Jesus, the things he said to me were so fucking hot, I don’t think any guy had been so explicit and we had barely gotten started. I wanted to see where that filthy mouth would have taken us – figuratively and literally. I wanted him to come back for “more of this.”
But as the morning stretched on, I’m stuck with one almost finished couch, another in a box I can’t even fathom putting together and I’m this close to taking the largest blunt object I have – probably my dildo – and smashing the shit out of both of them. Fucking IKEA! But it’s not really the store’s fault (not really), it’s mine for getting so wrapped up in him already. It’s like one little touch, one little taste, and I’m ready to give him more. Although, I would say neither his touch nor his taste was little. His tongue is strong and long and his fingers even more so.
Even though it’s Tuesday, Lisa can’t make it in to cover my shift today since it starts at 3pm but luckily my mother can. I’m starting to feel awful for dragging her out here more often. Shift work just isn’t as predictable as the jobs of my past but she’s a trooper and loves spending time with her granddaughter as much as possible.
“Hey, darling,” she says to me as she comes inside. She stops and immediately eyes the IKEA crap in the corner before waving at Ava who is lying on the original couch, buried in cushions and mindlessly watching TV.
Ava gives a half-hearted wave back, as if she can’t muster the energy. Normally I’d freak out that there’s something wrong with her but I just measured her blood levels and she’s in perfect range. She’s just a bit blah – must be picking it up from her mom.
Yet my mother says to me, “You’re looking good.” As if it’s a surprise, as if I normally walk around looking like a bag of crap. Hmmm. Maybe I do.
“Oh, thanks,” I say. I’m just wearing my normal bar uniform of black cleavage-producing tank top and jeans but she’s peering at me like I’m hiding something.
“Really,”’ she says, pinching one of my cheeks, something she hasn’t done since I was a little girl. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Don’t forget you’re still young, you know, no matter how old this troublemaker makes you feel.” She jerks a thumb at Ava who pays no attention.
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her. I grab my leather jacket I’ve had since the Dark Ages since SF decided to be a real asshole this week and drop the temperatures to about minus a million. I’m getting ready to head out the door, when my mother says, “Should I expect a visit from Bram?”
Even though the door handle is in my grasp, I let go and step back to face her.
“Mom, listen,” I tell her. “Bram’s a very nice guy.”
“A gentleman,” she says with a weirdly knowing smile.
“Sure,” I say. “I mean, he’s a real good guy. And also, not…anyway, my point is, I don’t care if he brought you over a kettle or seems to show an interest in me and whatever, he’s just my neighbor. He’s never going to be anything more than that.”
“Oh, Nicola…” she goes on, throwing her hands down at her sides.
I grab one of her hands. “I know you and this is pretty much the first guy you’ve met since I’ve been with Phil, other than that guy Ben, but he didn’t stick around much either, but really…Bram and I? We are just friends. I don’t know what the future holds but for now, he’s doing me a favor and I’m trying to make it as easy as possible on him.” I pause. “You know what I mean? And don’t do any of your mom meddling things that you usually do. That’s not going to work, okay? It may jeopardize the landlord-tenant relationship we have going.”
“What makes you think I would do any of that?”
“I can see it in your eyes,” I tell her. “I see it in my eyes too, sometimes.”
She throws her hands up in the air and walks over to the couch, plopping down beside Ava. “All right. I understand. Mom can’t have a little fun. But I’ll tell you, one day your daughter will be old enough to be dating boys and you’re going to care as much about the process as she does. Only she won’t let you.”
“Sounds fabulous.”
“It’s true. It’s what happens to all us moms. Time keeps chugging by and you all keep changing but the love never does. You’ll always be my little angel and she’ll always be yours. And all mothers just want their angels to find men worthy of them. Even more than that, someone that will look at them like they’re magic.” She looks at me, plopping her legs on the couch. “If you find a man who looks at you like you’re magic, you hold on to them. I had that with your father and I never should have let him go.”
I swallow hard. “But you have to think the man is magic, too. It goes both ways.”
She nods. “Yes you do. It has to be both ways and when you find it, it’s alchemy in its purest form. Don’t cast it aside for anything else.”
I don’t know what else to say. I tell my mom to call if there are any troubles and I leave.
I don’t see Bram in the halls. I don’t know what I’d say if I did. I’d probably ask for a ride and would end up getting more than I bargained for.
***
Unfortunately I don’t end up working the shift that night for very long. The night is slow and at around eight, James tells me I can go home. It’s great I still get the tips and a few more hours of my paycheck, even if I’m not there – he can be a really good boss sometimes. But the hassle of public transportation doesn’t help and also, I guess I just really wanted to be out of the apartment for a long time. It’s easy to forget about Bram when I’m so far removed.
I walk down the hall to my apartment, shrugging off my leather jacket and am about to stick the key in the door when I hear laughter.
My mom’s laughter.
Ava’s laughter.
Bram’s laughter.
Oh, hell no. I silently whip out the powder compact and give my face the once over. Hair is disheveled a bit but I look okay otherwise. I take a deep breath and open the door.
Inside my apartment are Bram, my mom and Ava. They are all sitting on the same couch.
Only it’s not my old couch and it’s obviously not the yellow shit piece. The yellow shit piece and the other box are stacked up by the door, right beside where I’m standing. All three of them are on this sleek, dark grey sofa that I’ve never seen before.
Actually, as I shut the door behind me and peer at it closer, it looks like the same futon Bram had his eye on in the store.
Oh my God, did he buy me a new fucking couch?
My eyes fly to his and from the way he’s grinning at me, the tip of his tongue held devilishly between his teeth, I know that’s exactly what happened.
“You’re home early,” my mom says and she looks bashful, as if I caught her doing something she shouldn’t be doing. She adds quickly, “Bram came by with this couch for you, isn’t that so nice of him?”
“It’s very nice of him,” I say, walking over the couch and kneading the top of it between my hands. It’s soft but sturdy. I like it a lot, but God how his charity is starting to make me uncomfortable at times. I think that’s why he does it. Screw the Richard Branson aspirations. I think Project Nicola Price aka Eliza Doolittle is more because he enjoys how much it bothers me. He’s becoming a regular old sugar daddy when I sure as hell never asked for one.
I look over at Ava who is smiling at Bram like he’s her damn hero. “How do you like the couch, angel?”
“I like it very much,” she says emphatically.
All right, so I guess that settles it. “Where’s the old couch?” I ask him, oddly sad I never got to say goodbye.
“A charity organization came to take it away, going to a half-way house,” he says. “So don’t worry, it’s going to a good cause. And tomorrow we’ll just return the other couches to IKEA.”
Oh, so we have plans for tomorrow now? I do my best to keep a stupid smile from showing on my lips.
“Well, now that you’re home, I better be going,” my mother says, easing herself off the couch. She gives Bram a flirty look. “Nice talking with you, Bram.”