Beyond Heat

by Ashley Logan

  “Scarlett!” Lex says as she arrives in my doorway in a tight black mini-dress, “You’re going to ditch me as soon as we get there to shag someone out back?”

  Laughing, I finish the powder coat and slip my feet into matching gold pumps. “It won’t take long and I’ll be back on the dance floor before you miss me,” I soothe. “I just need to get it out of my system and I’ll be good. Promise.”

  Lex folds her arms over her chest. “Well you look freakin’ hot. You sure you can dance in that? Your tits look like they’re about to pop out.”

  “I can dance in anything,” I reply, making sure my boobs are secure. I bounce a little and give a nod of approval. “Fine for dancing. And if I find a decent bang, they should jump out on a good thrust, for even more fun.”

  Laughing, Lex shakes her head and grabs my hand, pulling me toward my door. “You are nothing but trouble, Scarlett Warner.”

  “You can talk, Miss I loved his fat salami! Wait up.” Shaking my hand free, I go to my closet for a coat. “We’re going to freeze between here and Luna. You want one?”

  “Like it would fit. Mine’s in the living room.” On our way through, Lex shrugs her coat onto her petite frame. “Now hurry up. If I get you there soon, we can be home again by midnight.”

  “You’re not out to score?” I ask, frowning. Lex is almost always on the prowl for a safe lay.

  Shaking her head, she pulls her dress down a little. “No back door bang for me, Scar. I’m a lady,” she says with a wink. “I demand the comforts of a bed, or plush carpet, or at least a clean counter top, and I can’t be bothered with the rigmarole of finding that safe haven tonight. I don’t want sex that bad yet.”

  “Well I do. Let’s go.” This time, I grab her hand and drag her off down the hall.

  Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, we check the video feed for a gap in the door traffic and slip out after a small group of men has filtered in under Bruno’s watchful eye.

  “Where are you two off to?” Bruno asks as we walk out. His tone is casual, but his jaw tightens as his eyes run over my coat, bare legs and heels. Staring at my legs a little too long, he almost winces as he sighs. Speaking into his collar, he asks Coop to come to the door.

  “I’m sure we can walk to the corner for a cab without Cooper,” I say, annoyed by his presumptuous move.

  “And I’d prefer you and Lexi to be escorted. I’ve turned away a few assholes tonight, and I’d rather you didn’t meet them along the way. If you can let someone know when you’re on your way back, someone will escort you home from the corner too.”

  “Thanks Bruno,” Lex says, nudging me with her elbow. “It’s nice to be looked after.”

  Coop arrives at the door, surprised to see us. His dark brown eyes study us briefly before drawing the right conclusion. “To the corner for a cab ladies?”

  “Thank you Cooper, that would be lovely,” Lex says, linking her arm through mine.

  I risk a glance at Bruno. His face is perfectly blank, but I can see the pain in his eyes. “Be safe,” he says in a soft tone, before looking away down the street to avoid me.

  “Always am,” I reply, already moving away.

  “So which clubs are you hitting tonight, ladies?” Coop says, slowing his long strides to keep pace with us.

  “Probably just Luna,” Lex says, smiling at me. “I don’t think it’ll be a late night. Just a dance or two with our clothes on and back home again. Can I flick you a text later to collect us?”

  “Sure thing,” he says, hailing a cab and holding the door open for us. “Have a great time.” His ultra-wide grin shines at us before he shuts the door and taps the roof of the cab.

  “That is a great smile,” Lex says, adjusting her short dress as she gets comfortable.

  “You like Coop now?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she says, yanking her dress hem down a bit. “Though I have totally thought about running my tongue through the center of his abs to see if he tastes like chocolate. Haven’t you?”

  I look out the window. “I prefer caramel.”

  Lex laughs and gives me a playful push. “Whatever is up between you and Caramel, you should sort it out. You both look tortured.”

  I glare at her. “I didn’t say who.”

  “Didn’t have to,” she says with a giggle. “Next right, please,” she says to the cab driver. “Front entrance of Luna.”

  We leave the cab and are let straight into Luna by Smith’s good friend Charlie, who’s working the door. Making our way straight to the bar, we get drinks and scan the crowd.

  “Red shirt guy?” Lex asks, nodding toward the dance floor.

  “Nah. He looks well-ridden in a nasty, need two condoms kind of way. And he has no rhythm. I want clean but mischievous enough to do it on the premises,” I say, my eyes searching. “Or someone I already know,” I add, finishing my drink. “Back in a few minutes.”

  “Scarlett!” Jeff says, jumping up from his table of friends when he sees me on my way over. His eyes rake my body before settling on my face with a grin. “You look hot.” Without waiting for a response, he turns to his friends to introduce me. “Guys, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, guys.” Whisking me over to the dance floor, he pulls me close so our bodies are touching.

  Ignoring the fact that I don’t feel anything but his chest awkwardly bumping against my breasts, I try to focus on his friendly blue eyes, his clear skin and the funny way his hair bobs up and down with each movement.

  “How have you been?” he asks, running his hands up and down my sides.

  “Can’t complain,” I reply, moving his hand up from my side to my breast, because the fabric of my dress feels scratchy against my scars on that side. “You?”

  “Same. Still single?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.” He says with a grin. “Still like doing it against the wall out back?”

  “Yeah. Wanna go?”

  “Definitely.”

  Taking my hand he leads me toward the back of the club. Looking over my shoulder, I give Lex a small wave as she shakes her head and orders another drink.

  Out in the back corridor, past the rest rooms and a giant potted plant, is a small dark alcove perfect for quickie hook ups. Pulling me into it, Jeff crushes my lips to his in what I have previously found to be quite a hot and efficient kiss. Tonight however, it’s like kissing a fish - cold and wet. His hands scour my body and I deepen the kiss, trying to force myself to enjoy it, but there is no pleasure in it at all.

  “Everything okay?” Jeff asks, pulling his face back as his hands slip under my dress, stroking me between the legs.

  “Yeah. Just a little off tonight,” I reply, waiting for his hand to inspire something other than the uncomfortable feeling looming over me. Reaching for his jeans, I begin to unbutton. “You got a condom?”

  “You know it,” he says, sealing his mouth over mine again. “I love it when you come out to play,” he says, moving my panties to one side and running his fingers over me. Hesitating, he leans back to look me in the eye. His fingers leave me, replacing my panties.

  “Something is definitely not right today, Scarlett. Normally you’re wet and wanting.” Taking a step back, he runs an irritated hand through his hair. “I don’t think you actually want this today, and as much as I do, I’m not the kind of guy that’ll take it anyway. Are you okay?”

  Sighing, I adjust my dress to cover myself again. “I guess not. Sorry Jeff. I really wanted a quick fuck tonight and when I saw you, I was so grateful, but now I just feel like a teasing bitch.” Leaning back against the wall, I fold my arms over my chest. “Sorry I wasted your time, but you’re right, I don’t think I really want this tonight after all.”

  Jeff re-buttons his jeans with a sigh and shrugs. He adjusts his crotch, giving me a cute smile and a wink. “Let me know if you change your mind?”

  “Definitely. Sorry again.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. There have been plenty of times when you’ve given me a
lot more than a kiss, and it wasn’t you who stopped us just now, so it’s not like you’re teasing me on purpose. I hope you feel better soon.” Leaning in, he kisses my cheek before walking away.

  I rejoin Alexa at the bar and she stares at me. “That must be some kind of new record,” she says nodding in Jeff’s direction. “Old Jeffy boy come on the first stroke?” she asks, starting to laugh.

  Shaking my head, I laugh too and pull her out to the dance floor. “Just dance with me, Lex. We can’t go home this early.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BRUNO

  Scarlett has been moody and so easy to avoid that I think she must be avoiding me too. Her nightmares have stopped again, so I don’t even see her in the middle of the night. We don’t get up early to listen to Nat singing in the shower. I keep myself out on the door all night when the club’s open, and my days are filled with work and keeping Jenkins’ depression at bay.

  It’s as if Scarlett and I are living completely separate lives. We’ve even taken to going to the gym at different times and I have to admit that although I have Jenkins for company every day, I am lonely as hell. I can feel myself getting sucked into Brad’s black hole with him and it has me scared. I can actually feel myself detaching from my immediate world.

  This is how I find myself confused in debrief, as Violet repeats my name more loudly. Looking up from the floor, I look around to see many concerned faces. In practiced tradition, I wave them off, planting a smile on my face.

  “Did you hear anything I said?” Vi asks, not buying my attempt at being ‘present’.

  “About what?”

  Sighing, Vi looks over her shoulder at Scarlett, who’s crashed out and snoring in the chair beside her. “About Scar’s birthday?” she says, unimpressed. “Her mom’s organizing a surprise party not this weekend, but the next and we’re all invited. We’re hiring a van to take us all out to East Amherst.”

  “Oh. Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

  Shaking her head at me, Vi carries on talking to the others. When people start moving past me, I realize debrief must be over. Blinking myself back to the present, I look up to find Vi looking at me as she chews the side of her cheek.

  “Can you help me with Scar?”

  My eyes travel over to Scarlett, passed out over the arm of her chair. “Sure. Of course.”

  Standing, I step to Scar, scooping her up into my arms and carrying her down the hall to her bed. Lying her down, I pull her covers up and try not to linger, even though I miss her beautiful face so much it hurts. Looking around for her water bottle, I see it already sitting on her bedside and realize her room is still tidy.

  “What else is bothering you?” Vi asks from the doorway as I turn to leave.

  “Nothing. What do you mean?” I say, slipping by, hoping to make it to my room before she concerns herself any further.

  “I mean that apart from Scar, there’s something else eating you.”

  “I’m just worried about a friend. He’ll be alright. His new meds will kick in soon and he’ll be strong again.”

  “Depression?”

  “Yeah, with a nasty combination of factors making things difficult for him right now.”

  Violet scans me with her eyes. “It’s too much for you to deal with by yourself. Have you considered hospitalization for the crisis period?” she asks, obviously aware that it’s taking a toll on me.

  “I’m not helping him by myself, and if he goes to hospital, he’ll be dead in a day. He’s strong, and clever, and determined to end his life if he’s admitted again. Honestly, we’re managing.”

  “Then it’s something else?”

  “Nothing more than the usual.”

  “Then the usual is too much. Have you thought of cutting down on your charity work while you’re busy with your friend?”

  “He’s been coming along. It gives him something to do. I’m fine, Vi. Just leave me to deal with my responsibilities my own way.” I run a hand over my face. “At least Scar’s nightmares have gone away so I can sleep properly again.”

  “Yeah,” Vi agrees, looking back towards Scarlett’s room. “It is good. I might be spending a few more nights with Serge, now that she’s settled again.”

  “So things are going well with you two?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t nail me for changing the subject.

  Her whole face lights up and she smiles at the thought. “Yeah. Pretty well,” she says, blushing. “I’m gonna go text him now. Night.”

  “Night, Vi.”

  Closing my door behind her, I let out a huge breath and flop onto my bed. Briefly considering getting out my sketch pad, I roll over still fully dressed, and drag my blanket over top, too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

  “SO YOU’RE JUST PIMPING us out as painters now?” Jenkins complains as he wheels along behind me into Grey’s Park Rest Home, his lap loaded with a box of painting trays, brushes and sandpaper.

  “Someone I know tried to begin some unapproved renovations and put some holes in the day room wall. It needed freshening up anyway, but I can’t afford for someone else to fix it. Without my tips from dancing, I’m out of pocket and have to make it up somewhere. I’m lucky they agreed to let me do it myself, now stop complaining, or I’ll tangle you up in Eileen’s knitting.”

  Sighing, Jenkins runs his chair into the back of my legs. “Sorry,” he says without a hint of sympathy.

  “You try and run me down one more time and I will dismantle your chair and lock you in a room with Etta.”

  “Which one’s Etta?” he asks warily.

  “The one that keeps stripping her clothes off and singing ‘Embrace Me’,” I say, trying not to laugh.

  “I’ll be good,” he says, wheeling slowly through the day room doors as I hold them open. Breathing out a sigh of what I imagine is intense relief, Jenkins lowers his box to the floor and rolls across the empty room to where I’ve already set up a drop cloth and the paint cans, having been in much earlier to mend and plaster over the holes.

  “Where are they all?” he asks, neglecting to mention the extent of the recent damage to the wall.

  I nod out the window. “It’s a nice enough day. They’ll be out back in the garden, or in the other lounge room out there. Be a hassle to keep them out of the way of the wet paint.”

  “Sure,” Jenkins says, wheeling around the room, eying the walls. “I hate the smell of institutions.”

  “Well the sooner we start, the sooner you’ll only be able to smell paint, so get your ass over to that wall and start sanding.”

  “Yes boss,” he says sarcastically as he wheels back to his box of gear, gets out his sanding block and heads to the wall.

  “You should wear a mask when you’re sanding,” I tell him, donning my own.

  “Get fucked,” he says, informing me he doesn’t give two shits about the long term effects on his lungs. I decide not to get into it with him. We both know where his head is at. It’s just a waiting game until the anti-depressants lift his mood enough to open up the ‘reasons to live’ conversation. Until then, I’ll do my best to get him to laugh his way through it, settling for moody asshole when the laughs don’t come. We work without words, the scraping sounds of our sanding efforts the only noise.

  “Why did the lady at the counter call you Boogie Jackson?” he asks after a while.

  Lifting off my mask, I wipe my forehead. “Because Mom calls me Boog, and I dance.”

  “Boog?”

  “It was what she called my uncle,” I explain.

  “Uncle Boog,” he says, trying it out. “I gather it wasn’t his real name,” he says, returning to his sanding. “You inherit the nickname?”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “Mom has Alzheimer's - it was early onset. These days, the only memories she still has are from before I was born. When I visit, she thinks I’m her brother.” Pulling my mask back down, I attack the wall again.

  Jenkins stops sanding, rolling backward so he can see me better, but I keep my attention on the wall. Soon, the
sound of his strokes join mine again.

  By mid-morning, the wall is prepped, clean and ready for painting. Jenkins cuts in while I roll out the pale mint color the home has chosen.

  “This color is shit.”

  “It’s what they want.”

  “You should talk to them about a mural to liven up this ugly-ass room,” Jenkins say gruffly. “If I had to spend every day here I’d kill myself.”

  “You want to kill yourself in any room, so shut your face. I need to feel good about my mom staying here, asshole.”

  Staring at me a while, he resumes his painting. “Sorry.”

  “Me too. A mural is actually a good idea. I’ll talk to the manager about it. Would you help design and paint it with me?”

  “Man, I’ve spent too much time with you and Shermansky breathing down my neck. You won’t be painting it anytime this week, and I sure as hell ain’t hanging around with you any longer than that. The Doc said my levels should be therapeutic by the end of the week.”

  “Yeah well if they’re not, you’re stuck with me, so think about it, ass muncher.”

  “Speaking of munching ass,” Jenkins says, “How are things with Blondie? I’m guessing from the way you’ve been bossing me around, that she hasn’t been sitting on your face this week. If she wants more, you could send her my way- Ow!” he cries, laughing a little and rubbing his arm where I’ve thumped him.

  “Don’t talk about her unless you’re looking for a fight, Jenkins. I will render you a vegetable, forcing you to listen to the romance novels I’ll read you.”

  Jenkins pauses briefly, considering. “Why don’t you want to talk about her?”

  Sighing, I give him a harsh warning look. “Because we’re not even talking to each other. It’s over. Leave it alone.”