by Kylie Scott
"Alex," said Joe, startling me.
"Yeah?" All swinging of large manly tools ceased immediately. I felt like a little kid getting caught stealing candy. "Hi."
For a moment he said nothing, just looked at me in the quiet, mindful way he had. Then he nodded toward the partition.
"What?" I asked, eyeing the object of his attention.
"Hit it."
My eyes widened. "Really?"
"It needs to come down," he said. "You wanted to do some of the work, right? Learn some stuff?"
"Yes."
He wandered over to the bit of wall in question, knocked on it twice. "It's not a load bearer or anything like that. No wires in there. Go for it."
Without further ado, he handed me some safety glasses. I donned them, looking beyond cool, no doubt. Then I lifted the heavy sledgehammer, giving him a small, unsure smile. The kind of smile you give a man when you think he's serious but you're not a hundred percent sure. Given life experience, etc., he might just be mocking me.
Andre shook his head and smiled. "Leave her alone, man. She's looking gorgeous today. If she starts in on that she'll get covered in plaster dust and shit."
Interesting. Pat stayed silent.
Joe, on the other hand, gave Andre a hard glance before turning back to me. "Alex."
"Joe?"
He licked his lips. Something low in my belly liked that. The aesthetics of his lovely mouth framed by the golden beard. Maybe I was going a little loopy. Loopier. Or maybe my tastes were undergoing a serious shift.
"Make that wall your bitch," he said, eyes intense. Challenging.
I nodded, hefted the sledgehammer back out to the side, and then let loose. It was a pathetic hit. Sheetrock cracked but that was about it. More swing, more oomph was required. Much, much more. Again, with both hands wrapped tightly around the hilt, I drew back and then swung. Putting my weight behind it this time. Going in hard.
Crash!
The first layer of the wall cracked right open along with the second, a couple of inches in. I even managed to splinter an old length of wood running through the middle. Dust and dirt filled the air. Doubtless it had rained down on my hair, was covering my clothing. Who gave a fuck? The feeling of strength, the shock of destruction. I was hooked. Already my arms were starting to feel the burn from the unexpected workout. But it was all good.
Again, I drew back then rammed the sledgehammer into the wall. Crash boom bang. Holy balls. The big-ass hole, all of the wreckage and mess, I'd done that. Me.
I grinned at Joe and he grinned back, watching the proceedings with his thick arms crossed. Poor Andre shook his head while Pat gave me a half smile.
Back to wall breaking I went.
Bam. That's for the people who made me feel small. The ones who overlooked and ignored me. The ones who never let me fit in.
Bash. This was for the ones who put gum in my hair and tripped me in the hallway. Who pushed me and hurt me physically.
Boom. An extra-special hit for those who'd tortured me with words. Because those words, all of those insults, they never left my head. Not even after all these years.
Bang. Here's to the bullies, the bastards and bitches out for attention. The ones who caused me pain just so they could feel superior and powerful in front of their peers. All of them.
The list went on. A strike for those who'd told me to shrug it off, to ignore it and stop whining. Another for the people who'd seen it happen and done nothing. Acted like it was all just a joke, a normal part of growing up, nothing serious. I kept hitting, breaking down the wall, taking the fucker apart. And I didn't stop until I was dripping with sweat and sheeted in dust, three-quarters of the wall laid bare to the studs, smashed to smithereens. My shoulders were screaming and body tired, but my soul was oddly appeased. God knows why, but I loved it. The power, the violence, the ability to well and truly affect my surroundings. Joe standing and watching, keeping out of my way, just letting me do my thing. I could have done it just fine without him there, sure. To have him close, however, made it better.
I doubt Valerie's therapist would have approved. But I felt the best I had in a while.
I don't know how long I spent staring at the remains of my wall, gulping down the bottle of water Joe had passed me, enjoying the afterglow. Sex with strangers didn't even begin to compare to this stress-busting experience. Maybe I'd been a Viking marauder in a former life, or something.
At some stage during my "I am woman, hear me grunt and roar as I pulverize this innocent bit of building" Pat and Andre had disappeared. Only Joe and I remained upstairs, as far as I was aware.
"I see," he said into a phone.
My cell. Shit. I'd told him he could answer it. Sure. Hadn't exactly been serious, though. Nor had he seemed interested.
He noticed me noticing and held my gaze. The look was loaded. Meaningful. Full of what exactly, I couldn't say.
"Okay, Valerie," he said, eyes still on me.
I took a step forward, held out my hand. A swift shake of the head was my sole reply.
"Much appreciated," he said. "Bye."
"That was Val?" I asked stupidly.
"Yeah. Your phone kept ringing. Saw it was her so I answered to get her off your back."
"Oh."
"Earlier you said I could. This a problem?" He passed me the cell and slid it into the pocket of my now white-and-gray-speckled gritty skirt. So much for looking pretty.
"Ah, no." I guess.
"Your first boyfriend lied to you, huh?" He canted his head, eyes narrowed on me.
Shit. My mouth opened, closed.
"He cheated on you?"
"Um. Yes."
"Hurt your feelings?"
"That's right."
Slowly, Joe nodded, taking a deep breath at the same time. "And that was the reason you gave for not being willing to forgive me."
"Lying is a serious offense," I said, inching back just a little. Not that I was scared. Exactly. Definitely not because I thought he'd hurt me physically. Despite all of my sledgehammer girl-power behavior, I could still be harmed in other ways. A woman needed to protect herself. Right. "It's a really bad thing."
"It is. You're right." He took a step forward.
I took one back. "So? What's your point, Joe?"
He stepped forward again. And again I stepped back until my spine hit the jagged remains of the wall. Whatever Valerie had told him, it couldn't be good. And since when had my best friend decided to work against me with this man? Talk about betrayal.
Joe towered over me, arms relaxed at his sides. His eyes, however, they didn't seem so chilled.
"How old were you when you had this lying, cheating boyfriend, Alex?" he asked in a disturbingly calm tone. I didn't trust it one bit.
"Young-ish."
"Do me a favor, Little Miss Fucking Sunshine? Be exact."
I was going to kill Valerie. Sledge her with my mighty hammer. Wrap her in plastic and encase her in a wall. Something like that.
"Hmm?" He waited, looming above me with judgey eyes. "How old, Alex?"
"Twelve," I grumbled.
The man paused, cupped his ear. "Sorry. What was that?"
"Twelve. I was twelve years old when Bradley Moore cheated on me by dating some cow who was friends with his cousin." I did not sound like a sullen little brat. I sounded like something else, vaguely related to the same. Someone who'd just been busted using a piss-weak excuse to avoid getting involved any further with this man. Not that it had even really worked. "It hurt."
"I'm sure it did. How long were you dating him?"
"Not quite a week." I stared straight at his long-sleeve-T-shirt-covered chest. It was dark blue today. The color suited him, brought out the flecks of green in his usually brown eyes.
"Right. This morning you mentioned you have an issue with trying to avoid people," he said, still talking to me in that annoyingly calm voice, despite the skeptical look. "Do you think that you using this no doubt painful event from when you were twelve
would be you trying to avoid intimacy?"
"Maybe." I shuffled my feet.
"Or maybe there's a little bit more to it," he said, just sort of gently suggesting. Shit. "Not to diss your twelve-year-old broken heart."
"Fine. Yes, there's more to it. But it's nothing I'm inclined to get into right now."
For a while he said nothing, just stared at me.
"Sorry I lied," I mumbled. "But it was only a little lie."
Nothing from him.
If only I didn't feel such a dumbass need to fill the silence. "I didn't trust you and I needed space."
"Sure. I can understand that," he said in a tone of voice I did not trust at all. "How do you feel about me now, though?"
"Conflicted. How do you feel about me?"
"Confused as fuck."
I huffed out a laugh.
"Alex, I've been giving some thought to our problems while you were doing your bit of construction work there."
"And?"
"And ... I think we should trade issues."
"What?" I asked, jarred by the sudden change in focus.
"I say yes to too many people," he said. "But you say no to too many people, then wind up alone, missing out on everything."
My gaze jumped to his face. "Safe from everything too. Don't forget that."
"Yeah? Problem is, your safety is bullshit, Alex," he said, voice firm. Harsh even. "What was it you said to me in that email, that you're not some delicate little petal? Well, you're no wallflower either. I've seen you in action and you're more than strong enough to deal with anything that life throws your way. You don't need to be hiding from anything."
Huh. That's what he thought.
"Therefore, I suggest this. You have to start getting out there and saying yes to people."
"Wha--"
"And I have to start saying no," he finished. "No more Mr. Nice Guy letting things slide, fitting in with what everyone wants and fuck what I want."
No words came out. My throat was jammed shut.
"Valerie said you'd planned two weeks off work. You stay here for that time, work with me on this project. Help us out with ideas on design and decoration and such-like." He looked about the room. "In return, I'll teach you about building. So when you go back to Seattle and eventually buy your property you'll know the basics. During that time, we'll put each other to the test, see if we can't push each other out of our comfort zones. What do you say?"
"What, so we take turns daring each other to say yes or no?"
"Yeah, basically."
Holy shit, he was serious. As serious as serious could get. Could I do that? Be that brave? Everything inside me squirmed, saying no, probably not. After all, I'd be effectively putting myself into his hands, but then, he'd also be putting himself into mine. I could easily get it wrong and hurt him. Fuck up his life. God knows I'd failed before. No way was believing in me a safe bet for him.
"What happens if we can't break our learned behavior and step out of our comfort zones?"
He put his hands on his waist, lips pressed tight together. "Unending shame. Shit like that. I don't know, we'll make it up as we go along."
The man made me curious, that much was for sure. About him, the things we could do together, his life here, everything. Deep, deep down in the subcockles of my soul, I'd regret it if I went home too soon and failed to figure out what might be happening between us. If anything was happening between us. Who the fuck knew?
"Alex," he said. "Come on. Try."
Shit.
"If this whole psychic-stripper ordeal has shown me anything, it's that we've both got stuff that needs sorting. So let's do that," he said. "If it doesn't work, in a week and a half you go your way and I'll go mine. We'll be friends at a distance again."
I nodded, taking the leap. "All right. I'll stay on at the hotel for a while longer. See how it goes."
For some stupid reason, the relief on his face nearly brought me to tears. Probably all of the dust in the room.
"Clean slate. We're starting over." Carefully, he brushed the dust from my face, gently tracing his fingertips over my forehead and cheeks, the line of my nose. "Agreed, friend?"
I could run. I could hide. Do the usual. Stick to my bad habits. Or I could stay and try to break down some more walls. Feel more of the rush of excitement and satisfaction.
"Okay, friend," I said. "Agreed."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Message sent five weeks ago:
ME:
Hi Eric,
It kind of amazes me every time you talk about all of your friends. There's so many of them! I've really just always only had Val. We've been best friends for about as long as I can remember. I guess I'm a keep your circle small kind of person. Relationships wise, I've dated a fair amount, but there haven't been many I'd describe as long term. Maybe I'm just picky. I don't know. What about you?
A xx
Message received:
Alex,
Nothing wrong with being picky. I pretty much still live in the same area I grew up, knowing most people is just the norm. I either went to school with them or met them somewhere else along the way. But I love living in CdA, can't imagine being anywhere else. One major relationship with a girl I was on and off with during high school and then for quite a while after. I was willing to settle down, but she wasn't. Hell, we probably were too young. She was best friends with Nell so part of our group for a long time. Last I heard, she was living down in the south-west somewhere. That's the only relationship I'd say got really serious.
xx
People scared me and relationships terrified me. That was the truth. Also, no was way better than yes. Yes sucked.
Despite these facts, for hours my ass remained stuck to a barstool as promised. Joe had asked me to say yes to a night of hanging out at the Dive Bar while he worked. Confront my whole dislike of crowds, public places, and socializing in general. The first step in our agreement. I'd yet to decide what act of no-ness Joe would be required to do in return. I needed more information to move carefully but with effect.
"For you." Eric set a small plate down on the bar in front of me, throwing in a fancy hand flourish, like a magician's assistant.
"What are these?" I asked, eyeing Nell's latest offering.
"Crumbed goat's balls."
I just looked at him.
"Crumbed goat's cheese balls." He winced. Drama skills-wise, the man wouldn't be up for an Oscar anytime soon. "My bad. Forgot to throw in the cheese there in the middle."
"Funny," I said flatly, popping one of the warm entrees into my mouth. Creamy amazing mind-blowing goodness. "Wow. Yum."
A hand neared the plate, fingers making to grab one of my goodies. No way. I gave it a solid slap. "Mine."
"Sharing is caring," said Eric, rubbing the back of his hand.
"Well, there's your problem right there."
"Harsh."
I popped another cheese ball into my mouth. Food as art. Ecstasy.
Bartender Eric got busy doing things with bottles and glasses. Down at the other end of the bar, Joe busily filled an order for Rosie, one of the waitresses. Nice woman. She'd apparently been hitched for a few years and showed me pictures of her kids earlier. They were cute. They had the same curly hair and gorgeous dark-colored skin as their mother. I'd never given babies much thought. Considering the lack of serious relationships in my past, it wasn't really an issue. Eventually the hormones would probably start screaming. I'd decide then whether to ignore them or not. Single parenthood, adoption, getting a kitten from the Humane Society. I had options.
By nine o'clock, the dinner rush at the Dive Bar was over. Work had slowed down. I'd chatted with Lydia for a while. Hung out for a bit with Nell. I'd people-watched, head-bopping to the music. Mostly it was alternative and rock-and-roll. The odd bit of pop. No epic love songs, thank God. By midnight, customers were getting thin on the floor.
"You're looking better," Eric said.
"I'm feeling better."
"
Heading back to Seattle soon?" He poured sugar and lemon juice into a cocktail shaker. A measure of whisky. "Guess you got work to get back to."
"Actually, I'm on a couple of weeks' break."
Like I'd told Joe, I could still see what had drawn me to Eric's picture on the website. But I could no longer feel the magic. Today he matched a chambray button-down with black trousers and boots. All of it very nice and yet I remained unaffected. Attraction was a funny thing. What did or didn't draw you to a person. I'd thought the neat, hipster-styling Calvin Klein underwear model was my type. How deluded I was. Joe in his black boots, worn blue jeans, and Dive Bar tee now drew my gaze.
Coeur d'Alene was giving me quite the education in my own stupidity.
Next, Eric added ice, put the silver cap on the cocktail shaker, and shook it all up. He strained the mixture into a glass and garnished it with a slice of lemon and a cherry before placing it in front of me.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Whisky sour."
I took a sip. "Nice. Thank you."
"Lydia's got a sweet tooth and Nell's a straight beer girl. But you, you're different."
The way he said it, along with the not so friendly look in his eyes, let me know it wasn't a compliment.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, my chin rising.
"Don't drag it out, Alex. Just go."
I blinked, caught off guard.
"You seem all right," he said. "This isn't personal. But you need to go."
"I do?"
"Whatever you think of Joe lying, pretending to be me, he's a good person. Obviously he likes you and I don't want him getting hurt." With a small, false smile, he rubbed his hands together. "Okay?"
Christ. "You still think I'm playing games with him. Making him pay penance."
One shoulder lifted. The same half shrug his brother did.
"I'm not," I said. "I like your brother. We're friends. Anything beyond that is none of your business."
"Bullshit." Eric leaned across the bar, getting all up in my space. And good God, the way he started looking down his nose at me. Intimidation-wise, his good looks still kind of worked. My shoulders rounded, making me small, making me feel like crap for no goddamn good reason. This was why I hated going out among people. People.
"No," I said, my voice thinning out despite my best efforts. "It's not."
"Yeah. It is," he stated, seeming a little bored.