Let Him Cry

Here's Part 3 of Matt and the women. Even though the trip isn't over, he has "a feeling [he's] not in Kansas anymore." (That's not literal; he lives in Pennsylvania. But you get the metaphor, I'm sure, because everyone's seen

The Wizard of Oz

at least once, right?)

–C

CHAPTER V

Once again, word seemed to spread through the women. This time it wasn't indulgent looks. There were two dozen women or so at the wrap party for Bela's house, and three or four of them had a chip on their shoulder. It was no coincidence that they happened to be the ones closest to Caitlyn.

On the other hand, I was being flirted with by a couple of others, even if it wasn't seriously.

It took me a while to recognize it. I've never been the most super observant guy in the room. Of course I saw it with Caitlyn and Lauren, but none of the women at the party said anything so blatant as, "Stay tonight?" or, "Last call's at midnight if you want to hang until then."

It wouldn't have dawned on me if Ruth hadn't caught my eye, let hers wander around our circle, and given me a wink.

What? my expression said in return.

Her eyes widened in astonishment and merriment. Once again, her gaze tracked around the people standing there then came back to me. Her eyebrows wiggled. The amusement increased as she watched it sink in. Our little group of conversation had lingered longer than was normal at this kind of event, and I was the only guy in it.

"Well," she announced, "I need to go mingle and then it's my bedtime. Talk to you children later."

She nodded to the three other women, then stepped over to me. "See you at the next build, Matt." She pulled my head down for a quick buss on the cheek, whispering. "Oh, don't panic. They're just having a little fun at a party. Nothing serious. Well, most of 'em ..."

Okay, when I said I wouldn't have noticed, there was an exception. You couldn't miss her intentions. Her name was Brittany or Courtney or something; she didn't show up very often and I didn't remember. She was planted firmly by my side, every utterance of mine bringing doe-eyed interest or breathless laughter, especially when someone asked me if I was going to do another Abode project.

"Maybe we all can," she chipped in, "and do it together." I felt her hip bump mine. Inadvertently, I'm sure.

I saw Bela's amusement as she surveyed the situation from across the room.

"Help," I mouthed when — maybe her name was Ashley — wasn't looking at me.

Bela's face split into a grin. She shook her head.

Traitor, I thought.

"Traitor," I said later when I finally escaped to the bathroom and encountered Bela in the back hall.

"Lindsay" — that was it! — "doesn't strike your fancy?" Her amusement was contagious.

I rolled my eyes.

"Good."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I'd be seriously questioning your judgment. Come help me set out the cake,

chulazo

." She turned and picked up the cake, nodding me toward the paper plates and napkins.

I sighed, waiting for it.

She looked back at me, all innocence. "What? Oh. It's just a compliment." Halfway back toward everyone else, she tossed over her shoulder, "Sort of like studmuffin because I'm sure Lindsay's thinking—"

She laughed at the growl.

A couple of minutes later, we settled on a picnic bench. Lindsay appeared. "Is there room for me?" she asked, pointing to my other side.

Rescue arrived moments later as John and his wife, Madison, wandered up. With barely a glance at Madison's belly, I jumped up. "Mamas-to-be should sit."

Bela also stood instantly to make room and moved to my side, putting me between her and John. I pretended I didn't see the little moue of disappointment on Lindsay's face, nor crack a grin at the twinkle on Bela's.

An hour later I made my goodbyes. "Thank you for helping build my home," Bela said. "Without you, we'd still be chipping away at it. I'll see you at the next site. At least, I hope I will."

Someone else departing called to her, and she gave me a quick hug and turned away to talk to them. As I settled into my car, I looked back at the house. She was still in the doorway saying goodbye to the guests. She looked over at my car and gave a small wave.

I thought again that she reminded me of Liv. But now I realized I had been wrong; it wasn't her appearance. They were both slender and both dark-haired, but that description would fit about a zillion women, most of whom didn't remind me of anyone. It also wasn't that they both had nice asses.

They do, but they're

different

nice asses, I thought. Then I was amused at myself and dismissed the thought.

Down boy. She's Taty's friend. Well, she's my friend too, I admitted. But she wasn't in that circle of flirting singles. I wonder why she reminds me of Liv.

• • •

"You remember Craig?" I asked Taty. "My lead guy from B&L?"

No Community Abode Project today. Bela's construction was finished, and the new build was a week and a half away from starting. The lawyers were done with the dissolution of my partnership, and it was time to move to the next step.

She nodded hello. Then she turned to me. "I didn't realize you had company. Bela's on her way up."

"No problem. We're just about done."

While walking Craig down to his truck, I passed Bela coming the other way.

"Are you leaving?" she asked.

"No. I'll be back in a moment but go on up. Taty's inside."

"Oh, good."

I came back to find Bela pouring three glasses. "Why don't you join us this time," she said. It wasn't quite a question.

"So, what shall we talk about?" she asked as I settled at the table with them. "The next Abode project? The fact that Matt's now on the shit list of several of the women?" Before I could react to the tease, she went on. "Continue the discussion of Taty taking over managing Grano?"

"What?"

Taty and Bela both grinned. "We're talking about it," Bela explained. "I want to open a second store over on the other side of town, but I need a reliable full-timer for Grano if I do. Taty is just that." She raised her glass and Taty flushed.

"Congrats!"

"I'd rather hear about Matt's plans for not being an idle bum," said Taty to divert the conversation. "Are you and Craig about to pull the trigger?"

I nodded. And then, of course, I had to fill Bela in on what we were talking about.

"Wow!" she said when I was done. "He sounds like an asshole, pardon my French." She asked the same question Taty had, "Will it work?"

I nodded. "Craig's already talked to a few of the guys. It will domino and more will come when the company starts losing clients because they can't take care of them. The guys' skill sets are in demand and no one wants to be on a sinking ship. I'm not sure his company will survive. Even if it does ..." I shrugged.

"It'll hurt."

"Cripple him for a while."

"I'm glad I'm not your enemy," Bela said, though she was smiling as she said it.

Despite the expression, it brought me up short. "Enemy?" I felt a pulse of defensiveness. After a second, I tried to put it into words, "He kicked me when I was down. He knew how bad ..." I trailed off.

She nodded. "I'm sure he knew. It was plain for anyone who bothered to look."

Remembering my breakdown at her house, I met her eyes ruefully. "Anyway!" I stood. "Another?"

Taty nodded.

"Not me. Driving," Bela said.

I walked over to the passthrough to grab the bottle and pour two more. Gray eyes popped open in my mind.

"Jesus, Liv, I'm not getting hammered. I'm just—"

"Are you trying to take everything from him?" they asked.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. "They" were wrong. Months of futile struggle had "learned me" as one of my dad's friends used to say. So, instead of ignoring the question — my first impulse — or arguing with it — my second — I simply answered, "Yes," and then thought through what I was telling myself.

I was about to destroy the livelihood of a guy who, while an asshole of a partner — he'd pinched a staggering percentage of clients, I found out, and tried for more — was a pretty good family man as far as I knew. Particularly as a father. Kids. Hence ...

I sighed. As I said, I had learned me about futility. "Fuck."

The two women looked startled. "What?" Taty asked.

"Nothing. I have to make a quick phone call." I walked into the living area as I dialed.

"Craig," I said when he answered, "just sign on one team for now. Cherry-pick for the very best, but just one. If others ask to join later, put them off. I'll explain when we meet tomorrow."

Two pairs of eyebrows were arched when I turned back.

"He's got kids," I said lamely. "Christmas is coming."

The warm smiles should have made me feel good, except I was too busy feeling bilked out of my revenge by yours truly. Which was kind of a silly way to feel because, deep down, I didn't really want to destroy anyone, kids or no kids. I was just hurt that one of the remaining props in my life turned out to have dry rot ... and hurt thinks some company will help make things feel better, even when it won't. The gray eyes closed.

After a long silence, Taty spoke up. "So, what's this about Matt being on some shit lists?"

"Him and Caitlyn. The voodoo dolls are out," Bela said. "Pins. Long pins." She shuddered theatrically. "Feeling any chest pains there?"

I felt another pulse of defensiveness, for a different reason this time. "I didn't do anything wrong."

I expected the ribbing to continue as the grins grew, but the companionable response from Bela surprised me. "We know. Some of the others are just protective." She touched my hand as she said it.

I saw Taty's eyes drop to the contact, and suddenly I felt like an idiot when the penny finally dropped on the memory that had teased for weeks. Since the very first day we'd met, Bela had touched me when she said goodbye. Every other woman who wasn't over sixty or under sixteen had caused me to wriggle at anything more than a brush, but never her.

Not super observant? Hell. Frickin' oblivious would be a better self-description.

Why was she in the same category as Ruth and Nia? I was still wondering about it when Bela stood.

"Gotta go. Join us more often,

tío

. We won't pick on you too much."

"That one's pretty weak if my high school Spanish can understand it ... and I'm not your uncle."

Her face creased in an impish grin. "Ooh, high school Spanish," she teased. "I'll have to up my game." As she left, she tossed back, "

Me molas, tío

."

• • •

I wasn't paying attention to what was around me as I walked across the parking lot. I'd slept well but woke up thinking about Bela's parting comment. Of course I'd hit an online translator after she left: "You're cool, dude." Okay, so I didn't get the slang use of

tío

, big deal.

Then, for some reason, I poked around a little more: "(colloquial): I'm into you."

Which had she meant? I wondered. The thought that she might have meant the second sent a—

"Hey, Mattoo." I looked up, stoically, to see Angela beaming at me with Matt a step behind her. Both were bundled against the early morning chill. "We're going for a walk. Want to come with?"

Before I could answer, Matt spoke, "Angie, his name is Matt, not Mattoo."

Her eyes opened wide in surprise at his reproving tone. "I don't think he minds—"

"Not him," Matt cut her off. "Hon, I know you don't mean anything by it, but you having a pet name for a younger, more handsome guy kind of makes me a little crazy, and not in a good way."

Her surprise turned to shock. I admit I was feeling somewhat the same. I'd never had a vibe that she was a flirt or that he was insecure.

She turned to me, "Oh, please, don't tell me you thought I was ... I mean, I was just joking around. I'm very married and I didn't mean anything by it." Over her shoulder, Matt's eyes met mine levelly. And then I saw the unmistakable wink.

"No, I never did," I replied, keeping a straight face.

She turned back to her husband. "Oh, sweetie, don't ever think that. You're the only guy for me." She leaned up against him and gave him a kiss that was somewhat more than just a peck.

"Get a room, you two. I need to get some groceries," I said and waved them off as she giggled.

I hadn't even gotten out of the building's parking lot before it struck me that I hadn't wanted to look away. Instead, I was tickled at what had happened. I found myself wondering, chuckling as I did, whether Matt was going to have a

very

good day of being reassured.

Their manner with each other was a bright spot in the universe for almost everyone who knew them — relationship goals, as my youngest cousins would say. They had been for me back in the days before. And now, that pleasant little warmth at watching their comfort with each other reminded me of what I'd been thinking about.

"Why do you think she's like Ruth and Nia?" a voice asked. This time I didn't resent the intrusion.

"I was just wondering the same thing," I replied, "and the answer is: she isn't."

Suddenly, I knew why Bela reminded me of Liv. It had nothing to do with asses or hair color or being slender. It was because, even though neither of them was the prettiest girl in the room, or even the most vivacious, I always seemed to be aware of them, a permanent blip on my radar. There had probably been a few people who'd been amused at my predicament with Lindsay ... and I'd only noticed the reaction of one.

I drove right past the grocery store in a fog, not even recognizing it as my destination. Bela was with a customer and Ken stepped over to ask, "What can I get you?"

I shook my head, smiling to take out the offense. "I'll wait."

He looked puzzled for a second, then flashed a fleeting look at Bela before giving me a conspiratorial smile. "You got it, dude," he said and moved to the other end of the counter. I saw Bela glance at him, but he ignored her, patently engrossed in whatever cleaning task he was doing.

She came over a minute later. "Hi, Matt. Did you want something?"

"Well, I'd like a macchiato and ..." I said as she started to turn toward the machine, "... I'd like it if you would meet me for drinks one night this week." That brought her attention back. She examined my face for a second, then picked up the steaming pitcher and started pouring in milk.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yes."

She didn't say anything else, her hands whipping through the steps of making my drink. She kept glancing up at my face. It was making me nervous. The only thing that kept me from mumbling, "Never mind, sorry I asked," was that she still had a smile on her face.

"One macchiato," she said, setting it in front of me, "on the house. And, I think it would be nice to go out with you, Matt." The relief was palpable. I hadn't asked for a first date in about a decade and the callouses protecting my ego from rejection were long gone. "I would need to see when someone could watch Rafi. Is there a particular day?"

"I thought maybe Friday, but any day is okay."

She nodded and went into the back room. Five minutes later she came out. "Friday would work. My sister, Ana, can watch him that night. And Taty will open Saturday morning so I don't have to be in bed by nine." She suddenly looked a little flustered at the possible double entendre, but I pretended it hadn't even occurred to me.

• • •

It was pretty much first-date conversation over drinks. We talked about her family, and I learned she was named after her mother and grandmother, while she got more details on my history with construction. I found out that she still owed a little over sixty hours to Abode. I felt happy about that — that I'd see her — despite her grumpiness over it. We kept it light, with nary a mention of Liv or Rafi's father, but plenty of laughter.

Some of it was at my expense. "Took you long enough to get the hint," she said.

"I thought you were just being friendly to someone helping," I protested. "And then you were Taty's friend."

Her look said it all: Men, dumb as ... But it came with a smile that robbed it of any sting.

The evening ended with a brief kiss. Uncertain of how welcome it would be, I did the "lean ninety percent of the way" thing. She put a hand on my shoulder and raised on her toes to close the rest. It may sound oxymoronic to say sensuous peck on the lips, but that's exactly what it felt like: lips that touched only lightly but lingered a millisecond longer than expected. Yeah.

As she turned to go inside, I asked, "Will you go out with me again?"

She smiled. "You're supposed to wait about an hour and then text me that you enjoyed hanging out. Then" — she held up a forefinger to forestall my interruption — "when I say that I did too, you play it cool and just text, ≪Goodnight≫. Tomorrow, you stay super chill when you get coffee because I'm at work, but you call me in the evening.

That's

when you ask."

"Okay. I'll text you when I get home, and I'll ignore you and ask Taty for my coffee" — this time I was the one holding up a finger to stop her protest — "and I'll call tomorrow night. But, in the meantime, I was wondering if you will go out with me again?"

That got me a laugh and a second kiss, this time on the cheek. "I'll wait for the call tomorrow to tell you yes."

Taty hadn't smirked after that first time with Caitlyn. This time she did. "Have fun?"

"Yes. Was this obvious to you?"

She shook her head. "No. I knew she liked you, but I had no clue about you until that potluck."

I must have looked surprised. "I was a mess that night."

"Yeah. But I told you that I watch men a lot. And Bela touched you four or five times that night and not once—"

"What?"

She laughed. "See, you don't even remember."

"Just the hug at the end."

"No, not just the hug at the end. But I bet you remember Angela doing it, and Caitlyn, and every other woman. I could see. I wondered then."

It took me a few seconds to process that. Then I reached out and covered her hand with mine. I saw her surprise and momentary tightness. Were we going to have to have that conversation again? The surprise passed and she smiled. "But it started with her," she said.

I nodded. After a moment, I asked, "So, what has she said about me?"

She was shaking her head before I finished. "You'll have to ask her. I'm her friend, not yours." She was smiling as she said it, so I knew she wasn't serious ... she still wasn't going to tell me, but she was just teasing about the friend part.

• • •

The trailer with the C.A.P. logo on the side told me I was in the right place. With colder weather coming on, I was glad this project wasn't new construction. Abode had bought a house that had done time as a retail space and needed to be converted back. The outside was fine, but the interior needed serious work.

John was there. So were all the usual suspects, including Caitlyn. I had wondered if she'd show. Now, a set look to her expression plainly said, "This is

so

your loss, buster." This was her turf, and she wasn't going to be driven out of it.

I caught a private moment with John a little later. "Feeling okay?"

"Tender," he responded, "but I'm fine. I'm glad you're back. There was supposed to be another guy but, as usual ..." He shrugged and laughed. "Keeps me busy. Madison's gonna pop soon and, well, you know how it is."

"Not really," I replied without thinking.

I could see the flood of awareness of what he'd said, the memory of that day when I'd reacted to a child and the reason why that he'd learned later from the grapevine. Before he could say anything, I clapped him on the shoulder. "But I can imagine. Hey, I want to talk to you about something later."