Chapter 17 – Dallas
Without prompting, she continues.
“Years ago, I had a pen pal. Well, I guess he was an accidental pen pal. I kind of guilted him into writing to me. But he was my friend, too. Anyways, he always gave off this super confident, overly cocky vibe in his letters that I’m ashamed to admit, I really envied.
Every new thing that he tried he went into thinking he was going to crush it.
He never even considered that he might fail before doing something new.
Isn’t that obnoxious?” she pauses waiting for me to respond.
“Yea, guy sounds like a total tool.”
She snickers in the darkness. “You’d think so.
I mean, who assumes that they’re going to be good at everything they try?
But that’s just how he was. Unashamedly confident.
Throughout our letter exchanges he shared a few things that he'd tried and wasn't good at but the things that he didn't excel at, he shrugged and moved on. It didn’t even faze him to fail. Once, he tried karaoke at a bar because I told him I was a singer, and he told me afterwards that he sucked, made a total fool of himself, and he wouldn’t be doing that ever again but it’s the fact that he at least tried to sing because he knew it was something I loved.
Even if it sounds simple, it left a lasting impression on me. I’d always been afraid of the risk.”
She sighs gently, “Anyways when I graduated from high school, I decided to go for it. Move to Los Angeles and walk into an open call for a rock band that needed a lead singer. Their previous lead left them after only three months together and they were floundering. Basically, no one knew about them. I told myself that I wasn’t going to fail.
That I was confident that everything I tried in life would succeed, the way I’d prepared my voice, practiced my lines, it wasn’t possible for me to fail. ”
She’s silent for a few seconds, “It turns out I was really fucking good and got the lead role on the spot. We’ve seen a lot of success since then and have even been on tour. I’m in the midst of a west coast break right now.”
“That’s awesome. Sounds like you would have always ended up in music. The talent was inside of you, you just needed to tap into that confidence.”
“I don’t know… I mean I knew I was talented, but I think I needed that push from my pen pal, a complete stranger to say he believed in me and to just go for it.”
I clear my throat. “So, what happened to the guy?”
She sighs softly, “I don’t know. That’s the worst part.
I never told him that I ended up pursuing my dreams, but I was in a really dark place when I first started writing to him.
I’d been trying to reach my birth mom with my letters and instead of getting her, I got him.
I then proceeded to lie and say that my teacher required us to continue to write to each other so that I’d have a friend to talk to who didn’t know me and I could bounce ideas off of.
I was coming into my own as a young girl and feeling like a misfit in town.
You never really get used to standing out and being different, even in a place like LA, so I was trying to grasp a better understanding of myself in any way I could. ”
I’m silent as I listen to her soft voice confess so freely the emotions that she’d concealed behind that first letter I’d received from her all those years ago.
I'd almost thrown it away when I'd read it, but the desperate plea at the end to write back had guilted me into responding to let her know she hadn’t reached her mom. True, I’d always told myself I was responding for her school assignment, but her friendship had helped me in many ways too.
I’d been sure of myself, overly confident in my foolish, young-man and highly privileged ways, thinking that everything I touched would turn golden just like my name.
And for the most part, that had been true.
But I’d also been trying to fill a void in my heart.
I’d confessed feelings of inadequacy to her that I couldn’t reconcile with any of my closest friends as I wondered how much of who I’d been was because of my affluent and connected up-bringing versus actual hard work.
I projected that insecurity onto the people around me and rarely could keep a dating relationship or close friendships that became meaningful.
Dove had helped me find my path in life, leading me to an eventually decorated career with the Marines.
Though I’d been honorably discharged, I knew I’d never fully leave that part of my life behind.
It was too great in forming who I’d become and beyond that, I believed that reading Dove’s letter had given me the will to survive that fateful attempt on my life amidst the war the night I received it.
For a grown man, well over two hundred pounds of muscle, bone, blood, and fury, something about her gentle, honest words sends a prick of guilt through my heart.
I’d never responded to any of her letters after enlisting; never expressed how much her friendship had helped me too, and now, I was pretending that I didn't know who she was inside of this cramped, dark elevator while she opens up to me about her past insecurities. Reflecting back on the years and exchanges we shared, Dove might be one of the few people who’d truly seen me and liked me despite the poor attitude, cocky mentality and fickleness that permeated my past.
For the first time since the power cut out and we came to a standstill, I start to feel claustrophobic.
She sighs gently as she bumps her head back against the elevator wall, completely unaware of the turmoil that’s raging inside of me.
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question but that last one bummed me out. I haven't thought about my old pen pal in a while,” she says.
Figuring I should lighten the mood for both of us before we slip further down memory lane, I decide to ask the next one instead, “What’s the first thing you want to do when we get out of here?”
“You mean get out of here alive?”
“I’m not letting you die.”
She laughs, “For a total stranger, I actually believe that. I think that I’d like to eat a slice of pumpkin pie.”
“Pumpkin pie?”
“Oh yea. I might be a bad ass rocker chick on stage, but at heart, I’m an UGG boot wearing, fleece blanket snuggling, football watching, fall loving girl who enjoys all things pumpkin spice.
I’m also a Libra so I think it’s obligatory for us in our balanced nature to love all things fall, pumpkin and cozy.
My sister and I make the best pumpkin pies together every fall and it’s the main dish I look forward to eating every Thanksgiving. ”
I conceal a snort at her mentioning being a Libra. The reminder of her insistence on astrology and our balanced nature’s compatibility.
“I don’t think pumpkin pie classifies as a main dish. Isn’t it dessert?”
She gasps, “Don’t say that. Anything can be if you believe in it.”
“Can’t say I’ve had pumpkin pie in over ten years.”
“You’re crazy. It’s a must-have for the holiday. With a dollop of whipped cream on top. Mmm...”
I smile, “I think you’ve convinced me. I might have to have some this year.”
“Well, if we get out of here before tomorrow, I’ll invite you over for dessert.
My siblings told me that the new co-op has started a Thanksgiving night tradition where people from all over Lonestar Junction bring dessert to share and fellowship together.
My sister and I will be bringing our pumpkin pies. ”
I’m silent, knowing full well that I’d likely end up there anyways after spending Thanksgiving dinner with the Cameron’s at Ashwood ranch. With Jovie and Stevie’s ownership and management of the co-op, it’d be a natural progression for the night to lead there.
“Might take ya up on that.”
Just as I finish my sentence, a voice calls out from a few feet below us, and a sliver of light shines through the cracks up into the elevator doors, piercing through the thick darkness.
“Hello! You alright in there?”
“Yeah. We’re fine. There’s two of us in here,” I call back.
“We’re about to get the lift running again. Seems like a rusted bolt to the power switch came loose.”
“Oh, God,” Dove gasps from next to me as she fumbles in the darkness with her hands, searching for something to grab onto but finds my cock instead.
She’s quiet, gripping me firmly through my jeans. Thankfully, I’m not sitting in the dark with a boner like a creep, but I know I’m still a lot to hold and she got a handful.
"Ohmigod... I'm sorry... is that... did I just grab your…?" she drops her hand from my shaft that she was squeezing, her voice trailing off into what I assume is silent shock.
I clear my throat, adjusting myself in my pants and trying not to harden. Last thing I need is for her to lay eyes on me for the first time with me tenting my jeans. "It's all good," I play it off casually.
The elevator suddenly lurches downward, causing Dove to jump back into my side, nestling in my armpit. I can feel her body begin to shake again.
“Hey. Try to take a deep breath slowly through your nose. This isn’t going to fall. You’re going to be alright.”
I listen as she inhales through her nose, then exhales gently out of her teeth, blowing that cinnamon scent directly into my face. Her head lowers, burrowing into my side as she clings to me tightly while trying to take in air.
“I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this, I just need a moment to collect myself.”
I allow her to hold me like that, clinging tightly to my arm, head buried in my chest, willing myself not to touch her back though I desperately want to. It wouldn’t be fair for me to grasp her the way I want to, given the fact that she doesn’t know who I really am yet.
The elevator lurches again, and I hear a loud swear from one of the men working on it below us.
I'm not worried about this rickety hunk of metal dropping the five feet we've risen from the ground floor.
I've been in much worse elevator situations overseas and fallen from far greater heights.
I know she'll be fine, and if it comes down to it, I'll hoist her onto my lap to make sure my back and body take the brunt of any injury.
Plus, judging by how she's practically in my lap already, I'm sure I could lift her above my head if we drop so she wouldn't even realize she's falling.
One more abrupt lurch, and now she’s fully in my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist with her arms and face buried in my neck. I feel us moving downward, but with her chest pressed firmly against mine, I can't focus enough to tell her that we’re about to be saved.
“Sorry,” she whispers into my neck again, her voice like smooth velvet, bringing me back from the dead. “This is so embarrassing. If you have a girlfriend, or wife or something, I swear I’ll give them free tickets to a concert for me violating you like this.”
I chuckle gently, liking the way her soft curves wrap around mine perfectly.
Her breasts squish into my chest and her long hair tickles against my biceps.
I keep my fists in balls and plant them next to my sides as a last-ditch attempt not to touch her and to brace myself in case we come to a crashing stop.
My will power is being tested, having not been with a woman since returning to the States, and knowing it’s Dove, the woman version of my friend who is sure of herself, kind, beautiful and funny, well, I need them to open these damn doors before I do or say something I can’t take back.
“Don’t have a wife or a girlfriend. No worries. Happy to help.”
The elevator finally comes to a resting stop with the metal doors opening in a loud screech and dramatic ping.
Light floods in from the lobby to illuminate the cramped space as I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the change in brightness.
Dove cautiously lifts her head, pulling her face out of my neck and then looks into my eyes for the first time.
Her eyes are large and brown, just the way she’d described. Her teeth perfectly white, a defined nose, high cheekbones, curly eyelashes and not a trace of makeup on her pretty face.
She’s a rare, completely natural beauty and looking in those eyes so full of trust and kindness to a perfect stranger, I begin to wonder why I’d waited so long to try to find her after moving here.
She’s my Dove.
And she deserves an apology for me ghosting her all of those years ago after the friendship we’d built.
“Hi,” she says smiling, before quickly unraveling her long limbs from around me and scrambles to her feet to stand in the doorway.
I notice her eyes slowly tracing my body as I rise to my feet, trying to ignore the way my back and knees crack and pop with the movement, one of the few parting gifts I took with me when I left the Marines. Some shrapnel in my knee cap and a sprained back that’s never really recovered.
“Hi.”
“Are you two ok?” a firefighter in full turn out gear rounds the corner and assess our stances. “Oh damn, is that you Dove?”
She finally breaks eye contact and turns with a smile plastered on her face to greet the firefighter, and though I've been instructed that the people in town know to treat her like anyone else, I can see a touch of something change behind her expression from when she’d been looking at me moments before. It’s as if she’s performing.
“Hi, Chief Hollister, good to see you again. How’s Maggie doing?”
I nod in acknowledgement at the fire chief, then silently step around their reunion to make my escape outside.
Sure, I still needed to change my driver’s license, but today, after the events in the elevator with Dove, I decide that I can be a resident of Los Angeles for a little while longer…