Heaven and Hell (26 page)

Her head turned slightly, her lips almost on
my ear and she whispered in a way that sounded urgent, “Please take
to heart what Thomas said. I know it must be difficult but this is
a good man,
ma chérie
, trust him to take care of you.”

My heart skipped a beat and I nodded.

“But more, trust that you’re worth taking
care of.” She pulled slightly away and wrapped her fingers around
my upper arms. “
Oui?
” she asked softly.

I smiled. “
Oui.
”

“
Très bein,
” she smiled back, gave my
arms a squeeze, tipped her head to the side and whispered, “
Au
revoir, ma belle.
We will see each other again soon.”

“Soon, Celeste.”

She closed her eyes, pulled in breath, let
me go, opened her eyes and grinned at me before she walked to her
husband who was standing at her opened door.

She folded in.

Thomas gave me another smile as he rounded
the hood and called, “Get back to your friends, love.”

I nodded but stood there and when Thomas
started up and pulled away I did it waving and I kept waving until
they were no longer in sight.

Then I walked through the bar toward the
back terrace and as I did it, Thomas’s words came to me and I
stopped looking at my feet and started to look around.

Then I looked back down to my feet because,
at a quick scan, I saw Thomas was right.

Four men were looking at me and the last one
I caught his eye before looking past him and he smiled.

Holy cow.

I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t
know how to process it. Ten years ago, I caught Cooter’s eye and
back then
I
felt lucky. So lucky, I didn’t even look at
another guy.

And by the time I might look, I wouldn’t. It
was too late. I was too scared. I was in too deep.

So it never occurred to me
they
might
be looking.

These thoughts so consumed my head, I was on
the terrace and had just begun to turn the corner when I saw Luci
cozied up to Sam, sitting very close, her head on his shoulder and
I heard her say, “You mustn’t tell her. She’s too vulnerable.”

I stopped and took a step back, rounding the
corner, my breath flying out of me.

“Luci –” I heard Sam begin but Luci cut him
off fervently.

“
No,
” she hissed on a whisper. “You
cannot tell her of these things, Sam.
Never.
And I think you
see that you must stop doing them.”

“I’ve told you more than once, girl, this
was the last job.”

“Yes, you have, Sam, and you also told me
that before
this
job,” she returned.

“This was for a buddy,” Sam replied.

“There will always be another
buddy,
”
she shot back, her voice on the last word pure acid.

“Luci, girl –” Sam started on a growl but I
turned, tiptoeing away and then not knowing where I was going. I
couldn’t go back, interrupting an intense and private conversation
I clearly was not meant to be hearing. But I didn’t know where to
go.

So, even though I had half an Amaretto at
the table, I went to the bar inside and ordered another one.

Fortunately, I could do this considering
Amaretto was an Italian word.

Unfortunately, after I did it, I realized
that I didn’t have my purse with me.

Damn.

I tried to figure out how to smile and sign
language my way through telling the bartender I needed to run and
get my purse when the bartender put the snifter on the bar, started
pouring and I saw a bill slide across the bar to him.

I turned to see the man who had smiled at me
standing beside me.

Uh-oh.

“You’re American,” he stated and I stared up
at him, vaguely noting he was Italian, also vaguely noting he was
very good-looking and not-so-vaguely noting I somehow had to get
out of this but not knowing how.

“Uh, yes, –”

“The hair,” he explained, his head tipping
toward mine. “I can tell by your hair.”

“Oh, right, well then –”

“And you are quite tall. American women are
often quite tall.”

“Oh, okay, listen, I should –”

“And shapely,” he went on.

Oh man.

“Right. Thanks, I think, but –”

“I am Angelo.”

“Uh, hi, um –”

He leaned into me as the bartender swept his
bill away and left my snifter where it sat.

Shit!

“And you are?”

“Well, I’m Kia, but –”

He leaned in further, I leaned a little
back, hopefully making a point and failing when his eyes dropped to
my chest and he murmured, “Kia, that is very pretty.”

“Uh –”

His eyes lifted back to mine then they went
over my shoulder and higher then he paled and he leaned back right
before an arm closed around my chest and a pair of lips brushed my
shoulder before coming to my ear and I heard Sam whisper, “There
you are.”

Oh man!

Then his lips went away from my ear and I
heard him ask, “Somethin’ you need?” and my neck twisted and my
head moved back to see his eyes locked on Angelo and not in a
friendly, “I’m an American on vacation and thus will at all times
act like a diplomat for my country” kind of way.

Oh
man!

“Uh, Sam, honey, this is Angelo and he
bought my drink because I forgot my purse,” I lied as I threw a
hand out to Angelo then I looked to him and said, “Um, Angelo this
is Sam, my, uh… special friend.”

Ohmigod!

Did I just call Sam my “special friend”?

Before I could spontaneously combust with
mortification, Angelo, eyes on Sam, spoke. “I see.” His eyes came
to me. “The lovely Kia, I will leave you to your friend. Enjoy your
drink.”

Then he inclined his head at me, turned away
and melted into the people around the bar.

Well, that was well done.

Sam turned me so we were front to front then
his arms locked around me.

Uh-oh.

I was beginning to learn the feel of the
different ways he could hold me and this felt like
danger!

I took my time looking up at him.

Then my eyes made it to his face.

I was right.

Oh man.

“Sam –”

“He bought you a drink?”

“Sam, listen –”

“And you gave him your name?”

Shit.

“Sam –”

“You’ve got a drink at the table,” Sam
pointed out, again talking over me.

“Sam!” I snapped.

“What?” he asked.

“I, well… I forgot my drink at the table.”
This was a lie. “And the farewell with Celeste was kind of
emotional.” This was not a lie. “So I needed one, like, STAT.” This
was also not a lie but what he didn’t know was that he was talking
to Luci about stuff I couldn’t hear, but I heard, so I couldn’t get
to the one I already had. “And I was thinking about stuff so I
wasn’t thinking I didn’t have my purse when I ordered it and before
I could figure out how to sign language that to the bartender,
Angelo stepped in and he let me say less than
you
normally
let me say when you’ve got something to say and you keep
interrupting me.”

“So you let him buy you a drink,” Sam
stated.

“I’m not sure it was a ‘let’ situation since
it all happened so quickly but, strictly speaking, yes.”

“The word for ‘no’ in Italian, baby, is
no,
” Sam leaned into me on the last word and I glared at
him.

“I know that.”

“So, next time, use that. We’ll look up the
Greek word for ‘no’ so you’ll be sure to know how to stop from
letting that happen when we’re on Crete.”

“It’s hardly going to happen on Crete.”

“You been to Crete?”

I shook my head.

“Greece?”

I shook my head again.

“Right, well, head’s up, Greek men are known
world-wide as accomplished players and they like blondes and, my
guess is, they really like blondes with legs that go on forever,
asses that, just from lookin’ at ‘em, they know they want in their
hands and –”

“All right, all right,” I interrupted him,
“your point is made.”

That was when his face got super close and
his arms held me in a
warning!
way.

I was not wrong and I knew this when he
said, “Good. Then I’ll take this time to be certain you totally get
my point. Italy, Crete, Bangladesh or Skippy’s,
I
buy your
drinks. No other man does. You don’t give them your name to be
friendly or at all unless I’m standin’ right beside you and they
get where I’m at. Now do
you
get where I’m at?”

I didn’t answer him. I was stuck at
something he’d said in the middle of acting like a Neanderthal.

“Skippy’s?” I asked.

“What?”

“You said Skippy’s,” I told him.

“Yeah.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a crab shack close to my house that
Gordo and I hung at and now where Luci and I hang at.”

I stared at him.

He was an ex-football player. He was an
ex-commando. Ex-football player commandos hung at bars called
“Thor’s” or “Jethro’s Fire Rocket Barbeque” or “Hellhound
Roadhouse”.

Not “Skippy’s Crab Shack”.

“You hang at a place called ‘Skippy’s’?” I
asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Skippy’s?” I repeated my question with
fewer words.

“Uh… yeah,” he repeated his answer with
another syllable and a lot less patience.

“Is its full name ‘Skippy’s You Can Eat ‘Em
but You Gotta Wrestle ‘Em First Crab Shack’?”

Sam had no answer for that; he just stared
down at me.

Then he didn’t answer but instead asked,
“Right, how the fuck am I pissed that I go to find my woman and see
some guy in her space, find out not only did she let him buy her a
drink but she gave him her name and I make myself clear about how I
feel about that and instead of her confirming she gets me, she’s
talkin’ about Skippy’s and for some fuckin’ reason, instead of me
pushin’ she gets me, I wanna laugh my ass off?”

He sounded disgruntled.

Since I didn’t have an answer and I also
didn’t want to make him more disgruntled, I decided to shrug.

Sam tipped his eyes heavenward and
sighed.

I bit my lip.

Sam tipped his eyes back to me and stated
quietly, “No, Skippy’s is just Skippy’s, the best fried crab
sandwich you’ll find on the eastern seaboard and I say that with
authority seein’ as Gordo and me put some research into that. And
no, Skip does not make you wrestle the crabs before eatin’ them.
Now, honey, takin’ us back, do you…
get me?
”

“I get you,” I whispered.

He stared down at me.

Then he muttered like he was talking to
himself, “I don’t know if I want her to figure out she’s fuckin’
gorgeous so she isn’t so fuckin’ clueless when a player marks her
or if I’m glad I finally got one who looks as good as her and has
no fuckin’ clue.”

“Are you wanting me to participate in this
discussion or are you having a conversation with yourself?”

“Your participation isn’t required,” Sam
replied.

“I didn’t think so,” I mumbled, my eyes
sliding away.

That was when I felt Sam’s body shaking and
I looked up to see him grinning. Then one of his hands went to my
jaw, he tipped my head further back and, to my shock (but it
couldn’t be said, displeasure), he laid a hot, wet, deep, heavy and
long
one on me.

I was holding on tight and breathing
erratically when he lifted his head, muttered, “Now
they
get
me,” then he turned me, tagged my drink and walked me back to the
table.

I drank my half Amaretto while I chatted
with Luciana and while we chatted, Sam had one of his arms draped
around the back of my chair, his torso toward me (and in the
direction of Luci), his other arm draped across my lap. Then, when
I was into my second Amaretto, Luci needed another drink so Sam got
up to get her one.

But before he did, his hand gave my thigh a
squeeze that caught my attention, my head turned to him and he
caught my eye, the eye catch meaningful I just didn’t know what it
meant. I felt my brows draw together and tipped my head slightly,
his gaze cut swiftly to Luci and back. Light dawned, I gave a
slight nod then he gave my thigh another squeeze and took off.

I turned to Luci to see she was watching Sam
leave.

Then she turned to me and announced, “I very
much like you two together.”

I smiled at her.

Then I whispered, “I very much like us
together too.”

She smiled back.

Then she scooted her chair close, turned
into me and confided quietly. “Sam very much likes you two together
too.”

I pulled in a soft breath then shared, “I’m
beginning to get that.”

She studied my face a moment then deduced,
“He is breaking through.”

“It would be hard not to, considering he’s
using a sledgehammer.”

She threw her head back and laughed and I
did it with her (without the throwing my head back part).

Then, with a smile on her face, she righted
her head but her eyes went to the lake and she murmured, “Our boys,
they are not subtle.”

My heart skipped.

Our boys.

Before I could say word one, she did.

“I was at a party when I met Travis. I was
very confident, which was what I liked to think. My father said I
was vain. Back then, I think I was. Young, I had so much attention,
I liked it. I saw Travis across the room and I chose him. In that
day, back then, that was all I had to do. I chose them and they
came to me and I made them dance. I caught his eyes and he came to
me. I tried to make him dance,” her eyes slid to me and her smile
was small and melancholy when she whispered, “Travis Gordon was not
a man who danced.”

I didn’t know what to do, whether to touch
her, take her hand but before I could do anything, she looked back
toward the darkened lake and kept talking.