Page 131 of When There Was You
Butch cocks his head, a warning, then leans down to her level. “Pay the toll, kid.”
She kisses his cheek. “You look real nice, too, Daddy.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She leaves with Hemi, and we stand in the foyer grinning at each other.
“Is that for me?” I ask, spying something clutched in his hand.
He looks down as if he forgot he was holding it. “What a dumbass. Yes, this is for you.” He hands me the box, and I open it, finding a corsage.
It’s not one of those tacky, over-the-top varieties that dwarfs your forearm, but a tasteful, demure bracelet made of white mini roses. Butch removes it and slips it over my wrist.
“It’s lovely.” And unexpected.
“You look so beautiful, Jacqui,” he says, taking my hand. “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
I trail my fingers down his suit lapels, coasting over the smooth material and loving the way it hangs on his large frame. My shoes close our height gap by four inches, puttingme closer to that kissable mouth, and I plant one lightly on his lips. “You look good enough to eat.”
“Uh…sold.”
We share a smile, interrupted when the phone rings and Butch gets the confirmation he needs from Emmy. It really is convenient that he lives next door to his parents, and in this safe, small-town enclave where his daughter can run between houses.
Butch tucks me into the Barracuda, which he’s washed, waxed, buffed, and cleaned. It’sveryprom night all around. We get on the road, all smiles, just as the sun begins to set, coloring the sky in vivid hues. He’s even got Van Halen in the tape deck.
We arrive at the restaurant on time for our reservation. Rich aromas waft through the air and my stomach rumbles in response. We crack jokes and steal kisses, then settle in for a delicious meal.
Adult prom is everything Butch promised and more. The decorations with an “Under the Sea” theme. The mostly older couples. The cheesy photos, for which we absolutely pose. And all the glorious dancing. My suitor isn’t afraid to bust out some moves, and the slow songs, when my head rests on his shoulder, make me sigh like a lovesick girl. Because Iama lovesick girl, one hundred percent gone for this man who gave me a prom do-over on a silver platter. What kind of man does this?
The one I have the privilege of loving.
He is the consummate date: attentive, selfless, focused purely on me having a wonderful time. I inhale it all, from his mesmerizing scent to the soft twinkling lights to the music flowing across us when he holds me in his arms. Classics like “At Last” by Etta James, “Let’s Stay Together,” by Al Green, and “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers.
Once we get home, I happily put out—the perfect endingto this wondrous night. And my date doesn’t disappoint either.
He’s wearing briefs in a shocking shade of purple.
Sixty-Three
The shit hits the fan two weeks later when Don calls me into his office. He positions me in a chair in front of his imposing desk, assessing me with his pale eyes.
“Are you happy here, Jacqueline?”
“At the magazine?”
“Precisely.” His eyes remain fixed on me, reminding me of a lizard that never blinks.
Why not say it out loud, call him out on his bullshit? “I’m unhappy with the prejudicial way assignments are distributed among our section.”
He doesn’t react. “Be more specific.”
Like you don’t know. “Ever since a complaint was filed—full offalseallegations—I’ve received significantly fewer features and top-tier stories.”
“Why do you assume the allegations are untrue?”
“Because I’ve done nothing to compromise my ethics, and previous assignments were awarded on merit.”
