Read My Lips: Restricted Version

RML: Chapter 8 (R)

Chapter Eight

Slipping her shoes off under her desk and bringing her legs up in her swivel chair, Amber rested her chin on her knees, tucked her long skirt under her bare toes and sighed wearily as her only busy body part -- her finger -- lazily entered ISBN numbers into a spreadsheet, not really caring if the task took all day this way.  This sucks.

Her wonderful, new, anticipated job as an archival specialist in Kansas City’s Public Library...sucked.  Just absolutely sucked eggs...rotten emu eggs with a side of hot sauce.  Her ancient metal desk, with more dents and scratches than a tin can in a hurricane...sucked.  Her chair, which tended to tip over backward if she didn’t keep herself balanced properly...sucked.  And her office...Amber snorted with derision.  Oh, it sucked, too.  She was fairly sure it had once been a janitor’s closet...it still smelled of bleach and ammonia.  And the old mop resting in the corner when she first saw her eight by eight “office” had been a dead give-away.

But none of that was the suckiest part of her exciting career.  Oh, no.  What really soured her attitude was the job itself.  Archival Specialist, my left foot, Amber grunted to herself.  She was nothing more than a glorified secretary, playing coffee-maker and gopher for Jimmie Peerson, the library’s head archivist.  The truly sad thing was that Jimmie had a secretary, Lucy, who was as sweet as they come and not much older than Amber.  In fact, the two women -- the only two women down here in the basement -- had become fast friends, and Lucy already knew some sign language from a course she took in college.  In the past two weeks, Lucy had become quite fluent with the constant chattering to Amber, and behind Jimmie’s back, they “talked” about him.

They talked about the khaki shorts he always wore and the tan-colored shirts -- as though he was emulating Steve Irwin in the wilds of Africa -- and his chopped up dirty-blonde hair and his fake tan.  Lucy would giggle and explain to Amber about how Jimmie tended to speak with a slight Australian accent, even though he was born and bred in Milwaukee.  And Amber sent chat messages to Lucy on the other side of the archives about how Jimmie swaggered into her closet like a bow-legged cowboy to write instructions for her on a giant dry-erase board behind her desk.  He didn’t seem to understand that she could read his lips just fine if he’d only tell her what he wanted, and Amber would sadly shake her head when he swaggered out.  Bow-legged cowboy, indeed.  Jimmie Peerson wouldn’t know a horse from a jackass.

But every time she saw him walk across a room, she was reminded of a real cowboy and the loose-limb, fluid grace of a pair of Levis in motion.  Lincoln Martin swaggered because he’d been riding horses since he could walk.  Jimmie Peerson did it because he was an idiot.

An idiot she had to defer to every day.

And that sucked.

Her chat screen popped up in the middle of the spreadsheet.  “Hey...whatcha want to do for lunch?” Lucy messaged from her office.

Amber sighed and glanced at the list of number she had yet to enter, but her finger was starting to cramp.  “IDK...Chinese?”

“Ugh...had it for dinner...gave me gas...something else.”

Amber laughed.  She cracked her knuckles and thought about what else was nearby.  “Indian?”

“Allergic to cumin...Italian?”

Amber blanched to herself.  “No!  Made a lasagna this weekend...still eating it...how bout the deli around the corner?”

“Pied Piper’s?  Yeah, that sounds good...meet you out front in 20?”

“Cya then,” Amber sent back to Lucy and clicked off the chat screen.  The spreadsheet glared at her.  Jimmie said he wanted it finished by the end of the day.  She should really skip lunch, or it wouldn’t get done.

Screw Jimmie, Amber thought and saved her progress thus far.  Like he would know if she finished today or not.  He wasn’t even at the library today.  His new “project” was taking up a lot of his time this week.  The new songwriter exhibit that the library was sponsoring for next month wasn’t even his idea, but he sure was taking all the credit and doing all the exciting work on it.

The very first day on the job, Amber found Jimmie in his office, going crazy because the library wanted a new promotional display for their upcoming fund raiser.  Jimmie didn’t have a clue what to display -- he was having a little Prom-Queen/Drama-Queen moment there.  A museum in town was already setting up for a historical display on children’s books.  Biographies on famous writers were done time and time again, and the library had already exhibited so many other types of literature-based collections, that there wasn’t much else that was considered new and exciting.  

Amber made her introductions to her new boss -- so excited about her job she was bouncing out of her shoes -- and Jimmie went off on her about wasting his precious time.  He sent Lucy in to get her settled, but before she left his office, she wrote one word on a piece of paper and gave it to him.  Lyrics.  Then stomped out.  

Why was it that every man she ever met turned out to be a complete ass?

Really.  If they weren’t attacking her or yelling at her at the tops of their lungs -- like it mattered to her if they shouted or whispered -- they completely snubbed her.  Once, a man at a party in college even told his buddy not to speak to her at all because “...deaf people will f*ck you up...”

Deafness wasn’t contagious, but stupidity and bullshit seemed to be.

I’m done with them all, she vowed inside her head as she grabbed her bag and turned off her computer.  Especially after what Lincoln Martin did to her last week...barging right into her and laughing at her when her butt hit the carpet.  She still had a bruise from that...the jerk.

And he didn’t even kiss her.  She knew he wanted to.  She saw the urge written all over his face.

I should have done it, she told herself for the fiftieth time that morning.  I should have kissed him.  Not that she wanted to get involved with Lincoln Martin, but dang it!  She’d just bet her entire collection of Tolstoy novels he was a fantastic kisser.  And she could use some practice.  There was this guy at the security desk who was kind of cute, and he’d been very nice to her -- almost flirting -- and if he ever got up the nerve to ask her out, she might consider doing so, even if she did just vow to herself not to mess with another man.  Because, lord knows, the only excitement she’d had in the last two weeks was getting mauled by a heartbroken cowboy and adding blueberries to her pancakes in the mornings.

If she could ever get Jimmie to let her do the research on the lyrics exhibit, she might have something to write home about.  Right now, Chloe called her almost every night through a video chat, and all Amber had to tell her about was, “Everything’s good.  Nothing special.”  Chloe was ecstatic to hear that.  Her sister didn’t want Amber to have any excitement.  Her sister didn’t want Amber to have a relationship with a man.  Sometimes, Amber believed that Chloe wished neither of them had anything special going in their lives.

Poor Chloe, Amber sighed as she stepped out of the elevator.  Daniel was being a jerk still, and Chloe had bags under her eyes last night when they chatted through their computers.  Deep down, Amber knew a lot of their problems had to deal with Chloe always being so independent and wanting to do things on her own.  And Daniel hated to argue with her, so he let her.  

They used to be so in love, calling each other those stupid pet names, like Sugar Pie and Honey Bear.  Now, it’s almost like two strangers living together.  Amber wished they’d both get their heads out of their asses and stop being so freaking proud.  Although she knew they both had their hills to climb, Amber took Chloe’s side in the matter.  They were sisters, no matter what.  Amber just prayed it wasn’t too late for them.

Coming out of the library, she spotted Lucy looking down at her cell phone and frowning intensely.  Amber gently touched her shoulder, and Lucy glanced up, tears swimming in her sad eyes.  ‘What’s wrong?’ she signed, worried for her friend.

‘Oh...it’s okay,’ Lucy signed back after tucking away her phone.  ‘I just realized what the date was.’

‘The date?’

Lucy sighed and looped her arm through Amber’s.  ‘I’ll tell you at lunch,’ she awkwardly replied with their arms locked together.  Amber nodded and they hurried to the corner to cross the street.

Pied Piper’s was basically a hole in the wall between a jewelry boutique and a bakery, but the two women loved coming here.  All the chairs were mismatched, and the tables were nothing more than round sheets of plexi-glass set on giant wooden spools that had once been used to roll up electrical cables.  The walls were plastered in plain white, but over the years, customers started writing messages on them.  Suzie loves David...I’m getting married next week!...My dog ate my meeting notes...Live, Laugh, Love, and Lie on your taxes...

Amber and Lucy sat at their favorite table, right smack in the middle.  It was easier for them to people watch with a three-sixty visual of the rest of the patrons to the small deli.  They ordered their lunches and drinks -- Lucy doing the talking to the waitress -- and Amber leaned forward, ready to discuss what’s bothering her friend so much.

‘Okay...now tell me.  What’s so special about today?’

Lucy smiled sadly.  ‘It’s nothing all that big...one of my good friends -- my cousin, actually -- died a few years ago.  Next Sunday is the anniversary.  I miss her, is all.’

Amber laid a comforting hand over Lucy’s.  ‘I’m sorry,’ she signed with her free hand.

Lucy wiped at her eyes with a napkin.  She removed her hand from Amber’s grasp.  'I’’m okay.  We were just really close...she had so much life in her.  Lucy sniffed and attempted a smile.  She was about to get married...and she was having a baby...it’s sad that she died the way she did.’

Amber got an uncomfortable feeling.  ‘How did she die?’

Lucy looked away, shadows forming in her brown eyes.  ‘A riding accident...a horse bucked her off and Macie...she broke her neck...’

Oh, God, Amber thought, not signing the sentiment.  It couldn’t be...Macie?  Lincoln Martin’s Macie?  Lucy stared out of the window for a few minutes.  Amber felt like her lungs had seized up.  She couldn’t breathe...she couldn’t swallow...all the blood rushed from her head, making her eyes dance with black spots.  Lucy composed herself with a small sigh and looked at Amber.

‘Amber?  What’s wrong?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

Amber blinked and pressed her hands together in her lap.  Should she ask?  Or just let it go?  Oh, God., she thought again,  I almost kissed Lucy’s dead cousin’s fiance...

“Amber?”  Lucy said her name while reaching over to wave her hands in Amber’s face.  “What is it?”

Amber inhaled raggedly.  Her hands shook as she asked, ‘Your cousin’s name was Macie?’

Lucy froze and frowned.  “Did you know Macie?”

Oh, God!  

‘No...I went to Wil Martin’s wedding a few weeks ago...I met Lincoln...’

Lucy blinked at Amber, frowning a little with shadowed emotions in her eyes.  ‘You met Linc?  How was he?’

‘Link?  L-I-N-K?’ Amber fingerspelled slowly to make sure she understood Lucy correctly.  Had she been getting it wrong this whole time?  Sometimes names confused her when she read them off people’s lips, because there were so many variations.  But she was pretty sure she read Lincoln Martin listed as the Best Man on the reception card.  ‘Not Lincoln?’

Lucy laughed.  ‘L-I-N-C,’ Lucy corrected.  ‘It’s short for Lincoln...like a nickname.  Macie used to call him The Missing Link...because he was so stubborn and caveman-ish sometimes.’

‘Oh, a nickname,’ Amber replied, relieved.  Then she took a sip of her lemon water and thought, Linc, huh?  It was kind of suitable...Missing Link...  She snorted with laughter and some water went up her nose.

“Amber, are you okay?”  Lucy got up to pat Amber’s back.

‘Fine,’ Amber signed when she could breathe again.  She smiled...  Missing Link...oh, that’s hilarious.  

‘So, how was Linc?  Still drinking himself into a stupor?’   The shadows returned to Lucy’s gaze, giving Amber an impression that Lincoln had been causing a lot of sleepless nights for his friends and family.

Amber nodded.  ‘Has he been doing that for a while?’

‘Ever since Macie died,’ Lucy signed, shaking her head.  ‘He blamed himself for her death, and he blamed his brother, and he blamed the horse, and he blamed everybody but the person responsible.’

‘Who?’

‘Macie, of course,’ Lucy replied with a sad smile.  ‘No one forced her to get on that horse, when she knew it was dangerous.  But not even Linc could have talked her out of something she wanted to do.  I miss her and I love her very much, but I was not blind to her faults.  She was a stubborn, beautiful woman who always got what she wanted, and she wanted to break that horse, even though Linc told her to stay away from it.’  Lucy cocked her head to the side.  ‘You know...you kind of look a lot like her.’

‘I do?’

‘It’s the hair, I think, and your eyes,’ Lucy signed.  ‘Her hair was long like yours and the same color, and your eyes are almost the same color blue.’

There wasn’t a whole lot Amber could do about her eyes, but she touched her hair.  She’d always worn it long, loving the way she could tie it up in a knot or braid it whenever she felt like it.  Now, she felt like she was wearing a dead woman’s wig.  Maybe she should get it cut...

Their lunches were brought to the table, and Lucy said out loud, “Enough about Macie and Linc...what game do you want to play today?”

Amber tossed her hair over her shoulder, forgetting about it, and scanned the lunch crowd in the deli.  She spied a man by himself at a window booth, concentrating on his smartphone.  ‘How about...Who’s That Guy?’

Lucy swallowed a bite of her turkey wrap.  ‘Oh, I like that one...who shall we ponder?’

Amber discreetly pointed to the blond man in the casual suit.  Lucy smiled.  ‘He’s cute...okay...let’s see...his name is Jack...he works for a -- um -- construction company, and he just came from a meeting with a client who gave him some grief over his ideas, but he’s not changing any of them...he’s too proud to copout like that, and the client can just stuff it...no wife; girlfriend just broke up with him, but he’s better off without her...and he drives a black pick-up truck...he goes to Vegas once a year to play poker and see the “shows;” he reads comic books late at night to fall asleep, and he’s allergic to peanuts...’

Amber giggled.  ‘Boxers or briefs?’

Lucy tilted her head to see the man better.  A secretive smile graced her lips.  ‘Boxers.’

Amber shook her head.  ‘I say briefs.’

‘I think you’re wrong...he’s too good-looking and sure of himself to go around in tighty-whities.’

‘Really?  You think he’s good-looking?’  Amber thought the man in the booth was okay, but she kind of preferred a little roughness in her men...now that she’d met a few like that.  Okay...just one in particular.

Lucy turned her eyes on Amber.  ‘What do you think is good-looking?’

Not wanting to reveal her thoughts about Linc Martin -- especially after the talk they just had about Macie -- Amber shrugged and signed, ‘I’m not sure...darker, I guess.’

Lucy peeked a glance at “Jack.”  ‘I’ll have to disagree...I like my men to be a little more boy-next-door.’

Amber grinned and made to stand up.  ‘Then I think we need to ask him...does he wear boxers or briefs?’

Her friend’s green eyes rounded out with appall.  ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because, it’s embarrassing.’

They looked at “Jack” and watched as he handed a scrap of paper to his waitress and stood up from his booth.  He straightened his jacket, buttoned the front, saw them looking at him, and nodded a polite greeting and winking flirtatiously as he passed their table.  Amber and Lucy burst out giggling.  

“Excuse me,” the same waitress said as she stopped next to Lucy.  “The man over there asked me to give this to you.”

Lucy blinked at the folded square of paper in the other woman’s hand.  “Um...thank you.”

“No problem...ya’ll want a refill?”

“Sure,” Lucy said, taking the note from her.  The waitress left to grab the water pitcher, and Amber couldn’t stand not knowing.

‘Well?  What does it say?’

With shaking fingers and a bright red blush that seemed to cover her entire body, she unfolded the piece of paper and read the words, her eyes dashing back and forth.  “Oh, my God!” she said, dropping the paper as though it burned her.  She buried her face in her hands.  Amber reached across and grabbed the note.

“Name’s Brian, actually.  I work for an investment firm, my grandmother taught me sign language, and I hate comic books.  I think you’re cute, too.  Give me a call.”  A phone number was listed at the bottom, along with the word, “Commando.”

Amber blinked at her friend.  They stared at each other for the longest time.  Then the laughter erupted.  

When Amber got back to her office, she was still smiling.  Lucy hadn’t decided to call Brian yet, but Amber knew she would, or she’d do it for her.  But one thought kept badgering Amber for the rest of the day...Did Linc wear boxers or briefs?

Nope, she continued to tell herself.  He was the commando type, too.