by Fields, MJ
We crane our necks to look outside. The copper hair and commanding posture are the first things that register in my brain. Adam exits his police cruiser and walks over to a white Altima that just pulled into the parking spot near the front door. Kimberly, the girl he questioned at the bar last weekend, gets out of the Altima. The two stand and talk for a while. I’m surprised to see him in uniform. I thought today was his day off.
On Saturday, she looked uncomfortable to be talking to him as he questioned her with that picture in his hand. Today, she seems appreciative, almost relieved to see him. She smiles at him.
Why is she smiling? He doesn’t make girls smile. He’s supposed to make them annoyed, mad, sad…anything but smiley.
“Looks like your parole officer found himself a new inmate,” Luke says.
I kick him in the ankle.
He grabs his leg. “What was that for?”
Suzanne comes over and takes a seat on the other side of me. “What are you guys looking at?”
Luke speaks over his shoulder, “Leah’s boyfriend is outside.”
Suzanne adjusts her eyeglasses as she stands up to see. “Looks like he’s moved on to a new lawbreaker.”
Luke spins around. “That’s what I said. Why aren’t you kicking Sue?”
I flick my paper wrapper from my straw over my shoulder at Suzanne. “Yes, you both made the same bad joke.”
Kimberly leans forward and hugs Adam, who just stands there with his hands out. She steps back and waves as Adam goes back to his car and climbs into the driver’s side. She’s now walking into the bar while Luke, Suzanne, and I watch as she takes a seat nearby. As she settles onto the stool, she looks up and sees the three of us staring at her.
“Hey, guys.” She gives a little wave.
Suzanne and Luke adjust their postures, acting like they weren’t spying.
“Everything okay with you and the good officer out there?” I ask, motioning with my chin to Adam’s car that is driving off.
“Yeah,” she says, her tone weary. “Something happened this weekend that was a little close to home.”
“I saw you talking to him on Saturday,” I say.
I know everything that goes down in this town. It’s really not a surprise to anyone that I ask so many questions.
Suzanne sighs and asks, “Does anything happen in here without you noticing?”
I grin. “Nope.”
Kimberly starts talking, “Adam came in here, looking for this kid I work with at the deli. His parents said he hasn’t come home. I remembered him telling me that he was going to a house out in Piedmont. He even mentioned a friend’s name, so I told Adam about it. Turns out, he knew the house, and when he got there, the kid was overdosing. If Adam hadn’t shown up, that kid would have died for sure.”
Suzanne gasps. “That’s amazing.”
“How did Adam know about the house?” Luke chimes in.
Kimberly answers, “Apparently, the name of the guy I mentioned is some well-known drug pusher.”
A flashback of Adam barging through the doors of the police station with a criminal in a cuffed grasp before him flies through my mind.
“Nico Martinez,” I whisper.
“You know him?” Kimberly asks, placing a hand over her heart. “Sounds like they made a second bust today. He said a girl was found unresponsive. They never would have gotten to her if it wasn’t for Nico’s arrest.”
I blink out of my memory of being cornered by the felon—his hands on me, the smell of stale cigarettes on his breath, and his knee spreading my thighs apart as he inched closer.
I look to Suzanne, who knows everything about my Saturday night.
She gives me an understanding frown. “Looks like you’re not the only one Adam saved that night.”
Six
It’s Tuesday, and Adam is on my front stoop at nine in the morning on the dot. I open the door just enough, hoping we can leave without my parents asking him to stay. Since my dad has summers off from teaching, he’s already elbow deep in sugar and dough.
“I can drive myself,” I hiss at him.
“With what car?”
“Adam, is that you?” my mom’s voice calls out from the kitchen.
“Sorry, Pam. We’re late. See you later,” I shout over my shoulder and head out the door.
Running down the front stoop, I walk my ass straight to the car and try to get out before my mom attempts to lure him in with dad’s orange loaf.
I’m at the sidewalk when I realize Adam isn’t walking with me. He’s standing on one of the front steps.
I lean forward with my arms stretched out and ask, “What? Did you want to spend another morning playing pretend boyfriend with my parents?”
He’s standing there like he’s confused about why I don’t want him to go in the house. Not a smile or a frown. Not even a hint of an expression on his face. Just a bewildered blankness.
I make a hand motion, urging him to come down the walkway and get in the truck. After a beat, he gets the hint and walks toward me. Each booted step is heavy and thick as he strides down the walkway, heading straight for me. For a second, I think he’s going to open the passenger door. Instead, he walks right up to me.
Close.
Super close.
His movement slows down to a painfully unhurried motion. His hard body is just inches from mine. I change my mind and think that maybe he’s going to collide right into me.
It’s already warm outside, but his skin emits a heat that’s far warmer than the morning sun. My body shoots ramrod straight and bursts with electricity. I feel a pulsing from my head down to my toes as his mouth closes in, just centimeters away.
His mouth. Damn, that mouth. It’s pinched and serious, and if it tastes as mean as it looks, then, by God, I want to be evil as well.
His head dips to the side, and his body sways, coming closer. An arm wraps around my body, and he leans over and makes a clicking sound. With his other hand, he moves me to the side and then opens the passenger door.
Yep, he was just opening the door for me.
I make a deep sound from my throat and smooth out my hair. It wasn’t like I actually wanted him to kiss me. I just thought he was going to. I mean, in my baby-blue yoga pants, my ass looks incredible.
I scratch my temple, wondering what in the hell that was all about.
“If they think I’m your boyfriend, then I’d hate for them to think I wouldn’t open your door.” He turns around and waves toward the front window.
Yep, there’s Pam Paige waving back at Adam.
Adam is standing with my door open, waiting for me to get in. I crawl in, making sure he gets a nice view of my backside. Once seated, I buckle my seat belt and adjust it, so it’s just below my boobs, pushing them up a bit. With a flutter of my lashes, I wait for him to close the door, like he’s my chauffeur.
He walks around the car and slides into his seat. My door is still open, so I lean over and close it with a huff.
Leaning back in my seat, I cross my arms and look at him. He’s wearing his work jeans again, worn and with light splotches of paint on them. The work boots are back, and he has on a plain white T-shirt. He slides on his sunglasses and uses his blinker before pulling away from the curb. How a man who looks so delicious can act like such a square is beyond me.
I close my eyes and daydream in the silence of the long drive to nowhere land.
When we get to the house, I look for Toby and ask him where I’m needed. He gives a questioning eye to Adam, who just nods his chin.
“Hi, Leah. You can work with Tim and Gary. They could use an extra hand today.” Toby motions over to the two cute boys who lent me the tape measure last time.
With a smile on my face, I start to walk toward them. I’m a few strides away when a callous hand grabs my arm and pulls me back.
“She’s with me today. This is community service, not party time.” Adam’s deep gruff sounds from behind my head.
Toby has a confused look on
his face but just shrugs. Looking at his clipboard, he says, “Okay, you are on sanding duty this morning. Start in the master and work your way down. There are masks in the trailer.”
I walk inside and leave Adam to watch my blue-clad booty walk away and up the stairs. I grab a block and start sanding down the walls when I see a white conelike mask being shoved in my face. I turn to face Adam’s very serious expression.
“I’m not wearing that.” I refuse the offending item.
He shoves it back in my face. “You’re wearing it.”
I push his arm away. “Ew. Get that ugly thing away from me.”
Taking the space in between me and the wall, Adam is now standing with his ribs against mine, glaring down at me with eyes focused and determined.
“The dust can clog your lungs, which can lead to respiratory issues and lung cancer.”
I place a hand on my side and tilt my head. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
His chest restricts and pushes into mine just a little more. He lowers his chin and levels his eyes down to mine, and with a growl, he says, “I don’t want you getting sick.”
I take in a quick breath. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight. “Fine. I’ll wear the stupid thing.”
With a shaky hand, I grab the mask from him, but he swipes it back.
Pulling the elastic on the back, Adam slowly places the mask over my head. His fingers graze over my cheek as he lowers it down over my nose and mouth. He pulls my ponytail out of the elastic and lets it fall back down. A stray hair must have escaped because he is tucking it behind my ear.
When the mask is in place, I back away. “What about you?”
“I don’t need one.”
I stomp my foot. “Why do I have to wear this ugly thing?”
“Because I don’t care about myself.” Adam turns around, grabs a sanding block, and gets back to work.
“Maybe I do,” I add as I throw the cone at him.
His back is stiff, the ridges amplified through his shirt, as he takes a deep breath in and holds it. He grabs the cone off the ground and slides it over his face.
We spend the morning working in silence. He stays on the other side of the room. I keep to my side. He doesn’t make a comment about what I’m doing or how I’m doing it. He doesn’t try to correct me, and he doesn’t try to redo what I’ve already accomplished.
Every once in a while, I turn my head and catch a glimpse of him. As his arms work in a circular motion, the triceps tighten under the smooth sun-kissed skin.
As it gets closer to noon, the heat is sweltering. Since we’re sanding, they didn’t give us a fan because it would just blow the dust all over.
I pull on my T-shirt and fan out my chest. “It is so hot in here. I can hardly breathe.”
My hair might be in a cute pony, but the little hairs that have escaped are sticking to the back of my neck. I know Adam said I have to dress so as not to get any scratches, but sanding is hardly going to get me hurt. Deciding his rules are dumb, I lift off my T-shirt and throw it to the side. Now, I’m just wearing a black racerback sports bra. I’m still sweaty. At least now, my shirt isn’t sticking to my armpits.
I glance back. Adam is crouched on the floor, block in hand, with his head swiveled around, looking at me. His eyes widen slightly as they stare at my chest peeking out of the top.
“I’m wearing your stupid mask. You can’t make me wear a shirt.”
He blinks and looks down, suddenly fascinated by the pile of dust that has formed by his boot. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Well”—I sidestep and then head back to my wall—“your face says it all.”
When lunchtime rolls around, I put my shirt back on, and we head downstairs. Adam hands me a lunch bag and then stalks off to talk to Toby.
I grab a water from the cooler and take a seat at one of the folding tables. Opening my bag, I see he packed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, banana, and a Hershey’s Kiss. There’s something oddly adorable about the lunch, like he made it for his kid. That said, there’s also something annoyingly condescending about the lunch, like he made it for a kid.
I open the chocolate and pop it into my mouth. The metal chair beneath my butt is hot, and the table is out in the sun. I place the water bottle between my boobs and let the ice-cold plastic cool my skin.
“What are you doing?” Adam says as he takes a chair from the opposite side of the table and sits down. He reaches into his brown bag and takes out a sandwich.
“I’m curing cancer with my breasts,” I answer sarcastically. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He holds his now unwrapped sandwich up in the air. “It looks like you’re trying to draw attention to yourself.”
I pick up my Hershey’s wrapper and throw it at him. The silver hits his temple, but he keeps chewing on his damn sandwich.
If he wants me to show him looking for attention, I’ll show him looking for attention. I lift my banana off the table and hold it up to my face, just inches away. Slowly, I run my hand up the shaft of the fruit, down, and back up again. My gaze leisurely glances around the site, as if the act of fondling a banana is completely normal.
Adam drops his sandwich in annoyance. “Now, what are you doing?”
With a hand to my heart, I look at him with the most serious yet confused face I can muster. “Checking for firmness. I don’t want to waste a banana if I’m not going to eat it.” I shoot him a duh expression, turn the banana upside down, and squeeze the tip to break it open.
“You open your bananas wrong,” he says, with his finger pointed at me.
I place my elbow on the table and school him, “For your information, you open your bananas wrong. This is the way monkeys do it. And being that it’s their primary source of nutrition, I think they know what they’re doing.”
“They also eat bugs and shit. You wanna do that, too?”
I pinch in my cheeks and let out an annoyed grunt. “Shut up.” I wave him off. “Go arrest someone or something.”
“Been there, done that,” he says with a smirk, showcasing the perfect pearly whites he obtained from years of braces in middle school. He goes back to eating his PB and J.
I can feel my eyes scrunching in at him. He is so smug, and I want to kick him.
I focus my attention back to my banana and peel it down halfway, letting the white glistening tip of the fruit shine in the afternoon heat. I poke my tongue out of my mouth and trace the rim, running my tongue around it a few times.
“Leah.” His voice is stern, but I ignore him.
Opening my mouth, I press my lips around the banana and let the fruit go deep into my throat. Closing my lips over the soft core, I pull up ever so slowly in an erotic way.
“Leah.” He’s trying to intimidate me, but I don’t care.
Again and again, I run my lips and tongue up and down the shaft of the banana, giving it the greatest blow job of my life.
Adam bangs his fist on the table and rises. “Leah Marie Paige, what the hell are you doing?”
With a quick move of my head, I look over at him and take a great big, giant bite. With my mouth full, I say, “Eating my banana. Sheesh. Do you always yell at people when they eat?”
He shoves away from the table, causing it to rock. I place my hand to steady it while Adam stalks off toward the shaded tree.
I turn my head to the next table and see Tim and Gary with very appreciative looks on their faces.
I lean back and give them my snarliest face. “What are you looking at?” I twirl my finger in the air. “Turn around, boys. You don’t have what it takes to handle this girl.”
The boys do just what I said, and I look back toward Adam’s direction. He’s standing under the tree, looking at the field.
Throwing the banana on the table, I push my uneaten sandwich away with my other hand. I’m not hungry anymore. I take the water out from my boobs and drink it down.
Everyone here looks like they’re about
to die. I feel like I’m in the courtyard of a prison. All we’re missing are ugly orange jumpsuits and balls and chains around our ankles. I wonder how many people are here like me because they have to be. Just because we’re forced to do manual labor doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun doing it.
Walking around, I kick up dry dirt with my Nikes and run my hand along the vinyl siding of one of the houses. There is a stream of sweat working its way down my back, and the inside of my thighs are starting to chafe. What I wouldn’t do for a little wind to start blowing in.
“It’s too damn hot. I’m bailing,” one worker says to another.
Wish I could leave with ya, buddy.
I look over and see two guys getting up to leave.
“You’re leaving?” Toby says as he walks over to the men getting up. “Come on, Rick. I need you to help me get the siding up on the middle house.”
“No way, man. I’m not getting heatstroke. I have to be at work tomorrow.” Rick grabs his keys from his pocket.
Another man seated at Rick’s table gets up as well. “Yeah, I’m heading out, too. Maybe next week will be cooler.”
Two more people rise, and I can tell a movement is starting. Toby’s eyes look over at the people as they nod to each other, saying they’re done for the day.
With outstretched arms, Toby pleads to the crowd, “Come on, guys, it’s already midsummer. If we all head out because we’re hot, then these houses won’t be built in time.”
A few people aren’t leaving, but for the most part, the crowd is gathering their things to go home. My fingers start to dance at my sides in excitement. The girls are all heading to Jessica’s house for a pool party after work. I could get home, shimmy into my bikini, be at her house for two hours, and still make it to work on time.
Toby drops his arms in defeat, his head hanging low.
I walk over and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ninety-five degrees, and we’re working in the direct sun,” I say, pointing up to the cloudless blue sky. “They’re volunteers. You can’t make them work if they don’t want to.”
