Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness Page 14

  Duke’s eyes widened, but the smile remained on his face. “Sure.” He pulled the door open for her. “After you, milady.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes at him as she stepped into the warmth of the building. Chaos hit her ears. She tripped on a toy—toddler safe, not grown up safe. Saj broke off and toddled toward the door with a wide grin. She knelt down to his height.

  “SISSIE.” He howled as he barreled into her, knocking her backwards into Duke. She scooped him up.

  “Hey, Saj,” Duke rumpled his hair.

  “Juke,” Saj smiled.

  “Yup.” Lizzie offered Duke her hand and he helped them stand. “Juke’s going to walk us home. Where’s Rachael? Give her hugs.”

  “Rachael go home.” Saj explained.

  One of the other workers handed Lizzie the sign out sheet. “She’s started getting out early.” The girl said it as if there was some significance Lizzie should pick up.

  Lizzie shrugged at Duke. “Okay. Saj, let’s get you bundled up, and we can go home.”

  With Saj bundled they walked outside into the cold. Lizzie held Saj’s hand and Duke walked on the other side.

  “One, two, free?” Saj begged.

  Duke glanced at her quizzically.

  “Grab his hand.” She pulled her glove off her left hand and tugged Saj’s mittens off and into her pocket. “He wants to fly.”

  Saj’s little body strained to jump up and down. His muscles flexed and his body shook without leaving the earth.

  Lizzie snickered. “Wait.” She stood and gripped Saj’s little hand tight. “Okay, we walk first. We say, ‘One, two, three,’ then we swing him up. ”

  “Got it.”

  They walked along with Lizzie showing Duke how to swing his arms. “Ready? One, two, three!” They both swung Saj up into the air; he squealed with glee.

  Saj took a few more steps. “ONE, TWO, FREE.”

  They spun him upwards again before letting him swing back down to the ground.

  “ONE, TWO, FREE,” Saj demanded.

  “Wait,” Lizzie blurted. “Slow down.” She was getting a winded. “This time you’ve gotta say, Uno, dos, tres, Saj.”

  His lips tightened and he nodded. “OOnooo, dos, tres,” he hollered, giggling as he flew up into the air.

  “Catorce,” Duke finished, giving her a goofy grin.

  “Don’t teach him wrong!”

  “It’s U2. Vertigo.”

  “Duh. Like I didn’t know that?”

  “That’s on my top five list. Call it number, uh, cuatro.”

  “Unoooo,” Saj started.

  “Dos, tres,” all three of them said together.

  By the time they reached her house, Lizzie’s arm ached, but Saj’s flushed face and Duke’s rosy cheeks made it all worth it. “You want to come in?”

  Duke stopped at the door and leaned against the far side of the door jamb. “Yeah. I do. But I don’t think I will. Can we have a date?”

  “A date? What decade is this? What century?”

  He stood there, looking at her with puppy dog eyes that kind of reminded her of Spike. “It’s just now.”

  Did she like him enough for a date? She had fun with him around. Against her better judgement she relented. “Okay, you can have a date. What and when?” Maybe she could try out being normal.

  Chapter Sixteen

  LIZZIE THREW THE CLOTHES IN her hands at her image in the mirror. She had kept Duke at bay for a month. First the excuse of being wounded. Then the pregnancy…

  And now he was on his way over. For a date. “Fuck.” What should she wear? None of her clothes felt right—or fit right—and he was gonna be here any minute. All her jeans were too tight and her collection of baggy t-shirts suddenly looked like tents.

  She opened up the duffle from Bellingham. The black skirt, super flexible around the baby bump, and practically the only thing she’d wear that wasn’t pants. She pulled it on and looked in the mirror. Maybe too dressy for a first date?

  Dammit, this is what Nev was good at.

  Lizzie stepped into Doc Martin’s for the full effect. She examined her belly in the mirror. Were her boobs already getting bigger? They were kind of spilling over her bra a little. Exactly what I don’t need.

  Shirt. She pulled on a flouncy thing that Nev had given her. It showed a little more skin than Lizzie was used to, but it minimized her chest. She stared at herself. It was all much too girlie. She didn’t want to give Duke the impression that she had dressed up for him. This whole thing was a bad idea. She almost took the whole ensemble off, but not even she could wear sweats on a date.

  She glared at her hair in the mirror, seeing the frazzled ends, a blend of platinum and purple, contrasting horribly with her dark roots. It desperately needed a trim. Why did she wait till the last minute?

  She pulled it back and stuck out her tongue. It made her look severe. She bent over and shook her hair out, ran her fingers through it. It would have to do. She needed to get away from the mirror before she turned into a narcissistic fuck—she slammed the bedroom door behind her and went to the kitchen for a drink. The apartment layout was decent and the location was handy, but the walls were paper thin. She’d heard the neighbors going at it at least a dozen times. Maybe she should hook up with Duke as revenge. Scream really loud.

  She glanced at the clock, chugging her diet coke. She spread her fingers in front of her. Should have done something with the nails. What the hell am I turning into?

  She forced herself to stop drinking the coke—she didn’t want to have to pee an embarrassing number of times tonight. She put a spoon, handle down, into the can and put it in the fridge. An old trick Mama used to keep drinks fizzy till later, which inevitably led to drinking flat pop. But she didn’t want to waste it.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Coming,” she called. Hoping her voice sounded relaxed. She paused at the door—her hand on the knob. She pulled back the duct tape over the peephole. Duke. Glancing sideways. She jerked the door opened before she could change her mind.

  His eyes traveled from her head to feet and then back again. “Hi.”

  He had either not gone to as much trouble or had decided to look like he hadn’t. She turned to hide her flushing cheeks. “Hi. Come in.”

  He brushed passed her. Her embarrassment turned to smugness as she smelled cologne.

  “You don’t seem happy to see me.”

  Lizzie kept her lips in a straight line. “What if I’m not?”

  “Well. Then we go for a walk and pretend we’re interested until somebody gets brave and calls the whole thing off.”

  “Oh.” Lizzie closed the door behind him, wondering if the neighbors could hear she had a ‘gentleman caller.’ “Can I get you something? We’ve got Coke. Classic and Diet? Water and… well. I could make you tea or coffee or…” her voice fell away. “Is this how you usually do the dating thing?”

  “I pretty much suck at the dating thing.” He turned to the window and stared at the city like the scenery was interesting. “Coke is fine.”

  “Great.” Lizzie breathed as she escaped to the kitchen. She pulled the Coke out. None of her cups were clean and her ice cube trays were empty. “Just the can okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Lizzie came back into the living room to find Duke perched awkwardly on the arm of the couch. “This is stupid.”

  “What?” His face fell.

  She popped the top on the Coke and handed it to him. “Look. You were over here a few days ago. You sat on the couch. We ate food.”

  “Yeah. Saj was here.”

  “Yeah. He was. And you were chill.”

  “So were you.”

  “Let’s get back to there.” She held his gaze. “I’m gonna change and we can just go out. Not ‘go out,’ but go outside.” She spun and walked down the hall.

  “You look good in the skirt.”

  Lizzie paused.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear a skirt before.”

&
nbsp; She turned back to him. “You haven’t. Give me shit about it and you never will again.”

  He held up his hands in defense. “Whoa.”

  “Sorry.” She twisted her skirt, trying to get it to fit right. “Feels weird.”

  He gestured toward the bedroom. “Change if you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But it does look good—I like it.”

  She tugged him to his feet. “Let’s go.” She grabbed a winter jacket off the hook by the door. Throwing it around her shoulders relieved her feeling of nakedness.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked once they were outside.

  “You don’t have a plan?”

  “Told you I’m not good at this dating thing.”

  “Show me your place?” She instantly regretted saying it. Definitely too slutty for a first date.

  “Bachelor's barracks number 12?”

  “Sounds pretty horrible.”

  “It isn’t as horrible as it sounds, but let’s not go there, okay?”

  “Okay,” Lizzie agreed, relieved.

  They walked. And talked.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “Ugh, really?” Duke asked.

  Lizzie pulled his arm over her shoulder. “Just to keep me warm,” she said. “And yes, really.”

  Duke glanced down at her as if he was trying to see what she was really thinking. “Mom died when I was nine. C.J., my brother, you met him in Bellingham, was five.”

  She grimaced.

  He continued. “Until then, Dad was a pretty reasonable man. But as the cancer took my mom, he dove headfirst into the bottle.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It is what is.” He continued to look far away. ”You don’t always realize how bad it is until you’re looking back.”

  “Yeah.” Lizzie shifted against him. She looked at him sidelong, trying to decide why she liked him. He had a cute butt. Fun to hang out with. But the fact that he found her attractive was what made him kinda hot. Sheesh, Lizzie. She was probably over-thinking it. Did other people go through this or was it just her. Did everyone else just know who they wanted? God, she missed this kind of talk with Nev. Maybe Jess or Rachael could help.

  No, not Rachael. The memory of Rachael’s body pressing against her in the hospital made her warm. Hot. Damn. Duke was talking and she wasn’t listening. What kind of loser am I? He’s baring his soul to me and I‘m comparing his butt to hers? She shook her head and focused back on Duke’s face. He squeezed her shoulder; it felt nice.

  “You ever want to be a father?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Having kids on purpose right now seems a little crazy. I mean, I get the whole breeder thing, but we don’t really know…” She put her hand on her belly.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Lizzie wished she hadn’t brought up the subject of family. “Did you ever make a bucket list?”

  “Well. Kind of. Had a teacher that made me write down 50 goals. Said they didn’t have to be real, but the idea was to think of things that would need some time. Some were easy, some difficult, some were even impossible.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I wanted to go into space.”

  “Wasn’t that impossible. Might be now.”

  “To have sex.”

  Lizzie giggled as a vision of Duke floating toward her in a space suit without pants. “Wow. Weightless? You could have done one of those planes.”

  “Yeah, but that would be like having sex in public.”

  “What else?”

  “I wanted a Lamborghini Diablo.”

  “Guys and their cars.”

  “You didn’t ever want a car?”

  “Not really. My first driving experiences were not very good. Cars kind of represent stress to me. Besides, I’m one of those hippie dippie environmental types.”

  “A Greenie? You?”

  In Seventh Grade my therapist wanted me to channel my anger into something. I made posters. Went to rallies. Even got in a kayak the next year for the protest against arctic oil drilling.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Shit happened. High school. Sex, drugs, rock and roll.” She hesitated, then peeled back her sleeve to show him her scars. Duke must have noticed them before, but he’d never said anything. “I got lost trying to figure out how to control the pain.” She took a deep breath and stopped walking. “My therapist didn’t know shit. My problem wasn’t anger, it was pain. Too much. Not enough. Whatever the fuck. Out of my control. This gave me a way to control it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Duke pulled her into a hug.

  Lizzie breathed deep clamping down on the emotions. She kissed him. He kissed her back. Then she pushed him gently away.

  “What’s wrong, Lizzie?” Duke asked, holding the edge of her sleeve. “Trust me?”

  “I do trust you,” Lizzie said sadly, “But I don’t trust me.” She perked herself up. “Hey, tell me about your cars.”

  “I had a crappy old Datsun pickup. Dad’s old work truck. He kept it running with duct tape, bailing wire and old Coke cans.”

  “But it ran.”

  “Yeah, it ran. For me that was freedom. The best present he ever gave me. As soon as I could drive without an adult, I could get away.”

  “You know how to hot-wire a car?”

  “Not like in the movies? It’s either easier, or practically impossible. Gotta find the right car. Why do you want to know?”

  “If I need to leave, need to get somewhere…”

  “Seems like a pretty requisite end of the world skill. I’ll teach you what I know.”

  Mannie arrived home, the lights were on inside, but low. Lizzie had probably come over and fallen asleep. What was he going to do about her restlessness? What could he do? He knew she couldn’t stand being cooped up and ordered what to do, but until spring came this really was the safest place for them to be. He turned the knob. “I’m home,” he called softly.

  “In here.” The sound of a movie reverberated in the living room. It sounded like she was watching Stripes. The way Lizzie had enshrined his late 90s musical and video tastes warmed him and confused him. It gave them something in common, but it also felt weird, like his ancient tastes in media defined him.

  He hung up his coat, tossed his hat on the rack, sat down on the shoe box and slipped out of his boots. He slid his feet into slippers and shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a Classic Coke from the counter. He popped the can and took a sip of the lukewarm soda as he walked into the living room and collapsed into the recliner. “How’s your day, Lizzie?”

  “Lizzie went out with Duke,” Jess said, turning toward him. “Said she’d probably stop by tonight.”

  “Oh.” Mannie’s nerves returned to full awareness. “Thought you were Lizzie.”

  “I figured.” Jess pointed the remote at the TV and hit pause. “I wanted to talk to you about something work-related. You’ve been so busy lately, I had no idea how to catch you otherwise—and how could I resist your movie collection. Want to watch Stripes with me?”

  “Nah… Hits a little close to home recently. All you have to do is make an appointment with Nev. Sometime during the day.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She started to stand. “I can leave.”

  Maybe he was being too harsh. “Well, you’re here already. No sense going out into the snow before you finish your movie.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Fair warning though. I’m fried from work, I’ll probably fall asleep.” He sat down in the other recliner, trying to relax after his stressful mission. He had to admit it felt good not to come home to an empty house. He’d gotten along great with Jess before things became complicated. And Lizzie would probably be here in a bit anyway. He liked hanging out and watching Lizzie enjoy having her friends around.

  “Okey, Dokey.” She wrapped her arms around the big pillow, flicked the remote and returned her gaze to the television.

  Despite his exhaustion Jess’ explosive la
ughter didn’t let him sleep. He’d had dreams where a situation like this ended with Jess pressing against him and tearing his clothes off. Having her here was not a good idea.

  “”Jess?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Of course, Mannie.”

  “I mean, really talk.”

  “I’d like that.” Jess picked up the remote and flipped the television off. She turned to him, a shy smile on her face.

  The room, silent with anticipation, made Mannie stumble. “I can’t. Jess. It’s not good for me to hang around you.”

  Her smile faded to a sadness. “Mannie, I know you think you can’t. I know you’ve got twice as many years of experience, and you think I’m too young. But, I’m no kid. I’m older than Lizzie and lived through a tragedy that’s taught me some hard lessons.” She caught his eye, then glanced down shyly. “Then you came and rescued me. It’s some kind of Nightingale syndrome probably, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

  “I didn’t rescue you, Jess. You rescued yourself.”

  “Okay. Maybe that’s true. Even then. I fell in love with you.”

  Mannie shifted, uncomfortably.

  ‘I’ve tried as hard as I could not to, when it became clear what your feelings were, but I can’t—” She threw the remote at the couch. “Damn your antiquated sense of morality! Life is short.” Her eyes burned and her voice became husky, “I want you.”

  Damn, this was going to turn into one of those dreams. He got up and used the empty Coke can as an excuse to walk toward the kitchen.

  When he came back her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and her flashing eyes locked with his again. “But if you don’t want to—or can’t, I won’t push you anymore.”

  Shit. Mannie realized she was waiting for an answer from him. He wished to God he had let her talk to him about work, or let her leave when she had offered. He did want her, but too much chatter bounced around his skull. Better to be alone. He shook his head. “I can’t and I don’t want to. Sorry.”