Cookie Cutter

by Jo Richardson

  “I think you need to crawl into bed with me.”

  “And I think you’re a little misguided.”

  She smiles up at me with this sheepish grin and I pause to appreciate the naive thing she’s got going on. Then and I kiss her again, only this time, I allow myself to slip a hand under her shirt and slide it across her belly to feel the warmth and tenderness she has hiding underneath. Her side twitches when I touch certain places. When I move them down, between her legs, they part slightly. The way her body reacts in anticipation for what comes next makes me want to rip her clothes off to see where else she’s ticklish. I’ll have to find out some other time, though.

  I bring the make out session to an end with great effort. I kiss the top of her head then I drag my hand away from her warm body.

  “Don’t go.” She takes a hold of my hand.

  How I’d love to stay with her, in an actual bed, with her soft skin and curves that I want to mold into – with her sexy whimpers and telling kisses. I’d love to properly show her what she’s capable of feeling with someone who cares about her. But alas.

  “You’ve had a long day,” I whisper. “And I don’t know how comfortable I am ravishing you while your sixteen year old is within ear shot.”

  Iris’s mouth twists up into what I believe she means as a pout. “Yeah, you’re right.” Her next thought is interrupted by a yawn.

  “But I promise.” I kiss her forehead, then look straight into her beautiful brown eyes. “This is to be continued.”

  Iris’s eyes flutter closed and she lets out a contented sigh. “Mmmkay.” She smiles and just like that, she’s out again.

  I’ve still got a grin plastered across my face as I stroll down the hallway to get my things and go when I stop abruptly. Ally and I are face to face, both frozen in our tracks. The plate of food Iris left her is in one hand and her mouth is full of food she seems to be too shocked to chew.

  “It’s not what you think,” I say, like I’ve just been busted by my parents and not a sixteen year old moody teenaged girl belonging the neighbor I’ve been . . . getting to know a little better. To put it lightly.

  Ally finally swallows down her food and gives me the death stare. “Sure it isn’t.”

  She takes her plate and heads upstairs.

  I’m not sure if I’ll make things better or worse by trying to convince her nothing happened between Iris and me tonight. So I leave it alone. For now, I grab my jacket and shove my feet into my shoes. I leave the movies. I can get them from Iris tomorrow.

  “You might want to lock up behind me,” I whisper-yell up the stairs after Ally.

  She doesn’t bother slowing down. “Whatever.”

  I mutter a sarcastic, “Oooohkay,” under my breath then I leave and shut the door tight. I jiggle the handle to make sure the lock on the door knob at least works. It does.

  As I half walk half jog back to my house, Alex pulls into her driveway so I slow my pace a little bit. “You’re home early.”

  She pulls her bag out of the car. “Ha ha very funny.”

  I’ve clearly run into yet another woman with an attitude tonight. “How’d your date go the other day?”

  She slams the door. “It went.”

  Another car races around the corner onto our street before I can ask her why all the sarcasm. It screeches to a halt in front of Alex’s house.

  “Really?” she mumbles to herself.

  A disheveled looking man-boy climbs out of the driver’s side and tries to brush his hair with his hands.

  “Everything okay?” I ask Alex out of the side of my mouth.

  She grumbles. I look over to see if I can read her expression. “Alex?” I can’t. Read her that is. I’ve never seen this Alex before. She’s . . . flustered.

  “Ahn,” the guy calls out in a fit of exasperation as he rounds his car and hurries up to where we are with his hands in his hair, as though he’s making some lame attempt at combing it.

  “Who is Ahn?” I’m confused.

  Alex breathes in.

  Her head falls back and she looks up at the sky as she lets it out.

  “I---” He stops when he sees me and says, “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I give him a short but polite wave.

  “I’m Eli.” He extends a hand.

  I take it. “Carter.”

  “What are you doing?” Alex glares at him like he’s lost his mind. He nods to me then moves his attention back to Alex.

  “Ahn,” he says more in control this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a scene, I just . . . I saw you and . . . that guy, and his hands were . . . and . . .”

  “Who is Ahn?”

  This time, Alex gives me a short, “Me,” in response.

  “I thought your name was Alex?” I say, to which man-boy Eli turns slightly and says me over his shoulder, “It is.”

  “Then who is---”

  Alex leans to one side so she can see me around the side of her, uh, friend? And informs me, “My name is Anya. Anya Alexandra Allen.” And when she notices my silent reaction to the entirety of her name she says, “My mother liked alliteration.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “A lot.” She straightens again, turning her attention back to Eli.

  He’s in between . . . Alex. Anya? Alex and I, his hands in his hair again only now it looks more like a nervous tick of some sort rather than an attempt to look in control. She stares at him with something like a cross between anger . . . and worry. When her eyes catch mine, behind him, I take the opportunity to mouth to her, Is this the date?

  She shakes her head ever so slightly.

  Oh. Boy.

  This is not my thing, dealing with a love triangle. Or, whatever it is.

  “I think I’m just gonna leave you two, to it.”

  But I have to make sure one last time, “An . . . ya, you’re good here, right?”

  She eyes the guy Eli and lets me know that, “Yeah. He might be a royal fucking pain in my ass right now, but he couldn’t take me in a real match if he wanted to.”

  I feel good about her response, annoyed as it may be. She seems like she knows this guy well enough to know he’s at least not a psychopath. So I back away, then head for my house. Inside, I appreciate the work I’ve put into this house for a few minutes. It’s good. It’s really good. Then a small pang of something else hits me. Regret. Because even though I’m stoked this project is nearly done, I just got here and met a pretty great woman. I’ve also just figured out that I’d like to get to know her a whole lot more.

  Not that I couldn’t stay. I pick up some tools that are still laying around from earlier today. That’s of course assuming Iris wants me to. I toss some things into a box by the door and begin to move through the rest of the house. I think she’d want me to, but . . . As I walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms, I stub a toe on the hammer I borrowed from her when I first arrived in Spangler. She’s got a lot on her plate right now. The tool belongs to James and I stare at it for a minute or two.

  Dick.

  Then I toss it into the trash can by the bathroom door. I’ll get her another one.

  Back in the kitchen, I start to put hardware onto the cabinets and drawers that are still missing theirs. I grin and think about how much Iris liked the things I went with in here. In mid-thought, my cell phone buzzes. Maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s not so sleepy after all. But it’s not Iris. It’s Tony.

  You mad at me?

  I rub at my eyes. Truth is, maybe I am. That dig he threw at me about Cheryl the other day stung and he knew it would. But quite honestly, I think I’ve been involved in a few too many family fights lately so I cut him a break.

  Never, I type back.

  Then my cell rings.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Sorry I’ve been a shit lately. It’s just . . .” Tony trails off and I gotta say, “I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sure, it’s stressful being Dad’s number one guy.”

  He laug
hs. “Well, I suppose I have you to thank for it.”

  “Glad to help, buddy.”

  “Carter.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When are you coming home?”

  “I told you, I don’t---”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to come stay with us for a few weeks. You’ve got the time on your hands.”

  He’s right. And it’s only a matter of time before I run out of excuses.

  “I’m actually supposed to meet up with Frank after this job. Maybe I can drop by for dinner or something while I’m out in San Francisco, but Tony, I’m not coming home.”

  He stifles a sarcastic laugh. “Well, sorry I bothered you.”

  “Tone . . .”

  He hangs up and along with the excuses, it won’t be long before my brother stops calling, too. I finish up the hardware. Then where will I be? I’m already fatherless, do I really want to be brotherless too?

  I fall down into the futon and force my mind to other things. Specifically, the things that Iris Alden can do to me in a single look. I can worry about Tony later.

  * * *

  “So where are you taking me for our dinner date?” Iris asks as she dips a pretzel into some dip.

  As a bonus, probably more for himself than anyone, her boss let her off of work early to get a jump on the weekend. Iris has a lot of shit to do; she could be getting ready for bridge later, or the park clean-up she volunteered for this weekend. Sunday of course. But instead, after she spoke with Ally and made sure she didn’t need a ride home from dance, she’s chosen to spend some time with me.

  Right now, she’s sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen, watching me paint. Her legs are crossed and although she left her jacket at home, she’s still wearing the plain, deep purple skirt she wore to work today. It’s riding up and showing enough of her thigh to make me want to slip a hand underneath and slide it the rest of the way. I try to focus. I don’t want to come off as that guy that wants to do nothing but violate my girlfriend in all the best ways, all the time.

  Even though I do.

  “You could pick up a paint brush if you wanted to you know?”

  She swallows her pretzel. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  I dip my roller and glide it up the wall. “You’re nosey.”

  “It’s my date.”

  “It’s our date – and it’s a surprise.”

  She gets up and walks over to me. She bends down and picks up a brush, dips it into the tan paint then holds it up like a weapon.

  “Brown, Carter? Really? I pegged you for a white walls kind of guy.”

  “Iris.” I eye her, harshly. Kind of.

  “Don’t you think I need a little advance notice of where we’re going, Carter? So I can plan my wardrobe?”

  I go back to rolling and pretend I’m unconcerned that she might flick that paint brush at me any moment.

  “Planning is overrated, Iris.”

  I feel her stare for a few more seconds then she turns and starts on some trim I missed.

  “Overrated, huh?”

  “Highly.”

  The sludge of paint smacks into the side of my face and I’m stunned for a moment. I guess part of me didn’t think Iris had it in her to waste something. Especially when she’s in the middle of a project. I put my roller down and scoop the glop of flat Behr topcoat from my cheek. Then I turn to the brown haired bombshell standing next to me, who is now covering a giggle with the back of her hand.

  “That’s funny?”

  She nods. I smear it over her face and she gasps. I let out a chuckle. “Didn’t see that coming, I bet.”

  Iris takes a step and I back up out of her way when my foot lands right in the paint pan. I slip and grab for whatever is closest to keep me from falling, which is Iris. She topples down on top of me, the paint flies up, then lands, upside down.

  I watch it all happen, like a slow-mo moment from an action movie, then let my head fall back and laugh. Thankfully I put a tarp down today, or the wood floors I installed would be finito. Iris’s giggles become more uncontrolled.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry, Carter!” She hides her face into my neck, effectively getting all the paint I slathered there onto me.

  My body shakes from the laughter and before I know it, she’s looking down at me, with those twinkles in her eyes and she’s wriggling against me, making any and all attempts to be gentlemanly, null.

  Suddenly, Iris is serious. Instead of me taking the lead, this time, she does. She brushes the hair away from my forehead, looking for a clear spot to kiss, then she looks into my eyes and a serenity washes over her. She says, “I’m not in the mood for painting anymore, are you?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all.”

  She takes a deep breath in and moves her lips to mine. The paint is forgotten, then our clothes. And when I make to help her up, she pulls me back down.

  “This isn’t a show-Iris-how-beautiful-she-is moment, Carter.”

  “No?”

  She shakes her head. As I join her on the floor again.

  “What kind of moment is it, then?”

  She lays back down and pulls me along with her, until I’m in between her legs and she’s wrapping hers around me.

  “It’s a covered in paint, I-want-you-so-bad-I-can-taste-it-moment,” she whispers, and then she guides me to where she needs me.

  “Okay,” I rasp and as we both become lost in the moment she’s created, my lips find hers, and I think, yeah, I could definitely stay.

  * * *

  “Dinner at my place?” she says, after we clean up and re-dress.

  “Considering all I have is Ramen Noodles and some already opened diet cokes, absolutely.”

  Iris laughs and reminds me she’s got Bridge with the girls later, then invites me to play along but this time, I decline. She needs some time with her friends. As we walk in to her house, the phone rings in Iris’s kitchen at exactly the same time my cell phone buzzes inside my jacket pocket. I pull it out as Iris heads over to answer her phone. It’s my brother, which is weird as I just spoke to him not twenty-four hours ago. Iris watches me as she answers her own call. Do I answer it? It’s only going to be another argument I don’t want to have. I close my eyes and count. Then I answer the damn call.

  “Carter?” Tony speaks before I can even say hi. He sounds on edge.

  “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “You need to come home.”

  Of course. Here we go again. I wink over at Iris as she handles whatever is going on with her call. She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Tone, we’ve had this conversation one too many times and I---”

  “Dad’s in the hospital,” he blurts it out, and then waits.

  I sit up. He’s got my attention now. “What?”

  “That’s right,” he says. “Heart attack. He had it this morning, right in the middle of a debriefing, they took him….” He tries to catch his breath. “He’s in ICU right now.”

  I hear the words but the message isn’t quite registering with me yet.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He. Had. A. Heart Attack!” There’s annoyance behind his words. “What is there to not understand about that, Carter?”

  Heart attacks aren’t the end of the world, actually. I read an article once that said they’re fairly common these days. More women die from them than men, and only a small percent die from the first one. Why was I reading that article anyway?

  “He’s strong, Tone. Dad will be okay. Keep me posted.” I try to end the call but he adds one more piece of information for me to absorb.

  “It’s not his first one, Carter.”

  That catches my attention.

  “What? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  He laughs it off but I can hear the stress behind it. “I’m the only one that knew, and I didn’t think you’d want to know, Carter; you made it pretty clear when you left.”

  That doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit. “Then
why bother telling me now?”

  He takes a deep breath. I can hear him let it out. He doesn’t say anything at first.

  “Tone.”

  “Because they don’t know if he’ll survive this one.”

  I’m speechless for a second or two. Even when I find my voice again, all I can manage to sputter out, is, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he says. “Okay!?” Tony becomes hysterical. “That’s all you’ve got for me is okay?”

  “Tony, I---”

  “You know what? Forget I called.” He hangs up and I’m left sitting there with a monkey on my back the size of King Kong. My eyes shift to Iris once more.

  She’s still in deep conversation with whoever is on the other end of her phone. I can’t think straight, much less interrupt her to tell her I can’t think straight.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I mouth when she notices me grabbing my jacket. She gives me a tilt of her head while she tries to continue to pay attention to what’s being said to her on the other end of the line. I give her the universal sign for, “I’ll call you,” then head out before she can ask me anything else. I’m not sure what I would say, anyway.

  “My dad, whom I never speak to, just had a heart attack and even though we aren’t on any type of speaking terms whatsoever, my brother wants me to come home to a world where I’m pretty much a leper for what I did to him the last time I was there.”

  Yeah, no. Back inside my own place, I call Tony back from the landline I had installed. Even as I dial the number though, I know what happens next. I fly home.

  * * *

  “Shit.”

  In rushing to get the last flight out to California, I completely forgot to touch base with Iris like I said I would. I pull my phone out and shoot her off a quick text.

  Had to take off. I’ll explain everything later.

  It’s all I have time for, I’m late as it is. I slip the phone back into my pocket and tip the cabbie, then I grab my bags and hurry in to catch my flight. One layover, several Bloody Mary cocktails and a crappy rental car drive later, and I’m standing outside my family’s home in Sacramento California. My insides are churning. I’m not gonna lie, when Frank said I’d go home when I was supposed to, I was thinking it would take me more like a year or so to get here, not a week.