by Gem Sivad
Message received. Leave her alone. Okay. For now.
I returned to my office, sweatshirt in hand, and wondered when I got there how I’d managed to live in the cramped space so long.
I’d struck out on getting laid again tonight. I wouldn’t be sleeping with Holly in a bed obviously built for me. But in the grand scheme of things, I’d scored big. I’d left my H/K speaker on her mantle, giving myself a reason to return to her home.
I’d also put a baby in her belly. I was going to be a father. I needed to tell someone. I called Jack.
“Meet me at Church’s place. I have news.”
“This about Marilyn?”
“If you get there first, order me a steak. Rare.” I avoided his question, knowing that if I mentioned Holly at all, I’d spill my guts over the phone. And I wanted to deliver the news personally.
He was the only dad I’d ever known. And he’d been a damned good one. He’d be shocked, I knew. Hey, I was. But he’d get accustomed to the idea of being a grandpa. I smirked. Grandpa Jack. Yeah. Still, I’d hold off on pushing that idea until the little fellow arrived.
As soon as I walked into the bar, I knew something was up. Church had his best Scotch on the bar and glasses lined up, and Jack, grinning from ear to ear, held a handful of Cubans in his fist.
“Congratulations, son,” he said, and pounded me on the back.
“Your woman’s saved from my planned advance,” Church assured me and filled the glasses.
“Marty, I’m so happy for you,” Elaine said, and handed me a drink. At my astonished stare, she said, “Jack called me. And it’s a good thing he did. Do you think I wanted to hear news like this through the grapevine?”
I turned my gaze from Elaine back to Jack, the grapevine. “I didn’t know. How could you? Did that little shit, Garret, tell you when he wouldn’t tell me a thing?” I looked around for said shit. He was lurking behind Church at the bar. Jack came to his rescue, though.
“Knew the minute I saw her throw-up all over your shoes. Kit’s mama puked just like that when she was carrying.”
“Nausea, referred to as morning sickness, although it can strike any time during the day,” Garret shared, coming out of hiding.
“And you didn’t think I should know that I’m having a kid?”
“There are rules,” he reminded me. “Besides, how was I to know you were the dork who’d fouled-up using a rubber?”
Jack lifted his glass and waited. I lifted my glass and clinked against his, Elaine’s, Church’s, and Garret’s. We all threw back together, celebrating the coming of my soon to be born son. At least, I hoped it would be a boy. Not that I had anything against girl babies. But since this kid would no doubt be my only child, if I could choose the sex, I’d choose a boy.
I swallowed the twenty-year-old Scotch, savoring the mellow burn as it slid down my throat.
“Ahh…” Jack slammed his glass down first. “Great booze. Fill me up again, Church.”
I started drinking at 6:00 p.m. and continued until I was beyond drunk when we closed down the place at 2:00 a.m. I didn’t want to stretch out in a booth. I didn’t want to go back to my office and sleep on my couch. I wanted Holly’s bed, with her in it beside me. I conveyed that wish to my drinking partners.
“Let’s go. We’ll tuck you in.” Church’s offer had me thinking of that giant bed, again.
“She said she had plans after work.”
“Maybe you should call her before we deliver you to her house,” Garret suggested.
I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have her number. She’d already brushed me off once today, well really, yesterday. But before that, we’d had mind-altering sex. At least, my mind had been blown wide-open. And then I’d found out about the baby, I’d taken her to work, and she’d declined my offer to pick her up.
“Hey, she’s your baby’s mama. You don’t schedule an appointment with her. You show up and crawl in bed with her.” Jack’s version of courtship resonated with the drunks celebrating with me.
Garret, not drunk, drove. I sprawled on the passenger side of his Jeep giving him directions to Holly’s place. Jack sat in the backseat. It was a harebrained idea, but like I said, we were drunk.
Doubts arose about my welcome as soon as I saw the car occupying her driveway and the other car parked on the street in front of her house.
“Maybe this is a bad idea.” There were lights on. And music played inside. She had company. Nevertheless, I climbed out of the Jeep and checked out the black Mercedes SUV in front before I walked past the dark sedan in her drive.
I already knew the bell didn’t work, so when I stood in front of her door, moron that I was, I hammered on it. I had a grin plastered on my face when it swung open.
My smile froze in place when a man greeted me. “Can I help you?”
I noted the tailored slacks, red suspenders holding them up over a white tee shirt, bare feet and tousled hair. Shit.
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, reeling backward. Too late, Jack was already on the porch and at my elbow.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And where the hell is Marty’s woman?”
“Check the time guys. It’s 3:00 in the morning. What the fuck do you want?” And there stood Holly’s friend, I thought her name was Megan.
Not one to back down, Jack said, “We want Holly. Marty wants to talk to his woman.”
Megan’s gaze swung my way.
“What?” Holly appeared behind her guests. I noticed that she stood a couple inches taller than the guy. It shouldn’t have given me smug satisfaction, but it did.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. Confronted with my reason for being there, I muttered, “I forgot my speaker when I left earlier.”
It was the booze talking. Honestly, I hadn’t intended to take it back. Even if she’d already moved on from me to the short guy, she’d need music for the baby in the next few months. Then I wondered if it was really my baby and not his. I couldn’t help it. My glare focused on him.
“I’m sorry. You can’t have it yet. We’re using it.”
What the fuck? Behind her, bass notes rumbled, and a saxophone sang.
“Using it for what?” As someone had already pointed out, it was three in the morning.
“Dancing.” She had the nerve to use my speaker to dance with her new guy.
“I want it back,” I growled. “Now.”
“Well, you can’t have it, now. You’ll have to wait until we’re done practicing. All of you, come in and quit scaring the neighbors.” As soon as we stepped through the door she introduced us.
“Roger, these three stooges are Marty Jones, the dance partner who made Marilyn famous, and also boss man at Smoke, Inc.; Dr. Garret Wilson, Smoke Inc. physician; and Church, owner and bartender of Smoke Inc.’s watering hole, Church’s Bar & Grill. You three already know Megan, and Megan knows everybody.” Holly then turned to me. “Marty and crew, this is Dr. Roger Valentine.” She didn’t elaborate, leaving a slew of unanswered questions about her new dance partner.
I hadn’t gotten a tour of the house, before, so the basement was a total surprise. A wet bar with my H/K sitting on the counter, filled one end of the thirty-foot room.
“Sit,” she ordered me, pointing at a bar stool. “Megan, make them some coffee. Roger, we’ll do this one more time.”
I sat. Jack, Garret and I watched Holly guide her dance partner through a tango into a pulse pounding rumba.
“No wonder she tried to lead when we danced,” I muttered aloud.
The rumba ended with her spinning her partner around, draping him over her arm, and bending him backward with a flourish.
“Coffee coming up, regular unless anyone’s got a preference,” Megan said, pointing at the Keurig and selection of coffee pods on hand.
“Black, plain.” I needed to sober up and figure out what was going on. I had a feeling I’d royally screwed up. The H/K was my ticket back into the house. But if I took my speaker with me, Holly might
permanently bar her door.
Pressure beat a drum in my head. My coffee arrived, and I took a sip. The music ended. Holly threw a towel at her partner. He walked to the bar. I stood, ready to leave.
“Play it again, Megan. I know I didn’t get that last spin right.” Holly’s friend wiped his brow, drank from a bottle of water, and sat on a stool next to Garret. “Holly, why don’t you partner with Marty and demonstrate how it should look.”
I didn’t know Holly well enough to interpret her shrug. Not knowing what else to do to save the night and maybe get back into her good graces, assuming I’d ever been there, I shuffled to where she stood in the middle of the floor.
“You smell like a brewery,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“You got a shower to loan me, I’ll take care of that. You can wash my back if you want.” I leered suggestively at her, ready to dodge the punch she looked ready to throw. But then magic happened. The music started.
Holly lifted her arms, I stepped closer, settled my hand on her hip, and we danced. A long time. With no words between us, we communicated with the greatest of ease. I didn’t know why she’d been dancing with the other guy, but it no longer mattered. She matched my steps, moved to my beat. We had rhythm.
Much, much later, I remembered that she was carrying my baby, or at least, she was potentially carrying my baby, and I danced us to a stop and pulled her closer.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed.
“Want company?” I asked hopefully.
“No.”
But it was okay. It didn’t seem like a rejection as much as a slap down for over-stepping into her world. And after her dancing friend walked me to the door, I didn’t worry about him anymore, either.
“I believe Holly left my bolero at your office the morning after the dance.”
“What’s a bolero?” I asked cautiously.
“My jacket. She wore it with my Marilyn Monroe outfit. Did me proud. You looked good, too. If you get a chance, see if you can find it, and send it over to me.” He gave me his card which I tucked into my pocket without looking at it.
Okay. I again left my speaker behind, but just to make sure she understood it wasn’t an accidental oversight, I kissed her forehead and told her, “Don’t break the H/K.”
Chapter Eleven
Holly
“Wow, he’s hot.” Roger voiced his opinion as soon as the three stooges departed.
“You crushing on Marty?” I asked.
“No. But I wouldn’t mind playing doctor with Garret.”
“The kid?”
“He can’t be all that young. He’s a licensed physician and it takes a long time to become a medical doctor,” Megan said thoughtfully.
“Roger, you think he might have noticed you?” I asked casually.
“Not in this lifetime.” He surprised me with his wistful stare.
“Want me to try and hook you up?” Megan asked.
“Your last date arranging didn’t turn out so well.” I glared at Megan. “What are you, a matchmaker now? Keep this up and Maxine will go out of business.”
“You and Marty seemed pretty cozy during your dance. He’s not a womanizer like some of the crew. And he’s got money. You could do worse.” Megan’s mercenary tendencies were urging my kitchen upgrade designer genes to take advantage of a man who could afford any faucets I chose.
“Just how do you know so much about Marty?” I asked. Her knowledge of the Smoke, Inc. building I could understand. But her information about the owner, I didn’t quite follow.
“Teague,” she muttered. “And no, I don’t want to talk about him.”
I assumed Teague to be the man who’d claimed Megan as his woman, the night of my puke-a-thon.
Because it had been an eventful day, an interesting evening, and a crazier night, I hadn’t gotten around to my announcement to either one of them. I used the moment to rectify that.
“I’m pregnant.”
Megan didn’t look surprised making me wonder if she’d gotten her information via her caveman. Evidently Marty had sent a memo to the entire Smoke, Inc. crew.
“What?” Roger looked totally confused. “How can you be having a baby? You’re still a virgin. Aren’t you?”
“That would be, no.” I didn’t tell him when I returned the dress I’d borrowed for the dance-a-thon. “Sorry, a lot happened since I talked to you last and most of it’s been too weird to share.” I’d had the Marilyn outfit dry-cleaned, hustled it back, and decided to put the incident behind me.
“I had sex and now I’m pregnant.”
“Did I just meet the dad?” Roger asked.
I nodded.
“Marty?”
“Good guess,” Megan answered before I could. “Garret’s gay, and Jack’s ancient, who else could it be? You saw them dance.”
“How do you know Garret’s gay? You keep coming up with this stuff. Are you a Smoke, Inc. groupie or something?” I couldn’t keep the exasperation from my voice.
“Maybe,” Megan answered and shrugged. “They have great parties.”
“So, is it a good thing happening or a bad? Do you want the baby? Is Marty onboard?” Roger’s questions wiped away my irritation at Megan and eliminated the momentary calm I’d gained while dancing.
“I don’t know. Yes. I think so,” I answered his questions in the order he’d asked. “I’m tired,” I told them both. “Beat. I must work tomorrow, so it’s lights out. If you’re staying, find a spot to sprawl. If you’re going, lock the door on your way out.”
“It’ll be okay. We’ll deal together. Let me know what I can do.” Roger smiled, kissed my cheek, and left. Megan lingered.
“Marty will take care of things. With him stopping by tonight, it’s obvious he’s not upset about the baby.”
I didn’t know what Marty would do and was too tired to care.
“He was surprised at finding Roger here,” Megan said.
“You mean jealous,” I corrected her.
“Most people would be upset if they arrived at their lover’s place and found said significant other having a private party.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Marty is not my significant other. I am not looking for a relationship. I told him he’d be high maintenance. I was right.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, girlfriend, things have changed. Sticking your head in the sand won’t make you not pregnant.”
“I want you to go home, Megan. I need some time to myself.” If I said more it wouldn’t be pretty. I left her standing in the kitchen and went upstairs. I didn’t sleep, though. As soon as I heard the outside door open and close, and her car start and drive away, I went back downstairs, checked the front and back doors, then went to sit in my closet.
I didn’t know what to think about. Too much had happened, burying me under so much emotion I could only try to numb myself to keep from feeling anything.
I wanted to cry, but I refused to give into the urge. My head ached from lack of sleep, and yet I sat staring into the dark, eyes wide open. The back door clicked as it opened and closed. The floorboards creaked outside my closet, as footsteps approached.
“Is there room in here for me?” Marty asked as soon as he opened the door.
“Yes, if we both stand.” I stood. I’d moved the sweeper from the closet the day before for unexplained reasons. The same reasons had dictated that I leave the backdoor unlocked and the porch light on.
He stepped into my space and pulled the door shut behind him. I put my hands on his shoulders and turned him so we faced each other. Then I stepped into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist as I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest.
I didn’t know how to explain it other than he made me feel safe.
He didn’t say a word. He held me, stroked my hair, and rubbed my back, no funny business, just comfort. He’d done the same thing when we’d danced earlier. I’d gone from head-exploding anxiety to
composed calm. I wondered how he’d learned such a thing. Marty had hidden depths.
“My dad was a silent comforter,” I whispered when I finally let go of him and stepped back. “He’d hold me and pat my back when I got upset.”
“He build that bed upstairs?”
“My grandpa. My mom’s dad.” I laughed. The bed was unique. Too big to move, but what a treasure if you were tall and liked to stretch out when you slept.
“You going to invite me into it again?”
“Right now, I need sleep.”
“I can do that.”
“Just sleep?”
He nodded and followed me from the closet up the stairs. “I took the liberty of locking your backdoor.”
I had enough energy left to tilt my head in approval.
“The right side is mine,” I told him, then went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and pulled on my sleep shirt.
Whether pretend or real I couldn’t tell, but when I climbed into the bed he was already snoring. I don’t know if I snored or not, but I fell asleep.
I half-woke to bands of steel wrapping me in a tight embrace.
“Promise me you won’t leave, again,” Marty muttered against my neck. “Promise me.”
Huh. Even my sleep fuzzy brain knew that didn’t sound right and his hold on me felt frantic, not romantic. While my mind coasted trying to decide whether to sink back into oblivion or switch on for the day, his touch changed from clutching to caressing.
One of his hands cupped my breast, the other left a trail of heat as it slid across my belly. Oh, my. I let my body do the thinking, writhing in his arms as his thumb and fingers tweaked my nipple. His erection pressed against my rump as he held me tighter and nibbled my neck.
“Kitten, sweetheart, I love you so much,” he whispered in my ear.
Kitten, I smiled, rubbing against him, loving the way his big hand petted my belly, making me purr. His lips lingered on a spot behind my ear that had me hot and steaming. Oh yeah. He rumbled stuff, who knows what, as he made love to me. Who knew I liked sex talk. I tuned in for more.
“Oh, baby,” he growled in my ear. “I’ve missed you, Kit.”