Breathe
Page 30
“You’re beautiful, a good kisser, this is our first date, my bed is in the room, I’m nervous as all heck and I just thought I was going to die choking after spitting out gum so no, I’m not all right.”
Yes, that’s what I blurted, word for word.
Chace stared at me.
I stared back both wondering if I could will myself to melt like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz and if that was what Laurie meant by honesty or if it was a tad over the top.
These questions were answered when, first, I didn’t melt. And second, Chace took a step in, dumped a big bag with a sleeping bag in it on the floor, caught me with one arm seeing as the other one was holding up a pizza box and yanked me into his frame.
I collided with some force so my head tipped back which was advantageous for Chace seeing as his was coming down and suddenly his mouth was on mine.
Then his tongue was in my mouth.
In the end, when he lifted his head, my arms were around him his neck, I was plastering myself to his long, hard frame and I didn’t care at all my bed was about ten feet away.
Swimming through the happy daze his kisses created, I focused on him to see his eyes warm and sexy and moving over my face and I heard him ask quietly, “Still nervous?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Good,” he muttered. “Now take the pizza, honey. Serve it up. I’m starved but I have to go downstairs to get the rest of the shit.”
“Okay,” I replied but didn’t move.
“Baby, you gotta unwrap your arms from my neck to take the pizza,” he prompted, his lips tipped up.
My eyes fell to his mouth.
I really, really liked his lips tipped up.
Those lips said, “Faye,” and his arm gave me a squeeze.
My eyes darted back to his, my arms slid from around his neck and I muttered, “Pizza, serving it up.”
He let me go. I took the pizza.
Then his fingers trailed along my hip as he said, “Be back in a second.”
I nodded to him feeling his fingers trailing on my hip like they were still there even though he was gone.
Jeez, I had to get myself together.
I decided to do that by serving up pizza. I had the placemats on the counter in front of the stools, the plates, red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese, salt and pepper all on the counter and was pulling down a wineglass when he got back.
I stared.
Chace walked to me carrying five grocery bags.
“Uh… not sure buying the entire store for that boy is good, Chace. If he’s living on the street, the rest of the homeless population in Carnal will fall on him like vultures,” I remarked.
Chace made it to the kitchen, hefted up the bags and they made a loud, multi-clattering, cacophony of thumps when they landed.
Then he turned to me. “Got one homeless guy in town, darlin’. He calls himself Outlaw Al. He celebrated his seven hundredth birthday this year and looks it. You talk to him, he’ll swear he was the one who shot Billy the Kid. Every feral cat in Carnal will claw you soon as look at you but of any day or night, one or a dozen of ‘em will be curled into Al like he’s their Momma. He has two teeth. And I don’t see good things for his dental future since Shambles and Sunny built a small lean-to behind La-La Land so he’ll have some protection from exposure. He was much obliged for this effort. Moved in while Shambles was still hammering in the nails. He mostly stays there except when it’s his time to howl at the moon. And Shambles gives him baked goods he doesn’t sell. I think our kid’ll be good.”
I stared at him.
Then I asked, “You know all of that about a homeless man called Outlaw Al that I’ve been living in this town near to my whole life and not only never heard of, but have never even seen?”
Chace shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on the island, moved to me and got close. I shivered when he lifted a hand and his eyes watched it pull the hair over my shoulder before it moved to curl around my neck. His eyes came back to me and he kept telling me about Outlaw Al.
“I know, you give it to him, he’ll give his cats wet cat food but he prefers tuna. As for himself, canned corned beef, Vienna sausages, Spam, chili, ranch-style beans, Shambles’s day old baked goods and Colt 45.” His lips tipped up and he finished, “Your Dad wouldn’t approve but no roughage.”
“How do you know all that?”
“He told me and when I give him shit, he gives me orders for shit he actually likes. So I buy him shit he actually likes because, homeless or not, he dumps it if he doesn’t like it.”
“You buy Outlaw Al food?” I whispered and learning this knowledge, seeing the sleeping bag, the bags of food. Knowing about the cameras on the library and the all out effort to find one, lone runaway boy that Chace was spearheading even though he supposedly handed off to Frank. With all that, I could swear that Ella Mae was singing “Holding Out for a Hero” straight in my fraking ear.
“Me, Frank, Betty and Krystal,” he answered and Ella Mae muted.
I blinked then asked with disbelief, “Krystal?”
His lip tip turned into a full-fledged grin, he bent so he was closer to me and he shared, “She’s hard on the outside and that’s the God’s honest truth. Tough as nails. No one gettin’ through unless Krystal herself opens the gate. But inside, honey, always on the inside of anyone, you’ll find something else. Some people let you in right away. Some people you gotta dig. Some people never let you in and give you a show that’s a total lie. Some people, like Krystal, you gotta earn a place inside. And Krystal’s inside is soft and sweet and good.”
“Has she let you inside?” I asked quietly.
“Not for thirteen years. Then, six months ago, I came home after a day that was shitty for me when the rest of the town was celebrating huge, walked through a slew of reporters to get to my door and found her sittin’ in my dark living room. She broke in at the back. She was drinking my vodka. The first thing she said to me before she poured me a glass neat was, ‘You done good, Keaton.’ We shared a shot in silence and she climbed out my bedroom window. I’m not sure that’s inside but I think, with Krystal Briggs, that’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
“With Krystal Briggs, I think that’s huge,” I whispered, his grin turned to a smile and I got lost in it before he turned away.
He went to the bags. I pulled myself together and went to the cutlery drawer.
My ears perked up when he said, “Anyway, some of this shit isn’t for our kid. It’s for dessert.”
Yes, that’s what I blurted, word for word.
Chace stared at me.
I stared back both wondering if I could will myself to melt like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz and if that was what Laurie meant by honesty or if it was a tad over the top.
These questions were answered when, first, I didn’t melt. And second, Chace took a step in, dumped a big bag with a sleeping bag in it on the floor, caught me with one arm seeing as the other one was holding up a pizza box and yanked me into his frame.
I collided with some force so my head tipped back which was advantageous for Chace seeing as his was coming down and suddenly his mouth was on mine.
Then his tongue was in my mouth.
In the end, when he lifted his head, my arms were around him his neck, I was plastering myself to his long, hard frame and I didn’t care at all my bed was about ten feet away.
Swimming through the happy daze his kisses created, I focused on him to see his eyes warm and sexy and moving over my face and I heard him ask quietly, “Still nervous?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Good,” he muttered. “Now take the pizza, honey. Serve it up. I’m starved but I have to go downstairs to get the rest of the shit.”
“Okay,” I replied but didn’t move.
“Baby, you gotta unwrap your arms from my neck to take the pizza,” he prompted, his lips tipped up.
My eyes fell to his mouth.
I really, really liked his lips tipped up.
Those lips said, “Faye,” and his arm gave me a squeeze.
My eyes darted back to his, my arms slid from around his neck and I muttered, “Pizza, serving it up.”
He let me go. I took the pizza.
Then his fingers trailed along my hip as he said, “Be back in a second.”
I nodded to him feeling his fingers trailing on my hip like they were still there even though he was gone.
Jeez, I had to get myself together.
I decided to do that by serving up pizza. I had the placemats on the counter in front of the stools, the plates, red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese, salt and pepper all on the counter and was pulling down a wineglass when he got back.
I stared.
Chace walked to me carrying five grocery bags.
“Uh… not sure buying the entire store for that boy is good, Chace. If he’s living on the street, the rest of the homeless population in Carnal will fall on him like vultures,” I remarked.
Chace made it to the kitchen, hefted up the bags and they made a loud, multi-clattering, cacophony of thumps when they landed.
Then he turned to me. “Got one homeless guy in town, darlin’. He calls himself Outlaw Al. He celebrated his seven hundredth birthday this year and looks it. You talk to him, he’ll swear he was the one who shot Billy the Kid. Every feral cat in Carnal will claw you soon as look at you but of any day or night, one or a dozen of ‘em will be curled into Al like he’s their Momma. He has two teeth. And I don’t see good things for his dental future since Shambles and Sunny built a small lean-to behind La-La Land so he’ll have some protection from exposure. He was much obliged for this effort. Moved in while Shambles was still hammering in the nails. He mostly stays there except when it’s his time to howl at the moon. And Shambles gives him baked goods he doesn’t sell. I think our kid’ll be good.”
I stared at him.
Then I asked, “You know all of that about a homeless man called Outlaw Al that I’ve been living in this town near to my whole life and not only never heard of, but have never even seen?”
Chace shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on the island, moved to me and got close. I shivered when he lifted a hand and his eyes watched it pull the hair over my shoulder before it moved to curl around my neck. His eyes came back to me and he kept telling me about Outlaw Al.
“I know, you give it to him, he’ll give his cats wet cat food but he prefers tuna. As for himself, canned corned beef, Vienna sausages, Spam, chili, ranch-style beans, Shambles’s day old baked goods and Colt 45.” His lips tipped up and he finished, “Your Dad wouldn’t approve but no roughage.”
“How do you know all that?”
“He told me and when I give him shit, he gives me orders for shit he actually likes. So I buy him shit he actually likes because, homeless or not, he dumps it if he doesn’t like it.”
“You buy Outlaw Al food?” I whispered and learning this knowledge, seeing the sleeping bag, the bags of food. Knowing about the cameras on the library and the all out effort to find one, lone runaway boy that Chace was spearheading even though he supposedly handed off to Frank. With all that, I could swear that Ella Mae was singing “Holding Out for a Hero” straight in my fraking ear.
“Me, Frank, Betty and Krystal,” he answered and Ella Mae muted.
I blinked then asked with disbelief, “Krystal?”
His lip tip turned into a full-fledged grin, he bent so he was closer to me and he shared, “She’s hard on the outside and that’s the God’s honest truth. Tough as nails. No one gettin’ through unless Krystal herself opens the gate. But inside, honey, always on the inside of anyone, you’ll find something else. Some people let you in right away. Some people you gotta dig. Some people never let you in and give you a show that’s a total lie. Some people, like Krystal, you gotta earn a place inside. And Krystal’s inside is soft and sweet and good.”
“Has she let you inside?” I asked quietly.
“Not for thirteen years. Then, six months ago, I came home after a day that was shitty for me when the rest of the town was celebrating huge, walked through a slew of reporters to get to my door and found her sittin’ in my dark living room. She broke in at the back. She was drinking my vodka. The first thing she said to me before she poured me a glass neat was, ‘You done good, Keaton.’ We shared a shot in silence and she climbed out my bedroom window. I’m not sure that’s inside but I think, with Krystal Briggs, that’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
“With Krystal Briggs, I think that’s huge,” I whispered, his grin turned to a smile and I got lost in it before he turned away.
He went to the bags. I pulled myself together and went to the cutlery drawer.
My ears perked up when he said, “Anyway, some of this shit isn’t for our kid. It’s for dessert.”
