by A. J. Downey
“Be right out.”
I showered and soaked in the heat and it was wonderful. When I got out, I heard the sound of Poe shaking a packet of something back and forth in the kitchen. You could hear everything in this tiny space, and I couldn’t say that was a bad thing. No surprises were definitely a good thing where I came from.
I ran my fingers through my hair to get it doing its natural beachy wave thing in the front and made a face at myself in the mirror. I tried to keep an A-line cut, short in the back, chin-length in the front, but it was starting to get a little long and I was glad for the colder weather that required I wear a hat. My slouchy beanies could hide a multitude of sins, from the frozen tops of my ears to my shaggy excuse of a haircut.
I hung my towel on the bar in the bathroom and shivered lightly when I opened the bathroom door, the air cooler out here than the bathroom in just my tank top and short sleep shorts.
“Almost done in here, get under the covers.”
It sounded like he had water heating on the stove, but it wasn’t quite boiling. I did as he’d gently ordered.
We didn’t say anything. Rather, we lapsed into this cozy silence, the both of us tired, the wee hours of the morning catching up with us.
“You going to sleep in tomorrow?” he asked and I looked at the glowing clock on his cable box by the television.
It was three am.
“Uh, yeah. No way am I getting up to play for the morning commute. That would only let me sleep for like an hour.”
He chuckled and said, “Usually I have tomorrow off, but I traded with another guy to help him out.”
“I don’t even know what day it is,” I said with a heavy sigh, straightening the blankets in my lap.
“Well, it’s technically Friday right this minute. I usually have Friday and Saturday off. What about you? What do you usually do on the weekends?”
“Holiday shoppers should be out; didn’t Thanksgiving just happen?”
“A little over a week ago,” he said, coming over to me. He handed down a steaming mug of fragrant cider. The kind made from the packet. I loved the stuff.
“You are a saint,” I murmured and he laughed.
“You sing carols?” he asked.
“During the holidays? Absolutely.”
“You religious much?” he asked, going around to his side of the bed and setting a steaming mug of his own on his nightstand.
I shook my head. “No, not really. I just like the carols.”
“Which one is your favorite?” He stood for a while by the bed and stretched, twisting at the waist, bracing one arm behind the other and pulling it to him to get that extra deep stretch in his shoulder.
“Mm,” I savored a careful sip of the hot liquid. “Carol of the Bells. It’s not really a solo endeavor.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it. Keep talking, I’m going to change.” He went for the bathroom.
I chuckled and shook my head. “Oh, I promise you that you have heard it,” I said, speaking up so he could hear me.
“How’s it go?” he called back lightly, reappearing around the corner, pulling his plain white tee over his head, his blue plaid pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips showing off his lean stomach. Well, he wasn’t exactly showing off, he had just grown comfortable around me, I guess.
“It’s a choir piece, so it doesn’t sound right just me singing it, but it goes…” I sang a little bit for him, the opening notes and he nodded rapidly.
“Okay, okay, I have heard it.”
He sat on the bed carefully beside me and leaned back against the wall, shoving his pillow behind him. He twisted and picked up his own mug and asked, “So how you doing? Warmer?”
“Yeah, it got icy out there tonight.”
“Only going to get worse. Snow is in the forecast.”
“Shit,” I swore softly. “I need to find some indoor spots and soon.”
“I wonder what it’s like,” he said thoughtfully, looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“A day in the life of Saylor Grace,” he said with a charmed smile.
“When is your next weekday off?” I asked softly.
“Monday. Like I said, I switched days off with a dude to help him out. His wife left and he’s got kids. Needed to take them to the doctors.”
“Ah-huh. See, I told you so.” I breathed transfixed by his soft green eyes and the way he looked at me.
“Told me what?” he asked amused.
“Saint Poe,” I murmured.
“Patron saint of the lost?” he asked.
I nodded, mutely and he smiled, a wry amusement shading his expression.
“Somehow, I get the impression that no matter where you are, you’re far from lost. You’re a pretty capable woman, Saylor Grace.”
“I was so screwed two nights ago,” I breathed. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what I would have done. You kept me from losing literally everything… I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said and his voice had dropped low, too. I wanted to say we were just being considerate for the poor neighbors. I mean, it was close to four in the morning now… but I knew better. There was a sudden, not nearly awkward enough intimacy that’d just sprung up between us.
I was keenly aware that he was painfully attractive and that for the past two nights I’d managed to sleep mere inches from him. God, how had I not noticed? Better yet, how had I not embarrassed myself by now? I was a cuddler by nature and the fact I’d kept to myself in my sleep was a borderline miracle at this point.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
“That I’m actually kind of amazed I’ve managed to keep to myself the past two nights. I’m an unconscious cuddler.”
“Hey, worse things have happened then being snuggled by a beautiful woman.”
I blushed and asked stupidly, “You think I’m beautiful?” I’d dropped my gaze to the amber liquid gently steaming in my cup that was warming my hands and he chuckled softly.
“I don’t say it if I don’t mean it, typically.”
“You’re not so bad to look at yourself,” I mumbled absently, and he laughed.
“You’re blushing,” he pointed out.
“Shut up,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed as I felt my face flame harder.
“You even do that beautifully,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice and around the rim of his mug as he took a drink of his cider.
“Oh, God. So embarrassing,” I muttered.
“Why?” he asked and laughed lightly. I giggled and couldn’t help myself. I put a hand against my mouth to stifle it.
“This is all you, Saylor Grace. What you say goes,” he said with a satisfied ‘ah’ after his next sip.
“Are you hoping I’ll make a move?” I asked.
“Actually, yeah… kind of.”
I laughed and said, “That’s so backwards!”
“Maybe,” he shrugged and I looked up at him. “But I want you to be comfortable – so to that end, you’re in charge.” The finality in the statement rendered me speechless for the moment.
“You’re like, the total package!” I finally blurted. “How are you still single?”
He lifted one shoulder and let it drop.
“I guess maybe I was waiting for someone real. Like you.”
Speechless again.
I took a swallow of my cider and stared at him. I took another swallow, thinking furiously in circles, asking myself, just what do you want?
The answer was that I really wanted him, but my head overrode my heart. At least for tonight. I sighed and told him the truth.
“I’m really tired.”
“You’ve been up pretty close to twenty-four hours, you’ve been on your feet almost all fucking day, don’t let me keep you up, Saylor Grace. Lay down and sleep if you’re ready.”
“Okay,” I whispered, finishing off what was in my mug. I set it aside and scooted down.
> He set his aside and got up to turn out the light. I bit my lips together and he went to the closet, rooting around in his leather jacket. He came back to my side of the bed and plugged in an honest-to-God nightlight for me. Something that beat back the dark without the harshness of leaving the light on.
I sat back up.
“When did you get that?” I asked.
“Today.”
“For me?”
“You said you were scared of the dark,” he reminded me gently.
“So, you bought me a nightlight?” I asked.
“Yeah, I saw it in a bodega and picked it up. An impulse buy.”
He stood up and came back around the bed and I stared at the mermaid nightlight plugged into the wall, glowing softly.
I laid back down as he settled in and turned so I could face him. He smiled at me, lying on his side facing me, and I wanted so badly to close the space between us and kiss him with the swell of gratitude in my breast but I chickened out.
“What?” he asked me softly; searching my eyes in the dim lighting.
Wordlessly, I scooted closer and he simply opened his arms and just sort of naturally turned onto his back.
I cuddled into his side, his arms feeling incredibly good as they went around me. I laid my head on his chest and we both just sort of sighed out at the same time. A small peal of nervous laughter ensued and we settled.
“Goodnight, Saylor Grace,” he whispered and kissed the top of my head.
I closed my eyes.
“Goodnight, Jeremy Poe.”
9
Poe…
The feeling of waking up with Saylor still there, in my arms, was indescribable. I didn’t know what to make of it, to be honest. I simply lay in the dim light seeping through around the closed slats of my blinds and relished the warmth and softness of the woman fetched up against me.
She slept deeply, her breathing deep and even and I realized that damn, I felt well rested. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so deeply I hadn’t freaking moved all night in my sleep. I closed my eyes and just listened to her soft draw of breath, the heavy exhale as her body autonomously kept itself running and wondered where her mind was.
Was she dreaming? If she was, what did she dream about? Was there happiness in her dreamworld right now?
Was I in it?
Was it stupid that I found myself hoping that I was?
She took a deeper, unsteady breath out of cadence with the previous ones and let out a small ‘mm’ sound. I couldn’t tell if it was good, bad, or indifferent so I simply held still and let her come awake in her own time. She looked up at me and I looked down at her and she sucked in a soft breath, the look in her unique eyes slightly surprised.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” I answered gently.
“Aren’t you worried you might be late for work?” she asked.
I shook my head gently.
“No, not yet. My alarm hasn’t gone off and I set it for eleven, so…”
“What time do you have to be into work?” she asked, sitting up a little, resting her chin on her hand which rested on my chest. I suddenly cursed my habit of wearing a tee to bed. I bet it would feel incredible, her soft skin against mine.
“Shift is from two to ten-thirty, usually.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Why, you have something in mind?” I asked.
Her smile was sweet yet held an edge of mischief.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said and pushed up against the bed with her arm that was on the bottom. I breathed deep her light, feminine scent. A combination of her soap and deodorant – she didn’t wear perfume that I noticed. She was, I guess, a natural beauty in that way and damn she smelled good. I don’t know what it was. Something sweet, like cotton candy with a hint of extra vanilla.
It was subtly driving me crazy.
“Coffee?” she asked, stretching in front of the window, I cocked my head and nodded.
“Yeah, here or out there?” I asked.
“I can make it,” she said and padded around into the kitchen.
I pushed myself up into a sitting position and put my back against the wall behind me to watch her.
She flitted throughout my kitchen like a fairy, going through drawers and various cupboards, plucking things down as she found them, or bringing them up from the drawers. She was graceful in her movements, deliberate, and I wondered briefly…
“You ever take any dance classes or martial arts?”
“What?” she asked, then laughed slightly as she filled the coffee maker’s carafe with water at the sink, her back to me.
“I asked if you ever danced or took martial arts,” I repeated.
“I know, just… Where did that question come from?” She laughed lightly.
“You just move with grace,” I said. “Practiced, but not intentional, you know?”
She leaned against the counter, facing me, and smiled this flattered and charmed smile and shook her head.
“I fell in with some fire spinners and learned poi. Maybe that’s where I get it?”
“Wait, what the hell is poi?” I asked.
I got a crash course in fire spinning, and I guess poi were fireballs at the end of a chain. Who knew? She told me all about the weekly practices at a place called ‘Gas Works’ back where she’d come from. How they went on all summer long, people taking turns to practice performing. How she would play for several, how others performed to an old boom box, and others to music from wireless Bluetooth speakers. How during the really special practices something called a drum circle would form.
It sounded kind of magical, if you asked me.
“I haven’t really run into too many other performers here, yet,” she said.
“They’re around. All but the most diehard take the winter off, I guess. They don’t in Seattle?”
“Don’t get me wrong, it can get cold in Seattle, but it’s not like out here. Seattle it’s wet, and the cold is somehow milder. We get a lot of days in the thirties but it’s the mid-to-high thirties and the coldest it usually gets is in January and February. Maybe the latter half of December. It rains a lot but we maybe get one or two days of snow per year. It’s not your typical winter and it’s shorter than just about any other place I’ve heard of.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, it’s actually pretty conducive to year-round outdoor performing,” she said as she finished moving around the kitchen, getting the coffee maker going.
She came back to the bed and sat down next to me.
“So, what are your big plans for today?” I asked.
“I was actually thinking about giving myself a day off. Maybe just stay here and compose a couple of new things. Go out tonight, or just hit the holiday shoppers up with some carols tomorrow. Get on the Wi-Fi and do a little internet research from my phone on popular spots for Christmas shopping – that kind of thing.”
“Sounds good. Uh, you know, on the edge of my sector there’s this old – and I mean really old building that was one of the first shopping malls back in like the 1800s or something. Now, they’ve converted the bottom floor into these little boutiques and shops while the two floors above them are these expensive-ass bougie micro-apartments.”
“That sounds so cool!” she exclaimed and looked up at me with a sparkle in her eyes.
“I’ll check it out and ask one of the business owners if it’s cool you went in and did your thing.”
“I’d like that, only to be fair, the bougie types are the most inclined to pinch their pennies so I don’t know how well I would do.”
“Won’t know unless you try,” I said with a shrug and she smiled big as the coffee maker gurgled its last in the kitchen.
“And at least I get to do the thing I love the most while trying, so there’s always that.”
“That’s the way to look at it,” I said and admired her positive outlook.
She got up and asked, “Creamer and sugar?
”
“Oh, naw, the creamer in the fridge is sweet enough on its own. That’s why I buy it.”
“Okay.”
She made us coffee and then rejoined me on the bed. We sat sipping and talking. Idle chitchat about her life as a street musician and mine as a city beat cop. Eventually we got into trading stories about the crazy shit we’d witnessed, respectively.
“I once saw a man hold up a convenience store with a samurai sword,” she said as I ducked into the bathroom to get ready to head out to work.
“Oh, shit. Yeah, we haven’t had one of those out here, yet. We did have a drunk guy walk up to a cooler in a convenience store, open the door, whip his dick out and start pissing on the milk. He was so drunk he thought it was a new type of urinal.”
“Oh, God! That’s so gross!” she cried laughing.
“Uh, yeah. Clerk was like ‘I don’t get paid enough, dude.’ I think he quit that night.”
“I know I would!” She shuddered and drank down the last of her coffee as I shrugged into my jacket and cut and brought down my helmet where I kept it on the top shelf.
I went over near her and said, “I’ll be home by midnight.”
“Okay,” she said lightly, and it felt totally natural, comfortable, like slipping on your favorite sweatshirt when I bent at the waist and brushed my lips across hers.
I straightened quickly and said, “Holy shit. I don’t know why I just did that.”
She looked up at me, and the expression on her face was unreadable. I was seriously starting to panic on the inside when she finally said, “Me either, but come down here and do it again.”
I smiled, my insides turning liquid with relief that I hadn’t offended her and with a soft, “Yes, ma’am,” I bent and touched my lips to hers again.
Her palm was soft and warm where it came up to caress the side of my face. She kissed me back, carefully, her lips moving lightly against mine, her tongue flickering tentatively out to taste my bottom lip.
I kept it light and drew away slowly, murmuring, “To be continued…”
“Okay,” she said back carefully, her voice a bit strained with desire.
“See you around midnight.”
