tried not to stare, or at least he hoped he wasn’t obvious.
“Hey, why don’t I get us all a beer for the road, while you visit for a minute with Mariah? We’ll meet you at the door,” Michael said, knowing when to disappear. He smiled inwardly, like the old days when he and Adam used to hang together before Adam had gotten serious about finding a wife and settling down.
“Nice to meet you, Mariah,” Michael said, putting an arm around Allison and Tiff, turning them away, glancing back at Adam and giving him a you should try and tap that look. Adam looked away quickly, hoping Mariah hadn’t seen the look that passed between them. But she had. Her smile dimmed just a bit, the same as it had when he’d tried to hand her that pamphlet.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked, changing the subject, her hackles rising just a little.
“I did, notwithstanding feeling like an idiot.”
“It’s not for everyone,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“Well, thanks for coming. As you can see, I’m okay. No need for any more brochures or hotline numbers,” she said, smiling, it more full now.
“Guess not. Sorry again about that,” he said, not wanting her to leave him just yet.
“You were just trying to help. I get that. You’re a good guy for doing so,” she said. “See you around,” she added before turning and skating away.
He stood there until she disappeared from his view, eyeing her ass one last time before turning and heading to find Michael.
* * *
Adam could hear the television playing as he walked into the kitchen of his parents’ home the following Sunday morning. It was a Sunday morning political talk show. His parents watched those religiously every Sunday. They attended mass every Saturday night.
Sunday mornings were reserved for the New York Times , Austin American Statesman , and political talk shows to be argued about and dissected over a lingering breakfast and coffee. He’d slept late because he’d gotten home later, had stopped to get something to eat and drink with Michael, Tiff, and Allison.
He found his parents in the kitchen, both with the newspaper in their hands, heads bent over them.
“Hey, Adam,” his mother said, putting the paper down, turning her cheek to receive his kiss.
“Hey, Pops,” he said as he grabbed a coffee cup and filled it with brew. “I enjoyed the roller derby and your little surprise.” He smiled as he looked at both of his parents. “ Et tu, Brute ?” His mom was grinning from ear to ear.
“Did you?” Adam Sr. said, returning the smile and giving one to Gloria before they both gave into their laughter.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Mariah?” Gloria asked.
“I did, and she didn’t rub it in… too much,” he said, bringing his coffee over. He pulled out a chair and sat.
“She’s something, isn’t she? Thought you might like her. She’s a bit of a prankster, and pretty,” his pop said, hitting his son in the arm. “And built like a brick house.”
“No one says that anymore, Dad, but yes, she’s nice.”
“She reminds me of your mother. You know if you decide to go out with her, she can be tough. You might want to give yourself some time after this Jamie, but don’t let that one out of your sights.”
Slow down, old man , Adam thought. His dad was playing matchmaker. No surprise there. His pops didn’t like his choice in women; hadn’t ever liked his choice in women. He said they were too bland. He liked fire. His mom and sister were fire enough for a whole nation. He didn’t want that, or so he’d thought.
Now, seeing it within Mariah as she moved around the track, all that boiling energy was appealing. He was nowhere near ready to see anyone seriously again, but Mariah might make a very nice distraction. Sampling a slice of Mariah’s type of fire—now that he could do.
* * *
March – first week
After work Wednesday Mariah entered the restaurant—creatively named Joshua’s Place, after her
“Hey, why don’t I get us all a beer for the road, while you visit for a minute with Mariah? We’ll meet you at the door,” Michael said, knowing when to disappear. He smiled inwardly, like the old days when he and Adam used to hang together before Adam had gotten serious about finding a wife and settling down.
“Nice to meet you, Mariah,” Michael said, putting an arm around Allison and Tiff, turning them away, glancing back at Adam and giving him a you should try and tap that look. Adam looked away quickly, hoping Mariah hadn’t seen the look that passed between them. But she had. Her smile dimmed just a bit, the same as it had when he’d tried to hand her that pamphlet.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked, changing the subject, her hackles rising just a little.
“I did, notwithstanding feeling like an idiot.”
“It’s not for everyone,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“Well, thanks for coming. As you can see, I’m okay. No need for any more brochures or hotline numbers,” she said, smiling, it more full now.
“Guess not. Sorry again about that,” he said, not wanting her to leave him just yet.
“You were just trying to help. I get that. You’re a good guy for doing so,” she said. “See you around,” she added before turning and skating away.
He stood there until she disappeared from his view, eyeing her ass one last time before turning and heading to find Michael.
* * *
Adam could hear the television playing as he walked into the kitchen of his parents’ home the following Sunday morning. It was a Sunday morning political talk show. His parents watched those religiously every Sunday. They attended mass every Saturday night.
Sunday mornings were reserved for the New York Times , Austin American Statesman , and political talk shows to be argued about and dissected over a lingering breakfast and coffee. He’d slept late because he’d gotten home later, had stopped to get something to eat and drink with Michael, Tiff, and Allison.
He found his parents in the kitchen, both with the newspaper in their hands, heads bent over them.
“Hey, Adam,” his mother said, putting the paper down, turning her cheek to receive his kiss.
“Hey, Pops,” he said as he grabbed a coffee cup and filled it with brew. “I enjoyed the roller derby and your little surprise.” He smiled as he looked at both of his parents. “ Et tu, Brute ?” His mom was grinning from ear to ear.
“Did you?” Adam Sr. said, returning the smile and giving one to Gloria before they both gave into their laughter.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Mariah?” Gloria asked.
“I did, and she didn’t rub it in… too much,” he said, bringing his coffee over. He pulled out a chair and sat.
“She’s something, isn’t she? Thought you might like her. She’s a bit of a prankster, and pretty,” his pop said, hitting his son in the arm. “And built like a brick house.”
“No one says that anymore, Dad, but yes, she’s nice.”
“She reminds me of your mother. You know if you decide to go out with her, she can be tough. You might want to give yourself some time after this Jamie, but don’t let that one out of your sights.”
Slow down, old man , Adam thought. His dad was playing matchmaker. No surprise there. His pops didn’t like his choice in women; hadn’t ever liked his choice in women. He said they were too bland. He liked fire. His mom and sister were fire enough for a whole nation. He didn’t want that, or so he’d thought.
Now, seeing it within Mariah as she moved around the track, all that boiling energy was appealing. He was nowhere near ready to see anyone seriously again, but Mariah might make a very nice distraction. Sampling a slice of Mariah’s type of fire—now that he could do.
* * *
March – first week
After work Wednesday Mariah entered the restaurant—creatively named Joshua’s Place, after her
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