by Jewel E. Ann
“Thank you.” She smiles against my lips. “I owe you one.”
I chuckle as I lift her off my lap and stand. “No you don’t. If it were a date, maybe, but it’s not so everything that just happened was … hypothetical.”
She stares at the floor with a smile that’s still overwhelming her face.
I open the door. “I had a nice time.”
“Liar.” She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “A nice time shouldn’t end in a cold shower.”
“I’m not going to take a cold shower.” I kiss her cheek and inhale her addictive scent. “Good night, Vivian.”
“Good night.” She blushes.
I didn’t lie. I’m not going to take a cold shower. I’m going to sleep with my balls in a bucket of ice.
Chapter Five
Jealousy
Vivian
I’m not certain what the protocol is after what happened last night. Sure, I’ve been touched by guys before … Okay, just one until last night, but Kai touched me like it pleased him. Oliver touched me like it pleased me. And Oh. My. God … did it ever please me.
“Hey, Flower, how’s the cat toy?” Alex grins as she and Sean stroll in the front door.
I return a snide look. “They’re mittens.”
“Mittens for the kittens.” Alex giggles.
“Something to keep her pussy warm,” Sean says in a low voice as he follows Alex into the kitchen.
“I heard that, Simpleton.”
“Yeah, well, Simpleton is going to be graduating from Harvard Business School way before you.” Sean sticks his thumbs in his ears and wiggles his fingers around while sticking out his tongue.
“Yeah, well, someday you’ll be fetching me coffee when I’m the only successful CEO willing to offer your pathetic ass a job.”
“Play nice, kids.” Alex hands Sean a Coke.
“We’re just kidding.” Sean opens the can and takes a swig while giving me a wink. “I can’t wait for Viv to be my boss, those long legs in a mini-skirt suit, cracking a whip at me all day.” He takes another swig.
Alex smacks him in the junk and he spits pop out of his mouth. “What the hell?” He bends over a few degrees, holding his crotch.
“Oh sorry, honey. I was swatting a fly and didn’t see you. Maybe if I had longer legs I could have seen you better.”
Sean’s not entirely stupid. He’s been with Alex long enough to know when to take his punishment like a man and shut the hell up. He sits in the recliner and she hops on his lap facing me like nothing happened.
“So who was your company last night?” she asks.
I don’t dare take my eyes off my knitting because my face will never hide the truth. “Company?”
“Don’t try to buy time by acting dumb. That’s a guy’s game and you know it.”
“Hey, now––” Sean says.
“Zip it, dick brain.” She reaches back and fists his junk again.
“God, woman! Stop pulverizing my balls!”
Alex ignores him and I can see out of the corner of my eye that she’s smiling at me, waiting, not so patiently.
“How did you know I had company?”
“Kai called Sean last night to pick his drunk ass up from the bar. Now spill.”
I shrug not missing a beat in my knitting rhythm. “Our neighbor across the street.”
“A guy?”
I nod. I’m pretty sure I’ve dropped a stitch, but I keep going anyway.
“Really?” She drags out the word. “Did I miss out on a block party or something? How’d you meet him?”
“At the greenhouse. He’s … well he’s Chance’s brother.”
“Chance Konrad’s brother?” She jumps up. “Out.” She tugs at Sean’s arm until he stands.”
“What?” he questions.
“I said out. I need to talk to Flower in private. I’ll call you later.”
“But I thought we were going––”
“Something’s come up, now out!”
I can’t help but laugh as a buck-five Alex shoves all two-hundred and twenty some pounds of rugby player Sean out the front door.
“So you’re dating now? That’s great!” She jumps on the couch next to me.
“No, not dating.”
“Then what was he doing here last night?”
Getting me off.
“After Kai dropped me off I saw him, Oliver, sitting on his front steps so we ended up at J.P’s and then back here for a drink. That’s all.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he’s older than Chance.”
“He lives alone?”
“Yes, well, I think so.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
Alex asks some brilliant questions. It’s just now occurring to me that these might have been a few of the basic things to ask before requesting that he fondle my breasts until I exploded with my first male-induced orgasm while dry humping his crotch.
“I’m going to say, no.”
“So you asked?”
My face wrinkles. “No.”
“Then why do you assume no?”
“Because we … kissed.”
“Eeeeee!” Alex squeals standing up, bouncing on the couch and clapping her hands like a circus monkey.
Finally, she sits back down. “Did he see your—”
“No.”
“But you’re going to let him see—”
“No! I mean …” I shove my knotted-up yarn in my bag. “I don’t know, I like him and he looks at me like a child does the first time seeing Disney World. I just want to enjoy it for a little while before I have to face the look that is inevitable.”
“You don’t know that, and your tattoo is beautiful, Flower. He might not even notice.” She strokes the back of my hair like the big sister I never had even though she’s only six months older than I am. “So, is he as hot as Chance?” She giggles, lightening the mood.
“Hotter.” I beam.
*
I should have walked over and knocked on Oliver’s door yesterday to get the awkward post make-out encounter over with before the start of another work week. Now I’m nervous with equal parts fear and anticipation as I get ready to take the stairs down to the subway where I know he’ll be standing looking all sexy in his worn jeans, T-shirt, work boots, and if I’m lucky, a nice five o’clock shadow.
He’s so tall it’s nearly impossible to miss him, but this morning I don’t see him anywhere. Perfect. He’s probably chosen a different route just to avoid the pathetic neighbor who begs him to give her an orgasm but does absolutely nothing in return. Why’d I have to be so damn greedy?
The doors snap open and I shuffle onto the subway car grabbing a rail among the morning crowd. I don’t have his cell number or know if he’ll be by the greenhouse today. The more I replay Saturday night in my head, the thicker the cloud of insecurity becomes.
“I’m thinking of asking my neighbor out on a date. Do you recommend flowers or chocolates?”
The whisper of his voice in my ear steals my breath. I bite my lips together to control the emanate grin that’s becoming a tangible emotion smeared across my face.
An uncommon phenomenon occurs: My body boils over with heat at the same time chills trickle down my neck and spine from his breath across my ear.
“Neither, unless you’re like fifty years old,” I reply and turn.
A lady sitting to the right of where I’m standing, probably in her fifties, grins with a growing blush as she buries her nose in a bouquet of red roses. The guy next to her, dressed in some sort of security uniform, holds a box of chocolates and shrugs when I look at him.
Oliver has a Cheshire cat grin on his face, making a poor attempt at looking casual and innocent.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” My grin wins over. “So this neighbor of yours, what do you think the chances are of her saying yes?”
He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and scratches his chin. “Um, I’d sa
y fifty-fifty. She’s unpredictable.”
The train slows approaching his stop. He leans down and brushes his lips from the corner of my lips to my ear. “Have a good day,” he whispers, leaving me in a puddle on the floor of the subway car.
*
“I thought you requested that your VIPs not show up in large groups.” I smile over clenched teeth as Maggie exchanges her seventh brown bag special in a row for cash and no receipt.
“You think there’s some sting operation set up across the street or something?” She laughs.
“No, I think law enforcement officials landscape around their own homes too, and I don’t think they’ll wear their uniform just to warn you to stash your grass.”
“You do realize, dear, that a few of my VIPs are in law enforcement, right?”
“That’s not going to make your case any stronger in court.”
She shoos me away with her hand. “Your Handy Hunk will be coming by soon, go check his order.”
And just like that, I’ve forgotten about Maggie’s eminent demise. A warm, fluttery giddiness swells in my chest as I skip to the back. Never before have the words Handy Hunk made my heart race. I wonder if Oliver has said anything to Chance. My ability to count plants and check them off the order sheet is nonexistent.
As the truck backs in, I attempt casual: work gloves on, work gloves off; stare at the truck, stare at the sheet; pen behind my ear, pen clipped to the front of my shirt.
“It’s official, Monday no longer sucks.” Chance leaps into flirt mode in record time, as if he has any other mode.
“Hi, Chance.” I smile trying to look at him and not the other door of the truck.
“Well, don’t you sound chipper today. Is that happiness to see me I detect in your voice?” He reaches for the pen clipped on my shirt to sign the credit slip.
I squint my eyes, peering at the back window of the truck. I’m surprised Oliver hasn’t gotten out yet.
“So … still working at the hotel?” I feign nonchalance.
“Yep, last day. Oliver will probably have all the holes dug before I get back there. He’s working with some extra energy today, wish I could say the same.”
Fireworks ignite inside me thinking about Oliver having extra energy because of me.
“I have no doubt it’s because of the hot waitress from the hotel’s lounge that keeps bringing out cold drinks to him. I offered to stay and do the digging, but he insisted I come get the plants. It’s about time he decided to get dirty with something other than actual dirt.” Chance chuckles as he starts to load up the back of the truck.
The fireworks fizzle out. I could easily dismiss the waitress comment from Chance, after all, I’m sure he thinks all men are like him, but I can’t figure out why Oliver sent Chance to get the plants, knowing I’d be here.
“You make it sound like Oliver’s a monk or something.”
“Might as well be. I can’t share why, but I can say he hasn’t had sex in … years. So naturally he has to be ready to explode and that waitress is definitely the spark that could set him off.”
“I didn’t need to know that.” I try to sound offended by yet another brash comment from Chance, but the truth is I do need to know this. Shit! It hits me how close to losing it Oliver probably is especially after what I did to him, or didn’t do to him last night.
“Yeah, well don’t mention it to him. It’s a sensitive subject,” he says while loading the last plant.
“Because you know I have a habit of discussing people’s sex lives, especially those I’ve known less than a week.” I shake my head trying to not overshoot my why-would-I-bring-it-up-to-Oliver attitude.
“Fair point.” Chance smiles. “Stay gorgeous.”
I want to be pissed and rant about how all men are the same, but I was the one who had the orgasm the other night. Hell, I asked for it! The pang of disappointment is from cracking the door to let in the possibility that Oliver is different, that his eyes could see me and not my scars.
*
Oliver
I can’t remember the last time I wanted time to fly. That’s probably the reason I feel stuck and lost. When I stopped running from my past but hadn’t yet looked to my future, time stood still. I’ve heard that’s considered living in the moment, but I think that requires a certain amount of appreciation for that moment. So for me, looking at my watch and anticipating something in my future, even if it’s only a few hours into my future, should be considered real progress. Once again, I’m self-diagnosing and self-treating my screwed-up mind. It’s money in the bank.
“What the hell has gotten into you today?” Chance asks. “You’ve been working circles around me and still have energy to burn.”
“I always work circles around you.” I chuckle.
“Maybe, but not like this. Are you taking something? Should I be worried? Should I be taking it too?”
“I had a good weekend, that’s all.”
“Good, as in your favorite scotch was on sale or good as in good company?” Chance leans on the handle of his shovel stuck in the ground while I continue to work those circles around him.
“I met one of my neighbors and we went for ice cream.”
“A female neighbor?”
I laugh. “Yes, I believe she is of that gender.”
“Well, shit, Oliver, is she hot?”
“How about is she nice, fun, what does she do? Not, is she hot?”
“You’re right, how could I be so insensitive. Is she nice looking? Fun in bed? What does she do in bed?”
“I think this conversation has expired and so have I for the day.” I toss the tools in the back of the truck and grab my water bottle.
“Okay, fine. Just tell me if I would like her?” Chance removes his gloves and wipes his brow.
“You do realize that doesn’t take much. In fact, as I recall, two breasts and a vagina are usually the only mandatory requirements. Except if you’ve had too much to drink, in which case a transvestite with a padded bra can turn your head or heads as well.”
“Fuck you!” He makes an attempt to look offended, but it’s a futile one.
Even Chance can’t spoil my giddy mood today, so I go ahead and get in a good laugh. “Sorry, man, I couldn’t resist. The answer to your question is yes. Something tells me you would undoubtedly like her.”
I’m not trying to hide the truth, but rather I’m trying to protect my fragile and undefined relationship with Vivian for a little bit longer.
“When do I get to meet her?”
We both get in the truck. “I’ll reveal her if and when the time is right.”
“Reveal? What the hell does that mean? Damn, Oliver, is she under age?”
“Yep, you got me. Figured I’d add statutory rape to the Konrad family rap sheet.”
Fuck! I can’t believe I just said that.
“Oliver––”
“Don’t, please, just forget I said that. Okay? Just … don’t.”
Chance nods and we ride the rest of the way in silence.
*
We haven’t exchanged numbers so I can’t call her, but since I’m dying to see her, a knock on the door feels perfectly appropriate.
“Just a minute.” I hear her muffled voice. “Oh God, what are you doing here?” she calls from the other side of the door. I assume she’s looking through the peephole.
“Well, if I were God my answer would be, ‘I’m here because I’m everywhere, my dear child,’ but since I’m not actually God, then I’m going to go with I’m here to see your lovely face.” I smile big in front of the peephole.
“Ugh!” She moans. “Can you just say you’re here to see me?”
“O–kay. I’m here to see you.”
The door cracks open and I see a curtain of black hair covering her face as she looks down. “See me? Now can you come back next week?”
“Vivian, what’s the—” I brush her hair away from her face. I’ve seen enough in my life that very little shocks me. The downside is my
mind has an endless stock of images to use when my brain decides to conjure up a good nightmare. The upside is I have unwavering control over my reactions to certain things, Vivian’s face for example. It’s bright red, puffy, and raw in several places. It looks like she found a hole in the ozone layer and stood under it too long. However, I know from a few legal cases I helped with in school, that she probably had a chemical peel today.
“I thought we could get some Indian food tonight. We could go out or order in, doesn’t matter to me.” I find a comfortable neutral with my look.
“Are you blind?”
My brow tenses. “No, I’ve never even needed glasses.”
She points to her face. “This. Is this the lovely face you came to see?” The tone to her voice doesn’t say anger, it’s more incredulity.
“Yes, it is.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know what your game is but whatever. Alex will be home soon so we can eat at your place. Apparently you don’t see why, but I’d prefer to stay in tonight.”
“Whatever you’d like.”
Chapter Six
No Take Backs
Vivian
Growing up with little money makes me a sucker for a good deal. Intending to own my own company someday makes me a stickler for a real deal. LivingSocial has some genuine deals if one does their research. I did mine and found a reputable place to get a chemical peel for half off. Alex has had several over the past few years, but she thought, given my history, it was odd that I wanted to try one. I did and now I’m dealing with the “minor” redness and swelling, and it’s because of my history that I am an expert on it and it is, relatively speaking, minor.
Oliver, however, should not see my face as minor. He should have run across the street and locked his door behind him. I look like the villain in some superhero movie. Instead, he didn’t so much as flinch when he brushed my hair back. Now after dinner and dessert, we’re lounging on his deck which overlooks a vibrant colorful community garden, and he still hasn’t mentioned my face. I can’t even detect his eyes wandering from mine to inspect the hot spots that will take longer to heal.
