“Shut up and wait!” Autumn’s voice came teasingly from the bathroom. “Girls like to dress up on New Year’s Eve.”
“I just don’t want to get there after they start their second set. Rex was real specific about that.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. I’m almost ready.”
“Said that half an hour ago,” muttered Steve under his breath. Dress shoes with a fresh shine tapped impatiently as the minutes stretched on. He had gotten a haircut earlier in the day, his locks now shorn to shoulder length. His face was impeccably shaved, the skin shining with a healthy glow. A black dress shirt which he had not buttoned was worn over a gray T-shirt. He had chosen a pair of his better black dress pants, and was wearing some fruity foreign cologne that Autumn had gotten him.
At last, he heard the bathroom door open. He rose to his feet as Autumn’s heels clicked on the floor. His eyes went wide as he ran his gaze lingeringly up and down her feminine form. She had styled her hair into two mini buns a few inches behind and above her ears, from which trailed short braided pigtails, just brushing the top of her nearly bare shoulders. Silver lipstick matched her shimmering, short mini dress, which was held up in a seemingly precarious fashion by two nearly invisible straps. Her legs were adorned in the black garters he had become familiar with at the Christmas party, but she now wore dark blue suede boots that reached just above her knees. She had silver bracelets on both her wrists in a pattern that seemed haphazard but aesthetic. Smoky blue eye shadow made her lovely brown eyes stand out dramatically.
She did a little pirouette, smiling prettily as he basked in her beauty. “You like? Worth the wait, right?”
“You are amazingly, incredibly beautiful,” he said, rising to his feet and giving her light applause.
“Oh, stop,” she said, picking up her long black overcoat and wrapping herself in it snugly.
“Not for a minute.”
The ride out to Long Island was relatively silent, as they both stared out the window at the numerous flashing lights and opulent decorations on the route. They stared out different sides of the cab, but their hands remained locked together on the seat between them.
When they arrived, Steve got out first and went to Autumn’s side, opening the door and offering a hand.
“Oh, such a gentleman,” she said with a giggle.
“At least you didn’t call me a pussy.”
They walked up the long blacktop driveway to Chet’s garage. The air was chilly, but there were small clusters of party guests huddled against the structure, engaged in the smoking of tobacco and other plants.
“Pussy,” she said, turning her smiling face toward him. The warmth of her tone, and the soft kiss she planted on his cheek belied the term. She giggled when she realized that a lipstick mark was left on his cheek.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She grinned and adjusted his collar a bit to hide a large dark spot on his neck. “Got to hide your hickeys, that’s all.”
The pair entered the garage, carefully navigating the mass of humanity. Over against the north wall, Rex and the band were pounding out “We’re Not Gonna Take It” to the delight of the enthusiastic crowd.
“Lot of people here,” said Steve.
“I don’t like crowds.” Autumn’s brown eyes narrowed beneath her lowered brows.
“Me neither.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “If you want, we can bail after the second set that Rex insisted we see.”
“Depends on how good the booze is.”
“Probably a couple different types of beer in kegs, not to mention the champagne Rex brought.”
They found a spot near the stage, Steve feeling familiar enough with the environs to move a box full of auto parts off of a workout bench. As they watched the band play, Autumn leaned her head on Steve’s shoulder. He put an arm around her, gently squeezing her bare shoulder with his large hand.
“Autumn!” came a voice, straining to be heard over the music. “Hey, Autumn!”
Sidling up to the two of them was Train, a beer sloshing in his hand. Autumn straightened her posture, but kept her hand on Steve’s thigh.
“Hey, Stan,” she said, a trace of impatience in her voice, as if she were addressing an annoying child. “Been a while.”
“Don’t you know it,” he said, eyes running up and down her scantily clad form. “You look hotter than shit.”
Steve shifted a bit, drawing a panicked glance from Autumn.
“Have you met my boyfriend, Steve?” she said, turning to smile at him.
“No,” said Train, his face falling a bit. “I haven’t.”
A new grin broke out on his face, and he clapped Steve hard on his free shoulder. “You’re a lucky dude, Steve,” he said, walking away from them and draining his cup.
“Don’t I know it,” said Steve, turning back to Autumn and raising an eyebrow. “Another ex, I take it?”
“Yeah. My least favorite mistake. I was in one of those dangerous-guy phases.”
“I’m not dangerous?”
“Only to furniture,” she said, kissing him on the cheek again.
“You’re cheerful tonight.”
“It’s a party, isn’t it? What’s not to be happy about? I’m young, cute, and with the absolute best man in New York.”
Steve was taken aback by her words, cheeks flushing as he stammered. “I’m nowhere near the best man in the city. I’m probably not even the best man in the Bronx.”
“Oh, bull,” she said, eyes shining. “I say you’re the best. Are you going to dare to argue with me? I’ll kick your ass, you know.”
“Yeah, all hundred twenty pounds of you.”
“Hundred and sixteen, jerk!” she said, jabbing him in the ribs with her silver painted nails.
“Oww. Is this how you treat the best man in New York?”
“Aaaaaand it’s already gone to your head,” she said. “It’s okay, you can feel like that just for tonight.”
They watched the rest of the set with Autumn resting her head on his arm. At one point she inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent, with a soft smile on her face. Steve drank several beers in quick succession, trying to catch up with the rest of the revelers.
Rex, Phil, and Crawley stopped by to chat for a moment, the young woman mopping sweat from her brow.
“Yo, Rex,” said Steve, “is there a port-a-potty this year, or are we allowed to go in the house?”
“The band’s allowed to go in the house. You know what, we’re heading that way. You can help us carry the Jell-O shots back out.”
“Cool. My bladder’s about to burst.” He kissed Autumn on the lips before rising to his feet. Their hands stayed linked as long as possible without stopping his momentum.
Steve went into the house, burdening himself with two trays filled to capacity with colorful cups of alcohol-laced gelatin. After placing them carefully near the stage, he went back to his seat. His eyebrow arched as he noticed Crawley and Autumn speaking with their heads very close together. They both glanced at him, then turned back to each other and giggled like schoolgirls. Crawley nodded at him as she gave up her seat, eyes lingering on his chest and arms.
“What was that all about?” Steve asked, as the trio returned to their instruments.
“Phil is a lucky man. I get the feeling that girl is a freak.”
Steve laughed, drowned out as the band tuned up. “You know what they say about Catholic girls.”
“What?” Autumn put her arms akimbo, beautiful face lit up with faux anger. “You know I was a Catholic girl, right?”
“No way!”
They both laughed at his incredulity.
“Yes way. Right after I got my first tattoo, my mom enrolled me at St. Augustine’s.”
Steve jutted his teeth out as if he were buck-toothed and assumed a nebbish lilt to his speech. “You still have the uniform?” he asked, punctuating his question with a nerdy snort.
“Oh, stop! I think I burned it, actually. Fit of teenage rebellion and all that.”
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“Now that sounds like you, refusing to conform down to the last.”
“Damn right!”
“It wasn’t a complaint,” he said, squeezing her knee.
Their attention was drawn to the stage as Rex spoke. “How’s everybody doing tonight?”
The crowd roared, Steve and Autumn adding their own voices to the mix.
“Everybody who attends tonight gets a free piece of ass in a glass,” he said, causing a ripple of laughter. “We are Settle the Score, and we are here to rock this beeeeyoooootch!”
The crowd cheered again, and they began their second set with “Rock Star.”
“I can’t believe that Swedish Neanderthal sings so beautifully in English,” said Autumn.
“I know, and you can barely understand him when he talks. Go figure.”
They applauded at the end of the song. Sven took the microphone off the stand and walked to the edge of the staging area.
“Are you ready to open up a can of ass whip on this mother?” he asked, prompting as many laughs as cheers. Rex set up another microphone on the stage as Sven worked the crowd. “We’re going to be needing ze hand from a goot friend in the crowd for zis next one.”
“Oh, no,” said Steve, laughing as he slapped a palm over his face. “I should have seen this coming.”
“Seen what coming?” Realization dawned in her magnificent eyes, and she giggled. “Oh my god, he’s talking about you. I didn’t even know you played anything! Wait, what do you play?”
She tugged playfully on his arm, causing him to grin.
“You’ll see.” He rose to his feet, limbs shaking from alcohol as well as fear.
“Steve!” said Sven, repeating it. “Steve, Steve, Steve…”
The crowd chanted with him, causing Steve to redden as he walked up to Rex and accepted the shiny sax in his hands.
“I’m going to fuck up all over the place,” said Steve.
“Nobody’s gonna care,” said Rex. “They’re all too drunk!”
Steve was a bit tipsy himself, and was way out of practice. No one seemed to mind his missed notes, however, and soon he was able to relax and enjoy himself. He tried scanning the crowd for Autumn to gauge her reaction, but the bright lights shining on him cut his visual range to about ten feet from the stage. Assuming that she was at least somewhat impressed, he carried on with his performance despite his frequent errors.
The crowd cheered at the end of the song, and Steve was high-fiving Rex and Sven. Crawley elected to give him a hug, which he awkwardly returned, patting her on the back.
When he returned to Autumn, his spot was occupied by Train. The man was leaning forward with his elbows across his tree trunk thighs, a broad grin upon his bleary eyed face.
“C’mon, Autumn, you can’t tell me you don’t miss me a little.”
“I don’t miss you at all,” she said with a grumble. She rose to her feet and kissed Steve passionately as he returned.
Train’s eyes to narrow to mere slits. “Hey, you mind taking a hike? Autumn and I were having a private conversation.”
“Seriously?” said Steve, his brow coming low over his ice blue eyes.
“Why don’t we go?” said Autumn. She tugged on Steve’s arm, and something about the urgency of her voice made him comply. He followed her outside into the chilly night air.
“I’m not scared of that ass clown. You didn’t have to ‘rescue’ me.”
“I think I did, sugar.” Autumn sighed and cast her gaze skyward, shaking her head as Train came out the door behind them. “Oh, balls.”
“You don’t just walk away from me, bitch,” said Train, stepping toward her.
Steve blocked his path. He wasn’t quite as tall as the body builder, but he seemed broader, stockier. Even in his inebriated state Train allowed his progress to be halted.
“Piss off, asshole, your tattoos and beach muscles don’t mean shit to me.” Steve stepped closer.
“Steve,” said Autumn, tugging on his arm.
“You think you’re a bad ass?” Train asked, jabbing a finger in the air at Steve.
“Badder than you—” Steve said, halting his speech as Autumn stepped in front of him.
“Go away, Roidzilla,” she said. “Or I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Let’s see you do it, sugarlips,” said Train. His mocking laughter changed to an agonized scream as Autumn slammed her foot down hard on his, striking a toe joint. Her hard spiked heel focused all the energy on a tiny point of impact, and her sudden vicious twist at the end of the attack audibly snapped a few digits unbroken by the initial stomp.
“What did you do?” Steve asked as Train dropped to his butt, holding his foot and hollering.
“You broke my foot! Fucking bitch broke my foot, and I have a match next week!”
“Match?” Steve asked.
“He’s an MMA fighter, sugar,” said Autumn. “You were gonna get your ass kicked.”
“I’m calling the fucking police,” said Train. “Vinny! VINNY! Bring me my phone so I can call the cops on that bitch. This is fucking assault.”
“Are you kidding me?” said Steve as Train made good on his threat.
“Oh well,” said Autumn, putting her arm around his waist and leaning on him. “It’s not a party until someone goes to jail!”
Chapter 14
“…OF COURSE, back in those days, they hated you more for being black than being on the outs,” said the yellow-toothed elderly man sitting next to Steve. He cackled at his own jest, his brown face wrinkling merrily.
“Damn,” said Steve, chuckling, “it must have been the battle of the stereotypes.”
They were both seated in the crowded lobby of Long Island Precinct 14. It being New Year’s Eve, there were plenty of people who needed bailing out. Occasionally, the sleepy-eyed female officer at the desk would call someone’s name, and that person would nervously shuffle up to the counter and speak in low tones to the woman. Sometimes money was given, sometimes not, but the one constant was how abysmally slow the proceedings were.
He had been chatting with the elderly transient, who had identified himself as Sam, for over an hour. Steve found the old timer’s company soothing, like putting on a pair of comfortable shoes.
“Yeah,” said Sam, coughing a bit, which drew concern from Steve. “Those were the good old days. Enlisted in the corps, because I figured if white people were gonna bust my ass I might as well get paid for it.”
“You were military?”
“Yup,” said Sam showed his worn dog tags. “Fought in Korea. Our platoon got pinned down by a bunch of ‘volunteers’ from China.”
“How’d you know they were from China?”
“Koreans is pretty damn small, but them Chinese fellas, they can grow big. When a six-foot-two-inch Asian is trying to hide in a foxhole dug for someone a foot shorter, it kind of shows. It’s also real easy to splatter their brains with a round.”
Steve laughed obligingly, then sighed, staring at the display on his phone. It was nearly two in the morning.
“I hope Autumn’s all right,” he said.
“Borgia, Steven,” said the chubby officer.
“Got to go,” said Steve. Snatching a piece of paper from the table at his side, he scribbled on it briefly. “This has the number of a guy I know who runs a gym. It’d be sweeping up floors and taking out the trash, but I think he needs somebody. Give him a call. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Thanks,” said Sam, cautious optimism dawning on his wizened face.
“Borgia, Steven!” said the woman more loudly, her face sneering.
“Here,” said Steve, coming up to the counter.
“Ms. Winter’s bail is set at one thousand dollars.”
“One thousand?” said Steve, jaw agape. “Why so much?”
“Aggravated assault is a serious charge.”
“But it was a load of bull! It’s just her ex-boyfriend trying to fuck with her life.”
“That don’t con
front me, honey. All I know is you need one thousand dollars in cash to bail her out.”
Steve opened his wallet, eyes scanning the scant bills within. “I don’t have that much on me. Is there an ATM around here?”
“You passed one in our foyer,” said the officer, setting his paperwork aside. “I’ll keep you at the top of the queue.”
“Thanks. Figures they’d have a fucking ATM on sight. This is usury!”
After calling his bank to get a maximum withdrawal override, Steve finally had fifty crisp twenties. He ruefully checked his balance. “Gonna have to pull some out of my savings—again.”
He returned to the desk, waiting with as much patience as he could muster as the slow-moving officer dealt with another annoyed patron. After paying her and signing about two dozen forms he finally was told to return to his seat.
Twenty minutes later, Autumn appeared, escorted by an elderly cop. He buzzed her out a stout glass door, and she walked up to Steve, unable to meet his eyes.
“How much did you have to pay?” she asked.
“Not that much.” He wrapped her in a fierce hug that elicited a surprised grunt. “Let’s go home.”
“Bullshit, you’ve got sticker shock written all over your face. How much?”
“A thousand,” said Steve, trying to sound casual. “Not that much in the grand scheme of things.”
“Oh my god,” she said, slapping an arm over her eyes. “I am the worst girlfriend ever.”
“You must be the best girlfriend ever. I just paid one K to get you out of jail!”
She leaned on him as they walked down the concrete stairs leading to the parking lot. Steve pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and made a beeline toward a muscle car coated with primer.
“Whose car is this?” Autumn asked with a raised brow.
“Mine,” said Steve, opening the door for her.
“No way! Where has it been all this time?”
“At Chet’s. I’m surprised the damn thing is even running. I don’t have a muffler for it, so it’s going to be loud.”
“Why not just take a cab?”
“I had no idea how much running around I was going to have to do in order to bail you out.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life, rattling their very bones with its power.
Forever Autumn Page 15