Whiskey at Midnight, page 5
Her phone rings as she snaps a shot of a weeping willow tree. She tugs her phone out of her back pocket and answers in a distracted voice.
“I want to hang out,” Steve says without preamble. It’s late afternoon and the sun is so harsh that Wren has to shield her eyes as she looks around. “I had a shit shift. The worst in awhile. No money out there today. So where are you at? We’ll hang out and I’ll forget that this day started with work.”
She tells him to head for the park that’s her final destination, gives him directions to a particular bench that she likes. It’s relatively remote, especially later in the day.
It’s obvious that he’s not familiar with the park because when he shows up, he’s huffing and complaining about having to walk a hundred miles to hang out with her.
“It’ll be pretty when the sun begins to set,” she says from her spot on the bench.
“Yeah, well, it better be the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he says. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his arm and collapses onto the bench next to her. “What’s that for? Saving the Earth?” He points toward the little baggy she’s been carrying. There are cigarette butts inside. He uses it all the same when he inevitably begins to steal from her pack.
The horizon turns a peach color as the clouds slowly move across the sky. “Yeah, it’s pretty okay looking,” Steve says.
The path becomes more deserted and he reaches into the backpack he’s carried, pulls out a beer for each of them. He’s about to get chatty. He always does when he drinks.
“Guess who I talked to this morning? Before the shit day at work. Had breakfast and all that,” he says.
“Mm?”
“Cammie. Woke me up early so that I had to crawl out of bed. She took the day off work, I guess.” He raises his eyebrows, trying to draw Wren in.
Wren lights a cigarette, tries to look disinterested. “Sounds like fun,” she says.
“Yeah, she had a nightmare date last night. She’s sitting there sulking over pancakes about this guy. First date and he got all sentimental and wanted to declare his undying love.” Steve belches and laughs, turns a little more serious when Wren doesn’t smile. “I know I’m so far on the opposite side of the spectrum that it’s not funny, but I told her she should go on a date with me instead.” He looks at Wren out of the corner of his eye and laughs when she rolls her eyes. “I’m not half bad, you know. She hit me when I said it. I probably have a bruise on my arm.” He stares out toward the pond in front of them. “She’s a nice girl.”
Wren hasn’t fallen over herself for more details, not that she ever has, so he loses interest. He changes the subject to work and talks about how he hates little kids that come in, hates having to sing them a song on their birthday.
“Wrong restaurant to work at then,” says Wren.
He doesn’t stop talking until it’s mostly dark out and he has four empty beer cans sitting next to his feet. Then, with a cheeky grin on his face, he looks at the bushes behind them and winks at Wren. “You wanna?”
It’s the most normal thing that has happened all day and Wren readily agrees.
In the relative privacy of the bushes, now that most people have left the park, Wren pulls him out of his pants and touches him until he grows hard. Cock is easy. Easier than anything else at least. And Steve is so damn grateful every time that it’s easy to take him into her mouth, all of him, and pleasure him. It’s not passionate, not like the way she rips the clothes off of Emma, but it’s nice. His eyes shut tight and his hands massage her scalp while she sucks him off. She doesn’t even bother trying to listen out for anyone who might walk by. Let them. She swallows when he cums and he pulls her up to kiss her.
“Thank you, beautiful,” he says. “Now let’s get out of here.”
After a few less than thrilling shifts at work, Wren goes out for karaoke. Cam is sitting at a table alone. Cam looks around as if she’s expecting someone and jumps when she sees Wren. She recovers and waves at Wren.
Wren buys Cam a shot because she’s pretty sure that’s what friends do. If they’re not friends, then Cam and Steve are and that’s close enough. They both make a face while the alcohol burns on its way down. It’s a mystery shot, Reese’s shot, and she looks gleeful as she watches them.
A song comes on that Wren hasn’t heard before. Or if she has, she doesn’t remember it. The female singer has a soprano voice that drifts in and out. Cam grins. “I love this song,” she tells Wren.
“Well, we should dance then,” Wren says.
Cam stands in front of Wren, and pushes her ass into her, while Wren rests her arms around Cam’s front. It’d be sensual if Wren didn’t notice how tight the muscles in Cam’s back and arms are, like she might bolt at any moment. Then again, Cam would probably only bolt if she knew she was dancing with someone who sleeps with women. Or a woman.
It’s Wren who notices Emma arriving. She’s still dancing with Cam, who must have her eyes closed, because she doesn’t react at all. Emma’s eyes grow wide at the sight. She heads straight to the bar, a hurt look on her face. She’s not wearing the red bra from what Wren can see, but she might be wearing another lucky bra underneath her shirt.
Wren releases Cam to go after Emma, but Cam just pulls Wren’s arms tighter around her. When the song is over, Cam heads to the bathroom. Her face is a little flushed.
Wren wrenches her phone from her back pocket and thumbs through her contacts until she finds Steve’s name. She sends a message for him to get to the bar as soon as possible. He’s been working but should be finished. And that’s Steve, after all. Always ready for situations like this.
That done, Wren goes over to where Emma is, standing awkwardly against the bar with two empty shot glasses behind her and a cocktail clutched in her hands. Taylor stands on the other side of the bar, behind Emma, with her eyebrows raised, her ponytail laying forward on her shoulder. Emma’s face is red, her eyes wide.
“Hi,” Wren says. “Do you want a cigarette?”
Emma barely looks at her, just nods and follows Wren out the door. She doesn’t take the cigarette that Wren offers her. She does, however, steal Wren’s for a drag here and there. Her breathing is ragged.
“It was just a dance,” Wren says finally. “Nothing else.”
Emma nods again. She still doesn’t look Wren in the eye.
Wren has seen someone acting like Emma before. It was back in high school when her mother walked into her bedroom without knocking and found Wren with her boyfriend’s cock in her mouth. It’s the same shocked expression, the same inability to really look at Wren, the same problem with keeping her breathing under control. It’s the first time Wren has felt bad in some time.
“Do you want me to leave?” asks Wren.
Emma looks down at her feet and shakes her head no.
Wren wants to say something like maybe she should. She’s wearing her same old tattered jeans and a long blue tanktop and Emma is wearing a cute yellow skirt. If anyone needs to stay and enjoy themselves, it’s the one who is dressed so nicely.
“Do you want me to stay at the bar? Away?” Wren tries again.
But then Steve arrives, still wearing his work uniform, and doesn’t notice the moment. He grabs Emma and spins her around. “You look gorgeous,” he tells her. And she does, she really does. “Everyone needs a shot. I’ll get on that,” he says and goes inside. Emma walks in after him, not looking back at Wren.
Wren smokes another cigarette. There are other people outside smoking, people she could talk to for a few minutes. People who could distract her from the awkwardness she’s about to walk into. She doesn’t.
Steve has taken her shot for taking so long, yells this over his shoulder while he drags Emma into the other room where Cam is already dancing, unaware of anything out of the ordinary.
“I couldn’t keep him from it,” Reese says with a smile. “Here.” She sets down a bright pink shot.
“Seriously?” asks Wren.
Reese shrugs, her shoulders bobbing up almost to her ears. “It’s what they took.”
Wren sits at the bar for awhile. She taps her heel against the sturdy wooden leg of her chair. She can hear Steve laughing and singing along to the songs being sung, but she keeps her back to the group. She sips at a beer as slowly as she can. It’s the least she can do considering the circumstances.
“Like my new bar tool?” It’s Taylor standing in front of Wren now, holding it out like a prized toy. It’s ridiculously pink.
“Where’d you get it?” Wren asks. Not that she really cares. Not that Taylor seems to mind that she doesn’t care.
“I got it for her,” Reese says. “Doesn’t it match her personality?”
Ah, one of those gifts, Wren thinks. But Taylor looks pleased as she stashes it in her back pocket.
Reese occupies Wren’s time mostly, talking about new shots she’s been devising. “Try the latest. It’s free,” she promises. Reese won’t say what’s in it, but it tastes like chocolate and some kind of berry. Taylor hovers nearby and smiles when Wren nods her head at Reese in approval.
Wren can’t stay away from everyone all night. It’d be too obvious to Steve and Emma. She finishes her beer and gets another before steeling herself and heading into the other room. A girl is singing a song in Spanish and Cam is singing right along with her, her hand raised in the air. Emma gives Wren a sheepish smile then looks away. Steve throws his arm around Wren and makes her sway to the music.
Thirty minutes later, Wren has finished her beer and escapes to the bathroom. It’s private and perfect. She wets her cheeks with a damp paper towel, just enough to cool her skin. Steve has been so close to her that his heat has made her hot. Worse, her mind won’t stop racing. Emma’s bare legs remind her of Emma in the shower. Emma tucking her blonde hair behind her ear makes her think of the night in the alley. The thoughts don’t make her wet, don’t make her want to have sex. That’s the troubling part. Fucking someone is easy. It’s the other stuff that’s so hard.
In the mirror, Wren sees that her makeup has begun to smear and run. She looks away, down at her hands. Who likes what they see in the mirror really? There’s a knock on the door and she starts to tell the person on the other side that she’s almost done, but goes over and opens the door instead. She can’t hide away forever.
Emma is standing there and she pushes her way inside. She locks the door behind her. She bites her lip and plays with her fingers. Wren hasn’t seen her do that since the night she and Steve had obviously interrupted something between Emma and Cam. Not a date. It hadn’t been a date, but something leading to one, maybe. When Emma looks back up at Wren there’s a strange look on her face. Wren moves into a corner of the bathroom until her back hits the wall.
“Look--” Wren says.
Emma moves forward, closing the distance, and kisses Wren so hard that Wren hits the wall all over again. Her hands go under Wren’s shirt and she squeezes at Wren’s side painfully. A bite on Wren’s lip causes Wren to moan and then a thigh is pushed between Wren’s legs.
“I don’t know why you did that,” Emma says against Wren’s lips. She doesn’t give Wren a chance to reply, just kisses her again. It’s almost like fighting. Emma attacking because a good offense is useful. Wren is losing. Wren grabs onto Emma’s hips and tries to hold on. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” Emma says while she nips at Wren’s neck, but it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself.
Wren feels trembling lips against her neck and grabs Emma to switch their positions. Emma leans her head back against the wall and pulls Wren closer so that their bodies are flush.
“What do you want?” Wren asks. She kisses Emma’s cheek to make the question sound less harsh.
Emma’s face crumples into confusion. It’s the first time Wren has asked her anything of the sort. Emma’s eyes search around the room, as if the answer will be there somewhere. Maybe on the wall, behind the mirror. Maybe behind the toilet. She closes her eyes for a moment then looks at Wren. “I want you.”
Wren waits a bit, watches Emma like there’s a “but” that needs to be added. All she can feel is Emma’s skirt beneath her fingertips. Emma doesn’t say anything else after all, just breaks eye contact and stares at the floor with a blush on her cheeks, like she’s admitted something embarrassing into the still air. It’s kind of adorable.
So Wren kisses her, hard, because there’s no one else to do that for Emma. She pushes her hands under Emma’s bra and pulls at her nipples until Emma’s cries turn into moans and every swipe of Wren’s tongue in Emma’s mouth causes a whimper to come out.
And, really, that’s what Wren likes about Emma. She’s not afraid to make noise, can’t control it probably. Emma’s never fucked in a bathroom, though she doesn’t say it. It’s just so obvious. God knows what is on the bathroom floor, though it’s not wet, but Wren kneels down anyway and pushes Emma’s skirt up, slides her panties out of the way, and leans her head up for her first taste. Emma is always wet by the time Wren touches her cunt. Emma’s hands fall to her sides and she raises them enough to rest on Wren’s head when Wren dips her tongue into her cunt again.
Emma lets out breathy moans, bites her lip after. Wren licks at her clit, smiles at the amount of wetness coating her face, and massages the backs of Emma’s thighs. Finally, when it won’t take much longer, Wren takes two fingers and enters Emma. They slide in and out easily as she keeps pressure on Emma’s clit with her tongue. It’s not long after that Emma’s legs begin to shake and she bites her lip as she cums, noise still escaping from her mouth.
When Emma can stand on her own, when her eyes open and she looks present, Wren steps away from her to wash her hands and face. She grins at Emma through the reflection of the mirror. Emma looks stunned.
“I know I didn’t, but I think I could use a cigarette anyway,” says Wren.
Emma nods dumbly.
It’s too easy to make Emma speechless tonight. Wren kisses her on her blushing cheek and heads toward the door, only stops when she hears Emma say “thank you” quietly. Emma is smiling softly at her when she turns around, no longer looking quite so confused. Wren shrugs and leaves the bathroom, going out into the bar area.
After all, what are friends for?
There’s a line for the bathroom.
Giving is a tricky thing. You give someone a necklace and they might expect a matching bracelet next time. Or you give them a gift that they don’t really like. They smile so hard it looks like a grimace and thank you a little too much. The realization at that moment is that you don’t really know them after all, otherwise you wouldn’t have given such a shitty gift.
That’s why Wren doesn’t do gifts. She doesn’t ask for them and she only gives them when she absolutely must. It makes life easier that way. It’s why Wren can never really be with someone like Emma. Forget Emma’s love for Cam that will always cripple her, Emma needs someone who gives her little gifts and takes her out all the time. Emma needs a woman who is like a man.
Wren doesn’t talk about Emma to Steve. He points out customers who look somewhat like Emma, usually just a blonde girl in a skirt, but that stops after a few days, when he hasn’t gotten the reaction that he wants. Even though Wren tries, she can’t ignore the fact that Steve has her looking around more and there do seem to be too many girls who remind her of Emma. They may pull their hair up into a ponytail, unlike Emma, or their hips may be too small to be Emma, but Wren is still reminded of her when she sees them. In response, Wren changes her availability at work to three days a week. She only works for drinking money anyway.
“Now what am I gonna do?” Steve asks her. He pouts a little. “Everyone else there is boring. Chase is alright, but she keeps to herself. Dave thinks he’s too funny. I need you there.”
“You’ll survive,” says Wren. He will, but that’s not the point. “The old ladies from the church will probably ask for you now that I won’t be there on Mondays.”
“Well, at least there’s that. They fucking love me, you know.”
Emma is going hot and cold, much like the behavior of Cam toward Emma. She tries to act normal around Wren when they’re out, which means mostly ignoring her. They always seem to meet up outside or at the bar. Emma seems so damn desperate when they get a moment alone that Wren thinks maybe Emma would be better off alone with her melancholy, but Wren doesn’t back off. She takes what she can get. Even if fucking Emma might bite her in the ass.
Cam is back to holding Emma’s hand under the table. Even Steve notices it. He has made a point to try and notice more things.
Over a pint, after work, Steve watches Wren intently. “It’s nice watching and knowing what’s going on. It’s the one thing that must be nice about being you. You always know about things.”
Wren doesn’t say anything in response.
“You know,” he continues, “it’s a little fucked up the way little Emma holds Cam’s hand like the world might end any moment and then comes back from smoking with you with swollen lips.”
Wren raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her beer, but again stays quiet.
If Wren is riding the waves that Emma makes, Emma is walking the tightrope of Cam’s creation. Cam might be over the declaration of love, but she certainly hasn’t accepted it. Otherwise Emma wouldn’t wind up back at Wren’s apartment.
Wren doesn’t just give people things, but she will give Emma her body for a little while. It’s what a friend would do.
Chapter Three
