by Jamie Pope
“Whoa.” He put his hands up. “I think you’re wrong about that. We’ve got good people working here. And even if they did think that, who gives a damn what anybody thinks?”
She frowned, seeming frustrated. “Maybe I just don’t want you to think that.”
“I don’t.” It was true. He hadn’t thought that about her at all, not really. And the fact that she thought that people might spoke volumes about her.
“I...” She trailed off. “I would like to be your friend. A real friend, Chase. Do you think we can try that?”
There was something there between them, a need. A pull. Just something that neither one of them could deny. Staying away from her would be too hard. He could be her friend. He wanted to be her friend, to get to know her, to be around her. “We can try that. But then don’t be afraid to ask me for a ride when your car is dead and stop worrying about what anybody thinks of you.”
“I normally don’t. It’s just that I’m used to doing things for myself. I’ve had to do things for myself.”
“Trust me, I’m not looking to save you. All I wanted to do was buy you lunch.”
“But you keep kissing me.”
“You keep looking like you need to be kissed.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Fine. You can kiss me first next time. And you can buy me lunch if it makes you feel better. Lobster, if you really want to feel empowered.”
She grinned at him. “The most you’ll get out of me is two-for-one vegan hot dogs down at the food truck on the corner.”
“Vegan hot dogs? You’re vegan?”
“No. Love me a big slab of ribs, but the hot dogs are cheap and they’ll fill you up. Especially if you put loads of mustard on them.” She glanced down at her watch with its woven wire band. “I really do have to go. I’m going to be late for class.”
“Okay, just tell me where to go and I’ll get you there.”
A few minutes later he pulled up in front of a community center in a part of Seattle he had never seen before. It wasn’t as upscale as the area where Lillian’s was. Nor did it have the cozy feel of the community center in his old neighborhood, but this was where Amber taught.
“In the mornings there are classes for seniors and moms who are at home with their kids and are looking for something to do. But the afternoons are all about the afterschool program,” Amber said, reading his mind. “A lot of these kids will end up involved in some things that they have no business being involved in, so the leaders here try to provide programming that will appeal to a lot of the preteen and teenage population. There are cooking classes, video game design and music production. My class is jewelry design, and I helped create a curriculum that empowers young girls to express themselves creatively.”
“I’m impressed.”
Amber smiled at him. “Maybe you should come teach here. You can call it ‘miniature moguls.’ Your sister told me about all your business ventures when you were a kid. She told me that you made enough from them to buy your first car brand-new when you were seventeen.”
“I’m good with money and numbers. I don’t know how I would fare with kids.”
“Give yourself more credit, Chase.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the ride. You got me here in record time.”
“I’ll walk you up.” He was sure she would be fine. She had been fine without him for who knows how long, but he didn’t feel right leaving her just yet.
“You don’t have to.”
“Let me scope out the place. My family loves to give back. Maybe we can see about giving back here.”
“Okay.” She nodded and then stepped out of the car. As they entered the building, he could see that the inside of the building was vastly different from the outside. There was a large mural lining the walls. The Seattle landscape, done in bright vibrant colors that sucked the viewer into it. He spotted kids in the painting. Children sitting on buses and peeking out of windows. Children laughing as they played in the street.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Amber asked him, seeming to have slipped inside of his head.
“I can’t take my eyes off it.”
“A student’s father painted it. Actually, I should say he designed it with some of our high schoolers. He taught a ten-week class where they worked on the mural from start to finish. He would love to do other community spaces, but he hasn’t been able to manage it with his work schedule. Since he got his second job, he doesn’t have the time to stop by.”
“You mean he doesn’t paint full-time?”
“Painting doesn’t pay the bills as well as landscaping does. He’s had to pick up waiting tables because his youngest girl needs braces.”
“Talent like that and waiting tables. It’s a shame.”
“He’s got five kids. He’s doing what he has to do.”
They walked down the hall filled with framed papers. Chase could see everything from typed essays to kindergarten counting assignments. They all were graded. All had a positive message on them.
“That’s our wall of achievement,” Amber said. “There’s no grade requirement to get your work up there. It just has to be something the kids worked hard on in school and feel proud of. Some kids work damn hard for Cs and we want to celebrate them.”
“I like that idea. It builds them up.”
“We work hard on that. We want to give kids positive self-images so they go out and do good things in the world.”
“You should be a spokesperson for this place. I’m sure the donors would come rolling in.”
“Donors are great so we can offer more, but what we need most is people to volunteer their time. We have young men who need mentors and girls who need to know that they can be good at science and math.”
He nodded. So many people he knew would rather write a check than really get involved—he was trying to think of anyone he might know who would be willing to give some of their time.
“We’re here.” Amber opened the door and Chase saw that there was a group of preteen girls already waiting for her there.
“Hello, ladies!” She smiled brightly at them, as if she was truly happy to be with them. “You’re all here early so I guess that means you’re ready to get right to work today.”
“We are, Ms. Bernard,” one of the girls said as her eyes traveled to Chase. “But we want to know who that man is. You told us you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t, Tisha. And if I did, I’m not sure that would be any of your business.”
“Oh, Miss—” the girl grinned “—you know you would tell us. We’re your girls. And that guy is very cute.”
Chase grinned. He could tell that Amber was slightly embarrassed, but she played it cool. He should have taken that as his cue to leave, but he really wanted to see how she handled the girls’ inquisitiveness.
“This is my friend, Mr. Drayson. He is not my boyfriend because boys have cooties and I don’t like them.”
“Miss Amber!” some of the girls groaned.
“But seriously, he owns the bakery I work in. He just wanted to see where I teach. He didn’t believe me when I told him that I willingly spend my free time with you all.”
“A bakery? Did you make cupcakes for us?” Another girl asked him.
“I just keep track of the finances,” he told them. “I’ve never baked anything in my life.”
“You should take a class,” one of the girls called out. “They have a baking class here, but I think they don’t let old people in.”
“Old. You hear that, Amber? She just called me old.”
“Don’t be too hurt by it. They think anyone over thirty is ancient. Of course I escaped that fate, only being twenty-eight.”
“Don’t laugh. Old age will sneak up on you before you know it and you’ll be sea
rching for your dentures and using a cane like me.”
“I can’t wait. I’ll be saying things like whippersnappers and malarkey. And eating dinner at four thirty.”
“Miss Amber, stop playing.” One of the girls giggled.
“You’re right. No more playing. We’re here to work and learn how to make some fabulous things.” She went to the locked closet in the front of the classroom and began pulling out small kits. “Does anyone want to tell Mr. Drayson what we have been working on?”
To his surprise everyone’s hand flew up.
“Libby.”
“We are starting a small business.”
“Seriously?” He looked at Amber who nodded.
“We’re calling it Brainy Beauties That Bead,” Libby went on to explain. “It’s separated into three departments. Home decor, jewelry and key chains. We’re diversifying.”
“Diversifying?” he asked, kind of blown away that a bunch of twelve-year-olds knew what they were talking about.
“Yes,” another girl spoke up. “Diversifying means branching out into new business opportunities, not just expanding your business. We started out just by making earrings and bracelets, but not everyone wants or needs jewelry and we were completely ignoring the male market.”
“The male market?”
“Yup, there’s a whole bunch of hippie granola guys in Seattle. Miss Amber said the right word for them is hipsters, but those guys wear beaded bracelets and necklaces, too. We made them in wood tones—black, brown and gray.”
“Impressive,” Chase said, meaning it. “You sound serious. I’m going to let you get to work.” He waved to Amber. “I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Chase. I appreciate it.”
* * *
Amber walked out of the community center a little before six. It had cooled down a lot since she’d walked in and she was regretting not carrying her sweater with her. She had left it in her car, and then she remembered that she had left her car where she had parked it this morning when she had gone to work, and that her car was dead. Again. And that she had put more money into it than a new car would have cost.
There was nobody she could blame but herself for this, and she wasn’t going to let this little inconvenience of not knowing how she was going to get home tonight bring her down. She’d had a great class with the girls today. They were like little sponges, sucking everything in. She was glad she had gotten them past the point of just wanting to make pretty things. She hoped she was teaching them that pretty things could make you money, that running your own business could make you feel good. That it was possible for them to run a large company one day instead of just working for one.
She opened her bag and pulled out her phone, checking to see which bus route would get her home.
“You ready to go, Amber?” Chase walked up to her with two cups in his hand. To say she was surprised to see him was an understatement.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.
“I was waiting for you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to wait. I feel terrible.”
“Why? You don’t have a car, and I’m done with work for the day.”
“It’s true. I had forgotten that I didn’t have a car, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You always seem so busy.”
“I am, but that’s because I keep myself busy. I took a leave of absence from my job, but I still do some work for them on the side.”
“To keep your skills sharp.”
“And to keep one foot in the door. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay with the bakery. It was important for me to be involved in the first few months to make sure things got going smoothly.”
“I wondered why you had gone into it.”
“It seemed very important to Mariah. And Jackson. Jackson needs a direction.”
“You don’t want them to know you take care of them, but you do.”
“Don’t tell them.” He flashed her a quick smile. “Now can you do me a favor?”
“I think I owe you one.”
“Let me take you to dinner.”
She paused for a moment, thinking of half a dozen reasons she shouldn’t go, and one reason she should. Because she just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. “Take me to dinner.”
“Do you like jambalaya?”
“I do.”
“Good. I know a place.”
The place turned out not to be too far from the afterschool program in one of Seattle’s newly revitalized neighborhoods. It was a small hole-in-the-wall called Little Nola’s, and when she walked in she felt as if she was transported to New Orleans but in another time period. It was dimly lit and the walls were splashed with bright colors and bold paintings. The tables were made out of reclaimed wood and it all kind of had a ’50s vibe to it. That combined with the heavenly smells of the food made Amber fall hard for the place.
“Chase.” The bartender finished pouring a drink and came over to greet them. He was an incredibly handsome man, wearing a newsboy cap, jeans and gray vest over his well-fitting white shirt. “Glad to see you, my man.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Eddie. How have you been?”
“Not as good as you, I see.” He looked at Amber. “You brought a beautiful lady with you. You never bring women here. Hello, goddess. I’m Edward James Wallingford the Second. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Amber.” She smiled back at him. The man was charming. She liked him immediately.
“Eddie owns this place,” Chase explained. “We used to work together until he decided to open Little Nola’s.”
“Was in danger of having a stroke at thirty. I couldn’t live my life that way. Screw the money, I needed happiness.”
“Amen,” Amber said in agreement.
“You two sit anywhere you want. I’ll bring you out something spectacular.”
“Where do you want to sit, Amber?” Chase placed his hand on the small of her back as they looked around the nearly empty restaurant. The heat of his fingers seeped through her shirt and she immediately grew warm all over, forgetting about the chill she had felt when she first stepped outside that evening.
“You’ve been here before, you let me know which seat is the best in the house.”
“How about over there?” He pointed to a corner that had a huge painting of magnolias in bloom. It was one of the softer paintings decorating the place, making that corner of the restaurant seem cozy.
They headed to the round booth, getting in on opposite sides and somehow ending up together in the middle, their bodies touching. It was as if they were magnetized, as if some force was pulling them together. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t. The attraction was too strong.
“This is the part of the evening where we both silently, awkwardly look at our menus,” Chase said softly as he looked at her. “And try to figure out what the hell we are going to talk about. Only there are no menus to study. Eddie will bring us whatever he thinks is good.”
She looked over to him, knowing he had nailed how she was feeling. There was tension between them. More heightened than usual, because for once they were completely alone outside of the bakery, away from anyone who saw them daily. Right now she didn’t feel like the barista/manager who worked for his family. Or the woman who was friends with his sister. She felt like just a woman out with a man that she wanted to get to know. It had been a long time since she was just a woman out with a man.
“Is that what your dates are normally like?”
“I usually go out with women who are good conversationalists, but there is always that semi-awkward moment when you’re both wondering how the evening will turn out.”
“Are you wondering how the evening will turn out now?”
“I’m wondering
if you think this is a date.”
She opened her mouth then shut it, searching for the right words to say.
“Okay, ya’ll.” Eddie returned with a tray in his hands, preventing Amber from saying whatever it was she had been about to say. “I fixed you a batch of my very special drinks made with my super secret, super special liqueur, some sweet-and-sour mix, some of our fresh squeezed lemonade and club soda for some fizz.” He sat the drinks on the table. “And for your first course I have brought you our world famous boudin balls. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” he asked Amber as he set the items on the table.
“No, I’m a vegan and I’m morally against this pork stuffed ball you’ve placed in front of me.”
She watched Eddie’s eyes widen and she laughed. “I’m joking.” She picked one up and bit into it. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes as she chewed. Hot, deep fried, peppery and flavored with a spice she couldn’t identify. “My grandfather used to make these when he came up to visit us. Don’t tell him, but I think these are better.” She opened her eyes to see two men staring at her.
“Where did you find this woman, Chase?”
“None of your damn business.”
“She eats free. You come back here anytime you want, Amber.” He took a step back. “I’ll be back soon with your next course.”
“Why does everyone always look at me when I eat something? Am I that bad?”
“Yes. And if I could, I would be with you every time you ate so I could see you close your eyes and moan when the first bite hits your tongue.”
The way he said those words in his deep, soft voice caused a pleasant sensation to run all through her body. It was almost as though he was stroking her. She wasn’t one who got turned on very easily—she never thought of herself as that sexual—but all it took was a few words from Chase Drayson and she became a puddle of hot liquid.
“You’re going to make me self-conscious about eating around people.”
