The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue Book 2)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Did you like avec?” Sadie asks.

  I blink out of my Amelia-induced haze. Again, Sadie sounds like she’s fishing or suspicious. “What do you mean? It’s fine, I guess.”

  “I love the people I work with, especially Mindy. She’s great.”

  “Yeah, uh—” Pico waves me over, pointing at the car I was just working on. There’s smoke coming from the engine. “I’m working, Sadie. I have to go.”

  “I know, I know—just a sec. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Avec is nominated for an award by a national PR organization and Thursday night is the gala. Amelia purchased a table for the firm, but Nathan can’t come. He has to work.”

  Bell ambles toward the car, curious about the commotion, and dumbass Pico does nothing. When Pico gestures at me again, I wave my hand for him to get Bell away from it. Moron. “All right,” I say. “What do you need?”

  “Can you please, please come with me? I know it isn’t your thing, but I can’t show up without a date after Amelia spent that much on Nathan’s meal . . .”

  An event where Amelia’ll be? I didn’t think I’d ever see her again—after all, I have no reason to go to Sadie’s work, and I steer clear of the city as much as possible. Would Amelia even want me there?

  I don’t think I care. At the thought of spending another night with her, my insides coil. Friday night was the best sex I’ve had in four years. It’s the most connected I’ve been to a woman since Shana. I’d be a fool to fall for Amelia, but since I’m not a fool anymore, I don’t need to worry about that. The foolish thing would be turning down potential best-sex-ever. “I’ll come.”

  “And I’ve been so,” Sadie’s voice cracks, “so emotional lately, I just really don’t want to be alone—wait.” Her voice returns to normal. “You’ll come? Really?”

  “Were you seriously going to pull the fucking pregnancy card on me?” I ask. “I have no doubt that works on Nathan, but I’ve been through this before. I’m not an idiot.”

  She gasps. “Don’t be rude. I have been emotional.”

  “Whatever. I said yes. I have to get off the phone.”

  “We can meet for a drink before.”

  “Fine. Text me the details.”

  “It’s black-tie. Wear your good suit—”

  I hang up. I only have two suits. She’s referring to the one I wore to her wedding since she forced me to get it custom made. Last week, I would’ve been annoyed as hell to have to go to some pretentious black-tie event in the city. I’m not exactly thrilled about it. But getting to see Amelia is a nice, unexpected surprise and boost to my day. She said sleeping over could be risky for us, but a quick round between the sheets before I have to get back home? Shouldn’t be a problem.

  I come out of the office and head for the car. “Where’s Bell?”

  “With Denise.”

  I glance over to the grassy area by the garage, where Bell and Denise are sitting. Bell sticks out her pinky finger, lifts an imaginary teacup to her lips, and tips it back. Denise waves at me.

  “Where’d she come from?” I ask.

  Pico grunts. “You know how she likes to pop by.”

  The car is no longer smoking, and Pico doesn’t seem concerned. “You got this?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, it’s good. Go deal with her.”

  I stomp over to the grass. Bell is completely clueless as to what Denise is doing, as she should be, but I’m not. Denise isn’t. Denise is always getting time in with Bell when she can, trying to get to me through her. “Denise.”

  She looks up. “Hey, you. Want some tea?” She holds her empty palm open. “A blueberry scone?”

  “It’s blackberry,” Bell corrects.

  “No. No scone for me. Come here, baby.” I gesture for Bell to get up, and she stands. “Go in the office and get started on your homework. If you finish before dinner, we can watch something with a princess in it later.”

  She widens her eyes. “Really? Anything I want?”

  “Frozen is my favorite,” Denise says. “Bell, you’re just like Elsa.”

  Bell whirls around. I try not to laugh. There’s nothing I could’ve said to Denise that’ll be worse than what she’s about to get. “Elsa is blonde,” Bell points out. “I have black hair. We’re nothing alike.”

  “I meant that you’re brave—”

  “That crap isn’t even a classic!” Bell says.

  “Oh.” Denise scratches behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  Bell shakes her head, disappointed. “I have to go do my homework.”

  “Good girl,” I say, patting her head before she takes off.

  Denise wipes her hands on her jeans and gets off the ground. “You don’t have to be a jerk. I’m just trying to help,” she says, looking up at me. “It’s not good for her to be hanging around all these men all the time. She needs a female influence.”

  “She has my sister for that.”

  “Wake up, Andrew. Sadie isn’t her mother.”

  “Then she has me. I do the girly shit. I watch the princess movies. I ask about her feelings. I’m not too proud to buy tampons when the time comes, and she already knows boys are scum so I don’t have to worry about the dating thing.”

  “It’s not the same. Being a woman is about more than tampons and Disney princesses.”

  I level her with a glare. Denise and I have been friends since high school, she knows how protective I am, but she continues to push me. “You think I don’t know my own daughter? Mind your own business.”

  “No. Shana’s been gone four years next month. She fucked you over. So what? We’ve all been fucked over. Get over it. I have.”

  “She was your friend,” I say, reeling back. “I lost the mother of my child. But you’re wrong. I am over it. I just choose not to get back into it.” I look her in the eye. “With anyone. You knew that when we started this.”

  She sighs, crossing her arms. “Have I ever asked you for anything?”

  “Not outright.”

  She looks away. “Why didn’t you call me Saturday night when you were at Timber?”

  I scratch my jaw. When I go out drinking with the guys, which isn’t often, I sometimes end up back at Denise’s. Even if it’s just for an hour before I have to get home to Bell. Saturday night, though, I wasn’t in the mood for just anyone, thanks to a certain sassy blonde with legs for days.

  “I slept with someone on Friday,” I say.

  Denise turns back to me, her eyes big. “What? Who?”

  “You don’t know her. She isn’t from around here.”

  She presses her lips together. “Why do you tell me these things?”

  “You have a right to know.”

  “You don’t think I’ve slept with other guys?” she asks. “I’ve never thrown it in your face.”

  “You’re my friend, Denise. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “That doesn’t stir anything in you?” she asks. “Nothing?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Hearing that I’ve slept with other guys.”

  I shift on my feet and try to conjure an ounce of jealousy. I love Denise—as a friend. As one of the people who stepped in to help with Bell when I needed it most, I’m grateful she’s in my life. But that’s as much as I’ll ever feel for her. As long as she’s happy and treated well, I have no comments about her sex life. “If this is getting to be too much, I understand,” I say. “We’ve been hooking up for two years. I wouldn’t fault you for developing feelings. But if you are, we have to stop.”

  She looks at her feet. I know what she’ll say. We’ve had this conversation before. “I’m not.”

  “Good.” I look through the office window. Bell has her head down as she does homework. I put an arm around Denise’s shoulder and kiss her head. “You know I care about you. But stay the fuck away from Bell when I’m not around. I mean it.”

  She sighs, shoves me off, and walks away. “Call me next time you
have a few hours free.”

  NINE

  “Shaving cream,” I command like I’m at the head of an army.

  “Yes, sir.” Bell maneuvers herself onto the bathroom counter and gets the can. She shakes it before squirting some into her hand. Her palm is too small for the amount I need, so I let her slather what she’s got on my face before filling in the rest.

  She knocks her heels against the cabinet under the sink. “You’re going to look so handsome, Daddy.”

  I glide my razor down my cheek and glance at her in the reflection. “Thanks, baby.”

  “All the girls will want to kiss you.”

  With a heavy sigh, I give her a reprimanding look. I don’t know if it’s normal for girls her age to tease their dads about women. I can’t exactly ask around—I don’t know any other single dads. I thought I had a while longer before she moved into this phase where she starts to wonder about love and sex.

  Sex.

  Jesus. Christ.

  Could I ever actually work up the nerve to talk about that with Bell, my precious baby? Fuck. I hope I’m right that I’ve got years left to prepare, but I’m worried that might be pushing it.

  “Homework’s done?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Yup. Are you going to the city?”

  “Yes. Uncle Nathan has to work and Aunt Sadie needs me to go with her.”

  “I love New York City. I want to live there one day.”

  I slide my gaze over to her. I’m aware of her interest, but this is the first I’ve heard of wanting to move there. “It’s not a nice place.”

  “But Aunt Sadie lives there, and she has a fun job and cool friends.”

  “She lives in Brooklyn,” I say, “not that that’s any better.”

  “Are you going to a party?”

  I rinse out my razor. I don’t often leave Bell in the evenings. It can sometimes get ugly. Since she didn’t freak out too much about spending a weekend with Sadie, I’m hoping she’s grown out of it, but I don’t exactly want to test that theory. “Speaking of parties,” I say. “Did you decide what kind of cake you want for your birthday?”

  “Chocolate with chocolate frosting that has blue and pink swirls,” she says. “And mint ice cream.”

  “Done.”

  “Will you be home in time to tuck me in?”

  Fuck. I tilt my head back, shaving under my jaw. I don’t look at Bell, because like an animal, she smells fear. “I don’t think so, babe. City’s far away. I’ll be home late.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  I put my razor down and splash water on my face. “I need you to be good for Flora tonight,” I say about Pico’s mom, Bell’s usual sitter. “Even Pico’s coming over to play.”

  Silence. When it comes to Bell, that’s never a good sign unless she’s doing homework or playing where I can see her.

  “You’re a big girl, Bell. You’ll have fun tonight.”

  I go into my closet, drop my towel, and pull on underwear. All I hear is the loudening knock of Bell’s heels against the cabinets. “Hey,” I call out to her. “Pico said he doesn’t believe you know all the lyrics to Metallica. Want to practice until he gets here?”

  “Which song?”

  “‘Sandman.’”

  Immediately, she launches into the first verse. Her voice echoes through the bathroom as I get into my suit. I button my dress shirt laughing. It’s always creepy when she sings it, especially the part that’s actually a child’s voice, but she loves the song. She’s never been a fearful kid. Never believed in monsters or boogey men. She’s like me, afraid of things that’re actually scary—like being abandoned.

  I tuck in the shirt and do up my pants. Sadie probably worries I’ll show up looking like a slob since I don’t care about these things. But the suit I have from her wedding still fits perfectly, and I have a reason to look good tonight.

  I open a drawer with ties. For owning only two suits, I have way too many ties, all less than subtle hints from Sadie to dress up more. I pick up a drab gray one, but a flash of red at the back of the drawer catches my eye. I wore that tie last year when I took Bell into the city for a show around Christmastime.

  Sadie mentioned that avec was nominated. If I know Amelia, which I don’t, not really, she’ll be dressed to the nines. That must’ve been the reason for the expensive cherry-colored dress we picked up from the front desk of her apartment building. I select the red tie. It’ll be a message from me to her, a way of both teasing her and showing her I’ve been thinking of her.

  I come out of the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror to get the knot right. “What d’you think, kid? Does Dad look good or what?”

  “I don’t want you to go,” Bell says immediately.

  I glance at her. “I know. I don’t really want to go either, but—”

  “Then don’t,” she says. “Stay home. We can watch a show about cars.”

  I chuckle and think, not for the first time, manipulation must be genetic. In that way, she’s her mother’s daughter. “I can’t. Aunt Sadie’s expecting me.”

  Bell crosses her arms, pouting. “Parties are stupid.”

  “Come on. We don’t use that word.”

  “Stupid,” she repeats.

  “Bell,” I warn. “You want to go to your room until I leave?”

  “No. I want to stay with you.” She sticks her bottom lip out farther. “If I’m good, will you not go?”

  “No.” I tug on my sleeve and head into the bedroom to get cufflinks from a drawer. Sensing Bell’s glare, even through the wall separating the rooms, I ask, “Will you help me? I can’t do this alone.”

  With a huge sigh, she pads over. I lift her up on the edge of the bed and hold the sleeve together for her. “Just put the small part of the cufflink through the holes so it holds the cuff together.”

  She furrows her eyebrows as she works. “Can I come with you?”

  I press my lips together, half pissed that she won’t drop it and half devastated. That Bell thinks I’m abandoning her, even for tonight, makes my chest physically hurt. I’m starting to wonder if others have been right about us. If she’s too attached. Problem is, she learned it from me. Part of me would rather stay here, dish out ice cream, and play Mario Kart. I’m looking forward to seeing Amelia, but is it worth making my girl feel like this?

  Bell’s finishing the other cufflink when the doorbell rings. She jumps down and sprints out of the bedroom.

  “Stop right there,” I call after her. “Don’t you dare open that door.”

  “But it’s Flora,” she cries from the living room.

  “I don’t care. How many goddamn times have I told you—do not open the door by yourself at night.”

  “But it’s Flora.”

  “You don’t know that.” I rush into the room after her. “It could be a stranger.”

  She’s hanging on the door handle, her eyes watery, as if she’s waited her whole life to answer that door and I’ve taken it away from her.

  “Now that I’m in the room with you, you can open it,” I say.

  She does. Flora’s there, smiling warmly. “Why, hello, Bell,” she says, stepping in. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  Bell looks back at me, suddenly shy for all her bravado.

  “Say hello,” I tell her firmly. “Mrs. Picolli was nice enough to come over and spend her evening with you.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Flora says.

  “Come in.” I hold the door as Bell glowers and then slinks away.

  Pico ambles up the sidewalk, his motorcycle parked in the driveway.

  “Give ol’ mom a ride on the scooter or what?” I ask.

  “No, dumbass. She drove herself.”

  Pico may work for me now, but I’ve been busting his balls since before we were teenagers. His dad, Flora’s late husband, worked for my grandpa.

  I slap him on the back. “Do me favor and see if you can distract Bell. She’s in one of her moods.”

  “I
’m on it.” He pulls a deck of cards from his back pocket. “Learned some new magic tricks recently.”

  Thank God for his geeky side. It might actually save us tonight.

  “Thanks for doing this,” I tell Flora as Pico goes to find Bell. “I’m sorry about her. She doesn’t want me to go.”

  Flora takes off her cardigan, and I hang it up for her. “She’ll get over it.”

  “Just when I think she’s maturing at light speed, she pulls this crap. I think it’s getting worse.” I rub my eyebrow. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. She’s going to cop an attitude with you.”

  “That’s exactly why you should. Believe me, dear, I have five children. I can handle her.” Flora eyes my suit. “You look handsome, by the way. Please tell me you have a date to this party.”

  “I’m just helping Sadie out.” My heart thumps once when I think of Amelia. She isn’t my date, which means I have to keep my hands off her in public. How can I after last week? I knew the woman an hour before I had her in my arms, kissing her where all of Manhattan could see. It’ll be a feat to restrain myself until I can get her alone.

  Flora looks as though she’s waiting for me to continue, as if I’m really leaving because I have something up my sleeve. “Can I get you something to drink?” I offer.

  “I’ll take a water.”

  I lead Flora into the kitchen and get a glass out of a cabinet, even though she’s been here a hundred times and knows where everything is. She continues to watch me.

  I don’t know if it’s the maternal vibe she gives off the way my mom used to when we were really young, but her silence has a way of filling the room, pressurizing the air around me until I crack. “Actually, there will be a girl there tonight,” I say.

  “Really?” Flora sounds surprised. She knew Shana well, knows our history. Then again, there aren’t many people who don’t. It’s not as if Elizabeth is a small town, but sometimes it feels that way. “Who’s the lucky lady?” she asks.

  “No, it’s not like that,” I say right away. “Not serious. Just someone who . . . I mean, we’re just friends, but . . .”

  “I see,” Flora says. “A friend like Denise.”

  My cheeks warm. Pico and his big fucking mouth. Or maybe it was Denise. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to get Flora on her side. Flora’s one of the few people I respect enough to hear her advice. “Yeah,” I say, even though Amelia isn’t like any other woman I know, and certainly not Denise. “Like Denise. I’m sorry.”