“Practically having sex in a booth is hardly professional.”
“Sex!? I was hugging him!”
“I'm sorry. After your appearance as of late, and the doobie incident in the bathroom last week, and now this, I just can't allow it anymore. I'm sorry, Delaney, but you're fired.”
A pin drop could've been heard. The entire restaurant was dead silent. Del gasped, glanced around, then shut her mouth.
“Okay, fine. Fine! Fire me. I'm sorry I showed up to work every day on time. I'm sorry I was nice to any and every single customer, even the ones who don't tip and the ones who touch inappropriately. I'm sorry I've smiled through all your bullshit. But most of all, I'm sorry I can't blow you to save my job like Jorge did.”
Every employee in the joint shifted their gaze to a waiter standing in a corner. Jorge's jaw dropped and Mr. Feens looked like he was going to explode.
“Get out of my establishment, right now!” he bellowed.
“Your establishment? Please, your wife is the real boss and everyone knows it! You hear that, Mrs. Feens!?” Del was shouting as she ripped off her apron and threw it to the floor. “Your husband fucks any cute piece of ass that walks in this place, so long as it's under twenty-five and male!”
A frumpy looking woman appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, looking shocked. Another waitress rushed out from behind her, carrying a large purse and jacket in her arms.
“Del,” Jay hissed, sliding out of his booth. “Let's just go.”
“Oh, I'm going,” Del growled, stomping forward and taking the items from the other waitress. She struggled with her jacket as she walked towards the exit. “I'm sorry if my outburst upset anybody. I didn't realize a quick flash of panties with hearts on them would get me fired.”
“I'm sorry,” Jay murmured as he hurried after her. He got around her and held the door open, but she whirled around before she left.
“But since you've all seen it already, suck on this!”
With that, she lifted her skirt and flashed them the front of her underwear. A huge kiss print was directly over her crotch. A man sitting at the bar started clapping, and a disgruntled woman covered her son's eyes.
They made it halfway down the block before they both dissolved into laughter. Jay leaned against a building and she fell into him.
“Suck on this!?” he gasped for air. She snorted and coughed and tried to breathe.
“I don't know. I go into black out mode. Shit, just when something goes good, something else goes bad,” she sighed, her laughter finally falling away. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“No. Don't let this ruin today – it's a good day. Like you said, there's other jobs, you'll find another one. And mine pays better than yours did, so we're still better off than we were before,” he told her. She smiled up at him.
“You see?” she said softly, then she reached up and stroked her fingers across his forehead. “We're two parts of a whole, always making up for the other one. We couldn't survive without each other.”
“I know,” he replied. “Let me take you out. Let's have some fun.”
“But -”
“Don't worry, nothing crazy expensive. I have some ideas.”
“Okay.”
They took the train to Coney Island. He bought them hot dogs and beer, then they rode around on some rides. Delaney had never been before – she hadn't been to a lot of New York. She'd met Jay pretty soon after she'd moved there, and he wasn't into the touristy stuff. She'd never even gone to Central Park or Times Square, or any of Manhattan at all, really. She screamed and clung to him and laughed harder than he'd ever heard.
This is better than any high. She's sober right now. I'm sober right now. This is it. This is a moment. Seize it.
While she stopped at a booth to get some henna tattoos, Jay was able to slip away. He hurried down the boardwalk and finally worked his way underneath it. He wanted to go while it was still daylight out. He'd seen a lot of shit during his time in New York, but even he didn't want to mess with the Coney Island underworld at night.
After he found what he was looking for, he hightailed it back to the shinier side of the boardwalk. Del was done with her tattoo and looking around for him. He snuck up behind her and squeezed her sides, making her jump and yell.
“You scared me!” she laughed, slapping him in the arm. “Where did you go?”
“Just around. C'mon, let's go play a game,” he said dragging her to the nearest booth.
It was an old school dart toss. Hit X amount of balloons, get a prize. Simple enough. Jay had pretty decent aim, and had been coming to Coney Island long enough to know the way things worked. He hit enough balloons to get a low level prize and called it good.
“Can I pick?” Del asked, hovering next to him.
“No. I know exactly what I want,” he replied, digging through a bunch of trinkets. When he found what he was looking for, he glanced at the guy running the game. The dude was flirting with some super young looking chick, so Jay took a chance. He grabbed two of the same prize and slipped them into his pocket before hurrying away.
“Did you just do what I think you did?” Del asked, hurrying behind him, holding a ridiculously huge cloud of cotton candy.
“Yup. C'mon, hurry,” he urged, grabbing her elbow and pulling her along. Her short legs struggled to keep up with his and she wound breaking into a light run.
“What was it? What did you pick?” she asked, trying to eat the cotton candy while they moved.
This wasn't how he'd pictured it. Not once. Delaney deserved roses and diamonds. A small house with a white picket fence. He couldn't give her those things, and chances were, he never could. But he'd already given her his heart and soul – all he had left to offer was promises. So he pulled her between two buildings and stood her against a wall.
“How long have we been going out?” he asked, his fist in his pocket. He felt sweat start to break out along his hair line.
“Hmmm,” she thought to herself, curling her tongue deftly around another piece of the sugary confection. “Like ... five months. Almost six.”
“It feels like forever,” he told her, and she nodded in agreement.
“Like the best time ever,” she said, smiling big at him.
“I still ... shit, Del. You know you could do better than me. You're gorgeous, you're funny, you're so goddamn caring, and you're the best fucking sex I've ever had in my life,” he said. She frowned.
“Thanks, but I think I did pretty good with you. Have you looked at yourself lately? So sexy it hurts me sometimes. Those green eyes of yours? I have to watch girls drooling over you all the time, and the only thing that gets me through it is knowing I'm the one who gets to be in bed with you at night. Not to mention you're incredibly talented and smart and so sensitive,” she pointed out.
“Still not anywhere near good enough for you, babe.”
“Jay, just stop -”
He put a finger against her lips.
“And also not strong enough to let that stop me. I fucking love you, Delaney. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. I want to be inside you forever. Want to lay with you and love you and make you laugh until we're old and gray,” he babbled. He wasn't sure if he was making sense, but he didn't care. He was winging it, and he knew Delaney loved it when he winged it. He knew her. So as she stared at him with wide eyes, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened his fist. “Delaney Carter, will you marry me?”
She gasped and two large tears immediately spilled over onto her cheeks. She put her hand over his, delicately touching the rings he'd been clutching.
“I know it's not a lot,” he said softly, taking her hand and slipping one of the rings onto her finger. It was too big and slid around, so he adjusted the cheap metal band to fit better. “And I can't even promise you that someday I'll do better. But it's for you, and only you.”
She was still crying as she held up her hand, and for the first time ever in t
heir relationship, Jay got nervous. Her eyes wandered over the large ring on her finger, at the seemingly opaque black crystal that was on top of it. Then, while they both stared at the ring, it started changing color. It slowly swirled to a deep, deep blue, with a tinge of pink at the edges.
“It's a mood ring,” she whispered. He nodded.
“It is, but I don't know what the colors mean,” he replied. She sniffled and laughed, then cried some more.
“Blue means love,” she said, then took a deep breath. “Pink means happy.”
“It does?” he asked, his voice equally as soft. She finally looked at him again,
“It does. Oh my god, Jay. Yes. To everything. To always. To you and me, forever,” she sobbed, dropping her cotton candy and throwing her arms around him. He picked her up off her feet and crushed her to his chest, burying his face in her hair.
“Forever and ever and ever,” he whispered, holding back tears, as well.
After he set her down, she put the matching mood ring on his finger and they watched as it turned to a milky soft pink.
They ran back to the subway, laughing loudly and wildly. The train was mostly empty, but it wouldn't have mattered if it was full. He held her against a pole and shoved his tongue into her mouth, ran his hands under shirt. She returned the favor, moving her hands under his dreadlocks and scratching down his back. Then they walked home glued together and basically fell into bed, leaving behind a trail of clothes which led back to the front door.
Hours later they called a truce. Jay felt like he was gonna pass out, and he still had more gifts to offer. They were both naked and sitting on the mattress. Del was on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, and she was tightening his dreads for him. The rubbing sensation was soothing, but he didn't let it distract him.
“I got us something to celebrate,” he whispered, bending forward and kissing her chest.
“Before you proposed?” she asked.
“Mmm hmmm.”
“Awfully confident.”
“Just really in love,” he replied. “So while you were getting your henna tattoo, I went and got some party supplies.”
Holding her tight to him, he leaned back and grabbed for his jacket. She laughed as they rocked and almost tipped over, but he finally got them back upright. He held up the piece of clothing and she dug through the pockets. When she felt what was in there, she gasped.
“You didn't!”
“I did.”
She pulled out a small baggie of coke. Since the night she'd gotten kicked out of her apartment, they hadn't done the drug. It was too expensive – pot and alcohol were cheaper and easier to get, so they made a deal to stick to those for a while. But he felt like a proposal deserved a proper celebration, and he knew how much she loved the drug. And that wasn't even all.
“What are these?” she asked, pulling out another baggie which was full of small square shaped pills.
“These are a lot of fun,” he replied, taking the bag and pulling the zip lock apart. He took out one of the pills and held it out to her. Without a question, without hesitation, she opened her mouth and held out her tongue. Absolute trust.
Goddamn, if this isn't love, I don't know what is.
He placed the small tablet on her tongue.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I just wait for it to take effect?” she asked, picking up the baggie of coke again and smelling it.
“That was premium ecstasy,” he informed her. She squealed and wiggled around on top of him.
“Babe! I've always wanted to try it!”
“I know, that's why I got it for you.”
“Can I do them both?”
“Wait for the E to start wearing off,” he urged her, popping a pill into his own own mouth. “When the roll starts to end, we'll bang out a couple rails, surge right back up. You'll see stars.”
“I already do,” she whispered, staring into his eyes as she leaned forward to kiss him. “That's what you are to me. An entire galaxy.”
“We're going to have so much fun together,” he groaned, smoothing his hands down her back.
“For the rest of our lives,” she agreed, arching into him.
The rest of our lives. Sounds like the best time ever.
7
Jon saw Mrs. Sloan several times in early December, but then not at all during Christmas break. They were almost halfway through January before they were able to meet up with each other again. He was surprised by how much he'd missed her. The guys at the halfway house and Gary Tupper were fun, but Sloany was the O.G.
“My god, you're so tan!” he exclaimed, sitting down across from her at the little cafe she'd picked out. She smiled and preened, smoothing her hand over her hair.
“Costa Rica is awesome. How were your holidays?” she asked. He grinned.
“Amazing. I have so much to tell you.”
“And I want to hear every word of it.”
He started off slow, giving her the more official stuff. Life at the halfway house, how good he was doing there. What was going on at the community center, how he'd been transferred to recreations. Now he and Kitty spent most of their time organizing games for underprivileged kids and teens. Playing basketball and badminton. Hiding in the locker rooms and sneaking showers together.
“Sounds like things are going good, Jon!” Sloany said happily.
“They really are. And I spent Christmas with the Beaumonts,” he added casually. She blinked in surprise.
“The ... you mean Katherine's family?” she checked.
“Yeah, Kitty's family.”
“Well, that was certainly nice of her! I hope you had a great time.”
“Oh, I had a really good time.”
Mrs. Sloan lost her smile.
“You look like the cat who ate the canary. You obviously want to brag about something, so just spit it out,” she urged.
“It's just that Kitty and I have spending a lot of time together. Outside of the community center,” he told her.
“As in dating?”
“As in dating.”
“That's ... nice, Jon. I told you working with people your own age would be fun,” she said. But it didn't sound right. Normally she was playful and teasing with him, but her voice now was controlled and professional.
“I thought you'd be happy for me,” he said. She nodded.
“And I am. I'm happy if you're happy, Jon. It's literally in my job description.”
Suddenly, he was angry. Almost irrationally so.
“I hate it when you say bullshit like that,” he snapped. “You make me feel like I'm just another case to you. Some fucking file number. We're friends, Sloany, so whatever it is you really wanna say, fucking say it.”
His outburst didn't ruffle her at all. He'd had enough of them in front of her, and he was sure she'd seen worse. She stared at him for a second, then sighed and put her hands on the table, leaning towards him.
“I think it's a bad idea,” she stated simply.
“Why!?”
“Because it is.”
“What, because she's rich and educated, and I'm literally a nobody?” he asked. She snorted.
“There's that self-pity I missed so much. Of course not – if anyone is speaking bullshit here, it's you. It has nothing to do with your status. It's just ...” her voice trailed off and she looked away.
“Just what? What, Sloan?” he demanded.
“I want you to be careful,” she started again, speaking low. “I've dealt with a lot of women like Katherine. Kitty. The most helpful souls you'll ever meet. In fact, you could almost say they're addicted to helping. They want to save everyone. Drag them out of the ditches and clean them up and make them new again.”
“So she wants to help me, how is that bad?” he asked.
“It's not bad. But ask yourself this, Jon – if she's addicted to helping, and you really need help, what happens to the relationship when you don't need help anymore?” she told him.
God, he was angry. So fuck
ing angry. He wanted to rant and rail and throw things. Smash their coffee cups and flip the table. Tell her what he had with Kitty was real and honest and the only good thing in his life. Scream that she didn't know what the fuck she was talking about.
Tell her I've been having the same thoughts.
“We don't know that's true about her,” he said in a low voice as his hands gripped the table edges.
“No, we don't,” Mrs. Sloan agreed. “And she is a really sweet girl, Jon. She genuinely cares about you, that's a fact no matter what. I'm glad you've got such a good friend.”
“Yeah, you're just not glad I'm fucking her.”
“No, I'm not glad that eventually you'll stop fucking each other, and then I'll have to pick up the broken pieces.”
“Saint Sloan,” he whispered, and he was rewarded with a laugh.
“Just tread carefully, Jon. I could be wrong, but I've seen it before. With men and women. The adrenaline rush that comes from helping someone truly in need is amazing – better than any drug. The come down, though, is not so great. Suddenly a person you thought was amazing is kinda boring. Plain, or just not your type,” she warned him.
“Is that what's gonna happen to us, Sloany? I get all better and you drop me like a bad habit?” he asked.
The idea actually upset him more than losing Kitty.
“Nah. Kid, what you and I got defies logic and reasoning. I'm afraid I'm stuck with your whiny ass for the rest of my life,” she teased him.
“Her father is helping me,” he blurted out.
“Excuse me?”
“Kitty's father – Frank Beaumont. He's a big judge downtown, and he had some ideas about getting me an identity. He's working on it now,” he said.
“Oh, Jon, do really think that's a good idea? I just know -”
“What is your problem?” he suddenly snapped, his voice so loud several tables looked over at them. Mrs. Sloan shut her mouth. “You don't want me dating, you don't want me having sex, you don't want me getting help. What, you want the glory? You want to help the forgotten guy!?”
“No, Jon, that's not it at all. If Mr. Beaumont can help you, that's wonderful, I hope -”
“Then what? What is the problem?” he threw his hands up.
Muscle Memory Page 9
