The Jeweler (12 page)

Ginger surveyed Fender, head to toe. His black hair was still a little shaggy, and it hung a bit into his blue eyes. He squinted when he looked at her, like he was asking a question. He wore a black leather jacket, cut slim and ending above a pair of dark blue jeans. Tucked into the jeans was a thin green bowling shirt, with a white tee underneath. He rounded his shoulders over a little, and Ginger could see a vulnerability to him she hadn’t noticed before. As she walked in through the door, she brushed closely by him. She caught a whiff of men’s cologne mixed with liquor. Something jumped inside of her.

“Yeah. I like tequila.”

Fender felt the alcohol settling in his blood. Ginger brushed by him, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He closed the door behind them and locked it again. She stood in the center of the floor, turning around to look at all the jewelry cases.

“This is a nice place.” She looked up at him.

“A nice place that you’ve never been in before.”

She ducked her head, a little embarrassed. “Well, yeah, I guess. I don’t have a big budget for jewelry.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You are one of the many non-customers of Barnes and Son. So, this is the showroom, and there’s a back office, and that’s about it.” He looked at her again. He felt brave, with the warmth of the tequila in the spaces between his bones. “Sit right here, on top of the display case.” He came close to her, touched her on the elbow.

“Will I break it?” She hopped up on the counter when he shook his head no.

“I’ll get the tequila. Sam and I are heathens and drink straight from the bottle, but I suppose you’ll want a glass.” He went to the office and grabbed the tequila and a coffee cup
. I can’t believe she’s here, in my shop. If she only knew what a scum I am, what I did just minutes ago.
He shook the thought off.
She’s here; that’s what matters. She’s here, and she’s the most heavenly thing I can ever hope to come close to.

He returned to the front room. She was looking into the case she sat on. Her knees poked out from under her purple skirt. He tried not to stare at them as he handed her the coffee cup.

“Give me a little tequila first. I have to catch up,” she said.

He poured a little. She downed it.

He looked at her knees again. “You’ve got a lot of scars.”

She straightened up when he spoke to her. “I’m famous for being a klutz.”

He reached out and traced a long scar that ran from her kneecap partway down her shin. “What’s this?”
I can’t believe I just touched her
. He panicked for a second.
God, I hope she doesn’t slap me. Maybe I’m reading her wrong. Maybe she doesn’t like me
.

No slap came. “That? Oh. As a new skier, maybe you shouldn’t hear this one.” She smiled at him.

He pretended to choke. “You? You’re the expert. What happened?”

“I was skiing in a clinic, with all the big boys in the ski school. Unfortunately, I was skiing like I had something to prove. I hit a tree stump buried in the powder, and that was it. Detached a tendon and had many, many stitches I’d like to forget.”

“I knew I had a reason to fear for my life. Remind me of that story when I’m thinking of going skiing next season.”

She shook her head. “No, Fender, it’s a reason to keep skiing. If I got back up and did it again after that, then you know skiing’s fun.”

Fender thought for a minute. “I usually give up on stuff if it causes me physical harm. Like girlfriends.”
Now why did I just say that?
He looked at her.
Less talking, Fender. The more you talk, the less women like you
.

“You’ve given up on women? How sad.” She smiled at him.

“How cliché, you mean. Well, okay, maybe not completely. Lately, I’ve been thinking maybe they’re not so bad.” He filled her cup with more tequila.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She held up her mug. “I’m not going to drink alone. Go get another cup.”

He did as he was told. When he came back out, she was looking at the jewelry in the case again. “Do you want to try stuff on?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that allowed?”

“I’m the owner, so I’m thinking we can do whatever we want. I’ll open the case, and you go for it. Hell, Sam does it all the time. You’ll look a lot better in the goods than he does.”

She motioned to the bottle of Cuervo. “Load up there. We’re going to do a toast.”

He was intrigued. Mischief danced in her eyes.

“To Fender Barnes: skier—” he coughed in protest “—jeweler, man of many talents.” They touched cups, and she drank the shot.

Fender walked around to the other side of the case and pulled out three big trays. “Okay, princess, bedeck yourself.”

She crinkled her nose. “I don’t usually wear any jewelry. But so much at once is kinda fun.”

“You aren’t a spinner.” He smiled.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“What’s a spinner?” She arched a brow.

Fender shrugged. “I swear I’m not a total misogynist. Spinners are girls who dress, I don’t know…” He chickened out.
She has so, so many reasons to hate me.

“Spit it out. I’m tough. I can take it, or I can punch you in the mouth if it reminds me of me.” Ginger smirked.

“Now you’re just teasing me. A spinner is a girl who dresses in shiny stuff to get a guy’s attention, like a fishing lure—you know, a spinner.” Fender took a breath. “Please don’t hit me.”

“Are spinners good or bad? Seems like they might be kind of essential to your business.” She waited for his response, twirling a very large ring around her pinky.

Fender swallowed. “We, Sam and I, generally make fun of them. Though they
are
good for business, and I have dated some women who qualify as spinners. Can we switch the subject now? And anyway, you don’t need jewelry to get someone’s attention.”
Why did I say that? I’m embarrassing myself. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I am such a total moron.

“I don’t?”

Fender spoke without thinking, and without hesitation. “Of course not. You’re beautiful.”

She blushed pink all the way to her ears. “Thanks.”

He changed the subject before he threw up, picking up a tray of rings to show her. “Which ring would you want if you were into all the shiny stuff, though? You know, if you
did
want to give me your business?”

Fender wanted to hug her for not embarrassing him.
Hug her, kiss her…
He took a deep breath and walked back on the other side of the counter to contain himself.
Get a grip, or you’ll scare her away, stalker.

He wasn’t keeping track, but as time and more Cuervo passed, and he found himself sitting up on the counter with Ginger. He sat as close as he could without sitting in her lap. She hadn’t said anything about it yet, so he assumed it was okay.

“Fender?” She looked at him. He couldn’t believe he had the guts to look her straight in the eye for so long.

The conversation stalled. She was going to say something, maybe, but she seemed to change her mind about it. Instead she broke the tension, wiggling the rings on her fingers at him.

The moment was killing Fender. He took her by the arms and pulled her to him. “You are so great.” He leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed back, her hands running up under his leather jacket.
If I die right now, I die happy,
Fender thought. He wove his fingers through her strawberry blond hair, soft and long. She tilted her head back, and he trailed kisses from her jaw to the velvet skin of her neck. She breathed out through her lips, and he could feel it, her mouth making his skin moist. His other hand rested on her knee, with all its scars.

There was a hard pounding on the door. Ginger jumped in his arms. “What was that?”

Fender headed to the door. “Christ!” He could see a figure, silhouetted by strong afternoon sun behind.

“Fender! Open this door!” Fender wanted to puke. It was Pop.

He apologized over his shoulder to Ginger. “It’s my insane father.” Fender opened the door and slid outside before Pop could weasel his way into the shop. Pop’s whole body was twitching.

“For the love of Mike! What are you doing in my store? The whole world can see you!” Pop’s ears reddened when he was embarrassed. They were scarlet.

“I’m not doing anything, and it’s not your store.” Fender instinctively ducked his head, bracing for the response from Pop.

“You’re making out in the showroom with some woman. On top of the display case! You’ll break it!”

“Pop, it didn’t break. And I wasn’t making out with her.”

“She’s got on all the jewelry. I don’t think that’s right. You can’t use the merchandise to…to—” Pop paused, searching for the right word “—score! It’s disgraceful. This isn’t how you win a lady’s favor.”

“I just kissed her. Besides, I can’t get any farther with her if my father interrupts, can I?” Fender shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

Pop softened a little. “Well, you should be taking women out, not to the shop. Women like to be entertained, wined and dined. You’ve got to start figuring these things out on your own. I can’t be here to teach you forever, you know.” He composed himself, drawing his short frame to its full height. “I want to meet her.”

“Pop, no!”

Pop came closer now, zeroing in on his prey. “Yes. You’re doing terrible things in my store. The least you can do is introduce me to the woman.”

“Yeah, Pop, we were going to sacrifice a chicken next. If you promise not to needle her with questions, you can meet her.”

“I have an interest in women you kiss in front of God and everybody. Is that not normal?” Pop was already pushing past Fender, eager to get inside.

Fender hurried in behind him. The best he could do now was damage control. “Ginger? My father wants to meet you.” He scanned the store.

She stepped out from behind the office door. “Of course.” Her entire face was a color similar to Pop’s ears. Fender smiled a little.

“Ginger? What an unusual name. Is that Dutch?” Pop had a hold of her hand and stroked it. Women were his thing. He could charm any woman. Fender had never had Pop’s luck.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come out sooner. I wasn’t sure who was at the door, you were banging so loud.”

Pop patted her hand now, still not releasing it. “I was so pleased to see Fender at the shop, I got a little enthusiastic, I guess. I never know what’s going on here anymore. Fender’s the boss now.”

Fender lifted one eyebrow in surprise. “Really? Well, it was sure nice of you to stop by. You said you were having dinner down the street? Your friend’s probably worried. I’ll walk you out.” Fender had Pop by the elbow and moved out the door in one swift motion.

Pop said good-bye to Ginger in a sweet tone. Out on the sidewalk, he shot Fender a sly smile. “I can’t blame you. She’s cute. Nice hands. Couldn’t help but notice you two had been drinking, though. Is that a good idea?”

“Pop, I swear—”

Pop scooted down the street before Fender finished his reply. He’d probably tell the whole gang at the Rendezvous in under five minutes, cackling all the while.

Fender went back in the shop. Ginger had picked up the glasses and the bottle, moving toward the office to put them away. He helped her.

“Well, that was my pop. I guess you were going to meet him at some point.”

Ginger nudged him. “Oh, he’s fine. He’s nice. I thought he’d be mad, since I had on all the loot. That’s why I hid in the office. I was taking off the rings.”

Fender liked that she cared what Pop thought. “He wouldn’t care. He loves women. If you’re female, you can do no wrong in Pop’s book.” He paused for a moment. The passion had evaporated. His chance was gone. Now all he felt was awkward, the same old stupid Fender he always was. “It’s just as well he came by. I should probably feed you before I get you too drunk.”

She nodded. “I could eat. And I’m not a good drinker, anyway. I get weepy.” She looked uncomfortable, and Fender decided to change the subject.

“Well, then, it’s settled. No more debauchery for the night. Let’s go to Acapulco House for tacos.”

A few minutes later, they walked down to Acapulco House from the shop, and Fender spent the whole journey consumed.
I should hold her hand. Why am I not holding her hand? If I do and she doesn’t want it, it’ll ruin everything. But maybe she’s pissed that I haven’t just done it. Jesus.

“This is a good plan. I think tequila and I need to take a break from each other.”

Fender missed what she said. “What?”

She smiled at him, just a little teeth over that full bottom lip.

I should be kissing that lip. I want to kiss her again. When? After dinner?

“I just said I probably shouldn’t drink any more tequila.”

“I’m sorry. Can I be honest with you?” Fender scolded himself. If he was really going to be honest, it should be about the ring.

“Sure.”

“I’m too busy thinking about holding you again. Maybe kissing you. I’m not listening much.”

This made her blush. She smiled and looked down at her toes, biting her lip in embarrassment. “You’re so…”

“So?”

She shook her head, stopped walking, and looked him in the eye. “Different.”