Nash wanted me to go with him to grab something to eat for dinner since Saint was working a late shift in the ER and Rule had taken off to go home already. Rule was always bolting home right after work anymore and I think it bummed Nash out. The two of them were really tight and now, with all the business stuff going on and each of them settling into domesticated bliss, their bro-times were few and far between.
I had to decline because I needed to work on the drawings for the store. I wanted to show Salem I wasn’t really as much of a screw-up as I had appeared to be in the last few days. Nash told me he understood and promised he would have some sketches to me within the next few weeks as well, and left me alone to draw.
I sketched out a pirate ship. I sketched out a mermaid like the one I had put on Rule a few years ago. I sketched out a gypsy and then had to argue with myself not to throw it in the trash when I realized how much the design looked like my drunken doodle from the night before. All the images were bold and graphic. They were old-school tattoos with enough flare to make them appealing to a consumer not in the business. I liked them so much I decided on the spot I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to show Salem. I didn’t care that it was almost eleven o’clock at night or that I might come across as crazy, I texted her and asked her if it was all right if I brought them by tonight. I really could’ve just snapped photos with my phone and sent them to her but I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to show them to her in person.
I hadn’t felt like this, the rush, the chill of anticipation rushing up and down my spine, since the last time I had created something on paper to show her. I was fourteen and Salem was seventeen. Her dad had refused to let her go to her prom because as usual she had broken one of his endless rules. She was so sad about it, too, because the captain of the football team had asked her. It was going to be her dream date. Instead she had spent the night in her room alternately crying and cussing about her dad. Because I was always hanging around, always at her house instead of my own, I had ended up on her bedroom floor while she cried in bed, trying to make her feel better. Granted I was just a clumsy teenage boy, so there wasn’t much I could do, but when she told me how sad she was that she would never have a picture to keep—a good memory from prom and her high school days—because her father had thwarted her once again, I knew there was one thing I could do.
I knew Salem’s face as well as my own and it took less than five minutes to draw her out and put her in a fancy princess dress that she would never wear in the real world. The captain of the football team was a little trickier. By then I was only on junior varsity, so I knew basically what he looked like, but the only way I could really figure out how to draw him was in a football uniform. So I drew her a prom picture with her looking beautiful and perfect on the arm of a jock with a jersey on and a football helmet under his arm.
When I gave it to her she stopped crying instantly. She laughed and laughed. At first I thought she was laughing at me and then she had launched herself off the bed and tackle-hugged me to the floor. She told me it was way better than any prom picture could ever be and I still remembered feeling so proud of myself for cheering her up.
I also remembered Poppy sticking her head in the room to see what the ruckus was all about and giving both of us a disapproving look when she saw Salem sprawled all across the top of me. I hadn’t cared even though Poppy was the one I was supposed to be in love with. I wanted to make Salem happy. She was always going out of her way to make me feel like I belonged, like I mattered; I wouldn’t be judged for returning the favor.
The place Salem rented was right in the heart of Capitol Hill and not too far from the Marked or where Nash lived. She was just a few streets up and over. I found her name on the call box and buzzed her to let me in. She didn’t answer the first time and I wondered again if she was alone. When I buzzed the second time I laid on the button until the noise annoyed me and I had to jump back when she suddenly appeared at the security door. She pushed the heavy door open and I had to step to the side as an energetic black bundle of fur and fluff darted past me. Salem went racing after the puppy and I was left there staring after both of them like an idiot.
She was hollering “Jimbo! Get over here, Jimbo!” and the black Lab puppy was happily ignoring her as it pranced around from yard to yard.
Salem had her long hair tied up on top of her head, a pair of black glasses covering her dark eyes, and she was wearing the same shorts she had on from the other night when we had gotten up close and personal at the shop. Only tonight she had on a white tank top that clung to every curve she had and it was pretty obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.
I had to admit the more she stripped out of her fancy outfits and perfectly made up face, the more I was drawn to her. This Salem reminded me of the girl that had given me hope, the other Salem made my dick hard and had my head spinning, and I was irrevocably drawn to both of them.
The dog made a beeline for me and I bent down to scoop his fuzzy little body up. His tongue darted out to slime all over my face and his tiny tail whipped back and forth. Salem dashed up to the front of the apartment complex and took a minute to bend over at the waist to catch her breath.
“Stupid dog.” The dark fur ball turned at the sound of her voice and tried to escape my hold to get at his pretty owner.
“You got a puppy?” I handed him over to her and she tucked him into her chest as the dog attacked her face with his love.
“Yeah. I’ve never really stayed anywhere long enough to get attached to a pet. My neighbor mentioned that her boyfriend was trying to get rid of a surprise litter of puppies, and once I saw his dopey face I couldn’t resist.”
She headed for the door and looked at me over her shoulder. “He’s why I have to be home over the weekend. He isn’t awesome at being alone for too long yet.”
I lifted an eyebrow and followed her into the building. I couldn’t take my eyes off the sway of her rounded backside or the long length of her bare legs.
“Jimbo?”
The name was funny and fit the big, goofy pup.
“Yeah, Jimbo. Why not?”
Why not indeed? She walked into the apartment, set the dog down, and turned to look at me. I saw myself reflected in the lenses of her glasses as she watched me carefully.
“This really couldn’t have waited until the weekend, Rowdy?”
Her feet were bare and I noticed her toenails were painted a deep, rich red. Even dressed down and covered in dog slobber, she just had something about her that called to deep parts of me. She sighed and walked into her kitchen when I didn’t answer right away. She offered me a damp paper towel and I used it wipe the dog drool off as she did the same.