Anything but Minor (6 page)

I had a few days before the next baseball game but had surprised myself by following the series that the Swampgators played against Columbia the past weekend that had resulted in a Gator’s victory. Rafe had only pitched one game but had dominated, and I found myself silently cheering him on.

In dire need of company and with the following day off, I found myself at Andy’s talking to Kristina. I’d spent my days in a cold, white classroom that was far less than alluring than my romanticized version. Though rewarding in a sense, it was less exciting than I’d imagined. I missed the air. I missed flying, but I refused to admit taking the job was the wrong choice. In fact, I was in flat out denial. I convinced myself I had to give it time.

“Asshole,” I heard Kristina grunt as she eyed the bar slip left by a man who’d just ran her around for the better part of half an hour. He stuffed his face and openly ogled her, as well as made inappropriate sexual comments. She lifted her fingers into a crunched V, the tips pointed in his direction.

“Crappy tip?”

Still giving the man the strange gesture, she addressed me. “They should make it a requirement after high school that
every
human wait tables. It would teach manners and humility.”

My curiosity got the best of me as she kept her fingers up until the man was safely out of the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I just cursed him with uncontrollable anal itching,” she said with seriousness. I burst into laughter as she tilted her head and eyed me with a small amount of humor on her perfectly painted lips. “It works.”

“Okay,” I said, pushing my drink toward her in a polite request. “I’m a good tipper.”

“If Andy didn’t beg me to stay,” she said as she gripped my glass and set it on the bar well, “I’d be doing something else by now.”

“Like what?” I asked as she gripped the bottles. I noted the ingredients of my drink and typed them into my phone. Boredom may make an alcoholic of me yet.

“Like...hell, I don’t know...something where I can be home with my son at night.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not a huge fan of my job right now, either.”

“In that case,” she said with a wink, “this one is on me.” I shook my head to protest as I looked her over. Kristina really was a stunning woman, and if she knew it, she showed it poorly.

“Shopping for something new?” I felt the tingle start in my spine as Rafe whispered in my ear. The rumble of his deep voice completely counteracted the small numbness I felt from the alcohol. “She’s completely straight.”

I huffed as I turned in his direction. This time, I was able to control my breath, but the effect was the same. Dark, thick green lined the outside of his irises, and I could see the caramel clouds of brown that filled the rest of them. He was too close, and our lips almost touched. Those lips were a beacon, full, inviting, and the undeniably sexy smirk he wore made them far too tempting. “I’m not shopping and unlike you, I don’t think
every
woman is interested in me.”

“You assume too much,” Rafe said as he nodded at Kristina, who set down a fresh beer in front of him with a smile. He thanked her then turned his attention back to me. “We got off on the wrong foot. There’s no reason to get defensive. I love lesbians.”

I heard a loud bark of a laugh come out of Kristina, who looked at me with bulging eyes. I nodded in confirmation but could tell she knew better.

“That’s wonderful, Rafe, really.” Thinking on my toes, I hid my smile. “Hey, you’re a local celebrity of sorts.” I saw his eyes narrow as I continued. “They’re having a gay pride party at the park in North Charleston this weekend. You can be my date and endorse your love of lesbians.”

“I have a game,” he said as an excuse.

“It’s before your game.”

“I have plans.”

“Now you do,” I quipped back.

“Fine,” he said as he looked me over with scrutiny. “I’ll go, but you have to do something with me if you think you’re wo-
man
enough.”

He was dressed in dark cargo shorts, a V-neck, white tee, and his ball cap was backward. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop staring at the curve of his bicep as he lifted his beer. My eyes wandered back to the beautiful, hard lines of his jaw and the ring of indents on the side of his mouth that accompanied his smug smile. They were intoxicating. I was starting to regret my declared sexuality.

“Fine.”

“Meet me here at 8 A.M. tomorrow and bring a bathing suit, or...whatever you type of women wear.”

“Now you’re stereotyping,” I snapped.

“Jesus, Rafe,” Kristina said as she eyed our exchange with humor. “With that statement, you’d make lesbians everywhere proud.”

“I’ll just grab my dyke wear and see you here,” I said as I left Kristina the tip I promised and made my way out the door.

“What the hell did I say?”

Kristina laughed and held her stomach as she answered. “I think by trying to be accommodating, you offended her.”

“I don’t even know why I asked her,” I said, pounding my beer as a headache kicked in.

“If I had to guess,” Kristina whispered as she leaned over the bar, “I would say you like her.”

“She’s gay.”

Kristina burst out in laughter again as she slid a freshly poured beer down the bar. “I think she may be gay for
you
, Rafe.”

“Bullshit,” I said as I paused and looked up at Kristina, who nodded once in the direction that Alice left. “Are you telling me she’s
playing
lesbian?”

“I’m just saying”—she bent over the bar and gave me an eyeful of cleavage, which I appreciated for half a second—“exactly, Rafe.” She motioned to her chest. “I must have done that a few times and her eyes never hit pay dirt once. She’s bluffing.”

“To keep me away,” I said, stunned.

“Yes, big head.” Kristina walked down the bar as I sat there fuming. The woman had managed to piss me off twice since I met her and had made a fool of me.

Oh yes, there would be fucking.

I’d decided on a night of southern favorites—
Fried Green Tomatoes
and
Steel Magnolias
—but would start it off with
Forrest Gump
while I doused myself with spray on tan. I felt it necessary due to the pathetic, pale tint of my skin. Standing in my living room while it dried, I repeated the words to the movie as I moved my arms back and forth in a windmill. Naked and feeling foolish for going to such efforts to look better in my newly purchased bikini, I mentally beat myself up for trying.

Rafe.

Just the mental image of him staring me down did things to my insides. Even if he acted like a monkey man who liked to build big fires to impress his peers, he was nothing short of gorgeous. He didn’t seem my type at all. Rafe didn’t think through the words that came out of his mouth or his actions, either, but I had to admit, it was a flaw of mine as well.

I’d accused him of stereotyping, but in the back of my mind, I’d done the same to him.

The man was the definition of arrogant and an athlete to boot. I could probably measure his depth and intelligence by the amount of space he allowed between his penis and the toilet water. God, and the sad line he used about letting go wouldn’t even make it into the cheesiest of ‘80s flicks I watched on repeat.

And it seemed like he’d been getting away with it for a long time. I decided not to over analyze as I tried to relax while prepping for what I was sure was going to be a disastrous date...with a man...who thought I was a lesbian.

I was dripping with sticky goo and was just about to shower it off to make it look more natural when I caught movement in the corner of my eye.

I felt the jolt of terror race through me as I pressed my legs together to keep from peeing and ruining what I was sure was an expensive rug.

A huge cockroach raced across my wall, and as I began to scream, I swear it started to scream with me as it scurried away. I grabbed the can of tanning spray and raced toward it while I yelled at the intruder at the top of my lungs, unloading the can on my cream colored wall. The bastard refused to stop or even acknowledge my ammunition as I used half of the can. Nothing in my well-educated brain reminded me that if it was safe to spray on human skin, it would be more than safe for a cockroach that could survive a nuclear war. As it made its way to safety, I realized I had just tanned a cockroach.

Nervous laughter burst out of me as I scanned my walls and went straight for a broom in my hall closet. I made a beeline back to the living room and began to beat the ever loving crap out of every surface of the space. Hours later, with newly striped tan walls, my borrowed couch was torn apart, the room in utter disarray. I realized I was blackened by the tanning spray that I was supposed to have rinsed off and still fully naked. I crouched in my living room, still on the hunt, and felt utterly insane. I must have looked like Leo DiCaprio did when he lost his mind in that movie
The Beach
.

A knock on the door startled me as I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 A.M. I quickly pulled on my Yoda onesie and raced to the door as I zipped it.

“Hi,” a woman said on the other side of the frame. She looked tired, and I felt her pain. I had only hours until I met Rafe as a black lesbian.

“Can I help you?”

“I live downstairs. I think the question is
can
I help
you
?” She grinned in a sleep-filled smile as I realized the noise I must’ve made during my epic battle.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I had this gigantic...” I didn’t want to say roach because who in the heck wants to admit they have a disgusting bug in their house? Just as I was about to deny it, I saw one slightly larger bug than the one inside my condo crawl up the wall on the siding behind her and then suddenly take flight.

“Oh my GOD!” I pulled her into the house and shut the door as I looked through the peephole.

“Hey now, what in the world is wrong with you?”

I turned to her with wide eyes. “There’s a gigantic roach outside, and it’s FLYING!”

She burst into laughter as she pushed me gently from the doorway and opened it. “I take it you aren’t from around here?”

“No.” I pushed out a breath. “Please, God, I’ve already dealt with the thought of preparations to build an Arc for the flooding downtown. Don’t tell me this is normal!” She took in my appearance, my onesie, tinted hands and face, and the panic in it as I looked her over. Her blonde hair was piled on her head, and her face was still pretty even void of makeup and lack of sleep. Her silk pajamas were far more sophisticated than mine. If I had to guess, I would say she was probably early thirties, and though it was late, she seemed to have a pleasant disposition that went with her thick southern accent. It was too bad I wanted to shove her out the door to keep the horrid creature that loomed over us at bay.

“Those, my dear neighbor, are Palmetto bugs and very common in these parts. Look forward to skin-eating no-see-ums, mosquitoes, lizards, bullfrogs, snakes, and, of course, alligators.”

“Noseyums?”

“NO-SEE-UMS. Oh, you’ll know,” she said with a wink.

“Of course,” I whispered back in sheer terror.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Lemon juice if you have any, and a sugar scrub should ease that fake bake up a bit.” I studied my hands in defeat.

“Do you want to take this with you? You know, back downstairs?” I said as I offered my broom to her.

“No thanks,” she muttered before she moved past me with quickness and stomped the kitchen floor. I pushed out an eager thank you as she pulled a paper towel off of my kitchen bar and ended my battle.

“I’m April,” she said as she gripped my door handle, my problem bug murdered in the paper towel she held in her hand. I loved her instantly.

“Alice,” I said with a sigh.

“You’ll get used to it. Welcome to Charleston.”

It was the first time I’d hated the words, but still, I smiled and thanked her again before closing my door. I wasted gallons of water trying to rub the all too obvious spray paint from my skin. I stood in front of the mirror three cold showers later and let a few tears stream down my face. A look at the clock had me utterly defeated—4:00 A.M. I was screwed. I pulled my covers tight around me as I scanned my walls for any lingering friends of the recently departed. But they were still
my
walls. And the bed I was in belonged to
me.