Page 27 of Dreaming of Dawson

“So you’ll be able to get back to grabbing something to eat every day, instead of just when I’m here,” she says, smiling.

“I will.” She turns away, but I call her back. “Thanks for stepping in. I appreciate it.”

She seems surprised by my gratitude, and I wonder when I last thanked any of them… for anything.

I’m absolved from beating myself up about it by the door opening, and Levi stepping inside.

“It’s even colder today than it was yesterday,” he says, rubbing his hands together as he walks over to the bar.

He never seems to mind if he’s the only person here, or that I’m not the most talkative guy in the world, and he sits up, pulling off his jacket, to reveal his dark blue coveralls. As the owner of the auto-shop, this is basically his uniform, and I can’t remember the last time I saw him wearing anything else.

“What can I get you?” I ask, although I’m fairly sure I already know the answer. If it was summer, he’d have a roast beef sandwich, but it’s winter…

“A steaming hot bowl of clam chowder,” he says, in a shock to absolutely no-one.

Levi is so predictable, I half expect Karl will already have his lunch prepared, and I nod my head, entering his order onto the system, which will appear on the computer screen in the kitchen. Back when Stevie and I first started this place, everything was done on paper, and there was a lot of running backwards and forwards, but I’ve updated things since she left and I’ve had to manage by myself… necessity being the mother of invention.

I pour Levi’s coffee, because he never drinks alcohol at lunchtimes, and take it back to him.

“Have you been over to Willmont Vale this morning?” I ask, my question bringing an unusual frown to his face. Unlike me, Levi is normally a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but it seems I’ve confused him. I’ve kinda confounded myself, too. It’s an odd experience to remember anything that’s been said to me from one day to the next, but I remember this… and I remember the look on Macy’s face when I asked if she’d be able to get home okay. It was one of my more stupid questions, considering I could barely think straight, let alone drive a car, but now I come to think about it, there was something in her eyes… something knowing, and maybe even understanding. Like she’d seen right through me.

“How did you know I was going there?” he says, breaking into my unwelcome thoughts and sipping at his coffee.

“Because I know you had to see to Bernice Wilkes’s car,” I say, explaining myself.

He shakes his head. “This place and its gossips.”

“It’s got nothing to do with the gossips for once. Bernie’s niece is working for me now. She was here last night when Bernice called to say her car had broken down.”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense.” He puts down his cup again. “I had to tow the car back and drop Bernie off at home.”

“Is the car that bad?” I ask.

“No. But I need to order the parts. Hopefully, they won’t take more than a couple of days, though, so it could be worse.”

That depends on your perspective. For me to be without my car for a few days wouldn’t be an issue. I rarely use it. But for Bernice, living so far outside of town? I imagine it’ll be a nightmare. I’m also not sure what it’s gonna mean for Macy, either. Will she be able to get to work?

I guess only time will tell…

Our lunchtime has actually been busier than I expected, but Maggie and Vanessa are long gone by the time Macy arrives.

When she does, closing the door behind her to shut out the wintry wind, I can’t help staring at her as she takes off her coat and unwraps her scarf, remembering my dream and the way I came so hard. Although I guess I wasn’t actually dreaming by the time I came, was I? I was wide awake, and fully aware of what I was doing. I recall the guilt that followed, but am surprised when it no longer flares, as she turns around and I feel my eyes rake over her, taking in her pale pink blouse and skin-tight jeans. It’s impossible for me not to wonder how accurate my dream might have been… whether Macy might really look that good, and if she might be as tight around my cock as she was in my imagination.

I’m hard just thinking about it, and while I expect that to bring the guilt rushing back in, it doesn’t… and that’s more surprising than anything.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, walking straight up to me, her eyes bright and her cheeks that delicate pink, caused by the wind, no doubt.

“Everything’s fine,” I say, guessing that she’s probably wondering why I’ve been staring. “I heard about your aunt’s car, so I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“I wasn’t relying on my aunt’s car,” she says, tilting her head to one side. “I walked… just like yesterday.” She looks around at the empty tables. “I hope it hasn’t been this quiet all day,” she says.

“Not at all. We’ve had a busy lunchtime.”

“That’s good.”

It’s good for business, that’s for sure, and I step back, although I regret the action, recalling my hard-on, and quickly move forward again, using the bar as a shield.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go upstairs for an hour?” I ask. I warned her about this, but it’s her first shift, and I guess she might be worried about being left on her own.

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