Chapter 5 – Bea
“So, how did last night go with the Italian stallion?” Micky, my co-worker, roommate, and best friend asks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, cut the bullshit. I know you didn’t come home until late last night.”
“It wasn’t that late.”
“Bea, any time past 8:30 is late for you.”
“Hey!” I playfully smack the brim of her newsboy cap, which was partially concealing her short, bright red hair.
“Am I wrong?”
“. . . no.”
“Thank you. So, what were you up to?”
“Nothing.”
I’m adding price tags to some merchandise behind the front counter, and she’s leaning toward me on the other side.
“Oh, come on! It’s not like your folks are around or anything.”
I had to do a double take when I looked closer at her face.
“Mackenzie, did you get another piercing?” I’m amazed I noticed, given the amount of metal she already had in her head.
She hated it when I called her by her full name. “Ugh! But yes. It’s called the Madonna.”
“I see. How ‘Vogue’ of you.” Ever since we were kids, Micky has stuck out like a sore thumb in our small, conservative town. And I loved her for never seeming to give a rat’s ass about that.
“Stop trying to change the subject. Dish!”
“Honestly, we just talked about his kids. He had some concerns that they are getting too attached to their comfort items in a way to make up for their mother’s absence.”
“Did you tell him about Mr. Peaches?”
“No, I did not. But I did say that I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”
“I’ve always felt so sad for those kids.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Although, I think my life would have been a little easier growing up without my mother.”
“Yeah.” Like many others in Hazelhurst, Micky’s mom was quite vocal about her disapproval of her daughter’s unique style.
A few moments later, Marco walks in carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.
“That certainly doesn’t look like nothing,” Micky mutters under her breath before she goes into the back room.
“What’s all this?”
“I just wanted to bring you a little something to say thank you for this morning.”
“Aw. Well, thank you. But that wasn’t necessary.”
“I know. But you deserve it.”
“Thanks. Let me go get a vase for these.”
I walk into the back to find one.
“He’s totally into you!” Micky whispers.
“He is not! He sees me as his kid’s babysitter . . . and like a kid myself.”
“Yeah, right. And you admitted to me that you have the hots for him during out last wine night.”
“So? He’s gorgeous. What can I say?”
“Well? Make a move.”
“No! That would be totally inappropriate.”
“You’re so lame, you know that!”
I finally find what I’m looking for. So, I take it and fill it with water, and then I turn my back on her. She spanks my ass on the way out while making kissing sounds.
I look over my shoulder and glare at her.
“Here we go,” I say after coming out. Then, I take the flowers out of their plastic sleeve and arrange them. “Perfect.”
“I’ll say so.”
It’s around that time that my insulin pump goes off. Without thinking, I take it off my waistband and check it.
“What is that?” he asks.
“Uh . . .”
“Some kind of beeper or something? Man, I haven’t seen one of those since, like 1992.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s it.” I’ve always been self-conscious about my diabetes diagnosis, and I don’t want him to see me anymore like a fragile child than he already does.
“Wow. I mean, I knew you were into records and other old stuff... but a beeper? That’s quite impressive.”
I shrug. “What can I say?”
He checks his watch and says he needs to get back to the office.
“But would you like to come over for dinner tonight? My treat this time?” He flashes his toothy grin at me, and I feel faint.
“Sure, yeah. I’d like that,” I say after studying myself against the counter.
“Great. Let’s say seven?”
“Works for me. Can I bring anything?”
“Nope. Just yourself!”
Then, we exchange the girls’ seats back into his car, and he drives off. Throughout that entire exchange, our bodies collided at least twice, and I wish he’d just throw me across his hood and take me.
I actually picture it so vividly in my head that I’m sweating by the time I go back into the store.
“Seriously, Bea? Do you get that winded just from carrying kid’s car seats? You really need to get some more exercise,” Micky comments.
“Yeah. I suppose you’re right.”
“We’re going hiking this weekend.”
“Fine. Whatever. Oh, I’m not going to be around for dinner tonight.”
“I fucking knew it. He asked you out, didn’t he?”
“Not exactly. He asked me over to have dinner with him and the girls.”
“Are you sure his kids are going to be there?”
“Well, I assume. I don’t know why they wouldn’t be.”
“Uh, duh . . .” She takes her left hand and makes a circle, and she penetrates it with her right pointer finger.
“Don’t be gross!” But that makes me wonder whether he is planning for this to be more of a romantic date.
No. Don’t be ridiculous.
***
But when I arrive at his house later that night, I’m surprised not to hear the normal screaming and playing inside.
“Where are Aurora and Alessia?”
“Their grandmother, Caroline, Clara’s mother, begged to take them out to dinner and ice cream.”
Oh, did she? Or was this your plan all along? My hopes are starting to get up again that maybe he has ulterior motives for this little dinner.
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah. She’s in the early stages of Parkinson’s, so she doesn’t always feel up to being around them. But when she does, I’m happy to drive the three of them downtown so they can walk around together.”
Well, now I feel like an asshole. This whiplash of different emotions is making me dizzy.
“So, you’ll have to go pick them up at some point?”
“Yeah. In a few hours. Or sooner if Caroline calls me.”
“Gotcha.”
As we’re eating the lasagna that he slightly overcooked, we hear the first few cracks of thunder.
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t. I better call Caroline. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. Go ahead.”
He leaves but says he needs to go pick all of them up before it starts raining even harder.
“Sure, of course. I’ll just leave.”
“You don’t have to. Please, keep eating. I’ll be right back.”
I take him up on that offer and sit back down after I wrap his leftovers up and put them in the fridge.
Suddenly, the lights flicker off.
“Holy shit.” The storm must be more severe than either of us thought.
Nevertheless, I turn on the flashlight feature on my camera and search for candles. I find some and light them throughout the kitchen and living room.
Then, I get a call from Marco.
“There’s some flooding and a powerline down,” he explains.
“Oh, no.”
“So, I’m going to need to stick around to help.”
“Okay.”
“Please just stay at my place where you are safe. I know you don’t live far. But it’s really crazy out here. Promise?”
His concern for my well-being really touches my heart.
“I promise.”
Several hours go by before he and the girls come back. I listen as he carries them up to their beds and then comes back downstairs—absolutely soaking wet, with all of the muscles in his arms and abdomen on full display.
“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up on the couch a little.
“I’m not sure.” He combs water out of his hair with his fingers and then shakes it off on the ground.
Then, without missing another beat, he storms over, kneels before me, and grabs my face in his hands.
“Please tell me to stop.” I can feel his hot, deep breath against my skin.
I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but his proximity has every nerve ending on my body, and I am standing at attention to see what happens next.
“No,” I say, out of breath while closing my eyes.