I wasn’t sure where Spence and I were going. I had no idea why I wasn’t scared. But as days passed, then weeks, with Spence becoming part of my routine, I didn’t care. I’d see him in class and we’d share secrets across the rows, through blinks and muffled grins. In the afternoon, while sipping my coffee and prepping for term papers, I’d look forward to his texts, as ridiculous as they were.
Spence: Saw a falling leaf today. Thought of you.
I snickered. Are you calling me decaying foliage?
Spence: Nope. I’m calling you that gross fall latte drink that you tried to poison me with almost two months ago.
Me: 2 months? And I’ve made no attempts since? I’m at the coffee shop now. Need to step up my game.
Spence: See you in 5.
He’d meet me, and instead of finishing up my notes I’d be laughing with him over my third cup of coffee and making plans with Spence for the evening, and the next day, and the weekend.
I’d never felt so included in someone’s life. At moments when they could, Jade and Becca would pull me aside by the elbows and wedge me in between them, demanding details. And I didn’t disappoint. Spence wasn’t a secret or something bad I was trying to hide from my disapproving friends. They loved him. Often, Becca would extend an invite to Spence to join us on our zombie nights. In fact, she relished it. I’d never heard of half of her tough-as-nuts evil dead questions that she slung at Spence after every viewing. She was vicious, asking questions like, how many hours before sundown do you have to hide? And, if it was just you and one zombie in the middle of a four-lane highway, is it better to kill it or sneak away quietly? What is the best weapon to use to kill a zombie?
Spence would answer each with compunction. At least two to three hours, kill the lone zombie, but quietly, and a crowbar. When Becca wanted to get into the historical significance of these creatures, he’d happily engage, offering up a quip and a compliment that had even my dear Becca blushing.
Spence was one of those people that could converse with anyone, about anything. He’d engage Jade in science-talk, and after a few months of knowing him, every detail of him, he’d still manage to surprise me. There wasn’t a subject that Spence could at least touch upon and discuss animatedly about, whether it be about cars, dolphins, biometrics, or fictional demons. And the subjects he did know about, like the law, often had me shaking my head in disbelief. I could picture his future, Spence at events and galas, regaling his surrounding company no matter what direction the conversation landed. The judges he’d impress, the opposing lawyers he’d threaten, the people, victims, he would stand up for and win.
I was, in one word, proud of him.
This man was a force, and he blew me away.
Spence inspired me to pursue my dreams the same way he went after his: with cut-throat balls. I met with Ming over coffee at a local lounge to discuss her birthday wishes, and I didn’t blanche at the few contacts I had or the pressure at making this person’s twenty-first the best it could be. I sat with my laptop, clicking away with my freshly manicured nails (at Becca’s insistence that appearance was everything), and noting every single wish Ming desired. It was a lot of black. She was a spooky chick—think Edgar Allen Poe in a long-sleeved poet’s blouse and black, gold-buttoned vest with ripped black jeans and red lips—but she rocked it, and I liked her.
That night, I banished Spence and everyone else from my life and spent the next six hours putting together a proposal, which included well-researched vendors and many phone calls. It was amazing how far one could get if you just sounded the part.
I had an idea in the works that I thought Ming would really love, and so far, the vendors I found were on board. They were unknowns like me since all top-rated vendors were booked solid and probably definitely would never call me back, but in preparation for my application for internship at Madison PR, I’d been trolling the internet and listening with a piqued ear to any hint of an up-and-coming florist, entertainment jockey, or caterer whose young company had extreme potential. It always helped in job interviews to have in depth knowledge of the industry, but if one came with their own contacts, especially credible, fairly new ones that could lead to the potential of great things, that heightened the impression even more—at least, that was what I told myself.
Working tirelessly, my face was flushed and my fingers were twitching from caffeine (though Jade ultimately made me switch to some ginger tea crap), but I was excited. I loved this.
By three a.m., I made myself shut down my computer, stripped off my pants, and rolled into bed in my tank top. My mind continued its carousal of possibilities, but after a quiet blip from my phone and a peek at the text that followed—
Spence: If you’re up like me, then we should probably both go to bed. Wish you were beside me.
Spence: …naked
Spence: …Or in crotchless panties. I’ll take that.
—I rolled over in a bubble of laughter, phone held at my chest, and fell asleep with my lips tilted up.
#
The next evening, R&C night was at its usual raucous luster. I flew behind the bar, the zippy hummingbird providing liquored-up sustenance to all she landed on. Laurie was also there, but after our strange bonding session in a hired car, we’d reached some kind of truce and worked together in setting up glasses, pouring a line of shots and wiping down both drool and spills like pros.
I swiped a forearm across my brow as the hours tore by and the noise increased, pouring another row of rum and cokes, but as only time can do when the person who is seriously messing with your mental acuity walks into your workplace, it slowed when Spence leaned his elbows on the bar, his sandy hair splayed across his forehead and chin cleft in full salute.
He crooked a finger, and even though I was in the midst of wiping down freshly steamed glasses, I followed the beckon. Spence cupped my cheek, heedless of the sweat and hair-tangles that framed my face, and laid a hot, sexy kiss on me. The crowd around us roared in approval. His lips curved against mine—after he took his tongue back—and after one last peck, leaned back.
“That was a hell of a tip,” I yelled over the noise.
“I only kiss bartenders I find particularly sexy,” he said.
I finished with the glass I was holding and replied, “Before I get you the requisite R and C, I have something to show you.”
Spence had held his place at the bar with one hand on the wood, despite all the bodies pushing in. He bent forward. “Oh yeah?”
Laurie was vigorously pursuing orders. I only had so much time, but this was important. I fished underneath the bar where our lockers were and dug around my tote until I found it. When I did, my wide-toothed smile came first as I popped back up.
“No fucking way,” Spence said when I flashed him the (crumpled, kind of stained) paper.
I’d waved in front of him a big, fat, healthy red B+, and with the way he regarded me over the paper, he couldn’t be prouder.
“I told you!” he yelled. “I knew you could master Hell, and look at you, kiddo, you did!”
“Give me a barbed whip and some dragons to ride and I’ll head right over there and become its Queen,” I said.
“Dante would be flattered.”
Spence was jostled on the left, someone hammering into his shoulder, but he remained unperturbed. My mind immediately recalled what he would title this instance of physical contact in a crowded bar—implied consent. I stifled my amusement, the fact that I could hear his explanation without him bothering to voice it, and went about pouring him a beer.
“Wait,” he said, and placed a hand on mine before I could tip the pint. “Co— ov— re.”
I tipped my ear closer. “What?”
He cupped his free hand around his mouth. “Come over here!”
Glancing to my left and right, it was impossible. The back of the bar had almost as many bodies as the front, with all hands on deck during the most popular night of the week. I’d have to hop on Laurie’s shoulders and leapfrog over Joey and Carlo, and possibly tackle poor Enrique to the side, who only wanted to collect and dump empty glasses, before making it out of the bar.
“I can’t!” I said.
Spence held both hands out. “You can! Right now.”
“Wha—you mean crawl over?”
His upper lip curled mischievously. “Come on, Sexy.”
I barked out a laugh, still holding an empty beer glass like a dummy, and looked to Laurie like she would say something, but she was heavily involved in keeping the bar moving.
Any second I was going to be yelled at to pour more drinks—either by my brethren or the many bodies writhing against the bar. I set down the beer glass.
Fuck it.
I hopped up on one leg, then had both knees on the bar. The people around me lit up at the sight of my tush, in tight denim, on full display. Laughing, I reached for Spence’s hands. He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me down, his arms curling around me.
My skin was sticky, I had dirty dish rags sticking out of my back pockets, and I was pretty sure my black tank was stained with various cheap flavors of rum. But he held me like I’d just put on the most beautiful ball gown and he was about to lead me into the first dance at the ball.
“Where are we going?” I said as he led me through the throng.
He found a small pocket in between the tables lining the back and the bar. “Right here looks good.”
“For what?” But I already had an inkling, with the way he hooked my waist and held one of my hands out.
He dipped his head until our lips met, and incongruously, it was the most tender kiss he’d ever bestowed. So much so that my knees turned to gummy bears, my arms to licorice, and my lips to cinnamon hearts. Sweet. Soft. Spicy. The sugar of tenderness coated my entire body as music thumped and people heaved and yells carried the thunder of the room, cracking lightning in the background.
“I want to dance with you,” he said when he pulled back ever so slightly.
With the way he studied me, the lowered lids, those lashes of his getting caught in his hair as he blinked, I couldn’t laugh or push him away, or say that was ridiculous—I didn’t want to.
And so, I gave into his sway, and we turned, and danced, molding together in a ribbon of curves and half-spins.
“You amaze me,” he said.
I paused in our dancing, my arms wrapping around his neck. “You said I could do anything.”
After a moment of hesitation, I lifted up on my toes and kissed him, but this time, it was his turn to become candy, to taste my sugar-sweet meaning and finally let him know what he’d been doing to me since the day I met him. I already had the building blocks, but Spence provided the liquid cement. He gave me the strength to pile my bricks and stick them in place.
I came down on my heels, and his eyes took a few seconds to open. They blinked with the stun of emotion I’d thrown behind that kiss.
I said, “I think I finally believe you.”