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Lace and Iron
Ellen Graves
Mimi Parker waited impatiently at the red light. She hated red lights about as much as traffic jams and idiot bicyclists. They were basically all the same thing – keeping her from where she wanted to go.
The light flicked green and she zoomed off. She loved this part of moving. New scenery, new people, new life. She had never been the type to settle down. She was not interested in getting married, buying a house, or putting down roots.
She wasn’t really sure why she felt that way. Her parents had been married 40 years and were steadfast and boring. She supposed she wasn’t interested in being like them. If she lasted six months in a relationship, it was long term. Hell, who was she kidding… if she lasted six weeks that was a long time for her.
This time it was a bad relationship that had pushed her out of her latest town a little faster than normal. She had made herself a deal that this time she would choose a place because it felt right. Sometimes she chose a city based on the first letter. Sometimes it was because it had a cool name. Nope, this time she was going to be smart about it.
She cruised through the countryside until she pulled into a town. She saw the sign calling it “Lincoln”. The sign said it was just fewer than three thousand people. That was more her style – she wasn’t a big fan of large cities. They tended to be crowded, smoggy, and overpriced.
She worked her way onto what she guessed to be Main Street. There were a few kids out since it was the afternoon, but no commotion, no crowds. She pulled over to the side when she saw a restaurant advertising the best barbeque around. Mimi figured she could use a break from driving, and who doesn’t like barbeque?
She parked her Jeep and hopped down. She straightened her shirt, hoping it didn’t look like she had driven through the night… which she had, of course. She walked inside, a little bell on the door announcing her arrival. The couple sets of customers inside looked at her curiously as she walked in, but didn’t say anything to her. She sat at the bar and grabbed a menu.
About 10 minutes later, she got up and started wandering around. No waitress had come to take her order, but she had plenty of time. The place was filled with memorabilia and old pictures. It was like a place out of the history books. She had always liked to learn about what made towns like this tick and how they were started.
A little while later, after the restaurant had cleared out and she still hadn’t seen anyone come out, she wandered back into the kitchen. An old man was stirring some kind of vat—soup, she guessed. He was humming to himself. He didn’t appear to have heard her come in, so she walked behind him and tapped his shoulder.
“Oh, goodness me!” he exclaimed. He looked her over head-to-toe. He seemed nice, the grandpa sort. He had deep wrinkles and laugh lines.
“I’m sorry.” She smiled, apologizing. “I just wanted to get something to eat, but I’ve been here for a while. I took it upon myself to come back and ask!”
“Well, Krista—or is it Katie—she should be by to take your order soon, Dear.” The old man went back to stirring. Mimi hesitated. She didn’t want to be pushy, but she didn’t have that much time, and she definitely didn’t think Krista—or Katie—was coming back anytime soon.
She tapped the old man’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that… there’s no waitress here. I’ve been here an hour and haven’t seen anyone.”
He looked stunned. He hobbled over to the door of the kitchen and looked through the window.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re right! I guess another one quit on me.” He sighed and looked even older than he had before.
“I put that ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window, but haven’t had any takers.”
Mimi looked over to the window and saw that it was indeed there. She made one of those split second decisions that she was known for.
“I’ll work here,” she said determinedly. “That is, if you want me to.”
The old man blinked owlishly at her as if he were seeing things. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Mimi laughed. “No, I was just thinking I would like to stay in this town for a while and a job is as good of a reason as any. When do you need someone?”
“As soon as you can work! What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Mimi. Mimi Parker,” she answered.
“Glad to meet you,” he said, shaking her outstretched hand. “I’m Joe. I own this place, have owned it for darn near 50 years now.”
Mimi smiled, charmed by him. “Would you mind if I grabbed dinner quickly and started tomorrow? I should probably have a place to live before I commit to a job.”
“Oh you don’t worry about that. I’ll give you Sue’s number. She’s my great niece. She’ll find you a place, trust me.” Joe started writing on a napkin what she assumed was Sue’s number. She grabbed it when he was finished.
He started to make her up a plate and she dialed the number. An hour later she was on her way to meet Sue at a townhouse down the street. She took it instantly without even walking inside. Sue couldn’t believe her good fortune.
Mimi grabbed her bags out of the car and unloaded what little she carried with her. It was mostly clothes and shoes; some furniture and some décor. Now that she knew she was staying, she’d have the movers bring some more of her things. She had left the last place pretty suddenly and hadn’t wanted to spend the time packing that kind of stuff.
The next day she got up and showered and then wondered what type of clothes were appropriate for a barbeque joint. She settled on fitted white shorts and a flowy aqua top. She left her hair loose, but brought a ponytail holder just in case.
And here… we… go, she thought to herself.
Vance Alvarez was a man looking for something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on just what yet, but he’d know it when he found it. He was the type of man that worked hard, enjoyed nice things, and took care of his own. Right now, his own was the Iron Soldier’s Motorcycle Club. He’d been a part of it since he was 16 and had his license. Now, at 30, he was the youngest president in the club’s history.
He had been in control and on his own practically since he could walk. He had been raised in the trailer park life. His mother was an alcoholic who couldn’t take care of herself, much less a child. He had fed, clothed, and provided for himself since before he was a legal adult.
He wasn’t bitter, although he would have every right to be. He really just refused to quit and that’s how he got to where he was today.
And today had been a good day. They had a club meeting that went well. All motions were approved. Tonight, he was taking them all to Joe’s BBQ. It had the best barbeque he’d ever tasted and he loved seeing Joe. He hoped the old man was going to be around for a while just like his dad before him.
They walked into the restaurant a little after dinnertime. First thing he noticed when he walked in was that it was busy. Occasionally, there were five or so groups eating, but not like tonight. He wondered how that young waitress was doing. He couldn’t remember her name… something with a K? The waitresses here never seemed to last too long. He supposed catering to a bunch of bikers could be a little intimidating, but they meant well.
They moved some tables around and sat down. They took up half the busy restaurant and he felt a little bad for choking out the other business. He made a mental note to tip well. He took a seat himself, hanging his leather club jacket behind him on the chair. He engaged Bruce, one of the fellow members, in a heated conversation about making some mods to his bike.
“What can I get for you fellas to drink?” He heard the voice just behind him and half-turned in his seat to order. He was glad when Bruce spoke up because Vance wasn’t 100% sure he was capable of regular speech at that moment.
He was used to that last waitress, whatever-her-name-was. She was kind of pretty, young, and fresh-lookin
g. Not like this one. This one had trouble written all over her. She wasn’t just pretty, she was stunning. She was petite but curvy, with tanned skin and long brown curly hair. She wasn’t overly made up and he liked that. Her lips were pink and full and he wondered if they tasted as luscious as they looked.
When she got to him, he ordered a beer. She smiled at him, but she probably smiled at everyone he reasoned. She was like a siren when she smiled. He wanted to get closer to her.
Down boy, he ordered himself. He wasn’t some young buck to start giving some pretty woman the puppy dog eyes.
They got their drinks and ordered food. He was surprised when she didn’t write it down. The food even came out right and hot and she handed each plate to the right person on the first try. At one point one of the younger guys spilled his drink and she handled it like a pro.
Good for Joe, he thought. It’s been high time he gets some decent help. And for himself, he was glad to have a pretty face and a nice rear end to ogle for all the time he spent here at Joe’s.
They were tallying up the bill when he saw Dave pull aside their waitress. Dave was a known womanizer, but was really fairly harmless. When he saw Dave nudge her and wink, Vance resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He and his party started to get their jackets on so he used the opportunity to hover a little closer to where they were having their conversation.
“…and don’t forget. It’s Dave, just like… well, Dave.” Vance was pretty sure if he were Dave, he’d just go throw himself off a bridge right about now.
She let out a little bit of a laugh and he gave her credit for trying.
“Yeah… I got that,” she murmured.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat tomorrow night? I could show you around town!” Dave offered.
“Thanks, but I probably have to work.” Vance doubted she would’ve wanted to go even if she had the night off, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“How about Sunday night? Joe’s only open until the afternoon anyway. We can hit a movie or you can just come hang out at my place,” Dave wheedled.
Vance strained for her answer. She must’ve said no, because Dave tried again.
“What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for me, Sweetheart?
Vance clenched his fist. Dave was an idiot if he thought she was going to go out with him now.
“Not ‘too good’. Just too not interested in losers,” she retorted.
Vance bit back a smile. Good for her. Apparently she was not the type to take things lying down. He saw out of the corner of his eye Dave make a grab at her. Vance didn’t stop to see what she did. He threw himself in Dave’s direction and did a little body check.
Dave was thrust back and landed rather uncoordinated in a nearby chair. He brushed himself off and stood. “What the hell was that, man?!” he shouted.
Vance was not the type to start a fight. His size made guys want to take him on and he hated that—he’d rather talk it out any day. But on the other hand, he was not going to let a poor waitress get assaulted by some lowlife. Not in his club, not in his town.
“The lady said no,” he responded, a deceptive air of indifference in his tone. He hadn’t looked at the waitress yet, but felt her behind him. “Are you okay?” He asked her without looking.
“Yeah, I’m fine. No worries,” she answered calmly. He wondered if she was always so calm. It seemed like it would take a lot to rattle her. He liked that in a woman.
“Get out of here, Dave, before I change my mind and give you a piece of it,” he threatened. Dave looked like he was going to fight him on that for a second, but then thought better of it. He stalked out, calling his two buddies to his side before exiting.
Vance turned back toward her. “Sorry about that. I promise you, we’re not all like that here.”
She laughed. “If I got scared every time some stupid ‘roid head came at me, I’d probably be in the nuthouse!”
He liked this woman. “What’s your name?”
“Mimi. And you?” she asked as she began to wipe down their vacated table.
“Vance. We’re part of the Iron Soldiers Motorcycle Club," he answered.
"I always wondered what a motorcycle club is really about," she said, excitedly.
"Well, most of the time it's a bunch of guys and some women that just want to get out on the open road and let their hair down, so to speak. Most of us are motor-heads that just need to get out of our office or whatever job we have. But it's more than that..." He went on to tell her all about the club and their members.
By the time they hit a lull in their conversation, it was dark out and he was into his fourth cup of coffee. The rest of the customers had gone home which was just fine with Vance. He helped her carry in a tray of used glasses. Leaning against the door jam, he tried to casually ask, "So where are you staying then? It seems like a pretty hectic life, moving around that much."
"You say hectic, I say exciting," she joked. " Joe's niece got me a place on Walnust Street. It's not much, but I call it home. Could definitely do without the leaky faucet though. Drives me crazy at night!"
Vance saw his opening and wasn't about to miss it. "Ross is the best plumber in town, although if it's seriously just a leaky faucet, I can do that for you."
Mimi paused for a moment, her hand hesitating on putting the glass into the washer. Was this guy for real? First he had helped her get rid of an unwanted scumbag. Now, he was offering to fix her faucet? Plus, it didn't hurt that he was pretty damn fun to look at. Just watching him drink coffee had her all hot and bothered. Add to that his dangerous aura and the whole motorcycle thing and yeah, he was a very good catch.
"That'd be great," she said slowly, trying to weigh the downside to this. "Problem is, I'm always at work and I only have one key."
"Why don't we just do it tonight? I'm sure I can be in and out faster than you think," Vance said, mentally kicking himself for the unintentional innuendo.
"That sounds perfect!" she replied. She finished putting away the dishes and gathered up her things.
They drove separately and met up at her little townhouse. They walked up the steps to her front door. When she stepped inside, Vance was pleasantly surprised. He had figured she'd live cheap and sparse, but the place was actually decorated pretty nicely. She obviously hadn't painted or anything, but there were feminine vases and paintings up so it at least felt like someone was living there.
She showed him to the kitchen and the leak. He had grabbed some tools out of his bike and got started while she made some tea. They chatted back and forth, him laying under the sink on his back and her, leaning against the kitchen countertop. It was as if they'd been old friends. They talked about past, present, and future and Mimi was surprised at how freely she was telling him these things. Normally, she was a fairly private person. No point making relationships when she was just going to leave in a few months.
He finished up and tested the handle and the plug. Satisfied with his work, he collected his tools. Not wanting to leave, he bent back down and started twisting off the screw holding the valve together. Thinking he was done, she reached up and tried out the faucet.
Water started shooting out of what seemed like everywhere. It came out of the top part of the faucet and drenched the top half of her body. The water practically drowned him underneath the sink. He reacted faster than Mimi, shutting off the valve completely.
They both looked at each other, adrenaline rushing through their veins.
"I'm s-s-sorry," she gasped.
He thought she might be ready to cry. He stood and reached out a hand to comfort her. When he saw her shoulders shaking he realized she was laughing, not crying. Her laughter was contagious and soon after he started chuckling to himself as well. He tried to dry himself off, but no part of him was dry any longer. Even his boots squished.
Laughing, she tugged him down to the bedroom. He followed her past the bedroom into what was clearly her bathroom. She grabbed two fluffy towels out of the linen closet and handed
one to him, squeezing the water out of her hair with hers.
He ignored the towel she gave him and watched her instead. Her cheeks were flushed and pink, the curve of her smile beckoning to him. He tried not to stare, but her shirt was plastered to her chest and he could see her light blue bra. And what an amazing chest it was.
Mimi saw him staring at her chest and hid a secret smile. Who wouldn't want a hot guy like that staring at you? He seemed to approve, growing silent and licking his lips. He reminded her of a wolf waiting to devour its prey. She looked him over as well. His white cotton undershirt was sopping wet and transparent. She could see that he had mirrored tattoos on his lower abdomen and that his chest was smooth and tan. She was pretty sure she'd never seen a body this good that wasn't on a magazine or on TV.
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