Mayday (2 page)

His indrawn breath at the brief contact sounded harsh. Ragged. “Helen?”

“Yes,” she said, the word emerging from her in a rush. “Yes, I'll come home with you.”

“Do you need to check in with your friends before we go?” he asked, settling a big, hot hand on the small of her back and kneading the muscles there with gentle fingers.

She nodded and headed for her friends' table, separating from his touch with reluctance. As he paid his tab, she gathered her purse.

Angie and Sarah regarded her with expectant stares.

“So?” Angie said. “How's the produce?”

“I'm taking it home,” Helen said, and then frowned. “Well, no. I guess technically the produce is taking me to
his
home, which seems kind of backward.”

Sarah sat up straight in her bar stool, her gray-blue eyes serious. “Are you sure about this, Helen? You may have grown up with him, but you hardly know him. You talked to him for five minutes right now, and that's it.”

“He's the mayor,” Angie argued. “It's not like she's running off to spend the night with a stranger carrying a pickax and trying to sell his fillings for cigarettes.”

“You never know,” Sarah said darkly. “Evil comes in all sorts of handsome disguises. And I'm not just talking about physical danger. I'm asking Helen whether she's emotionally ready to go home with a stranger.”

Helen paused and thought. “I understand your concern,” she finally said. “But I have to do this. I have to take this chance.”

Sarah dug her phone out of her jeans pocket and checked the time. “It's a few minutes before ten right now. If we don't get a call or text from you before midnight, I'll get worried. So promise you'll contact us before then, okay?”

“Sure,” Helen said. “Though I hope the call will only be a brief intermission in the proceedings.” Just the thought of those proceedings made her feel warm between her legs. Tingly.

Angie grinned and held up her hand for a high five. “That's my girl. Go get him, Hel.”

Helen slapped that hand and laid down a ten for her drinks. “Okay, ladies. We'll talk later. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” they chorused, but only Angie looked enthusiastic. Sarah was gazing at Wes with a troubled expression.

“Be safe,” Sarah said.

Angie rolled an imaginary condom over an invisible penis. “What she said.”

“Before midnight,” Sarah reminded her. “Text or call.”

Helen blew a kiss to her friends and headed for the door, where Wes was waiting. He smiled at her as she drew closer, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they exited into the darkness of the parking lot.

“Ready?” he asked, guiding her to his truck.

“Ready,” she said with a smile.
I've been ready for years
, she thought as he unlocked the door and helped her up into the passenger seat.

When he started the engine and the interior lights dimmed, she could hardly see him. He was all dark shadows merging into indistinct lines and arcs of flesh. But still handsome, somehow. Still everything she wanted.

I've been ready
, she thought again.
I was just waiting for you to catch up with me
.

 

One hour later, Helen lay on the comforter of Wes's bed, fully clothed except for her panties and leggings, which lay in a heap somewhere in the darkness of his bedroom. He'd raised her dress to her collarbones and pushed her bra down beneath her breasts. One of his hands was on her exposed breast, squeezing gently, while he braced himself above her with his other arm.

From all indications, she assumed he was nearing the end of things. His steady, measured thrusts into her body had become erratic and more rapid, and he'd begun to breathe hard. With a gasp, he shuddered above her as she stroked his corded arms, his laboring chest, whatever she could reach. He collapsed on top of her a moment later, and then rolled them both to their sides.

It hadn't hurt. Not like she'd expected, at least. Despite all those tales of blood and torn hymens racing through her mind when he'd nudged inside of her, she hadn't felt anything rend or alter inside herself. She figured her thighs might be a bit sore tomorrow, that's all.

But it also hadn't felt that good, either. Not after the first bit, where he'd kissed her to distraction and stroked her clitoris with brisk but gentle fingers until she'd shivered in a brief climax. Even that, though. . . she'd had better. Which, coming from a virgin, said a lot. She gave him points for technical ability. But artistry? Not so much. She'd made herself come harder many, many times over the years. Both with and without her trusty vibrator.

Then, after a brief dip of his finger inside her vagina to determine her readiness, he hadn't spent too much more effort on preliminaries. He'd pushed inside her and gone to work. And now, a couple of minutes later, he'd finished the job, she supposed.

She wanted to believe his lack of time and care in their encounter was due to his immeasurable passion for her. That he just couldn't stop himself from making love to her, couldn't wait another minute to plunge within her body.

She wasn't a fool, though. So she wasn't actually surprised when he eased out of her, disposed of the condom, and headed for the bathroom without a single word of praise or affection. Still, she didn't get up and get dressed. Part of her hoped maybe she was wrong. Maybe she hadn't given her virginity to a man who didn't give a shit about her.

Not that she considered her virginity so valuable, of course. But her pride and sense of self-worth? She probably should have valued those a bit more. By sleeping with a man who saw her as something more than a passionless lay, for example.

She'd wanted to act like an adult. Wanted Wes in her life and her bed. But maybe she hadn't fully understood herself and her own desires until now. She didn't just want sex, not even with Wes. She wanted sex with someone who considered her more than just a warm, willing body. And from what she could tell, that wasn't him, no matter how much she'd longed for him from a distance.

When he came out of the bathroom and stood next to the bed, silent for a long moment, she knew. She braced herself before he even started talking.

“Um, Helen?” he said into the cool darkness of the bedroom. “I'm so glad we got the chance to see each other again. But . . .”

She closed her eyes. Yup. Here it came.

He continued, his voice oddly shaky. “I . . . I probably shouldn't get involved with a library employee when I'm asking for increased library funding.”

“Okay,” she said.

“It's a conflict of interest,” he explained in a rush. “And it would bring up bad memories of the last mayor. God knows I don't need another reason for the City Council to fight against my agenda.”

On the one hand, he wasn't wrong. Any echoes of the previous mayor would not go over well in Niceville. Not after Richard “Dick” Udall had diverted city funds to his mistress and her restaurant for over three years. But what Wes was saying was a crock of shit, nevertheless. They both knew it.

He wanted her out of his house. If she hadn't been a library employee, he'd have found another reason. An early-morning appointment. An allergy to redheads that only manifested itself after an hour in bed together. A claim that he wasn't ready for a relationship right now. Anything. Anything to send her, his convenient fuck, on her way.

“Okay,” she said again.

Getting dressed didn't prove difficult. All she had to do was pull up her bra, tug on her panties and leggings, and smooth down her dress.

He guided her back into his truck with a gentle hand on her back, and she didn't move away from it. No point.

With steady fingers, she texted Sarah.

A moment later, Sarah replied.
Yes to both questions. Are you okay?

“Please take me back to the bar,” she told Wes as he backed out of his driveway.

We'll stay until you come
, Sarah wrote.
Love you Helen
.

Helen put away her phone, and she and Wes drove in silence back to the bar. When they pulled into the parking lot, she could see Sarah's car. Her lower lip started to tremble, but she forced it into stillness.

Not yet
, she told herself.
Not until he drives away
.

Wes parked in front of the door to the bar and twisted in his seat to face her. He took her hand again, and she let him. “Helen,” he said. “I'm sorry. I didn't think about the conflict of interest earlier.”

Her tongue came untethered at the repetition of that excuse. “Bullshit,” she said. “That's not why we left your house in such a rush.”

He dragged his free hand through his hair, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest. “Shit. I'm sorry. Again. I shouldn't have started this.”

“I agreed to go home with you,” she said dully. “You didn't force me. Didn't make promises. It's fine, Wes.”

She reached for the door handle, stopping when she heard him say something under his breath. “What?” she asked.

“You're . . .” he said, raising his head to look at her. “You're not the kind of woman I can do this with.”

His eyes pleaded with her to understand. And she did. Oh, she did.

“I see,” she said. And then she got out of his truck, shutting the door very carefully behind her. She didn't watch to see him drive away. She simply walked into the bar and let the door swing shut.

Then, thank God, she could let the tears in her eyes spill over. She could wrap her arms around herself and sob without having to surrender the last ounce of her pride to him. He'd taken enough from her already.

Yes, she knew he hadn't taken anything she hadn't offered to him freely. With enthusiasm. But that didn't mean she didn't hurt. That she wasn't angry with both herself and him. That she didn't feel empty and broken in a way she knew, she
knew
, was ridiculous.

It didn't mean she would offer a single inch of herself—mind, body, or soul—to Wesley Ramirez ever again. Even if he asked. Even if he begged.

Not like that would ever happen, though.

Right?

“I
need the number for a local taxidermist,” said the man on the phone.

Sitting behind the Adult Reference desk on the third floor, Helen braced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and started typing on the computer keyboard in front of her.

“I see three listed in our county,” she said. “Can you tell me more about what you're looking for? Do you have any requirements?”

A long pause. “They need to deal with large animals.”

“Okay,” she said, clicking on the first taxidermist's website for any relevant information.

“Like, human-sized.”

She stopped typing into the website's search box for a moment. “Okay,” she said again, rather than asking the questions hovering right on the tip of her bitten tongue.
Are you crafting an alternate ending to
The Most Dangerous Game
? Or is this more a run-of-the-mill serial killer thing?

She gave him the contact information for the closest taxidermist who dealt with large creatures—though, thank God, the website didn't use the term
human-sized
—and hung up with a shudder. After putting a couple of hatch marks on the department's usage statistics sheet, she turned back to her computer and contemplated a good way to distract herself from that phone call. During a shift on the Adult Reference desk, it sometimes didn't pay to think too deeply about the questions she'd just answered.

“When you get a moment, I'd like to speak with you in Meeting Room Two,” she heard someone say.

When she looked up, Tina was standing patiently in front of the desk. The assistant library director, as usual, wore unobtrusive clothes. Over the years, she'd become infamous in the library for her substantial collection of loose-fitting suits in neutral colors and her white button-down shirts. The one place where Tina showed her personality. . .

Helen stood up and walked around the desk, looking down at the thin sliver of sock visible between the hem of Tina's pants and the leather of her loafers.

“Nice socks,” Helen said. “I love the little multicolored hearts on them. Is this your belated observance of Valentine's Day?”

A tiny, secret smile crept over Tina's lips. “I think I may be playing Cupid for two of my people later this morning. The socks seemed appropriate.”

“I'll get someone to cover the desk,” Helen told Tina.

Five minutes later, Helen followed the assistant director to the small meeting room and sat down at the round table. Tina settled on the opposite side, pulling out a water bottle and a notepad. For the first time, worry curled into Helen's gut. Did Tina intend to reprimand her? Tell her that the Adult Reference Department was cutting staff?

“Helen,” Tina said, tucking a heavy lock of gray hair behind her ear, “you know that I've wanted to find you a full-time position here for years. We've never had the funds to create new positions in public service departments, though. And as you know, the preexisting full-time positions that became available these last three years had well-qualified people already in those departments waiting to take the jobs.”

“That's true,” Helen said cautiously.

“Don't think I haven't noticed how hard you work. In your part-time position in the Adult Reference Department, of course, but also in other departments. I know you pick up shifts all over the library, filling in whenever you're needed. Wherever you can.”

Helen squirmed in her seat, even as a pleased smile spread across her face. After several years of hard work, the recognition felt undeniably good.

“Since Mayor Ramirez managed to badger the City Council into allocating more funds for us, we now have extra money,” Tina continued.

Helen didn't allow the sound of
that man's
name to distract or distress her in any way. Eight months had passed since their disastrous one-night—no, more like one-
hour
—stand. After all this time, she refused to give him any more power over her thoughts.

Wait. What was Tina saying again?

“—considering many uses for the money, of course.” Tina tapped a pen against her notepad. “A new IT person. More help for the Circulation Department. But I've also advocated for one position you may find particularly interesting. A Community Outreach coordinator. A new twenty-hour position that, if combined with your current twenty-hour job in the Adult Reference Department, would mean—”

“Full-time work,” Helen breathed. “Benefits. A room without rainbow wallpaper.”

Tina frowned. “Rainbow wallpaper?”

“Never mind. Oh, Tina,” Helen said. “I would
love
to have that job.”

“I can't make any promises,” Tina warned. “There's no guarantee the library board will approve it or that you would get the job if it became available. The earliest I see the position opening is sometime in May. And we'd have to conduct a candidate search, just as we would with any other opening. But I wanted you to know that new possibilities are forthcoming at the Nice County Public Library. I hope at least one of those possibilities will work for you.”

“I'll make sure I'm the best candidate for the job,” Helen vowed. “What can I do in the meantime to shore up my credentials?”

“Funny you should ask,” Tina said. “I have an assignment for you that should help.”

“Name it,” Helen said.

“Since the City Council agreed to invest more in our downtown, the mayor has proposed several new community events. One of them is a May Day celebration, just like the ones Niceville used to hold until the early 1900s. Except, one assumes, with fewer horse-and-buggy accidents due to public intoxication.”

“Is the library sponsoring the event?”

Tina inclined her head. “Along with other local businesses and institutions. We're taking part in everything but the after-dark activities on May Day itself. So we need to send a representative from the library to attend the May Day Celebration Committee planning meetings.”

“Me?” Helen asked.

“You. See it as an opportunity to prove your qualifications for a potential Community Outreach position. After all, someone in that job would have to work closely with the mayor. Now's a good time to meet him, get acquainted, and form a productive partnership.”

“Wes is—” Helen stopped and rephrased. “Mayor Ramirez is part of this committee?”

“Of course,” Tina said. “He proposed the May Day celebration as a way to draw both locals and tourists back to our downtown, and he convinced the City Council to allocate money for it. It's his pet project.”

Immediately, her stomach twisted into a knot. She made a conscious effort to regulate her breathing.
Don't show Tina your reaction
, she ordered herself.
She doesn't need to know that the prospect of working with our illustrious mayor nauseates you
.

“The first meeting takes place in early March. I expect you to attend as the library's representative.” Tina pinned her with a solemn stare. “Take this opportunity and run with it, Helen. Your success will give you a significant advantage if the Community Outreach position becomes available.”

Oh, God. I've already reached out to one particular member of the community
. She held back a hysterical giggle.
And
his
member too
.

When Tina dismissed her from the meeting room five minutes later, Helen could hardly see straight for all the joy and anxiety battling within her brain.

For the first time since Bannon Books had closed its doors three years ago, she could envision full-time work waiting for her on the horizon. Work she'd love. Work with benefits. Work that might finally allow her to move back out of her parents' house.

Oh, they protested that they loved having her there, that her presence in the house when they traveled helped them worry less, and that she could stay there forever for all they cared. In return, she certainly appreciated their patience and willingness to accept minimal rent. But it was time to reclaim her independence at long last. Just the thought of it made her feel itchy, as if her skin had grown too small to contain such buoyant joy. As if she were molting, transforming into a new woman. Or maybe the woman she'd once been and hoped to become again.

But . . . two months working with Wes? Really?

No matter. She could act professionally, even though she wanted to curl into a ball and display hedgehog-like spines every time she thought about seeing him again.

For the sake of a full-time job, she could do anything. Anything at all.

 

Later that week, she slid into a large semicircular booth at Sallie's Diner, settling in the middle so she could feel the warmth of her friends surrounding her. Sarah, fresh from a parent-teacher conference. Angie, her green eyes bright with curiosity. Penny, the quiet but feisty children's librarian at Battlefield. Mary, the newest—and by far the sweetest—member of Battlefield's staff. And Constance, manager of the Bookmobile and Helen's best friend.

“So why did you call this emergency diner meeting?” Con asked. “Not that I mind. I'm suffering from Acute French Fry Deficiency, especially after a long day of wrangling the Bookmobile. But I'm worried about you.”

Typical Con. No small talk. Just honesty and affection, both offered freely.

“It's about Wes.” Helen slumped back in the booth. “The man I'd fervently hoped never to see again.”

Mary's brow furrowed in confusion. “Who's Wes?”

“Good question, Mary,” Constance said. “Wes is an idiot who couldn't see a good thing when it was right in front of him.”

“And naked,” Angie added.

“Not fully naked,” Con corrected. “Only the essential bits, if I remember correctly.”

Mary covered her face with her hands. “Do I want to know?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Angie said. “But we're going to tell you anyway.”

“Of course you will,” Mary said, her voice muffled.

“Because Angie delights in tormenting her subordinates,” Sarah noted.

“So here's what happened, Mary,” Angie said. “Helen and our hottie mayor, Wesley Ramirez, grew up in Niceville together. Helen had a crush on him, but he never noticed her. Last year, Helen approached him at the bar and he took her to his house after approximately five minutes of conversation. He partially undressed her, they had sex, and then he hustled her back to the bar with a lame excuse and these immortal words ‘You're not the kind of woman I can do this with.'”

“You're not the kind of woman I can do this with?” Mary echoed. Her hands lowered, and she sat up straight in the booth. “What did he mean by that?”

Helen snorted. “Part of me wanted to press him on that issue and make him squirm. You know, say something like, ‘What kind of woman? A redhead? A girl who drives a 1997 Escort? What?' But I didn't want to hear the honest answer.”

Mary looked at Helen solemnly, her dark skin still a little flushed with embarrassment. “Which was?”

“A nerdy nobody. A big girl. A woman he wouldn't want to acknowledge in public. Someone only good for a quick, convenient lay.” Baring her insecurities didn't come easily to Helen, but she couldn't deny the truth. No matter how much it hurt.

“Are you absolutely sure that's what he meant?” Mary pressed in her usual quiet voice.

“What else could it be?” Helen said.

Constance laid a hand on her arm again. “You know, when you told us this story, you implied that he'd actually said all those things. That he'd called you a nerd and so on.”

“Yeah,” Angie said. “You did. Mary's right. You're assuming that's what he meant, but maybe he didn't. I mean, either way, he's a dick for kicking you out of bed approximately two minutes after your uglies bumped, but it's possible he's not as stupid as we thought.”

He wasn't the stupid one
, Helen thought.
I was, for thinking he might finally see me after all these years and realize what he was missing.

“It's irrelevant, really,” she said, absently spinning her plastic-coated menu in a circle. “Whatever his reasons, he made one thing clear: He doesn't want me. Which makes it especially unfortunate that I'm going to have to work with him over the next few months.”

“What?” Penny finally spoke up, her brow furrowed. “Helen, why?”

“Tina called me into a meeting the other day to discuss my future at the library.”

“That sounds ominous,” Sarah said.

“She said because the mayor managed to browbeat the City Council into giving the library more money, new positions would open up in the next few months. A new IT position, probably, and a few others. Including—maybe—a twenty-hour Community Outreach Coordinator position.”

“Which you would be perfect for,” Angie said.

“Which would make you full-time,” Penny added.

“Which would get you benefits. Helpful in case you contract a deadly disease or every tooth in your mouth decides to fall out at once,” Sarah noted.

“Which would let you move out of your parents' house,” Constance concluded.

“Which relates to the mayor . . . how?” Mary asked.

“To bolster my qualifications for the position, Tina asked me to serve as the library's liaison to the city's May Day Celebration Committee,” Helen explained. “And the chair of that committee is apparently—”

“The mayor,” all the women said.

Helen nodded.

“That sucks,” Angie said. “But I have a plan. When's the first meeting?”