Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
ALEX
T he venue has a hipster vibe, records on the walls, and prints of punk bands. The drinks are served in jars and the music which pounds from the speakers has a punky lilt to it. I grab a beer and look around the loft-style room across the sea of heads, looking for Tori.
I’m just glad she let me come. I tried my best to focus at the archery range with Elliot, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Damien and his tatted goons. What if they returned? What if they hurt her?
“Alex?”
I turn at the sound of her voice. It cuts right through the music, tugging at my heart… and other parts of me, too. But tonight isn’t about that.
When I face her, it’s difficult to remember I’m supposed to be tame. She’s wearing denim overalls and a flowy top, giving her a poetic and bohemian look, the overalls hugging her figure. I’m caught between being impressed by how badass she looks and wanting to tear off the clothes to reveal the womanly curves beneath.
“Tori,” I say, smiling and leaning in for a kiss.
She hesitates momentarily, but when our lips touch, I feel her melt against me. She wraps her arms around me. I moan, can’t help it, and squeeze her close. When my manhood twitches, I force myself to push her away.
She looks up at me with red cheeks, flustered and gorgeous. “We should be good,” she yells over the music, her breath tickling my ear as she stands on her tiptoes and leans in. “My mom is here too. She’s in the bathroom. Do you mind sitting with her?”
“Not at all. It’s about time I met your parent.”
I nudge her playfully. Her old-soul eyes get this panicked look. Oh, yeah, we’re ‘keeping it casual,’ aren’t we? How could I forget?
She turns as her mom approaches, an elegant, kind-looking woman with her daughter’s nose and eyes. “Mom, this is Alex. Alex – Mom. Well, Monica.”
I offer her my hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Monica laughs.
“I’ve always thought if I ever found a lady who could put up with me, I’d treat her mother with respect.”
Monica smiles, looking at her daughter. She points at me and then makes the okay sign. Tori’s cheeks grow even more beautifully red.
“I need to go backstage soon,” Tori says.
“Good luck.” Monica rubs her daughter’s arms.
I take her hands, squeezing them, looking at her meaningfully. “You’re going to do great.”
“Remember,” she yells. “It’s just poetry, okay?”
She brushes her hand along my arm before disappearing into the crowd.
“Shall we find some seats, Monica?”
When it’s time for the open mic to begin, the music is turned down, and the staff clear the dance floor and dot tables around the stage. People murmur quietly as they wait for the performances to begin.
“Are you excited?” Monica asks.
I nod. “Tori’s passionate about this. Well, maybe ‘passionate’ is an understatement. When she talked about her poetry, the night we met…”
“Valentine’s,” Monica says with a smile.
“Yes, Valentine’s, she lit up. It was as if she was hiding this precious, amazing part of herself, afraid people would think it was too strange or out there . I felt… privileged,” I continue, settling on the word, “to see it, to share that piece of her.”
“You really care about her,” Monica says.
“I do. I know we’re moving fast, and maybe she doesn’t want that. I’m trying to be normal, but it isn’t easy. I’ve wanted to find somebody for a long time. Until your daughter, I never thought I would.”
Monica’s eyes glimmer like she might cry, then she sips her drink. “I just hope she can get out of her own way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Before she can answer, a spotlight illuminates the stage. A woman dressed in a multicolored, long, flowy dress walks out, a headdress on her auburn hair. “Ladies, gents, please allow me to welcome you to the three hundred and twenty-second poetry slam at Rafter’s.” Everybody applauds. “As you all know, poetry was my first love before I entered the seedy world of liquor supply…”
That gets some light laughter.
“It’s been my greatest joy to bring poetry to this city, giving up-and-coming performers a chance to showcase their talent. So, without further ado, let me welcome… Sphinx!”
The first performance is a tongue-in-cheek piece about a man who can’t stop obsessing about an unfinished sandcastle. The man leaps around the stage at one point, pretending to stamp on his half-constructed castle. It’s surprisingly engaging.
When he’s done, I look around the bar, making sure Damien hasn’t suddenly appeared. Is this paranoia, or just the natural result of having a gun aimed at somebody I care about… hell, and at me?
There are two more performances, and then Monica points to the edge of the stage. Tori shifts from foot to foot, fidgeting with her overalls. When her mom offers her a thumbs-up, that seems to make it worse.
At one point, she turns as if she’s going to flee the stage. The announcer glances over, then seemingly decides to announce the next act instead. Once the performer has taken to the stage, she walks over to Tori.
I stand, joining them. “Thanks,” Tori murmurs to the woman as I approach.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, rubbing her back.
“Oh, nothing,” she says, laughing humorlessly. “It’s just different with people I know in the crowd.”
I take her hands, holding her steady as she begins to tremble. “I know you want to do this, Tori. I felt your passion emanating from you when you talked about your poetry. When I gave you that notebook, I could see your soul shining. To other people, it’s just poetry. But not for you. It means more. It matters more.”
She takes a breath. “You’re right.”
I lean close, kissing her gently on the lips, then remain there, looking intensely into her eyes. “I got your hint in our texts. Don’t stress if your poem relates to me or your mom, okay? We can take it. Tonight is about your passion, your creativity. Tonight is about you . If you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand. But I need you to know something, you beautiful, perfect woman. You can do this.”
Her smile is the best gift a man could receive. She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my ear.
“You’ve got this.”
We share another kiss, then I return to my seat.
“I hope I didn’t overstep there, Monica.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, Alex, you did not. I’ve never seen Tori look so happy. Even if she’s trying to fight it.”