Page 6 of Step Puck

Back in the bedroom I glance at my phone and away. Should I torture myself more? Shit, no. I grab the phone and unlock it to find a message notification. It’s him. I feel like that teenager I never was. Waiting for the phone calls from the boy I’m interested in, except Billy isn’t a boy. He’s all man.

My iPhone lights up and my hands go so slick it almost slides out of them. My breath stops in my throat, something fills my chest. I don’t know what the emotion is. It’s big. Bigger than anything I’ve felt before. Anticipation? Terror of what might or might not happen? I don’t know.

I tap my finger on the message icon and read a message. Is this Lor? You don’t have to thank me. I’ll help you anytime. If you ever need anywhere to stay, let me know. Have a good night. It’s good to see you again, little girl. Holding the phone to my chest, a silly smile on my face, my heart throbbing like a heavy Ozzy Osborne song, I tap into my inner teenager.

You too.

* * *

I’m at my second job, a local bar in town, slinging beers for the early drinkers. Sometimes Momma comes in, I think just to embarrass me with her propositioning the younger guys that come in. She’s still attractive at forty-five but the drinking the past five years since my stepdad died have ruined her skin and new lines from her desperation and loss of herself, at being alone appear almost daily. She’s one of those women that need a man around to be her life raft in life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. That’s why she married Jason soon after my father left us. At least that’s the story I was told. It’s not me. I’m too independent she says.

“Hey, Lor, how about another Bud Lite?” A voice shouts from the back of the bar. A regular, Bud is his name actually. It’s a joke he tells everyone who’ll listen. A Bud for Bud. Yeah, not funny. But he thinks it is so everyone goes along with it.

“Sure, Buddy.”

“It’s Bud, Lor.”

“It’s Lorelei, Buddy. When you start calling me my name, I’ll start calling you Bud. Okay?”

“Sure, Lor. Got it.”

I just roll my eyes. This is a game to him. He’s alone, his wife having died ten years ago, I play along. That’s why he comes every day. He doesn’t like being alone, so he comes here ever day after his work in construction working for the studios. Has a bunch of beers and dinner.

“Ready for dinner yet?”

“Not yet. Watching the baseball game. The Wolves are winning over the Mariners. Don’t want to miss anything.” His voice booms through the room, cheers from the big screen television is drowned out by his volume. He’s a diehard Bay City Wolves fan, ever since he and his wife moved here. Boos and shut the fuck up, Bud fill the room.

This job isn’t so bad. My morning job at the grocery store is the one I hate. It doesn’t pay much; the work is too hard for the amount I make, and the customers are assholes. Most of them anyway, not all but most.

I trudge the first half of my shift, getting orders and throwing banter back and forth with the men. I’m only three hours into my shift and find out the other waitress isn’t coming in today. Sick kid, and I’ll now be doing a double shift. I need the money, the mortgage payment my mother stupidly made is coming due for the month and I don’t have any of it yet. I paid the utilities late, just shy of getting turned off, and getting food in the fridge. I won’t buy her alcohol, I don’t know where she’s getting the money from, that’s the least of my worries right now. My feet are killing me and I have until two in the morning to work and then an hour to clean and lock up.

Varying tones and volumes of “Billy” blare out like the horn blares for game time shoutouts. I jerk my head about to find the fantasy of my wet dreams is here to fill my daytime imaginings. My heart gives a big thump and I stop along with my heart, my eyes drink in his perfectly muscled body and hot face. He’s more than hot. He’s every woman’s dream come true. He’s not only a dream come true in real life, he’s nice. Sweet. He helps out at the local homeless shelter-I know cliché’ but it’s true, he also donates thousands and thousands of dollars to local charities. He also helps old ladies cross the street. I know. I know. He does it for the good rep, that’s not it though. He is that nice.

I turn away, my hands shake remembering what went down last night and my texts to him. My palms are sweaty, I have a hard time holding the mugs in my hands and I get a tray. I don’t look around to see where he is, I know where he is. I can feel his larger than actual life presence behind me. I pretend I feel nothing and keep doing my job, but he’s following me around with his eyes.

They drill into my back, lasers of…I don’t know what. I don’t know what he wants. Why he’s here in this not-as-popular bar and grill as say the Puck Bar. My skin itches as if swollen and tight ready to explode. I swivel to face him and he’s not there. He stands by the bar, a sweating beer in his hand, back against the bar, ankles crossed.

Why is he doing this? I continue serving the drinks, Bud decides he’s ready to eat.

“Lor, I’ll have a bacon, avocado, jalapeño cheeseburger, cheese jalapeños and another Bud Lite.”

“Buddy, are you trying to give yourself a heart attack.” I throw back at him, resting one hand on the table, the other on my hip. I shake my head at him and raise my hand, shaking at finger in front of his face.

“Hey baby, it’s Bud. How many times do I have to tell you? Remember the customer’s always right?”

“Not this customer. When you get my name right, I’ll get yours right. Baby isn’t my name either. Use Lorelei for once.” I thrust my head closer to him, my narrowed eyes daring him to keep it up. I won’t put up with his shit, no matter how many times he tries to piss me off. When I first started working here it worked, not anymore. All he wants is a reaction from me, I give him that much. I know he’s lonely.

“Hey, Lor. Got a minute?”

Another ass heard from. Him I’ll give a barrage of my thoughts. My pulse throbs in my throat like liquid fire-burning, scorching, incinerating my veins and capillaries from the inside out.

6

BILLY

I love the look on her face, how expressive in her pissed off thoughts of why I’m here. I don’t even understand myself. I haven’t been in a place like this since I started playing. I was always perfecting myself at first, then only to better bars and clubs. This place is borderline dump.

The ambiance is more friendly, and everyone seems to know each other. A home away from home, so to speak. Lorelei stomps over to me, craning her head back to try and stare her narrowed, potentially scary gaze shooting bullets. If she could get one of those bullets right between my eyes, I think she would.

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