Everybody Falls

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  "Hi, I'm Boots," the older man said, shoving a hand out in my direction. "Thank you for taking care of him."

  "Lacey," I replied, handing Jack the fresh baggie of ice before shaking hands. "How you doing, Jack?"

  Jack nodded before sliding his eyes back to the bearded man and I followed his gaze. The older guy was thin yet in a healthy way. He had a mass of more salt than pepper hair both on his face and on his head, pulled into a tight braid, which was topped with a baseball cap. His blueberry colored eyes kept moving between Jack and me, as if looking for, searching for something.

  "I tried cleaning up some of his face but we were just going to get started on his mouth," I explained, taking my place on the chair next to Jack, my hands on my knees as I spoke again. "He didn't want an ambulance or medical attention."

  I reached and pulled the baggie away, seeing the blood was no longer flowing. His lips were mangled and already swollen to the point that they looked sore.

  "Let's just clean this and I'll smear it with some of the cream stuff, okay?" I said realizing my voice had gone soft as I again got hooked in his beautiful eyes. Their color almost made you want to lick them to see if they tasted as good as they looked.

  Jack nodded before shooting another glance to Boots.

  Who were they to each other? Father and son? Friends?

  "We really appreciate this, Miss Lacey," the older man's deep voice grumbled.

  "It's not much," I replied quietly, just as gently as my hands moved over Jack's gorgeous face. "He's still going to need a dentist. He's chipped some teeth and spit out a couple, too."

  I could feel my hands as they worked carefully, efficiently while I cleaned, swabbed and gently smoothed the antibiotic cream into the worst of the cuts. Leaning forward, I surveyed my handiwork but caught the smell of him. It was a mixture of soap, some woodsy cologne and a trace of man sweat that met my nose. Which made me pause, hands stilling mid-movement. It was an amazing smell and one that caused an instant, involuntary response.

  Without thinking my eyes made their way back to Jack's as my heart picked up again.

  "I think I'm done," I said, almost whispering. My mind completely shut down at the look in his eyes. A look that was full of…what? Tenderness. Something shared even. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn't a look that had been directed towards me before, yet was something my heart yearned to receive.

  I mentally shook myself as I broke our stare and began to clean up the detritus of cotton balls, of swabs, putting everything else back into the box marked with the big red cross.

  "I'll just get him back home," Boots said. "We appreciate your help, Miss Lacey."

  I caught Jack's nod as he moved to stand, though the effort must have cost him if his groan was any indication. Without thinking, I reached a hand to steady him as he teetered when he stood.

  He covered my hand with his warm one and nodded as he gave me another crooked smile.

  "'Ank yoo," he said bending his head down to mine.

  I thought he was going to kiss me or something, and felt my heart race at my mental image, the mental thought of having him press his mangled mouth to mine. Even torn-up, he had one hot mouth.

  Just at the idea, my body was reacting in a way that it only did when I was alone. I knew that I'd be using this moment, this memory, in those times when I was tucked safe and secure beneath the heavy quilt of my bed. When I touched myself.

  I tried smiling, but my heart was still racing every time our eyes caught and held. "My pleasure. I hope you feel better soon, Jack, but you really need to get some running shoes. Chucks weren't made to jog in."

  I caught another grin before Boots helped him up and into his truck. I moved back out onto the porch and watched until the truck rounded the corner.

  I didn't even realize that Jax and I had continued to hold our gaze until the truck was no longer in view. Until that crazy connection between us was gone.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Boots dropped him off at the homestead after ascertaining Jax didn't need anything other than a good dentist. He had also made a point of telling Jax he was still expected to be at their AA/NA meeting that night in spite of his injury.

  Jax sent him off with a one-finger salute as he continued to press the baggie to his face.

  He was hurting and couldn't wait to get inside to take a couple of aspirin, practically the only drug he felt he could handle without skidding backwards into his fucked up years. Those forgotten years, that hovered over him like a shadow, chasing him with promises he knew weren't true.

  Lacey.

  What kind of name was Lacey anyway?

  She was so gorgeous, with a warm voice that had covered him like honey as she had tried to help him.

  On the thin side except curvy in all the places that mattered.

  And shy. Or was she just quiet?

  Jax was used to girls that were…that were…shit, the ones he'd been with in the past weren't girls. They were groupies. Band followers which threw themselves at him or any other guy in the group or road crew, letting each of them know they were there for the taking in whatever way any one wanted to take them.

  Had he ever even had to make a conscious choice in any of his partners? He didn't think so.

  In his mind, all he had to do was roll over and shove it in; using whatever pussy was in his bed when he woke up or went to sleep, instead of using his hand to get himself off. Almost before he was old enough to discover how stroking himself could feel so fucking good.

  There were a couple of girls he remembered as individuals but he didn't remember their actual names. Most of them, were nothing more than a warm, wet hole to rock himself into until he released.

  A girl like Lacey? A girl that looked at you with her wide bright, frosted blue eyes as she treated you sweet when you were hurt?

  Yeah, she was different than the girls he'd known.

  The girls he'd used, if he was being honest; being as truthful as his therapist recommended he be.

  He liked her eyes and had gotten lost in them for the amount of time they'd shared in that little bakery.

  He liked her sweetness and the way she'd smelled, all sleepy soft and flowery, the aroma only available when she'd been close.

  He'd liked that he made her flustered even though she didn't even know who he was; when she didn't recognize his name.

  He should've gotten her phone number.

  That's what you did when you liked somebody in the normal world, right? You got their phone number.

  Wait! Boots would have it. She'd called Boots' phone and had given it to him on her voicemail. He texted the older man who was his AA/NA sponsor.

  JBW: Need Lacey's phone # from vm. Thx.

  Almost immediately, Boots replied with, No girls 4 a yr. U need 2 get off? Porn & ur hand, son. Them's the rules of AA.

  Fuck!

  JBW: Just want to thx her

  Nice try but no, came the reply. Send flowers. No girls 4 a yr.

  Bullshit.

  He wasn't waiting another few months before seeing her again, before talking to her again.

  He turned and made his way into the house.

  "Jax?" he heard Gram call from the living room, where he could hear the sounds of one of her game shows on the TV. "You're back early."

  And he knew he was going to get an earful when Gram saw him and his mangled face.

  Which would probably include that look with the head shake.

  He was right.

  But, Grams fussed and at this point in his life, he was more than happy to be fussed over. Especially by someone that he knew loved him and who he'd learned to love in return.

  "Where'd this happen?" Grams asked, making him stretch out as much as he could on the old flowered couch as she surveyed the damage close up.

  "Ahcee's," he tried to say. The ice, while it had helped a bit, still hadn't kept the swelling down enough to speak. It seemed he'd bitten his tongue pretty good when he'd fallen, too.

  "Lacey's Bakery? The one
up in Old Town?" Edie asked, her eyebrows lifting. "I remember her grandma. Sweet gal. Heard the namesake, the granddaughter, is handling it now. Shame about Lilly's daughter."

  Jax raised his own eyebrows in question.

  "Belinda was always wild and liked running with the wrong crowd. Lilly ended up tossing her out. 'Tough love' they used to call it." He saw the fluffy white hair wave as the old woman shook her head in remembrance. "Belinda ended up getting married to a low-life from Rocklin that took off soon afterwards and she came back home with little Lacey as result. You should've seen that angelic girl when she was young. Beautiful, just beautiful and yet so quiet. Poor thing."

  Jax frowned and tilted his head on the throw pillow underneath his neck, again questioning without having to speak.

  "The things that poor little girl must have seen. Lilly never talked about it but from the things I heard…" Grams voice trailed off. "That little one has the same touch with that old oven as her grandma did from what folks say. I've seen her around town and she seems to be just as gentle as she was when she was a girl. She's just as quiet as she was before, too. That poor little thing…"

  Jax didn't know, and couldn't guess, why Grams kept calling the beautiful creature he'd spent time with that morning as a 'poor thing'.

  From his vantage point, she was a goddess. Beautiful, smart and great taste in music. But, the 'touch with the oven' portion was probably right if the smells that had hit his nose each time Lacey had gone in and out the swinging doors in the back were any indication.

  "We need to call you a dentist, Hot Stuff," Grams said, clapping her hands once as if to signal the end of something. "Let's see if we can get your mouth fixed, pronto."

  He straightened to sitting, hearing her pull out one of her collection of phonebooks as she mumbled to herself. Getting a whiff of himself as he stiffly moved, Jax knew he needed a shower and some aspirin, maybe not necessarily in that order.

  Most of the rest of the day was spent at the dentist's, with Gram waiting patiently just as he knew she would while he was worked on.

  Before they left to go back to the farm, he pointed to the flower store and pulled Grams in. Jax was determined to thank Lacey for her help.

  If he was going to be completely honest about it, he wanted to make sure Lacey didn't forget him since she'd been forefront in his mind all day. Her soft voice, her smell and, especially those eyes that had completely captivated him.

  He wanted, no, he needed, to see her again. To see if she was as beautiful as he remembered, as wonderful as she appeared. And, since Grams was the person he trusted the most, he wanted to do it again with her present; to get Grams take on it, if he was honest.

  "For Lacey," he mumbled through the numbness the dentist had administered as he gave Jax the temp replacements for his chipped teeth. His speech was still not quite right, it still sounded better than he had earlier.

  The administering of the Novocain had been a problem, until the dentist explained that it wouldn't be an issue with the NA/AA rules. But, Jax had still been nervous about having it injected.

  It was still a drug. A drug to deaden pain.

  Gram seemed to understand her grandson's intention and threw herself wholeheartedly into choosing the right flowers for a small bouquet.

  "Very pretty, Jax," she said as they walked the two blocks over to Lacey's place. "What a nice thing to do. She helped you this morning?"

  He'd told her of Lacey's early morning ministrations between the different treatments that the dentist had done to try and correct the damage to his mouth. The appointment which had seen his dear Grams running interference with the staff when they wanted to grab an autograph or ask for a picture with him.

  "Yeah," he said, trying to work the soreness out of his bruised knees as they walked.

  "She may not be open, though. The bakery closes early," Grams remarked. "That's probably why she was up and able to peel you off the street." He caught the smile in her eyes as they walked and couldn't help trying to smile in response even when it hurt like a bitch to do so.

  As usual, she had been right.

  The bakery was closed, sending Jax's heart to his knees.

  But, Gram took care of that right quick with repeated poundings on the door frame.

  It wasn't long and he saw his girl come through the door at the back of the small store.

  She was wearing a well worn pair of jeans and a t-shirt that read, 'Really? This is all there is?'

  As she made her way to the glass door, he saw her feet were bare but she was smiling that smile. A smile that could bring a grown man to his knees.

  Gram waved. He could see Lacey wave back before she opened the lock and pulled the front door wide, welcoming them in.

  "Hello, Ms. Dennison, nice to see you again," Lacey said, her eyes shooting to Jax almost involuntarily.

  "Lacey," the old woman greeted. "We wanted to stop by and thank you for helping Jax this morning."

  "Jax?" Lacey asked, her eyes now firmly glued to his.

  God, she was just as he remembered her. Nothing less than the dream who'd had her soft, warm hands on him just hours, a lifetime, ago.

  "Me. I'm Jax," he said, and held out a hand, a hand still covered in the bandages she'd used to patch him up.

  The feel of her palm scored itself in his brain as she did a quick clasp.

  "These are for you," Grams said, holding up the small bouquet. "For helping my grandson, my Jax."

  "Oh, my," he heard that quiet, honeyed voice say. She smiled and it felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. Goose pimples shimmered across his skin just watching her. Watched her as she accepted his flowers, tilting her face into them.

  He'd never given a girl flowers before.

  That was what guys did in real life, right? Gave flowers to the girl they liked.

  "Thank you," she said quietly and again speared him with a glance. "Would you like to come upstairs? I have a lasagna in the oven."

  Grams turned and looked at him before turning back to Lacey with a slight shake of her head, silver glints catching in the sun that filtered through the trees blocking the heat of the setting sun. "Maybe another time. I need to get home and take my pills. We really only wanted to make this a quick stop."

  "Wait, " Lacey instructed, moving as she had that morning to the swinging doors. He heard the latch of something heavy being opened and closed before she came back into the big space. He watched as she grabbed a white box decorated with black lace and the word 'Lacey' in cursive script in the middle before she placed a small cake in it.

  "A little something to enjoy later," her honeyed voice offered.

  God, she was a goddess and he was stuck like a goddamn statue, unsure of what to do, what to say.

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling sweat begin to bead along his hairline.

  "Oh, how nice, Lacey," his Grams exclaimed. "Thank you."

  He wanted to say something, something clever, something that would capture her attention but his mind was a blank and his mouth so dry that he would've have been able to speak even if he'd tried.

  Jay-sus.

  What a fucking loser.

  But that goddamn cake box was going into a fucking frame to be hung over his bed.

  Chapter 4

  I pushed opened the door of D. Howard Russell's glass entrance and heard the gentle trill of bells which heralded my presence in the tiny waiting room. This was a command performance with the attorney after notifying me of my inheritance and, due to an illness--his, not hers--had been postponed for more than three weeks.

  I saw a very feminine hand, feminine due to the dragon length nails on the tiny hand, inch its way out of an inner-office door and hold up a 'wait a minute' finger.

  I paused, holding myself frozen in position just inside the door until the finger moved. Then, and only then, did I feel comfortable enough to move to the visitor's chairs in the small reception area.

  I'd worn one of my special dresses for
this meeting. A girl had her everyday clothes, then she had her 'special' stuff and, in my case, they were dresses. For today's meeting, it was a navy blue sheathe in a nubby fabric with an empire waist that hit me only an inch off my knee.

  It was that one freaking inch which gave me the confidence, the respectability to meet with Mr. Russell.

  For a command performance like today, even an almost tomboy like me knew a dress was the only thing that would do. But, I'd had to scrounge the second-hand shops to find a pair of low heels to match.

  The tiny hand appeared again and the finger crooked, waving in the 'come here' gesture, even though I couldn't see the body attached to the finger. I paused, waiting for the frosted door to open, to close, to do something besides showcase the gal's manicure.

  I'd had never had a manicure in my life but why that was important at the moment, why it'd crossed my mind at this particular time, was anybody's guess.

  "You comin' in or out?" the feminine voice asked.

  "Uhm…I'm Lacey Emerson. I think I have an appointment?" I called and heard a shake in my voice. The only experience I'd had with lawyers was at my mother's latest trial which, almost goes without saying, had not been a pleasant experience.

  I saw a head poke through the opening of the door. "An appointment?"

  All I could see from my vantage point was a mass of dark blonde curls and frizz that was teased almost as high as the face was long.

  "Yes, I have the notice right here," I proclaimed, pulling the envelope out of my purse and unfolding it. "It says I'm supposed to meet with a Mr. Russell at two o'clock?"

  "Well, honey," and the long face tilted up as it spoke, revealing a pair of aquamarine eyes rimmed heavily in black pencil. "We don't have a Mr. Russell here. However, Ms. Russell will be right with you, okay?"

  "Uhm, okay," I replied. In my mind, all attorneys were men which I knew was sexist. Then again, I'd never met a female lawyer. Which is probably why my mom had lost her cases. Some men you just can't flirt with and get what you want--something every red blooded female needed to learn sooner rather than later. Especially the dynamo types.