Page 49 of Lilacs and Leather
Denise rolls her eyes. “We did. And we’re set to go when he turns four. Can’t believe we have to get on a pre-k waitlist three years in advance. He’s still on the tit, and his momma’s got to worry about kindergarten. As if kids don’t grow up fast enough.”
Mateo and I laugh, and I listen as they go back and forth, catching up on what’s happened since the last time they met. I relax into Mateo, feeling supremely at ease in his arms in this chain restaurant in the middle of the night. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns on my knee, and I don’t fail to notice how they seem to creep higher at long intervals.
“Oh! But look at me running away at the mouth. Y’all’re probably starved. Raphael’s got his newest batch in the back. Want your usual, Matty?” Denise says suddenly.
“Sure thing. Lydia’ll have the same if that’s okay?” Mateo responds, looking down at me as he asks.
I nod, smiling slightly. Denise smiles back and winks.
“I’ll leave you kids be. Food’ll be up in two shakes,” she says, getting to her feet.
Mateo and I watch her go, and I feel his lips brush the top of my head. My stomach dips at the casual affection, and I can’t help the little preening wiggle of my shoulders. Mateo chuckles, holding me tighter.
“So, what’s so special about this place and why do I have to keep it a secret?” I ask, curiosity finally getting the better of me.
Mateo hums a laugh. “Raphael. He used to be a master brewer and distiller with Anheuser-Busch, but the schedule kept him away from his kids and too close to his drug of choice.”
“Drug of choice?” I ask, the phrase sounding familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it.
He sighs heavily. “Everyone has one, but it’s just a matter of how hard that vice will fuck you once you’ve got it. Raph’s was beer. He can drink spirits until the cows come home and still be Mr. Sunshine the next day. But beer makes him... bad.”
I nod solemnly, looking toward the kitchen where I can see Raph moving around, head bobbing to the radio I can hear playing faintly.
“But after he got sober, he still had kids to put through college. So, he started here, working the night shift so he could be with his family more while his wife worked during the day. Didn’t stop him from turning his shed into his own personal distillery and laboratory,” Mateo continues with a chuckle.
I snap my head around and look up at his amused smirk. “So what? He serves bathtub gin and ’shine here after dark? Without a liquor license?” I ask, dropping my voice to a low hiss.
Mateo outright laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, no. He just makes the best damn alcohol-infused toppings on planet Earth, which he’ll let interested buyers sample before selling it to them after the meal. He made this incredible raspberry vodka compote a few months back, and I only got a jar because I’ve invested in his operation. And we have to keep it a secret, so we don’t have untrustworthy Karens reporting him for going off menu.”
I simply stare, mouth agape. Of all the things I expected, a backdoor boozy jam salesperson was the last thing on my list. Mateo laughs again, pulling me in and kissing the top of my head. I’m still processing what he’s told me when Denise brings us mugs of coffee, letting us know that our food is almost ready. I wait until Mateo takes two packets of sugar for his cup, then swiping the rest and pouring them into mine. He chuckles to himself but doesn’t say anything, taking a sip.
Silence settles between us, and I hold my coffee in my hands, enjoying the warmth. It’s good for chain diner coffee, and I suspect Denise made it fresh. Mateo’s hand around my shoulder drifts until his fingers find my hair, playing with it absently as he looks out of the window. As the silence stretches, I can feel my earlier anxiety creeping back in. I try to keep my breathing even, but without the distraction of his voice, it gets harder.
“How did you and Rhett meet?” I ask, blurting out the first question that comes to mind.
Mateo turns his attention back to me, taking another drink of his coffee. “We were assigned as roommates our freshman year of college. And I’m pretty sure that if we’d been allowed to change rooms that first year, he would have.”
I blink at him, confused. “But he’s in love with you.”
“Did he say that? Sappy bastard.” Mateo shakes his head, but the smile pulling on his lips is soft. “He may feel that way now, but to this day, I’m genuinely surprised that he didn’t murder me in my sleep before the end of our first semester.”
“Were you that bad?”
“I was a teenager. Of course, I was an obnoxious prick. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t also an insufferable asshole.”
“What changed?”
“I fucked his sister.”
I stare at him, my jaw practically unhinged, unable to even shake myself from my stupor when Denise appears at the table, setting down plates of pancakes and a mason jar of dark red compote. Mateo looks down at me when I don’t answer for a moment, stifling his laughter to a snort. I untangle myself from his arms and put a little distance between us. Mateo reaches for the compote, scooping some out with his spoon.
“Listen, it wasn’t like I did it with the express goal of pissing him off. Rhett had this chip on his shoulder from the word go, like he had something to prove. Maybe it was because he was a scholarship kid at an elite school, but whatever it was, he was so uptight all the time. He was unbelievably competitive, honestly still is, but it was out of control back then. If I signed up to rush a fraternity, he had to sign up for a more exclusive one. If I was taking twelve credit hours, he had to take fifteen. He was the only one competing in the pissing contest, but it still pissed me off.
“So, I decided to fuck with him. I pulled crazy stunt after crazy stunt, just to get a rise out of him. He gave as good as he got, and I thought I had him when I streaked at the pep rally. But then he took it upon himself to find out who I was flirting with and bring them back to the dorm, just at the right moment for me to walk in and see him fucking them. It happened one too many times, so when his family came up for a visit, I pulled Katie under the bleachers.”
I set about dressing my pancakes as he talks, but I can hardly keep my eyes from him. I can see the fondness in his eyes even as his mouth pulls into a devilish smirk as he recalls the story. He cuts into his food, groaning at the first bite. The noise sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my face growing hotter at the expression of unrestrained pleasure.
I wonder if that’s the face he’d make when he—