Sometimes, trying to sleep, I thought of Eddie doing a lot of different things with me and to me, but that didn’t exactly help me sleep.

* * * * *

I kinda screwed things up with Eddie. No, that isn’t true; I really screwed things up with Eddie.

Though not intentional y.

* * * * *

See, he’s hot. Not hot . Hot. He’s so flipping handsome it burns your eyes to look at him. He has to be six foot maybe six foot one, tal for a Mexican-American, olive-skinned, with dark hair and even darker eyes. He has a lean body made up of compact, defined muscles and he’s one of those guys who makes whatever he wears look the bomb, instead of one of those guys who looks like he was trying to be the bomb in what he wears.

Eddie’s a cop and from what everyone says, he’s a good one, though not a conventional one. He kinda goes his own way, which isn’t exactly encouraged by the Denver Police Department.

Anyway, when Eddie’s black eyes turn to you, I swear to God, your breath starts burning your lungs, his eyes are so hot.

He’s lush.

Since I’m not lush, there’s no hope and I’m in love with him— I get a little weird around him.

Weird as in, stupid.

* * * * *

The first time he spoke directly to me was about a week after I started at Fortnum’s. Eddie was waiting at the end of the counter for his cappuccino. I was re-fil ing the stacks of cups so I had two big columns of cups in my hands. Eddie was talking to Lee (who, by the way, is also hot).

Eddie’s eyes cut to me and he smiled, al super-white teeth in tanned face. The effect of this when trained on me total y flipped me out.

Then he said, “So, Jet, what’s your story?” Since he used my name, I couldn’t exactly ignore him so I looked at him blank-faced and said, “Story?” I hadn’t told Indy or anyone about anything, not about my Mom nor Smithie’s. People had been real y nice about Mom but it was weird, talking about her and us and how we were having to make a go of things. They got this look on their face that said, “poor you” and it kind of pissed me off because, you know, shit happens. We al deal.

Anyway, Eddie turned more toward me, Lee’s eyes had moved to me and I was beginning to feel the heat come into my face.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “your story.”

I started to panic so I had to find a way to say as little as possible and get the hel out of there. “No story. I’m just Jet.”

“Just Jet.” His smile didn’t dim and I was beginning to feel my insides curl.

“Yeah.” I set the cups down and started refil ing.

Eddie turned to Lee and he said, “Don’t know about you but I think there are hidden depths to Just Jet.”

“There are hidden depths to everyone,” Lee replied, stil looking at me and I could swear he could read my mind and was trying to get Eddie to leave me alone.

“Not me.” Tex, Indy’s barista, a Vietnam Vet and ex-con who was crazy as a jay-bird but you couldn’t help liking him, reached across me to give Eddie his cappuccino, “With me, you get what you see.”

Eddie didn’t take his eyes off me, even as he reached for the sugar (Eddie took lots of sugar in his coffee, I’d memorized this fact right away, as I memorized practical y everything about Eddie).

“What about you, Just Jet? Do we get what we see with you?”

Just for your information, I wasn’t a virgin and total y unlucky in love. I had a boyfriend al through high school and three since then, al long-term.

Al boring.

Al predictable.

Al wanting more but not knowing how to get it.

Al just like me.

That said, obviously, I’d had guys flirt with me. It was rare, but it happened. I just couldn’t believe Eddie was doing it, or at least it seemed like it.

“Chavez, for f**k’s sake, quit flirtin’. Christ, you flirt with anything in a skirt.” Tex said (explaining the flirting). “She’s tryin’ to work and you’re embarrassin’ her. Can’t you see her blush?”

At that, my hands slipped on the cups, they went flying in the air, bonking on my head, arms, hands, al over Tex and they fel everywhere. I bent down immediately to hide and to pick up the cups.

Eddie came around the counter to help. He crouched down and said, “Didn’t mean to embarrass you.” I looked up. His smile had dimmed to a grin and his eyes looked different. I couldn’t put my finger on it but it, too, made my insides feel funny. I couldn’t help but think he felt sorry for me, but his eyes weren’t exactly saying that, though I didn’t know what they were saying.

I was mortified and maybe a little pissed off at Tex and one look at my face wiped away his grin.

“You didn’t embarrass me.” It came out kind of snappish, which wasn’t intentional, more self-defence.

Maybe I was trying to convince myself, I don’t know.

He handed me the cups and looked at me closely, no He handed me the cups and looked at me closely, no smile or even a hint of grin in evidence. I avoided his eyes, avoided him (as best I could with him helping me pick up the cups). When we were done, I got up fast, so fast I made myself dizzy and had to step back or fal over. Eddie’s hand came out to steady me and I jerked my arm away, as if his touch would burn.

That’s when I saw his brows draw together and I stepped around him, giving him as much room as possible. I walked as fast as I could into the acres of bookshelves in the back and hid there until I was certain he was gone.

* * * * *

That was the first time I was an idiot around Eddie, but not the last.

* * * * *

Weeks passed and I got to know the people at Fortnum’s. It was a laugh riot working there, everyone was hilarious and nice and you could tel they cared a lot about each other.

It was comfortable and stress free (except for Eddie, of course). You made your own hours and I started to relax, except when Eddie came around. Anytime Eddie was there (and he was beginning to stop around more often), I stiffened up, shut my mouth and most of the time, hid in the back.

Lee and Indy had a party about a month after I started and they invited me.

Of course, I thought I couldn’t go. My shift at Smithie’s started at 7 pm and the party started at 7:30 pm.

Mom was beside herself. She made me go, said I could

“just pop by” and tel Smithie I’d be a little late (something he was used to, part of why I drove him nuts).

See, even before Mom had her stroke, she and her best friend Trixie wanted me to find a life and find a man (these were synonymous to Mom and Trixie, by the way). Both of them kept going on about how pretty I was, I just didn’t know it. How I didn’t have any confidence. How I just needed to brighten myself up a bit. They’d been saying that for years but then again, everyone said it, even Lottie.