Cardinal (11 page)

I don’t think twice about it.

As he’s busy tapping letters, I look over the
city again. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?  You could have asked for
my number through the window.”

“I thought the fire escape would be romantic,”
he teases. “I am, you know. In case you didn’t get the message earlier.”

“No, I got it,” I say. Every inch of me got it.

He puts his phone away. “So, what did you
think?”

“Of the message?”

He nods.

I assume he wants me to tell him I dissolved
into a puddle of goo, so I decide to mess with him. I let my voice get breathy
and lower my lashes, channeling my inner Marilyn. “I ... I think ...” I turn
toward him and slowly run one finger over the tattoos on his arm. “I think you’re
an amazing singer.”

At first he looks puzzled, but then his
confusion melts into satisfaction. I purposefully bite my lower lip and try to
look seductive. He follows suit. His lowers his eyelids and stares at mouth,
playing along. “Tell me how amazing I am.”

“Soooo amazing,” I repeat. I take my time trailing
my finger back up his arm and pick up my breathing as I do. I lean forward,
like I want to whisper in his ear. “I have something else to tell you. I can’t keep
it inside. Not anymore.”

Latson meets my eyes and brings his hand to the
side of my face. “Tell me, baby.”

I arch an eyebrow and bring my lips to his ear.
“You’re a fucking liar.”

He quickly leans back and I poke him in the
shoulder. “Why did you pretend to hate Ed?!  You. Don’t. Mess. With. Ed!”  I poke
him in between each word.

Latson laughs and grabs my wrist.

“You suck,” I say.

He pulls me close. “I’ve been told I suck quite
well, actually.”

It takes me a second to recover from his
comment. I frown. “Talking about your sexual escapades will not get you into
another woman’s pants.”

“Who’s talking about sex?”

“You are.”

He grins. “No. I was talking about popsicles.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Look who has the dirty mind,” he muses. “Maybe
you’re the one trying to get into my pants.”

I need to redirect this conversation. “Fess up,”
I say. “Tell me about Ed.”

He releases me a little. “I pretended not to
like him because I could tell you did. It made you mad.” He turns my wrist over
and kisses the inside of it. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

What just happened?

I pull my arm from this grasp and lean back. “I’m
cute when I’m angry?  That’s your excuse?  I’d rather you think I was cute when
I’m not pissed off.”

“I already do, but ...” He winks. “Noted.”

Okay. He’s kissed me and called me cute. He
can’t be that desperate to hook up with someone. I’m sure Pete has warned him
off me, just like he’s warned me off him.

Latson changes topics. “Honestly, though. What
did you think?  You play. Could you tell I haven’t performed in two years?”

I’m surprised. “No, not at all. You rocked that
stage.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t play dumb. You owned the crowd. If I had
a quarter of the talent you have ...” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t be standing
behind a bar.”

Latson looks intrigued. “You don’t like your
job?”

“It’s not that. Bartending pays the bills.”

“But?”

“But, it’s not a career. I can’t be seventy and
slinging drinks from my Amigo.”

He laughs. “Then what would you rather do?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.” I shrug. “Even
as a kid, I didn’t know. After graduation, I got a job at a diner and my future
was written.” I remember the constant questions from my parents and relatives. They
always wanted to know when I was going to get a “real” job.

Latson nods in understanding. “I never knew,
either. At least your parents didn’t pressure you. Mine were set on Columbia,
followed by med school. I dropped out after the first semester.” He pauses. “Scratch
that. I didn’t even make it through the first semester. I only left the dorm
for parties and band practice.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I take it your dad wanted
you to follow in his surgical footsteps?”

“He didn’t think I’d amount to anything as a
musician.” Latson smirks. “I got to prove him wrong. For a few years, anyway.”

I don’t know what to say. I know his father is
a sore spot.

“Have you considered playing?” Latson asks me.

“You mean professionally?  No.”

“Why not?  You could do local gigs.”

I laugh. “I’d never be able to support myself. No
one would show up.”

“I’d show up,” he says and my pulse quickens. “You
could always start at Torque,” he adds. “The stage is yours. Just tell me when
you want it.”

I can’t lie. Performing there would be a rush. However
... “I don’t think so. I’m nowhere near your level or Dean’s.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Latson says. “You
feel the music. It means something to you. Dean said it best: you’re a
natural.”

Music does mean something to me. How many hours
have I spent playing for fun, or to calm my nerves, or to forget something bad? 
“It’s my escape,” I confess.

Latson gives me a small, commiserative smile. “I
know what you mean.”

A few silent moments pass before he looks down,
his eyes landing on my hand. The heel is pressed to the fire escape and my
fingers are curled over the edge. Slowly, he reaches over and traces two
fingers over my skin. It’s the lightest of touches, yet heat blazes up my arm.

“You know,” he says, “I have a room upstairs I
think you might like.”

Where did that come from?  We were just sharing
our pasts. I bite my lip.

“Do you want to see it?” he asks.

His eyes meet mine and they smolder. I never
thought I would use that word, but it’s the only word to describe them. They
burn. He can’t be asking what I think he’s asking.

Can he?

“I … I still work for you,” I stutter.

“You’re still hung up on that?” His fingers
travel to my wrist. “Outside of Torque, I’m me and you’re you. You said it
yourself.”

Shit
.
My mind races. “Oliver’s
sleeping.”

Latson’s gaze goes back to his fingers, and his
voice drops to a whisper. “So many excuses.” He leans toward me. “Why don’t you
want to see my guitars?”

I snap out of it. “What?”

His pulls his hand away. “I have a room full of
guitars upstairs.” He raises an eyebrow. “What did you think I was talking
about?”

I can’t believe I fell for that. “You’re an
asshole.”

He pretends to be shocked. “You were thinking
dirty again, weren’t you?”

“Ugh!”  I jerk away from him. “You’re
impossible.”

He laughs. “I couldn’t help it. You dished it
out first, so I had to give it back.”

Whatever.

As my racing heart returns to normal, it takes
my remaining energy with it. Working a full day after being off, along with the
night’s crazy emotional highs, has left me drained. It has to be after five
a.m. by now. I try to stretch my back by twisting to the side. “My bed is
calling me,” I say.

“My bed is calling you, too.”

I shoot Latson an annoyed look. “You can stop
now.” I start to stand. “Unless you want a zombie working the bar tomorrow, I
need sleep.”

Latson gets to his feet and follows me to my
window. “We wouldn’t want that. I can’t hit on you if you’re not in the mood.”

I snort. “Why don’t I think my mood would stop
you?” I crouch down, sit my butt on the window ledge, and swing my legs inside.

Latson kneels down. “I meant what I said about
performing. You’d be great. Think about it.”

It would be impossible not to. “Thanks. I will.”
I hop down into my bedroom and turn around. “Have a good night. Or morning. Or
whatever it is,” I say.

He gives me a small smile. “You, too.”

His legs disappear when I close the blinds. As I
finish getting ready for bed, my phone beeps and I dig it out of my bag to
silence it. I see Latson’s earlier text:

Here is my number. You should save it under
‘Ed’ so you’ll confuse me with your boyfriend.

He wants me to confuse him with Ed?  I text
back:
Ed doesn’t like to share.

Minutes later, after I’ve crawled beneath the
covers, he sends another message.

Then you should dump his ass.

I text back.
For who?  You?  Pete said
you don’t do commitment.

He replies:
I think I should start.

I scowl at my phone. I’m pretty sure I made the
same face this morning when my brother farted during breakfast. I had to stop
myself from asking Jules why she agreed to marry his gross ass, but I kept my
mouth shut. She doesn’t know I’m aware of their secret.

“Looks like there’s a problem.”

I stop reading Tricia’s email and glance up. “Hey,
Dean.”

He takes a seat at the bar. “Everything all
right?”

I turn off my cell and slide it into my back
pocket. “My insurance agent has no news for me.” I wipe my hands on a bar towel.
“What can I get you?”

“Insurance agent?  Were you in a wreck?” He
settles on the stool. “I’ll take a Two Hearted Ale, please.”

“No. There was a fire at my apartment building.”
I walk over to the cooler and grab his beer. “I’ve been waiting to find out when
I can go home.” Setting the edge of the bottle cap against the edge of the bar,
I slam my hand down to open it, then give it to him. “I’ve been crashing with
my brother for the last three weeks.”

Dean looks curious. “Where is home?”

“Michigan.”

Latson walks up behind Dean and claps him on
the shoulder. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Dean nods as he raises his beer to his lips.

“What’s tonight?” I ask.

“Small gathering at my place.” Latson meets my
eyes as he leans against the bar. “You’re coming.”

“I am?” This is the first I’ve heard of it.

“Yep. Pete, Jules, Gwen, Carter, Felix ... they’ll
all be there. When Dean’s in town we hang out.”

News to me.
Oh!  I hope Heidi’s invited,
I think sarcastically.

“What’s up with your shirt?” Dean eyes Latson. “I’ve
never seen you wear purple.”

Latson looks down at his chest. Today he’s
sporting a dark purple tee that reads
Will do nude scenes.
“I thought
you quit doing porn,” Dean jokes.

“I’m trying to send subliminal messages to
someone. She’s being stubborn,” Latson says.

Dean immediately assumes it’s me and tips his
bottle in my direction. “Could this be the same someone who doubted your
romantic tendencies?”

“The very one.”

My mouth falls open.

“You’re working hard for this girl,” Dean says.
“Are you sure she’s worth it?”

“She’s starting to crack,” Latson replies. “She
has this weird hang up about me being her boss.”

Dean shrugs. “Then fire her.”

“Oh, I’ve considered it.”

He
what?
  I put my hands on my hips. “I’m
standing right here.”

They both ignore me.

“So, what time tonight?” Dean sets his bottle
on the bar top.

“We close early, so around ten,” Latson says. “Unless
you want to leave now. I have some things to pick up.”

“Sounds good. Let me finish this.” Dean indicates
his beer.

Latson looks at me. “Are you hungry?”

I glance over my shoulder to see if someone
else is behind me. “Are you talking to me?  I thought I was invisible.”

“Yes, I’m talking to you.”

I could use food, but I decide to get sassy. “Are
you buying?”

“That depends.” Latson tries to look innocent. “Are
you putting out?”

I pick up the bottle cap from Dean’s beer and
throw it at him. It bounces off his shirt, under the word
scenes.
“Is
that all you think about?”

Latson and Dean look at each other. Dean says
“Yeah” as Latson says “Pretty much.”

I sigh. Men.

Two guys approach the bar and I move over to
help them. As they decide what they want, I hear Latson tell Dean, “She didn’t
say no.”

Dean laughs. “Way to stay optimistic, bro.”

By the time I finish with the guys, Latson is
gone. I serve a few more drinks before Dean empties his bottle and sets it on
the bar. I grab it as I walk by.

“You know,” Dean says. “You should give him a
shot.”

I stop. “Why’s that?”

“Because he hasn’t fallen for someone in a long
time.”

I’m skeptical. “Nothing has happened between us
to make him fall anywhere.”

Dean gives me a pointed look. “Trust me. Something
did.”

“Um, Miss?”

A customer interrupts us for service, and Dean
stands. “I’ll let you get back to work. See you later.”

Yeah,
I mull over his words.
See you later.

~~~~

After the bar closes, Pete and I head home to
change and grab Jules for tonight’s soiree. My brother doesn’t bring up his
feelings on the topic, and I don’t ask. I’m not sure if he feels better about
me spending time around Latson because of our talk, or because he’ll be in
attendance. Regardless, back at the apartment, I take a few minutes to comb
through my hair until it lies in waves around my face. I touch up my lips and
eyes before changing into jean shorts and my black White Stripes tank top. I
want to look like I care, but not too much. This is the second time I’ve hung
out with these people socially; they’re becoming a bigger part of my life than
I had planned. I’d rather they see me in something else besides the standard
Torque attire.

When the three of us are ready, we head
upstairs and Pete knocks on Latson’s door. It cracks open, and one tiny, brown
eye appears. It grows wide when it sees us, and Oliver throws open the door. “Hi!” 
He immediately reaches for my hand. “Jen’s on my team,” he announces as he
pulls.

“Team?” I ask.

“For war,” he states.

I let him drag me over the threshold, then look
back at Jules and Pete. “War?”

“You’ll see.” Jules smiles.

I follow Oliver as we pass through the living
room. I notice Dean and Felix are sitting on one of the couches, and Gwen and
Kenzie are here as well. They say hi, and I wave with my free hand as Oliver
keeps walking.

“O.” I hear Latson’s voice. “Don’t forget to
show her how to reload.”

I look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of
Latson standing in the kitchen. He holds up what looks like a Nerf gun and
gives me a challenging nod.

What is going on?

Oliver and I make it to his bedroom, and he
shuts the door. I look around, remembering the action figures and the Minecraft
poster. “Okay.” He lets go of my hand and skips over to his bed. “I have almost
every gun. I even have the Zombie Strike Crossbow.” He picks it up and shows me.
“But it only shoots two darts at a time, so you’ll probably want one of the
other ones.”

I look over the arsenal of Nerf weapons laid
out on his comforter, then back at him. He’s wearing a black tactical vest over
his pajamas. The top half of the vest is filled with individual spongy darts,
while the bottom holds two clips full of them.

“What’s our mission?” I ask, playing along.

“We have to take out the other teams. We shoot
at everyone else until we win. But, we can’t shoot them in the face.” He looks
serious. “That’s Uncle Gunnar’s rule.”

“It’s a good rule.” I pick up one of the guns. “It
sounds like you two play this a lot.”

He nods. “When Uncle Dean visits I get to stay
up past my bedtime. When I was little we had Nerf wars at the hotels and sometimes
on the bus.”

He must mean the band’s tour bus. An image of
Latson and Dean chasing a giggling Oliver pops in my head, making me smile. Suddenly,
I’m excited to kick some butt. I select the gun closest to me. “How does this
one work?”

“Just pull the trigger.” Oliver takes it and
demonstrates. The gun whirs as a dart smacks the wall. It travels faster than I
expected.

“This one uses batteries,” he explains. “Some
of the others are manual.”

“I think I like this one,” I say. “What happens
when I’m out of darts?”

“Here’s how you reload.” He shows me the button
to eject the clip and then shoves it back in. Then, he grabs another plastic
rectangle full of darts and hands it to me. “Put this in your pocket.”

I do as I’m told. Oliver hands me my weapon,
picks up one of his own, and walks toward the door. He puts on his game face
and turns the knob. “It’s go time.”

I stifle a laugh. This kid is so cute, it’s
ridiculous.

As we creep down the hall I realize the
apartment is eerily quiet. Everyone must be lying in wait. Are they hiding or
will they be in plain view?  Can we run anywhere or are certain places off
limits?  I should have asked my seven-year-old partner these things before we
started.

All of a sudden, Oliver drops to the ground and
a bunch of darts whiz past my head. I duck and see Carter run from one side of
the room to the other. I jump out of the way, pressing my back to the wall, as
Oliver fires a couple rounds. What the hell?  Where did Carter come from?

Oliver starts doing some sort of belly crawl
across the carpet, and I crouch down as we advance. Once we’re out of the
hallway and into the living room, I can see where a few people are hiding. Jules’
knee is sticking out from behind the loveseat, while the top of Kenzie’s head
is visible behind the breakfast bar. I’m just about to wave Oliver over to our
right, when Felix jumps out of the closet by the front door and starts firing. My
adrenaline spikes and I shoot a few darts in his direction without aiming. One
of them hits him in the arm, while Oliver catches him multiple times in the
shin. Felix yells, “Noooo!” as he makes a big show of crumpling to the ground. I
realize this is all for Oliver, and I fight a grin. These people are awesome.

Over to our left Dean has jumped up, and he and
Jules, along with Pete, are firing at each other and ducking behind the couch
and the loveseat. Carter darts out from somewhere and runs into the kitchen; I’m
trying to figure out who’s on what team. Or does it matter?  Gwen appears from
the opposite hallway, shooting first into the kitchen as Carter and Kenzie
spring into action, then at us as she skips out of the way. I fire back and hit
her in the ass when she turns around. “I told you my butt was too big!” she
hollers as she lies on the ground.

Laughing, I advance with Oliver and start
shooting randomly at anything that moves. Nerf darts are flying everywhere. Latson
makes a show of leaping into the room through the open balcony doors, and he
starts firing like Rambo. Oliver aims for him and pulls the trigger, only to
find he’s out of ammo.

“Shoot!” he says as he reloads.

I squeeze off a few rounds but miss, discovering
that I’m out of ammunition, too. I dodge my way across the room, barely making
it to the opposite hall. I eject my empty clip, letting it fall to the floor,
and put in the new one. I lean around the corner, prepared to fire, when I’m
confronted with Latson a few feet from me.

“Ahhh!”  I jump. I didn’t expect him to be so
close. I turn tail and run down the hallway, to avoid being shot at close range.
Of course Latson chases me and shoots me twice in the back. Holy mother!  Those
little darts sting!

I turn around and start firing, not caring that
I’m supposed to fall down dead. I’m not aiming; I just want to hit him. As he
stalks toward me, I nail him in the chest, the stomach, and the thigh before I
accidentally shoot him somewhere I shouldn’t. He stops walking and winces,
sucking in a breath and biting back a curse.

I freeze. Oh, shit.

I shot him in the balls.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

He stares at me through narrow eyes.

“I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean it.”

His mouth twitches.

“What can I do?”

He chokes out a laugh. “You shouldn’t ask me
that question.”

I lower my gun and give him a stern look. “Are
you really hurt?”

He stands up straight. “It was a dart, not a
sledgehammer.” He starts to walk toward me. “I’d run if I were you.”

Aw, crap. I look around. There’s nowhere to go
unless I choose one of the doors in the hall. Even then, I’d still be cornered.
I decide to cower against the wall and accept my fate. I slam my eyes shut and
flinch. “Just shoot me and get it over with.”

The buzzer from the intercom sounds,
interrupting us. I open one eye as I hear Carter verify a delivery man is
downstairs bearing take-out.

“Saved by food.” Latson grins. “C’mon. Let’s
eat.”

I relax and let out a breath. That was close.

We walk into the living room with our guns by
our sides. People are crawling around on the floor picking up darts. I’m just
about to help, when Latson turns his wrist and shoots me in the leg.

“Ow!” I yell and jump, shoving his arm. “That’s
NOT romantic!”

He leans toward me. “Neither is shooting me in
the junk.”

Before I can respond, he brings his hand to the
back of my head and plants a quick kiss on my temple. My cheeks flush as a shiver
runs down my spine. He leaves me to meet the delivery man, and I glance around.
Did anyone see that?  It doesn’t appear they did.