Marcus Sakey - The Amateurs

She set her drink down, covered her face with her hands. Her heart ached like something was trying to push it through her ribs. She pressed her palms against her cheeks, dug her nails into her forehead.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. She heard the click of his glass against the counter, and then he had his hands on her shoulders. The warmth felt good.

“Oh God.” She opened her hands, was surprised to see him close, ducking his head down to look up at her, concern on his face. Her voice came out tremulous. “What did we do?”

“What we had to.”

“How are you able to stand there and say that? I mean, you… you…”

Something happened in his eyes, a withdrawal and then a return, like a sea creature nearly surfacing before vanishing into the dark. He breathed through his nostrils. “I did it for you.”

“We can’t take this back. We did this, and we can’t take it back.”

“It’s what we wanted.”

“Not this.” Even as she said it, she heard a voice inside her, asking, Are you sure? If you could go back a week, to the life before, the one where nothing really mattered, where you kept everything at a distance-would you?

Yes, she thought. I would. I think.

“Come here,” he said. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She stood stiff at first, but it felt really good to have someone holding her. There was a comfort that drove away part of the horror. Jenn slid her arms under his, around his back, and buried her face in his chest. Her eyes were closed, and she could smell him, a faint hint of sweat. Her nose was running and her eyes were wet.

“It’s OK.” His voice was soft. “We’ll make it OK. I promise.”

She gave a hollow half laugh, then sniffed, stepped back. Wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “God, I feel like such an idiot. Some adventuress I turned out to be.”

“Don’t.”

“I just”-she picked her drink up, took a long pull-“I didn’t tell you this before, but when I was in the alley, that guy, he and I talked for a couple of minutes.”

“You talked? What did you say?” The fluorescent lights heightened the contrast between his pale skin and dark hair.

“I was trying to get rid of him. At first I just figured he was a normal person, and asked him to move his car. But when I realized who he was… My mind was just… I was trying to figure out what to do, how to get rid of him. Finally I threatened to scream rape, and that started to work, but you guys came out.” She shook her head. “I screwed up.”

“It sounds like you did fine. It was us that screwed things up.”

“No, but see, I had the chance. If I’d thought faster, he wouldn’t have been there. I mean, my part in this whole thing was small, and I should have been able to handle-I should have been able to help. But when it came down to it, I didn’t do anything.”

“Wait a second. You stood there and talked to this guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Knowing that he was a drug dealer with a gun. You managed to stand straight, talk to him, and cover our backs. Try to get rid of him. In an alley. Looking”-he gestured up and down her body-“like that.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Sounds to me like you were pretty brave.”

The words caught her by surprise. She raised her head to look at him, expecting a teasing smile, the kind of look Alex might wear, playful from a distance. Instead Mitch looked back with perfect sincerity, his eyes wide and steady.

Without thinking, she went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His skin was rough with blue-black stubble, and she could smell the remnants of his aftershave. She felt him tense, even though she was barely touching him, like every muscle in his body clenched at once. She froze, then started to lean back. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He put a hand on her arm, his touch gentle. His face was inches from hers, close enough that it was hard to focus. She could see him wrestling with something. In a bare whisper, he said, “Jenn…”

No one had ever put so much weight into her name. Coming from his lips the single syllable seemed like sweet sad music, something lonely and haunting that she wanted to have, to be, and then he put his other hand on the side of her head, the palm against her cheek, fingers in her hair, and he kissed her lips.

For a moment she stood too stunned to react. A thousand thoughts flickered and danced across her mind, a collection of do’s and don’ts, worry and excitement and fear and the lingering adrenaline of what they had done, that pounding sense of living on the ragged edge of now. And with it the pain of that existence, the fear of it, and the thought that distraction was fine, was what she needed. Then the simplest thought in the world hit, an old and familiar one that said simply, a boy you care about is kissing you. Kiss back.

So she did.

It was awkward for a moment, that first-kiss sensation stronger than usual, but then their tongues touched, gently, tentative, his fingers moving in her hair, and it felt good, so good, to be in the moment, to not feel anything but this. She slid her arms to his side, his back, feeling his body beneath, and suddenly they were locked hard, their bodies thrust together, his belt buckle jamming into her stomach, his hand moving from her hair to her neck. Trailing down her back, fingers touching lightly. Reaching the small of her back and then hesitating, like he was asking permission.

She broke the kiss, a little dizzy. Paused. Asked herself what she was doing, if this was wise. Then remembered the version of herself she’d seen in the mirror that afternoon, the woman who wasn’t afraid of anything, the one who would take the world for all it could give her. How free that had felt. How much better than the standard, everyday Jennifer.

She slid her hand on top of his. Then, looking him in the eyes, slowly pushed his hand down to her ass.

He moaned, almost a whimper, and squeezed, fingers gripping her flesh, digging in, and then it was happening, the two of them tearing into each other, ravenous, electric. She had a faint flash of surprise as she realized that he was a good kisser, soft and firm at once. His beard stubble ground against her upper lip. He stepped into her and she moved with him like they were dancing, let him guide her back against the refrigerator, never breaking the kiss.

His hands found the straps of her dress and slid them down her shoulders. Her nipples hardened in the cold air as the fabric eased past her breasts, her stomach. Caught at the swell of her hips for a breathless moment, and then slipped to pool at her feet. It was intoxicating, the surprise and heat of it, standing naked in her kitchen with this friend, this stranger, pressing against her.

He broke the kiss slowly, letting her lip slide from his mouth, and stepped back. His eyes drank her, top to bottom to top. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”

She raised her lips as he leaned in to kiss her, only he moved lower, his breath hot against the skin of her neck, his tongue darting and quick. He kissed the hollow of her throat, and then the space between her breasts. Ran his tongue down the flat of her belly, lower and lower, until he knelt in front of her on the tile floor. Like an act of worship, she thought, and then his tongue moved lower still, and she stopped thinking.

“I’M TELLING YOU, the only language these people understand is force. I’m sorry if that’s not polite, but it’s true. Iran, Iraq, al-Qaeda, the Taliban, they’re all the same. They still kill people by stoning them. They behead journalists and post the video on the Internet. When the going gets tough, they hide in caves. They’re barbarians, and barbarians only understand one thing. The sword. Or these days, the airstrike.” That got a laugh, and the man played to it, pausing to finish his single malt. He had the gentle pudginess of the very wealthy, not a beer belly but a general swelling, like he was entitled to more space in the world. “We did it right in Afghanistan. Daisy cutter bombs first, questions later. See fifty men carrying AKs and riding camels, assume they’re the enemy. The media loves to make fun of Bush, to question his intelligence, but I’ve met the man, and I stand by him. His policy worked in Afghanistan, and it’s working in Iraq, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t let Iran know that if they want to tangle, we’re more than happy to oblige.”