Heartless (8 page)

I knew beach-girl was just a version of myself I was aspiring to be, but I hadn’t thought being flirty was in my vocabulary. Apparently, Josh was already bringing out new elements of myself.

I glanced out the window again and saw Josh grabbing something from his saddlebags before he disappeared behind the back of the house. I couldn’t get a good look at what he was wearing. I flipped my hair one last time and grabbed my clutch. I was going on a date! I winked at beach-girl and then headed downstairs to open the door.

Josh was at the kitchen door rather than the front.

“I was just making sure that everything was locked up good and tight for the weekend,” he said by way of explanation. Then he gazed at me, from the top of my curled hair to the tips of my painted toenails. “You look beautiful, Heather…”

I stared right back at him. At his piercing blue eyes, his hair slicked back on the sides, as if wet, except for a few strands falling rebelliously over his forehead. Oh my, he looked hot. He wore his leather jacket over a white linen shirt—the first two buttons undone—tucked into well-fitting jeans that were neither faded nor ripped, a black leather belt, and … socks without shoes? His hotness factor dipped until I saw his biker boots on the stoop and a plastic bag in the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet.

He gave the bag a shake. “I brought nicer shoes to wear out to dinner. “

“Oh.” I opened the door wider so he could come in.

Before he pulled said shoes from the bag, he withdrew a cellophane-sleeved rose and handed it to me. It was an unusual peach color, the exact shade of the tank top I was wearing. He winked and said, “Fate strikes again?”

I smiled but shook my head and corrected him in my best Miranda interpretation. “Coincidence.”

He shrugged and smiled, too. “If you say so. Hey, do you mind if I leave my helmet and boots here?”

I looked around at the construction paraphernalia in the corner of the kitchen. “I suppose they are types of tools, aren’t they?”

He set his stuff down and started putting on his shoes while I searched for a vase for the rose. I had to go to the hall bathroom to get some water because the kitchen sink was still disconnected. He followed me, coming to stand close to me in the small bathroom to help take off the tight cello wrap. He whipped out a tiny Swiss army knife and trimmed of the end of the rose after I’d removed the water-filled stem pick. He had clearly gone to a florist and not just a grocery store to pick out this rose. And how many guys knew how important it was to trim a rose from water to water so an air bubble didn’t travel up the stem? Who taught him that? My mother had taught me. Roses had been her favorite flower… I was
not
going to think about my mother now.

The rose was in its vase and Josh still stood close to me. He was looking in the mirror at us and smiling. He stood at least a foot taller, especially with me in flats. I could easily lean my head against his shoulder, but I didn’t. I watched him inhale quietly and deeply. Was he smelling me?

“Fate is good to me,” he sighed.

Blushing, I looked away from the couple in the mirror. “That’s only if you believe in Fate.”

I stepped apart from him so that I might escape the cramped bathroom.

Josh made room for me. “You have to believe in something,” he said following me to the living room. I had every intention of putting the rose beside my bed later tonight but for now I set it on the mantel. I paused there, resting my hands on the mantel. Belief. It was too soon to talk about the damaging effects of belief. And I’d already pushed thoughts of my mother aside. I stared at the pure elegance of the rose.

“It’s so pretty,” I said.

“Just like you.”

He took another step closer to me, and I had the distinct feeling he wanted to wrap his arm around me, give me a hug or something, but I wasn’t quite ready for that. I must have stiffened slightly because he took half a step back and said,

“Ready to go?” He threw his leather jacket over his arm and headed for the front door.

It unnerved me how comfortable he was in
my
house. I suppose he had been here working almost everyday this week, so I couldn’t blame him. I had to shake off this feeling of trespass that was nagging at me. It was clearly part of the old trauma. I reminded myself that it was all right to trust Josh.
Just relax
, beach-girl whispered in my mind.

As we stepped out into the balmy night, I said, “It’s pretty warm out. You might not need your jacket.”

“I’ll bring it just in case we go for a walk on the beach.”

I locked the front door and turned to him. “Beach?”

“Are you up for driving to Santa Monica?”

“I guess, if that’s where you want to go.”

“That’s where I want to
take you
.”

“You just came from there, didn’t you? I should have picked you up instead.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a real date. I have to pick
you
up.”

I quirked up an eyebrow. “Even though I’m driving?”

“I’ll drive if you let me. Even though I drive a motorcycle, I’m good behind the wheel of the car. I’d have borrowed one but my mom’s between two leases right now and my friend, Robbie just crashed his Scirrocco.”

“Crashed?”

“He’s the statistic, not me. I’ve never had so much as a parking ticket.”

Oh boy. I handed him the key. This was one way to learn to trust Josh. “Be careful.”

“With you next to me, I will be driving this car as if it were made of glass.”

He opened the door for me before going around to the driver’s side.

Once we were nestled in with our seat belts on, I asked, “So why Santa Monica?”

He backed out of the driveway very carefully before answering me. “My friend has a restaurant there. It’s a few blocks from the beach. It just opened.”

“So he needs the business?”

“Not at all! The food’s awesome. It’s always booked solid. I had to call a week ago to get a reservation on a Friday.”

A week ago? “Um, we only met a week ago.”

“Well…” He gave me a sheepish sideways glance. “I would have canceled it if…you know…”

“If what? If you hadn’t tracked me down? If I’d said no to frozen yogurt and going out with you again?”

“Well, yeah. But I was hopeful, you know. That’s one thing you’ll find out about me, I’m a bit of a dreamer.”

“Wow, and already one of your dreams is coming true… I hope some of that rubs off on me,” I joked.

He raised an eyebrow as we cruised slowly toward a main street. “I’d be delighted to do the rubbing.”

Oh my. I slid lower in my seat as I feared the night was quickly going from balmy to scorching.

Get with the program
, whispered beach-girl, a little harsher than usual.

I surprised myself by saying, rather flirtatiously, “Don’t rev all your engines at once, Josh. Let’s take one dream at a time.”

He laughed and punched on the stereo.

It was Friday, after 5 PM, the past was the past, and I could sense that my new life, my new future, was on the verge of beginning.

Josh

I lied to Heather. It’s not that big a deal, but I told her I’d never jumped into an idling convertible before. I have. The first time was on a dare. I was pretty fucked up back then. I had just found out my dad had died. Not that I knew him much. I hadn’t seen him since I was five. But twelve years later, when I found out he died, I also found out who he really was and that fucked me up. Made me do stupid shit for a while. Like jump into cars for a lark, and steal stuff, just to see if I could get away with it. And I tried some drugs, too. It was a bad year for me. But my mom got me through it. She helped me. We helped each other. I always admired her for being a single mom, and yeah, maybe sometimes I resented her for it, too, but when I found out
why
she chose to be a single mom, a decision she made when I was four … It made me love her even more. And she didn’t fall apart and do stupid shit. She didn’t bring guys around when I was little. She worked hard. She was there for me. She was always there for me.

What I didn’t lie to Heather about is abandoning my motorcycle. Those first two times, back when Robbie dared me, we had been walking across the street and this older babe, like in her forties, had been giving us the eye. So I did it. I was high anyway. And my boldness earned me a BJ. The second time I earned a slap and a scratched up face. But that was it. Two times in that fucked up year. Two years before I bought my motorcycle.

It wasn’t really a lie. It was true I’d never asked a girl out like that before. Never a girl as sweet and pretty as Heather turned out to be. I didn’t want to fuck this up. She was different. Something about her eyes… But there was that little lie. Not that big a deal, but I promised myself I’d never lie to her again.

She doesn’t seem like a liar but I sense that she’s hiding something. She tries hard to conceal it. Some heartbreak or loss maybe. Something to do with her parents? I know next to nothing about her and yet some part of me feels as if I’ve known her all my life. I know that’s just romantic mush, but it feels true. I’ve never felt something like that before. I hope, in time, she’ll come to trust me. I think she’s trying to.

For one thing, she letting me drive her Aunt’s bad-ass Porsche. It feels great to be behind the wheel. I’m having a hard time not going too fast. This baby wants to rev! But I’ve got to hold back, make Heather feel safe first. Going slow, in anything in life, is hard for me. And I can tell I’ll have to take things slow with Heather. She’s told me as much directly. I grip the steering wheel tighter. I could just fly down Santa Monica Boulevard right now, weaving between cars. Just as easily, I could lunge across the middle console and take Heather in my arms and kiss those luscious pink lips, hoist up her skirt, and fuck her brains out. Shit! Slow down, J! I shift in my seat. It would not be cool to having a raging boner with her sitting in the car next to me. I’ve got to take it easy, play it cool, let her set the pace.

Taking her out to Ken’s place for dinner is classy. I almost blew it with the early reservation though. I could tell that kind of freaked her out. But I’m a planner and I hope for the best. Things don’t always work out, but I don’t mind. I haven’t had the smoothest life but somehow I’ve ended up an optimist. I figure if I keep believing Fate is good to me then it will be. Like Heather’s ‘fake it til you make it’ attitude. You have to know what you want before what you want knows how to find you.

Heather

I had thought Josh would drive faster. I was glad he didn’t. He probably wanted to but didn’t out of respect for me. I liked that. A lot of people were out on this beautiful summer night. As we approached Santa Monica Boulevard, the air cooled slightly and I could smell the sea. I knew we weren’t going to a beach party later but it was Friday night and I was with a very hot guy. I smiled and leaned back in my seat, pretending to be as relaxed as beach-girl might be.

Josh said, “So if you don’t believe in Fate, what do you believe in?”

“Not much anymore,” I said. I didn’t intend to tell him of my early church years and the faith that fucked up my life. Was it even faith? Or just manipulation? It was nearly impossible to gauge when and how that church morphed into cult. Maybe when faith gave itself over to brain washing?… I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. They were part of the past I was leaving behind. They had no place in my future. And most definitely not on a first date, but Josh kept niggling at my edges. He seemed to do it on instinct. So far, it was his only flaw. Maybe my paranoia was my own issue. Miranda might agree with something like that, so I let go of my need to keep everything in its place and try the ‘fake it til you make it’ approach with my own self-trust.

Josh didn’t press me for a deeper answer. He just nodded and adjusted the radio station.

I whipped out my cell phone. “What sign are you?”

“Oh no,” he moaned. “Tell me you’re not into that astrological voodoo, which is not
logical
at all.”

“And believing in Fate is?” I laughed. “Come on, when’s your birthday?”

He growled slightly, playfully, resistant to going along with me but I was sure he’d give in. It’s not like there was any harm in getting advice from the stars. And it kind of complimented the Fate thing.

“September 22nd.”

“Hmmmm, that puts you on the cusp of Virgo and Libra. You seem too decisive to be a true Libra…and you clearly have Virgo tendencies…but you don’t seem OCD.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, you’re organized—you brought different shoes for dinner after all. And you and Leo are pretty neat in your work habits.”

“I take all the credit for that. Leo is definitely not neat.”

“Then that further proves my point. Plus, you’re practical—saving for college, driving a motorcycle because it’s cheaper—that’s Virgo. But you also like the finer things in life—good food, nice clothes…” I was thinking of that nice linen shirt, which I was hoping I’d be able to run my fingers over later this evening.

“…And pretty girls.” He cleared his throat. “Well, pretty
girl
.”