The Crossroads Duet

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Her finger trembled a little as she pushed the button for XM station twenty-five, and “Beast of Burden” by the Rolling Stones filled the truck.

  “Good choice.” I nodded in approval.

  “What did you do with your car?”

  Her question caught me off guard. Not yet. It still wasn’t time to explain.

  “I made a better investment. And you, where do you park your car back at your place?” I asked, looking for a quick change of subject.

  “I don’t have a car. I can drive . . . I mean, I know how and have a license, but no car. It’s part of the reason why I continue to live in Oakland. I usually take the bus. I used to borrow my mom’s car up until a couple of years ago.”

  I glanced at her to find she was staring at her lap as she spoke, as if she were ashamed of her own words.

  “That’s cool,” I said. “Probably better for the environment than this big hunk of junk, but lots of neighborhoods are on the bus line.”

  “Yeah, I know. Someday soon, I’m going to move. I have some expenses I can’t control right now.”

  I nodded as if I understood, but I didn’t. Lane and I grew up middle-class and comfortable, and now he was a millionaire mogul who up until recently had bailed me out of all my mistakes.

  Now I was doing well on my own, and wasn’t wanting for anything. Except maybe for love.

  As of a few months ago, I didn’t even know I wanted that—someone to love me. But now there was this woman in the passenger seat, a woman I barely knew, and I’d made up my mind to grow up, not to let Lane cover for my sorry ass anymore. I wanted to be good—no, great—not just for myself but for Alyson. Prove myself worthy of managing my own life, and then maybe I could take care of her. Because from the look of things, she could use a little help.

  Although I had no clue where this sudden inspiration was coming from, I was in for the whole ride. I’d never been one to back down from a dare or a bet, and I was betting it all on this lady.

  The truth was, I wanted Alyson in every way. I wanted to slide my hands up and down her long limbs, run my calloused palms along her curves while I buried my face between her thighs.

  Was she a natural redhead? God, my cock sprang to life again at the thought. What was it about redheads? It wasn’t just their fiery hair or famous tempers, but the creamy skin that usually came along with their vibrant coloring. Aly probably pinked up in a matter of seconds. I imagined a blush would spread all over her body as I sucked on her nipples or ran my tongue down her stomach, dipping into her belly button before grazing her clit, and the thought of it almost made me come in my pants. My breath stirred at the thought of my red handprint on her ass, and I had to force myself to think of the accounting reports on my desk at the gym.

  But that’s not all I imagined. With this girl, I wanted something I’d never wanted before. To be a better man. For her. For me.

  I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and pray to a God I didn’t believe in for forgiveness for my past transgressions. If need be, I would beg for a second chance to be deserving of some goodness, even if it only was for a short while.

  The city slipped past our windows, and as the skyscrapers came into view, I veered right toward the hotel valet. A giant sign for the Fish House hung above us as we got out of the truck, the red and blue neon reflecting off Alyson’s faded jeans and beat-up leather jacket.

  She looked stunning dressed casually tonight, so different from when I first saw her in the jail. The jacket covered a white T-shirt, and layered necklaces wrapped around her neck, mingling with her long hair that was loose and blowing in the breeze. She was so real, and I was such a shell of nothing. I wanted to warn her, tell her to run away fast, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I slung my arm around her and guided her into the hotel, tossing the keys to the valet. I came here often, usually by myself, but now as I walked into the lobby with Aly by my side, I regretted the few times I’d brought other women.

  Aly’s mouth dropped open as we entered the fancy lobby. “Wow.” The single word came out hushed and breathless.

  “You’ve never been inside here?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s stunning.”

  “I like it okay. Food’s good. Hotel’s a client of my brother’s, so they treat me right.”

  Aly stopped walking and took a moment to take it all in, spinning around, her eyes wide and her expression enraptured. Glass ceilings soared high overhead, and a cascading waterfall trickled through the middle of the lobby.

  Her reaction surprised me. “Where you been hiding, girl? You were this cocky, brazen lawyer in jail. Is that the only place you go?”

  I regretted the words the minute they left my mouth, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t understand. She’d sat across the table from me in jail, all formidable and full of herself, and now she was timid and intimidated, as if she’d never been anywhere before. What the fuck? I felt like shit. Obviously I was missing something.

  Aly deflated in front of me, the awe she’d been enjoying now gone. “I grew up poor,” she said in a low voice, not meeting my eyes. “I assumed it was fairly obvious, and now that I have some money, I don’t really spend it.”

  Relief flooded through me. This I could handle.

  “Well, good thing I don’t believe in going dutch or ladies paying, so let’s go eat and enjoy, Aly Road.” Snatching her hand, I led her toward the sushi joint with a smile playing on my face for the first time in . . . a long time. I was already doing good for someone else.

  Me, Jake Wrigley, who only had ever done wrong, was spreading a little happiness.

  Aly

  Jake took me to the hotel attached to the convention center, the big fancy one I always stared at while I waited for the bus. It wasn’t the stuffy William Penn where I ran into Jake at the Tap Room. This place was chic and oozed modern opulence. I’d never even stepped inside, and now I was letting all my innocence and poor upbringing hang out with my awestruck stare and eyes as big as Bambi. Jake acted like it didn’t bother him before he snatched my hand with his, leading us to the sushi place.

  My body sizzled everywhere he touched me, my shoulder on fire from when he tucked me into his side. Now my hand felt as if it was scorching, heat fizzling between our palms. I wanted to squeeze his hand tightly and never let go, which was a rarity for me.

  “How are you this evening, Mr. Wrigley?” the manager asked as soon as we entered the dimly lit restaurant.

  I looked around, noting the sushi bar lining the back wall and the busy bar with high-top tables at the front of the restaurant. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, I took in the main dining room. Pale pink tablecloths and bud vases were on each table, and classic Tom Jones’s “She’s a Lady” piped through the speakers. The place was packed. Chairs and bar stools were full of yuppies out for the night, older married couples having an intimate dinner, and a few singles, presumably travelers.

  “Great, Blake. You got a table for two?”

  When Jake let go of my fingers to accept the manager’s outstretched hand, a chill immediately washed over me until he brought me back into his side. This was ridiculous. I was an independent young woman who didn’t get all melty over a guy.

  “Not really, but for you . . . always. How’s your brother? I saw him for a minute when he was here signing up the new guy coming to town. Kimpton is trying to make a go of it here in the ’burgh, and they’re salivating over what Lane does for us and the guys down the street.”

  Jake chuckled. “Yeah, his software’s all over the place. You know Lane and his big, bad domination. He’s traveling less now that he has the wife and kid up in the country, and yet he’s still doing as much business. But enough about him. This is Alyson. Aly, this is Blake.” He squeezed me tighter each time he said my name.

  “Nice to meet you, Alyson.” Blake held out his hand and I accepted it, giving him my firm work handshake. I didn’t want to be known as a wet noodle, even if I’d
never been inside the Fish House before.

  “But if it makes you feel better, Blake, don’t say I said it, but I know your place is Lane’s favorite joint to eat,” Jake said with a wink.

  Blake grinned and shook his head. “Except for the Tap Room.”

  “He does love his drinks at the Tap Room. Now, what about our table?”

  “Sure, how about one next to the window?”

  And just like that, we were led to what I assumed was a primo table with an impressive view of the city and an over-attentive waiter.

  “All good?” Jake asked me as he sat across from me, giving me a big smile that made small crinkles form next to his blue eyes.

  “This really wasn’t necessary.” It was too much for a girl like me.

  “Oh, stop. Let it go, and let’s have fun, okay? We’re here, we have a great table, and I’m starving and sharing a table with a beautiful woman.”

  Heat licked its way up my neck, not stopping until it settled in my cheeks. Certain I was pinker than the tablecloths, I focused on the menu in front of me. I was so out of my league, only having had sushi a few times before at the food court with the girls from the office.

  “You feel like wine, beer, or sake?” Jake asked, pulling me from my perusal of the menu.

  “Wine would be great. You?”

  “Why don’t we get a bottle? Do you like red or white?”

  “Both. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to wine.” And I was, thankfully, because I really needed a little drink, although I was certain this wine was going to be nothing like the bargain bottles I grabbed at the grocery store.

  The waiter was already back after filling our water glasses as soon as we sat. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked.

  Jake eyed the wine list, scanning the pages while biting his lower lip. For the briefest of moments, he looked unsure of himself, a little nervous and out of place, and I wanted to reach across the table and run my fingers along his forearm. His uncertainty made me want to be a better woman, a caring soul, a girl who allowed herself to fall in love.

  “Let’s go with the Double T,” he said, tossing a quick glance at the waiter before bringing his eyes back to me. “And how about an order of crispy rock shrimp and the spicy edamame?” He raised an eyebrow and asked, “That sound good?”

  “Definitely.” Just like that, I began to relax. Inside the big brute of a flirt across from me was a gentle soul, and I felt at ease, more so than I had in a long time. I took a sip of my water and asked, “So your brother likes this place?”

  “Yeah, he’s the real deal, pretty big-time. During college, he worked on this software project helping hotels gather data and analyze it in a million different ways. I was busy drinking and playing ball and fighting and generally fucking up, and he made a name for himself. He’s the more impressive of us, and it certainly shows.” A small hint of sadness filtered through the brotherly pride in his voice before he cleared his throat and added, “But he’s not here, so let’s talk about you and me.” With a tiny flick of some unknown switch, Mr. Cocky was back in the room.

  “Well, I’m a lawyer and you own a gym. Apparently, you get into the occasional fight, but always with some social mission in your back pocket. As for me, I’m a rule follower. Definitely not a rule-breaker.” This got me a huge laugh, a guffaw that rose all the way from the bottom of Jake’s belly and out his mouth, reverberating around the room.

  “What?” I asked just as the waiter arrived with our wine. Jake held up a finger and said, “One sec,” letting me know we were definitely not done with the embarrassing conversation.

  “Just pour,” he instructed the waiter when the man tipped a sip’s worth into the glass waiting for Jake to taste it. “I don’t need to swirl and smell it. It’s wine . . . it’ll be good.”

  We were now left to our privacy again, each of us with a full glass of the burgundy-hued liquid in front of us.

  “Cheers!” Jake lifted his and clinked it into mine still resting on the table.

  “Cheers.” My response came out in a muted half whisper, since I was somewhat unsure of what we were toasting.

  “I must point out, Aly, you being here is a bit of rule-breaking. The whole fighter and PD thing? You said you wouldn’t have fun with me, and look at you . . . out to dinner with me. I like it!”

  The seriousness of what I was doing came crashing down on me like a million-ton elephant, the big gray one sitting in the room. Jake had been in jail, and I’d been sent to release him. If the other guy hadn’t opted not to press charges, I would have been in charge of defending Jake. And now we were out for sushi as if none of that had happened.

  “It’s not right. I shouldn’t be here, but you were extra convincing. And pretty demanding, if I remember correctly,” I said, laying it all out there. “But after tonight, you’ll go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine. This really can’t go anywhere.”

  “I call bullshit.” Jake leaned forward, the blue of his eyes turning almost metallic, sparkling with silver spokes of anger and determination as he delivered those three quick words.

  The moment was broken by a food runner delivering the appetizers, and I breathed out a silent sigh of relief. I picked up my fork and Jake ripped apart his chopsticks, and I thought he was going to let it go, but no such luck.

  “Total bullshit, Aly Road. One hundred percent crap. Because no one is going back to their life after this night. Everything, and I mean everything, is going to change.”

  He clipped a shrimp with his chopsticks and stuck it into his mouth, chewing it with tenacity. I watched his chapped lips work, the slight dark stubble along his jaw moving as he swallowed the morsel before taking a long sip of wine. All the while, I didn’t dare move. I didn’t eat or drink; I wasn’t even sure if I breathed.

  “You can’t threaten something like that, Jake,” I said, finally finding my voice tucked inside my aching belly.

  “You bet I can. There’s a lot I can’t tell you, but know this.” His eyes darkened as he pinned them on me with all seriousness. “We were meant to meet in that jail on Christmas Eve. There’s a reason you were on duty and responsible for me. All you need to know is I’ve gone through life with a ton of shit on my back—and it’s bad shit—and meeting you was the first time I breathed easy in decades. And why is that? Because we were meant to meet . . . it’s why we were both at Roman’s and then the Tap Room. It’s why you don’t have a car and I had two. I was meant to take care of you.”

  His declaration stunned me. I breathed out his name, my wavering voice begging him to stop, but he went on.

  “Yep, I know you hardly know me, and I don’t know you. But I know this . . . I was meant to care for you. I wasn’t good until I met you. I couldn’t focus until I met you. Life meant nothing until I met you. And I know I’m laying this out there over sushi and you’re in shock, but life isn’t going back to normal after this dinner, Aly.”

  I took a sip of my wine, allowing it to flow down my throat all the way to my belly, hoping it would take the edge off. Even if I guzzled the entire glass, my nerves would still be humming.

  “Jake,” I whispered again, searching for the right words. Painful words, words laced with rejection, but I couldn’t make them form.

  In front of me was a burly man full of enough strength to beat the shit out of anyone in his way. He was an extremely virile man, oozing sex and promising a good fucking, but when I looked deep enough into the crisp blue pools of his eyes, I saw a little lost boy.

  And I couldn’t hurt him. Either the man or the boy. So I said nothing.

  “Eat some shrimp and relax,” he said with an understanding smile. “I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment. And I’m not trying to tie your good name to my shitty one. I know I’m a bad apple, but just give me a little of your goodness. I may never get anything like that again.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat while he waited for me to . . . respond? Eat? I didn’t know. I did know this: I was going to
give him some goodness.

  And quite possibly break my very own heart in the process.

  I lifted my glass—channeling my inner Hilary—and tapped it to his. “I don’t know where this can go, probably nowhere, but I can’t deny our repeated running into each other felt somewhat serendipitous. So, let’s have some fun. No promises of anything more. I don’t have the luxury of thinking of the future. I’m trying to survive the moment.”

  He beamed at me with a broad, delighted smile, and the small crinkles around his eyes made a welcome reappearance. I wanted to reach across the table and smooth the hair out of his eyes, but he captured my hand on the table under his and gave it a squeeze.

  “Shrimp, come on,” he commanded and I obeyed, spearing a shrimp on my fork. “Next one, you have to try to use the sticks.”

  I giggled. “No way. I’ve never used those before.”

  “Well, you know what they say. It’s never too late to learn how to eat with chopsticks.”

  “Oh, really? I’ve never heard that saying before.”

  The music changed and the soft, sweet voice of Taylor Swift wafted from the speakers.

  Her words struck me as the lyrics flitted through my head, and I realized that here I was actually living life for the first time. In the worst possible scenario for someone in my position, with red flags raining down all over me, I was living. And there was nothing I wanted to do more at this moment than really live.

  Jake wrapped his hand around mine and slipped the chopsticks between my pointer and middle fingers, keeping his hand in place as he lined up the chopsticks just so. Our hands traveled together to the plate and we plucked up a shrimp.

  Our fingers and palms remained twined as we brought the bite to my lips. I chewed and swallowed before my traitorous tongue ran a lap over my lips, making certain there was nothing left behind. Jake’s eyes fixed on my mouth, darkening to midnight blue this time. With our hands still joined on the table and my heart beating so loudly in my chest, no amount of Taylor Swift was going to cover up my reaction to him.