by Tia Louise
“I don’t want to see you end up with Bucky Pepper.”
“Oh, God,” I groan, wiping a tendril of hair off my forehead and focusing on the batter. “Hand me that spoonula, would you? Start mixing up the buttercream. I’ll let you run this over to the strand once it’s done. And keep half for yourself. It’s time I started paying you.”
She grins and sashays to the refrigerator. I can never stay mad at Tabby, and shit, a wriggling part of me says she might be right.
* * *
Lemon zest cupcakes made, lunches eaten, I purposely prolonged the decoration of the round dessert cake until I’d seen Jackson climbing down the scaffolding and briefly glancing in the window. Of course, I quickly turned my back.
Tabby took the order in her car and headed out to Oceanside Beach. I carried my sleepy toddler to the bike and pedaled her home along with her box of Yellow Monster Number Fours.
Now I’m back at my place dusting on makeup and trying to drum up the smallest bit of interest in Bucky the deviled-egg-smelling taxidermist. My phone rings, and I hit the speaker button.
“Where is he taking you?” Tabby’s voice fills the open space.
“He didn’t say, but I’m guessing it’ll be Tuna Tiki. He seems to love it there.”
“It’s the live music.”
“And the cheap beer,” I add, outlining the corners of my eyes.
“I’m going to Thelma’s party, but I’ll slip out and head over after about an hour.”
I carefully brush on mascara. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“Emberly, you know what happened with Cheryl Ann.” Her tone is ominous, and the tiniest warning goes off in my chest.
“Cheryl Ann can be a little flighty. He probably thought he was being flirty and he was really being inappropriate.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“No! I’m just saying. His mother and I are friends. He knows this. I think it’ll be a good deterrent.”
“Bucky Pepper is an idiot, and I’ll be there to back you up if you need it. Don’t worry.”
“Hopefully, the date won’t last that long.”
Makeup done, we say our goodbyes, and I shake my long hair out with my fingers. I’m wearing a white romper short set with a long, floral black kimono on top. My sandals are flat, since Bucky is only an inch taller than me. Overall, it’s a very conservative look. I pick up my small clutch just as the knocking starts downstairs on the door.
“Coming!” I jog down the stairs and head for the front entrance. “Hi, Bucky,” I say, stopping right at the door.
“Hey, Emberly.” He steps back and smiles. His eyes widen behind his oversized glasses, and sure enough, he pulls out a box.
“I made this for you.” It’s a medium-sized, pink cardboard box.
It’s similar to what I’d pack one of my cakes in… and examining it further, I’m pretty sure it’s the box I used for Thelma’s.
“You didn’t have to,” I say sincerely, taking it with a sigh.
“Go ahead and peek. See what you think.”
Turning around in the doorway, I carry the heavy-ish item inside and set it on the counter. I’m glad Tabby’s not here to gloat as I lift the lid, squinting my eyes almost-closed.
“No!” I jump back from what looks like the teeth of an attacking squirrel.
Bucky laughs through his nose. It’s sort of an adenoidal, honking sound. He lifts the disturbing statue out of the box. It’s two squirrel torsos rising out of the base of one set of legs. The squirrel on the left is reaching forward while the squirrel torso on the right is holding a large acorn away, teeth bared.
“Are they conjoined twins?”
“Naw, I designed it to look like they’re fighting over that nut.” More honking laughter. “It’s funny, right?”
I force a terrified smile. “It’s… interesting.”
“You’d be amazed how many dead squirrels you can find.”
My smile melts into a grimace. “You don’t kill them yourself?”
“Sometimes. These two I found off in the grass near the highway.”
I quickly move the monstrosity from my counter over to the window. “I’ll just put it there. Better sunlight.”
When I turn around, I catch Bucky’s eyes going from my ass to my breasts, where they linger. “Ready for some seafood? I love eating tuna… all kinds of tuna.”
Do not gag. Do not gag. Do not gag.
“Let me guess,” I say, doing my best to smile and breathe through my mouth. “You’re taking me to the Tuna Tiki?”
“Where else?” He lifts his arm to put it around my shoulders.
“Oh!” I accidentally breathed through my nose. Trying to hide it with a cough, I step away. “I mean Oh! It’s my favorite place for sushi.”
He’s only slightly discouraged as I take the lead, rushing out the door to where his truck is waiting in front of the shop. Once he’s outside, I quickly turn the key. I don’t even bother waiting for him to open the truck door. I’m ready for this evening to be over and done with, and for me to be back home.
Bucky climbs in and waggles his eyebrows at me while stretching his arm across the top of the bench seat.
“Want to sit in the middle? I have a third seatbelt.”
“Oh, no!” I sing out. “I’d better stay here with the shoulder strap. Safer.”
He nods and again checks out my boobs before turning to the front and starting the engine. It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the Tuna Tiki. The soft, melodic strains of Bob Marley greet us at the door. It’s the live house band playing all their standard tunes. I’ve only been to the Tiki a few times, but they’re always playing that same old list.
“We’d like a seat near the stage.” Bucky leans across the hostess’s counter, and she recoils frowning.
“Oh my goodness!” Her eyes fly to me, and my frown matches hers. “Right this way.”
The nice thing about the Tiki is it’s outdoors. The ocean breeze sweeps Bucky’s deviled-egg, formaldehyde, body odor up, up, and away, and the proximity to the band makes talking difficult.
My date orders us a pitcher of Natural Light on tap. I mentally calculate that’s probably three dollars total. Oh well, I’m not here to be spoiled. I’m honoring a commitment—and making another commitment to myself never to get in this predicament again.
A waitress puts the watery beer in front of us and we shout our orders to her. I get the California roll with a side of tuna sashimi. Bucky orders the grilled tuna sandwich, and waggles his eyebrows in that creepy way.
If he thinks he’s getting anywhere near my tuna…
The song ends, and the band takes a break. House music fills the air, and sadly it’s too quiet for us not to have a conversation. I wrack my brains trying to think of anything I might want to know about Bucky Pepper that I don’t already.
He’s leering at me with that weird smile.
“So,” I begin, lifting the small plastic cup of beer in front of me. “How did you get interested in taxidermy?”
“My dad did it.”
I’ve just taken a big gulp of watery brew, and I realize that’s it. He’s done. The house music drifts between us. Shit, I would’ve thought that would at least buy me a few minutes.
“Okay… that thing you made for me. The squirrel, or squirrels—”
“I invented it. It was my own creation.” He smiles again, and I nod.
“I thought you must have made it.” As if. “Is that a specialized technique? Fusing two bodies together like that?”
“It’s just stitchin and stuffin.”
Heaven help me. I look around for Tabby, wondering when an hour from the start of that party might roll around. Trying again. “Did you see a squirrel like that in a book, or did you—”
“I imagined it.”
“Okay…” It’s like I’m on a date with Slingblade. Only Slingblade was slightly more interesting. “How old were you when you stuffed your first animal?”
“A
bout ten or eleven. My daddy was working on an eight-point buck, and I asked if I could help him. The rest is history.”
I almost do a fist pump. I just got a whole three sentences that time. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever stuffed?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. No telling what he might say. I need to slow down on the beer.
“One time an old lady wanted angel’s wings on her dead cat. She wanted it to look like it was jumping through the air.”
I’m totally buzzed, because that answer makes me start to giggle. The server appears just in time to block me with the tray, placing our orders in front of us. I’m still snorting when she finishes and relieved to get some food in my stomach.
“Can I get y’all anything else?” the girl asks.
“Another pitcher’d be good,” Bucky says, and she nods before I can say no thank you.
Taking the chopsticks, I snap them apart and hurry to get something in my mouth. Thankfully, the band returns to the stage and after some brief chatter, they launch into a Grateful Dead tune. Bucky takes a bite of his tuna sandwich and smiles at me again, and I make the decision to leave with Tabby once she gets here.
The dark red sashimi dipped in soy sauce is delicious, tangy and fresh, and I’m transporting a slice of California roll to my mouth when my eyes land on Jackson. My chopsticks flip and I drop the piece right in my lap.
“Shit!” I scoop it out of my napkin hoping the dark brown sauce didn’t bleed through onto the crotch of my white shorts.
Another glance, and I see he’s glaring at me from the bar where he’s standing next to André.
“Would you like to dance?” Bucky shouts across the table.
He holds out a hand, and I’m paralyzed. On the one hand, I do not want to be clutched against Stinky Bucky. On the other hand, I don’t want Jackson thinking I’m just sitting around at home waiting for him to show up in the middle of the night and kiss my lips off.
“Sure,” I say slowly.
Bucky’s eyes light and he stands, waiting for me beside my chair. I rise and clutch both his hands in mine, keeping them down and away from my torso. He tries to lift them, and I clutch his wrists tighter, holding our hands straight down and swaying side to side.
“You’re not a very good dancer, are you?” he asks.
“My mother doesn’t approve of sinful hugging,” I lie, although it’s probably true. I’ve never asked her.
We stand in front of each other on the dance floor, surrounded by couples clutched up and writhing, with our hands straight down doing the sway. My brain is slightly fuzzy from too much cheap beer. I don’t even notice Jackson approaching from the bar until he’s right beside us.
“I’m cutting in,” he says, catching Bucky by the shoulder.
“That’s not how it works here!” my date protests.
It doesn’t matter. Jackson wraps an arm possessively around my waist and pulls me to him. My soft breasts flatten against his hard chest, and my entire body floods with heat.
One strong arm is tight around my waist. The other holds my hand close in his. The whisper of his breath is against my brow, and it sends electricity humming in my veins.
With every rapid inhale, my senses are filled with leather, soap, and Jackson—a scent I remember too well. The song is beachy, free and easy. I recognize the tune, but I don’t know the words. All I know is the molding of my body against his in perfect time.
“Why are you here with Bucky?” His voice is against my skin, and my eyes close.
I’m too light and buzzed, and after our kiss last night, it’s very possible I might kiss him again. A few deep breaths, and I force myself to remember through the haze. I have very good reasons for staying away from Jackson Cane. I force my racing heart to steady.
“We’re on a date, not that it’s any of your business.” My voice sounds so much calmer than I feel.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand on my back moves lower, pulling me closer against his body. The song merges into something new, and we’re quiet, swaying. I’m holding his shoulder, and my fingers are white from clutching his firm muscles.
“Let me go, Jackson,” I say those words again, but this time, they seem to have less conviction.
Again, no immediate response. The hand on my back moves higher, to my waist, tightens briefly before relaxing, releasing me.
“I don’t like to see you dancing with another guy.” Blue eyes sear into mine, and his possessive words are like warm caramel in my veins.
I should argue with him. I should tell him I’ll dance with whomever I want.
But he’s the only person I want to dance with…
It’s always been him.
He returns to the bar next to André, but his eyes stay on me. I walk slowly to the table, where my sushi waits beside the half-finished cup of watery beer. My insides are so mixed up. I want to collapse into the chair and cry. I want to go home, get away from this noise and confusion. I have to think about Coco and refocus my mind on my plans, what’s important.
Tabby’s words that my needs are important float around in my mind, and I sneak another glance. My eyes meet Jackson’s, and it’s a flash of lightning to my core. He isn’t smiling. He’s watching me.
Bucky takes another big slug of beer. “Jackson Cane thinks he can just come back here, take over…”
Blinking to my date, I notice he’s talking more, and I wonder if he’s too buzzed to get me home. “Would you take me home now?”
His eyes widen briefly, and that leering smile returns. “I’d be happy to. I’ll be right back.”
He’s on his feet, his eyes dipping to my breasts once more. He’s gone, searching for our waitress before I have the chance to offer to pay for my half. I truly have no interest in Bucky whatsoever. It only seems fair.
Taking my clutch off the table, I start slowly for the door when a small ruckus bursts out onto the patio. Tabby is in the lead, and she has Donna White and André’s wife Thelma with her. When she sees me she makes a beeline to where I stand.
“Ember! We got here as fast as we could.” She looks around, and when Thelma goes to her husband at the bar, she spins around fast, clutching my arm.
“Ouch!” I cry.
“Did you see Jackson at the bar?” Tabby’s so close her lips graze my ear.
“Yes. He broke in when I was dancing with Bucky.”
“Ew!” Tabby jerks back. “You danced with Bucky? How could you stand it?”
“We just sort of… held hands and swayed side to side.”
She snorts. “I’m sure that was something to see.”
“It kept the odor contained.”
She starts to laugh more as Donna joins us. “Ember! I’ve been wanting to talk to you about… the thing.” Her eyes go round.
I do a half-frown, thinking about her cake. “Any better?”
“Yes!” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes take on a glow. “Liam was so happy when I told him how I felt. We’ve been experimenting. I have so many questions for you.”
Just then my date returns. “Hello, Tabitha. Hello Donna.” He says the words in a melodic tone, like he’s a radio announcer, and all three of us grimace in unison. “Emberly, if you’re ready.”
“Wait!” Tabby grabs my arm again. “You’re not leaving?”
“Tabs, I have to.” My traitorous eyes flicker to the bar again, and my insides flash. He’s still watching. “I can’t stay here with him looking at me like that.”
A smile curls her lips, but I start shaking my head the moment I see it. “No.”
“No?” Her eyebrows arch, and she tilts her head to the side making puppy dog eyes.
Exasperation fills my lungs, and I blow it out on a loud sigh. “Goodnight.”
Bucky smiles and tries to wrap his arm around me, but I sidestep him, picking up the pace and trotting into the restaurant. I don’t stop until I’m out the door and at his truck.
Thirteen
; Jack
Watching Ember walk out the door with Bucky Pepper makes my blood hot. She says what she does is none of my business. She says to let her go.
Not happening.
Holding her in my arms, dancing just now, the world was right. She tasted like cheap beer, but she smelled like my girl, lavender and citrus, fresh and earthy.
“You okay?” André asks, breaking my glowering into my beer.
“Yeah, sorry.” I give him an unconvincing smile.
He only frowns back. “I wouldn’t be okay if I saw my woman leaving with another guy. Especially someone like that.”
“I don’t know what she’s doing with him.” Turning my back to the bar, I watch the band and the couples dancing, but my mind is following her home.
“When I met Thelma, she was dating this guy… he was so far beneath her, I nearly couldn’t take it.” He does a little chuckle into his tumbler of scotch.
“Where was that?” I turn to face him.
“New Orleans. I grew up there.”
“I figured as much. Did you work in a restaurant?”
He gives me a wry smile. “I was a musician.”
“Yeah? What instrument?”
“Guitar, trumpet, drums. I graduated from UNO in music, sat in with a few of the greats at the House of Blues, Deacon John, Wayne Sanchez…”
“You played with Deacon John?”
André laughs at me. “I was just a kid. He let me play with him at Tipitina’s once.”
“That’s good shit. How the hell did you end up here making poboys?”
Shaking his head, he takes another pull off his drink. I follow his gaze down the bar to where Thelma is talking and laughing with Tabby and Donna. She’s a beautiful lady.
“Love will make you do some crazy shit,” he says, his voice thick with love.
“It’s true.” I turn to face the bar again, thinking about ordering another drink and really wanting to be with Ember. “So Thelma dragged you here?”
“I guess you could say I followed her.” A twinkle is in his eye. “She always wanted to move here. Had an uncle from Madison.”
“And the poboys?”
He exhales. “You can’t grow up in New Orleans and not know food. I got here and realized I wasn’t going to earn a living in the music business.”
