“I do trust her.” And to my surprise, I realize it’s the truth.
“Then you have to tell her,” says Elliot.
He’s right. If I’m going to trust her at all, it has to be completely. And given her reaction to Elliot being there with us that one night, well, maybe the truth won’t scare her off.
“I know.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll have to beat the crap out of you,” he says, stepping back.
Oh, Elliot.
“She wants you, you know,” I say, watching as color creeps across his cheeks.
“It doesn’t matter. She works for me.”
“It does matter. ‘Rules are something that uncreative people hide behind.’” Elliot narrows his eyes at that.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that maybe there’s more than one way to live your life, Elliot.” I step into his space again, taking his shoulders in my hands and lowering my forehead to touch his. “Think about it, will you? If you forget about what you think you have to do, forget about the rules—what would you do if you really could have it all?”
15
Joelle
“There should be more people here by now,” I say. I slurp down more coffee way too fast and it scalds my tongue. “Damn it.”
“Relax,” says Jimmy from the next table over. “You built it. They will come.”
“Built it? Built what, the menu?”
He gives me a blank stare. Anna comes around the corner, leaning over the counter between us to grab the prep list.
“Give her a break, James,” she says without looking at him. “Not everybody shares your enthusiasm for the classics.” She leaves the kitchen before Jimmy can reply.
I glance over at Jimmy, who looks like he just swallowed his tongue. So that’s how it is. Way to go, Anna.
“What?” he asks when he remembers I'm still standing there.
“James, huh?” I say, giving him a cheeky smile behind my coffee cup. My smile only grows when he flushes.
“It’s my name. And don't change the subject,” he says. “Field of Dreams? Kevin Costner?”
Jimmy shakes his head in disgust when I just shrug.
“‘If you build it, they will come,’” says Elliot as he walks by, clipboard in hand. “Why are we quoting Field of Dreams?”
“FNG here hasn’t seen it,” says Jimmy.
Elliot halts in his tracks and spins around to gawk at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” says Elliot, shaking his head exactly the way Jimmy had.
“This is, like, the fifth time we’ve had this conversation,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Because you have somehow missed a vast swath of American culture,” says Jimmy. Elliot is nodding, eyes back on his checklist.
“Really, it’s our civic duty to improve your education. We should have mandatory movie screenings every week.”
Elliot and Jimmy start rattling off film titles, most of which I don’t recognize, and I turn my attention back to the prep station. It’s immaculate, which means I’m technically done for the day, and I really should get out of here before Elliot gets on to me for milking the clock.
Except today is the big launch party for his—our—new menu. I know we’ve picked some winners and I’m pretty damned proud of what we’ve managed to put together. I’ve been running a whole series on the blog about Duckbill's menu redux and it’s gotten a good amount of local press, including the paper doing a spotlight piece on me.
Still, none of this accounts for Elliot’s stress level the last week or so. He’s acting like this is the afterparty for the end of the world, and while I can appreciate going all out for your job as much as the next girl, I suspect there’s more going on here than just a new menu rollout.
“Hey Joelle,” says Elliot. Apparently they’ve started an actual list of movies, because Jimmy’s got his own clipboard now, phone in hand. Looking over his shoulder, I can see movie posters on the screen. “Can I see you in my office for a minute?”
I nod, my voice suddenly caught in my throat. Elliot has taken great pains not to be alone with me since we cleared the air. He made it plain I don’t have to worry about losing my job, but I guess he’s just trying to make sure I get that he’s completely sincere.
It’s the most vicious kind of foreplay I’ve ever experienced. He’ll touch me in passing, innocent stuff like a hand on my back to let me know he’s walking by, or patting my shoulder after he’s praised my work.
I live for those moments. And if I suspect they last a little too long to be perfectly professional… well, chalk it up to my overheated imagination. I follow Elliot back to the tiny closet office. Breathe, dummy. Breathe. There’s no way this is about anything other than the launch party.
Right, it’s fine. I can handle this. It’s just… this is closest I’ve stood to him since… maybe ever.
It’s twice as hard tonight—hah! Don’t I wish?—because he’s switched on. I’ve never seen him so lit up. Just… juiced. He’s ready to take on the whole damn world and it shows. He’s practically vibrating with it and everybody in the room can feel it. They watch him as he walks by, like there’s some invisible force drawing the eyes of everyone around him. It’s compelling.
This Elliot is dangerous. This Elliot makes me want things I’m not sure I can have—things I can’t stop thinking about ever since Alex put the thought in my head.
Triad.
Alex didn’t use that term but as my curiosity grew stronger, I couldn’t resist looking it up. If I understood him right, he wants us to be together, all three of us. Me and Alex. Me and Elliot.
Elliot and Alex.
Two months ago, I think I would have been at the very least confused if the man I was dating expressed interest in another man, but with these two… it’s all I can think about, and confusion is not what I’m feeling.
I swear to God, I’ve never masturbated so much in my life.
The office door clicks shut behind me and I come close to slapping myself across the face. These are not appropriate thoughts to be having at work. Especially when this morning’s fantasy featured the very desk Elliot’s sitting at.
“Why are you blushing?” he asks, studying my face. I get the impression he’s been looking at me like that for some time, and the heat in my face rises to inferno levels.
“Just overwarm from the kitchen,” I say, striving for casual and missing by a zip code or three. “What’s up?”
Elliot leans back in his office chair, the thick muscles of his thighs displayed perfectly by the position. The impulse to climb on and give him the ride of my life is intense, but given that there’s a window in the door and about two hundred people in the building beyond it, I manage to keep my hands to myself.
Elliot’s smirking at me.
“I just wanted to thank you properly for all the work you’ve put in on this the last few weeks,” he says. “Really, you’ve gone above and beyond anything I expected. So thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help, but really, it was nothing.”
“Not to me.” Elliot leans forward, taking my hand in his. “I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done for Duckbill.”
Holy shit. My stomach bottoms out.
“Are you firing me?”
“What?” His grip on my hand tightens. “No. For Christ’s sake, Joelle. I’m just saying thank you. No matter what else happens, I owe you for this.”
My stomach slowly rights itself, but I’m still not buying his explanation.
“What else might happen, Elliot?”
He turns that smirk back on me again.
“You tell me, sunshine.” That’s what Alex calls me. Elliot’s only used that word a couple of times before, and those moments were among the most erotic of my life. It’s distracting, but not enough to put me off from asking him again.
“What else might happen to the restaurant, Elliot?”
“It didn’t work, did it?” I say. “Duckbill is still going to have to close.”
He doesn’t answer me, but the tightening of his mouth does.
“Oh, honey.” I step forward and kneel down beside him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” My breasts brush against his arm, and that gets his attention, to put it mildly.
“You looking to take my mind off things, sunshine?” he asks, that sizzling energy of his switching back on. “Because it’s working.”
“Good,” I whisper. There’s so much heat in his eyes I can’t stand it. He never lets me see this part of him, not since that day.
“How’s Alex?” he says, when the silence between us goes too still.
“Worried about you,” I say. “And why are you asking me, anyway? Don’t you guys live together?”
From out of nowhere, heat creeps up into his cheeks.
“I haven’t seen him much lately,” says Elliot, looking away.
“Me neither,” I say. Elliot laughs, and the sound steals my breath from my lungs. He really should laugh more. “Why isn’t it weird?” I ask him, hoping he’ll know what I mean, because I don’t have the right words to explain myself.
We don’t have time for this conversation. Not here and certainly not right now. But I can’t help it. I know Alex’s why. I need to know Elliot’s.
Elliot looks at me, a world of emotion in his eyes. Heat and sadness. Yearning. And most of all, confusion, which puzzles me further.
“I’m not sure, sunshine.”
“But it’s not, is it?” I press. “It should be weird, but it’s not.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not weird.”
I’m not sure if I should push further without Alex here to back me up, but I don’t know when I’ll get him alone like this again. So I take a deep breath and just say it.
“Alex thinks we should try again. All three of us this time.”
Elliot sits up slowly, the office chair creaking as he shifts.
“Alex thinks so, huh?” he asks. Elliot takes my hand and tugs, throwing me off balance just enough that I’m halfway to bent across his lap over the arm of the chair. He slides a hand into my hair and tips my head back, forcing me to look up at him.
“Yes.”
“What exactly is it that Alex thinks we should try?”
“Maybe you should ask him yourself,” I say with a lot more bravado than I feel.
That smirk returns in force and my thighs begin to quiver.
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
Visions of the two of them flash through my head. I’m gasping for air before I can stop it.
“Christ, sunshine,” says Elliot. His hand tightens in my hair, chasing another thrill down my spine. “The look on your face. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
Someone in the universe is looking out for me right now, because another five seconds and I was going to beg him for something, anything. To touch me, to let me touch him, to suck him off. Anything.
Instead, the clatter of pans hitting the floor brings me to my senses and I shove myself off him, rising to my feet.
Elliot stands more slowly, adjusting the prominent erection I’d been seconds away from getting my hands around. He groans, and I realize he’s watching me stare.
“I can’t leave yet,” he says, turning his back to me and bracing his hands on the desk. He breathes deeply, clearly searching for calm. He’s not talking about this room.
“I know,” I tell him, clasping my hands to keep from running them over his broad shoulders. “The party.”
“Are you staying?”
“I don’t think—”
“You should stay,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s every bit as much your party as it is mine.”
“Are you sure? Even with...” I wave vaguely at the air between us.
Elliot laughs again, and this time it sounds pained.
“Sunshine, this—” he mimics my wave. “This has been my life since the day I met you. Tonight is no different.” He stops. “Well, maybe a little different. My point is, you should stay.”
“Okay.” I lose the battle to keep my hands to myself and run a hand down his back. I can feel his muscles flexing as I touch.
“Come home with me,” he says. His voice is so low, I think I must have misheard him.
“What did you say?”
“Come home with me. After the party. We can finish this conversation. And—”
“And Alex will be there,” I finish for him. He meets my eyes and nods.
Another clatter from the kitchen has me pulling back, pressing my back against the cold metal door. Now that we’re no longer touching, I can think again. And maybe it’s a bad idea but I want the questions between us settled once and for all.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’d like that.”
Elliot checks the clock on the wall next to me.
“This is going to be the longest two hours of my life,” he says.
He’s not wrong. The next two hours are a blur, but a slow-motion blur. I figure I’m supposed to play hostess to Elliot’s manager/host so I circle the room, making small talk with the customers I don’t recognize, laughing with the regulars I do. They offer me drinks so often that I have to stop by the bar to let Meg switch out the cocktails with ice water so I don’t get completely shitfaced. It occurs to me that maybe I should have a clear head for the conversation that’s going to happen later tonight.
On the other hand, I’d rather have liquid courage than a clear head. I trust Alex and Elliot to keep me safe. That I trust them that much strikes some chord in me. I guess tonight we’ll find out how far that trust goes.
I wanted to touch base at home before I lose my head altogether, so I excuse myself from the older married couple I’d been chatting with and step out onto the patio to make the call.
It rings four times before Dad answers, which absolutely never happens. Not once in the last five years.
“Hello?” he says.
“Dad, are you okay?” I’m already starting to panic, wondering how fast I can get a ride home to help him.
“Oh, hey, Joelle,” he says. He’s… laughing? “Yes, I’m okay. How are you doing? How’s your big party going?”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m great,” he says. “Me and Connie are just watching a movie.”
“Connie’s there.” On a Friday night, which is sure as hell not her scheduled time. Or day.
Hey, if they’re becoming friends that’s great news, right? That was the whole point of getting somebody to come and talk to him, to remind Dad he’s human and that he needs to socialize with other humans. So it’s good.
“Yeah, so if everything’s okay, Jo, I’m going to let you go,” Dad’s saying as I process all of this. “I think the bus is about to explode.”
“What bus?”
“You’ve never seen Speed either? We’ll Netflix it again sometime so you can watch it. It’s great.”
Dad and Connie are watching Netflix.
No. Nope. Not going there.
“Wait, Dad, don’t hang up yet. I just wanted to let you know I’m staying out tonight. One of the girls at the bar is having an afterparty and she’s offered to let me sleep on her couch.”
It was technically true. And yes, I’m too old to have to lie to my dad about where I’m spending the night. But since I’m not quite sure where else I might be staying, I figure letting him know the backup plan would keep me even on karma tonight.
“Okay, honey, have a good time,” says Dad. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He hangs up and I’m left standing there, staring at my phone again.
Are they…?
Nope. No. Not possible. Not even within the realm of possibly possible. I shake my head and hurry back inside, because it’s too damn cold
to linger outside tonight.
Elliot’s waiting for me when I step back inside the bar.
“Everything okay?” he asks. “For a minute there I thought maybe you’d headed home after all.”
I can see the strain in his eyes now that I’m standing next to him. I give him a small smile.
“Just checking in,” I say.
“Oh,” he says, visibly relieved.
The crowd is gearing up, like they usually do at this hour on Friday nights. I love it that I know what ‘usually’ looks like around here now. It pains me to think Elliot may have to give this up. He’s watching me carefully. And he’s changed clothes, which means it’s time.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask.
He nods.
“Then let’s get out of here.” I wave goodbye to Meg and a couple of the other waitresses on our way out, taking high fives from the customers as we make our way to the door. By the time we get outside, I’m laughing again.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Elliot says. I turn to look, and he’s glaring back at the closing door.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have made you leave with me like that,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his hair. “They’re probably already talking about us.”
I shrug, the gin and tonics from earlier warming my blood and fading my own worry.
“Don’t sweat it, boss,” I say, looping my arm through his as we walk through the brightly lit parking lot. “If anything, they’re just jealous.”
Elliot chokes on his laugh.
“You think so.”
“I surely do,” I drawl.
“Just how many of those gin and tonics did you drink?” Elliot asks, guiding me to his car and opening the passenger door for me.
“Not as many as they wanted me to,” I say, sliding into my seat with only a little less grace than usual. I hear Elliot’s muffled laugh again. I wait until he’s fastened his seatbelt to finish my thought. “And not too many for whatever you have in mind.”
He goes still, so still I think he must have stopped breathing. I dip my head to catch his gaze.
Sizzle Page 11