His stare was menacing as he looked down at me, nostrils flared, jaw clenched.
“I…I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean…”
Lucy grabbed a white bar towel from the end of the counter and patted at the mess soaking through both of Adam’s shirts. “Let me—”
“It’s fine. Really.” He swiped the cloth from her and blotted at his flannel. “Here’s to hopin’ I don’t get pulled over on the way home tonight. Last thing I need is a cop trying to nail me for another fucking DUI.”
Lucy let out a frustrated sigh with Adam’s refusal of help. She elbowed me in the ribs and hummed the tune to the death march before whispering, “See? Vaginal funeral.”
“Let me pay you for the beer. For your shirt.” I reached into my tote bag and gripped a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and a ten, holding them out to Adam. It was the only cash I had on me. My hands quaked and I couldn’t stop them.
“Thirty bucks?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Blue Brennan, meet Adam Rockwell,” Lucy said quietly.
“I’m just trying to help,” my voice was meek as I ignored Lucy’s introduction. “It was an accident.”
“Believe me, you’ve caused enough damage. Thanks,” Adam’s words were as cool and clear as ice water.
My skin prickled.
He shook his head and frowned at me for a few seconds longer than what felt comfortable. Additional words weren’t necessary. His actions said it all. They spoke volumes as he turned around and blasted through the double doors. The wood paneling banged against the brickwork of the building hard enough to shatter the mosaic of stained glass, sending a mess of sparkling shards to the ground.
The bar fell silent.
My shoulders sagged as I stood there, stunned. The balled-up wad of money was still clasped tight in my hand. “I…didn’t mean to…”
Lucy wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me out of the bar, taking a dramatic step over the mess on the ground. “Fucking asshole. What a shitty way to react. It was an accident.”
I sighed. “Thanks, but—”
“I used to think he was hot as fuck, but after that dick move he pulled? Don’t you worry. I’ve got your back, girlfriend.” Lucy gave my shoulder a pat.
“You’ve got my back? Oh, please,” I said. “You don’t know me from…well…Adam, as the saying goes.” Suddenly, I hated that phrase.
“Honey, chicks before dicks. He’s just another douche waffle, and he’s never gettin’ near this squeeze box.” She made a gesture near her waist with both hands. “Trust me, you’d be way better off spending the night with Zack. He’s still inside. It’s not too late.” Lucy nodded toward the doorway of The Fill & Spill.
“Why are you so interested in who I go home with?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Do you get your kicks from playing matchmaker off the clock or something? Does Zack pay you to find him women to screw?”
“Oh, honey, it doesn’t matter to me who or what you fuck in your spare time. It could be a cucumber for all I care. I know Zack’s an average lay, and you look like you haven’t gotten any in a few months. You’re all worked up. It’s not healthy. You might explode.”
“I want to leave,” I said.
“Okay. Chill for a sec.” She raised a hand to halt me. “No one’s holding you hostage. Check out the e-reader when you have a chance. Trust me. Daveigh can get it back to me later.”
“Look, the last thing I need is for you to ram a cruise down my throat like a giant dick. A cruise where one of the tag lines is probably “don’t come a knockin’ if the boat’s a rockin’”.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “I didn’t try to shove anything—”
“Just please tell Daveigh I’m sorry. All of this was a bad idea.” I walked away, tightening my jacket around me, before Lucy had a chance to reply.
* * *
I replayed the evening on the walk home, constantly rewinding and hitting the play button over and over in my mind. Things could’ve gone so differently, but I was still unsure of the exact catalyst that propelled the night into a downward spiral. The temperature had dipped dramatically and the wind kicked up when I turned onto Poplar. Miniature droplets of icy water fell from the sky, pelting my face. It felt like the world was against me. Every damn component. Even the weather tried to run me out of town. I tucked my hands up inside the cuffs of my jacket sleeves to stop the numbness from taking over my fingertips.
Lucy’s babbling. Zack’s steely gaze. Daveigh’s weird behavior. My mother’s bitchiness. All of them were minor because nothing sounded more loudly than the silent hatred that blazed behind Adam Rockwell’s eyes. A whiff of beer caught me off guard, a pungent reminder of the evening, bringing everything round robin once again.
I approached the gravel driveway when a series of gunshots blasted in the distance. My heart pounded as adrenaline filled me, the cold quickly forgotten. It took a moment for me to gain my bearings and slow to a stop. Like clockwork, I remembered I was in Steele Falls and not Sacramento as I began to calm down. It was second nature as I turned in the direction it was coming from. “Just like old times.” I wondered what the hell Ralph shot this time.
When I walked around back, the honeyed light of the standing lamp still shone through the window. I pulled the key from under the mat and slipped it into the lock, jiggling it twice to the left and then three times to the right. It was like having a security system and key in one.
For as safe as I should’ve felt, I didn’t. Vulnerability took hold. Standing in the open doorway, I was terrified of what waited within. It wasn’t anything tangible I feared. People. Objects. Animals. That all would’ve made too much sense. What I was scared of could only hurt me if I let it. The worst part was not knowing if I had enough strength to keep myself from breaking down until I was back in California.
I jumped when I heard a second round of gunfire from Ralph’s direction. Nope. Still didn’t feel fully at ease. An old man hanging out in the trees with his trusty .45 didn’t seal the deal on refuge for me. “Jeez. How long before someone calls the cops?” Maybe they’d become immune to Ralph and didn’t bat an eye, much like how no one paid attention to the slow pace of the run-down city.
Naked, swaying tree branches cast murky shadows through the darkened kitchen window from the moonlight, giving the surroundings an eerie, yellow glow. I tried to pay little attention to the imaginary monsters lurking in the corners and in my mind, but it was difficult to reign in my irrational thoughts. The ambience. The lighting. The smells. It all took me back to another time. “Focus,” I whispered. “It’s been two fucking years since you left. Get over it, Blue.”
I was convinced a shower was the best dose of medicine to warm me up, rinse the beer off, and to also wash away the events of the evening. The last one was a longshot; I had a feeling it’d still linger if I bathed in battery acid.
Before I resigned to allow myself a moment of attempted peace, I stood in each area of the house. Like it was some form of penance. And trust me, I didn’t want to do it. Being only a 535-square foot space, it shouldn’t have taken long. Yet, the task at hand felt insurmountable. I tiptoed through each room and held my breath for as long as possible, fingering over the surfaces of countertops, cushions, and tables. Even the texturing on the walls didn’t go unscathed. For the millionth time, I wondered if I should turn around and leave. Every bit of the Meyer’s property felt more like a bully than any school-aged child ever could.
Another gust of wind howled outside. The windows rattled and the lights flickered, temporarily leaving me blind for a few seconds before the room came into view again. Knowing the layout like the back of my hand wasn’t enough to help console me either. When the power threatened to go out for a second time, I panicked. The thought of being in the dark got more of a reaction out of me than Ralph’s target practice. It was also enough to stop me from reminiscing.
Hurriedly, I went through the motions of unpacking my suitcase with shaking hands. It was a race—me against myself. The longer I was awake, the more time I had to think. The more time I had to think, the longer I was awake. It was a vicious cycle. I grabbed my bag of toiletries and headed for the bathroom, turning the shower handle as hot as I could tolerate. Plumes of steam filled the room as I peeled off my beer-soaked clothes. The stream of water poured over me until it ran cold, and I’d unrealistically hoped it’d give me a brief escape from reality. I was left disappointed.
After I brushed my teeth and towel-dried my hair, I climbed into the full-sized bed, the abrasive sheets cold against my shivering body. Not a damn thing in Steele Falls had given me peace since I’d arrived. Maybe I’d hoped for too much. I scrunched my eyes shut, hoping to fall asleep quickly, but I had a feeling it’d be another long night of tossing and turning mixed with bad dreams. Counting flock after flock of sheep even proved to be useless. Visions of Adam Rockwell trumped everything else in my mind. His glare was heightened by an unspoken pain unlike any other I’d ever encountered, and it was etched into my memory as much as I fought to shove it away.
* * *
The next day, I woke up to the sound of a pair of Canadian Geese honking near the tree outside my window. Those damn birds were useless, nothing more than a nuisance. They shit everywhere and rushed off other birds. Every winter, I’d hoped they’d fly south, but the temperature was never frigid long enough for them to leave. One of those assholes even chased me down the beach when I was a kid. I peeked through the blinds and saw a male with outstretched wings, flapping in the middle of the grass.
“Seriously?” I looked at the clock on the nightstand. At least it was the seven o’clock hour instead of an ungodly four-thirty. “I can’t wake up on time for work, but as soon as I’m jobless, bitch geese act as my new alarm.”
I couldn’t figure out why I felt sick to my stomach, and then everything replayed in my head from the night before. Dreams. Cold sweats. Racing heart. It felt as if I’d done nothing but run in my sleep. This time, Cash Jensen was absent. A new lead had taken his place—Adam Rockwell.
“What do I have to do to get some rest?” I smashed the pillow over my face and groaned while kicking my feet into the lumpy mattress. Staring upward at the gap between the windowsill and the half-open blinds, the sky was a deep shade of dreary ashen gray, and heavy rain relentlessly pounded against the panes. Droplets fell down the glass like falling tears. It was typical Washington weather. Depressing.
Eventually, I coaxed myself out of the warm bed and made myself a cup of tea in the small kitchen nook. Examining the box with a sniff, the expiration date was flagged for eight months prior. It still smelled fine. I zoned out and dunked the bag far longer than I was willing to admit. There was no doubt in my mind I procrastinated. Standing still with my hands wrapped around a warm mug only dragged the time out until I had to face my mother again. She was an early riser, always awake before the sun came up. I remembered joking she was a vampire and never slept. If I believed in pretend creatures, I’d have taken more stock in the idea. Plus, it’d have made perfect sense with her cold heart.
I took a sip and scrunched my nose at the flavorless drink. “That’s gross. I guess tea leaves do go bad.” I dumped the full cup of liquid down the drain and rinsed out the mug, no longer in the mood for what soothing elements expired chamomile had to offer. “Might as well get this over with.”
The little lightbulb flickered over my head again from the night before. I froze in front of the sink. There was still one task to handle before I faced Elana. I pulled my half-charged phone from my tote bag and found a phone number in my contacts list. My thumb hovered over the send button while a little nagging voice in the back of my head told me the answer would be a resounding “no”. Out of fear, I cleared the digits from the screen three times before I got ballsy enough to hit the send key.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
“Brennan Construction,” a deep voice said. “This is Tyler.”
“Hey. I mean hi.” I paused. “Uncle Ty, it’s Blue.”
The silence was lengthy before he replied, his voice softening around the edges. “Blue? Is that really you?”
“Last time I checked.” I fiddled with a small sliver of wood that broke free from the door frame.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Even though he was my birth father’s brother, Ty Brennan cared about me. Or he was a great actor. We both knew I was doled out a shit-head for a dad in Shane Brennan. That was beyond my control. And Tyler was the polar opposite of Shane. The best thing was Ty never forced me to talk about any of the past. The even greater thing about my uncle was I wouldn’t be reprimanded for leaving, there’d be no massive number of questions on what happened two years ago, I wouldn’t be shot any disapproving looks for what I’d done, and there’d be no string of phone calls wondering where the hell I’d been. It was a simple question about how I was doing in that particular moment—present tense. No mention of Tom. No mention of Elana. No mention of Shane. No mention of where the hell I’d hid.
“I’m…good. I mean, okay, considering the circumstances, trying to remain semi-respectful of the fact I was in Steele Falls for my step-father’s funeral,” I said. “Listen, I don’t want to occupy much of your time, but I wanted to know if I could set up a meeting with you while I’m in town.”
“Hang on. Let me grab my planner and check my schedule. Business or personal reasons?” he asked. The sound of papers rifling and crinkling was audible through the speaker.
“Business,” I replied. “Definitely business.” Talking about anything personal sounded about as great as walking across hot coals. Barefoot. Slowly. With an elephant on my shoulders.
I heard a long, slow breath on the phone. “My schedule is pretty full today. Nuts for a Sunday, I know.”
The resounding “no” I’d anticipated was mere seconds away. I deflated and opened my mouth to thank him for his time anyway, but he’d beat me to speaking.
“Wait. I have one opening tomorrow morning. A contractor canceled late last night. Does nine work for you? My office?”
“Nine is perfect,” I replied.
“Great. Tell the receptionist who you are. I’ll let her know you’re coming.” He paused. “Oh, and Blue?”
“Yeah?” I forced my feet into my Chucks without bothering to untie the laces first.
“I hope you’re really doing okay. With everything.”
“Thanks,” I replied quickly. “See you tomorrow.”
I ended the call before either of us had a chance to elongate the conversation any further. A smile curled at my lips at my success. It was the first one in a while. Proud of myself for following through, I put my cell phone away.
Standing near the screen door, I stared out at the yard. It was then or never. As much as I wanted to opt for never, it wasn’t realistic. Time to rip off the bandage. I put on my jacket and flipped up the hood, dodging massive puddles that lined the walkway between the mother-in-law house and the kitchen of the main house.
I paused on the middle of the walkway, the pitter-patter of raindrops pelting the synthetic layer of my jacket. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daveigh through the window. She crossed from the living room into the kitchen with purpose. The pane of glass didn’t detract from her level of anger. Her mouth was turned downward as she stomped by, slamming every overhead cupboard in the kitchen as she rifled through dishes, pots, and pans.
Our relationship was already rocky, but I had a feeling I’d damaged it tenfold by ditching her at the bar last night. A simple apology wasn’t going to cut it.
More than ever, I didn’t want to go inside. Both Elana and Daveigh Meyers were on the warpath. That was a force to be reckoned with. Reluctantly, I put on my big girl pants once again and placed one foot in front of the other. By the time I got inside, I found Daveigh drinking coffee at the dining room table. Both of her hands were tightly wrapped around the mug. Either she didn’t notice my presence or she didn’t care. The oversized coffee cup remained perched at eye level as she peered over the top of it, staring directly at the blank wall. Wisps of steam floated upward, but it didn’t faze her.
“Hey,” I said.
Daveigh was silent and didn’t look at me.
I walked over to where she sat. “Sorry ‘bout last night.”
“Whatever, Blue.” She stood up and took her half-full cup to the sink, rinsing it out before putting it in the dishwasher. “By the way, you owe me for the beer.”
“Did you ‘whatever’ me? What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
She smirked. “History has a funny way of repeating itself, don’t you think?”
“I’ll say it again.” My blood pressure rose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You ghosted me.” She pointed toward the front door. “Ran out just like you did two years ago. Without a trace. I figured you’d be gone to wherever the hell you’ve been for the past two years by the time I got home last night. Shocked to see you this morning, to be honest.”
“What happened at the bar had nothing to do with—”
“Bullshit.” Daveigh gritted her teeth. “Daddy’s gone. Try thinking about someone else than yourself for a change. Huh?” She walked toward the front door and slammed it on her way out, repeating the same hostile action with the screen door.
I’m not sure what triggered it. Events at the bar? Events with Cash? Events that brought me back to Steele Falls? Whatever it was, it was the wrong moment to screw with me.
I followed her outside to the porch, stomping my feet like a petulant child. “Look, I’ve had enough going on in my life right now.”
“You’ve had enough going on, Blue? You have no idea.” Tears spilled down her face. “No damn idea at all.”
I began counting on my fingers. “Let’s see. I got fired yesterday from Jensen & Jensen. Me. Fired. Wanna know why?”
My sister crossed her arms and looked out at the ocean.
“Because I’d been fucking my boss. That’s why. My condescending, narcissistic, asshole of a boss. To boot, it was against company policy. Price Jensen himself, president extraordinaire, about shoved the company handbook up my ass when he showed me the door. Wanna know why?”
She looked at me with a blank expression. “Why he shoved the handbook up your ass?”
“No. Why I was sleeping with Cash.” My shoulders slumped at her inability to keep up with the conversation. “The longer I’m away from California, the more I don’t even know why I did it. Him. The sex sucked. The conversation was terrible. I couldn’t stand being around him, but there I was, like a dog being thrown a stick, running back to it over and over again.
“Then, I come here because my step-father dies. My sister asks me a million questions before I even have a chance to take my coat off, my mother couldn’t give any less of a shit about me, and then you and I go out for a drink. Sounds good, right? But then I meet your sex therapist friend, Lucy, who tries to be my BFF when my sister vanishes. Wanna know why? Oh, wait! It’s me who wants to know why you kept disappearing.
“And did I mention Lucy tried to ram her giant dick of a cruise line down my throat too? After that, I turn down her attempt to hook me up with Zachary “Eligible Bachelor” Main, I spill beer on Adam “Douche-Canoe” Rockwell. I tried to apologize, and—”
“Wait,” Daveigh held up her hands. “Stop right there. You spilled beer on Adam Rockwell?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Okay, Blue. I know I’m pissed as hell at you right now about more reasons than I can count, but I want you to steer clear of that guy. You hear me?”
“I’m pretty sure he hates me. You don’t have to worry about him coming anywhere near your big sister.”
“I’m serious. A while back, I was down at The Fill & Spill late one night, celebrating one of my breakups with Gene. I was supposed to meet Lucy, but I was running late and told her I’d just meet her there.”
I opened my mouth to cut her off, but she shot me a glare.
“No Gene jokes. It’s my turn to talk. Later that night, I was outside having a smoke and I saw that Adam guy hit Daddy.”
“Like with his car?”
“No, with his fists.” She held up both of her hands and balled them up.
I furrowed my brow. “I don’t understand.”
“No clue why he started wailing on him. I saw it happen from across the parking lot. Adam pulled in, got out, and slammed his truck door. He looked pissed off about something, but when doesn’t that dude look hostile? When he headed inside, Daddy bumped into him on the way out, and Adam went ape shit crazy. It was nuts. Arms were swinging. Legs were kicking. They slammed into Daddy’s truck so hard. The glass busted out of the passenger side window when Daddy’s head smashed into it. And the blood. Jeez, there was so much of it. Adam got this wild look behind his eyes, I’m not sure if it was rage or pain or what, but I could still see it from far away. He punched Daddy square in the nose three times, shaking him by the lapels on his jacket. Limp like a fucking rag doll. I’d be surprised if Adam didn’t bust the bones in his hand.”
“What did you do?” I asked quietly.
“I was kinda paralyzed. Really wasn’t sure what I should do. I’d snuck out and was using a fake ID. You know, the ones William made up for us a long time ago? At that point, I was lucky he didn’t see me. I mean, I didn’t want Daddy to die either though. And that was when Harold rushed over to help him. He’d seen the whole thing happen from inside the bar.”
I remained still.
“It was the weirdest thing. I heard every word clear as day. There was no mistaking it. Daddy told Harold it was all a misunderstanding and he didn’t want to press charges against Adam. I don’t get it. Someone beats the shit out of me, I’m sure as hell gonna make them pay. That guy rubs me the wrong way, Blue.”
“I’ve got to go,” I said, zipping up my jacket.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I think I need something stronger than coffee and weaker than a narcotic.”
“So, that’s it? You’re going to walk away from me again?”
“For now.” I hurried down the porch steps. “And I’m still sorry about last night.”
“Blue!” she shouted after me.
I headed down the sidewalk and didn’t look back. If I saw the look on Daveigh’s face, I wasn’t sure I could simply walk away. But I needed to. A drink was required to clear my head. Options were limited since it was only nine in the morning. I’d have to settle for something from the local coffee shop. The last thing I needed was to be deemed the town lush.
About ten minutes later, I opened the door of The Lean, Mean, Coffee Bean and let the smell of robust beans and sweet toffee fill my lungs while a whimsical bell chimed to announce my presence. Not much had changed there either. The tan and chocolate-colored wooden planks on the floor still mimicked the pillars between the windows. Oversized singular lightbulbs hung from the ceiling over each table. They, too, were the same as I remembered. Couples occupied most of the quaint tables for two, and a bar along the window was filled with customers busily working on laptops or surfing their cell phones. It was one of the more popular businesses in Steele Falls.
I stood in line and stared at the green chalkboard of fancy drinks written in swirly, pastel writing, not really focusing on any of the words. Daveigh’s voice calling out my name echoed in my head. When it was my turn, I placed my order with a gothic cashier named Mary as I fished for a handful of quarters in my pocket.
“Name for the order?” Mary asked as she clicked her tongue ring against her teeth and drummed her tattoo-covered fingers against the concrete countertop.
“Blue,” I replied absentmindedly.
“I’ll pay for hers,” a velvet-edged voice said from a table near the doorway.
Mary was forgotten. Daveigh was forgotten. Steele Falls was forgotten.
I looked over and saw a familiar face approaching me with an air of confidence and a hint of arrogance in his step. He wore dark jeans and a checkered button-up shirt, the shade of gray accentuating his eyes. Zachary Main held a twenty out to the cashier, but his gaze remained locked on my face.
“You don’t have to do that,” I replied, pushing the crisp bill back toward him with one hand. “I can buy my own—”
“Come on.” A faint light twinkled behind his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you a latté.”
I raised a brow. “Does that line work?”
“I don’t know. Did it?” He grinned and gestured between our bodies with his index finger. “You may not yet, but I can feel something brewing between us, Blue Brennan.”
I felt color creep into my cheeks as I released the handful of coins back into the pocket of my jeans.
“I’m glad I ran into you because,” he took a sip from his paper cup, “I’m having a party at my place on Tuesday, and I wanted to know if you’d come as my date.”
“A party?” I scrunched my nose. “That sounds awfully high school.”
“Call it a gathering. Call it a BBQ.” He took a deep breath, a lock of wavy hair casually falling over his forehead. “Call it a social function where there’ll be food, alcohol, and I’m hoping a beautiful, blue-eyed girl.”
Words to decline failed me, so I shook my head left and right slowly.
“I had an end of summer bash last year and called it a housewarming when I moved to town. Everyone had a good time, so I decided to make it a tradition. Plus, it’d be a great excuse to get to know you better.”
“End of summer? It’s October.”
“Then, we’ll call it a better-late-than-never-gathering-BBQ-social-function-where-there’ll-be-food-alcohol-and-I’m-hoping-a-beautiful-blue-eyed-girl. Is that better? Not sure it’ll fit on a formal invite though, so please don’t make me write it out.”
“Are you always this clever with the comebacks?” I asked.
His smile was smug. “Only on days that end in Y.”
I withdrew from his attempt to lure me in. “I…I shouldn’t. There’s a funeral to plan and—”
“In all seriousness, maybe it’d help if you took your mind off things. Even if just for a few hours.” There was a hint of pleading on his face to mimic the tone behind his words. “C’mon. Please?”
“I can’t. Really,” I replied, although any excuse to avoid my mother was tempting.
“Drink for…Lou!” the barista shouted as she scrutinized the sloppy handwriting on the cup.
The intense moment was interrupted as I looked around. I was the only one waiting at the counter. “Guess I’m Lou today.”
“See? The staff here already forgot who you are, but I didn’t. That has to count for something.”
“In all fairness, ‘Blue’ isn’t the most common name,” I said.
“Come on. Give me a shot. Plus, who can turn down all of these witty coffee quips I’m throwing your way?”
“A girl who prefers her caffeine injection with tea.” I picked up the cup from the counter and tugged gently at the tag on the end of the string. “Black peppermint.”
“Noted for any future coffee shop dates,” he said. “Words can’t espresso how much it’d mean if you came.”
I groaned and laughed. “Stop with the horrible pickup lines. Who does that?”
“Guess you’ll have to stick around Steele Falls to find out.” His next words were both firm and final. “I’ll pick you up on Tuesday afternoon.”
Reluctantly, I found myself accepting the invitation.
He nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
I adjusted my tote bag when the unthinkable happened. A woman’s breathy voice sounded, as if from right behind me. She had an accent and enunciated every syllable clearly. Too damn clearly. And too damn loud.
I froze.
I yelped as his impressive length filled me again. “Don’t stop,” I said. “Please don’t fucking stop now.”
“What the hell?” I spun in a circle. Once to the left. Twice to the right. I looked like an animal chasing its tail. Where a dog would typically lose interest and stop, my embarrassing situation continued.
The line between enjoyment and pain was almost non-existent.
The corners of Zack’s mouth curled upward as he fought off a laugh. “I think the hot and heavy’s coming from your bag.”
“Zeke.” I panted as he stroked me, the sensation of nerves firing. My body thrummed and threatened to erupt.
“No. It can’t be!” I shrieked, the heads of half a dozen customers turning around to see what the skin flick commotion was all about.
Zeke locked eyes with mine as he moved behind me, guiding his thick—”
“Whoa-kay!” I found an e-reader in my tote bag operating at full-volume. Thoughts of Lucy from the night before slapped me in the face while I fumbled for the off switch. Hell, at that moment I’d have welcomed an eject button, an explosion, anything to make the freight train of porn stop. Success was found when I toggled the microscopic mute button. Unfortunately, an additional slew of dirty slang for anatomy peppered the air in those extra few seconds. I looked at the screen of the device. The cover in the upper left corner displayed black and white image. A blonde woman with dreadlocks was being cradled by a man. Local erotica author Trixie Taylor’s name was emblazoned at the bottom along with the title and a miniature 80% sign.
Serves me right for not paying attention to what Lucy was doing. Her words echoed in my ears. Borrow, 80%, and enjoy, my ass! It all made sense.
“Been doing some heavy reading?” Zack arched an eyebrow.
I shoved the ereader to the bottom of my tote bag. “Lucy.”
“Hey, don’t be ashamed. There’s nothing wrong with a little bedroom material for your spank bank. I didn’t take you for the Trixie Taylor type. That’s all.”
“No, really. It’s Lucy’s.” I shook my head, and I was certain my face was the color of a beet. “I don’t…it’s not…I…”
“Tuesday!” Zack walked away with a twisted smile on his face.
I watched as he disappeared down the street. There was no room to change my answer to “no”, and it was an invisible blow to the gut when I realized what happened. I’d agreed to go on a date with a man who was the equivalent of Cash Jensen and who thought I was into kinky reading material. All of it was sex therapist Lucy’s fault.