Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend (2 page)

“What’s your first name?”

“Declan.”

What the fuck!? I never gave anyone my first name. The only people who knew my first name besides my parents were Sebastian, my mother’s best friend. I was named after my grandfather on my father’s side. They were of Irish descent and my mother was so in love with Mike that she did as he asked and gave me Declan as a namesake.

“Declan. I like that. Well, I need to go.”

Caught up in my own thoughts, I didn’t see her shut the door and rev up the engine. I tapped on her window and she pumped the window-winder until it was half-way down.

“I still didn’t get your name.”

“And you won’t.”

“Why ever not?”

“Why don’t you come earlier next Friday? I start my shift at six. If you want my name, come by then and we’ll chat for a minute. I’ll give it to you then. Maybe you need to earn it.”

Earn it? I wonder what she meant by that.

“What makes you think I won’t go back inside and ask for it?”

“Because. Just looking at you, it looks as if you need a challenge. Let it be a challenge. If you come, you’re genuine. If not, it’s no skin off my back. Bye Declan Dax.”

“Bye, Blondie.”

“And don’t ever call me Blondie.”

Then she rolled up the window, backed up and drove away.

That sass spiked a reaction out of me I wasn’t expecting. My dick must’ve liked that fire and sass.

As I walked back to my truck, I couldn’t help but laugh. A vagina finally played me good. I did like a challenge.

Scarlet

It was a busy Friday night and I was ready to get out of here. Al had been a bigger TB (tittie-baby) than usual. He was actually a nice guy and friendly, but every once in a while, just like us girls, guys had PMS.

I had been finishing up the few drinks that popped up in the printer while cleaning up the well station. Then I heard, “Hey, Blondie.”

I really did not like being called nicknames. Or well, Blondie anyway. I turned and holy macaroon. The guy sitting in the last chair was gorgeous. One I’ve never seen in here before either. Good thing I dealt with these types on a regular basis or I would have been totally hypnotized.

He was like an Adonis. Angular face, sky-blue eyes that displayed mischief and something I couldn’t quite describe. His bow shaped lips had a smirk that looked like it was a permanent expression on his face. His hair was dark brown, almost black. Slicked back but not in that greasy, ton of hairspray look. It was like he ran his fingers through it so many times that was the way his hair was naturally styled. He had a five o’clock shadow that gave him a sexy edge. I really liked it. He was beautifully tall and broad shouldered. Not built like a brick house, but I couldn’t tell from the way he was sitting. I got him his drink and went to finish cleaning so I could leave.

I felt his eyes on me the entire time I had been finishing my side work and I told Al what he had and that everything was done before I walked by Adonis and told him to have a goodnight before I walked to the back to tell the manager I was leaving.

On the way out, the Adonis told me to wait a sec. There was a firmness in his voice that stilled me. It wasn’t harsh, but it held me back without thought. HE closed in, but then his lips just opened, closed, opened, and then closed again. He looked kinda silly, but I was already feeling this night.

It was busier than normal and Al and I got into it. Sometimes I really wanted to smack that guy in the face. Hard.

Sometimes.

When Adonis didn’t say anything, I shook my head and walked out to my truck. I was loading myself up when his hand caught my door. He tried getting my name, but something came over me. One thing about me…I never played coy with a guy. I didn’t even know how to flirt.

I don’t think that was what I doing, either but somehow I didn’t want this guy to just get things so easily. He seemed the type to get exactly what he wanted as soon as he flicked his fingers. Or mouth. His mouth I could probably stare at for days.

I didn’t know how to play hard to get, but I didn’t just want to give it to him. Like I said, he was
that
guy. Who got whatever he wanted by snapping his hot guy fingers.

When he told me his, I immediately liked it. It was an unusual name. I had never heard of it before. Looking at him, it seemed to definitely fit him.

Then he told me it was his middle name that he didn’t like his first name. I got him to tell and he seemed genuinely surprised that he said it out loud.

“Declan,” I said.

I really liked that. I wondered why he didn’t like it. Maybe if he showed up next Friday, I’d get him to tell me. And because some madness and insanity took control of me, I challenged him to come back Friday. The only thing he said was, “Bye, Blondie.”

I really disliked that, but he said if soft and easy like an endearment. A caress. A promise.

Still-“And don’t ever call me Blondie.”

Then I left him standing there, his lip curled in a sexy smile and I couldn’t help but giggle. And yes, it was a giggle. I felt like a school girl with her first crush. Not that I’d actually ever really had a crush before. I mainly kept to myself, but not in like some loner kinda way. It just seemed to be the way of things.

⟡

“Scarlet! You got food in the window!”

Geesh! I heard the expeditor holler like a madwoman for me, letting me know I had food up in the back. I’ve been working for Chili’s for six years and after much hard work, I’ve been bartending for the last three. I loved the hustle and bustle of working in a restaurant but it wasn’t my big dream.

I’ve always dreamed of singing and dancing on Broadway. Or in Hollywood. Wherever I could go to be on stage. Ever since mom left, Nana had me falling in love with Gene Kelly, and Fred Astaire. I loved hearing them sing and dance and the women?

Sigh.

I practiced singing and dancing all the lines and choreography. My favorite was ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’. I was a closet Monroe fan. I even dressed like her, well like the women back then. Her voice was sultry and quiet but proud and broad. I was lucky enough to have a good voice. I could sing most of any songs from that time era. Now that Nana had gotten a Blu-ray player for me for Christmas this past winter, I had a nice little collection of musicals and movies. And also Disney movies. I had a thing for those, too. Childish maybe but the songs were actually really cool.

Well any musical’s really. I loved them. Old ones, new ones. Any movies that had singing and dancing. If not Broadway, then I would love to go to a professional dancing school. That would be even better. I loved dancing better than I did singing.

I knew if I had the guts to, I’d totally be a stripper. I doubt they’d hire me though. I’ve seen strippers before. They were usually tall and statuesque. I was short and rather pixie-like.

Nana always encouraged me to make my dream a reality and to go for whatever I wanted. I wondered what she did when my mom was younger. Did she raise her the same way or was she trying to compensate from earlier wrong doings? I didn’t know. I’ve only ever known this Nana and as far as I could tell, she didn’t lie to me, never spoke to me as if I was a burden. She taught me about gardening, sewing, and yes, even about guys. I mean, that came way later. I was about sixteen when I was asked out on my first date.

Even if it was just homecoming and with a band nerd. It was nice and he treated me with respect. Nana taught me to respect myself and protect myself. She sent me to self-defense classes. She always said if I ever felt weird vibes with a guy, to lose him and lose him quick. To always go with my instincts. She said that’s how she figured out she was gonna marry my grandfather.

Sometimes I wish I could have met him. He seemed just the type of guy I needed to find. A man’s man and an alpha-male to the core but with a deep sense of honor and pride. And softness. Nana said Grandpa Alan would punch a guy for
trying
to cop a feel, then swing her on a dance floor like she was a princess.

When she had first shown me a picture of him, I really wished I could have met him. He didn’t smile outwardly, but there was a spark in his eyes like he was hiding some big secret. That was the only picture I saw that he wasn’t looking at Nana, so what did I know? Most pictures he was looking down at her. He was very tall and Nana was about my height. Maybe five foot four at most. I know I didn’t have to wonder where I got the shortness from in the family. But like I said, in the pictures he always looked at her and when I asked Nana why, she only said, ‘He likes looking at me and only me, I guess.’ I could tell she wasn’t saying the complete truth, because there was a certain look in her eyes that as a young girl, I had no idea what it could mean. But as I grew up and became a woman, I took it as a look of deep, deep love and desirability.

I really hoped that happened to me one day.

Sometimes it made me wonder who my father was. Mom never mentioned a guy. Did he love her? Me? Since he didn’t stick around, that must’ve been a big fat ‘hell no’. I didn’t want to end up like my mother.

“I need a runner to the bar top!”

Ah. Reality check. Life could be such a bitter pill to swallow some days.

“Scarlet, your food is up.”

It was a Monday night, and my teacher cancelled tonight due to a family emergency, so I thought I’d pick up some extra green.

Tomorrow was my twenty-second birthday and the girls here at work persuaded me to let them take me out to a club.

Even though I loved dancing, I never really liked going to clubs and dancing with random guys. Maybe that was why I was still holding onto my v-card. It’s not like I wouldn’t mind getting rid of it. I mean, some girls at work have taken me out for drinks before and some of the conversations we held led to men and toys and which was better. I had no idea what they were talking about. I guess I lived a very sheltered life.

One of the girls, Tiffany, who was in her late twenties and newly divorced said she could ‘fuck herself better than any man can’, and I was amazed at how serious she was. I mean, I had no idea about that, but one night after drinks, she gave me a personal vibrator as a gift. All wrapped in funny looking wrapping paper.

She then explained to me in detail, (thank God not in explicit detail but the logistics anyway) and told me to give it a try.

I had no idea how to really use it, so the few times I tried were an epic fail. Nana didn’t know about it, thank God. Nor has she found it whenever she went into my room, so I called that a win-win. Nana was all about me being an independent woman. However, when I tried telling her it was time for me to move out and get my own place, she absolutely refused. Told me I should save my money for school, clothes or save for a house.

The house we lived in was on a reverse mortgage. Nana told me when she never heard from my mom after she had run away and going through my grandfather’s passing all alone, that she decided to just give the house over to the bank when she passed. After mom left me, Nana had said she wished she could leave me the house. But that was okay. I was told I could keep whatever I liked when she passed and take it with me. I really didn’t want to think about her leaving me either, but I knew old age would catch up with her despite how healthy she was. Or acted.

Over the past year, she had been acting strangely though and whenever I had tried to press her, she just said everything would be fine. Then would proceed to ask me if I had a man.

The answer was obviously a big, fat no. I never dated. I worked, I went to school and only on seldom occasion, I could get persuaded to go out for drinks with a few girls from Chili’s after work. We didn’t go far either just down the street to a different restaurant that had cheaper drinks.

I wasn’t a big people person, (yeah, I bartended, but in situations where I willingly went with people and have a good time? Nah, I was kind of a hermit.) I read romance novels like religious people read the Bible. I always stayed at home watching old movies like the loser everyone thought I was in high school but that was okay. I hung out with just a few girls at work sometimes and with school, my life was pretty jam-packed.

Besides, I was waiting for that,
zing
. That something
more
. When I was a young girl, Nana said I would know when I found
the
one. I would feel it with that first kiss. The first kiss that stayed with me, all day and all night. That tingling down your spine, that shiver that ran from your head to your toes and made your foot ‘pop’, kind of kiss. She then proceeded to tell me about that ‘pop’.

‘When you’re kissing the guy and your foot just ‘pops’ back. That’s how you know it isn’t just something willy-nilly. You gotta take notice at the small moments.’ When I was sixteen, I laughed. I mean, really? That only happened in the movies and romance novels. At least that foot popping business. I did believe in that zing, though. No matter how I thought it could be a joke, I really hoped that one day, whenever I was ready for that, it would steal my breath and I would feel it to the bone.

I wanted a man to look at me like Grandpa Alan looked at Nana. I wanted a kiss that would stay with me all day and all night until I saw him again. I would just replay that moment over and over.

No prospects as of yet though.

After the shift was over, I counted my cash down before handing it to the manager. On my way out, I told the cooks and the last server closing in the dining area ‘bye’ and I made my way out to my truck. Or my grandfather’s old Chevy pickup.

It was old, but he had kept it in mint condition so it looked almost like new. I loved it. I was in no way a cowgirl, but if I had to choose between a brand new car and his truck, I would choose the truck. There was a few black and white photos on the dash of my grandparents. One of my mother when she was a young girl and then I put a few of Nana and me. She gave it to me on my seventeenth birthday when I got my license.

I got teased miserably the last year and half of school because of the truck I was driving. No matter how shiny and pretty it looked, the kids always said I was too poor to buy a brand new good car. It hurt my feelings at the time, but this truck had a lot of memories.

Nana said it never let them down wherever they went. And I trusted her completely. Showed proof positive, too. The last five years I’ve never had a problem. I kept it tuned and maintained. Wasn’t ever cheap, but Nana paid for half of anything major. I wished she didn’t, but she wouldn’t hear anything of it. She was so stubborn.

It’s not like we were poor. Just an average household. I never wanted much, but I never wanted for anything. When Marybeth left, (yeah, I stopped calling her mother after I turned into a teenager. My teenage girl-self knew she was never coming back. She didn’t raise me. She was just the vessel that carried me. Harsh but o-damn-well.