My Remedy (Open Door Love Story Book 3) (9 page)

Duncan chuckles. “Cera, could you possibly work for me next Thursday night? I can’t cover your morning shift, though.”

“Not a problem.” She backs her way out the door. “Looks like you two have a date.”

––––––––

A
lthough Duncan and I are both firmly in the This Is Not A Date camp, he
is
picking me up and I
am
dressed in a skirt and a t-shirt with a deep V. I have perhaps put on some mascara and a little tinted lip gloss. I curled my hair “for fun.”

Duncan pulls up in the driveway behind Aunt Nina’s car, instead of parking on the street like he does when he comes to work. So, that’s a little different.

“Hmm, he parked in the driveway,” my aunt says from behind me, scaring me half to death. I drop the front curtain.

“It means nothing,” I say.

“Nice lip gloss,” she says.

“It’s tinted Chapstick!”

The doorbell rings.

“Want me to go greet your gentleman caller?” Uncle Stan hollers all the way from the kitchen.

“We are going to an art show. We are friends. I will answer it!” I hurry over to the door, take a pause, put on a pleasant expression, and then open it.

Duncan looks, and smells, wonderful. He’s got on dark jeans and a blue button down that makes his skin look this beautiful caramel color. And whatever cologne he’s wearing is forever going to be burned into my brain as The Way Duncan Smells.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” he says and gives me a quick once-over. “You look really nice, Iz.”

“Thanks.”

“Hi, Nina. Stan,” Duncan says, peering around me and waving to my aunt and uncle hovering in the background.

“They think we’re going on a date,” I explain.

“Oh?” That’s all he says. No denial or confirmation.

“Let’s go, huh?” I say, not waiting for him to answer. “Bye! I’ll be home by ten!” I call as I close the door behind me.

Duncan opens the car door for me and I slide into the front seat. Leg room for days. “This is a pimp car you have here,” I say when he gets in on the driver’s side.

“I know, but it was cheap and cheap was what I could afford.”

We head to downtown Portland, to the Northwest side. There’s like, light jazz or whatever, playing on the radio as we drive down Highway 26.

“Um, what’s up with this Muzak?” I ask.

“Oh, the radio is all messed up. This is the only station that comes in for some reason.” He gives me a cheesy grin. “It grows on you.”

“Or you’ve effectively blocked it out. It’s saxtastic, that’s for sure.”

He shrugs. “I could turn it off, but then there might be an uncomfortable silence, and I don’t think either of us are too great at filling those in a healthy manner.”

“Meaning what?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I don’t know why I said that.” He leaves the radio on, though.

It takes us a while to find a place to park – we circle the block with the gallery where Yoshi’s show is several times before giving up and squeezing into the last space in an overpriced lot four blocks away.

I cross my arms as we walk to the gallery. It’s just barely what counts as spring in Oregon and there is some rain coming on. I should’ve brought a jacket instead of this flimsy cardigan, but I didn’t want to cover up my cute shirt. Or, honestly, I didn’t want to cover up my cleavage. I am feeling like I need to be appreciated and looked at. It’s been a little bit since the bad sex at the bar and it’s sad that Ricky is the last man who wanted me. I just want to be looked at.

“Are you cold?” Duncan asks. “I’ve got a hoodie in the car. I can go back for it.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’m sure it will be warmer inside.”

He puts his hand on my back, just above my butt. Almost like he’s got his arm around me, but not quite. I move in an inch closer to him. It does warm me up some.

The gallery has tall glass doors that are opened out onto the street, and people from all walks of life are filing in and out.

A guy in a flannel shirt wearing jeans rolled up to his knees and red suspenders remarks to me as he’s leaving and we’re going in, “They’re already out of brie and red. B. T. Dubs.”

“By God, we’re in Hipster Country!” Duncan whispers in my ear.

I blush having him so close to me.

“I see Yoshi hiding in the corner over there, come on.” Duncan does put his arm all the way around my waist now – the gallery is crowded and no one has a personal space bubble that extends more than a few inches.

Duncan’s friend is sitting on a black cube, much like what we did box jumps on the other day, with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting in his hands. He’s not who I would expect to be friends with Duncan – he’s in no way athletic, and he’s wearing a ratty brown cardigan over a black t-shirt that’s dotted with bleach spots. His jeans are holey at the knee and he’s got on Vans. When he sees us coming his way, though, his eyes light up behind his black framed glasses.

“Dunc! Yo! I’m so glad you’re here.” Yoshi stands and drags Duncan into a hug.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Duncan asks, slapping Yoshi on the back. “You look like you’re on the verge of slitting your wrists.” They pull away from each other.

“The show has been open for a week and I haven’t had a single sale yet!”

“Um, that doesn’t seem like very long,” I say.

Yoshi, looks me up and down. “And who might you be?”

“This is Izzy,” Duncan says. “She’s an artist too. I was hoping you and Valerie could tell her about PNCA.”

“Of course! Val and Jay said they’d be here at about 7:30.”

“So, eight?”

Yoshi nods and then someone across the room catches his eye. “I’ve got to go congratulate this royal C U next Tuesday, Priscilla, who just got a show up in Seattle that we all applied for. Be right back.”

Duncan puts his hand on the small of my back and nudges me toward the wall. “Should we, like, y’know, look at some art?”

“I don’t know. All the brie and red are gone. I lost interest after that.”

We check out Yoshi’s prints, which are absolutely beautiful and spare and sort of weird in a way that it totally makes sense he’s the one who created them.

“I don’t think it will be long before someone buys one of these,” I say, hoping I’m right.

“Agreed. He’s really talented, I think. And if I had thousands of dollars to spend on art, I would for sure buy one.”

“He’s just saying that,” a tall blond woman next to me interjects. “Duncan is way more likely to spend money on a BowFlex than anything beautiful. You’ve seen his car, right?”

“Stop giving all my secrets away, Val,” Duncan stage whispers.

“What’s up, guys?” A guy with spiky black hair saunters over, three cups of white wine in his hand and a napkin full of cheese-less crackers in the other. “These fuckers are all out of red and brie.” He raises his voice. “Who do I have to fuck in this joint to get a damn plastic cup of red wine?”

“I think maybe he’s had enough wine,” I for real whisper to Duncan.

The guy laughs. “No, I’m stone cold sober, I just think these gallery things are bullshit and like to stir things up.”

“This is Jay, Valerie’s husband.”

Jay smiles widely at me and giggles a little. “I hope you don’t embarrass easily.”

“No, not really.”

He holds his napkin out to me. “Cracker?”

Valerie makes the rounds and comes back with Yoshi. “Let’s move on to Gallery 42 and then go to a bar or something.”

I clear my throat. My dry, parched, wishing I had a beer throat. “I’m actually not twenty-one yet. Sorry.”

“Niiiiice,” Jay says, winking at Duncan.

“She’s five years younger than us,” Duncan points out. It’s not like she’s eighteen.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like she wasn’t all that long ago,” Yoshi says. He and Jay high-five.

“Look, if you guys want to go to a bar, I don’t want to be a downer. I can get a cab back home.” I really don’t want to get a cab back home, but I am proud of myself for not offering to see if I can just get in without any I.D.

“No,” Valerie says, “that’s silly. We can go to Gallery 42 and then go get ice cream. Salt and Straw isn’t that far. We can walk, right Jay?”

“I’m sure as hell not leaving my parking space,” he says, raising his voice again. “It took me a goddamned forty-five minutes to find a place to park in this ass crack of a city.”

Jay’s loudness fazes no one.

“Let’s go,” Yoshi says, panicked. “Priscilla wants to tell me how awesome she is again.”

The next gallery is out of any kind of wine and never had any cheese to begin with. The art is really cool, though. More my style – pen and ink drawings and portraiture.

I hang back and talk to Valerie on our walk to the ice cream place.

“Yoshi mentioned that you were thinking about applying to PNCA?”

I nod. “I took a look at it online. It’s seems like a great school. I barely graduated from high school, though.”

Valerie cocks her head to the side. “That’s not ideal, but you can take intro classes at community college and build your portfolio up and then apply. The school’s not going anywhere. You have time.” She smiles. “Duncan seems to think you have talent and he’s the most honest person I know.”

“He is refreshingly honest, I’ll give him that.”

“And easy on the eyes,” she says, as if I need a reminder.

I blush for the second time tonight.

Duncan chooses that moment to look back at us and flash me a sweet smile.

Valerie chuckles. “We’re almost to Salt and Straw. Hopefully some ice cream will cool you down.”

After a twenty-minute wait, we cram into a corner table and dig into our ice cream.

“I don’t understand why Portland has to put bacon in every motherfucking thing,” Jay says.

“Because bacon,” Duncan replies, digging a hearty spoonful of maple bacon pecan pie out of his bowl.

I opted for the only slightly weird rosemary and thyme. Mmm, woodsy.

“Look, man,” Jay says, gesturing with his spoon. “I like bacon as much as the next person, but if I want to eat pig, I eat pig. I don’t need it in my dessert or on my damn donuts. Same goes with fried eggs. Do not give me a burger with a fried egg on it and think you’re some culinary genius. Keep shit separate. If all you have to do is mix a bunch of crap together that wouldn’t normally go together and you somehow get a fucking Michelin Man star, then fuck you.”

Valerie sighs. “I’m glad we didn’t go to the bar.”

We part ways after the ice cream shop – Valerie and Jay and Yoshi choose to take a cab back to their cars. Duncan and I choose to walk.

Two blocks into our nine block walk, the rain starts up. And it’s not a light spring rain. The sky opens and dumps a torrent on us. Duncan grabs my hand and we run from awning to awning, attempting to stay dry. The closer we get to the galleries and our car, the more modern the buildings, the fewer awnings.

We’re completely soaked and shivering when we reach the car. Duncan quickly unlocks my side and I jump in. The instant he’s in, he turns the car on and blasts the air. It’s cold at first, but then gets downright sweltering.

The windows fog up. It’s like we’re in a scene directly out of a Nicholas Sparks movie. I can’t help but giggle.

“Do you think people think we’re making out all hot and heavy in here?” I joke.

“Maybe, only the car should be shaking a lot more,” Duncan says pseudo-thoughtfully.

I laugh. “Oh, so Hector wasn’t that far off with the pull up bar sex then. You get acrobatic enough to shake a vehicle?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Duncan’s eye. “From what I recall, yes. Although it’s been some time – you’re not really supposed to get involved romantically when you’re in recovery, you know.” This last bit is not a joke and directed right at my heart.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to get a job in a bar either, but you have no problem with that,” I point out. “The way I see it, sex is a fairly safe replacement for using.”

Duncan considers this. “Until the chafing starts.”

“I don’t know what to do with that comment,” I say, looking at the dashboard because I can’t look Duncan in the eyes and say what I want to say. “One moment we’re joking, one moment we’re serious. But we seem to want to ... be something ... with each other.” I giggle nervously. “Look, you’re not wrong. We’re not supposed to get involved, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to kiss me right now.” I force myself to turn my face to him.

Duncan leans over and takes both of my shaking hands in his. “Or that I’m not going to.”

I don’t give him the chance. I move my face an inch closer to his and kiss him. His lips are soft, his hands are warming my hands, and the tipsy feeling comes over me again. “More,” I say, and he runs with it, pressing his mouth to mine. He’s lying on the center console, he’s leaning over so far. I turn and rest my head against the window. Freeing my hands from his, I grab onto his shirt and pull him on top of me. Duncan’s mouth is hard on mine, devouring, he’s got his hands braced on either side of my head.

I turn my face to the side and he’s right on cue, moving his lips down my chin, my neck, lingering in the hollow of my collarbone. I spread my legs and wrap them around his waist and it drives him wild. He buries his face in the V of my shirt, tugging my bra to the side with his teeth. I buck my hips up into him and I can feel how much he wants me.

“I shake it off, off, off, off. I shake it off, off, off, off.”

Duncan raises his face from my boobs, his eyes wide. “What the?”

“Shit!” I reluctantly back him off me. “My aunt is calling. I have to answer it.”

We untangle ourselves and I grab my phone from my purse on the floor.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God,” Aunt Nina says. “You know I hate having to check up on you like this, but I’ve sent you three texts and I hadn’t heard back from you...”

Duncan adjusts his crotch and turns the heater down.

I look at the clock on my phone. It’s 10:15. “I’m sorry! Time just got away from us. We went to get ice cream and then got caught in the rain on the way back to the car. We’re on our way home right this minute.”

“Okay,” she says, a mixture of relief and annoyance in her voice. “See you soon.”