“It’s weird.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe for you.”
I point my bottle at him. “Are you saying you’d date a woman who’s about to pop out another man’s kid?”
“No. I wouldn’t, but Jim’s a different kind of guy. He’s lived a different life. He’s had some rough patches, and I imagine he sees her as someone having a rough time too.”
“That’s what concerns me. Lindsey’s naive for her age.” I look over at his profile, bathed in increasing shadow. “Now she’s pregnant and has no family to protect her. Mom and I are all she’s got.”
“Mais, you don’t have to worry about Jim Poulet, no. He’s the last person on the planet anyone needs protection from, believe me. There isn’t a bad or mean bone in his body.” He finishes off his beer and sets the empty in the cooler next to him. “He had a brain fever when he was a baby, and I think it burned up any meanness in him.” He pulls out two bottles. “Want another?”
I chug the last sip and hand him my empty. “How do you know him?” I ask, trying very hard not to burp like a teenage boy.
“I saw him picking up cans on the side of the road about two years ago. He had a big ol’ garbage bag full, and I thought if a man works that hard for cans, he’s likely to work hard for real money.” Simon screws off the top of the two bottles and hands me one. “I stopped and asked if he wanted to come and sweep up my shop, and he’s been with me ever since.” He drops both caps in the cooler. “He lived in Terrebonne Parish, and I didn’t know he walked to and from work for the first six months.”
“Well, he has a car now.”
Simon laughs. “He loves that Malibu. It looks like hell, but it runs good.”
“My first car was a ’96 Ford Focus I bought off my mom’s last husband. It was almost as big a piece of shit as Lester Doyle.” I take a drink, then press the cold, wet bottle to my hot cheek. “The car lasted longer than the marriage, though.”
“How long was the marriage?”
“That one?” I lean my head back against the top of the wooden chair and look out at the silhouette of tree branches against the vivid dusk sky. “Ahh… two years, maybe. I don’t quite remember, but I know it lasted longer than her marriage to Melvin. She was married to Vince the longest.” Light from the transom window illuminates Simon’s shoulder and the side of his face. I can’t make out his expression, but I don’t need to. “Five,” I answer the question hanging in the air.
“What number was your father?”
“Two.” Of all my mother’s men, he’s the one I like to talk about least. “I hardly remember him.”
“Where is he?”
I shrug in the darkness. “I have no idea. The last I heard, somewhere in Kansas.” I tried to find him when I was a kid. Whenever I was sad and lonely, I’d sit on my bed and reach for the phone. “That was about thirty years ago.” I remember the sound of my mother and her latest boyfriend’s laughter leaching through the thin walls as I reached out to several of my father’s relatives in a desperate attempt to reconnect with the most important man in my life. “I used to have fantasy conversations with him in my head. The things I’d say and the things he’d say if I ever found him.” But those conversations never came to fruition, and for many years, I blamed my mom. Given Mother’s penchant for acquiring men, sometimes while she still had another, it was easy to blame her. “We used to move around so much, I thought he just couldn’t find me.” I take a long drink, then set the bottle on the porch by my chair. “It never occurred to me that he wasn’t even looking.” I stand and stretch my arms over my head. For a few seconds, I feel light-headed, and I don’t know if I stood up too fast or had too much beer. “Men like him are what I call WADs. Worthless Apathetic Deadbeats. At least that’s what I call them in public.” I drop my arms and move to the edge of the porch. “In my head, they’re worthless asshole deadbeat sons of bitches.”
“Bon rein. A man takes care of his responsibilities.” Simon gets up and stands behind me, so close I can feel his warm chest against the back of my arm. “I’ve always been surrounded by a big family. Some should get divorced but stick together for the misery. Some are faithful and others mess around, but every one of them takes care of their kids. Including the ones born outside of marriage.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “They’re a pain in the ass and think they have a right to my personal business, but who else is going to give me a kidney if I need it?”
I laugh and look back over my shoulder at him. “If I need a body part, I’m out of luck. There are only two of us and Mom isn’t a good donor candidate.”
“If you need a body part, cher, you let me know.”
I don’t think he’s talking about a kidney. I turn to look up into his face. “Are you coming on to me, Simon?”
He chuckles. “If you have to ask, I must be getting old.”
He’s about my age, so he’s not that old. He has a good business and all his hair. He brought me a fan and beer and made my shitty day better. God knows he’s a triple threat when it comes to women—handsome, smooth-talking, charming. ?
??Why hasn’t some local girl snapped you up?” I ask.
“You’re the expert.” His hands slide across my shoulders, and his thumbs brush my jaw.
“Is there something wrong with you?” I mean it as a joke, but it comes out a little breathy, and I want to turn my face into his hand and kiss his warm palm.
He lowers his face and whispers against my mouth, “You tell me.”
I hear a little moan, and I think it’s me, but I’m not sure. Simon’s kiss takes the breath from my lungs, and his mouth works me over, pushing every single thought from my head.
I am not Lulu. I am not an expert.
I am simply a woman being kissed by a man and, thank God, he knows how to do it right.