by Hamel, B. B.
“Even better.” His smile is so genuine and disarming, and I can almost overlook the state of his shop.
But he breezes past me before I can press him. I find him back in the front room, opening the box of pizza and taking a bite of a slice.
“Good,” he says, chewing. “Just what I needed.”
“Oh god, can’t you get a plate? You don’t have to eat like an animal.”
“Sure I do, I am an animal. Hasn’t anyone told you yet?”
I sigh, but I’m smiling. I pick up a slice myself, fold it, and take a bite.
“See, being an animal’s great,” he says.
“Guess so.” I hesitate a second. “Are you going to tell me what happened back there, or am I going to have to guess?”
“Guess,” he says. “I’d rather not get into it.”
I sigh again, but I eat my pizza. He watches me for a second before glancing away.
He gets through two slices before I finish my first. He heads into the back shop and returns with two beers. I take one and hesitate before opening it.
“I’m technically working today,” I say. “Probably shouldn’t drink.”
“You work at city hall. I think that’s a pretty good reason to have a beer.”
I laugh and can’t really argue with that logic. He leans against the counter and sips it. I hold the beer up to my lips and then stop myself. For a second, I forgot that I’m pregnant. I know a little beer won’t do anything, but I decide not to chance it, putting the drink back down on the counter.
He notices, but he doesn’t comment, probably realizing his mistake.
“You know, it’s not usually this bad,” he says, changing the subject. “Honestly. You came at a bad time.”
“Is there ever a good time?” I ask him.
“Usually my workshop hasn’t been wrecked.”
“Good point, but I meant this.” I put my hand on my stomach.
He looks at me. “No, probably not,” he admits. “But there’s not a bad time, either.”
“Yeah, sure.” I sigh and close the pizza box. “Come on then. We’ve got a lot of work to do before I have to head back.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I head back into his workshop. I turn another light on and start straightening up without his permission. He stands in the doorway and watches me for a second, and I can tell he wants to say something. Instead, he walks over and silently joins me.
We work together like that. He bumps into me, grinning, and I bump him back. He talks quietly about where things go, what needs to be done, and the whole time we’re touching. It’s small touches, little nudges and such, hands lingering too long, that sort of thing, but it’s strangely intense. I find myself wanting him to throw me down right here in his workshop, but he doesn’t. We keep doing this little flirtatious dance we’re doing, cleaning up his space, touching each other, making eye contact. I know what he’s thinking, and he knows I’m thinking the same thing.
But he doesn’t go for it, which confuses me. “Why do you have so many tools?” I ask him after about fifteen minutes of this, just to get my mind off his hands on my naked skin.
“Lots of different little jobs,” he says. “Makes my life easier to have the exact tool for each one.”
I nod a little. “That makes sense. Complicated machines.”
“Right. And there’s also a bit of hoarding going on too.”
I laugh at that. “What’s with guys and collecting things?”
“Who knows,” he admits. “But hobbies are fun. They get the aggression out.”
I snort a little. “I could probably use a hobby then.”
“Got a lot of pent-up anger?” His smirk suggests he knows exactly what I need to help me out.
I glance away from him, because I think he’s right. “I guess so,” I admit. “Right now, at least.”
“I understand.” He slips a hammer back into the slot on the wall and turns to me, arms crossed. “I’d hate to add to that stress.”
I’m surprised by that. “I figured you’d want to try and relieve it.”
He smirks and comes closer to me. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I say, but too quickly. His smirk gets bigger.
“I can do that for you,” he says softly. “I can take it away, make you feel good, like I did that night.” He stops inches away from me, and my back’s up against a bench. I can feel it pressed up against the back of my thighs, right under my ass. “Remember that?”
I nod a little. “I remember. Hard to forget, since that’s how I got pregnant.”
He chuckles, soft and low, but that doesn’t deter him. “I can do that and more. That was just a taste, up on the roof, and I seem to recall you really, really liked what I had to offer.”
He tips my chin toward him. A shiver runs down my spine. “How can you be so sure?”
“You’re still here,” he says simply. “You keep coming back.”
He stares at me for a second longer and I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he drops his hand from my face.
“I don’t want to add to your stress,” he says again. “But I want you and I want the baby.”
I take a sharp breath. “How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.” He shakes his head. “But look at this place.”
“It’s a mess,” I agree.
“For a reason, and that reason could make your life harder.”
I don’t know what he means by that, and I can tell it’s hurting him. There’s pain in his eyes, although all I feel is an overwhelming desire to take him up on his offer. I’ve been so pent-up, so angry, so stressed, and I think he really can relieve some of it. Maybe he thinks he’s dangerous and scary, and maybe he is, but right in this moment I just don’t care.
It almost scares me, how single-minded I feel. I want him to fuck me so badly that my teeth hurt just thinking about it. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and maybe it’s my hormones or whatever, but I don’t think so. I think he just makes me feel this way, with his brooding eyes and his handsome face and muscular body.
He steps away and I let out a breath. I realize that I’d been holding it.
“Thanks for helping me,” he says, “but you should get back to work. Don’t want to keep the mayor waiting.”
I glance at the clock on the wall and he’s right. I have to be back in a few minutes, and even then I’m pushing it.
I hesitate a second, though. I feel like we’re not finished here. “Are you sure? I can help you straighten up some more.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”
I sigh and nod. He watches me as I walk away and I can feel the unspoken thing still lingering in that room. That desire’s still there, but deflating now. I’m disappointed and my body’s still ringing with need for him, but it’s tempered somewhat by what he said in there.
He could be bad for me. I don’t know what that means, but clearly there’s a reason why his workshop is such a mess. Something happened… someone did this to him.
I can’t help but think it has to do with his father. The mayor’s been in the news more and more lately, and maybe that has to do with why Elias’s workshop is a mess. I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but I can see the links there.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is too dangerous. But as I walk out to my car, I’m not really sure if I care. All I know is I keep getting drawn back to him, even if I keep telling myself that I need to stay away. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me.
He makes me feel important, special. He makes me feel wanted.
Because he wants me, and he doesn’t try to hide it.
I get into my car, still troubled. At least he likes pizza. At least we have that much going for us right now.
8
Elias
I spend the day after Alexa leaves cleaning up the workshop. I get it in some reasonable order, the bikes all picked up and the damage surveyed. I need to call a few people and le
t them know that their repairs are going to take longer than expected, and I hope they’re understanding, but it’s the best I can do.
It’s late when I’m done. I don’t feel like going home, so I crash in the office on the couch, and the whole night I keep thinking about Alexa and my baby, trying to decide what to do.
Of course, I keep going between two options. The first option, and the one I want, is that I take responsibility for my baby and raise it. I want to be the father I never had. But my own father is making it hard for me to want to get involved with my baby, mostly because I don’t want to bring any heat onto Alexa. My other option is to let her give the baby up for adoption, and at least support her through that difficult process.
I hate that idea. It feels like abandoning my baby, but my father brought all this garbage down on me, and I hate him for it. I can’t stand the thought of my baby hating me for getting him mixed up with the fucking mafia.
I need to find a way to get myself out of this… or maybe I need to get my father out of this. The thought of helping him out makes me want to gag, but I don’t see any other way. I need to take care of my baby while saving my fucked up father, and it’s all so goddamn complicated that I don’t know how I’ll keep it all straight.
I sleep in late the next morning. I get up, brush my teeth in the bathroom, and get back to work. I work straight through my morning, getting a jump on the repairs. I make my calls, and fortunately everyone’s pretty understanding. When lunch rolls around, I decide to take a little break and call Alexa.
I ride out to city hall and park across the street. I get out my phone and dial her number. She answers on the second ring.
“Wasn’t sure I’d hear from you,” she says. “I figure you’d be too busy cleaning up still.”
“I’m outside your work,” I say.
She hesitates and I smile to myself. I bet she’s panicking, wondering if anyone will notice me.
“I can come down,” she says finally.
“Good. Let’s go for a ride.”
I hang up and wait. She comes down the side entrance and spots me after a second. I watch as she hurries across the street, looking over her shoulder like someone’s following her or something like that.
I can’t help but smile as she approaches.
“Are you going to make this a habit?” she asks me.
I cock my head. “What a habit?”
“Showing up like this.”
“I seem to remember you showing up at my shop yesterday,” I point out.
She grins. “Got me. Toss that helmet over here.”
I laugh, throw her the helmet, and we get onto the bike. She feels less stiff this time, much more comfortable as I pull out into traffic and I head away from the busy parts of Providence.
Fortunately, we live around the water, which means there are a lot of nice rides around here. I take some back roads that skirt along nice views, and I hope she’s enjoying it. I know I am, riding like this is good stress relief for me, or at least almost as good as fucking.
I pull down an old gravel road and park the bike about fifty feet down it. I kill the engine and we get off, stretching a little bit.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“Thought I’d show you something.” I start walking off, down a slight slope.
She hurries to catch up. “You like doing that, don’t you?”
“What?” I ask, glancing at her.
“Walking off and not telling me where we’re going.”
I grin. “Yeah, I really do. You’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”
She rolls her eyes at me, another habit I’m actually starting to like. We move further down, the slope getting steeper, until it ends at the edge of the water. Right ahead is an old dock, wooden and warped with age. I step right out onto it, and Alexa hesitates.
“Are you sure that thing’s not going to break?” she asks.
I shrug. “Nope, not at all.”
She laughs a little bit as I head down the dock. I’ve been out on this thing a thousand times, but I don’t tell her that, and sure enough, I don’t need to. She’s brave as she follows me out onto the creaky boards. I can tell she’s a little uncomfortable with it, but she doesn’t turn back or complain.
And I like that about her. It’s strength, pure and simple. Sure, we’re just out on an old dock, but she doesn’t know that it’s solid. She’s trusting me, and she’s being brave.
We sit down at the end, shoes and socks off, jeans rolled up. I lean back on my hands and look out over the water.
“This is nice,” she says after a little while.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Good to get out of town once in a while.”
“Nothing like this near city hall.”
“Not unless you count the log rafts the homeless guys keep building.”
She laughs. “I think the cops are cracking down on those.”
“That’s a shame. I always thought it was good for the town to have a navy.”
She grins and leans up against me. I smile at her and take a deep breath. All my anger and stress slowly melts away, just being next to her like this.
“How’d you end up in city hall, anyway?” I ask her.
She sighs. “My parents died toward the end of my time at college. I had to take out loans for the last year, and I basically took the first job I could.”
“Damn,” I say softly. “That’s awful.”
“It’s okay. I mean, nothing I can do about it now. So yeah, that’s how I found myself working for our illustrious mayor.”
I nod. I think I’ve heard this story before, or parts of it. “I can relate, or a little bit at least. When my mom died, it was like my whole family died.”
“You and your dad really don’t get along,” she says simply.
“Not at all.” I sigh. “We used to. When I was really young, he was a good dad, always around, always happy… and then he became mayor. He hasn’t been the same since.”
“It’s the corruption,” she says softly. “All the mafia guys getting their cuts, their hands in everything… even someone as unimportant as me can see it.”
I watch her for a second, a little surprised. Corruption is basically an open secret in Providence, but the average person doesn’t really put it all together. Then again, she’s in a unique position, working so closely with the mayor.
I lean toward her, and she suddenly puts her head on my shoulder. I move over, letting our legs touch, and my heart starts beating fast.
“Hard to stay clean in this town,” I say. “Everyone’s either connected or everyone knows someone who is.”
“Even you?” she asks.
“Even me,” I confirm. “They’re not all bad, the guys in the mob.”
“Probably not. But I bet your dad’s not all bad, either.”
I laugh softly at that. “You don’t know Toddy.”
She smiles a little bit and puts her head back on my shoulder.
I let her stay there like that as we look out over the water. I think for a second that I should have brought us something to eat, but that doesn’t matter. I’m just happy to be near her.
That’s when she does it. She tilts her head back up, looking at me wordlessly. I look back at her, and I can see it all in her eyes. I can see our baby, I can see having her, raising my child, loving her, fucking her over and over and over, taking both of us out of this shit town that’s corrupt and broken, and making a life.
I kiss her, because I want that dream to come true. She kisses me back without hesitation, and we linger in that, luxuriating in our kiss, tasting each other. I pull her close, letting it linger, letting my breath sync up with hers.
When we break apart, I know it isn’t going further. She glances down and I check my phone.
“Let’s go back,” I say.
She nods and we both get up. We walk back to the bike, that kiss still lingering between us. I want more, but I know I have to go slow.
I can’t rush it. I can’
t scare her off. If she knew how badly I wanted her, how I needed to make her mine completely and forever, I bet she’d never want to see me again. But I’m having her, and I’m having my baby. I just have to make her see that she wants it too.
9
Alexa
Elias is on my mind the next day. Actually, he’s on my mind all the time, and I know I need to fix that.
It’s easy to forget that I’m pregnant. Mostly my life hasn’t changed, although I can’t drink alcohol or eat hot dogs right now. I don’t really miss the drinking, but I definitely miss the hot dogs.
It’s easy to remember that I’m pregnant though when I’m sitting in my doctor’s office, waiting for the results of some tests he ran on me.
Dr. Splett steps back into the exam room, his face buried in my charts. “Okay, Alexa?” He’s a tall man, dark skinned, I think he’s maybe West African. I’ve been coming to him ever since my accident all those years ago, and he’s the one that told me I could never have a baby. I took the morning off work to come and do some follow-up tests with him, just to make sure everything’s okay.
“Hi, doctor,” I say. “How’s it looking?”
He shuts the door behind him and faces me. He lowers the chart and takes a breath before slowly letting it out. “Well, it’s a miracle.”
I hesitate and stare at him. “What?”
“It’s a miracle. Your baby.” He shakes his head. “In all my time as a doctor, I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Is the baby okay?”
His face instantly changes. “Oh god, of course, the baby’s fine, I was just kidding.”
I stare at him, mouth wide. “You’re just… joking?”
“It’s not a miracle,” he says, chuckling to himself. “Patients love hearing that, though.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask him. I feel like I want to kick him in the teeth right now. Doctors should never, ever joke around with their patients like that.
He sits on a little stool in front of me and smiles. “Listen, what happened to you is incredibly rare. When I said that I’ve never seen this before, I wasn’t kidding. I’ve never seen someone with your condition get pregnant before.”