The Second Jam

by Lila Felix

  “Get to work. You’re slacking off.” I pointed to a stack of papers that I wouldn’t even attempt to read. Even from across the couch, it looked like spilled paint instead of words.

  “Okay, okay.” She picked up the stack and we both went about our own work. There was an understanding between us. We each had things to do and though we chose to do them together, we didn’t have to have each other.

  We chose this.

  We chose to be near each other while we handled our shit.

  Somehow it was better that way, to purposefully choose the other’s company.

  I drained my coffee while I worked. It was strong and my heart beat with the rush of caffeine. Beatriz was humming. Looking over at the calm on her face, I bet she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

  “What’s that song?”

  “Oh, um, Wait For Me, by Motopony.”

  She took the break and stretched, rubbing her lower back. I couldn’t help myself. Putting down the books, I waved her closer. She didn’t question or look at me weird, she just moved in, sitting next to me—way too close—not close enough. My hands found her lower waist and with my thumbs, I rubbed circles into her back. It took a few seconds, but she finally relaxed into my grip and put her hands on top of mine. Her head hung down, leaving a little of her hair waterfalling down her back. I pushed it aside, over her shoulder, so I could see her face. She was completely blitzed out.

  There was no question that I could use my hands—at least I had that.

  “I’m not gonna finish what I was doing if you don’t stop.”

  Instead I’m going to turn around and kiss the hell out of you.

  I forgave her for not finishing her sentence.

  “Does it have to be done tonight?”

  She sighed. The girl carried the weight of a hundred people on her shoulders. “Not necessarily.”

  “Turn around. Give me your feet. Are you hurting again? It’s been a while since you took anything.”

  “I’m not hurting bad, nurse Cyrus.”

  I smirked at her quip. “Give me the feet and keep your snide remarks to yourself.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  My dad always said that the way to a girl’s heart was not by flowers or jewelry. The poor man’s way to a woman’s heart was with clean dishes and a foot rub.

  Before I could even reach my stride, she was out cold. She’d put her arms behind her head, probably meaning to talk to me while she rested, but it failed. Her position made her look like she had a halo around her. It was fitting since she was practically an angel.

  I quit rubbing her feet to test how deep her sleep was and she didn’t flinch. She was lovely like this—relaxed and without a care in the world. This is how she should always be. She deserved to have that life—one without constant business.

  I could be her solace.

  I would give anything to be that for her.

  Her roof in the midst of a storm.

  Her blanket in the dead of winter.

  If she would only let me.

  Without a second thought, I carried her to her bed and pulled the covers up around her. I killed the lights and locked the door behind me, making sure her coffee pot was off first.

  When I went to bed that night, it was with a gut feeling of satisfaction.

  Beatriz was asleep and in her bed.

  And I’d had some small part in that.

  It was enough.

  She showed up the next morning at work almost at noon. Instead of talking, she hopped up onto a tool bench and watched her dad work while drinking something green from a cup. It didn’t look appetizing.

  We played our game a little. She pretended not to look at me. I pretended not to look at her.

  I pulled her legs up with one hand while I opened a drawer and got a tool I didn’t need.

  She passed by me, talking to her dad and accidentally brushed her hand along my back.

  It was blessed torture.

  “Oh, Bea, from this angle, your hair almost looks normal.”

  Someone needed to squeeze the suit out of there.

  “Passive-aggressive, much?” She spit back and I smiled down at the engine in front of me, proud of her.

  “Don’t start your shit today, Bea.”

  I knew she could handle this on her own, but that didn’t mean I was going to stand around and take it, job or no job. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I won’t ask you again.” I spat his name.

  “Oh, look who grew a pair.”

  “Why don’t you go back to your desk? We are doing real work out here.” I could hear Uncle Falcon giving me the stink eye for that one.

  “Since when is staring down Bea’s ass considered work?”

  I bowed up and put down my wrench before I stuffed it up his nose. Before reacting, I glanced at Jacob who was in his own world. He wouldn’t even notice if I clocked the clown. Then I looked at Beatriz. She was scared, but doing a damned fine job of hiding it from everyone but me. Whatever he had done to her was still under her skin.

  I got in Peter’s face and my nose almost touched his. “One last time. If I hear you talk to her like that again, your nose will be in the back of your head. Are we clear?”

  He smiled, revealing gunk in his teeth. With a tightening of his tie and a wink to Beatriz, he turned around and went back to his office—or away. I didn’t pay attention to which way he went. I just knew he left.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but her shaking body told me no. Dirty or not, she needed me. I stalked over to her and pulled her to me. She fisted my shirt on both sides and squished herself closer. “I don’t know why he still gets to me.”

  “Because he’s an asshole who majored in intimidation. I could strangle him.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I won’t. I just want to. You’re shaking, honey girl.” Her body was shivering under my arms. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. I won’t let him near you.”

  She breathed and the warmth went through my shirt, through my skin and down into my soul. She was a part of me now. I would do anything to protect her.

  But I couldn’t tell her yet.

  It was too soon.

  It wasn’t soon enough.

  “I know. I came over to tell you thank you for putting me to bed. It was very sweet of you.”

  “I was glad to, you looked so peaceful.”

  She leaned her forehead against my chest and used the hidden moment to wipe tears from her eyes. After sneaking a look at her dad, she met my eyes. It felt like years since I’d seen their depths.

  “I’ve got derby tonight.”

  “I know.”

  “But tomorrow night…”

  “We have an appointment.”

  She squinted and squeezed my sides. “An appointment? So formal.”

  “What would you call it?”

  She worked her lips back and forth, thinking way too hard about it. “A study date?”

  “Does that mean I finally get to buy you dinner?”

  She leaned back and grabbed my hands. “Have you been waiting for the opportunity?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. Anticipation is hot.”

  That made me laugh, harder and louder than I had in a long time. It also got Jacob’s attention.

  “I’m feeling tired today, mija.”

  One day I had to remember to ask her what that meant. I was sure it was dear or something close.

  “You want to go home early? I can drive you. We can stop and get something to eat on the way.”

  “No, no, your mother has something cooked. She always does.”

  Beatriz’s chin quivered. She always looked sad when it came to her dad and talking about her mom. From what I could tell, she had great parents. I’d never heard her say anything negative about them. Yet, she looked at her father like he was dying.

  “I’ve got it. I’ll lock the place up and take care of everything. Go home Jacob, your yawning is making me tired.”

  He
patted me on the shoulder and laughed. “I know. Bring me home, Beatriz. I’m cold.”

  It was hot inside the shop.

  “Tomorrow?” Beatriz shot me one last look.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  And with a wave, she was gone.

  I felt the absence at once. It was too soon to miss her presence, yet I did.

  There was only one person who knew what to do.

  There was only one person whose advice I could trust.

  I had to go see my dad.

  My hands shook as I picked my phone out of my pocket and dialed the number.

  “Dad?”

  “Cyrus?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m home. The girls went shopping before practice. Come on over. Unless you need me to meet you.”

  Of course he would ask me to come home.

  “I’m gonna run to get a shower and then I’m on my way.”

  “See you then.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I was on my parents’ doorstep. I knocked, but no one answered, so I tried the backdoor and as always, it was unlocked. Walking through, I heard the voice of my grandmother, Sylvia, and had to brace myself on the wall to keep from keeling over. I missed her voice. I missed her food. I missed the way she never let me make excuses. I loved the way she sang to us all at night. I missed the way she never had favorites.

  “Dad?”

  “I’m here.”

  He was in his office. He turned off the monitor to the computer, but before he did, I saw Gram’s face on the screen. He was watching her videos. It was about damned time. I took a seat across from his desk which faced the window. My dad had gray hairs along the crown of his head now. And a gut. He was still buff and no one would challenge him for anything.

  But his age was starting to show.

  “Spill it.”

  “I met a girl. She’s smart and funny and she’s an English teacher and I’m a dumbass.”

  “You’re not a dumbass. Don’t even say that.”

  My dad was used to hearing me say these things.

  “But she’s like this substitute English teacher. And she’s opening a place where kids can learn things. She’s incredible, Dad. I don’t know what to do. There’s one more thing…”

  “What?”

  I got up and looked out the window to the garden that Aunt Reed had insisted we grow so long ago.

  So, I told him exactly who she was.

  And he doubled over in laughter. And snorted. Tears ran down his face.

  It went on for ten legit minutes.

  “Are you done, old man?”

  He shook his finger at me, still freaking laughing.

  “Okay. Just one more time. Tell me again.”

  He was getting way too much enjoyment out of the whole thing.

  “She’s a derby girl.”

  Another ten minutes he laughed at me.

  “She’s a derby girl. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s not just that, Dad. She’s smart and she’s got a plan. Shit, I don’t even know what I’ll eat for dinner and she’s got the next ten years planned out. She’s too good for me.”

  “Hey!” His face grew serious and he popped his knuckles. “You can’t read that well. Get over it. Some people can’t do math that well. Some people can’t read maps for shit. I’ve seen some men that wouldn’t know what to do with a wrench if it grew boobs and wore a dress. You’re smart as hell. You can fix anything. You love your family.” That little tidbit came with the stink eye. “And you are funny when you want to be. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Dad.” I was exasperated with his reasoning. It just didn’t resonate with me.

  “Cyrus, if this girl has you riled up like this, then you’ve got it bad.”

  “I’ve only known her a week.”

  He sat back in his chair, letting it rock backward. “It’s not the length of time that determines how fast you fall in love-it’s the quality of the moments you spend together. I knew I loved your mother in two weeks’ time.”

  “You can’t know someone in two weeks, Dad.”

  “No, you can’t. But what you can know is that you love the person you’ve seen and you know them well enough to know that anything else you learn about them is lagniappe.”

  He used the Cajun phrase for extras.

  Good extras.

  “Shit.”

  “Good thing your mother isn’t here.”

  “Yeah. She’d kick my ass ten ways to Sunday.”

  He was looking me up and down. “Why the hell are you so skinny? Do you need money?”

  He used the word skinny like a curse.

  “I’m making it, Dad. Just not a lot of time to work out.”

  “Well, for the love of Pete, make some time. And go after this girl if she’s who you want. You’re complicating things that aren’t complicated. Your mother does the same damned thing.”

  We spent another hour talking about the family and what he’d been up to, which wasn’t much. I didn’t really want to know about the latest octopus species or whatever else he was studying, but I sat and listened.

  I missed my dad’s voice—the way he intonated things that were important to him and repeated things he thought were funny.

  I missed all of them.

  But it didn’t take away the pain of what I’d done.

  “Dad, I’ve got to go. I have a long day tomorrow.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t be a father if I didn’t ask.”

  We both knew what he wanted to ask.

  “Soon, Dad. Just give me some more time.”

  He looked back at the screen and with a touch, Gram was back in the room with us. “It goes by quicker than we think, Son. Be careful going home.”

  “I will, Dad. Thanks.”

  I took the long way back to the shop and closed everything twice, making sure the locks were secure.

  My dad said I was complicating things.

  Time to make them simple.

  I knew that derby practice let out at eight, so I gave her time to recoup and then texted her.

  Writing. Practicing.

  I was obviously the best conversation starter ever. And a liar. I was laying in my bed—not writing.

  Done practicing. Nursing my wounds.

  Ouch. Need anything?

  I could use some company. I’m up late again. Too much coffee.

  I knew an invite when I saw one. And I was just following my dad’s advice. I was going after her. She was what I wanted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beatriz

  I hadn’t really expected him to show up.

  When I heard the knock at the door, I thought it was Zuri or maybe even Scout.

  Which was pretty obvious by the state of me. I was in my pajama pants with a Star Wars tank top and my hair was in a braid on the side of my head.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, I brought ice cream.”

  “How did you know?”

  Ice cream was like the derby team’s thing. We were upset, we ate ice cream. We celebrated with ice cream. We cried together over ice cream.

  There was an urban myth that we got our super derby powers from Blue Bell ice cream, but it was just a myth.

  I thought.

  Although, I didn’t take the chance in being wrong.

  “All girls like ice cream, right?”

  “Yeah. Come in.”

  I exhaled seeing the way he was dressed. He was only one step up from casual with a pair of jeans and a V-neck t-shirt on. He even had flip-flops on. I may have swooned at the ensemble.

  “Do you want some?”

  He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m good. I just came to keep you company while you do whatever you do.”

  I groaned out loud. “I’m trying desperately to find more grants for the Hope Place. They make it ridiculous difficult. My friend Scout got a ton of grants for college, but I can’t find jack crap for my place.”

  I watched his
face at the mention of Scout. He twitched, pretending to straighten his jeans and re-cross his legs. Not telling him felt like lying but if he knew what I knew, he’d run.

  And I so desperately wanted him to stay.

  “I wish I could help.”

  “I wish I could hire someone to do it for me.”

  He chuckled and even from across the room, I felt it in my toes. It was a rumbly laugh, one that began deep in his chest and never exited his mouth. I bet if I laid my head against his sternum, I could feel it everywhere.

  He was growing on me and not in the friend way.

  Cyrus Black was everything I promised myself I would look for the next time around.

  Except the Scout thing.

  But we all had family secrets.

  Like me.

  “How was practice?”

  “It hurt—a lot. But it was also fun. I love it. Keeps these legs in shape.”

  I sat down next to him but the feeling wasn’t the same as before. I second-guessed every move, every breath around him now. I hadn’t painted my toenails in weeks. The bottom of my feet probably felt like splinters of wood speckled across my concrete heels. My hair was a mess. I had no make-up on. I picked at my shirt wondering why I hadn’t picked my cute pajamas.

  “What’s wrong with you? You look nervous. How did your inspection go?”

  I turned and groaned again. “Dude, he didn’t even show up. He called and told me that he would come when the other inspectors did. He was supposed to show up at eight and he called at ten thirty.”

  “After all your hard work.”

  “Yes and yours. The ice cream will help with that. Although the way my hip feels tonight, I’m thinking about slathering it there first.”

  “I could help with that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me and smiled. Nothing hurt or mattered when he smiled at me like that.

  “You wish. Want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure. Pick one.”

  “Um, I’ve got some recorded. Here.”

  I handed him the remote and pressed the DVR button. He ran through the titles but wasn’t picking anything.

  And then I realized my mistake. He couldn’t read the titles. Some teacher I was. I’d set him up for failure without even thinking.

  “I’m sorry.” I whispered the sentiment.

  “No, it’s fine. I was trying to read them. Some, I just can’t yet. Twilight was pretty easy. My sister is obsessed with that movie. And I know some of the other titles just by sight. The women in my family are big movie watchers.”