Rock Chick 02 Rescue (3 page)

Al y was behind the counter and she was staring at me, open-mouthed. I ignored her look, ignored Eddie completely (didn’t even say thanks) and walked (quickly) to the back of the store and hid amongst the shelves until I was certain he was gone.

Other times, he would be standing in tight spaces, spaces I had to get through to move around, so I’d have to suck in my breath and squeeze by him so as not to touch him with some protruding part of my body. This did not normal y work and some protruding part of my body touched him which resulted in one of those aforementioned electric shocks.

It didn’t help matters that Indy and Al y were constantly asking me out for drinks or to go to the movies, then turning to Eddie and saying, “You want to come?”

I couldn’t go anyway and I was glad I always had an excuse (although, since they didn’t know I had a second job and was taking care of Mom, the excuses were beginning to sound lame).

The Eddie Torture seemed to escalate over time.

For example, a few days ago I was sitting behind the book counter, my legs crossed, my head bent, going through receipts and drinking a cappuccino.

Eddie was talking to Duke, Indy’s second-in-command; a Harley guy with thick, long, gray hair, a beard and an ever-present rol ed bandana tied around his forehead.

Duke had been at Fortnum’s since Indy’s grandmother ran it. At first, he scared me. He was tough as nails and had a low, gravel y voice. Then I realized he was an old softie, mainly because of the way he treated Indy, Al y, Jane (the other Fortnum’s veteran) and sometimes Tex (though, most of the time, Duke and Tex yel ed at each other).

Eddie and Duke were standing across from me at the book counter so that meant I was also engaged in ignoring Eddie.

Then, al of a sudden, Eddie’s hand came into my line of vision and, just as sudden, his thumb swiped my upper lip.

My head jerked up and I stared at him, my lip tingling.

“Foam,” he said, dipping his head to indicate my cappuccino.

My face started burning, I stared down at my cappuccino and, get this… when I looked back up, Eddie was again listening to Duke, for al the world like I wasn’t even there, but he put his thumb in his mouth to suck off my foam.

What was
that
?

This kind of stuff went on al the time. Being me, I had to find an explanation for it. So I decided he was just trying to be nice.

He was a nice guy, I could tel , even if it was in a kind of badass way. Tex held a gruff regard for him and Duke liked him flat out. It was clear he thought of Al y like his younger sister and was always messing around with her. I know he thought the world of Indy and he was always flirting with her in a way that was hot but control ed. I told myself he was just putting me in my niche because, no matter how significant these torture sessions seemed, nothing ever came of them.

So, I figured my crush, and my daydreams (which were coming a lot more often once the torture sessions began) made me make them something they weren’t.

Then Indy asked me over to Hank’s to watch a footbal game. It was getting to the point in her frequent invitations where I couldn’t refuse or I’d seem rude. It was going to be her and Lee, Al y and her boyfriend, Carl (who was also good looking and a cop), Hank and some girl I didn’t know… and Eddie.

I didn’t want to go, because it was Sunday. I didn’t have a shift at Smithie’s and Fortnum’s had short hours on Sunday. I wanted to rest, then sleep, in the night hours, like a normal person.

Nevertheless, we weren’t supposed to be there until five and I had plenty of time to get ready after Fortnum’s closed.

I needed to accept an invitation, not to mention, Mom was al over me.

I’d made the mistake of tel ing Mom about Tex’s response to the chocolate caramel layer squares so Mom started to think Tex was a possibility for future bliss for me.

In talking her out of that (by explaining that first, Tex was nuts and second, he was old enough to date her) I let it slip about Eddie.

Once Eddie was mentioned (however minutely), I had to come completely clean (because Mom gave me the third degree) and so Mom was al excited about the possibility that I’d catch Eddie’s eye. I tried to tel her that Eddie was hung up on Indy but she wouldn’t hear of it. I tried to tel her Eddie was seriously good looking, sex-in-cowboy-boots and cool-as-hel and thus wouldn’t be interested in me, and
that
she real y wouldn’t hear of.

So, she pushed me into not only going but also making her sausage, olive and mushroom cups and taking them with me. She was obviously thinking that I’d work my way into Eddie’s heart by fil ing his stomach with sausage, olive and mushroom, doused in cream, garlic and Parmesan sauce in a toasted bread cup.

I walked into Hank’s carrying a platter covered with foil.

It was stil hot from the oven and burning through my sweater. I was late (again), I forgot a hot pad and the minute I walked in, everyone smel ed the sausage and garlic.

“Fucking hel , what is
that
?” Carl asked, staring at the foil wrapped platter. He was a big guy, tal with a thick, sexy mess of blond hair. He had a way of looking at you that made your face burn because, I was pretty certain, he was undressing you with his eyes.

I set the dish down on a coffee table with kind of a clatter (because, as I said, it was burning me). I pul ed the foil off.

The garlic smel wafted out with such strength; it was like a smack in the face. Everyone leaned back at the smel , then leaned forward and fel on the sausage cups like vultures.

I was holding my arm and biting my lip because the burn wouldn’t go away.

Eddie was sitting in a big armchair, holding a beer bottle by the neck with two fingers. He was the only one not sampling the sausage cups. He was watching me, his dark eyes taking my mind off the burning in my arm because he was making the breath in my lungs burn (and he was making other places burn beside).

Suddenly, he got up, walked across the room, grabbed my hand and pul ed me into the kitchen. He stopped in the middle, gently twisted my wrist and pushed the sleeve of my sweater up, exposing an angry red welt on the inside of my arm.

“
Dios mio, Cariña
,” he said, tugging me to the fridge.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

He grabbed a can of Coke and held it against the burn. I had to admit that it felt good and it felt even better because Eddie was doing it.

“I can hold it,” I said, trying to take the can.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“No real y…”

His eyes locked on mine. “I’ve got it,” he said in a way he never spoke to me before, in a way I’d never heard him speak to anyone before; quiet, control ed but a little impatient.

Eddie was a good ole boy, up for a laugh, always grinning, teasing, flirting, and messing around.

There was no messing around in his tone.

At al .

I stood tense and stiff, back to biting my lip while he held my wrist in one hand, the can against the burn with the other. I stared at my arm so I wouldn’t be staring at Eddie.

The burn wasn’t that bad, and felt much better after the coolness of the can took out the sting. Without the pain, al I could think about was Eddie and being alone in the kitchen with Eddie.

Mysteriously alone.

Where was everyone?

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Who do you want?” he asked what I thought was a weird question. But then again, my mind wasn’t working properly so maybe it was a perfectly okay question, who was I to judge?

“I don’t know.”

Anyone!
I thought.

His fingers wrapped tighter around my wrist and then pul ed me forward. He was already close, but he brought me closer. “You got a problem with me?” he asked, when he was so close, I could smel him.

He smel ed nice al the time, but it wasn’t overpowering.

You had to be close. During the last couple months of Eddie Torture, I’d been close enough to smel him a lot and he smel ed good.
Real
good. I kinda slipped into a daze, what with his proximity and his smel , and my mind shut down and he wasn’t just the only person in the room, he was the only person in the universe.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have a problem with me?” Eddie asked again, his eyes looking into mine and I was in a stark realization that I’d never been this close to him. He had great eyelashes and his irises were so dark, they seemed to go on forever.

I realized he’d asked a question and I’d forgotten it again. “Pardon?” I asked, wel , kind of
breathed
because, at the last second, I realized I didn’t have a lot of breath in my lungs.

That’s when his eyes changed from assessing to something else. I saw the dimple in his cheek before his lips formed a smile. He tugged on my wrist gently and brought me even closer; so close my body was nearly touching his and he had to bend his head further to look down at me.

“I asked if you had a problem with me,” he said.

“Wel , yeah,” I answered, my mouth disengaged from my mind.

His head bent a little further and, I kid you not, he was so close I could almost kiss him.

“What kind of problem?” he asked. His voice was low, almost a whisper. Something was happening to his eyes, they’d gone liquid and I felt a similar sensation in my bones.

“I have a little trouble with…” How could I put it? “… your kind.”

I meant his kind as in guys who were hot. Guys who were hot made me tongue-tied, clumsy and shy.

I don’t think Eddie took it that way because his liquid eyes turned hard and glittery and his hand at my wrist tightened and not in a good way. Stil , I was in a daze so I didn’t real y register this at first.

“My… kind?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I answered.

He let me go as if touching my skin was like getting burned with acid. He handed me the Coke and, without a word, walked out of the room.

As I stood there and the daze lifted, it came to me what I said must have sounded like.

“Fuck!” I hissed to myself.

Usual y I tried not to say the f-word but some occasions demanded it. This was one of those occasions because I’d never have the courage to tel Eddie what I real y meant and now he thought I was a racist.

Indy walked in, looking worried.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, looked over her shoulder, then back at me. “Eddie just took off out the backdoor looking like he was going to commit murder.

What happened? Are you al right?”

Luckily, I stil had my purse over my shoulder, the television was in the back room (and so was everyone else) and there was a direct shot out the front door.

“Gotta go,” I said, with no explanation.

I went out the door.

The minute it closed behind me, I ran.

(Well, part of it anyway)

I was entertaining the notion (or more like hoping) that the whole idiot episode with me sounding like a racist to Eddie would stay under wraps. Eddie didn’t seem like the kind of guy who shared, but I was wrong.

The minute I entered Fortnum’s on Monday morning, I saw the looks from Indy, Al y and Tex and I felt the frosty air.

By the time the morning crush was over, I knew my hopes were dead and I had new hopes that it would al blow over.

I was wrong about that too.

As soon as there were no customers at the espresso counter, Indy turned to me.

“I can’t fire you, you know, for what you are. But I have a real problem with someone like you working for me,” she said.

My heart sank.

“Me too, fuckin’ can’t stand racists, even ones that make good brownies,” Tex put in.

Al y just glared at me.

“I’m not a racist,” I said, feeling like crying.

“Sure, you just have a problem with that… kind,” Al y entered the conversation.

My heart sank further at the same time my gut twisted.

“Lee caught up with Eddie last night,” Indy explained.

“Eddie told Lee everything.”

“It isn’t like that,” I said.

“You can work here until you find another job.” Indy was done with me and turning away.

“Real y, it isn’t like that,” I said, getting desperate because I needed that job, it was a great job, I didn’t have time to look for another one and I
liked
them. They were fun.

If I wasn’t so exhausted al the time and working sixteen-hour days, I would have been having the time of my life. I didn’t want them to think I was a racist. That would seriously suck.

“I don’t wanna know what it’s like,” Indy said, moving away from the counter

Tex was staring at me, “I wanna know.”

“I’m not sure what to say.” Indy ignored Tex and turned back to me, “You always took off when he was around but I thought… forget it. Never mind.”

“I stil wanna know,” Tex said.

“It’s hard to explain,” I put in.

“I’l bet it is,” Al y said.

I closed my eyes and I was pretty sure I was gonna throw up.

Then Indy said to me, “He’s a good guy you know. His family has been in this country for three generations. He’s as American as you and me. His grandmother is even Irish Catholic, for God’s sake!” she ended up shouting.

I winced, like she’d hit me.

“You don’t have to tel me that. I don’t care if he’s only just come over the border!” I was getting kind of panicky.

Al y made a noise that sounded kinda like a snort, an
angry
snort.