Rescue Me

“I’ve told you before, you can call me Joey.”

She tilted her head just so and turned over the cup, filling it to the brim like she’d done this thousands of times before, only this time the dark liquid sloshed over the rim and she blushed.

“I’m so sorry.” Her hand took a rag from the end of the white and gold flecked linoleum counter, wiping up the mess.

“Hey, it’s okay, mi hermosa muchaha.” Doubting she understood Spanish, I clutched her hand in mine, stopping her from walking away, and asked, “Busy night?”

She looked rattled and tucked a bright copper curl of her hair behind her ear that begged to be touched when it fell back curling around her cheek. She was my beautiful girl even if she was only pouring my coffee tonight.

I wanted to see if it was as soft as I imagined and reached across the counter to slip it back in place. Her cheeks flushed and she captured my hand in hers, letting me cup her cheek for a brief moment. Soft as sin. Pulling my hand back, burning from the touch. I knew a confession to Father Paulo the next time I made it to church would be necessary.

“A little busy,” a sweet and addicting voice that reminded me of smooth leche dulce de caramel responded.

“Tips any good?”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. I would be sure to leave her my standard twenty-dollar tip along with the generously overpaid bill for the takeout food. After all, the lieutenant was paying for dinner. His pay grade was well above mine as the tour commander bonus tonight, and the tip was nothing I would miss.

“Your boss called in the usual order for you guys. Chuck is just finishing it up now.” She turned the corner and gave me a glimpse of her long legs encased in pantyhose and these thick low-heeled Mary Jane shoes that made her calf muscles plump and curve under the hem of the pastel pink uniform and white apron that nipped in her trim waist.

“No rush. I could use a slice of pie with my coffee.” His gravy fries could cool while I spent a few stolen moments with her. The cook eyed me up from the kitchen, stabbing paper tickets with vigor through the needle of the brass spindle ticket holder. It was worth getting the stink eye. Chuck was a good guy and protective over the ladies that worked here. I nodded, and he shook his head, smirking and resuming his burger flips.

Tempest licked her lips, glancing back at Chuck. “You bet.” She laughed.

“Gracias.”

She turned, almost tripping over her feet while her rear headed back to the case filled with pies and cakes, dishing me up my usual. One of these days, I was going to get up the balls to ask her out, but for now, flirting with her made my night pass easy.

She leaned over the counter, placing the pie in front of me, holding out a spoon. Excitement danced in her eyes. “I had another audition this week.”

My eyes followed her cherry red lips, barely hearing the words. My fingers touched hers taking the spoon and she cleared her throat, taking her hand back from me.

“Did you, now?” Leaning closer to her over the counter, I dished up a bite of pie, savoring the sweetness and savory pumpkin.

Tempest wanted to be a Radio City Rockette, but didn’t make the cut back at the May auditions. We lamented about her failed audition together over an open-faced turkey sandwich special one night. It was a damn shame because her legs would have looked mighty fine dancing across the stage doing high kicks in sparkly heels. I adjusted myself sitting on the cracked mint green vinyl counter stool thinking about it. She was something special, and I wanted to see her dreams come true. I wondered what my mami would say if I brought a girl like Tempest home to meet my crazy family.

Hell, I would have taken all my nieces and nephews to see the show if I knew she would be there, mostly because it might look creepy if I went by myself at a family show sporting a hard dick. My brother’s rambunctious kids would make sure that was impossible.

“Uh-huh. I keep in touch with Muriel, and she told me the Rockettes were looking for backup dancers. A few sprained ankles and she got me another chance to audition.” The smile that punctuated her cheeks lit up the interior of the diner and my heart swelled for her.

“Eso es maravilloso. Estoy muy orgulloso de ti!”

Giggling, she said, “I have no idea what you just said to me, so I hope it was nice.”

I should have said something naughty in that case, but you never know when a girl will turn to the Internet and translate shit. Her lips pursed and I wanted to kiss her badly.

Instead, I smiled back replying, “I said, that’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you, Tempest.”

“Thank you.” She ducked her head down shyly and refilled my coffee. I was going to leave here still hungry and hopped up on caffeine for the rest of my shift.

2

Tempest

The Gemini officially closed at 2 a.m., and after filling all my salt and pepper shakers and the ketchup bottles, I was able to leave by 2:30 a.m. Waitressing wasn’t overly hard, but the hours on my feet left my legs throbbing. Luckily I had a studio apartment several blocks over. Seeing Officer Hernandez, or Joey as I forced myself to think of him, made the night go by quicker. Every two weeks we worked a similar schedule of nights on the same rotation. I looked forward to seeing the way he filled out his uniform that gave me goosebumps and naughty thoughts to carry me through until the next time I saw him. And the way he spoke to me…holy moly, it was hot the way his tongue rolled off speaking Spanish. He made me hot and flustered like no one else listening to his slight accent. Big muscles bulged under his uniform shirt and hints of tattoos edged the rim of his collar and sleeves. The devilish side of me wondered what he had on underneath there and what it might take to find out.

I practically skipped home thinking about my audition. Soon I would have a chance to be an official Rockette dancing on a stage I dreamed about in my small twin bed across the river in Jersey growing up. I was so close to dancing in the legendary line I could taste it. I could hear the clicking of heels and feel the sweep of a high kick pirouetting to the contemporary choreography. The stuff that had fueled my little girl daydreams was conceivably going to be a reality. I danced in a circle, adding a hop to the end, and turned the corner gasping.

“Shit! Mr. Walker!” I panicked nearly loosing my footing.