Chapter Five
Jake paced the kitchen, washed the coffee pot, and paced the kitchen some more. An image of Penny, sweaty from shoveling snow, clingy shirt and her not unpleasant scent of exertion kicked up his pulse. Now, in the shower, a vision of water trickling over flesh he could only imagine, and he knew he had to get out of the house.
She’d accepted his apology without a smart remark or conditions. He shouldn’t have kissed her cheek. The apology could’ve worked for her, and all the other faceless females he’d disrespected. But she wasn’t faceless, and his desire to caress her, taste her, nearly overwhelmed him. She didn’t recoil at his touch, which only helped fuel the longings. His goal was to build a friendship with her—not ache with desire.
“Damn.”
In the hallway, he grabbed his coat from the hook, shrugged into it, and opened the front door. The cold air neutralized his heat as he strode to his truck. Mandy wouldn’t be home from work for several hours, and spending time alone in the house with Penny could end up undermining the best of intentions. He cranked the engine without response, counted to five, and tried again. This time, it sputtered and turned over.
On the drive into town, he remembered seeing the Ashurst the day before, and turned onto Aspen. He hadn’t been inside in a decade. Might be fun to check out the old venue. When the Ashurst came into view, he searched for a parking space. Down the block and on the opposite side of the street, he parked in front of Babbitt’s Backcountry. When the door closed on his truck, a sign in the store’s window caught his attention: Warehouse Help Needed.
With a deep breath and a shrug of his shoulders, he entered the store.
A kid in his teens stood behind the closest counter. “Who do I see about the warehouse help wanted?”
“That’d be Mel, but he’s not in on weekends.” He reached under the counter and brought up a sheet of paper. “Here’s the application if you want to bring it back on Monday.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Outside, he opened his truck door and tossed the sheet of paper on the seat. A start.
Jake strode down the block to the Ashurst. Standing on the sidewalk, he read the billboard for that night’s show. Three bands were billed as appearing, one of which he might have heard. Without much hope, he tried the door and, surprised when it swung open, stepped inside. The lobby, harboring the musty smell of aged carpet, spilled beer, and hot electrical wiring, brought on a déjà vu moment. He breathed deep and smiled.
Voices drifted from inside the theater. He strolled through the entrance, but didn’t see anyone, so he veered left and entered the bar area. Chairs were stacked on a dozen round tables bolted to the red cement floor. A ledge and barstools ran the length of the black metal railing and overlooked the sunken theater seating located in front of the stage. To his right stood the bar. No one in sight. He unbuttoned his jacket. The voices came from somewhere behind the stage. He strolled to the railing and looked out over the empty seating—a view he rarely got to see from this side of a stage. The walls of the room were black, theater chairs red, and the floor of the main room a light colored wood. The black ceiling nearly disappeared under a mass of organized lighting and sound systems. The old theater hadn’t changed.
What the voices were saying couldn’t be made out, yet the tone had turned to a heated rhythm. An urge to stand on stage pumped through him. He exited down the steps on the far side and meandered along the seating area toward the stage. The voices grew louder.
“We’re losing any footing we had.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Then you aren’t paying attention to box office sales. Damn, Mike. This place could be more. Should be more, anyway—like the premier venue for rock. We aren’t getting the bigger bands in here. Our audience is shrinking. I didn’t invest in this place to watch it crumble around me.”
“You think I did?”
Jake halted. The voices faded as if they were pacing. He had no business inside the closed theater, or overhearing the business of the theater. Yet…he gazed on the empty stage and set his foot on the first step leading up, as if pulled by an invisible force. The twosome’s voices grew louder.
“Well, Alan’s all we’ve got right now. I told him we needed a booking plan.”
“I could do as good.”
“You want to take the job on? I don’t. I don’t know squat about booking. At least he has some experience.”
“Part time. Some experience. He’d do better to concentrate on his music, and we’d do better to try to find a real booking manager.”
The second step creaked; Jake hesitated then forged ahead. Two men stepped out from the wings, one tall and slender dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. He looked to be in his late forties. About the same age as his partner, the second man stood only slightly shorter, thick across the chest and thighs like a weight lifter, with hair past his shoulders and tattoos on his forearms.
“Can we help you?” the slender man asked.
“The front door was open.” He gestured back toward the entrance. “I just wanted to look around.”
“Hey.” The second man slipped around the first and stopped in front of Jake. “Are you…?” He took a step closer. “You’re Jake Winters, right?”
“Right.”
“Damn, man. I wondered what happened to you.” He stuck his hand out for a shake. “My name is Chris Hammond. This is Mike Ward.”
Mike stepped up and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Same here.” Some memory niggled his brain. “Chris Hammond. Are you a guitarist?”
“Yeah, man. We played the same gig in Seattle in another life.”
“That’s right. Are you playing here?”
“Nah. The band never went beyond those bar gigs. I discovered I liked it behind the scenes better. Mike and I bought the Ashurst three years ago.”
“Really? Wow, that’s got to be a change for you. Congratulations.”
Chris nodded. “Big change.” He scratched a whisker-stubbled chin and stuck a hand in a baggy jean pocket. “So, what the hell are you doing in Flagstaff?”
“My sister lives here. I’m visiting.”
“I was hoping you stopped in to book a gig. Saw Flash Theory years back on this very stage.”
“Yeah, being here brings back a few memories.” Early on, clear memories.
“Damn shame the band fell apart. You know—all the trouble.”
“Yeah, well…” He gazed around the theater, letting the topic slide into silence.
“You got a project going right now?” Mike asked.
“No, no. Giving music a rest. Trying some other things.” He glanced overhead and into the side wings then scanned the empty seats sloping upward to the back of the theater. Mentally checking his pulse, he didn’t find the surge he used to feel when his feet hit a stage—even an empty one. “You like the business side of music better, Chris?”
“It’s just as tough, but I’ve got a hell of a lot more control over my life.”
His partner made a noise in his throat.
Chris chuckled. “Mostly anyway. Flag is small, but has a good music scene. We just need to get a bigger piece of the pie.”
Mike’s cell rang. “Excuse me.” He pulled the phone from his pocket and strolled off stage.
“I better get going and let you figure it out.” Jake stuck his hand out for a goodbye shake. “Good seeing you again.”
“If you hang around long enough, I’d like to get together. Go for a beer or something. It’d be a pleasure to talk about the industry. One of my favorite things to do with guys who’ve been there, done that. You know?”
“Sounds good.” He didn’t know if he could have a sit-down in a bar with another musician yet, but he left the door open. Another test he needed to take…eventually.
Chris dug in his back pocket. “Here’s my card. Give me a call.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
Jake hopped down the stairs, strode to the center aisle of the seats, and out to the lobby. The billboard of upcoming shows by the ticket office promised nothing too edgy. Of course, he’d been out of the scene for nearly two years with a big chunk of his time spent in treatment, so what the hell did he know? He buttoned his jacket and exited the warmth.
On the sidewalk, he surveyed the shops on either side for a place to eat lunch. Across the street and down a half-block, a café called Jane’s proclaimed organic sandwiches. He pulled the collar of his jacket higher and stepped over the slushy gutter to cross the street.
The music business. He’d always enjoyed the booking side, before they’d gotten big enough to have a manager. Right now, he needed a paycheck, but in the meantime, researching along those lines couldn’t hurt. He’d overheard just enough to think a chat with Chris Hammond could be beneficial, both professionally and personally.
****
Penny sprinkled the top layer with cheese, turned the temperature to low, and slid the lasagna back into the oven to keep warm. Mandy would be home in half an hour. Before she headed to the bathtub, she peeked out the window, checking for Jake’s truck. He’d been gone all day. Not seeing the vehicle left her both relieved and disappointed. Their…encounter…that morning had been an eye-opener. He’d actually apologized; he’d admitted remembering her, then had the balls to practically kiss her. Was it a friend’s gesture?
Hell no.
At least, she didn’t want it to be. But if she couldn’t get out of her hot-for-the-rocker mindset, she’d have big trouble acting like an adult and treating him like a regular guy.
With a glance to the table, set with Mandy’s Christmas dishes and a bright red tablecloth, she made a dash for the bathroom. In spite of having showered that morning, a good soak in the tub sounded delicious. Maybe a dash of sweet grass oil in the water. Old Chief at The White Wolf Spirit claimed the scent could soothe and ground a jittery soul. Not prone to wear any fragrance, she’d come to like the Native American oil on occasion. An evening with Jake could certainly be an occasion.
While the water filled the tub, she upswept her hair in a clip, shrugged out of her clothes, and added the oil. As she eased into the hot water, the noise of the front door closing gave her a start. He was back. She slid in to her neck, closed her eyes, and listened.
A tap on the bathroom door made her jump, sending little tidal waves the length of the tub.
“Hey, you.”
She relaxed. “Mandy?”
“Who else would it be?” she asked through the door.
“You’re early.”
“Yes, I am. Had Jackson cover so I could get home for a shower before dinner. We’re decorating the tree tonight!” Her housemate’s voice rang with anticipation.
“Sorry, I won’t take too long. How about you make a salad while I’m in here. Lasagna is done and in the oven.”
“Where’s Jake?”
“I don’t know. He left mid-morning while I was in the shower.”
“Oh, wait. Here he is. Okay, Fairy, don’t stay in there all evening. Hey, Jake.” Her voice faded as she moved from the door.
So much for soothing and grounding.
After a quick soaping and a few minutes reclining, she opened the drain, dried off, let her hair down and ruffled it, added mascara and powder blush, then shrugged into her robe.
Escaping to her room, she yelled to Mandy. “I’m out. Your turn.”
In order to avoid meeting Jake alone, she would stay in her room until Mandy’s kitchen noises started. What she really wanted was to lay eyes on his perfect smile and smoky gray eyes, hear his musical voice, and spend the evening with him. She also wanted to jump his bones, but that wouldn’t be very “friendly.” In the company of his sister, restraint would have to be her guideline. Somehow, she’d have to find the willpower to get over her teenage crush and see him like Mandy did—just a good brother and nice guy.
****
Jake finished securing the tree in the stand and added water as Mandy called from the hallway. “Okay, Bubba. Get your butt in and out of the shower. I want to eat and get on with the decorating.”
He trotted into the hall. “Pushy, pushy,” he teased.
She stuck out her tongue and disappeared into her bedroom.
He strolled by Penny’s door on his way to the den. She hadn’t shown her face since he’d been home. He’d blown the apology that morning with the half-assed kiss on the cheek. She might be sorry she’d agreed to the truce after he’d added the physical touch. Couldn’t help himself. Wet hair sticking to her cheek and forehead, the earthy scent from exertion, and her lips, parted as if waiting to be kissed evoked a raw and inviting sensuality. Sensual, yet vulnerable.
And when he realized that, he should’ve backed off.
In his room, he chose clean clothes and headed to the bathroom, still thinking of Penny. He could see a little star-struck desire reflected in her wide-open, deep brown eyes. Her eyes. Damn. So big and beautiful. Regardless of how strong the attraction, he needed to squash those feelings. If she could start fresh with him, she could befriend Jake the man. But if his light kiss had harkened back to their first meeting, then he’d taken two steps backward with her.
The shower beat across his shoulders. Well, hell, the only thing to do was try again, keep her at a distance, and be a friendly guy at the same time. Good theory, but thoughts of her still heated him.
The water heater finally gave in to the third bathing in the house, and the water went cold. He stood a few more minutes, welcoming the cool down before facing her for the evening.
Dried and dressed, he entered the hall as Penny emerged from her room. What looked like painted on jeans displayed the roundness of her ass, and it was all he could do to keep his gaze head high.
“Hi.” His resolve wavered and no words beyond the meek greeting would come.
Her shiny black hair framed her face and caught on the over-sized, loose neck of her short-sleeved black sweater. “Hi.” A brief smile didn’t halt her stride.
He followed her silently to the kitchen, only slightly distracted by a familiar smell that made his mouth water.
Mandy smiled, a bowl of salad in her hands, as they entered. “About time. The lasagna is ready to cut.” She set the greens on the table. “The bread should be done, too.” She turned back to the oven.
“Lasagna?” His stomach came to attention. “I’m suddenly starving. I didn’t know you could make lasagna.”
“Not me. This is Penny’s concoction. And you’re in for a treat.”
“It smells great. And just happens to be my favorite meal.”
Penny smiled, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Then I hope you’re not disappointed.”
He wasn’t. His appreciation after the first bite loosened her up, and the three of them conversed and laughed over Mandy’s hectic day at the restaurant.
“So, what was your day like, Jake?” his sister asked around a bite of garlic bread.
“I went into town. Actually picked up an application, but won’t be able to put it in until Monday.”
“Where?” Penny asked.
“Babbitt’s. Whoopee.”
“Retail?” Mandy’s doubtful frown made him laugh.
“What? Don’t think I can sell moisture wicking socks?”
“I—”
“Warehouse.” He could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
“It’s a job.” Penny interjected with an upbeat tone. “You can always keep looking, right?”
He thought of the Ashurst and opened his mouth to mention his fledgling idea, but his sister had sprung to her feet.
“Don’t anyone move.” Mandy dashed out of the kitchen.
He turned to Penny. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged. “Not a clue.”
Mandy returned with a large, flat box wrapped in Christmas paper in her hands. “An early present, bro.”
“Angel. No…”
She shoved his plate and napkin out of the way, one handed the lasagna pan to the counter, and set the box in front of him on the table. “Yes. Just open it and say thank you. You’ll need it now that you’ll be out and about more in Flagstaff. And when you get your job.”
Pleased at his sister’s caring, but a touch embarrassed by her mothering, he tore into the paper…and pulled a deep olive green jacket from the box.
“You need something heavier than that denim jacket. I thought about getting you a typical puffy down, but this is just as warm and more you.” Her eyes sparkled, and she clasped her hands under her chin.
To please her, he stood and slipped it on. The weight of the jacket immediately wrapped him in warmth, too warm for the kitchen, but he left it on as he folded her in his arms. “You spoil me, Angel, and I love you.”
She thumped him on the chest. “Not really. I just want you to stay warm and healthy so you can get a job and stop mooching off me.” With a shove, she snickered, and broke his embrace, whisking plates as she moved. “We’re done. You cooked, Penny, so I’ll wash. Jake, you can help her lift the boxes of decorations off the shelves in the utility room and carry them to the living room. Don’t start without me.”
“I think we have our orders.” He thumped the table in front of Penny.
She laughed and scooted her chair back. “The woman knows how to delegate.”
He slipped his coat off and draped it over a kitchen chair, then followed Penny through the laundry room and to the decorations. When she opened the door into the storage area he shivered.
“Damn. I should’ve left the coat on. Wonder if I’ll ever get used to this cold.”
“Probably not. You’ll just learn to dress better.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel more confident.”
Her laugh treated him again. He liked her laughter, which always ended with a drawn out ha that invited him to join in. Jake chuckled.
“I can get a step stool, but I think you can reach the shelf without it.” She pointed above her head. “Those two green boxes.”
When he moved closer, she held her ground, and he had to brush against her to reach the shelf. The scent of sweet grass filled his head, evoking a vision of lying down beneath a blue sky on a sunny day with Penny snuggled against him. The one bare bulb in the ceiling dimly lit the small room, but well enough he could see the curve of her lips with the hint of a kiss-me smile. Her gaze surveyed his mouth. Apparently, his apology had been well received. Maybe, too well received. His heart pumped, sending blood downward and robbing him of a needed clear head. Only when he turned, his arms full, did she back off.
“I don’t know if Mandy’s planning on getting out her Santas and snowmen tonight or not. We’ll just take these two boxes for now. Let me have that one and you get the other one.”
He handed the box over and slowly brought the other box down, giving his body time to calm and his head to clear.
“You know, on second thought, let me have that box, too—they aren’t heavy—and you can get the two red boxes with her collections.”
“I can do that.” He held the door first.
She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “See you inside.”
A wink accompanied her sassy smile. He let the door close and tried to wipe the view of her backside from his mind. Now, happy for the cold and its sobering effect, he stacked the two red boxes and lifted. Her attitude had definitely changed. The truce had been called, although, the vibes he got had more than friendship in the current.
Maybe friendship is highly overrated.
****
She’d flirted. It felt good and normal and grownup. That must mean she could view him as a regular guy, so why not do what comes naturally? He’d said he wanted to be friends, but he’d also said he’d thought about her after they’d first met. He’d acted jittery when they were alone. A good sign.
“There you are.” Mandy took a box from her, and they headed into the living room. “Where’s Jake? You didn’t conk him over the head and leave him for dead, did you?”
“No. I don’t hate him anymore, silly. He’s a nice guy. Just like you said. He’s bringing in your snowmen and Santas.”
Her housemate leaned sideways and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Penny.”
They set the boxes next to the tree on the floor.
“Where do you want these?” Jake appeared with the two red boxes, a smudge of dirt across his cheek above the beard.
“Next to the chair. Thanks, Jake.” Mandy clapped her hands. “Let’s do a before and after pic of our decorating.” She grabbed her cell from the coffee table. “First a selfie.” She looped her arm through her brother’s and brought him between the two of them in front of the tree.
“Wait.” Penny rubbed her thumb at the dirt on Jake’s cheek. Goosebumps traveled her arms at her forwardness. Yet, when she sensed him holding his breath at her touch, a wave of bravado calmed her nerves. She ran her thumb over the soft skin above his whisker line then down through the beard, surprised at the softness. When she glanced into his eyes, she faltered at his smoky stare, and dropped her hand. His gaze transfixed her until Mandy made a throat clearing noise.
Penny leaned around him, glaring into Mandy’s wide-eyed smirk. “Okay, ready.”
After the click, her roommate said, “Now one of the bare tree.” She snapped the picture then elbowed her brother. “Open the boxes. You might even remember some of them.”
The siblings kneeled on the floor and unwrapped ornaments. Penny plopped onto a chair, content to watch, yet fighting an expected downturn of emotion. As much as she loved Mandy like the sister she never had, and in spite of her attraction to Jake, the dread that always accompanied Christmas activity set the scene like a sad black and white movie. Their chatter receded into background noise; her eyes burned, and a sudden flight mode took hold, forcing her to stand.
Mandy jumped up. “Penny, look at this funny snow scene ornament.” She practically vaulted over her brother’s kneeling posture, grabbed her arm, and thrust the decoration into her hand.
Her chest tightened, but she blinked away the burn to stare at the clear plastic bulb. Inside, a snowman stared back.
“Look. Shake it.” Her roommate clasped a hand over hers and shook. Snow swirled. “Mom got it from Avon one year.”
A dull ache touched her temples. “That’s nice, but I—”
“Will you help me with the lights?” Jake stepped beside her, his hand grazed her back. “Mandy is useless when it comes to the patience required to get the cords around the tree.”
They were ganging up on her. A vision of shoving them back and vaulting from the room crossed her mind.
“Watch it, bro.” Mandy spoke to her brother, yet she stared into Penny’s face.
Her friend’s sympathetic eyes spoke softly to her inner fear; Jake’s hand rested warm on the small of her back. When Mandy kissed her cheek, his fingers tightened and drew Penny closer. Warm, safe, protected. She didn’t want to run. The tension in her head eased.
“I’ll unwrap more ornaments while you two do the lights. Okay?”
She could do this. “Sure.” She wanted to be a part of the celebration, and part of their joy.
As the lights settled onto the branches, the pine scent wafted delicately around her. Her hands brushed Jake’s several times, and all the while the brother and sister bantered, gradually drawing her into the merriment. Once she’d relaxed into the festivity, his closeness and the occasional touch, whether intentional or not, brought a slow simmer of desire.
When the last ornament dangled from the branch, she beamed and admitted to herself she’d had fun. As Mandy lifted her cell to snap the after picture, Jake’s arms embraced both of their shoulders. His touch might’ve been a friendly gesture, but Penny leaned into him with more than friendly intentions. She’d seen something in his glance from time to time that couldn’t be classified as friends-only.
Mandy sighed and turned, breaking away from the threesome. “Well, guys, that was fun, but I’ve got to hit the sack.”
“What? How about the Santas and snowmen?” Jake protested.
Penny tipped her chin to look into his face. The blinking tree lights caught the lighter strands in his dark auburn hair. With his arm still draped around her shoulder, the slow simmer turned up a notch.
“We’ll do the Santas and snowmen tomorrow night. I have to go in a half-hour earlier in the morning to pay Jackson back for covering for me today.”
Jake’s arm dropped from her as his sister wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged. “Love you, Bubba. Thanks.”
He kissed her cheek. “No, no. Thank you.”
“Goodnight, you two.” Mandy cast a sideways glance in her direction and practically skipped out of the living room.
****
Vince tossed his briefcase on the living room sofa, officially on vacation for the upcoming week. No one at work questioned him dropping in Saturday afternoon or his last minute decision to take a week off and head somewhere north, maybe the Verde Valley, anywhere to escape the office Christmas party and gift exchange. It was common knowledge he didn’t partake in holiday revelry since Brita died.
He poured two fingers of Jack Daniels over ice then carried the drink into the den. He picked a coaster from the holder on the corner of his desk and set the sweating glass on the picture of Mount Rushmore. A fleeting image of Brita, laughing and declaring the cheesy coasters were the perfect vacation memento, flashed through his mind. Thoughts of her surfaced more and more lately. What the hell had happened to the ice in his veins? Life would be easier without memories. He grabbed his glass and drank nearly half of the whiskey down.
After setting the drink on the coaster, he strode to the closet, opened it, and shoved the coats aside. Kneeling, he moved two boxes of shoes, gripped the inside corner of carpeting and listened to the ripping sound of the Velcro holding it in place. After punching a code into the panel on the floor, he lifted the door on the hatbox-sized floor safe. Poking his fingers around, they nudged banded currency this way and that until cold metal bumped his knuckles. He gripped the barrel and withdrew the suppressed .22.
Tomorrow, he’d check in at the motel on Highway 260 in Camp Verde. A room in the back with an outside entrance would give him the most privacy for his comings and goings. The trip between Flagstaff and Camp Verde would take under an hour. And Camp Verde was warmer without any damned snow on the ground. A day, maybe two, watching Jianna Ricci’s house would firm up that she’d be alone early evening, before her roommate got home from work. Good timing. The cover of darkness.
He sat at his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and withdrew the gun cleaning kit. This would be the last time he cleaned this gun. A drive by Roosevelt Lake before heading back to Phoenix, a stop to look over the dam, and he’d watch the Chicago mafia hit weapon disappear for good.