by M. J. Kane
“He didn’t seem to care,” I said, shooting her the evil eye. “He asked me out. Well, dared me is a more accurate description.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “He dared you to go out with him?”
“We’re going to meet tomorrow night at the Santa Monica Pier for dinner.”
“See, Kaitlyn, that’s why Ebony never plays Truth or Dare. She’s a sucker every time,” Yasmine said.
I laughed. “Don’t get excited. It’s more like a business transaction than a date.”
They looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“I agreed to go out with him if he cut the grass for free.” I jogged my eyebrows.
Both women were all grins as they gave me high fives.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. I knew you’d pick up on my lessons one day.” Yasmine beamed.
***
The Santa Monica Pier was the perfect location for a first date. Couples strolled along, holding hands or cuddled up on benches facing the ocean. Several of my past dates were here. But this wasn’t a date.
A business transaction. A dare in answer to his dare.
When Brian said yes to a date instead of payment for services rendered, I’d been speechless. Apparently, he felt getting to know me was worth it. The thought was flattering.
Brian resented the idea of going Dutch, but it was one of my stipulations. After all, he’d bought me a drink and fallen for the free grass ploy. Besides, this wouldn’t go any further. My plan: answer his questions to stave off his curiosity, and go home. The next time we needed yard maintenance, I would be sure to have cash on hand. If not, I’d find another company to use. Though I had to admit, the idea of not seeing him half dressed in my yard again would be disappointing.
I reached for my cell phone to check the time. Brian was fifteen minutes late. There were no missed calls or messages. We’d exchanged phone numbers in case either of us needed to cancel. He never called, so I figured we were still on.
The idea of meeting Brian wasn’t so bad. After the day I had at work, a break from the norm would be nice. The closer I got to graduating, the fiercer the competition for the coveted veterinarian technician position became. I had earned the opportunity to move up from being a volunteer to an intern once I graduated U.C.L.A. Moving from intern to vet tech would put me one step closer to my career goal.
I began working as a volunteer during my second year in college. After five years of working at the zoo, I was aware of everything that went on. The routines, all the secrets, and who was screwing who. Animals were not the only ones in heat.
I stared at my menu. Instead of food, the image of Dr. Jacobs and Lily - the newest volunteer who was barely legal – in an unimaginable compromising position in the supply closet came to mind. I’d excused myself and made a quick exit from the building. Dr. Jacobs found me a short time later in the orangutan habitat. He pulled me to the side and promised to make me a shoo-in for the full-time position upon graduation if I kept my mouth shut. The idea disgusted me.
After nearly eight years of working my ass off, I didn’t give a damn where Dr. Jacobs stuck his private parts, as long as he didn’t think I was the one holding his balls. I made my position clear; I didn’t need his help, nor did I plan to gossip about his personal affairs. He didn’t seem satisfied when I didn’t accept his offer. I had a feeling he would be watching my every step. So much for having a mentor.
The delicious aroma of melting cheese and pepperoni awakened hunger pains. Where was Brian?
Fed up with waiting, I dialed his number and got sent straight to voice mail.
Could he be standing me up? Was this retaliation for not hooking up at the club? God, I hoped not.
I sighed. Maybe something I said caused him to change his mind.
I wiped a hand across my forehead. It felt as if fate branded the word ‘idiot’ there for the whole world to see.
This definitely had to do with the club. I’m the one who fell for it.
There were no other reasons for me to hang around. I mused over my dinner choices chicken noodle soup or McDonald’s and signaled the waitress, paid for my drink, and headed out of the pizza parlor. I’d nearly reached the parking lot when I heard my name called.
“Ebony, I’m sorry,” Brian shouted as he jogged toward me.
Either I was under-dressed or he was seriously over-dressed. He wore a black vest over black shirt, silver tie, and black slacks. Black and white Converse completed his ensemble. My eyebrows went up in surprise. Not only did he clean up nice, he had a weird sense of style.
“Ebony, I can explain. Just let me catch my breath.” He bent over to rest his hands on his knees. His cheeks were flushed red from the exertion.
I didn’t know how to react. A part of me wanted to rejoice because he hadn’t stood me up, while another part wanted to fuss for the lack of communication.
I crossed my arms. “This better be good.”
“I promise you it is. I was on my way here when I got a call from another musician. He had a gig scheduled tonight but got sick and can’t go.” He paused and wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to take this job.” His eyes beseeched me in a heartfelt apology, begging me to understand. Brian’s smile was apologetic, and his voice sounded genuine.
I knew exactly what it meant to make ends meet.
“I understand the need to get your hustle on, Brian. Why didn’t you call? Isn’t that why we exchanged numbers? We could have”
Brian dug into his pocket and displayed the screen of his phone. “My battery died after that call, and your number is in my phone. My cousin broke my car charger, and I didn’t have time to get a new one or charge my battery before I left the house. All I could do is pray you’d still be here.”
Beads of sweat dotted Brian’s brow. He’d apparently run the entire length of the parking lot to find me. His blue-eyed gaze continued to beg for my forgiveness. Softening, I uncrossed my arms.
“Let me make it up to you.”
I pursed my lips. “Fine, maybe some other time.”
“No, I mean tonight. You’ve already driven out here. Come with me. This should only take an hour, hour and a half tops. Then I’ll take you out for steak, my treat.” Brian flashed his baby blues and killer smile. I was a sucker for dimples.
Besides, steak was a step up from pizza and a lot better than a can of soup. How could I say no to that?
Chapter 5
It was six-thirty. If I drove fast enough, we would get to the gig with a few minutes to spare.
Ebony hadn’t spoken since we pulled out of the parking lot.
Getting her to go out with me had been a challenge. Running late nearly blew the opportunity.
The condition of my work truck made a bad first impression. I didn’t consider this detail before insisting she go with me to the dance. Mentally, I slapped myself for being an idiot and not accepting her attempt to reschedule. My pride wouldn’t allow me to let her walk away from me again.
Discovering where she lived was a coincidence. The reward of spending time with her was worth more than the fifty-dollars I would have charged. Besides, she would only play this game once. Tonight was make-it-or-break-it time.
I grabbed an empty bottle of Gatorade as it rolled from underneath my seat while merging into traffic. The recently purchased pine-scented air freshener swung wildly beneath the rearview mirror.
Maintaining a clean truck had never been a top priority. The cab’s only occupants were my cousins when they worked my guitar, and me. Most of my dates were either at the woman’s house or we met somewhere. When a woman was worth my time, I would pick them up. Only then would I spend time cleaning my truck. The amount of food wrappers, empty bottles, and junk mail attested to the fact I hadn’t taken a woman out in a while.
I inhaled deeply, testing the air. It didn’t smell too bad. Maybe the pine fragrance would mask the odor of gasoline, grass, sweat, and foot funk. The odors no longer bothered me.
Even though Ebony
hadn’t complained, it wasn’t hard to miss the wrinkle of her nose. I rolled down the windows, grabbed the half-eaten bag of chips and empty water bottle off the middle console, and tossed them to the seat behind me.
If we go out again, I am definitely getting my truck detailed.
Traffic came to a stop, so I stole a peek at her. The fading light of the setting sun glinted off her auburn hair. She wore it down again. Long, springy spiral curls graced the slender curve of her neck, resting on bare shoulders.
She wore make-up. A hint of color matched her brown shirt, accentuating her eyes. Her lips were shiny from some kind of gloss and looked delicious.
I cleared my throat to get her attention. “You look good.”
Ebony tilted her head in my direction and smirked. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I dressed for dinner at a pizza parlor on a Tuesday night. Now you’re dragging me to a dance. You’re dressed up, and I’m dressed for the movies. Everyone will look at me and wonder why I’m there.”
“Where we’re going, nobody’s going to notice.”
“Yeah, right. How do you not notice the only woman in the room who’s not dressed up at a dance?” She crossed her arms and turned her attention to the car next to us.
I didn’t care what she had on. Over the past few days I’d seen Ebony dressed for a night at the club, work, and around the house; all fit her body perfectly. Each time felt as though I was seeing a different side of her personality. And each time she’d been more beautiful.
“I’m wearing Capri pants, a tank top, and flats,” Ebony continued, sulking. “I am seriously underdressed. Why did I let you talk me into this?” She paused, putting a finger to plump lips. “Oh, yeah, a dare.”
My chuckle earned me a glowering stare. “Look, it’s not the kind of dance you’re thinking about. It’s at a senior citizens’ retirement home. Everybody’s probably got cataracts.”
Ebony’s burst of laughter was infectious and made me smile. I enjoyed the sound of her laugh.
“Brian, are you serious?”
“As a heart attack…wait a minute, that was not a good reference since we’re going to an old folks’ home. But yes, after an hour, everybody will probably be ready for bed.”
“So let me get this straight,” she said when her laughter subsided. “You play in a band at a nightclub, own your own business cutting grass, and you play at senior citizen homes during the week?”
I nodded. “Well, not every week.”
“And I thought I stayed busy.” She angled her head and studied me. “What made you decide to be a musician?”
My attention returned to the road when the car in front of us moved. “My grandfather gave me a guitar for Christmas when I was seven, and that pretty much sealed the deal. I learned as many instruments as I could. When I graduated, I went to U.C.L.A. to get a bachelor’s in music.”
“What do you play?”
“Bass guitar for the band. But, I played the double bass in high school. I also play the piano, which was my mother’s doing.”
“Wow. Playing an instrument is something I’ve never been able to do.”
“It takes a lot of work and years of dedication. I don’t plan to work in nightclubs for the rest of my life. The big money will come from working in the studio or going on tours.” When we stopped at another red light, I studied the GPS. We were almost there. “It’ll happen one day. Right now my focus is on getting a newer guitar. I own two guitars, but it’s time to step it up a notch. I’ve saved for three months for the one I want. After tonight I’ll only be $150 away.” I tossed her a look. “If I’d gotten paid yesterday, it would have been one hundred.”
Her eyes widened. “So it’s my fault you didn’t get paid? You’re the one who decided to go with it. I thought you were going to say no.”
I laughed. “I made the right decision. When this is done, I plan to show you a good time.”
Ebony’s smirk didn’t hide the laughter in her eyes. “We’ll see.”
***
It didn’t take long for me to find the band’s rhythm. By the end of the night, we would exchange business cards and stay in touch for future work. One thing about the music business: networking was key. The more people you know, the more opportunities you got to play, the more money you made.
I unhooked the guitar strap from my shoulder as we paused for a ten-minute break. Ebony sat alone at a vacant table in the back of the room. She watched a crowd of elderly people gathered around the punch bowl, a look of amusement on her face.
I approached the table, veering out of the path of a woman in a wheelchair. “Hey, are you okay?”
She reached down to the floor beside her seat. “Yes. Here,” she handed me a bottle of orange juice. “I managed to grab a few of these before they were all gone. It seems orange juice is a prized commodity around here.” She grinned. “There are two more if you’re really thirsty.”
“Thanks.” I appreciated her thoughtfulness. “I want to apologize again for changing our plans. I’m sure you’d like to be somewhere else right now.”
Ebony studied the room. “Honestly, I’ve never been asked to dance or out on a date so many times before. Not even at the club.” Her finely arched eyebrows rose. “There might be some life left in these old players.” Laugh lines crinkled around her eyes.
Ebony was truly a rare find. A woman who could laugh at the change of circumstances instead of thinking everything revolved around her. Mark one in the plus column.
I scoped out the competition. “Are you serious?”
She motioned with her head toward an old man staring me down. “Harry over there has offered to put me in his will and give me half of next month’s Social Security check if he got to see me naked.”
I choked, juice dribbled out of my mouth. Harry appeared to be at least seventy. He sat grinning broadly with abnormally white teeth for someone his age. His plaid suit appeared to be thirty years old. He’d perched his Kangol hat over a knee, revealing the shiny skin of his bald head under bright lights. His hands rested on a cane between his legs. His eyes were all over Ebony.
When I turned back, she handed me a napkin and her smile widened. “Don’t worry, I told him if he couldn’t cut my grass for free then he didn’t have a chance.”
I chuckled while wiping my mouth. What a sense of humor. “You can add dessert to the steak deal.” I promised.
“Good, because sugar-free cookies and Jell-O may be good for my figure, but they are not satisfying.” Ebony reached for the empty juice container and set it on the table. “You guys are really good. Watching you play is…interesting. I like the way you hold your guitar.” She bit her lip. Her eyes flashed something that could have been sexual. She attempted to play off embarrassment by looking at Harry. It didn’t hide the rosy hue under her caramel cheeks though.
Call me crazy, but I could have sworn she envied my guitar. “You were paying attention.”
“I’m an observant person. You’re confident when you play. I like confidence.”
My eyebrow rose. Confidence was my middle name.
“Don’t let it go to your head. Cutting my grass and taking me out to dinner is not going to get you in my pants.”
I chuckled. Taking her to bed wasn’t my goal for the evening, but it felt like an issued challenge.
“Well, if…” Someone smacked me on the ass, interrupting my witty reply.
I looked over my shoulder and discovered a women leaning on a walker. The pink flower pinned to her shoulder hung lazily over sagging boobs. The woman appeared to be as old as my great aunt.
“You can get into my pants anytime, blondie.”
I stood speechless. Ebony’s muffled laughter floated from behind me.
The facilities director hustled over from serving refreshments to thwart the elderly woman’s second attempt to swat my behind. “Mrs. Johansson!”
Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the toothless grin Mrs. Johansson flashed me.
The director placed a gentle ha
nd on the woman’s back and attempted to turn my admirer in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Uh…no problem.” My cheeks burned. “I’m going to head back now.” The guys had congregated around the instruments.
Ebony nodded and attempted to hide her grin behind her hands.
The gig ended a short time later as some of the partygoers headed to bed. The spry ones put on music and continued to dance.
I was putting my guitar in its case when Ebony’s playful laughter caught my attention. She no longer sat at the table. Instead, she danced with good old Harry.
The old timer’s attempts to tear up the dance floor with my date amused me. The old guy could move. Ebony laughed again as he spun her around then attempted to dip her. Try as he might, his body wouldn’t comply. So instead he settled on pulling her closer, sliding his hands lower on her waist.
Watching Ebony dance mesmerized me. Even though she wasn’t dancing like that night in the club, it was impossible not to appreciate those God-given curves. What I wouldn’t do to be able to hold her in my arms.
I chuckled. I was jealous of a seventy-year-old man because his hands were on my girl.
Date, get a grip. She’s my date, not my girl.
My attention went back to the guys who were in deep conversation. I shook hands, asked questions, and collected my portion of tonight’s performance fee. We exchanged business cards and talked about various work opportunities we’d heard of. Eventually, my attention turned back to Ebony. The first song had ended. They were now on to song number two. Ebony looked my way. Our eyes connected and she mouthed a silent plea for help. A survey of the situation revealed good old Harry trying his best to round second base with my date. His large wrinkled hands were on her ass. Her very fine, shapely ass.
The sly bastard.
Ebony grabbed his wrists, pried his hands off, and pulled them back to her waist. Harry put them back. Irritation flashed in her eyes, though she kept a smile on her lips.
I dismissed myself to go to her aid.
