“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. We can get back to work now. It’s why I took the Uber. I knew you guys were swamped.”
“No. You call. Always,” he grunts, and I nod in agreement.
“And you’re right, I’m not ready to talk about any of it yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’ll try harder to be a better friend,” I say honestly, because he deserved at least that.
Placing his palms on each side of my face, he stares at me and I see it: the worry he felt wondering where I was, even if it was only ten minutes. I’m never late, and I really should’ve called. Lesson learned. I can see that Hendrix only transforms into an ogre when he’s worried. And also that Hendrix doesn’t deserve to pay for the sins of the past.
“One day, you’re gonna talk to me, Trinny. And I’ll promise you, I’ll fucking listen. You just gotta try me, baby.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, leaning into his touch and closing my eyes.
“Yeah, you said that. Don’t. Do. It. Again. Call.” He drops his hands and walks away, a satisfied look on his face. Clearly he enjoys the reaction he elicits from me.
Leaving the computer to start up QuickBooks, I make my way to the staffroom intent on making a fresh pot of coffee for the waiting room since we’ll have many clients coming in and out, along with making my own afternoon tea. Walking into the tiny galley-style kitchenette, I see that not only is the coffee already percolating, but my favourite mug is also sitting on the counter, an Earl Grey teabag resting unwrapped inside along with a spoon, all ready to go. Smiling, I go to fill the electric kettle. Picking it up, I’m shocked to find it’s already been boiled and is still fairly hot. Hitting the boil button again, I can’t hide the giddy feeling I get knowing that Hendrix did this for me. That he was thinking about me. Trying not to melt on the spot, I set about refilling the courtesy tray with juices, doughnuts and a variety of K-Cups for the Keurig in the waiting room. I decide it’s time I sit down and start being honest with myself about my feelings. I want Hendrix.
Now I just have to force the terrified part of me to let me have him…
23
Hendrix
“Hendrix, I need to see you in my office!” Flynn bellows out the reception door.
“Ohhh, I think Junior Bossman’s in trouble,” Joe mutters from his bay, where he’s replacing the starter in a shitbox Acura.
“Shut up, man. He probably just wants to make plans for the car show I volunteered for. Figured I’d help you fuckers get some more business with my awesomeness.”
“You wish. Besides, I think only Trin and Flynn are going this year. She made some crazy computer presentation thing. It’s more articulate and to the point than any of us would ever be. So consider yourself in shit, bud,” Joe chuckles, before rolling under the car with the replacement part.
“You wanted to see me, Flynn?” I say, standing at his office door.
“Yeah, come on in and close the door behind ya, would ya?” he asks.
Stepping in, I close the door. Fuck, maybe I am in shit.
“Have a seat.” He gestures to the vacant and worn leather armchair in front of his desk. “Been thinkin’,” he starts, his hand stroking his beard as he pauses, contemplating his words.
“This thing with you and Trin. It’s not gonna affect her working here if things go to shit, will it?” he asks, not beating around the bush. It’s a trait I admire, one my dad possessed, too. One I wish I had when it came to Trinity.
“Not sure what you mean, Flynn. We’re…friends.” I sit back, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on the arms of the chair.
“Bullshit. I see the way you two eyeball each other, like you can’t wait to be alone. Trust me, I look at Tillie the same way. And I saw your hands all over her at Thanksgiving. So no bullshit. I need you to tell me that I don’t have to worry about her. That if things don’t work out, she’ll have a place to live and a job here even after you take complete ownership.”
“I’m kinda pissed you even have to ask me, Flynn. I think I’ve proven I’m not some asshole. Besides, I already agreed to everything you asked. I’d never fuck her over.”
“You’re right, but I ain’t gonna apologize. She’s my family, and Til, the kids and I are all she has, so damn straight I’m gonna ask. Gotta make sure she’s okay before I give you my blessin’ and help you out where I can. I like you, son. I really do. But I hear you boys talk, and I know you ain’t got no shortage of girls to pick from. I just don’t want my Trin to be something to pass the time. She’s not that kind of girl.”
“First off, she has me, too, Flynn,” I say. “I’ve grown to really care about her and I’d never fuck her over like that. Ever. No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us. Second, I haven’t been able to think about any girl other than Trin since we met and she threatened to clobber me. She’s got me fucked up like I’ve never been over a girl before. I feel like a fucking excited teenager half of the time,” I admit, a bit annoyed that we’re even talking about this, despite the fact that I totally get where he’s coming from. “But right now all she wants from me is friendship. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, unless I can convince her otherwise.”
“Trust me, kid. My niece does not just see you as a friend. She may be putting out signals that that’s all she wants but give her a little more time and keep doing whatever it is you’re doing, ’cause let me tell ya, it’s working. I haven’t seen Trinity smile or laugh as much as she does when you’re around in quite some time. It’s a sight to see.”
“That all?” I ask, standing.
“No. I want you to go with Trin to the car show in Toronto next month. Drive her, and help her out with her presentation. You okay to do that?” he asks, grinning up at me.
“Definitely.”
Walking out, I can’t hide the smile that’s tugging at my lips. I feel like I just got the permission I needed to finally go after my girl.
24
Trinity
After I finished helping Hendrix reorganize the storage room, I did an inventory of parts and supplies, made a list of items to order Monday morning, changed Beast’s litter, took the used oil filters to the outdoor disposal bins, scheduled the waste pick-ups for next week, and—to top it all off—I took care of payroll, sent out invoices, paid bills and did the banking.
Now I’m exhausted. The last thing I feel like doing is going out on some stupid double date. I’d rather spend my Friday night riding the couch with Netflix and a bottle of red wine. And maybe even Hendrix.
I’m willing to admit that he’s wearing me down. It’s getting harder and harder to resist that man. All week, things have been escalating between us, the flirting has definitely amped up on both our parts. Like, today, he was just so…just so…him. So flirty, but also so witty about it. How did he turn the tables on me, making me admit shit? The big jerk…
“Hey, Fruitloop. Wanna come play with my compressor?” Hendrix asks, a wicked smile on his face, and I know I flush because I can feel the heat on my cheeks. This man and his dirty little digs drives me loopy.
“What? No! Hendrix! Friends do not play with other friends’ air compressors.” I put my tea down on the desk, knowing I’m likely to spit it out if this conversation continues. “Besides, I’m busy. I’m making sure the minions get paid,” I say, and finish inputting Joe’s shift times.
“But it’s pretty and it feels so good,” he whines, coming closer. Like it’s magnetically attracted, his hand leaps to the back of my neck.
“I imagine it does,” I say without a thought, relaxing into his touch. Realizing my mistake, I inhale and pull away.
“Aww, you do imagine me, Fruitloop. I bet you see me touching you in your dreams, pretending what it’ll be like when I finally get my hands on you.”
“No,” I lie. “God, you’re impossible.”
“But undeniably irresistible.”
“I know! Believe me, I know,” I yelp. “Shit. No. I mean, no, you aren’t. You’re
annoying and repulsive.”
“Seems like I might be more irresistible than not, eh, Trinny? The way your chest is moving right now, that pink flush coming up all over your skin, these goosebumps…” he runs a finger along my arm. “Yeah, I’m going with you finding me irresistible. And I can’t wait until you give in and let me show you how irresistible you are, too,” he whispers right against my ear before walking away.
Smug bastard.
“Oh, and Trin? One last thing,” he says. “This compressor really is pretty fucking cool. I’ve already used it to change seven sets of winter tires. I really think you’d like my power tool if you gave it a chance.” He winks and I toss my pen at his retreating head. Unfortunately, he makes it back into the garage unscathed while I sit there in my office a smitten, damp mess.
The creaking of the stairs leading up to my apartment shakes me from my Hendrix fog. Placing my glass of Inception on the counter, I brace for Hurricane Shannon dressed as Date-Night Barbie as she barges through my door.
“Hey, hey! I’m here to make you even prettier, if that’s at all possible,” she whoops. She gestures to the huge makeup case she’s carrying as she passes, heading straight for my room.
“Oh, great,” I feign, following behind, but not before scooping up my drink, the bottle and the empty wineglass I had set out for Shannon.
“Oh, don’t be such a suck. You promised you’d be my wingwoman tonight. I think I really like McHot,” Shannon says, rifling through my closet and tossing clothes all over.
Rolling my eyes, I remind her of some facts she’s clearly missed. “You’re right, but a key concept was that ‘you and I’ would go out. When did that translate into a blind double-date? I don’t date. We know this. So, no, I’m not excited or getting all dolled up to meet some guy I’ll have zero interest in.” I cross my arms over my chest in revolt, my mind flashing to the image of Hendrix flirting with me earlier, recalling the way his touch electrified my skin when he ran his finger along my arm.
“Listen, I’m in the mood for a little Bearded Burglar. It’s been scandalously too long since I’ve been laid. Hell, you need to get robbed, too, sistah, but I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to Voltage and meet McHot and Co., but if you absolutely hate the guy you can bail. Fair?”
I swear the only thing I heard was “Bearded Burglar”.
“Jesus, Shannon, tell me that you didn’t just call the guy’s dick that? What are we, fourteen and reading Cosmo for the first time? Yuck.” I wiggle my shoulders, weirded out.
“Are you saying I’m too old to speak like that? Shit, I better stop listening to my young hires at the salon, they’re corrupting me. Here I thought I was becoming cool again. They told me I could pull it off,” she shrugs, laughing, and I follow suit because this woman is insane sometimes.
“If this is any indication of how our evening’s going to go, then it looks like we’re in for a bumpy night. Just promise me you won’t use anymore weird dick names. I might stay a little longer,” I joke, finishing the last drops of my wine.
I fail to mention that the only reason I agreed to go on this double-date is that I’m hoping it will lead to that asshole-of-an-ex of hers, Mario, officially getting booted from the picture. He keeps managing to weasel his way back into Shannon’s good graces and it’s time she left him behind for good.
Half an hour later, my outfit is Shannon-approved: an off-the-shoulder black knit shirt with a silver skull on the front, paired with dark-wash skinny jeans and black kitten-heeled ankle boots. We’ve gone with light make-up and made my hair all edgy with whips and a few spikes at the back.
“You look freakin’ hot, Miss Trin. Mystery dude is gonna think it’s his lucky night.”
“You look beautiful, too, Shannon. I love that dress. The green looks great against your tan and that black hair. McHot is going to be all over you.”
“That’s the idea.”
Seeing our taxi pull up, I lock my apartment door and vow to try to have a good time tonight. Despite my reluctance, I owe it to Shannon. She’s been the bestest friend I could ever have asked for, and if this is what she asks of me in return, then it’s the least I can do for her. And also for Andrea, because I know she’d want me to be out enjoying my life, to be out tonight kicking up my heels. Now more than ever before. Shaking my head, I don’t allow thoughts of Andrea lying all skinny in her hospital bed to consume me. Instead, I silently vow to have a good night out in her honour.
“I’m having big drinks,” I say, “and you’d better dance with me. I don’t care how cute this guy of yours is. You can let him ‘rob’ you,” I air quote, “or whatever you called it, later on when I leave.”
“And this is why I love you.” Shannon holds my hand as we scamper down to the waiting cab.
“Where to?” the cabbie asks once we’re in.
“Voltage!”
…where I get a pretty big shock.
25
Hendrix
Agreeing to be Cannon’s wingman was not how I planned on spending my Friday night. Nope, not at all.
I had every intention of asking Trinity if she wanted to come over to my place, maybe grab some takeout and watch a couple of movies. I’d been building up the nerve to ask her all day when the jackass I’m now waiting for at the bar sent me a text reminding me I’d agreed meet him at Voltage tonight for a dreaded double-date, therefore ruining my would-be plans with Trinity. Fuck, I was pissed that I’d agreed to this. I guess Cannon met this girl at The Dugout when he was watching the Jays try to win a spot in the World Series.
To say things have changed drastically since I agreed to this shit would be an understatement. I’m not in the market for random pussy anymore. That in itself tells me I’m all kinds of fucked up over this girl, and you know what? I couldn’t care less. I’ll gladly admit it, the only woman I wanna spend any time with these days is Trinny.
This week has been incredible. She’s been giving it back to me just as good as I’ve been giving it. Like on Tuesday night when I finally fixed that damned car of hers once and for all…
“Fruitloop, do me a favour?” I call into the reception area where she sits doing her thing. Fuck, what a beautiful woman; a timeless beauty with those big grey eyes and long lashes, and that smile that stops me dead in my tracks. She’s wearing this huge wool sweater wrapped around her tiny form. I don’t blame her, it’s pretty cold in there—the November weather’s definitely upon us—but too bad that old sweater hides her sweet curves. Her pinkish bangs are swept across her face the way I love, and Beast is sitting on the counter beside her while she strokes his back. Lucky little bastard.
“Sure, but I don’t give out favours to just anyone who asks, you realize?” she says, then slaps her hand over her open fish-mouth, realizing how it came out.
“Nice, you’re takin’ a page from my book,” I say. “But I’m assuming I’m one of those who qualifies for favours, though, right?” I ask, and her cheeks turn a shade of red I adore on her.
“Shut up, you know what I meant. So, what do you want me to do?” She looks at me, eyes widening again, realizing her mistake.
“Jesus, Fruitloop, you’re killing me here. The fantasies are running on overdrive. Oh, the things I want you to do to me.”
“Hendrix! Friends don’t say shit like that!”
“Well, stop trying to be just friends and let me cross the line, then. Honestly, though, this was all on you.” I raise my hands, as if innocent. “All I asked was if you could do me a favour.”
“Grr. You’re just twisting my words,” she says, ignoring my bit about being more than friends.
“I’d rather twist something else, if you’d let me,” I quip.
“You’re impossible!”
“So you keep telling me. Now can you please grab your piece of shit car and drive it into my bay? I wanna give her a good tune up,” I say, moving closer. She stares at me, her wide eyes running up and down the length of my body. I see them darken as if she might be fantasizing about
me, the little minx.
“Eyes up here, friend,” I say, using her line from months ago, having caught her in the act of checking me out.
“Urgh. You drive me crazy!”
“Oh, I wanna drive you, Trinny. Trust me, I plan on it.” I mutter the last part. “Meetcha in the bay,” I call cheerily as I walk back into the shop.
“Hey, bud. What’s with the stupid grin?” Cannon comes up behind me and slaps my back, yelling to be heard over the sound of Dave Grohl singing “The Best of You”. Turning in my stool at the bar, I fist bump him.
“Nothing. Just sitting here, waiting on your ass. How’s it going?” I ask, chuckling when I notice he looks a bit too giddy for this date shit. Naturally, being the awesome friend I am, I push. “Aww, and don’t you look pretty this evening. That why you’re late?” I laugh, eyeing him up and down, making a point to give him a slow, approving nod as I go with an appreciative whistle. He’s wearing a black button-down with jeans and brown boots. His black hair is spiked in the front and shaved close at the sides. I can tell he likes this girl; he never wears anything other than t-shirts, even to the club. “Don’t worry. You’re worth the wait,” I rib him again about my twenty minutes wait.
“Shut up, man. You’re just jealous my girl actually wants to date me,” he says, lobbing a low one, and it hits the nerve he intended. Asshole’s lucky I don’t swat him upside the head for being such a perceptive prick.
“Leave that shit alone, Can. You’ve got no clue what the fuck you’re sayin’. I’ll get the girl. I always do. You just focus on your date, okay, pancake?” I pat the side of his cheek before taking a long pull from my Heineken, and passing Cannon his.
“Thanks, asshole,” he says, taking the beer. “I see you managed to get most of the grease off your hands for the occasion. And you look mid-way decent, considering you’re an ugly fucker.”
“I sure did.” I hold my hands out on display. “But that’s only ’cause your mum’s expectin’ me later and she’s germaphobe,” I jab back.
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