Opposites Attract

by Cat Johnson

  “Hold on, Henri. I can’t hear half of what you’re saying. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the club,” he began. Well, that explained the loud voices and pounding bass in the background. “Kenneth and I had a big fight. That bitch took off and left me stranded here with no car and no money to get home.” Henri’s voice now reached a pitch so high only dogs should be able to hear it. He let out a big sob. “Can you come and get me? It’s the club on Ninth.”

  “Of course. Hang tight, I’ll be right there.” It looked like she would be getting out on a Friday night after all. Whoopee.

  At least she’d never gotten around to changing out of her work clothes or taking off her makeup. She grabbed her coat and purse and then remembered to take Maria’s keys off the kitchen counter where she’d left them. Locking herself out of the apartment—wouldn’t that have been fun.

  As she opened the door and stepped out into the hall she glanced at the hunky fireman’s door. Being locked out would be a good excuse to get into his apartment though. Something to consider…

  Said apartment door suddenly opened and startled her so much she actually jumped.

  “Hey.” He appeared as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

  “Hi. What are you doing out at this time of night?” Hopefully he wasn’t off to some midnight rendezvous with his girlfriend.

  He jingled a bunch of quarters in his hand. “Laundry. Time to swap it from the washer to the dryer. The machines are in a room at the end of the hall, if you need them.”

  Well wasn’t he helpful and domestic too. “Thanks, I think I will take advantage while I’m here.”

  “Where are you off to?” He took in her office attire with a quick downward glance. All right, so she wasn’t exactly dressed for clubbing. Was everyone a critic?

  “A friend is kind of stuck and needs a ride. Which really stinks because I was actually able to find a parking spot, even if it is like five blocks away, but now I’m going to lose it.”

  He frowned. “You shouldn’t be out walking to your car at this time of night alone. Hold on a sec.” Hunky Troy disappeared and was back with his jacket and keys in hand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Wow, did guys like this really still exist? Perhaps chivalry wasn’t dead after all. She was about to tell him he didn’t have to come with her when her practical side kicked in. First of all, she was a little nervous walking alone since this wasn’t her own neighborhood. Second, who in their right mind would give up a chance for a moonlit stroll with this man? “That’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. So where do you have to pick up your friend?”

  “It’s a club on Ninth. Near Broad.”

  He frowned deeper. “Ninth? That’s not a great neighborhood and parking there stinks too. Maybe I should come with you. That way I can wait in the car if we can’t park.”

  Amy had been to the club twice before with Henri and his various boyfriends, but never alone. She would feel better having company and she didn’t mind having an excuse to spend more time with him. “You wouldn’t mind? I’m really disturbing your night off.”

  “Not at all. My body clock’s all messed up anyway. I’d probably be up watching TV all night.”

  That worked for her. She smiled. “All right then. Thanks.”

  But what seemed like a good idea at the time took on entirely different connotations when they were not only able to park right in front of the club but Troy insisted on coming inside with her.

  “Let me try calling his cell first. He can come out to meet us.” Amy held her breath, hoping Henri would answer, which he didn’t. She disconnected the call when the voicemail message came on and glanced at Troy. “Voicemail. He probably can’t hear the phone. It’s really loud in there.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll go in.” He reached for the door handle.

  Her hero Troy had no idea what he was in for. If the pink flashing neon Love Potion #9 on 9th sign didn’t tip Troy off as to what kind of establishment they were entering, the leather clad male couple kissing just outside the doorway sure did.

  To his credit, she barely saw the flash of surprise that crossed Troy’s face before he hid it and steered her inside.

  “Where’s your friend?” He sounded deceptively casual, acting as if he wasn’t fazed at all by the site of the bouncer dressed in drag just inside the door.

  “That’s a good question.” It was so dark inside she could barely make out the bar along one wall. But once she got her bearings, she decided the best course of action would be to question the bartender. What was his name again? Jon Jon? She knew because Henri had a crush on him for years now and talked about him incessantly. Things like Jon Jon looked so cute the other night or I think Jon Jon was flirting with me.

  Amy took Troy’s hand, half so she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd, half because he was getting many interested looks from the men there and she felt the need to protect him since it was her fault he was here at all. Then there was that third half, the one she didn’t want to admit to, the fact that any reason to touch this man was a good enough excuse for her.

  Heart beating a little faster at even this small physical contact, she led them through the crowd. She finally got close enough to the bar to hail the bartender, who was wearing ass-less leather pants and no shirt. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Troy’s face to see his reaction.

  “Jon Jon!” She stood on tiptoe to call to him.

  He walked over, barely glanced at her and blatantly stared at Troy. “What can I get for you two?” His bleached-tooth smile was blinding.

  “Actually, I’m here to pick up my friend Henri and I was hoping you’d know where he is.” She had to lean in and yell to be heard over the music pounding from the DJ booth.

  “Henri? What’s he wearing?”

  Damn, this wasn’t looking good. “I don’t know.”

  “What’s he drink?”

  “Cosmopolitans, I think.” Typical bartender, even in this surreal bar. They knew drinks better than people.

  “Sister, you just described the preference of half the queens in this place.”

  That figured. “He’s dating a guy named Kenneth. Maybe you know him. Tall, blond runway model. They had a big fight tonight—”

  Jon Jon held up a hand. “Say no more. He’s in the men’s room. Locked himself in a stall. It’s causing quite a back up. Everyone’s been using the ladies’ room. Good thing you’re here to get him out.”

  “The men’s room. Do you think I can go in there?” Amy glanced at Troy as they weaved in and out of the various necking and dancing couples to get to the door that Jon Jon had indicated.

  Troy gave her a look of disbelief. “In this place? I don’t think gender really matters as far as the facilities go. But if you want, I’ll go in alone and get him for you.”

  That offer went above and beyond the call of duty. Troy’s character raised another notch higher in her already lofty estimation. She hesitated a moment then shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll respond well to a stranger. I better go in with you.”

  She bravely pushed her way through the door, holding her breath and hoping that they wouldn’t walk in on anything more graphic than they’d already seen. Luckily, Henri’s occupation of the only stall had seriously curtailed the activities of any amorous couples. She and Troy were alone with the sink and urinal in the dingy space.

  “Henri?” She bent to spy his shoes beneath the stall door, which swung open at the sound of her voice.

  “Amy, thank God. I hate that shtupid bitch Kenneth for doin’ this…” Henri stumbled out of the stall, obviously drunk and slurring. He halted at the first sight of Troy still holding her hand. Henri swayed slightly, held onto the stall doorframe to steady himself and frowned.

  She dropped Troy’s hand. “Henri, this is Maria’s neighbor Troy. He was kind enough to come with me.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Troy stuck out one of his XXL sized hands as if exchanging pleas
antries in the men’s bathroom at a gay club was nothing new.

  “The pleashure’s all mine.” Henri glanced down at the hand and shot Amy a knowing look as he took it in his delicate one. Henri seemed to have forgotten his own trauma in favor of sticking his nose in her personal life.

  On the way out of the club, Henri whispered in the none too quiet voice of a drunk, “You know what they shay…big hands, big…ooof.” The rest was lost as her elbow in his ribs knocked the wind out of him.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Troy stood in the laundry room and considered the events of the prior night as he finally got around to transferring his wet clothes from one of the washers to the dryer.

  The club had been quite an eye opener. So had the fact that Amy knew the bartender by name. This was obviously a place she’d been to before. Although, who was he to judge? Really, where else could she go to meet other lesbians? It just didn’t seem like her scene. Little Miss Business Suit in that place was a tough sell in his mind.

  He shook his head and couldn’t help thinking once again what a crime it was she wasn’t available to him.

  Meeting her friend Henri had been another whole experience in itself. By the time the unlikely trio arrived back at the apartment building, Henri was so out of it he couldn’t stand, much less walk. Troy decided the best course of action would be to leave Henri and Amy in the lobby with the doorman while he parked her car.

  Troy had sprinted the quarter mile back to the building from the parking space he finally found and then had to use the fireman’s carry to get Henri off the lobby couch and into the elevator. Good thing the guy weighed next to nothing. Still, Troy figured he got more rest at work than he did on this past day off.

  He’d helped Amy get Henri onto the guest room bed and then left her alone to deal with whatever happened next. It would surprise him if Henri hadn’t spent at least some time last night praying to the porcelain god, if he even made it as far as the bathroom. Poor Maria. She had no idea what her apartment was being subjected to while she was gone.

  Just as he was plunking his quarters into the dryer, Amy appeared in the doorway, looking way hotter than any lesbian should as far as he was concerned. He took in her tight t-shirt, which did nothing to hide her assets, and her equally fitted running pants, which emphasized his second favorite body attribute on a female, before he forced himself to look up.

  Keeping his eyes above her shoulders didn’t help much since her wavy hair was barely tamed in a ponytail and she looked cuter than usual and sexy as hell.

  Amy stopped dead when she saw him there. “Oh, hi. Listen, thank you so much for last night. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  He smiled. “You would have managed somehow.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think that doorman is ever going to speak to me again as it is after Henri was flirting with him. I really doubt he would have helped me get Henri in the elevator and he definitely couldn’t have carried him the way you did.”

  Not only did she sound impressed by his show of strength, but he could swear she was eyeing his muscles beneath his black tank top, his only clean shirt until this load of laundry was done. He mentally gave himself a shake and reminded himself that his muscles were the last thing this chick wanted.

  “So, how’s he doing?” He leaned against the dryer, arms crossed as he watched her butt when she bent over and emptied the other washing machine of a load of wet things.

  Amy grimaced as she indicated the stuff she’d just plopped on top of the washer. “As you can see, he didn’t quite make it to the toilet last night. Cosmopolitans aren’t as pretty coming back up as they are going down.”

  Troy couldn’t help but chuckle as she sorted through what looked like a small bathroom rug, a towel and a few items of clothing.

  “It’s not funny.” She turned to him but then laughed herself. “Okay, maybe it is. But I want credit for being a damn good friend.”

  “Duly noted and given,” he agreed with a nod.

  “Is there only that one dryer?” She looked around the small room. When he nodded, she wrinkled her nose. “I guess I can leave this stuff here and come back later.”

  “Just throw it in with mine. There’s room.”

  She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  He stopped the dryer and opened the door. “Of course, I’m sure.”

  “Thanks.” A dazzling smile lit her face and made it nearly impossible for him to look away. “If you don’t stop coming to my rescue, I’m going to owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing,” he said even as visions of how she could repay him filled his mind. If only…

  Troy shook his head as he followed her and her shapely bottom out of the laundry room. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. A damn shame.

  For the following hour, he somehow managed to get his mind off of the forbidden fruit and enjoy the basketball playoffs, right up until it was time to get his laundry out of the dryer. Then the unattainable temptation that was Amy, or rather her thong underwear, insinuated themselves into his already yearning mind.

  He stood in the laundry room with the impossibly small hot pink article in question dangling from one finger. He hadn’t wanted to touch them. Really, he didn’t. But they were clinging to the back of his sweatshirt when he discovered them. What was he supposed to do? Troy immediately pushed aside the image of her wearing them.

  “You’re the wrong gender, O’Donnell. Remember that.” Then a horrible thought struck him—he would somehow have to return the thong to her. Oh God, how was he supposed to do that?

  In a desperate course of action, he dumped his own clean clothes on his bed and then buried the undies in the bottom of the laundry basket under the bath mat and towel. But the thong wasn’t the only intimate thing she had washed. There was also a temptingly lacy white bra, size 34C. Okay, so he had looked. And a tiny off-white tank top that he was pretty sure she’d been wearing under the blue suit jacket yesterday.

  Then there was a small looking black silky t-shirt that he thought he recognized as what Henri had been wearing the night before. Troy hadn’t worn a shirt that small since middle school.

  He made sure the bra and tank thingy were as well buried as the thongs and rang her door bell, laundry basket in hand.

  As Amy opened the door he hoped he didn’t look as guilty as he felt.

  “Oh, thank you. I wanted to get to it first and fold your laundry for you as a thank you. You beat me to it.” She opened the door wider and took the basket.

  “That’s okay. Really.” Yeah, that was the last thing he needed, having the image of Amy touching his tighty whities in his head. Not to mention the few ratty pair of underwear that should be thrown out but he saved for laundry emergencies. No woman should be subjected to those.

  “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on and sleeping beauty has yet to wake. Do you want to join me for some?” the little minx offered innocently.

  “I’d love to join you for some.” Some what, he didn’t specify. Instead he followed her into the apartment and sat on a stool at the island in the kitchen. There really wasn’t another option since the couch was covered in stacks of papers. “What’s going on over there? Looks like your briefcase exploded.”

  Amy paused in her pouring and glanced over. “I know. I tend to spread out when I work.” She handed him the cup. “Cream, sugar?”

  He shook his head and drank the coffee black. “Why are you working on a Saturday?”

  “Nothing else to do. Besides, there’s only some stupid basketball game on television.” She shrugged and sipped at her own mug.

  He didn’t respond to the basketball comment. “And if you were at home, in your own apartment, what would you be doing then?”

  “Work, laundry, maybe food shopping if I wanted to get really wild.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Amy joked, but to Troy she sounded lonely. “Don’t you hang out with your friends and d
o things?”

  “Yeah, sometimes. But all of my closest friends are in relationships and I kind of feel like a fifth wheel when we hang out. I do get out. Just last week my neighbor who’s an artist had an opening at a gallery. And then there are always the release parties for the books I publish at work… God, I sound like a real loser, don’t I?” She sighed. The pity he felt must have shown on his face.

  “Not at all. So that’s what you do, publishing?”

  She nodded.

  “That explains the mass amounts of paper and how you know Maria.” Hey, wait a minute. Maybe she only knew Maria through her publishing company. Maybe she wasn’t…

  That unrealistic hope died when Amy said, “Yeah, I published her first book. But actually, I knew Maria’s partner Elena through a mutual acquaintance. That’s why Maria chose to send the book proposal to me.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, there went that little dream. Amy had probably dated Elena’s ex-girlfriend or something.

  A loud moan announced Henri as he shuffled into the room, wrapped in a blanket like a mummy. Amy jumped to clear the couch since it seemed he had every intention of laying down there, papers or not.

  “I think I want to die.” He moaned to further enforce the statement.

  “How about some fried eggs, greasy bacon and a big Bloody Mary to settle your stomach?” Amy smiled sweetly.

  “No rest for the wicked, I see.” Henri squinted at her through bloodshot eyes. Then he turned his gaze to Troy. “Run, my studly hero. Save yourself from the witch’s wrath.”

  Troy laughed. No need to feel sorry for Amy. She had good friends, interesting though they were.

  “I think I’m safe but I’d better get going.” He downed the last of the coffee and stood. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Troy left and Amy watched the door close behind what could possibly be the perfect man. She could see the white picket fence now…

  “So did we have a little sleepover last night with Mr. Studly?” The bucolic vision blurred at the sound of Henri’s sniping. “Where did you get him, anyway? Hunks-R-Us? Are they having a sale and can you pick me up one?”