The Hot Shot(42)

I glance back and see a man and woman who must be in their eighties.  He's dressed in a three-piece light gray suit, an honest to god red  carnation tucked into his lapel. The woman's dress looks like something  out of the 40s. They move together in perfect harmony, his hand in hers  as they smile at each other.

Chess glances at me but then her gaze goes back to the couple. "What  must that be like? To spend an entire lifetime with someone, and the  threads of who you are have become so interwoven, you can't part without  unraveling."

I don't know. But I want to find out.

The song ends and another begins. It's slow, the woman's voice filled  with tender love and bittersweet nostalgia as she sings along to the  piano. I listen to the lyrics and start to smile. "This song was playing  when I walked you home that first night."

Chess's brows draw together. "It was?"

"Elvis was singing it then."

Her expression clears as she listens. "‘Can't Help Falling in Love.' I remember."

I put my napkin down on the table and stand. "Dance with me."

Chess blanches. "What here?"

"That's the idea, yeah."

She hedges, her gaze darting from the dance floor to me.

I'm patient. But I'm not letting this go. Not when it's this song, in  this moment. "Some things you don't take a picture of, Chess. You live  them." I reach out to her. "Take my hand."

For a second, she just stares at me as if she's never seen me before. I  don't move, don't look away. Chess licks her lips and slowly she puts  her hand in mine.

The world shifts then and there, and it's as though I'm drawing my first  breath. I hold her hand and lead her to the dance floor. She moves into  my embrace, and then there is nothing else. Just Chess. The scent of  sea and sun in her hair, the smooth satin of her skin. I am a fucking  goner. A man capable of cheesy poetry and big gestures.

I don't even care. Bring it. I want it all.

We flow together, barely dancing, just swaying and listening to the  music. Her cheek rests against my chest, her arms wrapped around my  waist as if she doesn't want to let go. I hold her closer, smoothing my  hands up her arm, down the narrow slope of her back.                       
       
           


///
       

Part of me wants to get to my knees before her. I press my cheek to the  crown of her head and breath in, let myself fall. A white light flashes,  and for a second, it doesn't register.

There is another. I turn my head, and spot the guy holding up a camera  phone aimed at me. Rage punches into my gut, so hard I make a sound.  Chess stops, moving back a step, her gaze zeroing in on the guy too. Her  body stiffens, and it kills me.

I'm used to getting my picture taken without my permission. But that fucker didn't just violate my privacy, he violated Chess's.

I take a step, and her hand presses against the small of my back.  "Don't," she says in a low voice. I peer down at her. She looks at me  with pleading eyes. "It's not worth trouble."

My thumb strokes her chin. "He does not get that piece of us."

Another flash, and now my eye is twitching. No fucking way.

"Trust me, it will be all right." Giving Chess a tight smile, I take her  hand and head toward the asshole snapping pictures of us.

Dude stiffens as soon as he realizes I'm actually coming for him. I  almost feel guilty about the way his gaze darts around and his mouth  trembles, as if he can't decide to smile or bolt. Physically  intimidating guys weaker than me is not my style. I make it easy for  him.

"Hey, man." I hold out my hand. "Finn Mannus."

He glances at my hand for a second, as if trying to decide whether I'm  going to rip his off. But then he relents and gives me a weak, quick  shake. "Hey."

When I don't do anything aggressive, his grip gets a little stronger. "Manny, I knew it was you. I fucking love you, man."

Yeah, no shit. I nod, giving him an easy smile, as Chess hovers at my  side, gripping the back of my shirt. I drop dude's sweaty hand, but my  smile remains. "Saw you taking pictures of me and my girl."

Just like that, dude gets all stiff again, thrusting up his chin. "You're in public."

And you're kind of a dick.

"Sure. I was wondering if I could get a copy." I nod toward Chess, as I  wrap my arm around her. "It's our first date. Be nice to have a memento  of it."

I can feel Chess's stare. She's wondering what the hell I'm doing. It  makes my smile a little more genuine, because I love the sound of her  chiding voice in my head.

Dude's date, who hasn't said a word until now, perks up. "Oh, that's so sweet. Dougie, isn't that sweet?"

He gives his girl an annoyed look, as if to say he's in charge, but then puffs up his chest a bit. "Yeah, sure, Manny."

"Cool. Can we have a look?" Another fake smile. "My girl really wants to see them."

Dougie is not entirely stupid and hesitates.

I hold out my hand and stare him down, but keep my pleasant expression.  If he says no now, he comes off as a complete dick in front of his girl  and his supposed idol.

Finally, he hands over his phone. Jesus, he took a lot. My anger rises.  At my side, Chess's fingers dig into my arm. But she doesn't let her  emotions show. "Your eyes are closed in that one," she points out  lightly.

"I like slow dancing with my eyes closed," I tell her with the same  levity, as I highlight the photo and a half a dozen more. They're grainy  or overdeveloped with the flash, but every image shows what I'm feeling  for Chess with perfect clarity. And while I'm not the least bit ashamed  of that, the idea of it being all over the internet-and I have no  fucking doubt that's where these are headed-makes me want to crush the  phone in my hand.

A sense of violation coats my insides like hot tar.

Dougie, the little fucker, also recorded the last bit. I don't play it  because I'm not sure I can keep my temper if I do. I send the entire lot  to an email address set up for Charlie to check, with the code I use to  let Charlie know it's from me as the subject line. He'll keep them safe  for me and then block Dougie's email address later.

Dougie sees that I've sent the pictures on, and starts to fidget in his  seat. Because I'm still holding his phone. It's clear that he's worried  I'm going to delete them.

Chess tenses, obviously thinking the same. I could do it. Easily. It  would take a tap of a button and there is no way Dougie could stop me. I  have at least seven inches and about thirty pounds of muscle on him.  But I've played the game long enough how that would go down.

I give him a thoughtful look. "Would you like a selfie with me?"

He brightens, letting out a breath. "That would be awesome."

My cheeks fucking hurt with all this fake ass grinning. "I see you're wearing my team cap. Could sign that for you too."                       
       
           


///
       

Dougie loves that. "Shit, yeah."

"Cool." I straighten to my full height. "All I ask in return is that you delete these."

His happy face falls.

I nod toward Chess. "See, this is our first date. I'd like my girl to keep her privacy."

He swallows hard. "I wasn't going to share them."

Sure you weren't.

"Still," I say. "It's hard to impress a girl when she's worried about photos."

Again, I hold his gaze. Come on Dougie, don't make me toss this phone  into the Pacific. I know one thing: I'll try the nice route, but he  isn't getting this piece of Chess and me.

Dougie rubs his chin like cock of the walk. I lean in a bit, noting how  he stiffens. "Besides," I say in a low, confiding voice that's just  between him and me. "I'm pretty sure the guys would appreciate that  selfie more than me dancing with a girl."

That does it. Weakly he nods. He still wants his pics, that's obvious.  But he won't push it. I delete them, relief rushing through me like air,  then pose with Dougie for pics. My scrawl on his cap is quick and  messy.

"Well, then," I say, trying not to toss his hat back in his face. Be nice. Be nice. "Have a nice night, guys. Dinner's on me."

His girlfriend beams. "You really are so sweet. We love you, Manny."

I wink at her. And then I'm grabbing Chess's hand and taking us away  from the couple as fast as I can. Heading toward the hostess stand, I  explain that I'm leaving and give her enough money to cover our bill and  Dougie's.

The whole time, Chess stays silent, her hand in mine. She doesn't say a  word as I take her down to the beach, my stride brisk, my heart still  pounding with unleashed rage and regret. Stopping only to take our shoes  off, we walk away from the lights of the restaurant, the sound of  laughter and music slowly giving way to the crashing of surf.