False Start (Love and Skate) (6 page)

“The kitchen is over there. I’m
gonna go change.”

She pointed to a huge kitchen, classic in style but with upgraded appliances and pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. Placing the white boxes on the marble countertop, I looked around. Everything was clean and simple, khaki couches, a big brown corduroy chair was by the window, facing outward with books stacked on the windowsill. I scanned some of the titles, zombie apocalypse, survival, even the Boy Scout Handbook were among her choices. The girl was cool, I’d give her that.

She came back downstairs, her hair down now. It was all different lengths and when she turned just the right way, I could see the purple by the nape of her neck. I wondered if it made her neck taste like grape Kool-Aid.

All of the sudden I was thirsty.

She had perfect fitting jeans on, ratty at the knees and a red t-shirt with the Star Wars logo plastered across the front. She wore no shoes, but there were rings on every toe.

She clapped her hands and rubbed them together like a nemesis when she got to the bottom, “I made you a special treat. We always keep cake scraps to make those cake pop things. But it turns out that my boss is my best friend. So, I made you cake truffles in every flavor I could find. I hope you’re hungry.”

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

She grabbed my hand and led me back to the kitchen, “Really? This is what I love to do. That’s like telling an author they didn’t have to write a book. They write because they must. I bake because I must.”

She sat me down at the bar and got two bottles of water out.

“Here’s the thing. I
kinda forgot which one was which. We’re gonna have to taste them together so I know which one you like.”

She opened and slammed drawers and finally pulled out a paper and pen. I just sat there like an idiot.

“Ok, first one.” She cut it in half and we each took a bite. It was some kind of peanut butter. I didn’t care for it at all.

“Wow, no peanut butter. I get it.” She laughed, I was making a face just trying to swallow it.

We tried tons more but none of them I really loved. Until the very last one—It was heaven. Then I heard the noise of a picture being taken and I stopped chewing. She’d taken a picture of me.

“Look at this face!” She showed me and even I had to admit, I looked like I was enjoying it immensely.

“Which one is this?”

“Almond cake with raspberry filling and frosting.” She smiled.

Good thing I didn’t guess. I thought it was vanilla with strawberry.

I felt like I could keel over at
anytime, overcome by the sugar crash. But I didn’t know if I was supposed to try to leave or try to stay. My social skills were way whacked out.

“
Do you want to talk or something? I don’t have to be to derby practice until six.”

“Sure, that sounds good. But I might not make it through, I am sleepy all the sudden.”

“I wish I could sleep, just once.”

“You too?”

“Yeah, it seems like just when I get to sleep it’s time to wake up again. Every single time, no matter what.”

“I hear you. I don’t even bother much anymore. Sometimes I can take a nap here and there. What I wouldn’t give for a full night’s sleep.”

“Huh,” she looked at me like I was alien.

“What?”

“Nothing. So, you’re in school. What are you studying?”

She sat on one end of the couch
and I sat on the other end. She readjusted the endless bracelets on her wrists. She wore a lot of bracelets.

“
My major is Chemistry, but I’d really like to teach. Make it a class where the students aren’t bored to death.”

She laughed
.  That was good, right?

“I had a Chemistry
teacher named Mrs. Woodfork. We used to call her Mrs. Plastic Spoon, she’d get really mad. I did a science experiment on siphoning and she said she couldn’t see the liquid go from one cup to the other. So she reached in her desk and pulled out one of those bottles of red food coloring. She put in half the bottle. So, I had to suck on the straw to get the liquid going and ten minutes later I was broken out in hives.”

“You’re allergic to red dye. My mom was too.”

“Specifically, number 40.”

“So you have to be careful at the bakery?”

“Yeah, I have to wear gloves if I deal with red frosting or fondant. The red flavors, raspberry, strawberry and cherry; we order all natural dyes.”

“But what about when you were little? How were you not allergic to red fruit punch or red suckers or popsicles?”

She smiled, I must’ve touched on something.

“My mom was all about the homemade, dye free, chemical free food.”

“Sounds like a good mom.”

“Yeah, she’s the best. What about yours?”

I cleared my throat and fidgeted, “My mom passed away when I was a teenager and my Dad died a year or so after.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, um, she had cancer and my dad was hit by a car.”

It wasn’t a lie, technically.

“Wow, I don’t know what I’d do without my mom. Siblings?”

“Yeah, my brother is Maddox.”

She crinkled her eyebrows, “Wait, I thought they were all brothers, even you until a few minutes ago.”

It was a common thing, we all
kinda looked alike.

“Owen, Falcon are Chase and Sylvia’s biological children. Sylvia’s twin
Sela is Mad’s mom, but she passed shortly after he was born. His Dad and my Dad are the same, so we’re half brothers. And Nixon is their cousin, his Dad is Chase’s brother.”

“I’m just
gonna go back to believing you’re all brothers.”

“That’s fine.”

We spent the next few hours continuing the conversation. I learned so much about who she was that day. She was so damned perfect. She had a perfect family and her dream job. Plus, she was the epitome of gorgeous. Just the right amount of feminine mixed with a little tomboy and a little nerd.

And damn if her sparkling blue eyes didn’t shine when she smiled.

She’s too good for me. She’s too perfect. I’m too effed up for a girl like this. I was right in the first place.

She looked at the time and I did the same.
It was five minutes before six.

“Oh no, I’m late for practice. Nellie will have my ass.”

She ran up the stairs and came back minutes later, frantic.

“Hey, blame it on me. I’ll even go down there with you.”

She popped her fist onto her hip, “Do I look like I need you to handle my derby shit for me?”

“No ma’am.” Holy shit, that was sexy.

“I’ll take the punishment. Come on.”

We left her place at the same time and she was long gone before I even started my truck up. I went home and cleaned up a bit. I showered and threw on the last of my clean jeans. Falcon’s apartment didn’t have a washing machine or dryer, so I had to hit the Laundromat down the street the next day. I went over my notes from Sociology.
The beady eyed, comb-over king was likely to give us another oral quiz, which I hated. He called us by our names and made us stand in front of all those people and most of them usually bombed, not knowing the answer. Something told me he’d really wanted to be a high school teacher the way he loved to humiliate his students.

A little after seven thirty, I got a call from Falcon threatening my male parts if I didn’t show up for family dinner. After throwing on a white t-shirt and donning my favorite black suspenders, I threw on some Chucks and got my ass to the restaurant.
I tried to suppress that constant dig of inferiority I felt in the midst of the other members of the family. I remembered a kid that lived down the street from us one time. He always wore weird turtlenecks and his pants were too tight. And he spoke Klingon most of the time. When he was speaking English, he was okay—until he tried to steal my hamster, in his pocket.

I felt like that kid.

I was the goon from down the street who you still invited into your house, but he wasn’t your favorite by a long damned shot.

I hugged Sylvia and she and I had a talk about the chemo. She’d been nauseated and wasn’t eating much. But she didn’t want to take the anti-nausea meds because they made her sleepy.
We had a talk before she started treatments since my mom went through them too. She wanted to know what to expect, so I gave it to her straight.

“I know they do, but you need the rest anyway, and it will help you eat. Do me a favor, let me serve tonight. You just sit here, take your medicine, like a half dose and try to eat, please. We need you well.”

And I meant it, this family would carry on if she was gone, but not without pain. And even though I didn’t feel like I fit in all the time, I loved the knuckleheads.

“Thank you, Rex. I heard about Hayes. You just be sweet like you always are to me and you’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been gossiping with Nellie.”

She just winked at me and sat next to Chase.  I waited until Mad and
Storey, Falcon and Reed, and Nixon and Journey plus Scout filed in before going to the kitchen to see how Andre was doing. I grabbed a tray and filled it with huge bowls of pasta. I went through the swinging door and doled them all out. Owen came with me for the next tray-full since Cyrus was jabbering on to Scout about something. On our second round out, we’d gotten everything but I had an extra plate. And then I saw her.

Ticking my head towards Nellie, Hayes blushed a furious red and I couldn’t help but smile. I brought her big bowl of angel hair with Alfredo sauce to her. She whispered a thank you. Getting back to my seat, I noticed they’d seated her across the table from me, I felt both irked and relieved.

“It’s for your own good, really. Plus, you deserved a dose of surprise after making her late for practice.”

“I didn’t make her late.”

She gave me a look that I was scared to argue with.

I stole a glance over at Hayes who was talking to Nixon and Journey.
Journey caught me and winked.

“
Oooohhh, Nixon! Journey is winking at Rex. Watch out!”

Owen had the biggest mouth ever.

“Shut up,” I said tossing a cherry tomato at him from my salad.

“It’s true,” Reed chimed in, “I saw the whole thing.”

“I was just winking at Rex to let him know that his girl is being entertained over here. He was looking this way, making sure she was okay. Anyway, Nixon isn’t the jealous type.”

One word: nightmare.

“And I’m not his girl, yet,” Hayes said stabbing some lettuce.

“
Oooohhhh!!!!!” Now the whole table was involved.

“Burn!” Scout yelled, not really knowing what she’d said but she was exactly on time.

My face broke out in blisters of humiliation.

“Hey, I said yet. Don’t give him a hard time.”

A hush fell over the whole table, finally someone to take up for me.

Hayes

There are some people who are better in a crowd and some who are better one on one. I was the crowd kind. It took an audience to be able to absorb that level of
smartassery. That shit took practice.

Oh man, I’d embarrassed him. His blush was worse than one of those dolls with the painted on blush. That was a new record for me. Hazel would get a kick out of him dumping me before we even got to the first date. I had such a big mouth in crowds and I constantly either embarrassed someone or put my foot in my mouth. I gave it a few minutes and then excused myself, explaining that I had to wake up at two a.m. They all smiled and told me to come back next week. But after that night, I was sure Rex wouldn’t want to see me again before the next decade.

             
I got into my Fiat and made my way towards home. It was a good thirty minutes to get back to my townhouse but I’d wanted to see him, surprise him, so I hadn’t minded the drive. And while I’d usually call my mom and complain about the date, I didn’t. Getting home later, I pulled my bag and my purse out of the car, and went upstairs to shower and self-Benadryled so I could get some sleep. My phone rang and I just knew it was Vera.

             
“Hello?”

             
“Hey, you ran out. I tried to catch you, but I was sandwiched in and by the time I got to the parking lot, you were gone.”

             
It was Rex.

             
“Oh, I thought you might be glad I was gone,” I laughed at myself but he didn’t.

             
“Why? I wanted to tell you I’ll pick you up at six. And I also…I also just wanted to say thanks. I put up with being the butt of jokes all the time, but it’s not often someone takes up for me. Thanks for that.”

             
“I meant what I said.”

             
“Which part?”             

             
“I’m not your girl…yet. But your chances were just upped with this call.”

             
He chuckled and even over the phone the deep rumble of it made me shiver.

             
“See you tomorrow Hayes.”

             
“OK.”

             
He hung up and I was pleased as punch that he didn’t play the game where the girl and the guy argue over who’s hanging up first. He didn’t bullshit.

             
That’s what I needed, a guy who didn’t play games with me. I’d had enough crap handed to me in my life, most of it, on a shovel turned inwardly. For the first time, in a long time, I was looking forward to a first date.

             
I worked at the bakery the next day, but only a half day, since Vera insisted I get my eyebrows done and my nails at least manicured. She’d said ‘at least’ like I was a hygienic disgrace and the least I could do was clean up. I texted Rex and asked him if the restaurant was dressy or casual and he replied, dressy.

             
I was done with dressing like a Sweet Valley High girl. I would dress like myself and if he didn’t like it, he could kiss it. Good Lord, I wanted him to kiss it. Besides, he had tats everywhere, even his hands, so there was no reason to hide mine. I’d still need to hide the other stuff, but I didn’t have to hide my tats.

             
By five fifty, I was coming unglued. My mirror was sick of seeing my reflection. I’d chosen a deep purple dress, a little shorter than I usually wore, with a draped neck and back. And though I went against my aforementioned oaths by wearing heels, they were dark black peep toes with skulls on the top. I’d taken the time to put all the right gunk in my hair and it looked pretty decent.

             
I sent up a prayer to the one who’d help save me all those years ago and tapped those damned heels until he showed up exactly at six.

             
I shook the nervousness out of my hands and then answered the door—and then almost fainted. All I could do was stand there, eyes bugged out, lips open, forming a perfect circle. Finally able to move my gaze, I started at the bottom, dark grey pants, red Chucks, and a burgundy button down shirt, sleeves rolled up, with a matching grey vest on top. And under the light of my stoop, his brown eyes shone bright, looking at me with a matching lusty gaze.

             
“Hot—Hi, I mean Hi,” I stammered out.

             
“Oh come on. Look at you, there was a second there where I thought my lungs had seized up. You look beautiful, but you always do.”

             
“Thank you.” I grabbed my knuckle clutch and headed out the door. He looked nervous as he drove, incessantly tugging on the collar of his shirt.

             
“Rex?”

             
“Yeah?”

             
“Just unbutton it. You look like an uptight lawyer doing that to your collar.”

             
“Thank God.” He unbuttoned the top button and took a deep breath.

             
“So, no suspenders?”

             
“No. I was afraid you’d drag me into a corner and defile me. I didn’t want to tempt you.”

             
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

             
“Not until you say something better.”

             
“Should be any minute, just wait for it.”

             
Finally, someone to banter with.

             
We rode in silence for a minute, in that stifling truck cab, even with the air conditioning on full blast. It was Rex. He just put off this heat, it came at me in radiating waves. I imagined that heat would be just right on a cold night. A blanket, a chair, a book and a Rex—perfect winter night.

             
“What are you thinking, you have this grin, it’s so guilty looking.”

             
I shrugged, “Just thinking about dessert.”

             
“Huh.” He got my drift, I thought. I crossed my arms over myself and fiddled with my bracelets.

             
We parked at a swank, contemporary looking restaurant called Crustacean. I’d never been there before, but I was impressed he’d takenI me to a nice place. And once we’d gotten inside, I found he’d even called ahead to make reservations. We sat at a table clothed in white linen with what looked like ivory chopsticks.

             
The waiter approached and I ordered two sweet teas with no ice and Rex didn’t bat an eye. He ordered a water with lemon and added an order of pork belly sliders. I looked at him like he was nuts. Usually guys were critical of my no ice choice.

             
“What? I know, pork belly sounds shady, but they are delicious. Trust me.”

             
“Ok.”

             
We sat in silence for a minute. I looked around the place, taking in the sophisticated atmosphere, lit by Japanese lanterns hanging from the teak wood ceiling.

             
“They make your eyes sparkle, the lanterns.”

             
I looked down, really expecting to see the smile of a joking man, but I didn’t. He was serious.

             
“Thank you.”

             
“Tell me about the bakery. Did you go to culinary school?”

             
“Yes. I did. I’ve always wanted to be a pastry chef. My mom would always let me cook with her. She was always baking something. And then when I went to St. Agnes, there was a baking class after school. I loved it.”

             
“I can tell.”

             
“You’re not from here, are you? You have no accent at all. It’s kinda cool.”

             
“I’ve lived all over the place, but mostly in California.”

             
“So, not a Southern boy?”

             
“Only Southern California. Does that give me a strike?”

             
“No, just wondering.”

             
The pork belly sliders were set on the table along with our drinks and I hadn’t even looked at the menu.

             
“Just order me whatever you’re having. I’m at your mercy.”

             
God, please don’t let him order chicken nuggets.

             
“I like the sound of that.”

             
He glanced at the menu and then turned to the waiter, “We’ll share the Imperial Fried Rice, the Dengaku duck breast, coconut shrimp and the lemongrass beef.”

             
“Excellent choices, Sir.” The waiter retrieved the menus and walked away.

             
“I know it sounds like a lot, but I wanted you to taste everything, including these,” he pointed to the sliders.

             
I picked one up with the chopsticks and put it in my plate. I attempted to cut it, “Just pick it up, I won’t tell the manners police, I swear.”

             
I took a bite. The dumpling was soft and sweet and the pork belly was salty and rich. It was perfect.

             
Then I heard a phone click.

             
“It’s only fair,” he said, showing me a picture of my face while I chewed.

             
“It’s very good.”

             
We ate the rest of the sliders and just when we finished, our food was brought out and I tasted everything. I could’ve kissed him just for remembering my name and ordering big boy food. I saw him looking at my legs and my first instinct was to pull my skirt down, “Wait, I was just looking at your tattoo. I’ve seen it from a distance, but not up close, may I?”

             
May he what? See my tattoo? Yes. Touch my leg? Hell, yes. Push my dress back up with his very big hands, Hell, yes, please.

             
I nodded. He reached out a trembling hand and pushed my dress up just enough to reveal my garter belt tattoo. It was pure black and made of intricate lace drawings. It took three sessions to finish. It was a painful place for such a detailed tattoo, but so worth it.

             
“It’s beautiful.”

             
“Thanks. You have some ink yourself.”

             
He looked down at his arms and shrugged, “I realized at an early age, not exactly a legal age, that sometimes pain helps numb pain. A lot of my earlier ones are on my back, so my mom wouldn’t see.”

             
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

             
“Sure.”

             
We spent the next hour talking about tattoos and piercings. He was funny and every time he told a story, I got totally engrossed. He described everything in detail and I could see what he was talking about in my mind’s eye.

             
“Are you ready? The waiter has been giving me the ‘get out of my table’ look.”

             
“Yes, I am.” He’d already paid the ticket. We were just enjoying ourselves.

             
I wasn’t. I could sit and talk to him forever. And I wanted his hand on my leg again. But I had a feeling, this was going to be a give and take with Rex. And since he’d touched my thigh, I wanted to take my turn. As we got up and headed out of the restaurant, I grabbed his hand in a simple hold. And just like I needed him to react, he threaded his fingers with mine and kept moving.

             
I’d never been so turned on by hand holding—ever. Were hands an erogenous zone? It was usually me analyzing the guy’s hand, too hot, too clammy, his hold too tight or too loose, but Rex was just right. My hand felt like it was being wrapped in an electric blanket, set to Hayes.

             
We got into the truck, he opened my door first and I wondered if we were going anywhere else. I would be exhausted the next day, but that was pretty normal in my world—plus, very worth it. Much to my dismay, he brought me home. But he made no move to get out.

             
“I’m torn here,” he laughed, “I know you need to go home and rest, but I don’t want to wait another week to see you.”

             
“That’s quite a dilemma. You’ll figure it out—I hope.”

             
I hoped he took the challenge.

             
He gave me a curt nod and got out, opened my door and walked me up the stairs to my door.

             
I had absolutely no desire to go inside without him—or with him, it was confusing. I thought it was the problem every woman faced. If you asked him in, he got the wrong idea, if you didn’t you were an ice queen.