by L. B. Dunbar
My heart remembers a time when we did things like this. Tommy and the guys with little Ivy in tow. Kit and Tommy were always about family. Sometimes, I think that was her issue. She saw me as family but not romantically. I sigh, willing away thoughts of history.
“What time is the play on Friday? I can pick you up.”
“I need to be there early. Crew dinner and all. I’m also hosting the after party on Saturday.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. She adds under her breath, “Why can’t I say no?”
“To me?” I question, my tone falling an octave in concern.
“Just in general. Like the party. Forty teens and me.”
“I’ll come supervise.”
“Hank, don’t—”
“I’ll be there.” I turn on my boot heels and walk away before she can reject me, before she keeps me out of her kids’ life as one woman kept me from my own.
15
Why I say yes
[Midge]
The following day, I’m crabby. I don’t know why I said yes to any of it—the pre-show dinner, the after-show party, or Hank attending the hectic weekend activities. I’m stumped on an idea for Pendelton, and this is when a marketing crew works best, bouncing ideas off one another. I’m slapping papers on the front desk at Restored Dreams, staring at a design I made and worrying about the technicality of it. Pendelton wants a line of items for men. Masculine. Simple. Not necessarily for the stereotype that only gay men like to decorate their homes but for the single, successful man.
It’s obvious I don’t understand men. I’m divorced. I can’t escape a man who completely confounds me, aka Hank. Plus, I raise three boys, and that’s an adventure in and of itself. Which reminds me I wore a skirt and heels today to meet with Elston’s academic counselor after school. The meeting intends to guide us through which colleges we should visit this summer. I might break into tears thinking about my firstborn going off to college, so I push away those emotions and pick up the pad with my drawing.
I walk toward Brut’s office and slam into a male chest, dropping everything in my hands, including an empty coffee mug. The ceramic shatters on the floor, and I swear under my breath. Hank chuckles.
Where did he come from?
“You’re sexy when you swear,” he mutters, bending down to retrieve pieces of the cup. I bend as well, my knees kept together by the tight skirt. “And sexy as fuck in that skirt, little lady.”
My heart leaps when he speaks to me this way. I’m more pearls than chrome, but when he talks naughty, I want to jump him. Down heart, I scold. No leaping allowed. I’ve already leaped too fast for this man and look where it’s gotten me. Lonelier than before I knew him. His compliment adds to my irritation.
“I got it,” I snap, but his hand covers mine.
“You’ll cut yourself.” He picks up the large pieces, holding them in his thick palm.
“I’m not that delicate,” I mutter. He doesn’t look up at me, and I stand. His eyes follow the line of my legs and I stomp into the office after gathering up the dropped invoices. I’m working on making Brut paperless, but there are so many purchases outstanding.
Slapping the papers on the desk, I feel Hank right behind me.
“What’s wrong today, beautiful?”
I spin toward him. “Just stop it. Stop flirting with me when I’m obviously not good enough.”
“What the—”
“I get it. You made a mistake, and in another week, I’ll be out of your hair. It’s fine.” I lie. “Just don’t come to my kids’ activities out of guilt or whatever you’re trying to do.”
“I’m not—”
“My kids don’t need the confusion and neither do I. We’ve had enough.”
I turn my back to him, but his presence is even closer, and his hands cover my shoulders. He begins massaging me like he did the first night we met.
“Why…” He exhales. “Why in hell would you ever say you weren’t good enough for me?”
“I must not be. You ask me out but dismiss me afterward. I ask you out, and you ditch me. Which, I might add, was after I begged you to fuck me and—”
“Begged. Me.” He inhales sharply and I close my eyes. “To. Fuck you.” He breathes heavily, goose bumps pebble over my skin. “Lady, you would never need to beg me.”
“Really?” I bark. “You’ve already refused me on this desk. Twice, I might add. I mean, I know I’m not adventurous or all cheetah print, but—” He entwines my hair in his fist and gently tugs back.
“You don’t need to be cheetah print, whatever the hell that means. I like you just how you are.” He pauses, lowering his mouth to just under my ear. “Is this what you want? Do you need this for some reason? I’ll give it to you because I definitely don’t want Brut trying to find another excuse to get at you.”
He still has my hair, holding me pressed against him. My back arches, and my backside hits the weight in his overalls. I smile at the thought of Brut. I’m not attracted to him, but it’s nice to think he might be attracted to me. At least, someone is. I roll with the thought.
“You think Brut wants me?” I tease. Hank tugs tighter and then presses between my shoulder blades, forcing me forward to the desk. He holds my hair while leaning down and slipping his hand up my skirt. Dear Lord, I whimper. My heart races and I’m instantly wet. I’m so turned on when I shouldn’t be.
“Brut definitely wants you, but he can’t have you. You were made for me. You’re my cupcake, and only I get to sample you.”
I scoff at the reference until thick fingers slip into my underwear and impale me. I sigh with relief I shouldn’t feel. I should be mad at him. I am mad at him. He’s been a total asshole, but his fingers feel so good inside me.
“You think I don’t want you? Are you kidding me? You’re all I think about, and this desk has nothing to do with anything. It’s filthy, and you…you’re so sweet, Middy. But if you want to be a dirty lady, I’m here for you.” His fingers delve deeper, twirling in a way that makes me squeak with pleasure.
“Don’t move,” he groans, removing his fingers. I might have whimpered at the release, my elbows collapsing as I cover my face in humiliation. I’m begging him again to take me. What am I doing?
A lock clicks at the door, the blinds rustle, and the sound of his overalls unzipping make me turn my head to look at him over my shoulder.
“Don’t move,” he snaps, determination on his face as he slips the upper half of the garment from his body, pushing it below his hips. He circles the desk, dragging open a drawer and slamming it shut. Within seconds, he’s behind me, and I hear the rip of foil.
“Not good enough?” He tugs up my skirt, roughly pulls down my panties, and rams into me. The force pushes me forward, and I reach for anything to steady myself. Unfortunately, I’ve cleaned the desk, so I only slide over the flat surface.
“Lady, you’re better than anyone I’ve ever known.” His voice stammers as he continues to hammer into me. His hands grip my hips for several thrusts before one slips down my belly and finds the sensitive nub he touched the other night. Flicking it in rhythm with the speed of his thrusts, he continues to speak. “I’m not good enough for you, baby, but if you want me to take you on a desk, take you against a wall, or take you over that nasty couch, I’ll fucking take you.” His pace increases, and I grunt with each tap inside me. He’s deep like this, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before.
“No one else gets at you,” he demands, working my clit until I’m almost drooling on the desk. I want this orgasm. I need this release. “Only me. Now come all over me. Mark me as yours.”
I do as he commands, holding back the scream with the clamp of my lips. I press back, forcing him as deep as he can go within me. He fills me and I burst around him, the release washing me clean of all negativity. Then my favorite part happens. He pulses, filling me as he strains from his own rapid explosion. He lets go of my hips and slides his hands down my arms, covering my fingers against the desk. I spread them, and he curls his
with mine, resting his chest on my back. “You are so fucking incredible, naughty lady.”
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, and I close my eyes, willing the moment to last. He’s going to pull out at any second, break the connection, and then walk away. He’s already done it twice before, and I hold my breath, struggling to catch it after the orgasm that just ripped through me. I wait for the rejection.
Why did I say yes to this?
“You cleaned the desk,” he mumbles at my ear. “Were you anticipating something?”
“A girl can always dream.”
“You dream of being taken over a desk?” He chuckles into my hair.
“Yes.” I exhale on the admission.
“Why?”
“Because I never have before.” The truth seems like too much. Admitting a fantasy to a man about to walk away adds to the stab wound he’s about to inflict.
“Middy, let me make all your dreams come true.” The comment stops my heart, and the breath I’m holding exhales on a gasp.
“What?”
“I know I’m an ass but let me try. I want to try with you, little lady. I think you’re the girl to make all my dreams come true.”
How can I say no to that?
16
Chrome Teardrops
[Hank]
Each time I look at the damn desk, I get hard. Picturing her creamy ass in the air, me entering her in such a way. I want her again, but I’m out to prove myself this time. I meant what I said; I want to make her dreams come true because I’m starting to think she’ll fulfill mine. The first promise to myself is no more sex. Not until I’m back in her good graces by showing her I want more than something physical from her. This starts tonight at her son’s play. I’m nervous when I think about it but remember Edie and Tommy will be present. Maybe that makes me even more anxious
I’ve been thinking a lot since last Sunday night, realizing in my heart, I’ve let Kit go. Remembering her treatment of me brought back too much pain, and I can’t raise her from the dead for answers. Some answers are just never meant to be had, I finally realize. I’m a slow learner. I think it was the concept of Kit, or maybe the constant way she toyed with me. Late-night calls. Quickies on the bus. Stolen kisses. However, my former lover didn’t get to me like Midge does. Kit was an addiction, an obsession. Midge is habit forming, and good habits take practice. I’m ready to learn.
She’s sitting at the front desk talking to Chopper when I come in from the garage. I’m starting to think my nephew has a crush on this woman like his father. Hell, the whole garage likes her.
I’ve been spending every second working on Pendelton’s Bentley. I want it done so the old man has no excuse not to see her. He’s a piece of work, the ancient fart. He thinks the world revolves around him and his shit don’t stink, but I know men like him. Most of the world doesn’t like him, and they can smell him a mile away. Why Midge wants to work for him, I don’t understand, but I see her scribbling and making notes as she moves around our place. Her mind works in overdrive, and I’m waiting for a crash. I wish I could prevent it from happening, but if not, I want to be there to collect the pieces. She’s tough, but underneath, I see the delicate side of her.
Not when her backside is in the air.
Not when she straddles me.
But in general, there’s a fragility, and I want to be the glue holding her together. I just need to get my head out of my ass.
“I’m taking classes at Community until I figure out what I want to do. Then I’d like to transfer to UCLA,” Chopper says to Midge as I pass them and head to the office. My nephew is kind of a hell-raiser, like his uncle and his father, so him getting into UCLA is a long shot at best. Brut just wants him to have a college degree, which neither of us have.
“What are your main interests?” Midge offers. “You should always start there. I liked art, drawing specifically, and I knew I was a good planner. The two together became my graphic designs and marketing degree.” I sit at Brut’s desk, imagining a lost look on Chopper’s face. I purposely left the door open to listen to them. I’ll kill him if he’s lost to her words because he’s staring at her lips, like I do, imagining what she can do with them, like I do. He’s twenty-one, but he’s not stupid. He recognizes a beautiful woman.
“I love music.”
“That’s a good start. What about it? Do you play something? Or just like listening?” As Brut raised Chopper in my father’s house, playing an instrument wasn’t a possibility. Hell, I wasn’t allowed one either until I found an old drum kit thrown out in someone’s trash. I brought it home and banged the daylights out of it, pissing off Pop until he threatened to throw it away. He thought I was only messing around. He didn’t hear talent. When I left to join up with Tommy, Pop practically disowned me. He wouldn’t have encouraged Brut to let Chopper play music. He’d be too afraid Chopper might leave his old man like I left mine. Pop’s only soft spot was his grandson.
“I’m more about mixing the sound,” Chopper states.
“Like rap music?” Midge asks, and I close my eyes. Music is music, but some sounds I don’t understand, and rap is one of them. The angry shit they screech about—I don’t know how other kids hear it. Where’s the meaning in those lyrics? Where’s the soul? The beat is so fast kids miss the point. God, I sound like an old man.
“Nah, I like old-school music. Stuff from your age.” I sit up, hoping Chopper’s reference doesn’t offend Midge. We aren’t that old. “Ever hear of Chrome Teardrops?” My head shoots up, and I hold my breath. Dammit.
“I don’t think so,” Midge replies.
“They were led by a girl. Kit Carrigan.” Silence follows only briefly.
“Kit Carrigan. Singer, right? Who didn’t want to be her? Blonde. Beautiful. Wild.” Midge sighs, like Kit was every girl’s fantasy. She had definitely been many men’s wet dream. “Didn’t she die young? Heart attack or something?”
“Breast cancer,” I interject from the office, unable to stop myself as the painful memories flip through my head.
“Right,” Midge hollers back. “That’s so sad. Wait, wasn’t she Ivy’s mother?” I don’t have to see Midge, to know the wheels are spinning and I’m waiting for the puzzle pieces to click. I’m biting my lip when Chopper interjects.
“You know Ivy? She used to babysit me. God, I had a crush on her.”
Midge laughs. “Doesn’t everybody? My youngest son has one on her, too.”
Chopper’s laughter follows, and I recognize that the women I surround myself with are too often admired by several men at once.
“Chopper, don’t you have work to do?”
“I’m on a break,” he snaps back.
“Since when do we get breaks around here?” I scoff.
“Since my dad owns the place,” he snaps back. Little shit. He’s smart enough to know this is his inheritance and his destiny if he doesn’t get his ass out of here. He works on cars because he can, but not because it’s his passion. Brut wants a life for him. One Brut didn’t have a chance at. I exhale, knowing part of Brut’s position came from my decisions. The other part came from him not keeping his dick in his pants.
“Get to work.” I chuckle to myself when I hear Brut’s rough voice.
“See ya, Midge,” Chopper says, rapping on the counter like his father does.
“Bye, honey.” Her sweet voice sends a ripple over me. I want her to use that endearment on me.
“You okay?” Brut’s voice interrupts my thoughts as he stands in the doorway. His brow pinches, and I’m wondering if he heard Chopper bring up Kit to Midge. It was innocent enough, but Brut doesn’t like to hear about Kit. He blames her for many things, like me not being unable to keep my dick in my pants, and my heart in my chest.
“I’m good.” I tip my chin.
“Then get to work, too. The Bentley awaits.” On second hand, Brut can be a dick.
17
Back to high school
[Midge]
Edie offering to come to
Ronin’s play completely flabbergasted me. She purchased the tickets, and I thought she might consider it a donation to the high school, but when she actually walked in with Tommy on Friday night, I was equally surprised.
“I don’t go to these things anymore,” she says after taking a seat. “With Masie in college, I think I’m still in mourning over the high school years being over.” Edie’s daughter, Masie, attends Santa Clara University, a good five-hour drive from the Los Angeles area but certainly closer than her original home in Chicago. Edie’s story of moving to California fascinates me, and truthfully, I’m a little jealous of her happily-ever-after tale.
“It is so generous of you to attend. Ronin is thrilled to have the support. He misses family most when these types of opportunities arise.” My parents and Paul’s used to attend as much as they could of our children’s activities. With us living more than a thousand miles away, that’s no longer a possibility.
“I’m so excited. Les Misérables is one of my favorite musicals.”
“Darlin’, you know nothing about music,” Tommy teases beside her.
“I know about this,” she huffs until his tattooed arm surrounds her. Yep, happily-ever-after.
“Got a seat for me?” All three of us look up at the same time to see Hank standing in a light gray crew neck sweater and dark jeans. Two bands of bracelets circle his wrist. He’s a vision of masculinity, and I just want to lick him. I’d purposely left an empty seat next to me although, secretly, I was afraid to believe he’d show. I motion for him to sit as I don’t trust myself to stand and greet him. I might tackle him in the aisle with my relief.
“Hank?” Edie states, a question in her voice as she looks over at me. Tommy leans over, and the two men shake hands.
“Surprised to see you here,” Tommy adds, inquiry lingering in his tone, but Hank sits back the second they release hands and glances over at me.
