Give Me a Shot

Chapter Eight Jess

Chapter Eight

Jess

Sitting on the couch in her apartment, bag already on her shoulder, keys in her hand, Jess wondered what was wrong with her. Mo had called to say he was on his way—she raised her wrist to check her watch—seventeen minutes earlier, and she’d immediately gotten ready to leave. Once she was, she’d just sat down and folded her hands in her lap. No finding any last-minute detail to take care of, no taking out her phone to pass the time; she just sat. In part, it had been a good reflex. She hadn’t noticed that her lower back was a little bit achy until she was seated and still. Her current inertia was surprising, though.

Just want to be ready when he gets here. Don’t want to keep him waiting.

Mo had seemed very uncomfortable when he’d offered her a ride. At first, she’d thought it was because he’s a reserved person and it was awkward for him to offer. But that morning, she’d begun to worry that he somehow felt obligated. She couldn’t guess why that might be, though. Meowing slowly and low, Steinem drew her attention to where he was sitting on the floor watching her, just out of reach.

“I’m okay,” Jess said.

Steinem narrowed his eyes and sniffed at her. He meowed again.

“I am,” Jess answered. “You don’t have to believe me.”

Steinem turned his ear to the right, his head following. Jess caught the sound of a car pulling up to the front of her house. She hopped to her feet, peeked through the blinds, and saw Mo’s truck at the curb.

“Later, Sty Sty,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Her heart was pounding as she took the steps too quickly. She reassured herself that she just didn’t want to make Mo wait, it wasn’t like she had a reason to be nervous or excited about seeing him. He was just a nice friend giving her a ride—

Holy. Shit.

Mo was stepping out of his truck, time slowing down. His hand on the truck’s door, his muscled forearm revealed by the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt. His jeans were dark and not tight, but not so loose that Jess couldn’t pick up on the fact that his thighs were impressive, too. His face seemed relaxed—as far as she could tell behind the reflective sunglasses and dark beard.

Has he always been this hot? How did I—

Her mind shut off when he looked up at her and gave her a cute half-smile.

“Hi,” he said.

Damn you, Alice.

“Hi,” Jess said back, willing her voice to sound normal.

“Lemme get your door,” Mo said, walking around to the passenger side and opening it for her.

“Thank—” A long, brightly beaded necklace clattered to the pavement, cutting her off. Mo chuckled.

“Sorry,” he said, bending to pick it up and shaking his head a little. “That’s Maddie’s.” Jess caught a little smile on his face, a balance between endearment and exasperation. She got in and he closed the door behind her. The bright, loud beads were in stark contrast to the vibe she’d gotten from him. Her curiosity was high as he rounded the truck.

“My daughter,” he said once he joined her inside.

“Oh,” Jess said, glancing at his ring finger before she’d thought to check.

“She’s twelve. Definitely a pre-teen, but the little girl is still there,” he said as he settled into his seat.

“Oh,” Jess said.

“I miss her when she goes to her mom’s, but sometimes her forgetfulness leaves me nice surprises.” The bemusement on his face was clear as he wiped the necklace with a tissue and gently nestled it into the center console. Watching him treat his daughter’s forgotten belonging like a fragile treasure made some things click for Jess—his care to make sure he wasn’t crowding her in the Folk School parking lot; his focus on making sure she knew she would be safe with the tow truck driver—Mo was a Girl Dad. The best, big mushy kind. The kind her own father had never been in spite of having only daughters. Jess cleared her throat to remove the forming lump.

“Are you two close?” she asked.

Mo shrugged.

“Like to think so. Was worried the divorce would change things. Worked hard so it wouldn’t,” he said. He gave her another half-smile.

“Ah. That’s great,” Jess said. She needed to change the subject. The positivity he was radiating was so enticing that she wanted to crawl inside his chest to know how it felt. Positive feelings that strong had been great in the past. But now that Cassie was gone, feelings like that…

“You look nice,” she said quickly. His cheeks reddened as he tucked his chin.

“Thanks,” he said softly, putting on his seatbelt. “Had a business owner’s meeting. With the city. No time to change.”

“Oh.”

What? Were you hoping he dressed up for you? Get serious, Jess.

Facing forward, Mo scratched at his beard and ran a hand down it. She’d noticed him do that during the meeting and at his shop. It didn’t seem like he was trying to groom it, but she was coming up empty on what else he might be doing. He sighed.

“So, um…I’m…” He trailed off as he gripped the steering wheel.

Jess’s stomach began to turn as her gaze danced over the dashboard. It seemed like she’d put a lot of pressure on him by accepting a ride. He was so tense, she thought to tell him that she was perfectly fine getting an Uber, or she could call in to the meeting on Zoom or some other app. Then she heard him take a deep breath and suddenly he was talking again.

“I’m…kind of odd, right?” he said. “The thing is, I’m not angry all the time, I just pick up on a lot from other people, and you figured that out, which never happens. So, again, thank you for that; it means a lot.” He paused and took a quick breath. “Because I pick up the emotions of other people, it’s difficult when they’re in my space and when we have to talk because I’m bad at small talk. So if I’m weird there and back, it isn’t you. I’m not angry or anything. And I’m happy to give you a ride. Even…even if I seem weird.”

Jess blinked. For a moment, it was the only thing she could do. Her lungs had frozen; her mind put into a sort of standby mode at the deep, rumbly purr of his extended speaking voice. Up until then, she’d only heard curt, short phrases or grunts and had no idea he could sound like that. She knew he was uncertain, knew that she needed to say something to address the vulnerability he’d just displayed, but she was struggling to get back into her mind and out of her tingling body. Angry that she failed to maintain control of her reaction to him, she forced a light cough. She thought she caught him gulp and glanced at him. He’d sort of crunched into himself while speaking, his considerable height reduced in his seat.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” she said.

“Heh. You haven’t known me long enough.”

Jess didn’t care for that. The dislike pushed her more fully into herself.

“I know you’re not weird,” she said. “You’re a kind person who wants to help others. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. You’ve proven that to me, to that woman at your shop, and you’re proving it by doing this Ren Faire. I appreciate you telling me not to take it personally if you’re quiet on the ride, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to some crap about you being weird.”

Then she was certain she heard him gulp. Slowly, he turned to face her.

“You don’t think I’m weird?” he asked, incredulity etched around his eyes.

“Would you feel better if I did?” she asked. The laugh that shot out of him, and the smile that spread across his face, warmed her to her toes.

Fine, Alice. Maybe you can kind of be right.

He started the car, and they set off. Jess was happy to sit in silence the whole way there if it would help him be more relaxed. However, she also wanted to be sure she could support him during the meeting.

“Mo, just so I understand how to help, the ‘picking up from other people’ and being uncomfortable when they’re in your space—is that what makes participating in a Ren Faire challenging for you?”

He nodded.

“It’s the energy of a lot of people, their emotions. I can feel it in my body, and it drains me. Having to use a lot of my own energy to stay steady, and even more to perform ? Plus all the noise and changes to my schedule.” He shrugged. “I can understand that an event like this is very exciting and a lot of fun for other people. For me, it’s the opposite. I know I’m going to need days to recover afterward.”

“Hmm…thanks for explaining,” she said.

“Thanks for trying to understand. What about you?”

Of course he would ask about her. She hadn’t anticipated the logical next step in their conversation. And she didn’t particularly want to touch on it. Giving voice to her why might bring up too much. However, Mo had been vulnerable; it would be wrong for her to refuse to do the same.

“My sister,” she said. “She adored Ren Faires. I even let her drag me along a few times. It was never my thing. I’m a stickler for historical accuracy, and it was sorely lacking in the Faires I attended.”

“I get it,” Mo said. “Cosplay blacksmiths are a danger to themselves and others. They like the look, but they aren’t respecting the craft. Just playing around.”

Jess nodded.

“About your sister…” He paused, sighed. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“That participating in this Faire would be difficult. Having that connection, Faires being linked to her—I’m sure everyone would understand if you don’t want to do it. If it’s just too much. And if they don’t want to understand, I will make sure that they do.”

There was something in his enunciation, in the way he slowed down and dropped the tone of his already deep voice as he finished his statement…a wave of heat cascaded up her body and cut off her ability to breathe again. The skin-tingling thrill of letting herself be attracted to Mo was alluring. But she had to fight it. Being attracted to Mo, to anyone, wasn’t what she wanted or needed. Keeping her composure, her control, was always the best, safest option.

“That’s kind of you, Mo,” she said. “But I’m sure it will be okay.” She gave him a friendly smile when he glanced at her then turned her attention out the window, letting the silence settle between them.

—

Thirty minutes later, Mo pulled into a space in front of the School. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Here we go,” Jess said, reaching for her door handle.

“Wait. Almost forgot,” Mo said, opening the center console and handing her a small, brown paper pouch. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

Confused, Jess opened the pouch and tipped the contents into her palm. A small, wrought piece of dark metal fell into her hand. It was a particularly serpentine S, the curlicued ends looped around small keyrings. She’d never seen anything like it.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“You said your keys kept popping apart. The two rings. It seemed like you chose to keep them separate. So I put one ring on each end of this keychain. That way the two groups of keys don’t mingle while staying linked together.”

Jess’s heart dropped and then took off.

“You made this?” she asked softly. “For me?”

His cheeks reddened.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I wanted to say thanks. Um, for seeing me, seeing the empathy and that I’m not mean.” His cheeks reddened, and he looked away, out the windshield. “Wanted to give you something useful. It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

Jess snapped her hand closed, squeezing until the key ring bit into her palm.

“No,” she said. “I do. I like it…” She softened her grip and looked at it again. “I like it very, very much. Thank you.”

—

Jess hadn’t realized that she’d walked into the organizational meeting on a cloud. She and Mo had joined Lana, Theo, and Doug inside. Jess had greeted the others, taking a seat beside Mo, and accepted a stapled packet that Doug distributed with Project: Renaissance Faire on the cover. As Doug began, Jess followed along on autopilot, the keychain in her hand drawing her attention a few times. She glanced down at it, still surprised that Mo had actually made it for her. She didn’t know if anyone had ever handcrafted something for her—especially to meet a need they’d noticed but that she hadn’t articulated.

“…covers the structure,” said Doug, drawing Jess out of her haze and back into the room. “Let’s look at some examples of Faire hierarchy and costumes on the next page.” He turned his page and the others followed suit. Jess tucked the keychain into her purse then did the same.

“One thing,” Theo said, a long, thin finger raised. “It’s garb.”

“I’m sorry?” Doug asked him, eyes narrowed.

“We don’t wear costumes. We wear garb,” Theo answered, smiling.

Jess barely heard them. The clothes were like a punch to her solar plexus. As her gaze bounced around the page from one woman to another, each one’s face morphed into Cassie’s. The room began to dim and there was no air. Something bumped against her leg, knocking her knees together. She looked up at Mo beside her. He didn’t say anything, but she understood that he was concerned, that by bumping his knee against her, he was silently asking if she was all right. She shook her head a little without meaning to. Mo cleared his throat.

“Garb later,” he announced to the table. The others flinched at the command in his voice. He turned the page of his packet. Jess, Lana, and Theo did as well. Doug did not.

“Why? I thought it would be fun to start with costumes—er garb. Especially for you girls. You get to play dress-up!” He grinned at Jess and Lana. The comment and stupid look on his face slammed Jess back into herself, and she took a breath to snap at him, but Mo spoke first.

“No,” he said to Doug, much more loudly and deeply than anything else he’d said before.

“What?” Doug asked, cowering in his seat a little.

“Sexist,” Mo said. Jess was kind of glad he was looking at Doug because she wouldn’t have wanted that facial expression aimed at her. Not from such a big guy. She swallowed.

“Yes, Doug,” she said, looking at him. “That was a sexist thing to say.”

Lana was practically hiding her face in the printout.

Doug sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s, um…let’s talk tasks.” He took a deep breath and straightened in his chair. Jess squinted, wondering what was coming. He flipped forward a couple of pages in the packet and held it up, pointing to a photo that took up the top half of the page. The others found the correct page. “These are examples of hand-forged goods sold at Faires. Sold for a lot of money.” He pointed to two photos at the bottom of the page. “These are photos of some similar goods that Mo has made. Tell us yours aren’t better, Mo.”

Mo’s cheeks briefly flashed pink. But as he pulled his chin closer to his chest, scrutinizing the relevant page in his packet, Jess could tell that they were getting redder.

“Mo, he’s right,” Lana said. “Yours are much better. We could sell yours and make a good bit of money off them.” She looked up at him, smiling.

Jess wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw his chest rising and falling faster. She could almost taste his distress. She scanned the page.

“Are you all sure the ones at the top weren’t made in a factory?” she asked Doug quickly. “There are so many.” She turned to Lana. “This seems like an awful lot of intricate work. Mo isn’t a machine.”

He looked up from the packet at her. There was a panicked little boy in his eyes and a flash of appreciation.

“Let’s ask our resident expert.” Doug sighed. He looked at Theo. “Do you know if Faire-goers like things like this?” Theo was looking at the photos as well. He whistled low.

“You crafted these yourself?” he asked, looking at Mo. “We could make bank.”

“See?” said Doug. “Handmade. Artisanal. Higher price point.”

Mo slumped back in his seat.

“And of course, people would be amazed watching you make them. So you have to fit the theme, in cos—garb,” Doug said. Mo had gone pale.

“Um, people watching, Doug?” Jess asked. “Did you consider asking Mo if he wanted to produce and perform for people at the same time?”

“Once the board found out about the possibility, they were all for it,” Doug said, suddenly intent on his laptop.

“And I bet we can guess who suggested it to them,” Jess said.

Doug shrugged.

“They’re also looking forward to your shows,” he said, still not making eye contact.

“ Shows? ” Mo and Jess asked in unison. She was surprised and…felt somehow lifted that his reaction had been the same as her own. They made brief eye contact, Mo’s gaze softening as he gave her a tiny nod. It sharpened as he looked back at Doug and crossed his arms. Mo seemed to have returned to hedgehog mode, but this time looked ready to attack.

“Ren Faires often have archery shows,” Doug said, continuing not to look at Jess. “Isn’t that right, Theo?”

Theo looked up from his packet, an eyebrow raised.

“I mean, yeah,” he said. “But aren’t we in the planning stage, here? You’re talking like Jess having shows has already been decided.” He glanced at her, looking unsure. Doug still didn’t look up from his screen.

“Doug,” Mo growled. Doug jumped.

“I mean, we are here to agree…on the details,” he said softly.

Ah. Ambushed again.

—

It was easy to have a quiet ride back to her house. Jess felt so defeated that it would have been difficult to talk. A small wave of relief washed over her as they turned down her street. She’d be inside soon and could take a long bath to soothe her head-to-toe aching muscles. The pain had flared in the middle of the meeting and still hadn’t abated. It seemed that Mo had needed to process on the drive back as well. Several times, she’d heard him taking slow deep breaths, his lips firmly sealed together.

“I’m very sorry,” he said after he opened her door at the curb. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked her to her front door. “I didn’t do enough to keep them from piling more stress on you.”

It had been decided that in addition to manning the archery stand and teaching guests to shoot, Jess would headline a fully choreographed show that would take place a minimum of three times per day, each day of the Faire. She had relented because of the extremely solid argument that doing so could bring in guests beyond Faire fans—people interested in archery who might become long-term paying students. Something else strange had happened. Cassie’s face had appeared in her mind’s eye, almost like she was nudging Jess to do it. Like giving her all to this Faire would make her sister happy. And since Jess had failed to make Cassie happy before the end…She cleared her throat.

“If you owe me an apology,” she said, “I owe you one. I couldn’t get them to see past their own excitement to how difficult this is going to be for you.” They walked side by side up the steps of her porch.

He shrugged, hands in his front pockets.

“I’ll be okay,” he said. “Just put my head down and be mean, grumpy me.” His lips bent up on one side, but no hint of a smile reached his eyes. The sad, defeated look there broke her already battered heart. Before she could think, she cradled his cheek with her palm. The shock that blasted out of his perfectly still body nearly bowled her over.

“You are not mean,” she said, stepping closer to him and grazing his cheekbone with her thumb. “You are not grumpy, or weird. You…” She fished in her purse with her free hand as she let the other drop to his chest, finding his gift and holding it up for him to see. “You’re a forgiving person who pays close enough attention to others to hand make them something that they need. Please don’t say negative things like that about yourself anymore.”

At some point, they’d gotten even closer. Jess didn’t know if she’d moved, or if he had. The urge to kiss him was there. An urge she hadn’t fully registered during the evening, in spite of the bursts of attraction she’d felt but kept stuffing down. That urge that hadn’t manifested itself until it became an imperative. But she just couldn’t bring herself to move closer. She felt him take a slow, deep breath, which drew her attention to his slightly parted lips. She moistened hers and looked into his widened eyes.

“I—”

Mo darted forward and kissed her, cutting her off. Surprised, she smiled against his lips and immediately started kissing him back. His lips were warm and soft, his beard and mustache tickling her skin. The tingles coursing through her waned and surged again, her previous nervousness melding into arousal. She was aware of his hands coming out of his pockets, gently cupping the backs of her arms as he pulled her close. A moan slipped out of her, and she kissed him back harder, opening her mouth. He followed the invitation and did the same. She allowed herself to spread her fingers, to enjoy the hard warmth of his chest against her hand. A low, grumbly sound escaped him, shocking her enough to pull back and break the kiss with a smile.

“Wow,” she sighed. “Thank you for that.”

He cocked his head to the side.

“Why would you thank me?” he asked, voice soft and grumbly.

“I don’t think that was very easy for you,” she said, letting her hand fall to her purse.

His cheeks reddened as he glanced down, a shy smile escaping him.

“How do you get me?” he asked, looking up at her. “Almost no one does.”

She didn’t understand. He didn’t seem like that much of a puzzle. She shrugged.

“I dunno,” she said.

“I’m glad you do,” he said.

She smiled. He returned it as they enjoyed a little more silence together.

“I think we’ll be okay,” she said finally, maintaining eye contact but getting her key into her lock.

He took a small step back, nodding, returning his hands to his pockets.

“We will.”

“We can do this. Together,” she said.

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as he glanced at the ground again.

“Good night, Mo.”

“Good night.”