Pico mutters, making a show of digging into his back pocket. He passes me one from the pack he has left, which is half full. He stares dumbly at me.
“Do I look like a fucking boy scout?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“What am I supposed to do, go out front, knock a couple rocks together, and produce fire?”
He flips me off before tossing me his lighter.
Randy chuckles a few feet away from us. It’s the kind of sinister laugh that gets under my skin and bubbles at the surface. “Everything all right, boss?”
I take a soothing drag. “Fine.”
“You seem a little on edge,” he says. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
“Ask your mom.” Acting like an immature teen makes me feel oddly better.
Randy tsks. “Might be time for a trip to Timber. You’ve been nasty ever since the city girl blew you off.”
“She didn’t blow me off.” I sound sulky even to myself.
“Well, something happened. You gotta get yourself some pussy, who cares what kind.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“I got a blowie last night,” he volunteers. “Not bad, but not worth the fifty bucks. I’d stay away from Timber’s back alley if I were you.”
“You’re such a piece of shit,” I say.
“Maybe, but at least I’m having a great day.”
“Believe it or not, blowjobs aren’t the answer to everything,” I say and stick the cigarette between my lips to pull up Burt’s number.
“No? Name one situation that doesn’t improve with a blowjob. I bet you can’t even think of one.”
I hate the fact that I’d give my left nut to get laid right now. When I get this way, agitated, overwhelmed, I need release. If not emotional, then physical. Sex. Fucking. It’s been almost a week since I’ve heard from Amelia. She’s glaringly absent, and her timing is shit with Shana trying to get her claws in.
I haven’t seen Shana since the gymnasium, but she called the house last night. Bell was in the bathtub, and I was halfway through dishes. I’d had to wedge the receiver between my ear and shoulder thanks to wet rubber gloves.
“Andrew, babe,” she’d said, and her tone, her words, were so familiar, for a moment it felt as though she were calling from the market to ask if we needed milk. “Just meet me for a drink. One drink.”
Cornered and on the verge of feeling like one half of a couple again, I was terse. “I’m a single parent,” I’d told her. “I barely have time to wipe my ass let alone sit and chat.”
If she responded, I didn’t hear it. I was already back to the dishes, but as I’d scrubbed and rinsed, dried and tidied, Shana had grown bigger in my mind. The first time I saw her, she was walking away from me. She wore jeans one size too small, her ass round and firm like an apple. It always seemed to be swaying. Looking back, her strut never faltered. Not when she left bed in panties and a tank to feed Bell. Not when she came home drunk off her head. I never stopped to wonder if it was just the way she walked or if she’d trained herself not to break character.
Sex with Shana, in the beginning, was an addiction; I was worse than a kid in a candy store. After Bell, it died off, and we had nothing to say to each other that didn’t involve accusations or insults. Her resentment over Bell needled me to an unhealthy level.
Amelia feeds a different kind of hunger in me. She isn’t candy, without nutrition or value, but a well-balanced, well-flavored meal. Her wit, her ambition, draws me in as much as her figure. She’s surprisingly funny. Adventurous. And somehow, despite our boundaries, the sex is more connected than casual, more intuitive than cautious.
A week without it has made my entire body raw as an exposed nerve. Whenever I look at the photo of her in the bathtub, all I see is what I can’t see. She mocks me, and it darkens my already black mood.
Randy’s still running his mouth about all the ways blowjobs can improve your mood when a Mercedes with blacked-out windows pulls into the driveway and stops. The car idles, but nobody gets out. I give it a onceover, but nothing looks wrong, and it sounds in good shape. Generally, yuppies stick to their dealerships for auto work. “Go see what he wants.”
Pico has his hand down his pants as he scratches his crotch. “’K.”
“On second thought,” I say, “I’ll go.”
The car’s back door opens, and a man on his cell phone gets out. It takes me a moment to place the slicked-back hair, the expensive-looking pinstripe suit that creases and gaps in the wrong places, as if it’s a size too big. If possible, Reggie looks even slimier in a suit than a baby blue polo.
Reggie checks the sign above my shop. When his eyes land on me, he says something into the phone before he hangs up.
“What the fuck?” I mutter for probably the hundredth time this week.
Randy’s back goes straight. “What’s wrong?”
Reggie and I walk toward each other, meeting in the middle. “What can I do for you?” I ask.
Reggie glances past me, into the garage. “Nice place. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I never really make it to this part of . . . Jersey.”
I crack my knuckles as loudly as possible. The tip of his nose is red and peeling, as if he just got back from somewhere sunny. I wonder what the hell Amelia ever saw in this guy. “What can I do for you?” I repeat.
He looks back at me. “Just one thing, really,” he says with a labored sigh. “Amelia. She’s not really your type, is she? I don’t think you’re hers, either.”
I shrug. “How is this your business?”
“It is.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “She’s got a lot going for her—class, looks, value. She belongs with a man who can give her what she deserves. That’s not a mechanic.”
“She’s a big girl,” I say. “Maybe we should let her decide.”
He sniffs, possibly, I think, because he’s not getting the reaction he wants. “She’s a little mixed up right now. Hurt. When that goes away, she’ll regret this fling you guys are having. But, thing is, I’m not very patient, and I don’t really like the idea of my wife screwing around with some fuck-up from New Jersey, so I’m ready for it to be over.”
I laugh, a sound that’s menacing and hollow even to my own ears. My irritation is rising up my chest. I don’t care what he thinks of me, but that he’s still calling her his wife needles me, even if Amelia seems to be through with me. “You’ll have to talk to her about that.”
“I’ve tried, believe me. I assumed it was nothing at first, but when you get family involved, it starts to worry me.” He straightens his suit with a derisive glance at my coveralls. “I don’t think Amelia is dumb enough to fall for a guy like you, but I can’t take the chance.”
My face warms. I have to work to keep my breathing even. I don’t know what family he’s referring to. The only family Amelia and I have brought into this is Sadie, Nathan and Bell, and I can’t have this fuckwad even looking in their direction. “Get the fuck off my property.”
“Or what? You’ll kick my ass all the way to Hoboken? You’re a thug.”
I take a menacing step toward him. “I’m a thug? I’m not the one trying and failing to intimidate everyone in his path.”
“Whatever Amelia told you, it’s a lie.”
His comment comes out of nowhere. I was referring to myself, not Amelia, although it applies. “What was a lie?”
“All of it. She’s spun quite a tale with you and her therapist. She and I were happy. I never hurt her.”
I lift my chin. If he really believed I was just a fling, there’d be no reason for him to assume Amelia would tell me any of what she did. “She didn’t say you did,” I lie.
He shakes his head like he’s chastising a child. “I have an offer.”
An offer can only mean one thing—some way to convince me to stay away from Amelia. I don’t believe for a second that he’d go head to head with me like a real man. “You better think carefully about how you proceed,” I say slowly, since he seems to
have issues with comprehension. “I’m no thug, but I have no problem trying the title on with you.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”
“You’re goddamn right it is. Caught me on a bad day. Keep talking, and you’ll save me a trip to the punching bag tonight.”
He raises his palms. “Message received. You’re bigger than me, and I’m not an idiot. Muscle over brains, and all that. I’m not here to get violent.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a checkbook. “Let me talk in a language you understand. This’ll be the easiest money you’ve ever made.”
I’m barely able to unclench my teeth enough to get the words out. “You’re going to pay me to stay away from her.”
“Break up with her, and stay away. Simple. Everyone gets what they want.”
Break up with her. He doesn’t realize it might already be over. “And what do I want?” I ask.
He glances up at the sign of my shop. “Money, I guess. I’m sure you have no trouble finding women in your part of town. Money’s not as easy to come by, though.”
“And what does Amelia want?”
“She doesn’t know. She may think you’re meaningless sex, but she’s a woman. They always get attached.” He leans in as if we’re old pals. “Trust me. I almost had to change jobs because of the crazy bitch I cheated with.”
My hands shoot out to grab him, compelled by some force outside my control. This time he doesn’t anticipate it, and he sucks in a breath when I catch his lapels. He darts his widened eyes over my shoulders. I sense Pico and Randy at my back. “You gutless asshole,” I grate out. “Get in your foreign car and drive yourself back to the city. Go up to your pretentious apartment, clean the shit out of your pants, and stay the fuck away from us.”
“Ten grand.” His voice breaks, and he has to clear his throat. “Ten grand, clear and simple. I write the check, you stay on your side of town, and it’s done. Free money.”
My hands shake, and the loose skin under his chin jiggles. “Fuck you.”
“T-twenty,” he says. “Name your price.”
As always, when I feel threatened, Bell pops into my mind. Amelia is there too, morning-after disheveled, unguarded on her bed. Women are objects to this man. Something to show off. Something to control. I’m so angry, my mouth won’t open so I can respond. I need to let go. For Bell. For Amelia. I’m no good to them if I get arrested for pummeling him.
“You can shove your checkbook,” Randy says from behind me when I don’t answer. “Better yet, I’ll do it for you. You look like you got a tight asshole. That’s my favorite kind.”
Reggie’s face goes white as a sheet. “Are you fucking insane? It’s twenty grand. You don’t even have to do anything.”
Then I hear it. “Daddy?”
My heart stops, and my burning rage runs suddenly cold. I release Reggie and take a step back, inhaling through my nose. Bell and Sammy stand ten feet away.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking at all of us.
Reggie’s mouth curls into a smile. “You must be Bell. Your daddy and I were just playing around.”
She scowls. “My dad doesn’t play like that.”
“Don’t look at my daughter,” I say evenly, under my breath, and Reggie turns back to me. “Pico,” I say over my shoulder, “take the kids for ice cream.”
“But—” Bell protests.
“No buts,” I say without taking my eyes off Reggie.
Randy shuffles them off. Reggie straightens his suit and takes a pen out of the same pocket. His hand jerks as he writes out a check. “Beckwith, correct? So, how much will it take? Keep it within reason.”
“You think, just because you dress up and get your lazy ass driven around and you hire people to clean the piss and shit off your toilet, that you’re better than me?” I laugh, and this time it’s genuine. “You have no idea how wrong you are. You’re a bad man. And I’ll tell you, now more than ever, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Amelia away from you.”
He shakes his head, removes a card from his pocket, and hands it to me. “Call me when you’ve changed your mind. A guy like you wouldn’t turn down this kind of money for a woman.”
“A guy like me?” I ask. “You think you know what kind of guy I am?”
He looks me up and down. “Without a doubt.” He gestures behind him, in the direction of the city. “The kind who grew up within sight of everything but had nothing. Still has nothing, even after years of labor. The kind who gets desperate. It’s sad, really.”
I cock a smile. “Maybe. I’m also the kind of guy who can make a woman feel so good, she’ll offer just about anything I can dream up.” I lean in as he had, lowering my voice, getting chummy. “The kind of guy who loves to go where no other man has been before. Not even her husband.”
When he understands what I mean, he frowns. “She wouldn’t.”
“She would. And she fucking loved it.”
His nostrils flare, his skin reddening from his neck up. “Bullshit,” he sputters. I wipe spittle off my face. “If she did, I’d know about it.”
I chuckle. “Sure you would.”
He replaces his checkbook in his jacket as the redness in his face fades. “No, you’re right . . . I’d have no idea what she does behind closed doors. How would I?”
At the front of my mind is only one thing: Bell and Sammy are right around the corner. “Get off my property.”
He walks back to his car, and the door opens before he even gets there. He slides in and slams it shut.
“Yo, what the fuck was that?” Randy asks from behind me.
“A man with a small dick who has the need and resources to try and make up for it.”
“Damn,” he says. “I assumed because of your mood things were over with her.”
“They might be.” How did I end up here? I never thought I’d be pining over a prissy city girl who seems to have more interest in her wardrobe than my daughter. Only, I’m not sure I believe that’s true, even if she wants me to think it is.
“You could’ve taken the money then,” he points out.
I turn my head over my shoulder. “Would you have?”
“Obviously,” he says with a sniff. “But nah. Not really. Too fun to watch that clenched asshole squirm.”
My shoulders ease when I remember that Randy spoke when I couldn’t, and he knew exactly what to say. “Thanks.”
“We should’ve kicked his ass.”
“If only he’d come at us ten years ago.”
Randy blows out his cheeks with a sigh. “We’re getting so old, man. What happened to the days when we could just fly off the handle?”
Down the block, Pico leans out of the ice cream shop, checking that it’s all clear. I wave him over. Reggie put me in that position in front of my daughter. I have every right to be pissed, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Those days are over.”
TWENTY-SIX
My Camaro isn’t made for city streets. Confined by Lexington Avenue traffic, even though it’s Saturday, the car rumbles and protests each time we start and stop. Bell bounces in her car seat and accidentally kicks the dash.
“Watch it,” I say.
“Why?” she asks.
“You’ll mark up the leather. Just stay still.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Why?”
I hit the brakes a little too hard. “Because I hate driving in this fucking city, and you’re distracting me.”
“There’s valet.”
“Valet,” I mutter. “Do you think I’m made of money?”
“There,” she screeches, pointing at a pair of reversing taillights. A Honda maneuvers away from the curb, and I drop my foot on the gas. The car in front of us brakes and starts to back in, but I’m already partway there. The guy lays on his horn.
“Close your eyes,” I tell Bell.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
She sighs but obeys. I stick my mi
ddle finger out the window and keep it there. He can have this spot over my dead body. After a few seconds of our standoff, a pedestrian yells at him for blaring the horn. His tires squeal as he hits the gas, and he flips the bird right back at me. I pull into the parking spot.
“You’re the one who didn’t want to take the train,” Bell points out.
I get out of the car and walk around to her side. She’s been talking about Aunt Sadie’s surprise baby shower for days, but she still knows to wait until I open her door. I let her out of the car seat and take her hand to lead her into Gramercy Park Hotel, then up to the terrace on the eighteenth floor that Nathan reserved for the afternoon.
I spot Nate right away. It isn’t hard in the explosion of floral arrangements and miniature pastries. A table at the entrance has the start of a gift pile, and I tell Bell to add ours.
Nathan’s brows are gathered as a woman in a suit taps her clipboard, showing him something. He scratches his forehead and glances up at us.
“Andrew,” he says, desperately motioning me over. “You’ve got to help me, man. They ran out of raspberry macaroons. Sadie craves raspberry everything right now.”
“Dude, she’s not going to give a rat’s ass.” I check the sheet of paper filled with pictures of desserts and their names. I point to a frosted cupcake that’s topped with chocolate shavings. “You got these?” I ask the woman.
“Yes, sir.”
Nathan looks too, nodding. “Everyone likes chocolate. Those’ll be fine.” He mops his brow as she walks away. “This is way harder than it looks.”
“When does Sadie get here?”
He checks his watch. “Ten minutes? Jill told her they were going for lunch at the restaurant downstairs.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“That was the hotel’s event planner, and she has some games and stuff set up. Jill takes over when they get here. Then we’ve got to go. This is like, chicks only.”
“No shit,” I say. “Husbands don’t typically plan baby showers.”
“I know.” He half-smiles, somehow proud of this, and looks at me sidelong. “Looking forward to seeing Amelia?”
The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue Book 2) Page 27
