“Hey Skull, how many girls you had on the back of your bike?”
“Is there a reason you’re asking?” I know why; I just want to see if she will admit it. Beth’s grip tightens, but I don’t let her pull away.
“Call it mild curiosity,” Katie says.
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“I think I’ll risk it, Se?or Asshole.”
“Torch doesn’t spank you enough.”
“I’ll tell him that after you man up here.”
“Two,” I tell her, and her lips curl in dislike. I feel Beth’s hand trying to leave mine, but I don’t let it.
“Then I guess you are dumber than you look,” Katie says.
“Katie, let it go. Are you ready, Skull?”
“Yes.” I turn to walk with Beth to my bike again. I take three steps and the tension is still making Beth tense beside me. It’s coming off of her in waves.
“Hey, Pipsqueak,” I call out, still giving Katie my back and making sure to give her the nickname that she hates.
“Yeah?”
“My mom.”
“What?” she asks, and Beth comes to a complete stop beside me. I half turn so I’m looking at Beth when I tell her.
“My mom. She’s the only other woman who has been on my bike,” I tell Katie, but I’m looking at Beth the whole time. Beth stares at me and then she gives me her own surprise. She reaches up on her tip-toes, slides her tongue along the ring in my lip, tugging, and then she kisses me. It’s a brief kiss and she doesn’t deepen it, giving me her tongue like I want. But her lips on mine, in any way, is good. We break apart when I feel a slap on my back, startling me.
“I might grow to like you yet, Skull. I just might,” Katie says, limping around us on her crutches after slapping me hard on the back. The girl has some strength in her.
“I live for the moment,” I tell her sarcastically, winking at Beth.
Beth laughs. It’s soft, but it’s sincere and I gave it to her.
That’s all that matters.
“This is beautiful,” she says.
We’re not on my houseboat, but close. I took her out to a small piece of land that’s close to the lake. There’s no dock, but there’s water close to the bank, and it’s a place that I’ve visited a lot over the years and for only one reason…
“It is,” I tell her, looking out over the water.
“It reminds me of…” She trails off, and I look over at her. Her face is red and I don’t think it’s a trick of the sun that’s starting to set over the water.
“Of the place in Georgia where you and I made love?”
She looks away from me, and I think I might have pushed too far.
“Yes,” she finally whispers, her chin resting on her knees as she gathers her legs up against her chest, watching the sunset.
“That’s the reason I started coming here,” I tell her, knowing what I’m giving away, but unable to stop myself. “When I missed you the most, I could come out here and try to calm my thoughts.”
I expected her to ask me more about that, but she doesn’t. I’m almost disappointed. Doesn’t she want to know more about how I’ve missed her?
“Did your mom actually ride on the back of your bike?” she asks instead, and I take a breath, remembering the first woman I loved; it only seems right that I give that title to Beth.
“Only once. She was sick. She wanted to feel free. She asked me to take her to the lake so she could breathe the air. She swore you could smell the fish in the water.”
Beth takes a deep breath with her eyes closed. I smile, knowing what she’s doing, but my eyes are glued to the way her sweater clings to her breasts and how they move with her breath.
“Why did you name Gabby after her?” I ask, wondering if she’ll tell me the real reason.
“Skull, our time together might have been short, but I knew how much you adored your mother, and she was a strong woman. I want Gabby to have that to lean on. I never did.”
“How did your mom get messed up with the Donahues?”
I watch her face, and something moves over it that I can’t read. Instinctively, I know that there’s yet another secret Beth is keeping.
“With my family, nothing is ever what it seems,” she says cryptically.
“No offense, but I believe I know that already, mi cielo.”
“My sky…”
“Beth…”
“I used to lie in bed at night and remember your voice whispering those words as you made love to me. I ached to hear them. Now that you’re saying it… I’m not sure I trust it.”
“I’m trying, Beth. That’s all I can do,” I tell her, aggravated that it might not be enough.
“There’s so much between us. Maybe there’s just too much water under the bridge,” she says, looking out over the water.
“I don’t believe that.”