One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (32 page)

“And I went to the restroom, so he could
save face and things didn’t get awkward.” Knowing she’d need to
face him again made her feel uneasy, so uneasy that she now
actually
had to use the lavatory. “Oh, well. I’ll be out
soon enough.”

*

The Twilight Zone
ringtone kicked in
on Alex’s cell phone, indicating that Kelsey was trying to reach
him. He answered it. “Hey, I’m a block away. I thought maybe we
could get together for a movie and maybe have an early dinner. What
do you think?”

“Sounds great,” she said in a relieved tone
of voice.

“Is everything all right? You sound…kind of
worried.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. See you in a
couple.”

“Sure thing.” A couple minutes later, Alex
entered the diner, walked up to the counter and, after telling
Brittany, an 18-year old blond woman, that he was going in back to
speak with his sister, he pushed through the swinging double-doors,
hung a left, and entered his sister’s office.

Kelsey sat behind a mahogany desk that held
a desktop computer and a monitor, a few framed photographs, and an
empty Reese’s cup wrapper. “Great, you’re here. Close the door
behind you.”

“Cloak and dagger stuff, huh?” He closed the
door and took a seat opposite her. “What’s going on?”

“Marisa just broke up with Brad. She told
him that she’s done with him. For good, this time.”

A smile came to his face. He hadn’t expected
to hear that, especially from Kelsey. He’d hoped to hear it from
Marisa. But as long as she broke it off with Brad, he couldn’t ask
for more, especially since she never planned to reunite with
him.

“She went to the restroom. In the meantime,
Brad won’t leave.”

Last night, after leaving his father’s home,
Alex had anticipated a moment like this. His pulse quickened but
not uncontrollably. “I’ll see what I can do.” He got up and opened
the door.

“Don’t let him start a fight, okay? I don’t
want my customers freaking out.”

Alex took it under advisement. How could he
prevent Brad from engaging in fisticuffs? If he threw a punch, Alex
couldn’t politely ask him to refrain from doing likewise. He
stepped through the doorway and, when he turned the corner, took a
deep breath, calming himself.

He saw Brad sitting in a booth at the other
end of the diner and made his way over to him, noticing how Brad
continually glanced from the menu to the women’s restroom door and
back to his menu.

Brad turned, probably looking for a
waitress, and saw Alex instead. “Hey, no-date. That Cassandra girl
isn’t that great of a kisser, huh? Guess that’s why she liked you
so much. It takes one to know one, right?” He chuckled.

Alex ignored the insult. He slipped into the
booth across from Brad. “I’d like you to leave.”

Brad laughed. “You’d like me to leave? Well,
I’m not. I’ve got every right to be here. I want to order
something, but that waitress with the juiciest pair of—”

“She’s not going to wait on you. The way I
understand it, Marisa broke up with you, and she doesn’t want to
see you again.” He deepened his tone: “So please leave.” He didn’t
alter his tone to frighten Brad. If anything, doing so would just
antagonize him. He wanted the customers around him to hear that
he’d politely asked Brad to leave the building.

Brad lost his smile. He straightened up.
“And I already told you, I ain’t leaving. If anyone’s going to
leave, it’s you.” He got to his feet, glaring down at Alex. “So you
better get gone.”

Alex looked to his right, past Brad, and saw
Kelsey standing behind the front counter, shaking her head with
great concern lining her face. She waved her hands, whispering in
an exaggerated way to take it outside.

“You may be man enough to ask me to leave,”
Brad said. “But you’re not man enough to make me.”

Alex released a breath, cleared his mind and
subdued his nerves. He placed both hands on the tabletop, lifted
himself up, and stared at Brad.

“Finally down to it, huh?” Brad said. “Me
and you. Ready to get your ass kicked?”

Alex didn’t respond. He just stared at his
opponent’s chest. Doing so allowed his peripheral vision to notice
both arm and leg movements, giving him a quicker response time if
Brad attacked him.

“Not man enough to look me in the eye, huh?
You’re not even worth my time.” He extended an arm, expecting to
push Alex.

But Alex stepped aside.

And without the counterweight to prevent him
from losing his equilibrium, Brad fell forward and accidentally
bashed into an elderly man in the next booth. The plate of food by
his right wrist slid across the table and fell onto the floor.

The man let out a loud grunt, as he’d been
struck in the back, although it seemed he’d reacted more out of
surprise than pain. The disturbance caught the attention of
everyone in the diner.

“Hey, old man,” Brad said, annoyed. “Watch
what you’re doing?” He immediately righted himself, turned back to
Alex, and grinned. “So you want to make this worthwhile? It’s about
time.” He cracked his knuckles.

Alex hated that Brad had criticized an
elderly gentleman who wanted nothing more than to enjoy his
breakfast in peace. And now, everyone in the restaurant stopped
chatting with their friends and relatives and directed their
irritated gazes at Brad.

Alex wanted to ask him once more to leave,
but he knew that doing so would only be met with resistance. Even
if Alex relented and said they should take it outside, Brad would
either consider it an attempt for Alex to hit him from behind or a
way for him to get outside and run away. Brad wouldn’t accept
either option. He wanted to fight.

The ominous gong and drumbeat from Michael
Jackson’s “Beat It” blared through the speakers at a volume much
louder than Kelsey had ever dared to play it before.

Alex saw his sister return from the back
room. In the past, she had always played this tune with more than a
hint of humor in her eyes, but this time she lost all sense of
jocularity and fixed him with a hard stare: a determined look that
Alex interpreted as the clincher – the last time Kelsey ever
expected to play this number again.

For the first time, this song, along with
Kelsey’s confidence in him, drove the music’s beat deep into Alex’s
chest, energizing him, filling him with complete assurance and
overloading his muscles and senses with adrenaline. Unlike every
other time in the past, the song now had meaning: he needed to get
past Brad in order to have a shot with Marisa. Otherwise, he’d
always be looking over his shoulder for Brad or any other
competitors for her heart. And he would never let that happen
again.

Brad approached with cocky body language.
Then, with about eight inches separating them, he straightened with
lightning speed and threw a right jab.

Alex slapped Brad’s fist away, pivoted to
his left, and threw a quick hook into his opponent’s nose.

Off balance, winding his arms behind him to
avoid falling, Brad regained control. He shook his head, dazed. He
placed a palm under his nose, and looked at the slick red liquid
dripping off his hand and plopping onto the floor.

The restaurant door slammed shut, drawing
Alex’s attention. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have heard the noise, but
all conversation in the diner had ended, and every customer looked
at Alex, some unblinking, awaiting the next development in the
fight, others simply chewing their food, their eyes looking to Brad
then Alex and back again. Therefore, the sound clashed with Michael
Jackson’s classic song.

Without removing his gaze from Kelsey, Damon
walked into the diner, toward the counter with a puzzled look on
his face. Noticing the frightened expression on her face, he turned
to the right and looked at Alex. He lifted his eyebrows in shock.
Then he glanced at Brad. His eyes bulged in disbelief. And a smirk
overcame him.

Although curious about what had urged Damon
to visit the diner, Alex decided to return to that question at
another time. Now, he turned back to Brad.

His adversary sneered at him, dragged the
back of his left fist under his nose, and sent a line of crimson
across it. Then he charged again.

Alex kept his hands out front, prepared for
the attack, ready to let his enemy dictate how he responded.

Brad threw a roundhouse right.

Alex lashed out with both arms, his left arm
striking Brad’s forearm the same instant his right arm slammed down
on his Brad’s right bicep. A second later, he chopped Brad in the
neck, and while his face moved in the opposite direction, Alex
followed that up with an elbow strike to Brad’s face, sending him
in the opposite direction, wavering on wobbly legs before he
crashed to the floor.

Brad lay on the ground, immobile.

The entire diner remained silent. No ringing
phones. No forks clinking against plates. No voices engaged in
conversation.

Alex walked around Brad’s body, watching for
a sneak attack. He moved in to find out if the man had lost
consciousness.

Brad kicked out.

Alex caught his leg. He planned to slam his
elbow down on Brad’s knee, which if thrust with enough force would
have cracked bone. Instead, he grasped Brad’s shoe and dragged his
body across the shiny linoleum floor toward the exit.

The diners started laughing. Then they
started clapping and whistling, drowning out the music blasting
through the speakers.

Hunched over, trying to hit Alex’s hands
away from his shoe but unable to do so, Brad swiped at air.

Damon ran across the floor, reached the
front door, and opened it with a huge grin.

Alex passed through the threshold, walked
across the sidewalk, and stepped into the street. A car hoping to
make a right turn slammed on the brakes, stopping just inches from
Brad’s head. The driver beeped his horn.

Ignoring him, Alex let go of Brad’s leg and
looked down at him. “Marisa doesn’t want to see you again. And I
don’t want to see you again. Now get the
hell
out of
here.”

Brad glanced in both directions, then stared
at his reflection in the car’s shiny fender. He nodded. Then he got
up, placing both hands to the pavement, and launched himself in the
opposite direction, scuttling down the street.

Alex watched him run away. He expected to
feel good about defeating Brad, but he felt the empty inside. He
pitied Brad. Startled by this revelation, he made his way back to
the diner and met Damon, who still held the door open with a big
smile. He offered his hand, and Alex clasped it, whereupon Damon
pulled him in close for a congratulatory man hug.

Kelsey had cleared the song from the stereo.
The diners had stopped clapping and whistling and returned to their
meals. But their voices were louder and more animated than normal.
Now a steady, rhythmic drumbeat and the sound of cymbals tinkled
through the speakers as the beginning of Peter Gabriel’s song “In
Your Eyes” began to play.

As Alex passed through the doorway, he saw
Marisa at the other end of the diner, just outside the restrooms,
looking at him with a luminous smile.

And he finally got his wish: she offered him
that tender smile, the one that promised a life of excitement and
passion and love. He returned a smile that pledged all of that and
more.

Then he noticed the distance between them,
and it allowed him to live out the scene that Marisa said didn’t
exist: the one in
Jerry Maguire
where Tom Cruise and Renee
Zellweger met for their date outside her home, smiling at each from
opposite ends of the street, eager to begin a relationship that
neither of them would ever forget.

He walked toward her with tentative steps at
first, but seeing her smile brighten with greater intensity as he
closed the distance between them, he quickened his pace.

Marisa did the same. Unable to stand idly,
she rushed at him.

Then Alex caught her in his arms, his smile
slowly faltering as he looked into Marisa’s eyes, hoping to find
his future there.

She held his gaze with such fragility that
she quivered in his grasp. Then she looked to the side, nibbling
her lip, anxious.

The emotional withdrawal didn’t surprise
him. “What’s wrong?” Receiving no answer, he gently cupped her
cheek in his palm, tilting her face to meet his gaze. “Talk to
me.”

Tears had entered her eyes. “Please, Alex,”
she said, her voice cracking. But she lowered her head.

“Hey, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

Reluctantly, she met his eyes once more,
looking like she might start sobbing. “Please…” And tears slipped
down her cheeks. “Don’t hurt me.”

How could she ever think that? Then again,
she had voiced that concern before, while explaining why she didn’t
want to consider him as a romantic partner. “Never.” He looked
deeply into her eyes so that she grasped the depth of his feelings.
“I’ll never hurt you.”

Marisa let out a sigh of relief and clutched
him like she feared that he’d let her go at any moment. She rested
her head against his shoulder, her mouth hitching as though trying
to ward off a sob.

Nothing compared to holding his soul mate so
close to his heart, comforted by her sweet scent as it washed over
him. It had taken two years to get to this point…and it had
definitely been worth the wait.

Other than the music, the diner had grown
quiet again. Marisa raised her head and glanced around to find all
of the customers staring at them, waiting with hopeful expressions.
“Oh,” she said, “I think…I think they want us to—”

Alex placed a finger under her chin, turning
her head toward him. Just as she met his gaze, he pressed his lips
to hers, lifting his other palm to her face, getting lost in the
way she felt against his body and the way she held onto him as
though refusing to free him from her embrace.