Scorned (2 page)

God? Is this Your way of telling me to stop
drinking?

I didn’t have a lot of money to begin with,
and spending it on beer that is only going to end up on the ground
is not ideal.

The glass bottles shifted lazily once more
and the whole bottom fell out, spilling beer bottles like confetti
at a parade.

“No!” I jumped back, out of the way of the
deluge of glass and beer that I knew was coming, and braced myself.
I turned away with my eyes shut tight against the sound of glass
bottles popping against the asphalt.

Nothing happened. I waited, but there was no
sound of glass breaking, nor was there a river of beer up to my
knees. I turned to see what had happened. The man from Eddy’s
office was standing there, all twenty bottles of my beer in his
arms as if he’d been carrying them to the car for me that way. He
smiled, his mouth quirked up as if he thought it was funny that I’d
almost lost my life’s savings in beer to the asphalt. Okay, so it
wasn’t my life’s savings fortunately, but it felt like it
sometimes.

I cocked my head to the side and said, “I’m
glad you think it’s funny.” He blinked at me, then chuckled, a rich
sound that vibrated in his chest and made my heart thump a little
off beat. That was all I needed, to add heart palpitations to my
list of health issues.

“Forgive me. I hope you do not mind. I saw
you struggling and came over to help if I could. Before I could get
here, well...” He shrugged, gesturing with his arms full. The light
yellow liquid jostled in the bottles at his movement, and I was
suddenly very aware of myself.

I wasn’t much to look at. Just over
five-four, I was stuck on the shorter side. My washed-out, brown
hair was dry and brittle from too many chemical treatments. I
prided myself on my almost-green, not quite brown, hazel eyes and
my natural, killer tan. They call it light-skinned here in the
South, those of us of mixed race. White mom, black dad. You get the
picture.

“I guess I should get a bag or something.” I
was really looking for an excuse to escape the sudden awkwardness I
felt in his presence. I looked around and checked the backseat of
my car. Go me. I’d just cleaned it out. “If I run inside, you won’t
disappear with my beer will you?” It was embarrassing to admit I
was so broke I couldn’t afford to buy more.

Mr. I-actually-iron-my-jeans-to-get-a-crease
chuckled again, but no sound came from his lips, leaving me
disappointed. “I promise. I don’t drink beer.”

I had a sudden Wes Craven
Dracula
2000
moment, “I don’t drink...coffee...” but I shook it off and
tried for humorous. I put the rest of my bags in the front seat of
the car and said, “It’s not the drinking I’m worried about. Do you
have any idea what you could get for just one bottle of that stuff
on eBay if you played it right?”

It worked. He laughed again. Out loud. It
was a beautiful, deep sound that I could have listened to all day
and it followed me inside the store, bouncing around in my head
like a song I couldn’t stop singing.

“Excuse me,” I said to the closest cashier
who didn’t look like she was busy or like she’d rather be in a
coffin. She was an older woman with wrinkles and jet black hair
that had to be from a bottle. There was no way she wasn’t gray
underneath. “The bottom fell out of my beer cases. Do you think I
could get some bags to put the bottles in?”

She gave them to me and carried on about how
the same thing had happened to her not too long ago. “There’s no
such thing as quality anymore,” she ranted.

I smiled, taking the bags from her. “Gotta
make money.”

She nodded and smiled like we’d just bonded
over the poor quality of cardboard beer cases. Or, perhaps I’m just
too cynical. “You have a good day,” she called.

“You too.”

So-sexy-I-wear-the-jeans-with-fake-wear-lines-bleached-on-the-thighs
hadn’t moved an inch, and he still had that humored smile that
quirked up one side of his mouth. I wondered how he wasn’t cold,
standing there in nothing but his pressed jeans, a grey knit
sweater, and a scarf woven of dark gray and lilac that set off his
royal blue eyes. I could see them from across the parking lot,
staring straight at me like they’d been for months now. Those same
eyes watching me, reading my thoughts...

A car honked and I jumped. I was standing in
the middle of the street holding up traffic. I waved an apology and
hurried across the walkway. It was gone now- the feel of those
eyes, the tingle on my arms and down my spine. I wondered if I’d
imagined their intensity. Yeah, he was definitely attractive. The
kind of guy I would drool over if I was single.

I grabbed two bottles by the neck. He just
stood there, quietly smirking at me as if he knew a joke I’d
missed. I slid the first bag onto the floor on the passenger’s side
and grabbed the next two. The wind had blown them across the car,
plastering them against the passenger window, so Mr. Sexy got a
lovely view of my backside as I retrieved them.

When I was finished, I smiled and thanked
him. “I appreciate your help...” I didn’t want to say “mister”. Too
molester-ish. “Dude” didn’t work either and neither did “man”, so I
just left it, hoping he would fill in the silent question with his
name.

He didn’t. All he said was, “It was my
pleasure,” and that accent was just slightly thicker than
before.

“LeKrista” I told him, hoping he’d catch the
hint, and I offered my hand to shake. He took it in his own but he
didn’t shake it. His hands were cold, but rough and smooth at the
same time as if the manual labor that he’d done to get the calluses
was long over.

“LeKrista,” he said, copying my
pronunciation,
le-KREE-stah
. He lifted my hand to his lips
and brushed the lightest kiss over my knuckles, and I felt my body
go hot in the freezing wind. That just wasn’t even fair. “Until
next time.” The accent was there now, stronger, thicker where it
hadn’t been present before. I didn’t know it, couldn’t tell where
he was from.

El gusto es mio. Ha! I’m dumb
.

I actually smiled at my stupidity, but when
he looked up, he thought I was smiling at him.

“It is an antiquated practice, I know,
but...” He shrugged like he didn’t care and he was going to do it
anyway because that was what he wanted to do.

Good for you!

I should have said it out loud, but my voice
wouldn’t cooperate.

“Well, Ms. LeKrista, I won’t keep you.” The
accent was all but nonexistent now, and I was sad to hear it go. “I
see you have some partying to do, yes?” He chuckled. “I do hope you
enjoy yourself.”

I smirked right back at him, because I
thought it was funny. A party.

Nope. Just going to get something to eat and
hang out with my boyfriend in front of the TV. Lazy, drunk bums is
all we are.

What I said out loud was, “I will.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.”

He saw me into my car and closed the door
for me like we’d been friends for years. It was awkward, but then
it wasn’t. He watched me pull out of the parking space, which
racked my nerves. I hate for people to watch me drive because I
just know they’re critiquing every move I make. I know this
probably because I do the same thing.

Wouldn’t you know it, I caught every red
light there was to catch between Wal Mart and Pierce’s house.
Pierce and his younger brother Gable lived together in Gable’s
house. Pierce moved in to help pay the bills when the younger man
fell on some hard times and hadn’t moved out yet. He wanted to, but
like me he didn’t have the money for it. I keep trying to talk him
into getting a place together, but he’s afraid we won’t be able to
wait if we’re living together and sharing a bed. Maybe he’s right,
but it would solve one big problem that always seems to be in the
way; family. Still, it’s easier for him to say no when neither one
of us has the finances to actually make a move in that direction.
In any direction, really.

I was so busy fuming about not having any
money that I didn’t realize how close I was. I turned onto his
street and pulled into the yard. Three other cars sat there. I
squeezed into the only place left, pulled my key out of the
ignition and put them and my cell into my bag which I slung over my
shoulder. The front door doesn’t like to open, so I gave it a good
shove.

There was no one in the first bedroom, or
the living room, or the kitchen, so either they were in the
bathroom, or Pierce was the only one home.

Crap, dang! I forgot the beer. Oh well.

“Baby?” I rounded the corner to Pierce's
bedroom to find him laying on his bed in nothing but basketball
shorts. His beautiful, muscular chest was on full display. His dark
skin was smooth and perfect. I don’t know what he sees in me. My
face is a little too round to keep my hair in a ponytail like I do.
I’m not huge, but I’m anything but thin. I’m heavy. Thick. Whatever
you want to call it, though proportioned well. It doesn’t sit in
any one particular place, except maybe my boobs and no one but me
seems to have a problem with that. I don’t lose weight, no matter
how hard I try and I’m about ready to go to a doctor about it.

“What?” Pierce asked, turning amber eyes
from the TV long enough to see me.

“I forgot the beer,” I told him. “Could you
go get it?”

“You go get it. You forgot it.”

“It’s out in the car. It fell out of the
box.”

“Oh, geez.” He grabbed a shirt and slipped
into a pair of shoes.

“You’ll need these,” I said and handed him
the keys.

I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked off my
shoes and took off my jacket. I thought about stripping out of my
pants too, but I left them on. I never know when someone will walk
in. If I had a place of my own I could run around naked if I
wanted.

Pierce came back in with the beer and
groceries, and I heard him put the two bags in the fridge before he
got a beer for himself. “Thanks, babe,” he told me and gave me a
quick kiss.

“No problem,” I replied. “You get the next
one though.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m getting this one.
How much was it?”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. I have a little cash
left.”

Pierce didn’t argue, but I knew the subject
would come up again later. He went back to the kitchen and set to
work getting dinner started.

“Throw me the chips,” I called to him and he
did, deliberately bouncing them off my head before they landed on
the floor. “I said throw them, not break them all up into tiny
pieces so no one will want to eat them.”

“Oh, well that’s what I heard.”

I rolled my eyes and opened the bag. The
smell of jalapeno’s was enough to knock me back a few inches and I
had to hold the bag away to keep from suffocating.

“I thought you didn’t like those,” Pierce
said.

I laughed. “I don’t.”

“Then why are you eating them?”

“I’m hungry.”

The front door opened and its squeaky hinges
screamed in protest. Gable offered his customary “Hey” as he passed
through to the bathroom.

The front door opened again a few moments
later, and I knew it could only be one person. A young girl rounded
the corner a few seconds later, protruding belly first.

“Someone in there?” Petrice asked,
indicating the bathroom. Petrice was their pregnant sixteen
year-old niece. She loved to wear collared blouses and scarves,
especially during the South Carolina winter.

“Yeah. Gable,” I answered her.

“Damn. He’s going to be in there a while. I
might as well go to the neighbor’s house.” She was joking. It’s an
inside joke, but I can’t remember how it started.

I laughed. “Come here and let me rub your
belly.”

“Just don’t push on it,” she warned.

I rubbed her belly in a circle three times,
my usual little ritual, and she took a seat on the edge of the bed.
I sat up and looked at her. She looked so tired with her droopy
eyes and her hair a little askew.

“You okay?” I asked, trying to keep my tone
friendly and not concerned.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I just want to pee,
get something to eat and drink, and go to bed.”

“Well, we bought a steak,” I told her.
“Pierce is in there fixing it right now. Maybe he’ll share.”

“Hey, Uncle P. Can I have some of your
steak?” she called.

“You can have a bite.” Pierce kept his back
to us and continued to fix his steak. I rolled my eyes and Petrice
giggled.

Gable finally came out of the bathroom and
pulled the door tight. I grinned and, when he left I turned to
Petrice. “You probably don’t want to go in there right now.”

“I’ve got it,” she said, and disappeared. A
moment later she came waddling back with a bottle of air freshener.
Petrice opened the door and sprayed inside. “Why does he always
have to kill the bathroom,” she complained and I laughed.

“‘Ey,” Gable said, coming around the corner.
When he saw the air freshener in Petrice’s hand, he stopped.
“Where’d you get that?”

“It was under the sink in the bathroom,” she
lied and I tried not to smile.

“I didn’t see it.”

“You must’a just missed it, Uncle Gable.”
She was too good at playing innocent. She was going to have a hell
of a time when that baby finally got here.

Gable shrugged. I wasn’t sure if he believed
her or not, but he turned to me and continued his question. “Can I
take your car to the store?”

No.

I had to think, did I have enough gas to
make it to Friday? Not if I let everyone use my car. But I did have
some gas money left over. Ten dollars that should cover me until
then. I was too nice.

“Yeah.” I handed him my keys and he offered
a half-hearted thanks.

Pierce had the meat marinated and in the
fridge to sit for an hour. That was my least favorite part of him
cooking. He always decided to do it last minute. He kicked his
shoes off and lay down next to me on the bed, wrapped his arms
around me, and turned the TV on. I smiled and snuggled into him. He
smelled of warmth and soap and, underneath all that was the faint
scent of sawdust. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t question it.
It was that sawdust smell that lulled me into sleep.