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“Help him out, Sky,” Ace told her.
“That’s OK,” I started, but she stood up from the couch. I followed her into the bathroom.
“Here, let me.” She picked up the clippers and clicked them on with a buzz. Standing on her tiptoes, she rested a hand between my shoulder blades and leaned in. I could feel the heat from her palm through my shirt, light and teasing on my back.
I could take my shirt off. I could say it would be easier that way, less mess. Most women seemed to enjoy the sight of me bare-chested. I’d like to watch Sky’s reaction, see if her eyes widened, whether she licked her lips. Would she find excuses to touch me, trace my tattoos and ask what they meant? Press against me, brushing along my shoulders, my back? Or would she get all flustered and shy, pink in the face, her hand shaking as she moved?
I kept my shirt on. She was married. As she touched the clippers to the back of my neck, I could feel her breath on my nape. She stroked where she’d shaved, seeing if it was smooth. Her fingers caressed my skin, while her soft breasts grazed against me. She took her time, paying close attention, moving slowly. Blowing on my neck, she brushed the skin clear with her fingertips.
I shifted slightly, clearing my throat. She had such a sensuality to her. I could feel it in her lingering touch, see it in the way her lips pursed as she blew. The way she moved, gentle, deliberate, taking care, made me think of how well she’d do other things, too. She wouldn’t rush. She’d linger, savoring every touch, stroke and lick.
Our eyes met in the mirror. Standing so close, neither of us moved. All it would take would be a slight turn to my side. Everything could change in an instant as I wrapped her into an embrace. I could almost feel how good it would be to clasp her against me, my arms drawing her in close, her breasts against my chest and fingers clutching at my shoulders as we kissed.
I didn’t move an inch. I stood still, wanting what I couldn’t have, until she announced brightly, “You’re all set!” She set down the clippers, still buzzing, and left the bathroom.
When I followed, she was already opening the door to leave. “It’s room at best temperature,” she called to Ace. She paused, flustered, realizing that wasn’t quite right. “I mean, it’s best at room temperature. Unless you want the pie heated up and then you can put it in the microwave.” Her words came out in a breathy rush. “But only 10 seconds at a time because fruit can heat up unevenly.”
“Thank you for the apple pie. You’re an angel.” Ace walked over and gave her a hug. It made no sense at all that I felt jealous.
“I hope you enjoy it,” she told him.
“Pies from Heaven, that’s what you should call your shop. Jax had the idea you should open your own pie shop. Did he tell you that?”
“He did.” She bit her lower lip, flashing a quick glance at me, then away.
“Sky’s Pies,” I said. “That’s what you should call it.”
Ace laughed and slapped his thigh. “You’ve got it all worked out, Jax.”
It got her to smile, even though she said, “I don’t know about opening my own shop.”
“Why not?” Ace asked. “You know who’s the guy to help you do it.” He pointed straight at me, as subtle as a neon sign. “This guy’s a successful restaurateur.”
After she left, I gave Ace a look. He knew exactly what I was thinking, but he played dumb. “What?” he asked, trying to sound innocent. “Can’t an old man have some fun? What’s the harm if I want to play matchmaker?”
“She’s married, for one.”
“She likes you. Mark my words, she likes you.”
I knew it shouldn’t have made me happy to hear him say that. But it did. Truth was, the thought that Sky might like me made me feel happier than just about anything else had in a long while.
§
I sat back on my leather couch, icing the knuckles on my right hand. There’d been a rough fight at the bar that night, and I’d had to get involved. “Be the bigger man. Don’t just look that way.” That’s what Ace had always told me. Looked like I wasn’t following that advice too well.
In my defense, the man I’d punched had it coming. He’d started things, and taken out a switchblade, so I knew I had to end it, quick. But it was still a shit end to a shit day. I’d gotten a call that morning from my old man. He was back in jail. He’d been picked up for assault and battery down in Florida. It looked like he might be facing seven to ten years. He wanted me to post bail.
Yeah, I’d gotten the message that fists didn’t get you where you wanted in life. But there I was, icing my right one because I’d used it against some guy’s jaw a couple of hours ago. I got myself another beer and put a few new ice cubes in the plastic bag.
“Fuck,” I exhaled, stretching out on the couch, settling the bag on my aching hand. Flicking on the TV, I figured I might not make it into the bedroom. I could sack out there for the night, numbing my hand while I numbed my brain with stupid shows. But my mind still wandered as I channel surfed.
What would Sky have thought of the whole scene? She couldn’t be a complete stranger to violence, married to that husband of hers. But somehow I couldn’t wrap my mind around the two of them as a couple. I couldn’t picture the two of them together.
Maybe there was a lot more to the guy than I’d seen. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly as if Griller and I had had heart-to-hearts. He’d come in to my bar from time to time, and, yeah, I’d seen him getting cozy with other women. I’d learned not to make assumptions, though, so maybe the guy was doing right by Sky. But with a woman like her, what was he doing even flirting with other girls?
If I had Sky as my woman, I’d treat her like a queen. I wouldn’t be able to wait to get home every night. I already thought other women paled in comparison to her, and I hadn’t even ever touched her. It was dangerous that mentally I added a “yet.”
I wasn’t going to touch her, not the next time I saw her, nor the time after that. I wouldn’t do that to her, putting her in that position. Even if I was starting to get the sense that she might not mind if I did. I wasn’t blind. I saw the way she flushed around me. When our eyes had met in the mirror, she’d looked just as heated as me. But feeling something and doing something about it were completely different animals.
I could tell by the way she looked up at me, she thought I was a good person. She thought I was doing right by Ace, like I was helpful and kind. She lit up when I noticed little things about her, or gave her a compliment. It was like she thought I was a good guy. Around her, I felt like one.
Most women seemed to like me for all the wrong reasons. They saw me, big and muscly, riding around on a Harley, and they figured I was the type of badass Hollywood put up on a movie screen. But that kind of badass, all posturing and backtalk, flexing muscles and itching for a fight, that wasn’t me. In my experience, the men who were truly the toughest were quiet about it. They kept an eye on things, only striking if they had to, and then they made sure it was a knockout punch.
I’d punched a man so hard tonight his teeth had rattled. But I didn’t get an adrenaline rush from it. Girls had flocked around me afterwards, wanting to take care of my hand, stroking my bicep as they told me how scared they’d been when the fight broke out. I could have taken any one of them home with me. This girl Nikki had just about hopped on the back of my bike without my even asking. She’d be fun, no questions asked, no strings attached. But I wasn’t interested.
The whole situation was fucked up. I’d finally met a girl who liked me for the right reasons. Sky saw and liked the man that I wanted to be. But I couldn’t do anything about it, because trying to get with her and make her cheat on her husband? That was a classic bad guy move.
So there I was, on my couch alone, wanting the one I
couldn’t have. Because truth was, more and more, it was Sky and Sky alone on my mind.
§
On Friday, Liam called. He was pretty good about keeping in touch.
“When you coming out?” I asked him, as always. Whenever he came to visit we always had a good time. He was the kind of guy you could introduce to anyone and he’d charm the pants right off them. Especially women.
“Don’t know, man. Maybe this summer.”
“How about the Fourth? Or are you having your party?” Liam still lived on Naugatuck, the island where the four of us had gotten into the accident. Every year he threw a rager, and usually had crazy stories that came out of it. Naugatuck attracted the uber rich and more than one celebrity had made a cameo at Liam’s.
“Don’t know.” He seemed unusually vague, like he had something on his mind.
“You good?” I asked, the male equivalent of letting him know he could tell me anything. I’d known him since we were ten. I could still remember meeting him, the summer both our fathers worked together on a construction site. First thing we’d ever done together was set off a shitload of illegal firecrackers. Liam was my kind of guy, always up for a good time and in your corner if you ever needed him. It made sense to me that he’d become a firefighter, helping people for a living.
“Yeah, yeah.” He either was good, or didn’t want to tell me about what was bothering him. “How about you? Tommy still giving you a hard time?”
I filled him in on my business partner. I liked being my own boss. I was doing all right for myself, better than I’d ever expected, really, owning my own place. But Tommy and I, going on year four? We had some differences of opinion.
