Rock Chick 07 Regret (12 page)

“Marcus,” I replied.

“You’re…” he hesitated, “well?”

“Never better,” I informed him and I saw his eyes flash in response.

He didn’t hide it and he didn’t let my flippant answer put him off.

“How’s business?” he asked.

“Excellent,” I replied in a tone that didn’t invite further discourse.

Marcus watched me for several seconds, his eyes giving me the impression that he missed nothing and furthermore, I wasn’t fooling him. Then he nodded and started to wander the gallery as if he had all day to peruse my wares.

I watched him.

“Are you here alone?” Marcus asked from across the gallery, his eyes on a display of exquisite glass paperweights.

“Yes,” I answered and kept my eyes on him.

He picked up a paperweight. “Is that wise?” Marcus asked quietly, studying the paperweight.

The reminder that he knew about what happened to me and the indication that he cared that I might not be safe made my heart lurch.

I ignored it.

“Ralphie will be back in ten minutes,” I told him. I didn’t know why I was forthcoming with that information but I was.

“Good,” Marcus responded, put the paperweight down and continued to wander the store.

He didn’t speak again until he went back to the paperweight, picked it up and brought it to the counter.

“Can you gift wrap that for Daisy?” he requested.

“Certainly,” I replied and then busied myself with the invoice, his credit card and the gift wrap.

He was silent until I started to put the finishing touches on the bow. My gift wrap was a matte pistachio green, ultra-thick paper, the inside was a sumptuous, opalescent cream and the bow was powder blue organdie, it was Art’s signature wrap and I thought it was lush.

“You should know, I never told Daisy you came to see her or called her after Nanette’s party,” Marcus said.

My head came up and I almost (but still managed it) couldn’t hide my surprise.

His eyes locked with mine. “She knows now,” he went on.

“Is that so?” I asked with sham fascination but my heart was beating in my chest.

“She’s not happy I kept it from her,” Marcus explained.

I just stared at him.

“She had a tough time in that social circle. You were the only one she liked. When you were gone, she missed you.”

My stomach clutched. Painfully.

I didn’t let it show. Instead, I put his wrapped box in a powder blue bag with the word “Art” in fancy pistachio script on the side, the handles made of pistachio, satin ribbon and I handed it to him.

The door opened and Ralphie walked in. Marcus looked at Ralphie, nodded then took the bag.

His eyes came back to mine. “She still misses you,” he finished.

Then he was gone.

It wasn’t until a few days later I realized that even though I knew after watching hundreds of customers make hundreds of decisions about hundreds of purchases, Marcus had decided what he wanted the minute he picked up the paperweight but he still stayed until Ralphie returned.

Now, how bizarre was
that?

* * * * *

“What are you doing?” Buddy asked Ralphie as I watched Veronica Mars mouth off to her father (but in a plucky, cute as a button kind of way).

I lifted my head again and looked at Ralphie who was still at the window.

“Nothing,” Ralphie replied.

I put my head back on Buddy’s thigh as Buddy muttered under his breath, “Jesus.”

My mind was occupied with Veronica’s episode-to-episode dilemma.

See, Veronica was torn between Duncan, the high school class president good boy and Logan, the high school ne’er-do-well bad boy. Personally, I was kind of rooting for the bad boy because he was great at delivering a one-liner. However the good boy was so sweet. The wildcard was Weevil, the leader of a high school, car-stealing, Hispanic, biker gang. I thought Veronica had good chemistry with Weevil and Weevil had great eyelashes and fantastic tattoos.

Therefore, my mind on Duncan, Logan and especially Weevil, I didn’t have time for Ralphie’s antics.

I heard, but didn’t pay much attention to, Ralphie leaving the room.

I heard, but didn’t pay much attention to, Ralphie opening the front door.

Lastly, I heard, but didn’t pay much attention to the murmur of male voices. Ralphie and Buddy had a big gay posse and this gay posse showed up loads, usually this degenerated into copious French martinis or lemon drops or cosmos and impromptu viewings of
Auntie
Mame
(the Rosalind Russell version,
not
the Lucille Ball version) or
Steel Magnolias
.

Alternately, this could degenerate into a round of arm wrestling. It was anything goes at Ralphie and Buddy’s house.

“Look who finally came in from the cold,” Ralphie announced and my head came up when Buddy muttered, a lot louder this time, “Jesus.”

I stared, mouth open and everything, at Hector “Oh my God” Chavez standing in Buddy and Ralphie’s living room.

He was wearing jeans, black boots, a flannel shirt (
untucked
) and you could see his white t-shirt at the open collar. His thick, black hair needed cutting and he needed a shave.

He’d never looked better.

I kept staring as Buddy gently pulled me up to a seated position then stood up slowly and Ralphie started the introductions.

“I’m Ralphie and this is my lover Buddy and I think you know Sadie,” Ralphie said as I reluctantly got to my feet.

Hector had a small grin playing at his mouth. He shook a smiling Ralphie’s hand. Then he shook a frowning Buddy’s hand. Then his eyes cut to me.

I’d checked the Ice Princess at the door. She wasn’t allowed in, not to Buddy and Ralphie’s house.

What did I do now?

I didn’t have a chance to figure it out.

Hector moved, came right to me, right in my space, one of his arms slid around my waist, he pulled me to his warm body, gave me a gentle squeeze and he kissed my temple.

That’s right.
He kissed my temple.

“Sadie,” he said against my temple.

I tilted my head back and stared at him.

I couldn’t speak. At least my mouth was no longer hanging open, for that, I could be grateful.

While Hector looked down at me and I stared up at him silent, Ralphie decided to speak.

“Sadie, what’s the matter with you? Hispanic Hottie has been out with his posse of cute boys, warning off the bad guys for
weeks
and now he’s in here and you have your chance to say thank you and you’re silent as a ghost,” Ralphie snapped.

“Ralphie –” Buddy said warningly.

Hector moved to my side. Close to my side and he looked down at me.

“Hispanic Hottie?” he asked, brows raised and lips still struggling to hold back a grin.

Oh my God. I wanted to die. Go live with the doves and the angels and leave this world forever.

Instead, my eyes sliced to Ralphie and they narrowed. Ralphie ignored my narrowed eyes.

“I know!” Ralphie exclaimed. “We’ll have a drink and all watch Veronica Mars. I think in the next episode she gets roughed up in a pool hall. Anyone would need a drink while watching
that
.”

I didn’t want to have a drink while watching Veronica Mars with Hector “Oh my God” Chavez. I wanted Hector to disappear in a puff of smoke and then I wanted to give Ralphie what for.

Hector didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke, instead he said, “That’d be good.”

My heart sunk, Ralphie clapped in delight and grabbed Buddy who was still frowning and dragged him from the room.

“What should we do? Martinis? Margaritas? I know! Beer!” I heard Ralphie say as he and Buddy disappeared into the kitchen.

I stood frozen to the spot, staring in the direction of the kitchen and wondering what the heck to do.

Hector’s flannel shirt filled my eyesight and I began to panic.

I wasn’t me. I was kind of Sadie-in-the-making when I was in Buddy and Ralphie’s house. Therefore, I didn’t have my armor.

I wasn’t wearing head-to-toe designer. I was wearing faded jeans and one of Buddy’s hooded sweatshirts and it was huge on me. I didn’t have on my
Manolos
or Jimmy
Choos
, giving me four inch heels and a little height. I was barefoot, French
pedicured
toes on full display. My hair wasn’t arranged perfectly, it was pulled up in a messy knot at the crown of my head.

At least I still had on my makeup from working at the gallery all day, thank God.

“Sadie,” Hector called, breaking into my frenzied thoughts about my appearance and further what
he’d
think about my appearance.

My eyes travelled up his shirt, the column of his brown throat, past his strong chin and his full lips to his black eyes. My heart skipped when I saw what was in his dark eyes.

Oh darn.

“How you doin’?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” I answered immediately.

His eyes flared with annoyance and without hesitation he got in my space.

And
then
(no kidding), his hand came to my jaw and his thumb trailed across the cut on my cheek (it was fading, very, very slowly, but it was still there and would be there until I made an appointment with the plastic surgeon).

I held my breath while he watched his thumb trace the scar then his palm moved along my cheek, his fingers slid into the hair at the side of my head and his hand cupped me behind my ear.

His eyes came back to mine.

“
Mamita
, I asked, how are you doing?” Hector repeated, his voice was calm but he was enunciating his words clearly, indicating he cared about my response and further, I better not try to blow him off again because he wasn’t going to like it.

I hesitated then, do not ask me why, I whispered, “Better.”

It was then, close up, I saw his eyes get warm and my stomach pitched at the sight.

Right after that, still standing frozen, Hector close, totally in my space, hand still in my hair, I watched his head start to tilt down.

“I’ve got
the best
idea!” Ralphie shouted from the door. Then he said, “Oh no. Sorry.”

Hector’s eyes closed with what appeared to be frustration (I swear to
God
). He dropped his hand and stepped to my side again.

“Do you, um… want me to come back?” Ralphie asked.

“No!” I cried instantly, sharply and maybe a little loudly.

Ralphie looked at me, eyes narrowed. After a second though, they cleared and he smiled like he was really happy about something.

“Well, Buddy’s in the kitchen, grating cheese like a grating fool. We’ve decided to do nachos.” Ralphie’s gaze moved to Hector and he informed him, “It’s the food of your people.”

I closed my eyes.

Someone, please tell me that Ralphie did
not
just tell Hector that nachos were the food of his people.

While I was devising the lecture on cultural awareness I was going to deliver to Ralphie the minute Hector left, I heard Hector’s soft laughter.

My eyes opened again and I saw Ralphie forge into the room.

“I have to go get sour cream. You,” Ralphie pointed to me, “need to go
smush
up avocado for the guacamole. And you,” Ralphie’s pointed finger moved to Hector, “need to get yourself a beer. It’s stressful doing stakeouts. I should know, I’ve stalked my fair share of lying, cheating, no-good boyfriends. The bastards.”

Then, after sharing this morsel, Ralphie hurried out in search of sour cream.

We heard the door slam behind Ralphie and I stood there, unsure of what to do and wondering how rude it would seem if I ran upstairs, locked my bedroom door and barricaded myself in the closet.