Through Fire (Portland, ME #3) (4 page)

Now that the offer is on the table, I’m not about to go back on my word. I noticed the light go on in her dark eyes before I saw it dull. Little Ruby was excited with the prospect before she curbed it.

“About the cooking,” I begin, as I watch her walk into the kitchen, a tub of dirty plates in her hands. We’d managed the dinner demand pretty well together, although Ruby had focused more on plating and serving than cooking. She’d left that up to me. “I was thinking maybe on your day off? It’s Mondays, right?” She nods her head in confirmation. “I work until five, but could pick you up. I’ve got a decent kitchen at my house. We could get groceries on the way.” This time there is no nod or answer, just a long, scrutinizing look that makes me feel two feet tall instead of my six foot three.

She lowers her eyes, but not before I see a flash of disappointment, or maybe anger, in them. Only then does she give me words and they sound flat. Resigned. “That would be fine.”

I said something wrong, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. I watch her rinse and load the dirty dishes into the industrial dishwasher, without sparing me another glance. Yup. I fucked up somewhere along the line.  Preoccupied, I turn back to the grill, flipping the late order of hamburgers over one last time before I slide them on the ready buns.

Without a word, Ruby finishes adding sides and relishes, picks up the tray and moves toward the door.

“Ruby...”

She stops in her tracks but she doesn’t look.

“Look. I’m sorry if I said something wrong. You seem...I don’t know. Upset?”

I watch her shoulders straighten and then she turns her head, a big, very fake smile plastered on her face. “Not at all. I’m fine,” she assures me, in an artificially perky tone, before walking right out the door.

Oh yeah. I pissed her off. I must be coming down with something, because I’ll be dipped in shit if that hint of temper doesn’t turn me on. I’m liking it a lot better than the guarded, almost demure, front she puts on most of the time.

By the time she gets back with another load of dishes, I have the grill and stove cleaned off. There are no more orders outstanding and it’s just after ten. The kitchen closes at ten on weekends. I take off the apron I had wrapped around to catch the bulk of the splatter from the grill and look at Ruby. I’m hit with the sight of that memorable ass on full display again as she bends over to load another tray in the dishwasher. So fucking tempting, but as much as I’d like to discover the wonders of curves like hers, I’m not sure she’d be receptive. So instead of asking her what she’d like to cook on Monday, as I had intended, I keep it short. “Heading out. I’ve got stuff to do. Five o’clock on Monday?”

“Of course. Thank you so much.” This time the words as well as the smile are genuine; the difference is night and day.

“Don’t worry about it. So Florence House, right?”

“Oh. No, actually, I have a place now,” she says, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Good for you. So where should I pick up?”

“I’m just on the other side of the alley. Viv’s old place, I just brought my stuff there this morning.”

The happy smile on her face is not quite enough to stop the stabbing sensation in my gut at the mention of that apartment. One I am more familiar with than I care to remember.

“See you at five,” I confirm with her, as I grab my jacket and exit out the back way. I don’t feel much like socializing tonight.

-

A
cold wind hits my face, the moment I step outside. Winter is not far off. Tucking up my collar against the chill, I set off down the alley to the parking lot beyond. I find my eyes wandering to the sparse lighting along the way. Ruby has to walk home in this. The realization makes me think maybe I should’ve waited for her. Make sure she gets across to her new place okay.

By the time I get to my car, I’ve stopped to turn around and changed my mind again several times. Ridiculous. For months I haven’t once thought about whether she’d be able to get home safely. Let alone thought much of her at all. With a final shake to clear my head, I click the locks on my car and slide behind the wheel. Just as I’m about to peel out of the parking lot, Ike’s Expedition pulls in, stopping alongside my brand new Audi S5. I hit the button for the window, just as he does his.

“Thought you were out of town?”

“I was,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “But since my wife is here, I cut that shit short. Surprising her.”

I’m glad to note our friendship is back to the same level of comfort we’ve always had. It was rough going for a while there, when Ike settled into town permanently and swooped Viv off her feet. You snooze—you lose, and I’d been snoozing for too long. Truth is, Viv and I probably always were better friends than anything more. Doesn’t mean I was happy to have Ike snatch her up. Whatever. It’s all water under the bridge now.

“What about you? What are you doing here on a Saturday night?” he continues.

“Giving them a hand in the kitchen, with Dino gone.”

“I thought Ruby was doing that,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“I think she was in over her head. Bit of a disaster last night, actually. Just thought I’d relieve the pressure. Not like I haven’t jumped in before.” I realize I’m sounding a tad defensive when I see a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Shut up,” I add unnecessarily, which only makes him laugh out loud.

“Was wondering when you’d finally take a good look,” he teases.

“Not looking. She’s not my type, you should know that.”

“Correction: she’s not the type you can safely bang and bail on. The type you’ve been going for to avoid any annoying entanglements. No...Ruby is the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to walk out on, once you got in there. She may well be your kind of woman,” he points out.

“Bullshit.” That’s what comes out of my mouth, but his words have a ring of truth. Other than perhaps Viv, I’ve always kept to very superficial engagements. No promises, no commitments, and no entanglements. Something that just doesn’t fit with Ruby, and that brings me back to this rare need to protect. “Talking of Ruby, keep an eye on her when she leaves? Apparently she moved into Viv’s old place, as of this morning, and there isn’t a hell of a lot of lighting out here.”

“Why don’t you just wait for her? You can see to it she gets home yourself, and in the meantime have a drink with me.”

“Nah. Gotta get home,” I say, coward that I am, as I watch Ike shake his head slowly with a big smile on his face at my expense. The sharp horn of a car pulling up behind me gives me a welcome excuse. “Best get going. See ya later.” With a flick of my fingers I slide up the window and pull into the street.

R
uby

“Go home. Go enjoy your new place.”

Viv had been on my case since finding me alone, killing time in the kitchen. She seemed surprised Tim had left without saying goodbye.

I’ve been delaying, because even though part of me is excited to have an actual home to go to, another, larger,  part is afraid. So far fear is winning, keeping me at The Skipper, puttering around.

“It’s clean, Ruby.” Viv grabs the rag from my hands when I move to wipe down the bar one more time.

It’s pretty quiet for a Saturday night. No doubt the sudden cold weather is to blame for that. During the warmer months, this place is busy until the wee hours of the morning. Other than Ike, who is deep in conversation with Arnie and a few other regulars, the bar is empty and it’s only eleven.

Viv tosses the rag in the sink and puts her hands on my shoulders, bending down to look me in the eye. “You’re stalling,” she points out. “Are you having second thoughts? About the apartment?” she gently probes, obviously picking up on my reluctance to leave.

“No. No second thoughts. It’s just...strange. Going to a new place with just myself as company.”

Sliding her arm around my shoulders, Viv gives me a brief hug. “I remember the first time I was alone in the apartment. I’d felt safe staying with Pam at Florence House, and then here upstairs, in the rooms above the bar. When I got the place across the street, I thought I was ready to stand on my own two feet, but it scared me shitless. The closest I’d come to being on my own had been in college, in my own room in a dorm. But I muscled through my first night, and when I woke up in the morning, and was able to drink my own coffee, from my own mug, watching the sun come up over the water from my own apartment, I felt on top of the world.” She smiles as she’s remembering. Viv has told me a little about some of the things that happened to her, but I’ve been too scared to share.

“I’ve never been on my own,” I confess, surprising myself. “Not ever.” With that, I snap my mouth shut before I part with too much information.

Viv smiles in understanding. “Don’t worry. One of these days, you’ll be ready. It doesn’t have to be today. Today you take your first step, and you’ll find once you’ve managed that, the others will soon follow.”

I take a deep breath. She’s right. Up to the moment I ran, my life had been decided on by others; when to eat, when to sleep, what to wear, how to behave. Time I learn to think and do for myself.

“Thank you,” I respond to Viv, giving her a little smile. “I think I’ll go home now.”

“Good.” Viv squeezes my shoulder again before she turns to grab a pen and piece of paper, scribbling furiously. “Here.” She pushes the paper in my hand. “The phone in the apartment is still hooked up. I’d left if like that for when my brothers would come to visit. This is my number. You need me, you call. And for the record, you seriously need to get a cellphone.”

I roll my eyes. The cellphone issue is one that has come up before. Just about everyone I’ve met, since arriving in Portland, has reacted in shock when they discovered I don’t have one. Never had one. I confessed to Pam that I didn’t want any accounts. That I was afraid it would make it too easy for me to be found. I still am scared of that.

With a little wave to the guys at the end of the bar and a “see you later” for Viv, I head out the back door.

-

T
he alley is quiet. And dark.

I look up ahead and see one of the lights halfway down is not working. It was working last night when I walked to the bus stop.

I  pull my jacket closer around me against the cold. My breath mists when it hits the much cooler air.  Definitely time to look for a proper winter coat. A sound behind me has me stop and swing around, but I don’t see anything except the end of the wharf. The only sounds now are the faint clanging of a chain against a dock pile and an occasional gull’s cry. Not unusual for rats to scour the wharf and alley for scraps of food, in the shelter of night.

I shiver against the chill as I step out of the passage and start crossing the parking lot. My feet are moving faster now, eager as I am to get out of the cold and into the warm apartment. I promised myself a bubble bath tonight. With the place partially furnished, and Viv kind enough to let me use the bedding she had kept there for the large bed, there hadn’t been much to do this morning to get myself set up. The bed is made, and my sparse toiletries are set up in the bathroom, along with the bottle of bath soap I’d picked up along with a handful of groceries. There’s nothing left to do but to fill the tub and sink down in the bubbles.

I reach for the door to the apartment building as I turn around to have one last look behind me. Force of habit. It all seems quiet. Almost too quiet for a Saturday night, but a freezing gust of wind quickly reminds me summer is over. Something I’m sure is keeping others warmly indoors tonight. Inside, I ignore the elevator and opt for the stairs instead. Once the door closes on an elevator there is no escape. I don’t like them.

The heat inside the apartment is welcoming as I walk in, locking the door behind me immediately. I just stand there for a moment, taking in the couch and coffee table, and beyond that, the breakfast bar and stools in the kitchen. I’d left a few lights on earlier. I’m grateful for that now. It feels friendly. It also feels odd not to hear evidence of other people. I’m so used to the sounds of footsteps, doors, and voices, sometimes quiet and sometimes loud. Screaming, even.

I finally drop my bag on the couch and shrug out of my coat. My first stop is the bathroom, where I put the stop in the tub and run the hot water, before heading into the kitchen. There I heat some water in the electric kettle Viv left behind. From the cupboard, I pull one of the two mugs and a package of hot chocolate, an indulgence I allowed myself in the grocery store this morning. It’s the perfect night for a little indulgence.

By the time I slowly lower myself into the fragrant bubbles, lie back, and sip my chocolate, I can feel the blessings of a new life settle around me.

T
im

“You’re moody,” my brother, Mark, observes from behind his bottle of beer. His words draw the attention of my mother, sitting in her lazy chair opposite the couch.

This morning I woke up late, feeling hung over. Probably because I downed half a bottle of scotch when I got home last night. My solution to the uncomfortable, unfamiliar, yet persistent thoughts of Ruby running through my mind. Not that it worked. With each sip of the warming alcohol, my resistance relaxed even further; until I found myself in bed, my hand fisting an almost painful erection my preoccupied mind had caused.
Fucking hell
. My fast and intense release had sapped me, and after a quick clean up, it plummeted me into a deep sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.