Insatiable (12 page)

Instead I curled my fists against my thighs. I kept thinking about how nice she smelled, and the way her skin had pebbled into gooseflesh when I touched it with my lips.

I kept thinking about the way she sucked her breath in through her teeth when I ran my hands up her back.

And I kept thinking about how she was probably right. I had a lot of wreckage in my wake, and I didn’t want to make her a part of that.

“Drinks,” I said. “What else?”

The bartender was a pretty redhead who came over when I made eye contact with her. Almost without thinking, I slipped into my normal way of interacting with good-looking women. A crooked smile and a casual attitude.

“What do you need?” she said, leaning against the bar. She wore a blouse like the one Quinn had on. Except she had it unbuttoned a fair way down, and when she leaned forward she wasn’t shy about displaying her assets.

“I don’t know, what do you have that you think I’d like?” I said, letting my smile widen just a touch. I kept my eyes on her face, which I knew she found interesting.

And then I noticed Quinn giving me a slight shake of the head, as though she expected nothing less.

I snapped out of it, leaning back from the bar. I ordered us a pitcher of beer, asking for whatever was most popular on tap and hoping it wasn’t Coors Light.

The bartender looked disappointed.

“This reminds me of college,” I said, looking around the pub some more. Lots of wood paneling. I guess everyone who lived in Back Bay loved wood paneling. At least it made the place feel warm.

“I can see it now,” Quinn said. “Sorority sisters and waitresses fighting for your attention. A party everywhere you go.”

The bartender put a sloshing pitcher of beer down in front of us and pulled two frosted mugs up from beneath the counter, finishing it off with a little glass bowl in the shape of a four-leaf clover filled to the prim with unshelled peanuts.

Quinn’s comment earned a rueful laugh from me. This felt good, just sitting here with it. Normal, somehow. Familiar. Even though I’d never been to this place before and had known Quinn for about a week.

“Pretty opposite of that, actually. I’m one of those late-bloomer types, if you can believe it.” I poured us each a beer, tilting the glasses to avoid too much foam.

“That I don’t believe,” she said. She kept looking at herself in the mirror behind the liquor bottles. It wasn’t out of vanity, I could tell that.

It was a self-deprecating look I knew well. That manner of picking out every little perceived flaw and imperfection. She was hard on herself, I could tell.

And that discipline was what got her to where she was. Her bosses spoke highly of her, and even if I hadn’t wanted her I would have let her handle my account.

“It’s that same discipline that lifted you up that’s holding you back,” I said.

Quinn started, glancing at me and then at the mirror. She blushed when she realized that I’d caught her. “I’m not a narcissist, I swear.”

“I know. But sometimes a little narcissism goes a long way. You have to appreciate yourself before other people will.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said, bringing the mug to her lips. She was careful to wipe away the foam mustache left behind, I noticed.

I admired her profile while she let me, her nose and her cheekbones and her lips. I considered telling her again that she was beautiful, but I still didn’t think she would believe it.

“You need to give yourself a little freedom. Some slack. That’s where you’ll find that things really start to come together,” I said.

“Is that how you did it?” she said, glancing at me and then away again.

I looked around the pub and took a mouthful of beer. It bubbled against my tongue and tasted of hops, leaving a sharp aftertaste when I swallowed. Yes, this place did remind me of college.

Except I wished it didn’t. “Something like that. Too much slack, maybe.”

It was my turn to look in the mirror behind the bottles. I had to peer around an enormous Crown Royal, and then between two tall, frosted Smirnoffs.

I recognized the face staring back at me, but didn’t. What was it? The 17
^th
most beautiful? The face of a man who’d built his own company from the ground up, who could buy this entire block of buildings without any appreciable dent in his cash flow.

He was a man I didn’t know. A man I never really expected to become.

I could still see the college kid in there somewhere. The one with an idea for an app he thought might make him a few bucks. Maybe enough for some beer every few weeks.

I didn’t want to think about that anymore. I looked back to Quinn, who set down her mug half empty. I refilled it for her and topped mine up as well.

I caught that fiery bartender stealing glances at me from the corner where she wiped at the already clean countertop. I knew I could just give in and have her in my bed tonight, maybe forget about things for a while. I didn’t want to do that anymore, either.

“So who hurt you?” I said.

She jerked like I’d smacked her, some amber beer sloshing over into a frothy puddle on the bar. “Who said anyone hurt me?” She glanced around the bar like I’d just given some secret away to the world.

Normally I liked surprising her. This time I didn’t. “I’m guessing someone I remind you of in some way,” I continued.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quinn said.

“Takes a wreck to know a wreck,” I replied, “Maybe if you just let somebody in it will help...”

I trailed off when she turned on me with fire in her eyes and a cruel smile on her lips. “Really?” she said. “And does it help you, letting all those women in? Do you even know how many anymore? Do you even care? Or are all you after is a quick fix? I’m sorry, I don’t want to throw people away like they’re empty, used syringes.”

I got angry. Heat flared up in my chest and I squeezed the handle of my mug beer sloshed down the sides. A dozen different rebuttals ended on the tip of my tongue, ready to lash out like whips.

“So who hurt
you
?” Quinn asked, “Who are you trying to forget and get away from? Easy to ask, not so easy to answer, you see?”

My anger turned to sooty cinders at the back of my throat. I tried quenching the last few embers with another mouthful of draft. The sharpness of the aftertaste helped.

“You know, I could say that you’re trying to avoid the question by throwing it back in my face.”

Her jaw clenched, and that fire glowed behind her eyes. But the glow died down and she turned away from me again. I couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she looked when she was angry. And the sadness hanging from her expression now didn’t diminish it.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I’m not worth it.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re worth,” I replied. My body ached for her. I wanted her so badly. I wanted to take her back to the brownstone and tear all her clothes off and not stop with her until we were both lying on my bed, panting and sweaty from the exertion. Make her forget whatever her worry was. Push away the memories.

It was a deep ache. And one I knew probably wouldn’t be relieved.
But am I trying to help her forget, or am I just trying to help myself?

The beer started buzzing in my brain, leaving a warm, thick halo around my head.

“Because I think it’s what we both need,” I said. I caught her eyes with mine and didn’t let go.

Hers were an earthy green, reminding me of the color of mid-summer leaves right after a rain shower. A green that was deeper than it first appeared. There was no sign of that fire anymore, and I knew she’d pushed it back down to smolder inside of her.

She tore away from me. “This was a bad idea.”

“Coming to the bar?” I said.

“Agreeing to this job. Thanks for the drink, I guess. I’m going home.”

She got up. I thought about reaching out to her, asking her not to go yet.
Why does it matter so much?
I wondered.
Just let her go.

Part of it was that I knew she expected me to do that. And I also knew that if I did she might stay. But I’d made a habit of defying expectations, and bad habits were always the hardest to break.

So I didn’t reach out.

“If you get lonely I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding some company,” Quinn said, glancing pointedly in the direction of the bartender.

She moved to storm out of the bar. However, she only reached the booth nearest the door when she stopped. I thought I heard her mutter something, but couldn’t quite make it out.

I thought it might be something like,
Be professional
, but I couldn’t be certain.

She pulled something out of her pocket and came back towards me.

Unable to help myself, my heart started pounding. I thought that maybe she might have reconsidered.

“I almost forgot this,” she said. She put her closed fist down on the bar, forced her fingers open, and pulled her hand back. The jump drive was there. “Please email me your thoughts on my suggestions. We’re getting closer to the deadline.”

I wanted to say something, but couldn’t. My mind couldn’t find the words to express what I felt. She watched me, waiting.

This was it, I knew. I could open up to her. Tell her things I hadn’t told anyone, not even Stacey or Alisha. Things I thought she could understand. I couldn’t, though. Just the thought of it gave me palpitations.

Finally, unable to do more than groan inwardly, I responded with a crooked smile.

She shook her head and then looked over at the bartender, “He’s all yours. Have fun.”

I watched Quinn leave the bar, that ponytail of hers swishing from the force of her footsteps. From the corner of my eye, I saw the bartender lean back over the counter, clasping her hands close to where my sweating mug of beer sat.

“I’m Ricki,” she said, “Has anyone told you lately how handsome you are?”

God damn it, Quinn
, I thought,
Why did you do that?
And then,
Why did I do that?

Q
UINN

I couldn’t get that stupid bartender out of my head. She’d seen me get up to go and swooped in on Ward like a vulture on some tasty piece of meat.

Well, more specifically, I couldn’t get the image of that bartender’s cleavage out of my mind, and the way it popped when she leaned over the bar like that.

I’d wanted to tell her to take a hike, but couldn’t. Not after Ward had the nerve to smile at me like that. Like he didn’t even care.

I marched up the street, looking for a taxi. Of course the taxis never came to this neighborhood much. Everyone here owned an Audi or three. Who needed a taxi?

You just go have fun with that redhead, then,
I thought with a mental sneer. I started wondering how bad things would be if I went to Ms. Spencer tomorrow and told her I wanted off the Phoenix Software account.

Probably pretty bad. But beer from the bar swam in my head, and I let the fantasy entertain me for a while.

Normally I didn’t do much drinking. I ended up taking my work home so often that I needed my head as clear as possible. Well, that, and I usually looked after the kids for Mary at least once a week.

I turned back once and looked toward the corner pub. What had he meant with all that talk about discipline? He’d gotten nostalgic in there, turning into someone I could relate to.

It was just another one of his tactics to try and get me in the sack, I figured. We’d come so close back on the third floor of the brownstone and he hadn’t want to give in so quickly.

I couldn’t help wondering what it might like to be with him. Especially not with the warm fuzz from the beer filling my head. He knew how to kiss. He knew how to use his mouth. The way he touched me brought my body alive with desire.

And we hadn’t even taken off any clothes. I couldn’t help fantasizing about being held in his strong arms, both our bodies slick with sweat as we slid together.

The thing was, I knew I wanted that to happen. Some parts of me more than others. And at this point all my reasons not to no longer rang true, but hollow instead. Yet, in spite of that, I’d turned him down again.

Better be careful. Soon enough I bet he’ll stop trying.

Wasn’t that what I wanted, though? Him to stop trying, to leave me alone and in peace?

I thought so. I used to think so.

What I really wanted to know was how he managed to hit so close to the mark with his questions.
But how could he possibly know anything about my past?

Maybe the two of us were opposite sides of one coin. He responded to his own inner turmoil, burying it with a never-ending parade of beautiful women. I responded to mine by shutting men out before they could get too close.

I wondered if that was what I sensed in him, a sort of sympathy, that I reacted to so harshly, that made me dislike him so strongly?

He’s probably still in the bar,
I thought,
I could go back in and find out
. But part of me feared that I might got back in there and find him with his arms around that pretty redhead’s waist, his lips locked to hers. And I don’t think I could have stood that.

I walked three blocks before I saw a yellow cab. It was already engaged, so I needed to wait for a second, which I caught.

***

T
hree days later I went down to the art department to talk with Anne about a couple layouts.

A couple of her fellow artists sat at their tables, their tongues clenched gently between their teeth while they plied their trade.

Anne herself sat in front of that bank of monitors, experimenting with different filters on the image of a smiling boy. She wore her headphones as usual, a tinny bass beat emitting from them.

I touched her shoulder and she turned, frowning, at the interruption. When she saw me the frown flipped to a smile and she slipped her headphones down so they rested around her neck.

“How are things going with you and Mr. Hotstuff?”

I shrugged. “They’re not going anywhere. I don’t think I’ve talked to him in three days or so. Unless you count emails back and forth.”