On the floor of Cade's truck were three cans of Reddi Wip, two chocolate and one plain. There was also a pile of Taco Bell trash and an empty fifth of Jack. A lavender thong hung from the truck's shifter, his t-shirt was twisted around his left fore...
The night before, about two hours after getting off work, Cade had leaned against a low building's pillar, smoking his last Newport Red. Waiting. About eighteen more minutes in the wash, then forty minutes or so in the dryer.
The parking lot was empty for a Thursday night. If anyone asked him, he'd be able to tell them Thursday night's were usually busy. But he didn't care that the place was nearly deserted. He was there for one reason and one reason only. And once his clothes were dry and folded, he'd be out. Then a girl walked by, alone, and went inside.
Through the ground to ceiling window, he turned to watch her ass as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of any empty machine, dropped in the clothes from the over-flowing laundry basket she'd been carrying, then started digging in the pockets of her jean shorts for coins which she laid out in a neat row across the front of the open lid. The silver circles gleamed against the chipped white enamel of the washing machine. The precise way she arranged the coins along the edge, each spaced the exact distance from the other, was the sexiest thing he'd seen in a while. He took another drag and studied the curve of her long legs, admired the battered ropers on her feet. Yes. Definitely, yes.
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"See something you like?"
Cade turned back to the lot but saw no one.
"Yo. Down here, asshole."
A chubby man wearing a ratty ACDC Black Ice tour t-shirt, pale green cargo shorts and pointed-toe boots. No laundry basket for him, just a phone and can wrapped in a brown paper bag. "What's the look for?" he asked, waving the can in his pudgy mitt.
Cade tossed his cig butt and crushed it with the heel of his flip-flop. When the man continued staring at him, he asked, "What look?"
"Got a problem?"
Over the years, Cade had been threatened by plenty of guys, but never one who was four feet tall. "No, no problem," he said.
"Good. I didn't really want to fuck up your pretty face." The guy lowered the can and raised the phone. "Want to do some business?"
Cade took a step toward the door. "I'm just waiting to put my shit in a dryer."
"You like her?" The man waved the can at the window. "I can set that up."
"I can set that up myself. Thanks."
"Nah," he replied, dragging out the h, then adding, in neat staccato, "I don't think so."
Asshole. "What the fuck ever. I'm just tryin' to get my clothes clean. So I don't walk around stinking and ruining other people's day."
"I can appreciate that." The man nodded, the top of his head catching the light from inside Suds 'n Duds. His upper lip warped. "Clothes do make the man."
Cade paused, waiting for more. But none came.
The man stood there, smiling now, like the two of them were best friends.
"I liked you better when you were being an asshole," Cade said.
"Funny." The man took a drink from the can in the brown bag. After he swallowed, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "I don't think I like you at all."
"Martin?"
Simultaneously, Cade and the man looked away from each other, their heads swiveling like a pair of wooden puppets. The woman with the tidy-row-of-quarters fetish looked as good coming as she did going. Tits front and center, long hair curling around her shoulders. It'd be a tossup as to which side of her Cade wanted to grab first.
"Emily-Jo?" the man asked, mimicking her tone and jutting out his small hip to copy her position.
She straightened and dropped her hand. "Don't be a smart ass, Martin. You promised me pizza. I want it. Where is it? Where's my damn pizza?"
Snippy thing, she was.
But Cade didn't care. He saw an in and took it. "I was just about to go for pizza. Want to come?"
She turned to him, tipping her head as she looked him over. Her gaze moved evenly across his shoulders, down his chest, over his crotch then dropped all the way to his feet. She didn't stop anywhere in particular, or even linger where he'd hoped. She lifted her head back up to look him in the eyes. Her face was unchanged, remained unchanging. Whether he impressed her or not, he didn't care. She was looking at him. That was all that mattered.
