Bolo

by Mariska Hutchence

  I don’t actually have Internet at my place, so I stop at a Starbucks to dig a little more into Suzanne. Okay, I’m crossing the line a little bit, but I need this. Being off the grid is less of a security choice for me than just one of reality. I don’t watch much television and I’m not really the social media type, so the wifi hotspot on the phone is usually enough. Starbucks is faster, and their coffee is definitely better than anything I ever had in the military, if not a hell of a lot more expensive.

  My hand hovers over the ‘submit’ button on the web form. I feel like a high school kid again, which is typical for how I’ve felt since I first saw her. It’s incredible what a decade can do for your confidence, though. I hit submit.

  “Thanks for contacting us. Your agent will contact you as soon as possible to setup an appointment.”

  I shut down the laptop and finish off the coffee. I’ve got some parts to pick up from the post office and I’m looking forward to spending some time with the Charger, both as a hobby and at this point as a distraction from thinking about what I’ve just done. I know the nerves will be hitting full-force later..

  Chapter Nine: Suzanne

  Bouncer-guy again. This time, he’s got me down over his knee and the sensations he’s giving me are so delicious. His rough jeans are pressed against my naked flesh and his hand is tracing a lazy arc from my inner-thigh to my ass, which is tingling from the dozen or so blows he’s administered so far in way of punishment.

  “I promise, sir.” I say, though the fantasy isn’t detailed enough to say why. It’s enough to know that he’s punishing me and that afterwards, he’ll be loving and sweet as I snuggle up into that powerful chest, feeling warm, safe, and, I smile; thoroughly used.

  The alarm goes off on my phone and I realize I’ve been sitting in the back lot of the office for an unknown amount of time. The fantasy has me a little worked up, and I double-check myself as I step out, making sure I don’t look as disheveled as I feel. New client this morning, straight off the website. I called him last night and he seemed interested in getting started, but was kind of aloof, like it had shocked the heck out of him that I called back so quickly. Not much of a talker. Anyway, hopefully it will be a good thing. Starting last night, I ran some numbers on what it would take to make it in the city without a roommate, and they were pretty bleak. Anything would help and I don’t really need another Dave taking up my time.

  Normally I’m early, but today I’m only fifteen minutes ahead of my first meeting, so I sit down at my desk and get straight to it; mostly answering emails and taking notes from voicemails. Dave left another message, but I feel that other clients are more important for my limited available time. Ned’s not around, so the staff floor is buzzing a little more than usual. I try to tune it out so I can focus, but it takes a sharp upward-turn about five minutes before my client meeting. I posture up, just enough to let my line of sight come up over the cubicle wall. Shay turns to me, grinning.

  “Well?” I ask, my mood light. “What’s the buzz?”

  Shay flips the strand of red hair out of her eyes and gives me that ‘look but don’t look’ gesture, a wicked smile on her face. I glance in the direction she’s beckoning and immediately slump down below the cubicle wall.

  Bouncer-guy. Holy shit. Shay leans her chin over the cubicle wall. “He yours? Lucky bitch.” She gives me a lewd smile.

  “What?” I stammer, all feeling of being calm and prepared for the day pouring out through the drain of my nerves.

  “Client? Your client? That guy.” She punctuates each choppy sentence by diverting her eyes that direction.

  I look at my calendar on the screen. Avery Boles.

  “I don’t think…” I start, but the voice from the phone last night is overlaid with our conversation at the club in my head, like a television CSI episode voice-print comparison.

  Holy shit.

  Combat boots, jeans, camouflage coat, and that face, oh my god, that face. How the hell am I going to talk to him with what’s been in my head? I’m going through all this as I pass into the reception area and he looks up, smiling.

  “Mr. Boles?”

  He stands, presenting his hand immediately. I try not to go weak in the knees as I take it. Firm grip, but not trying to be pushy.

  “Bolo is fine. You must be Miss Claremont.”

  “Like ‘be on the lookout?’” I ask, smiling, trying to make small talk. There’s finally a name to match my mental image, but I prefer the real one to the nickname. “Oh, and Suzanne is fine.”

  “Something like that.” He says, flashing those eyes at me. I feel the weakness well up in me, I just don’t want to show it.

  “We can use the conference room over here to get started.” I say, turning as he follows me. I catch Shay’s rude hand gesture at the side of her mouth through the glass as we pass by and try not to respond. I can’t even look at her.

  Avery follows me as I pull up to one side of the conference room table and pull some registration forms out of my binder, all prepared for the run-of-the-mill client I was expecting.

  “Unfortunately, we have to start with some paperwork.” I say, trying to slip into my normal routine to assuage my nerves and keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. “But I like to ask a few questions casually while you start, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Absolutely.” He says, firmly. There’s something in his tone that I can’t quite place, and I hand my pen across the table to him. His finger touches mine, just for a moment and something passes between our eyes, even though I see no change in his gaze. I get a little chill.

  I center myself. “What kind of budget do you have, Mr. Boles?” I ask.

  “Bolo.” He says, still writing. “Or Avery, if you’d rather. I’m not ready for the other.”

  I nod, not knowing how else to respond, then realize he’s not even looking at me. Too late.

  “Budget’s not really important as long as I get the things I have to have.”

  My ears perk up. Not only is he this, he’s not worried about budget? These aren’t really the words I expected to hear, especially from a bouncer at a night club. I tell myself that I’m not a gold-digger even before my subconscious reminds me that I really have no shot with this guy anyway. Maybe the gig at Raza is just for fun, I think to myself, wondering what other work he does. For some reason, I don’t believe that he was anything but sincere in his comment; something in the way he said it. I move on.

  “Okay.” I say, trying not to stammer. “What are the main things you’re looking for?” I pull another Weiland pen out of my binder and jot his name down on my pad. Avery. I try not to let my eyes linger too long on those letters.

  He recites a list without looking up from the form he’s filling.

  Private drive.

  Big lot.

  Quiet neighbors.

  Five bedrooms at least.

  He seems to stop at the last one, so I try to continue the conversation. The information is needed, but I just like listening to his voice as well. “Five bedrooms.” I say, noting it. “Married? Kids?”

  Avery looks up from the form and I can’t read his expression. Unwittingly, I feel a bit defensive.

  “Sorry if it sounds too personal, it just helps me find the best place for you.”

  His eyes soften, not that they were too hard to begin with. I start to realize that the steely-gaze he has at the club is probably just a default expression; kind of like ‘resting bitch face’ is for women. It’s hot, though, and there’s the difference.

  “It’s okay…Suzanne.” He says with a little pause, and it sounds like he’s trying the name on for size. It rings musically in my ear. “No, not married, but I want to make sure I have room when it happens.”

  I push the looming fantasies back. “I take it kids are part of the plan as well.”

  It sits there for a moment, hanging in the air. “Can’t imagine it any other way.” He says, not looking up this time.

  He finishes the line he’s work
ing on, then gently places the pen down on the table and looks up at me, his face changing.

  “I mean, I can’t imagine finding that special person, you know, the one that can make your day with just a few words; one that you desire more than anything in the world.” He pauses for a moment. “I can’t imagine not wanting to create something new out of that.”

  He’s staring across at me and I ride the line between discomfort and terror. I really should say something. “That’s a beautiful way to put it.” It’s all I have.

  Avery smiles. “What about you, married?”

  He seems surprised when I give a little laugh. “Me, no.”

  The form catches his focus suddenly. Was that a smile?

  “Pool?” I ask, trying to take the edge off my anxiety.

  “Not important.” He says to the desk, barely glancing up.

  “Interior?”

  Those eyes look back up again this time, right into mine. “Basement would be nice?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

  “Finished?”

  “Finished.” He replies.

  I make notes as best as I can as he finishes the registration form.

  “I guess from here, I just need to find some suitable listings and we can schedule some showings, Mr…Avery.”

  He smiles at my correction.

  “Other than that, I think that’s it.” I say.

  “Can I ask a question?” He asks, pushing the form and the pen back across to me. I can see lots of things going on in those eyes, but I can’t interpret them. It’s like they speak a foreign language.

  “Absolutely.” I say, echoing his earlier attitude.

  “You go to Club Raza, right?” He asks.

  I can feel the blush creeping into my face. I had been avoiding the subject that we had met before.

  “That’s not fair.” He says, seeing my face. “I know you go there. I’m one of the security team and I recognize you.”

  “Yeah. My roommate drags me there.”

  “The blonde?”

  I want to sigh, but I control it. It’s always about ‘the blonde’.

  “Yeah, Anjelica.”

  “She dates Chase, right?” He asks. Still that same unreadable face. There’s just something there I can’t place.

  “Dating’s not really the word, but yeah.” I say, the disappointment creeping into my voice.

  He nods. “Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

  “Why do you ask?” I say, probably the boldest thing I’ve done in years. I actually feel proud of myself.

  Avery’s eyes sink a little, but he drags them back up like a person falling asleep in class, trying to resist. I can see he’s weighing different ways of getting his point across in his head, desperately trying not to look away. It only intrigues me more, but I’m prepared to be devastated by him. Not the position I expected to be in this morning when I came in.

  “I see a lot of people come through.” He says, pausing, trying to form the next thought. It hovers there for what seems like a minute but is probably just a few seconds. I cross my legs the other direction, suddenly uncomfortable. Just his gaze is making me nervous.

  “Forgive me.” He said, and my mind jumps into the pause.

  “For what?” I ask, genuinely confused.

  “Would you have dinner with me?”

  I stare at him incredulously for a moment. I can’t escape noticing the fact that it appeared to have been just blurted out on the spur of the moment.

  “I’m sorry if that’s too forward.”

  He’s apologizing for asking me out. Forgive me if I don’t immediately know how to respond.

  “Excuse me?” Like I said, the brain isn’t working at peak capacity.

  “I’m not really good at this.” I can see the discomfort on his face and it’s making it awkward.

  “Sure.” I don’t want to give him the opportunity to rephrase or even rethink his offer.

  Avery looks at me, as if trying to read my face. I smile, giving him an easier time at translation. The tension washes away from his face. He runs his fingers through his beard for about the hundredth time and I realize it must be a crutch.

  “Thanks for this.” He says, awkwardly glancing at the paperwork. “And I’ll call you for dinner. I’m looking forward to it.” He eyes my business card.

  “Call my cell.” I say. I’m not really sure where to go with this, but he takes it as his cue to leave.

  I watch Avery Boles, my bouncer-guy, walk out through the lobby, watching the heads turn as if connected to him by a string. I don’t move for at least a minute. I hate myself for it, but my first thought is that it’s an elaborate joke, or some sort of thing Anjelica has worked up to ‘show me a good time’ and get me back on the scene. The last thing I need is a pity date, and by the time I’m back at my own desk, I’m starting to feel pissed off. The nerve of both of them. My phone is in my hand but my thumb is poised over the green call button next to Anjelica’s name. Interrupting your regularly scheduled blowjob, I think, but my phone ends up on the desk, considering my options. Well, for one, returning to Raza is probably out of the question. How could I even look at him again after that? Finally, the consternation on his face while he was apparently gearing up to ask me out becomes apparent and I wonder how I could have missed it. The next line down in my recently called list is Dave, and I consider it for a moment before I let that go as well. Wouldn’t that be just the same as the situation I’m in right now?

  “You are so lucky, girl.” Shay says, her green eyes over the divider again. That’s not the way I feel at all. Embarrassed and pissed off are way higher on the list than lucky right now. I want to talk to someone about it, but I’m not ready to confide in something like this with her quite yet. Unfortunately, I can think of no one else. Why can’t I even bring myself to consider a mercy date with a guy like that?

  “You doing lunch today?” I ask.

  She looks at me, disappointed, but she nods, probably hoping to get the dirt then.

  Chapter Ten: Avery

  Done and done, I think as I slip into the car and start the engine. Far from perfect, but mission accomplished. I smile, my brain flashing to a picture of Bush standing on an aircraft carrier with a banner at his back. Yeah, just like that. I shouldn’t congratulate myself for something so insignificant, but for me, it’s a lot.

  “It ain’t over till it’s over.” I say as I pull out onto the main road, reflecting on how the conversation went. Suzanne. Beautiful Suzanne. I feel like the day somehow has become better, just because I was able to talk to her, but I have to be realistic. Somehow she didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about it, but that’s probably just my own nerves creeping in. It’s one thing when you’re hitting someone up for a one night stand or similar; something entirely different when your heart wants so much more than that. A future, a family; I keep picturing these things in my head and she’s been there ever since I first saw her.

  I laugh at my own inner dialog. Like I’d ever share any of this with the guys I work with; anyone I’ve ever worked with, for that matter.

  Maybe Fiorina. That bottles me up a little, taking a little dent out of the upswing of the day.

  “Hey Chase.” I say into the phone perched on my shoulder. I don’t do Bluetooth and the car is old enough not to have it either; I’m trying to keep it as original as possible.

  There’s a pause on the line. “What’s up, brother?”

  Still no my favorite epithet, but nothing I’ve ever bothered to mention. “What’s the odds of me having the same night tonight?” I ask. “I’ll still be there for staff, though.”

  “No problem, champ. I do need you for that, though, because I have that last guy for the team. Just want you to check him out like you did with Cal.”

  “I don’t really think we need another guy.” I say as I turn onto the freeway, heading back to my place.

  “We’re planning some marketing, so it’ll help if we get crunched.” He says. “Besides, I know it sucks
to say but if we have to we can always lay one of them off. Your choice, of course.”

  “Okay.” I say, still not convinced. “Where’d this one come from?”

  “Another friend of Mack’s.”

  “Roger that.” I say. “See you this evening.”

  I disconnect the call, my mind going over the unspoken words. I don’t really care all that much for the first of Mack’s friends. Sure, he can get the job done, but I’m still not convinced he can do it without being an asshole. It’s all in the nature of the person and I know that better than most. Hopefully the second one is a little better than the first; and not being an Eleven-Bravo would be an added plus.

  The Goddess. Suzanne. My mind goes back to her, work issues put on the back burner. As I drive on autopilot, I see her standing next to me in the kitchen. Aside from cars and being intimidating, it’s one of the things I’m good at. Cooking, that is. She’s in a light dress, her curls down, falling around her breasts framing that beautiful face. She comes up behind me, standing on her toes to place her chin over my shoulder, but I can tell even that is a reach. I can feel her body pressed up against the back of me, and I can’t resist turning around and taking her into my arms.

  “Fuck dinner.” I say both in the fantasy and in the car. I pick her up and carry her out of the kitchen in the fantasy, while walking up to my door in reality. The mental image fades.

  The first thing I do when I get inside is to put her cell number in my phone. Suzanne Claremont. The name sits there after I press ‘save’, a talisman or at least a harbinger of good things to come, hopefully.

  “Don’t screw this up, Bolo.” I hear a voice say in my head. Fiorina. The tears come unwanted.

  Chapter Eleven: Avery

  The main floor of Club Raza looks really different with the lights on. I guess that’s true for just about any club, but it’s particularly striking here. The front door bangs shut behind me as I enter and I flip the latch, locking it again. Nobody seems to be around, so I get ready to head upstairs, but I’m blocked off by Amber.

  “Hey Bolo.” She says. I can see by her pose that she’s going to make another play at it. Admittedly, she looks gorgeous tonight and I can understand why Chase takes advantage. A few years back, I probably would have done the same. As it is, my mind is only on the Goddess, especially after this morning.