by Hazel James
“Why are you smiling?” she asked as we set the wine and brownies on the kitchen counter.
“You look like an aspiring ninja.”
She glanced down and smiled. “Work clothes. I guess in my excitement, I forgot to change.”
“Excitement about what?” I could think of a few answers of my own—namely the way her ass looked in those tight black pants—but Erin interrupted before either of us could respond.
“I know you’re not hiding out in the kitchen while we slave away with your candy.” She shot a playful glare over the small mountain of Skittles in the middle of the table.
“It’s not slaving; it’s payback for dog sitting.”
“Except you begged us not to put Brutus in doggy daycare while we were gone.”
“Hey, I just pointed out there was no need to waste money when I could watch him for free.” I pulled a chair out for Tuesday and sat down on her left once she was settled. “This liar is Erin, and that’s her better half, Diego. Guys, this is Tuesday Collins.”
She smiled and waved. “It’s nice to meet you both. Jack’s told me a little bit about you.”
Watching my hands as I translated, Diego smirked and replied with Jack has told me a lot about you. I gave him the finger while Erin laughed and threw me under the bus, telling Tuesday what Diego said.
“Really?” Tuesday eyed me with a smirk of her own, then looked at Diego. “What did he say?”
Although I dreaded this impending conversation, mostly because I knew Diego wouldn’t hold back on giving me shit, I was proud of Tuesday. During our interview about my ASL class, I’d given her a list of quick tips when talking to a deaf person. Along with not raising your voice (you’d be surprised how many people did that), and remembering that deaf people can laugh out loud (sometimes even louder than hearing people), I’d told her it was important to always look at the person instead of their interpreter.
She didn’t forget, and borrowing one of Erin’s favorite sayings, it meant the world to me.
“He talked about your video blog and how you got him to agree to an interview,” Erin said. “He also said he’s doing something on camera during trunk-or-treating. I think his exact words were, ‘She looked so beautiful I couldn’t say no.’”
“Is that true?” Tuesday’s eyes danced with amusement and her mouth twitched at the corners while she waited for my answer.
In the spirit of assertiveness, I nodded. “It was the glasses. I didn’t stand a chance.” That must’ve been the right answer, because her smile grew wider and a fresh burst of pink colored her cheeks.
“Aaand he may’ve mentioned that he was working up the courage to ask you on a date.”
“And I’m gonna murder both of you.” Instead of signing, I drew my finger across my throat for Diego, who just laughed harder.
“So…” Tuesday cleared her throat and picked up a bag of Skittles. “Are these for trunk-or-treating?”
“Yep. And you’re just in time to help.” I slid a stack of labels her way and got back to the pile I’d been working on before she texted earlier. Aw, shit. I swallowed and tried to think of the best way to approach this, finally settling on, “Do you happen to have your phone on you?”
She eyed me with equal parts suspicion and curiosity. “I left it at home, why?”
“I was just wondering if you got the text I sent you.”
Diego started chuckling all over again as he watched me sign. Fucker.
“Of course. That’s how I knew you weren’t busy and it was safe to come over.”
“So you only got the first one?” I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. On one hand, she hadn’t read my string of nonsense. On the other, it was waiting for her as soon as she got back to her apartment.
Tuesday’s hands stilled and her brows inched up her forehead. “What else did you send?”
Erin didn’t miss a beat, jumping in to translate for Diego. “He called you an asshole and freaked out thinking you’d never speak to him again. It was hilarious!” Their cahooting was annoying and equally unnecessary. So was their high five and subsequent fit of laughter.
“It was an accident! I meant to send it to Diego… who’s still deserving of the title I might add.” He was too busy smacking the table and gasping for air to look at me, so I took a page out of his book and threw a bag of candy at him. At least Tuesday was giggling, though—that alone made the ridicule worth it. “I guess this means you’re not mad?”
“Given the context and sheer panic on your face, how could I be?”
“I wouldn’t say I was panicked. More like a healthy dose of concern.”
“Mm hmm.” A smirk settled on her lips as she peeled another label off the sheet and concentrated on lining the edges up correctly. How she could make sticker application look that sexy was anyone’s guess, but here we were.
I casually adjusted my pants and steered the conversation into safer territory. “Are you dressing up for Halloween?”
“I’m going as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. My niece is dressing up as Lumiere and my aunt’s going to be an Oscar.”
Diego’s brows drew together. The Grouch?
Tuesday smiled when Erin repeated his question. “The statue. She’ll be gold from head to toe. There might even be a bodysuit involved.”
I rewound my memory to last Friday and the little bit I heard about her aunt. “Isn’t she in her seventies?” I asked.
“She’s seventy-three.”
“Damn, that’s hardcore.”
Tuesday smiled fondly. “Just you wait. Aunt Alma never does anything halfway. What about your costume?”
“I’m going to be Dracula, but I assure you I will not be wearing a bodysuit.”
And thank God for that, Diego signed. No one needs to know about the microbat in your pants.
Erin busted out laughing, and as soon as she voiced Diego’s insult, Tuesday joined her.
After giving him the middle finger (and making a mental note to find more creative ways to tell him to fuck off), I leaned to my right and said, “Don’t listen to him—that’s the jealousy talking. He meant to say flying fox.” I spaced my hands about twelve inches apart to emphasize my point, and also because I enjoyed the hell out of watching her cheeks catch fire.
“Aaanyway.” Erin dragged out the word as she fished her phone out from under a stack of labels. “Guess what costume I finally got this guy to agree on?” She didn’t wait for our answer before turning the screen around to show us a picture of her and Diego. She was wearing a black leotard/dress combination and he was in jeans and a Chicago Blackhawks jersey. They both had rollerblades on their feet and he was holding a hockey stick.
I didn’t have a clue what I was looking at, but Tuesday’s face lit up. “The Cutting Edge! That’s one of my all-time favorite movies!”
On cue, both women let out a high-pitched, “Toepick!” and then (you guessed it) launched into another round of giggles. I knew they’d get along well but I didn’t expect the warm surge of relief that was currently spreading through my chest. Nights like this never happened when I was with my ex. She always said she felt like the odd man out when the four of us got together, so it rarely happened. In retrospect, that was one of many red flags in our relationship.
But Tuesday Collins was an entirely different story. And now she was talking about boobs. My dick jumped with excitement until I caught the rest of what she was saying.
“You’d be surprised at how many women are wearing the wrong size.”
Erin frowned at her chest and shrugged. “Maybe that’s why my girls aren’t living up to their fullest potential.”
“Just stop by the store on Monday afternoon and I’ll get you measured. We got an amazing new plunge push-up bra last week that would look fabulous with your costume.”
The girls exchanged numbers and conspiring smiles while Diego caught my eye and tipped his chin in Tuesday’s direction. I like her.
Duh. She’s giving lingerie tips to your wife.
He laughed and nodded. Exactly.
My brain sprang into overdrive, treating me to a mental slideshow of Tuesday modeling a push-up bra. The rush of blood to the lower half of my body was instant and merciless, leaving me desperate for a distraction. I scanned the room and landed on the wine bottle peeking over Diego’s shoulder. “So you never said what you were celebrating tonight.”
“Oh!” Tuesday sat up a little taller and her lips broke into another smile. “I got a job offer at Channel 3. It’s just a part-time associate producer position, but it’s a good foot in the door at least.”
Erin’s exclamations filled the background as reality hit me like a semi-truck.
Tuesday would be working at Channel 3.
With my childhood nemesis.
Talk about a boner killer.
I glanced at Diego, who lifted his brow—one inch of solidarity, letting me know he understood the enormity of the situation. Although I couldn’t do a damn thing about her working with that pompous asshole, I could focus on the positives—namely, that she wasn’t moving away and wouldn’t be reporting alongside him.
“Congratulations!” I rose from my chair and pulled her into a hug, because despite the shitty co-worker situation, I was happy for her. Dreams didn’t always come true at once; sometimes it was more like a series of pieces falling into place. Tonight, we’d break out the wine and brownies and celebrate those first few pieces, even if one of them was shaped like Dicky Dick.
“Sit here and calm down so I can fix your face.”
“I was plenty calm until an hour ago.” I downed the last of the Pepto, tossed the empty bottle into the trash can beside my desk, and plunked down in my chair.
“And that’s why I didn’t tell you this morning. No sense in having you stew over it all day,” Cara said over the rim of her Mother Goose glasses. I wasn’t letting her costume fool me—underneath her bonnet and matronly gown, she was evil incarnate. She should’ve gone as Maleficent instead. Or maybe Cruella DeVil.
It was only appropriate, given her level of betrayal.
“Jack,” she said, sauntering into my office, “remember how Mayor Carter is planning on stopping by tonight?”
“Yes. Her office said she’d be here around eight.” I glanced at the clock as I fed my arms into my vest. We had an hour and some change before trunk-or-treating started and another hour after that before Mayor Carter arrived. Plenty of time to make sure things were running smoothly.
“Well… she’ll have company.”
“Is she bringing her kids?” When Cara didn’t answer, I glanced up from my buttons, my stomach twisting when I saw her expression. “Cara, what did you do?”
“Don’t panic, but Channel 3 called this morning. They have the mayor’s calendar and want to get some video of her chatting with families as well as a quick interview with you about tonight’s event.”
My fingers froze on the last button of my vest. “And you told them no, right?”
She actually had the nerve to roll her eyes at me. “I told them they were more than welcome to join the festivities.”
“What?! Why would—”
She held up a hand. “Because this is a great opportunity for the library and Ricky isn’t the one doing the interview. I’m not that mean.”
The jury was still out on that, but I could at least breathe again. “Who’s the reporter?”
“Ginger Scott.” She pushed me into my chair and slid a piece of paper into my hand. “Those are the questions she’s going to ask. I thought you could practice your responses while I turn you into a vampire.”
An hour later, I was back in my chair so she could touch up my white face paint. I stared out the window at the behemoth bounce house nestled between a fire truck and a police car while she dabbed a paper towel across my forehead. “I think we should do a haunted house inside the library next year. That’d give the older kids something to do. We could even recruit some high schoolers who need volunteer hours to help us out.”
Cara didn’t bother hiding her smirk. “Already thinking about the next event when this one hasn’t even started yet? And here I thought your stomach was in knots about the media.”
“My ability to plan and propensity for stage fright aren’t mutually exclusive.” I was beyond knots… it was more like a colony of honey badgers in there. Besides, focusing on other stuff was a coping mechanism and thankfully, Cara indulged me.
“What time is Tuesday getting here?”
I glanced at my watch. “In a half hour.” I still couldn’t believe how well things had gone at my house the other night. When we finished labeling the candy, Erin downloaded The Cutting Edge and I had my second group movie date with Tuesday. The only difference was that this time, I wasn’t afraid to pull her close to me on the couch. Once the movie ended, I walked her home and kissed her on the cheek because it was late and she’d yawned most of the way to her doorstep.
I told her I wanted to see her again though. For once in my life, I’d stood in front of a gorgeous woman and my words came out exactly how I wanted them to. It was almost an out-of-body experience, except my body was definitely there, still on full alert after sitting beside her for an hour and a half.
She didn’t object to going on a date or my idea of letting it be a surprise, but she did have one request—that we officially give “us” a try. Obviously, it was my turn not to object. That meant I was dating Tuesday Collins, and if I could land a woman like her, I guess I could deal with a few simple questions from Ginger Scott.
Right?
“I’m just so proud of you, honey.” Mom’s tear-filled eyes scanned the library’s parking lot. Several dozen vehicles were stationed along the perimeter, each decked out in decorations and stuffed full of candy. The fire truck, police car, and bounce house were in the center along with a face painting station and a hot chocolate bar. Members of the Newcastle Police Department were on hand to direct parking at the church next door. As far as small-town Halloween celebrations went, we were off to a great start.
As usual, Mom went overboard on her “Death by Chocolate” theme. The bed of Dad’s Tacoma now resembled a graveyard with plastic headstones, several bags worth of potting soil, and half-buried skeletons. He was dressed as the Grim Reaper, which wasn’t frightening at all on account of the giant smile on his face, and she was venturing into the world of the undead as a “mombie” with dark circles under her eyes, a messy bun, yoga pants, an oversized shirt, and a baby doll nestled inside a cloth carrier. A large to-go coffee cup and fuzzy slippers completed the look.
I’d seen that outfit many times during our toddler story hour, and I’d probably see it again tonight from some unintending mother who was doing her best to make her kid happy. In a way, I supposed that’s what mine was doing too. I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your help. You too, old man.” I nodded at Dad but stopped short of shaking his hand because movement over his shoulder caught my attention.
I released my mom as my head, heart, and stomach struggled to process what I was seeing. The first part was good—so fucking good. Tuesday was in a yellow gown looking like she’d stepped off the set of Beauty and the Beast, and all I wanted to do was find a ballroom to twirl her around.
The second part was the shit my childhood nightmares were made of.
Dicky Dick was walking beside Tuesday like he didn’t have a care in the world. His face was covered in green paint and he was wearing a ripped up suit that looked like it’d been dragged behind a garbage truck before he got dressed. She paused and knelt to fix her shoe, giving me the perfect view of what the asshole was carrying.
Well shit.
Tuesday
As I rose from re-tying my Converse—yes, I’d chosen function over fashion for tonight’s event because you couldn’t see my shoes under my dress—I caught Jack’s icy blues staring at me like a predator homing in on his next meal. If this was what Bella Swan felt like with her vampire, i
t was no wonder their pillows didn’t survive the honeymoon.
“Wow, he’s a little intense, huh?” Blaine said from beside me.
“A little,” I replied, because it’s the only thing I trusted myself to say without admitting something embarrassing, like how badly I wanted Count Dracula to feast on my neck. As if he could read my mind, Jack absentmindedly waved at the people he was talking to and closed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” After carefully kissing my cheek, he spun me in a circle to get the full effect of my costume. “Emma Watson has nothing on you.”
That’s what his mouth said. His eyes were more in the neighborhood of I want to do dirty things to you, and I was one hundred percent okay with that. A rush of heat swept across my face and down my neck. “That’s quite the compliment.”
“Just telling the truth.” His eyes darted to my mouth about the same time Blaine cleared his throat, inadvertently reminding me that now was not the time to let my hormones come out to play.
“Sorry. Jack, this is Blaine Stavros from Channel 3. Blaine, this is Jack Price, the director of the library.” My chest filled with pride for the man who’d ventured outside his comfort zone to create a truly amazing community event… and who made Count Dracula look like a sex icon, but I digress.
“Jack Price.” Blaine’s lips curved into a smile as he shifted his video camera to shake Jack’s hand. “I didn’t recognize you with the Dracula thing going on.”
“Let me guess… Shrek?” Jack asked, gesturing to Blaine’s costume.
He laughed and flexed his free arm. “The Incredible Hulk.”
Jack nodded but didn’t say anything. I suspected that reality was sinking in and I felt bad that I couldn’t do anything to help him other than linking his fingers with mine and giving his hand a supportive squeeze. So I did. He squeezed back and peered down at me, but this time it was harder to sort the emotions behind his eyes. Part of him still looked like he was ready to haul me over his shoulder and find the nearest bed, but he mostly looked ready to bolt or hurl, or maybe both.
