Drive Me Crazy by Parker, Mysti, Post, MJ, Design, Wicked by (1)

By Mysti Parker & MJ Post

 

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PUBLISHED BY:

Mysti Parker on Kindle Direct Publishing

 

Drive Me Crazy

City Meets Country #1

Copyright © 2017 Mysti Parker & MJ Post

 

Kindle Edition, License Notes

 

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All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

 

 

Ellie pulled the U-Haul up to the curb in front of the red brick apartment building. It was one of many such structures crammed into the block of this Brooklyn street. An involuntary shiver coursed through her body.

“What’s the matter?” Lena asked, putting the cap on her lipstick.

“It’s…I don’t know…I’m nervous, I guess. You know, country girl moving to the big city and all that.”

Lena laughed. “This coming from a girl who can drive a bus through the New York streets.”

“It’s just a U-Haul.”

“Might as well be a damn bus. The only thing I’ve driven are Matchbox-sized rental cars.”

Ellie turned off the engine and plopped the keys into her purse. “We could have flown and hired a mover, you know.”

“There’s not enough Dramamine to get me on a plane.”

“For a tough New Yorker, you’re kinda soft.”

Lena pursed her lips the way she did when she was about to be a smart ass. “Yeah, well at least I keep my eyebrows groomed. Pluck the damn things already.”

“Oh, hush and let’s start unpacking. I’m hungry, and you promised some good Italian.” Ellie smoothed out her eyebrows and rubbed her tired eyes at the same time. She opened the door and stepped onto the pavement. The street scene was rather quiet, as she imagined it would be on a Sunday afternoon. A couple of bicyclists in Spandex and sleek helmets zipped by. Two women holding hands strolled along the sidewalk, eating ice cream cones. She hadn’t seen that very often in Kentucky. A flustered-looking mother pushed a stroller along while texting furiously on a smart phone. Not one of them even glanced at Ellie and Lena, who had just gotten out and lifted the back hatch of the U-Haul. Ellie winced at its metallic screech. She had a feeling that she’d left Southern hospitality behind about three hundred miles back.

Ellie twisted her torso right and left to loosen the stiff muscles from the twelve-hour drive from Lexington, Kentucky. Thankfully, she’d convinced Lena the Workaholic to stop overnight at a Super 8 on the West Virginia/ Pennsylvania border. Sure, Lena cursed too much, wore too much makeup, and was a slob where Ellie was a clean freak, but they’d become best friends at the University of Kentucky. She and Lena had hit it off during freshman year in Intro to Business. They’d been roommates ever since.

Now here they were in Lena’s native NYC, starting a new life with new jobs in a new apartment, and…dear God, she must be crazy. Lexington wasn’t exactly the ‘boonies,’ but this was a whole different world. You couldn’t drive twenty minutes in any direction from downtown Lexington without finding rolling hills and horse farms. Once they’d hit the New York City limits, the urban sprawl didn’t seem to have an end. The U-Haul had become a submarine, diving through an ocean of skyscrapers, cars, and asphalt.

“Take this.” Lena shoved a box into Ellie’s arms and picked up their Styrofoam cooler. “Snap out of it, Dorothy. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Okay, yeah, I know.” She followed Lena up the steps, shifting the weight of her movie collection to one hip.

Lena pushed a button near the door. A crackling voice came through the other end. “Whaddya want?”

“We’re your new tenants!” Lena shouted. “Lena Bosko and Ellison Carlisle.” After four years in Kentucky, Lena’s Brooklyn accent had taken on a slight drawl, but since they’d crossed into the city limits of New York, it had all but disappeared.

“Be out in a sec.”

A few secs ticked by. Ellie’s stomach growled.

“That whole bag of Doritos didn’t hold you over much, huh?” Lena asked, smiling. “Don’t worry. We’ll be slurping up spaghetti at Donny’s soon. Maybe I can hook you up with one of his brothers. A real Italian stallion.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’d rather have a date with a nice big bowl of pasta and a glass of Merlot.”

The chipped burgundy door swung open, and a stout man with bushy gray eyebrows nodded at them. He chewed on the end of a cigar for a moment as he gave Ellie a head to toe scan with his beady eyes. Was it that obvious she’d never set foot in New York?

“Hello,” she said, applying her sweetest smile. “I’m Ellie; this is Lena.”

“I’m Paulie.” He waved his cigar toward the dim interior. “Come on. Watch your step.”

Lena and Ellie followed him through the doorway and into a vinyl-floored foyer. The air smelled of stale cigar smoke, grease, and mothballs. A mismatched striped armchair and floral sofa sat against one wall by a door with a crooked sign that read ‘Office.’ Propped on the opposite wall by apartment 1A was a moped with a small puddle of engine oil under it. Ellie half expected a rat to scurry across the scuffed linoleum, but luckily no rodents made an appearance.

They followed Paulie up the creaky flight of wooden steps to the second floor and apartment 2B just left of the stairwell. A bare lightbulb crackled and buzzed over Ellie’s head, then clicked and went out. The only light source was a dingy window on one end of the hall. But that didn’t halt Paulie’s progress as he flipped through a full keychain, finally plucked one from the stash, and unlocked their door.

He stepped aside and waved them in. “Rent’s due first of the month. You pay your own utilities. Mailboxes are down by the front door.”

Ellie followed Lena inside, where the smell of fresh paint hit her like a wall. The girls sat their boxes down on the hardwood floor. Someone had recently renovated the place. Soft yellow walls lent a soothing atmosphere. The floorboards, though obviously not new, shone from a good polish. Bright white trim and crown molding framed the small living area and attached kitchen. The interior walls were bare brick—rustic, classic, and lovely.

“Wow,” Ellie said. “It’s really…”

“Not bad,” Lena finished.

“I know the outside ain’t much,” Paulie said with a shrug, “but we fix up the insides real good. Nobody’s gonna accuse me of being a slumlord.”

He crossed his arms and chewed on his cigar, looking around and nodding as though pleased with his handiwork.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Lena said. She had already started exploring the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers. She pulled out a bottle opener and grabbed the cooler. “Sweet. Any problems with pests?”

Paulie took the cigar from his mouth and frowned as though insulted. “No. We got a good pest guy comes by every month. You see a pest, it’s probably already half dead. He uses good stuff.”

Ellie followed him to the door. “I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you, Mr…”

“Karathanasopoulos.”

Ellie blinked at him, wishing she hadn’t asked.

He snickered. “Just call me Paulie. Need help with your stuff?”

“We really don’t have a lot. I’m sure we’ll manage, right, Lena?”

Lena grunted something and opened a bottle of beer.

“Good,” Paulie said, “’cause my back ain’t good for heavy lifting.”

****

There were two small bedrooms connected with an adjoining bathroom that Ellie suspected had once been a closet. She took the street-side one, hoping that would get her used to the sounds and lights of a city that never slept. It didn’t take long for her and Lena to carry up their twin mattresses, box springs, frames and headboards. Their rooms each had tiny closets with louvered doors and shelf space, plenty of room for their clothes. The living situation wasn’t far removed from dorm life, except for having to pay rent and utilities. At least it was a decent place.

After a phone call to her mom and a quick nap on the futon that served as a sofa, Ellie combed her hair and waited for Lena to get ready for dinner. Finally, Lena emerged in a short, tight red dress with black trim, fresh makeup and her thick dark hair coiffed into a swirly up-do. She had used to envy Lena’s high-maintenance looks, but guys had always been attracted to her fine, red gold hair, soft tan and freckles. Thanks to good genes, she’d been blessed with a clear complexion and rarely wore more makeup than a little mascara and lip gloss.

“Is all that necessary for a cheap Italian place?” Ellie found her lip balm and applied it, trying to remember in which box her scant makeup supplies were hiding.

“Donny’s is not cheap. It’s not expensive, either, but it’s not cheap. Besides, one should look good in any and all circumstances. You never know when your future husband might walk through the door.”

“Says Lena Bosko, the self-proclaimed lone rangeress.”

“Yeah, well no matter how much I’d like to, I can’t forget the Polish husband-hunting heritage from whence I came, not with my mother living two blocks away.” Lena started for the door, high heels clicking across the polished floor.

“You really shouldn’t wear those on the hardwood. You’ll leave marks.”

With a dramatic sigh, Lena took off her heels. “Better, Felix?”

Ellie chuckled. They did make a good modern day odd couple. “Yes, Oscar. Let’s go.”

****

Donatello & Sons Italian Eatery wasn’t exactly the wise guy, mobster hangout Ellie had imagined. Donatello himself was a rotund, mostly bald man with a hint of a Southern accent. He seated Ellie and Lena and gave them tomato splattered menus, along with a steaming basket of garlic rolls and marinara dipping sauce.

He smiled brightly. “Hey, long time no see, Lena. How’s your mama?”

“Nosy as ever. But she’s doing fine. How have you and the boys been?”

Donny patted his belly. “Getting older and fatter. How long are you in town?”

“Forever, I hope. Ellie and I are fresh out of college, just moved to a lunchbox up the block and have jobs lined up. Ready to do the adult thing, you know?”

“Congratulations to you both. You know Darryl’s got a nice place now and a new car.”

Lena pursed her lips. “Yeah, that’s nice. I’ll have a Bud Light.”

“I’ll get that right out to you. How about you, Miss?”

“Oh, um…” Ellie looked for a wine list, but couldn’t find one. “Just a water for now.”

“Where you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Lena grinned across the table at her. Great. With her accent, Ellie doubted she’d ever blend in once she opened her mouth. “Kentucky,” she answered. “Lexington.”

“Nice place down there. I was born and raised in the Bronx, but moved to Mobile when I was in the service. We lived down there until the boys were born, then moved back up here when my wife passed. Drove through Kentucky many times. But you know, once a Brooklynite, always one. It’ll grow on you.”

Though she highly doubted his prediction, Ellie smiled. “I hope you’re right. Do you happen to have a wine list?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey Junior!” Donny yelled toward the bar. “Bring these ladies a drink list, would you?”

“You got it.” The younger Donatello pulled a sheet from under the bar counter and came to their table. “There you go. I’ll give you a minute to look over it. If you have any questions or know what you want, just wave me or my brother down. He’s over there bussing tables.”

Both young men were fairly good looking. Donny Jr. and Darryl had brown and blond hair respectively, and reminded Ellie of the Dukes of Hazzard. She thought Lena would make a good Daisy and almost laughed.

“Thank you.” Ellie took the list and scanned it, her eyes lighting on Falls City beer from a small craft brewery in Kentucky. “I changed my mind. I’ll have a bottle of the Falls City.”

“I’ll have it right out.” Donny Jr. took the list and returned to the bar.

Ellie leaned close to Lena and whispered, “He’s cute, right?”

“Eh, I dated him in high school. He’s a sloppy kisser.”

“Pity.”

“Not really. He smokes too. It’s like kissing an ashtray.”

Ellie laughed. Lena’s blunt sense of humor was one of the reasons she liked her.  She helped to balance Ellie’s serious, worry wart personality. The bread smelled divine, and Ellie couldn’t resist it any longer. She chose a roll, put it on the small white plate, and poured a generous portion of marinara sauce beside it. She knifed up a glob of the glorious tomato concoction and slathered it on the roll. Then she wasted no time in devouring it.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, savoring the garlicky, Italian-spiced goodness. If Donatello’s was going to be a regular thing, she’d have to find a cheap gym soon or a thrift store to buy bigger clothes.

“Told you this place is the bomb,” Lena said, taking a dainty bite of her own roll, no doubt to keep from smudging her lipstick.

The door chimes rang, and in walked a half dozen guys of various ages. All of them were boisterous and laughing, slapping each other on the back and greeting Donatello and sons like guys tend to do.

All but one.

This guy was one of the younger of the bunch, with shoulder length dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a five o’clock shadow. He wore a black dress shirt and jeans that fit in all the right places.

“Wow, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Lena said, then turned to Ellie and waved her hand in front of her eyes. “Earth to Ellie.”

“Oh…um…” She realized she’d been frozen in place with a roll in one hand and a knife in the other. She dropped both on the plate with a clang.

Big mistake. It got his attention. He turned his head, and their eyes met.

Ellie would have liked to claim that it was a magical moment, love at first sight or some such thing, that sparks flew, and angels sang, but it wasn’t really like that at all. Instead her first instinct was the desire to see him without that shirt, because she knew he’d be spectacular under there. She’d have also liked to believe that he imagined something similar about her, but in fact, it was quite the opposite.

He frowned and turned his attention to the other guys and Donatello who seated them at a booth across the dining room.

Lena huffed a laugh. “Wouldn’t you know it? First damn guy that catches your eye is Luke Martelli, the guy with the biggest bug up his ass in all of Brooklyn. You need to erase whatever nasty thoughts just ran through your mind about him. He’s nothing but walking misery. Oh…and you have a little something right there.”

Lena indicated where that something was by pointing to the corner of her own mouth. Ellie snatched up a napkin and wiped away a big glob of marinara. Great. First guy who’d turned her on since she’d been in New York had just been turned off by her bad eating habits. Oh well, if she could find her “special” box back at the apartment, she could still imagine him shirtless and smiling while having a semi-satisfying solo date.

 

 

 

 

Luciano “Luke” Martelli had been working most of the morning and still not finished the exhaust pipe extension for the Lemon Factory float. The Lemon Factory, a Midtown bakery specializing in pies, wanted so much crepe paper on the float that it would be unwise to vent the truck exhaust at the front. He would have to run the exhaust all the way to the end of the float, some fifteen feet. After this, he and Ahmed the carpenter would get started on building and situating platforms for four Lemonettes, blonde cuties who would all be too young for him. There would be a large central raised platform for the Lemon Factory’s owner and chief baker, Gordo Masciarello, who needed extra width and strength because his belly alone weighed two hundred pounds.

“Screw this,” Luke said to himself after ten minutes of fruitless effort to align two pieces of pipe and having the loose bit drop on his forehead for the tenth time. He couldn’t concentrate on this crap. He kicked against the floor, and the mechanic’s creeper he lay upon scooted out from under the float. He’d left his flashlight on underneath the float. “Screw this,” Luke repeated. He rolled off the creeper to his knees, stood, and brushed the dirt of the workshop off his jeans. His tweaked knee throbbed, forcing him to wait a moment and breathe deeply to gather himself. He had stupidly left his safe, quiet apartment in small-town New Jersey and gone back to his old neighborhood of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn the night before for drinks at Donatello’s with some of his so-called buddies -- Little Anthony Scungilli, Sal the Beast, and Fat Anthony del Vecchio, with two of their big brothers he didn’t know as well. It felt like they’d done nothing but tease him about this stupid job. Hey Luke, when you gonna fix up some real cars? Hey, Luke, build a float to carry pictures of me and your mom. Five beers later, he’d had to sleep in his car till four A.M.

Luke was hung over and bored and smelly and tired and he wanted something better for his life. He wanted some excitement. He wanted to be in the middle of the action. He wanted to squat in the pit and let the roar of the cars wash over him and thrill his skin. He wanted to feel the thrill of using his muscles to their fullest as he hefted and flung those tires at high speed. He wanted the stink of motor oil and smoke all over him all the time. He should be in an Indy car pit crew, not lying on his back under a wooden cart in a dusty warehouse in east Jersey. But with his knee so badly injured, it would never be like that.

“Face it, kid. You’re just a goddamn float builder. You’re in a dead-end job your dad fixed for you one day over a plate of insalata di mare. And he even had to send the city councilman a box of Te-Amo cigars to sweeten the deal.” Luke said this as he dragged himself to the spare room, where he had set up a weight bench. He grabbed a barbell and began curling it, cursing his job with every stroke. “Goddamn… float… builder… goddamn… parade… whore… weakling… goddamn… loser…”

He let the barbell drop with a resounding bang, pulled the phone from his pocket and texted Ahmed the carpenter to come work. He’d do the extension when he was feeling better. Maybe sawing and hammering would let him get some of the mad out of his system.

Soon Ahmed answered that he was on his way. Luke sat on the bench and reached for the barbell, and as he did, an image flashed back to him from the night before.

****

He recognized a neighborhood girl, Lena Whatsername, who’d been away at college, he thought, sitting at a table framed by those mooks, Donnie Jr. and Darryl, and at the table with her was another girl he didn’t recognize. The candlelight put red highlights into her auburn hair, and she had a loose two-fingered grip on a beer bottle. He’d always found that sexy — it meant she wasn’t uptight about having a beer. Her lips were petite and sensual, especially with a splotch of tomato sauce on the upper lip, and a little oil running from the lower lip onto her chin. She looked totally relaxed and smart. Her eyes had a glow to them. Maybe it was really the cheap candles Donatello put out, but her eyes seemed to have fire in them.

It was a bad idea to look at her so much with Little Anthony, Sal, Fat Anthony, and the others watching, but he kept stealing glances at her, trying to see her face better and figure out what color her eyes were. He wondered where she’d come from, how she knew Lena, what she liked to eat. A fantasy came to Luke then, and he forgot where he was as he planned it. He’d walk over and whisper in her ear, “Just hang on. I’ll clean that up for you.” He wanted to lick the sauce off her chin and take a deep whiff of her perfume.

He came out of his reverie and found he was staring at her. He lifted his hand to his forehead, so his Peroni bottle dangled over his nose, and maybe hid where he was looking.

No, that didn’t work. She noticed him, quickly wiped the sauce off her chin and looked down, embarrassed.

He needed two, three more Peronis to keep him distracted till she left. He wanted to watch as she passed by and see how she moved in her clothes, but no luck. He was half-blind and couldn’t hold his head steady by then, and right at that moment, Fat Anthony was pounding him on the back and calling him a pussy as part of a conversation he wasn’t listening to.

“Get the fuck off,” he told Fat Anthony, and pushed hard against his chest.

They laughed at him.

The next thing he remembered was sitting in his car making the decision not to drive, and the last thing from the evening was puking out the window onto the driver’s side door.

****

“Stupid,” he said as his lifted the barbell. “She’s just another girl. What, you never saw her before, so you think she’s better than the neighborhood girls? Getouttahere.”

He said it, but he wasn’t convinced. Something was special about that girl. There was a sweetness in her face, a naturalness or honesty in her expression that he had never seen in Bay Ridge, or in Jersey either. That was the face of someone who was real, someone who would try to understand. Someone worth taking care of.

“Stupid,” he repeated. “Just another girl. Soon as she finds out you build floats for a living, she’ll walk away laughing into her hand like the rest of them would.”

His mother always said she believed in love at first sight and told him to believe it, too.

“You fell in love with Big Al at first sight?” he’d ask her, naming his father, a cigar-puffing lout of a city official.

“Not exactly,” Mother Martelli answered. “But I know it’s possible. Just believe me. Love at first sight is real.”

Luke respected his mother, but he didn’t buy it. Love was an illusion, and if he ever thought he was falling in love at first sight, he’d smack himself in the head as hard as he could.

He thought about the girl in the restaurant, put down the barbell, and smacked himself.

 

 

 

 

Party Peeps on 4th and Sunset was your typical party supply/planning store, conveniently located beside a liquor outlet. Ellie arrived fifteen minutes early, applied a little lip gloss, smoothed out her hair, and walked inside. Store manager Kate Richards had given Ellie the job of party planner over a few emails and a Skype interview while Ellie was still in Kentucky. She looked to be in her mid to late forties, not fat, but definitely not skinny, with short brown hair, feathered like the 1980’s pictures of Princess Diana.

The two of them had clicked instantly, and Kate recognized Ellie soon as she looked up from the balloon counter.

“Oh, you must be Ellison!” Kate tied off a helium-filled pink balloon, strung it up on some ribbon and let it float up to join a nice big bunch that hovered above the counter. She stuck her hand out, and Ellie shook it.

“Hi, you must be Kate.”

“In the flesh. I’m so glad you made it. I’ve already got a job for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, a birthday party.”

“A birthday party? Yeah, sure I can do that!” Ellie tried not to gush. She hadn’t expected to be asked to plan a party soon as she stepped through the door.

“I just love your country accent,” Kate said. “Anyway, the party is for my friend’s daughter.”

Ellie bit her lip. “Um, I don’t have my alcohol certification yet.”

Kate laughed. “Her daughter is six. You’ll be serving punch, and not the spiked kind. And she loves unicorns, so you’ll have to wear one of these.” She put on a paper party hat that looked like a yellow mane with a long horn that sat on her forehead.

Ellie nodded and laughed. OK, so it was a six-year-old’s unicorn birthday party, but a party nonetheless. How hard could it be?

Kate said, “One more thing. It’s kind of last minute. They had a party booked at one of those pizza arcade places, but the place closed. Tax evasion or something. They didn’t even get their deposit back, and now they need a new party plan for this weekend. But they can’t spend too much. I told her we could help her out. Think you’re up to the task?”

Ellie swallowed down a rush of doubt, but then nodded. “Yes, just give me your vendor list and a budget.”

“Great! Come on, let me show you around.” Kate escorted Ellie down aisles chock full of shiny, colorful, China-made party supplies. From party hats to streamers, balloons and birthday sets of any theme imaginable – with an expected overabundance of Elsa and Ana stuff – Party Peeps had it all. Kate led her into a little curtained-off section with risqué items for bachelorette and naughty night parties. Ellie picked up an oblong-shaped cake pan before realizing it was a penis mold complete with testicles. She blushed and tossed it rather abruptly back on the shelf.

“Those are hilarious,” Kate said. “Especially when you make it with a cream-filled red velvet cake and peach-colored icing. We’ve even used black licorice ropes for the hair.”

Ellie’s cheeks were scorching, but Kate didn’t seem to notice. She hoped she’d overcome her prudish blushing before ever having to conquer one of those parties. The door chimes rang.

“Oh, I think we have a customer.” Kate patted her on the arm. “Want to go greet them?”

“Yes.” Ellie couldn’t wait to get out of there. She hurried through the curtain and came nose to neck with a man.

“Hey, watch it!” He had a deep voice with a distinct Brooklyn accent like Lena’s.

“Um, oh, sorry,” she muttered before stepping out of his personal space.

“It’s fine. I’m looking for Kate.”

Ellie looked up at him. Big mistake. Luke Martelli blinked down at her. This time he wore a black t-shirt with a silvery “Quicksilver Performance Parts” logo on the front. She glanced down at his faded jeans, surprised to see a navy-blue brace on his left knee.

He tilted his head to one side and gave her a quick once-over with scrutinizing dark eyes. He didn’t have pissed-off written all over his face this time. His inviting lips slanted upward in a slight smile. Did he recognize her? At least she didn’t have tomato sauce all over her mouth. But, God, now all she could think of was having her mouth all over his. What was she? Fourteen?

“Oh, hey Luke,” Kate said as she came around Ellie, who had apparently forgotten how to move, speak, or breathe. “I’ve got the balloons, but the crepe paper is on backorder.”

Luke’s pissed off expression returned. “Damn it. You know when it’ll be in?”

“Let me check.”

He followed Kate to the counter and propped his elbows on it while she punched some keys on the computer.

“It’ll be at least a week,” Kate said. “Apparently, every float on the east coast is getting covered in crepe. My friend Jilly has a lot of silk flowers…”

“No silk,” Luke said, slicing the air with one big strong hand as though severing such a notion’s jugular vein. “Big Al is already on my ass over the Lemon Factory float. I’m tired of his bitchin’, you know?”

“Oh, I know. You’d've been a lot better off in Pocono.”

“Tell my knee that.” He shifted his feet, taking some weight off the leg with the knee brace. “I’d take Pocono over this rat’s nest any day. No offense.”

“None taken, though we’ve not had a rat in a good two months.”

Luke chuckled. It was a deep and genuine sound, and Ellie suspected he didn’t have much to laugh at these days. She lingered near the bins of cheap toys, candy, and temporary tattoos designed to spur those last-minute buys as people waited in line with fussy kids. As though taking inventory or whatever would make her look less gaga teenager and more twenties professional, she examined some of the butterfly tattoos.

“The real ones hurt, baby doll,” he said.

Ellie dropped the sparkly monarch tattoo and got caught in the net of his grin. “Oh…really? I wouldn’t know.”

On his arms, intricate symbols and patterns were inked across his biceps. It complemented his tan complexion and the bulge of muscles beneath his skin. Now those were tattoos.

“I didn’t think you would,” he said. “You about eighteen? Nineteen?”

Really? He wasn’t eyeing her because he found her attractive. No, she was just a kid to him. That made her want to throw a swarm of sparkly butterflies right at him.

“Twenty-two,” she said. “Graduated from the University of Kentucky…with honors.” She made sure to emphasize that last part so she might regain a little of her dwindling respect. He couldn’t be much older. Under the hair, tattoos and well-fitting clothes, he had youthful wrinkle-free skin. Life had aged him, left him jaded. Ellie wished she could lessen his burdens, but she didn’t know how or why she’d even care.

“And you came to this shit hole?” He briefly turned to Kate. “No offense.”

“None taken. She's my new hire. Go easy on her, will ya?” Kate caught Ellie’s eye, offering a sympathetic smile.

“I like it here,” Ellie said, planting a hand on her hip. “Maybe you just don’t know what you’re missing.” Wow. Attracted to yet another jerk. Why did she have such crappy judgment when it came to men?

He snickered, and this time it sounded less real and more sarcastic, like he’d rather spew some choice profanities than argue with a little girl.

“Yeah, you’ll see what I mean before too long. Call me soon as that paper comes in, OK, Kate?”

“You got it. Here, take this.” She pulled a box out from under the counter. “Give Big Al these cigars. They’re as fat and obnoxious as he is.”

Luke took the box and winked at Ellie. “Take it easy, baby doll. Mind the rats.”

He left in a flurry of door chimes, which left Ellie in a flurry of doubt. She could do this job. That she knew. But was Luke right? Would the city get the best of her? Or worse yet, from the way her heart pounded in her chest just from looking at Luke Martelli, would he be her undoing? She’d come all this way to start over and forget the past, but maybe it had followed her anyway. Screw that. She had a job to do, and she’d do it well.

 

 

 

Luke had been going to Party Peeps since he was a kid, when Mother Martelli dragged him there. He still shopped for float supplies there when he needed small quantities — using the city credit card — instead of picking up the crepe and balloons in Jersey, which would have made more sense.

Now he finally regretted it — or did he?

Bad enough that he had nearly fallen out of his size-thirteens when he walked in and saw that new girl there in a tight gray skirt suit with those same shining eyes and with shoulders that seemed to be working their way under his arm even from ten feet away.

But then he’d gone and been a dick to her. Guessing her age, calling her baby doll, talking about rats and tattoos like an idiot, a buttagots. What was wrong with saying, “Good morning. How you doin’?” But he couldn’t even do that right. Why not? He didn’t even find out her damn name.

So, he was a mamaluke, an idiot. But he knew why he’d done it. If he could make it so she hated him, he’d also make it so he couldn’t fall in love with her either. It was better if she thought he was a jerk and kept away than if she found out he was a loser of a float builder.

He told himself he’d felt this way about lots of girls before, and if he just got laid somehow, he’d be able to forget about her. But it wasn’t true. If he slept with that girl, he’d just want more and more of her. She had that something-something, that shine, that freshness. She radiated goodness and tender-heartedness, all the things he could no longer find in himself.

There was no parking in Bay Ridge, so he double-parked outside Angelino’s Bakery while he went in to get sfogliatelle, a flaky pastry, for his mother’s house. The Martellis always bought it at Angelino’s because Angelo had stayed sweet on Mother Martelli after she refused to marry him. Angelo still pinched Luke’s cheeks when he came within reach. Luke said “Getouttahere,” but let him do it. That was respect.

He came out to find an orange parking ticket flapping on the windshield of his 2000 Berger Camaro. “Marone!” he shouted. It was an old-school saying, invoking the Virgin Mary to express shock or surprise. Big Al had never gotten him the Mayor’s Office window shield that was supposed to protect him from that sort of thing, so he’d have to pay the ticket.

He’d kept the car in good shape for over ten years, and it roared while he gassed it up 76th Street toward his parents’ house. He drove a safe speed, though. One ticket was enough for the day.

But he had to know something. He pulled up at a corner, just past an intersection, put the Camaro in park, and whipped out his phone. Dialed Party Peeps. Whoever picked up, he knew what to do. He hoped that it would be her and hoped that it would not.

It was. “Good afternoon, Party Peeps. How may I plan your party today?”

“Yeah, this is Luke Martelli. I was in earlier today. I think we were talking tattoos or something.” He winced at his own words.

“Mmm hmm.” There was just a little bit of attitude mixed into that southern lilt. He liked it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Martelli?”

“Can you quote me a price on those fricking silk flowers? Just in case?”

He heard her flipping through one of the store’s huge plastic binders. “The smaller bunches are going about nine ninety-nine per arrangement. On the high end, we have deluxe arrangements running forty-nine ninety-nine and up. You’re welcome to come in and look at our catalog.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I will. Say, what’s your name, so I can tell Kate you helped me out, ya know?”

“My name is Ellison. My friends call me Ellie.”

“Thanks.”

“Uh huh, you can call me Ellison.”

“Uh huh.” Her sass was a real turn-on, but he was chagrined at what came out of his mouth. “Thanks, baby doll. I will.”

He disconnected.

Ellie.

Ellie.

Ellie in his arms, Ellie softer than silk flowers, Ellie being his lover.

Ellie finding out he built parade floats and laughing at him.

Luke drove on to his parents’ house. The driveway, which sloped up the hill to a closed garage door, was full of cars; he wasn’t the only guest. He had to drive around the block twice before he found an old lady pulling out to move her car to the other side. Guess she didn’t want to move it in the morning, when alternate-side parking would get her a ticket. He’d be gone by morning, so he slid in, revved the Camaro one last time, and turned it off.

He walked halfway up the block, said “Marone!” and walked back to his car. While his knee ached from trudging up the hill, he took off his work t-shirt and buttoned on a blue silk dress shirt. It wasn’t the first time he’d changed his clothes in the street like an idiot. After a search in his gym bag, he sprayed some cologne on his neck, regretting he was still using the same brand his ex, Carly Crespo, had originally bought for him. Her car, the same 1998 Mercedes CLK 55 AMG he’d rebuilt for her and named the Crespomobile, was in the driveway. His luck, she and Mother Martelli were still best friends, and he had to see her at almost every goddamn family dinner.

He walked the full length of the block, replaying in his mind Ellie telling him to call her Ellison. “Marone!” — and he was on his way back to the car. He’d forgotten to lock it, and he’d left the pastries inside.

Ten minutes later, he’d replayed Ellie’s words in his mind thirty times and finally, carrying the sfogliatelle, made it up the stone steps and passed through the gate to reach his parents’ front door. The house was a four-bedroom mini-mansion on a hilltop, guarded by a low wall, with rosebushes outside, lacy curtains over the bay window, and mirrored walls in all the public spaces.

There was another car in the driveway he didn’t recognize, a red 2015 Escalade pulled up behind the Crespomobile. He was pretty sure he knew whose car it was. She had a new boyfriend.

He had a key, but he always rang the bell and waited; it was part of the family tradition for Big Al to open the door and give every guest a fussy welcome. He rang the bell, and as he waited, he heard footsteps and someone puffing and blowing behind him.

Luke turned to meet his cousin, William “Bozo” Ferraro, moving to greet him. Bozo, about three years older, was a tall, jowly man whose coat didn’t close over his big belly. He had an Avanti cigar in his mouth. He bear-hugged Luke, who patted his back in reply.

“Hey, there he is,” Bozo announced. “Glad you could make it, paesan. I thought maybe you floated away.”

“Not yet. Maybe I should use you as an anchor next time.”

“Ha ha. Funny, Luciano.” He puffed smoke right next to Luke’s face, just far enough away that it wasn’t enough to fight about. “So what’s doing in Gimp City, New Jersey?”

“Same.”

The door popped open. Big Al shouted, “Hey, hey, my favorite nephew. Come on in, Boz. Luciano, come on in. Your mother was worried, you being late and all. Here, let me carry that.”

Big Al had a big head with only a fringe of gray hair, a gut made from veal and pasta, a white dress shirt over dress pants with thick suspenders, a gigantic cigar. He showed what a man looked like who was born rugged and handsome and lived life large till it turned him into a shambles. His loud voice, huge hand gestures, and ponderous movements were both imposing and cartoonish at once, like an Italian-American King Kong. He took the bakery bag and set it down on an end table, put his arm around Bozo and marched him inside to the dinner table, with Luke, who always avoided his father’s touch, following. Luke dragged his feet till they were out of sight, then grabbed the bag and carried it to the kitchen.

Familiar and comfortable smells of Neapolitan cooking suffused the home. Luke loved these smells, and knew exactly what was on the table — fried cod, stuffed peppers, braciole with potatoes, spaghetti ala vongole. He’d have lots of containers of leftovers to carry home. Luke set down the sfogliatelle next to an unopened cake box and a bottle of California red that had been left open to breathe.

He tuned out the chaos of voices from the adjoining dining room, went to a cabinet for a glass, quickly poured and downed a glass of wine. It burned in his throat, but it was a better choice than a Peroni: his mother wouldn’t like him to have beer on his breath at dinner. He coughed, and a shooting pain went through his knee. Finally, fortified by wine, he put his best swagger on and entered the dining room.

Mother Martelli rose to greet him with a hug and pulled his face down for a kiss on the cheek. Only his mother made these visits worth his time. Grey and heavy, she had rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, one of which twitched slightly from nystagmus that only he and the eye doctor could see. It had been Luke who first told her about it and drove her to the ophthalmologist to have it checked out. Big Al, who prized his wife mainly for her cooking and cleaning, had said that if she could see all right, why worry about it? But Luke held his ground till they were sure it wasn’t the sign of a stroke.

He also got a passionless hug and peck on the face from Carly, his ex, whose abundant curly hair framed an elegant face with full lips and great teeth. She still felt good in his arms, but there was no love between them anymore, now that she had a college degree and big plans. A high school romance, spurred by their being neighbors, had ended two years after graduation when he finished automotive school and she moved to Manhattan for easier access to NYU.

“Hey, you’re wearing my perfume,” Carly fluted. “C’mere, I want you to meet someone.”

Luke frowned as she led him by the arm around the table and through the cloud of Big Al’s and Bozo’s smoke, to a towering, coiffured man in a dark power suit, with piercing blue eyes and an aquiline nose. “This is Derek Whitman.”

Derek was the firm-handshake type, and he squeezed. Luke squeezed back. He was pleased to discover that though six inches shorter, he was stronger than this corporate douche.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Derek Douche. What was his name? Right, Whitman. That figured.

“Hey there.”

“I heard a lot about you,” said Whitebread. “Carly says you’re quite the mechanic.”

“Yeah, I can rebuild most any car, including high-performance racing vehicles.”

“That’s quite a talent. I wish I could do that.” He chuckled. “Take me out of an office or boardroom, and I can’t do much.”

“I’m figuring you could be a fashion model, know what I mean?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess so. My dad was, actually, after his time in the NBA ran out. Hey, come sit with me, Luke.”

Luke was now stuck next to Carly's new boyfriend for dinner. Great. Only Bozo would have been worse.

Bozo sat next to him on the other side.

“So,” said Derek. “Carly said you wanted to work as a race car mechanic. How’s that coming along for you?”

“It’s not,” Luke admitted. “I have all the skills, but I’m too slow because of my knee.”

“Oh, that’s right. I noticed you were walking a little gingerly. Sorry to hear about that. How’d you get hurt?”

Might as well tell him, Luke thought. If he didn’t, Carly would. She didn’t believe in secrets, because her late father had been secretive, and she’d hated it. “I was hit by a motor scooter.”

“Drunk driver?”

“No, I was parked and opened my door to get out, and a kid on a scooter, wasn’t even seventeen, ran right up on me and rammed my leg. Poor kid was rushing to deliver some Chinese food and fooling around a little by going too close to the parked cars, and he smashed up my knee badly. I had five surgeries before I could walk at all.”

“You didn’t hear him coming?”

“I was parked under the El. A train was right over us.”

“Well shit,” said Derek. “That’s terrible. So you can’t fix cars anymore?”

“Sure I can. But I can’t hustle like you have to in a pit crew. I can take the pain, but I get tired faster, and if I reinjure my knee, I might be useless when it really counts. Thing of it is, I had an interview up at Watkins Glen the next fricking day. If just one lousy thing had gone differently…”

“What happened to the kid?”

“He fell off the bike and hit his head.”

“You sued?”

Typical of a lawyer to ask that, Luke thought. “Nah, what was I going to do? He was just a kid. I told him to get going before the cops came.”

“Yeah, that was stupid,” Bozo butted in from the other side. He puffed cigar smoke, which somehow missed Derek completely. “You should have sued his ass all the way back to China.”

“Shut up,” Luke told him.

“Tell him what you do now, Luciano. Go on, tell him.”

“Oh, he builds parade floats,” Carly called from across the table. “Luciano, take some braciole. Your mother said.”

“Parade floats?” asked Derek.

“For the city parades.”

“Yeah, he’s a real goddamn artist,” said Bozo. “Best goddamn parade floats of all time, so they say. Big Al gets cards and letters all the time from little old ladies about how they like the pretty flowers and the twinkling lights.” He chortled. “Right, Lucy?”

When they were kids, Luke had been able to whip Bozo’s ass, and had proved it half a dozen times at least. He was still fast with his hands and had punching power, but the bad knee gave him a terrible vulnerability. Bozo only needed to kick him there once, or push him down, to put him on disability for months. It was only that which stopped him from dragging his cousin out the front door and pounding him like a hanging bag.

“Hey, Uncle Albert,” Bozo continued. “You ought to let the gimp move on to something else. I could cut your expenses by twenty percent, know-what-I-mean? I’ve been making connections. I know suppliers who’ll give me a special rate. And I know where to find some Mexicans on the street corner that’ll work cheaper.”

Bozo had been to automotive school also, and he had some mechanical skills, but he spent more time eating and swilling beer than practicing his craft.

“He’s my son, William,” said Big Al. “I ain’t firing him. Of course, if Luciano wants to move on to a better job, and live up to just a little bit of his potential, I won’t hold him back.”

“Aah, go easy,” Carly called out. “Ya gotta be proud of him, Big Al.” She nudged the dish of braciole till it clinked into Luke’s empty plate.

Big Al shook his head. “Nah, I don’t gotta do nothing except eat, sleep, piss, and pay my bills.”

“And don’t go with no loose women,” added Mother Martelli.

“Yeah, and that. I’m telling you, Luciano, same as I told you the last ten times you came here. You need more ambition. Look at this guy over here.” He pointed his cigar at Derek. “Big-time lawyer. Big-time. That could have been you.”

“’I can handle things. I’m smart.’” Luke did his impression of Fredo from The Godfather II, leaned forward to serve himself braciole that, given this conversation, would taste like ashes.

“Wise ass.”

Luke did his best to withdraw from the crosstalk at the table by keeping his mouth full. The cod was a little bland, a little burned; his mother sometimes lost a step in the kitchen these days when she was tired. Luke didn’t say anything. He kept remembering the time he had sneaked onto a track the day before a race and accidentally met the great Jim McGee, one of the winningest pit bosses of all time. He could still feel the great man’s handshake. McGee had said, “Keep dreaming, kid. That and lots of hard work, and you never know.”

No, he knew.

Driving home that night through the Holland Tunnel, he fantasized about pulping the face of his cousin. He thought about what it would be like to work on the previous generation of classic cars, like a Corvette CR-5 or an Audi R8, to feel the framework through his work gloves and smell the high-performance oil. And, as he pulled into the parking space of his townhouse, he remembered Ellie, and wished that he could talk to her about it, and wished equally that he could forget about her.

 

 

“You have the worst taste in men,” Lena said as she flopped onto the futon and draped a wet towel across her forehead. “I’m telling you, Luciano is bad news.”

“Why do you think he’s bad news? Because he has a tattoo? Or because he’s not university educated?” Ellie now regretted admitting her attraction to the tattooed Italian mechanic. She poured a glass of cheap Chardonnay and took a swig. Already, the justifications for getting closer to him were flowing out of her mouth like a bad excuse volcano.

Lena took the wet towel from her head and gave Ellie the evil eye. “He’s an asshole.”

“Ok…”

“He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Brooklyn and was a real jerk to my friend Carly when they were together. That’s why they broke up.”

“For goodness sakes, I didn’t say I wanted to date him. I just said he’s kinda hot. There’s no harm in looking, right?”

“Yeah, well, your record’s not good when it comes to ‘just looking’.”

“Who peed in your Cheerios today?”

Lena draped the towel back over her forehead and let out a tired sigh. “It’s my supervisor, Chrissy. Oh my God, she’s looking over my shoulder all the time. Don’t forget this, be sure to do that, and please use Times New Roman twelve-point font, mm-kay?”

Ellie chuckled, which prompted another evil look from Lena.

“So, she’s a micromanager,” Ellie said. “Maybe she’ll let up soon. You’re still new to the office.”

Lena sat up and wadded the towel as though choking her boss. “I can sell ham to a rabbi, Ellie. I’m good at this. I made five hundred dollars when I was five with a lemonade stand. If she doesn’t give me a break and let me do my job, I might have murder on my record.”

“Just don’t ask me to help hide the body.”

“Deal.”

At least Lena was smiling now. She came to the counter, got a glass and finished off the Chardonnay.

“I bet the party store is a peachy place,” Lena said, swirling her wine before taking an appreciative sniff.

“I like it. I’m doing a birthday party on Saturday.”

“Is that what this binder’s for?” Lena flipped through Ellie’s planning book. “God, you’re so freaking organized.”

“I’m a party planner, not a swing-by-the-seat-of-my-pantser.”

“Remind me to book you for my wedding, should I ever find a man worth marrying.”

Ellie laughed. “Deal.”

****

“Ellison, it’s beautiful!” Mary Rose exclaimed. “And not too expensive, either. I’m very impressed.”

“Told you she was good,” Kate said while ladling punch into pink and purple cups. “She did more with our budget than I could ever do.”

“You have the perfect spot,” Ellie said. “That’s makes all the difference.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, dear.” Mary Rose picked up a cup and tasted the punch. “This is delicious. And this fountain is so neat!”

Six-year-old Myra bounced up and down by her mom. “This will be the best birthday party ever!” She ran over and hugged Ellie’s waist. “Thank you, Ellie!”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Ellie looked around at her handiwork and smiled. She guessed it wasn’t half bad after all. In just a couple days’ worth of planning and a few hours’ worth of setup, Mary Rose’s small fenced-in backyard had been transformed into a little girl’s paradise. In one corner, they had a pink castle bouncy house from a going out of business sale; in another corner sat a balloon twister specializing in mythical creatures like unicorns and dragons. He was just starting out and needed exposure, so only charged half-price. Five round rented tables covered in iridescent tulle from the fabric remnant bin at the craft store sat waiting for the twenty or so little girls expected to arrive any minute. Each place setting included a goody bag filled with shiny bead necklaces, bubbles, candy and a mini coloring book with crayons. Those all came from Party Peeps, donated by Kate.

Of course, there were the cake, punch, unicorn party hats, and party horns; Kate even had a face painting station.

The pièces de résistance were the flying unicorn balloons that magically defied gravity with no strings attached thanks to the addition of a few weights hidden inside. Ellie had gotten them for free from a new manufacturer just by asking to test them and write a review.

It looked pretty amazing, but most importantly, would the girls like it? She had planned for the girls to take turns in groups at each activity station in half-hour intervals before they all convened for cake and opening presents. Ellie had learned that trick in college, but would it work here?

Four hours and a headache later, Kate had returned to the store while Ellie watched the last party guest skipping away with a big smile and a goody bag. The birthday girl, Myra, yawned. Mary Rose picked her up.

“Someone needs a nap,” she said.

“But I’m not sleepy.” Myra yawned again.

“Right, but let’s thank Ellie for planning such a great party and go rest a while, OK?”

“OK. Thank you, Ellie. Best party ever.” Another yawn.

“You’re welcome. I’ll start cleaning up.”

“Great. But don’t leave before I come back down,” Mary Rose said. “I’d like to discuss something with you.” She carried Myra inside.

“Sure.”

Maybe she wanted to plan another party. Ellie hoped to have at least a week’s respite from the high-pitched squeals of six-year-old girls. She’d just gathered all the trash when Mary Rose returned.

“So, how would you feel about changing jobs for a while?”

“Well, I don’t know. I just started at Party Peeps.”

“Yeah, but you’re good. We had a limited budget and limited time, and honestly, I expected plastic table cloths and pin the tail on the donkey. I think you could plan on a much grander scale.”

“You mean like a wedding?”

“No, a parade.”

“Um…”

“I work for the Mayor's aide, Big Al Martelli, in city event planning. One of the biggest jobs we have is planning all the parades for the city. My assistant is going on maternity leave, and we really need a temp. I’ll talk to Kate about it. I’m pretty sure she’d be on board and would take you back later. What do you say? Interested?”

As much as Ellie loved Party Peeps, this was the kind of job she’d been looking to score. But wow, she’d never expected it to happen so soon. She’d be stupid to say no.

Ellie put on a unicorn hat and snatched a floating unicorn from overhead. “Heck yeah, I’m interested. When do I start?”

“In a week or so if Kate approves. You can come in on Monday and meet my assistant, Big Al, and Luke.”

The unicorn balloon slipped out of Ellie’s arms and floated back up to bump into one of its sisters. “Luke?”

“Yeah. Luke Martelli, Big Al’s son. He’s head of float construction and maintenance. Good mechanic. Used to work with race cars.”

Ellie guessed that would explain the t-shirt he wore the other day in Party Peeps. But what about the knee brace? Hadn’t he said something about an injury? She supposed anything involving car racing could be dangerous. Even horse riding was risky business, as she had learned growing up with a father who managed a thoroughbred farm. She shuddered, glad she wasn’t anywhere near those animals now.

“OK,” she said. “Just give me the when and where, and I’ll be there.”

“Sure thing. I’m really excited to have you with us, and don’t tell Kate, but we just might keep you. Marla’s good, but I suspect she’ll want to stay home with the baby. Her husband’s a litigation lawyer. They have a nice house out on Long Island.”

“I see. Well, I guess we’ll see what happens and go from there.”

Mary Rose smiled and gave Ellie a hug. “I’ll deflate the castle if you can round up the unicorns.”

“Sure.”

Ellie wiped her palms on her skirt. Why did she feel so hot all of a sudden? She knew why, of course. His name was Luke Martelli, and she could very well be working with him soon. She grabbed a unicorn and stuck it in the big mesh bag they came in. This was stupid. She was an adult. So was he. She could be professional, and he certainly didn’t seem interested. If he was anything like Lena claimed, she couldn’t afford to even entertain the idea of a relationship with Luke.

She snatched another unicorn from the air and must have grabbed it too hard. It sprung a leak and deflated, flying down in a sad spiral into a wrinkled heap of Mylar at her feet. And that’s why she couldn’t get too close to Luke Martelli. It would just be another disaster. But why did he have to look so damn good in those jeans?

 

 

 

Across the avenue from the brown brick-faced building where Big Al’s Office of City Event Planning squatted like a constipated giant, Luke strolled into Aldo’s Saloon, a watering hole favored by city workers. He’d dropped off an envelope full of receipts to Mary Rose’s assistant, Marla, who was so pregnant that she could barely touch her keyboard. His head was full of fantasies, about rebuilding a trashed 1967 Brabham BT23C he’d found on eBay and couldn’t afford, about punching Bozo in his jowly face and stuffing his cigar up his flabby ass, about how Carly had smiled at him back in the day before he spoiled that with his attitude, about wielding an impact wrench at warp speed. He tried to keep that one in his mind whenever he thought about Ellie and considered calling Party Peeps just to hear her voice. He also thought about calling Lena Bosko, who obviously knew the sassy Southerner — Carly would have her number — but Lena had every reason to hate his guts. She would have told Ellie what a jerk he was. She’d have every reason to say that, after all the times he’d yelled at his ex in her presence. He had demanded support beyond what she could give. He had accused her of looking down on him because he was not whole. “I don’t want your pity, babe,” was his line back in those days. “If you’re gonna pity me, then fuck off.”

Well, she had.

No, he couldn’t call Ellie. The thing to do was to go into Aldo’s Saloon and pick someone up. He was still good-looking. He should be able to put on the charm. If the girl was relaxed enough, she wouldn’t care that he was gimpy.

Aldo’s was nearly empty. There were a few suits in the back corner holding whiskeys and peering at a laptop.

He settled at the bar with a Peroni and nursed it for about an hour, staring at a boring TV news show he couldn’t hear while stock prices tickered across the bottom of the screen.

Finally, more people came in. Fresh from the office, they were in their twenties, a mixture of sizes and races. He scoped out the women, found one who seemed to be on her own. She sat at the bar while the others got tables.

She was blonde, under twenty-five, wearing slim-fitting khakis, a white top and an orange cardigan. Her makeup was done well. She drank red wine. He ordered a glass of wine, took it and moved one seat away from her. The next stool was too close, but he could start a conversation from here.

She took out her mobile phone and began looking at a photo app. She smiled a few times. Her smile was nice, but she looked a little more serious than a neighborhood girl. She wasn’t texting, so maybe she wasn’t waiting for anyone.

He decided to start things off directly. He called, “I’m Luke.”

She looked back, sized him up. He smiled. She put her left hand to her forehead for a moment then tucked some hair behind her ear. No wedding ring. Maybe a deliberate signal, maybe not.

Luke moved next to her. “Brooklyn born and raised. I like fast cars and friendly faces. How about you?”

The young woman considered. “I’m from Brooklyn, too. What part?”

“Bay Ridge.”

“Park Slope,” she said. “I’m Melody.”

“Hey, great name.”

“What kind of cars?”

“You know, Corvettes, Camaros. And race cars, too. You like Formula One?”

“What’s that?”

He explained Formula One racing to her. He might have been too technical. Possibly bored, she sipped her wine frequently.

Time passed. The conversation limped along. Melody liked running in the park and playing tennis. She was a paralegal at a local firm. Her mother was a paralegal too. Her dad lived in Puerto Rico. He was Puerto Rican. Her mom was Jewish. She wanted to lose five pounds.

“You don’t need to lose five pounds,” Luke said.

“Sure, I do.”

“No, seriously. You look … I don’t know, like healthy, athletic.”

Melody said, “I can see that you keep in shape.”

“Yeah, I keep a weight bench and a heavy bag at work to burn off energy, you know?”

“And what do you do?”

Luke realized he shouldn’t have mentioned work. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, so he couldn’t pretend to work in an office. He had to tell the truth.

“I’m a float builder.”

“Floats? You mean, like ice cream floats?”

“I build parade floats for the city. Like if you go to the Columbus Day Parade, or the Puerto Rican Day Parade, you’ll see floats that I built.”

“Like the Santa balloon? Or Bart Simpson?”

Out of her line of sight, Luke punched his good leg in frustration. Why did he have to dwell on this, which would never impress any office-going woman? If only he could say he was a lawyer or an investment banker, she’d be sure to melt.

“You know the floats that people stand on and wave to the crowd? That’s what I build.”

Melody looked mystified. “You mean someone makes those? Wow, I never thought of that before.”

This. Girl. Was. Dumb.

Luke changed the subject by asking her more about her favorite routes to run in the park. He avoided telling her that he had a bad knee and couldn’t run. He asked her about Puerto Rico. She had last gone as a little girl. He asked about that. She mentioned places he hadn’t heard of. He told her about going to Italy when he was eighteen, omitting the fact that Carly had been with him and that they had put love letters to each other in the wall by Verona’s fake Juliet balcony.

The bar filled up. A young man in a suit, probably in his late twenties, sat on the other side of her, one stool over. Luke noticed her looking over the younger man and knew he had to make his move.

“You want to get out of here, Melody?” he asked. “I’ll drive us to Bay Ridge, show you some of my favorite places. We could get Italian. Puccini’s, on Third Ave, the calamari is to die for.”

She shrugged. “You know, I think maybe not.”

“C’mon, you’ll be safe with me, babe.”

“I know.” Melody smirked. “I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t be. You know, I liked the idea of hooking up with a grease monkey, but you’re a nice guy, and that’s kind of boring.”

“I’m a nice guy?” Luke blurted. “You should ask my ex about that. All right, have a nice evening.” He downed his wine, slid off the stool, and left the bar. He’d been stupid to try to play the singles game, especially with a fool like Melody. He’d been around too long. It wasn’t fun anymore. He needed a woman with real substance, someone he could talk to without having to spout bullshit.

Grease monkey. Look at her, thinking a working man was supposed to be dangerous. Is that what they taught the rich girls in Park Slope? Marone.

As Luke wobbled his way down the ramp into the underground parking lot, his ticket flapping in his hand, he had a moment of buzzed clarity and knew, absolutely knew just the girl he could talk to. How could he know that? He’d been around. He knew women. He knew the difference between flash and substance, the difference between a hook up and the kind you want to marry.

He knew, and it scared the shit out of him.

 

 

 

 

“That’ll be twenty-four fifty,” the cabbie said, pulling up to the curb in front of the City Event Planning Office, Brooklyn branch.

“Um, ok…” For a twenty-minute ride? Ellie swallowed down her instinct to argue back, because she was embarrassed to admit this had been her first time in a cab.

She handed over the money, being careful not to touch his grimy-looking fingers. The cabbie reminded her of a toad, wrinkled and stout with no neck to speak of. The experience was as dreadful as Lena had warned her about. The cabbie reeked of cigarette smoke. The seats were ripped and stained with who knows what. Definitely not worth twenty-four dollars.

But, she was a New Yorker now, so she wanted to experience everything at least once.

“Have a nice day,” he growled.

“Yeah, you too.” She opened the door and stepped onto the curb and shut the cab door, but the cabbie pulled away before she could let go of the handle. Ellie lost her balance and overcompensated, falling onto someone. More specifically, someone caught her. Strong hands on her waist quickly helped her remain upright. Oh God, was it a mugger?

Ellie spun around, ready to whop her assailant with a throat punch like she’d learned in the self-defense class her dad had made her take before moving to the city. Instead, she froze, clutching her purse like a shield. It wasn’t an assailant. It was him. Luke. 

He chuckled. “Hey, you gotta watch those cabbies. Let me guess—you didn’t tip him, right?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Let’s just say you’re lucky he didn’t back up and finish you off.”

Ellie swallowed hard. “Are they all like that?”

“Nah, just most of them. Don’t tell me it’s your first time in a cab.”

Great, now he was making fun of her. Poor little country girl. She’d have rather taken her chances with a mugger she could throat punch. She couldn’t very well punch Luke Martelli, son of her maybe-future boss.

“So what if it is? I was running late and thought it would be quicker than the subway. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Ellie loosened the death grip she had on her purse and started up the steps of the building.

Luke caught up to her and actually opened the big glass door like a chivalrous gentleman. He lowered his eyes for a moment as though he regretted teasing her and gestured for her to go in.

“Thanks,” she mumbled and marched inside.

The directory on the wall indicated that the planning office was actually one of many similar business in this building. The sign said Mary Rose’s office was on the eighth floor, so Ellie punched the up button on the elevator and stood there. Luke also stood there, arms crossed, staring up at the floor number lights. What was he doing? Oh, right…he worked there too. While she listened to the distant metallic sliding and dings of elevators that seemed to be avoiding the ground floor, she glanced over at him. He wore a nice pair of black jeans with a solid dark grey t-shirt. It was tucked in, showing off his black leather belt with a shiny silver buckle and his trim waist. The knee brace was still there too, looking out of place over his jeans. She thought about asking him how he got it, but that could lead to an uncomfortable conversation she wasn’t ready to have with him or anyone.

Finally, one elevator found their floor and opened with a welcome ding. She stepped inside, followed by Luke. They parted to opposite sides of the elevator car, and he punched the button for the eighth floor. No one else joined them, much to her dismay. The doors slid closed, and the elevator jerked, taking them upward. Ellie wobbled, but leaned back on the wall for support.

She hadn’t looked him in the eye until then.

And there he was, grinning at her again. “First time in an elevator?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you. Ellie, right?”

“Ellison.”

“Sure. I like that better anyway. What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking a temp job as Mary Rose Loudon’s assistant. She asked me to come in and…um…meet everyone today and tour the office.”

“Oh. It’s not that much of an office.” He’d been leaning casually against the elevator wall, but he broke eye contact and stood up straight and stiff, staring at the lights above the door. “I didn’t know you were going to be working here.”

“Why would you?”

It wasn’t like anyone knew they had met and had some sort of something between them. Not that it mattered. It was completely one-sided. He surely thought she was just another country bumpkin lost in the big city. The elevator crept upward with some creaks and pops. God, it was slow.

“Slowest elevator in the city,” Luke said.

“Must be.”

When the light for the eighth floor finally lit up, Ellie pushed herself off the wall opposite Luke and stood at the door, ready to sprint out soon as she had a chance. Escape to where, she didn’t know, since Luke was working there too. Maybe there would be a bathroom she could slip into for a while and give him time to go elsewhere so she wouldn’t have to walk into the office with him. She already felt awkward as heck and didn’t want to blow her chance at this job.

The elevator squealed to a stop, but the doors didn’t open, and nothing dinged. She looked at Luke—had he hit the emergency button to trap her in there? No, he was actually punching the other buttons in frustration.

“Damn it. Stuck again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, whole damn building is refurbished except for these ancient elevators. They get stuck at least once a day. That’s why most people take the stairs. If I didn’t have this, that’s what I’d do too.” He gestured down at his knee brace. “I could do a lot of things differently if it wasn’t for this fu…this thing.”

Luke hit the emergency button, which lit up red. A crackly male voice came over the beige-painted speaker. “What’s the problem?”

“You know what the problem is, Mick. Get your ass out of your chair and get this elevator moving again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

He sounded so bitter, it made Ellie grimace, and then she had to open her big mouth and ask the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since she first saw him in Party Peeps. “When did you hurt your knee?”

“A few years ago. Stupid kid on a motor scooter hit me. It’s a long story.”

“That’s a long time to be so angry about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be angry? I had a lot going for me. All of it fu…messed up with a freak accident.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself won’t help anything. Trust me, I know.”

“Yeah? What would you know about that, baby doll?”

Ellie blushed, partly from embarrassment, but more from aggravation. She’d heard all those excuses before, and she didn’t have the patience for it, especially if she had to be stuck here with Luke for who knew how long.

She put her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye. “You know, just because I’m from Kentucky doesn’t mean I haven’t had a few hard knocks. You can choose to let that knee keep you down, or figure out how to succeed despite it. That’s really up to you.”

Luke blinked a few times before responding with a shrug. “Yeah, whatever.”

Great, now she’d made him mad. She should have kept her mouth shut and let him sulk. Finally, the elevator shuddered, and the doors groaned apart. They weren’t quite even with the floor yet. Ellie started toward the opening, ready to step up and out. She’d rather risk being crushed than stay in here with a man she wanted to both kiss and slap at the same time. But the stupid contraption lurched the final few inches until it was even with the floor. Ellie wobbled. Luke stepped up, put his hand on her back and supported her with his body against her side.

Totally unnecessary. She knew when she was actually off-balance. But, oh my, he felt so good. She ventured a look up. His face had softened, his eyes warm and sincere.              

“I wasn’t falling.”

“I know.”

She really wanted to feel the roughness of his unshaven face and the thick piece of his long dark hair that had escaped his ponytail and hung in front of his ear. And she really wanted to kiss him, but it was like the last piece of pie at a party. Even though she wanted it, she didn’t want to look like a pig. Or in this case, a floozy.

His head dipped toward hers.

He’s not, is he? Oh, God he is. His breath warmed her face with a soft minty scent. His hair was still damp. She caught a whiff of Irish Spring soap on his skin. She didn’t recognize his cologne, but was sure his lips would taste just as good as he smelled. The doors started to close again, snapping her back to reality. She pushed off Luke and escaped from the elevator, bumping her shoulders and leg on the doors with a thump and a clang.

Ellie spied a bathroom right across the hall and sped toward it. Before she went inside, she glanced over her shoulder. Luke didn’t step out like she had expected. He stayed put, crossed his arms, and stared down at his feet. The elevator doors closed, and it shuddered its way back down. Ellie let her forehead rest on the cool brown paint of the bathroom door facing. She’d come to New York to make something of herself, not to screw around and be an idiot.

But Luke’s scent still lingered, and he lingered in her thoughts the rest of the morning. She smiled and nodded and met people who called her Miss Carlisle, but she didn’t see Luke the rest of the day. It was probably for the best. But she couldn’t stop imagining herself in his arms.

 

 

 

Luke had missed his opportunity.

When Ellie, no, Ellison, climbed out of the green cab directly in front of him, all he had to do was keep walking. When she stumbled, all he had to do was let her fall and then walk past her, chuckling.

These actions would have made it so impossible for her to like him that he would be able to forget her right away. No woman could like a man who laughed at her pain.

He didn’t do those things. He caught Ellie. He talked to her. He limped with swagger, and he put on the charm.

He had tried again to drive her away. He had revealed his bitterness about his gimpy leg. This should have turned her away. Instead, Ellie’s eyes turned all crinkly and serious, which sped up his heart to just about the speed of a Mercedes AMG Petronas, and she told him to have a more positive attitude, and looked like she wanted to say more.

She paid attention, and she cared.

If Luke wanted to get her off his mind, he was going to have to try a lot harder, because this girl was looking better and better to him. She wasn’t treating him like shit, and he was having a hard time treating her like shit.

They were stuck in the elevator, and he had leaned in to get close to her wonderful fresh smell. He could nearly taste her. He could have kissed her. He imagined pulling her slender arms around him. He even imagined that she was as drawn to him as he was drawn to her.

Then, as soon as the elevator door opened, she had rushed away and hid in a ladies’ room.

Goddamn country girl.

He lumbered toward Big Al’s office, nodded to Mary Rose who was simultaneously searching a file cabinet and talking on a desk phone whose wire was overstretched, and banged through the door.

“Okay, got it.” Big Al clicked off his smart phone and set it on the desk. He popped a nicotine lozenge in his mouth — smoking was not allowed inside city or public buildings. “Sit down, Luciano.”

Luke sat in the nearest chair. The cushion made a fart noise.

“I have an opportunity for you. In fact, I have two. I can get you started in a couple of jobs with a lot more future than building fairy floats with lots of glitter and pixie dust.”

“And crepe paper,” Luke added. “Don’t forget the crepe paper.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And balloons. And giant cakes and bunny rabbits.”

“Whatever, Luciano. Because I’m the fucking father of the year, I have a couple of deals arranged for you. How about this one?” He slid a paper across his desk. It was an official announcement of a city position.

“Assistant to the Sewage Treatment Facility Coordinator?” Luke scanned it. The salary was similar to what he made now, but the job would get him into DC-37, with union protection, city insurance and retirement. He continued down to the list of responsibilities. “This is a desk job, inside a sewage plant. I won’t get to move around, and I’ll have to smell sewage all day.”

“But you can’t move around, Luciano. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want this job. I’m not a desk jockey.”

Big Al slid another paper to him. “I can get you into this one also. It’s a little more active.”

Luke glared at Big Al for a moment, tempted to slide the paper right back at him and tell him to stuff it up his fat ass. But he grabbed it up and read it anyway. “Head custodian at Cromwell Avenue Homeless Shelter.”

“Yeah. It’s more than I can pay you, and you get insurance, like the other one.”

“Sweeping up at a homeless shelter.”

“Nah, telling other people to sweep up. And you have to do the smarter jobs, like electrical work.”

Luke crumpled up the paper. “This is what you think of me?”

“No, this is what I can get right now. I’ll have to call in a lot of favors for them to forget I’m looking for a job for my son. You know, nephrotism?”

“Nepotism,” Luke corrected.

“Yeah, that.”

“I’m not interested.” Luke shifted forward in his seat. The cushion farted again. He looked down at it, then back at Big Al.

“New chairs,” his father told him.

“I didn’t ask you to find me another job. In fact, if you don’t like how I’m doing the one I have, go ahead and fire me. I know Bozo is waiting in the wings.”

Big Al swiveled his chair some. He picked up his phone, tapped a reminder into his calendar, put the phone down. “That ain’t it, Luciano. You’re my son, and a bad thing happened that wasn’t your fault. But you have to look at reality. These are good jobs for a guy with just an automotive degree, and DC-37 ain’t taking just anyone into their ranks.”

Luke pressed down on the cushion as he rose, hoping to prevent another fart noise. “I’m going back to Jersey. I have that new order you sent me, Bobby’s Blueberry Shack. I need to get to Home Depot for some lumber.”

He walked to the office door.

Big Al rocked back in his chair, arms crossed over his oversized belly. “Think twice about walking out that door without picking one of those jobs. They ain’t holding them forever till you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“Then go ahead. Go back to Jersey, and make a bunch of giant blueberries and bunny rabbits if that’s all you’re good for.”

Luke listened at the door. He heard Mary Rose on the phone. He didn’t hear Ellie. He cracked the door open to make sure he wouldn’t bump into her. He didn’t want her to have to run away again. She wasn’t in the outer office, so he rushed to the stairwell, limped down one flight, and pushed the elevator button.

****

It was 6 AM, a week later, when Luke gave the Roses and Oranges float a final check before loading it onto the flatbed. He’d made eight floats for this parade, each with its own set of headaches. This one had been so heavy after the initial build that it had hung only ten inches above the street level instead of the required thirteen. He’d had to remove the giant wooden flowers and fruits, saw them open, and plane out as much as he could of the interior to reduce the weight so that the float didn’t droop or snap its own axles. He’d also spent hours on ridiculous phone calls with ice cream parlor owner and florist Michelangelo “Mickey Spumoni” Calabrese explaining why he had to reduce the number of models on the float and why he had to diminish the area of each platform, all to lessen the weight on the axles so they didn't snap. Calabrese kept saying, “Come on, paesan. Make it happen. Finesse it.” That was what Luke had been doing, but Mickey wanted him to leave the design unchanged as if by magic.

It was the last one he had to load. He was exhausted. His arms were limp, his eyes bleary with fatigue and sawdust, his head spinning from the smell of axle grease. These were the most complicated floats he’d ever built, with the shortest lead time, with the most demanding clients. He had a certain flair for design, he knew. He thought of the floats as being like cars, and imagined their lines the way he thought about the lines of a Chaparral 2E or a Lotus 56. He was even happy he’d had to work so hard, to help him force from his mind the complex cocktail of on the one hand, Big Al’s demeaning remarks and demeaning job offers, and on the other, Ellison Carlisle’s lips only inches from his.

He settled down into a chair next to Ahmed the carpenter, who passed him a glass bottle of cola from the deli up the block. Luke would have preferred a beer, but he was at work. He flipped off the lid with his calloused thumb and swallowed as much soda as he could, till it burned in his throat and bubbled in his stomach and he belched. Ahmed snickered. They were in their twenties and still enjoyed belching — at least when no women were around. Luke stretched out his leg and rubbed his knee. He’d strained it today lifting one of the shortened platforms up onto Roses and Oranges. He wished he could get a shot to reduce friction in the joint, but he’d had one too recently for his low-grade insurance to pay. He cursed Obamacare briefly, and then recalled the incident that had made him dependent on it in the first place.

It had been a lucky parking spot for him, under the El, right across the street from the garage where his friend Nick worked.  Luke had planned to help Nick with a tricky brake job on a Peugeot. “Roar” by Katy Perry was playing on the Camaro’s radio, and he left the key in the ignition to hear the end of the song, but opened the door and put his legs in the street. His cell phone, sitting on the seat beside him, buzzed. Caller-ID said Carly, and they had planned a sexy date for later, so he had to answer. He stretched back to reach the phone, and as he did, he extended his left leg further out to balance himself. The D train rumbled along the track above him, and he thought, hope it doesn’t drip any creosote on my car, that’s murder to clean off. He slid his finger across the touch screen to answer, and then there was an impact that wrenched him sideways, and he fell out of his seat into the street on his butt. His jeans were ripped open, blood poured from his thigh, and there was something in the street next to him making a roar that was almost as loud as the roar in his ears. His vision narrowed to a point, so that he saw only the blood, and he could scarcely hear the voice of the kid saying sorry.

While musing, he let the soda bottle slip from his hand. It teetered on the dusty floor and then tipped over and spilled brown fluid that reminded him just then of his life’s blood on the road.

As he bent to pick it up, he was then aware of the thumping footsteps of Bozo rambling across the now-empty yardage of the warehouse toward him and Ahmed. “Hey, Fairy Dust,” said Bozo.

“Hey,” Ahmed said. “That’s not nice.”

“Shut up. He’s my cousin. What are you, the fucking handyman?”

Luke sat up. “He works for me, so watch your mouth, Bozo.”

“I’ll go take a piss.” Ahmed understood that discretion was the better part of valor, or at least it was with the boss’s family, and he got clear.

“I was hoping to see the dainty productions of Luckless Luciano before they set out this morning.”

“So, that’s why you got up so early—or was it to avoid paying your bill at the whorehouse?” Luke countered.

“Nah, I just figured I could look over your work. I’m going to convince your dad I can do it cheaper, so you can go on to better things, like playtesting racing games or modeling in wheelchairs for paraplegic girls to look at with their vibrators on.”

Luke pulled himself up. “Now I’m going to beat the shit out of you—slowly.” He balled his fist and stepped forward.

Bozo’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, yeah. Get in a fight on the job, and you’re out of here.” He cracked a grin. “Right, Luciano?”

He was right.

“Anyway,” Luke’s cousin continued, “you know I’m just busting balls, ‘cause I mean well for you. You know that, right?”

“Uh, huh,” Luke said.

“I’m trying to light a fire under your ass. Gotta be smart about what you do with your time. Guy comes into the shop, he needs rear brakes. I tell him front brakes are going to go, maybe not right away, but soon. He says, give me a price for both. I give him some jacked-up price. He gets this look on his face. He says, just the front brakes, what is that? Then I give him some price that’s a little less than front and rear together, and he acts all relieved. Who made a profit? Me, that’s who. You see, that’s looking out for your own profit, Luciano. You never knew how to price stuff.”

Luke decided that the price of stomping a mudhole in Bozo—losing his job—was too high. But that was only this time. There would be another.

He told his cousin he was heading into the city to watch the parade, told Ahmed he could go for the day, and, once Bozo was out of the way, headed in to the city.

 

 

 

To say Ellie was nervous would have been a huge understatement. This wasn’t a large parade. Mary Rose had no doubts that Ellie could put it all together into a fun and memorable day for the folks who’d come out to watch on this fine fall day in Brooklyn. Ellie, on the other hand, had plenty of doubts. This wasn’t a kid’s birthday party. This production involved eight floats, three marching bands, mounted police along with veterans, active servicemen, firetrucks, and cars carrying beauty contest winners who would toss candy to the kids.

During the week she’d spent under Mary Rose’s wing, Ellie had learned that parade management involved a lot more than she first thought. Streets had to be blocked off and cleaned well the night before. Mary Rose had warned her that their contact at the Department of Sanitation could be a real jerk. So, Ellie applied all the Southern charm she could muster when she called him. Apparently, it had worked. If the streets been porcelain instead of asphalt, they’d be gleaming. She couldn’t see as much as a cigarette butt from her vantage point at the MC booth.

She’d made certain that all the street vendors selling hot dogs, funnel cakes, and overpriced glowing plastic jewelry were properly licensed and set up in prime locations along the parade route. A first aid station staffed with nurses from the local hospital was ready near the MC booth. An EMS unit was also waiting nearby in case of unforeseen injuries. There’d also been security to arrange, with police officers stationed at the blocked intersections.

Now all that remained was ensuring every float, group, and vehicle participating knew where to assemble and when to join the line. Even that involved some finessing. Kids involved in the parade were put toward the front to minimize their time waiting so they didn’t get too tired or cranky. Same for the service dogs trained by inmates at one of the prisons. But the police horses, of course, had to bring up the rear because nobody wanted to step or drive through manure.

Luckily, she’d gotten hold of some wide-ranging walkie-talkies with wireless headsets so she could coordinate each group’s procession and crucial stopping points for short performances. Had she double-checked all the batteries? Sweat beaded across her forehead. The last thing she needed was a float running over the baton twirlers or the obedience school dogs. The clock struck 10 AM. Showtime.

Ellie held the mic of her headset to her lips. “OK, Make-A-Wish, you’re on. V.A., make sure your float driver gives a thirty-second head start to the kids. Mary Rose says he’s a lead foot.”

Sarah from Make-A-Wish answered, “Roger that.”

George, a double amputee and group leader for the V.A. float answered, “Roger. Hey lead foot, Miss Carlisle says the kids get thirty seconds' head start, so don’t go until she says, or she’ll whop you with that cane of yours. Southern girls don’t mess around, right Ellie?”

Ellie laughed. “That’s right. Thanks, George.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She kept an eye on her phone timer, and at the thirty second mark, she said, “OK, you can go, V.A., and take it easy on the gas pedal.”

She’d met the V.A. team yesterday. George was a Vietnam vet and loved to flirt. But he wasn’t serious. Over cheap coffee in Styrofoam cups, he’d told her he’d been married for sixty years until his wife Janet died that past January. He told Ellie a few stories about her, and though he smiled, his eyes grew watery. He kept her picture in his shirt pocket next to his heart and still wore his wedding ring. Ellie wondered if she’d ever find a love like that. It seemed the stuff of fairy tales, but George was living proof that it could happen. Inevitably, her thoughts wandered to Luke and how warm and solid he’d felt against her in the elevator.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, startled.

Mary Rose laughed. “My goodness, you’re jumpy. Everything’s off to a wonderful start. Why don’t you let me take over for a bit, and you go up to Big Al’s office to see all your hard work from a much better view?”

“But…” Ellie started to protest, but Mary Rose was already taking her headset and walkie-talkie.

“You’ve done a wonderful job. I can’t tell you how many of these group leaders have called me, saying how thorough you were with the planning. It’s usually a lot more chaotic. Carmen’s good, but she misses a lot of the smaller details. She doesn’t really talk to the people, you know? They’re telling me how sweet and nice you are and how they want to invite you to dinner.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious. Now get up there and watch the parade. Take a break. I’ve got this.”

“It seems I don’t have a choice in the matter,” Ellie said with a mock frown.

“No, you don’t, young lady. Besides, there might be someone up there who’d really like you to see his work from above.”

“Um, oh…OK, I’m going.” Ellie knew exactly who Mary Rose was talking about. But she’d not mentioned Luke or even spoken to him all week. She did notice him, of course, coming and going from the building. Maybe she’d let her eyes linger too long on his tattooed, muscled arms, his dark hair, and his perfect butt.

Cheeks burning, Ellie eased down the flimsy steps of the MC stage and hurried down the sidewalk to the City Planning Office. She decided to not take a chance on the elevator of doom and took the stairs instead. Halfway up, she regretted that decision and had to catch her breath for a few seconds. She had gotten lazy the past few months and opted for elevators and vehicles when she should really be walking it. Her physical therapist had preached the benefits of staying mobile. Time to get back on the exercise wagon.

By the time she reached the eighth floor, Ellie was panting and had to grab a drink from the fountain. When she reached the door to Big Al’s conference room, she was about to barge in Kramer style, but then remembered what Mary Rose had said. Did that mean Luke would be there? She stood there listening, but didn’t hear his voice, only a loud female’s voice with a Brooklyn accent that could rival Lena’s.

Good, then maybe he wasn’t actually there, but hoping to hear some nice praises later about the floats. She’d looked at them from ground level, briefly, while compiling the schedule and meeting with the group leaders, but they were just floats. In every parade she’d attended, they’d all been different versions of the exact same thing: a flatbed trailer covered in plywood, foam, balloons, and people in cheap costumes with a sign on the side written in Sharpie-colored block letters. This wasn’t the Macy’s parade or the Tournament of Roses parade, where the floats were actual works of art.

Enough dawdling. She patted down her forehead with a tissue and walked in. A few people were sitting in chairs facing the big window that overlooked the street. She recognized Big Al, assistant to the mayor, who kind of reminded her of Grimace in a too-small suit. Then there was a woman with curly, bleach-blonde hair and a guy in a pinstriped suit jacket beside her. Then an empty chair. And then…there was Luke.

Big Al spun around, cigar perched between his fore and middle fingers. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Carlisle. Come on in, there’s a chair right there beside Luciano.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ellie felt about as breathless as she had during her climb up the Everest stairs. But she forced her mouth closed so she wouldn’t pant like a dog, made her way around Luke to the chair, and sat.

She glanced his way. Luke offered a little smile then rummaged through a cooler at his feet. He handed her a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” She took it from him, opened it, and took a nice long drink. Did she look like a thirsty waif?

“You’re welcome.” He held her gaze with those hypnotic eyes. They were hazel, a warm greenish-brown that complemented his dark complexion. His black hair was hanging loose this time. It was just past his shoulders and hid part of his face. She had a strong desire to brush it back behind his ear and to find out just how kissable those lips really were.

The blonde lady leaned over and spoke to her past the stiff guy in the suit. “I’m Carly.  This is Derek, my fiancé. Looks like you’ve met Luke.”

“Yes.” Ellie took another swig of water, hoping she wasn’t blushing or smiling stupidly.

“Luke’s my ex. We were engaged for a while,” Carly said with a wink and smile.

Luke shifted in his seat and wrenched the cap from a Diet Coke. “What is this, a freakin’ talk show? Zip it, Carly.”

Carly crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “Chillax, Luciano. It’s public knowledge.”

Derek cleared his throat. “Let’s keep it civil, please.” He turned a fake smile on Ellie. “The parade is lovely. Big Al tells me you organized it all.”

“Well, not all, but thanks.”

Ellie realized she had yet to actually watch the parade since sitting down within this odd love triangle. Down below, the parade had already progressed to the third float, a massive, colorful display from the local florist/ice cream shop. On one end stood a tree hanging full of big white blossoms, but as Ellie watched, they opened one by one into oranges and roses in shades of red, yellow, and white.

Cut flowers lined each side of the float, spelling out “If you can’t win her over with flowers, try a sundae instead.” Mr. Calabrese, the owner, held a bucket of wrapped carnations and tossed them out to the crowd. He smiled from ear to ear, so Ellie figured he must be pleased with his beautiful display. And no wonder. On the other end was a giant ice cream bowl. The scoops were made of foam, painted in Neapolitan chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, with fluffy white whipped cream and a cherry on top. But the kicker was the hot fudge. It looked like streams of it were flowing down the top and into the bowl.

She leaned really close to the window. “Wow, that looks good enough to eat. Is the hot fudge really moving?”

“Yeah,” Luke answered. “It’s just a barrel of thinned-down chocolate syrup and a pump. I had to carve grooves in the foam to keep it from flowing everywhere.”

“That’s amazing!”

Luke shrugged.

“You should see the Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena,” Carly said. “Now those are some floats.”

“Don’t give Luciano any ideas. He’ll take off to California and surrender his life to arranging flowers,” Big Al said while he chewed on his cigar. He hadn’t lit it, much to Ellie’s relief, probably because it was a smoke-free building.

Ellie turned to Luke to find his eyes on her, but he quickly looked away before slumping in his chair.

“Well, I think it’s a beautiful float,” she said, hoping to cheer him up a little. “You did a great job, Luke.”

He glanced at her and shrugged again. “You did good, too.”

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help but smile and wished she could praise his work more, but didn’t want to look too obvious. But she hated to hear his father and ex bashing his talents. Perhaps that could also explain his bad attitude. She really couldn’t blame him. Her own mother had been a perfectionist and rarely showered Ellie with anything but criticism.

The parade went on, with every group keeping pace just as planned. Ellie could see Mary Rose on the MC stand across the street, talking into the mic, waving to some of the leaders, giving them a thumbs up. And the floats…each one was unique and beautiful. All of them stayed in one piece, even with a multitude of moving parts.

Ellie watched Luke for his reaction. He was leaning over, elbows on his knees, resting his chin in one hand. But he didn’t look very happy. Kids in the crowd jumped up and down, grabbed candy and clapped. They’d really pulled it off, and Luke’s float designs had made it perfect.

The last float finally passed below them, and Ellie was about to tell Luke how nice they’d all turned out. But he had already stood and was heading out the door before she could say anything.

She carried on some mindless chit-chat with Carly, Derek, and Big Al before they all dispersed to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe Lena would want to go out tonight for a drink or two. She needed some friend support, but she knew Lena would go on about how much of a jerk Luke was and how she should stay clear. And maybe Lena was right. Ellie wasn’t a superwoman. She couldn’t change Luke’s attitude. But it still didn’t keep her from wanting to try.

 

Luke had loved Carly’s big personality back in the day. They were the big-personality couple, and when they went out together, they had swagger. Now she was the same, but he wanted to keep it low-key, and there she was in the boardroom blabbering about him like a scustumad, a dumbass. She had her reason to be angry, and plenty of reason not to talk up his former plans to be a race car mechanic, but he didn’t need all that passive-aggressive shit, making fucking Tournament of Roses jokes.

He couldn’t take any more and he got up and cripple-walked out of there.

Now who was the scustumad? He’d been right there next to the girl he was crazy for, and they’d been saying nice things to each other, and smiling. They were so close he could see the little freckles on her skin. She smelled like fresh caramel, and her eyes sparkled like Christmas ornaments.

He took out his phone and thought of texting Carly to scold her, and then he thought of texting Carly and telling her to invite Ellie for a drink so he could show up by accident. But what was wrong with him? Was that the kind of man he was, to use his ex-girlfriend to set him up with someone he liked now? That wasn’t happening. He’d do it himself. He ran his hand through his hair, shook his wrists some, and went back to the boardroom.

The parade was over, and the group was out of their chairs and standing around holding water bottles and making with the small talk. Safest starting place if he wanted to play it cool was Derek, who was pretty decent for a corporate shill. He strode over to the big pinstripes and offered a bro-style handshake, which Derek awkwardly returned.

“I could use a drink,” Luke said. “Let’s hit Don Giovanni’s up the block.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Carly, we’re going for a drink, what do you say?”

“Watch out, Derek,” Big Al told the tall businessman. “On a float-builder’s salary, he ain’t paying for too many rounds.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Luke answered. He had a vision of himself punching away at his father like Georges St. Pierre at his peak. He pushed it out of his mind. He had used to have confidence with girls, when he was whole. He had to be confident now. “Hey, I’m feeling generous. Ellison, let me buy you a drink too. Celebrate your first parade, know what I mean?”

Ellie’s face brightened, but then she seemed to think better of it. “Oh, I was supposed to meet Lena for dinner to celebrate.”

“So, call Lena, tell her to meet us at Don Giovanni’s. I ain’t talked to her since forever.”

“Um…okay. She knows the place?”

“Sure. She used to go there to hear Frankie Amoroso sing Elton John’s greatest hits. Remember that, Carly?”

“Yeah,” Carly bellowed. “He sang like a dog with a head wound, but she was crazy for him ‘cause someone said he had the biggest …” She looked over at Big Al and his cigar.

Luke looked at Ellie. Was she too tender for dick jokes? No, she was smiling like an angel. Marone, he wanted to kiss those lips and that delicate throat. She started to dial her phone.

“Pretty cool,” Derek whispered in his ear. “I was wondering if you were going to make a move on her. You ever had a Southern belle?”

“No, I always went with the neighborhood girls,” Luke answered.

“Well, don’t worry. Underneath the good manners and the reserve, they’re just as kinky as anyone. Take it from me.”

“You and Ellison?” Luke asked, worried.

“Oh, no, no. I’m a one-woman man. Carly drains me like a drink. I had a college girlfriend from Atlanta who just couldn’t get enough pairs of leather pants. Tell you later.”

Apparently, Lena was game for the change of venue. Soon the group was threading its way through the dispersing parade crowd, conversing cops, and dull steel barricades. Luke barely avoided a globule of grass-spotted horse manure; a boot-print showed someone in the parade had not been so lucky.

Don Giovanni’s was an upscale pizza joint with a full bar, occasional live music, and free pies during happy hour. It wasn’t happy hour. The front room was full of parade-goers, many of them recognizable by their uniforms as veterans who had come with their spouses and children. The only available seats were barstools. Luke gave Derek a nudge, and Derek seated Carly on his right, leaving only two seats on his left. Luke guided Ellie to the one furthest left and sat in the middle. He wanted this girl to himself and as far away from Carly as possible. He ordered two Peronis and left his ex and her boyfriend to order for themselves.

Ellie took a dainty sip. “You knew Lena growing up?” she asked.

“Yeah, from high school. She was the kind of girl who could hang out and be one of the boys. It was cool she could hang with us Italian kids when she’s not, you know? She handled herself great.”

“But you guys didn’t go out?”

“No, not like a couple. I was with Carly most of high school. How do you know Lena? I mean, I saw you guys together, but I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it.”

“We were roommates at the University of Kentucky. Couple of Kentucky Wildcats, right? Well, she is.” She leaned into her beer, took a strong pull. She drank like a man. Luke loved that.

“Oh, I bet you can be wild if you want to,” Luke blurted.

She made a little hmm noise, flashed her teeth. “I guess I can. When the time is right.”

“But you’re more the well-organized type?”

“Well, I’m a Virgo, so I guess so. But you’re pretty well-organized, putting together those floats. You have to plan everything carefully, to make sure everything fits properly and you have enough flowers and balloons, right?”

“Right.”

“But you have a real eye for design.”

“Think so? It's just, when I was a kid, I wanted to design race cars, you know? I liked the lines and the color of the best cars. I wish I could show you in person, something like a Viper GTS-R, the way the curves are so perfectly made to cut through the wind resistance. I can almost see the air flowing over it when it moves. Is that crazy?”

“No. It’s not crazy at all. I mean, I made notes and stuff, but I could see the parade in my head, just like that. Except I didn’t realize how nice the floats were going to be. That really impressed me.”

“Thanks, but…” He didn’t want to say how embarrassed he was by his job.

“I don’t know much about cars,” Ellie continued. “Where do you see something like that race car you mentioned?”

“The Viper GTS-R is from when I was growing up, so I guess probably in a race car museum. There’s a bunch of them. I can take you to one some time.”

Ellie tapped her painted nail on the rim of her beer bottle, considering. Luke noticed the baby blue of the nail which matched her powder-blue blazer and pants. “Sounds good. Some time.”

Luke knew where to take the conversation next. “Tell me more about you. Where’d you grow up?”

“Lots of places in Kentucky, but mostly right there in Lexington. We’re more into horse racing than car racing.”

“And you had a pony?” Luke groaned inwardly: not his best line.

She took it in stride. “Well, I used to ride. I didn't need my own pony; there were plenty I could ride. But high heeled shoes, those I asked for quite a bit.”

“You like fashion?”

“I love shoes. But I don’t wear heels anymore.” She glanced down at her leg, but didn’t explain.

Luke looked up suddenly as someone leaned in between them. It was just Lena Bosko, but she was definitely between them, and was squeezing a stool into the tight space.

“Hey, roommate,” she chirped to Ellie.

“What’s up? Long time no talk to,” Luke tried.

“Luciano,” she said. “Keeping my seat warm for me? Move over. This guy bothering you, Ellison?”

“No, he’s been a gentleman,” Ellie said.

“I am a gentleman,” Luke said. “It’s right here on my forehead, see?” Smiling at her, he pointed with his middle finger at a spot above his eyebrows.

Carly had gotten off her chair and now came to give Lena a hello hug, and in no time flat, the ladies had squeezed Luke off his bar stool and over on Derek’s right.

Derek smirked. “Serious cock-block. Looked like things were going well.”

“That’s just my luck.”

“Well, don’t give up, buddy. Just remember those leather pants I was telling you about.”

“I’m forgetting nothing. And I’m not giving up, either. Hey, Derek, listen. Don’t talk about this too much with Carly, okay? It feels funny somehow.”

“Sure.” Derek tilted a shot glass of what looked like whiskey. “All men are brothers.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Luke slid back off the stool and sidled around the full table to Ellison’s left. He tapped her on the shoulder and whispered her name in her ear. To his relief, she turned immediately and smiled, her lips slightly parted.

“I don’t have your number. Let me get your phone, and I’ll call myself.”

She passed her phone over right away.

“We getting together soon?” he asked as he dialed his own mobile number.

“Hey, Luciano,” Lena said. “Before she answers that, how’s your attitude?”

“Lena, I’m sweeter than brown sugar, promise.”

“You better be, ‘cause this girl here is my sister, got it?”

“Lena, I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Lena set down her beer bottle, spit on her hand. “Shake on it.”

Luke spit on his hand and shook with her.

“Okay, I withdraw my objection. Ellison, you may answer him now.”

Ellie said, “I’d love to go out. What do you have in mind?”

Luke had to think quickly. A girl like Ellison would want to do something girly. He said, “How’s brunch sound, baby doll?”

 

 

 

Ellie hardly slept that night. She got up entirely too early for a Sunday morning, showered, and went through about a dozen clothing combinations before she decided on a pair of long, flowy black culottes and a sleeveless turquoise blouse. The black flats would have to do. Until she could afford the upgrade, heels were still out of the question. No matter what shoes she wore, she couldn’t help feeling all quivery like she’d had too much caffeine. She couldn’t believe she was going on an actual date with Luke Martelli. How had that happened? It seemed surreal. Ellie combed her hair for the third time. No, it looked better up. She put it into a ponytail. Wait, no, that didn’t look good either.

Lena appeared in the bathroom doorway, startling Ellie. “Wear it up on a first date. Shows you haven’t let your guard down.”

“No, I think it’s better down.” Ellie removed the ponytail holder again, letting her hair fall gracefully across her shoulders. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t had a real date in forever. Lighten up on him, Lena. He’s not a bad guy.”

“I don’t think he means to be a bad guy. It just comes natural.”

Ellie put down her comb and put on some gold hoop earrings. “Tell ya what. If Luke is the least bit of a jerk, this will be our only date. Sound good, sis?”

Lena smiled and shook her head. The skepticism in her dark eyes softened to one of genuine concern. “Fine. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, but it’s not like I’m planning on marrying the guy. I just want to see where it goes. And if it goes bad, I’m out. Hug?”

“Hug.”

Ellie embraced her friend, then grabbed her purse and headed outside.

Luke was there as promised. He’d pulled up to the curb and was leaning against his car. When he saw her, he gave a nod and smile and opened the passenger door. Already a gentleman. But would it last? He looked hot in a black blazer with red t-shirt and black jeans. He was wearing his hair down, too.

She really wanted to run up to him, throw her arms around his neck and breathe in his intoxicating cologne, but she forced herself to walk slowly and stopped within arm’s reach.

“Hi,” she said. “Nice car.”

“Thanks. It gets me around.”

“Where are we headed?”

“A little place called The Rabbithole. Best brunch in Brooklyn”

Ellie did her bucktoothed Bugs Bunny impression. “All right, Doc. Let’s go.”

And then she felt really stupid, like she’d reverted to a twelve-year-old. But Luke laughed heartily and held out his hand. She took it, enjoying his warm, strong grip, and he helped her get settled into the low seat of the sports car. He still had a big smile on his face when he went back around to the driver’s seat and put on his seat belt. Ellie buckled up, and he revved the engine. The car roared to life, jarring the seat beneath her. She grabbed the car door handle.

Ellie’s eyes grew wide. Luke laughed again. “Don’t worry, I don’t race on these streets.”

“I had a boyfriend who used to drag race.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I liked the racing. The drinking and pot smoking, not so much.”

“Oh.” Luke put the car into gear and nodded. “Good thing I haven’t had a joint in at least ten years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, eighth grade, out behind Giovanni’s with some of the roughnecks. Made me sicker than a dog. Haven’t had one since.”

“And the drinking?”

“Never before noon.”

Ellie laughed. “Good rule. But does that mean I can’t have a mimosa?”

“You can have whatever you want, baby doll. I’m driving.”

He pulled onto the street and kept his word, driving well within the speed limit, though the car’s engine rumbled at each stop like it was dying to do the quarter mile in record time. Luke clicked on the radio and gestured from her to it, inviting her to pick her choice of station. Ellie smiled and turned the dial until she landed on Aerosmith. She cranked up “You’re My Angel,” and it serenaded them through the gentle bass of the custom sound system. She slid her gaze to Luke, who returned it with a one-sided smile and nod, like he was truly impressed with her music choice.

There was something else in his eyes too, like fear mixed with anticipation. Funny, because she felt the exact same way.

Luke found an empty spot right in front of the restaurant and parallel parked like a pro. Ellie opened her door, but Luke jumped out and ran around to offer a hand to help her out. He closed the car door, locked it with the key fob, and offered his arm. Ellie really wished Lena could see all this. But what she really feared was what would happen if she and Luke kept dating. She hoped they would really hit it off, but what then? She didn’t like not knowing what the future held. She liked planning things. But she couldn’t plan the course of a relationship. It would either sink or sail, and she didn’t know if she could handle another shipwreck. She was three down already. Would Luke be number four?

The Rabbithole was a cozy spot for brunch. It was located on a busy tree-lined block between 3rd and 4th streets. The only eyesore was a weedy empty lot to the left of the restaurant, fenced with chain link and graffiti-covered “Keep Out” signs.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, following her gaze. “Want to go somewhere else?”

“No, it’s fine. The food’s the important part.”

The pretty brick exterior continued inside with brick walls, rustic wood trim, and soft lighting. Since the weather was so pleasant, Luke asked to be seated outdoors. The hostess introduced herself as Toni, handed them some menus, and led them out back to a patio.

She sat them at a small round table. “Laura will be your server today. Enjoy!”

Luke scooted out Ellie’s chair and helped her get seated.  Then he maneuvered his chair around so his was sitting beside her instead of across from her. So sweet—more gentleman points for Luke. She was keeping a running tally in her head so she could brag to Lena.

After a few minutes of silently browsing the menus, Laura the waitress arrived. She was a petite girl with a dark brown pixie haircut and dark circles under her eyes. Ellie finally ordered a mimosa, ice water, and an egg white frittata. Luke opted for coffee and a two-egg omelet with a side of bacon.

Conversation buzzed all around them while they waited for their food. The waitress brought their drinks. Ellie sipped her water, feeling a little awkward with this silence stretching between them.

Luke added cream to his coffee. “So,” he ventured, “I guess Lena’s told you all about me and Carly.”

“Not all, but enough.” Ellie tried her mimosa, deciding she had better take it easy and not drink much of it on an empty stomach.

“She thinks I’m an asshole.”

“Are you?”

He lowered his head and laughed softly. “Sometimes, I guess. I was always on the move before the accident. Invincible, you know?”

Ellie nodded.

“I can’t blame Carly for walking out on me. I guess I would have left me too.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, propping his elbows on the table to lean in closer. “Aren’t you going to tell me to toughen up and let it go? Isn’t that what you tough country girls do?”

“When we have to.” Ellie shifted in her seat, looking back toward the restaurant, hoping Laura was about to serve their food. No such luck. She took another sip of her mimosa, and wondered if she could trust Luke enough to tell him everything. But then she realized they were shoulder to shoulder, and she was just inches from his enticing lips.

Luke shifted to the other side of his seat, leaving lonely space between them. “Well, here I am, being un-gentlemanly and talking about myself too much. Tell me about you, Ellison. What about the drag racer boyfriend? Sounds like he was a real wise guy.”

“Yeah, and so were the other two.” The ice in Ellie’s glass clinked as she stirred her drink with the little umbrella.

Luke sat back in his chair, wide-eyed. “Well, the girl’s been around the block a few times, huh?”

Ellie blushed and averted her eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” She rested her hand on his, and his fingers interweaved with hers, almost like it was instinctive. His warm skin and the strength of his grip, tempered with gentleness, settled her nerves. “The pothead was Jon, freshman year of college. The last night I saw him, he got really high at a party. I tried to take his keys, but he pushed me down and took off. The next day, I found out he’d wrapped his car around a tree.”

“Shit, that’s bad,” Luke said. “I’m glad you weren’t in there.”

“Me too. And then there was Carlos. He was an exchange student from Spain my junior year of college. God, I fell for him so hard. He had that Antonio Banderas accent, the dark eyes, all that.”

She glanced up at Luke. He waggled his eyebrows and spoke in a terrible Spanish accent. “Go on, bébé doll.”

Ellie laughed softly. “Carlos asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes, but he went back to Spain. He was going to land a good job and send for me. I had my passport all ready and everything. He didn’t call back. None of the numbers I had for him worked. The emails bounced. I found out not long after that I wasn’t his only ‘fiancée’. He’d apparently promised at least three other girls the same thing. All he wanted was to sow his oats with some American girls.”

Luke picked up her hand and held it between both of his. “If I ever see Carlos what’s-his-face, I’ll beat his ass into the ground. What an idiota.”

“Was that Italian?”

“Yeah, it slips in there every now and then. I’m third gen. My mother made us speak only Italian at home growing up so we wouldn’t forget our roots.”

“That’s really sweet. Maybe I can meet her soon.”

Luke went still, and a smile played on his lips. “Maybe.” He let go of her hand and picked up his coffee again. “So, you said there were two others besides the pothead. Who’s the other idiota?”

Wow, he had really been paying attention. She’d rather hoped he wouldn’t catch her slip of the tongue. Did that mean he was nosy or really interested? Ellie shifted in her seat and took a big drink of her mimosa. It was getting watery with the ice melting. Where was that darn waitress? Luke was looking at her, waiting for an answer.

Okay, deep breaths. Just tell him and see what happens.

“The other guy was Michael. We dated for about a year in high school. Went to senior prom together. Ended up in a cheap hotel for an hour, where I lost my virginity, and it was just terrible.”

“Ouch. I think most people's first time is like that.”

Ellie smiled. “Oh, really? Was yours?”

Luke scrunched up his face and shrugged. “Phtthh, you kidding? I rocked her world.”

Ellie had to laugh at that one.

He joined in. “Okay, yeah, it wasn’t great. But we were kids, both bigmouths like you wouldn't believe, and we both talked it up like it was. What would that hurt, right? So, what happened with Michael?”

“He tried to make up for the bad sex by asking for riding lessons. I used to ride a lot when Daddy was training at the bigger stables. Not the big racehorses, but the saddle horses. They all need exercise, except the owners don’t invest as much in them. Anyway, I was happy, since I’d been begging him to ride with me ever since we started dating. I got him on a real sweet tempered filly we had been training up, but he was clueless. I was holding the reins, about to tell him how to sit properly in the saddle, letting his weight fall naturally from hip to foot. But he clenched his legs too hard and too suddenly, which startled the filly. She reared up, which she had absolutely never done before that I could remember, and I still had the reins. But I wasn’t strong enough to hold my ground, so she pulled me off my feet and when she came back down, she landed right on me. Shattered my right leg from the knee down.”

Luke set his cup down and wiped his mouth slowly, blinking as though he had to let that sink in. “Shit, and I thought my knee was bad. How long did it take to heal?”

“Um…”

The waitress plunked their food tray down on the table. Ellie jumped.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said. “The chef passed out. Low blood sugar or something. So, the sous chef had to come in from Coney Island…anyway, here’s your food. Dessert’s on the house.”

“Wow, thanks, Laura,” Ellie said. She grabbed her fork and spread the napkin across her lap, so hungry she could barely stand it, but more relieved to have had the interruption. “Isn’t that nice, Luke?”

He dragged his eyes from Ellie to the waitress with a frown. “Yeah, real nice, and it better not be cold if you want a tip.”

Laura set their plates in front of them and tucked the tray under her arm. Her shoulders slumped as though Luke’s comment had left her completely downtrodden.

“Again, I’m really sorry,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

When she went back inside, Ellie said, “It wasn’t her fault, Luke. I’ll leave her a tip if you don’t.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed and lowered his head like an ashamed puppy. It was quite adorable. 

Could it be he was on the road to recovery from being an asshole? Ellie didn’t want to get her hopes up too much. They ate in comfortable silence. The food was great, the best brunch she’d had in a long time. A hundred times better than her usual bowl of cereal or granola bar. Ten minutes later, the waitress took their empty plates away. Two slices of lemon meringue pie finished off the meal, and Laura gave them the bill face down on a tray.

“You want to split this?” Ellie asked, picking up her purse off the ground.

“No way,” Luke said. “I got this.” He got out his wallet and stuck a credit card in the bill folder.

“Thanks. So, are we done for the day?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Where to next?” She really hoped he didn’t say back to his place, because she might not have the resolve to say no.

“It’s a surprise.” He looked a little anxious, like he feared she might object.

“Oh, how mysterious. I’ll visit the ladies room first. Meet you outside?”

“Sure.”

Ellie excused herself, and when she was finished, started toward the exit to meet Luke outside.

Laura the waitress caught up to her, “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize again for the food being so late.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

She stepped up close to Ellie and lowered her voice, “Anyway, thank you for such a generous tip. I almost fainted when I saw a hundred-dollar bill. I’m in college, and it’s been hard to make ends meet lately. You sure you don’t want that back?”

Ellie glanced out the door, where Luke was waiting by the car like he had when he first picked her up. No asshole would leave a tip like that for a stranger.

She turned back to Laura. “No, keep it. Best of luck in your classes.”

Laura flashed a bright smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a great day with your boyfriend. He’s pretty hot, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

****

They drove across the East River via the iconic Brooklyn Bridge and into Manhattan. She’d seen it before on postcards and movies, but to see it in person made her shiver with excited jitters. The view was amazing, and the Sunday noontime traffic wasn’t bad. Ellie and Luke talked non-stop the whole way about everything. Their childhoods, favorite movies, music, and food. She was delighted to discover they both loved chocolate and Disney animated movies, though Luke made her promise not to tell any of his friends about that. He didn’t bring up her accident, and she was relieved. It just didn’t seem like the right time to drag up painful memories, not on such a beautiful drive along the FDR in a fast car with a handsome man.

Finally, Ellie knew where he was taking her when she saw the signs for Central Park. Luke found a good spot by a meter.

“Free street parking on Sundays,” he said as he held her door and helped her out.

“Wow, I’ve always wanted to see this place.” Her eyes couldn’t take it all in fast enough.

“You haven’t been yet?”

“No, I haven’t really left Brooklyn since I moved here. Work’s taken up most of my time.” Of course, she didn’t mention her preoccupation with a certain Italian stud. But here she was with him, in Central Park, no less. She considered pinching herself but thought better of it. If it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.

“Then you’re in for a treat.”

They strolled arm in arm along the paved paths, passing joggers, families with strollers and kids with ice cream cones. Some folks were sprawled on the grass, enjoying the warm day. The whole place was beautiful, surreal, an oasis of green in a land of concrete.

A few horse-drawn carriages clip-clopped along, carrying tourists and lovers all snuggled up like Ellie wanted to be with Luke.

“How about a ride?” he asked.

“Really? Sure!”

They found a waiting carriage with a beautiful white Andalusian with strong muscles and a thick mane and tail. Luke stopped just short of the carriage and whispered to her, “You’re not afraid or anything, are you?”

“Are you kidding? Let’s go.”

When they reached the carriage, the driver held up a hand in greeting and asked, “Would you like a ride?” He had a Russian accent.

“Yes, please!” she said. “Oh, and would you mind if I pet your horse?”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, I grew up on a horse farm. I know how to handle them.”

He frowned for a moment, considering her request, then nodded his consent.

While Luke paid the driver, Ellie approached the horse, waiting until he turned his head enough to see and hear her. She rubbed his shoulder. He turned his head and nudged her arm gently, a sure sign he enjoyed attention. She stroked and patted his neck. Oh, how she’d missed horses, even after the accident.

Luke helped her up into the carriage. She scooted up close beside him. He rested his arm on the back of the seat, but they hadn’t gone far before his arm drifted onto her shoulders, hugging her closer. She burned this moment into her memory—his warmth, the smell of horse and cut grass and hot dog stands.

“Thank you, Luke,” she said, sighing with contentment.

“You’re welcome, Ellison.”

“Call me Ellie.”

****

They ended the day back in front of Ellie’s apartment building. The sun sat low on the horizon, blazing through the alleyways to bathe the sidewalks, lampposts and street signs in warm amber light. Luke stood beside her, both leaning against the railing of the front stoop. They’d grabbed a burger and fries on the way back. She sipped her soda and wished the day didn’t have to end so soon.

“I had a great time today,” she said, staring down at the dried bubblegum patterns on the sidewalk.

“Me too.” His voice was quiet and distant. Was he sincere or impatient to get back home?

Maybe it was the watered-down Diet Pepsi talking, but she wanted to kiss him more than anything at that moment. But she was afraid to look up, afraid he’d be staring at his cell phone or picking his teeth or something. She took a deep breath and lifted her head to discover tender eyes focused right on hers while a soft smile tugged at his lips.

Luke slid his arm across her back, pulling her closer. He leaned in, and Ellie took that as her cue. She closed her eyes, thinking it would be just a peck. Luke’s lips made contact, but they lingered, and OMG, they were just as soft and kissable as she’d fantasized. The gentle pressure, the slight flick of his tongue and his taste sent a hot shiver down her spine. She wanted more. Lots more. Ellie wrapped her arms around his waist to feel him, so warm and solid against her.

Then the what ifs crept in. What if he wants to come in? What if he wants to spend the night? What if he doesn’t call after that? Or he does call, but only to arrange another roll in the hay? Does he want a friend with benefits or something deeper?

Luke pulled back and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’d really like to see you again.”

“You mean another date?”

“Yeah, I mean, if I wasn’t too much of an asshole.”

“No, you’re not an asshole at all. In fact, I’d say you’re…hot.”

“I’d say you’re pretty damn hot yourself, for a country girl.” He grinned and winked.

Ellie’s heart thudded into an unholy pace. She hooked her thumbs into his belt loops, drawing him closer still. She could feel him beneath his clothes, his firm muscles and hot skin quivering with excitement.

“So, you in?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Let’s do it again.”

He kissed her again, leaving her dizzy and breathless when he pulled away and caressed her cheek. “Goodnight, Ellison.”

“Ellie.”

“I like Ellison better.” He strode across the sidewalk, got in his car, and drove away.

She watched his taillights disappear around the block, and knew then and there that she was absolutely, totally in love with Luciano Martelli. God help her.

 

 

 

The following weekend, Luke picked up Ellie at her Brooklyn apartment carrying a bunch of peach colored roses. They had a long drive ahead of them out to the Poconos; she brought a picnic basket and two go-cups full of fresh-squeezed juice. Lena came out to see them off. She leaned in on the passenger side window as Ellie set the basket down in the back seat of the Camaro.

Ellie was just stunning in her white slacks and sequined blouse, with a string of pearls and a floppy sun hat that was so inappropriate for Brooklyn that it was irresistible.

“See,” Luke told Lena. “I must have been nice, since I was invited back.”

“Mm. So I heard. I’m happy for you two, but don’t get cocky.”

Luke gave the young women a grin as Ellie climbed in beside him. “I think that’s up to my date.”

Ellie said, “Things look good for Luke at the moment, but only if he’s a safe driver.”

New York City had recently changed the speed limit to a pokey twenty-five miles per hour. He twenty-five’d his way all the way through Manhattan to New Jersey and finally opened up the motor on the Turnpike. At his invitation, Ellie tuned the satellite radio to contemporary country hits, and they enjoyed Carrie Underwood and Blake Shelton. She told him about growing up around horses, and some of her favorite places to ride—always places the horse liked as much as the rider. She described the convivial atmosphere at Churchill Downs when her father and Lena had gone with her to watch American Pharaoh win the Kentucky Derby on the way to the Triple Crown. He listened to her sexy Southern lilt, and when he could turn for a split second, imagined pressing his lips to her flushed cheek. When they hit a traffic slowdown just short of the exit to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he didn’t mind the delay at all. They drank the fresh juice she had made, a mix of orange, carrot, and kale.

The mountainous countryside on the way to Pocono racetrack was pleasant and quiet; the main road approaching the venue was wooded and calm. Only when the trees opened up on both sides could they hear the roars of a few motors as cars went through practice paces on the Tricky Triangle.

Luke pulled up to the gate and rolled down his car window. A uniformed guard came around, looking dubious at first, but then he smiled and waved.

“Hey Martelli! Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, last time I was here was right after Sandy knocked the steeple down.”

The guard bent down and saw Ellie. “Hey, that’s some classy lady. Feel like introducing me?”

“Sure. Tony Garcia, this is Ellison Carlisle. She’s my date. I’d like to show her around a little. That OK?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, we’ve got some test drives going on today. Good day to take her on a tour.” The guard took off his hat and dipped his bald head in greeting. “You better take good care of this one, Martelli. I just met her, and I already like her more than I like you.”

Luke smiled at Ellie and nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”

He put the car in gear, but Tony added, “Hey, forgot to mention there’s a track director job open right now. Give George a call. I know they’d be interested.”

Luke felt his friendly smile turn into a sour grin and lowered his chin to hide it. “Oh yeah, thanks Tony. I will.”

Luke pulled through the gate and drove around the stands to the infield entrance. The huge parking lot was mostly empty, and he was able to get a parking space in the row closest to the front gate. A picnic ground was nearby, and on the other side were ranks of trailers for support staff.

“Wow, this place is huge,” Ellie said. “You used to work here?”

He nodded. “Well, sort of. Mattco — they’re the owners — they had training sessions for pit crew. I was at the head of my class. I could see a car wobbling around the far turn and know right away what it needed.”

“Mattco. So, the owner is named Matt?”

“Mattioli. They’re grandkids of the original owners. And the Igdalsky family. It’s a family-owned track, not a big corporate entity like some of the others. I think George, he does their HR, went to school with one of the Mattiolis.”

“Did you ever meet any of them?”

“Shook hands, that was it.”

“You should call about that job.”

It was all Luke could do not to tell her to butt out. Track director was a job for someone with more business training and experience than he had; he was an excellent grease monkey, but still a grease monkey. But no, he was going to be a gentleman, and shake off the bitterness.

He walked her through a tunnel and into the stands. As they climbed the steps, pain shot through his knee, but she was walking slowly and gingerly also and didn’t seem to notice his pace slackening. They held hands as they ascended; he carried the picnic basket in his free hand. About halfway up, they both slowed. Luke rubbed his knee, and Ellie slid onto the bleacher as well, resting her hand on her thigh. A car roared by.

From here they could see the oddly-shaped triangular track. They were beside the longest straightaway, but there were two other straight routes, each entered by a very steep curve. As a roaring racecar came around the curve to their left, Ellie said, “He looks like he might wreck.”

“It’s tight. That one’s only six degrees banking. Fourteen degrees”—he pointed—“nine degrees”—he pointed again—“and that one’s six, like I said. There’s not much room for error.”

“Did you ever drive one of those cars?”

“Not at high speed. Only slow, to see if I could feel a problem the driver was telling me about. I don’t have the nerve for really high speed. I like action, but for me the action is in fixing racecars. I just have a feel for it, know what I mean? Like I know what works and what doesn’t.”

“You’re more than a mechanic,” Ellie said. “You’re like an artist.”

“I could have been a racecar designer, I guess, but I like working with my hands.”

“So, you could be a sculptor.” She opened the lid of the picnic basket and took out a plastic container of brownish material and a baggie full of baby carrots and celery sticks. “Really, when you make the floats, that’s like being a sculptor. They work with their hands, right? Mr. Martelli, you aren’t a float builder. You’re a float sculptor.”

Inside Luke squirmed at this, but her smile was so infectious that he smiled back and pointed at the food she had laid on the bench between them. “Rabbit food, huh?”

“Hey, I like Italian as much as the next girl, but we can’t eat that all the time. I want you to keep up your stamina, so only healthy food for you today.”

“You like Italian, huh? Do you like Italians?”

“Well, there’s one that I like very much.”

Luke leaned in for a kiss, but she intercepted him with a carrot, its tip slathered with the brown material. To his surprise, it wasn’t peanut butter, but something saltier. He winced, quickly chewed and swallowed. “Ew, what is that?”

“It’s hummus.”

“That’s what hummus tastes like? No wonder I never tried it. Marone, that’s nasty.”

“Well, you have to eat it, or you don’t get dessert. What’s Marone? Are you calling me a moron? I sure hope not.” She grinned and raised a warning finger. The race car blazed past again. It had gone around several times, but Luke only noticed it in that moment of silence between them.

“Ma…  I mean, of course not. Marone, it’s Italian, it means, like, god-damn. It’s what you call a mild expletive. Cause Mother Martelli taught me never to use profanity in polite company.”

“Oh, I’m polite company, am I?” Ellie bit the end off a hummus-soiled celery stick. “We’ll see how polite I am. Eat this, Mr. Marone.” She hummused the rest of the stick and thrust it at him. “Open your mouth wide, Luciano.”

He turned his head away playfully. “I’m not eating that.”

“So, you don’t want dessert?”

He looked sidelong at her, using his best charm. “And what’s for dessert?” He imagined the perfect dessert, which would be the two of them rolling naked on a secluded beach, sweating madly, mouth on mouth, hips and legs locked together.

She reached into the basket, pulled out a plastic container. When she popped up the lid, a delicious cinnamon smell emerged. “Homemade snicker-doodles!”

Luke leaned in to take a deep whiff. “Now that is worth a little hummus.” He accepted the bite. After the rabbit food came turkey and Swiss sandwiches on toasted sourdough, with mustard and little cayenne. Ellie ate as lustily as he did, and after the sandwiches, they wiped each other’s mouths with little cocktail napkins.

Full, they saved the snickerdoodles for later and decided to climb higher in the bleachers. Again Luke noticed that she seemed to be dragging her feet a little, and gritting her teeth some also as they headed for higher ground. He wasn’t sure if he should ask; after all, he was in the same boat. They stood about three-quarters of the way up, and he pointed.

“I was sitting about there back in 2012, when Jeff Gordon was well on his way to a win, and suddenly there was this flash and all this screaming. You see over there?” He pointed to a group of trailers. “In the middle of the race, would you believe? There was a lightning strike. A bunch of fans were down there. They got all burned and shocked, and one of them died.”

“Did any drivers ever get killed in wrecks here?”

“It’s been pretty close a couple times. One of the best of the 80s, Bobby Allison, he flipped and got his trachea crushed. I saw the footage online, and talked to some older guys who were crewing for him. Hell of a nice guy, does a lot of charity stuff now. Must have been tough for him. Both his kids got killed racing.”

Ellie put her hand over her mouth. “Marone.”

“Ha, you see? I’m growing on you.”

“No, you’re not!” She gave him a fake-shy look. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Maybe a lot?”

“Maybe a lot. So, you have to promise me you won’t do any racing.”

He knew it was his moment. “Me? I’m safe as houses.” He moved in for a serious kiss. “This is better than snickerdoodles,” he said as their lips touched. And they stood there under the sun, with the car doing lap after lap, and put their new love through its passionate paces.

 

 

 

Ellie woke to Luke’s gentle nudging and a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes popped open. “Oh, we’re back? I must have nodded off.”

“If you can call being out for the last hour nodding off.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re adorable when you’re sleeping.”

“Did I snore?”

“Can I plead the fifth?”

How embarrassing. She looked around, and didn’t recognize the surroundings. The car was still running, but it looked like they were stopped in a parking garage. “Where are we?”

“I thought you might want to see my place.” He put his hand on the car key but froze. “Or is that assuming too much?”

“Not at all. I’d love to see your place.” She picked up her purse from the floorboard. Nervous jitters ran through her, but not the he’s-a-creeper kind. The good kind. The kind that could get her in trouble if she wasn’t careful.

She followed him out of the parking garage and a short way down the block to Luke’s condo. It looked like most other apartment buildings she’d seen. He opened the door and let her pass by him. The inside was stunningly beautiful, if a bit cluttered, and smelled just like him. Kind of like leather and fresh rain.

“Ready for the grand tour?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He closed the door and led Ellie through a small foyer with polished wood flooring. “Kitchen’s here on the right, just past that is the guest bath and across the hall is the master bedroom.” She followed him through the eat-in kitchen, which was furnished with stainless steel appliances, black and white tiles, and an island with a pot and pan rack hanging above it.

“Wow, do you cook?” she asked.

“I’m Italian. It’s not optional.”

On one end of the kitchen was a staircase that went partway up, then turned and continued to the top floor.

She figured he would lead her up to see it, but he just nodded at it. “I used to sleep up there, but then the accident happened, so…” He trailed off before leading her back across the foyer and into a living room that was carpeted with area rugs.

He went to a mini bar near a floor to ceiling entertainment center. “Care for a drink?”

“I really shouldn’t.” If there was one lesson she’d learned, it was that alcohol and dates were usually a bad mix. At least this early into a relationship. “Have any sodas?”

“Sure, Diet Pepsi, right?”

How sweet – he remembered! “Right.”

She expected him to hand her a soda while he made himself a martini or cosmo, but instead, he took two cans of Diet Pepsi from the mini fridge. He gestured to an overstuffed leather sofa. She plopped down on one end, sinking into the cool plushness of the kind of furniture she couldn’t afford yet. Luke sat right beside her, his thigh against hers.

Ellie popped the top and took a drink of ice-cold fizzy goodness. “You must not be doing too badly for yourself if you can own a place like this. I don’t know why you’d ever want to leave.”

Luke gave the room a cursory glance and shrugged. “It’s just a perk of being son to a well-established Italian family. A long lineage of hard workers and smart investors. But I think it’s about time to make my own mark in history, you know?”

“Aren’t you already? I mean, those floats are –”

“Yeah, I know. I build good floats, but that’s not where my heart is. You could have stayed in Kentucky, safe under your daddy’s wing, right? But you chose to venture into unknown territory to follow your dreams.”

“Not all that unknown, really. Lena talked about Brooklyn nonstop. I felt like I knew the place before I stepped foot in it.”

“You know what I mean.” He popped the top on his soda, but didn’t take a drink. Instead, he clunked it down on the coffee table and yanked up the remote. He turned the TV on and started flicking through the channels. Clearly, she’d struck a nerve. After such a beautiful day together, she didn’t want to end it on a sour note.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I let my mouth get away from me.”

He stopped channel surfing when he found a rerun of Casablanca on the Classic Movie Network. There was the scene of a black and white Humphrey Bogart kissing Ingrid Bergman. Luke turned to her with a little smile. “If your mouth runs away, I guess I could catch it for you.”

Before she could come up with something witty to say in return, he kissed her, flicking his tongue gently between her parted lips. She returned it eagerly, taking the opportunity to caress his whiskered jaw and run her fingers though his dark, silky hair. He pulled back, leaving her breathless, only to kiss her just below the earlobe, turning her skin to gooseflesh.

“I’d really like you to stay with me tonight,” he said.

Fear and desire collided, while a million questions rushed through her mind. She felt silly, but she’d never actually stayed over before, even with Carlos, her almost-fiancé. Is it too soon? Will he call me in the morning? Does he want a ‘friend with benefits’ or something deeper? Tomorrow’s Monday—do I rush home at dawn to get ready for work or have Lena bring me a change of clothes and my toothbrush?

As soon as she touched his chest, feeling his firm muscles, the heat beneath his shirt, the thumping of his heart against her palms, she knew she’d lost the battle.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered. But she had one more obstacle to throw at him. “First, I have something to show you.”

“Okay, what is it?” Luke arched an eyebrow, drew her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Did you get a tattoo?”

“No, it’s not that…” Ellie swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a couple breaths to slow her heart pounding in her ears. It was now or never, but God, she was terrified. She didn’t really know why. Her previous boyfriends had known from the start. Yet, it was different with Luke. Maybe she’d matured enough to truly grasp what love really felt like – a combination of giddiness and fear, respect and trust. She believed it was possible now, between them. But if it went wrong, her heart would be more shattered than her leg ever was.

“It’s this,” she said, and lifted her pant leg to expose what lay beneath. The titanium pylon between her knee and the foot of her prosthetic reflected the overhead lights of Luke’s living room. She couldn’t look at his face, not yet. Her eyes watered as memories of the accident resurfaced—the horse crashing down on her, the pain, doctors whispering to her parents and looking at her with pity.  “You asked me how long it took for my leg to heal. It didn’t. Had the horse landed a few inches higher or lower, they could have probably saved it, but the break was so bad, infection set in and the bone couldn’t be repaired. So, this is what I’m left with.”

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “Not much, though I do have some phantom pain now and then.”

Luke lay a gentle hand on the black socket that housed what was left of her leg below her knee. She could feel his warmth beneath the silicone which gave her the courage to finally look him in the eye.

“Bellissima,” he said. “You’re gorgeous, Ellison. Inside and out.”

“You really think so?”

He nodded, then pulled her close and kissed her. His hands found the hem of her shirt, and he froze for a split second before she sighed her approval. In one quick sweep, he lifted the shirt over her head and off her arms, letting it fall where it would. Another kiss had him unhooking her bra, and away it went somewhere on the floor, with his shirt following soon after.

Luke’s eyes roved across her bare skin, making her tremble with flushed expectation. “Yes,” he said. “Bellissima. facciamo l’amore.”

“I don’t have to know Italian to know what that means.”

“Good, because I’m tired of talking, baby doll.”

Ellie smiled, took his hands, and put them on her breasts.

His eyes widened. “Whoa, there’s my wildcat.”

She put her finger to his lips. “Shh. Stop talking.”

He chuckled, then dipped his head and drew a nipple into his mouth. Ellie gasped at the warm, wet sensation, then twined her fingers in his hair and encouraged him to apply the same glorious treatment to her other breast. As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers honed in on his belt and unbuckled it. Luke stood, dropping both jeans and briefs to reveal just how ready he was for l’amore.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you like what you see, baby doll. But you’re still overdressed.”

Luke bent down and took off her flats, starting with her prosthetic foot, which he treated very gently and without an ounce of disgust on his face. Then he removed the flat from her other foot and massaged it with warm, sure fingers until Ellie started to feel like butter under his touch.

“Keep that up and I’ll go right to sleep,” she said.

“We can’t have that now, can we?”

Ellie lay back on the armrest of the couch, lifted her hips and let Luke pull off her loose pants. She was glad for once that she’d worn a matching set of a hot pink bra and lacy panties. Luke started to lean in to remove those too, but she caught sight of his scar. He froze for a moment, following her line of vision to the long vertical ridge of pale skin. The injured leg was still muscular, but not as much as its counterpart, which was understandable. His smile faded, so Ellie bent and kissed his scar, like her mama used to do for scrapes and bruises when she was little.

Luke’s posture relaxed a little, so she planted a row of kisses up his thigh. She smiled, listening to his breath quicken the closer she came to his length. As swiftly as he’d commandeered her breasts, she took him in her mouth. He grew harder, hotter, bucking his hips lightly along with her rhythm until she tasted salt on her tongue and backed off.

Luke groaned as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and lay back on the couch. “God, baby doll, I didn’t know country girls could do that.”

“We can do lots of things.” Ellie felt bolder and sexier than she ever had before. He wasn’t looking at her with pity or disgust or treating her like she could break. Luke looked at her like…he loved her. Could he really have fallen for her like she had for him?

He stood there for a second, looking around like he had forgotten something. Then he dove for an end table, dug around and pulled out something. He held the condom up, smiling rather bashfully, until she nodded. Ellie slipped off her panties while he put it on. His bad leg trembled. He leaned over her, but she sat up again and gently guided him to sit on the couch.

“Change your mind?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but smile at the dread in his voice and the need in his eyes. “Oh no, not at all. But you’ve been on your feet all day. It’s time to give that knee a rest.”

Ellie stood then straddled him.

“But, what about you?” Luke asked, brushing the hair from her face with one hand and cupping her butt with the other.

“My knees are just fine,” she said.

A wide smile stretched across his luscious lips. Ellie braced her hands on his shoulders. She lifted herself up while Luke held to her hips and guided her back down slowly, until he’d filled her completely. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, and oh, how good he tasted. His musky scent intensified, and his breath hitched when she rose and slid down on him again. He let her set the rhythm. Excitement built with every caress of his hands across her skin, with each hot pass of her breasts along his chest. She felt the apex drawing near, spreading from the pit of her stomach into her thighs.

And then, the moment she clenched around him and exploded into waves of pure pleasure, she tangled her fingers into his long black hair and pressed her cheek against his.

Her feelings spilled out in an oxygen-starved whisper. “I love you, Luciano.”

Luke threw his head back against the couch, clenched his eyes shut and cried out. He dug his fingers into her hips, bucking beneath her until he crested and came. Ellie continued riding him slowly until his arms fell to his sides, and his whole body relaxed.

They remained that way for a while, her still straddling him, as they caught their breaths and until the sweat had cooled on their skin. Luke kissed her and helped her to stand. He fetched Ellie one of his t-shirts and put on some black boxers. They spooned together on the couch, covered with a plush gray blanket while sad-eyed Bogart told teary-eyed Bergman goodbye on the airstrip before he let her go. Then they watched the great actor deliver one of his most famous lines: “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Luke hugged her tighter, and she snuggled as close as she could get. He drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, but Ellie watched the next Bogart Movie on the channel -- The Big Sleep -- and tried to quell her fears. She’d told him she loved him, but he hadn’t said it in return. Was friendship all he wanted after all?

She put those thoughts aside Ellie sighed and closed her eyes. Right now was all that mattered. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and he might still decide to let her go, but right now…right now, he was all hers.

 

 

 

 

 

After a couple hooked up for the first time, the big question was -- how would the next day be? A lot of heat built up between two people before they coupled. Maintaining the heat after the first time was tricky. Luke had to let Ellie know their time together meant a lot and that, no bullshit, he wasn’t just using her and moving on to the next. He never had been like that, even when he had pretended it to his buddies back in middle school. No, Luke was the faithful type. Watching her wake up beside him in his bed had sealed the deal. His heart was a goner. But, what next? She sat up, blinked at him with a sleepy smile and stretched her arms high over her head. Her stomach growled.

A good Italian breakfast would be just the thing. He knew Mother Martelli's zucchini and sausage frittata recipe by heart, since she had made him help her cook it when he was a kid. Bruschetta with some fresh marmalade, and the best coffee he could get at Giuseppi's Grocery.

He kissed her forehead and climbed out of bed. “I’ll make you a good Italian breakfast," he said as he lifted her prosthetic leg up onto the bed. “Can I help you hook this on?”

“No, I need to shower first. You have a bucket or something I can sit on? I’ll have to get a stool or a shower chair for next time I stay over.”

A relief for Luke—he wanted many more next times and felt his face split with a smile at the casual way she said it. “I’ll get you my bucket.”

When he got back, she handed him her phone. He saw a set of texts back and forth with Lena.

Ellison:  Letting you know I’m okay and having a great time. I’m staying over.

Lena:  Prove it’s really you.

Ellison:  Remember what you said about Harper's brother at that party?

Lena:  Okay it’s you.

Ellie said, "That's just so you don't worry she'll bite your head off when you take me home."

He enjoyed looking at Ellie’s golden skin as she sat pouty-lipped on the end of the bed examining her face in his dresser mirror. He wanted to put his own face between those breasts and…

No, it was time to help her out. He pulled a folded white robe from his drawer and tossed it onto the mattress beside her, then in the bathroom, he started the shower and rinsed out his dusty mop bucket. A touch on his waist told him she’d hopped behind him and put her arms around him. “I’ll do it.”

“But you have…” He choked it off. Ellie wasn’t an invalid: she must have performed such tasks for herself for many years.

“I want to do everything for you,” he told her. It was true, and it didn’t even scare him to say it.

“That’s sweet,” said Ellie, touching his cheek. “But what I need now is that Italian breakfast, and then later I’ll make a meal out of you.”

He retreated to the kitchen to cook, and while holding the frying pan realized he hadn’t given her a towel. Twirling the empty pan in one hand, he rushed to his linen closet only to find her already hovering there, sorting his poorly folded, faded towels. Seeing him, she looked him up and down from his eager eyes to the upside-down pan to the erection he swiftly got when he saw her wearing his robe. It hung off one shoulder and provided a good view of the full breast beneath, with a hint of pink nipple peeking at him.

“Want to fry me up this washcloth?” she asked, laughing.

Luke slowly lowered the pan till it covered his response to her. “Maybe I should put on some pants."

“Probably. Don’t want to risk grease splatters on that awesome package. But let it be known that I prefer you without them.”

“Likewise.”

Twenty minutes later they sat to eat, she in the robe, and he in sweatpants and a t-shirt from the Indy 500. The rich smells of eggs, sausage, and toast, not to mention Lavazza espresso, warmed them before the food did.

As they ate, Luke had the feeling he had forgotten something. Ellie was smiling and talking, but he only heard it halfway. What had he missed? What had he neglected? She seemed happy, and she had really seemed happy in bed, but was he actually measuring up?

“Tell me more about your ex,” he said. “You mentioned him before.”

“Which one?” Ellie looked up at him from lowered eyelids. “None of them matter anymore.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve met my ex. And I bet Lena gave you an earful about why Carly and I broke up. You got to give me something.”

“Why?” She studied him. “You’re not…” She smirked. “Oh. My. God. You want to compare yourself, don’t you?”

“Naah.” Luke waved his hand. “Fuhgeddaboutit.”

But Ellie was on to him. “You do. You want to compare. Are you jealous, Luciano? Because I saw you with Carly, and you two look like you would have been a perfect couple, and I’m not jealous one bit.”

“Me and Carly, perfect?” He got a sinking feeling mitigated only by the bellyful of his own home cooking. “Yeah, okay, maybe we were at one time. We moved on, but it was good back in the day. I guess we both grew up, though. She wants a solid guy like Derek, and you, know, I’m…” Could he tell her how shaky he felt, doing this float-building job? That track manager position would be so much better, but it would separate them when her career was just starting.

Ellie lifted her coffee cup. “You’re a solid guy. I can see that. I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t see that.”

A pregnant pause.

“Tell me about your ex,” Luke repeated. “The Spanish one.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m totally fu—” He imagined Mother Martelli wagging her finger. “I’m really sure.”

“Oooo-kay. I said before, his name was Carlos. He was a Spanish exchange student.”

“A Spanish Wildcat.”

“Yeah, I guess. His grandfather made swords in Toledo. He had a beautiful mustache.”

“Carlos, or the grandfather?”

“Carlos. It had these fantastic curly ends that he could wax and make them stick up.”

“And you liked that?” Luke cracked up. “A fucking waxy mustache?” In his imagination, Mother Martelli clamped her hand over her face.

“Yes. Yes, it was kind of cute.”

“Now he was cute. Mr. Spanish exchange student waxy mustache was cute.”

“Yeah, he was. So?”

“Did he have a Spanish accent like Antonio Banderas?”

“No! I mean, he had an accent, but he was a smaller man than Antonio Banderas. You know, he had a tenor voice.”

“Oh, I see. He had a high-pitched voice. I got it.”

“No!” Ellie giggled. “I said a tenor voice, not high-pitched.”

“Oh, a tenor voice. Big difference.”

“You have a tenor voice.”

“Nah, I have a manly voice.” He spoke in the deepest basso he could, in an Italian accent. “Hey, baby doll, I’m a real man.”

She kept laughing. “Oh, you’re crazy.”

He threw his chest out, kept up the voice, pretended to twirl the end of a phantom waxy mustache. “I’m even growing a big mustache, what do you think of that, eh?”

Ellie settled down some. “You don’t need a big old mustache, Luciano. You’re just as handsome as can be.”

It was a good moment. He got up and moved in closer, seized her and lifted her from the chair into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She grabbed him too, one hand around his back and the other at the nape of his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him close.

“Wildcat,” he whispered between kisses. He lifted her by the butt up onto his shoulders, caveman-style, carried her carefully to the bedroom and set her down on the bed. Her robe fell open.

“I’m’a grow-a da mustache,” he announced as he planted kisses on her nipples and the curves of her breasts, then slid up across her to kiss her lips.

“You smell like espresso,” she mumbled as he nibbled her earlobes.

“You, too, baby.”

She reached for his dick and stroked it a few times, but must have realized he wasn’t going to last long like that. Ellie eased him off her. "Just a sec." She rapidly disconnected the prosthetic, then rolled on her stomach, got up on all fours. "You like this?"

She might have been testing him, seeing if he’d cringe at the sight of the smooth stump where her lower leg used to be. He didn’t. "Baby, if it's you, I like everything."

He quickly put on a condom, got up on his knees behind her, and centered himself at her ready slit. Slowly, he eased himself into her, groaning as her tight warmth surrounded him. She arched her back and sighed. He took that as a cue to step it up a notch. So, he reached around to cup her breasts and nuzzled the back of her delicious neck, doing his best to keep most of his weight on his uninjured knee. Ellie gasped when he pulled out and drove back in with one solid, hard thrust. Grinning, he smacked her ass playfully and did it again.

She laughed. “Is that all you got, big boy?”

“Oh, I got lots more than that.” He held tight to her hips and pounded into her, careful to not go so far as to cause pain. Luke realized he was panting heavily, but he didn’t care. If this is what it took to tone up his lower body, he’d sign up now.

It didn’t take long to bring Ellie to the brink. She cried out, pushing her hips back into him with every thrust, and fisted the covers until her knuckles turned white. He leaned over her back, licked her earlobe and whispered, "Ready for the finale?"

“Bring it.”

They both lay quiet in the tired satisfaction of an afterglow for a long time after. With Ellie’s partial leg draped over his thigh and her head resting on his chest, he stroked her damp hair until he fell asleep. When he woke, he was unsure how much time had passed except that the sun was higher through his bedroom window, and she was sitting up tapping on her phone.

“Mmm. What are you up to, baby doll?”

“You looked so good sleeping, I put some pictures of you on Twitter.”

“Whaat?” Luke wasn’t sure he should believe this.

Ellie looked at him seriously.

“I hope you don’t mind. You were sleeping so peacefully, you didn’t even notice when I put some of my lipstick on you.”

“Hey, no way!”

“Just lipstick. I thought putting on eye shadow might wake you up.”

“What? Hey, come on.” Luke reached for her phone.

Ellie rolled away from him, cupping the phone to her belly with both hands.

“Give me your phone, Ellison.”

“You can’t have it!” She started scooting toward the edge of the bed.

“Come on! I want to see the pictures!”

“No!”

He was faster and grabbed her. Her body heat was wonderful. His hair stood on his arms as he grappled for the phone, alternating his attempted phone snatching with pecking kisses at whatever body part was near his lips. Finally, he wrested the phone from her hands. It was locked.

“Give me your passcode.”

“No!”

“Then put it in!”

“First you have to say it, Luciano. If you feel it, you have to say it.” She got serious.

“I feel it. You know I do.”

“Then say it. We should be practical about some things. We should be out in the open.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. He clutched the phone in one hand, touched her forearm with the other. “I knew, first time I saw you, that we could have something. The chances were there, you know?”

“Me, too. But why did you wait so long to do something about it?”

“I guess… Because I didn’t know if you knew. Right? Does that make sense?”

“A little sense. And you know by now, I saw it right away, too. Not just because you’re gorgeous. It’s something else.”

“Something besides my amazing muscular build and my long flowing hair?” Luke knew he was teasing her, but she had started it that with the joke about the phone.

“Yeah, you looked like you had room in your heart. I could just…” She was struggling for the right words. “Okay, fine, it was your build and your hair and your eyes. I thought you were a cocky city boy. Maybe I was just ready for someone like that.”

“Yeah, thank God.” Luke was starting to realize, with her prompting, what it was he had forgotten. “Cause I need you like crazy, Ellison. I seriously, seriously love you.”

Yes, that was it. She leaned into him. They propped themselves up on some pillows, and she got her phone back and opened Twitter.

There was no picture. Her tweet read, “I <3 my new boyfriend.”

“Love you,” he repeated.

It was the perfect morning after.

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes late. Not bad considering the great sex after breakfast, the quick drive back to her place across town and the rushed second shower. Luke had offered to come in and help Ellie with the shower, but she reluctantly declined. She did have a job after all, and didn’t want to make a habit of being late, even for her new boyfriend. Plus, it would be really weird if Lena hadn’t left for work yet.

Her hair was still damp when she hurried out of the squeaky elevator and into the office. Mary Rose was at her desk, alternately tapping on the computer keyboard and scribbling down notes in a planner.

“So sorry I’m late,” Ellie said.

“My, my, someone looks twitterpated today.”

“Twitter what?” Ellie tried to hang her sweater on the coat rack, but dropped it. When she bent to pick it up, the contents of her purse spilled out around her feet. Her powder compact rolled in a coin-like spiral and came to a stop after hitting the toe of her shoe.

Mary Rose laughed. “You know—twitterpated. From Bambi.”

Ellie must have looked like her brain had taken a vacation. Mary Rose shook her head and chuckled. “It means you’re in love, dear.”

“Oh. Right.” Ellie swept everything back into her purse, making a mental note to clean it out soon. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re all flushed and clumsy.”

“I’m just embarrassed about being late.”

“There’s also the Mona Lisa smile and the dreamy look in your eyes.”

Was it really that obvious? Ellie started toward the coffee pot but decided against it. The way her hands were shaking, she’d probably spill it all over her light pink sweater and didn’t want to wear an ugly brown stain all day. Instead she plopped down at her desk and fired up her laptop.

She felt Mary Rose’s stare. “What?”

“I think you make a great couple,” Mary Rose said with a much more serious face.

“You think so? But, do you think it’s, I don’t know, against the office policy or something?”

“Office policy? Are you kidding? Luciano doesn’t exactly work in the office, and a relationship with him wouldn’t cause any conflicts of interest unless you’re so twitterpated you can’t do your job.”

“Of course, I can,” Ellie said. Her phone buzzed. She read a text from Luke: I’m not usually into reruns, but I’d love to have a repeat of last night tonight. Ellie locked her screen, but couldn’t keep from smiling. She glanced up at Mary Rose. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Mary Rose said.

Ellie started to pull up the next parade’s file, but stopped. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing? I mean, I don’t have the best of luck with men.” She tapped her prosthesis, having already told Mary Rose about the unfortunate relationship that had led to her amputation.

“Falling in love’s as natural as breathing. And Luke’s a good guy. I’d let you know if I didn’t think he was.”

Ellie turned back to the laptop, but then studied Mary Rose again. She wore a gray knitted beanie and matching sweater. Not unusual, but it wasn’t like her to wear them while working. The office felt pretty stuffy to Ellie. Half the time the air conditioning was on the fritz, like the elevator. But Mary Rose didn’t look well. Her skin had a gray tone that matched the beanie and sweater. Under her glasses, her eyes were sunken in.

“Are you okay?” Ellie asked.

Mary Rose took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. She swiveled in her chair to face Ellie. “I guess I can’t keep it a secret much longer. I’m taking treatments.”

“Treatments? For what?”

“Breast cancer.”

Ellie flinched as though Mary Rose had thrown those words at her head.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s not the worst kind there is, but my oncologist is going after it hard with some aggressive chemo. Unfortunately, there are side effects, but…well it’s worth it if I can stick around to see my little girl grow up.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Ellie’s eyes, but she blinked them back and tried to think of something useful to say. Not that there’s much anyone can say in the face of a health crisis. She had heard a gazillion ‘if there’s anything I can do’s from countless people after losing her leg and remembered how aggravating it was. But now that she was in their shoes, she realized how helpless it felt when someone you cared about was hurting and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. Then she remembered how much she had appreciated those who offered specific ways they could help, like bringing her schoolwork and magazines while she recovered in the hospital.

She settled on the most practical things she could think of. “Would you like me to pick up some groceries or watch Myra for you in the evenings?”

“You’re so sweet, Ellison. I’m okay with all that for now. But there is one thing I need to discuss with you.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, Carmen had her baby a couple weeks ago. She’s decided she likes the mom gig enough to do it full time.”

“Oh, good for her, I guess.”

“Sure, but the thing is Carmen wasn’t just my assistant. I was training her to be my replacement. This is my second round with the same cancer. It’s one of those that goes into remission and then recurs that much stronger. So, I wanted to make sure my job here was covered in case I have to be hospitalized or…” Mary Rose trailed off. They both knew what the other alternative was. “Anyway, I want to know if you’d be interested in being my replacement. You’re great at planning, and I have no doubt you could do this job, but I don’t want to push it on you if you’d be more comfortable as a temp and would rather keep your options open or want to go back to Party Peeps.”

Wow. The morning’s events had gone from giddy to serious to having to make a major career choice. It was enough to make Ellie’s head spin.

“I, um, don’t know what to say,” Ellie said.

“That’s okay. I’m not likely to keel over any time soon. Think about it and let me know. I’m fine with whatever you decide.”

Ellie nodded, then got up and went to the ladies' room. She splashed cold water on her face and leaned on the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself. For twenty-two years, she’d been her daddy’s girl, a student, a dreamer. Even through all the horrors of losing a limb, she’d been flying toward destinations unknown, all the while believing that happily-ever-after was out there ‘somewhere.’ All she had to do was find it. But now it seemed she had to make a real, grown-up decision. Keep flying or stay here and put down her roots.

She loved everything about her job, life in the city, even the tiny apartment she shared with her best friend. Though her heart ached for Mary Rose, she knew in her heart that this was the opportunity she’d been looking for. The first major open door to a great future.

She even had a wonderful boyfriend and the chance at a forever kind of love with him. But Luke had a chance at a job that made him happier elsewhere. If she put down her roots here, and he took the job there, what kind of future did that leave for them together?

Two shuddering breaths later, she knew what her choice must be. She’d given up a lot for the sake of love in the past and had paid for it dearly. Even though what she and Luke had was as real as she imagined love could be, she didn’t want to live her life with any more regrets. If it was meant to be, the love between them would flourish, no matter how many miles apart they were.

And if it wasn’t meant to be...no, she wouldn’t think that way. She patted her face dry and returned to Mary Rose’s desk, her mind made up.

 

 

 

George Xenakis, human resources manager for Pocono Racetrack, was a chain-smoker with a voice sometimes squeaky, sometimes wheezing, always easier to follow in person than over the phone. They met halfway, in the green-walled Queen City Diner in Allentown. George had gained weight and grayed, and if anything, he sounded worse now that he had when Luke had worked at the track years before. “You okay, George?” he asked after they said their first hellos. “You don’t sound so good.”

“Yeah, well,” was George’s answer. “I cut back to a pack a day, and only one cigar. You think that’ll help?”

“Uh…Not really,” said Luke. “You want to get down to it?”

“Absolutely,” said George. “We need a track manager. I have no one to promote. I did a couple phone interviews with guys who sounded like they were clinking glasses in a lounge while they were talking to me. I don’t have the right candidate yet. So maybe you want to interview for it?”

“Yeah,” said Luke. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. I can do that. First question. Can you do the job?”

“Yeah,” said Luke.

“Perfect answer. Second question. Seventy-five k to start, 401K plan, Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance. Sounds good?”

“Eighty,” said Luke.

“Seriously, are you really holding out for eighty-five? Damn, you bargain hard. Eighty-five it is, tough guy.”

“Ninety,” said Luke.

“Eighty-five.”

“Okay, I can make that work.”

“Third question, how soon can you relocate?”

“Well…”

That was the obstacle he’d been hoping to avoid. There was no way he was moving to the Poconos unless Ellie came with him. He wasn’t walking away from his Kentucky Wildcat. He’d limp through lava for her.

“I’d like to try it out commuting from Jersey.”

“That’s going to be rough,” George warbled. “I tried coming from Philly, and that kind of wore me down. You know, I can’t insist you move, but I really recommend it.” He looked deep into Luke’s face. “Look, Luciano. I know you can’t work in a pit, and that’s what your heart craves, but it’s as close to a dream job as you’re going to get, except if you get something at Indianapolis, right? And think of this, too. I know you, and I know you’re the man for the job. But at the other tracks, they don’t know you. This is your best shot to get into the racing business in a big way.”

“Yeah, I get that. No, I’m interested, it’s just… moving. I’ve put down roots, you know?”

George looked up at the waitress, who was laying down his ham and eggs and Luke’s pancakes and bacon. “Thanks, darling.” He turned back to Luke. “Is it…” He studied Luke with the practiced analytical gaze of a master. “Hey, it ain’t the job, you’re right. It’s that girl you brought out here last weekend, ain’t it?”

Luke nodded.

George smirked. “Well, there’s pussy, and there’s racing. Not saying you can’t have both, but there’s always pussy, and there’s not always racing. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” said Luke, “but it isn’t about pussy. This girl is something special.”

George shrugged.

“Real special. I’m not saying she’d get in the way, but I’d get in my own way if I wasn’t with her. Know what I mean?”

George shook his head. “My ex-wife’s a grand prize cunt. I ain’t seen my son in years. So, no, I don’t know. But seeing as I’m full of the milk of human kindness and all that shit, the offer’s good for seven days. You got that long to work it out with your girl, and then give me an answer. Okay, Luciano?”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“It’s like the pass in the grass, you saw that?”

Luke knew what he was talking about. He’d watched that on YouTube. Bill Elliott had pushed Dale Earnhardt Senior off the track in the 1987 Winston in Charlotte. Earnhardt kept control of his car in the grass when most drivers would have spun out. He got back on the track in front of Elliott and the other competitors and went on to win.

“A girl can make your life spin out of control, but you got to keep a firm grip on the wheel, right, buddy?” George said.

Luke nodded at him. It was bullshit, but he didn’t want to argue with George. He tucked into his breakfast, but he couldn’t even taste it. He knew that if Ellison told him to stay for her sake, he would. But would she go with him if he asked? Could he even consider asking her to make a sacrifice like that? There wasn’t much for a lively young woman like her to do in a quiet town like Long Pond. Nearby Scranton was small and dull compared to Brooklyn where she lived, and it was too much of a hike to go to Philadelphia every time you wanted a good meal, some upscale shopping, or even a night on the town. On the other hand, out in the country, he could get her a horse.

These were crazy thoughts. He had to face the serious chance that taking this job meant giving up his chance to make a long-term commitment to Ellison, and that was what he wanted.

The whole drive back to New Jersey, he chewed on it. He didn’t answer her calls and texts, not sure what he was going to say when they did meet. That was until he got one that was so important that he pulled off the highway into a parking lot to be sure he had read it right.

Mary Rose offered me her job.

He answered:  Is that good?

It’s great. I said yes. I feel like a real New Yorker now.

He responded: congrats.

And she:  Let’s celebrate tonight.

Luke:  Yeah, baby doll. Let me get back on the road. I’ll call you when I get home.

 

 

 

 

Ellie sat across from Luke to share a nice dinner at Donatello’s. Lena had begged Ellie to join her and her date. She’d given in to her mother’s latest matchmaking attempt and didn’t want to be alone with the guy. Turned out her date wasn’t that bad-looking after all. Better than Ted the golf supply salesman with a comb-over that could put Donald Trump’s to shame. Also better than Lester what’s-his-face with the bad teeth. Ellie couldn’t remember what he did for a living, but she did remember he spit a lot when he talked, so she and Lena had spent most of that night dodging the slobber shower. This guy’s name was Keith, and he was an assistant bank manager. He dressed nice, had a great haircut and didn’t spit when he talked. So, what could be wrong with him?

Though normally Ellie didn’t mind coming to Lena’s rescue, tonight she really wanted to talk to Luke alone about…everything. He gave her the basics over the phone, and she told him why she’d be replacing Mary Rose. Both of them kind of went quiet after that, agreeing to meet for dinner before heading to his place later.

Ellie was watching Luke eat while munching on garlic bread herself. He seemed fixated on his plate, winding his pasta around the fork a dozen times before eating it. That wasn’t like him—he usually had a great appetite. He was obviously worried about this decision and how it would affect her. She hated being the cause of his worry. If anything, she wanted to ease his burdens, not make them worse.

“So, there I was…” Keith was saying.

Ellie pulled her eyes away from Luke to see Lena’s date wide-eyed, leaning over the table.

“When out of nowhere, Mick Jagger walks in.”

“No shit?” Lena exclaimed a bit too loudly. She’d already downed a glass of wine, which never failed to affect her volume control.

Keith grinned and shook his head. “No shit. He said he wanted to rent a safety deposit box and asked for me by name.”

“How did he know you?” Lena was closing the gap across the table. A couple more inches, and her boobs would be in the marinara. This guy had her attention.

“I have no idea,” Keith said, shrugging. “He never did say, and I was too star struck to ask him.”

“What did he store in there?” Lena’s boobs had gotten dangerously close to the sauce.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

While Lena sulked, Ellie nonchalantly scooted her friend’s plate out of the way and stored it under an empty one so it looked like she was more concerned with a tidy table than tainted tatas. She glanced at Luke. He’d witnessed the near-miss and now laughed quietly behind his beer.

“What?” Lena, unfortunately, had noticed Luke’s amusement. “What’s so funny, Luciano? My crush on Mick Jagger or Ellie’s crush on you? Neither one’s got a chance in hell.”

Ellie was taken aback and scooted against the wall of the booth. How dare she say such things? She was about to lay into her friend when Keith started laughing.

And laughing.

Like a hyena on crack. The whole restaurant crowd and a few servers were staring. One woman even pulled a can of mace from her purse.

“There it is,” Luke said.

“Mm hmm,” Ellie agreed.

Lena’s mouth hung open. “Excuse me, please.” She grabbed her clutch, stumbled out of the booth and into the ladies’ room across the hall.

Keith finally cackled himself out. “Yeah, I better use the little boy’s room too. I don’t want to get interrupted later, know what I mean?” He attempted a wink, but it was terribly over-exaggerated, like he’d gotten a toothpick stuck in his eye. He wiped his mouth and stumbled out after Lena.

“So much for that.” Luke stood and tossed enough money on the table to more than cover the meal. “Let’s get out of here.”

Though Ellie still fumed over Lena’s bitchiness, she didn’t want her friend to have to depend on Keith the Hyena to drive her home. “Can we take Lena home first?”

Luke hugged her to his side and kissed her tenderly. “Sure, baby doll. I’ll tell Keith she’s puking her guts out and that she’d love him to call her tomorrow.”

Ellie laughed. “I’ll go fetch her.”

God, how she loved him. His strength, his warmth, his everything. Yet, she knew they were at a crossroads. Would they choose paths that led to each other or to separate lives?

****

Later as Ellie lay naked and flushed snuggled against Luke’s chest, she realized he had been quiet ever since they came back to his place. The only words he had spoken were purely physical. He’d brought her to climax time and again, working magic with his fingers and tongue. Then he pulled her to the edge of the bed, where he stood and drove himself into her until they both exploded into dizzying heights.

Though finding the words that she knew she needed to say were difficult, she finally broke the silence. “I think you should take the job at Pocono.”

She felt him tense, heard him swallow. “Are you sure?”

Not at all. “Yes, you can’t pass this up. It’s your dream.”

“So are you.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she willed her voice to be calm and upbeat. “I’ll be right here. You know where to find me.”

“I’ll commute. It’s a long drive, but I’m up for it.”

“Maybe you should get an apartment out there. Keep your townhouse here in Jersey, but rent a cheap place near the track.”

“You really want me to do that?”

No. I want you to stay. “Yes. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“I’ll stay if you ask me to.”

Oh, how close she came to asking him to stay. The words were dancing on her tongue. She knew if she asked, he would indeed stay there, keep building floats, keep dating her…but then what? He’d think about the job he passed up, and the first time things got rocky between them, he’d regret ever having met her. And if she gave up her job as Mary Rose’s replacement now, she’d lose a chance to move ahead in her career, not to mention putting unneeded stress on Mary Rose.

She knew what she had to say, though it nearly broke her heart to say it. “Take the job, Luciano. You’re perfect for it. We love each other, and we can make it work.”

His tension eased, and he exhaled as though he’d been holding his breath, waiting for her to cut his dreams off at the knees.

“I think we can,” he said, hugging her tightly against him. “So long as you don’t fall for some lunatic like Keith while I’m gone.”

Ellie shuddered. “Ugh. Poor Lena said she’s changing her number and threatened to go into the witness protection program. I think you should break it to him gently. Guy to guy.”

“Lena’s a big girl. She can handle him. She’s fended off weirder guys than that.”

“I hope she finds the right one before she gives up and declares herself an old maid. She may not act like it, but I think she envies us.”

“She should. We have a good thing, baby doll.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Luke turned off the bedside lamp and was asleep soon after. Ellie lay awake for a long time, trying to memorize just how wonderful it felt to lie next to him.

****

“Earth to Ellie.” Mary Rose knocked on her desk.

Ellie looked up from the computer. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at the screen for ten minutes and haven’t even typed a word or moved the mouse. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Mary Rose put a hand on her hip. “Listen here, just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I can’t care about my friends. I’ve been around a while, too, so don’t take the wisdom of your elders for granted.”

Ellie had to smile at that. “You’re not old. But okay, I might as well talk about it.”

A large man strolled in. He was rather tall, but had bulldog baggy cheeks and a big round belly that strained against his shirt buttons. His coat looked about three sizes too small. He winked and walked by their desks on the way to see Big Al. It was Luke’s cousin, she thought. Ellie had seen him before, but couldn’t remember his name. She thought it had something to do with a clown.

Mary Rose acknowledged him with a smile and nod, then turned back to Ellie. “All right, spill it.”

“Luke’s been offered a job at the racetrack.”

“The Pocono?”

“Yes, that one. It’s three hours from here.”

“Oh, I see.” Mary Rose laid a soft hand on Ellie’s arm. “You’re worried that-”

The big man spun around and came back over to stand in front of Ellie’s desk.

“Hey, toots. I couldn’t help but overhear. So, my cousin is moving, huh? Has he told Big Al?”

Ellie glanced at Mary Rose, who gave a little shrug. “I don’t think so.”

“But he’s got the job, right?”

“He hasn’t formally accepted yet, but it’s his if he wants it.”

He laughed, torturing those poor buttons of his with his quaking belly. “If he wants it. Of course, he wants it. He’s an exhaust junkie. Air’s too clean for him here.”

Ellie felt her cheeks heating up. She gritted her teeth to keep from saying something rude. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, “but I don’t recall your name.”

“Will Ferraro. Luke calls me Bozo.”

“Oh.” Ellie remembered then, and remembered how much Luke despised him. Crap. She should have kept her mouth shut. If the feelings were mutual between these two, Bozo might try to ruin Luke’s chances of getting the job.

“You’re that Kentucky Wildcat he’s all ga-ga about, right?”

“Ellison.”

“Gotcha. Thanks babe. You’re a real hot tamale, you know that?” Bozo winked and strolled back toward Big Al’s office.

Once he was safely out of earshot, Ellie whispered, “Shit,” and started texting Luke. Might as well come clean before she lost her nerve.

“Shit’s right,” Mary Rose whispered. “I hate that guy.”

 

 

 

 

Anger didn’t make sense, but it came anyway, and Luke couldn’t hold it in.

“You told Bozo about my job?” he yelled into his mobile phone. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, I know.” Ellie’s voice turned plaintive. “I literally remembered seconds after I did it that you didn’t like him …”

“Ellison, nobody likes him except cigar stores and overpriced whores.”

“No, I…” She seemed taken aback. “That’s a rough way of talking.”

“Yeah, sorry, but…”

“I didn’t like him either, by the way. I’m not totally naive, in case you were wondering.”

Luke knew he’d gone overboard at that point but wasn’t sure how to rein himself in. The things he wanted to say were hanging in his thoughts and he couldn’t force them down. “But, listen…”

“No, you listen.” Ellison was tough, and he loved that, because her insistence helped him shut up just then. “Family is important to me, you know, so it just took me a moment to remember that you don’t trust your family.”

Luke felt his right fist closing and slammed it into the side of the animal shelter float he was building, slammed it so fast there was no time to consider. The pain was almost immediate.

“What the fuck, I don’t trust my family? What do you fucking mean by that?”

“You’re mad at your dad, your cousin’s a jerk. We aren’t like that in my family. I’ll adjust, it’s just…”

Luke shook his hand to get the blood flowing in it. “Your family is wonderful in every way? Then why exactly would you leave Lexington and come to the big city? Huh?”

A long pause on the other side. Then a trio of beeps. She’d disconnected. Luke didn’t blame her. His damn Italian-American temper. Hadn't he already lost a girl he loved because of that stupid shit? Ellison was like life itself to him; wasn't that enough reason to think before shooting off his fucking mouth? He massaged his knuckles, hoping to get some blood flow into them. He might be about to quit the float-building job, but he had enough integrity to finish all the projects for Saturday's Labor Day event. There were just two left, this one and one for a fraternal order of construction professionals that had a slowly rotating crane. He’d been out shopping in the junkyards for a small motor that could power the crane, and had finally found one in a junked riding mower. The motor wasn’t working, of course, and he’d been scrubbing the crud out of it with a toothbrush in whatever spare time he had at work. He was determined to get it going again. Since it would be the last float he would ever build, he wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

Favoring his right hand, he continued as best he could attaching trim and banners to the shelter float, till a bang told him someone had entered the workshop, and the stink of cigar that accompanied the heavy treads told him it was Bozo. He let his hammer drop and stood to face his swaggering cousin and catch the puff of Te-Amo smoke directly into his nostrils.

“Hey, Mr. Fixit!” Bozo declared. “Congratu-malations on your new job at the track. I’m here to let you know I’m taking over your job, effective tomorrow.”

“I didn’t quit,” Luke said. “Ellison spoke out of turn. I might still stay.”

“No, you won’t,” said Bozo. “It’s all set up with Big Al already. I told him you already took that job, and you’re just afraid to tell him till the last minute. That’s how it is, right? I just did you a favor, paesan. I gave you the big boot in the ass that you need to get your shit out of here. Now it’ll be my turn to do the family proud, while you go hide in the mountains and snort some Pennzoil.”

Luke should not have used his already sore right hand to slap the cigar out of Bozo’s mouth. New pain surged through his knuckles as he pushed Bozo’s face backwards. Bozo knocked Luke’s hand away and took a wild swing that missed his jaw. Luke backed up, raised his fists to cover his face, the injured right one still in front. Bozo sized him up, rocking forward and backward without raising his hands. Finally, he knelt and picked up his cigar. “Naw, your mama wouldn’t like if I beat your ass. And you can’t go out to the Poconos with your eyes black. They might confuse you for Bubba Wallace.”

It was a fact that there would be a lot of consequences if Luke knocked the stuffing out of his cousin. Family consequences, the possible loss of his impending new job if he got arrested. It would be unprofessional, too. He would need to fill Bozo in on what needed to be done for the floats that remained. He put his fists down. It stung. Bozo knew, had always known, how to make him feel small; he was turning what should be a triumph for Luke into a source of embarrassment. It was the special skill of bullies to make you feel ashamed that you didn’t fight back, even when it was wiser not to fight.

Luke packed his tools into his toolbox. He wasn’t leaving them for Bozo. He went into the office, shut the door and made a series of calls. First, he called George Xenakis and accepted the job. Then he called Big Al for a conversation.

“Bozo’s here. He told you I was going to quit, right?”

“Right,” said Big Al.

“I hadn’t decided. Seems like I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“Well, you could’ve talked to me.”

It was true; Luke had been so caught up in his worries about Ellison that he hadn’t mentioned anything to his parents. “I could’ve. I didn’t.”

“So, you quitting?”

“I just took the racetrack job.”

“Okay, then. Come see your mother on Saturday.”

“I’ll be at the parade to make sure the floats are okay and support Ellison.”

“Okay. Then you bring her over for dinner after so she can meet your mother.”

That was all they said to each other.

He called Ahmed the carpenter and warned him that Bozo was taking over and that Bozo was probably going to bring in his own people. He promised a job reference for Ahmed any time he needed one.

Finally, he dialed Ellie.

She answered in a nervous but sweet tone. “Luciano. You’re okay?”

“Yeah. I have a lot to tell you, but bottom line, we’re going to my mother’s for dinner after the Labor Day parade on Saturday.”

“Does she know?”

“That you’re coming? I’ll call her and tell her.”

“That you’re taking the job at the Pocono Racetrack?”

“I’ll tell her that, too. I just called and took it.”

A hitch in her voice. “Good. That will make you happy. My dad always says that a man has to be happy in his work to feel like a man. You’re a good man, Luciano.”

“You’re…” He wanted some words that would count. “You’re the best woman in the world to me. You’re just the best.”

 

 

 

Thanks to Mary Rose, who had taken over the headset duties while she felt up to it, Ellie could watch the parade with Luke. She snuggled against him, his arm wrapped around her like a mother hen. He’d been away from her for four whole days, staying in a hotel near the track while he got acquainted with the new job. She had sent him off as merrily as could, but she’d never tell him that she had cried right after he drove away. And that she’d cried the next night too. And the next. It wasn’t like he was on Mars, but he might as well have been. As soon as he’d left, a great big cloud of pity party had settled over Brooklyn. Okay, maybe not Brooklyn, just Ellie, but she felt it nonetheless. He’d come back for the weekend to watch the parade with her, and now she felt plumb giddy, like she couldn’t get close enough unless she burrowed into his ribs. She’d have to settle for leaning against his warm, solid chest and breathing in his spicy cologne and leather scent. Pure man.

Her man.

For now, anyway, until Luke decided that coming in for the weekends was too much hassle. Some pretty Pennsylvania racing chick would step out of her car, take her helmet off and toss her Pantene hair around until he went gaga. Then there’d be the summer race season, when he’d have to work seven days a week among the temptations of flag girls and racing groupies with shorts cut up to their vaginas.

But she tried to put all those thoughts aside while she and Luke stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, enjoying a shared bag of hot candied cashews from one of the many street vendors. The Labor Day parade was off to a great start. Of course, Luke’s floats were gorgeous, but Ellie couldn’t stop watching the crowd’s reaction to them. Kids with sticky cotton-candy fingers jumped up and down, pointing at the giant puppy at the center of the animal shelter float. It was crouching down in front of a giant tennis ball, wagging its giant tail. It even barked and panted with a pink rubber tongue lolling from its mouth. Several volunteers from the shelter rode on it and waved to the crowd. They held real dogs on leashes and dangled feathers in front of playful caged kittens.

“Look, mommy!” a little girl cried. “A black and white kitty! Can we adopt him, please?”

Her mother replied with the usual mom answer. “We’ll see.” But she was smiling as brightly as her daughter, which from Ellie’s experience, usually meant Mom was leaning toward “yes.” She had no doubt that a lot of those pets would be finding forever homes very soon.

“It’s beautiful,” Ellie said.

“Thanks.” He shrugged as though building giant animatronic dogs was about as interesting as watching paint dry. 

“You really have talent, no matter how much you try not to admit it.”

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. “You’re the brains of this operation, baby doll. Without you, they’d all be marching into the East River.”

Ellie’s cheeks warmed, which they seemed to do often whenever she was with Luke. At this rate, she could stop buying blush and save a couple bucks every month. “Well, yeah, but I know I’m good. One of these days, I’ll convince you of how good you are.”

He chuckled and grabbed a handful of cashews from the bag. “I think I’m better equipped for Pocono. I’ve been dying to put turbo and flame throwers on a float, but it’s against regulations.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She tried to sound upbeat, but it came off as more robotic than anything.

Luke’s voice took on a serious tone. “It’s not a bad gig. But I did miss you like crazy. Maybe we can visit the Poconos when your vacation time rolls around.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” A week alone with Luciano in a cabin? Yes, please!

“I hope you’re ready to meet Mother Martelli tonight.”

“I hope she’s ready to meet me.” The meet-his-mother stage was a huge step in any relationship. She’d only met one of her previous boyfriend’s mothers before, and it was kind of like meeting a glacier.

“She loves any woman with a good appetite, especially one who offers to do the dishes. I hope you like lasagna.”

“Who doesn’t? I’m like Garfield when it comes to lasagna. Get out of my way or there’ll be…um, lots of scratching and hissing.”

“I’ll be sure not to stand in the way of you and your lasagna then, Wildcat.” He poked her in the ribs, and she giggled.

The local rotary club marched behind the animal shelter. They were dressed as clowns. Clowns ranked right up there with abandonment on Ellie’s unreasonable fears list. But she admired their charity work. They carried buckets and worked the crowd, collecting donations for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. A rather rotund clown with a rainbow wig, fat red nose, and a sad face approached. Luke whipped out his wallet, pulled out a wad of cash and plunked it in the bucket. The clown lady’s jaw dropped before she smiled brightly, which made the painted-on frown look really out of place.

“Thank you!” she said before bouncing along to the next outstretched hand.

Luke just nodded and waved like donating large wads of cash was an everyday thing.

Ellie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed those warm, luscious lips of his. Sweet, too, with sugar crystals from the cashews. He hugged her tightly and responded with an eager deliberateness, like he’d truly missed her for the few days they’d been apart.

When she pulled back, Luke stroked her cheek with his thumb. “What was that for?”

“For being the absolutely most wonderful boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, and even though the day was a bit chilly, the tender warmth in his eyes heated her to the core. “Ellison, I –” He looked back to the parade route suddenly, bringing Ellie’s perfect moment to a screeching halt. “What the hell is that?”

She followed his line of vision to the construction workers’ float. The working crane on it was squealing as it moved, kind of like the Tin Man during an oil outage. It leaned like the tower of Pisa coming off a bender and rattled with every little bump on the road.

“Oh. That,” Ellie said with more than a little disdain. “That is the handiwork of your cousin.”

“I knew it,” Luke growled. “Big Al wouldn’t listen. Just hope the thing doesn’t fall.”

“At least we have cashews.” She stuck her hand in the bag for another mouthful of sweet, crunchy goodness and hit bottom. “Oh no, I think we have a snack emergency.”

“I’ll get us some more, baby doll. And if I see Bozo on the way, I’ll throat punch him.”

“Easy there, bad boy. It’ll be fine.”

Luke stalked away toward the cashew cart, scanning the crowd. She hoped Bozo wasn’t anywhere around and feared Luke might make good on his threats. But his cheap douche of a cousin was probably safely tucked away under the cigar haze of a bar with some greasy plate of hot wings. Ellie turned back to the monstrosity lurching its way to the corner where she stood. The little girl who had squealed over the kitten had bent down in front of her mom, grabbing up stray candy the construction workers had thrown.

She’s awfully close. Ellie glanced from the girl to the rickety crane and back again. The kid’s mom was talking animatedly to another woman instead of supervising her daughter’s candy gathering. The truck pulling the float hit a manhole, and the whole thing rocked from side to side. The crane creaked with a long, high-pitched squeal like a teakettle.

“Hey!” Ellie waved her arms toward the little girl, but she didn’t look up. She yelled a little louder, afraid to raise too much of a ruckus and scare people. “Hey!” Not even the mom or the construction workers, who were still throwing candy out to the kids, took notice.

“Crap.” Ellie started forward. If someone got hurt, especially a kid, that would be a nightmare. Not only would it damage her career, but she’d never forgive herself. Parades were supposed to be fun, not deadly.

There was a metallic clang, followed by a pop. The crane, all fifteen feet of it, lurched to the side. Construction workers scrambled, grabbing for it. Ellie broke into a run, reached the kid and tossed her toward her mom. The kid cried out, Mom’s mouth gaped, ready to deliver a verbal slap to Ellie, but it was too late.

The crane came crashing down. Ellie ducked and tried to cover her head, but it struck and struck hard. Her skull rang inside like a hollow melon, stars flashed before her eyes, and the hard, unforgiving pavement met her fall. Her mouth filled with blood and grit and broken bits of tooth.

She saw a fuzzy, sideways version of Luke running for her, heard him screaming her name from some faraway place. A paper bag dropped to the ground. Cashews scattered. Damn. She really wanted more of those.

And that was all she could think before she drifted into a dark, numb oblivion.

 

 

 

 

Luke was dazed waiting for the ambulance. He managed to get a call to Big Al saying, “Don’t let Bozo touch that fucking float. I want to see it.” His father, who had seen the accident from his office window, didn’t argue the point, didn’t even complain about his son swearing at him.

“Fucking Bozo, that fat shit,” he repeated to himself. It took him a minute to realize Carly and Derek and even Lena were huddled around him as he sat in the street dabbing the blood flowing from the side of Ellie’s beautiful head. A young, heavily built cop was squatting next to her saying, “Oh geez,” talking on the phone, and eating a doughnut.

“Can I have a bite?” Luke snapped at him.

The cop wrinkled his nose at him. “She someone to you?”

“The love of my life,” he said.

“Hope she’ll be okay,” said the cop.

“She’ll be okay,” Carly said. “She will. The love of your life can’t go away.” She rubbed Luke’s shoulder. She had once been the love of his life, and it was the measure of how big her heart was that she could hear him talk about another woman he loved and still care for him.

“You got this, bro,” said Derek. “Hey, I’ll bring my car down to whatever hospital they take her to, and help out with the driving and stuff. Just text me where to meet you.”

Luke nodded. Derek took Carly and left. Lena, dressed in jeans and a silk blouse, sat next to Luke, touching Ellie’s hand. The cop gave her a speculative eye. “Doing something later?”

“You kidding?” Lena snapped at him.

“I’m a pretty supportive guy,” said the cop. He gave her a business card.

“Jesus Christ,” said Lena.

They heard the ambulance sounds coming from a side street, and two EMT’s came running with a folded litter. They were Hasidic Jews in black pants and prayer shawls over long white sleeves: Hatzolah, the Brooklyn ambulance service. They checked Ellie carefully, then, followed by Lena and Luke, carried her in the litter to their yellow ambulance with Hebrew and English lettering.

Ten minutes later they were at Mount Sinai Hospital. Lena, who was carrying Ellie’s handbag, provided her city insurance and other personal data from the small wallet inside. Luke stood nearby, balanced on the balls of his feet, his knee throbbing. He announced that he was going to fucking kill Bozo. The triage nurse gave him several dirty looks. He texted Derek and then his father with their location.

Ellie was taken for an MRI, leaving her friends alone in the ER room. For a while they didn’t talk; then Lena said, “So you’re for real.”

“I’m for real,” said Luke.

“Then why the fuck did you take that Poconos job?”

He lowered his chin to his chest. “I don’t know right now. I really don’t. I figured it would work out somehow. I said to myself, you know, a man can’t feel like a man if he doesn’t respect himself for what he does every day. But every day I’m out there, I’m like, what’s the point without Ellison here?”

Lena smacked him on the arm. “So, fix it.”

"Thanks,” Luke answered. “You’re a real pal.”

Lena fished into her own handbag, found the cop’s business card, and studied it carefully. “You think he’s the love of my life?”

Luke sat back, let his arms dangle. “How should I know? Hey, listen, did you think so when you looked at him?”

Lena shook her head. She let the card fall back into her open bag.

“See, I realize now, when I saw Ellison, some part of me knew she could be, you know? I kind of knew I could fall in love with her. That ever happen to you?”

Lena considered this. “Naw. I mean, when I was like fourteen and I watched N’Sync, I thought I was in love with JC, but everyone’s a dumbass at fourteen.”

Luke considered how long he had fought against the feeling, and why: he had been afraid of hurting someone else, afraid of any woman learning what a loser he felt like. Now he didn’t feel like a loser any more. Ellison had brought back the zest for life that had been gone since he had lost his career as a pit crewman. Could it be that now his career meant less to him than she did?

Derek and Carly showed up, carrying Chinese take-out, and sat with chopsticks and talked about Wall Street and Broadway shows.

Big Al arrived a little while later. He made a big fuss about being the mayor’s aide and blustered at the triage nurse about getting the best care for his assistant. He had brought Mother Martelli, who sat with Luke holding his hand and giving him a warm, if cross-eyed, expression.

“I was cooking all day,” she explained. “I have some hot food in the car. If she wakes up, this girl you love, I will feed her some, you think?”

“Yeah, Ma.”

Luke’s mother patted his cheek.

“When she wakes up, Ma,” Carly corrected. “Not if.”

“I mean, if she wakes up tonight. Of course, she will wake up. Look at everyone who is praying for her.” She waved her hand at the crowd in the ER waiting room.

A black man with a bloody towel wrapped around his hand turned from a nearby chair and said, “I’m praying for her, and I don’t even know her.”

“Yeah,” Luke said, “We’re praying for you, too, buddy.”

An ER doctor came out and said she had head trauma and probably a concussion, but the MRI didn’t show anything requiring immediate surgery, and they wanted to monitor her in case there was evidence of a contusion or swelling. Luke’s mind was full of images of bloody splotches on the brain of the girl he wanted to spend his life with. His heart beat faster, and his belly churned. He forced down his panic to avoid spreading it to the rest of the group.

The group sat glumly. Finally, Mother Martelli told Derek and Carly they could get going. Luke shook Derek’s hand with both of his own. “You’re a hell of a good guy,” he told the lawyer. “You’re taking care of her, right?”

“Sure,” said Derek.

Luke turned to Carly. “This guy’s a keeper,” he added. “Sorry I wasn’t. It would have been good.”

“Yeah,” said Carly. “It would have been.” She tossed a white paper Chinese carton in the trash. “See you around.”

They waited. Lena called the Carlisles in Lexington and left a message. They sat tense for a while. Then Lena fell asleep with her head on Luke’s shoulder. Luke was actually tired enough that he in turn fell asleep leaning on his mother. Big Al spent his waiting time outside talking on his mobile phone and smoking a cigar.

It was one in the morning when an ER nurse came to say Ellison Carlisle was out of danger and was expected to make a full recovery after some time to deal with the consequences of the concussion. Mother Martelli, Lena, and Luke went into her room, where she was sleeping peacefully with a bandage on the side of her head. Luke took her hand and kissed it. “I love you, baby doll,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you more than anything. I’m going to prove it, when you get well. I promise.”

 

 

 

Luke drove a little too fast – no, way too fast – down the relatively quiet streets on a very early Brooklyn morning. He hadn’t let himself dwell on the accident while at the hospital. He had focused on keeping calm for Ellison and everyone there. Now, as he shifted into third gear, tears burned the backs of his eyes. A fizzy lump in his throat threatened to unleash a flood of emotion he couldn’t deal with right now. He swallowed it down and stomped the gas pedal.

Shit, missed the turn. Focus on the road, idiota! As he squealed into an empty bank parking lot to turn around, he remembered Ellison lying there on the street. Limp. Blood streaming down her face. They were having such a fun day, but it took a complete one-eighty. Adrenaline pumped his legs like pistons. He’d dropped the cashews he’d meant to share with her. He hadn’t run that fast in years. The knee? Hell, he didn’t even feel it then. It hurt now, but fuck it. Ellison could have died.

That’s what he’d thought the moment he saw her lying there. She could have been dead or dying. He slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop, gripping the steering wheel until his hands hurt. His jaw trembled, but he sucked in a few deep breaths.

It was his fault. He should have never left.

No, damn it! His fist pounded the dash. He wouldn’t think that way. He wouldn’t wallow in the filth of guilt and self-loathing. He’d spent enough time there already, and it hadn’t done anyone any good. This shit was Bozo’s fault. He knew it, but he’d have to prove it or nothing would change. Someone else could get hurt. Maybe some little kid, like the one Ellison had pushed out of the way.

Luke swiped his eyes with the back of his hands, pulled out of the bank parking lot and dialed Big Al. He put it on speaker phone so he could keep both hands on the wheel. The old man had left the hospital a few minutes before Luke did, but Luke hadn’t had the mind to stop him then.

“Yeah? What?” Typical response from his father. How the hell did they share the same genes?

“I need you to get Bozo and come to the warehouse.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

Biting back the rage that burned in his chest, Luke spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t care what time it is. Wake his ass up and go get him. Meet me out there.”

Big Al grumbled like a phlegmy bear. He had probably already kicked off his shoes and was headed to bed. Good.

“Fine. Be there in an hour.”

The warehouse loomed over the block: a hulking box of sheet metal with a huge graffiti-covered garage door on the front that locked from the inside. Luke pulled around back and got out. Not thinking, he put his weight on the wrong leg, only to be met with instant pain shooting up his thigh. His knee buckled, and he held the to the car door, hissing air through his teeth until the pain became bearable. Finally, he limped to the main door, unlocked the deadbolt and went inside.

Shadowy floats in various states of construction lined the warehouse floor like sleeping giants. Luke flipped a switch by the door. Fluorescent lights hummed to life. Luke squinted into the brightness until he spotted the float responsible for Ellison’s near-death experience. He went over to it, stomach churning at the sight of twisted metal. After the accident, the parade had gone on, minus this float, and minus the excitement. He’d watched the worried faces as the EMTs arrived and tended to Ellison. Seeing her hurt was worse, but he hated to see all her hard work in arranging a fun day go to waste. That’s the part she loved the most, he realized, making people smile. She loved to make him smile, too, and she must have been an expert at it, since he’d smiled a hundred times more since she came into his life.

He had already started inspecting the weld joints when a car pulled into the parking lot out back, its headlights beaming inside the warehouse before going dark. Had to be Big Al’s Cadillac Escalade. Two male voices grew louder–Big Al and Bozo–and both ambled through the door Luke had left open.

They came over to stand beside him. Big Al wore a big frown. He was anything but a night owl, but he did exactly as Luke had done, bending over to inspect the weld joints. Maybe he actually gave a damn for once.

Bozo didn’t have a cigar this time, but his bulldog cheeks and neck were flushed red. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot. He was in a Jets t-shirt and baggy sweats and wobbled like a fat Weeble. “Hey Luciano, man, Big Al told me about your girl. What a shame. Hope that pretty face of hers isn’t messed up.”

Luke clenched his fists, anger coursed through his veins, and all he wanted to do was pound Bozo’s drunk face into the floor until he was worse off than Ellison.

He tamped down the temptation to do serious bodily harm, hoping that Big Al might listen to him if could show proof of Bozo’s incompetence.

Luke pointed to the fallen crane’s main support plate. “See this weld? It’s good. I know because I did that one.” He pointed to the next one up, the one that should have kept the crane from wobbling. Three corners of it were destroyed, pulled away as the crane fell. One corner was still attached, though barely. “See this one? It’s shit. See all the lumps? Whoever did this one can’t run a bead to save his life. Or he had faulty equipment or was drunk at the time.”

He glared right at Bozo.

The fat bastard shrugged and laughed nervously. “That looks fine to me. Just a freak accident. My kid did all right.”

Big Al glared at him this time. “Your kid?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know the kids out of the welding school across town.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Luke’s voice had risen to a near shout. Bozo took a step back. “They don’t have the experience to weld stuff like this. Why didn’t you let Ahmed do it? He may be mostly a carpenter, but actually he’s an even better welder than me.”

Bozo let out a puff of air. His flabby cheeks wobbled. “Ahmed? I sent him home for the day…permanently.”

“You fired him. Why would you fire him?”

“Come on! Who pays a welder fifteen bucks an hour? He’s costing us an arm and a leg. And I didn’t say nothing to him, but he’s one of those Islams. Would probably turn terrorist on us.”

Luke picked up a monkey wrench and held it tight in his fist. He’d have knocked out a few of Bozo’s teeth if Big Al hadn’t stepped between them. He put a firm hand on Luke’s arm and got within an inch of Bozo’s face, staring him down.

“First of all, Ahmed is Muslim. His religion is Islam, you idiot, and he’s not a goddamn terrorist. Secondly, all hiring and firing in city planning comes through me, not you. Thirdly, I have the mayor breathing down my ass about this, and now I have to smooth things over if I want to keep my job. What if Ellie’d been killed? Or some little kid? You can’t take shortcuts on this stuff. Luciano never did.”

Bozo threw his hands in the air and stomped a few feet away. He spun around, unsteady, but pointed his finger at Luke. “Yeah, well Luciano doesn’t work here anymore. He’s a grease monkey.  A no account delinquent with a fucking GED.”

“At least he’s turned his life around and made something of himself.” Big Al stalked toward Bozo, backing him closer to the door. “You’re a leech, William, looking out for nobody but you.”

Luke stood rooted in place, still holding the wrench, but totally taken aback. His father had never stood up for him. Ever. Maybe Big Al really did care about Luke somewhere deep down. Maybe he even cared about Ellison too. Or maybe he had a fever. Whatever had gotten into him, Luke felt a hint of pride—his father was a good man, meant well—that was how a father should be.

Big Al poked Bozo in the chest, making him wince. “You’re fired, Will.”

“Fired? What do you mean, fired? Luciano abandons you to go play with race cars, and what thanks do I get, huh? We’re family!”

“Family doesn’t pull this shit,” Luke said, coming to close ranks with Big Al. He still had the wrench and raised it threateningly. “You better be damn glad that Ellison is still breathing, or else you wouldn’t be for long.”

Bozo stumbled at the threshold and grabbed to the doorframe to keep himself upright. His face turned a bright, blotchy red. He pointed at Luke and Big Al in turn. “Yeah? Well fuck you, Luciano, and fuck you too!”

He turned and fumbled his way out the door to Big Al’s car.

“You can’t let him drive like that,” Luke said.

Big Al turned away like he couldn’t stand the sight of his nephew anymore and waved a dismissive hand at the door. “I drove. I’ve got the keys right –” He patted his pocket, eyes growing wider as he searched through them. “Shit.”

The Escalade’s engine roared to life, headlights on high beam. Big Al shielded his eyes with his arm.

Luke squinted into the blinding light and nudged him. “You can’t let him drive like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” He hurried out the door, waving both arms. “Will, turn off the car! Give me the keys!”

The parking lot lights shone dimly through the car’s back window, turning Bozo into a black silhouette. The silhouette shook its head, put the car into gear, and revved the engine, spinning the rear tires. He let off the brake. The vehicle launched straight at them.

“Dad!” Luke ran out, tackled Big Al, and both of them fell, skidding across the hard asphalt. A half-second later, the Escalade sped by them, throwing rocks and a hot rush of air just inches from their feet. It crashed through the door, taking facing, overhang, and several feet of siding along with it as it came to a halt with a deafening crunch.

Luke pushed himself off the ground to a sitting position and helped Big Al sit up. The old man held his forehead and groaned. “Are you hurt, Dad?”

“No, not much, just a bump. You?”

Luke tried to stand, but his knee must have gotten twisted in the fall. Agonizing pain knifed through his leg. He pulled it to his chest and gritted his teeth, trying not to show any weakness. Big Al had never shown much concern about Luke’s injury, not that Luke needed coddling from anyone.

“Hang on,” Big Al said, rolling to his hands and knees. He slowly unfolded himself until he stood over Luke. “Let me help you.”

Luke stared at his father’s outstretched hand for a moment before taking it. Big Al helped him up so that Luke could put the weight on his good leg. He put Luke’s arm over his shoulders, supporting him. “You all right, Luciano?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“Someone told me it’s better to stop living in the past and embrace the present.” He gave Big Al a one-armed hug. “Better see about Bozo.”

“Better call the cops.”

Luke nodded. “You call. I’ll see if the idiot managed to kill himself.” He limped over to the Escalade. Its rear end stuck out from the building. The engine still idled. He supported himself on it while he wiggled between the SUV and the jagged edges of destroyed door frame and siding.

He reached the driver’s side window. Bozo was slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead resting on it. Luke tried the door handle, but it was either locked or jammed from the damage. He knocked on the window. Bozo jerked his head up. Even though Luke wouldn’t shed any tears had he been dead, he didn’t want anyone losing a life over something so stupid.

“Roll down the window,” Luke said, motioning with his hand in case Bozo couldn’t hear him.

Bozo glared at him. But he leaned toward the door and fumbled for the button. Luckily the window still worked, though jerky and squeaky as it came down. A big goose egg knot had formed on his forehead. Luke smiled at that. He deserved worse.

“You could have killed Dad and me,” Luke said, surprising himself with the calmness in his voice.

“Yeah well, I didn’t. I’m sorry, I was just…” He tried the handle, ramming his body up against the door. It didn’t budge. “Come on, paesan, get me out of here. The door’s stuck. You got tools or something in here, don’t you?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Luke tapped his chin and looked around. “Tools, huh?”

He made like he was going to search, then stopped. “You know, the only tool I see is you.”

“Wha—”

Luke drew back his fist and rammed it right into Bozo’s face. The bastard made an “oomph” sound and fell over onto the console, moaning. Blue lights flickered outside. Luke rubbed his throbbing knuckles and limped out to where Big Al waited. His old man slapped him gently on the back and grinned. Luke never imagined he’d be sharing a proud moment with his father, and he really never thought he’d be so glad to see the boys in blue.

 

 

 

 

The dinner dishes were washed and drying on the rack. Six containers were stuffed with food for the young couple to eat the rest of the week. The Mets were battling the Yankees on the big screen TV. Derek and Carly were somewhere else. Bozo was doing community service walking around the park wearing an orange jumpsuit with a spiked stick and a wastebasket. It was just the four of them, three Martellis and Ellison Carlisle, sprawled in easy chairs and love seats and on sofas enjoying bellies full of fish and cavatelli and espresso and watching a subway series. It even smelled good; Big Al didn’t have a cigar in his mouth.

Three months after the accident, Ellie had a dent in her skull under her hair, and a headache now and then if she got tired, but had returned to life and her relationship energetic, and cheerful as ever. No accident could spoil her natural good cheer and zest for life -- especially not when she was with her second family, the family of the man she loved.

Luke took his mother into the kitchen on the pretext of making a cup of coffee together. When they were alone, he pulled her into the pantry. “Ma,” he said. “Have you got it?”

“Of course, I’ve got it,” said Mother Martelli. “Whattaya think, I would forget something like that? Here it is.” She reached into her apron and passed Luke a jewelry box. “Your great aunt Ferraro’s, God rest her soul. William was supposed to have it, but I don’t see him needing it any time soon, the disgraziato. Take a look.”

Luke opened the box to the light of his smart phone. He liked what he saw.

“Luciano, Luciano,” said his mother. “I thought you were going to break my heart, but instead you made it twice as big. What a beauty!”

“You don’t mind she’s not Italian, right, ma?”

“Mind? Of course, I don’t mind. You kidding me? This is America. We find the best of the best. That’s what America’s all about. She’s a good girl, and I just want you to be happy.” She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead. “There. You have my blessing.”

“And Dad?”

“You’ll have his blessing if he knows what’s good for him. He’s not too old to want a little…” She waved her pudgy fingers. “…scubata, know what I’m saying? Anyway, listen.”

She hushed, and Luke turned his attention to the sounds of the nearby living room, where he could hear Big Al ranting about the historical ups and downs of Derek Jeter, and Ellie giving it back to him in kind.

“That sounds like they're getting along, you think?” asked Mother Martelli.

“It sounds like heaven,” said Luke.

****

Luke had been working extra hard to prepare for the victory parade, in which a group of heroic soldiers were receiving a special honor for their service in Afghanistan. In addition to floats representing each of the armed services, and a float for the soldiers themselves to stand on, and floats for the sponsoring City Councilmen and for several parade sponsors, he had arranged for one more. On the schedule Ellison had, it said “Event Staff Float.” She had expressed puzzlement about it as soon as it showed up on her list. Luke had arranged for Mary Rose to slip that in on the schedule. He worked on it early in the morning, along with Ahmed and several new employees he’d brought on. It had cars and a model racetrack, horses and a model racetrack for those, and real flowers. There was a chair fit for a queen, set on a pink platform in the center of the float’s bed; a small blue box was set at the base of the platform with a pillow on it.

This was Luke’s final parade; he had applied for, and received, a job as chief mechanic of the Brooklyn Police Garage. It was a union job he could retire from, and it let him continue to live in his cozy Jersey townhouse and have Ellison in his arms every night. He’d been looking into stables in the area, and was going to buy her a riding horse once he saved up enough money. That would be a lot easier if things went the way he meant for them to go.

They were in the office, in the conference room, about an hour before the parade was going to start, when he broke the news. “Ellison, we have to get to the parade grounds.”

“Why? Is there another darned problem to iron out?” She pouted. “You know I was up till three AM trying to get the inspection paperwork filled out after the new regulations showed up in our office the day before the event.”

“I know, because every time I woke up, I saw you still at it. No, it’s something good, Ellison. We’re riding in the parade.”

“In these pumps?” Ellison wasn’t wearing her best shoes. “In this outfit?” She was in jeans and a collared shirt.

“No, go look in the spare office.”

She did. Lena had sneaked in the day before and deposited Ellie’s best gray suit and heels, along with accessories.

By the time she had discovered her ensemble for the day, Luke had ducked into his father’s office and changed into his new blue pinstripe suit, black leather boots, and fedora. He stripped off the knee brace he sometimes wore; today he would do without it. His knees were good enough for what he needed to do.

A half hour later, Luke helped Ellie up the steps in the back of the float and walked her around, showing her all the features. “It’s for us,” he said. “You and me, since we’re the ones who put this thing together. Part of it’s you, part of it’s me, and it all looks great together, am I right?”

“It’s beautiful,” Ellie said. “But Mary Rose didn’t tell me this float was for us. Are you sure it’s legit?”

“Hey,” said Luke. “I cleared it with the city events coordinator, and my mother paid for all the materials.”

“Your mother?”

Luke spread his hands. “Come on. Come sit in the chair.”

She took his arm, and he led her to the platform, handing her up. She arranged herself prettily, smiled awkwardly. Luke climbed off the platform and went to find the driver, Anwar, who was Ahmed’s cousin. Anwar was recently out of high school but already had his commercial driver’s license. He encouraged Anwar to make sure his driving was smooth. “A lot is riding on this,” he said with a wink.

Ellison didn’t say much while they were getting under way. She was taking it all in. The float looked great from the crowd, Luke was sure, but it experienced some bumps and bangs going over the cracked city streets. The sun shone overhead, and the crowd cheered and yelled in appreciation of the heroes riding ahead of them. Luke paced the float, examining his handiwork. He’d made a few painting mistakes, in spots where Ellison probably wouldn’t notice, but he did. He realized he might miss this job a little. Maybe he’d even miss it a lot. But however bad he’d felt about it, for years, it had brought him Ellie, and Ellie equaled love so far as he was concerned.

Even though the crowds didn’t know he was the float builder, and were only cheering because he and Ellie were up there waving—it didn’t matter. There was only one person he really needed, and she was there with him. As they neared the reviewing stands and the densest crowds, he sent a quick text to Mary Rose.

Moments later, the float came to a halt. Ahead of them, the other floats stopped too. Luke left the race car alone and went to stand by Ellie. “Let me make sure the chair’s still stable,” he said, and knelt by it, pretending to examine the legs of the seat where they rested on the platform. His knee throbbed, but that wasn’t holding him back.

“Was the ride smooth?” he asked.

“Actually, the ride was a little bumpy,” Ellie said. “I guess it would be worse if you hadn’t built the float really well.”

It was the perfect set-up for what Luke wanted to say. They had been clicking like that a lot lately. “Well, you know, life can be a bumpy ride, but I want to do the best to make it smooth for you. You know?” He went in his pocket and retrieved the box his mother had given him and prayed he wouldn’t drop it. “So, since I’m down here, how about this?” He opened it and revealed the antique diamond ring that had been his aunt’s: a white gold band, a square cut diamond framed by emerald chips. “How about you wear this? Just so you know I mean it?”

Ellie’s eyes were wide as saucers as he slipped it on her left ring finger. “I know you mean it, Luciano. I trust you.”

“Well, then kiss me, ‘cause I want you to marry me so I can take care of you for the rest of my life. How does that sound?”

Ellie’s jaw dropped. The crowd around them, which had noticed the proposal, gave the second-biggest cheer of the day, after the one for the hero soldiers.

Finally, Ellie slid down from the chair and onto her own knees next to him, grabbed him, and kissed his face all over. Enjoying it, Luke reluctantly cupped her shoulders and pushed her back a little. “Do I get an answer, huh, baby doll? You marrying me, or what?”

“Yes,” said Ellie. “Yes, oh, hell, yes.”

Letting go of her shoulders, Luke grabbed her left hand and raised it in the air, a sign of victory. The crowd cheered again.

The float’s engine engaged, sending a thrum through the entire vehicle, a sound he truly loved. But it didn’t hold a candle to the racing rhythm of her heartbeat on his chest and her sweet lips molded to his in the perfect kiss.

 

THE END

 

Ready for more? Read , book 2 of the City Meets Country series!

 

Can he crash his way into her cynical heart?

As the owner of Pie in the Sky Tours, Jaxon Wheeler loved flying tourists over the beautiful forests of Daniel Boone National Park. He's great at his job. But at promoting his business? Not so much. To avoid bankruptcy, he needs help from a clever advertising agent.

He doesn't expect that help to be Lena, his sister's college friend from Brooklyn, the one who drank too much and called him...that doesn't matter. She hates the outdoors and flying, but she's hotter than an August day in Kentucky. How's a city girl supposed to do anything for his business? And how's he supposed to ignore those luscious red lips?

Lena Bosko just landed a great new advertising job, but her first client is none other than her friend's brother, Jaxon, the guy she'd once called ... well, that doesn't matter. She can help turn his business around, but first she'll have to go flying with him -- and she's terrified of flying.

What could be worse – air sickness in a combination hot air balloon and death trap -- or losing her heart to a country boy?

 

From historical to fantasy, from super sweet to scandalously spicy, Mysti Parker has .

 

City Meets Country Series (with co-author MJ Post)

Sealed With a Kiss (Mar. 2018)

Ace in the Hole (April 2018)

Contemporary Novella (with co-author MJ Post

The Beach Pointe Romantic Comedy Series

The Tallenmere Fantasy Romance Series

Historical

The Magic Massage Erotic Series

The Roche Hotel Romantic Comedy Series

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MJ Post is the pseudonym of a writer, teacher, and comic book fan who works in Brooklyn, NY. Watch for MJ’s first romance novel in 2018!

 

Mysti Parker is an award-winning author and shameless chocoholic. She writes romance for every reader's taste from super sweet to scandalously spicy. When she's not writing the next best-story-ever or tackling the endless mountain of laundry, she works as a freelance copywriter and editor. Mysti resides in Louisville, Kentucky with her husband, three children and too many pets.