GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (36 page)

“If you do to ass what
I
do to ass, it most
definitely
drinkable.” He grabbed his wrench and a paper towel and set them beside his knee, all while examining the various parts of the disassembled motor.

“You’re so nasty.” She crossed her legs, crinkling her nose.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, here’s the deal. You did take it apart correctly, but this rocker arm is all jacked up. You twisted it when you removed it. This is beyond anything I can do. I’m not a mechanic but I can fix a couple of these areas so that when I take it into the shop for you, they won’t charge you more for the repairs.”

She nodded in understanding, “Alright, that sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, this’ll take about…” He glanced up at her stove clock then looked back down at the mechanical mayhem the woman had created, “…an hour, tops. In the meantime, I want a real drink and some food. Either make it or go pick it up.”

Silver looked all around in mock disbelief and confusion.

“This mothafucka couldn’t possibly be talking to me?!” She pointed at her chest. “You must think this is 1949.”

“Feed me. Don’t make me have to make my
own
meal.” His eyes narrowed on her crotch as he hoped the little lady caught his drift. Initially, her expression morphed into confusion, and then it relaxed in an all-knowing way.

“You know I was going to hook you up. Why do you have to try and power trip with me, Zenith?” She slowly rose from her seat.

“Because we love one another, we respect one another, but neither one of us wants to give up full control at any given time. I was just teasing you, and I know you were going to take care of me, hook me up… you always do.” He winked at her.

“Well then, how is that a power issue if I give you what you want and you give me what I want, too?”

“You try to make me beg for it. I ain’t beggin’ for shit,” he grunted as he began his work. “You’re mine, I’m yours. If we ask, then we should receive.” He dug inside his toolbox and rummaged around.

“Yeah, I can roll with that. I guess I’ll pick up something for us.”

“Glad to hear it. I need some room, some space. It’s going to get loud in here.”

“Are you kicking me out of my own house?” She laughed, placing her hand on her hip.

“Of course not… just the kitchen.”

“Hmph!” Pretending to be insulted, she prepared to saunter out then called out from over her shoulder, “Going to get the grub. I’ll be right back.”

“Stop at the liquor store, too!”

“Okay, what do you want?”

“Some beer… whatever is on sale. I’m not picky.”

“You’re not picky? Lyin’ ass.” She guffawed as she disappeared from sight.

He wrapped his hands around the metal parts, the pieces coming together, reunited once again. His face coated in sweat, droplets dripping from the tip of his nose as he worked the blowtorch against the metal, fusing some of the fragmented and cracked parts with expert precision. In that moment, he found himself oddly turned on, fixated on the task at hand. His woman had held those parts in her hands, dissected them, tried to make the situation make sense.

He applauded her for being the type of woman who at least attempted to help herself before she asked for assistance. Honestly, she hadn’t requested support in quite the traditional way. No, he’d called her a couple hours earlier only to be greeted with a barrage of curses and banging noises, as if she wanted to audition to be his damn drumming assistant. After repeatedly asking what the hell was going on, she confessed that her motorcycle was practically DOA. She’d had it up to here. According to Silver, she’d done nothing to create the situation. The charts were wrong you see, and things had gone completely to hell from no fault of her own.

He asked her if she wanted help, but in typical Silver way, she declined, and with an attitude, too. So, he stopped asking, and simply showed up on her doorstep, toolbox in hand. He pushed his way past her, and now, here they were…

“Okay, that’s better…that’ll do for now.” Grunting, he moved about on the floor, tackling piece by piece by piece. The remaining portions he pushed aside, prepared to place them in a plastic bin and haul them into his friend’s shop. It took him far less time than he’d estimated, and her small home felt uneasily quiet. Getting to his feet, he sighed and made his way to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He grabbed the dish liquid, put a goopy dollop in the middle of his palm, and worked it in. The suds turned light gray from all the mess. He flicked the faucet on and the cold water soon turned warm as he worked his hands under the running stream. Grabbing a fresh paper towel, he made his way out of the kitchen and sat on her couch in the living room.

“She’s definitely no frills.” He surveyed the place in the daytime. Silver had her television placed perfectly in her entertainment center. On each side rose two skinny black lamps and to the right, a large window with a sun-damaged beige curtain. Everything was clean, yet devoid of character. The sterility of the place gave him a bit of a chill.

How could someone so passionate and interesting live in such plainness?

Sure, he’d been to her house plenty of times, but it still unnerved him. He could never quite shake it. This was just one of many mysteries about the woman he’d yet to completely unravel and it drew him to her all the more. The dining room had only an old oak table and matching chairs. There was no centerpiece, no art, no trophies, no miniscule statues, not even a stack of fun magazines. The only reading materials appeared to be work related or manuals for games. He did discover an artificial plant in the corner of the living room, but it, too, lacked pizzazz and charm. It seemed to have been simply placed there as an afterthought…

Sliding off his boots with a tug and drag from the balls of his feet, he got comfortable. He lay there for a moment or two, entertaining the temptation of a quick catnap before she got back. Ahhhh yes, he could see her now, the lady arriving home with a sack of greasy grub and an ice-cold beer to wash it all down, creating a delicious disaster in the pit of his growling gut. Several moments passed and the REM stage of slumber seduced him, lured him with her soft gray and violet kisses. REM, however, must’ve had a Silver lining, for the little witch of a woman burst inside the place, scaring the living daylights out of him. He sat up as if he’d been attached to a springboard, about to ricochet off into space.

“What are you doing?!” he hollered out as she danced around him, doing some strange M.C. Hammer moves with a silly grin on her face.

“Wake up or you can’t touch this! Duh, duh duh duh, duh duh, duh duh! You can’t touch this! Duh, duh duh duh, duh duh, duh duh.” Crossing his arms, he glared at her in aggravation.

“Your obsession with MC Hammer is disturbing. Come on, give it to me.” He waved his fingers in her direction, beckoning her to stop playing around.

“I caught your ass asleep on my couch. That’ll be $89.99. That’s my hotel fee,” she teased as she handed him the beer then disappeared into the kitchen with a big, white bag of something that smelled too damn good to be true. “Come on in the kitchen, baby. I’m going to put these on some plates.”

He got to his feet chasing behind her, savoring something he’d yet to see.

With delicate maneuvers, Silver pulled two gyro sandwiches out the bag, both wrapped in cellophane. Next came two tiny cups of what appeared to be stingy servings of cucumber yogurt.

“That looks good.” He gave his stomach a rub in eager expectation and held tight to the icy beer in the other hand. She kept on working on getting the food out the bag, acting with flourish as if doing a stellar magic trick with a pristine, black top hat.

“I got some more, too.” On the counter, she placed a large container of crinkle fries that appeared to be heavily seasoned with some red spice and black pepper, perhaps a bit of salt and garlic powder, too. Last but not least—a white Styrofoam plate with a thick, gooey slice of pecan pie.

“I figured we could share a dessert.”

“Now see!” He pointed at her as he moved in close for the kill. “This is why I chose
you
, baby! Yeeeah!” He laughed, ready to dig in. “You’re a winner!”

“Whoa! Whoa now, slow your greedy little cinnamon roll… This is all for me, actually, minus the dessert.” Her expression was serious, stern as stone as she pointed to the buffet carefully laid out before them. “There is some old, moldy ass cheese in the refrigerator for
you
.” She dabbed at the sides of her mouth with a napkin in a cutesy sort of way, only to be almost toppled over as he shoved her out of his path.

“So you’ll beat me up for a damn sandwich?” She burst out laughing.

“You’re damn straight. Where are your plates? You’re taking too long. This isn’t a dinner party. Let’s get this show on the road.” He opened cabinet after cabinet, only to discover ceramic coffee cups, black saucers, and things of that nature.

“Over here; I’ll get them.” Opening another cabinet, she pulled out two white plates and handed him one. She grabbed a couple of forks, too. They stood there in silence, fixing their plates up just so. “You want some ketchup?” she offered quietly, the rustling of paper and utensils hitting the plate as a backdrop.

“Yeah.” And then he paused. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, his chest grew warm. Every time he was with her now, every phone call shared, every text, email and date pushed him that much farther into the path of seeing her in a different light, a positive ray in his life. He wanted to place her up high somewhere inside his mind and admire her from near and far.

“Thanks for picking this up.”

“You’re welcome.”

She opened her own bottle of beer, busy with her duties. He ran his hand up and down her back, unable to stop; the desire to be close to her had become too strong. Her thin sweater bunched beneath his touch, and he could feel her now, but it still wasn’t quite enough. Silver handed him the condiment bottle, forcing him to reluctantly withdraw. He began to slap the bottom of the damn thing, beating it up, pounding it with vigor.

He wished he could do the same to her right about then, too…

They stood there eating, side by side, not caring to sit down and get comfortable, not wanting to disturb the space they’d carved out for one another. The odor of oil and dirt mixed in with the flavored food and her perfume too, making a strange but alluring celebration for the nose.

He stole more and more glances of her, becoming trapped in a mini-obsession. She took a tiny bite, and then another as she looked straight ahead at nothing certain, her expression bland and plain like white bread. He took a bite of his sandwich, too, and then she took another as well. Mundane stuff. It was almost as if they were taking turns, waiting until the other was satisfied before going on about their way.

It seemed to him that, each time they met, instant chemistry, cooperation, and a tiny network of sorts triggered and evolved between them. He was intrigued with how she seemed to know what he was thinking, tease and toy with him in a way he found oddly amusing, and then deliver sensual kisses and words of wisdom all within a five minute time frame, just like that.

He loved what they had so much, he’d do anything to preserve it, and in order to keep things good, his baby had to be happy. So, he did something behind her back two weeks previously, something he’d felt compelled to do and had no regrets about…

He pulled his hair back in a neat and tidy ponytail. He dressed in a freshly ironed, button down light blue shirt and black slacks. In his hand, he held one of Paw’s old briefcases, chock full of important things for his show and tell. He knew his baby’s schedule down to the second that week, keeping tabs on her, making excuses as to why he’d need to know such intricate details. Silver was in an ongoing meeting with one of the directors this particular morning, and he’d knew it would last long into the afternoon… So, he made his move. He walked inside and asked to speak to Ms. Simone Lewis. The woman came out and looked at him in confusion. He extended his hand, introduced himself, and asked to speak to her in private about an important business matter.

She led him to a conference room, where he made his intentions clear straight away. Pulling out document after document, he showed all of the work a Ms. Silver Faye had done for that company.

Her efforts had garnered that company millions of dollars over a four-year period, and the woman’s only compensation had been a measly raise. He informed her that the problem with employees like Silver Faye was that she was so good at what she did and loved it so much, an opportunist would know she’d practically do it for free…

He let that sink in, allowed Ms. Lewis to catch his drift.

“You can tell her that you appreciate her, that’s nice, but those are just words. Ms. Lewis… Silver does not know I’m here, just like I stated, so please do not take this out on her. I just wanted you to know that she loves this company, she truly enjoys working here, but honestly, she’s not getting what she deserves and you and I know it. She’s a go-getter, and she seeks out everything she wants. This job was no different but she keeps getting the run around. Funny though, she’s never given you the runaround or made any excuses, has she?

“You ask that woman to do something, and she does it. She does it on time, she does it correctly, and she does it with a smile. She just gets the job done… I’m just a welder; what do I know, right? Well, I know a lot. I know about fairness, I know about value, I know about grinding to get what you want, I know about hard work. I’m a hard worker, too, and so is my sweetheart. You know she is worth it. Give her a chance, just one chance. She’s asked you several times, and though I’m certain your answers were honest, you didn’t try hard enough; you didn’t care enough to dig a bit deeper. Best of all, it would be a win for you. Think about the woman you hired, the woman you hand selected, creating a game that people globally are buying in droves. How good would that make you look?, huh? Damn good. You know anything Silver does is stellar work, and this would be no exception…”