Page 158 of Levi

I want it for good too. Not one stolen Tuesday that ends when the bus pulls out.

All of it. For keeps.

Sheila waves me over after midnight and leans on the bar. “How are you doing tonight, baby?”

“I’m good, Sheila. Thank you for putting up with my crew tonight.”

“It’s a good night. Another one on you.” She cuts her eyes toward the end of the bar where Dante is nursing a drink. “Remember back when I said you needed to work harder for that one?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sure do. Thank you for the advice.”

“Don’t let your foot off the gas. You’re not at the finish line yet. But we’re rooting for you, baby. Make Mama Sheila proud. You can call me that now.” She pats my hand and goes back to work. “You’re one of my boys.”

Eventually last call comes and everybody pretends not to hear it. Since I brought the crew here, I figure it’s my responsibility to get them out. The bus slowly reloads with people who’ll wake up hungover. Every one of them clutching a bottle of water Benji presses on them at the door like a parting gift. Stormy starts wiping down the mahogany bar.

At the corner table, the black-haired stranger stands, stretches, decides to call it a night. He passes close on his way out. Doesn’t stop. Just slow enough, for half a second, that only I can hear it under the noise.

“Out back,” he whispers. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

He’s gone into the parking lot as if we’ve never met. And I’ve got to stand here, shake six more hands, sign a cocktail napkin, be Lee Streeter with everything in me aimed at the door.

Chapter 62: Dante

Levi gets into the white SUV and pulls the door shut on the noise, the bar, all of Lee Streeter in one motion. The second the interior light dies he isn’t performing anymore. He’s just my Levi, grinning at me in the dark.

“Well, hello,” he says. “I was told there’d be a rude stranger out here waiting for me.”

“He left.” I back out of Tex’s gravel lot. “Sent me instead. I’m the polite one.”

“Shame. I met the rude one earlier tonight.” He drops his head against the rest and looks at me sideways, loose and happy. “In an elevator. Rudest thing that’s ever been done to me in my life. I almost didn’t survive it.”

“You should report him to management.”

“I’m drafting the letter.” He holds up a hand and starts counting off fingers. “He also made me a lot of promises and I’ve been keeping up. The ear. Delivered. Man whispered my own name into it and I felt it in my back teeth. Filthy. Delivered, Lord, delivered, on the floor of an elevator, and then he set my hat back on my head like he was tucking in a child and told me nice meeting you.” He folds down the last finger and looks at it. “The parking lot remains outstanding. I checked the parking lot on my way to this vehicle. Nothing there except empty gravel.”

“We’re past the parking lot.” I take the turn toward the highway. “We’re going somewhere with a door that locks.”

“Listen to you. Talking romance now.” Levi’s hand has found my thigh, his thumb moving back and forth.

His hand keeps moving, farther up my thigh, and it takes an embarrassing amount of my attention to hold the speed limit. I drive a little faster than I should.

When we’re inside, before anything else, I cross the carpet and pull the sliding glass door open to the dark. It’s habit now. The first time he stayed, I did it without understanding it. Now I understand it, and I do it quicker.

When I turn around, he’s watching me with a look that isn’t playful anymore.

“Nobody ever did that before you,” he says. “Not once in my life. Just left it open.” Then he crosses the carpet and kisses me.

We don’t make it graceful. He’s half-laughing against my mouth, walking me backward down my own hall, and when I reach for his shirt, he catches both my wrists.

“Uh-uh. Payback time.” He hooks a thumb toward the bathroom. “You’ve been standing in a smokehouse and I taste like a sour key lime pie. Come on. We do this clean.”

“We?”

“Yeah, both of us at the same time to save water and time. It’ll be tight but we’ll fit.”

The tub was built for one person with modest ambitions. We fit anyway, chest to chest under the spray, too close to do anything but touch each other. When I reach for the soap he takes it out of my hand.

“No. That’s the whole point.” He turns me by the shoulders, the way I’m always turning him, and starts on my back. “Every single time, it’s been your hands. Tonight it’s mine. Stand there and let a man work. When I think about the times I was dying to get my hands on you, and now we’re both buck naked in the shower and I’ve got soap in my hand.”