So Different (15 page)

“These are the Brass Knuckles. See? They are smaller and usually get their asses handed to them. Quite regularly, I might add, ” he said and grunted when she punched his arm.

“Keep it up and you’ll get hurt,” he said, pushing her hand away. “Now I am going to school you,
sensei
.” She listened, impressed in spite of herself at how he’d picked up some of the subtleties of the game, explaining as he moved the vitamins and pills around on the bed.

She looked at his face, admiring him, as she lay on her side, her hand bracing her head. He’d make someone a very nice catch, she thought, and stopped because, for the first time, she felt a slight tinge of weirdness around the area surrounding her heart.

“Done. I could go into strategy, but I don’t want to embarrass you,” he said, placing the vitamins and aspirin back into their respective containers.

“Very good. I’m impressed,” she said.

“So, is there no reward for the students who does his homework?” he asked, moving the containers to the nightstand next to his bed.

“What do you want?” she said, as he moved over and settled on top of her, one of his legs in between hers, his hand surrounding her wrists, placing them next to her head. He bent down for a kiss.

“Open for me,” he whispered, tugging at her lips with his, his voice warm and smooth like honey, a match for what those three words delivered by him, in that smooth slow way of his, did to her blood.

* * *

Third week of May – Friday

Adam stood at the counter, looking over today’s schedule. It was early and he was a little tired from last night, but in a good way. His body hummed, and he laughed at Mariah and her surprised expression as he showed her his vitamins. He laughed at how that sounded to his ears.

“Who is that smile for?” Maggie asked. He ignored her question.

“Fine. Keep your little secrets, but I know what’s up,” she said. He gave her a smirk.

“Dr. Barnett.”

He walked from the counter in the receptionist area, seeking the person who had called his name. It was Elsa, his new cleaning lady.

“Dr. Barnett, thank you so much for helping my Jenny’s smile. It much better,” she said, reaching for and pulling his hands into the two of hers. “I feel bad,” she said, her mouth turning downward into a pout.

“Why?” he asked.

“You home too little to clean. You don’t make much mess, except for the bed. I don’t know you live in it. So I said to myself, I say, Elsa, take that Dr. Junior Barnett some food. You too small, need to eat more. I’m good cook. Cook for my husband’s business, Hector’s Taco and Tamales. Very good,” she said, smiling with pleasure. “I will bring you food. Your refrigerator is always empty. You could save money by eating at home. I start today. Bring food for you to eat,
si
?” she said.

“
Si
,” he said, smiling. He’d learned to just go along with Elsa. She didn’t budge much in that smiling way of hers and usually ended up getting her way anyway.

“Thank you,” he added.

* * *

Fourth week of May – Tuesday

Do you realize this is our fourth week of me coming over here? That makes a month.”

“Yep,” he said, his hand running over her body as they lay there catching their breath. She was in her favorite position: on top.
Would this ever get old?
he wondered. It was quiet except for the sound of breathing and then a loud grumble from Mariah’s stomach. She laughed.

“You’re hungry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Want something to eat?” he asked.

“You’ve got food?” she asked, her voice hopeful. She really wasn’t expecting anything other than sex and a little derby talk from him. That was all she thought he’d wanted to give.

“I’ve got food, but you have to move,” he said, and smiled as she fell over onto the bed. He stood up and walked through his bedroom door.

“You’re really going to feed me?” she asked his retreating back.

“I thought I had,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Funny, the joker himself, folks,” she said to the empty bedroom, lifting herself out of the bed, following him to the kitchen.

“Today was crazy at work. I didn’t have time to eat much,” she said, entering the kitchen. It was small, like the rest of his place, a narrow nook, counters on both sides, wall at the back, stove and refrigerator on her left, microwave sat on the counter, to the right. Nothing decorative anywhere. She made her way to his side, looking over the arm that held the door open.

“I thought it was as empty as this apartment. Wow,” she said, looking at the contents over the top of his arm.

“My apartment is not empty,” he said, giving her ass cheek a squeeze.

“Ouch,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes to get a better look.

“Wow, you really do have food,” she said, moving underneath his arm to stand in front of him. His hand went to her waist, and he moved closer to her, rubbing against her. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Cut it out,” she said, smiling, turning her attention to the fridge, where his shelves were stocked with small containers—those plastic ones sold in packs of two or four you could purchase at the grocery store. She picked up one from the shelves. It was neatly labeled “rice.” She lifted the top and it smelled heavenly—Spanish rice. She handed it to him.

She picked up another container, this one was marked “enchiladas.”

“I love enchiladas,” she said, handing that bowl to him as well. “Is this from the Taco Post?”

“Nope.”

“I can’t believe you kept this all to yourself. You’ve never thought to feed me before? And I’ll take one of these,” she said, plucking a small juice bottle off the shelf. It was one of those brands that offered a thicker style juice. The label read “mango.”

“You want anything?” she asked.

“No. I’ll eat what you have,” he said and watched as she ducked back underneath his arm. He placed the two containers on the counter.

“Want a plate?” she asked. “Do you even have plates?”

“Yes, but then I’d have to clean them. We can eat from these, it’s just me,” he said, and moved around her. He opened the microwave, put the containers in there and set the timer.

He opened a drawer, took out two forks, and tore a few paper towels from the holder. He grabbed a bottle of salsa and a juice for himself from the refrigerator.

“Can’t forget that,” she said. He smiled.

“I think Mexican food is my favorite food. It’s hard to grow up in Texas and not like Tex Mex,” she said.

“True,” he added and pulled out the containers as the bell chimed.

“Where do you want to sit?” he asked.

“How about the dining table? Oh, you don’t have one,” she said, laughing at her humor. “Sofa it will have to be.” She grabbed the two juices, silverware, napkins, and salsa, while he grabbed the containers of food. She followed him over to the couch.

“Wait,” she said, after setting their food items on the small table in front of the sofa. She walked back to the bedroom, grabbed her underwear, her t-shirt, and his shorts, throwing them to him.

She sat next to him, opened the rice, grabbed her fork, and starting eating, groaning in pleasure a few minutes later. “This is great,” she said, once she’d stopped chewing. “Did you cook this?”

“No,” he said, taking a forkful of enchiladas.

“Who? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“A friend,” he said. And he did consider Elsa a friend.

“A friend,” she repeated.

He nodded, and switched his container for hers.

“What kind of friend?” she asked.

“Just a friend,” he replied.

“Like me?”

“If you’re asking if I have sex with her, the answer is no,” he said.

“Do you have sex with anyone other than me?” she asked.

“Fine time to ask,” he said, chuckling.

“Well do you?”

“Nope.”

“So this friend just cooks for you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“It is a her and yes, it is nice,” he said, smiling, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. She let it go and just enjoyed the food.

“Thanks,” she said.

“For?”

“For feeding me.”

“Anytime,” he said and smiled at her again.

“So how long were you engaged?”

“Why?” he replied. She heard caution enter into his voice, a first.

“Just curious,” she said.

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” she said, surprised. “That was short.” She waited a minute before she asked, “What happened?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out. I wasn’t the one for her and she wasn’t the one for me. And what’s with the twenty questions?” he asked, a serious tone in his voice now, one she wasn’t familiar with.

“What do you mean?”

“Why the questions about my engagement?” he asked, looking at her.

“Just curious,” she said.

“You were never curious before. Why now?”

“Dude, it was just a question. Answer it or don’t. Either way works for me.”

“Okay then. I prefer not to answer.”

“Whatever,” she said and shrugged.

He looked over at her. She ate, pretending she wasn’t bothered. “Look, it’s been great here with you. Seriously. I like hanging out with you. I like watching you skate. Like that what we have is not serious. I like that there are no strings, no nothing, right, just kicking it, enjoying each other’s company. So when you ask about my ex, I wonder if things are changing. I really don’t want things to change,” he said.

“Nothing’s changed.”

“You sure you’re not looking for more with your questions?” he asked, still serious.

“Yes, I’m sure. No big deal, really. Sorry I asked,” she said, trying to hide her irritation. “I like you, too. I also like what we do here, didn’t mean to get your panties all twisted.”

“They’re not. Your panties might be, though,” he said, still serious, caution in his eyes.

“They’re not,” she said.

“You sure?” he asked a few minutes later. He noticed that she’d gotten quiet.

“Sure,” she said.

“Good,” he said, clicked on the TV. Some late night something or other was on. They sat and ate and watched TV in silence.

* * *

Fourth week in June – Thursday

He smiled. “So what’s the problem?” Adam asked, looking up from his computer. He’d finally gotten his dad’s patients’ records and other administrative records onto the computer.

“There is a Mr. Sanchez here. He wants to see you. He knows Elsa, your cook and cleaning lady. I didn’t know you had a cook and cleaning lady, Mr. High-on-the-Hog,” she added.

He laughed. “Send him in.”

“He only speaks Spanish.”

“Okay… send him in.”

“You speak Spanish?” she asked, shocked for the first time. He’d actually surprised her, and she hadn’t thought that was possible.

“I do,” he said, smiling.

“When did you learn? Does your father know?

He shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said.

“Okay, then,” she said, closing the door behind her. He cleared off his desk, or at least tried putting things into one manageable pile. He’d learned Spanish on his own. They hadn’t spoken it in his home growing up. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to learn it, but it came in handy living in Texas. And he used it more than he thought he would, working at the free dental clinics in and around Texas.

His pops had married his mother for a reason, although he wasn’t as vocal as she. Adam had known they were both pullers for the underdog, the working man, and it must have snuck underneath his pores when he wasn’t looking because he pulled for them too, in his own way.

He looked up as the door opened. A small Latino man stood in the doorway, dressed for work. His white clothes were covered by different colored spots of paint splatter.

“Senor Sanchez,
cómo gustaria sentarse?”
Adam said, standing up and pointing to one of the chairs that sat in front of his desk.
“
¿Cómo podria
ayudarle?”

Mr. Sanchez smiled at Adam’s use of Spanish, showing he was missing two of his front teeth. “
Gracias, Senor Barnett, buenas tardes
.”

They talked for about thirty minutes, working out an agreement. He was a painter and a handyman, of which Adam did not have a use for now, but who knew, maybe later. Mr. Sanchez wanted his teeth fixed before his eldest graduated from college. It really didn’t matter, as long as the help was given. He learned from his dad and mother that the good you did came back to you. He just preferred to keep his advocacy quiet.

So, work was done for the day and on to Mariah of the fun and entertaining Tuesday and Thursday nights. He looked forward to them, to having her at his apartment, even though he was a little bothered, even annoyed, at her questioning the other night.

* * *

Mariah glanced at the door. No sign of Adam. What would she do if he didn’t show up? She’d gotten used to him being around, and the thought of his absence from her life scared her for a second.

She was aware of him now in a way she hadn’t been before, in that
you-are-starting-to-mean-something-to-me-I’m-feeling-weird-about-it
way. She once again wondered why he was comfortable with just getting together two days a week. It
had
been the reason behind her questions the other night, even though she’d told him different.

She was falling for Junior D.D.S. She sighed, choosing to think about something else for a while, put her mind back on skating, which was the reason she was at practice.
Remember practice,
she told herself, moving her mind away from him.

* * *

He was late. He had had to go by his pop’s before coming here, ended up staying for dinner, so he had to haul ass in order to get to Mariah’s practice in time. He guessed he could have skipped it, would have called, except he didn’t have her number and he wasn’t going to ask for it. He didn’t know where she lived. Shouldn’t he feel badly about that?

The problem with women, he knew, was that they always wanted more, regardless of what they said. He should have expected this. He’d thought she was okay with them, she hadn’t passed on any vital information about herself and he thought that meant she was content. He should have known better. Since when were women happy with anything other than a relationship; even an oddly dressed, roller derby woman.