by Rebecca Wolf
“You ok, Aiden?” I asked, coming around the side of the table and offering him a hand up. Aiden took my hand and held it gently while pushing himself to stand with the other hand.
“Thanks,” he said, examining my face, for what, I wasn’t sure.
“Is he going to be ok?” he asked, nodding his head towards Rusty, as Brian gently guided him to a secluded corner of the room with a new bowl of soup.
“I hope so,” I said, feeling a little zing of worry, “he’s a little nuts, but he’s one of my favorites.”
“A little, huh?” Aiden responded, I gave him an apologetic grin.
“You knew he was going to have a negative response to me,” Aiden stated accusingly. “If you’re trying to get rid of me, you’ll have to do better than THAT.”
“Duly noted,” I said sweetly, while thinking, oh it is ON.
Two weeks later Brian felt that Aiden’s training was complete, and he took off on his new retirement adventure. We had his goodbye party at the soup kitchen and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I had stumbled in on a funeral. Brian was the biggest crybaby of the bunch. The only part of his speech he was consistently able to get out in all three of his attempts was the phrase, “thank you”. It was a real embarrassment of a party, to be honest, and I spent most of it handing out tissues and hiding in the kitchen.
At one low point, even grumpy Mrs. Fredrickson hunted me down to give me a sympathetic grunt and a pat on the back. I snuck into the kitchen, and ducked below the stainless-steel countertops, needing a minute alone. One more consolatory remark, or blubbering commiserant, and I was libel to start a small tornado. There was only so much control I could sustain. I heard the kitchen door swing open. Footsteps padded inside. I crouched lower behind the counter. The footsteps stopped but I didn’t hear the door swing back open. After several moments of waiting impatiently, I glanced up. There, smirking down at me was Aiden. I bared my teeth at him and growled. He chuckled and then sauntered out. I promised myself then and there that Aiden would pay.
The next two months were a series of small skirmishes. I did my best to sabotage Aiden. Aiden often gave as good as he got, while doing his best to thwart my efforts.
I put vinegar in his drinking water; he drank the whole glass. In one go. Without changing expression. It was both disgusting and impressive at the same time, and it just riled me more. I told him to come two hours early; he stopped by my place to pick me up. I made a Bundt cake out of used coffee grounds and offered him a slice, he passed it around the soup kitchen and told everyone I had made it. It was infuriating, but also strangely exhilarating. And somewhat shocking that he kept showing up.
He had a habit of standing just a little too close when we were talking. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that I could smell him. He smelled like pepper and cloves, and it made me want to lean in and lick him. All my nerves seemed hyperactive whenever he was in the room, and he knew it. I was almost positive he was doing it on purpose. It was driving me insane.
That Wednesday, as I drove to the soup kitchen, I realized that I had started to enjoy this unspoken game we were playing, and that I no longer missed Brian during soup kitchen nights as keenly as I used to. That idea bothered me, and I quickly set to planning my next prank rather than dwell too deeply on it.
I opened the door to the soup kitchen, and he was already there, the leftover soup bubbling as he cut up new vegetables to bulk it up. “Zephyr,” he said with a nod and a slight smile. “Any new diabolical plans I should know about?”
“None that I care to share,” I said as I took out the bowls and the silverware. We couldn’t afford to use disposable, even though it was a hell of a cleanup, and ever since Aiden had started doing the dishes shirtless, I wasn’t sure I minded.
“Hey, Zephyr?” Aiden asked,
“Yup?”
“Let’s call it a truce for tonight?”
I hesitated. “Did you see the food coloring I slipped in the dish bucket?”
“Yup,” Aiden said, “and I have a work function tomorrow. I really can’t afford to show up with blue tinted hands.”
“Alright,” I said, “I’d hate for your farmer associates to think less of you. I guess we can call a truce for tonight.” Aiden smiled at me over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said, his smile making my stomach do a weird flip. Probably indigestion, I thought to myself reassuringly.
Chapter 7
I was working at the bar late Tuesday night the following week, when Tommy Lee stepped in, his eyes wide as he looked around at the people and the performers. I kept my eye on him as I continued serving customers, making sure he was ok. He had never come into the club before, and I wondered what had brought him to come here now. He wasn’t the type of boy to come seeking cheap thrills.
Tommy hesitated briefly and then, lifting his chin, made his way over to my designated business chair. He scrambled up onto the seat, at one point almost falling off the other side before he got situated. He was out of breath when he finished, and I frowned in concern.
“Shot of mercury?” he said breathlessly, his small feet looking for purchase on the barstool.
I moved a bowl of nuts and a glass of cold water in front of Tommy, “Here. Catch your breath, have some water. Then we’ll talk,” he hesitated briefly, then nodded, and gulped the water down thirstily. I wondered when the last time was that he had clean water. He put the glass down and let out a sigh.
“Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok Tommy, tell me what’s going on. Does your momma know you’re here?” He was quiet for a bit, his shoulders hunched, his face furrowed, and I realized with a jolt that he was trying not to cry. This kid was tough as nails. It must be something serious if he was close to tears.
He finally took a deep breath in, coughed, and said, “No, she doesn’t know. Momma had an accident at the sweatshop yesterday- her hand got caught in the machine,” he started, before suddenly letting out a sob. I tried to reach out to touch him, but he pulled away before continuing quickly, as if getting the words out faster would somehow make it easier to say. “The doctor had to cut it off. They’re going to fire her from her job. She can’t work the machines with only one hand.”
“Does your mom have all the supplies she needs?” I asked gently.
“She’s making do,” he said stoically.
That I highly doubted, but I didn’t want to push.
“What do you need?” I asked after letting him compose himself a little more.
“Is that job offer still available?” he asked, “I heard her talking about it with the priest the other day.”
“Yes, it’s still available.”
“I would like to accept the position,” he said.
“You know your momma doesn’t approve, right?” I said, determined he should think things through before taking the job.
“I know. I don’t care.”
“Then you can start now, if you want.”
“You have to promise me you won’t tell my momma. She’s worried for my soul, but I don’t need absolution. I need to support my family.”
“Done,” I said. “I give you my word that this will stay between us.” I called Penny over and briefly explained the situation. Penny took him to fill out the paperwork and show him what his job would entail. I let out a mournful sigh. I wished that I could feel surprised or horrified, but all I could muster was depressed resignation. This happened here far too frequently for me to be surprised. I mentally made a note to stop by his house and check on his mother and siblings.
Wednesday night rolled around. Everyone had left, and Aiden was gathering up the last of the bowls. I emptied the big dish tub and refilled it with soap and hot water from the urn. It was always easier to clean up after soaking all the bowls and utensils for a bit. I was exhausted. It had been a long day. We were still getting harassed and threatened at the bar, and it was tak
ing a serious toll on us. Today three young idiots had pelted the inside wall of the bar with a whole carton of raw eggs before we could chase them off, and Penny and I had spent the last half hour cleaning it up before it could fully dry.
I sighed with pleasure as my hands dipped into the warm soapy water. It was definitely a new low when the chore of washing dishes suddenly felt like I was taking “me time”. I needed a vacation, and stat. Maybe I could convince Penny to close the bar for a couple days so we could take a break.
As I began washing the bowls, I slowly slipped into one of those lucid dreams, not quite awake, not quite asleep. I was in the bathtub, naked, bubbles just peeking over my nipples. And suddenly Aiden was there. His large, muscular form took up most of the bathtub, his legs overlapping mine. I reached out a hand on impulse and felt his skin, silky, wet beneath my fingertips. I lathered soap between my hands and slowly rubbed it in slow circular motions onto his body, starting at his chest, going up to the tendons of his neck, stroking him down along his muscled shoulders and back, past his taut abs to the v ridge where his pants normally met his hip bones, I reached below the water to feel his-
“Need any help with that,” Aiden asked me, almost giving me a heart attack.
“What?” I squealed, voice at a higher pitch than usual.
“Relax, it just looked like you were having a tough time cleaning those dishes.”
“You want to clean them?” I asked over my shoulder, feeling irritated and flustered by his timely interruption.
“If you need the help, you know all you have to do is ask,” he said, stripping off his t-shirt. Ok, this right here was the reason I was having all these dirty thoughts about him. Seriously, he needed to start keeping his shirt on. I made to move out of his way, but he sidestepped me, caging me against the sink, his arms sliding down mine as he began soaping the dishes. He had to bend slightly over me to reach the sink, and his bare shoulder pressed against my cheek. His heady scent of cloves and pepper seemed to envelop me. TOO CLOSE!TOO CLOSE! my mind shrieked, as a delicious mixture of arousal and alarm seared through me. The industrial sized kitchen suddenly felt too hot, and too small.
“Back off, Aiden,” I said forcefully, proud that my brain was still calling the shots.
“Is that what you really want?” he whispered in my ear. I shivered involuntarily. He put his wet hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him “Look me in the eye.” He said as he tilted my face up to his. My gaze rose to meet his, “you want me.” he stated, his eyes heated and filled with surety.
Is this another daydream, I wondered frantically. “I-” I started, not sure what I was going to respond. He growled and lowered his lips to mine, soft and full of heat. I was not fully ready for the need that pierced through me. It went all the way to my toes, causing me to arch up into him until his bare chest met with mine. His hands threaded through my hair, cupping the back of my head. This is happening too fast, a small part of me thought in panic. I don’t even really know this guy! All thoughts became drowned out by the chanting of yes! More! playing on a weird base loop in my head.
All the teasing of the past two months had created a sexual vortex of need that his hands and his mouth were promising to fulfill. He slowly withdrew, his jaw clenching as he gave me a piercing stare that felt like it wrenched at my very soul. Now THAT is a hot look, I thought dazedly.
His face slowly transformed with a knowing smirk, breaking the moment, “Available for me after all,” he breathed, his forehead still pressed against my own.
“What?-oh you ass,” I said, remembering my first words to him. I reared my head back from his and reached out blindly next to me on the counter. My hand finally grasping a still-full water pitcher and I dumped it on him.
“I hope you enjoyed that, because it’s as wet as you’ll ever get from me.” I spat, moving away quickly in a temper,
He pushed his wet hair out of his face. “Wait, Zephyr, he said, grabbing at my arm with his other hand, “I was just teasing.”
I jerked my arm out of his grasp, “I don’t like jokes that make me feel sexually vulnerable.”
“Duly noted, it won’t happen again.”
I nodded stiffly crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“So,” he said, “I’m going to take you on a date.”
“A date?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes, Zephyr, a date. It’s when two people who are attracted to each other go out and spend time together,” he deadpanned.
I laughed in his face. That is, until I saw that he wasn’t laughing.
“Aiden, I don’t date” I said seriously, and then, trying to lighten the mood I added, “anyhow, if that’s what a date is we’ve been doing it for months. ”
“What do you mean you don’t date?” Aiden asked incredulously, “I know you’re attracted to me, I’m sure as hell attracted to you.”
“I don’t trust men,” I said flippantly. “Besides, I don’t even know you. You could be a serial killer.”
“A serial killer who works at a soup kitchen feeding the hungry? Yeah, that sounds like it makes sense“ he said nodding sagely “it’s quite amazing how no one noticed all the regulars that have gone missing.” I rolled my eyes. Two months is not long enough to know someone. I don’t know you well enough to trust you, and I have a policy of only dating men I trust, ergo, no dating." “Zephyr” Aiden said, grasping my hand again in his. He peered into my eyes, “people date in ORDER to get to know and trust each other. Condemning yourself to a life alone because of fear would be a travesty."
“I am not afr-" I started to say indignantly before getting distracted as he rubbed gentle circles on my inner wrist with his thumb, suddenly all I could think was, “oooh so tingly.”
“won’t you even give me the chance to change your mind?” He asked softly. His eyes were so dark they were hypnotizing, and the circles he was drawing with his thumb were scrambling my brain cells. “I can’t think with you doing that,” I muttered dumbly.
“There’s nothing to think about, just say ok.”
“Ok?” I echoed back, feeling a little lost.
“Excellent,” he said, “are you free tomorrow night?”
“I work nights at a bar,”
“How about I make a stop at the bar tomorrow night, we can always go from there, ok?”
“Ok,” I said, I shook my head, trying to snap myself back into my usual caution and snark, “One date. And if I say we’re done that will be it.” He nodded, his expression serious but his eyes were laughing. “Also, just so you know, this doesn’t mean our prank war is at a truce.”
“Sweetheart, at this point, I would leave if we STOPPED playing those tricks on each other.”
I felt a little relieved that our relationship wasn’t changing completely.
“What’s the bar called” he asked as I turned to leave.
“The Bad Penny,” I said
“I’ll be there. ”
I opened the door and walked out. He could do the rest of the cleanup by himself.
Chapter 8
“So, you come here often?” Aiden asked the next night, as he slid onto a bar stool in front of me.
I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. “Actually, some might call me a regular here,” I replied.
“What’s your poison?”
“Surprise me,” he said with a flirty grin.
I mixed the ingredients together and plopped it down in front of him. “Virgin Shirley Temple,” I announced as I added a straw and umbrella for good measure. “You seem like that type of guy.”
He slowly slid the straw in his mouth and sipped, his throat muscles moving with each swallow. He licked the tip of the straw when he finished drinking, where a little of the grenadine remained, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. My mouth suddenly felt dry. My face felt hot. I just KNEW I was blushing tomato red.
“Mmmm,” he said, “red and bubbly is my type.”
I turned to help another customer, covering
my ridiculous blush by busying myself with their order before returning.
“Ok, that was lame,” I said.
His smile was smug. “Your reaction says otherwise.”
“Shut up.”
“Oooh, kitten’s got claws.”
“SHUT UP.” I said louder, a gust of wind sweeping into the bar from somewhere, ruffling the patron’s hair and garments, and causing bar napkins to flutter about. “Real smooth, Zephyr,” I thought to myself, taking a deep breath and getting under control. I wasn’t really upset. Just super flustered and feeling out of sorts.
“What was that?” Aiden asked.
“Oh, just a draft in the bar. These buildings are OLD.” I explained dismissively “So, tell me something I don’t know about you,” I said trying to change the subject.
“I like to paint.”
“Really?” I said, intrigued. “What medium do you like to use?”
“Usually oil on canvas.”
Wow. I never would have guessed he was an artist. “I would love to see some of your work,” I said, somewhat surprised to actually mean it.
He gave me a coy smile “That’s not really first date appropriate.”
“Oh really, what number date do I have to be on to see your art?”
“My art is private. It’s a piece of my soul. Definitely something only revealed to a significant other,”
I laughed and gave him a playful shove “I’ll have you know I’m very significant. And how am I supposed to verify that you are ACTUALLY an artist if you never show me your work as proof?”
“I guess you’ll just have to cross your fingers and hope,” he responded laughingly. “Alright, my turn to ask. Name your guilty pleasure.”
“ Ice cream with gummy bears.”
“That’s disgusting” he responded wrinkling his nose and smiling at the same time.
“Fine,” I retorted, placing my hands on my hips “what’s your guilty pleasure?” “Oh, it’s definitely kissing you,” he said, leaning in towards me. He thinks he’s so smooth, I thought before choosing to give him my cheek at the last moment. He kissed it and then moved to kiss the corner of my mouth before nipping at my bottom lip.