“My husband gave it to me, but I haven’t worn it in forty years. Middle-aged spread is a menace to the waistline, young man.”
“Are you planning on giving it to anyone?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Everything I own goes to my two sons in my will. I don’t think either Moshe or Michael will wear it. Not their color. Why do you ask?”
“Because I need to get Flash a Christmas present, something special.”
“Red is her color,” Mrs. Scheinberg said.
Ian smiled.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
* * *
FIVE MINUTES LATER Ian knocked on Flash’s door.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“Joe Biden.”
The door flew wide open and Flash stood there in the doorway.
“You’re not Joe Biden.” She started to shut the door but he put his foot in to stop it.
“I’m a Catholic dude in a suit. Close enough, right?” he asked.
She looked him up and down.
“Close enough.”
“You got my flowers?”
“I did.”
“Did they please you?”
“I was pleased,” she said.
“Did they please you enough that you’ll allow me to have my manly way with you?” he asked.
“I’ll consider it. Come in.” She stepped back and let him in. Before she could even lock the door he pulled her to him and kissed her.
“Ian, stop,” she said, pushing him away. “I’m disgusting.”
“You’re a little foul-mouthed, but hardly disgusting.”
“Let me take a shower before you manhandle me,” she said. “I smell like a blacksmith fucked a coal miner in an oil refinery.”
“Mmm...the sweet, sweet scent of fossil fuels...” He pressed his nose against her neck and inhaled.
“I’m covered in grease and brass polish and you’re going to get it all over your suit.”
“Don’t care. Got lots of suits.”
He pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. She laughed and surrendered to him as he knew she would.
“You look incredibly sexy right now,” he said into her ear as he pulled up the bottom of her T-shirt and touched the bare skin of her stomach. She was wearing ripped jeans, her steel-toed work boots, a tight white T-shirt covered in grease stains. Her arms were dirty, too, and she had a streak of something black across her cheek. Her hair was sweaty and disheveled, and she smelled of sweat and metal polish. “I think I have to fuck you. What do you think?”