So Different (4 page)

He felt for her, though. She had been on his mind after she’d left. The emotion he felt coiled in her body as she clung to him crying. Hers had not been typical girl tears. His ex’s image came to mind. No, this had been crying caused by deep hurt.

He wasn’t interested in her, yet her body softly pressed into his, her scent, and—of course—her hand cupping, then gently rubbing him, had gotten his attention.

He cleared his throat, causing his parents to glance over at him with strange looks on their faces. He smiled and they turned away, resuming their discussion while he returned to his thoughts. Maybe going to the derby was a good opportunity for him to find female companionship, because he’d unwittingly become aware of Mariah in a your-body-would-feel-nice-splayed-underneath-mine way. No way was that a safe direction to take with her. So that meant that he would start his search for a warm and willing woman sooner rather than later.

“Hey, I’m heading home,” Adam said, getting up from the table. “Thanks, Mom. Dinner was great.” He bent over to kiss her goodbye.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

* * *

Adam Sr. waited until he heard the front door close. Then he and Gloria gave in to their laughter. He was going to call Mariah on Monday and tell her that Adam would be attending the derby, and to go easy on him. He chuckled at the reason she’d given his son for her bruises, playing along with him and his assumptions.

He laughed harder, wishing he could see his son’s face when he got a hold of Mariah. And if she was wearing her typical derby uniform, his son didn’t stand a chance.

He laughed again, glad for his son. Maybe this would help make him forget that bad penny Jamie. He didn’t know if Adam knew it or not, but he was glad their engagement had been called off. He’d always thought Adam needed someone different from the seemingly strait-laced, serious women that he’d started dating in his quest to find the perfect wife—as if such a thing existed. He hadn’t cared for Jamie, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on the why. His son could use someone who would challenge him. Adam Jr. needed someone who would give him hell, a run for his money. Someone like Mariah.

He chuckled. “Wish I could go and watch,” he said to Gloria, and they laughed again.

* * *

Adam sat on the couch in his apartment. It was Friday night, and he was alone again. This was his new life. Michael, his buddy from high school and college, had called earlier, but he opted to stay in tonight. That was his preference since he’d returned, but that was changing.

His apartment had come courtesy of his father’s property-owning dentist buddy, the one concession to helping his dad that had not been negotiable. He would have his own space. No way was he moving home with his parents. He was too used to being his own man to start living back with his parents; plus, if the right opportunity presented itself, he wanted a place to bring someone home. He was way past the age of sneaking women into his room.

He owned a home in Houston, picked out by his ex. A starter home, she’d said; after the first one or two children were born, they would move on. Maybe he would hold on to it, but he wasn’t sure. He was nowhere near decided on his future course of action. He’d registered his home with a property manager in Houston, who would check on it from time to time before he moved back to Austin.

No more ex. It was four months now, and it was getting easier. Getting over her was easier than it should have been, he thought. He remembered the last time he talked to Jamie, when he’d called off the wedding.

His dad’s call all those months ago had come at the most opportune time, the day after the break-up. He’d wanted to get out of Houston—of course he would help his pops. He’d given his notice at the fancy dental chain where he’d been working, courtesy of the ex’s dad. Her old man had connections, and wanted to make sure his daughter lived in a style befitting her station in life.

He’d left Houston as soon as his two weeks was up. He’d come home to Austin to regroup and lick his wounds, but mainly to figure out what to do next.

So far he was still clueless. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to head back, find another dentist to partner with in Houston, or start his own practice, like his pops. Maybe he would join his dad or just serve as one of those travelling dentists, moving around the country from clinic to clinic. There was always a need for free dental care. He could just volunteer his time, and skip the part about getting married and settling down altogether. Yes, his parents had been married for forever and he’d thought he would, too, but it wasn’t for everyone and after Jamie, he was less sure of his ability to spot a woman worthy of marriage.

Mariah, of the nice curves and enticing body, popped into his head. He really had it bad. Nothing about her seemed easy, but she reminded him that he was missing something—that mindless sex thing, with many or with one.

Someone was banging on his door. He walked over to open it and in walked his sister, Yvette.

“Men!” she said, walking in like she lived there..

He was silent. Yvette’s love life was an ongoing soap opera. There she stood, all 5 feet, two inches of her, hands on generous hips barely contained by skinny jeans, standing on what looked like four-inch heels.

“Aren’t you going to say something on your gender’s behalf?” she said, kicking off her shoes.

He remained silent, cautiously closing the door. He knew better than to venture anywhere near his sister when she was on a tear.

“Men!” She was standing in front of him now, a look of irritation on her face.

“What?” he said, glancing at her quickly, before resuming his seat on the couch. Yvette had challenged him constantly growing up, in your face to the max—she was spit from their mother’s womb with a fist raised in the air.

“I had a date, that’s what.”

He was silent. He put his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch and lowered the TV volume, preparing to listen to her usual rant.

“Men,” she said again, flopping down on the couch next to him.

“Are you going to tell me about it, or just keep repeating the word ‘men’ all night?”

“I met this guy the other day after work.”

“Okay,” he said.

“We met for coffee tonight,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I could tell right from the start I was too much for him. You know how you all are with a woman who knows her mind. That look that tells me you just can’t wait to leave,” she said.

Silence.

“What’s up with men these days? What am I to do? Downplay who I am so that he’s comfortable? Hang on his every word, act like I’m honored that he is listening to little old me?”

“Not you,” Adam said.

“No, not me.”

“Why would you want a mouse of a woman?” she asked.

“Why are you asking me that? How would I know?”

“You like demure, quiet women. Except this last time. She was demure on top and crazy underneath,” she said.

“So thoughtful of you to point that out,” he said, flipping the channel. “And I don’t want a mouse of a woman. But I also don’t want one who challenges me on everything, where everything becomes a cause, a battle, a struggle to be overcome, a fight to the finish.”

She stood up and walked into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open and then close. Yvette walked back out, running her hand through her long, curly hair.

“I could hook you up with some of my friends,” she said.

“No thanks.”

“Hey, they beat the girls you bring home. How many times have I told you that your choice in women sucks? You always went after the most stuck-up girl you could find,” she said, arms sweeping the room like all of his old dates were present.

He raised his eyebrows in response. He had nothing to add that would be helpful.

“So how’s it going?” she asked.

“How’s what going?”

“Dad’s office?”

“Fine.”

“Aren’t you going to start dating again, get out of this apartment, go back to your old ways?”

He shrugged.

“You have to get back in the game at some point,” she said.

“I will. When I’m ready,” he said.

“Don’t wait too long. All the good ones will be gone,” she said.

“I doubt that,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. A man can always find a woman. It’s the other way around that’s tough. Gotta go. Meeting the girls tomorrow. See you later,” she said, picking up her shoes and heading toward the door. His sister was a tornado of vitality
.

“Yep. See you later,” he said, standing up and following her out the door. He watched as she got into her car, waved, and drove away. He went back inside, back to the couch.

He and Yvette were bi-racial, bi-cultural, of mixed race—whatever the correct term—the product of a white father and Mexican mother. They’d grown up upper-middle-class, gated community and private schools, and all things American teen.

Yvette had been the rebel of the two, embracing all things Latin, while he tried to maintain an evenness between the two. So far it had worked for him, although he hadn’t encountered that many other Latinos in his neighborhood or schools. He hadn’t given much thought to his preferences in women until now. But you like who you like, right? He preferred blondes who were attractive, and quiet yet confident, but not in your face with it. Not much of a list, he knew now. He’d met Jamie and had fallen fast or lost his mind, he wasn’t sure which. He increased the volume of the TV and let his mind drift to the land of nothing.

* * *

Deliver me from idiots
, Mariah thought as she watched from her perch behind the small bar—all of six feet in length. It was Saturday and she was working at her brother’s restaurant because another waitress had quit. She was filling in,
again
. She was pouring water for Amber, one of the newest employees who managed to hang on for the pasts two weeks, or was it three? She’d lost count. Amber was one in a very long line of waitresses that lasted for more than a week if they were lucky. Mariah’s training of them was a never-ending job. Her brother ran through them like water.

Mariah had been keeping her eye on Amber, who now stood taking orders from a table full of the mean girls from hell—the type that picked on other women for sport. They were knee-deep into giving Amber a hard time. Mariah had seen enough. She watched them as Amber stood at the table, working to be kind, which she was naturally. In fact, she was maybe a little too kind for this job, especially with her brother.

“So what can I get you ladies to drink?” Mariah heard her ask.

“I want iced tea. Nope, wait. What flavors to do you have?” one of them asked.

“We have…”

“That’s okay. What kind of soda?” she asked, rapid-fire, interrupting Amber before she could finish a sentence.

“We have…”

“That’s okay. I just want water. What do you ladies want?” she asked, turning to her friends.

They all spoke at once—water, tea, what kind of soda; it all came back at Amber, confusing her, of course. They laughed while Mariah looked on.

Amber stood there with them for ten minutes more before she walked over to Mariah, looking scattered, her fine strands of blonde blow-away hair surrounding her face like those dandelions that were a nuisance in Mariah’s yard, adding to her standard I—can’t-recall-my-name look.

“Let me help you out,” Mariah said, reaching for Amber’s tray, pulling it from her hands and placing five waters on it.

“What? No. I’m okay. I’ll just ignore them,” she said, looking down at her arm now and replacing her earlier confused look with a when-did-you-take-my-tray look.

“No, I insist,” Mariah said, walking away before Amber could say anything more, heading to the table of the five. They were all leaning forward, planning their next attack on the waitress. Must have been some new game.

“Here you go ladies,” Mariah said, all chipper-like. She watched them look her over. Three of the five weren’t quite sure what to do now with this new black girl with the nose stud, the red, spiky hair, the bruise on her cheek, and the tiny t-shirt that read, in very small print,
fuck you and the horse you rode in on
.

“What happened to the other girl?” the pretty brunette asked. Mariah bet she wasn’t the ringleader, but was maybe second in command. The ringleader sat back, her eyes running over Mariah again, evaluation in them.

“I don’t want water. I didn’t ask for water,” the leader said. The other women just looked on, always eager to watch their leader at work.

“Okay,” Mariah said, putting the water back on her tray.

“We don’t water, either,” the other four added.

“Okay. What would you like?” Mariah asked, all friendly like.

“I already told the other girl. I’m not repeating myself,” the leader said, her eyes hard and stern on Mariah.

“Give it to me again?” Mariah said, her voice pleasant as she returned the hard and stern look with one of her own.

“Don’t think so. We don’t want you. We want her,” the leader said, her finger, shiny red and manicured, pointed toward Amber. “Where is your manager?” the leader asked.

“Just a second and I’ll go get her for you,” Mariah said, completing a two-point turn any soldier in the military would applaud, and without wasting an ounce of water. She walked away and headed toward the counter. She sat the tray down next to Amber, who was watching with apprehension.

Mariah removed her apron from her waist, dropped it on the counter, and turned back around, executing the same two-point military precision turn and marched over to the table. She stopped, placed one hand on her hip as she moved it to the right, and snapped her head to the left.

“What?” she said, as she folded her arms under her chest.

“We wanted the manager,” the leader said, not as sure as she was when she’d started out.

Mariah crossed her arms, switched the weight to her other hip, hard. Her head moved to the right. “What?” she said again. What she wouldn’t give for some bubble gum—the smack of it would be a nice addition to her tough girl act.

“You’re the manager?”

“Yep,” she said. Not really, but taking on that role at this moment.