Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “You still chasing that crazy dream?” Hank's dad asked with a sneer. “I don’t know why you need to make your life so difficult.”

  “I am an artist,” Hank said.

  “Nonsense. It goes against the bro-code, man. Art should be a hobby. Something you do behind closed doors. Maybe you should go back to school and get a degree. “

  “I have a degree, Dad.”

  “A B.F.A.? It’s worthless. I never should’ve let you pursue such a bullshit degree.”

  His dad’s criticism was a kick straight to his balls.

  “You should’ve gone to a trade school and learned some marketable skills. You're going to end up stuck out here with no choices just like your old man.” His father sneered.

  “Pardon me,” the waitress said, looking at Hank. “There’s a woman at the bar who’d like to buy you a drink.”

  “Thank you. Thank her. I’m not drinking,” Hank said.

  “I am,” Hank’s dad said. “If she wants to buy my boy a drink. I’ll be happy to help.”

  Hank put his hand on his dad’s arm. “No, Dad.”

  “I can tell her...” the waitress started.

  Hank cut her off. “Please thank her for me. I’m not drinking. Not tonight.”

  “I guess I’ll have to pay for my own drink. Put another one of these on my tab,” Hank's dad said, holding up his empty vodka and tonic glass.

  The waitress looked to Hank for permission. Hank nodded, gritting his teeth.

  Hank ordered the pasta special. The Bolognese was as delicious as he remembered. He was able to clear his plate in record time. He didn’t have to fight with his dad when the waitress left the bill on the edge of the table. Hank picked it up.

  “Let’s split it,” his dad said.

  “No,” Hank said. “I’ve got this.”

  Hank gave his credit card to the waitress. After he’d paid, he stood up and escorted his dad toward the front door, but his dad stopped by the entrance to the bar.

  “Thanks. For having dinner with the old man.” Hank’s dad slapped him on the back. “I’m going to have a nightcap in the bar. You care to join me?”

  Hank calculated his dad was at least on his third vodka and tonic. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in a bar, watching his dad get drunk, but he didn’t want to leave him alone either.

  “You didn’t drive tonight, did you?” Hank asked as he followed his father into the bar.

  “Nah,” he said as he climbed on the barstool. “I’ve learned my lesson. You want to stay? First round is on me.”

  The bartender appeared at the end of the long wooden bar. “What are you gentleman having?”

  “Vodka on the rocks with a twist,” his dad said. “Hank?”

  “I’ve got some stuff I need to do at home,” Hank said. He patted his dad on the back. “Pops? You want to run on Sunday?”

  “You bet,” Hank's dad said.

  Hank walked down the bar to where the bartender was mixing his dad’s order. He pushed a twenty across the bar and the bartender palmed it.

  “Don’t worry, Hank. I’ll make sure he gets home.”

  “Call me,” Hank said. “No matter what.”

  “Will do.” The bartender nodded.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

  Hank walked home the long way along the shoreline. The sound of the waves crashing against the beach soothed his soul. The moon played hide-and-seek behind the clouds, bathing the lakeshore in a golden glow. Above the harbor high atop the hill, the marble columns of the Good Harbor Public Library gave it the appearance of a grand old hotel.

  When Hank was younger he dreamed about moving far, far away to a place where he wouldn’t be judged for his dad’s mistakes, but he couldn’t live anywhere other than Good Harbor. Even though, keeping his family’s secrets meant he had to keep people at arm’s length. There was only one girl in Good Harbor for him, but she didn’t seem willing to take their relationship out of the friend-zone. And, Hank was too chicken-shit to ask her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Charlie looked like a tightrope walker as she stepped carefully down the hill on Front Street in her stiletto heels. The sidewalks in the quaint little shopping district were lightly dusted with snow. If she wasn’t careful she’d be ass-over-teakettle on the cold frozen ground in a heartbeat. That’s all she needed on day that really hadn’t gone her way.

  In the distance, Charlie could see the lights on the Bijou theatre’s marquee were off after the last show of the day. She was running late. She needed to hurry if she was going to make the screening on time. Petey would start the movie whether or not Charlie was there.

  The latest Hollywood releases screened two times a day on Monday through Friday at the Bijou. On Thursday nights, there was only one show; a screening of a classic film selected by Petey. You could buy a ticket to see Easter Parade, Casablanca or White Christmas on the big screen and get a box of popcorn—all for one dollar.

  “Best bargain in show business,” Petey said.

  A young couple leaving the screening of The Maltese Falcon, looked at Charlie like she was a unicorn as she struggled to balance an armful wine bottles. Charlie stared back just as curiously. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had gone on a date.

  No doubt it was with Nels.

  He favored skinny jeans and plaid shirts. He kept his lanky brown hair off his face in a ponytail or man-bun, which reminded her of nineteenth century literary heroes. More like what her mind’s eye imagined St. John Rivers looked like than Edward Rochester—but still he was as close to a book boyfriend in real life as anyone she’d ever met. She was certain he was a sensitive ponytail guy. They weren’t supposed to cheat on you. Or make fun of your clothes. They were supposed to take naps with you, cuddle and talk about your feelings. But Nels never shared his feelings. Until the day he told Charlie he was in love with someone else.

  “Hey,” a deep male voice shouted. Charlie stopped fighting with the door to look over her shoulder. Hank Carter was the only person in sight. A big sexy jock like Hank wasn’t the type to give a nerdy girl with glasses a second glance. The odds were totally against it. She reached for the door.

  Then she heard it again.

  “Hey, Book Geek!” It was Hank’s favorite nickname for her.

  Charlie turned around. Sure enough. Hank Carter, the hotter-than-hell hottie was waving from the other side of the street. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he broke into a jog.

  Sweet Baby James!

  Hank was huge. A massive hunk of manliness. Well over six feet and built like a middle linebacker, he had the face of an angel. His nose was perfectly straight. His full lips and delicate features made him resemble one of the Vatican cherubs carved from granite by Michelangelo.

  Yep. Hank was sex on a foot-long hot dog with mustard, relish and onions.

  He wore his shiny blond hair a little shaggy, hanging down over his forehead into his clear crystal blue eyes.

  Charlie swallowed hard. She couldn’t get past the queasiness she felt whenever Hank was around. She told herself it was only her fight or flight mechanism. He engaged it like no one she had ever met before.

  Her emotions were in a constant state of war whenever Hank was around. She wanted to run away from him—at the same time she wanted to Crazy Glue herself to him. Hello, Earth to Charlie!

  You’re staring. You’re staring. Please maintain eye contact at all times, and try not to drool.

  Hank waved again. Charlie couldn’t help herself. She juggled the wine bottles in her arms and found a way to awkwardly wave back. With both hands.

  You must look like a reject from a beauty pageant.

  Shivering on the sidewalk, Charlie waited for Hank to cross the street at the light. The closer he got, the queasier she became. She was so focused on Hank, she didn’t notice Mia parking her car on Front Street and walking toward the front of the theatre.

  “What are you doing out here in the cold?” Mia asked.


  “I’m waiting,” Charlie said. “For Hank.”

  Hank caught up to them, breathing heavily after jogging across the street. It didn’t make him less attractive. Mia’s attention was immediately drawn to the big man.

  “This is Mia,” she said. “Mia, this is Hank.”

  “Hi,” Hank said. He shook Mia’s hand.

  Mia didn’t say a word. She just stared, looking at him as if he was a piece of art in museum.

  “Mia just started working at the library.”

  “Are you a book geek, too?” Hank asked.

  Mia nodded. Silent. Not one word spoken.

  “Hank’s my next-door neighbor,” Charlie said.

  Hank smiled.

  Mia stared.

  Charlie and Hank exchanged a look. Charlie was surprised Mia was being so quiet. It wasn’t like her. She was usually vivacious and out-going. Especially with guys.

  “I wanted to ask you a question,” Hank said awkwardly, glancing at Mia, who was still silent, but devoted to looking at Hank.

  “Shoot,” Charlie said.

  “Do you like hockey?” Hank asked.

  “Are you kidding? I grew up in Hockeytown. In Detroit, you don’t have a choice. You love hockey or else.”

  “There’s a game’s at seven. Do you want come over?”

  “I’ve got plans,” Charlie said, inclining her head toward the Bijou. “Maybe another time.”

  “Yes. Maybe,” Hank said. “Another time.”

  They stood in silence until it became awkward and Hank cleared his throat. “Well. I’m going to go. I’ll catch you later, Charlie.”

  “Yep,” Charlie said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mia,” Hank said.

  Mia nodded, but didn’t say a word. It was like she’d been struck dumb.

  Billie was putting hot dogs on the roller behind the concession counter when Charlie and Mia walked in. She looked like a rockabilly Priscilla Presley, if Elvis had allowed his wife to have a nose piercing and a ring of fire tattoo. The owner of an exclusive clothing boutique on Front Street, Billie always smelled of expensive French perfume.

  “Petey’s upstairs in the projection booth,” she said, greeting Charlie and Mia. “She’ll be right down. She just made fresh popcorn. You better get some now before I eat it all. I skipped lunch.”

  Charlie put the bottles of wine on the counter next to the soda machine. She took a corkscrew out of the pocket of her parka, and started working on opening one of the bottles.

  “What the hell?” Mia said, finally finding her voice. She gestured toward the front of the theatre. “What the hell was that?”

  “Are you talking about Hank Carter?” Charlie asked. “How is it you’ve lived in Good Harbor your entire life and you don’t know ‘The Legend of Hank Carter’?”

  “I’ve heard of him. But I thought he was like Bigfoot. Up close and personal, he’s even better than he was described,” Mia said. “He likes you.”

  “I like him. We’re neighbors., but I don’t think he’s my type.”

  “What’s your type?” Billie asked. “An imaginary book boyfriend?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. What’s better than a book boyfriend?”

  “A real man,” Mia said. “With big guns.” She flexed her arm to show off the small bump on her bicep.

  “Someone you can hold onto,” Billie added. “Someone who will be there for you. Someone cares about you.”

  “And bonus points if he’s got an ass like an apple dumpling,” Mia said.

  “Hank is a really nice guy.” Charlie sighed.

  “'Nice’ guy? You’re kidding, right? Hank Carter is not nice. Hank Carter is hot.” He looks like that actor. I can’t remember his name. You know, the hot one.” Billie poked Charlie on the shoulder.

  “Yes. That really narrows it down,” Charlie said as she poured the wine into paper soda cups with lids and straws.

  “I can’t remember his name. You know, he plays the super hero in that movie. He’s one of a family of hotties,” Billie said.

  “The Hemsworths,” Petey said, coming down the stairs from the projection booth to join the party in the lobby. “Hank Carter looks like the lost Hemsworth brother.”

  “That's it. The first time I saw him walking down Front Street, I was surprised he wasn’t carrying Thor’s hammer,” Billie said.

  “He’s like an eclipse of the sun. You can’t look directly at him or you’ll burn your eyes out,” Petey said.

  “All I’m saying is he likes Charlie,” Mia said.

  “He does not,” Charlie said, handing Mia a paper cup. “At least, not in that way.”

  “Yes, he does. I saw him glancing surreptitiously at your ass. More than once.”

  “Good word,” Charlie said. “But seriously, Hank Carter’s so far out of my league, we’re not even playing the same game.”

  “That’s not true,” Billie said. “You’ve just lost your confidence since your nasty break up with Nels.”

  No. It’s true. Hank Carter is totally out of my league.

  She was the girl in middle school who was taller than most of the boys, and wore coke bottle-bottom glasses, Yes. Charlie knew only too well about dating leagues. There were many different kinds: major leagues, minor leagues, and Little League. Charlie had never played in the big leagues, but she knew there were some boys you didn’t even dare look at due to the fact they were major league all-stars.

  Hank Carter was a perfect example.

  “As my next door neighbor Hank is completely geographically undesirable,” Charlie said. “Everyone knows you don’t put the kibble next to your litter box.”

  “What does that mean?” Mia asked.

  “You don’t shit where you eat,” Petey said.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Billie asked. “If I shared a wall with Hank Carter, I’d be over on his doorstep attempting to borrow a cup of sugar every chance I got.”

  “And by sugar, she means sex,” Petey said.

  “I know what she means, but honestly, Hank’s not my type,” Charlie said. “I want someone who is on my playing field. You know, intellectually.”

  “You don’t think he’s smart enough for you?”

  Charlie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “He works construction.”

  “I don’t know, Charlie. I’ve sensed some serious mental activity going on behind those baby blues.” Billie lifted a piece of popcorn and popped it into her mouth.

  “He’s sexy, but he’s not like book boyfriend hot.” Charlie shrugged.

  “What the hell are you talking about? He’s hotter than any of your book boyfriends. And if he can put a complete sentence together with a subject, and a verb. Something like ‘I want you’—he can have me,” Mia said.

  “You can have him, then,” Charlie said. “He makes me nervous. I get the butterflies every time I’m around him.”

  “That’s not anxiety, Charlie. It’s sexual tension. Hank turns you on. Didn’t you ever feel that with Nels?” Billie asked.

  “No. Never.” Charlie shook her head. “Besides I’ve heard Hank’s a player.”

  “Hank has a reputation. He doesn’t chase women. They stand in line and take a number like they’re at a deli counter in order to chase him.”

  “Not surprised,” Charlie said. “I hear him leaving the house in the middle of the night. Not kidding. He goes out on a lot of booty calls. Nearly every night.”

  Billie and Mia carried their cups of wine into the theatre’s auditorium. Charlie followed behind them nibbling on kernels of popcorn out of a big bucket tucked under her arm.

  “You know, there’s no statute of limitations for break up makeovers. Why don’t you stop by the shop this week, Charlie and let me give you one for Valentine’s Day?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said. “Three-way mirrors and I are sworn enemies.”

  “Someday soon, Charlie. Nels will come back and ‘boomerang’ you,” Mia added.

  “I h
ope not,” Charlie said. “I think Nels and Dina make the cutest couple ever.”

  “Even if Nels is totally into Dina. He’ll be back.” Billie said. “It’s like a natural law of science or something. The good ones slip through your fingers. The bad ones boomerang. You need to be extra careful, Charlie.”

  “Trust me. It’s over.” Charlie took a sip of her wine.

  “Ok. Stop talking. Stop talking now.” Petey shouted down at the little group in the theatre from the projection booth. “I’m starting the movie. There will be no talking for the rest of the movie.”

  Billie sat down in the middle of the theatre in her favorite row. Mia joined her, shooting Charlie a skeptical look.

  “Has she always been this strict?” Mia asked.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “Petey has always played by the rules.”

  “I can hear you. Don’t make me have to separate you, guys,” Petey said.

  As soon as the opening credits rolled, Petey came and sat down with the rest of the group. Charlie settled into watch the movie.

  Honestly. Who needed a Valentine when you had such good friends?

  ***

  Hank was startled awake by footsteps on the wide front porch at the front of the duplex. It was dark and he wasn’t sure what time it was. He heard house keys jangling. Charlie was just getting home. She banged on her front door three times before it rattled open. Then she slammed it shut behind her.

  Note to self: Repair Charlie’s front door. Maybe if he couldn’t hear her comings and goings, he’d be less likely to think about her.

  He couldn’t get Charlie out of his mind.

  He thought about her. All. The. Time.

  Hank had caught a glimpse of her on Main Street this afternoon. She was with walking with a dark-haired chick—the tiny one who runs the Bijou—completely caught up in their conversation. Laughing and smiling, she looked so sweet. She made him feel like a diabetic in need of a sugar fix.

  Hank didn’t know anything about women’s fashion, but he knew the women in Good Harbor all wore the same uniform: yoga pants, sports bras and tanks. They all looked athletic and ready for wholesome outdoor activities. Except for Charlie. His next-door neighbor was a novelty in a town where women favored puffy down jackets and yoga pants.