Get to You

by Albany Walker

  I grab some water and a fork from under the counter before heading up.

  Beau has three large boxes open on the coffee table in front of him. I grab a pillow off the couch and drop it to the floor, sitting opposite him.

  I open the smaller of my two boxes, "They have the best crab rangoon." I moan around my first bite. Beau is watching me when I look up. After I'm done chewing, I offer him some. He grunts and reaches forward to grab one, dipping it into my sauce.

  He pops the whole thing in his mouth and chews, affirming my opinion with a, "Um---good." He starts digging into his own boxes.

  "I haven’t eaten there before, so I got a couple things."

  I can see Egg Foo Young and Beef and Broccoli. Pretty safe choices for a first trip but I don't know what the third dish is.

  "What's that?" I use my fork to point at the mess in the box.

  "Bow Low Gai Kow," he says sounding strangely knowledgeable.

  "That's a mouthful. You had it before?"

  He looks up, his green eyes squinting at the corners as he pulls a genuine smile, "No. I just like the way it sounded. I'm all about trying new things lately." He takes a forkful of the mentioned dish, taking a bite. He chews, then talks around a mouthful, “It’s good. Rewarding.” I laugh at his chipmunk cheeks.

  "Sounds fun. Maybe I should do that. What else have you tried new lately? Give me a few ideas."

  "Well," he looks thoughtful. "Besides, Bow Low Gai Kow---" He smirks, "I went to this crazy book club filled with only woman, and got hit on by two women old enough to be in my grandma’s knitting circle. She makes great harsh.” He whispers the last part, then grins, “I've since then directed two single friends to try it." He chuckles and winks. "I quit my job, and moved to New York. I think that's about it." There is a subtle shift in his expression, that he is quick to hide, and I am not quick enough to read.

  I try and act casual about what he's just divulged, "Yup, lots of new stuff there." I agree.

  I don't think asking a bunch of questions about him quitting his job is a good change of topic, so I move to the book club. "When your name popped up on the page asking about the book club, I figured you were a girl on her boyfriend’s page. I never imagine a man would have read the book, let alone show up for a public discussion of it. But you walk up and get sandwiched between Mickey and Cookie." I shake my head in good humor, "I can’t believe you stayed."

  Beau tips his head back and laughs, "You know, I probably wouldn't have read it on my own. It was something I did for work, but I did enjoy it." He grins, "I didn't think it would be sexy, certainly not as it was described to me."

  I gulp and nod, my voice sounding strained when I say, "Yes it can be." I squirm on the pillow. When I look up I see him watching me. He’s propped an elbow on the table and has his head resting in his hand.

  "Do you read those kinds of books often, Sammy?" The way he asks me makes the moment feel intimate rather than overtly sexual.

  "Uh---I suppose. I read romance and I consider the Fifty Shades series a romance." I answer and shove a bite into my mouth to have a reason to not talk any further.

  "Why do you say it like that? That you consider it romance." He asks seeming curious. "Some people think it's more erotica." His eyes are so intense, I think maybe he should put the hat back on.

  "You don't?"

  I shrug, mainly to give myself a moment to collect my thoughts, "Not really, I think the story is more important than the sex in that book.” I twirl my fork around in my food, and shake my head, “Sure there's a lot of sex, but it's not just sex---.” I struggle to find the words, and when I do, I choose the absolute worst, “I mean most erotica is just about the fucking." I can’t believe I just said that. I look up, wide eyed with embarrassment.

  Beau is staring at my mouth. He licks his lips, and I find myself mirroring the action as my eyes follow the movement of his tongue. I turn, grabbing one of the waters and gulp nearly the whole thing down. Yep, I just said that out loud. I try to play it off, "Yeah so no filter." I giggle.

  That seems to break the tension.

  I go for a change of subject.

  "I've been meaning to ask, is that your dog in your profile picture? He's beautiful, and I've always wanted a Great Dane." Beau's face falls, before he speaks. I know I'm not going to like what I hear.

  "She," he says. "Ella was beautiful." He continues sadly. The tone of our conversations shifts.

  "What happened?" I find myself asking.

  Beau blows out a long breath, "It's kinda a fucked-up story." His eyes look into mine earnestly, like he wants to tell me, but he also looks a little unsure. I nod trying to encourage him, "She died right before I quit working."

  "I'm sorry," I whisper. "How did it happen?" I don’t want to push him too much, but I want to let him know I am here to listen.

  “Don’t apologize for something someone else did,” his expression hardens. "They wanted to hurt me, so they did it by hurting her." Holy shit, that's insane. Great Danes are known as gentle giants. How anyone could hurt an animal is beyond me.

  "My God Beau, I---,” I pause not certain how to respond. “The first thing I thought when I saw that picture was somebody really loves this dog." I reach out laying my hand on his forearm. “I've never had a dog, but always wanted one. I couldn't have one before my mom died, because she was so allergic.” I continue talking as he takes a breather, “When I moved to New York, it just seemed impractical and kind of cruel to have a dog without a yard. Rita said all kinds of dogs live in the city as perfectly happy dogs, but I just haven't been convinced."

  My hand remains on his arm. I hear the door chime and stand to look over the railing. A dark haired young woman wonders in, looking around. I can tell she's never been here by the way she's gaping. I keep my back to Beau while he is collecting himself.

  "Hi there," I wait for her to look up and wave. "Welcome to the B. B & B. Is there anything I can help you find?" She shakes her head no and starts browsing through the book shelves. She seems taken with the first editions.

  She's still around when the clock strikes eight. I am on the main floor, having left Beau upstairs eating about fifteen minutes ago. I haven't heard a peep from him since. He still looked sad when I came down here; his expression breaks my heart.

  I walk over to pull the open sign around and lock the door.

  She notices and asks, "Oh, are you closing early?"

  "Yeah, we have shorter hours on the weekends," I say without further explanation.

  "Oh well," She says sounding put out.

  "I need to do a few things, so you have a few more minutes if you'd like." She watches me move to the coffee machines and start cleaning. The clean up is familiar. It was the first job Mr. B gave me at the store. I can't use the machines, especially now, but I can still clean them.

  "Do you always work in here alone?" She asks moving closer to the counter.

  The hair on the back of my neck raises. That isn’t a question a customer would normally ask.

  "I'm not alone," I say looking right at her. "I have a friend upstairs."

  She frowns, looking up at the second floor.

  "I'm about done here. Would you like to make a purchase?" She looks at the door, I follow her gaze and see a man standing just outside.

  "Oh, that's my husband. He has the cash do you mind letting him in? I'd like to get this book, but don't want to use a card for a few dollars." She’s holding up a random book plucked from one of the tables.

  I shake my head and make my face look apologetic, "Sorry, I can't do that. I closed the register already because we had a slow day.” I try to sound reasonable “I’ll just set the alarm and let you out. We are open tomorrow from ten till eight, weekdays ten to nine. If you’d like to come back."

  She doesn't say anything, but she begins to fidget. I hear Beau making unnecessary noise as he walks down the stairs.

  "Hey Samantha, everybody else should be here any minute." He shoves his hand out to the nervous wo
man, "I'm Beau. Are you ready for class? We have the whole upstairs empty, so there will be plenty of room to try out kicks and punches."

  She takes a step back, "Ah---I was just shop-puh-ing." She ends her sentence in a stutter.

  "Oh, so you’re not here for Samantha's self defense class? She's really good and has a double black belt. Put me on my ass more times than I can count. You should try it." He says seriously, her eyes take me in again, and she steps to the door.

  "You know, maybe I will come back tomorrow." She sets the book down and waits at the door for me to unlock it. She shakes her head at the skinny guy still standing by the door.

  I open the door then close it quickly, locking it. Beau is standing right behind me when I turn.

  "What in the actual fuck!" I spew and flip the lights off, so just the accent lights are glowing, giving me a better look of the darkening street. I watch them walk down, then turn to Beau, "Double black belt, where the hell did that come from?” I’ve taken a few self defense classes, but a double black belt, hardly. “What if they wanted a fight?”

  I hear the duo talking animatedly outside having stopped. They look back at the shop, before walking off.

  I’m edgy and scared. My skin prickles as goosebumps start up my arms.

  I turn to face Beau and scowl.

  His eyes narrow, “Are you okay?” He takes a few steps closer, but I start to panic.

  I back away, skittish.

  "You should probably go. I need to notify the police. I'm pretty sure they were looking to rob me. I don't want anyone else getting hurt by them. This street is primarily small businesses, very few of us could afford to be robbed.” I finish a little less on edge, “Thank you for your help. I'll call you a cab, just in case they're waiting around."

  He's unaffected by my speech and continues to stand in the same spot, staring at me.

  "I got a good look at her before I came down. I'll help with the description." He ignores me crossing his arms over his impressive chest. He's stubborn, I'll give him that, and knowing he's willing to be interviewed by the police makes me feel a little better. Although, I had no intention of really calling the police, but rather planned to put a notice out on the local small business forum.

  “Maybe I’m overreacting,” I mutter trying to back out gracefully. I don’t really want to deal with the police.

  “No, you’re definitely not overreacting. You need to call and report that.”

  I look him over, “They probably won’t even come out, I’ll just go make a report, after I close---”.

  He shakes his head, before I even finish. “No, you need to call the cops, Samantha. They need to know what just happened.”

  “Why are you still here?” His head knocks back from my harsh tone. “They are gone. You can go.”

  “What?”

  “I said, why are you still here? The grocery store, my store’s facebook page, bookclub, now here.” I huff, “You’re everywhere recently, why? Did he send you here to find me? Is that why you're hanging around? You wear that hat all the time. To hide your face? You don't want to get recognized.” My conclusions come in a flurry of words, “I don't care what he's told you. I won't go back willingly." I'm freaking out, trapped in my store with a suspicious stranger and two would be burglars still hanging outside.

  Beau shakes his head back and forth incredulous.

  "No. No one sent me here.” He looks pretty freaked out too.

  Eventually I calm down and call the police. I'm told a car should be by within the hour. I sigh and hang up.

  The lights are still dim so when I turn around it takes me a second to find Beau, "They said it could take an hour before a car would make it here. You really don't have to stick around."

  My voice is much softer now.

  "That's fine, Sam. I don't mind," the low lights make it easier for me to apologize. Now that the threat has passed, I can tell I was just scared.

  "Listen, I'm sorry I accused you of basically stalking me. I try not to make a spectacle of myself, but it seems every time you're around I end up looking like an ass. I was scared, but that's no reason to attack you. So, again, I'm sorry."

  He's leaning against the end of a bookshelf about twenty feet across the room. He shows no sign of acknowledging my half-ass confession, but sincere apology.

  Fuck this making friends thing. I think I'll go back to sitting at home alone.

  I move to the coffee machines and finish cleaning them. It takes me further from him; I appreciate the distance.

  Once I finish, I continue to stall. I wipe down all the tables and grab the stick vacuum. I stay well away from Beau, giving him space.

  I acted like a lunatic.

  I pass him when I need to get to the cash register to actually close the till. I could leave everything until the morning, but I'd rather not. I skirt the edge of the room and move behind him. I remember the way he acted when Anna invaded his space. I keep as much distance as I can. Mostly I’m feeling embarrassed about my actions and sorry for myself.

  I count the drawer down and leave two hundred dollars in small bills under the change tray. Most people pay with credit cards nowadays, so balancing the cash goes quick. Once the remainder of the bills are in a bank bag I toss it into the underground safe, close the small, heavy door, and roll the rug back over it. I sigh, thinking maybe I should start making bank drops more often, especially with what nearly happened tonight.

  I stand and brush my hands down my jeans. The silence is starting to get to me. It was easy to ignore his presence when I was busy, but now I just feel weird standing in the dark not speaking. I remember I left most of my dinner uneaten up stairs. That'll give me a few more minutes to be busy.

  This time, I walk straight past him as I head up the stairs. I can feel his eyes on me with every step.

  The pillow I sat on is still on the floor, but both of my food containers are closed. The disposable fork I used is wrapped in a napkin sitting on top of the box. Beau's three boxes remain open and almost empty. His fork is sticking out of a pile of rice, like he was in the middle of taking a bite and got interrupted.

  I close each box making sure not to disturb anything and stack them on top of each other. I grab the bag his food came in and place everything neatly back inside, making sure not to smash his fortune cookies. My stuff gets tossed into the other bag, and I take it all back down.

  Placing his on the table nearest him I say quietly, "I wasn't sure if there was anything left you wanted, so I just closed everything up." I take my bag to toss it into the lounge trash. Normally, I wouldn't let it stink up the place overnight, but I can't bring myself to take it out to the alley.

  I take a few deep breaths knowing I can't hide in the backroom forever, so I turn the light out causing the front area to darken more. I should probably turn a few more lights on upfront so the police will know I'm still here.

  I peer out the window before turning on a large chandelier that hangs over one of the sitting areas. It brightens the room just enough. Finally, I plop down in my favorite chair and let my shoes fall off, so I can curl my legs beneath me.

  Beau moves closer, sitting in the chair right next to me. The clock chimes nine times letting me know it's been almost an hour since I called the police. They should be here anytime.

  "I wear the hat so people won't recognize me, but not for the reason you think."

  I turn my head to look at his uncovered face, "Who are you hiding from?"

  He laughs with no humor, "Everyone." I don't have time to absorb his meaning, because there's a metallic tapping sound coming from the door. I look up to see a uniformed police officer holding a flashlight to the door frame.

  I stammer through a rundown of what happened. The officer tells me to be careful and make sure no one is working alone, especially at night. I barely make eye contact with the officer during my explanation.

  Beau takes over at one point, casting a curious glance at me while doing so. They promise to circle the block a few
times to make sure the couple is out of the area. There haven't been any reports of a robbery in the area, so hopefully they were scared away.

  "You all set here for tonight?" Beau asks when the officer finally leaves.

  "I just need to lock up."

  I’ve only taken a few steps when he asks, "Who are you hiding from Sammy?" I know I owe him some explanation for my actions tonight, but I don’t know if I can give it. To trust someone with that is going too far, but I don't have to tell him all my secrets. I want him to stick around. Maybe if he knew why I'm so paranoid, he'd understand me better. I mean he did already stick around after I accused him of stalking me.

  I blow out a long breath.

  "It's kinda a fuck up story." I mimic his words from earlier.

  He shrugs, "Aren't they all?" His dismissive tone is just what I need.

  "I've got a pan of brownies and an unopened carton of ice cream at home, you game?" I don’t know why I’m offering, but I really don’t want to have this conversation at my store.

  His hand rubs over his flat tummy "Do I have to share?" He jokes.

  I lock up the store and we walk the few blocks to my studio.

  My space feels ten times smaller with him in it. I rush up the stairs, a little self-conscious of walking with my back to him. I fumble with the locks. I never have company so I'm trying to remember if I've left anything embarrassing laying on the floor. My bed isn't made; I never make it. A bedroom door might be handy at this point.

  I open the door slowly and warn him, "I left in a hurry this morning, and I wasn't expecting anyone to come over." I flip the switch next to the door and he gets his first look at my place.

  Studio probably isn't the right word to describe my home. It's more of a loft, but the high ceilings are finished, so it lacks the typical industrial vibe. There are a few columns that have been painted bright turquoise, then painted over with a soft white. Both paint jobs are old and chipped, the bright color peeks through the white. I like it. It gives a pop of color around the large space, making it seem a bit smaller. I put my keys in an old China bowl that is placed on a table by the door. They clink against the porcelain.