See, the minute I clapped eyes on Eddie Chavez, I fel in love with him. Not that he’d ever notice me if I wasn’t under his nose. In fact, watching him (which I do, a lot), I think he has a thing for Indy.
At least I thought that in the beginning. He doesn’t look at her like that so much anymore.
Anyway, sometimes, I’d catch him looking at her in a way that made my insides feel funny. Sometimes, in the middle of the day (between shifts at Fortnum’s and Smithie’s, one of the only times I can get any decent sleep) while I was trying to catch some z’s while Mom watched soaps, I thought of Eddie looking at me the way he looked at Indy.
Sometimes, trying to sleep, I thought of Eddie doing a lot of different things with me and to me, but that didn’t exactly help me sleep.
* * * * *
I kinda screwed things up with Eddie. No, that isn’t true; I really screwed things up with Eddie.
Though not intentional y.
* * * * *
See, he’s hot. Not hot . Hot. He’s so flipping handsome it burns your eyes to look at him. He has to be six foot maybe six foot one, tal for a Mexican-American, olive-skinned, with dark hair and even darker eyes. He has a lean body made up of compact, defined muscles and he’s one of those guys who makes whatever he wears look the bomb, instead of one of those guys who looks like he was trying to be the bomb in what he wears.
Eddie’s a cop and from what everyone says, he’s a good one, though not a conventional one. He kinda goes his own way, which isn’t exactly encouraged by the Denver Police Department.
Anyway, when Eddie’s black eyes turn to you, I swear to God, your breath starts burning your lungs, his eyes are so hot.
He’s lush.
Since I’m not lush, there’s no hope and I’m in love with him— I get a little weird around him.
Weird as in, stupid.
* * * * *
The first time he spoke directly to me was about a week after I started at Fortnum’s. Eddie was waiting at the end of the counter for his cappuccino. I was re-fil ing the stacks of cups so I had two big columns of cups in my hands. Eddie was talking to Lee (who, by the way, is also hot).
Eddie’s eyes cut to me and he smiled, al super-white teeth in tanned face. The effect of this when trained on me total y flipped me out.
Then he said, “So, Jet, what’s your story?” Since he used my name, I couldn’t exactly ignore him so I looked at him blank-faced and said, “Story?” I hadn’t told Indy or anyone about anything, not about my Mom nor Smithie’s. People had been real y nice about Mom but it was weird, talking about her and us and how we were having to make a go of things. They got this look on their face that said, “poor you” and it kind of pissed me off because, you know, shit happens. We al deal.
Anyway, Eddie turned more toward me, Lee’s eyes had moved to me and I was beginning to feel the heat come into my face.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, “your story.”
I started to panic so I had to find a way to say as little as possible and get the hel out of there. “No story. I’m just Jet.”
“Just Jet.” His smile didn’t dim and I was beginning to feel my insides curl.
“Yeah.” I set the cups down and started refil ing.
Eddie turned to Lee and he said, “Don’t know about you but I think there are hidden depths to Just Jet.”
“There are hidden depths to everyone,” Lee replied, stil looking at me and I could swear he could read my mind and was trying to get Eddie to leave me alone.
“Not me.” Tex, Indy’s barista, a Vietnam Vet and ex-con who was crazy as a jay-bird but you couldn’t help liking him, reached across me to give Eddie his cappuccino, “With me, you get what you see.”
Eddie didn’t take his eyes off me, even as he reached for the sugar (Eddie took lots of sugar in his coffee, I’d memorized this fact right away, as I memorized practical y everything about Eddie).
“What about you, Just Jet? Do we get what we see with you?”
Just for your information, I wasn’t a virgin and total y unlucky in love. I had a boyfriend al through high school and three since then, al long-term.
Al boring.