Sultry Sunset

by Mary Calmes

  Genevieve left to use my bathroom, Ivy ran back outside where Mike sent her to grab the second plate of kebabs, but her dad stayed there and washed his hands in the kitchen sink before turning to me.

  “So I don’t think I ever—would you both please call me Essien?”

  “I don’t know.” I scowled at him. “Chief Dodd sort of rolls off the tongue.”

  His smile was bright like his daughter’s. “It’s wonderful to meet you both. I’m sorry my daughter’s invaded your home, but I so appreciate you taking care of her.”

  “She hasn’t been any trouble at all,” I assured him. “She’s an angel.”

  “Thank you.”

  “All she’s been talking about night and day are all the things she’s looking forward to doing to your home. After being here with me she’s ready to start decorating.”

  “Is she?”

  I chuckled. “She’s taking a little bit of my style and none of Mike’s and—”

  “Pardon me?” Mike chimed in.

  “What?”

  “None of mine?” He was indignant.

  I gestured toward the guesthouse. “What is there to take from that? You haven’t done anything to it since you moved in.”

  “I was supposed to do something?”

  “Yeah. You were supposed to make it your own.”

  “Really?”

  I shook my head.

  “Wait,” Essien interrupted. “I thought you two were together.”

  I scoffed. “No, we’re not a couple. Did Ivy say we were?”

  “No, but I… I just got that impression from things she said.”

  “Huh,” Mike grunted.

  “Well, for the record, Mike lives in my guesthouse and we work together at the Green Grocer.”

  “Oh,” Essien said, clearly embarrassed, nodding as Mike smiled at him.

  “We only sound like an old married couple,” I explained.

  “That’s right,” Mike agreed, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Now finish setting the table, honey. We have guests.”

  I laughed and so did Essien, and when Genevieve came back and Ivy walked in with Benny in tow—since he followed her everywhere—it was time to sit down and eat.

  It was funny to watch Essien and Genevieve look at Ivy like she had grown another head. They were both clearly amazed, but I had no idea why. She chatted, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as she explained about her talk with the soccer coach and how she had a tryout with the team as soon as school started.

  Genevieve tried to bring up the idea of Ivy visiting her in Philadelphia, but her niece simply shut her down over and over.

  “You should just plan on coming here,” she told her aunt. “I mean, hello, Florida.”

  There was really no argument.

  After dinner, Mike gave Essien his second beer and walked him around my—our—property. Technically it was mine, but Mike lived there and he was in and out of my house all the time, had a key—as I did for his place, of course—so it seemed strange to say mine when he was a fixture there. As Ivy and I cleaned up, Genevieve talked to us.

  “Hutch,” Ivy said as she moved up on my left, watching Mike and her dad outside. “Do you realize that both my dad and Mike have lost a wife? Isn’t that sad?”

  It was.

  “Maybe they’ll get to be friends.”

  And while I hoped they did—I wanted Essien to be happy in Mangrove—I had an unfamiliar twinge in my chest while watching the two men talk in the backyard, and I didn’t like it at all.

  Chapter Four

  OVER THE next couple of months, I enjoyed seeing Ivy settle into her life in Mangrove, was pleased that her aunt left feeling secure that she was happy, and tried to keep track of the number of dates Mike went on. It was like the mourning period had officially ended and he was making up for lost time or something.

  It was early on a Friday morning in October, and I was having coffee on my back porch with Essien. Both of us were early risers, and he’d gotten into the habit of walking from his back door to mine, and by the time he’d open the screen door, I’d have a cup of French roast to pass him. Then we would stand in my kitchen and wait to see the walk of shame from my guesthouse.

  “Oh-oh, who do we have here?”

  “That’s—wait, wait,” Essien stopped me. “Don’t tell me. It’s the lady from the witch place my daughter likes.”

  “Wick and Wand,” I offered. And sure enough, there was Sophia D’Amato, walking very quickly across my grass, shoes in hand. “I guess Wiccans have needs too,” I yelled after her.

  “Screw you, Hutch,” she yelled as she walked by my screened-in back porch.

  It was odd to see Mike doing so much serial screwing. He’d gone from seeing nobody to seeing everyone in a few short months.

  “He’s going to have to start on tourists, because he’s running out of residents,” Essien commented, sipping his coffee.

  “Has he talked to you about it?” I asked. “Because all I’m getting as the reason for the man-whoring is that he wants to start living his life again.”

  “Yeah, he told me he’s finally in a good place.”

  “Which is good,” I said sincerely, “but maybe remind him that the condom is his friend.”

  “Yes, it is,” Essien agreed.

  “You’re awfully cavalier about it,” I quipped. “Just imagine if he catches something and your daughter starts asking questions, as we both know she will. Are you ready to have that talk with her?”

  “I’ve had the sex talk with my daughter.”

  “Yes, but have you ventured into STD realm?”

  “Please stop,” he groaned.

  What was funny was that none of the dates started until after dinner. All of Mike’s dates started with drinks or a movie or dessert or something, anything, that could be done in the later evening. He was still having dinner with me every night. It was so odd.

  “You can take these women out on a proper date, you know,” I suggested.

  “It’s just casual,” he explained.

  But I didn’t get it. “Don’t you want to date any of these women?”

  “I’m not ready to do that,” he informed me. “And they don’t want me exclusively either.”

  I shook my head.

  “What?”

  “I think you’re wrong,” I apprised him.

  “Oh?”

  “Anybody in their right mind would want to keep you.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “You’re a good man.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.”

  “You and Janey—you’re of similar minds on the subject of me. I think you’re both a bit too lenient.”

  I shook my head. “From everything you told me about her, I think we’re both terribly smart people.”

  His deep rumbling laughter made my stomach tighten unexpectedly.

  “You’re both blinded by my charm.”

  “I see.”

  He gave my cheek a quick pat. “I have nothing to offer anyone.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, stopping him before he turned away, taking hold of his hand and holding tight.

  “Yes, it is,” he argued, but he didn’t pull away. “Who wants a man with a broken heart?”

  “It’s not broken anymore. It was wounded and now it’s stitched up. You’re ready to start watching sunsets and holding hands again.”

  Eyebrows raised, he nodded like I belonged in the loony bin.

  “I’m serious,” I snapped, letting him go. “You should think about some monogamous dating.”

  But as of yet, he had not heeded my advice, as evidenced by the string of beautiful women trying to slip away unseen in the early morning light.

  “You have to wonder what he’s trying to prove,” Essien said out of the blue.

  “What?”

  He gestured with his coffee mug at my guesthouse. “Mike. Why the sudden need to sleep with every available woman in town? What
happened?”

  I realized I had no idea.

  “He’s your best friend. Shouldn’t you maybe find out?”

  He had a point.

  “SO WHY aren’t you asking?”

  I turned slowly to look at Kelly Seaton, who had joined me in my lean against the railing at the community center. He was doing the landscaping, and when he saw me, he had just put in the flagstone walkway that would hopefully keep people off the grass and out of the water of the small mangrove forest he had installed.

  By all accounts, we should not have been friendly. But as he and Coz Renaldi sank deeper and deeper into couplehood, I found him far more grounded and approachable. So when he’d sauntered over and asked what was going on, I had unloaded about Mike and how he was sleeping with every available woman in town and how Essien had brought up the fact that maybe he was compensating for something and how half of me was debating about getting into it with him and the other half was not and how I wanted to know but how I also didn’t want to pry.

  “What can I actually ask as a friend?”

  “But you’re not just friends, right?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, clearly you’re more than that.”

  My heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s your best friend, and you want him to be more, and that’s why you’re jealous.”

  It took me several seconds to process. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Well, yes,” I agreed, “just not how you think.”

  “Oh? How do I think?”

  “I’m not jealous because I want Mike; I’m jealous because of the time he’s spending with this multitude of women, nothing else.”

  “And how are those two things different?”

  “I’m just used to having Mike around, is all. It has nothing to do with me wanting him,” I explained, clearing things up for him.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “No, really, it’s perfectly—”

  “Stupid. You have no idea what you’re even saying.”

  “No, I—”

  Kelly snickered. “You’re so clueless that you don’t even realize that you’re snapping and snarling at everyone.”

  “I am not,” I groused.

  He batted his eyelashes at me, and I remembered how much of a wiseass he was.

  “It’s just that… see, Mike and I… we’re like—”

  “God,” he sighed, “I shouldn’t have ever been jealous of you.”

  “I’m trying to explain something to you,” I complained.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I pushed off the railing and pivoted to face him instead of staring at his profile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Would you rather tell me or just stand there and piss me off?”

  Kelly had the nerve to smile. “I thought you were interested in Coz, but it’s actually Mike.”

  “What? No,” I protested.

  “Yes,” he volleyed.

  “No, it’s—”

  “How long has it been Mike?”

  “We’re friends,” I retorted, “and that’s all. Just because you and Coz were buddies and then lovers doesn’t mean that all relationships follow that same course of—”

  “I think it does.”

  But that couldn’t be right. Mike and I were never going to be romantic, because he was straight and maybe even still grieving. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kelly was going to argue; he opened his mouth to say something but stopped suddenly when someone yelled his name. We turned and found Lazlo Maguire walking toward us, and I, for one, was thrilled. I always enjoyed looking at him.

  On first glance, people thought Lazlo was either a front man for a rock band, a model, or some international playboy slumming it in Mangrove. Because of his medium-length hair that went everyway at once and stood on end in an unkempt mop, the perpetual squint, the enduring stubble he let become a beard and mustache after a few weeks at home, thick black brows, and even darker eyes, I got the impression of slumber, like he’d just woken up and would love to go back to sleep. I never understood the term “bedroom eyes” before I met him, but that man simply dripped sex. He looked decadent, and he sounded even more so with his deep whiskey voice and rumbling laugh, and everything he did, he did at his own pace. I had never seen him move quickly. The man had a fluidity about him that, coupled with the occasional wicked smile, turned almost everyone who knew him into a puddle at his feet.

  Finding out what he did for a living had kept me from making a move. Six months out of the year, he lived in Mangrove and ran On The Breeze, his store that sold handmade wind chimes. He made the kind that hung and the kind that went into the ground, and they were all welded pieces of art that flew out of his store. The thing was, even at some exorbitant pricing, even if he sold everything in the shop, he wouldn’t be able to keep the place open. So to help, the other six months of the year, he was a highly paid escort in New York.

  It was not my place to judge, and if I had his beautiful face and gorgeous toned, cut body and I was twenty-two with no obligations, I might be an escort too. But the issue was that every now and then, someone followed him home. It was easy to get attached to him and his sensual hedonism, but once he was here, he wasn’t that guy.

  Here in Mangrove, he was Laz, the laid-back shop owner with his place beside the tea shop, Steep. He was not the same guy he was in the big city, but clients didn’t know that. Every so often, Laz would have to file a restraining order against a particularly insistent admirer, and it was always a hassle for either Coz or Arad to enforce.

  “What?” He yawned as he strode over to us, board shorts and tank top on, cigarette in one hand, 32-ounce fountain drink in the other.

  “Why are you barefoot?” I asked, utterly horrified. “You could step on a piece of glass or something.”

  He was scowling as he reached us. “The only thing on the pristine white sidewalks or the red brick driveways around here is white sand that looks like sugar, so I’m not worried.”

  I shook my head, and Kelly told him to get rid of the cigarette. “You know smoking in public places is against the law in Mangrove.”

  Laz groaned and put it out on the railing, then tossed it into the garbage can. “Which is ridiculous by the way,” he added. “Who gets exposed to secondhand smoke when you’re outside and the wind is blowing and you’re right next to the fuckin’ ocean?”

  We both shot him a look.

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Whatever,” Kelly said dismissively. “I want to know about you and Britton Lassiter. Why did he take out a restraining order against you?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I live with one of the two officers in town. Of course I know.”

  “It was a misunderstanding.”

  Oh, I had to hear this.

  He looked back and forth between us and finally threw up his hands in annoyance. Clearly we were both waiting.

  “He was a client in Manhattan,” Lazlo explained. “And––”

  “Before he was divorced?” Kelly wanted to know.

  “He was separated already,” Lazlo replied irritably, possibly because of being interrupted. “And though normally I don’t do background checks before I fuck people, I think he was feeling guilty and so gave me his whole sad ‘I’m getting a divorce’ story.”

  “Okay, sorry, go on.”

  “Yeah, so when I saw him here, I thought he was one of those guys who’d followed me across the country.”

  Kelly’s laughter was immediate.

  “What?” I asked, unsure of why that was funny. “I’m sure lots of people would––look at him.”

  “Thank you,” Lazlo said with his sexy, smoky voice.

  “Could we finish the story?” Kelly snapped.

  “Yeah. So I go walking up to him and I start to give him the standard line, yanno, the whole ‘this is my home, so whatever you thou
ght I could do for you, I can’t do for you here,’ and he gets all upset like I attacked him or something.”

  “He was horrified.” Kelly chuckled.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  “Britton told Coz he was horrified?”

  “No, idiot, he told me he was horrified. He and I are friends.”

  “Oh, so you got the story from both sides, then, mine and his.”

  “I have now, yeah.”

  Lazlo pivoted to face Kelly. “Then explain to me why he lost his mind?”

  “Are you kidding?” he scoffed.

  Lazlo was clearly confused.

  “He’s the new lawyer in town. He’s only been here a month and he’s building his reputation, and you’re back a week and everyone knows he knows you.”

  “You know me,” he said curtly. “And that doesn’t seem to be adversely affecting your reputation.”

  “I’m not a lawyer,” Kelly reminded him.

  Lazlo scowled. “That’s the reason? Really? I embarrassed him?”

  “If I was him, I wouldn’t want clients knowing I paid for sex, either,” I told him. “I mean, you’re a lawyer and you did something illegal. What does that say about you?”

  “It’s not illegal to be an escort.”

  “You’re splitting hairs,” I argued. “Everybody loves you, you know that, but do they want a guy who paid to fuck you doing their legal work?”

  “Why should that matter?”

  “Come on, be serious.”

  “Uptight much?”

  “The town is open-minded,” Kelly sighed, “but still small. Use your head.”

  Lazlo shrugged.

  “Maybe you should have asked questions before you rained down righteous anger on the man.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but it was an honest mistake. Lots of guys follow me ’cause I’m scary hot in bed.”

  Both Kelly and I groaned.

  “What? I am!”

  I shook my head. Thank God I wasn’t twenty-two anymore.

  “So what now?” Kelly asked. “Are you going to fight the restraining order?”

  He shrugged. “He can keep it, I don’t give a fuck. What the hell would I need to see him about? Ever? It’s not like what I do in New York is legal anyway, so I’m not going through some screening process to have a job or keep it. I don’t care about this, and it messed with my vibe anyway.”