One Hot December

by Tiffany Reisz

  serious too fast.”

  “You’re in love with him and have been for months. How much more serious can you get?”

  Flash sat back in the chair, stretching out her legs under the table. Her hips were tight from the sex, not that she’d complain. The best kind of pain, in her opinion.

  “He doesn’t know I’m in love with him. He doesn’t need to know that.”

  “Why won’t you tell him?” Mrs. Scheinberg asked as she dug her Christmas cookies out of what looked to Flash like a box that had once stored Brillo pads. Clever lady. “You’re worried he doesn’t love you?”

  “He doesn’t act like he’s in love with me. Lust, yes. But I can’t get over the feeling that the sex is the only reason he wants me around. He said something tonight about me being the only woman he’s ‘himself’ with.”

  “That’s a compliment.”

  “He said it while we were having sex. He wasn’t talking about sharing his heart or his soul or his hobbies. He meant I’m the only girl he can have the kind of sex with he likes to have. I think he’s only dated nice girls before.”

  “Look at me, darling.” Mrs. Scheinberg patted the table in front of Flash and then pointed at her own face. “I’m going to tell you a true thing, as true as two and two is four. I’m not your grandmother. I’m not your mother. I’m sixty-two years older than you are. And still, every day you come and see me and not just a knock on the door to make sure I’m still alive. You bring me my cookies, you spend time with me. My last dear friend died two years ago and it was a lonely time for me. Very lonely. And then you came along, and I’m not so lonely anymore. Veronica Redding, if you’re not a nice girl I don’t know what one is.”

  Flash smiled and swallowed a lump in her throat.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling. “But you know what I’m saying.”

  Mrs. Scheinberg clucked her tongue and pushed a plate of cookies across the table to Flash.

  “No, I don’t. So he’s a little wilder with you than he is with other women. What’s the harm in that if you both enjoy it, both want it? It just means you’re compatible in bed. It hardly means he’s using you for sex.”

  “I want him to use me for sex. I also want him to love me. I’m worried I’m asking for too much.”

  “It’s not too much. He should love you. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Ian’s family has so much money. His father is a state senator and on top of that he’s rich, he’s a philanthropist. He’s got friends in high places. They’re the sort of people who ‘hobnob.’ I don’t even know what hobnobbing is but I know only really rich people do it. The Asher’s ‘winter’ in the Mediterranean. I’ve never dated anybody before who uses ‘winter’ as a verb.”

  “It’s winter now, and your Ian is still here.”

  “First of all, it’s not winter until December 21. Second, he doesn’t go to the Mediterranean in winter. But his dad does and Ian will someday. He’s Dean Asher’s only son and Dean Asher runs an empire.”

  Mrs. Scheinberg waved her hand dismissively.

  “Nonsense. The Roman Empire was an empire. The Ottoman Empire was an empire. The Asher empire is an outlet mall. Dean Asher owns some very successful businesses. He doesn’t rule the world. You shouldn’t be intimidated by him.”

  “I know. That’s Ian’s world though, and I can’t picture myself in it. I can’t get over the feeling that Ian’s out of my league.”

  “He’s a man. You’re a woman. No man is out of any woman’s league,” Mrs. Scheinberg said. “And don’t you forget it. And if Ian Asher doesn’t believe that, too, you bring him over here and I’ll tell him.”

  “You just want to meet him in person.”

  “Can you blame me? I love a man with blue eyes.”

  “He does have pretty eyes,” Flash said, nodding. “Pretty everything.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I hate being in love with someone who’s not in love with me.” She laughed at herself and dropped her hands to her lap.

  “Don’t believe what people say about men being only interested in sex. Men want love as much as women do. I had a father, three brothers, one husband and two sons and every last one of them loved their wives like their lives depended on it. You should give this man a little more credit. It’s very possible he’s falling in love with you. Don’t be surprised if he does. And in the meantime you should be honest with him about your feelings instead of hiding them out of fear.”

  “I’m scared to not be scared.”

  Mrs. Scheinberg put her hand over hers and patted it gently.

  “I know. He’s hurt you before. It’s understandable you’d want to protect your heart. It is. But two wrongs don’t make a right. Don’t play with his heart while you’re protecting yours.”

  “I don’t want to play with his heart,” Flash said.

  “Good girl.”

  “Just his body.”

  “Go to bed this instant, young lady.” Mrs. Scheinberg pointed at the front door and Flash laughed as she stood up to leave. She reached for the last cookie on the plate, but Mrs. Scheinberg snatched it away from her.

  “No more cookies,” Mrs. Scheinberg said. “You’ve been too naughty.”

  “You remember I buy you those cookies, right?”

  Mrs. Scheinberg peered at her through narrowed eyes.

  She pushed the plate back slowly toward Flash.

  “One more cookie.”

  “That’s more like it,” Flash said.

  She kissed Mrs. Scheinberg good-night on the cheek and walked upstairs to her apartment. It wasn’t much to look at. The “living room” was a workroom where she kept all her metalsmithing supplies stored and sorted. The bathroom was one sink and one shower stall and that was it, and her bedroom had nothing but a bed, an old blue dresser and a closet. Ian had done more with his new place in one month than she’d done with her apartment in two years. All her extra money went into her art supplies. If only she knitted or painted or wrote poetry she might have money to buy some decent furniture. But no, she had to be a metal sculptor and you can’t buy scrap metal at Target or Hobby Lobby. Too bad.

  She’d just have to keep her fingers crossed one of her pieces would sell soon. If she sold any one of the pieces at the Morrison she could afford a year’s worth of supplies. But she wouldn’t think about that tonight, not with so many pleasanter things to think about like her evening with Ian.

  Flash went to her bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, took out her contacts and was ready to fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. But she didn’t hit the pillow because her gray tabby cat Bob Ross was sound asleep on her pillow already.

  “Pathetic,” she said, shaking her head at him. He didn’t even wake up when she turned the bedroom light on. “Do some housework. Earn your keep.”

  Bob Ross opened one eye for one second before closing it again.

  “Yeah, I figured that was your answer.”

  She set her phone on her bedside charger and pulled the covers back on her bed. As soon as her head hit the sheets underneath the currently occupied pillow, her phone beeped.

  Ian had sent her a text message. She grinned as she read it.

  Did you make it home safe? Ian wrote.

  Flash texted back quickly. Yes, I’m already in bed.

  Did I wake you?

  Not asleep yet.

  I had fun tonight. More fun than I’ve had in six months.

  Me, too.

  Can we have fun tomorrow night?

  That can be arranged.

  What are you wearing? Ian asked. She’d seen that coming a mile away.

  Cat hair.

  Hot.

  Want me to send you a picture of my pussy?

  Yes, please and thank you.

  So polite. She loved a man with manners.

  “Smile, Bob,” Flash said, and took a quick pic of Bob Ross still curled on her pillow looking not unlike a furry doughnut.

  She sent the picture to Ian.

 
Nice, he replied. Daddy likes.

  Flash laughed so hard she woke up Bob Ross and he stalked off the bed in a huff.

  Do I get a dick pic now? she wrote him.

  She waited and a few seconds passed. Finally her phone beeped again.

  Dick pic, Ian captioned the photo.

  It was a photo of the wildly unsexy face of Richard “Tricky Dick” Nixon.

  I am so wet right now, she wrote back.

  Good. Mission accomplished. Sleep well.

  You, too, she replied, and then thought of one more thing she needed to tell him.

  She took a deep breath, summoned her courage and wrote back the answer to a question he’d asked her four hours ago at dinner.

  Yes.

  Yes, what? Ian wrote back.

  Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.

  Another long pause followed. Flash caught herself holding her breath.

  When the reply came it was nothing but smiley face emojis.

  Ian, you’re thirty-six years old. Act like it.

  He replied with a single frowning face. She laughed so hard she almost cried.

  She started writing to tell him that she was sorry and he was allowed to use emojis if he wanted to, but the phone rang before she could finish typing out her message.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Ian said as soon as she answered.

  “I’m regretting this already.”

  “Are not.”

  “Why are you calling me? It’s one in the morning?”

  “Do I need a reason to call my girlfriend?”

  “Yes, at one in the morning you do.”

  “I have a reason.”

  “What?”

  He laughed on the other end of the line and it was the sort of laugh to make a girl’s toes curl up in the Doctor Who knee socks she wore to bed.

  “So...what are you wearing?”

  Flash answered absolutely truthfully this time.

  “A smile.”

  8

  IAN DRAGGED HIMSELF out of bed at ten the next morning. Usually he never slept that late. He couldn’t. But usually he didn’t remodel an entire bathroom in one day and then fuck his new girlfriend three times in one evening and then stay up until two in the morning to have phone sex with her. A man needed his eight hours of sleep after such an eventful day. He rose from bed and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a white T-shirt with the words Asher Construction in strong black letters across the back.

  He was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen when he heard the sounds of movement downstairs.

  “You back for more already?” Ian called down the steps as he stretched and yawned.

  “More what?” his father, Dean Asher, called back. “Or do I not want to know? Although I think I know.”

  Ian paused on the stairs, winced and rubbed his forehead.

  “Ian?”

  “Hi, Dad. I forgot you were coming by this morning,” Ian said as he squared his shoulders and made his way down to the living room.

  “Apparently so. You up for skiing today?”

  “I will be. Give me a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  His father was a young-looking fifty-six with pale blond hair very gradually turning gray. Ian remembered last year at the opening day of the local baseball team Asher Construction sponsored that his dad had worn a team T-shirt and a ball cap. One of the coaches had assumed Ian and his father were actually brothers instead of father and son. Ian could only pray he aged as well as his father. But for all the good genes, Dad was still very much Dad and Dad did not look happy with his son this morning.

  “Coffee?” His fathered handed him a steaming cup. “Hope you don’t mind I made a pot.”

  “Don’t mind,” Ian said. “Thank you. I needed this.”

  “I believe it. You had a late night?” Dean Asher raised his eyebrow.

  “Sort of.”

  “More than sort of, I think. You should clean up after yourself a little better.” His father nodded toward the corner of the living room where a condom wrapper lay on the bare floor where he’d fucked Flash after their little photo session. He’d thrown away the condom but must have been too preoccupied with her beautiful naked body to pick up the foil wrapper after they’d finished.

  “Oops,” Ian said. “You got me. Your son has sex sometimes.”

  “Where did I go wrong? Anyone I know?” His father took a big sip of his own coffee.

  Ian walked over to the sink and turned the water on. He splashed his face with cool water and then cupped his hands to wet his hair with it.

  “Veronica Redding,” Ian said as he grabbed a dishtowel off the rack to dry his face. He dropped the dishtowel onto the counter, leaned back and waited for his father to pronounce judgment.

  “Veronica Redding? You mean Flash Redding? Our welder?”

  “That’s her. You sound surprised.”

  “I am. For a couple reasons.”

  “And those are?”

  “Well...quite frankly, I didn’t think she liked men.”

  Ian rolled his eyes.

  “Sorry,” his father said. “Female welder, short hair, got a tattoo of a half-naked lady on her bicep...you assume things.”

  “Trust me, she likes men. But as Flash would say, you’re half-right.”

  “My apologies for assuming,” he said. “However, there is still the little issue of her being an employee of Asher Construction. Unless you’ve put in your two weeks’ notice without telling me about it...”

  “Not me, her. She quit two days ago.”

  “Did she quit because she wanted to quit? Or did she quit because you asked her to quit so you two could...”

  “I had no idea she was quitting until she quit. She got a new job and she starts in January. We’re pretty much closed down for the month except for the billing department and the interior painting on the office complex in Hood River. She’ll get her last paycheck next Friday. For all intents and purposes she is an ex-employee of Asher Construction.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. I hate to lose a good welder. They’re not so easy to find.”

  “Don’t think of it as the company losing a welder. Think of it as your son gaining a girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend? That sounds pretty serious for two people who have been only dating two days and it better only have been two days.” His father was merciless when it came to employees violating company rules. Even when that employee was his own son.

  “It’s only been two days. Sort of,” Ian said.

  “Sort of? What do we mean by sort of?”

  With a weary sigh, Ian sat down on the leather stool next to the kitchen bar. His father remained standing despite the presence of three other perfectly good stools to sit on. It was much too