Colt is at the door and Cal is walking the floor with me. We’ve divided the place in half and he’s got the bar section while I cover the seating area. Both of us can keep an eye on the dance floor, but trouble usually migrates away from there. I prefer Colt at the door so far. A smaller guy seems to give the right feel, and his banter with the patrons is far less egotistical than my other alternatives. Anyway, I arranged the schedule so I have a better chance of seeing Suzanne as soon as she arrives, if she does. The last few days have been tough. We did actually speak on the phone and it went pretty well, I guess. I could still sense some hesitation in her; defenses that I know I’m the best person to recognize.
No sign of her yet. The club’s pretty calm, just a lot of people trying to have a good time and maybe even find a hookup.
That’s not what I’m looking for. The first part of my life was dedicated to that, but things change. People change. I start thinking about Fiorina, but the images of her that were once so strong are finally starting to fade away, as painful as they are. All that’s left are the feelings, and they’re just as crisp as they were the day I lost her. I scan the room, covering the whole club, knowing that I’m overlapping Cal’s responsibilities, but it’s always best to be aware. Chase is at the bar, and Mack’s handing him another drink. For how busy the club is, he should be a happy man, but his face certainly isn’t showing it. Counselor I’m not, though. Maybe his side-piece will show up and change things for him; I know it will for me, because Suzanne will be with her.
Amber’s waiting tables, looking sexy as ever. It’s funny, I haven’t noticed women for the most part since Fiorina’s death, but now that I’m on the verge of finding the one for me, I’m seeing them differently. Maybe I just blocked out beauty for a while, feeling guilty about having those urges. Somehow, she snapped things back into place for me. I’m no closer to wanting to snag a one-nighter than I was, but at least I’m seeing the world again, in an odd sort of way. She’s flirting with the customers, which effectively is her job, and I can see that she’s good at it. Her eyes sparkle and flash at their jokes and she leans in close, ostensibly to hear, in reality knowing it gives them a cheap thrill and lubricates their urge to tip.
Everybody hustles. I do it myself with the jobs I do for Devin. Suzanne’s roommate hustles guys, just at a different level. While Amber’s happy to give it away for free, Anjelica has just put a price tag on it. I really don’t have a problem with that. What two consenting adults choose to do is none of my damn business, anyway.
By the time I finish scanning the bar area, I look back to the seating section and I see her. Same corner, same table, though this time she has a smile on her face and it’s fucking contagious. I know I have a shit-eating grin on my face, which isn’t the best thing in my line of work, so I try to suppress it as best as I can. It’s hard. Just the sight of her makes me want her, want to kiss her, touch her, hell, do anything for her. Her roommate is there too, but normally she’ll get up and go dance in a minute or two. She’s scanning the club with those eyes. Is she looking or me, or something else? I’m far enough away that she probably won’t be able to pick me out in the crowd. In a way, there’s a little voyeuristic pleasure in just watching her naturally like this.
I get distracted for a minute by some commotion, but I watch as Cal takes care of it smoothly. Definitely better working the inside of the club, I think. It is definitely more of an appropriate place for having a power trip.
She’s gone when I look back and I scan the bar frantically for her until she comes back into my radar. She looks perfect in a tight cotton skirt, black and white stripes. It comes to just above her knees and gives me a beautiful eyeful of those firm, shapely calves. Her blouse is low cut, but overall she leaves a lot to the imagination, and my imagination excites me. She’s working her way to the bar, but slowed significantly by the crowds, several layers deep as Mack tries to keep up with the demand.
I text Chase. It’s cheaper than walkies and we can’t hear over the music anyway. You just have to keep in the habit of leaving it on vibrate somewhere where you will feel it.
What’s up? I can see him typing, his eyes scanning for me.
Can I use your office?
Shit, about time. Be my guest. He responds. Mi casa es su casa.
He probably thinks I play for the other team at this point, since I’m the only person on the staff that hasn’t made use of the office for personal reasons. I can see him smiling, still scanning for me, but I’ve already left my vantage point and am trying to navigate a path where I can catch up with Suzanne. Fortunately, when you’re a bouncer and over six feet, people just naturally clear a path when they see you have the intention of moving in their direction. A good number of the patrons have probably also seen me break up a fight, which doesn’t usually take very long. Within a minute, I’m standing behind her in the crowd, longing to lean down and just smell that hair. Creepy? Probably. Silently, I take her hand in mine and she turns, looking up at me. A smile washes in and back out as quickly as it came, but she follows me as I drop her hand, gesturing with my head towards the stairs at the edge of the club. I unhook the chain and even though we still haven’t spoken, she starts to climb. I follow, watching the back of her as she rises above me. My imagination goes wild. Don’t fuck this up, Bolo, I remind myself.
I open the office, the music still blaring around us, and follow her inside, shutting the door, muffling the real world. I’m in my fantasy world made real now, with her.
She looks nervous. I can feel she’s trying to mask that, but it’s written all over her face. She looks like she’s about to say something when I impulsively act. I lean down and kiss her, my hands going gently to her shoulders. Any hesitation boils away in her response, her palms pressed flat on the front of my shirt, her tongue darting without hesitation into my mouth. She loses her balance and steps back. I follow but I overcompensate, and my weight pushes her hard into the wall of the office, forcing some air from her lungs; but her lips never stop. I smell her and taste her and feel her all for the first time and my senses are overwhelmed. I feel myself coming to life and know she can attest to what is pressed hard between our bodies. Her hand finds it quickly and it jumps in appreciation as one of my hands slips behind her neck, pulling her lips closer, as if that were even possible.
This isn’t what I have planned, but I know I’m powerless to stop it. My free hand slides from her shoulder and quickly across the swell of her breast, before dipping down to her waist and lower. I bunch the fabric up and my fingers go between her thighs, hooking under the seam of her panties. She gasps in my mouth as I first feel her warmth, but she’s not backing down either. Her fingers are gripping my shaft as best as she can through my now tight jeans, but I’m focused on the body I’ve been dreaming about for all this time. Her body embraces my fingers as willingly as her lips had just moments ago, and they taste the wet warmth that drives me wild. My thumb presses on her lips and they part, giving me access to her clit. I can sense the distraction in her kissing, but my own hunger more than makes up for it, my teeth gathering in the sweet flesh of her bottom lip in a gentle embrace. The hand behind her head finds its way to hers, and I circle her wrist, pulling it to the top of her head as I continue to delight her body with my fingers.
A part of me deep inside is telling me to stop, to take things slow, but it’s obviously being ignored. Too rough, too fast, too quick. The thoughts and doubts come like automatic weapons fire and are finally starting to break my passion, her own words from our text conversation intermixed. As I become rational enough to consider releasing her wrist, I feel her grip on my manhood disappear, and her other hand comes up over her head, pressing against my own, as if pleading with me to let it join its mate. Both wrists are no match for me, and I hold them both in place, resting on the top of her head as I continue to enjoy the heat and embrace of the treasure between her legs. I can feel her body moving, starting to slide downwards, and I arrest it by pressing my weight even harder
into her, practically holding her in place on the wall.
Her mouth isn’t responding to mine anymore and I pull my head back a few inches. Suzanne’s eyes are closed and there’s a gentle lulling moan, barely audible over the noise beyond. The sound itself does as much to arouse me as everything else that’s happened in the last few minutes. I can feel her body tense up, as if trying to expel my fingers, but I keep up the pressure, working my thumb on her clit, hearing the tone of her sounds change slowly in response. She throws her head back and goes completely silent, her body tightening, every muscle responding to my touch. A flood of moisture covers my hand, but I continue, not wanting to release the moment, her wrists still locked in my embrace, her body still crushed tightly against mine. It goes on for at least a minute before I ease off, finally backing a half a step away from her.
“Suzanne.” I say, softly, and maybe not even loud enough to be heard. That wash of guilt passes over me like a wave.
She opens her eyes and I see the flush from her orgasm renew itself, spreading across her face rapidly. There are tears in her eyes.
“Suzanne, I…”
She’s gone, and I can’t bring myself to follow her. I don’t let myself follow her.
I come down hard from the pheromone rush, and the sensation of guilt just grows and grows. I’ve been sitting here at least fifteen minutes now, by my internal clock, but I don’t remember having much in the way of thoughts during that time.
“You’ve really fucked up now, Bolo.” I tell myself as I pull out my phone, considering texting her. Does she want time, or am I supposed to chase her? Too late for the latter, I think.
Fiorina was always easy to read. The thought of her is unwelcome, especially now, but I can never deny her memory. I’m with her, the dusty streets devoid of any sound, not even the constant wind pouring its rain of sand across the desert. She’s next to me in the hummer and I see the words, though unable to hear them. If I wanted, I could replay the whole conversation in my head, but this time it doesn’t work that way. A relatively routine supply convoy, and we’ve been talking the whole time. Since the incident with the insurgents a few months back, we’ve been as close as you can get. Things like that either bring people together or they push them apart. Despite the regulations, she had pursued me, though she denied that her affections for me were tied to me saving her life that day. She was laughing at a deadpan comment I made about our CO when the whole world turned upside down. The hummer was thrown, describing a clean arc through the air before landing on its side with a sickening crunch. More thumps came after that further down the convoy and they kept repeating, over and over again, the silence now overwhelming in my throbbing ears. That incessant thumping.
I almost slide out of Chase’s chair when reality finally rolls back around, the thump of the bass beat taking over from the chaos that is fading rapidly. Suzanne.
I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I can think to text her, and there’s no way I can call her before the club closes. I know I have to get up, but I sit for a few more minutes, just smelling her around me and on me. The sigh expresses more emotion than I could ever manage with mere words.
Chapter Sixteen: Avery
Suzanne hasn’t texted me back and I’m in the dumps. Nothing’s as devastating as getting a taste of success and then feeling like you’ve blown it. Chase notices it, but he’s distracted by how well the night went. It’s understandable. The crew is wrapping up, doing everything needed to allow the day cleaning crew to come in and get things geared up for the next night. I ask him if he minds me running out early, and a few minutes later, I’m on the road. Unfortunately, almost all the way back to my place, I realize I left my wallet in the safe, so I swing the Charger back around to return. The long detour does little to improve my mood, nor my apprehension about what happened with Suzanne.
Chase’s car is gone, as well as Amber’s. They’re probably hooking up right now, I think, then think of Suzanne, which crushes my spirits anew. I look at the phone. Still no response.
I come in the front door and music is still playing and there’s a light up in the office. I find that odd, because they really don’t need to be up there for any reason. They just need to drop the cash, turn off the sound system and make sure the place is locked down. They should have been gone long ago. Just as I’m staring up there, the office door opens and I take a step back, into the shadows.
Colt leans over the railing, phone in hand, extended out in front of him. The lights come up and it takes me a minute to realize he’s taking pictures as Mack and Cal come down the stairs.
“We’re a go for next weekend. Hopefully it’s as busy as it was tonight.” Mack says, grabbing Cal by the shoulders.
Colt heads down the stairs. “Are we on for our delivery?”
“Yeah,” Mack says, “tomorrow. He’s got another guy bringing it by.”
“Scared the fuck out of me, honestly.” Colt says, thumbing through the images on his phone, obviously satisfied as he drops it back into his back pocket. “Who would have fucking thought?”
“It’s a small world…” Cal chimes in. “But I wouldn’t want to paint it.”
The trio laugh and go out of earshot, walking the floor while Mack points; first at the exits, then at the seating area.
I simply watch them, keeping to the shadows, trying to figure out what they’re doing. Talking about the expansion? That makes a little sense since Mack seems overly interested in the normally barred door that adjoins the vacant space next door. I realize I’ll need to beat them out of here, so I start looking for my moment. They open the door and enter the warehouse area. I take the opportunity and slip out the front, locking the door behind me. Fuck. The wallet will just have to wait.
Pulling away in the Charger, I rest the phone on the steering wheel as I drive. Still no message and my heart sinks just a little bit more. I pull up the contact, the name Cruz sparking memories. I usually don’t call him, but I know he’ll be up. Guy never sleeps.
“Bolo, what the fuck are you up to?” He says after I speak.
“I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
I can hear music in the background, and people talking.
“That’s usually why you call.” He says, and I can hear the humor in his voice. “Hold a sec.”
The music fades and I hear a door close. “What can I do for my favorite Sergeant?”
“I dropped that shit long ago, Raffi.” I say. “Need you to check some guys out for me, if you’re game.”
A brief thought went through my head that I want to add Suzanne’s name to the list. No, not going there. I’ve fucked that up enough already.
“Normal shit?” He asks.
“Yeah, same as always.” I respond, already putting him on speaker as I text him the names. “Sending you the targets now.”
“Urgent?”
“Nah. Quick as you can manage, though, tomorrow is fine.”
Normally, this is something I avoid. A guy like Cruz can get you more information on someone than you’d ever want to know. If they got in trouble for cheating on a timed math drill in third grade, he’ll tell you. Something about Mack and the other guys has me on edge, though part of my brain wants to just blow it off. The thing with Suzanne is messing with my head as well.
“You okay, Boles?” I hear Cruz say, realizing I’ve been silent.
“Five by five.” I say, taking my exit for home. “Five by five.”
“I’ll let you know when I have it, man.” He says, then his voice goes distant for a second and I hear, “Be right there, honey.”
“Raffi, go.” I say. “Go to her, don’t…” I hear myself trail off.
“Boles.” Cruz says. The pause hangs. “Boles. She loved you, but she’s gone man. It wasn’t your fault.”
I look down at the phone. “I know, Raf. Have a good night.” I press the red button and set the phone aside. I blink hard and one tear rolls down my cheek into my beard.
Chapter Seventeen: Suzanne
> I curse myself all the way back to the apartment. Curse myself for what I did, curse myself for what he did, then curse myself for running away like a little girl. The sudden mortifying feeling was just too much. I knew I shouldn’t be ashamed of how my body responded to his touch, or how much I wanted it, but I couldn’t help it. The whole thing had been like a whirlwind and I think my adrenalin is still up.
“Staring at his text isn’t going to do anything, Suzanne.” I say aloud in the empty bedroom. I toss the phone to the comforter, watching it bounce once before landing face up. The message is still on the screen. An involuntary shudder crosses my body as I think back to what just happened. I should be ecstatic, I should be amazed, I should be…that thought makes me look at the bed once again, empty and almost too well-made; the crisp tuck of the blanket under the pillows, the painstaking hospital corners to the sheets I know are beneath. Well, I shouldn’t be here alone, that’s for certain.
I pick up the phone again.
I’m sorry I ran out. I guess I wasn’t ready for that. The truth hurts. I wait for the response.
It won’t happen again. I look at the words and have a knee-jerk reaction, but my brain nudges me in the direction of actually accepting his spoken intentions for the first time. He thinks he’s hurt me. He’s not rejecting me, he’s just telling me he doesn’t want me to feel like this again, in his own way. Am I projecting his thoughts? Maybe, but it just feels right.
Do you know DeFazio’s?
Diner? His response comes back almost immediately. I smile.
You hungry? I smile as I type it. From what I know of him so far, I just need to take the bull by the proverbial horns and not get scared off again. I still find myself not quite believing what happened, but I can’t get it out of my mind. My body is still giving me twinges, reminding me of that touch. God, I so want more of that in my life.
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