She gave Huvie her phone number on the back of one of his business cards and he led her toward the cash register to pay for his services.
“Can’t wait to see you again this weekend,” he said.
“Me too.” For once, she figured it might be difficult to decline sex if he pursued it. “So, um . . . I gotta join Brianna. She’s my ride.”
“Cool. Cool. You take care of her for me, okay? She’s a good girl.”
“I will.” Rhea headed to Serenity and Brianna, keeping her gaze trained to the floor. From outside Serenity’s curtain she asked, “Brianna? Can I join you?”
“Of course,” replied Brianna. “Get yer ass in here!” As Rhea stepped inside, Brianna asked her, “How’s it look so far?”
“You’re—you realize you’re kinda exposed there and I can sorta see—”
“Yup,” she chirped, tossing a saucy smile at Rhea. “So what do you think?”
Rhea swallowed hard, shifting her gaze to Brianna. Those are pretty damn amazing.
She’s asking about the tattoo, dork.
Are you so sure?
Oh shut the fuck up and look at her tattoo before this gets weird . . .er.
Serenity was nearly three-quarters finished outlining a floral design that—once colored—Rhea guessed would be cherry blossoms.
“They’re—it’s—lovely.” You’re sexy and it’s killing me. Happy now?
Brianna glanced at Rhea with a frown. “Lovely? See now you’re scaring me—”
“I don’t mean to,” Rhea yelped. “Serenity’s doing an amazing job, I swear. ‘Lovely’ is a good thing.”
Serenity smiled, still hard at work tracing the transferred guidelines with her tattoo machine. “We’re gonna stop with the outlines tonight and I’ll add the color in a couple weeks. Gimme, oh—” She paused to check her watch, its face placed against the inside of her wrist. “—twenty more minutes.”
“That’s—fine—” Rhea faltered. “I’m in no rush.”
“So . . .” Serenity cleared her throat. “How do you two know each other?”
“We’re both reformed band geeks,” replied Brianna.
Serenity leaned back, wide-eyed. She glanced between Rhea and Brianna. “You, Bri? Really? Color guard, right?”
“No.” Brianna chuckled. “Flute and trumpet.”
Rhea wondered if she should have been offended over Serenity’s shock that Brianna was a ‘band geek’ when she clearly had ‘band geek’ tattooed on her forehead.
“You two go way back, huh?”
Brianna flinched and whimpered as Serenity continued to work. “Yep.”
“Hey . . . on all those overnight competition trips, did you ever . . . you know . . .?”
Rhea glanced at Brianna who slowly smiled. “I dunno about her,” said Brianna, “but the thought’s crossed my mind.” Her smile faded. “She’s obvs not into me though. My loss for sure.”
If there was any further conversation that night, Rhea didn’t remember it.
“So. How are things in Illinois?” asked Adam.
“They’re . . .” Rhea hesitated. “Interesting.”
His smile soured. “I don’t think I like the sound of that ‘interesting.’”
“Everything’s fine, Adam.”
“So . . . Have you slept with anyone yet?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Nope. But I’ve got a date on Saturday so who knows?”
“I do.” Adam snorted. “I know how it’ll go.”
Rhea’s smile faltered. “How about you?”
“I’m gonna give the physics major another chance.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice pitched upward. “Good! At least try ‘n’ screw her this time if she’s willing to put out again?”
He exhaled loudly. “We’ll see.”
“Y’know . . . I might just sleep with my date if I’m reasonably assured you’re doing the same.”
Adam groaned. “You’re asking me to make myself aroused.”
“You’re asking me to do the same.”
“This arrangement isn’t working, is it?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll try this time. I promise.”
“Just . . .” She forced a smile. “Close your eyes and think of me.”
He chuckled. “So how’s what’s-her-name? Brianna?”
“She’s fine.” Hell yeah, she’s fine. Rhea dropped her gaze to her new tattoo. It was still inflamed. Do I show him? No, I’ll surprise him with it in person. Do I tell him what Brianna said about me last night? She looked at his chat window.
Adam cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
Nope. I don’t want him worrying needlessly and this will worry him. Needlessly.
“I’m really glad she reached out to me. She needed a friend and she’s totally not the girl I thought she was in high school.” Rhea added with a wink, “You know. School politics and all.”
“On a scale of Charmed to Cass, how close are you two?”
Rhea laughed at how he chose to phrase his question. “Your scale would be more accurate spanning Charmed to you. But that’s beside the point. We’re getting to know each other. But I imagine someday—if things continue going the way they are—we could be tight.”
Brianna’s voice echoed in her head: The thought’s crossed my mind.
She wondered if Adam considered another woman a qualifying lay.
“Really?”
She nodded absently. Yeah. Because that’s happening. I’d have better luck winning the Powerball jackpot. She perked up. Ooooh, maybe I should play. Oh, no. Never mind. That would involve going outside. Rhea glanced at her apartment window. The sun set hours ago already and with the wind chill, it was well below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Ew, never mind.
“So then should I send her a friend request?”
Rhea shrugged. “If you wanna. She’s a fun girl, I’m sure you’d like her.” Just hopefully not too much.
Speaking of liking a girl too much: His second date with the physics major was scary beyond all reason. “All right, okay,” Rhea said. “Enough about my petty crap. How’s Catalina?”
“It’s a whole other world. The ferry ride here was chilly. Not New York-in-winter-chilly, but definitely a marked difference from inland Orange County. I’m glad Gary warned me to take a sweatshirt. I wouldn’t have otherwise and probably my nipples would’ve sliced right through my shirt on the trip over.”
“Have you gotten to do anything touristy yet?”
Adam nodded. “I went to Wrigley Mansion, checked out the botanic gardens. I walked the pier and found a chalk artist. She mostly drew flowers and butterflies but they were gorgeous. I asked her for some pointers and she was nice enough to let me practice a little with her supplies.”
“She sounds nice.”
“Yep. I’m gonna visit with Janelle again before I leave.”
She has a name. “Janelle—” Rhea furrowed her brows. “Is that the same Janelle you added on Facebook?”
He smiled. “The same. Look through her galleries sometime.”
“I will.” Don’t be jealous, Rhea.
“Tomorrow I’m snorkeling in Lover’s Cove. I feel like it won’t be the same without you.”
Rhea folded her arms across her chest. “Enjoy yourself anyway.”
“I’ll try.” He sighed.
“Have you gotten any actual painting done?” Wasn’t that the whole point of this exercise?
“Not yet. But I’m taking a crap-ton of photos and I’m getting real inspired.” Adam smirked.
Rhea frowned. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?”
“You look guilty as hell. You do know I can see you, right? Video call? 2014?”
“No, yeah, I—I know—”
Rhea asked, “Did you already sleep with someone? Because if you did, good. Was it Janelle?” Although that would probably be less good if they friended each other on Facebook. Her breath hitched.
“No, no—no!” Adam shook his head. “It’
s nothing like that, I promise. First of all, if I slept with someone, you’ll be the first I tell how disappointing it was and I’ll volunteer the news. And second, Janelle—she’s—” He puckered his lips. “She’s not my type.”
Rhea made a mental note to look at Janelle’s photo to see what didn’t qualify as Adam’s ‘type.’ It was insignificant, of course, but her curiosity was piqued.
“I’ve gotta get going. I love you, Sunshine.”
“I love you too, Surfer Boy. Enjoy your trip.”
“I am. We’ll talk again in a few days?” he confirmed.
“I look forward to it. Bye, sweetie.”
“Stay warm now. Bye.”
Chapter 2: The Qualifying Lay
hat Saturday after arguing briefly in regard to transportation, Huvie retrieved Rhea from her apartment and drove them to the Roadhouse Grill. Conversation focused as good conversation should: on inane topics such as the weather and celebrity babies.
Roadhouse had just opened for lunch service and Huvie and Rhea were among only a handful of patrons when they were seated in a booth by the bar and provided menus by the host.
“Someone will be with you shortly to take your order.”
“Thanks,” said Huvie, watching as the host—playing the convincing role of country bumpkin—swaggered back to his podium. Huvie cleared his throat, turning his attention to Rhea. “May I say you look incredible?”
Rhea smiled and ducked her head; it took her over an hour to look the kind of incredible as though she hadn’t taken an hour to do it. “I wouldn’t dare stop you. Thanks.”
“I should be straight with you though. I respect you and don’t want to string you along. I’m not looking for a relationship out of this.” His gaze was sincere though apologetic.
She exhaled. “Oh that’s great!”
“It is?” He blinked.
“It’s perfect. All I really need is a one-night-stand.”
“Awesome. Wait, what?”
“Yeah. It’s a . . . a long story. Don’t ask.”
“So.” Huvie hesitated. “I could’ve just taken you to my place?”
“You still could, frankly.” Laughing, she added, “Hell, we could’ve stayed at mine for all I needed you.”
“Oh.” He swallowed. “I had something pretty cool planned to lure you into bed, though.”
“Did you?” The corners of Rhea’s lips lifted. “How sweet. What was it?”
“I signed us up for an Iron Man challenge at the laser tag place down the street.”
Did Adam and she agree they couldn’t also have some fun in the pursuit of an alternate lay?
No.
“I could probably get a refund—”
“Don’t. Let’s do it.” Rhea patted his hand. “It sounds like fun.”
“And now that I know it’s just postponing sex, it’ll make the challenge even more challenging.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” said Rhea with a little laugh. “Thanks.”
“This is looking real good,” Huvie remarked, admiring his tattoo around her wrist. “You must be treating it well.”
“It was an investment.” She tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear. “Hey . . . I know I’m looking for a one-night-stand but I still wanna get to know you since you’re friends with Brianna.”
A plump woman with thick glasses cleared her throat as she approached their table. “My name’s Franny. Can I get you something to drink? Get some appetizers started?”
“Oh yeah. Um . . .” Huvie chuckled. “Didn’t really get a chance to look at the menu. Sorry.”
Franny tapped her pen against her notepad and Rhea couldn’t decide if Huvie’s cheeks were going pink.
“What do you think, Rhea? Appetizer sampler?”
“Sure.”
“Mozzarella sticks, mac ‘n’ cheese bites . . . sweet potato fries?” he asked.
“Sounds good to me.” Rhea waited while Franny took notes. When she paused and glanced over expectantly, Rhea said, “I’ll have a lemonade, please.”
“Sweet tea for me,” Huvie added.
“All right. I’ll have your drinks out shortly and I’ll take your order then.”
Rhea lowered her voice even after Franny was well out of ear-shot. “How much of our food do you suppose she’s gonna spit in?”
“Well if she does,” Huvie replied, “she’s a bitch. We didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
They fell quiet to study their menus.
After Rhea decided what she’d order, she muttered, “Sneeze muffins.”
“Friends fan.” Huvie laughed. “I remember. I binged a few seasons this week.”
“Aw, for me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He raised his face from the menu long enough to wink at her. “A couple of my buddies were talking about its racist undertones. It never bothered me any so I re-watched it with that in mind, thinking maybe, you know, I missed something.”
Her heart stopped. The type who always shied away from discussing such topics, Rhea feared she might inadvertently offend Huvie with an innocent remark. “A—and what did you think?”
He shrugged. “If I had to complain, yeah, it’d have been nice to see another person of color besides the woman who played Charlie.”
Rhea straightened. “What about Gabrielle Union? I mean I know she was basically an over-glorified extra but she was on the show, too.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”
“And I can’t remember the actress’s name but what about the girl who played Julie? She was on the show for several episodes and she isn’t white.”
“True . . .” Huvie’s handsome smile was amazingly crooked.
“Then again, the show was putting out new episodes for ten years, took place in like one of the most diverse cities on the planet and the number of non-white speaking roles can be counted on one hand. And they kept forgetting one-third of the main characters were Jewish in the December episodes, which, frankly, always pissed me off. They had, what, one holiday episode where they actually acknowledged it in ten years?”
Huvie’s handsome but amazingly crooked smile turned compassionate. “You a Jewess?”
Rhea faltered; she didn’t care for the term but didn’t dare say so. On the scale of things to get offended about, she supposed he’d been called far more offensive things in his lifetime than she had in hers. Not that any of it’s okay just because some is less bad than others. She chose her reply with care: “Technically, yes, I’m Jewish. Is that a problem?”
“Oh of course not. I was just surprised. You don’t seem—I mean you don’t look—”
“I don’t broadcast it. My parents always told me to keep it secret. For my safety.” She’d surprised others in the past, Adam among them. There’d been several heartbeats she feared his stunned silence when she told him. That had been a case where Skype froze during their call; Adam later told her he was excited to learn about a culture she, herself, knew little of.
Huvie frowned. “Okay. Well. You don’t have to get all riled up about race issues on my account. But I appreciate it. I admit I’ve been real lucky I haven’t encountered the type racism and violence others with my skin color do. My dad though? He could tell you stories that’d curl your hair.” He smirked. “Well, maybe not your hair. Aren’t Jews supposed to have curls?”
“Yeah. We’re also supposed to have horns.” She laughed despite herself and this conversation, running her hand over her sadly straight hairdo. “But you’re right. My hair holds a curl the way a sieve holds water.”
“So . . . What I ultimately wondered was why people were so obsessed with the monochromatic cast of Friends when Will & Grace, Seinfeld, and Sex and the City—all of them shows set in New York around the same time—were every bit as bad?”
“Huh.” Rhea drummed on the table with her fingertips. “Maybe . . . Because Friends was the most mainstream accessible one? Will & Grace focused on stereotypical LGBT characters—in my opinion, anyway, the closet-case and t
he sassy friend are total clichés—that homophobes would never watch. The lead character of Seinfeld was in a minority nobody considers to actually be one, and Sex and the City’s audience was limited to people who subscribed to HBO. Friends was the obvious whipping bo—” She slapped her hand against her mouth so hard it stung and she gaped from behind it. “Oh my God—oh my God! I didn’t mean that—”
“I knew what you meant. And anyway, I remember from History class that that was more about the sixteenth century educated elite than it was slavery in America.” Huvie exhaled, gesturing with both hands for her to calm down. “Fuck, Rhea. Relax. You’re not gonna offend me. We’re out on a date in public. If you were racist, would you be out with me? Would you have let me tattoo you for shit’s sake?”
“If I said no,” Rhea slowly mused out loud, “then it would serve to follow I know what racists think . . . because I am one?”
He looked unconvinced. “Fine. You can be a racist if I’m a shallow prick who just wants to bone a white girl. Screwing white chicks always makes me feel like I’m a big man if ya know what I mean.” Huvie gave her an exaggerated wink.
Rhea exhaled. Her hands shook as the waitress set down their drinks.
“Apps will be out shortly. Whaddya having?” Franny’s disposition seemed to have soured considerably.
Of course, with the things she’d overheard from their table, Rhea couldn’t blame her.
“The ham and Swiss chicken sandwich,” Huvie ordered.
“I’ll have the Outlaw Burger. Please. Um—without the onion rings, though. If . . . that’s okay?” She was going to get extra onion rings; she just knew it.
“How rare do you want your burger?” asked Franny.
“Well done, dead as it gets. Charred. Please.” It’s gonna come so raw there’ll be blood on the bun.
“Got it.” Franny swiped their menus from the table and hustled off without another word.
“Think we could make her any more uncomfortable?” Huvie asked with a wicked glint in his eye. He took a long sip from his glass.
“We could always invite her to your place with us,” Rhea teased.
Huvie covered his mouth in what looked like an attempt to keep from spitting out his sweet tea. He coughed. “Would you?”
Smiles By Trials (Rays of Sunshine Book 2) Page 4