Get to You

by Albany Walker

  Mickey and the small group of my regulars flow up the stairs talking animatedly about what books should be next. Mickey is fighting to finish the series, but Linda is adamant that if we discuss the first book, then the others would become redundant.

  "Oh, Mickey just read them, and enjoy them. No need to beat it to death," the old bird cackles at her intended joke. I smirk thinking the eighty-year-old woman had to have been something to see in her youth.

  I turn and make my way back up the stairs. I notice a slightly familiar looking large man loitering near the staircase; the ball cap pulled low over his face is a give away. It takes a moment, but I realize it's my stranger from the grocer.

  My heart rate speeds up.

  Is he following me?

  Did Darryl send him to find me?

  I dismiss my reaction as quickly as it comes. I'm being ridiculous. I'm only a block from the the market. He's just looking for a book, and I'm connecting things that aren't there. Seeing a man twice in two days doesn’t mean he’s stalking you.

  A few others pass me on the stairs, so I move back up to the second floor. I look around the sitting room still standing by the stairs. There are about twelve others finding seats or helping themselves to a snack. I smile thinking this is the best turn out yet.

  I hear a deep voice say, "Excuse me." A hand touches the small of my back, and then let's go as he moves past. The touch was casual like he was simply keeping me in place so he could move around me, but I can feel the heat from his palm linger through my sheer shirt. I blow out a breath as I watch him take a seat.

  Mickey and Cookie make room between themselves for him to sit.

  He grins at them, his face hidden but what can be seen easily is perfect, every member of the book club sits a little straighter. My gaze follows the shadow created by the brim of his hat; a strong jaw with light stubble runs down a nice thick neck. I gulp as my eyes take in his wide set of shoulders and a trim waist. He looks like a giant squashed between to the two cougars. He's trying to make himself as small as possible, his shoulders pull inward, and his long legs seam together. His shrinking is in vain, because both women are leaning unnecessarily close. Mickey, the brazen hoochy, reaches over and squeezes his bicep in a poorly concealed welcome gesture. Judging from his body language, he’s starting to look very uncomfortable.

  I take mercy on the poor man and get things started.

  I clear my throat, "This is our best turn out yet. Just to make sure we're all in the right place, this is the B B & B's monthly book club, and we're discussing Fifty Shades of Gray." I look right at him, but he doesn't acknowledge my get out while you can offer. "Okay then. I'm happy you could all join us. I'm Samantha, and this is my bookstore.” I gesture around the store, then to the food table, “Help yourselves to a drink or snack, and we will get started in just a few moments.” I am about to end my welcome speech when I remember, “We also will be voting on next months group read from the books suggested last month. So before you leave, don't forget to add the book you'd like to read on the sheet over there for next months voting." I point to a small table where the book sign-up is; a few members turn to look at it. Most are caught up in looking at the new guy. I sigh, ending my speech.

  The room falls into chatter as a few women go up to introduce themselves to the man seated between Mickey and Cookie.

  After most everyone has grabbed a drink and a plate, I begin with my little introduction, "Since we have a few new faces, why don't we take a moment to introduce ourselves?” No one looks pleased, except Cookie. “How about you start Cookie?".

  Her voice is strong and clear when she says, "Well, like our Sam here said, my name is Cookie," she nods her head to the man seated next to her urging him to go next.

  "I guess I'm next," he chuckles. "I'm Beau," he says without removing his hat.

  I tilt my head, thinking it’s a little rude but soon forget when Mickey starts talking, "Well hello there, Beau. I'm Mickey." She introduces herself to him and him alone. Her dark pixie cut shines as she dips her head a little trying to get a better look at his face. Her large brown eyes lock on mine, and her lip lifts at the corner making her grin a little mischievous. "How'd you find our little store Beau?" she asks, still looking at me. It’s like she thinks I'm the one who’s going to answer.

  "Ahh, an internet search?" he asks more than states. She caught him off guard.

  I lift my hand and motion for the next person to continue. The rest of the introductions go smoothly, with no other interruptions. I read a little synopsis of the book, then ask, "So who wants to begin?"

  A few heads turn looking around the group. Everyone seems to be waiting for someone else to start talking. Mickey’s lips twist up in a small smirk. She has the devil on those lips. I quickly speak up to interrupt her train of thought.

  “Let’s start with the genre. What did you guys think? Erotica or romance?” I’m met with continued silence, so I try a different route. “What were your thoughts on the relationship? Did it offend you or not?”

  I hear mumbles of both answers being stated, and that’s all it takes.

  “I wasn’t offended by the relationship. Honestly, one thing that bothered me about the book was every single man she met was enamored by her, and I couldn’t figure out why!” Cookie’s comment spurs a few responses. Beau’s head bobs like he agrees.

  Mickey reaches over and lightly slaps his thigh with the back of her hand, “What d’ya think, Beau? Is Anna every mans fantasy?”

  I hear a throat clear and a few of the women lean closer, waiting for his response.

  Beau hums, his mouth is a tight grimace, but he seems to really be thinking about his answer. “Well that’s the idea with reading this type of story, right? Leading with enough information that the reader can use their own imagination to fill in what really does it for them, what turns them on.” The corner of his lip turns up as he gives a slight shrug, “I thought her character was sexy. I liked how confident she became.”

  More than one of the ladies’ cheeks turn pink, and the room falls silent.

  It takes Mickey to break the spell, “I need a drink.”

  Damn her. She is the main reason why we don’t have wine at these meetings anymore.

  Two hours later, the snacks are gone, and everyone has shared their questions and opinions on the story that has sparked so much media coverage. A few people seem to have made friends, as a group of women are exchanging numbers and making plans to meet outside of bookclub.

  Beau, who I now know as the owner of the Facebook account, has stayed relatively quiet. Being the only male in the group, he was asked tons of questions about his perspective on the story. I admit it was great to have a male perspective and not just because his voice sounded so good saying words like bound and sexy. I'm still surprised he's read the story, though his input makes it very clear he has.

  I overhear him tell Mickey he hasn't read the next book yet. I'm not totally surprised when he goes downstairs to buy a copy from George, but I find myself hoping he comes back next month.

  Linda was the only one who didn't want to read the second book in the trilogy, so Fifty Shades Darker is what's on the table for next time. I haven't looked at the suggestion sheet, but I’m betting Fifty Shades Freed is the book listed most for the following month.

  George locked up about twenty minutes ago. As everyone is preparing to leave, I go downstairs with the majority of the group. "We ran a little long tonight guys, so I'll let you out," I say and am met with a chorus of thank you’s from the group and a few requests to have the spinach dip become mandatory at every meeting.

  I return upstairs to find Beau and three young women cleaning up the tables. One of the women is new. I think she said her name is Celia. I sigh happily, because I've never had anyone stay and help me. Beau's presence is a great motivator. Everything is done except cleaning and returning the crockpot to the lounge.

  "Wow! Thanks guys, but this is totally unnecessary. You know I don't mind," I say sly
ly looking at Lisa and Amy to let them know I’ve caught on to their unusual helpfulness. Amy looks embarrassed, while Lisa just smiles and winks. "Well since you've all taken care of everything. I can let you out if you're ready," I comment while placing the empty trays into the sack. I pick up the crockpot to take down stairs.

  Beau strides over and pulls the pot from my hands saying, "I'll take this down for you." I release it without thinking, and he's down the stairs before I can thank him. I grab the sack and move to follow him.

  I stop when the new girl fans her face saying, "Hot, mysterious, and helpful! Has anyone called dibs?" She asks boldly. I snort at the offended looks on Lisa and Amy's faces.

  I'm surprised when it's Amy that speaks up, "Not yet, but I am now!" She adds triumphantly.

  Lisa's mouth pops open, and she puts her weight to one hip along with her hand. "Nuh-uh! That's not fair!" She looks close to stomping her foot in a fit of anger.

  Celia takes a more forward approach saying, "Not if I get to him first," as she starts towards the stairs. Lisa and Amy make a united front as they block the steps. I think I might have a cat fight on my hands if I don't intervene soon. Maybe he shouldn’t come back next month. I already feel a headache starting.

  I rub my temples and say loud enough for them to hear me over their back and forth squabbling, "Hey, listen. If you guys want to ask him out or whatever, fine. Just not here. This is a place of business, and I won't have you guys fighting over him in my store."

  All three of their eyes are now turned to me and Celia’s look is so scathing it could melt plastic. The other two look apologetic.

  "You think you," Celia looks me up and down clearly finding me lacking in some manner, "can stop me from asking him out?" She scoffs.

  I shake my head at her antics, "No I don't care if you asks him out. What I asked you to refrain from doing is acting like a spoilt toddler in my store. I think it's time you gather your things so you can leave. I’d like to go home."

  She stomps over to her purse, snatching it from the table. Knocking a few books to the floor in the process. Man, I feel bad for the guy, if he ever does go out with this chick.

  "Seriously?" I ask with raised brows.

  "Yeah. I just did you a favor. You could use the exercise." She sneers. I don't reply, because she just hit below the belt. Insult my business, even my intelligence, and I'll give you a tongue lashing, but say something about my weight, and I'm so taken aback. I'm struck stupid.

  "Hey," says a deep male voice. I shrink further. Just great. He heard this woman calling me fat. It's not like he couldn't see for himself, but it's still mortifying.

  Lisa and Amy haven't said a word. I think they both realize this girl is out there.

  Not looking or acknowledging Beau, I say, "Like I said before I think it's time you leave! Please don't return."

  Her eyes are a little wild now that she knows Beau heard her outburst, "Oh you better believe I won't be back. I have never been treated so rudely." Celia sounds hurt. She’s looking at Beau, perhaps hoping for his sympathy.

  This lady is a piece of work. Now that I think about it, she didn't share any opinions but just agreed with what a few others said. Did she even read the book? Maybe she just followed him here like a crazy stalker. Now, I’m being judgmental because clearly, I think everyone is a stalker. Can this day end now?

  When no one says a word as I motion to the stairs. She huffs, turns, and storms down them.

  Once she's down, I say quietly, "Stay here for a moment please. She seems a little unstable." I start for the stairs and realize Beau is behind me. I look up at him questioningly.

  He leans forward and whispers, "I'm not going to leave you alone with that crazy lady." I sigh wondering how this night went downhill so fast.

  When I open the door, she turns looking at me and then Beau.

  Her voice is shaky as she says, "I'm sorry you had to hear that." She looks down, then back up at him through her lashes, her eyes a bit glossy. "I shouldn't have responded to her attack." My what? Oh, she's good I'll give her that. She continues, "I'm pretty upset. Would you mind helping me get a cab?" Her face is completely innocent. I am forced to reevaluate my earlier paranoid assessment of her character.

  "I'll get you a cab," he says coolly exiting the store with her on his heels.

  "Would you like me to grab your purchase?" I ask him, holding the door open.

  She looks up at him, hopeful. He doesn’t reply as he moves out into the street where a cab stops immediately. He opens the door for her, and she looks at me like a cat that just ate the canary. I imagine her pushing a yellow feather back in with the tip for her finger. I nearly laugh, she is so two-faced.

  "Would you like to share?" she asks suggestively, and you can tell the offer applies to more than a cab ride.

  "We are headed in separate directions," he says sounding relieved.

  "But---how do you know?" she pouts as he closes the door on her upturned face. He hits the window using the universal cabby speak for go. Her expression is priceless as the driver speeds away. I let a little snort of laughter escape my lips.

  Beau turns and throws his hands in the air, "Way to throw me to the wolves. ‘Can I get your purchase?’" He mocks and walks back toward me, crowding my personal space a bit.

  He follows me as I step back into the store.

  "Hey! How am I supposed to know if you fell for that crazy lady's crap? She sure seemed confident you'd go with her.” I turn my back to him, “By the way do you know her? Did she follow you here?” I turn to look pointedly at him, “Because I don't want her coming back."

  He looks offended, "Me! I've never seen that person, but I'm pretty sure she tried to put her hand down my pants at one point tonight, either that, or Mickey is one feisty grandma."

  I laugh at the image of Mickey copping a feel, and he scowls but starts laughing, making me laugh even harder.

  "I don't doubt Mickey would do it but not the first night she's met you," I say through giggles.

  He nods his head believing me and looking properly warned, "I can see that, and somehow I'd much rather it'd been her hand than that nasty piece of work." My laughter dies as I turn and see Lisa and Amy on the main floor now, watching us.

  "Hey guys sorry to offend you," I say sincerely. "Things were just going a little too far." I smile in chagrin, hoping they don't cause another scene.

  Lisa answers for them both, "No, Sam, you were right. That was uncalled for." She looks at Beau, embarrassed. I’m not sure how much he heard, but I'd be embarrassed too.

  I smile, letting them know it's over, "Sorry you guys had to stay even longer. Let me get you guys a cab to get you home safely.”

  After a few polite denials, I get the roommates into a cab, giving a generous tip. I step out into the street to get another for Beau. He sees what I'm doing and grabs my upturned hand lowering it.

  "I'll be walking. Thanks anyway." I start to insist when he shakes his head, "I'm only a few blocks that way."

  He points in the direction of my studio. I shrug my shoulders. He's a grown man and a huge one at that. Someone would have to be crazy to bother him, so I concede.

  "Alright. I hope this incident doesn't scare you from coming back. Truly, nothing like this has ever happened. I think the majority found insight in your male perspective and appreciated it," I say honestly.

  He waves his hand dismissively with a smirk, "If that's all I have to deal with to get a little normal, then sign me up." His answer is a little strange, but I like the way the left side of his smile is higher than the right. My mind blanks as I stare at his lips. His straight white teeth come into view, and I realize his smile has gotten bigger. I’ve most likely been caught staring at his mouth. Great.

  "Have a good night Beau," I say retreating back into the store.

  I lock the door and turn my back to him, blowing out a long breath, "Could you be more obvious?" I ask myself out loud. He doesn't even remember the grocery store incident and here you a
re, oogling his soft full lips.

  I snort at my thoughts.

  Banging on the door sounds behind me, making me jump and scream. My hands are held over my heaving chest as I turn and see Beau looking through the door. He mimes turning a key on the door.

  I unlock it for him. "Everything okay?" I ask, breathing a little hard.

  "Didn't mean to startle you. I tried to ask before you closed the door. Do you need a cab?"

  I answer without thinking, “No, I need to do a few things, and then I'll walk." As soon as I say it, I roll my lips together. Why am I telling him this? You can’t just tell a stranger, a man at that, that you plan to walk home alone at night.

  "It's getting dark," He says like it isn't obvious.

  "I can see that," I smile.

  He looks torn, "I could wait and walk with you?" The way he phrases it, makes the statement into a question, making him seem both sweet and a little shy.

  "Ah sure, I guess," I say leaning back from the door to let him in. I lock up again, grabbing the cookery, and taking it to the lounge. He follows behind me.

  Beau sweeps the hat off his head and looks around like he's getting his first real look at the place, which I guess he is. With that hat pulled so low he couldn't have been able to see much. I try not to look in his direction for fear of staring. That must be the reason why he wears it, if women react so strongly to him without even seeing his entire face. The brief gaze I am afforded reminds me of being knocked dumb at the grocers last time we met. His face for any length of time would probably cause lasting fits of stupidity.

  "You own this place?" He questions sounding awed.

  "I do," I answer proudly.

  "God, it's great. It's like a time capsule. They just don't make buildings like this anymore.” He comments, then asks, “Was it handed down from family?" He seems truly curious.

  "No, not so much.” I stutter trying to explain, “Mr. B is like family. I met him when I was sixteen. I used to come here almost every day after school." I smile fondly at the memories as I run water in the pot. I'll wash it tomorrow. "He got so used to seeing me, he put me to work." I shrug, "Then I just never left." It’s a greatly simplified version of the story, but essentially that's what happened.