He says, “I hear you’re working at a daycare, too. Is that right?”
“Volunteering. Keeps me busy. I can’t work there on the books, my background.” There’s a weariness in my voice that even I hear. “One minor D&D and only probation, but I’m not allowed to set foot inside the building.” I shake my head. “No matter. I give them security on the perimeter. Some nice folks. Some lovely kids, too. All of them, deserve a better neighborhood.”
“Man, you’d save the whole fucking world, never think about saving yourself.”
“I’m thinking a little about it now,” I pick up another glass to polish. “I’m getting through, day-to-day. But it’s hard to see any fucking future from here.”
I didn’t mean that to come out quite as heavy as it sounded. I surprised myself. Again.
“You know I can always throw a curve your way, man.”
“No offense,” I lift a hand. We know each other enough, “I can’t do it your way.”
“No worry, man. You have a code, I respect that. I’m only telling you, any time you need it, you’re one of the only men I know I can trust. Anything. Any time.”
I give him an affirmative nod. “Appreciate it, man. I don’t know what I’m going to be able to find. But I have to find something.”
Crane studies me, “Man, I see a change in you. You met someone?”
Most of the clientele here is bikers, and an adventurous after-office crowd who play rock’n’roll on the jukebox and try to get near the waitresses. They stay away from the biker girls.
One girl, a tall, willowy blonde in a sleeveless denim coat and a short black leather skirt, she has the looks of a model, the tits of a stripper. She makes me wait for her while she thinks about order. I’m sure it’s just so she can keep me standing behind the bar, in front of her.
My phone rings. It almost never does, and when it does, it’s almost always Crane. And he’s here. The screen says, ‘Number withheld’ so I let it go to voicemail. Probably a political party or some other scam.
The girl’s leaning her chin on her hand, her elbow on the bar. She tells me about where she lives. Even the address. She leans forward, bats her eyelashes and sweeps her hair from the back of her neck. All the while she’s giving me a view down the front of the low-scooped tee shirt.
She’s sexy, too. I guess. I would rather tell her she’s wasting her time with me, but she’ll get it.
All the way through the shift, I can’t think of anything except that bouncy, curvy little minx, Jessica. I know she’s got too much on her plate right now to be worried about being pestered by an ass like me. What would I have to offer? I know anywhere she goes there will be any number of men with raging hard-ons for her. She can have her pick.
She’s what you would call, the whole package. I’m angry, though. First time I’ve been angry at the idea of guys looking at a woman. Feeling possessive like that.
Late in the shift, Crane asks me, “That guy, you say his name was Jake?”
I nod. He’s pulling something up on his phone. He turns the screen to me.
“This the asshole?”
“That’s the beauty. Yup, that’s him alright.”
“Your description rang a bell. Well-known piece a shit. Sells crystal meth. Specializes in selling to school kids.”
“Classy.”
“Nasty motherfucker. Listen, Bro. You take care. You need any help, call.”
“Sure, Crane. Thanks.”
When I cash up the bar and start to close up, I remember the voicemail on my phone. I’m expecting some sales bullshit. Turns out it’s not.
I know her voice right away and I’m angry with myself for not picking up. And I’m embarrassed. I’ve been thinking about her all night. Practically every moment since I saw her.
“Hello?” She’s hesitant, talking to a strange voicemail with the generic outgoing message. Could be anyone’s. I’m willing her to go on. “Christian? It’s Jessica? I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Karen at Lil’ Blossoms.” She pauses and I’m worried she’s going to hang up. “I just wanted to thank you.” The silences, the pauses are kind of long. But I don’t mind as long as she stays on. I’m happy to listen to her, even when she’s not saying anything. I have no way to call her back. “You went out on a limb for Mimi.”
Another pause. There’s the shuffling sound when someone’s going to hang up. Then, “If you want to call me back… I don’t expect you do, but I’d love it if you did,” and she tells me her number.
I know it’s probably too late but I call her back right away, listen to her phone ring. I’m expecting she’s asleep by now. I’m ready to press ‘END’ when she picks up and says, “Hey. I hope you don’t mind that I called.”
At the sound of her voice, my cock starts to uncoil and it lengthens itself out. It fattens out so tight and I can’t keep images of her pretty, perfect, cupids bow lips out of my head. I keep imagining how her soft body would feel against me. How she would look if she was peeled out of her clothes. How her big, soft tits would feel in my hands or with my cock buried between them.
“Mind? No, I don’t mind at all, Jessica. It’s really great to hear from you.” Did that sound too eager? I’m not sure I should have said that. I never was much good, talking to girls. Turns out I’m especially crap at
