At Peace (24 page)

My stomach flipped, not pleasantly, and I
whispered, “You want it back?”

“No, wanna fuck you in it again.”

My stomach flipped again, this time
pleasantly, and I whispered, “Okay.”

“Better than your nightgowns.”

“You’ve never fucked me in one of my
nightgowns,” I reminded him. “You always take them off.”

“Skin feels better than lace, buddy.”

“Oh.”

“Those things are sweet, but you look better
naked.”

“Oh.”

Wow.

He thought I looked better naked than in my
nightgowns?

Wow.

“Anything else distractin’ you?” he
asked.

It seemed to me, he wanted to talk. It seemed
to me, he wanted to take the constant Mom load off my mind, a load
I used to be able to share with Tim, a load I’d borne alone for too
long.

That’s what it seemed like to me.

Then again, that was probably what I wanted
it to seem like.

“Well, except for the fact that I lifted the
ban off Dane bein’ here when I’m not and wondering if that was the
right thing to do, no.”

“Looked in your house last night when I got
home. The kids were all in the kitchen, makin’ dinner and laughin’.
You were good, least last night.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

I liked the thought of Joe looking in my
house and seeing the kids laughing. That felt good.

It felt good until Joe continued. “Still,
he’s a teenage boy so every other minute he’s thinkin’ about
gettin’ in her pants.”

That felt bad.

“Joe!”

“Bein real, buddy, you should know that and
you should talk to her about condoms.”

“I’ve already talked to her about
abstinence.”

Joe burst out laughing and I froze,
listening to the richness of it. I’d never heard him laugh. I
wasn’t even certain he
could
laugh. He was my hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door,
security to the stars booty call. He was a serious, scary, rugged,
sinister, alpha male. Men like that didn’t
laugh
.

When his laughter died down, I could still
hear its timbre in his question. “Your folks talk to you about
abstinence?”

“
My mother is asexual. I think my father
kidnapped Sam and me.”

“Everyone’s mother is asexual.”

“Not like my mother. She’s a robot programmed
to one emotion, disapproval.”

“See you’re close with your Ma.”

“She doesn’t even send me a Christmas
card.”

Again, there was silence, this time it was
strangely weighty then he asked, “No shit?”

“No shit. She has nothing to do with me or my
girls.”

“That’s fucked.”

“Yep.”

“You send her one?”

“Every year but only because I
semi-kinda-like my Dad because he buys gifts for the girls on the
internet that he can hide from my Mom amongst other purchases.”

“Your family sounds kind of fucked up,
buddy.”

“I’m American, it’s the American way.”

“Got that right,” he muttered.

I wanted to ask about his family. I knew his
mother was Italian and from Chicago but there were a lot of
Italians in Chicago, that’s why they made the best pizza in the
world there (outside of Italy, I was guessing, since I’d never been
to Italy). When he spoke of her, he said “was” which made me think
she wasn’t around anymore. He also had a murdered cousin named
Vinnie that he was close to who happened to be in the mafia,
pre-murder. This was kind of scary information to have and I was
trying to ignore it, especially since Daniel Hart was involved.
That’s all I knew.

But I didn’t think it was my place to ask and
I had to get to Cheryl. I was now, officially, late.

“Joe, I gotta go.”

“All right, Vi,” I started to say good-bye
but he went on. “I see Dane again, we’ll have a talk.”

I blinked then asked, “About what?”

“About respect.”

“Respect?”

“Respect for his woman. Takin’ care of
her.”

I froze again.

Then I whispered, “Joe –”

“Figure you don’t regret what happened to
you, you got Kate, but that shit goes down for them, it could play
out differently, they should be clued in. Yeah?”

Why was he being so nice?

And laughing?

And interested in everything?

I didn’t come up with any answers because Joe
kept talking. “Speakin’ of that, Vi, you said you weren’t on the
pill and we haven’t –”

“I, uh… went back on after the first time,
we, uh…” God, how embarrassing. “Anyway, no worries. It’s all
good.”

How fun, telling my booty call I’d been
having regular periods.

He cut into my embarrassment with a quiet,
“Good news, baby.”

And why was he calling me “baby” more
often?

I wasn’t complaining but did booty calls use
sweet nothings?

I needed to ask Cheryl so I repeated, “Joe, I
have to go.”

“Use your side door tonight, lock it.”

“Okay.”

“Later.”

“Bye.”

I slid my phone closed and stared at it.

He kept moving the goalposts for this booty
call business. How could he say no to dinner but then talk to my
daughter’s boyfriend about condoms and respect for his “woman”?

It didn’t make sense and I didn’t have the
time or experience to stand in my bedroom pondering it. I needed to
get to J&J’s.

And
anyway, Cheryl would have the answers.

* * * * *

I wandered back to the bar from the bathroom,
seeing Cheryl sitting at the bar, a fresh drink in front of her, a
fresh drink in front of my empty stool and an extremely attractive,
tall, dark blond man standing behind her. She was twisted in her
stool, looking up at him and chatting.

I was not wrong about her outfit; she
definitely made me pale in comparison. No man was looking at me
considering the amount of cleavage and leg she was displaying. I’d
actually seen two guys walk into tables because they were
mesmerized by her flesh display.

I slid by a couple of people, having to get
close to the blond guy Cheryl was talking to to get to my seat. He
looked down at me as I squeezed by, I saw he had nice, dark brown
eyes and was more than a little attractive up close and I slid onto
my stool.

“Hey,” he said and I heard he also had a
nice, deep voice.

“Hi,” I replied.

He kept looking at me and I smiled at him,
waiting for Cheryl to introduce us. When she didn’t, I looked at
her to see she was looking down to Colt’s end of the bar (which was
the way I thought of it since Colt always sat at the last stool of
the bar, closest to the wall, the office behind him). She was
smiling a little, sneaky smile and I was about to look over my
shoulder to see what she was smiling at when the man spoke.

“I’m Mike.”

I looked up at him and said, “Violet.”

“I know, Cheryl mentioned she was out with
you tonight.”

“Ah,” I said because there was no real
response to that.

I picked up my cranberry juice and vodka and
sucked on the straw.

He kept talking. “You should also know I know
you because I work with Colt.”

I put down my drink and asked, “What?”

“I’m a cop. Lieutenant Mike Haines.”

“Uh…”

“It’s okay, Violet, I just didn’t want you to
find out later that I knew your deal. Would suck, we had a
conversation, I didn’t mention it and then you found out I knew all
about it. You’d think I was a dick, so thought it best to lay it
out there.”

That was nice so I smiled and said,
“Thanks.”

He smiled back and said, “Hope it’s not
weird. Can’t imagine how weird it’d feel, someone knowin’ you
before you know them. Don’t know how Feb handles it when the serial
killer tourists hit the bar.”

Feb had mentioned this to me at the
Christmas party at Myrtle’s house. She told me how the people who
heard about her bad business and read about it in the book that was
published came to the bar. It was quieting down but at first it was
constant and she, nor Colt, nor anyone in town, liked it
much.

“Unfortunately, I think she’s used to it,” I
told him.

He smiled again and, this time, I noticed he
had a nice smile in fact it was a really nice smile. “Yeah.”

“Anyway, thanks for bein’ honest.”

“Colt doesn’t talk, he just briefed us in
case shit went down,” Mike assured me.

I smiled again too and said, “Well, glad
you’re briefed.”

“Has shit gone down?”

I shook my head. “Since the flowers? No.”

Cheryl, who had been silent during our
conversation, suddenly stood up.

“
I’m gonna go visit the powder room. You
two talk.” She looked up at Mike and said, “You can take my stool.
I’m gonna cruise the room before I get back. Just in case Colt
didn’t give you the full brief, she works at the garden center and
has two daughters. They’re gorgeous, good kids. And she’s nice so,
you fuck her over, you’re on my shit list.” Then she looked at me
and said, straight out, “He’s got a son and a daughter and he’s
single. His divorce was finalized two months ago, don’t know what’s
up with the divorce, I quizzed Colt, he was locked up tight, Feb
too. Joint custody. Haven’t met his kids so I can’t vouch for them,
they could be hooligans. Beware.” Then, after sharing those
tidbits, she clapped me on the shoulder, Mike on the arm and
ordered, “Commence flirting.” Then she walked away.

I watched her move and I did it with my mouth
hanging open. I knew it was hanging open but I couldn’t find it in
me to close it.

Mike took her stool and leaned into me so I
swung my eyes to him.

“
Relax, Violet,” he put his hand to my
knee, gave it a squeeze then took his hand away, “I’m all for
flirtin’, if you’re up for that, but we can also just
talk.”

“I’ve no clue how to flirt,” I blurted. “I
married my high school boyfriend.”

He grinned and I noted he had a nice grin
too, more than nice, it was devilish, then he asked, “Wanna
learn?”

I laughed at the concept of Lieutenant Mike
Haines, one son, one daughter, joint custody, teaching me how to
flirt in J&J’s Saloon and said, “Sure, sock it to me, how do
you flirt?”

“You want the hard core stuff or the subtle
stuff?” he asked.

I picked up my glass and rested the straw on
my lip, looking at him the whole time and decided to be
adventurous. “Hard core.”

Then I used the tip of my tongue to nab my
straw, sucked back some drink and saw his eyes watch my mouth do
this.

Then his eyes came back to mine and he
muttered, “You’re full of it.”

I swung my drink away and asked, “What?”

“
The straw ploy,” he dipped his head to my
drink, “advanced flirting,” I looked at my drink then at him when
he finished approvingly, “the tongue, nice touch.”

I was feeling suddenly strange and I put my
straw back to my lips, mumbling, “Um…” then I covered the fact I
didn’t know what to say by sucking up another sip.

Mike went on. “Next thing you’ll do is tie
the stem of a cherry in a knot with your tongue.”

I choked on my cranberry juice and vodka.

Mike put a hand to my back, which was easy to
do considering I was leaned nearly double trying to take in deep
breaths while still choking.

“Hey, you okay?”

I lifted up, placed my glass on the bar and
patted my chest. “Just… went down the wrong tube,” I gasped.

“Take another sip, it’ll help,” Mike advised,
I took his advice and he was right.

I put the glass back on the bar, looked at
him and said hesitantly, “So, um… flirting question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“Nope,” he smiled.

I smiled back when he didn’t answer and
asked, “How old are you?”

“Forty.”

“Okay, I’m thirty-five.”

He was still smiling when he said on a
prompt, “Right.”

I carried on. “And you’re saying, at our
ages, the knotting the cherry stem flirting trick still works?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll be a hundred and two and
that’ll work like Viagra.”

Shit!

“Why?” he asked, watching me closely.

“Just that, I thought you boys got over that
at, say, nineteen, maybe twenty.”

“Nope.”

I couldn’t believe it. I’d flirted with
Joe the
entire
time
we were at
J&J’s together. No wonder he thought he could take me home and
fuck me.

“Violet, you okay?”

“No,” I told Mike. “Not too long ago, a guy
told me he’d pay me fifty bucks to tie a cherry stem with my
tongue. I thought he was jokin’ around.”

Mike grinned and said, “Sorry, darlin’, he
wasn’t.”

“Shit,” I whispered.

“You do it?”

“Yeah,” I told him. “He didn’t seem
impressed.”

“Oh, he was impressed,” Mike assured me.

I guessed he was since he dragged me out of
the bar not five minutes after, took me home and fucked me.

God, I was an idiot.

“You get the fifty?”

“Kind of… we had somewhat of a fight the next
day and I threw it in his face.”

Mike burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked when I thought he could hear
me over his laughter.

He leaned in. “The next day?” He shook his
head as I realized what I gave away or what he thought I gave away
which was, essentially, what I gave away and then he whispered,
“Darlin’.”

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“God’s honest truth?” he asked.

“Hit me,” I told him.

“You squeezed by me, I thought you were the
most beautiful woman I’ve seen in this town since Feb came home.
Now I think you’re cute as all hell but still beautiful. What I
don’t think is that you’re an idiot.”

I bit my lip then I whispered, “Thanks.”