And here's where you can earn two more entries for the drawing to get free books for a year from Rooster and Pig Publishing. See if you can spot the trans* twist from this snippet of the story, and why Dorothy and Frankie are new in town...
*****
From the Common Grounds series:
Two of Rick’s favorite customers caught his
attention as he walked around straightening chairs and wiping down tables after
the breakfast rush.
Glenn drawled, “Well, would you look at
that.” He desultorily stirring his low-fat macchiato.
“She sure seems out of place.” Sarah Jane’s
retort was rapid, spiky with interest. She was on her fourth mug of coffee and jittering
in her seat. She leaned forward in small staccato movements to see past Glenn’s
right shoulder.
...Rick glanced out the window of the coffee
shop, wondering what had those two fussing at not even eleven o'clock on a
foggy Tuesday morning. Sarah Jane and Glenn were peering around the potted fern
he'd just put in the corner of the front window. Well, he’d put it there last
Sunday. The fern, lush and glorious, was blocking his view of whatever, whoever
had them so riveted.
"No, no Sarah honey, she's waitin' on
somebody I tell you..." Glenn drawled with absolute conviction.
"Waiting? Glenn, the only thing on that
side of the street is one apartment building and that shady little
park...oh." Sarah Jane's voice trailed away. She and Glenn both scooted
their chairs to the side and then abruptly scooted them back. They whirled to
face one another; both startlingly red faced, and now Rick just had to know
what the hell had those two so fascinated.
He picked up a new pot of coffee and sauntered toward their table,
absently noting the tinkle of the door chimes.
"Sarah Jane, Glenn, good to see you
this morning...I --" Rick stopped
in stunned surprise as they both reached under the table to grab whatever bits
of him they could reach at that awkward angle.
"Rick, for heaven's sake don't ask what
we were just looking at." Sarah Jane hissed at him.
"She's standing at your counter looking
absolutely lickable." Glenn added his comment in that same honey-rough
tones which always left Rick thinking that all the best ones, like Glenn, were
straight. He topped off his customers coffees, and then, as casually as he
could manage, swung around slowly to see what all the fuss was about.
OH.
MY.
GOD!
She looked entirely lost. Wild curls rioted
around her face, dark brown mixed with shades of blond from ash to dark honey. She
was tall, probably 5'9" or 5'10", and sported a curvy, old-fashioned pin-up
girl sort of figure. Didn't straight boys call that an "hour-glass"
or something? She held a little girl of probably five or six years up over the
far side of the L-shaped glass display counter to pick out a pastry, and yet
despite the obvious strength...
Rick saw it. That something indefinable yet
infinitely real, something that was and wasn't there. An somehow waifish
feeling seemed to pour from her to fill the space around her. She needed to be
held. Rick could see... something marking her on a—man, he hated to sound all
new agey, but on a spiritual level. She carried around an invisible sign covered
in boldly written, glittering letters reading, "Handle with care".
Rick held up one finger. Called out,
"I'll be with you in just a moment." Then he tried to smile and
soothe and seem friendly all with his ordinary voice. He spun back around to
gape at Sarah Jane and Glenn. He gave his best impression of a fish, complete
with the bit where he opened his mouth repeatedly. Drawing in a breath through
a wind pipe suddenly half its normal size, he licked his lips. Then he cleared
his throat twice. Leaning in close he whispered, "I call dibs." And
then he wondered what the hell he was doing calling dibs on a woman.
****
"Dhat one momma, thas as preety as
Aunie 'Chelle's hastries."
Frankie's voice belled out sweet as a
xylophone. She tapped the glass with her electric blue cast—the very cast she’d
deemed “pretty” as soon as the pain medication kicked in. She tapped right over
the confection she'd obviously set her heart on. Her mother, wincing, quickly
slid her hand under the cast to keep the little hurricane from breaking the
counters top. One ER visit this month was more than enough. Add the stress of
moving lock, stock, and nursing license across the whole country and Dorothy was
just plain worn out. Then there was the apartment hunting, though the last
apartment they'd looked at seemed nice enough. The housing prices out here
would take a little getting used to. Something about the manager bugged her
though. He made her feel edgy, reminding her of—maybe they would keep looking.
Yeah. Not that place. When the man touched her hand to pass her a pen, her
stomach ached a little, and you should always listen to your gut. Right now her gut was telling her that this
place smelled delicious and if the coffee tasted as good as the man serving it
looked it was going to be some damn good coffee.
"How can I help you...?"
His voice was a sweet tenor. Dorothy looked
up and was caught. Oh man. Chocolate.
Dark chocolate eyes and what in HELL was a coffee guy doing with lips
that looked as if they tasted of raspberries?
"Hmmm?"
Oh. Freakin' Brilliant. It was all she could do to not drop her head into her
hands and call it quits. A professional speaker she was not, but neither was
she some sort of idiot savant of the professional speaker’s circuit.
"You're new here..."
Oh shit. He smiled, and Dorothy was glad
she'd chosen the bikini panties that morning in the hotel. The thin strip of
cloth a thong provided would have been dripping by now. What was he saying? Those
chocolate eyes and raspberry lips reminded her of her favorite candy...Michelle
sprinkled bits of those chocolate bars all over the frosting of the cake she'd
baked them right before they left.
"...wondering if you just moved into
the neighborhood..."
He even smelled liked chocolate. Shaggy
blond hair and just a touch of stubble...she was definitely stopping by the
pharmacy to get batteries. She—yeah, oh hell yeah, she definitely had a date
with B.O.B tonight right after hurricane season concluded for the day.
"...you must be from Florida or the
Gulf Coast, but we don't get hurricanes out here on the West Coast."
Dorothy closed her eyes and felt the heat
spreading up her neck to her face.
"Oh geez...how much did I say out
loud?" She cringed.
Rick laughed out loud, the warm tones
slipping and tumbling over one another. Dorothy pressed her thighs together and
wondered what it would be like to have him laugh like that while he was licking
right between her...a little voice piped up, interrupting her thoughts, and
dammit even her thoughts were at the mercy the voices in her head that never,
ever let her be. He’d hate her if he ever got between her thighs. He’d hate
her, and maybe hurt her just like…
Frankie’s voice piped up, and Dorothy
thanked all the powers that be for the almighty power of childus-interruptus
which could even silence the horrible voices in her head.
"Momma, can I habe my hastrie?"
asked Frankie.
Rick peered over the edge of the pastry
case. He looked up and started to open his mouth only to be cut off.
"No,yes, 4, and she wants the one that
looks like it has ribbons all over it... and those are the questions everyone
asks." Dorothy rolled her eyes. "If I had a dollar for every time
someone asks if she is a model, do I know she's dressed like freakin' Snow
White, and don't feel bad it's her height, everyone thinks she's a couple of
years older than she really is."
Rick looked back at the woman. She’d nailed
everything he was going to ask. He couldn’t help but be startled, nor wondering
how she had so perfectly answered the questions he hadn't even voiced.
"You have a very expressive face, I'll
take a coffee and a croissant, oh, and a house salad with chickpeas, the
raspberry vinaigrette for dressing, a glass of milk for my little
hurricane, and how much of what I was
thinking did I say out loud?" The words rushed the words out of her mouth.
Her tone dipped, going a little deeper, a tiny bit huskier over the word
raspberry, and what was that about...?
"Ummm....something about meeting Bob
back at the hotel later, after the hurricane stopped..."
Glancing down past the counter again he
smirked slightly. "I think I get the hurricane reference now though."
His smile broadened back into that sweet adult dessert she wanted to eat for at
least a few hours. " I am still curious about Bob though...or was it
B.O.B.?" Rick chuckled as he asked the last. "I'm Rick by the way... Rick
C. Torres. If you and your little hurricane want to find a table I'll bring
your food right out... do you need a booster seat for her? And I make a mean
toasted PB&J if she's interested in lunch."
"Oh... a PB&J sounds great. She
always loves those. Uh." And YES he already knew the answer to the other
question by the delicious blush riding up her face. "Uh...my name's
Dorothy. I'm not meeting anyone later...w-we just got here, are still looking
for an apartment actually. Uh... It's too bad the one across the way isn't
going to work out. This cafe is lovely and it would have been so close to my
new job...oh well." She shrugged her shoulders, looking frail again
somehow, and a little overwhelmed and before anyone could stop him he opened
his mouth. Said something crazy. Abso-freakin-lutely crazy. The sexy little
stutter must have short circuited his brain. He always loved when he flustered
his boyfriends enough to make them stutter.
"There's an apartment upstairs that's
going to be open soon." Holy Hell, that was his apartment... and dammit
his mouth was still moving,"... how soon do you need to find a place?"
Glenn had come up behind Dorothy and was
looking at him like he had lost his mind.
Oh hell, he had lost his mind.
"I'll be right over with that booster seat and your drinks then he
said." He hoped Glenn could read the desperation in his eyes, cause if he
blabbed right now Rick was going to look like some kind of sick-o stalker
psycho. Dorothy and her daughter moved off, and Glenn let the laugh he'd been
holding in rumble in his chest. "I know you called dibs man, but moving
her into your apartment before knowing her even an hour is fast work even for a
sweet slickster like you."
Glenn was laughing openly now, still quietly
enough to not draw attention with his head tipped down, glancing up through his
lashes in sly merriment. Thank God Dorothy hadn't noticed the odd reaction he
was giving to the apartment offer.
"Glenn, can you and Sarah meet me for
dinner tonight?" Rick waved away the money Glenn had out to pay for their
lunches... "I think I'm gonna need someone to talk to later... don't worry
about lunch, man. It's on me."
"I know I can make it... and I’ll see
if Sarah Jane has any plans for tonight... though even if she does, I’m sure
she can be persuaded to cancel them. Where do you want to meet us, and
when?" Glenn's blue eyes sparkled as he asked the question. Rick could see
that he had about a hundred more questions but thankfully he was opting to ask
them later. When she couldn't overhear things that made him seem...well, just
plain loco.
"Thanks Glenn. 7:30pm I guess, at that
new Cajun place over on Folsom maybe? Please come even if Sarah Jean can't... I
just... I really am going to need someone to talk to tonight." Rick gave a lopsided little smile as he
spoke, and Glenn got the strongest urge to wrap the other man up in his arms.
He wanted to make everything... Ooo-kay where did that come from? Guy must
remind him of his kid brother. Because Glenn liked the forms he wrapped up in
his arms to be curvy little packages like the lovely in front of him. Yeah,
that was it.
****
The clatter of the restaurant behind them
set a pleasant level of ambient noise. Glenn glanced around, and then trained
his gaze back on Rick’s eyes as he listened to Sarah Jean light into Rick. "So,
you're telling us that you told her she could have your apartment—which she
doesn't know is yours—and now you have to move out by Friday so she can move in
on Saturday?"
If Sarah Jane's voice got any more
incredulous she'd become a caricature of herself. Her gingery eyebrows were hovering
up near her hairline and the sheer stupefaction expressed in her brandy colored
eyes was making Rick feel more loco than he had when arranging for one of his
part-timers to come in for the afternoon so that he could hide all his photos,
all the stuff that made it obvious that the apartment was his. More loco than
when he'd shown the apartment to Dorothy, claiming that he'd cleared it with
his "tenant" earlier and yes, muy more loco than when he'd claimed
that the guy didn't want to give up his lease so the sublet was only going to
cost her $750. A month. For a large four bedroom flat. In San Francisco. He
could only hope that these two people that he'd know casually for a year and a
half would take pity and offer to help him.
Mark and Guy were out of town, Robert wasn't due to return from studying
abroad for another three months, and Lizzie and Sheila were in Denver for a week
at Sheila's sister's wedding. And he couldn't ask his brothers. Tio abuelo
Manuel would help, but at 82, even a robust 82, his biggest contribution was
likely to be ordering the pizza for afterwards.
"Yeah, that's about the size of
it." Rick ducked his head, looking across the table through his lashes at
the last hope he had of help in pulling off this crazy scheme.
The rumble that masqueraded as Glenn's laugh
started up in his chest again. His shoulders were shaking as he bit his lips. When
he started slowly shaking his head back and forth Rick's hopes took a sharp
dive. Rick bit his own lip and looked down, then spoke quickly, trying to sound
nonchalant about the whole thing...maybe he wouldn't scare away two of his best
customers.
"It's okay, I know it's a lot to ask on
short notice and -"
Glenn shot Sarah Jane a loaded glance—nice
to have known one another since second grade sometimes—and reached across the
table to get Rick's attention. Except instead of tapping the smaller man on the
back of the hand as he'd intended to he found himself cupping the other man's
hand. Rick’s skin felt cool to the touch, and his fingers shook slightly. Rick
looked up, releasing his bottom lip from the fierce grip his teeth had on it.
The plump flesh gleamed with moisture, soft and sweetly pink against the
whiteness of his teeth. His lips parted. Glenn had a sudden vivid mental image
of himself leaning forward to lick that raspberry pink surface, learn if it
tasted as sweet as it looked. In his mind, Rick leaned forward, meeting him
halfway. The café owner pressed his firm lips against Glenn’s, and then he—
"Glenn here—” the back of Sarah Jane's
hand thwacked into her friend's chest, startling him and halting his
unconscious movement forward, “—and I would be happy to help you."
"I know it seems loony, but she was
just so...just..." Rick spread his hands and shrugged.
"Yes she was." Though Glenn spoke
it was clear from the look on Sarah Jane's face she was in complete agreement. She
lifted her water glass as if to make a toast. The other two followed suit, and
with a wry sidelong glance at Glenn, she said, "To becoming friends of
Dorothy." She smirked a bit, and then, after taking a small sip of her
water, she continued to speak. "What I'm unclear on Rick, is if Dorothy is
living in your apartment, where are you going to live?" Glenn wondered if
this was what Rick had felt like earlier as he heard himself saying," I
have a spare room... you can stay with me until you figure things out." Well,
obviously insanity was contagious. Because Glenn didn't have a spare room. Where
in hell was he supposed to put all his home office stuff while Rick was staying
there? He nudged Sarah Jane's ankle with the toe of his shoe and gave her the don't
you dare say a word look. One eyebrow discreetly raised, eyes slightly
narrowed. She got the message loud and clear, though clearly she did not like
what he was saying. Sarah Jane always got him. It was why he was planning to
ask her to marry him. He liked not
having to explain. He liked how she always got him. He liked her right down to
her pretty toes.
Yeah. He just wanted to help Rick to help
Dorothy. Cause there was sure something about her that made you want to help
her. Protect her. Help anyone who was trying to help her. Plus Rick reminded him of his baby brother...
though he never wondered if his brother's lips tasted like raspberries. Never
looked at his brother's lips and wondered if he could get his girlfriend to
wear raspberry flavored gloss. Or maybe get some raspberry flavored bodypaint
so he could lick it off every hot caramel colored inch of flesh. Poor guy must
have caught hell growing up with a pair of lips like that. Right. So he wanted
to help him out. Was gonna let him stay in his house. Made perfect sense. Yeah.
Sure. Now if the waiter would just come back, because suddenly Glenn wanted to
change the dressing on his salad...for some reason he had a distinct craving
now for the raspberry vinaigrette.
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