by Gem Sivad
He finally got around to my order and opened a bottle, setting it in front of me, before again leaning on the counter in front of her.
“Saw you dancing with Marty at the dance-a-thon. Sweetheart, you’ve got the moves.”
What the fuck? Church was stealing my lines. I glared at my friend, trying to warn him off. Christ, what in hell possessed the bald fool? In case he’d missed my position on the matter, I leaned closer to her and said, “She’s with me.”
“That so?” Church grinned, opening a beer for himself, before resting both arms on the counter as he faced us.
“I’m not with him.” She spoke to Church and pretended I didn’t exist.
It had been so simple when we’d danced. We’d been in sync. Same with the sex. As much as I could remember, it had been great.
“Like I said earlier. I’d like to hire you,” I said gruffly. At her incredulous glare, I added, “To dance. I need a partner who can keep up with me. You weren’t bad the other night. Of course, we’d need to practice.”
Her expression changed to outrage.
“I’ll pay you for your time.” I tried to make it clear I respected her cost, getting that part out in a rush.
“Christ, Marty. Is that the best you can do?” Church scratched his jaw and shook his head.
“Church, get the fuck out of our conversation.”
“Conversation means talk between two people. That ain’t happening here.”
She said nothing, ignored both of us, and spooned in chili like she’d been starved.
“Fill her bowl, again,” I ordered. I suspected if she got the chance, she’d slide out the door.
“Got any peanut butter sandwiches?” she asked Church, snubbing me.
But then, support arrived.
“Hey, Holly. Great seeing you again,” Gable’s woman said.
Janie took the stool on the other side of Holly. Hopefully, she’d help me fumble my way toward… It occurred to me, belatedly, that Harley-Jane might not be backing my play.
Janie knew her name and didn’t volunteer that information. Maybe the name “Holly” wasn’t real. But, she seemed comfortable with it. I watched her relax into girl talk, continuing to ignore me. I knew from my business negotiations that was untrue. She was hyper aware of me. I could feel it.
All I needed was to get her alone, without Church or Harley-Jane listening, and we’d forge a deal. Getting her alone was turning out to not be so easy. Shit, I’d brought the crew along for backup. Now, I wanted them to get lost. Instead, it seemed to me more people were arriving, and they were all eyeing Holly and me.
She’d been cute and sexy in her Marilyn outfit. In her jacket and khaki pants, she was attractive in a different way. Church’s place had heated up from the number of bodies crowding inside.
Holly finally shrugged out of her coat, ignoring me and all the rest of the males staring as she got settled on the stool. I relaxed when she kept talking to Janie.
Gable had my back. He’d imported his woman to help. I ordered another beer and considered my next move as I watched Holly in the bar mirror. It occurred to me that for a man of my age, I was acting more like a teenager. Apparently, I didn’t care because I kept on staring at her.
Porcelain skin, not too pale, pink cheeks. Her short hair made her ears visible. I checked them out. They hugged her head and were well shaped. Without the coat, I could see the shape of her breasts beneath her blouse. Not wanting her to consider me more uncouth than she already did, I tried not to let my gaze linger there.
Even without four-inch heels she was a tall woman, displaying good posture, straight shoulders, and walking with a no-nonsense stride. My pouty, flirty, dance partner had been replaced by a boyishly dressed young woman who smelled like green apples and wore pink lip gloss. And the more I discovered about the real her, the more attractive I found her.
Chapter Seven
Holly
My hunger and Church’s chili hit it off. I sucked down the first bowl, and for the most part, ignored the man next to me. Help arrived in the form of Gable’s girlfriend.
“Cowboy called and said their night-out had ended at Church’s. I didn’t want to miss the party.”
I looked around. I didn’t see a party. I saw a room filled with big men. Obviously, more had arrived since when I’d been led in. Marty remained on guard next to me, ogling my mirrored reflection.
I took off my hat and shoved it in my pocket, revealing my short hair, ala Megan.
“Oh, I like the haircut.”
I preened. Megan was a beautician. She practiced her skills on Roger and me whenever we needed a trim or style. This time, she said she’d gotten it shorter than she intended, but I loved it.
I had a hard time keeping my hand from petting my own head. Janie’s third-party opinion confirmed the style. I figured it looked a good deal better than the Marilyn wig she’d seen me in before.
“Are you staying long?” she asked.
“No. Did you get your floor finished?” It was good seeing her. It surprised me how much.
“Nope.” She looked guilty. “I need to get a second coat on but, I work from home, and I tend to start projects that don’t get finished until I’m not busy. Right now, I’m chasing myself back and forth between two jobs, and the floor is on hold.”
Given my intention of saying a final goodbye to Marty, and Janie’s man being Marty’s friend, we probably wouldn’t see much of each other in the future. That was a shame. I liked her.
Chalk-up one more demerit against Marty. I wanted to talk kitchen upgrades. Instead I had to deal with the guy loitering on the stool next to me.
“Church, could you take a break from eavesdropping with Marty long enough to get me another chili, peanut butter, and milk combo?” I felt as if I hadn’t eaten in days.
I refused to turn and look at Marty, but over Church’s shoulder in the mirror, I could see his sheepish grin. Neither man denied they’d been listening to our chatter. I sighed and turned back to Janie.
“I’d rather talk to you, Harley-Jane, but I need to get something settled with Marty.”
“It was good seeing you again,” she agreed and nodded at the clock. “I’ll probably go on home. We should get together soon. You need to check out my kitchen floor. Why don’t you give me your phone number?”
I stared from her face to my phone then back at her face.
“Or not,” she answered herself.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her.
“You sure?” Her tone might have been a tad sarcastic, but she added her number and gave the phone back. I called her cell, let it ring once and disconnected. “All set.”
Then I felt compelled to explain, even though Church and he-who-would-not-be-named were both leaning close again to hear.
“I left this phone in the cab the night of the dance. That left me stranded and at the mercy of the unknown.” I scowled at Marty’s image in the mirror and turned back to Janie. “I thought I was going to have to get a new cellphone, but the cab company returned it. I didn’t realize how much information I store on this thing. And, now, I’m traumatized and almost afraid to let it out of my grip.”
I slid my phone into the pocket of my jacket and picked up the food, balancing the sandwich on top of the chili bowl as I walked to an empty booth by the wall. I tried to act nonchalant but couldn’t hide my grin. I don’t have many friends. I kind of hoped I’d just added one. Giving Janie my number was a big deal, since I didn’t share contact information with many.
Before I sat down, I checked to make sure I could see the door. Then I called Megan. As soon as she answered I said, “Church’s place. Now.”
My order in place, I hung up and waved at Janie who stood beside Gable, who stood beside Marty, who stood beside my booth.
“Call me,” Janie said, and she and Gable left me to face Marty alone.
“Ready to talk?” he asked, ignoring everyone but me.
“You can sit if you can listen,” I told hi
m. “If not, be warned, I will not put up with being stalked.”
“My apologies. I didn’t know how to reach you other than at your night job.” It was interesting watching an arrogant bastard try to school his expression to benign. I had no such problem.
“You told me what you wanted. I declined. What else is there to say?” I made my question off-hand, like it didn’t matter. Because, I assured myself, it really didn’t.
“It’s only a dance for God’s sake. It’s for charity.” I could see him struggling with his nice persona. “I’d like to hire you to be my partner.”
Church made good chili, and I spooned it in, eating half of the second peanut butter sandwich before I answered. “No.” I didn’t bother to be polite. The same rules I used when dealing with Megan seemed best used in this case, too.
“Why? We were good together.”
I took my time, organizing the words in my head so I would get it right when I answered.
I cleared my throat. His eyebrow went up. Boss man’s mock humility had begun to melt around the edges.
“First,” I said and took a sip of water. “I do not now, nor have I ever, worked for Maxine’s Baby Doll Escort Service.” I mentally quibbled with that announcement even as I made the claim. Technically, I’d been working for Maxine at the dance-a-thon.
“Except for the charity event. Being your dance partner for the dance-a-thon was a one-time event. Maxine had no escorts who could keep up with you—her words. Because I am a friend of her family, she was aware that I enjoy dancing and do it well. I agreed to help her please a desperate client who needed a dance partner. Nothing else was on the table.”
I wanted it clear he was a one-off, and I immediately felt better having set the record straight.
He relaxed and looked interested, almost pleased. When he opened his mouth, I shook my head, indicating it wasn’t his turn. I didn’t tell him it never would be, since I had no intentions of listening to anything he said. I had a feeling he already knew that. His mouth curved into a wolfish smile. I hurried on with what I had to say.
“Nothing but dancing was supposed to happen. I’ve treated the incident as if that and that alone is what did take place.” I paused to let those words sink in.
He leaned his elbows on the table, clasped his hands in front of him, made a stand for his head and rested his chin on his thumbs. His gaze was steady, his expression blank, at least I couldn’t read it. But I had his attention.
“I am not a prostitute. I don’t sell sex or exchange it for favors. I don’t care if others do. But, to clarify this issue, I. Don’t. Maxine paid me for showing up and dancing through the night. I repaid your taxi cab fare loan and donated the rest to the burn victim’s family.”
And that still grated. Aside from my decision to donate to a good cause, I would have had no problem pocketing the payment if the evening hadn’t ended on Marty’s couch with me screaming through too many orgasms to count. But, since it did end that way, the line between when the night ended, and I went off the clock was just too blurred.
“I agree that our dance performance was outstanding. We were synchronized. I had no difficulty following your lead. If I’m in the market for another dance partner, I’ll think of you. Be sure and let me know what you charge.”
Score me! He winced noticeably, and delayed satisfaction warmed my insides. I was on a roll and decided to let it all hang out.
“Last. I have no idea if you are hinting, asking, or maneuvering to have sex with me, again. You were my first. It was an interesting experience. Mostly good,” I hastened to add when he opened his mouth.
He growled, ready to protest, complain, or argue. Or maybe bite me. That was a bad thought, since he had bitten me before.
My breasts tingled, and my nipples turned into bullet points. For pity’s sake, behave. I finished the speech I’d practiced while sanding my kitchen cupboards. I knew this part by heart.
“I’ve thought about dancing with you again, maybe even having sex. I’ve decided against it. If it would be for one time, it’s not worth the effort. And if it would be for more than that, I don’t have the time. You’re a high maintenance guy. You’d want to know what I’m doing. You’d expect me to care about what you’re doing. It wouldn’t work, and I’m not interested in trying.” So there. I didn’t add nana nana boo-boo, but I’m pretty sure I telegraphed it with my expression.
“Now you’ve had your say, I get mine.” A tide of red climbed his neck and stained his ears. He lost his patient, contrite look, and lowered his arms to the table. I didn’t know if he was embarrassed or enraged.
How he feels doesn’t matter. He’d dragged me out of work, cost me tips, and was messing with my time. I reminded myself why I deserved to be pissed off and glared at him. He leaned across the table and got in my face, talking low enough so no one else could hear, but so I couldn’t miss it.
“Good to know you don’t work for Maxine. It could get awkward. As it is, we’ve just skipped over most of the in-between. I’m sorry our first fuck was bad for you. I’ll do better next time as we move along.”
“We’re not moving anywhere except separate ways,” I corrected him. I couldn’t have arranged a sweeter ending. Megan came through the door, grinned, and beckoned me. “And you can pay for my food since you cost me tips tonight.”
“Goodbye, Marty.” I stood and called across the room, “Great chili, Church. Thanks.”
“Hold up.” Marty caught my arm as I started for the door. “We’re not done talking.”
“Yes, we are.” My head suddenly felt as if it might explode. My stomach did a full roll, and goosebumps covered me in a cold sweat. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to stagger to a restroom.
With no more warning than that, I heaved, decorating the size fifteen boots next to me with the chili, milk, and sandwiches I’d just eaten.
Instead of Megan’s assistance, I ended up with Marty Jones at my elbow, guiding me to what turned out to be Church’s one unisex bathroom. It didn’t allow for kneeling, never mind the germs swarming to grab hold of the acrobatic. I bent forward, leaning over Marty’s arm, using him for support as I vomited again and again. Finally, the heaving stopped.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, clearly not. “I …” Another round of nausea hit me. I thought I’d emptied my stomach before, that proved untrue.
This time my stomach turned inside out, ridding itself of everything I’d eaten, including any stray crumbs that might have found their way to my toes.
In the throes of losing it, I appreciated the calloused hand holding me up as I aimed the stream of barf. Once I’d completely emptied my stomach I remembered the identity of my assistant. I would rather not have had Marty Jones as witness.
“Gross, gross, gross.” I finished heaving at last and found the strength to stand up straight. It took all I had left to make it to the sink, two steps away. I leaned on the edge and steadied myself as I washed my hands. When Marty appeared beside me and tried to wipe my face with a damp cloth, I ripped it from his hand.
“I can handle this,” I snapped. I looked past him at the open door where Church and Megan shared the view. “Megan, I want to go home.”
“After you see a doctor.” Marty Jones wasn’t shy about offering his opinion. He clearly didn’t understand how close I was to smacking him upside the head.
“If I don’t feel better tomorrow, I’ll go. Not tonight. I’m too tired. I’m going home.”
“If it’s food poisoning, you might be dead by tomorrow.” Church offered his opinion and Megan decided to chime in.
“You’re never sick.” She turned on Church. “You must have poisoned her. She’s never sick.” She turned back to me. “I’ll take you to the emergency room.”
“Fine.” I had no intentions of going to the hospital. I just wanted to go home and sleep. But I didn’t feel like arguing, either. I’d change Megan’s directions once we got in her car.
“She can lay down in my backseat. I’ll drive. Ch
urch, call Doc Wilson.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
Marty scooped me into his arms and carried me from the bathroom, through the bar, and to the door. I weigh-in at one-fifty-eight on a good day. Even pissed off at him, I admired his brute strength. Unlike the rough tosses, and hurried lifts on the dance floor, or his swift carry across the glass covered parking garage, this time when he cradled me in his arms, it was almost sweet the way he held me.
“Let me down you, big ox,” I snarled. At least, I tried to snarl. It came out more a whimper which he ignored.
Church said, “I’ll drive, I’m already out front.”
Megan said, “I’m following you.”
“I feel fine.” I’d feel a lot finer once I got home. That, I was sure of. There was nothing left of the nausea but a nasty taste in my mouth. Nobody paid attention to me.
I ended up stretched out on the seat of a very big truck with my head resting in Marty’s lap, him petting my hair until I smacked his hand away and sat up.
We didn’t go to a hospital. Instead, Church pulled into the parking lot of a clinic. The lights were on, and inside the front door, medical personnel, stood waiting.
Apparently, Smoke, Inc. had employed a teenager wearing jeans, a tee-shirt under his open lab coat, and a stethoscope dangling around his neck, to impersonate the company doctor. The name tag prominently displayed on the coat, said, Dr. Garret Wilson, M.D.
I did not feel reassured by the plaques on the wall, certifying the kid had graduated from medical school.
“You know, Megan. I feel fine. I think we should go home.”
Megan and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a cage of men. Church on her side, Marty on mine, another big guy I had not yet met, but felt certain I soon would, had taken his place behind us. I had no idea from where he’d come.
The doctor, being shorter than me by at least four inches, and slighter in build, seemed the easiest exit.
Normal hours were six to six, but he’d obviously accommodated Smoke, Inc. needs by being here. He was a company man through and through. But, a little one. I thought if push came to shove, I could get past him.
