Silvertongue Read online

  “Thank you,” she said. She tipped the man and closed the door.

  Taking a sip, she set the glass and bottle on the edge of the tub.

  Ulie shrugged out of the robe and let it fall silently to the floor, gracefully slipping one foot, and then the other, into the comforting pool. Lowering herself incrementally, the water caressed her every curve and crevice, effortlessly shaping to her. Ulie smiled as her oldest lover embraced her.

  Sipping wine, Ulie swiped through photos on her phone. There were only two pictures of her and Chuck together. Their smiles looked staged, forced. “How is that even possible?” she wondered. Over the years the happy moments drifted farther and farther apart. Most recently, Chuck’s habit of taking her for granted had transformed into unkindness. He developed a gift for leaving her emotionally devastated, and the intimacy between them suffered. It had been nearly six months since they last made love, if you could call it that. Ulie set her phone down, sinking deeper into the tub until only her nose and mouth remained exposed.

  The water formed a physical barrier that Ulie naively imagined gave her protection from painful memories of callous, degrading treatment. Recalling Chuck’s mechanical approach to love making, a painful ache developed in her chest. With him, there was no foreplay, no kisses or tender touches; and he ignored Ulie’s attempts to initiate those sensual acts. For years now, he simply mounted, finished, and went to sleep, completely ignoring Ulie’s needs.

  Ulie closed her eyes against unwanted tears, forcing calming breaths. The encapsulating water magnified the sounds of her lungs taking in and expelling air. Soothing and warm, the bath encouraged her body and mind to release the residual pain and raw emotions.

  Ulie exhaled slowly.

  Subdued vibrations from the edge of the tub nudged Ulie to resurface, and the cool air helped to clear her mind. Dripping water on the stone edge of the tub, Ulie lifted her phone, hoping for a new message notification from the game app. Instead, she saw a text from Chuck.

  “Miranda is sleeping over at Kate’s tonight, so Facetime now if you want to talk to her.”

  “Straight and to the point, nothing has changed,” Ulie said. Chuck’s personality matched his love making; emotionless, empty, and painfully direct.

  Ulie appreciated that Miranda could spend time with Chuck’s family during her absence. Having them close by made things easier as Miranda grew. If it weren’t for Chuck’s sister Kate’s help, Ulie would be a full-time stay-at-home-mom. Instead, she worked part-time. Ulie hoped for more, but part-time beat no work at all.

  Ulie tapped the video icon, her heartwarming with anticipation of seeing and hearing Miranda’s voice. Miranda made life rich and worth living, regardless of any difficulties or drawbacks to domestic life.

  Miranda’s sweet face greeted her as the video chat went live. “Hi baby girl,” Ulie said with a smile. “I needed to see your face. Mommy really misses you.”

  Chapter Three (May 10th)

  Noah frowned as he listened to the V-Twin’s rough idle. A vibration in his jacket pocket briefly registered, but his eyes and attention remained laser focused on the machine in front of him.

  Over his shoulder, a gravelly voice rumbled, “I’m telling you, brother, get the app. It’s just dumb not to use it.”

  Noah shot Bill an icy glare. The older mechanic had a jazzy new HD diagnostic app he bragged about all morning. It read fault codes; making it a snap to zero in on problems like the one Noah struggled to trouble shoot. Noah had nothing against gadgets or technology, heck they were built into the same machines he loved working on, and the one he enjoyed riding on sunny days. Pride kept him from bowing to Bill’s peer pressure. He started trouble shooting this bike without his smart phone, and he’d finish without it. Besides, the shop’s ancient diagnostic machine worked just fine, and like always, he used it to pull codes when the bike first rolled in.

  Switching the motor off, Noah went back to the book. When it all boiled down, engines were simple machines and the solutions fell, invariably, within his skillset. He just had to discover the root problem. Sometimes, Noah wished he still worked on helicopters in the Marine Corps. They were bigger and uglier, but they were also decades old and the manuals covered literally everything. Still, working on bikes had a definite cool factor. Like a kid waking up on Christmas morning, he itched with excitement every time a Made-In-America motorcycle rolled in for him to fix.

  Bill chuckled from the other side of the shop, already back to work on his Panhead project. For an older guy, Bill loved gizmos and gadgets. As a burly old biker-looking dude with a barrel chest, tattoos, and a long white beard, his love of technology seemed laughable. But Noah knew a good guy when he met one. He liked working with Bill.

  At mid-day, Noah sat perched on a picnic table, frowning at his phone. The table sat outside the shop doors and on the opposite side of the breakroom wall where a few of the other guys were eating lunch. Surrounded by sunlight and splendidly crisp winter air, Noah breathed clouds of white breath as he soaked it in. He wore a zipped, fleece lined jacket and wool cap against the cold.

  Often described as handsome, Noah appeared a collection of well-formed parts fit together for work or sport. With short brown hair and hazel eyes, he stood just over six feet and weighed a lean, athletic two hundred pounds. He never had much trouble getting women to like him, although he didn’t know why. People called it a magnetic personality; from Noah’s perspective, it just happened. On top of natural charm and rugged good looks, he was easy-going; a temperament that fit better amongst mechanics than it had with Marines.

  Bill stood nearby, grilling brats and burgers for the rest of the team.

  “That can’t be a word,” Noah said, on track to lose the second game in a row. Noah hated losing. After shuffling the letters around for a bit, he found a high scoring but risky word. Sucking air through his teeth, he slid the tiles into place. 72 points put him back in the lead, yet Noah didn’t know if he should play it. Remembering Ulie’s embarrassment after her own off-color word, he hit cancel and put the phone back in his pocket. He’d find another word later.

  Noah took a brat and bun and sat down, eating while filling out his work order from the morning. At every pause his mind drifted back to the game until out of frustration he finally unlocked his phone and played his turn. “What am I, twelve?” he reasoned as he slid the same tiles back into place to spell, “VAGINA.” He hit send. “We’re both adults. I’m sure she can handle human anatomy.”

  Bill, who had joined him at the picnic table, raised his bushy white eyebrows as he bit into a fat hamburger, but said nothing.

  Finishing his paperwork, Noah wolfed down the last bite of sausage and returned to the shop. As he approached the bike his pocket vibrated- another notification from the game. He smirked, shoving the phone back into his pocket and went to work.

  On the next break, he gave Bill a pat on the shoulder. “I fixed her up, Bill. You owe me a wrap up.”

  Bill furrowed his brow and glowered at Noah. Elbow deep in the Panhead’s frame, he stopped untangling a custom wiring harness nightmare and grumbled. “I’m kind of busy if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “No need to get cranky, old timer. A deal is a deal, right?” Noah grinned and walked away. Bill had proposed a wager that Noah couldn’t fix the problem before the end of the day unless he caved and used Bill’s new diagnostic app. The loser had to wrap up the other mechanic’s project for the day. Normally, Noah wouldn’t take the bait, but he isolated the problem just before Bill offered the bet. Smirking, he agreed, knowing he had the old man beat.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Bill muttered.

  Noah walked outside to check his phone. A new notification waited, which meant there must be a message. It had been some time since he had looked forward to talking to a woman and didn’t have to feel guilty about it.

  Confident and quiet, Noah genuinely cared about his job. He studied hard, worked hard, and occasionally even played hard. But life couldn’t be that easy
. Like everyone, Noah had flaws, and his chief flaw could be boiled down to one word: women. He had the worst track record when it came to choosing women, and he compounded the error by rushing into every relationship he ever had. After his first military deployment, Noah jumped right into a serious relationship with the first girl he dated. They had a whirlwind romance, and he married her before he truly knew her. Eventually, he reaped the disaster everyone else saw coming, divorcing his son’s mom after several years of conflict filled marriage.

  Noah landed his current job, at Wasilla’s House of Harley, on the heels of a long run at Anchorage House of Harley. The change came after he fraternized with a co-worker and wound up on the wrong side of a distinct line. Apparently, the owner’s husband ran off with a cute little cashier once upon a time, thus initiating the “no hanky-panky” protocol.

  About six months on the job and freshly divorced, Noah found himself smitten by a stunning young lady hired in the parts department. She began flirting with him on her first day and slithered right through tiny chinks in his armor left by the bitter divorce. He willingly received every flirtatious glance and wanted more. The day she sent him a friend request on Facebook, things accelerated. Instead of pumping the brakes like he should have, Noah weighed the odds of getting caught and decided to see where things would go.

  Gorgeous, petite, and dark, she had deep amber colored eyes and an easy smile. Once Noah got a taste of her, he couldn’t stop. He heard rumors that she had a boyfriend, but she didn’t mention it and Noah didn’t ask. He didn’t want it to be true. Almost immediately, their relationship became physical, and she started visiting his house every day after work. Things were so hot that sometimes she couldn’t wait, and they hooked up in his truck. Looking back, he should have known better, but damn; in the middle of something new and sizzling like that, it’s hard to think.

  A few weeks later, she dumped him cold. No explanations, just a frustrated voice mail.

  “It’s over. Stop calling me,” she said.

  A mutual friend told Noah the rumors about her boyfriend were true. She dated Noah while her boyfriend, an Airforce pilot from Elmendorf, flew overseas on a short deployment. To make things worse, Noah’s boss picked up on the tension between them and gave Noah the talk.

  Noah never intended or expected to violate the rules, and he damn sure wouldn’t let it happen again. He kicked himself every time he thought about it. He could have lost everything, but instead of being fired, he became marginalized. Once you got on the owner’s shit list, you were stuck. Noah did his time and paid his dues, eventually becoming an experienced mechanic. He built a solid reputation in the motorcycle community, yet he didn’t begin to feel successful until he landed the job in Wasilla under different management.

  Before Ulie and her word game grabbed his attention, he had no distractions. He didn’t spend much time on his phone, and games had never been his thing. Something about playing with her sucked him in. He didn’t want it to end.

  “I can’t stop laughing! We’re worse than grade schoolers! Thank you for making me feel better earlier and for making me laugh tonight. It’s nearly seven pm here. What time is it where you are?”

  Noah smiled as he read the message. He typed, “I’m way behind you. It’s getting close to three pm here. I’m glad I made you laugh.” Noah considered adding something else.

  “I hope your husband…” Thinking better of it, he hesitated. “Don’t be stupid.” Delete.

  “Does your husband play this game?” Delete. Delete. Delete.

  Noah stopped.

  “Shit,” he said. “I’m fishing.”

  He had a habit or reeling in women he had no business pursuing, like Ulie; and some that he had no intention of dating. Bob Marley once said, “The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.” Noah didn’t want to be that man, and he never pursued a woman for sport, or to play games. He just didn’t always have things sorted out before engaging, and once they were interested, he couldn’t say no. More than anything, Noah hated disappointing people.

  “She’s married and has a kid. Leave her personal life alone,” he growled. Sure, he enjoyed a challenge, but a man has to draw a line. Noah knew that. He believed it.

  Noah hit send on the original message and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  Just as he zipped it shut, it buzzed. He hesitated briefly but unzipped his pocket. “It’s just a conversation. If I keep my head, everything will be okay.”

  “You must be in Alaska!” the message read.

  And just like that, his conscience went silent, giving advantage to the excitement of pursuit. The flaw resided deep inside, a base craving pitted at the core of his being. Every time Ulie engaged with him, he had to respond, to keep her entertained and wanting more. In those moments, her marriage didn’t exist. She was just Ulie, and she could be won. He worked slowly and deliberately to gain her trust, refusing to acknowledge the weight of looming consequences.

  Smirking, Noah typed, “Yep, still floating on this iceberg. Sounds like you’re on the East Coast. New York?” Send.

  “I miss it there sometimes. I’m a little deeper south this week, soaking up the sun in FL!” she replied.

  “Hey, I gotta go, but I enjoyed talking to you.” Send. Sensing he needed to say more, he typed, “By the way, it’s your turn and (dramatic pause) you need a lot of points to catch up.” Send.

  He hoped the light ribbing would make Ulie smile, edging him closer to her confidence. Once he had that, he’d press deeper and steer the conversation toward more intimate topics. Manipulation came easy to Noah, as natural as breathing. When he recognized it, usually after the fact, it turned his stomach.

  Noah strode back to the blacked-out Night Rod and admired the tight body lines and voluptuous curves. “Damn, that is one fine ass bike,” he muttered.

  “She’s ready for a test ride if you’re interested.” Bill tossed Noah the keys, gesturing at the bike. “She’s all wrapped up and ready for the road. Go for it.”

  Beaming, Noah caught the keys and gave Bill a solid thumbs-up. To the motorcycle, he said, “You ready to have some fun?” Straddling it, he twisted the key and pressed the ignition button. It thundered to life, sending the v-twin’s potent vibrations through his entire body. Noah guided the bike out of the shop and eased onto the winding frontage road.

  Cold wind smoothed back his hair and teased the scruff on his cheeks as he powered through the first curve. “This right here – this is why I love my job.”

  Chapter Four (May 12)

  Amy didn’t show.

  The Army cancelled her leave at the last minute because of “Mission Re-Focus,” which translated loosely to “stupid bullshit.” Nothing could be done. Amy cursed her boss, apologized to Ulie, and promised to make it up to her somehow.

  Ulie’s heart sunk when she realized she had no partner for the rest of her trip.

  At first, she considered cutting the trip short. Did she really need more time on the beach? Ulie couldn’t have a crazy-amazing, hair-down kind of vacation without Amy, so why stay? She mulled the idea of leaving early, nearly caving when she thought of hugging Miranda, but time away from Chuck was too good to give up. Besides, the hotel had five stars, and the beach…well, it had all the stars.

  She stayed, and with only two days left, Ulie decided to channel her inner-Amy. She hit coffee shops whenever she had a craving, even in the afternoon. She shopped as a woman rather than a mom or wife and had fun with it! She bought clothes that showcased her figure and shoes that had no practical use at home. Inspired, Ulie wanted to design, draw and paint, dance, and forget about the responsibilities waiting for her. That is how she found herself sitting on a bar stool, in a cocktail dress, at 10 pm, on a Friday night.

  Sipping her third margarita through a thick red straw, she peered over her glass at the handsome bartender; easily five years her younger and built like a competitive swimmer. Tall, blonde, and lean, his broad shoulder
s were crafted perfectly to drape a woman’s arms over. He wore his black shirt unbuttoned half-way to show a generous helping of tanned skin and toned pectoral muscles. She imagined touching his chest and feeling the firm muscles bulge as his arms wrapped around her waist.

  God, she needed Amy.

  Ulie smirked as she stirred the potent concoction with the straw. All alone, a thousand miles from her husband – a man she forgot how to love – and she still couldn’t cheat. Chuck might be an asshole, but she married him. She only wanted to play pretend, to lick salt from the rim of a single woman’s margarita, not find a lover.

  “Still,” she mused, “If I wanted another man to take me to bed, a broad-shouldered bartender wouldn’t be a bad choice.”

  Smiling wider, Ulie tried to capture the straw between her lips. The damn thing kept moving. She teased the plastic tube toward her mouth using her tongue just as her foot slipped off the barstool frame. She teetered sideways, slapping the bar with her hands to regain balance.

  Cheeks red, Ulie sat upright, inhaled and rolled her shoulders back. “Damn girl, that was close,” she whispered.

  A warm hand touched her lower back.

  Ulie flinched.

  “Are you okay?” a man asked. His hand radiated warmth; his seasoned voice, deep and smooth.

  Ulie glanced over her shoulder at the salt and pepper haired stranger, leaned over the bar to create distance.

  He stepped closer; hand still resting on her lower back.

  The man, dressed in a tailored gray suit and white shirt, smiled knowingly beneath powder blue eyes. Wrinkles at the corners of those aqua colored pools spoke of laughter and kindness, but his proximity made her uncomfortable. He massaged her lower back and hip as he confidently studied her face. His eyes gleamed.

  “I am, yes; just waiting for my husband.” Ulie forced a smile, brandishing her wedding ring as proof she wasn’t on the menu. “Oh, there he is,” she lied again, shooting a quick glance toward the door.