Page 10 of Savagely Yours
“More cowbell.”
“Why do I feel like a weird explanation is coming?”
“You don’t know that joke from SNL?”
“I’m surprisedyouknow it. You learned most of your pop culture references from me.”
“I know a lot more than I say, but I like it when you teach me, so I pretend not to.” He yawned into the back of his hand. “It’s the skill of deception. Learned it in the military.”
“Deception? So, uh, I’ll be taking back my marriage proposal.”
“Why? Just because I’m aliar?”
I burst out laughing.
He reached toward me, paused midair, and then let his hand fall. The English version of Frankie J’s “More than Words” came on next, and he closed his eyes and groaned.
“Ilovethis song, Tapley. Doesn’t matter if it’s the original version or not. The first time I heard it was my foster dad playing it on guitar. He even started to teach me.”
“Is that the one who died?”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and motioned as if he had the instrument strung across his body, plucking imaginary strings. “He taught me some Bob Marley too. Wish I’d had more time with him. He was one of the few good ones.”
“You’d be a rockstar, I think.”
“Think I have what it takes?”
“You’ve already got the musician look down. Beard. Tattoos. Large hands.” I curled a few strands of his hair around my fingers. “Occasional ratty man bun.”
His eyes opened.
I graced him with my most innocent smile.
We sat through several more songs, but he didn’t drift off. I continued to play with his hair while he stared at me with such a cool intensity that I had to periodically look away. This entire night was my best attempt at flirting, but he didn’t seem to be picking up on it. Often, I had to remind myself that he was probably too focused on his job to care anything about my increasing levels of infatuation.
“You’re wide awake, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Waiting to see you fall asleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Sloths move faster than you’ve been blinking.”
“It’s not because I’m tired.”
“Why is it, then?”
He shrugged a single shoulder and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s a secret.”
The toiling in my middle continued.
Dez was a decent man. He didn’t seem like the type who would punch me in the face if I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his. Gently push me away and inform me about a girlfriend I neglected to ask about, sure, but not Mike Tyson me to my jaw.
“Is there someone waiting for you back at your place?” I asked.
“Like?”
“A girl…dog.”
