It didn’t help matters that Indy and Al y were constantly asking me out for drinks or to go to the movies, then turning to Eddie and saying, “You want to come?”
I couldn’t go anyway and I was glad I always had an excuse (although, since they didn’t know I had a second job and was taking care of Mom, the excuses were beginning to sound lame).
The Eddie Torture seemed to escalate over time.
For example, a few days ago I was sitting behind the book counter, my legs crossed, my head bent, going through receipts and drinking a cappuccino.
Eddie was talking to Duke, Indy’s second-in-command; a Harley guy with thick, long, gray hair, a beard and an ever-present rol ed bandana tied around his forehead.
Duke had been at Fortnum’s since Indy’s grandmother ran it. At first, he scared me. He was tough as nails and had a low, gravel y voice. Then I realized he was an old softie, mainly because of the way he treated Indy, Al y, Jane (the other Fortnum’s veteran) and sometimes Tex (though, most of the time, Duke and Tex yel ed at each other).
Eddie and Duke were standing across from me at the book counter so that meant I was also engaged in ignoring Eddie.
Then, al of a sudden, Eddie’s hand came into my line of vision and, just as sudden, his thumb swiped my upper lip.
My head jerked up and I stared at him, my lip tingling.
“Foam,” he said, dipping his head to indicate my cappuccino.
My face started burning, I stared down at my cappuccino and, get this… when I looked back up, Eddie was again listening to Duke, for al the world like I wasn’t even there, but he put his thumb in his mouth to suck off my foam.
What was that?
This kind of stuff went on al the time. Being me, I had to find an explanation for it. So I decided he was just trying to be nice.
He was a nice guy, I could tel , even if it was in a kind of badass way. Tex held a gruff regard for him and Duke liked him flat out. It was clear he thought of Al y like his younger sister and was always messing around with her. I know he thought the world of Indy and he was always flirting with her in a way that was hot but control ed. I told myself he was just putting me in my niche because, no matter how significant these torture sessions seemed, nothing ever came of them.
So, I figured my crush, and my daydreams (which were coming a lot more often once the torture sessions began) made me make them something they weren’t.
Then Indy asked me over to Hank’s to watch a footbal game. It was getting to the point in her frequent invitations where I couldn’t refuse or I’d seem rude. It was going to be her and Lee, Al y and her boyfriend, Carl (who was also good looking and a cop), Hank and some girl I didn’t know… and Eddie.
I didn’t want to go, because it was Sunday. I didn’t have a shift at Smithie’s and Fortnum’s had short hours on Sunday. I wanted to rest, then sleep, in the night hours, like a normal person.
Nevertheless, we weren’t supposed to be there until five and I had plenty of time to get ready after Fortnum’s closed.
I needed to accept an invitation, not to mention, Mom was al over me.
I’d made the mistake of tel ing Mom about Tex’s response to the chocolate caramel layer squares so Mom started to think Tex was a possibility for future bliss for me.
In talking her out of that (by explaining that first, Tex was nuts and second, he was old enough to date her) I let it slip about Eddie.
Once Eddie was mentioned (however minutely), I had to come completely clean (because Mom gave me the third degree) and so Mom was al excited about the possibility that I’d catch Eddie’s eye. I tried to tel her that Eddie was hung up on Indy but she wouldn’t hear of it. I tried to tel her Eddie was seriously good looking, sex-in-cowboy-boots and cool-as-hel and thus wouldn’t be interested in me, and that she real y wouldn’t hear of.
So, she pushed me into not only going but also making her sausage, olive and mushroom cups and taking them with me. She was obviously thinking that I’d work my way into Eddie’s heart by fil ing his stomach with sausage, olive and mushroom, doused in cream, garlic and Parmesan sauce in a toasted bread cup.
I walked into Hank’s carrying a platter covered with foil.
It was stil hot from the oven and burning through my sweater. I was late (again), I forgot a hot pad and the minute I walked in, everyone smel ed the sausage and garlic.
“Fucking hel , what is that?” Carl asked, staring at the foil wrapped platter. He was a big guy, tal with a thick, sexy mess of blond hair. He had a way of looking at you that made your face burn because, I was pretty certain, he was undressing you with his eyes.
I set the dish down on a coffee table with kind of a clatter (because, as I said, it was burning me). I pul ed the foil off.
The garlic smel wafted out with such strength; it was like a smack in the face. Everyone leaned back at the smel , then leaned forward and fel on the sausage cups like vultures.
I was holding my arm and biting my lip because the burn wouldn’t go away.
Eddie was sitting in a big armchair, holding a beer bottle by the neck with two fingers. He was the only one not sampling the sausage cups. He was watching me, his dark eyes taking my mind off the burning in my arm because he was making the breath in my lungs burn (and he was making other places burn beside).