Pretty Hurts (3 page)

Edgar

I’m not prone to second guessing myself, but now I’m in a weird limbo.
Did I just ask a client out on a date? Do I honestly care?
I haven’t been on a date since I broke things off with Marilyn, and Efia seems like good people. Even better, we’re on the same page with what we want. I’m getting way too ahead of myself, but it’s in my nature to get caught up in my head. I run my fingers through my hair and tilt my head back to peer up at the sky through my sunglasses.

It’s a perfect day for fishing. After grabbing my poles, I load them in the back while I wait for Addler to arrive. My best friend since the womb, he’s more of a brother than a friend. His mother, my Aunt Marisol, has been my mother’s best friend since they were in kindergarten. So when they got pregnant around the same time, it was a given we’d be best friends. I guess that’s one of the many perks of staying in the town you grew up in.

Ad’s always been a good person to bounce things off. Hell, he was the one who told me Marilyn and I weren’t a good fit. Maybe I should start listening to him. Five years of my life went down the drain when we called it quits.

He pulls up in his black Toyota Four Runner. I wave as he parks and hops down. Retrieving his poles and tackle box out of the back, he brings it over so I can add it to my own.

“Hey, brother, what’s going on?”

I shake my head. “Happy to have a day off. It’s been too long since we went fishing.”

“Understatement. I think it’s been close to three months. Do you want to head to the Texas City Dike?”

“Yeah, we haven’t been there in a while, and we usually come away with a decent haul,” I reply, thinking of the cooler full of fish I’d used for an impromptu fish fry with my family.

“That’s true.”

“How are the wife and my favorite niece, Addy, doing?” I ask once we’re inside the car.

“They’re great. I think the wife is getting a combination of baby fever and sadness since Adelaide will be starting school after the summer is up.”

“Poor thing. The years flew by, though, didn’t they?”

“That they did. I blinked and suddenly the tiny baby keeping me up all night was a walking, talking sass pot.”

I snicker. “She gets that from her mama.”

“Oh, I know, but you can’t tell Abby that.”

I snicker. I like the petite blonde that tamed Addler with her smart mouth, no bull attitude, and her ability to be one of the guys. When he’d brought her out camping with us the first time I knew she was going to be a long-term thing.

“You thinking about adding to the family?”

“I’m weighing it. Right now we’re comfortable. Another mouth to feed might stretch us too thin. At the same time, I know we’re not getting any younger. I’ll be forty in a couple of months, and she’s going to hit thirty-six in December.”

“You still have time.”

“Yeah, but the age gap is steadily growing. Family politics, man.” He shakes his head. “What’s up with you? Any ladies on the horizon?”

“Maybe. But it’s kind of fucked up.”

“Well, now you have to continue on with the story,” he says as I pull out of the driveway and turn on the classic rock station.

“Houston called me a few weeks back and asked me if I could open the shop up early for a client, a woman. My first thought was she might be a cancer patient, so I say of course I’ll do it.”

“She wasn’t?” Ad asks.

“No, she has Alopecia.”

“Isn’t that where you lose all your hair?”

“It is, but there are all kind of different types. She has Alopecia Aereata which means her hair falls out in patches.”

“Damn, that must be mighty hard on a woman.”

“Yes, exactly why he asked me to open up the shop early and have her come in for a one-on-one. I was still picturing a thin, pale, sickly looking woman, because of the initial cancer assumption. Then she walks in and blows all my misconceptions up in my face. That’s what I get for assuming.” I recall the first time I saw her stride up to the door with impossibly long legs, and hips that filled out her jeans in the best possible way. Her clothes fit like they were tailor made for her lush body.

“That good, huh?” Addler asks bringing back to the present.

“Dude. She’s a brown-skinned goddess with these amazing eyes, full lips, and a chill vibe …” I trail off, unable to fully enunciate all the things that make Efia incredible.

“You sound freaking smitten, dude. Are you going to write her a note, ask her if she likes you, and leave two boxes with instructions to check one for yes and for no?”

“Jackass.”

“Seriously. She sounds awesome. I’m not seeing what the problem is. I mean, yes, you don’t want to date clients, but it’s not like you make a habit of it. Rules are destined to be bent and broken occasionally.”

“Well for one, she’s got a lot on her plate dealing with Alopecia.”

“Does it bother you?”

“What?” I snap, disgusted that he’d think so little of me. I’ve never been a shallow man.

“Her not having hair.”

I scowl. “Of course it doesn’t.”

“Okay, that reason is debunked.”

I sigh. “I wish it was that simple. It still bothers her. She’s still adjusting and unsure of herself. I’m telling you, she’s gorgeous, hair or no hair.”

“Maybe you should tell her that.”

I grip the steering wheel a little harder. “No, what she needs right now is a friend. I can be that. I … ugh! I asked her to the horror movie thing at Alamo. Just as friends.”

“You’re really interested in her, aren’t you?” he inquires, growing serious.

“I kind of am. I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks, and this will be or first time together out of the shop, but I have a feeling about her.”

I sneak a glance at him. He has a thoughtful expression on his face. “This is the first I’ve heard you mention a girl since you broke things off with Marilyn. That alone tells me you shouldn’t ignore it. I get that the timing might be off now, but it won’t always be. Be friends, get to know her, and let things develop naturally.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“What’s the mystery woman’s name?”

“Efia.” I can’t keep the smile from my lips. Maybe I had my mind made up in the first place.

***

Who knew a neck could be a work of art? Efia is all shapely shoulders, with a graceful swan neck, and delicate clavicle I want to lick in an off the shoulder Bride of Frankenstein T-shirt. Her legs are bare in a pair of black cut-off shorts that show off her legs. I clear my throat and push away from the wall.

“Hey,” she murmurs, giving me a small wave.

“Nice shirt.”

She laughs. “I thought it was fitting.”

I glance down at my own homage to the horror movie. “I share your enthusiasm.”

She holds up her large black purse. “I also brought my camera so we can capture the moment on film.”

“’Cause a phone camera isn’t enough?”

“Oh no, we’re busting out the Cannon Rebel, baby. Photography is a hobby I don’t get to indulge in much. Usually I’m the one getting someone ready to go in front of the camera.”

“What kind of photos do you like to take?”

“Anything. I haven’t gotten a chance to work much with people. It’s usually nature. I also like interesting buildings, or views. I’ve seen some amazing spaces thanks to the travelling I’ve done for my job.”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s an amazing plus to your job.” She joins me in line and I do my best not to get caught admiring her.

“What have you been up to the last couple of days? You look like you got some sun.”

“I did. I went fishing with my best friend, Addler.”

“Catch anything good?”

“Enough to have a nice little fish fry. Do you fish?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I can.”

“You don’t like it?” I ask, trying to gauge her expression.

“You promise not to laugh?”

“Cross my heart.”

“I hate taking the fish off. I cut the hell out of my hand doing it when I was younger and had to get stitches. Now I have a thing about it.” She grimaces.

I wince. “I’ll make you a deal, if we ever go fishing you bait, and I’ll take the fish off.”

“Done deal,” she says, gifting me with a flash of pearly whites that causes a chain reaction in my mouth. Suddenly, I’m grinning like a fool.

“I never would’ve pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”

“Well, I won’t lie. I do like fine dining, fashion, and travel. But I also like roughing it and kicking back. Life’s about balance. My dad taught me that.”

The more I learn about this woman, the more I like her.

“What about you? Surely there’s something you splurge on.”

“I like to craft my own beer and whittle.”

“Whittle? Like wood work?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone with that talent.”

“I’m a novice. But I enjoy it.”

“Do you have a workshop?”

“I do. I converted a shed into a work space in my backyard.”

“I want to see it sometime.”

This is the second reference to future plans we’ve made. I can only count that as a positive sign. We make small talk until we enter the building and find our seats in the middle of the theater—which I refer to as the sweet spot because the sound is the best.

“Did you eat?” I ask as we settle in.

“No. I’m totally using my cheat day for this.”

“Your what?” I ask.

“Cheat day. The one day out of the week when you can pig out and feel guilt free.”

I laugh and pat my less than perfect belly. “Can’t say I’m familiar with that.”

She smiles. “You don’t need to be. What you’ve got going works just fine.”

Does that mean she finds me attractive?
The lights dim, saving me from making a fool of myself. The opening sequence begins to roll as the waiters start to make their way down the aisles.

“So what high-calorie meal does the lady wish to partake in?”

She giggles. The light and airy sound pulls me deeper under her spell. “I’m not sure.” She flips the menu over. “Decisions, decisions,” she mumbles as she looks over the items listed. “Definitely the loaded fries. Oh, shake or beer?”

I force my attention onto my own menu and decide to go with a cheeseburger, fries, and a Shiner Bock. We order and I relax, growing comfortable as the movie starts. The best thing about movies is you don’t have to be on the entire time.

We enjoy our food and the awesomely horrible movie. I whistle as the lights go up and someone comes down on stage with a microphone.

“I know you all enjoyed that just as much as I did. Now we’ll get the cast up here for a Q&A session. Afterward, there will be time for the meet and greet, and photo ops.”

“Are you going to ask a question?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, but I’ll be entertained by the ones who do.” The crowd is an interesting mix of people. Some have dressed like the main characters; others look like they came straight from work in an office. The ages vary as well. We laugh our way through the questions and get into line to have our pictures taken. She whips out her camera, and I admire the concentration on her face as she captures the fan interactions and costumes with rapid clicks of the lens.

“Can you take a picture of us?” she asks the hosts as we pose with the cast.

“Of course.”

I wrap my arm around her waist and enjoy her warmth and the way her body fits against mine. It’s over sooner than I’d like, and we make our way out of the theater.

“That was so much fun. Thank you for inviting me,” she says as we step out of the building.

“Any time. You make great company. Let me walk you to your car?”

“Sure. Such a gentleman.”

“My mama taught me well.” I smile thinking of the petite, dark-haired, Mexican-American woman who raised me with manners, the Catholic faith, and the knowledge that family came above all.

“I’ve noticed. Well, this is me,” she says as she comes to a halt beside her car.