by Ashley Logan
“Well...” I pause, at a loss for words. I look at the tiny red sliver of fabric and frills in my hand. “I wasn’t going to try it on, I just grabbed whatever was close so I had an excuse to come in here and bust you.”
“Bust me?”
“Yeah. Because I thought you didn’t want to be busted,” I try to explain my logic, but it’s hard to think when he’s so close.
“There has been a definite shift between us, Scarlett Warner,” he says, hypnotizing me with his mouth. “I’ve never known you to shower so quickly, and to know it was so you could spy on me with a mind to annoy me, is both flattering and terrifying.” Watching me a moment with those eyes like steel, he leans in close and inhales.
The only part of me that hasn’t been immobilized by the bizarre act is an eyebrow and it rises at him in disbelief. “Did you just smell my neck?”
“You didn’t even put your lotion on.”
My lotion? So many things are running through my head right now, but I can’t hold a straight thought because the heat between us is frying them. My brain struggles to find some logic. “It’s an oil. With coco-”
“Shhh.” He smells me again. Actually smells me. And I shiver as if he’s licked me like a lollipop. Not one part of me wants him to back off, but that’s what he does, a shocked look on his face. “That’s what you smell like under that stuff?”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Is it bad?”
“It’s incredible,” he says, standing completely rigid. “I thought you smelled good before, but...” His fingers run over his mouth as he stares at me.
I stare back. What do I do? How do I respond to such blatant adoration of how I smell? This is about the strangest and hottest situation I’ve ever been in with a guy.
Slowly, his hand reaches up and cups my face. His thumb brushes over my lips as he wets his own. I swallow nervously, desperately wanting the kiss that I know is coming, but not quite wanting to admit that to myself.
Bruno leans down, his lips hovering near mine as the tip of his nose tickles my cheek. He breathes me in, and rumbles approval before pressing his lips to mine. His kiss is gentle, and hesitant to begin with, but soon he rumbles again and it’s on!
Bruno tastes me as if he’s been starving and I’m surprised to find myself responding in kind, rumbling right back at him which only seems to spur him on.
His hands are in my hair. It’s still damp from my shower, but his fingers weave a warmth through it that makes my scalp tingle with pleasure, feeling better than any other hands that ever ventured there. Bruno pulls me even closer as his tongue teases me and I can only think it’s not close enough. I press against him, taking his tongue deeper. I’m left gasping as he breaks away to kiss down my neck and my eyes close involuntarily, as if I must be dreaming. His breath follows and cools each tantalizing kiss he plants along the way, making me shiver anew. Slipping my hands under his shirt, I run my hands over his taut muscles and hug him to me as I breathe him in. A divine mix of man and clean that has me craving more.
“Ahem.”
We both stiffen. Opening my eyes, I find the saleswoman trying to conceal her amusement with a much more serious frown. She can’t hold it. “How are things going in here? Good fit?”
Snorting, I hide my face in Bruno’s shirt. I can feel his body quaking with quiet laughter too. Clearing his throat, he gives me a little more room to move, but doesn’t back all the way off. “Quite good, thanks. We’ll be right out.”
She leaves and we separate, our embarrassed laughter sounding more nervous now. Our eyes meet only for a second before we both look elsewhere.
“Well.” I begin tidying my hair, pretending I’m not watching his every move. “That was... interesting.”
Bruno straightens his shirt and nods. “Definitely interesting,” he says, looking about the floor. Bending to retrieve the red thong and a pair of silky shorts from the ground, he hands me my contribution to our fitting-room ruse.
I reach for it and he takes my hand, pulling me in close again. He talks in my ear so his face is hidden. “I know what just happened, and I know it was my doing, but I moved too fast, Scar.”
“I like moving fast,” I reply, already feeling myself moving in closer.
“I know, but I can’t,” he says, almost as if he’s in pain.
I lean back to see his face, but he holds me so I can’t.
“Fine,” I say sharply, pulling away. “Then don’t kiss me like that. It’s confusing.”
Taking the thong, I hold it up. “It would be scratchy as hell.” Throwing it at him, I leave the fitting rooms altogether. Forcing a polite smile at the saleswoman, I leave, as Bruno appears with the goods and a long face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRUNO
Apologizing to the saleswoman, I promise to come back and make a serious purchase soon.
“She looks more like a pure cotton, boy-shorts wearing kind of girl,” she says with a knowing smile as she eyes the red, lacy thong.
“She is,” I agree, “practical and comfortable. That wasn’t planned,” I add, before apologizing again.
Leaving the store, I check the street for any sign of Scarlett, but I already know she’s run as far from me as possible. Running both hands over my hair, I exhale and reach for my phone. I’m going to be late.
Totally worth it.
Taking out my phone, I call Damon as I speed walk to the bus stop.
“What’s up Jackson?”
“My dick.”
“Whaaat? I can hear you grinning through the phone, bitch. I need details.”
“I kissed her! After the gym. She followed me and I sprang her. I got up close and she smelled fucking amazing. My dick lifted his head to sniff around too and I kid you not, he was gagging for it. I went for it and kissed her, man. And she kissed me back! Oh God, she kissed me back, Shermansky! I mean really kissed me. It was like heaven in a cubicle until we got busted and I realized he’d already deflated.”
“Wait wait wait. Hold up,” Damon says between laughing. “Firstly - Congrats on the boner. Second - Where is your class? You were trying to nail her in a public restroom?”
Hopping on the bus, I make my way to an empty seat. “Thanks and no. Of course I wasn’t in a toilet stall! Gross. We were in the fitting room of a lingerie store.”
I wait for Damon’s laughter to subside.
“Obviously, I acted on impulse, but Dude! I had impulses!”
“I already said congrats, dicksplat. So the kiss was good?”
Touching my fingers to my lips, I look out the window at the city passing by as I hold the phone to my ear. “So very, very good.”
“But your dick didn’t last the distance?”
Sighing, I try to pinpoint the moment I lost my mojo. “Nope. And I was enjoying myself so much I didn’t even notice when he left the party.”
Damon stays quiet for a moment. “Told you there was more to love than dick stuff.”
Sighing again, I roll my eyes. “I know, but she likes dick stuff.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you sound so sure about that, because I’m pretty sure you’ll end up thumping me if I ask if your dream girl is a massive slut.”
“She’s not a massive slut and I am definitely going to thump you for even thinking like that.” Looking around at the disapproving faces on the bus, I clear my throat and speak more quietly. “I just know, is all.”
“Was she disappointed you were interrupted?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I know she’s pissed at me now, though.”
Damon sighs, and I can imagine him shaking his head at me. “What’d you do?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing at the thought of it. The look on her face and the way she’d thrown the thong at me, I can’t help but think her scathing description of their scratchiness was a direct shot at what a relationship with me would feel like to her. “I told her that I liked it, but it was a mistake.”
“You what! You are such a fucking dumbass! You though
t you’d help your limp dick by burning a truly heroic moment to ashes by calling it a mistake?”
“I didn’t say the word mistake; I said I shouldn’t have moved so fast. That I couldn’t. Then she got all huffy and left.”
“Oh, you expected her to love that, fuck-turd? You basically got her to admit she’s all hot for you too, when you said she wasn’t even into you, and then you told her to go fuck herself. What is wrong with you? Did you at least finger her? Give her something for her troubles?”
“Fuck you, Shermansky! I’m not going to do that in a store, when someone already knew we were making out in there! And even if I did, I would be gentleman enough not to share that information with you! I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”
“Then why’d you call?”
“To share my excellent dick news with my best friend, dipshit.”
“Have you talked to the Docs about it?”
“My outpatient’s appointment is later this week, so I’ll talk about it then.”
“Good. Fuck off and enjoy the rest of your day then, big boy.”
I hear a door slam in the background and Damon grunts a little.
“Where are you off to?”
“Just out for a ride,” he says in a distant way.
“On the unicycle?”
“Yeah. Keep talking. I need to get better at balancing when distracted.”
Scratching my eyebrow, I smile at the thought of him wheeling around his neighborhood. He’s tried a regular bike, but with no hands, the bulkiness of a bicycle made turning corners difficult, so he’d had the bright idea to do away with handlebars altogether. “How are you even talking on the phone?”
“I’m hands-free, bitch. Hands-free in every conceivable way.”
Stifling a laugh, I stand to get off at the next stop. “Ever thought of dressing as a clown and doing tricks at kids’ parties if you get good enough?”
“Man, clowns are creepy as fuck with hands. What kind of crazy-ass parents are gonna freak their kid out by hiring a clown with no hands? You’re such a fucking tool.”
“Whatever, man. I’m at the rest home, so I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Tell your mom I’ve found a way to double her on my unicycle,” Damon says, panting a little. “She can sit on my-”
“Like she gives a fuck, bro. Later.”
Opening the doors to Grey’s Park Rest Home, I steel myself for the task ahead.
“Morning Boogie!” The cheerful receptionist greets me with a radiant smile that balls her chubby cheeks into ripe plums.
“Hey Shantelle. Sorry I’m late. How is my favorite girl?”
“Too clever for her own damn good. Mm-hmm.”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh heavily. “What’s she done now?”
Shantelle shrugs as she walks me to the day room. “Nothing worth callin’ you in the middle of the night about. Just got herself up for a midnight snack and messed up half the kitchen.”
“How’d she get in?” I ask, trying to hide my smile.
“Well not by getting the code right. Damn things jammed from her having pushed it so many times,” she says, laughing a little.
“Oh jeez. Again?”
Nodding, Shantelle holds up a hand for me to let her finish. “That ain’t all, Hun. When she couldn’t get in, she took the damn door off its hinges. Never seen anything like it.”
“She busted the door down?” I cry, grabbing her shoulders.
“Nope. Removed the hinge pins and set the door neatly to the side.”
Sighing again, I cover my face with my hands. “How long before anyone found her?”
“Couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before the nurse saw she was missing from her bed and went and found her. Said she had some baking to do. There was no fuss getting her back to bed.”
“Thanks, Shantelle. Send me the bill for the lock repair. Is she up now?”
She nods at the set of double doors leading to the day room. “Right in there with the others. They’re waiting on you.”
Smiling in farewell, I take a deep breath and walk through the doors.
Around the room, elderly women sit in various states of disrepair. The air is a little stale and the linoleum squeaks as a nurse rolls a graying lady in a wheelchair towards me. Smiling at me in welcome, the nurse parks Doria next to Eileen, whose non-stop knitting flows to the floor around her. My eyes travel to the youngest woman in the room.
Her short black hair is neatly kept, and she wears a different generation of clothes from many of the women around her. Looking out the window, her expression is distant. Some might say vacant, but they can’t see the glint in her eye. She’s just somewhere else; a different time, perhaps. She definitely doesn’t seem to fit in here. If you didn’t know any better, you might mistake her for a staff member.
I don’t approach her. Now is not the time.
Greeting the entire room, I introduce myself as if I have never met these ladies before. None of them remember I was here last week.
A few eyes brighten a little, called to the present for an instant. It’s the same every time. It isn’t until the music plays that the magic happens.
Fishing my phone and my speaker from my gym bag, I stow it safely out of the way. Scrolling through my music list, I look around the room to see who is the most lucid. Elspeth is the only one to engage in eye contact and she smiles warmly at me. I smile back and find a good song from her list.
The nurses, and families, and I have spent time perfecting each individual’s playlist. I play songs from their youth, a time more present to them than the actual present. On a good day, a few bars into a song will be enough to inspire activity. On a bad day, there may be no effect whatsoever, or sometimes, sadly, a tear or two. At any rate, I offer company, distraction, dancing and when the dancing is over, I read out loud. These women can no longer read for themselves.
Putting on ‘Unchained Melody’, I watch Elspeth until her eyes find mine again. I give her a wink and make my way over to her. Offering my hand, I ask if I may have this dance.
Blushing beneath her wrinkles, she pulls herself up, using me as support with a level of trust people just don’t have these days. Elspeth only reaches to my upper abdominals, but she doesn’t flinch as I place her hands into position on my body before positioning mine on hers. Beaming proudly, she lets me lead her around the room. Before the end of the song, she has released another memory to me.
Last time she’d told me that ‘when Arnold comes home from Vietnam, he’ll be very jealous’. This time, she rests her head on my chest and sighs before looking up and telling me that Arnold’s heart beats faster than mine when he dances with her. That’s how she knows he loves her. She thanks me for the dance and happily re-takes her seat, staring off into the distance.
Maybe she’s dancing with Arnold.
I carry on in this way until I have only one dance partner left. She has been staring out the window the whole time I’ve been here, oblivious to the change in the room around her; absent. Frowning, I scroll through her playlist, wondering if her lack of presence is due to her lack of sleep last night, or if this hideous disease is progressing.
Looking for a song that will hopefully break her funk, I stop on Michael Jackson’s ‘Man in the Mirror’. I push play and wait. The first verse plays through and when she doesn’t look up, I take a step closer. “Viv.”
Blinking herself back to the present, she looks me over, trying to place me.
“Boog?” she asks, uncertain.
Every time. Breaks my heart.
Standing, she comes over.
“Yeah Viv. How about a dance?”
Still unsure as she gets closer, she eyes me warily. “Dancing? You need some sun and... What happened to your eyes? They’re gray.”
“Army life changed me, Viv. You know how it is. I’m good, though.”
Nodding, she circles me. “You got big! What are they feeding you in that camp? Daddy never came home lookin’ like this!�
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“Better food now, Viv. Come dance with me.” Pulling her into my arms, I give her a monster hug and set my jaw. Taking a deep breath, I release her to a loose grip and we move in time to the thirty year old song that sits on the outer limit of her memory.
“Is this Michael?”
“You know it.”
“Ooh look at us. The Jackson Two!” she laughs, making me smile through my sadness as we spin. “That boy can sing!”
“And you can move! Do your thing, Viv.” Spinning her away, I watch her easily lapse into a comfortable rhythm as she moves with the lithe grace her youth allows. Always a dancer, she will never forget how.
The song finishes, but her playlist continues. She stays with me and we dance another two songs before falling onto the couch to rest.
“Boog,” she says, slapping me on the shoulder as she catches her breath, “I don’t know how you look so good. Maybe I should join the Army!”
“Naw, Viv. You gotta teach the world to dance, bake cookies and have yourself a good life.”
Closing her eyes, she smiles and leans her head on my shoulder. “S’pose I could have myself a little family to bake cookies for. Maybe a cute little boy - like you, but without the smart mouth!”
Smiling sadly, I kiss her forehead. “I bet he would love you so much,” I say, wishing I could tell her straight without causing her great distress. “He’ll do you proud.”
“Course he will,” she says, adamant. “I’ll raise him right.” Raising her hand to my cheek, she wipes away a tear. “Boog? What’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I sniff back my emotions and fight to keep them down. “Nothing, Viv. It’s just the doctor told me I might never have kids of my own, so I was just thinking I’d love that kid of yours as best I can too. That okay?”
“Oh, Boog. Come here, ya big fool.” My mother wraps her arms as far around me as she can and strokes my back, just as she did when I was young. “Damn doctors. What do they know?”
“Not enough, Viv. Not enough. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sugar-Booga. You want me to get you a cup of tea?” she asks, leaning back.