by Emerson Rose
He nods politely at my mother, but his eyes light up when he looks at Kimber.
“Nice to meet you, ladies.”
“So you’re friends with the Major?” Mom asks, and I know exactly what she’s going to ask next, but I can’t think of a way to stop her fast enough.
“Yes, we met Violet last night at the Blue Water Bar and Grill.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have the Major’s phone number, would you? He somehow forgot to give it to Violet.”
Oh, God. I knew it. No tact. She just blurts out what she wants to know without a thought that she may be embarrassing me to death.
Garcia looks panicked. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to give out his buddy’s phone number. I’m sure they have some sort of bro code where they’re not allowed to disclose any information without permission.
“Mom, stop it. If Major wants to call me, he will find a way. Don’t bully his friend for the number. I’m really sorry. She has no manners. Don’t mind her,” I say to Garcia, and his worried expression eases into relief.
“Well at least give him your number, Violet. I can’t believe you two didn’t exchange numbers this morning,” Mom says.
“This morning?” Garcia says, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, can you believe she spent the night at his house and neither of them remembered to exchange numbers? Ridiculous . . .” She rolls her eyes.
Garcia’s jaw drops. I think he’s going to say something, but the words don’t make it out of his mouth.
“You okay?” I ask, shielding my eyes when he moves out of the path of the sun.
He shakes his head, snapping from his mini reverie. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just . . . well, the Major doesn’t take women to his house . . . ever. And he never spends the night with anyone either. I’d better get your number and give it to him in case he doesn’t have it—but I’m sure he does. He’s very resourceful, but I don’t want him pissed at me if I don’t.”
Poor Captain Garcia is rambling and fumbling for his phone in his pocket. When he finds it, I give him my number, and when he’s done entering it, he bites his lip and looks back and forth between Kimber and me. I swear he looks at her left hand for a ring. When he doesn’t see one, I watch him gather up his nerve, and before I can interrupt, he goes balls out and asks for her number too.
“I know it’s really forward and all, but I wonder if you’d give me your number too, Kimber. Maybe we could go for lunch sometime.”
Now my jaw is in my lap as I turn to Kimber to see how she’s going to handle this.
She cocks her head sideways, narrowing her eyes.
“You see this, right?” she says, pointing both fingers at her protruding baby bump.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he says, not missing a beat, and I’m fucking impressed as hell.
“And you still want to take me to lunch?”
“Yes, if you’d like to.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “555-423-5519. I’m only here for a week.”
“Then we should make every minute count. Dinner tonight?”
Man, this guy is smooth. I think I may have fallen a little in love with him myself just now, and I’m pretty sure Kimber’s smitten judging by the blush creeping up her neck.
“We have a thing tonight. It’s for the wedding that we’re all here for. Would you like to come along as my date?” Kimber asks.
“Absolutely, I’d love to. What time should I pick you up and where?”
She looks at me. “Violet, do you remember what time we’re supposed to meet up?”
“Karaoke’s at nine at the same bar we were at last night.”
“Perfect, how about dinner first then?” he asks.
“Would it be okay if we made it a group thing tonight since I don’t know you? A girl can’t be too careful these days, especially when she’s pregnant.”
I’m pretty sure she added the pregnant comment to be extra sure he knows she’s not just sporting a gut. I cover my mouth and giggle.
“No problem. I’ll meet you all in the lobby at seven?” Garcia asks.
“Yes, see you then,” Kimber says, waving goodbye with the tips of her fingers. Garcia nods and takes off down the beach away from us.
“Holy shit, mama, you just scored yourself a Papi Chulo,” Mom says.
“Mom, where did you learn that?” I ask.
“Baby, I’m from Southern California, which may as well be Northern Mexico. A better question is why don’t you use expressions like that,” she says, swatting the air between us.
“Let’s get the hot preggo in the water. You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust, Kimber.”
Mom stands and reaches to help Kimber up. I follow them into the cool water and sink under for a moment of peaceful silence. This trip is nothing like I expected, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
When I surface, Mom and Kimber are talking about dinner tonight and I can’t help but hope Garcia brings Major. A part of me worries that he purposely didn’t give me his number this morning. And Garcia’s comment about Major never taking anyone to his house has me spooked. But on the opposite end of that spectrum is the thought that maybe I’m special and that’s why he took me where he never takes others.
“Can you believe that, baby? You and Kimber both have dates for tonight. Not twenty-four hours in Oceanside, and you’re both set up with dates for the week,” she says.
“You mean Kimber, Mom. I still don’t have the Major’s phone number.”
She waves a dismissive limp wrist in my direction. “He’ll have it before that Captain Garcia gets home from his run. Mark my words.”
“Thanks for going with me tonight, you guys. I know I didn’t ask ahead of time. I appreciate your not backing out. I never imagined I’d be asked out on a date like this,” she says, pointing to her tummy.
“Of course. We wouldn’t leave ya hanging, honey,” Mom says.
“You’re gorgeous, Kimber. I think maybe your asshole ex made you forget that for a minute. You’ve still got it, girl. Even pregnant, you picked up the hottest guy on the beach.”
“Thanks. It was a confidence booster, that’s for sure,” she says.
It’s amazing that someone who looks like Megan Fox with a baby bump could believe she’s not attractive. The mind is a powerful thing, and she’s been broken down by the one person in her life who was supposed to always be there to lift her up. I’m glad we decided to ditch the bridal shower and go to the beach today. Kimber looks better than I’ve seen her since we arrived in Oceanside. Captain Garcia was exactly what Kimber needed today. Now I hope he can bring me something I need. I hope he brings me Major Steele.
9
Don’t Phunk with my heart
Major
A rock clatters around under the protective deck of the mower, and I cringe. I release the handle and cut the engine. How the fuck did a rock get in my yard? Kids, that’s how. The little monsters are always dragging rocks and shit out of the neighbor’s flower garden to make tiny towns on the sidewalk. I don’t care if they mess up their own yards . . . well yeah, I do. It bugs me, but it’s worse when they trample around in mine.
I tip the mower on its side and feel around for the rock. I find it right away and slip it in my pocket before I pull the starter cord. It always takes two tries, but before I get it going again, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.
A zing of adrenaline shoots through me before I remember that Violet and I forgot to exchange phone numbers. It can’t be her, not that I expect her to call anyway. It’s my job to call, but I fucked that up this morning. I was tired and she was in a hurry to make it to the bridal shower on time. We rushed around, and I dropped her off at the hotel before I thought to get her number.
I can get her number. I have a lot of connections. I could always go back to the hotel where she’s staying, but it would have been nice to text her today.
I look at the screen. It’s Garcia. What the hell could he want?
“Hey,
Garcia.”
“Hello, Major.”
“What can I help you with? I’m in the middle of mowing the grass.”
“Oh, okay. I won’t keep you, but I ran into that woman you helped last night.”
I release the mower cord and it snaps against the plastic when I stand up.
“Violet?”
Where the fuck did he run into Violet? And why am I so pissed and jealous . . . and relieved?
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Where did you see her?” I ask, but it’s more of a demand than a question.
“I was running at the beach. She was with her mom and another woman.”
“The beach?” She was supposed to be at a bridal shower, or that’s what she told me anyway.
“Yeah, I uh, I got her phone number for you, sir. Her mother mentioned you two didn’t exchange numbers, and I thought you might want to see her again.”
“You asked her for her phone number?”
“Oh no, her mother suggested I give it to you. I wasn’t hitting on her, I swear. Actually, I asked her friend to dinner tonight and I was thinking we could double date. Violet’s mom is going too, but she’s cool. I don’t think she’ll mind being a fifth wheel. She can handle herself.
“Double date where?” I ask, fully intending to call her and take her out, double dating or not.
“Blue Water. They have a Karaoke thing for that wedding they’re in town for. It’s at nine, but I’m meeting them at seven.”
“You invited three women on a date?”
“Well no, not at first. I asked Violet’s friend, but she’s, well . . . she’s pregnant, and she wanted her friends to come since she doesn’t know me.”
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on what Garcia just said.
“Let me get this straight. You asked a pregnant woman out on a date? And then invited her friend and her friend’s mother?”
“Yeah, well I asked her friend. They sorta ganged up on me, so now I’m meeting all of ‘em.”
“Text me her number. I’ll be there at 1850,” I say and hang up.
Why the hell is Garcia asking a pregnant woman on a date? And how the hell does Violet keep popping into my life?
The hot midday sun beats down on my head and a trickle of sweat runs down the side of my face. I rub it away with the back of my hand, stuff my phone back into the pocket of my shorts, and yank the mower cord. I’ve been trying to keep busy and not think of Violet and all the complications she could create in my organized, systematic life. But it’s no use. It’s like she’s gone viral in my mind. She’s everywhere all the time. Nothing can stop the images of us together this morning in my bed. They’re on repeat, waiting for me to add to the video . . . and I plan on doing exactly that tonight when I meet her for dinner.
When I’m done mowing the yard, I squirt the grass off the mower and rinse the grass clippings down the driveway. The water from the hose forms a stream along the gutter in the street that carries the grass downhill to wherever—I don’t care as long as it’s not on my property.
I put the mower in the shed and go inside to shower. I strip in the garage and throw my clothes and shoes in the washing machine on my way upstairs, being careful not to leave a trail of grass.
When I’m showered and the tub has been scrubbed, I dress and leave the house. Edith was here this morning, and things are in perfect order today. She brought her A game after I mentioned how disappointed I was with the mess in the foyer yesterday. You could eat off any surface in the house now, and that’s the way I like it.
It’s 1845 when I pull into the parking lot beside the Blue Water Bar and Grille. I have a perfect view of the entrance from here. I want to watch Violet walk inside when she arrives. I texted Garcia a while ago and told him not to say anything about me coming tonight. I want to surprise her.
I don’t have to wait long. She pulls up three minutes later and expertly parallel parks on the street. What a turn on. A woman who can handle her vehicle. I love it.
I watch Violet and her mother exit the SUV. Violet looks stunning, even more beautiful than she did last night. She’s wearing a chic white fitted halter dress that hits her mid-thigh with silver heels that make her calves look phenomenal. I can’t wait to see that dress hanging in my closet tonight. I may even carry her to the bedroom so she can leave those shoes on while I fuck her.
Maybe . . .
Her mother opens the back door, and I see why Captain Garcia asked a pregnant woman on a date. She is hands down the most beautiful pregnant woman I’ve ever seen. Long, dark wavy hair spilling down her back, a tight black dress, and heels that I’m pretty sure no pregnant woman should be wearing. Way to go, Garcia.
When the women disappear inside, I text Violet. Are you wearing any panties?
She responds immediately. Who is this?
Me: Someone familiar with your gorgeous bare ass.
Violet: Major?
Me: Go to the restroom and take them off.
Violet: First you tell me what color they were last night.
Me: Black. Lace. Thong. Take them off.
Violet: Good memory. You’re bossy.
Me: You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ve been gentle with you.
Violet: So I take it there’s more to . . . come?
Me: Much more—nice pun.
Now I’m going to have to wait out here thinking about granny panties and germs until I can safely walk inside without the outline of my cock being blatantly obvious.
Granny panties. Okay, not the best idea. Panties in general aren’t going to help me tame the beast. Cockroaches, dirty fingernails, the number of germs estimated to be on the average person’s shoe is 66 million. Shit, now I’m never going to fuck Violet in my bed with her shoes on, no matter how sexy they are.
Fucking and Violet. Now those aren’t two words to string together when trying to get rid of an erection.
Okay, cats, oatmeal, having the flu, my Aunt Florence. Ah, there it is. Good old Aunt Flo. Now I can go inside.
The restaurant is busier tonight. Saturday is their biggest night. I spot Violet sitting down, facing away from me, next to her mother. Her beautiful pregnant friend and Garcia are on the opposite side of the table. I greet Violet with a kiss on the cheek like we’re an old couple. She introduces me to her friend, Kimber, and I say hello to Garcia and Violet’s mother, Lilly. I take the chair at the head of the table next to Violet.
“You look stunning tonight,” I say, sliding my hand over hers on top of the table.
“Thank you, you’re looking very handsome yourself.”
“You ready for some Karaoke tonight, Major?” Garcia asks.
“Gonna show you how it’s done,” I say, razzing the Captain. He thinks he’s the best singer on base. I’ve listened to him at other bars on karaoke night and he’s good—really good—but so am I.
“You sing?” Lilly asks.
“I do.”
She raises her eyebrows and elbows Violet in the ribs.
“Ouch, Mom, gosh. Watch it with your bony elbows.”
“He can sing too,” she says under her breath. I wonder what she means by ‘too’. What has Violet been telling her mother about me?
Violet ignores her mother and turns her attention on Kimber.
“So Kimber, lets play a little game of get to know your date,” Violet says.
Kimber squirms in her seat.
“Okay, but only if you play too,” Kimber says.
“Sure. Who’s first?” Violet asks.
“We can go, since you and the Major seem to know one another pretty well already,” Kimber says, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward.
“I’m not familiar with this game. You’ll have to fill me in,” Garcia says with a big, goofy grin. Garcia is Latin lover hot. Women fall for him all the time, but he’s a little immature, and that’s where he usually loses them.
“It’s easy, just ask a question—any question about your date, and they have to answer it. If t
hey won’t, then one of us will do it for them and vice versa.”
“Okay, you go first, Garcia,” Violet says.
“Okay, cool. What’s your favorite food?” Garcia asks.
“Easy, cookies,” Kimber says.
“How long have you been a Marine?” she shoots back.
“Nine years,” he says with pride, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“My turn,” Violet says. “Where are you from originally?”
“Minneapolis, Minnesota,” I say.
“Really? The Midwest? I would have never guessed. You seem like such a California boy,” Violet says, playfully punching me in the arm.
“Yep, but I’m a city boy, so no farm jokes,” I say.
“Cross my heart,” Violet says crossing her finger over her chest.
“My turn. Did you do what I asked you to do in my text earlier?”
Her hand slips out from under mine and into her own lap. Her cheeks flush a deep red, and a hush falls over the table.
“That must have been some text,” Lilly says, winking at me.
“You have to answer, Vie, or we will answer for you, and you know what that means,” Kimber says, walking her fingers across the table toward her phone. Violet snatches it up and slips it into her tiny purse.
“Yes, I did,” Violet answers and presses her stiletto heel into the top of my foot under the table.
I hiss in pain, but it’s taken as an enthusiastic approval by everyone at the table. Garcia starts clapping like an idiot, and Violet presses harder onto my foot. I lean over and sweep the hair off her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “You can’t hurt me. I love it—harder.”
When I move away, I can feel all eyes on us. Violet’s eyes narrow and she really screws her heel in. I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose and hold my breath.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two. I can see everyone’s hands, so it must be one hell of a mind game you’re playing,” Lilly says.
“You have no idea,” I say, opening my eyes to a very surprised Violet. She releases her heel from my foot and leans away from me.
With a shaky voice, she announces it’s Kimber’s turn again, and I tune out all chatter and concentrate on her profile and the pain shooting up my leg. I enjoy it only because it was done out of her frustration, but now I’m afraid I may have scared her. I’m no masochist—or at least I don’t consider myself one—but I do like it when a woman shows moxie, and Violet has moxie to spare.
