An Unexpected Reaction

It was wood, stone and glass, with a high ceiling and lots of natural light. After I explained he was all for it, if we could do it on a Monday, his slowest sales day. He gave me a case of wines I hadn't tasted it yet, just for an opinion.

Many of his wines had names linked to the area.

Millrace Red was named for the old grist mill on the edge of his property. Yankee Orchard White was named for a friends' apple orchard. A transplanted New Yorker, he specialized in rare and new varieties. Juice from his Pink Lady apples were mixed with a medium white, and it was really smooth, tasting like fresh apples with just a hint of grape.

It had been a long day, and I needed to unwind. As it happened, I had to go right by the bar on the way home. Forgetting how I was dressed, I walked in. There was silence for a minute, then the laughter and ribbing started.

"Where you been? A funeral?" Laughed Fat Bob, the first guy I'd talked to when I found the place. We'd become pretty good friends, to the point I sometimes loaned him my truck if his bike was down and he needed to haul it to the shop.

I was about to explain when another voice rang out.

"Who's the fuckin' suit?"

I didn't even need to turn around. Amanda Patterson, known in the bar as Babydoll, because she had just turned twenty and was barely five feet tall. She was cute, a redhead with a hair trigger temper, and had a mouth that would make drill instructors blush. She was sort of a mascot, and nobody hit on her unless she wanted. And I never saw her want.

"Hi, Amanda. I got all dressed up to ask for your hand in marriage." I got down on my knee while the bar roared. She flamed red and the temper came out. Her opinion of love and marriage was well known. I was sure there was history there somewhere. Plus, she hated being called Amanda.

"That ain't funny, asshole. And what the fuck you dickheads laughing at? Don't make me go to your asses."

That made them laugh harder.

"I refuse to take that as a no, more of I'll think about it. Do I need to wear the suit until you decide to make an honest man out of me?"

She pushed me backwards and stomped off to the kitchen. Fat Bob helped me up.

"I wouldn't order anything tonight. She'll probably spit on it, or worse."

Amanda helped out in the kitchen on the weekend, for tips and meals. I found out from Ellen, one of the bartenders, that she'd had a rough life, was broke and living in a woman's shelter during the week, and sleeping at the bar on a cot in the backroom on the weekends. It wasn't exactly legal, but who was going to tell?

"She's a good kid, down on her luck. We'd hire her full time if we could afford it."

I asked her how she ate during the week, and why she didn't have a job.

"Soup kitchens, I suppose. I never really asked. I think she has a juvie record, and she hasn't finished high school, has no transportation, and that makes her job prospects pretty slim."

Amanda was there almost every night, not leaving until she had to go back to make sure she had a bed for the night.

I don't know why I did it. Maybe I wanted to feel connected to another human being. Maybe I wanted to be able to give her hope. I struck a deal with Helen and Sam, the owner. I'd pay for her meals during the week. Sam agreed to let her wait tables and clean up, four hours a night, for a hundred dollars a week cash, which I paid half. I supplied the cash, on the condition that she absolutely could not know I had anything to do with it.

"Here," I said, giving Ellen two hundred. "Take her shopping, she needs new clothes. Tell her she can pay you back out of her wages, twenty a week."

She said it was the first time she'd ever seen her cry. Not extravagant, she bought new underwear, three pair of the cheapest jeans she could find, and four plain tee shirts. Two pair of mark down sneakers, and she was done.

I thought about it as Ellen told me. Becky would pay more for a pair of shoes she didn't really like that much, wear them three or four times, and get rid of them. She probably spent more than Amanda made for a month on makeup and accessories alone.

She didn't come out of the kitchen the rest of the night. Helen said later she thought she might have cried a little, blaming it on chopping onions. I felt bad, hoping I hadn't hurt her feeling too much.

So I got the nickname Suit, which everybody thought was pretty funny. I actually made it a point, if I was near, of stopping in with my work clothes on, from time to time. Every time I'd wear one I'd ask her if she'd changed her mind. She still cussed me every time. But now she smiled.

The whole bar petted her. I never really thought about how she felt about anything until one night when a new guy was hitting on her. She fought him off with a smile, but he was getting worse. When she bent over at the next table to pick up the empties, he pinched her on her ass. I saw it and was almost there without even thinking. She screamed, turned, and dumped a half full draft in his face.

"Bitch," he said, pulling back to slap her. I grabbed his arm and yanked him off the chair. Sam and Fat Boy got there in time to keep me from hitting him. Amanda slapped the hell out of him as we got him up.

"Don't ever touch me again, asshole! Next time my fiancee won't be held off."

She blushed when she realized what she said, and ran into the kitchen. She came out later, thanking me for my help. I grinned.

"Couldn't have my future bride hurt, now could I?

I know you didn't mean it, but it might be wise to let the jerks that hit on you know you're claimed. Think about it."

She surprised the whole bar by kissing my cheek. After the whistles and yells died down, she told them she'd kick their asses if they laughed at her and her boyfriend again. This really set them off and she fled back into the kitchen.

Three weeks later there was a poker run that I signed up for. We met at the bar and they opened up the kitchen for breakfast. After we'd eaten and were lining up, I felt a tug on my sleeve.

Babydoll looked embarrassed but determined.

"Can I ride with you?"

Why not?

"Sure, if you have a helmet."

She held up one. "Fat Boy loaned it to me."

She was in jeans and a tee. It was going to be cool this time of morning.

"Go get your jacket. It'll be awful cold if you don't."

She hung her head. "I don't have one. Haven't needed it yet."

I sighed and she got behind me, keeping her hands down.

"Ever been on a bike before?" I asked. She nodded.

"Then you know you have to hold on. Come on, I won't hurt you. It won't be safe unless you do."

Everybody knew she hated being touched.

She reluctantly put her hands around my waist. I started out slow until she relaxed. I dropped out after a mile, swinging into a WalMart.

"Why are we here?"

"To get you a jacket. I can feel your shivers through my coat. If you want, you can pay me back. Or you can accept it as a gift for riding with me. Either way, we're not leaving until you have one."

She pissed and moaned, but I dragged her in and got her a nice little jacket and scarf. Even got gloves, which made her bitch even more.

"If you don't stop, I'm leaving you here. You need these, I don't want you sick because of your stubbornness. Now smile, and thank me for being a nice guy."

She smirked. "Thanks, asshole. If you want to piss your money away, I'll let you. Can we catch up with the guys now?"

We caught up to them at the second checkpoint. By then, she had snuggled in behind me with a firm grip. The halfway point was lunch, at a nice buffet style restaurant. She acted like she'd wait by the bike. I leaned in close.

"Get you tiny little ass into the restaurant, right now. If you don't, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you in. We clear here?"

She nodded, looking pissed. Didn't stop her from stuffing herself, though.

At the end of the day, she was more relaxed. We won a prize, a gift certificate for a hundred dollars at a Harley dealership. I gave it to her, putting my hand firmly over her mouth when she started to protest. I left it for a few seconds.

When I removed it, she didn't say anything but her eyes were blazing. If looks could kill.

Things went downhill on the way back. It started raining, a cold drizzle, getting harder. We were less than a mile from my house and ten from the bar, so I turned off. When we pulled into my garage, she got off the bike, took off her new coat, gloves ans scarf, and threw them onto the floor, along with the gift certificate. Her face was a mask of rage and pain. She had misunderstood the situation completely.

"You think because you bought me a few things you were automatically getting pussy? Shove these things up you ass, you bastard."

She turned around, stalking out.

It took me a minute or two to recover and calm down. Then I got into my Dart and went looking. She'd set a fast pace and had gone almost a quarter of a mile. It was raining hard by then. I pulled over just past her.

"Get in the car, Amanda."

"Fuck you!" she said, trying to walk past. I grabbed her arm.

"You have a choice here. You can get in the car and I'll drive you back to the bar. You can refuse, and I'll throw you in the car, after I paddle that stubborn ass until you see reason. Your choice."

She tried to push past me.

"You wouldn't dare! Suits don't do shit like th..."

I was twice her size and pretty pissed, I had her slammed face down on the hood in three seconds, my first smack landing right between her cheeks. She screamed, more from surprise than pain. I landed two more before she started begging me to stop.

"I''l get in the car! I'll be good, I promise. Please, no more!"

By now I had calmed down and was a little ashamed. I let go of her and opened the passenger door. She slid in without hesitation.

We had gone a mile when she started to talk. I held up my hand.

"Not a word, or I'll pull over and finish what I started. Then I'll leave you where you are. Understand?"

She nodded, wide eyed.

I pulled into the parking lot, reached over and threw her door open.

"Out. Now."

She got out. I slammed the door, pulled onto the highway, and turned the turbo loose, shredding tires.

I didn't go back for three weeks, waiting until after she had to leave before I walked in. Giving Helen the coat, scarf and gloves.

"Here. They're for Amanda. She can wear them, burn them, or stick them up her ass. I don't really care."

Helen and Sam looked at me in shock. Then Helen grinned and slapped me.

"What the hell was that for?" I asked, rubbing my cheek.

"That's for making us put up with a screaming bitch for three weeks. We wondered what happened when you dropped out. Then Babydoll came in, went straight into the back, and started crying. She cried for three days before I got it out of her."

"She's had a miserable life so far. Abused and abandoned at fifteen. Foster homes until she was eighteen, and then she was out on the streets. Apparently she hooked up with a flaming asshole who tried to turn her out."

"Take it easy on her, Suit. She doesn't know how to handle someone kind and decent. It a foreign concept to her. She thinks if someone is nice to her, they want something, usually something she doesn't want to give."

She stopped, grinning again.

"She runs to the door every time she hears a bike, hoping it's you. She'd fry in hell before she'd admit it, but she has a huge crush on you. It's gone from bitching to whimpering. Give the girl a break. Show up while she's here, give her a kind word, before she tears every head in the bar off."

...

I went to the bar the next night, driving the Dart and wearing a suit. "Amanda! Get your skinny ass out here!"

She peeked out of the kitchen, fear on her face.

I gentled my tone. "Come on, Babydoll. I just want to talk."

She eased out into the bar, looking like she was ready to run any second. I had already talked to Sam and Helen, so they knew what I was going to do.

"Sam, tell her she's fired."

Her face went pale and Helen laughed.

"Just for tonight, hon. You still have your job."

"That's right. You're still employed, just not tonight. Tonight we're going out. First I'll take you to a place that serves real food..."

"Hey!" said Sam and Helen, together. But they were smiling.

"Let me rephrase that. Somewhere where burgers and fries aren't considered a full meal. Then I thought we'd see a movie, one of those tearjerkers little girls like you love. Get cleaned up while I drink a beer."

People were laughing and she was red. She unconsciously rubbed her jeans.

"Jace, I'm not really dressed to..."

"Ten minutes Amanda, or we repeat what happened the night it rained. Clear?"

She squealed and shot into the back room. I looked at Helen. "Go back there, use some of your makeup to help her feel pretty, calm her down. It's just dinner and a movie."

She surprised everybody by giving me a huge kiss.

"Maybe to you."

They oohed and ahhed when she came out, cheeks glowing. Helen had helped her with her hair, put a little lipstick on her. She looked great. I put her hand under my arm, opened the door for her while the gang grinned. They watched from the door as I opened the door to the car and buckled her in. I could hear faint cheers as I drove away.

"Anywhere special you'd like to eat?" I asked, as we sped along. I couldn't help driving fast. She had hardly spoken.

"Anywhere is fine." she said, looking out the window."

I pulled over in a office lot. "Look at me, Amanda."

She turned her head.

"When I ask you a question, I expect a straight answer. Now again, where would you like to eat? Would you like to try something new? Italian, Thai, anything at all?"

She looked down, and in a voice so small I almost didn't hear her, said: "I've always wanted to try lobster, but you don't have to spend that much money."

For an answer I took her to Red Lobster and got her a plate that had lobster in three different styles. She was tentative at first, but gained confidence as she ate. She even tried to get me to take a bite once.

"Sorry Amanda, I don't like lobster."

"Then why did we come here?" she asked in confusion.

"Because you wanted to try lobster. Besides, I've enjoyed the shrimp."

That made her happy, and she had no trouble sampling my shrimp when I offered.

After dinner we went to the movies. There were eight choices and I let her pick. Didn't think she was a horror fan, but apparently the gorier the better, for her. After the movie we went to an ice cream parlor and she got a large banana split with two spoons. Fr a tiny thing, she sure ate a lot.

Everything was perfect until we passed a bank, with the time and temperature flashing.

"Oh shit!"

"Oh shit what, Babydoll?"

"Oh shit I've stayed out too late to sleep in the homeless shelter. I guess you'll have to take me back to the bar."

"All right," I said, driving her straight to my house. She sat frozen while I turned off the car and the garage door closed.

"Amanda, listen to me very carefully. I have two bedrooms. One of them will be yours for the night. And it has a lock. You can sleep in a comfortable bed, take a nice shower, I'll even throw in breakfast. No strings attached, nothing owed, nothing expected. Up to you, I'm going inside now. If you don't trust me, lock the doors and recline the seat, and I'll wake you in the morning."

It was thirty minutes before she came in.

"Where's the bedroom?"

I showed it to her, showed her where the towels were, gave her a shirt to sleep in, and went to bed, laughing quietly as I locked my own door.

...

She must sleep like a rock, because I had showered, dressed, and had breakfast done before I knocked on her door.

"Time to get up, sleepyhead, breakfast is ready."

I poured coffee, plated the ham and cheese omelette, placed the toast on the table and waited. I had just about given up when she stumbled into the kitchen, still in my tee shirt. It hung to her knees, she looked eleven.

Being slow to wake didn't hurt her appetite any, and she cleaned her plate. We stacked the dishes into the sink and I picked up my travel mug.

"Where do you want me to drop you?"

She looked surprised.

"I dunno. I usually hang out at the library until time to go to work, but it'll be two hours before it's open. I guess you can drop me by the park."

I didn't like that idea. Bums slept in the park. No way I wanted her there, especially that early.

"I tell you what. Hang out here. I'll take the truck to work and I'll meet you after I get off. You can take the Dart to the bar. Scratch it and you better run for your life, understand?"

Her eyes were huge. "You trust me that much?"

I grinned. "You gonna steal from me?"

She went bright red. I cut her off before she could talk.

"I didn't think so. In fact, I need the oil changed, think you could drive it to the Dodge dealership for me? It's already paid for, so you don't have to worry about that. I'll call when they open. Will you do it if they can work me in?"

She was just nodding her head. I surprised her by kissing her cheek, backing up before she could react.

"Thanks, honey. I'll call as soon as I find out. Watch television, eat anything you like. I'll see you later.

She was rubbing the cheek I kissed as I walked out.

Everybody at work remarked on my good mood. A secretary asked me if I'd gotten laid. She said it kind of snippy, she'd made a run at me right after I'd started working there, and I'd turned her down. She was in her middle thirties, a little older than me. I finished pouring my coffee before I turned to her.

"As a matter of fact, Gail, I spent the night with a hot little redhead almost ten years younger than me. Remember the energy you had at that age? I'm lucky I can walk."

I left her openmouthed, to the laughter of everyone else.

She did get the oil changed for me. I stopped by home to change, and was amazed at how clean it was. It literally sparkled from top to bottom, she must have been at it all day.

I had called Fat Boy, and he came by to pick me up so I could retrieve my car. He was grinning ear to ear.

"What?"

"You and Babydoll, huh? Is she as hot in bed as she looks?"

I looked at him and grinned.

"You're a dirty old man, you know that? All she got last night was a bed, alone."

"If you say so." He said, still grinning.

...

I wasn't prepared for what happened when we got there. She ran to me, jumping up so I had to catch her, and giving me a big kiss. Electricity shot through me so hard I fought the urge to look at my shoes to see if the soles were blown out. The bar howled.

"Shut the fuck up." She yelled, "this how a woman is supposed to greet her man."

I was surprised at the display of emotion. She spent every minute she could close to me, to the point Sam told her if she didn't get to work he was gonna fire her scrawny ass.

When I got ready to leave, she asked if I'd stay a bit longer and drive her back to the shelter. How could I refuse? I warmed the car and waited. She came out with a big backpack that I had to put in the trunk.

"What's in here?"

"Everything I own," she said, sliding in to the passenger seat. "There's no place safe for me to store it at the shelter, somebody would steal in in a blink."

I thought about what a sad way that was to live as I drove. When I missed the turn to the shelter she questioned it.

"If I don't get there soon I won't have anywhere to sleep."

"You're not sleeping there tonight. You've got a room at my house. You've earned it, cleaning the house and running errands for me today. Consider it a thank you."

She started to protest, thought better of it, and turned the radio to a station I hated, and cranked the volume.

Tonight, instead of going straight to bed, she took a shower, put on one of my tees, and flopped on the couch, grabbed the remote and started channel surfing.