Confessions From A Coffee Shop (8 page)

Kat was even denied friends unless they were relations. But all of her aunts, uncles, and cousins knew Phineas was a whack job, so they ostracized Kat anyway, thinking she was brainwashed as well. When she left home to attend Wellesley, Kat finally felt free. But her childhood still haunted. How could it not?

I couldn’t imagine growing up like that. My family wasn’t perfect, but compared to Kat’s, we were like the Cleaver family from the 1950s television show
Leave It to Beaver.

Kat’s mother, Margaret, was the perfect mate for Phineas. She was just as boring, conceited, and unintelligent. For their honeymoon, Kat’s mom suggested they go to Mount Rushmore. At first I thought she must have been a huge
North by Northwest
fan, which might have made it somewhat cooler. But she has never seen the Cary Grant classic. Never. Movies with any type of suspense are too much for her. Margaret couldn’t even watch
Bedknobs and Broomsticks
with her daughter when Kat was a kid.

No, Margaret picked Mount Rushmore because she really wanted to see the presidents carved in stone‌—‌on her honeymoon. How was that for lighting the fire in the bedroom? Not to be disrespectful, but I was pretty sure most people didn’t get turned on by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt. They might have been great presidents, but their faces were pretty much the last thing on my mind when I want to get naked.

The honeymoon was their first and last trip outside of Massachusetts. Ever since then, they go to Cape Cod every summer. They stay in their family home, go to the same restaurants, and visit the same museums when it rains. For more than twenty years, they haven’t varied this routine a bit. Margaret almost cried when one of their favorite restaurants on the Cape closed. But she was a tough woman, so not one actual tear fell from her dead eyes. Her predecessors came over on the
Mayflower
. She would not disappoint them by showing any emotion, let alone happiness or sadness. Or maybe she couldn’t even recognize other emotions. Everything was black and white with that woman. No shades of gray.

“I take it the Sox won.” Kat squeezed my thigh, quickly so her parents wouldn’t see. I could tell she was relieved when I finally arrived. She never missed the monthly dinner with her folks, but I knew she preferred for me to be there, for moral support. I was her buffer, and it was my job to keep the conversation going. Even Kat, the most bewitching of creatures, couldn’t charm her parents. Not that I could either, but I was new enough to their lives that they were forced to pretend to care about what I had to say.

“Oh, Kat, too bad you missed it.” I turned to face her. “Today’s game will go down in history!” I slapped the tabletop, which caused Phineas’s puckered face to sink further into his skull. He constantly looked like he was sucking a lime. I didn’t mean to lay it on so thick, but her parents gave me the willies so I always felt uncomfortable and acted like a buffoon.

“So what did I miss?” I looked across the table at them as I placed my napkin in my lap, remembering my manners.

“We were just getting ready to order, Cori,” explained her father.

I was ten minutes late. By the looks on their faces, they were not happy about it. Plus, I had been at a sporting event, mixing with the lower classes. Could they smell the beer and hotdogs on my breath?

The waiter approached and asked if I needed more time to look at the menu. I almost laughed in his face. We went to dinner once a month with Kat’s parents and every time, we came here. He was our usual waiter. I hated the place, which didn’t have any decent vegetarian meals, but heaven forbid we eat someplace else and break Finn family tradition. In its heyday, this joint had been popular. But now it was run-down and usually half-empty. Only tourists, who didn’t know better, and the Finns patronized it. The Oriental rug on the floor was dingy and so threadbare I feared walking on it in case it disintegrated, and the grime of the place killed my appetite every time. The owners kept the lights dim‌—‌beyond dim‌—‌but I knew the truth. Anyone could smell the dust and mold.

“Not to worry. I’m ready.” I motioned for him to take Margaret’s order first. I knew my place.

After everyone ordered the exact same meal they always ordered, I tried to kindle a conversation. “Dr. Finn, how’s business?” Pathetic, I know, but what do you ask a dentist who only watches PBS?

He sat up straighter in his chair, which impressed me since he was straight as a board already. “I’m glad you asked. I have a proposition for you, Cori.”

A proposition? From a dentist?

This should be good.

I stifled a laugh. “Really?” I took a sip of my iced water; I never drank alcohol in front of the Finns.

“Yes. Our billing person quit, Cori.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” I had no idea why that was so important that we had to bump up our usual dinner plans by a week.

“Tragic, Cori. It’s so hard to find people I can trust.” His lips puckered again and disappeared into his sloping chin.

Tragic
‌—‌that seemed a bit too much. The person quit. It’s not like he or she died, which would be tragic.

I did my best to keep my face judgment-free. Every day, I saw ads on TV about people signing up for an online school to learn dental and medical billing. It didn’t sound hard at all. How difficult could it be to find competent workers in Boston, especially now that the economy was in the shitter? He could probably find a Harvard grad who was desperate for the job. Then it hit me. I was being set up! I was a Harvard alum who was struggling financially.

Oh no, oh no, oh no …

Kat seemed to stop breathing. I wanted to give her a hug, to let her know it would be okay. No matter what, we’d get through this.

Instead, I grabbed a piece of bread and angrily buttered a small portion as I waited for the ball to drop. Kat and I were not allowed to show affection at her family dinners. The Finns were the coldest people I’d ever met. Rattlesnakes had more charm. Truthfully, I’d rather hug a snake than either of her parents; not that they’d ever tried to hug me. Kat couldn’t even remember either of them hugging her. Not hugging your own child seemed unimaginable to me

“I know you’ve been working at Beantown Café part-time, Cori.” He paused for me to respond.

I didn’t. I wished he’d stop saying my name. I already had a part-time job. I hated Beantown with a passion, but I’d rather work there eighty hours a week than do dental billing. And working for Kat’s father‌—‌shit, that sounded awful. Fucking dreadful. Why couldn’t I have been hit by a bus on the way to this dinner?

“And this job would fit with your schedule because you could file the claims at any time, even at three in the morning,” explained Phineas. There was an odd look in his eye. I wouldn’t call it a glint‌—‌just a different shade of dull. I wondered if it was Phineas Finn’s personal brand of happiness.

Neither Kat nor I spoke, but I’m pretty sure Phineas didn’t expect us to. He was the type of man who thought he commanded respect.

He continued, “I’ll have the software installed on your home computer, and I’ll set up a fax machine for you. Each night, my secretary will fax the claims that need processing and then all you have to do is enter them in the system. Our biller has agreed to train you for a few days. If I remember correctly, you don’t teach on Thursday during the day. She’s expecting you at ten. And she’ll be in the office this Saturday and Sunday to finish the training.” He started to sip his wine‌—‌the one glass he allowed himself during these dinners‌—‌and then added, “I’m glad that’s settled. What a relief.” His voice and face displayed no emotion.

“Oh, of course.” Either my tone wasn’t sarcastic enough, or he didn’t do sarcasm. There wasn’t a flicker of comprehension from Phineas.

Kat picked up on it and ran her hand up my thigh, stopping at my crotch briefly. Her demonstration informed me that she was sorry but had no idea how to say no. She never said no to her parents; ergo, I couldn’t say no either.

Our salads arrived. I stabbed a crouton viciously and the damn thing shot off my plate and hit the waiter in the ass.

Although I apologized profusely to the waiter, Kat couldn’t hold in her laughter and some iced tea dribbled out her nose. The parents of the kid I had given the foam finger to, smiled, sensing my mortification.

Phineas, engrossed in cleaning his salad fork with his linen napkin, never even noticed the hubbub. Margaret just stared at me with empty eyes before daintily forking up some of her salad.

And that was it. I had three jobs. Four if we counted writing a novel.

* * *

Later that night, Kat ran me an extra-hot bath and actually climbed in with me. She wasn’t a huge fan of baths‌—‌the idea of soaking in her own filth disgusted her‌—‌but she catered to me every once in a while. My doctor had ordered me to have one each night to help my back following a car accident I’d had ten years ago. Lately, my back had been acting up, right about the time I started working at Beantown Café. Normally, I preferred soaking in the hot tub, but it needed repairing so Mom’s handyman was coming by next week.

“I can’t believe that crouton!” Kat nudged me, trying to get me to smile.

I wasn’t falling for it. I was in the mood to pout, and nothing was going to snap me out of it.

“I mean, the way it shot off your plate and hit William right in the ass!” Even her grin couldn’t coax me.

Kat took my left foot in her hands and massaged it. Oh man, it felt good. I leaned against the back of the tub and felt the tension leave my body. She started to work on my right foot. Her plan was working. My anger was dissipating. Surely Kat could sense it.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed and I’ll give you a backrub as well.”

She didn’t have to ask me twice. I sloshed bubbles and water on the bathroom floor in my haste to get to the bedroom, Kat following me, completely naked. When she straddled me, I felt her wetness on my ass.

It wasn’t just bath water.

Trying to stay strong, I didn’t react at first as she dug into my tense shoulders. Kat had taken several massage classes in college as a backup plan, and she was good‌—‌too good.

I moaned, and she moved to the side to knead my lower back and buttocks, proceeding to massage every part of my body, including my pinky fingers. When she was done, I would have signed up to be her mom’s kitchen maid if the Finns had asked. Actually, I don’t think he even
asked
me to handle his billing. The dinner was an informal meeting. And I was told. From now on, I was expected to do it.

After the massage, I was in a much better place, but Kat wasn’t done with me. As I lay on my stomach, I felt Kat’s fingers run up and down my body, her light touch tickling me sensuously. Slowly, she began to kiss my back‌—‌soft kisses, up and down, never lingering in one spot for long. Then she began to lick me. Her tongue smoothed over my butt cheek, and I shivered, waiting to see what her next move would be. Wet and warm, her tongue teased at my anus‌—‌not the sexiest term, I know, but I’m not a romance novelist‌—‌and I moaned in ecstasy. It was a weakness of mine, one only Kat knew. When she had first done it, I’d jumped out of bed, shocked and disgusted.

“Shit comes out of there,” I had shouted.

Kat had just laughed and said piss and mucus and menstrual blood came out of the other spot. She had a point, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. The next time, I let her stay a bit longer. Soon, I always wanted it, but I never asked. It was her ace in the hole, and she knew I referred to it that way. Kat didn’t do it all the time. I couldn’t blame her. I never could bring myself to reciprocate. She rolled me over on my side and licked my nipple‌—‌biting it, tasting it before moving on to the other.

Moments later, she spread my legs and took my swollen pussy lips in her mouth, ignoring my juices spilling out onto the sheet.

“Oh, fuck, Kat,” I moaned.

She ran her finger over my throbbing clit, and I grabbed the back of her head, guiding her mouth to the spot. “Please …”

Her tongue darted inside me, exploring my folds and hidden places with zeal. I whimpered in ecstasy, knowing I couldn’t handle much more as her tongue focused on my clit in a circular motion.

My body tensed, I grunted like a cavewoman. Kat knew I couldn’t climax without her inside me. For what seemed an eternity, she kept me hovering on the precipice of bliss. I wanted to beg for more, but I was so caught up in the anticipation that I couldn’t formulate the words. When my hips started to gyrate madly, Kat took pity and thrust her fingers deep inside me. My muscles contracted, and I let out a yelp as her fingers explored inside while she continued licking my clit. I dug my fingers into the sheet, arched my back.

Kat thrust deeper, oblivious to my moans. When I climaxed, she held her tongue in place but forced her fingers in as far as she could.

“Fucking hell,” I shouted, feeling my wetness spilling slippery over her hand. My body trembled with pleasure as Kat removed her fingers and moved up to nestle her face on my chest.

“Come here.” I gently pulled her lips to my mouth. “God, I love you, Kat,” I whispered. I tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I love everything about you.”

“Even Phineas,” she teased.

“At the moment, yes.”

Chapter Five

Several days later, I was back in Beantown Café hell. After the morning rush, Harold said, “Can I ask you something?”

I’ve always hated it when people start a conversation this way, because in effect, they had already asked me something. However, I decided not to be an ass. I was too tired. “Sure, Harold. What’s up?” I flashed my fake, cheerful smile.

“Do you know any good dyke bars?”

I have to admit, I was stunned. “Um, I know of some. Not sure how good they are. Why?”

“I want to go to one.” He brushed some powder‌—‌or was it dandruff?‌—‌off his shoulder.

“You do know what the word means, right?” I tried not to sound too condescending.

“Dyke? Yeah, why?” He squinted.

“It’s not the best place to pick up chicks, Harold. Some might get mad. And a few of them scare me, and I’m gay, nearly six feet tall, and a former jock.”