David was late showing up for work. Of course, at this
point, he was the only
employee on the schedule of his soon-to-be opened Texas
style grill, Cindy Louโs
BBQ, so he had no one waiting for his arrival. Still. There
was a lot to get done before
his meeting with the graphic artist his buddy, and soon to
be barbecue chef, Jay, had
suggested he hire to do his logo, menu and possibly even a
few ad designs.
Heโd only had time to shave, shower, and change clothes
before coming here. Hell,
he hadnโt even given himself the luxury of a cup of coffee,
and now his system was
screaming for its daily fix. An unexpected yawn shuddered
through his system as he
maneuvered his way toward the kitchen through the clear
plastic that the construction
workers had hung from the rafters. The new commercial grade
appliances had been
put in the day before and the electrical wiring was in,
connected and working in the
restaurant as well, so he set his attention on brewing
himself some joe. He was all set
to grab the carafe, when his gaze fell on the photo of
Cindy, beaming her lovely smile at
him as she sat in one of the swings at Memorial Park last
summer, only a week before
the night. Heโd left the photo sitting on the counter the
day before. Valentineโs Day.
The day their baby had been due. The day heโd commemorated
by getting drunk and
cheating on his wife with a stranger heโd picked up in a bar.
โHow could this happen? Weโve been so careful! I canโt
believe this Cindyโwe can
not afford a baby right now!โ Guilt, his ever-present, old
friend twisted the knife that had
taken up residence in his heart these past months and his
breath caught. His throat
worked. His eyes squeezed shut. His hand shook. He collapsed
against the counter
with his head hanging limp between his shoulders. The back
of his fingers grazed the
edge of the photo frame and he pushed it away. Get a grip on
yourself, man. You canโt
let the graphic artist see you like this. He forced air into
his lungs several times, stood
up, reached for the coffee carafe again, and manfully went
about the morning ritual,
keeping his eyes focused on his rote activities and away
from the photo, away from his
guilt.
* * *
Karen placed the case that held her laptop on the hood of
her car and took a
moment to straighten her suit jacket and skirt, to tuck her
blouse below the waistband
more snugly. She did a quick check of her makeup and hair
using the driverโs side
mirror attached to her car door. Deciding she looked
professional, that the eye drops
sheโd been copiously using had done the trick and brightened
and whitened her once
red eyes, she grabbed up her tool of the trade once more and
marched toward the glass
doors of the establishment sheโd, hopefully, be creating
artwork for later today.
She forced a smile onto her face, forced the muscles in her
jaw and around her eyes
to relax, and prayed like hell that she was putting off
confident vibes. So, her day had
started off badly. She would recover. After all, it hadnโt
taken as long, nor had it been
as arduous a task as sheโd first believed, to retrieve her
car from the parking lot of what
she now knew to be called, โJumpinโ Jillyโs Country
Canteenโ. Luckily, the cab came
right away to pick her up and her car had not been
vandalizedโor worseโstolen, as
sheโd feared.
A flash memory of a hot, humid mouth on her breast caught
her off guard and her
heart leapt into her throat. She had to stop walking for a
moment to catch her breath.
She felt a sudden dampness under her arms, and even more
disturbing, between
her thighs. Okay, so the anonymous one-night-stand was still
bothering her a little.
Sheโd feel much better about the whole encounter if she
could just remember his face,
remember his name. With effort, she shook the dour feelings
off, shoved the memories
back into the murky background, and took a decisive step
forward. Two more steps and
she was at the glass doors. Okay, this is it. She beamed a
smile, swung the door wide,
and took a step inside the dim restaurant. โHello? Anyone
here? Mr. Anderson?โ
* * *
David heard a female voice that sounded somewhat familiar,
but he couldnโt place it.
However, he was sure it belonged to the graphic artist he
was expecting, so he hustled
through the curtains of clear plastic, calling out, โHello!
Ms. Samuels?โ
โYes?โ
โIโll be there in a sec.โ He chuckled. โJust making my way
through the labyrinth.โ
He heard an answering musical laugh that sent a tingle of
dread down his spine and
a flash of desire to his groin. No! It canโt be. Not her.
God would not be that cruel. Not
after all heโd been through already in the past seven months.
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