his jeans. “Well, at least not all of me is.”

  I stifled a self-satisfied giggle as Joe waved down a passing cab and pulled open the door. At his silent demand, I eagerly slid inside. He climbed after me.

  “Where are you headed?” The driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. Joe looked at me expectantly and I rattled off my address. We shot off down the road and I lifted my fingers to my lips, which still felt swollen and numb. We swung wide as we
took a corner and I used it as an excuse to rest my head on Joe’s shoulder. I heard him release a ragged breath, and then his head rest against mine.

  I felt chills when his stubble brushed against my cheek as he turned to kiss the hair near my temple. Unable to restrain myself, I lifted my face in his direction. By the lights of the dashboard, I saw trepidation shining in his eyes. Then his lips found mine once more and I was completely lost in him until the car came to a halt. The cabbie cleared his throat.

  “We’re here, y’all.”

  Pulling open my purse, I tossed an unknown sum of cash in his direction and climbed out of the cab. It must have been enough, because he rolled down his window and cheerfully called out ‘have a blessed day’. He peeled out the second Joe shut the door.

  We climbed the stairs to my place in silence. My apartment was over the carriage house of a small 1930’s mansion. I’d looked for a long time to find something with character, and my patience paid off. When we got to my door, I handed him my bouquet so I could dig for my keys.

  “You know you can toss these now, right? He’ll never know.” He inspected the yellow and purple bouquet, unimpressed.

  I shook my head as I swung the door open. “Not a chance. Wildflowers are my favorite. They don’t have to be tended-or even watered, really. They just…bloom.”

  I stepped inside and switched on the lamp by the door. I moved to the kitchen and immediately pulled a tall glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. Plopping the flowers into it, I carried them back into the living room where Joe stood with his hand in his pockets, looking at the pictures on the mantle of my electric fireplace.

  “I can’t believe you live here.” He remarked, his eyes fixated on a picture of me and my dad. I looked like I was about seven, with curly pigtails and a gap toothed grin. The last thing I needed was for Joe to start thinking of me as a little girl again. Time to get him focused.