In The Sunshine (4 page)

His hotel room television blared. An early morning newscaster seemed to share his laugh, but was really just making a lame attempt at a segue to the weather report. High of 83 with lows in the upper sixties. It reminded Matt of a late August summer day back home in Michigan.

He used the side of his queen-sized bed to help pull himself off the floor. He ambled to the bathroom and stared at his body for a moment, not liking what he saw. He looked more like 38 instead of twenty eight. Being a patrol cop was taking its toll, he thought.

Matt left the bathroom and pulled his suitcase from a nearby closet. He hadn't bothered to unpack. Tossing it onto his bed, he rifled through its contents: shorts, tanks, a few t-shirts and tighty-whities. Nothing approaching appropriate evening attire for a date.

Did it matter? He'd be gone in less than forty eight hours and Regan would still be at Cocoa Beach. He laughed again.

You haven't felt anything for anyone in more than a year and now you spring to life for an unavailable woman? Knock yourself out loser.

He could, and probably should, decline her invitation. Why put himself out there for this? Matt flopped next to the suitcase and rubbed his eyes. He grabbed a fluffy pillow and put it over his face. Maybe he should just smother himself and be done with it?

Wade had encouraged him to "go for it" in a brief conversation on his way back to the hotel from Regan's the night before. He actually used the words "proud" and "stud." Of course, Wade had also said that his "boy was going to get some. The chicks love a knight in shining armor. Guaranteed nookie."

The chiding would never end if he nixed the date. Despite his flow of negative thoughts and the threat of nuclear meltdown from his bud, Matt
knew
he wanted to see her again. Bottom line.

THE LAST TIME MATT SHOPPED FOR CLOTHES, George W. Bush was closing out his first term as president. A knot tightened in Matt's stomach when he walked through the doors of Macy's at a Merritt Square Mall. He instantly felt out of place, like an explorer stepping foot on some uncharted island.

What to wear had never been much of an issue. Freshly pressed uniforms took care of his work life and Jen handled the rest. The few things he did pick for himself were generally confined to sweats and an occasional sports-themed item. He had every variation of Michigan State University apparel imaginable.
 

He wandered into the men's shop and browsed some Perry Ellis and Tommy Hilfiger suits. The store was holding a three-day sale and most of the suits had been marked down nearly in half.

Are you going on a job interview, or a date?

Matt chuckled at the thought. He looked around trying to scan for more casual ware. Just as he was exiting the men's shop, a voice stopped him from behind.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

Matt turned and a salesman extended his hand. "Hugh" appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was trim and dressed in a plaid, light grey suit with a pink dress shirt and dotted tie. His hair was thick and held in place by some kind of slick gel. Hugh was everything Matt was not.

But the pretty boy had a firm hand shake, something Matt always looked for. He instinctively didn't trust guys that gave a politician's handshake or a purposely limp one. It also didn't seem to bother Hugh that Matt was dressed in a t-shirt and faded jean shorts, which told him that he was either hungry for any kind of sale or didn't put on aires.
 

"Well, 'Hugh,' I'm going on my first date in a very long time, and I have absolutely no idea what to wear."

"What are you doing on this date?"

"Dinner at a little place on Cocoa Beach and then, not sure what else."

"So, casual dining then?"

"Yeah, but --"

"You want to impress her," Hugh said, smiling. His teeth were, of course, perfectly straight and as white as ivory.

"I think I can help you out. We're definitely in the wrong area..."

"Matt."

They walked to a section filled with casual shirts, shorts and pants. Hugh sized his client from head to toe and the gears in his head appeared to be working overtime. He put his right hand up to his chin in a thinker's pose and finally spoke after an uncomfortable pause.

"This is a first date?"

"Just met her, yes," Matt said.

"How old is she?"

"Early twenties, I'd say."

Hugh tapped his index finger against his lips. "Okay, okay. Is she a student?"

"I'm not sure. I met her at a restaurant. She's a waitress."

Hugh broke his thinker's pose and shot his hands into his pockets. "I think what we should go for is upscale casual. Since you're a little older than her, she's going to expect you to be established."

"I don't want to look stuffy," Matt said. "That's not me."

"I agree and I think we can pull it off without a problem."

Hugh led him to a large display of brightly colored shorts of all makes and sizes. He searched through a stack and pulled out a pair of white, flat front Nauticas.

"Thirty six inch waste?"

"I should be a thirty four," Matt said.

Hugh smiled. "A little too much beer?"

Matt nodded. "And Five Guys burgers. So, yeah, thirty six is comfortable. Those look like golfer shorts. I'm not quite ready for the tour."

After a few more misses, Hugh found a pair of khaki-colored cargo shorts and Matt nodded his approval. He motioned the salesman toward a nearby display of folded polo shirts.

"I think you want to avoid those," Hugh said. "With your size, a polo's going to cling and might make you look a bit intimidating. We've got some button ups that will go well with the cargos."

"You're the pro," Matt said. "Lead on."

They walked past a cash register and Hugh gave a nod to a colleague. Before he could say anything, Matt spotted a rack of plaid, short sleeve shirts.
 

"I like these, except they look a little wrinkled."

"They're made that way. It's cotton-polly pucker. A really, really good choice. What color do you like?"

Matt raised his voice several octaves. "Why, this green one goes with my eyes, don't you think?"

"A sense of humor. She will like that. How about this 'Forever Blue?'

"Tucked in or out?"

"Definitely out," Hugh said. "If you tuck it in, she'll think you're uptight, like a cop or something."

"I am a cop," Matt said. He feigned a scowl.

"Right. Got it. How about we ring you up, sir?"

At precisely 7:00 p.m., Matt knocked on Regan's apartment door. Before she could answer, he gave himself the once-over and decided he looked halfway decent for a cop pretending to be a civilian on a date.

Taking himself out of work mode had been a problem since he joined the Novi Police Department nearly a decade ago. Jen had helped. Her social butterfly ways had them frequently attending parties where Matt was forced to talk about something other than service duty weapons and interrogation techniques.
 

Since the breakup, he'd taken every extra shift he could, and not for the money. Matt found the busier he stayed, the less he thought about Jen, and that was a very good thing. Now, not only was he nervous about being on his first date in years, social anxiety was literally making him sweat. What would they talk about? How could he avoid sounding drier than the sand on Cocoa Beach?

He knocked a second time and stuck his hands in his pockets. His heart was in full thud when Regan answered the door. Looking at her, the air left his body.
 

The neckline of her dress plunged low enough to reveal ample cleavage. Made of a soft looking material, the dress featured spaghetti straps, a bold aqua print set on a soft red background, and was cut just above her knees in the front and draped to her calves in the back. The colors perfectly accentuated her tanned skin and dark brown hair. Regan was a knockout, he decided.

Words pinged around his mind, but all that came out was, "hi."

"Come in," she said. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Matt stepped onto a tiled foyer and glanced around the apartment, which he noted was good-sized and oozed femininity in its decoration. He noticed a sliding glass door adjacent to the living area and could see the ocean off in not too far distance. His attention turned to a young black woman walking his way.

"Emily White," she said, extending her hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Matthew."

He smiled and thought she was nearly as beautiful as Regan. "It's a pleasure. You two have been roommates for awhile?"

Emily giggled and glanced playfully at Regan. "Yeah. We're sisters, or can't you tell?"

Matt slightly flushed. He stared at Emily and then at Regan. "Absolutely. The resemblance is uncanny."

Emily took a step forward, leaned on one foot and put Matt in a bear hug. "Do not mess with my girl," she whispered into his ear. "I'll kick your ass, cop or no cop." Emily released her grip and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Trying to steal my date?" Regan said in a mocking tone. "I'll slap you into next week, girl."

Emily took several steps backwards and raised her arms with hands making a stopping gesture. "Just trying to make Matthew feel at home, sis." She winked, turned and retreated to her bedroom.

Regan grabbed her purse from a small table in the foyer. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Matt said.

The evening was warm, a little too humid for his taste. He could feel beads of sweat on his forehead as they made their way down Ocean Street heading toward the restaurant. Matt wondered if he should try to hold her hand, or if it would be more respectful if he kept his own hands in his pockets. He decided on the latter, but was surprised when Regan tucked her arm around his and let her head rest on his shoulder as they crossed the street from the apartment.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did yesterday," she said. "I'm not sure what would've happened if you hand't stepped in."

Matt shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'm old-fashioned," he said. "You don't treat a woman like that, at least not in my book."

"I like your book."

Not another word passed between them on the rest of the walk. Matt held the door to Marlin's open for Regan and the restaurant's owner, Ray, greeted them as soon as they walked into the dinning area. He patted Matt on the shoulder as if he was a long-lost friend.

"Got you a primo spot set up the deck," he said. "Follow me."

REGAN GRABBED MATT’S HAND as they made their way onto the deck. She wondered if she was being too aggressive with him, although he hadn't pulled away when she took his arm or now when she interlocked her fingers with his.

Her boldness surprised herself a little. It just felt right, though, she couldn't deny it. Being with this man she scarcely knew felt like a natural, and comfortable in a way she had never been with Eddie Levan.
 

Ray, she knew, had taken a liking to her the first time she walked into the restaurant. Though many of the girls from the Sandbar hung out at the Marlin, he said she reminded him of his daughter. Ray never let her pay for her drinks and always discounted her meals. On her meager earnings at the bar, it was a great help.

He had prepared a table complete with linen and finer flatware than everyday patrons received. Ray went so far as to place their table away from the crowd in a spot that overlooked Cocoa Beach without any obstructions in its view. By the looks of it, Regan thought, the coming sunset would be spectacular. A breeze had kicked up in the past few minutes and was shooing away the heat and humidity that had marked the day.

Matt helped her into her seat and then sat directly across from her. Wow, he really was old-school. He looked a little tense and she thought something a little stronger than a Corona might help loosen him up a bit.

"Ray makes the world's best Long Island Iced Tea," Regan said, smiling at her date.

Matt returned her smile. "I haven't had one of those since college."

She held up two fingers at Ray.

"Coming right up, darlin'," he said.
 

Her gaze returned to Matt. He was wearing a short sleeved, medium blue seer-sucker style button up shirt. His biceps stretched the fabric of the sleeves and she could see the rise in his chest and thought he looked powerful, like he could bench press a tank. His crew cut was growing on her, too, and the stark contrast between Eddie's long locks wasn't lost on her.

Matt was a man that meant business. She wondered if he'd see right through her, see that she was drifting without a clear-cut direction in front of her. Why would this man who so obviously had it together want with an underemployed waitress?

"How long have you been a cop?" Regan asked.

"Going on seven years."

"Why?"

Matt smiled. "Why did I become a cop?"

Regan nodded. "Were you in the military or something?"

"No. My grandfather was an officer in Detroit for thirty four years. I admired him very much."

Ray brought the drinks and set them in front of his guests without a word. He turned and walked away, Regan not noticing until he was stepping back into the restaurant.

"It must have been a tough place to be a cop," she said.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was. But he never complained. Gramps grew up in Detroit and loved the city."

"Did he encourage you to become an officer?"

"Not really," Matt said. He took a sip of the Long Island and his lips noticeably puckered. "Wow, that's strong."

Regan smiled. "I like my drinks strong," she said. "Like my men."

She wished the words back into her mouth as soon as they left. What had gotten into her? Matt's opinion of her wasn't going to be a good one with those kinds of comments. A long pause in the conversation left an air of awkward in its wake.

"So, what about you?" he finally said. "What's your story? Are you from around here?"

She shook her head no and filled him in on the basics of her background. He looked interested, but it was hard to tell. The man had one heck of a poker face. It was probably ingrained him, she thought, and necessary to do his job.