Derek

Grocery shopping was one of my least favorite chores. Come to think of it, all chores fell into that category. Don't get me wrong, I still did them. However, I'd normally wait until I was in a good mood or when they were all piled up. That way, I could have everything done and over with at once. Due to my excellent strategy, it took days for a given chore to be done. Somehow, it irritated Cathy.

Therefore, if a day passed when it was my turn to do the chores, she did them. That way our condo was always spotless. Clothes were always cleaned and neatly folded away. Cupboards were often stocked. Toiletries were forever available, and movies and games were always at hand.

Smiling, I ticked the ketchup off the shopping list as I placed the item in the cart. The shopping list was surveyed. I went to the toiletries aisle, filling the cart with the necessities.

This week, I had been taking my chores more seriously, trying to get them done on time and even early. Ever since my little stunt the other night, I've ended up on Cathy's bad side. And, let's just say, that side was the worst side to be on. Which was why I was working to get back to the heavenly side with blue skies and vast fields of flowers everywhere.

Sighing aloud, I stared at the variety of sanitary napkins. She needed them. Only a half pack remained in her draw. Of course, she won't tell me to purchase any but I always did.

A few giggles caught my attention, and I discovered I was still staring at the forbidden items.

I didn't see the big deal about men not wanting to buy them. It was not like in the aisle there was a big sign stating, 'Men Not Allowed To Purchase'. And even then, I would still hide and buy it. The Black Market would be an ally of mine.

"You have quite the audience," stated a husky voice, dripping with amusement. A masculine fellow pushed his trolley towards me.

Shrugging, I picked up three sets of overnight, regular, and ultra-thin sanitary napkins. With a full-on laugh now, he picked up two bottles of detergent and situated them at the bottom of his cart.

"I have to say, I like you." He stopped beside me. Our carts kissed when he offered his hand. "The name's Adrian, Adrian Chaste."

"Derek McKenzie," I took his hand and gave a firm shake.

He didn’t seem familiar. Maybe he wasn’t a regular.

Releasing his hand, I asked, "So, you new here?"

"Yeah.” He took back his hand. His expression was indecisive. Regardless, he continued after a slight pause, “Here on business.”

Fair enough. Hey, it was LA. Who wouldn’t want to be here? Business or not.

He cocked his head to the side, studying me. “You look familiar?”

“ Hmmm,” was my response. A response I adopted from Cathy.

I was not sure if I had a people’s face, but I tend to get the comment a lot.

Before I had a chance to walk away, he snapped his fingers; his face lit up. “Ah, you’re the baseball guy?”

Oh, right.

A cheeky smile curled my lips. “Yep, that’s me. The baseball guy.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. You're kind of a legend around here. Heck, practically everywhere.”

A long breath left my lips.

If I was only that. “Are you a reporter?”

He took a step back. “Oh, no.” Another pause, then, “I'm a private investigator.”

I couldn’t help how relaxed that made me feel. But then…

“You weren’t hired by any McKenzie, were you? A Carlos McKenzie to be precise.”

He shook his head. “Nope. No McKenzie.”

I studied him for a few more seconds. As much as I loved my dad, he had it in him to hire someone to watch me. After all, he did it once. I had to do a whole check-up to ensure I was free of tracking devices. This Adrian dude looked professional enough, but he was too forward. My dad loved the discreet types.

I pushed away from him. "Cool. Then, thanks, about the legend thing. Hey, if you want, you could come and watch us practice. Just as long as you don't piss off coach then it won't be a problem." Or acted like the stalker type.

Wait, was he?

A glance was cast at him one last time.

Nah, he didn't seem like a stalker. Stalkers kept their distance from their victims. This guy walked up to me like we were friends. Too brave. Stalkers were cowards. In some way.

He followed me down the aisle. " I'd like that." A smile brightened his face.

Yep, not stalker material.

Turning towards the cashier, a brilliant idea came along. “We could even hang out when you're free. There’s some cool spot here that needs to be seen.”

Another smile was offered while he glanced at his watch. A gesture signifying he didn’t have the time.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight. The invitation is open until you're free, ” I added.

Understanding, he nodded. I emptied the trolley while awaiting his response. Just before the last beeping sound, indicating that it's time to pay the bill, he answered, "I still have a few things to get done. When all loose ends are tied, I'll let you know."

"Okay, cool. Give me your contact?" I took out my phone and added the information he offered. His phone rang in return to give him mine.

Groceries packed in khaki-colored bags, I walked out. Heat washed over my body, assassinating any evidence of the cool I was just in. We trailed off and I saluted my new friend. "Don't take this the wrong way, but God totally approves of your occupation when he gave your parents the idea to call you Chaste."

Chuckling, he flipped me off before opening his driver's door. "None taken. Glad to know you have a sense of humor."

I laughed, stocked the groceries in my car,  and drove off.

**************************

"Honey, I'm home!" I yelled in the sweetest voice I could muster.

Shaking off my sneakers at the door, I gingerly stepped across cream tiles. I scanned the surrounding for my friend as I went deeper into the apartment. There in the gaming room, she was sprawled on the zebra-striped couch. She yawned and stretched like a cat.

I braced myself on the door frame, chuckling at the comparison. "What you watching?"

"Charles Angel." Whiskey brown eyes still glued to the television.

"Hmmm," was the response uttered.

I loved it when Cathy looked like this: so at peace and relaxed in her skin. It was after seven and other girls her age were probably getting ready for a night full of fun. Yet, she would rather be cooped up at home, watching movies, or retiring to bed early. It had been a while since she had been out. She could be awarded the nerd of the year award, attending only class and back.

The muscles in my forehead tightened at the conclusion, and I blurted out, "We should go out this Friday."

Whiskey brown eyes gave me their full attention.

"I mean, after practice, we could grab something to eat."

A perfectly arched brow was raised. "Why? If you're trying to make up for—"

"No! I'm just saying we haven't been out together in a while and we should. This Friday would be good," I interrupted.

Shoulders bounced and her eyes drifted back to the television. The soft glow illuminated her face.

Stepping away from the door, I asked, "Would you go out on a date with me this Friday?" Before she could provide a nasty remark, I hastily added, "And, it's not because I fucked up the other night. It's because a friend wants to take out his amazing, beautiful friend to dinner, no interior motive."

A few seconds ticked passed before she responded, "Sure." Searching my features for something she finally asked, "Did you take a shower at the gym?"

"Not really, why? Do I smell?" I sniffed my armpits to check if I did, but they smelt fine to me.

My question was avoided when she asked another, "How can someone 'not really'," she air quoted, "take a shower?"

"Well, if you must know, I didn't remember to pack a new bottle of shower gel, so I just washed the sweat off with water."

Tilting her head to the side, she pouted out her lips. Rebellious lavender strands fell out of her messy bun, hanging to the side.

Damn! She was cute.

"Well, there's plenty of shower gel in the bathroom. You can go ahead and take that really shower now," she mimicked.

A smile tugged on my lips. "Cool, that’s a great idea. But, do you want to know what would make it even greater?"

She shook her head. "Ahhh! No, I don't want to know."

Dismissing her comment, I continued, "If I had another pair of hands to wash my back. What do you say? You want the job?"

Cathy laid on her back. Her interest returned to the television. "I didn't know this was an interview. All said and done, I appreciate the offer but no thanks. Besides, I had a shower about an hour ago.”

Now, I made a pouting face. "Fine."

My pout transformed into a mischievous grin as an idea sprang forth. Her eyes flickered to mine. She must have caught on to my master plan and attempted to roll off the couch. However, I jumped on her, caving her in.

Squeals pierced through the air as I wiggled and rubbed myself on her. "Get off of me, you pervert!" Her breathing became labored as she tried to push me off. "I can't breathe. You're too heavy. Derek!"

A low chuckle was released. I eased some of my weight off her, bracing myself on my elbows that nestled on the sides of her head.

At last, she stopped struggling. The unspoken invitation was accepted, and I kissed her temple. After which my face was buried in her nest of hair. A sweet flowery blend with strawberry fragrance consumed my nostrils. The smell had become a therapeutic remedy for my nerves. It demanded nothing but tranquility.

When our breathing went back to normal, she whispered, "We should go get a shower before you fall asleep."

It didn’t go unnoticed that she said we instead of you. I couldn’t help the feeling of triumph that followed.

Though too at peace, I didn't try to move a single muscle until about five minutes later. At that moment, my body was at war with my brain. Even so, I still made an effort.

She got up and shut the TV off. Then laced our fingers together. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up for bed."

Smiling at my own words, I allowed her to tug me along. It sounded better coming from her.

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