After I cal ed Daisy, I got undressed and ready for bed, found Hank’s CDs in the TV room, picked “Born to Run” (because I was in Hank’s house and that demanded Springsteen) and Shamus and I settled in with my lilac, embossed stationery.
I had set aside my stationery, was amusing myself (not) by thinking how my life was certifiably fucked and “She’s the One” had just started playing when Hank arrived.
He stopped at the side of the bed and stared down at me. He did this for a while; so long, it made me uncomfortable.
“What?” I asked.
“Been waitin’ a long time to meet the girl in this song.” I felt my body stil at the importance of what he just said.
So did Shamus, his head came up and he looked over at Hank too.
The lyrics to this song weren’t cryptic, even so somehow to me they col ided with the thundering, unbelievably cool music that told what I considered the real story; starting expectantly and then exploding and then drawing out to a beautiful, vibrating climax.
Every girl would secretly want to be “the one” even though she might lie to herself that she did not. It was a man’s view of the woman he desired, and even loved: bitter, sweet, defiant, admiring and fucking sexy as hel .
Regardless of al that, the chorus was a repeat of “she’s the one”, present tense, which said it al .
“Whisky,” I said quietly because I didn’t know what else to say.
He tugged off his t-shirt, dropped it on the floor and turned out the lamp. I heard rustling in the dark while he took off the rest of his clothes and then the bed moved as he got on it.
He lay down beside me but didn’t touch me and we both stayed stil in the dark.
I waited for him to touch me, turn into me, something, but he didn’t and Shamus settled his head on my bel y again.
To cover my confusion (and disappointment, if I was honest) I asked, “What’s the deal with Daisy’s husband, Marcus?”
Hank answered, “He’s bad news. Runs guns, has a stable of girls and deals drugs as a hobby.” I got up on my elbow and turned, looking down at his shadow in the dark, wondering if I should laugh. “You’re joking,” I said and I real y hoped he was.
“Nope,” he replied and my hope died.
Holy cow.
I didn’t want Daisy to be married to a bad guy. I real y liked Daisy. I wanted Daisy to be married to someone like Hank.
I asked, “Wel , how does that work, with Daisy being one of the clan?”
“Daisy’s a new addition, she’s only been around the last few weeks.”
I gasped at this piece of news. It was almost as unbelievable as knowing her husband was a crime lord.
“But, I thought you’d al known her for ages.”
“She took to watchin’ out for Jet when she had her problems and she stuck. Marcus isn’t a part of it and somehow it works.”
Boy, these people were nuts.
“What’s the deal with Marcus and Eddie?” I asked.
“Eddie wants Marcus in prison and has been workin’ to make that happen for a long time. Marcus doesn’t want to go to prison. They hate each other.”
That did not sound good.
“I don’t see this working for long,” I said. “What happens when Eddie puts Marcus in jail?”
“Daisy knows the score, so does Marcus. It’s not your problem and it isn’t mine. When that happens, we’l al deal.”
For Hank, it was simple as that. There was something very cool about that.
Even so.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I told him.
He sighed and turned to me (but, I noted, he stil didn’t touch me). “Roxanne, I like Daisy, hard not to like her. But she’s made her choice. Something happens to Marcus, and she reaches out her hand to ‘the clan’ as you cal it, I expect everyone wil take hold.”
“Including you?” I asked, needing to know the answer to that as much as I needed oxygen.
“Includin’ me.”
I felt something settle in me. It wasn’t in my bel y, my heart or my mind. It was everywhere. It was in my soul.
Hank got up and walked through the dark room and turned off Springsteen in the middle of “Jungleland”.
He lay down beside me and again didn’t touch me.
“Whisky?”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing.”
I was stymied; I wanted Hank to touch me. I didn’t want to admit it but there it was.
I’d never touched him. I had but I’d never made the first move.
I lay there some more.
Oh, fuck it. I thought and then rol ed into him.
My hands went to his chest and my lips went to his col arbone. His arm curled around my waist, Shamus got the hint, jumped off the bed and meandered out of the room.
“Thought you were never gonna do that,” he muttered and I could swear he sounded relieved.
I didn’t answer, I was busy, or at least my mouth was.
I explored his col arbone and neck with my mouth and tongue then I kissed him. He let me taste him, even tease him, al owing me control of the kiss and it was heady stuff.