DontCallHerAngel

by Cara McKenna

  She was behind the bar, the overhead lights making her blonde hair glow white, like an angel, so fitting and yet so deceptive. She laughed at something a patron said and grabbed empty glasses as the other bartender replaced them with fresh drinks.

  Had they been at home, Rasul would have smiled at her as he approached. He didn’t smile much in public. He’d spent too many years being ordered to hide his emotions to feel comfortable changing that now. Plus, tonight he was undercover.

  He caught her eye and returned her subtle wave, just another customer greeting his bartender. He scouted the backs of the people sitting at the bar, unsure. Then Emily gave a tiny, covert nod at the man seated at the corner.

  There weren’t any free stools at the moment, so Rasul ordered a beer from Emily’s coworker and loitered on the floor, pretending to watch the basketball game playing on the TV behind the bar. After five minutes a pair of women left and he slid onto the seat beside his target.

  Emily swept over to toss a coaster in front of Rasul. “Evenin’.”

  “Good evening.” He had to bite down to hide his smile this time. This woman was far too fun to role-play with. He set his beer on the coaster and drew it close.

  Emily turned to the marked man. “Another for you, Jeremy?”

  “Please.”

  Jeremy. Rasul glanced to his side. The man’s smile was warm, easy but not drunken. Sizing men up was in Rasul’s job description…Emily’s as well, in a sense. This was the man she’d selected for them, and he was relieved. Thirty, he guessed. Solid but lean, fit for a marathon, perhaps, but not a fistfight. His brown hair was shaggy, clothes as casual as Rasul’s but with sneakers in place of boots. He had blue eyes and looked…friendly. Looked American, as approachable as Rasul surely seemed icy and foreign and gruff. This was a man most outsiders would have paired Rasul’s sweet-tempered, charming wife with, if forced to guess.

  Emily headed to the other end of the bar to ring up tabs. Rasul kept his eyes on her as he spoke quietly to Jeremy. “She’s cute.”

  Those calm blue eyes met Rasul’s dark ones. “She’s married.”

  Doesn’t stop you from flirting with her twice a week, Rasul thought, but Emily had assured him it was harmless. The kind of organic flirtation created when two people found one another both likable and attractive, with no intention or expectation from either side.

  “That’s a shame,” he finally said.

  “Shame for all of mankind,” Jeremy said. “With the exception of one lucky man someplace.”

  “Very lucky. She works here a lot?”

  “Couple nights a week. I don’t even really like this bar,” Jeremy said. “But she’s a great girl. I come here to unwind and she does a better job than the beer, probably.”

  “Nice ass,” Rasul added, baiting.

  Something passed over Jeremy’s face and his expression cooled. “I consider her my friend, so I’m probably not the man to say that to.”

  “Apologies.”

  “You’re right though. She’s as sweet on the outside as the inside.”

  Rasul let that sink in, a bit shocked by this man. He worked with two distinct types of American males—bossy, no-nonsense professionals, and criminals of both the sickening and cowering varieties. This man was neither. He seemed humble. Thoughtful. He appeared to care about Emily as more than a sexy body and a pretty face, a bringer of drinks.

  “She seems very…” Rasul searched for the word as he watched his wife joking with customers, her smile and laughter so ready and genuine. “Genuine.”

  Jeremy nodded. “I thought for sure at first that Georgia peach thing she has going was an act to get more tips, but it’s for real.” He took a sip of his beer then set it down, wiped his palm and held it out. “I’m Jeremy.”

  Rasul shook it, reading the gesture. Confident but not cocky. “Rasul.”

  Jeremy took his hand away and his eyes narrowed with a thought. They darted to Emily, to Rasul, back and forth a half-dozen times. “You’re Emily’s husband.”

  He nodded.

  Jeremy laughed uneasily. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  Rasul mustered a smile and shook his head, knowing he seemed like the type to say, “Let’s go outside and have a talk,” in a situation such as this. Or the situation this surely looked like. Instead he raised a hand to draw Emily over.

  She strung her bar towel through her belt loop and smiled at the men. “What’ll it be?”

  “Whatever he wants.” Rasul nodded to Jeremy.

  “You two acquainted then?” Emily asked, that Southern accent so sweet it sounded like an affectation.

  Rasul nodded again. Jeremy still looked nervous, glancing between them.

  “Don’t you worry, my husband won’t bite,” Emily said. “Shot of Maker’s for you?”

  With a final look at Rasul, Jeremy said, “Sure. Thanks.”

  “You boys talking about me?” she asked over her shoulder as she measured Jeremy’s bourbon.

  “I may have just made an ass of myself in front of your husband,” Jeremy said. “Gushing about you.”

  Her dimples appeared as she grinned. “You’re sweet. And don’t worry—he looks scarier than he is.” She delivered his shot.

  Jeremy cleared his throat and raised the glass toward each of them in thanks. He took a sip and set it down. “I, um, I get my ear chewed off about you all the time,” he said to Rasul. “I was starting to think she’d made you up, to keep guys like me off her back.”

  “Nope, he’s real,” Emily said proudly. “All the stories are true. Or they would be if he told me anything exciting that happens at his work.”

  Rasul smirked and focused on his beer.

  “Oh right,” Jeremy said. “She said you worked for…you know.” He jerked his head in an easterly direction to mean the agency so many of the residents of Reston called their employer.

  “Very hush-hush,” Emily said with mock conspiracy. A customer approached and drew her away to mix a drink.

  Jeremy kept his voice low. “Again, I hope I didn’t offend you. Honestly.”

  “On the contrary. Nice to know there’s a man here when she’s working who treats her with respect. Very comforting.” Not as comforting as having her home every night, but still, a consolation.

  “I better head out,” Jeremy said, standing and fetching his hoodie from a coatrack. He seemed slightly cagey, but not too much. A healthy amount, given the situation. He offered his hand for a final, brief shake. “Nice meeting the famous Rasul.”

  “Perhaps I’ll see you on Thursday,” Rasul offered.

  “Maybe. And like I said, you’re a very lucky man.”

  “I am.” And you could be too.

  * * * * *

  On Thursday night, Jeremy walked to and from his car, to and from his car, took his jacket off and put it back on four times, trying to decide whether or not going to the bar was wise.

  He went there twice a week to see Emily. Not to be a creep. Not to watch her working and imagine what she looked like naked—barring the occasional slip of his imagination—or to harass her, or tip her outrageously with some insane hope she might one day let him take her home. He simply liked her. He didn’t really like that bar, but he liked her.

  His life was at a crossroads, as he hoped and expected to quit his job when his lease was up in August, and travel for a year. Maybe longer. As long as it took to figure out what he wanted from the next stage of his life. As such, he wasn’t looking for a relationship at the moment, and flirting with Emily helped fill the romantic void. Sure, he hadn’t had a crush this bad since junior high, but he wasn’t deluded about it.

  Especially not now that he’d met her husband. She talked about Rasul a lot at work, and the man lived up to the legend. Surpassed it. He looked like one of those men who could grab an enemy from behind, take hold of his chin and skull and snap his neck with a crack, leave him for dead with no remorse. He didn’t match Emily…even their accents were polar opposites. But Jeremy ho
ped the man deserved her. He also hoped he wouldn’t run into the guy tonight and discover Tuesday had been a warning. Hell, maybe Emily had asked Rasul to scare Jeremy away…maybe he came off as a panting pervert without even realizing it.

  But he didn’t think so. He grabbed his keys for the fifth time and shrugged into his jacket. His heart thumped as he drove the fifteen minutes to the bar.

  It’d be an overstatement to say seeing Emily was the highlight of his week, but she certainly relaxed him. He considered her a friend, and a much-needed breath of fresh air. Jeremy was a personal trainer, and his clients were nearly all highly strung, tightly wound, affluent women. Women who wanted it all, everything but happiness. Emily was a nice break from that. Kind and unassuming, calm. Soft, feminine. Quiet ambition, not grasping. That voice so sweet it sounded like an act, except that it matched her laugh so precisely. Hanging out with her reset Jeremy, reminding him that there was a world outside Reston and D.C., even within its bounds, a place a bit more like small-town Texas, where he’d grown up.

  He parked and resisted the urge to check his reflection in the rearview. That habit was lame to start with, and obscene now that he’d met her husband.

  The usual Thursday din greeted him as he stepped inside the bar and caught sight of Emily’s hair under the lights. His heart gave its usual flutter and he scanned the seats, finding no Rasul. His chest loosened.

  His favorite seat was free tonight, at the center of the bar near the taps, where he’d have plenty of chances to chat with her. If that wasn’t ruined now. He watched her face as she approached and she looked as welcoming as always.

  “Hey, regular,” she said with a smile. “Guinness?”

  “Please. How’s it going tonight?”

  She shrugged and did the first half of his pour. “Same old. The business crowd should be getting in soon. Starting their weekends a day early as usual.”

  He nodded.

  Emily went to help another customer then returned and completed Jeremy’s pour. As she set a coaster before him and delivered his pint, he thought there was something different about her. A shyness. He made a decision to not be overly friendly tonight. Maybe not ever again. His mood darkened and he felt foolish. Six months he’d been flirting with this woman, harmlessly, he’d thought, when maybe that entire time she’d thought he was a creep. He saw those guys all the time, desperate and corny, grasping for the illusion of familiarity with a pretty girl. It scrambled his brain to suddenly worry he might be one.

  “You okay?” she asked, mopping around his glass with a damp towel.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Do I look un-okay?”

  She made a thoughtful face. “I don’t know about that, but you look a little worried.”

  “Just tired, probably.”

  “I’m a little anxious tonight,” she said with a small smile.

  “Oh? How come?”

  She pursed her full lips and her permanently blushing cheeks flushed deeper pink. “Just nervous about something.”

  “You can tell me—” Jeremy stopped short as Emily’s expression and attention shifted beyond him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Rasul push in the door. Jeremy faced forward, feeling oddly complicit. Feeling suddenly obscene, as though he’d been caught here. Caught having an illicit drink with a married woman.

  Just as he feared, Rasul took the seat to his left. “Evening.”

  “Good evening yourself, stranger,” Emily said to her husband. “Beer?”

  He nodded and she poured him a Stella. An arriving group of blue-shirted young businessmen called Emily to the end of the bar to fill orders and Jeremy mustered the courage to make eye contact with Rasul.

  “How’s it going?”

  Rasul turned on his stool slowly, fixing Jeremy with a cool, calculating, searching look. He took a deep drink of his beer, then set it down and said, “Well.”

  Jeremy’s heart began to hammer. “Well what?”

  “It’s going well.”

  His pulse slowed slightly. “Oh, right. Glad to hear it.” Jesus, even if he didn’t look jumpy and guilty, he sure as hell felt it now. Strange. He was an inch or two taller than this guy, yet he felt dwarfed. Rasul’s tee shirt hugged his thick biceps and made Jeremy feel diminished. He felt beat at his own profession. Emily passed by them without a glance to tend to something at the other end of the bar.

  Jeremy took a steadying breath and decided to embrace this confrontation himself. If he was going to get his ass kicked, he’d step up and take it like a man, knowing why. “I can’t help but think you’re upset with me,” he said, as calmly as he could fake.

  One of Rasul’s dark eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

  “I want you to know, I’ve never been anything but polite to your wife. If she said she feels otherwise, I apologize. To both of you. I never intended to make her uncomfortable.”

  “That’s why you think I’m here?”

  Jeremy stared at the man. Emily had mentioned he worked as some kind of interrogator, and Jeremy felt distinctly like the next man in line to get roughed up. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m pretty sure it’s about me.” Please don’t break my fingers.

  “My wife is probably going to ask you something later tonight,” Rasul said, breaking eye contact to stare at the woman in question. “I need you to know that I want the same thing she does. It’s not a trick, or a trap. Don’t feel pressured to answer any way except honestly. Don’t even feel pressured to answer tonight. But I need you to know that I’m behind her a hundred percent in the request.”

  Jeremy blinked, torn between relief that he wasn’t going to have his ass handed to him and confusion. “Okay. Understood. What exactly—”

  “Emily will explain it far better than I could, I’m sure.” Rasul stood and drained his glass, nodding curtly at Jeremy as he left. He didn’t say goodbye to Emily, and come to think of it, she’d kept her attention away from the two men for the entire conversation.

  Jeremy drummed his fingers on the bar. He sipped his stout, brain flying around in a hundred directions. He formulated a few ideas of what this supposed proposal might be about… They needed a sperm donor. That’s what he had his money on. Something serious and personal, judging from Rasul’s stony expression.

  Emily approached. “Another?”

  “Sure.” He watched her prepare his drink and unlike usual, she didn’t use the lag time between pours to make small talk. She was nervous. As nervous as Jeremy. When she set it before him, she said, “Cheers,” and forced a grin.

  “Did you need to talk to me about something?” he asked, hating seeing her so anxious.

  She laughed and nodded, meeting his gaze. “Um, yeah. I think so. I’m gonna ask my manager for a break in a little while, and maybe we could go out back and talk?”

  “Sure. Or I can give you my number, if you’d rather do it over the phone some other time.”

  She dismissed the suggestion with a wave. “Nah, thank you. I better do it tonight before I lose my nerve.”

  “Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready.”

  “Here.” She slid his drink closer. “You enjoy that and we’ll talk after.”

  She walked to the phone beside the register and held the receiver to her ear, punching two numbers into the keypad. “It’s Emily. No, it’s fine over here. But I was wondering if maybe you’d be able to cover me for a break in a little bit, for maybe fifteen minutes? I hate to ask but there’s some drama back home with my mother. I’d feel better if I could just call her…? Oh, you’re a sweetheart. Whenever you’re free. Thanks so much, Barb. I appreciate it.” She replaced the receiver and Jeremy had to grin. So the girl could tell a lie.

  She walked back over to him. “God forgive me,” she muttered and touched a hand to the tiny silver cross suspended in the vee of her tee shirt collar. “My manager’s going to cover for me in a little bit.” She spoke quietly. “After I leave, come around to the employee parking lot and meet me at my car, if you’re willing. It’s a little white Mini.
”

  He nodded, scared all over again. Bad things happened in quiet, dark, back parking lots.

  He’d just finished his drink when Emily’s manager arrived, wishing her good luck with her phone call home and ushering her out the rear door.

  Jeremy stalled a fearful minute before standing. He tugged his coat on as he exited, feeling chilly and jumpy as he rounded the building and walked through the wide, well-lit alley to the employee lot. He spotted Emily’s car easily, and as he approached a new sensation arrived to temper the fear. Excitement. He was having a clandestine meeting with his pointless, pie-in-the-sky crush. She needed him for something. What, he had no clue, but she needed him.

  She was sitting in the driver’s seat and he knocked on her window. She gestured to the passenger side and he heard it unlock as he rounded the tiny car. He sat beside her and shut the door, and it was like a different universe. Quiet, dark, just the two of them in her private space. He could smell her perfume, something subtle and vaguely fruity. Or perhaps that was just a mixer she’d spilled.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said sheepishly, gaze trained on the dark instrument panel.

  “You’re welcome. So what’s up?”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out, sounding flustered. “Forgive me if I don’t look at you while I say most of this. I’m really nervous.”

  “Me too. A half-hour ago I was pretty sure your husband was going to take me out here and bury me in a shallow grave.”

  She turned to stare at him, mouth open with shock or amusement. “Really?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought maybe… I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with… I dunno. How friendly we’ve gotten. I thought maybe you asked him to come in and scare me straight.”