Free The Jewel Box by C Michelle McCarty Page A

Primatene Mist. He seemed relaxed and happy, unlike his usual gruff self. I savored this tiny peek into his psyche.
    Staying Saturday-night-busy with no time to sit, I felt Gabriel’s eyes follow me from customer to customer, between countless stops I made tocheck his beer situation. After three beers, he said, “I need to stop with Budweiser and start with the real thing.” Coca-Cola had recently revived their old slogan and I don’t know how often he reiterated, “the real thing,” but Coca-Cola would have been mighty pleased. The parlaying of impolite personal remarks to each other vanished, and the guy I once considered a human affront to women hadn’t once said, “I’d do just about anything for a piece of ass.”
    Suddenly, the Jewel Box didn’t seem such a dreadful place.

6
    Gabriel began coming in almost daily before prime time, sometimes with Al but often without. He drank Coke while we chatted like long lost friends, and he left before the crowd arrived.
    “Gabe’s dour look is changing into semi-pleasant these days,” said Kat, who wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “And it’s because of you. The man never walked through these doors without Al before.”
    “Really,” I said, trying to sound casual.
    “Yes, really. Even Beau’s noticed the change in Gabe.”
    “Are there more candles in back?” I inspected the one in my hand a bit too thoroughly in my attempt to be blasé. “Several need replacing.” For the first time ever, I couldn’t tell Katie-Laura how I felt. I wasn’t sure myself. Gabriel’s presence made me lose my train of thought. Made me stumble. Made my pulse rise. Made me more fuzzy headed than usual. And after our unexpected mouth-to-mouth kiss, the fuzziness moved south to totally inappropriate places. But he was married. And don’t think my mother left out any quotes on adultery. Those ranked right up there with “Thou shalt not kill.”
    Didn’t take long before Al heard about his partner’s frequent visits to the club without him, and one night after several drinks, Mr. Infatuation-turned-church-deacon took me aside. “You know Gabriel may be miserably married, but he does have two young daughters.”
    I stared into his road-map red eyes as he preached.
Blah, blah, blah
. Lacquered, bouffant hair was all Al needed to look as hypocritical as those TV evangelists. Al’s wife apparently approved his stopping by the JewelBox on a regular basis, but it’s doubtful she’d approve if she got wind of the recurring rise in his jeans, courtesy of certain dancers.
    “Gabriel is a real decent guy,” Al appeared to be winding down his mini-gospel hour. “So please just cool things with my partner.”
    “You’re blowing things way out of proportion, Al. Gabriel and I are in a club packed with people—which I understand he frequented long before I began my illustrious career here.” I took a deep breath. “Lighten up. It’s not like I’m one of Homer’s Sirens luring him into this joint, but I’ll cool things.”
    I turned back to my two Jewel Box buddies, listening at the bar. “It’ll likely take a blizzard to cool things between you two.” Katie-Laura winked and cocked her eyebrow.
    “Indeed,” Beau chimed in. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a connection like theirs.”
    “You mean the way Blondie stutters and stumbles when Gabe’s in the club?”
    “That, and how Gabe no longer looks at Cherie, but looks
into
her.”
    “Something’s brewing between ‘em.” Kat grinned.
    “You guys need medication for your delusions.” I blushed.

    Shortly after Reverend Al’s “Sermon in sin city,” he fell in love again. This time the object of his affection was a sultry nursing student, moonlighting as a dancer. Teddy Bear’s flawless honey color skin, lion-colored locks, and angelic yet seductive blue gray eyes qualified her as belle of the ball. Al said she made Raquel Welch look like leftover gravy. Always dancing to Creedence Clearwater Revival