After the Rain

by Philip Cox

  ‘Do you work locally?’

  ‘Sort of. I go to school mainly. Most evenings I work in a bar.’

  He clicked his fingers and pointed at her. ‘In Shots, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. I wait tables there.’

  ‘That’s where I’ve seen you,’ he said. ‘Will you be there tonight?’

  ‘No, it’s my night off. Family stuff.’ She patted her grocery bag. ‘Back in tomorrow.’

  He nodded. ‘Right. Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night,’ he said, as he began to turn away.

  Now she nodded. ‘Sure. See you then.’

  ‘Unless,’ he said, turning back to her, ‘you’ve nothing planned for the daytime tomorrow. Oh no, you said you’ve got school.’

  ‘Not Mondays,’ she said, more eagerly than she had intended.

  ‘So you’re free tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘How do you feel about meeting up for coffee? Or lunch?’

  She could hardly believe this was happening. ‘Lunch will be good.’

  ‘Cool. I’m not from around here, as you could probably tell.’

  ‘I kinda guessed,’ she giggled.

  ‘So where’s the best place to meet?’

  ‘No really good places Downtown here, but there’s a coffee shop called Ramones a bit out of town, just off the Interstate heading south.’

  ‘How far south?’

  ‘If you take the exit for Lakeland, you’ll see it once you come off the I-4.’

  ‘Twelve-thirty tomorrow, then?’ he asked.

  She nodded silently.

  He smiled at her, gently nodding his head.

  ‘I’m Stacey, by the way,’ she blurted out.

  He grasped his groceries under his left arm and held his right arm out to shake hands.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Stacey. I’m Adam.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  STACEY SPENT THAT evening with her grandmother, as arranged, but her mind was elsewhere. In the eighteen months she had been working at Shots, she could not remember ever having a night off wishing she was working.

  ‘You okay, dear?’ her grandmother asked her at one point. ‘You seem miles away.’

  Stacey smiled at the old lady. ‘It’s all right, Gran. Just a little tired, I guess.’

  ‘Not surprised,’ her grandmother said. ‘All that rushing around you do on that confounded bike. School, that evening job. Still no time for a proper boyfriend?’

  ‘No,’ Stacey smiled wistfully. ‘Still no time.’ Sure there had been boyfriends, but nothing proper, as her grandmother put it. And she would never tell the old lady about that psycho Billy.

  Ten o’clock, and Stacey kissed her grandmother good night, promised to see her in a few days, and started her bike up to ride home. Roaring home through the empty darkened streets she contemplated calling into the bar on her night off to see if he was there. What did he say his name was? That’s right: Adam. No; she decided to wait until tomorrow lunch time. Strangely, she didn’t want to see him tonight. Didn’t want to catch him unawares in the bar. She wanted to keep her last view of him that afternoon in her mind. After they shook hands and he introduced himself, he walked the short distance to his car, a bright red convertible. As she was starting up her bike he slowly drove past her to the exit. As he passed her he smiled and waved. She gave him a brief wave back.

  I hope he shows tomorrow, she thought as she arrived home. We didn’t even exchange cell phone numbers.

  The following day, after a relatively sleepless night, she arrived at Ramones a little after twelve-twenty. Her heart missed a beat as there was no sign of the red convertible in the parking lot. Shit, wish I had his cell number. She took off her helmet, shook her head so that her hair was in place, and remained on the bike debating whether to wait for him here or inside. She looked up sharply as she heard a loud vehicle noise; sat down again disappointedly as another bike roared past.

  Twelve thirty-five and still no sign of him. She checked the time on her phone, just in case her watch was fast. No: if anything it was slow. Had she just made a fool of herself again? Was he playing with her, getting his own back for her eyeballing his groin at the supermarket? Maybe that was why he didn’t give her his cell number. And had she seen him before at work? It was a busy bar, but she was certain with him it would be a case of once seen never forgotten.

  Stupid bitch, she thought, riding all the way down here just on a promise. Correction: stupid bastard, getting his kicks out of not showing.

  She put her helmet back on and was just about to kick start the bike when a red convertible raced into the parking lot and stopped with a screech of brakes. Stacey sat on the bike watching as it reversed into an empty space, and took off the helmet as Adam climbed out of the car and ran over to her. She took it all in as he ran over to her: yellow polo shirt, white trousers – clearly the same size as the jeans he was wearing yesterday.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ he said, leaning down and kissing her on her left cheek. God, he smelt fantastic.

  ‘Didn’t realize you were,’ she lied, taking off her crash helmet again. ‘Only just got here myself.’

  ‘I was worried you might have thought I had stood you up,’ he said, as they walked into the diner.

  ‘No, didn’t think that at all,’ she lied again.

  Inside, a waitress greeted them with menus and iced water and Adam chose them a booth table. Stacey ordered a three cheese pizza while Adam chose a steak with spicy herb salsa. They both drank iced water.

  ‘I guess we should have taken each other’s mobile numbers,’ Adam said, sipping his water.

  ‘Our - ?’ she said hesitatingly.

  He thought for a moment. ‘Our cell phones. Just in case something happened and one of us got delayed. Or had to cancel.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Anyway, we’re here now. Mustn’t forget to swap numbers before we leave.’

  She sat up instinctively. You mean there’s going to be another time?

  ‘It must really screw up your social life,’ Adam said, starting the conversation. ‘Working evenings, I mean.’

  ‘It does kind of,’ Stacey agreed.

  ‘How many nights a week do you work?’

  ‘Five. I have Sundays and Mondays off.’

  ‘So you’re not working tonight?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘I mean, with my job I only work Monday to Friday. Yours is similar: you have Sundays and Mondays off; I have Saturdays and Sundays off.’

  ‘What work do you do?’ she asked.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said to the waitress as she delivered the food. ‘I’m an investment banker.’

  ‘Wall Street?’

  ‘No, no, no; London.’

  ‘Of course,’ she laughed.

  ‘That obvious, is it? My firm is based in the City of London.’

  ‘Do you live in London also?’

  ‘Sort of. A place called Wapping. East London. Where all the docks were a hundred years or so. All the land got redeveloped in the late 1980s and early 1990s.’

  ‘You here on vacation, then?’

  ‘Yes, we’re here for three weeks or so.’

  ‘We?’ Stacey kicked herself: the one question she had not meant to ask.

  He looked up. ‘Sorry. I ought to explain.’

  ‘No, you don’t need...’

  He held up his hand. ‘Let me explain. I live and work in London. I like to travel. I have one brother and two sisters. My sisters are both married with children. My brother: well, he’s – he’s still single. As am I. Years ago we came out here for a holiday, a vacation, to the parks. We all liked it, came back the next year, and the year after that. So my father decided as we were coming here each year, it would be cheaper to buy an apartment to use when we came out. Rent it out when we weren’t using it. So since about four years ago we’ve had this apartment just outside Davenport.’

  ‘
Cool.’

  He nodded. ‘Has worked out quite well. Mum and Dad come here over Christmas and New Year. My brother – I think he’s been out here a couple of times. And I usually come here every six months or so. Usually for an extended what we call a lads’ weekend.’

  ‘Lads’ weekend?’

  ‘I and one or two other guys will come for a week or so. You know, get some sun, and enjoy the food, that sort of thing.’

  ‘So, you’re on a lads’ weekend now?’ Stacey found the terminology awkward.

  ‘This trip I’m here with one mate. Guy called Steve.’

  ‘Where’s he today?’

  Adam shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno. Not seen him the last few days. His work – something in IT – is running a convention in Dallas, Texas. So he’s combined work with a vacation. He’s away till Wednesday.’

  ‘Oh, right, I see.’

  ‘Hence the shopping yesterday.’

  They both ate in silence for a few minutes.

  ‘So, tell me about Stacey,’ Adam said.

  She put her pizza down. ‘Well, I’m Stacey. Stacey Garcia.’

  ‘Williams,’ Adam replied. ‘Full name – Adam Williams.’

  She nodded. ‘Twenty-five. Born in Pensacola. We moved down here when I was a kid.’

  ‘Family?’

  ‘My old man moved out years ago. My older sister, Samantha, moved to New Jersey with her boyfriend a while back. So there’s me, my mum, and stepfather Jeff.’

  ‘Stepfather Jeff?’

  ‘Well, guess he’s really my mother’s boyfriend, they’ve never married, but they’ve been together years so I guess I look on him as a stepfather. He’s cool, really.’

  ‘And you go to school, you said?’

  ‘Yeah. Most days, ‘cept Mondays and weekends.’

  ‘What are you studying?’

  ‘Drama.’

  ‘Oh, right. Training to be an actress? What’s your ambition? Getting to Hollywood?’

  ‘No, not like that really. I’m more into live theatre. All aspects, not just the performance. Stage management, costume, make-up, all that sort of stuff. Always wanted to write a play as well.’

  ‘Very interesting, no honestly, it is. And no boyfriends, I assume? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.’

  She shook her head and glanced downwards. ‘No, no real boyfriends.’

  Adam pulled a face. ‘Girlfriends?’

  Stacey shook her head and laughed. ‘No, not like that!’

  Adam gave her a wide grin, showing dazzling white teeth. ‘Thank God for that!’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  AFTER STACEY HAD finished her pizza and Adam his steak, they each ordered ice cream for dessert, then coffee. Conversation centred mainly around Adam, partly because he had more to say and tell her, and partly because she had no wish to dredge up old memories of her father and how she and her sister had been raised as a one parent family.

  Adam had much to say: she was not sure if he just liked talking about himself, or if he was trying to impress her. You don’t need to try, she thought. He spoke about his job, what being an investment banker entailed, not that she really understood what he was talking about, apart for the large amounts of money he appeared to deal in. He spoke about what he referred to his luxury apartment in East London, with its panoramic views of the River Thames and his 56 inch LCD television. He also spoke at length about the places he had travelled to; she wondered how he found the time to be an investment banker. Apart from several trips to the Florida apartment, he had also spent time in New York Christmas shopping, taking in the volcanoes in Hawaii. Sightseeing in Venice; skiing in Gstaad, Switzerland; New Zealand for a Lord of the Rings tour; Thailand; sun-seeking in Dubai. He did admit some of the trips to Europe were through his job, but the rest appeared to be vacations. She noted that there was no mention of who he had travelled with; occasionally he said we did this or we went there, but Stacey decided not to appear too inquisitive.

  When the waitress brought the bill over, Stacey instinctively went for her bag. ‘No, my treat,’ Adam said as he reached to his back pocket for his wallet.

  ‘Let me pay for my half,’ Stacey insisted.

  ‘No way,’ Adam replied. ‘I told you, it’s my treat. You can pay next time.’

  ‘How do you know there’s going to be a next time?’ she asked light-heartedly.

  He looked up from his wallet. ‘I think there might be,’ he grinned.

  As he paid the bill she could not help but noticing his wallet, or to be precise its contents. Stacey did not even possess one credit card, but Adam’s wallet appeared stuffed with them: two visa cards, a MasterCard, an Amex card, and others where she could not make out the logo. It was also full of cash: he pulled out a fifty and left it on the side plate with the bill.

  ‘No change,’ he said to the waitress. Stacey was astonished as the waitress appeared. The bill came to $38.50: she would have been happy with a thirty percent tip if she was given that at work.

  ‘So what now?’ he said, leaning forward, resting his arms on the table.

  ‘How do you mean?’ she asked, thinking she knew the answer.

  He leaned back. ‘What plans have you got for the rest of the day? No work tonight, no school today?’

  ‘Nothing really,’ she replied, nervously putting her purse back into her bag. ‘Maybe just chilling out at home, see what’s on the TV.’ She knew that in fact she had told Billy and Scott she might hang out with them today, but there was no way she was going to do that now.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘No pressure, but I’ve still got those bottles of wine you saw me buying yesterday. Steve’s away in Dallas till Wednesday, and I don’t want to drink them alone.’

  ‘At your apartment?’ she gulped.

  ‘U-huh.’

  ‘How would we get there? I don’t want to leave my bike here...’

  He scratched his chin. ‘Why don’t you get on your bike and follow me? I promise I won’t drive too fast.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  ‘Just in case we get separated, why don’t we exchange phone numbers now?’

  They traded numbers, and Adam led her out into the parking lot. She donned her crash helmet and climbed onto the bike, and Adam walked over to his red convertible. He waited for her to start the bike, and then slowly drove out of the car park, giving her time to get behind him.

  She managed not to lose him on the journey back, and parked her bike outside his apartment building next to his car. There was a large expanse of lawn between where they had parked and the entrance. She started to walk across it, but he took her arm and stopped her. ‘Best walk around,’ he said, pointing to the circular pathway.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Assumed you could walk across it.’

  ‘You can,’ he said. ‘But -’ He was interrupted by the spray of the water sprinklers watering the lawn. ‘- that happens sometimes.’

  Laughing, they made their way into the building, and up to Adam’s floor. Adam had barely closed the apartment door before they were all over each other, tugging at each other’s clothes. Adam pinned her to the wall as he nuzzled her face and neck, untucking her top. She was pulling his tee shirt out and pushed it up so she could feel his back. He picked her up and effortlessly carried her into a bedroom and half threw her down onto the bed. They carried on undressing each other, but before they could get very far he reached over to a bedside drawer. She finished undressing while he unwrapped it, then he was ready and inside her. Slowly for the first few minutes, then his pace quickened: she clung onto him tightly round his broad shoulders and round his waist; all she could hear now was the slapping of skin against skin and her own cries.

  *****

  She had no idea how long they spent joined together: it seemed to go so quickly, but she knew it must have been some time as the sun was beginning to set. She looked down at her naked body, dripping with sweat. Still out of breath, he looked over at her.

  ‘What about that wine?’ he asked
.

  She nodded. ‘Wine would be good.’

  He sat up on the bed, and nodded over to the window. ‘It’s getting late. What about some Chinese food to go with the wine?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll call for takeaway.’

  He stood up and walked out of the bedroom. She watched as he left: he looked just as good naked as she expected. The tan was all over, and a band of sweat was running down his spine. He was tall, well over six feet. Billy kept telling her he was six foot one, as if that would impress her; but Adam must be at least another three or four inches taller. And he was better built. And better endowed. And he had more stamina. She sat up, then immediately flopped back down on the bed. She was exhausted. She got up again, and went into the hallway. The lounge opened directly into the hallway. Adam was standing in the lounge on his phone, ordering Chinese food. She mouthed bathroom to him and he pointed to a door. Afterward she found him in the kitchen area. He was getting a bottle of wine out of the fridge. She went up to him and he held her close to him. As she snuggled up to him she noticed a scar across the top of his chest, from above his left nipple across to below the right.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked, running her finger along it. It was clearly not recent, just a slightly raised mark.

  He looked down, and laughed. ‘Oh, just an old war wound.’

  ‘War wound? You been in the military?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I got into a fight a few years back.’

  ‘What happened?’

  He sighed. ‘I told you I’ve got two sisters and a brother.’

  ‘U-huh,’ she nodded and held herself close to him again.

  ‘Well, my brother’s gay.’

  ‘You’re not,’ she laughed, reaching down.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he said, moving her hand away. ‘Craig came out some years back. Anyhow, we don’t see that much of each other, not much in common I guess, but we met up at a club one evening. As we were leaving, I went to the gents, and when I came out, two guys started setting about him.’

  ‘Because he was gay?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know whether he had tried it on with one of them – he said he hadn’t – but the four of us got into a bit of a scuffle. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and we thought that was that; but when we got outside later, these two jokers were waiting for us. One of them had a knife and tried to attack Craig. I stepped in front to defend him, and got slashed. Here.’ He ran his finger down the scar.’