“Why were you in jail?” she blurts out immediately upon sitting.
“I was friends with the wrong people, bad influences. They made money sound like the only way to be someone. So, we robbed a shit ton of places and one of which was at gunpoint. I was stupid and thought that my shit didn’t stink.”
“And now?”
“And now? Now I’m older and wiser. I know better and look back on those days as not being mature enough to understand the consequences of my actions. If it was now, I wouldn’t think twice and turn that shit down in an instant. Besides, I’m wiser with my choice of friends.”
“So, you can say that you’re a new man?”
“I would say that I grew up. I was a child then, and now, yes, a new man.”
“That’s cool,” she nods, playing with a strand of her hair.
“What about you? What’s your story?” I ask her.
“Grew up around here, got my real estate license and cats.”
“Cats who control your schedule,” I smile.
“I mean, they’re like little children. They need to be fed, and I need to clean up after them,” she shrugs.
“And that, along with the small-town gossip, is why you don’t want to stay longer than a quick fuck?” I ask her.
She doesn’t immediately reply but instead looks around the house.
“I don’t like people talking about my business. Like I said, this is a small town. I don’t need my mom and dad on my case about anything; they’re old fashioned.”
“On your case, why would they be on your case? Would it be because of me?” I ask her, daring her to come out and say that my tattoos, my past, would be unfavorable to her family.
“Yes.”
Okay, I wasn’t really expecting her to be so forth-right.
“I mean, it’s nothing against you, it’s just the way that you look. My mother would be super judgy and I wouldn’t ever hear the end of it. So, it’s better to just not even make it a thing that is on her radar.”
“So, I’m like your dirty little secret?” I laugh.
Chapter Forty-Two
“I mean.” She looks apologetic as her shoulders lift slightly and she whispers with guilt in her eyes.
“Well, I’ve never dealt with this before.” I scratch my temple in contemplation.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.
“I get it, I have tattoos, and I don’t look like the standard guy next door. But I’m not, and I’m not going to apologize for it, but I think that you shouldn’t let anyone else, whether parental or feline, define what you do,” I say, emphasizing her need to tend to her cats.
“I’m not.” She puts her hands on her hips.
“I’m fine if you want to just hook up, but I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know you if I see you around town, if that’s what you’re looking for. I have a past, and while I’m not proud of parts of it, I’ve learned to not let who I was affect the person that I am today.” I stand and grab the sweatshirt that’s sitting on the chair by the door.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I need to take a walk. Besides, you have to go, right? I think your cats are waiting to be fed.” I open the door and stand there, waiting for her to get her belongings together. She rushes out past me and stands on the grass of my front yard.
“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” she offers with her voice cracking.
“It’s alright, I mean, it’s something that I need to accept, right? People having preconceived thoughts about me, just because of the way that I look or what they hear about me. But I want you to think about this: these tattoos are just an expression of art. The past is a mistake that I’ve owned up to, but the guy that I am right now, is someone worth getting to know.”
I walk past her and head in the opposite direction of where her car is positioned at the curb. While what she implied was hurtful, I’m not at all bothered by the fact that she said what she did. I am bothered by the fact that this will be a new reality of mine for a while. If she doesn’t want to stay the night with me, I should be okay with it. I told her I’m fine with hooking up with her, but I’m not something to hide or to be ashamed of and that’s how she made it sound. The condom was still warm; I’d barely gotten it off my cock, and she wanted to fucking leave.
Sure, I’m the new guy in town, and I look the way that I do, but that doesn’t mean a damned thing. I’m not going to seek out Maggie. If she wants to use me for a booty call, then she can. I’m not going to get caught up in the drama if I can help it. I’ve already run into someone who judged me for the way I looked at the bar earlier, so it’s not going to be the end of my life if another person judges me.
I’ve walked almost half of the town and around back onto the Main Street with a few cars parked in front of the diner and a few on the other end of that same side of the street, in front of the bar. I walk in that direction, throw open the door, and take the first available bar stool.
Noah notices me and throws a coaster in front of me.
“You look like shit!” he observes.
“Thank you,” I reply. “Can you get me a shot of Tequila and a Pacifico?” I ask.
“You want some tacos too, make it all the way Taco Tuesday?”
“It’s Sunday,” I look up at his smirking face.
“Just making sure that you were on top of your game. What the hell is up with you? You were fine a few hours ago before your shift finished. You seemed excited even.”
“I’m good, just a hard dose of reality.”
“Well, don’t watch that shit.”
“What?”
“Reality shows, don’t watch them,” Noah wipes down the bar with a smirk.
“Where did you get out of what I said that I said I was watching reality shows, and what kind of reality shows do you think I would watch to get worked up about?” I sling back the shot that Noah places in front of me beside the Pacifico.
“Fuck if I know, man, you may be into that FX type shit, maybe even those chick shows. You never know, some people watch the weirdest shit. So, not television, then what?”
I shake my head and laugh to myself. “Just some stereotyping and shit that I could do without. That I shouldn’t let get to me, but I am.”
“Would it happen to have something to do with Maggie?” Noah asks.
I look up briefly and note that he’s watching my body language and waiting for me to reply to him.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I mumble, taking a pull from the beer.
“Well, you know that I’m your friendly Neighborhood bartender, and that kind of means I’m a shrink. If you need advice, I’m your guy, or if you just need someone to listen, then I’m your guy as well,” he wipes down the counter, smiles and then moves to the other end of the bar to help Lewis, the regular who comes in on the daily.
I sit there in silence, taking pulls from the bottle and keeping my eyes on the television screen over the bar area zoning out for an hour before heading home to get some shut eye.
Chapter Forty-Three
It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that chicks are crazy. There’s a saying ‘bitches be crazy’ for a reason, I should make that into a shirt. I think the female gender is majestic and far more superior than the male gender in all the things that matter. However, the fact that Maggie is standing on my door step with a bouquet of flowers, leads me to think that she’s got her head screwed on backwards and makes me hesitate opening the door. I open it slowly to her standing nervously, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, correcting her posture, and placing a smile on her face as soon as she sees me.
“I brought these for you.” She hands out the flowers as I open the door all the way, filling the entryway with my wide stance and crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t mean this intimidating stance; it’s how I naturally stand, so I uncross my arms and awkwardly place them at my side.
“You don’t need to get me flowers, if you came here just to fuck-”
“No! I mean that’s an extra bonus, but I came here to apologize. I made snap judgments on the behalf of others, and for that I am truly sorry for being an assface.”
I take the flowers from her, and a slow smile forms on her beautiful face.
“I’ve never received flowers; I think I’ve only given them once,” I reply, stepping aside with the flowers in my hand awkwardly to allow her entrance.
“You didn’t deserve being treated that way. I don’t know you very well, but I know that you come from a good family, that you atoned, and that you care about others.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I can just tell.” She shrugs. “Anyways, a part of me knows that my mom would not approve of you and I hanging out. The kind of man that my mom wants to me to be with-”
“Doesn’t look like me, doesn’t have a record like mine,” I finish for her.
She hangs her head and mumbles something.
I don’t need to ask her to repeat it, I know that I am right.
“So where do we go from here?” I ask her. “I’m not asking for anything, I want to make that clear, but I also want to just make sure that there are no mixed signals,” I explain.
“Maybe I can sleep over tonight?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“Are you sure that you want to do that? I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do, just for my sake. I’m a big boy, Maggie. Like I said, as long as there’s no mixed signals, I think we’re good.”
She looks up with confidence and steps forward. She places her hands on my shoulders and leans up on her tip toes. Her lips graze across my cheek to the edges of my mouth.
“I don’t want to live in the shadows of what my mom would think. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman for Christ’s sake; I think I should be making my own decisions, don’t you think?” She smiles.
My hands settle on her hips, and I pull her roughly against me. With a turn up of my lips, I lick them. “Are you sure?”
She blinks and nods her head before I dip my head to slant my lips over hers.
I pull back from her with a wicked smile. “I take that as a yes.” I take her lips again and push my tongue past her lips and lick the inside of her mouth until she pulls away to catch her breath.
“Bedroom,” I order her.
She moves to my bedroom, and before I am completely in the room, she has discarded her clothes in haste and stands before my gaze completely naked.
“Honey, I was hoping to take those off of you.” I step into the room, unbuckle my pants, and let them fall in a puddle on the floor.
“Wyatt! I need you out on the floor tonight, do you think that you can handle it? Rhi is swamped and Deb is off for the night, that leaves the bar, and you. Have you ever done any kind of table service?” Noah rushes out as he steps into the break room in the back of the bar.
I stop mid-chew of my sandwich and put it down on the plate in front of me. I take a drink from my water and then clear my throat.
“I worked at a restaurant for a few summers in high school; I don’t imagine that much has changed,” I smile.
“You’d be a lifesaver, man. It’s like everyone in town is in the bar tonight, and I was an idiot and didn’t prepare.” Noah smiles with a shrug. “If it works out, and you don’t mind a shift here or there, I can maybe work this into your schedule, if you want?”
“Whatever work you toss my way will be appreciated. Thanks, man,” I answer.
“Sweet. Once you’re done with your lunch, tag out Rhi and then hit the floor.” Noah taps on the wall and retreats back to the front of the bar.
Life is beginning to pick up.
I finish my sandwich and wash my hands before putting on one of the serving aprons. I grab a blank order book, pocket it, and go in search of Rhi.
She waves as I come out of the hallway and winks before giving me the floor run down.
“Looks like Mags is making you meet the parents,” she says, walking past me with a skip in my step.
I look around the dining area, and my eyes land on the beautiful woman who graced my bed for the whole night last night. I put a smile on my face and head to her table.
Her eyes widen as I approach. She cuts a quick glance over to the older woman sitting in front of her and the older gentleman at her side. Neither of them is paying any attention to me but talking to one another about menu items. I pull a pen out of my apron, poise the pad in my hand and wink at Maggie. I look to the woman sitting across from her and recognize her as the woman who was very vocal with her friend the other day about how distasteful I looked with my tattoos.
Oh, great. That’s her mom?
Chapter Forty-Four
“Um, Hi Wyatt, you’re now serving?” Maggie asks, her voice unsteady.
Her mother and father look up at me.
“You know this fella, Maggie?” her mother asks.
“Um.” She looks apologetically at me. “Yeah, he works here. The Neighborhood is the best place to hang out in town, so of course I’ve seen him here.” She nails the here part of her sentence rather poignantly, her words rush out.
With an upturn of her nose, her mother glances at me and then returns to her menu.
“I’ll need a few minutes; please return when I’m ready,” she says in a snippy tone.
“Mother, you’ve been here a million times, just order what you usually order, and be nice to Wyatt, please?”
“Why should I? I don’t associate with the likes of him, and you won’t either. So darling, Margaret, there is no point.”
“But mama,” she starts but stops suddenly when her mother holds her hand up.
“Son, I’ll take a simple double burger with some rings and a cold lager. I apologize for my wife here, and she’ll take a cheeseburger salad with extra crisps. Maggie, dear, do you know what you want?” he asks.
She looks at her menu and then up to me. “I’ll have the Enchilada salad please.” She avoids my gaze.
“Would you like any drinks, ladies?” I ask them politely.
“Water with lemon please,” her mother says quietly.
“I’ll have a cider please,” Maggie whispers.
“Speak up child,” Maggie’s mom says.
“Cider, please? Thank you, Wyatt.” She looks up to me, and I see the tears brimming in her eyes.
“Now, Mags, why do you look so down?” Her father rests his hand on her shoulder as I walk away, avoiding having to hear what her explanation is.
She wasn’t kidding. Her mother would throw a fit if she knew that Maggie and I were spending time together. From the way she spoke about me the last time she was in here to her distaste tonight, there would be no way that any kind of relationship with Maggie would be accepted, and I understand why she has had the apprehension.
I head to the kitchen, place the order for Percy, and return back to the bar. I check the marker for the tables that need to have service and observe a plan of action for my next moves.
I refill a table’s waters, take an order from another table, and when I notice Maggie’s table’s drinks are ready, I bring them over to their table.
“Your order will be right up, is there anything that you need in the meantime?” I ask politely.
“Yeah, I would like to talk to the owner,” Maggie’s mom says.
“Mother!” Maggie whisper-shouts.
“It’s okay, Mags,” I say to her with more than one meaning behind my statement.
Catching my tone, Maggie stands and pushes her chair out behind her.
I look back and shake my head.
Chapter Forty-Five
Firm knocks echo through the tiny house waking me up. I look to the clock beside my bed and run my palm over my eyes while I roll off the bed and stumble through the house to the front door. With apprehension, I turn on the porch light and pull open the door.
“Maggie, not now. Not tonight, I just can’t. I want to avoid drama, and it’s obvious that your mom would make this thing between you a
nd me to be more drama than needed, While I like you, I feel that she won’t accept us even being just in the same location as one another,” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, darting out her hand as I’m about to close the door.
“Maggie, it’s late and I’m tired,” I say.
“Let me in, please? I just want to explain,” she asks.
“I don’t need any explanations, we said that there would be no mixed signals. Maggie, I’m tired and would like to go back to sleep, do you mind?” I ask, my gaze at her hand on my front door.
“I like you, Wyatt. And I’m sorry that my mom was, well, the way she was tonight. I have no excuses.”
I don’t want to deal with this kind of shit. I just came out of prison and the last thing that I want is drama. While the short dalliances with Maggie were a lot of fun, and I am really attracted to her, I’m not willing to deal with the drama that seems to stem from her family. From looks alone, her mother can’t stand me, and I know that a woman’s mama is the deciding factor on relationships. What am I saying? I don’t want a relationship.
Do I?
Sure, I enjoy Maggie’s company, but we haven’t had much interaction outside the bed aside from a few talks about her misconceptions about what I want and a few interactions at the bar.
“Wyatt, please?” she pleads.
I take a deep breath and open the door to allow her entrance. She sets her purse down on the couch and sits down beside it. I stand in front of her with my arms crossed and lean against the wall. We look at one another in silence, neither of us wanting to speak first.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You’ve said that already,” I say dryly.
“But I mean it. My mom, she has her own way of thinking.”
“Listen, it’s a little more than I’m wanting. I don’t want to come between your mother and you. I know that this is a small town, so I’m going to save us both the drama. Let’s end this thing now, before either one of us gets deeper into whatever this is,” I say, standing straight and pushing off of the wall.
The Neighborhood Series (The Neighborhoood) Page 17