Page 22 of I Love Rock n Wine

“And, okay, because you can sing me to sleep and not even know it.” I returned his grin, loving the teasing nature we seemed to have adopted. I never would have thought that Heath had a humor like this buried within him. It sure never came out when Jameson was on stage directing us. Nor did I think it would, given that at that time, it was business. But I still couldn’t understand how someone could walk away from him when he was this sweet and loving. Unless they never got to see this side. And if that was the case, it was an utter tragedy.

“You’re lost in thought,” he murmured.

“Not really. Just thinking about you. How awesome I think you are.”

He sat his menu down and crossed his arms, resting them on the table.

“You know, you always seem to go into silence and when I bring you back, you seem focused on me. Why is that?”

“I share far too many secrets with you, thank you very much.” We both chuckled as the waiter came over to take our drink order.

“A bottle of your best white, please.” I rolled my eyes at him, making him smirk.“I told you I would have you try some of the best and you’d like it.”

"And that’s fine. I’ll try it, but I’m also not holding out promises. I’d like a SexOn The Beach please.” The waiter wrote it down and then nodded before leaving.“So, tell me, why do you go by Jameson?”

“My actual full name is Heath Scott-James Devon.My mom, who was Puerto Rican, wanted to give me a different name, but compromised with my dad on my middle name. That comes from an uncle while my dad, who is Irish, got to pick my first name. Hence, the half Puerto Rican and half Irish.”

“That makes sense. I’m actually half Mexican and half Irish myself.”

“Another thing in common, who would have figured?”

“And if I recall another odd tidbit, Heath, we’re both the babies of the family.” He laughed, then leaned back as the waiter put our drinks. I reached for mine while the waiter poured a glass and offered it to him to try. And I watched, fascinated as he swirled it, sniffed it, and then took a sip before nodding.

“Thank you,” he said, once the waiter was done pouring him a glass. He offered it to me, and I took a deep breath, taking a small sip. The taste wasn’t bad, far better than others I had, but there was still a bitter taste that I knew would bring on the headache. “No gohuh?”

“It’s good, but nope.” I handed him the glass back, wincing at the ache already forming, and lifted my glass. “I’ll take this.”

“When did you have your first drink?”

“I had my first sip of alcohol at twelve.Then my first actual drink at like seventeen at my aunt’s party. However, I never got drunk until I was in my thirties.”

“How did you manage to go through your twenties and not get rip-roaring drunk?”

I licked my lips as I thought about that answer.I was only thirty-three, still young enough. But I had grown up just above poor, struggling to afford things at times.So, early on in life, I was working, helping my single-parent mother. I wasn’t out partying, trying to be something I wasn’t. I was working, or dancing, practicing hard to get into the programs, classes, and schools I needed to.

That’s where my strong work ethic came from.But that’s also where my low-key and tomboy status took root. I didn’t have material things growing up, didn’t need them or like them, and it stuck into my adult years. Even though my apartment wasn’t super fancy, it was enough for me. And though my clothes and heels were nice, they were bought at some of my favorite discount stores or what good buys I could find on clearance.

All the things he probably didn’t understand now.Maybe when he was growing up, with a family his size and the age gap in his siblings. But now, now things for him consisted of buying the finer things in life, and I still saved my money.

“It wasn’t me. I’m fine with a drink or two, but nothing crazy. It wasn’t till I was out with my friends one night and it came up that I hadn’t ever been drunk. Then Ricky took me to his house, where the party continued, and I got tore up from the floor up. Still not off of wine though.”

“Something made you strong enough to not get into things like that.”

“Just my life. My mom was a single parent,raising three of us. When I could help out, I did. I took all of that very seriously. It didn’t leave much time forpartying.”

“Or practicing makeup skills?”

I threw my napkin at him, making him laugh.

“I like light makeup, making it look more natural than all caked on. I have to look like a different woman for myjob and it’s enough for me to hate it.”

“Why don’t you quit if you don’t like what it makes you do?”

He was sincere in his question, and I knew that, I could feel that. But all I ever wanted to do, since I was a little girl, was dance. The last thing Iwanted to do, no matter how stupid some rules were to me, was give it up.

“I actually love what I do. I just don’t always like the rules set forth. For the most part, some of the rules are dumb.Like looking like a different person.”

“You know, I asked you a few times what your job is, and I think I have it figured out.”

---