Lights Out (3 page)

Was she up for what he wanted? He hoped so. These last few weeks had felt like foreplay to him, and he was ready to move past this stage. He was a little frightened at the chemistry between them, but ready for the heat he suspected they could generate.

Shane had put a damper on his sex life. He tried his best not to mix women with his nephew, and he didn’t do long term. He managed to maintain minimal, simple relationships, tending to take one woman on at time and she, he decided, was next on his list.

First week of June

“Afternoon, Renee,” Mr. Harper said a couple of days later as he entered Lights Out late in the afternoon. Like clockwork, regular as the sun. Old Mr. Harper, 82, stopped by at 2 p.m. every day for a cup of black coffee and a slice of lemon cake. Always, forever, amen.

He was one of her favorite customers, even though he refused to call her Piper.

“Hello, Mr. Harper,” she said, giving him a smile. “Having your usual?”

“Yes, young lady,” he said, watching her pour his customary coffee into a cup before placing it in a saucer for him. She added a piece of lemon cake on a cake plate and a napkin and fork, and followed him to his table. His hands weren’t as strong as they used to be.

Piper knew he left for his dessert and coffee during his wife’s nap, usually after they finished lunch. She walked over and grabbed today’s paper and brought it over to him. “Enjoy,” she said.

“Thank you,” Mr. Harper said, giving her another smile.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she added, turning and walking back to the counter, where a customer waited. The door opened again and she was surprised to see Joe enter. He was usually part of her morning group. But him here now would work, too. She was always up for seeing him, her blood warming at the sight of him. She turned her attention to helping her next customer.

* * *

Joe headed toward the counter, his eyes following Piper’s path as she walked toward the counter and started in with the customer in front of him. Today was the day, time to move this whatever he was feeling towards her along. It had been on his mind, simmering like you wouldn’t believe.

Piper watched him as he took his place in line. He’d always teased and flirted with her, but for the last couple of weeks it seemed like he was hinting at more. He had moved up the teasing until she wasn’t sure she could keep up with him. Could she keep up with the other, too? Not that he’d asked, but if he did…no way did she think he was relationship- or marriage-minded. It was probably more like he’d wanted to see if her wordplay matched some other kind of play.

She usually blew off most requests for more, but Middleweight was a horse of a different color. She didn’t lie to herself; she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He’d been good, his comebacks sharp—excellent even. He gave as good as he got, and the possibilities for that trait were endless.

“Middleweight,” she said, when he stepped up to the counter. “Don’t usually see you in the afternoon.”

“I was hungry for something more,” he said.

“Okay,” she replied. They were no longer only discussing food. “What would you like?”

“For now I’ll take a sandwich and an iced coffee,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out his card. “Would you bring it over to me? I’d like to talk to you about something,” he added.

“Sure,” she said, taking his card and running it through the register before handing it back.

“Thanks,” he said, walking away, dressed casually today in jeans and a snug t-shirt. She sighed.

She walked over to him five minutes later. He was reading over his BlackBerry. The paper he had picked up sat on the table beside him.

“Easy afternoon?” she asked, eyeing the newspaper, noting the absence of his laptop.

“Not too bad,” he said, not elaborating further, not that it was any of her business. She continued to hold his eyes, watching as they changed over to smoky. He was so out of her league. What was she doing here, playing with this?

“So, Piper, are you all talk? Or is there something behind all that teasing you pass out?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t know, could go either way.”

“There’s enough.”

“Enough, huh,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee, sitting back in his seat, all relaxed.

“What do you do when you’re not working here?” he asked.

“A little bit of this and that,” she said, her eyes locked on his. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think it’s time for you and I to put all of our energy to a different use, to find out if we’re all talk.”

Translated that meant if she were all talk.

“You do, huh,” she said.

“Yes—I do,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She nodded, running her eyes from head to toe and back again while he watched her, no disguise for the lust and desire reflected in those grey peepers of his, leaving little doubt as to what energy he wanted to make use of.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

“It’ll do in a pinch,” she said and he chuckled.

“Hook up with me then,” he said preferring the direct approach, choosing clarity in his requests, straightforward, less room for misunderstandings later.

“Hook up, huh? That’s all you want?”

“All I want? That’s one way to look at it,” he said. His other hand had joined its mate, holding fast to hers. Strong hands, long lean fingers. She swallowed.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it,” she said, looking around, a little disappointed. What had she expected? A thoughtful, committed, more substantive kind of guy? She chuckled at the lunacy of those thoughts. She’d apparently lost her brain there for a second.

“I promise it will be worth our time, you won’t regret it,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

She smiled. “We’ll see. I’d better let you get back to work,” she said, giving him a wink.

* * *

Second weekend in June

Late Saturday afternoon Piper opened the back door of the shop for the caterers to enter. She could smell the food and recognized the scent of some of her favorites. Dirty rice, a big black kettle of gumbo, home-baked bread, and it had her mouth watering and her stomach growling something fierce.

“That smells good,” she said, trailing along behind the owner and chef, Ms. Nadine.

“It is good,” Ms. Nadine replied matter-of-factly. She was always short and to the point, as if words didn’t come cheap in this day and age. Piper followed her into the kitchen and watched as she set her pots down on the work table before turning around to head back out to their van.

“Do you need me?” Piper asked.

“Nope, just need you out of the way.”

She was used to Mrs. Nadine’s gruff, no-nonsense manner and was past being offended by it. Ms. Nadine was the owner of Dirty Rice Catering Company and maker of the best Cajun food this far north of Lake Charles. Piper had liked her from the start and loved her food, so much so that she was willing to do just about anything for it. If staying out of the way was required, she could easily do that.

She left the kitchen and traipsed over to the stage located near the middle of the shop. She’d removed the tables and chairs earlier, her shop now in the final phase of its transformation from coffee bar to juke joint. Austin was known for its live music, and she was a big lover of it.

The second Saturday of every month was reserved for zydeco night at Lights Out Coffee. She started the second month she’d opened at her first shop, found a local band that played zydeco music, hung multi-colored lights from the ceilings, and tried to recreate one of the favorite events from her childhood.

She’d grown up listening to zydeco on the radio. It was a combination of rub board, accordion, fiddle, guitars, and drums played by great old timers like Clifton Chenier and newer artists like Cedric Watson and Corey Ledet.

She’d followed her grandparents around to many a church bazaar and hole in the wall, where children and families were always welcome. The men drank beer, talked, and danced with their wives and kids to the sounds of zydeco blasting from the speakers.

Food, always plentiful, had been cooked lovingly by mothers and friends. The large community potluck had always been a competition for the best dirty rice, étouffée, gumbo, and homemade bread.

All with full stomachs, she, her friends, and her cousins would dance around the floor, partnered up with any available boy, or each other if boys were scarce. They’d imitated their parents, moving to the music, steps quick and eager or slow and easy. Those nights were the best of her childhood.

Tonight would be the first time zydeco night would be held at her second location. Unlike her first shop, she’d built this one with size in mind, with a dance floor and a stage. She’d wanted community access, for parties, meetings or small events, poetry readings on Sunday nights—a place for the locals to feel at home.

There was an area available for kids to watch DVDs or play video games on the plasma TV that hung on the wall, as well as crayons and small toys for the kids to play with.

The crowd, a mixture of the old, young adults, and families, had been growing each month, and she hoped the change to this venue would increase its size. She’d been pleased so far with its popularity.

* * *

Joe was headed over to Lights Out, his blood humming. He was excited. He had seen the flyer advertising tonight’s event on the counter a week ago and made plans accordingly. He hoped she’d be working tonight, or, better yet, that she wasn’t and was free to leave with him.

He’d found a sitter for Shane, but he was running late because good help was hard to find these days and the sitter had been late to arrive. If he played his cards right, the night would end with them together, and that would be perfect.

He entered the door, surprised by the size of the crowd and the transformation of the room. The coffee shop had been transformed into a dance hall. Bright colored lights hung from the ceilings and people sat around the tables, talking or eating. Some were dancing on the dance floor that had been added just below the stage.

He spotted her at the counter and started in her direction. He could use a beer.

“Would you like to dance?”

He felt someone touch his elbow and turned to find a woman standing really up close and personal, her face a few inches from his. He took a step back.

“Would you like to dance with me?” The words spilled from her mouth in a rush, like it was now or never. A regular wallflower type, brunette, painted-on jeans, way nervous. There was a little hint of I know he’s going to turn me down in her eyes, but a bit of challenge, too.

Why not, he thought.

“Sure,” he said, taking her hand, leading her to the dance floor, watching the surprise in her eyes that he’d agreed. He smiled at her and hoped she’d relax enough to enjoy herself. He twirled her around the dance floor and her smiled widened, surprised that he could dance. He smiled at his dance partner and she smiled back. He gave himself over to the music, moving them around the floor.

* * *

Well, would you look at that, Piper thought as she stood behind the counter-turned-bar, watching Middleweight move around the dance floor with a woman, and not the type she figured he’d go for; not the beautiful type, not like Sondra from the other morning. Maybe he’d felt sorry for the unpretty ones; she included herself in that group. Piper had come to terms with her average looks a long time ago, and that was why his hookup request had surprised her—but he hadn’t asked to hook up with her looks, just their energy and chemistry. Of course he could move, all grace and sex and totally captivating.

“Could I have a beer?”

“Huh,” she said, catching herself. “Sure,” she added, bringing her eyes back to the job at hand. She smiled at the man her head still with Joe on the dance floor. She’d watched Middleweight enter her shop alone a few minutes earlier, watched as he’d performed a quick scan around the room, felt a surge in energy when his eyes had collided with hers. She’d thought he’d been headed her way before that girl had stopped him, and she was surprised that he’d agreed to dance.

The next person in line wanted a glass of wine, keeping her from following him. But her gaze returned to him later on as the song ended and he made his way to her line. Should she or shouldn’t she take him up on his offer? She’d learned to be wary of the too-good-looking for a reason. They scared her. Was she willing to toss all those hard-won lessons away for a few nights? Are you kidding me, her other self shouted loudly in her head. Hell yeah, she was going to take him up on his offer. She was due for some plain old no-holds-barred sex.

She sighed, turned away from him, and glanced over the shop, taking in the people laughing, dancing, and talking. She was pleased with tonight’s outcome so far. She liked the people in this neighborhood. They were her kind of people, friendly, fun and diverse. She was also delighted to find some of her regulars from her other shop here.

“What can I get for you tonight?” she asked, gazing into Joe’s eyes. She couldn’t help herself, it seemed. Beauty demanded appreciation.