Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  "You okay?" he asked when he could speak again.

  "Wow," she whispered, falling against him, one hand running through his hair, her lips on his shoulder.

  "That a good wow?"

  "That's the best wow," she said. "We should do that thing where we vow no matter where we end up, we'll meet once a year at this snooze lodge and do it on this bathroom ledge."

  "I like the part about seeing you," he said. "I think we could do better than snooze lodge."

  "Perhaps," she said, a half-smile on her lips. Even in the harsh light, her skin glowed and her smile was radiant. "Now I'm starving."

  "For?"

  She laughed. "I just had you. Food. I need food."

  "I'm hungry, too."

  "For?"

  "You, only you."

  She grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He enjoyed the feel of them touching skin on skin too much to give it up, but she slid off the counter and pulled him into the shower.

  20

  Tommy drove in a daze, his mind filled with the sensation of Elizabeth's body rubbing against his, the smell of her skin, and the honey-sweet taste of her mouth. He wanted to say something but couldn't find words for all the things he was feeling.

  "A food truck?" Elizabeth said when he stopped.

  Tommy coaxed her out of the car. "The best tamales in the city." He expected her to be more open-minded after the last hour. Every cell in his body was buzzing with electric joy. "We can find a greasy diner if you prefer."

  She tucked a hand into his pocket and followed him. "We can try your thing."

  He hoped her doubts were assuaged when they found the truck with a line six-people deep. She held his hand while they waited.

  "What did Linda say, about you staying?" she asked.

  "She wants her car back." They arrived at the front of the line and ordered. "We're lucky. On the weekends they sell out early," he told her. They took their food and leaned against the car, a bottle of bright red hibiscus soda on the hood between them. He'd been so wrapped up in his work drama, he'd never asked about hers.

  "What did the casino say?"

  "Everybody cares about Granny, so I'm okay for a day. But we need to convince her to go home." She mimicked what he did, popping open a container of green sauce and pouring it into the red-checked food tray.

  "What's your job going to be?" he asked.

  "Marketing and promotions. It sounds fancy but it's a beginner job. Whatever they need."

  "Did you always want to work there?"

  She made a sound between a groan and a sigh, and refocused her attention on the tamale, pulling back the husk and probing with an index finger before looking back at him.

  "No. I always knew I would be coming home so I could be near Granny and Leo, but I didn't know what I would do." She took a careful bite and made a low moaning sound that he felt in his groin. Green sauce dripped down her hand, and she caught it with her tongue. "This is amazing."

  "Glad you like it," he said, already half finished with his. "Did you ever think about things you want to do?"

  She gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know. I never thought about the future like that. I always knew I'd be limited to jobs I could do on the rez. Then the driving problem happened. I'll be okay at the casino."

  "Any classes you liked?"

  "What, you're a career counselor now?" she said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

  "Trying to get to know you," he said.

  She twisted her lips into a silly smile. "I like history, especially tribal history. One time I asked Linda about the kind of thing she does and what she studied. I could look at tribal government jobs if the casino doesn't work out." She finished chewing another big bite. "You cook any food like this?"

  He shook his head.

  "What sort of things do you make?"

  He gave her a curious look.

  "I thought you said you collect cookbooks."

  He laughed. "Surprised you remember that. I was interested when I was younger but everyone made fun of me, so I lost interest."

  "Those people are jerks. Cooking is always useful. I don't like to do it, but I like when other people do it. I could eat more."

  "Good. I'm getting back in line," he said.

  When he returned, she said, "You were right about the food truck. I would never have tried something like this. I like the funny drink, too."

  "You more of a patty melt kind of girl?"

  She shook her head. "No. I need to try more things. None of this at home."

  "Lots of things to try where I live," Tommy said.

  "I know." Elizabeth paused. "Tell me your most embarrassing sex story."

  "You mean like the time I had my hand up the dress of this insanely hot chick in the back seat of my boss's car? Almost got caught by the cops."

  "Nice try but that doesn't count," Elizabeth said.

  "I want to impress you. Why would I tell you an embarrassing story?" Tommy nudged her in the side.

  "I'm already impressed. Do you want to hear mine?"

  "You wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't worth hearing," Tommy said.

  "In college, I got invited to this formal dance party thing, like a prom only in college. It was at this kinda nice hotel. Everyone was partying, as you do, and me and my date got frisky and went into the breakfast room, which was closed at that hour. We thought we'd go at it against the window."

  He tried to stay interested in a story where she went at it with some other guy.

  "We couldn't see outside, so we thought it was a private moment. What we didn't understand was that people could see in. Perfectly. Someone from the party spotted us and put out the word, so we had an audience plus anyone who looked out their hotel window at the right time. I'm sure there's a clip of it online somewhere although I don't know if I want to see it."

  "Reliving the embarrassment?"

  Elizabeth laughed. "No. I think I would be judging it too much. Did it look sexy? When you're doing it, that's the last thing you want to be thinking about but if people are watching, shouldn't it look good?"

  "I wouldn't want anyone watching," Tommy said. He finished his tamale and took a long pull from the bottle. He leaned over and kissed a spot under her ear, and her eyes slid shut, and she shuddered.

  "No fair distracting me until you tell me yours," she said.

  Tommy resurrected a series of humiliating sex memories that generally involved being too drunk to perform usually combined with being too drunk to stop trying. There had also been times when he was too drunk to stay awake or the times he'd woken up with a person he never intended to fool around with. But that wasn't the kind of story she wanted to hear even if he was inclined to share.

  "I don't know. I've been pantsed. Locked out of any number of houses or apartments."

  "I've fondled your parts. You can do better," she said.

  "How about this? There was this girl I liked, and she was galaxies out of my league, but somehow we managed to be at the same party."

  "This is on the rez?"

  "Yeah. I admired her from across the room, while I worked through a half-rack of crap beer, guzzling one after the other. I finally decided I was going to make out with her. I had enough courage, I was ready. I go gliding over, all casual, and sidle up and hold her arm and kiss her shoulder. This goes on for a while. I'm thrilled at my success. Eventually—who knows, minutes? hours? later—one of my friends whacks me across the head. Turns out I have been enthusiastically nuzzling the shoulder of a winter coat hanging over a coat rack."

  Elizabeth burst out laughing. "You did not."

  "Why would I make that up?" Tommy said. "I'm not sure if I started out nuzzling the girl and in my inebriated state, she was able to offload me to the coat or if I'd been doing the coat the whole time. Brought my best moves to winter wear. My friends all gave me a ton of shit about it. For years."

  Elizabeth said, "I want to laugh, but that's so sad. Cute but sad."

  "That's what I'm known for
," he said.

  When it was time to go, Elizabeth went to the driver's side.

  "You want to drive?" Tommy asked.

  "I don't know, maybe?"

  The night was quiet. The only sounds were a faint hum from the food truck and the grind of vehicles on the freeway overpass nearby.

  He opened the car door for her, but she didn't get in. She stared at the steering wheel like it was on fire. "I was thinking I could drive Leo's truck and maybe visit you. Now I'm afraid." The notion was impossible. If she couldn't drive at home, how could she drive anywhere?

  "What happened?" Tommy asked.

  "What makes you think something happened?" She gave him a sour look.

  "A few minutes ago you said so." When she stayed quiet he added, "You know all my business."

  "Like the scars?"

  He shook his head. "Not talking about that. Forget it. We'll go."

  "I'll tell you," Elizabeth said. "When I was in college, something did happen." Her shoulders went tight and her voice fell, like she’d run out of breath to say the words. Her hands fluttered, first wringing together then flopping on her hips, searching for pockets and then smoothing down her sides. Tommy grabbed one and threaded his fingers through hers and held it to his heart.

  "I was with three of my friends, and we were coming back from the movies." The fear returned and a tremor started in her legs.

  He squeezed her hand. "Take your time."

  "It doesn't even sound like such a big deal. A random dude road raged on us. I don't even know what I did but he came alongside and swerved and I jerked the wheel and lost control. We went into a ditch and rolled over."

  She stopped, shuddered, then tried to laugh it off, afraid of what he would think. "When I talk about it, it's like it's happening again. Loud crunching and scraping." She wiped her eyes.

  "The guy stopped and hiked into the ditch like he's going to check to see if we're okay but instead he starts going off, completely unhinged. He screamed, calling us names. Stupid bitches. Dumb whores. Telling us to die.

  "One of my friends had a broken arm and she was sobbing for help. He did nothing. After he finished raging, he hiked back up to the highway and left. It took forever for the EMTs to get there."

  Tommy pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  "The whole thing was crazy and upsetting, and now I'm afraid to drive."

  Tommy kept his arms around her. "Terrible things happen and it's hard to get over."

  "I want to get over it, but every time I think about it I get panicked and shaky. There's always someone to drive us at home so I keep putting it off."

  "I get it," he said, one hand stroking comfortingly down her back. "There'll be another time."

  "No, there won't," she said, a few tears leaking out.

  "Try sitting in the driver's seat. If you don't want to, we'll stop there."

  "I can do that part." Elizabeth unwrapped herself from him and plopped herself into the seat. She took the keys when he offered but held them in her lap.

  "It's late. The road won't be busy. I'll be right beside you, talking you through it." He went around and got in next to her. Already his presence was comforting, his voice low and gentle.

  The second she inserted the key, her heart accelerated. Her hands went cold and she dropped them back to her lap while she huffed several furious breaths. She sat back in the seat and tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. This was the point where George would chide her, as if getting over the fear was a simple task that she could be mocked into doing. "The roads haven't changed, you have," George had told her. "Just make yourself do it."

  She put her hands on the wheel, imagining what it would feel like to be in motion. Tommy stayed silent, gazing patiently ahead, his whole body at ease.

  She was close, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

  "You might need more time. We don't have to do this tonight," he said.

  "I want to while I'm with you." She started the car and her heart kicked up again.

  "You want to adjust the seat—"

  "I know how to fix the seat," she snapped.

  "Sorry."

  "What should I do?" she asked.

  "Take a second to figure out where you're going. How are you getting out of the parking lot? Take your time."

  "I don't know where I'm going," she said through gritted teeth. The trembling moved into her legs, too.

  "Do you feel comfortable driving around this parking lot?"

  "I guess." She put the car in drive and drove a slow lap around the parking lot. She did another lap, faster this time, and stopped at the exit.

  "Can you tell me specifically what you're afraid of?" He took one of her cold hands and rubbed it in his warm ones.

  She couldn't think of how to put it into words. "It's like I get overwhelmed when there are so many cars and giant trucks, and everyone is in a big hurry, zooming around, looming up from behind and whipping from lane to lane. They all know where they want to go. I feel like I need to hurry and get out of their way or they'll be mad." She pulled her hand back and put it on the wheel.

  "It's like that sometimes," he agreed.

  "Now you're going to tell me that I shouldn't worry so much about what they're thinking. I have as much right to be there as they do. They aren't thinking about me, they've got their own problems."

  "So, you can read minds. We don't have to do this."

  "No, I trust you. I want to. I just don't want to."

  She put her hands back on the wheel and slowly pulled out on the main street and stopped at a red light. In the rearview mirror, a car pulled up behind her.

  "There's someone behind me," she said in a small voice.

  He checked over his shoulder. "Not uncommon."

  "Don't make me laugh," she said, a smile threatening to come. She readjusted her hands on the wheel. The light turned green, and she pressed the accelerator.

  "The onramp is up there. You can make a right from this lane. No sweat."

  "No sweat," she repeated.

  "Once you get on, you can stay in the slow lane and exit at the next exit. One easy test."

  "What's something you're afraid of?" she asked.

  "Enough about me already," Tommy said.

  "I'm driving, aren't I?"

  "You know, the usual," he said.

  She turned on to the onramp, probably too slowly but Tommy didn't say so. Once she was on the freeway, the anxiety mixed with a hint of elation. The terror remained but she was doing it.

  "I can do more than one offramp," she said. "Now tell me what you're afraid of."

  "I'm afraid of disappointing Linda," he said.

  "What activities frighten you?"

  "I don't like to swim in the ocean."

  She took a moment to process that. "You're kidding. I love to swim in the ocean. What are you afraid of, sharks?"

  "No." He laughed.

  She hit freeway-speed, keeping up with the other cars around her. The traffic was light. Her confidence grew. She hit the turn signal and glanced over her shoulder to change lanes.

  "I don't like the waves or the cold or the water sloshing around all unpredictable and knocking you over and dragging you back. Riptides."

  "Some of that is the fun part," she said, plotting out where to take him when they got home. "I can't wait to gently expose you to the sea. Get your feet wet, so to speak."

  "I don't know when that's going to be," he said.

  They passed another exit but she wanted to keep going, not exactly enjoying the experience but exhilarated at her progress. "I'm doing good, huh?" She came up behind an ancient VW van and stepped on the brake.

  "You're doing great. Better than I'm going to be at swimming. You going to pass this guy?"

  "Getting to it," she said, using the turn indicator, moving into the passing lane and accelerating past.

  "You're a natural," Tommy said.

  "How far are we from the motel?" she asked.

&n
bsp; "At least ten minutes. You want to stay behind the wheel?"

  "Yeah." She flicked a quick glance at him, to see if he had a death grip on the door handle, but he was the same easy-going guy. He was back in his dingy sweatpants and T-shirt. She couldn't wait to get him dressed up. Sure, he could work the rumpled sweats and stretchy T-shirt, but cleaned up he was going to be all hottie.

  "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

  She gave him an evil grin.

  "One thing at a time, lady," he said, pretending not to laugh.

  "I'm good at multi-tasking," she said.

  "Confidence has come quickly, my daring driver," he said.

  A cab came up behind her, and she moved to the other lane. "Speaking of coming quickly..." she said.

  "I always knew someday my manly hip swivel would command some special lady's full attention."

  She laughed. "The ladies will line up once I'm gone."

  He went silent.

  "Will you tell me about those scars?" she said.

  "Nope," he said with finality.

  She waited another minute before asking, "From when you were a kid?"

  He tried to laugh it off. "Sad childhood story. New topic."

  A trio of cars came up the freeway entrance. She swallowed while they merged around her. "What do you think all these people are doing in the middle of the night? Like, the truck drivers or pizza delivery I get, but what about everyone else?"

  "People with jobs with off schedules, like bartenders or security. Some people like to be out late. I did back in the day, although it was never for a good cause."

  "George and I talked about that when I was going for a job at the casino. If I wanted to get more on the hospitality side, I would have started with more weekends."

  "Who's George?" Tommy said.

  She shouldn't have brought up his name, but he was in the back of her mind. He’d texted a number of times and then tried to phone when she didn't respond. She’d finally texted to tell him that she and Granny were doing fine and she'd see him when they got home. "A friend from home. I've known him forever." She should explain more but to say what? Reassure Tommy that the thing with George was long over? Try to find some lighthearted way to describe the unexpected range of feelings she had developed in such a short time? She couldn't bear the idea of saying goodbye and she pushed it out of her mind, focusing instead on the time they had left.