It's Not About You Read online

  I could relate to Michael's outcome because that was close to the same coffee I made. Kyle had given me a dramatic performance of a death scene after drinking a cup I'd pressed.

  "Well, I'm afraid I'm not a great teacher at the Press…" I said as I stood and abruptly got caught up in my chair when it wouldn't naturally scoot back. The occupant at the table behind me had been right up against my back and I didn't know it, so when my chair didn't move, I lost my balance.

  Michael stepped in close and gently grabbed both my upper arms, preventing me from embarrassing myself. The guy sitting too close? Not so much.

  "Hey! Watch it—you damn near pinched my finger." He was young, probably Tanae's age, and full of himself. I'd seen his kind before. He was dressed nice, with his tablet on the table. One of the kids of privilege is what I nicknamed them after a week of running this shop. The regulars that came in, took their same seat, dressed nice, remained on their tablets and their laptops and phones for eight hours and then disappeared. They bought coffee and snacks and paid for them with credit cards.

  Nobody knew what it was this people did to make a living, and right now, I wasn't in the mood. "And you had your chair jammed into mine. You've got a foot of space between you and the table. It was an accident."

  "Then you should say you're sorry." The little shit actually started to block my way.

  Michael slipped in and with a grace and speed I hadn't anticipated, put his own hand on the young man's shoulder. "It was an accident. Leave it at that. No harm was done. I mean, do you really want to alienate the store manager?"

  I was sort of looking at this as a possible problem and going over in my head all those things George wanted me to do in case of customer ass-holery.

  But to my surprise the customer glared at Michael but didn't retaliate.

  "We got a problem here?" Kevin's voice was smooth, deep, and had just the right hint of irritation to it. When I looked at him, he was just behind Michael, his hands on his hips, his gun and holster visible as well as his badge hanging on the wallet around his neck.

  The customer's gaze slid from Michael to Kevin and then he held up his hands. "Naw…naw. Nothing here. Just having a bad day is all."

  I winked at Kevin before I maneuvered my way out of the little huddle toward the counter. I spotted Mary coming out of the back room, her apron gone. It was end of shift for her. "Sir, would you like a brownie on the house? They're fresh made."

  The kid's face lit up like a birthday boy looking at his presents and nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."

  Kevin and Michael moved away from the table as I wound around the counter past Mary to get to the case. "Thanks you two," I said quietly.

  When the two men faced one another, it was all raised eyebrows and posturing. Men. All testosterone and no common sense. I figured I should introduce them. "Detective Kevin Taylor, meet Michael Oliver. Michael, this is Kevin."

  Michael was the first one to offer his hand. "Always happy to meet those who serve in law enforcement."

  Kevin returned the handshake but looked skeptical. "You a regular around here?"

  "When I can be. I bought a French Press earlier and I suck at making coffee with it. Came by to get a lesson."

  I pulled a brownie out and set it on a plate. "I told him earlier that I don't know how to use them—"

  "Which is why I'm going to teach him," Mary said a perky voice.

  "Oh?" I looked from Mary to Michael as the little barista slipped between the two men and looked up at Michael with adoration. "Well, then that's a good choice. Mary's good with a French Press." Wow that was hard to say and mean it.

  My eyes locked with Michael's. He smiled at me. "I'm hoping she can make an expert out of me." He placed an arm around Mary and nodded to us. "Nice to meet you Detective Taylor. Good to see you, Grace."

  I watched as the two left the shop then moved back around the counter to serve mister fussy customer his free brownie with a smile.

  "You okay?" Kevin stepped close as a group of women came through the front door. "You look mad and sad at the same time."

  Had to cover that up quick. "Just a long day. The stuff with Sam and not getting my day off, then this guy," I said as I nodded to the now brownie happy guy. "Tired. But thank you for bringing the paperwork and filing for me."

  He squeezed my shoulder affectionately. "You call me if he shows up, okay?"

  I agreed and Kevin left as I welcomed the customers at the register. I couldn't remember what they ordered or what buttons I pushed to ring them up. For all I knew they ordered larges and got charged for smalls.

  No…my mind was still processing Mary with Michael's arm on her shoulder. It was a good fit. They looked good together, and though Mary had a bad tendency to say what was on her mind at the wrong time, she was a good worker.

  I just didn't like the way it made me feel…like the older fat kid on the playground after the bully turned my new best friend against me.

  The smells when I got home—nirvana. I straight arrowed it to the kitchen to find Kyle there cooking up a feast. Potatoes boiling, a pan of butter and herbs over a flame and four lobster tails ready for a nice bath. He had pork chops ready, all glazed and herb encrusted. A pot of steaming green beans and in the oven—angel food cake!

  "What's the occasion?" I asked as I stepped behind him to grab a Sierra Mist from the fridge. I spotted a new cheesecake there as well.

  "Two things. One, I've been thinking about that last lesson we had."

  "The surf 'n turf?"

  "Yeah." He pointed at the plate of prepared chops so I handed them to him.

  The pan was nice and hot so when he slid two in, the sizzle and inevitable aroma nearly made me cream my jeans. Damn…food was one hell of an aphrodisiac. "You're gonna make a straight woman come, babe."

  "Always my intention. But back to your question…I decided to do it with pork. Cause I was wanting chops. The other thing is we've got company for about two hours."

  I made a noise. I did not want company.

  "Now it's not me. We hired in a new tech today. Guy's got a great resume. He was working over at Hyperion in Alpharetta, we hired him at Daedalus a week or so ago."

  "I take it Hyperion is another IT company? Or what ever it is you do?"

  "Yeah but he's not working in my department directly. He's more into the mechanical side of things. If we have a hardware issue, he's the one that fixes it, or his team. And because we're going to be working together," Kyle said as he made a face. "My boss invited the two of them over here."

  "Your boss has a crush on you." He knew I was teasing him. His boss was anything but attracted to the same sex. That would be a sin.

  "Yeah. Sad really. Cause he's not my type. Just too old. The new guy is fucking gorgeous, but I'm not sure which team he's on."

  "What? Your gay-dar isn't working?"

  "Not enough time with him. So I'll figure it out tonight. And baby, I need to find someone new. And exciting." He pushed the chops around in the oil. "So we'll be entertaining them for just a bit and once they leave, we're heading to the roof. I got a fat one rolled and I'm gonna need it after fending off Mr. Almondrode's questions all night. You up for this? We need to confer on anything?"

  I laughed at him. "Nah. You volunteer stuff and I'll just back you up. But please…no weird trips to like Bora Bora 'cause let's face it, I've never gone there. Don't put me in a position where I can't answer intelligently or he'll know something's wiggy."

  See…here's the thing…

  Gerald Almondrode didn't know Kyle was gay, and the reason for that was simple. The fucker was a raging anti-gay ass-hat. Kyle had already watched as two of his co-workers were let go (there's those words again) due to their less than acceptable performance. The truth was Almondrode found out they were gay and then set them up to fail at something, then fired them. Everyone at the company knew it, but Gerald was good about keeping his nose clean while others did the dirty work. The guy had henchmen and they were always watching
out for anything unsavory in the lives of their employees.

  Kyle had kept a low profile, did his work, and he was damn good at it. Until a year ago when someone commented that he never brought a girl to any of their functions, and in fact, they had never seen him with a girl. He came to me worried he was going to get targeted by Almondrode and fired so I did what I always did with my gay friends.

  I became his beard. We kept the ruse up when ever he needed it. The fact the fat bastard was coming to the house made things…weird. But nothing Kyle and I couldn't handle.

  "George called, told me about Sam's condition." He set a timer on the chops and looked at me. The boy's shirt was open, revealing a nicely muscled six-pack. No hair. He shaved it, letting me know that grass did not grow on a playground. "You okay?"

  "No. And yes. And…" I popped my soda and leaned against the edge of the counter opposite the boiling potatoes. They were peeled and I grabbed a knife to poke and test them. "I'm upset but not about what I should be upset about."

  "Those potatoes are nearly done. Grab the colander and drain them. Watch out for the potato facial though 'cause it'll kill that perky uplift you've got going with your bangs. I got garlic butter ready and some good stuff milk."

  "You got Cagle's?" I bypassed the colander and opened the fridge. There they were. Two gallons of Cagle's milk, the best milk evah! "I love you!"

  "I know." Kyle had that mischievous look on his face again. "So grab a gallon then drain the potatoes while you tell me."

  I drained the potatoes first and managed to avoid the facial. I dumped the spuds back into the pot and put them back on the stove with no heat as Kyle dumped a stick of butter into them and then grabbed the milk. "I know Sam's gonna be okay. Her family's gonna take care of her. But it's…"

  He handed me the potato masher before he flipped the chops. "Is it George? I know he can be a bit of a drama queen and he's not all that easy to work with. Did he give you crap about this morning?"

  "Oh no…no." I started smashing the quickly melting butter and spuds. "It's not George."

  "Someone else?" He removed the chops, reapplied oil and waited for that to ripple. "One of the workers?"

  "No. Well yes." I stopped smashing. "I feel really silly saying this."

  "Honey, I've known you going on twenty years. You've seen me puking after a bender, and you've nursed me back from…that thing." He slid two more chops on the oil. "Spill it."

  "Kyle I'm old. And don't go trying to change my mind on that. I see it in the mirror. But I'm still a woman, I still feel and now I seem to want sex more than ever."

  Kyle blinked. "You do? Honey when was the last time you had any?"

  "Since Kevin and I broke up? What's that…over a year?"

  He arched a brow at me. "You know you can't grow your virginity back, right?"

  I punched him with my elbow. "Shut up. I don't want it back, I want sex. But I don't feel sexy. I don't feel attractive."

  He turned the chops. "That's what has that line between your brows so deep?"

  "No. It's this customer. I met him the day George hired me. In fact George knows him. Or he knew his name. He's gorgeous, got these eyes to die for, and he seems…nice."

  "So what's the catch?"

  "He's gotta be in his late twenties."

  Kyle removed the chops and reapplied oil again as I continued smashing buttery potatoes. But I added some of that damn good milk first. "You know…this shit has got to stop. Age doesn't make a bit of difference."

  "Really?" I glared at him. "You who just said his boss was too old for him is going to lecture me about age?"

  "Oh. Yeah. You're right. But that's different. Almondrode is in his sixties. He's like a year from retiring. I'm not even past forty yet." Then he stopped. "I'm just digging that hole deep. Sorry Grace." He dumped chops this time and the spatter made him back up. "Hey get those beans off the steam. Ice bath's in the fridge."

  I did as he asked and then went back to pounding spuds. I didn't expect him to finish talking but he did.

  "Grace…I can't tell you dick about straight men. They're a wonder to me. An enigma. They like what they like. You're the same. If you think this guy's cute, see if he's interested." He paused. "Or is that it? You did and he rejected you?"

  "No. Nothing like that. He was in this morning buying a French Press and he asked for me personally. Then he came back to get a lesson on how to use it. Kevin was there and the guy somehow left with Mary. She was going to teach him."

  "You mean Mary I-open-it-for-manly-men?"

  I poured more milk in and switched out the potato smasher for a big spoon to start whipping it into something creamy. "Same. But she does make a mean cup of coffee with one of those. We have regulars who come in and want their coffee on a French Press."

  "If you can work one, they are good. Almondrode takes his coffee that way. Anytime he's taken us out to eat we've gone to restaurants that press their coffee." Kyle shrugged as he flipped the chops. "So you know on an intelligent level that Mary was the best choice, but you wanted to show him? Grace you don't know how to operate a single cup. And why was Kevin there?"

  I loved the way he usually caught sentences on a two minute delay. "Kevin was there because he drew me up a new restraining order on Burt. I have to keep him informed if Burt drives up."

  "When will the bastard get his copy?"

  "I don't know. I don't care. I have my copy." My arm got tired so I stepped back. Spoon stuck up out of the pot. "Potatoes are done."

  "Salt and pepper?"

  "No."

  "Fine. They can do that themselves. The table's set and the last thing I'm gonna do is drop the lobster tails. Why don't you get a shower? I got wine chilling for dinner, but I opened one of the mason jars and I'll have you a glass ready when you come down."

  I grabbed my soda and then paused at the kitchen door. "I don't know, to answer your question. I just felt sort of cheated out of the opportunity to get to know him."

  Kyle gave me a sideways smile and waved me on. I meandered down the hall to the bathroom, grabbed a towel and started the shower. When I undressed I avoided looking at the mirror. I had since I had Tanae and my body just didn't look like mine anymore.

  It's a sad mix of feelings we get after childbirth. The joy and love of having that small, tiny human in our arms, and then looking down to see that our laps, our thighs, our feet and ankles, and even our breasts were no longer ours.

  We love our kids, us moms. Even with the sacrifice of what it does to us physically. But what does it do to the fathers? There are no physical changes. Just changes in their perceptions of us. That now we've created life our bodies aren't touchable anymore.

  That we've stopped being women and are now mothers…a completely different species. While they turn from the Madonna and find the whore outside the house.

  I took a long, hot shower and pretty much cursed Burt for everything he was worth.

  I just finished putting the food on the table when the doorbell rang. Kyle had dressed me, insisting I wear something besides jeans, shorts or capri pants, I settled on a nice half summer, half fall dress he bought me on that last excursion to the mall to improve my wardrobe. "And wear a real bra!"

  I wear sports bras, cause they're more comfortable.

  "I'll get it!" Kyle ran up the stairs from his lair and I saw him pause at the front door. Take a deep breath, and then he opened it. "Hi Mr. Almondrode. Come on in."

  I'd met his boss a few times. Gerald Almondrode was a big guy. And I mean girth-wise. He was also close to 6'4" and that had to be barefoot. I waved at Gerald from the table, just visible from the door.

  "Hello there!" He said in his booming voice. "How's the little cougar doing?"

  Gerald just loved it that we were a 'couple' and I was older. I made a promise to myself—the fat-ass got three shots at cougar for the night. But on the fourth…I kill him.

  I cringed inwardly as I waved back to him. "Just fine! Putting food on the table. Come on in." I duck
ed into the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed the glass of hootch Kyle had ready for the two of us—just to get us through the night. His grandfather used to run white lightening and his dad liked to make it. They lived in the swampy parts of southern Georgia and as far as I knew, the old fart had a still in the woods. Kyle called it tater juice. I called it battery cleaner as it burned on the way down and I ended up in a coughing fit.

  "Hey…you all right? I can get—"

  I knew that voice, and it wasn't Kyle's, nor was it Gerald's. The world moved in slow motion as I turned to see Michael Oliver standing in the door to the kitchen, the French Press in its box in one hand, and a Trader Joe's bag in the other.

  We stood like that, me by the sink and him in the doorway for what seemed like an eternity. Then Kyle came in the side door from the dining room and looked from me, to Michael, then back to me. He put a hand on my arm. "Is there something wrong?"

  Michael responded in a sort of breathless voice. "Uh…she was…coughing. I didn't know if she needed…help."

  Kyle looked at me and I stared at him, wide eyed. What was I supposed to do? Here was the guy I'd mentioned to Kyle, without giving a name, in the house, with my room mate's boss. A boss who believed I was his employee's cougar girlfriend.

  I was in a bad sitcom and didn't see a way out of it. And the look on Michael's face told me he was just as shocked as I was. And he looked…beautiful. His hair had been combed back and his thin beard made even thinner. He had silver, wire framed glasses perched on his nose as he set the French Press he'd bought earlier in the day on the only space available on the kitchen's island.

  Gerald came into the kitchen behind Kyle and gestured to Michael. "Grace, this is Michael Oliver, our new team leader. Michael, this is Grace Murphy, Kyle's wonderful girlfriend."

  God I was so happy he didn't say cougar again. God I was so humiliated he called me Kyle's girlfriend.

  But Michael didn't skip a beat. He schooled his expression and offered me his hand. "Nice to meet you Grace."