Sapphire Ice

by Hallee Bridgeman

She hated him and wished she had the energy to tell him. Instead, she just sat at her little table that now seemed too small because he occupied a chair, eating food that she was certain would taste good if it didn't all seem to turn to sawdust in her mouth, and watching him charm the socks right off of her own flesh and blood.

  When Maxine jumped up and whipped a cake out of the refrigerator, she was sure she was going to throw up. Not able to take any more, she pushed away from the table. "You'll have to excuse me," she said as sickly sweet as possible, "but I have some things to do."

  She refused to meet his eyes, gave Maxine a look that left no doubt about how she felt about the entire night, and went to her room. Not knowing what else to do that would get her out of there at eight o'clock on a Sunday night, she grabbed her bag of laundry and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door as hard as she could on her way out.

  The fact that the laundry room was empty helped. She was in no mood to be pleasant or even cordial. It afforded her the privacy and the opportunity to slam things around, to kick a couple of machines and listen to the satisfying clang of the metal. Only when her laundry was sorted, loaded into the machines, and starting the wash cycle did she feel like she had calmed down somewhat.

  The room would have looked small even without the four washing machines and dryers, so the only thing to sit on was a lone table that had been shoved into a corner. Most of the time, she risked the possible theft of her clothes to wait for the wash upstairs in her own apartment, but she had no desire to go back up there. Instead, she tested the strength of the table, decided it would probably hold her weight, and scooted on top of it.

  There was a day old newspaper on the table, and for lack of anything better to do, she decided to read it. She skimmed headlines and glanced at pictures without actually retaining anything she saw. Instead, of its own volition, her mind drifted back to dinner.

  She tried to get a grip back on the anger, but it had faded away. All she could think about was the way his hand felt as it held hers during his prayer. It was almost as if she could still feel him, the heat of his hand, the strength. Closing her eyes, she thought back and almost completely recaptured the moment.

  Was it actually possible to be so comfortable around a man that she could enjoy feeling her hand in his? Had she truly been missing something? Maxine had told her several times she was missing out on the best things in life by pushing men away from her. Maybe Maxine was right. Robin tried but was unable to come up with anything that had ever felt so comforting in such a simple manner.

  She knew that not all men were like the ones her mother brought home. It wasn't that. She just simply refused to need a man, and since so many women she worked with and knew fell prey time and time again, allowed themselves to be chewed up and spit out, she really didn't see what she'd been missing.

  Except now all she could think about was Tony. If the feelings inside of her were normal, she could almost understand the waitresses she worked with continually falling victim to the men in their lives. Maybe it was time to learn. Maybe Maxine had a point.

  She certainly had a willing partner. He was only looking for sex, after all. Perhaps she should just go for it. What could it hurt? Unlike some of the desperate waitresses at Benedicts hoping to score a rich man, she'd be going into it with open eyes, expecting nothing else out of it. She had a feeling that Mr. Antonio Viscolli preferred it that way. He could teach her the ropes, so to speak, and they could go their separate ways soon after. She guessed he'd be around Hank's for another week at the most, then he'd hand the reins over to a manager and that little corner of Boston would no longer hold his attention. Having a physical relationship might even make his constant presence during the transition at least endurable.

  A week would be enough time. At least it should. Since she didn't really know what she was talking about, she was going into it rather blindly.

  How to approach him, though? She thought about it while she transferred clothes from the washers to the dryers. A direct approach would be best. He wasn't the type to play games, obviously. It had to be soon, too. She had his attention now. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.

  Tonight. She should catch him before he left. Leaving everything where it was, she burst out of the laundry room and took the first flight of stairs two at a time. She hit the first landing and rounded the corner, only to slam right into the chest of the man she was in such a hurry to see.

  "Whoa, slow down," he said, gripping her arms to keep her from falling backward down the stairs, "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." She pulled away out of habit and cringed inwardly at the brief flash of resignation in his eyes. "You're leaving?"

  The corner of his mouth tilted up in a mocking smile. "Yes. Please, though. There's no need to beg me to stay. I can't be swayed."

  Oh, no. The sarcasm was so obvious. Maybe it was too late. "Um, listen, could I talk to you for a minute?"

  Tony's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. "Of course." He turned his body slightly, as if to go back up the stairs, but stopped when she put a hesitant hand on his arm.

  "No, not up there. I kind of wanted to discuss something, uh, private." She turned started walking down. "We can just talk in the laundry room, if you don't mind. My clothes are almost dry, and if I leave them in there, I risk someone throwing them on the floor."

  Tony couldn't help but feel intrigued. Without a second thought he followed her until they reached a little room on the first floor crammed with machines that had to be as old as he was. Something on the chipped tile floor stuck to the bottom of his shoes, but it was so dingy gray that he could not identify the source. Two of the three fluorescent lights were burnt out, and a bulletin board was covered with layers of advertisements.

  Robin turned to face him as soon as they entered the room and stood there with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans while she rocked back and forth on the soles of her feet. "I guess I didn't really plan how I wanted to say this," she said. He thought that maybe her face reddened, but with the low light, it was hard to tell.

  "Saying something outright usually works," he said. She'd been civil to him for about fifty-seven seconds. He wondered if he should begin to worry.

  She huffed out a breath and looked over his shoulder. "I want to sleep with you."

  He wasn't quite sure how long it took for the words to sink in. He knew he stared at her, speechless, for several seconds, and managed to remember to close his mouth before he looked like an idiot. After it all clicked in and made sense, once he found his tongue again, he was able to speak. "Excuse me?"

  She met his eyes this time. Nothing was reflected out of the blue depths that would make him think this was one big joke. "I said, I want to sleep with you."

  "Okay. That's what I thought you said." Did he pinch himself now in order to wake up from this odd daydream, or wait for this to play itself out? "May I ask why?"

  Her shutters came back into place. He was almost certain that he could hear them slamming shut. "Look, never mind. Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

  She would have brushed by him if he hadn't grabbed her arm. "Nope. You started this. See it through. You couldn't stand me an hour ago. Why the sudden change of heart?"

  Not knowing what to say to that, she once again decided the most direct route would be the best. "I've never dated anyone before."

  She said nothing else. He waited a beat, then two, before prompting her. "Never?"

  "Never."

  "Why?"

  She closed her eyes and let out a breath. "I don't know. I guess…" She opened her eyes and stared into his. There was no derision. Simply – caring. How she knew that, she didn't know. He cared about what she would say next. "Listen. I had a pretty rough childhood. My mom …" She broke off and looked at her shoes. "Anyway, when I was fifteen we were on our own and bouncing from home to home and eventually I ended up in a girls' home. After that, I had Maxi to take care of and I've just never had the time or inclination to date."

 
Uncomfortable, she paced the tiny confines of the room before she whirled back around. "Look, you can either say yes or no. I'm not holding a gun to your head or anything. I just figured, you know, you want sex and I want to learn about all that." She stopped and looked at him, floundering for something else to say. "Anyway …"

  Tony crossed his arms and leaned against a washing machine. "Back up a second. You want me to teach you about sex?"

  "Yeah, um, that would be the point."

  "I see." He cleared his throat. Lord, help me, he thought. It was a bit of a precarious situation, but he didn't want her to stop talking to him, so he played it out. "And why did you pick me?"

  Stay direct, Robin, she thought. She brushed her hair off her forehead in a nervous movement. "Well, you're obviously willing. And I figure that you won't be expecting a lifelong commitment or anything, you know? Just some sex, hopefully pleasant if not good, and then you'll be done with Hank's and done with me."

  He lost all feeling in his legs and struggled to keep breathing normally. If he hadn't been leaning against the machine, he would have fallen down as he realized the monumental truth.

  Dear God, he was in love with her. He always hoped he'd fall in love. He had prayed God would reveal his true love to him one day. As soon as the realization hit, he knew that he'd known who she was this whole time.

  Suddenly spurred with energy, he straightened and stepped forward. "You aren't planning on hiding a knife and plotting a sneak attack or anything, are you? This isn't a tactic to lower my guard, is it?"

  Robin huffed out a breath. "You know what? Forget it. This was a bad idea to think of, much less approach you with." The buzz of a dryer made her jump. She grabbed her laundry bag and started shoving it full of warm clothes. "Let's just pretend this conversation never happened."

  He waited until she straightened and turned before stepping forward. She'd been in the process of slinging her laundry bag over her shoulder, and it fell unnoticed somewhere behind her as she stared up at him. His hands moved forward of their own accord and cupped her cheeks, his fingers splaying down along her neck. The touch was so incredibly soothing that Robin wanted to close her eyes and lean her forehead against his. She was so tired and out of nowhere wished she had someone to share the burden of her life.

  He wondered if she realized that a single tear had escaped out of the corner of her eye and trailed over his thumb. It burned a path across his skin until he feared it would leave a mark. He rubbed his thumbs along the shadows under her eyes. A feeling of tenderness blended with the love that overflowed his heart. He cleared his throat, worried his voice was gone. "You're on."

  He felt the muscles under his neck tense right before she opened her eyes. "Excuse me?"

  "I said you're on. I'll teach you. All of it."

  She gave a small shake of her head to clear it. "All of it?"

  "You said that I wanted sex and that you wanted to learn about all of that. I'm going to teach you about all of that."

  If her heart would slow down, maybe she could make some sense of what he was saying. "What does that mean?"

  "You'll see." He released her face and stepped back while he looked at his watch. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

  She rubbed her face with both hands and struggled to keep up with him. "Um, the week begins. I have to be at Benedict's from ten-thirty until three, then Hank's at six to one."

  He mentally made all of the arrangements he needed for his schedule and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He put a hand on either side of her face and kissed her forehead.

  She stood there dumbly, staring at the doorway, long after he was gone. The sound of another dryer buzzing finally broke her trance and, for some reason feeling lighter than she ever had in her life, she hummed under her breath while she unloaded her clothes into her bag.

  CHAPTER 7

  ROBIN'S car shuddered as she pulled into her parking space and shut it off. As she opened the door, the smell of exhaust stung her nose. The car was made the same year Sarah was born. As Robin rounded the hood she gave the old girl a little pat, hoping that kindness would make it run one more day.

  Just as she stepped onto the curb to go into the building, a sleek red sports car whipped into the spot next to hers. She started to smile, bit her lip, then thought better of it and allowed the smile. As Tony climbed out of the low car, her stomach did a nervous lurch.

  He wore a brown leather jacket over a button down shirt with no tie, and a pair of khaki pants. He looked like a model showing off the perfect weekday casual look. He slipped off his sunglasses and smiled as he strolled up to her. "Good afternoon," he said.

  Robin's mouth went dry. All day long she could think of nothing but the conversation the night before. She felt some excitement at the prospect of what she proposed, but in the light of day, she also felt quite foolish. "Tony, hi. Look –"

  He cupped her elbow under his hand and steered her toward the building. "No time. Go get changed. Jeans are fine. Grab your clothes for Hank's and meet me back down here. We need to drive away fifteen minutes from now."

  As he propelled her toward the door, she tried to catch up to what he said. "Leave? What?"

  He smiled. "Just get changed. Fifteen minutes." He looked at his watch. "Fourteen."

  Flustered, Robin went inside and up to her apartment. She couldn't imagine where he thought they were going when she had to be at work in less than three hours, but she followed his instructions until, three minutes later, she locked the door behind her wearing jeans with a cotton top and carrying her Hank's Place uniform in a grocery bag.

  She found him where she left him, leaning against the hood of his car, his legs crossed in front of him at the ankle. When he saw her approaching, he straightened and grinned. "Thank you for hurrying," he said, hitting a button on the keys in his hand to release the latch that kept the trunk closed. He took the bag from her and set it in the trunk, then moved to the passenger door and opened it. "We have to be downtown by four."

  "Why?" She lowered herself into the car. He shut the door and rushed around the front to the driver's side.

  He slid in and started the car in one movement. "Because the movie starts at four."

  "Movie? Tony, I have to be at work at six."

  Her shoulders hit the back of the seat as he accelerated out of the parking lot and turned the zippy little car toward downtown. "Robin, do you think I didn't hear you last night or pay attention to what you said?"

  She felt her face surge with heat at some of the things she'd said last night. "Of course not."

  "Then relax. I know what time you have to be at work." He shot her a glance and reached out, capturing her hand with his. "Have fun without worrying about something."

  Instead of arguing about the fact that she didn't worry, when she knew all she did was worry, she sat back and enjoyed the way he drove the car. Tony had no fear, had amazing confidence, and it came out in his driving. He zipped through the heavy afternoon traffic without stressing out about the way cab drivers cut people off, about missing a green light. He stayed lighthearted, happy, calm, all the while driving with a skill that leant no doubt that he knew exactly how to drive that powerful machine the way it was intended to be driven.

  "How was your day?" He asked while idling at a red light.

  Robin turned from looking at the downtown scenery around her and found him looking directly at her. "My day?"

  His smile made her heart skip a beat. "Yeah," he drawled, "your day. Tell me about it."

  "I served brunch and lunch to some power players and some over indulged wives all morning and afternoon."

  He put the car in gear and shot away from the light, changing lanes to get around a bus. "And nothing exciting or interesting happened?"

  "What? You want me to tell you who had a two martini lunch?"

  She felt her body moving forward against the seat belt as he had to quickly hit the brakes for a cab that jolted out in front of them. "No, Robin. I want to know about YOUR day.
" He shot her a quick smile. "How about I start? I'll tell you about my day. I was so excited about this afternoon that I forgot about a big meeting. I walked into my office and Margaret, my secretary, told me they were waiting for me in the conference room. I said, 'Who is waiting?' She looked so worried about me that I wanted to hug her."

  He stopped talking so she assumed he wanted her to speak. She searched her mind, trying to come up with something interesting to tell him. "After lunch today, when the restaurant was closed, a woman and her daughter came in. They're having her bridal shower there and wanted to discuss menus and staff. They started arguing over what kind of sandwich to serve, and the daughter started screeching at the mom over having chives or no chives in their cucumber sandwiches. She had a total breakdown, and as soon as the mother agreed with her, she immediately calmed down and went on with the meeting." Robin reached up and started pulling pins from her hair. "She made me think of a two-year-old having a temper tantrum."