by Kylie Scott
I stared, a little stunned by the gentlemanly act. Though I shouldn't have been. For days he'd been putting himself out for me. "You didn't have to get your coat dirty. My jeans would have been fine."
"Sit," he repeated, taking the pizza out of my hands. "You must be starving."
"It really would have been fine. You shouldn't have..." My words died off.
He didn't bother to respond.
With a frown, I did as told, scooting over to the edge of his coat so there was plenty of space for him too. But the big guy sat on the dirty ground, leaving me with all the room. He placed the pizza between us and handed me one of the opened beers.
Funny, ever since I'd wed Malibu Barbie to Tuxedo Ken a few dozen times at age six, I'd thought the slick guy with the cool hair, hip clothes, and pretty face was the dream. Plastic perfection. We'd adore each other. Me and my man would have total honesty between us. And with him I'd feel safe and free to say whatever, to be myself, without fear of ... well, pretty much everything.
Joe was as far removed from Ken as could be. Tangle of long blond curly hair. The beard. His big brown boots, worn jeans with a hole in one knee, and faded green Henley. Tuxedo Ken would have had a coronary. To be fair, I didn't have a whole lot in common with Barbie, the big-breasted, skinny-waisted blond ho. I rubbed at the little indent in my forehead. Then I realized what I was doing, and made myself stop. Such a stupid old childhood habit.
Speaking of bad habits, rabidly inhaling Joe's rampant manly sex appeal most definitely qualified. God, him in that towel. The memory haunted me. Except if I owned up to being into him, things would get complicated. My ability to avoid anything resembling a relationship was truly at an Olympic level. This shit needed to stop. Time to start being braver, more open-minded.
Yikes.
"Cheers," he said, lifting his own brew to his mouth.
"Cheers." I forced a smile.
We both drank.
"You're frowning," he said.
"No, I'm not," I lied.
He just looked at me.
Undaunted, I stared back.
"Just because I put my coat down for you to sit on doesn't mean I'm going to try and hit you up for sex later," he said mildly. "Relax."
"I wasn't thinking that." Which was at least 50 percent the truth. 49 percent at worst.
"Ask me questions. We've been talking for months but you don't feel like you know me anymore," he said. "And that's my fault. So eat, ask me whatever. Go for it."
"Let me think."
Thus the consuming of pizza began. No matter the silly shape, as usual, Nell's cooking tasted divine. I think she'd used at least three cheeses. Fresh garlic and basil. Delicious slices of juicy tomato. While I chewed, I thought. I thought good and I thought hard. And then I said, "You have cheese in your beard."
"I was saving that for later." He fished out said string of cheese and popped it in his mouth. "Thanks."
I took another bite, chewing slowly, taking my time. "I get that Eric can charm women. He's an attractive guy."
Joe just watched me, sucking his fingers clean of cheese and oil.
"But you're not without your own assets. Why the issue with your brother?"
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Man, the dude had a thick neck. Strong. "Are you still attracted to him?"
"I thought I was asking the questions."
"Indulge me," he said.
"No." More pizza. More chewing. "Intellectually, I understand he's pretty with the long dark hair and that face and everything. But no, he doesn't actually attract me anymore."
There was a moment's silence as Joe took that in. Whatever was going on behind his dark eyes, I had no idea.
"Little shit's been a pussy magnet for about as long as I can remember. Women just go gaga over him. Always have." He shook his head, snorted. "More than once I've been used by some girl wanting to get close to my brother. Yes, I should be over it. But no, I'm obviously still getting there."
I nodded. Went back to work on my pizza. "Is that why you wrote to me? To get back at him?"
Brows drawn tight, Joe stared off over my shoulder. "No. I just wanted to talk to you. Eric hates technology. He bugged me till I helped him set up the profile on the site then the minute it was done, he pretty much lost interest. Typical. I only meant to shut it down, but I don't know ... your emails sucked me in."
"Okay." Another bite. "How long would you have kept lying to me if I hadn't shown up in town?"
"I don't know." He blinked, but otherwise kept staring straight at me. "I loved getting your emails, Alex. Even though I had to be careful about what I said, I loved writing to you. Honestly, I can't see me having come clean to you anytime soon. I was too hooked. The whole thing about hitting Seattle at the start was Eric trying to line up sex while he visited an old friend. But the emails between you and me, they were something different."
I didn't know what to say. So clearly it was time for more pizza. Cheesy goodness to deliver me from evil and/or emotional upheaval.
"If I hadn't stopped writing, how long would you have waited to meet me?" Joe asked.
Guess I didn't swallow quite right. Somehow the pizza got stuck in my throat. I coughed and coughed then downed about half of my beer in one go. "Crap."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." I took deep breaths, tried to pull myself together. "I, ah ... wrong pipe. All good."
"Well?" he said eventually.
Shit. "I don't know."
He held his silence.
"In all honesty, I'm not the bravest. I'm not great at putting myself out there. Guess you could say I have my ... issues." I studied the dusty, dirty floor as if it were about to cough up the secrets of the universe to me at any moment. And while I did that, I fiddled with the zipper on his coat. "I might have been open for a hook-up at one time, but once we starting emailing regularly, really talking, things changed for me. You became important. It was scary."
Silence across from me.
"It's what I do," I said, an uncomfortable smile on my face. "Guess that makes me sound pretty stupid. Cowardly. But I don't really feel comfortable talking with many people. Not in the way I did with you. I loved getting your emails too, Joe. I would get so excited when one arrived. So, yeah ... I think I would have found reasons to not be able to meet face-to-face in case it all went wrong."
He sat so still. "Like it did."
"Yes."
We stared at each other. Everything seemed to have been forgotten, to fade away. The room, the food, the whole wide world. I have no idea how he did it.
"Who lied to you?" he asked, taking a sip from his beer. "You said you couldn't have another liar in your life. Who was it?"
I didn't hesitate. "A boyfriend. He cheated on me. It was a very painful experience."
Joe tucked his hair behind an ear, nodding. "Okay."
It was on the tip of my tongue to say sorry. To apologize for being messed up long before he'd ever met me. I'd already revealed enough, however. Given him a close-up of my insides, the likes of which few had ever had. Time to stop and say no more. Time to run for cover.
CHAPTER NINE
Message sent two months ago:
Eric, that's ridiculous. There's no way they needed to kill off Han Solo. In fact, I hereby deny the very possibility. In my mind, Han will forever be flitting around the stars with Chewie, ripping off awful aliens and evading the authorities. I refuse to countenance any other possibility.
Message received two months ago:
Alex, be reasonable. Han had to go. He was always a man of action, so no way would he have been sitting around waiting while Leia went and tried to cuddle up to their psychopath of a son. I'm cool with Ren killing the misgonyist idiots along with Han, though.
Message sent two months ago:
You're wrong about Han. And you spelled misogynist wrong.
Message received two months ago:
You're wronger.
Message sent two months ago:
T
hat's not even a word. This conversation is over now. So there.
P.S. How's things going at work? Is everything okay?
"Hey," a new voice entered the room. Multiple pairs of heavy footsteps.
Joe recovered first, climbing to his feet. "Andre. Pat. Come meet Alex."
The males did some handshaking, backslapping. First came a man who had to be about mid-forties at a guess. Touches of gray in his short dark hair. Wrinkles around his eyes and smile lines along his mouth. He wore navy trousers and a cool patterned button-down shirt.
"Hi, I'm Andre." He held his hand down to me for shaking, smiling all the while. "Old friend of Joe's. Pleasure to meet you. He's been telling me all about you."
"He has?" I don't think my tone came out right on that one.
"Absolutely. Glad to see you out and about." Andre sat, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his hands. "You feeling better?"
"I am. Thank you."
The second guy wasn't so friendly. Nor did he look approachable. For starters, he was covered in tats. Please note: In no way did I believe a love of ink made someone a serial killer. He was tall and lanky with long black hair, the sides shaved into an undercut. A beard, the length of which left Joe's in the dust, obscured most of his face. And a silver ring pierced his septum. His clothes were uniformly black and kind of ratty-looking. Not unclean, just really well worn. The flat eyes and joyless mouth sealed the deal, however. Scary.
At least they made a perfectly timed distraction from Joe and my too serious discussion. Hoo ya to that.
"Hey." The man tipped his head in my direction and sat also, plonking a six-pack of beer down beside the pizza. Immediately he broke one off, handed it to me.
"Thank you."
"Alex, meet Pat," said Joe, reclaiming his patch of floor. "We went to school together. He owns the tattoo parlor. Andre owns the building and runs the musical instrument shop downstairs."
"I was downstairs with Pat, giving him a hand with the accounts." Andre accepted a beer from Pat as well, drinking deeply. "Heard the footsteps up here and thought we'd come check things out."
"With beer?" Joe finished off his first bottle and held a hand out for a replacement.
"You could have been thirsty robbers, ax murderers, serial killers."
"Ghost hunters," added Pat in a low voice.
Just like that, the guys dug into our pizza. Lucky it was big. Still, I took another slice before it was gone. Andre nodded, taking a bite. "True."
"We did a seance up here once when we were kids." With a sly smile, Joe moved a little closer. "Andre snuck up the inside stairs, making all these freaky noises. Scared the hell out of us."
"That was the intention." Andre grinned. "You little dickheads. Took me ages to get all the wax off the floor from the candles you'd been burning. Dad was pissed."
It sounded like a soft rumbling, Pat's laughter. Thunder coming in from a distance. Here and gone in a moment. I almost thought I'd imagined it. Nice to know the guy could manage some happy, however.
"How about the bird shit?" asked Pat, hiding what might have been a small smile behind his beer.
Muttering obscenities, Andre let his head fall back and gazed at the ceiling with a pained expression.
I gave Joe a questioning look.
"Vaughan had read in a book that you had to have a circle of thirteen candles and then sacrifice something to get a ghost's attention. So he catches a sparrow," said Joe. "Of course, when it comes time to end the bird, none of us could stand to hurt the poor little thing."
"Nell was just about in tears, freaking out." Pat studied his black Converse. "I knew she would. Brought a cricket in my pocket to sacrifice instead. It'd been eating her mom's plants. Wasn't going to live long anyway."
"That's right." A quiet chuckle.
Andre watched Pat carefully, sipping his beer.
"The sparrow got loose and was flying around the room, going nuts. Then Andre starts in with his sound effects," said Joe. "We lost it, bolting out of here like our asses were on fire."
"There was wax and bird shit everywhere." Andre laughed. "Lucky you idiots didn't burn the place down."
"That's what you get for giving Vaughan a part-time job and trusting him with the keys." Joe held out his bottle and Andre clinked his against it in a toast.
"True."
"Has anyone ever seen a ghost here?" I asked, fascinated. Mostly disbelieving, though you never knew.
Andre's tongue played behind his cheek. A droll, dubious look in his eyes. "There's nothing here."
"Tell her the truth," said Joe, playing it serious. "What are you trying to hide?"
"Jesus." Andre sighed. "Legend has it a guy threw himself down the staircase after getting dumped by some woman. Broke his neck."
"Fuckin' love," muttered Joe. "It'll do it to you."
"Hmm. Grandpa said he fell. Apparently it was raining that day and the floor was slippery." Andre drew up his legs, resting his arms on his knees. "Any building old enough is going to have a death or two in it. Though there have been unsubstantiated reports of dear old Dad still hanging around."
Perking up, Pat narrowed his gaze on the man. "I saw something in the bar's basement. Could have sworn someone was down there with me. And if anyone's haunting the place, it'd be your old man."
Hissing out a breath, Andre reached for another piece of pizza. "True enough."
"Andre Senior loved that bar."
"He did the mirrors on the ceiling?" I asked, loving their stories.
Andre barked out a laugh. "Got it in one. You show her the last of the graffiti in the bathroom?"
"Not yet," answered Joe, smiling.
"The old man had a pretty relaxed decorating policy. For thirty years, anyone could leave their mark just about however they liked," said Andre. "Made for a hell of an atmosphere."
"Yeah, I saw the names and dates cut into the bar."
Lots of chuckles. It was interesting, being around people who have known each other for so long. Not to say Joe was a different person around these two men, but he seemed more relaxed. Maybe it was because I wasn't his focus for once. I could just watch him, see how he acted normally. Interestingly enough, he sat cross-legged like someone meditating, only he had a beer in his hand. But his big body was lax, the lines on his forehead, which I seemed to keep causing, gone for once.
He was just hanging, being with friends. It was lovely to see.
"Joe tells me you've got some good ideas for what to do with these rooms," said Andre, blowing my calm to pieces. My gaze jumped to Joe then to Andre and back again.
"They're just doodles, really."
"Well, he emailed them to me and I don't agree. I think they're great and that we should take this project seriously." Andre watched me with interest. "I've been saving for a while, got enough to cover materials if you're willing, like Joe, to take your pay as a percentage of the profits. I think we could at least make a start up here, clearing the space, cleaning things up. Tomorrow suit you, Alex? I'm sure Joe would be happy to bring you by so we could all talk."
"You emailed them my drawings without asking?"
"Yes," said Joe. "Tear into me about it later, if you like. But the fact is, your work is good, Alex."
My mouth opened. And just kind of stayed that way.
"I've got money to invest in something too," added Pat in his low voice. "Especially if you're thinking apartments. Living above the parlor would work for me. No travel time. Keep shit simple. It'd be nice to get the rest of the building fixed up, attract more customers and hopefully fill those empty shops downstairs with new businesses. Having more people around would be good for everyone's businesses."
Lips pressed together, Andre tipped his chin. "I'm sure we could work something out."
"Kind of like that idea of living here myself," said Joe. "Renting a place with Eric is getting old."
More nodding of heads. And then all eyes turned to me.
"Honestly, they're just an amateur's ideas."
"Just a visual designer's ideas," said Joe. "Anyway, ideas are exactly what we need."
Andre took a gulp of beer, still nodding. "What he said."
"Tomorrow works. Around noon, okay?" Climbing to his feet, Pat brushed off the seat of his pants. Obviously about to disappear as if everything had been decided. "Later."
"Thanks for the pizza." Andre followed the other man out. "Good to meet you, Alex. See you tomorrow."
"I, ah..."
Joe just smiled.
These people. I threw up my hands. "I'm neither an architect nor a decorator. Mostly I just design logos and stuff."
"You're way more than that," he said. "You're someone with ideas who's excited about the thought of working on the old girl. Bringing her up to date and making her shine again."
"You had no right to send those pictures to anyone."
"I know, but I did it anyway."
"Come on, Joe. Have you even properly thought about this? I live in another state," I exclaimed. "Does it really make sense for you to try and collaborate with someone who won't even be around soon?"
"You said you could work on your laptop wherever." He leaned in closer. "Why are you fighting this so hard?"
"I'm not the right person for the job."
"No. You're just someone who's dreamed of working on a project like this."
Well yeah, he had me there. Those dreams were mine. Here was my chance.
"Andre and Pat, all of us, really, we'd rather work with a passionate amateur than a half-assed professional any day of the week. Besides, we'll get an architect to check over it and do all the boring logistical stuff. Pull some permits and all that." The easy way Joe looked at me was so serene. Confident. "Two of us are lined up to live in these studio apartments already. You get the style of the Dive Bar. All we need to do is bring a bit of that up here."
"There's more to it than that." I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around them.
"You always this negative?" he asked.
"I prefer cautious."
"Sure about that?"
My chin jutted out. "Yes. I know my limits and I prefer not to disappoint people or myself."
For a moment, Joe studied me. His big shoulders rising and falling on a breath. "Okay. If you still feel that way tomorrow morning and you want more time, or you're going to catch that flight home, I'll call Andre and Joe, tell them the meeting's off. That work for you?"