In the Nick of Time (27 page)

Shit, I want her so badly. I want to taste her pussy…

“I want to kiss you so bad right now, Taryn. I’m hurting for you, cravin’ you so damn much,” he whispered in her ear, unable to control himself a second longer.

She blinked several times, as if snapping out of a daydream, then turned back towards her tray. She swallowed, avoiding his gaze. Several moments passed, and he wanted to ask her why she acted so strange but more so, to drag her out of that funk. The woman had become stiff, looking a bit perplexed, possibly lost in thought.

“Look at me,” he asked, bringing her back into the moment. “I
want
you, Taryn.”

She shot him a quick glance, and her glossed-over, big brown eyes said it all…

…She feels it, too…

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you… I’ve said it; you’ve gotten your confession.” He leaned over, closer, for he wouldn’t let her off the hook. “I know we’re not supposed to discuss things like this…”

“No, we’re not.” She looked straight ahead, grasping her tray with both hands, as if prepared to take off.

“We’re not supposed to feel like this, right? We’re not supposed to press our lips together… I’m not supposed to slide my tongue in and out of your mouth…” Her chest rose and fell a tad faster, up and down, up and down. “We’re not supposed to hug each other, none of that…but I
really
can’t help it. I like you and not
like
as in a friend, but as in more,
much
more. And I’m not sorry about how I feel. Am I making you nervous? You’re turning colors…”

The woman took another deep swallow, as if gulping down words and affirmations unsaid.

“Well.” He shrugged, “You’re not saying anything and I’ve already started so I may as well finish. I think about you probably more than I should. I can’t help that either, Taryn. You’re like a breath of fresh air, and I’m on oxygen, trying to live, trying to endure…when all along, you
mastered
survival. ’Cause like you said, you’re a fighter…but I need to put you to the test. So, is it true—are you are a
real
warrior, Taryn?”

“I am…” She slowly turned in his direction, her chin held high and a slight smirk on her face.

“I
know
you are, but when it comes to fucking…” He looked her up and down and slicked his tongue over his teeth real nasty like. “You might be a warrior on the runway, but I’m a beast on the streets, on my work beat, and in between the sheets. You want to cum? I got you covered. You want respect? You already have that from me, and then some.”

She smiled a bit, sucked her bottom lip.

“Whew, Nick… you are full of surprises.” Her eyes hooded.

“You like what I’m saying to you?”

“You know that I do…”

“Am I making you wet, baby? Is your pussy calling me?” he whispered in her ear as he lingered close to her neck, falling apart in a puddle of yearning right before her, telling her every damn sordid thought on his mind. The woman’s mouth dropped and he was
sure
she’d reached the highest landing of speechlessness…

“…Yes,” she confessed.

“Good, I can get you wetter…
much
wetter. Yeah, I’m a beast. The problem is though, I believe I’ve found my Beauty… I’m just telling you the truth.”

“The truth…” she echoed, matching his intensity as she looked deep into his eyes.

“Yeah, the truth, and I
honestly
want to fuck you… Fuck you so far into the land of sobriety that you can never get high off
anything
except my dick
ever
again.”

She kept her cool, stayed quiet, offered no smile, no smirk, no surprised looks or twitching. No, she just kept staring at him as if he were giving her the sports scores. She matched his stance and his expression, reflecting back exactly what he was offering.

“I think I’m good for you. Shit, I know I am. Do you believe love can grow in recovery?”

She turned sharply in his direction. “Of course it can.”

“You bet your beautiful ass it can.” He smiled and winked. “Why shouldn’t it? This is brand new soil, a new world for me, for
us
, and I can see shit perfectly! I haven’t been sober in almost a damn decade, Taryn. This is the first time in my life I am questioning
nothing
that I feel! I know what the hell I want. Get ready, get set, baby…’cause it’s
you
…”

Life.

Starts.

Now!

“I
told you
I didn’t want any company! I can’t believe this!” Nick yelled as he clutched the cold, iron frame of the lobby door. Icicles dripped and melted in the distance; their plip plop dance along slick, half-liquefied ice puddles made a peculiar percussion as he stared at his visitor for a moment or two. Officer Tomas brushed past him as if he’d said nothing at all. His big, boxy shoulder pushed into his own as if he wanted to spar.

“When have I ever listened to you, man?” He looked around the place and blew hot air into his hands. “It’s cold out there; made me wait forever to get buzzed in. They had to find you first, get permission. You sure made me stand out here long enough. And this was supposed to be a heat wave today… damn. Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“Screw the weather, I didn’t want to see anyone while I was in here, Tomas. Captain assured me he let you all know that.”

“He did, but you didn’t tell
me
anything personally. You just ignored my calls and emails.”

“Yeah, and that was for a reason.” He put his hands on his waist looking at the man, feeling all burnt up and miserable inside. Yet, a small part of him loathed to admit he was quite happy to see the guy, and if anyone had to see him in such a way, his partner, Officer Tomas, would be the guy he’d pick.

“You gonna invite me in or what? I didn’t come all this way to stand here looking at all the paintings and listening to the music!” The easy listening classic, ‘Somebody’s Baby’ by Jackson Browne played lightly throughout the halls.

“Invite you in? Invite you
in
?! You’re already inside the damn building.” Nick marched angrily down the hall, the man chasing behind him until they were walking shoulder to shoulder. It kinda reminded him of when they’d jump out the car, walk their beat… Tomas always had his back, but he refused to get all mushy and sentimental over the shit.

“You know I don’t give a crap about you being mad. You were mad at me at least once a day beforehand,” the man joked as they passed the cafeteria. “Hey, smells good in there… like a deli. I didn’t have lunch.” He glanced down at his watch. “You don’t suppose I could get a bagel or sandwich or somethin’, do you?”

“I can’t believe this.” Nick placed his hands on his hips and shook his head in disbelief. “Do you see any McDonalds arches above the doors, man? Is there a sign advertising the soup specials of the day? This ain’t no vacation, man! I’m in rehab! Drug rehabilitation!” He wanted to stomp, jump up and down in place like some crazy kid having a public temper tantrum.

Tomas looked through him, rather than
at
him, as if he’d become suddenly invisible, a voice with no words, and words with no meaning.

“Do they have chowder?” He stepped to the cafeteria door and opened it wider, causing the aroma of stewed vegetables and baked bread to pour out into the hall, mixing with ceaseless prattle and the clanking of silverware against plates. “I could go for something hot right now.”

“Goddamn it.” Nick resigned himself, shoved the guy inside, and made his way towards the chow line. “Come on!” he barked.

His colleague happily trailed behind him, grabbed a tray, and began to peruse the selection.

“It’s on me.” He offered a chin check and a wonky smile.

“How generous,” Nick rolled his eyes. “I know you saw the sign… It’s part of our fees, paid in advance.”

“Nah, I didn’t see the sign. Okay.” The guy was barely listening as he pointed to one of the food preparers. “Hey, can I get a slice of pepperoni, please? Nah, my man… not that one, the
other
one… yeeeaaaah! Right there!”

“What can I get for you, Nick?” The man with small, droopy black eyes and a hair net covering his dark locks asked as he passed Tomas a plate with a huge slice, soaked with gooey cheese.

“I’ll just have a bowl of that sliced cantaloupe, a small chef salad, and a bread stick, José.” The guy nodded and disappeared to the back to return with two cellophane wrapped bowls.

“Thanks.”

They continued to move down the line until Tomas’ tray was practically completely covered with items, tilting to the far right from the weight.

“You’re gonna need your stomach pumped,” Nick mumbled as they made their way to a small ivory table, stained with sticky goo and sprinkled with crumbs.

“This is some good eating, right?” Tomas nodded happily as he surveyed his loot like some swashbuckler with a stash of gold.

“Some of these people never clean their trash up, lazy bastards.” Nick placed his items down and removed several empty cups, stacking them as if he were about to do a magic trick, then tossed them in a nearby trashcan. The two were quiet for a moment as they got situated, took sips from their respective beverages, and ate a bite or two. 38 Special crooned over the speaker, ‘Caught Up In You.’

“Alright, man,” Tomas said around a mouthful of food. “How the hell have you been?” He picked up his napkin and kept making a crinkly noise that soon got under Nick’s skin.

“I’ve been hanging in there…been okay.” He looked down at his bowl of fruit and stabbed a rectangular piece of melon to near death.

“Well.” Tomas looked around the place, his balled up napkin resting between his fingers. “You look good. You look real good.”

“You gonna ask me out on a date now?” Nick goaded then popped the fruit in his mouth, smacking noisily with each hard chew.

Tomas laughed lightly and shook his head.

“We may as well have been married, as much as we were around one another.”

Nick’s eyes rested on him for a spell, then he went at his fruit once more.

“You know I have questions, right?” Tomas asked.

“Everybody has questions. What would make you any different? Not in the mood for an interview right now.”

“Look.” Tomas reached for his paper cup of Sprite and took a swallow. Nick observed the effervescent bubbles from the drink dancing about, bubbling their way against the guy’s upper lip. “I’ve been your partner for a long ass time man, going on eight years. Do you know what people are asking me?”

“Do I look like I give a crap what people are asking you, Tomas?” He snatched his ice-cold carton of milk from off the table and took a hard chug.

“Look, stop giving me attitude! You’re gonna talk to me, I’m here, so just deal with it.”

Seething with indignation, Nick popped another slice of sweetness against his tongue.

“You might not give a crap, but you need to hear it. They want to know how the hell I didn’t know! I got addicts in my family, Nick.”

“Who the hell doesn’t?”

“Shut up and let me finish. My point is, we all knew their asses were using. But
you
? I had no idea! How is that even possible?! How could you keep some shit like this from me of all people?!”