“Jack is the nerdy version of Jack. Get out of my car! I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I’ve got errands to run, I’ll see you later, okay? Love you, bye!”
I laughed and blew her a kiss.
On the way home a familiar figure pushed a cart out of a grocery store. Tall, dark, handsome, and-
"Simon!"
I pulled into the parking lot and almost hit an elderly woman pushing a cart. She cursed me and I flushed, embarrassed, but I tapped my steering wheel and shook my legs impatiently waiting for her to cross.
I stared at the man; it was Simon.
I slammed my car into a parking spot and jumped out of the car, forcing my legs not to run. I coolly put myself in his way and started walking as if I was just about to do some shopping.
I looked up as if I hadn’t seen him and tried to look surprised.
"Simon?"
He looked over at me, as though he didn’t notice me until that very moment. I hoped I was the better actor. "Nameless!"
We smiled awkwardly. I hadn’t planned anything beyond getting his attention and now that I had it, I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted desperately to ask him if he'd seen the same things that I had that night, but any version of the question sounded insane in the daytime. He had one hand in his pocket and the other behind his back, looking as nervous as I felt. He kept the cart still with one foot, trying very hard to look casual.
"So, the other night," I started.
"Yeah…"
"What happened?"
We stared at each other. His foot slipped and the cart rolled toward me. He reached out with gloved hands and a barely perceptible wince when he caught it, like his hands were hurting but he didn’t want to show it.
"I wanted to ask you about that," he said. "I went off to-." He looked away shyly. "To, uh, ‘make water’. When I came back the towel was still there but you and the car were gone."
“Make water,” I smirked. “Where is your car?"
"I got into a little accident yesterday so I'm borrowing one," he said.
A little car fire, maybe?
"That's a lot of meat.” I nodded toward his cart.
"Yeah there's sort of a family thing I have to go to right now. I'd like to buy you a drink, though. And dinner. Or just dinner, if you don’t drink. Not that I couldn’t buy you a soda or something else to drink. I, uh, I wanted to call you but I didn't get your number the other night."
I smiled, then frowned. "I don't have a phone. I broke it the day we met. "
"Oh. So… Great White Buffalo? Seven?"
"What?"
"Great White Buffalo. Seven o'clock? Unless you have other plans already." He nodded to indicate a restaurant across the street. Great White Buffalo. Fine dining and microbrewery, the sign proclaimed.
"Um, yeah, sure! I guess I'll see you then."
He walked away like he was walking to a pit of snakes. His whole body screamed tension. Would he really be there?
"Sorry I left you," I called after him.
"See you at seven, Soda Pants," he called back. His gait was more relaxed after that, though not quite the super-relaxed, super-casual, super-warm stride from when he offered me his towel.
I bought and mailed a money order for my car insurance; apparently if you send enough bad checks, they stop taking them. I took my car through the cheapest car wash in town and was strangely comforted by the noisy, colorful foamy barrage. At home, I made the bed and vacuumed the floor. After a quick scrub of the tub all evidence of the attack was gone. All evidence except what I wore on my skin.
And Simon's keys. And the parking ticket.
Well, at least my apartment showed no sign. I started picking out an outfit for the date, if there was going to be a date. I doubted that “fine dining” at Great White Buffalo was actually fine dining so I wouldn’t worry about trying to procure a gown for the occasion. Thoughts that Simon might not be there kept invading. He could easily come up with any excuse and if I ran into him ever again he could just say "well, I couldn't call you."
I pushed the thoughts aside. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t show anyway. Learning the answers to the dozens of questions might not be what I really needed. Especially if the only thing they told me was that I’d lost my mind.
I continued to ransack my closet, reasoning that if he didn't show up I could survive being stood up. Worse things had happened.
Like being attacked in the hills at night by a monster.
I dressed up in my best date outfit- a short blue skirt and a silky printed top. I reached for a pair of high heels, got one look at the peeling skin of my zombie leg and swapped the skirt for jeans. I locked my hair up in a ponytail again. There was nothing I could do with it that didn't accentuate the damage that had been done. So much for dressing up for a date.
Great White Buffalo was packed, despite being Sunday night and its awful decor. The behemoth of a painted wood podium with a buffalo carved into it that was the reception stand sat on a raised platform surrounded by slightly mismatched chairs with worn faux velvet covers. The booths were all painted white, complete with scuff marks and chips in the paint towered halfway to the warehouse-style ceiling. Tiny lights dangled over each table, offering just enough light to read a menu, but no more. I assumed the food was amazing.
Minutes passed with no sign of Simon. I was feeling a little disheartened, and was ready to give up when the host, wearing a white baseball cap with plush horns above his tuxedo shirt and tie, arrived and turned to me.
"Have you been helped?"
"Actually, I'm meeting someone."
His eyes sparkled as he asked, sounding half-embarrassed, "Are you, uh, Angry Brunette Arsonist?"
I laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's me. But I'm not really an arsonist." Sandra and I learned the hard way that you can’t joke about that sort of thing in Southern California.
"Right this way." He led me to a table outside where it was much quieter, but still not exactly intimate, where Simon waited. A white metal sculpture of what I supposed was a buffalo reared up in the middle of the patio, spouting water from its oversized horns, though it looked a lot more like a bull than a bison.
"Car Thief," he greeted with a smile, rising to pull out my chair.
"Hello, Simon."
He pushed the chair in under me, and I struggled with the heavy chair to finish the job.
"Can I start you off with something to drink?" the host asked.
"Sure," Simon said. "I'll try Blonde Bombshell I guess."
"And you?" The waiter turned to me.
"The same, I guess. And a water." I took one look at the textbook of a menu and wanted to tap out.
I watched the host walk away, relaying the order to a server on his way back to the podium.
"Can you believe that Blonde Bombshell is a lager?" Simon asked, dimples showing.
"Ew, really?" I picked up the menu.
"No," he grinned. "But calling a pale ale ‘Blonde Bombshell’ is kind of boring."
I giggled and scanned the menu for something that didn't cost half my paycheck. I wasn’t this nervous when he was a stranger whose car I was getting into.
The silence between us hung awkwardly for too long.
I didn't know how to start a normal conversation. I felt like bringing up the whole… werewolf… thing might be a little inappropriate. He left my name as "Angry Brunette Arsonist" with the host. I didn't need to add delusional to that list of attributes.
The waiter returned with the beer.
"Can I check your IDs?"
We handed them over and after the waiter, probably too young to buy a drink himself, finished pretending to scrutinize them for the manager standing in the corner of the patio, he handed them back.
Simon snatched them both and looked at mine.
"Wow," he said, smiling.
"I know," I groaned. I couldn’t help smiling back.
"Well, that explains and answers the question."
I snatched my
driver's license before he could move past my name.
He sipped his beer, grinning. "So…"
I knew what was coming. "Don't do it," I warned.
He went quiet, still smirking.
I tried to scowl but my grin wouldn’t budge. I sipped my beer.
"So…" he began again.
"No," I said firmly. "Control yourself. You're better than this, Simon."
His smirk broke into a full blown smile, dimples and all. "Jade Greene, huh?"
"Don't do it," I said again. "Don't do it."
He chuckled, sipped his beer, and then finally broke. "Is that your real name?"
I buried my face in my hands, laughing even as I shook my head in mock exasperation. "I can’t believe it." I said. "You did it. You said it. I thought you were so special and here you are, just like everyone else."
His smile faded a little. "Special, huh?"
I felt my own smile fade. "I meant-." Damn.
"You guys ready to order?" The waiter asked. "Any appetizers?"
"Yeah," Simon said after casting me a questioning look that I just shrugged at. "The big appetizer plate thing you guys have. The big one."
"Okay," the waiter said, scrawling something down. "The kitchen sink platter. Anything else?"
"Yeah, how about a slab of ribs, a buffalo burger with no condiments of any kind-."
"How do you want it cooked?"
"Rare."
"Pickles?"
"Yes. I want everything on it, just no condiments."
"So… onions, lettuce, cheese?"
"Yes. Everything except condiments."
The waiter nodded and started to walk away. “Great, I’ll get these started for you.”
"Wait!" Simon called. "That’s not it. I also want to get the mushroom pizza. Jade, whatever you want."
As if he hadn't just ordered half the menu. "The buffalo burger, medium. No onions."
The waiter nodded and continued looking at me.
"That's all."
He nodded and walked away.
"Will there be a small army joining us?" I asked.
He laughed. "I don't like to limit myself. I have a healthy appetite."
"I don't think I'd exactly call a pizza, a burger, a slab of ribs, and a big plate of deep-fried everything healthy," I said. I couldn't stop smiling.
"Well, here's to overindulgence," he said, raising his glass. "May it always be an option."
We clinked glasses and drank.
"So, what do you do for a living?" I asked. I had almost blurted out "how can you afford all of this", but I caught myself.
"I'm a day trader," he said.
"I don't know what that means," I admitted, sipping my beer. It was tasty, but not exactly mind-blowing. I held my belief that the food must be amazing.
Simon didn’t elaborate. "So what do you do?"
"Data entry," I said.
"Well, that could mean anything."
I twisted the corner of my napkin around my finger while he fiddled with the pages of the happy hour menu.
The appetizer platter arrived. It was either named for its size or its contents. It was bigger than my kitchen sink and contained everything but.
"The rest of your order should be out shortly," the waiter said. "Can I get you anything else?"
Simon looked down at the oak barrel table and said with a smile, "A bigger table?"
The waiter looked around the crowded patio for an open, larger table. “Uh…”
"Thank you," Simon said. "We're fine."
I picked at some stuffed mushrooms, mozzarella sticks and nachos. We fell into awkward silence again while I pretended to be interested in the triangle of garlic bread in my hand. We sipped our beers and nibbled the food. We had, apparently, completely run out of conversation.
When the burgers and pizza arrived the waiter tried to set them on the small table gracefully. Finding that impossible, he settled for crushing as little of the food on the appetizer plate as he could. I stared at the tunnel that the plate created when it leaned on the appetizer tray, still unable to say what I really wanted to.
As Simon munched away, I was surprised at how much he could eat. He was still wearing gloves.
"I'm really sorry I left you," I blurted suddenly, startling myself.
He waved a french fry dismissively. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I heard some noises, I'm sure you just got spooked. I wasn't that far from a friend's house so I had him pick me up. Really, don't worry about it."
"Did you pick up your car?" I asked.
He nodded, chewing. "I was actually a little disappointed that you didn't steal it. I was looking forward to upgrading to your car."
I finished the beer and leaned toward him. "So when you said you got into a little accident…"
Something in his eyes betrayed the lie he wanted to tell. He opted for the truth. "It uh… It caught on fire."
"How?"
"I'm not a mechanic!" he snapped. Then, more calmly, "Sorry, it was my only car. I was a little attached to it. I don’t know what happened, it just started smoking and then I saw flames and I got out."
Something told me that it wasn't attachment to the car that made him snap at me. I couldn’t begin to guess what it was, so I dropped it.
My date etiquette was a little rusty. Three years between first dates can have that effect. That one was after a bad day, too. It didn’t end well.
"What did you hear that night?" I asked.
"So, tell me all about data entry," he said, an unmasked attempt to redirect the conversation.
"What was out there?" I asked, suddenly afraid that I wasn't crazy and the things I had imagined actually existed.
"Not here," he said. "Let's go somewhere quieter."
I nodded, wide eyed and waited patiently for the check to be paid. Full from the kitchen sink platter, my burger was still untouched but everything else was gone. I got a box to go.
I threw the box in my own car and once again got into Simon’s truck. Same stranger, different vehicle. Different destination too. More public. We went to a park and sat on opposite ends of a small bench.
"So?" I prompted.
"You're relentless, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," I confirmed. "So what did you hear?"
He shrugged. "Sounded like someone running, or maybe an animal running. It spooked me. That's why it took so long for me to get back. I was afraid."
"So was I. I heard the same things. And I think I saw something. But I don't really know what I saw. It was dark." Another stupid comment that I wanted to take back. You don't just tell a first date that you saw a mythical beast. It had been a while, but that was still a no-brainer. Especially if you want a second date. And I did.
I shivered.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
"A little," I lied. It was a bad lie. It was quite warm out.
"Do you want to go back?"
I looked into his sweet brown eyes and realized that I did not want to go back. I wanted him to put his arms around me and make me feel safe. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted…
"No," I said, boldly moving closer to him. Out on the cliff it had been so easy; comfortable, close silences. Now, with people going about their business across the street and sounds from the restaurant, it was hard to get that free feeling back.
"What happened to your hands?" I reached for one of his covered hands. He let me lift it.
"Burned them."
"In the car fire?"
He nodded. I didn't believe it. Some sense told me that it wasn't the truth. The sense was probably sight, since the rest of him appeared free of bandage or blemish. I double checked to make sure his eyebrows were real, and not replacements for the singed off originals. They were his.
I looked up in the sky and up at the huge silver orb hanging in it. Down here on earth, with trees and houses to obscure it and lights masking the darkness, the sky didn’t seem as deep and endless. "Full moon," I said.
"Not quite."
<
br /> I moved myself, inch by tiny inch, to his side. I could feel the heat from his body. I could smell the comfortable, already familiar smell that was him. He smelled like grass and sagebrush and dirt, everything earthy and green. He smelled like the hills at night. All the smells of him wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
"Do you know any constellations?" I asked, leaning into him, making my way under his arm.
He looked up. "Just Orion and the big dipper."
I looked up too. "I can never find the big dipper," I admitted.
"It's that one right there. Do you see? That bright one is Sirius."
"I don't see it," I said. He looked down as I looked up and after a smile tugged at his lips, he kissed me.
He tasted like he smelled- warm and comforting- everything simple and good in the world. His stubble scratched at me and I held onto his strong forearms. It was over too quickly and I leaned back on the bench. I wanted more. I wanted all of him. It hit me like the sudden hunger that comes from smelling food after skipping a few meals. I didn't know that I needed it until it was in front of me, and I felt like I couldn’t live without it.
I looked up and kissed him again.
He tensed as if it was unwanted. It felt like he was about to pull away before his hands closed around my waist. He turned his body to face mine and our kiss grew more feverish. His hand grazed the back of my neck, stroked my back, gingerly feeling his way around. One hand gripped my thigh and the other locked around my waist. I felt intense heat like fire rising from his body, and we broke the kiss.
I sighed, with a feeling like a cool cup of water after a long, hot day.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I looked up at him, feeling like my body was slowly floating away. "Why?"
He opened his mouth to answer and I kissed him again.
It was too hot and I wanted him too badly. I held his shirt tight in my hands and both of his were tense at my waist. Reckless, I climbed onto his lap. Any doubt that he wanted me was erased, but he didn't seem willing to give in like I was. Something was holding him back. Something made him resist the urge to hold me tight, grabbing, squeezing…
He doesn't want to hurt me. He knows. He lied.
I leaned back and looked into his eyes for a split second before he looked away.
The Beast Page 3