72: I'm Nobody's Baby

Julian

     I have Belinda coming over with her great-grandmother's records. I'm looking forward to hearing the music, but I'm even more looking forward to seeing Belinda herself.

     This is insane, Julian. You're at least twenty years older than her.

     I sigh at my own thoughts. I know I'm right. This whole being with Belinda is a crazy idea. The thing is though that I don't feel twenty years older than her when we're together. It's only when we're apart that the strangeness of all of it bothers me.

      I've always thought Belinda was beautiful. I noticed her soon after moving here a few years ago. (I'd thought the relaxed atmosphere of Sunlit Tides would be good for my depression.) But she was so young that I knew there was no point in going any further than saying she's beautiful and leaving it at that. Then, she'd engage me in conversation like I was no different than the rest of her peers, and I'd always happily welcome whatever it was she wanted to talk about, making her laugh whenever I could manage it. Making her laugh made me feel good.
      Then I started dreaming about her.
      Because of that, I began to avoid her for a few months until she cornered me one day and playfully accused me of doing just that. She had no idea how very right she was. I rattled off some excuse and avoided her more successfully afterwards. Then, that ex of my neighbor's showed up, and after I got out of the hospital, Maggie insisted that I go see a chiropractor or something. I chose 'or something,' putting me right in Belinda's hands quite figuratively. I couldn't stay away after that until that occurrence in my shorts. That was embarrassing, and I thought I'd avoid her again. Then I ran into her at Hurricane, and we slowly planned tonight.
       This isn't a date or anything. She's simply coming over on a Tuesday night to listen to some old records.

     Random thoughts start filling my head as I wander aimlessly around my house.

     Is my house clean?

     My daughter Maggie is at her little friend's house.

     What's that funny smell?

      After trying to figure out what it is, I give up trying to find the smell and go to get one of those air-freshener things that plugs into the wall. I hope that does the trick.

     She said she'd be here at six, and it's 5:45 right now. What am I going to do with myself until she gets here?

      I could order a pizza.

      No, I'll wait to find out what she wants first.

      I sigh.

      I don't know what kind of pizza she likes.

      I don't really know much about her at all.

      I just know that I'm incredibly attracted to the woman.

      Even though I'm possibly old enough to be her father.

      This is crazy. I should cancel.

      The doorbell rings.

       She's early! I think happily, forgetting all my earlier fretting.

     I open my front door to see her carrying a huge box. I can tell she struggles with the weight of it, so I quickly take a step or two in her direction, intending to take the thing out of her hands.

     "Whoa! Let me get that," I say as I reach for the box.

      "No, no. I got it. Just tell me where I can set it down," she replies earnestly.

      "You can 'set it down' in my arms, Belinda. Please, let me take it," I demand as I easily wrestle it out of her arms then turn around to take it into my living room.

       "Are these the records?" I ask.

       "Yes. I had one of each in that box before. The rest are in the top of my closet."

       I ponder the wealth she probably has with that collection. "Why don't you sell them? At least a few."

     She gives me a funny look and answers, "Because I think it's incredibly romantic that I keep as many in the collection as I can. Her husband ordered so many because he accidentally broke one when they were apart. He was heartbroken."

      "So, he didn't want to be without one," I conclude, probably guessing correctly.

      I'd done a little more research on Baby Love just in case since she's Belinda's great-grandmother and all. There was a short time that Baby Love was engaged, and then she had a wild life -getting mixed up in the mob and everything- before she finally settled down. She faded from the spotlight for a few years only to come back with a bang later during the big band era.

      He probably spent a small fortune on all those records, getting a hundred of each according to what Belinda told me. He was heartbroken when they were apart. I can understand that.

      I hate being alone. Ever since Maggie's mother died, I've tried to do my best raising her, but it's not been easy. And now, in a few years, she'll graduate and move out, ... and I'll really be alone.

      Belinda doesn't need a lonely old man.

      "So, where's your record player?" Belinda asks as she interrupts my thoughts.

      I smile as I point to the large contraption in the corner right behind her before I ask my own question. "Want me to order a pizza?"

      "Yeah, that'd be great," she answers me happily, and I find out what she likes on her pizza.

     "I'm scared to use it," she tells me after I hang up with the pizza place, and I walk over to the record player.

      "It's easy. Here," I say as I take the needle and place it on the record before turning it on. As I do, I stand very close to her, and the smell of her perfume attacks me. I take in a deep breath, wanting to clear my head, but I realize my folly in that action because it only gives me a larger dose of that seductive smell. Then she takes a step away from me.

     'I'm Nobody's Baby' starts playing, and the spell around us is broken.

     I clear my throat as the piece quickly moves to an instrumental interlude and ask, "Those are her brothers playing, aren't they?"

     "Yep," Belinda answers and starts singing with a silly grin on her face when Baby Love starts back up again.

     My jaw drops a little. I'm hearing the song in stereo. She matches her ancestor's intonation perfectly.

     Belinda laughs when she sees my face. "Told you I could sing," she says in a happily sassy voice.

     "I never said I didn't believe you. What I didn't know was that you sound just like her," I say with awe present in my voice.

     "Psh. Whatever. It's not like I want to make a career out of it or anything. I'd probably die of stage fright," she says and waves off my would-be compliment.

      "I must say you're wasting your talent," I say and go to have a seat on my couch while she dances around in front of me.

      She stops and looks at me. "Lots of people in this world can sing, and they're not all trying to make something of it. I don't want to."

      "Okay, okay," I say quickly and hold up my hands in a surrender gesture. "I was really only trying to pay you a compliment."

      "Strange way to do it."

      "Yeah, maybe," I admit and see her dancing again. "What...are you doing?"

      "Dancing. I have to move," she says as she dances around the box on the floor and makes her way to a more open space.

      I smile. "Then that's not the way you dance to this kind of music." I stand up, bravely walk up to her, and pull her into the standard dancing position.

     "More like this," I finish.

     Her pretty eyes light up as she smiles at me and asks, "Oh really?"

     "Yes, really."

     "I don't know how."

     "I do," I say and start teaching her the fox trot.

     After she -very quickly- gets down the basics, she asks, "So, is this it? What about all that other stuff I see in the movies?"

     "What other stuff?" I want to know exactly what she means.

     "I don't know... like dipping and stuff," she explains nervously.

     I grin and decide to dip her. She laughs.

     When I pull her back up, I notice my arm has wrapped further around her waist as I hold her closer to me. Curious, I watch her for her reaction. She closes her eyes and her breathing gets shallower. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she looks like she expects me to kiss her.
      Am I right? Surely not. Why would someone as beautiful as she is want someone like me to kiss her? I'm imagining things. Wishful thinking.
      She sighs a little and opens her eyes to look into mine before they zero in on my lips, and she leans a little closer towards me. I freeze in place and try to tell myself that I'm imagining all of this.

      The doorbell rings, and we break apart so that I can go answer it. As I do, the record stops.

     The possibly-awkward moment fades, and the two of us sit down to enjoy our pizza. I try to remember what it was we were talking about before I gave her the impromptu dance lesson.
       "So, do you plan on being a masseuse for the rest of your life?" I ask.
       "You don't think I'm good at it?" she asks a little cheekily back at me. One of her eyebrows raises with her question.
       I refuse to let what happened the last time she massaged me enter my head. All that was was a very nice dream about a woman with gifted hands and a soothing voice...who just so happens to be sitting right in front of me.
        "No, no. It's not that. You're great at it. I was only wondering is all," I say as casually as I can manage.
      "I told you," she says with a slight amount of irritation in her voice. "I don't want to become a singer."

     "That's not what I meant either. I know that because you said that. I was only curious because I was wondering if you were happy with your job or if you wanted to go for something bigger." Oh crap, I think quickly, realizing how she'll probably take what I just said.
      "Are you implying that my job is low level and that means that I'm less important because of it? That I'm settling and should try to 'better' myself by reaching for a higher-paying job that might make me miserable?" she snaps out the questions while I flounder around trying to fix what I said a second ago.
     "No! That's not what I meant! If you're happy, you're happy, and that's great! I was only curious," I say quickly before wanting to hide my head in a paper bag.
     "For your information, my family is well-off, and I benefit from that. So, I chose my career based upon what I wanted to do, and I like taking away others' stress that they probably get from jobs they hate. Even so, I'd probably still have that job because being happy is more important to me," she says in clipped tones.
     I'm desperate to fix this.
     "I'm not trying to imply that you couldn't support yourself with the job you have," I say, trying to sound repentant. I don't like the angry look she's giving me. "All I was wondering, really, is if you liked it or not."
     She takes a deep breath, and I start to relax a little.
     "Yes. I like it." Suddenly, her playful attitude returns as she says, "Especially when my customer is obviously enjoying himself."
     Now, I can't help but feel embarrassed as I think that what she said was inappropriate.

     "I fell asleep! It happens!" I say adamantly and feel defensive.
     She pauses with her pizza slice halfway to her mouth and looks shocked that I got defensive. "I'm sorry. I was only having a little fun."
      At my expense!
      She watches me stay mad and continues, "I'm sorry, Julian! I didn't think you'd be embarrassed like this. I understand stuff like that happens."
      Yes, but it's the why it happened that concerns me.
      Belinda sighs.

     Then she stands up and pushes her chair back under the table. "I guess I'll just go since all we're doing is making each other mad."
      My head snaps up to her. No!
      "Wait," I say quietly. I don't want her to leave! I've looked forward to this ever since she mentioned that we might get together like this a few weeks ago.
      I take a couple of quick breaths as I try to force myself to make a decision. I don't know what to do!

     After what feels like ages but is actually only a few seconds, I hop up out of my chair and catch Belinda before she can walk out of the dining room. "Don't go," I say quickly as I reach out and grab her arm.
     She turns to look at me, and my breath catches in my throat as I hold her arm a little bit tighter. "No, Julian. Let's just call it a night. I'll let you borrow the records for a while."
      I want to scream that I don't give a damn about the records, that it's her that I want, but of course, I can't say it.
      I need to stop being an idiot and just admit my feelings for her.
      "No, wait. I can listen to the records later. We could, um, watch a movie or something." Crap! My television is moved up into my bedroom, and it's obvious since it's not down here in the living room. God only knows what she's making of that!
      I can't understand her expression when she pulls her arm out of my grasp and says, "No, I'll just go." She starts walking across the living room for the door.
       Again, I want to scream. I run my fingers through my hair as I try to calm this feeling of panic going through me. I don't know what I really expected out of tonight, but it wasn't this. I can't let her leave yet!

     I dash across my living room and catch her as her hand touches the doorknob. "Belinda," I say as I gently turn her around, "I..." Tell her!
     Looking at her distracts me from whatever it was I was going to say. The look in her eyes is so happily expectant that I lose my ability to think or breathe.
      "Yes?" she asks, prompting me to continue.
       I can't do it. I shouldn't do it. I can't let myself pretend that she'd ever in any way return my feelings, and I don't want to bother her with them. I'm kidding myself.
       I close my eyes to try to gather my thoughts before I feel her incredibly-soft hand on my cheek.
       "What is it, Julian?" she asks sweetly, and for a few seconds, I almost lose control and attack her. When I come to my senses, I'm glad I restrained myself.
       "No."
       The word I utter sounds pained, and I know I have to get away from her before I do something stupid.
       "Why not?" she asks, and I'm terrified that she knows exactly what I'm thinking.
       I have to pull away now. I hate picturing myself as some creepy old man going gaga over a woman that's too young for him, but that's exactly how I see myself.
       I'm such an idiot.
       I open my eyes and see her face very close to mine.
       Alarm shoots through me as I say quickly, "Thank you for loaning me the records. Goodnight, Belinda."

     Julian, you fool, I think as I turn and walk away. I hear Belinda make this huffing noise before she opens the door, walks out, and slams it closed behind her.

Noah Jones

I'm still working on getting the next chapters organized. I put this little bonus together slowly as I've gone along, and I thought I'd add a bit at the end to go with it as a true bonus for the continuing storyline.

Some of the stuff in this little narration may feel like old news, but I'll bet most of you haven't guessed what Jones has been thinking all this time.

The bit at the end is text-only because I didn't want to bother with the boring conversation shots, etc.

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Jones

     My name is Noah, but everyone calls me Jones. I have no idea why, but it doesn't bother me.

    I was attracted to her from the moment I saw her. She had this little lost look to her that made me want to draw her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

     I quickly noticed I wasn't the only one she affected. Desmond, who normally would chase Ginger in his unique way, appeared just as enraptured.

     Besides, she worked with me, still does in fact even though the bar has closed temporarily. I've learned to never date anyone from work, especially if I worked for a small business. I liked and still like working there. Bryce made a great boss, but Simon was an ass. When it was just the two of us, he'd sit around talking to everyone and leave the real work to me. I let it go then because it didn't bother me since he would step in and help if things got bad (I'm guessing because he didn't want a bad report sent to Bryce).

     Bryce and his idiot-best-friend Jesse would often play twisted games with the tourists and locals alike. I stayed quiet when Bryce dragged Marie into his practical jokes since I knew he wasn't planning anything that would place her in danger.

     Besides, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see what she'd look like in the outfit Bryce convinced her to wear. She looked... hot.

     Then, I caught on to the game Bryce and Jesse were playing. Bryce was setting her up with Jesse! Putting her in that outfit, he may as well have placed a blinking sign over her head that read 'Jesse, look here!' Jesse was dressed in his old captain's costume for some 'punishment' thing for kissing Bryce's girlfriend, and Bryce matched Marie's costume with Jesse's.

     When I saw Jesse pestering Marie like I knew he would, I did my best to let Marie know that I was there for her if she needed me.

      I hate Jesse.

      He could have almost any woman he wanted with that charm of his, and he went after Marie. He was allowed to go after Marie.

      I'm not normally prone to violence, but I wanted to punch him that afternoon because of his behavior.

     Marie beat me to it! I was so happy! She put that man right in his place: curled up and begging for forgiveness that he shouldn't receive.

     Then, damn him! He used that charm he has to weasel his way back to a point to where she would speak to him again.

     Over the years, I've learned how to read people, and I could see it. It damn near broke my heart. She was attracted to him. It was only a matter of time.

     I watched in silent agony as she agreed to let him walk her home. She didn't stand a chance.

     My only hope laid in the probability that he would dump her when he got tired of her, and that maybe I could be of some comfort to her then... even if it would've been a bad idea to date her.

     So, I kept my nose down and my opinions to myself, waiting for the inevitable.

     Her work attire at times would drive me insane, but nowhere near as crazy as watching Jesse's reaction to her. I found it increasingly difficult to keep my thoughts to myself.

      I felt furious at Bryce's continued attempts to put Marie in Jesse's path. Enough already!

      The only thing that would make me feel better at this point was that Marie would continuously shoot all their efforts down.

       I made the mistake of mumbling to myself, and my boss's girlfriend caught me. I'd have to be much more careful. I didn't need people to know what I was thinking.

     I hate Jesse. For years, I've stood and silently watched as he'd seduce women alongside my boss. I did my best to not hate Bryce because he made a good boss, but Jesse, I allowed myself to hate.

     No one pays attention to me, and I have never minded this fact.

    Jesse caught Simon feeling up Marie or something. Bryce eventually stood behind his best friend's accusations and fired him. I couldn't help but wonder if Bryce did it because it was Jesse that laid the accusations.

      Imagine my surprise when Bryce asked me to pick up Marie on the way to his house for a meeting! I was so nervous that I hardly spoke the entire drive there. Marie remained quietly aloof, unaware of my inner struggle. It was hard to be in an enclosed space with her.

      At this meeting, Bryce surprised me once again when he offered me the assistant manager position! He had noticed my much-better-than-Simon's work ethic. He even valued my opinions on what to do with the bar when I recommended we have an upper deck open-air dance floor.

        Then, Jesse came over.

        Bryce told me not to worry about taking Marie home, and I knew exactly what that meant. Bryce went from Bryce, the great boss to Bryce, the dickhead best friend of the idiot. The difference between the two is Jesse's presence.

     Marie injured herself, and Bryce trained Erin a little to work in her place at the bar before we closed for remodeling. Erin was nowhere near as good as Marie, but I didn't really expect her to be. She was too timid, and I tried to do what I could to help her just like any assistant manager should do.
     I missed Marie being around. With her around, I'd at least have someone to talk to. Bryce and Erin were always talking to each other about things that didn't concern me.
      Then one day, I heard Bryce tell Erin that Jesse and Marie had 'finally' started dating, and I wanted to die. I worried that Bryce would see something in my demeanor that would give me away. I especially worried about Erin seeing. I noticed that she was the quiet but observant type, and that made me extra cautious.
     I had never wanted to leave early so much as I did that day.

     What does it matter? What the hell would Marie see in me anyway? I don't have Jesse's charm, and I'm a bit overweight. We don't even have that much in common.
     Still... Jesse? He's not good enough for her. The man is an asshole.

     That prick Simon wants to sue Bryce for wrongful termination.

     As I watched the two of them argue, I wanted to walk over and punch Simon in the face. 'Wrongful termination' my ass! He should've been fired ages ago. I always would worry about Bernadette, but she'd tell me to mind my own damn business. I tried to, but I also felt there were times when I must step in and help. She wouldn't let me.
     When I heard about Bernadette threatening to actually take Simon's side in the lawsuit, I knew that I had to do something to help Bryce. I told him that I'd happily tell the judge what I'd seen between Simon and Bernadette. If I help Bryce, I'll finally feel like I did something to help Bernadette - whether she wanted it or not.
     If only Marie would help Bryce as well, but she insisted on not pressing charges! Sure, what Simon did to her was tame compared to everything he probably did with Bernadette, but it didn't take a genius to guess that he had the same plans with Marie.

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    The trial is set for after Christmas. In the meantime, the bar closes.
    As I watch them tear the old structure down, I happen to glance over at Bernadette where she sits watching from her lounge chair a little ways down the beach.
    I walk over to her, and she speaks without being prompted.
    "I wanted to watch that shithole of a bar crash into the ground," she says in a cold, dead voice.
    "Why?" I ask, wanting her to elaborate.
    "Bad memories." she answers in that same voice.
    "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" I ask her, reminded of the times when I would practically beg her to confirm my suspicions about her and Simon Cottrell.
    She shrugs. "None of your business."
    "We could've helped you."
    "Nobody gives a shit about me," she snaps as she stands up to, I guess, see the bar's destruction a little better.
    "I thought we were friends."
    "Humph," she says noncommittally. Then, out of the blue, she asks, "Is Jesse dating that new slut of a waitress?"
     "Marie is not a slut," I growl. "And yes."
     She watches me closely for a few seconds before she says calculatingly, "Looks like you're not happy about it either."
     "Not especially, no. I'm concerned about her," I answer evasively and look away, but she catches on anyway, I think.
     "Jones, I think I could use your help with something."
     "Not with that," I guess. I've known she's been after Jesse for ages, and her attempts have been really pathetic. All she ever did was make Jesse convinced that she's insane.
     "You mean to tell me you don't want Marie?" she asks in a deviously-playful voice.
     "It's not going to happen anyway. We work together."
     "Not if she quits," she offers up with a smile.
     "No, Bernadette. If Marie is happy, then I'm happy for her. If, and I think this is sadly likely, he hurts her, I'll be there to help however I can."
     "What if he never hurts her and you never get your chance?" she asks with her eyebrows raised.
     "Then, like I said, I'll be happy for her."
     She rolls her eyes. "You'll change your mind. I can already see the possibility floating around behind your eyes on how you'd love to help me break them up."
      "If they break up, it won't be because of me," I state with finality and walk away without looking back.

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     I'm finally doing a bit of a time jump! (a few weeks) Scary, I know, but we can get through this. I have faith. :)

     As Jones mentioned, the bar is torn down. (and there was much rejoicing .... yay!)     /*   
      Bryce and Erin slowly broke the news to Adele that Erin was moving in. Adele had already been okay with Erin spending the night, as she told her father, but Erin moving in was a bit more of a surprise than she was ready to handle. She's doing her best because she wants her dad to be happy, and Erin is trying very hard to not be imposing. The two of them are slowly working at establishing a friendship, but they're not quite there yet. Adele is giving Erin a chance, happy that at least Erin's not trying to be her mother. All the same, she's spending more and more time with her friend Todd, making Bryce wary but not knowing what to do about it.

Oh, here's a funny: