Rose's Outtake~A Fateful Moment
Sweat and beer with an undertone of urine—Rose sits in the back of a taxi discreetly breathing through her mouth and looks out the window during the trip from O'Hare Airport to Rosemont. Before the cab stops at the curb, she has her money wadded in her hand, ready to stuff through the Plexiglas window.
Throwing her oversized bag over her shoulder, she takes in the glass front of the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center as the taxi driver grabs her bag from the back with multiple bows and yellow-toothed smiles.
As the taxi pulls away from the curb, she grabs the handle of her rolling luggage. "You owe me, Edward," she growls as she smells her clothes for taxi odors.
She makes her way inside where men are swarming, setting up for the Chicago Motorcycle Show. She stops in the middle of the large lobby and texts him.
I'm here.
Rose taps her foot nervously as she watches the men flow around her. They look and smile and wink but so far no one is pushing it.
Rosie! Where you at?
She tucks her long glossy hair behind her ear.
Main lobby next to a god-awful, six-foot fake palm. The wolves are circling.
I'm on my way.
She smiles at his text and returns her phone to the pocket of her large bag, pulling it tightly on her arm. She squares her shoulders and pops a hip giving her the illusion of a formidable woman while she waits for her friend.
"Rosie!"
She looks up to see her college buddy running down the congested corridor toward her. Heads swivel at the commotion, but she doesn't care. Edward is here, and she's not alone.
"Hey," she laughs as he picks her up and swings her around. "Put me down!"
He drops her to her feet and takes the handle of her rolling bag. "Come on; we can store this behind the Snap-On booth. I want you to meet Flames," he says as he takes her hand and leads her through the current of people.
Flames is just about the finest paint job she's ever seen from Bob Malcolm. The motorcycle is sheer art. Edward gets her a Diet Coke and tells her all about how he, Dunny, and Bob worked together to design and paint it. Rose feels at home—safe and accepted, and she sips her drink with a contented smile gracing her lovely features as Edward dances around it, drawing a crowd with his stories.
When she yawns, Edward sends the group away with promises of more at tomorrow's show. They walk along the windowed hallway bridging the Convention Center with the hotel, and Rose stops to look out over the sky, awash with the pinks and oranges of sunset.
"It's good to see you, Edward. This is a good idea, it's been almost a year," she says leaning against the windowed wall.
He rests his folded arms on the sill with the sunset glow resting on his face, and she wants to touch him. She's missed her friend.
"I'm glad you could make it. It's been a good year. I've worked with Dunny learning everything that old man can teach me. I started taking my own contracts this year. How have you been?" He asks turning and resting his gaze on her.
"It's been good and bad. I've been getting some modeling gigs." She shrugs and looks back to the fading sky. "Dan finally had enough and left."
Edward stands. "Is your mom all right?"
Rose straightens too and rolls her eyes. "She cried for days and left a hundred messages on his phone begging him to come back. I left him one. If he ever returned her call or showed back up, I'd make sure the cops and his wife know everything I know." She sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "I don't get her, Edward. She can't be without a man. She shrivels up and dies without one telling her she's alive." She flips her hair behind her shoulder. "I'm never going to let a man define me. I am Rosalie Hale, and I don't need a man to put worth on that."
He smiles his toothsome smile and cups her neck pulling her forehead to his lips.
"Hear her roar," he says as he fingers a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Yeah—well . . ."
"Come on girl, let's drop your luggage in your room and get some grub. I'm starving."
He throws his arm over her shoulder and leads her along the rose hued corridor. She can't help but notice how heads turn as they pass.
~o0o~
Saturday morning has Rose checking her metallic yellow Lycra shorts in the mirror one more time. She adjusts her boobs in her matching halter for the best cleavage before coming out of the restroom and heading to the Harley-Davidson stage.
She gets whistles and catcalls as she moves through the crowd, but Rose holds her head high and works it. As the men watch to see where she is heading, they begin to follow.
Edward sees her coming and hops down from the stage.
"Wow, Rosie, you look hot!" he says as he takes her hand.
"Yeah—well . . ." she tries not to look at the crowd forming and smiles at her friend.
Edward smiles excitedly, "We're about to get started. There are five other bikes on display. They'll introduce each one, and I'll demonstrate while you do your thing."
"Okay, where do you want me?"
He leads her over to Flames and shows her the stairs leading up to the stage. With her back to the crowd, she fluffs her hair and adjusts her boobs one more time. Edward laughs, and she cuts him a sharp look but can't hold it as he leans in and kisses her cheek.
"You look great, Rosie. You own this, and you know it." He meets her gaze for a moment before she turns from him. She waits for it, smiling as she feels the rush and all nervousness dissipates leaving a goddess in its wake. She rules this stage and the mere mortals who have come to worship at her altar.
Once on stage, time ceases. Rose works the room, posing on Flames, flirting and playing up to the MC and Edward, and driving the men crazy, while adrenaline rushes through her veins setting her on fire.
They finish with men lining up for pictures with her, and she always makes sure to have Flames in the shot. She gets propositions and phone numbers but Edward stays close, and no one gets handsy.
They break for lunch, and she throws a sun dress over her costume. She wears a denim outfit of form-fitting pants and a matching halter as they work the Marcus Motors booth. Edward is in his element shooting the shit with the guys. Just one question and he's off on a rant about Bob's paint job and what a pleasure it is to ride his art.
Thinking of a fire and ice theme, Rose changes into an ice blue leather bustier with a matching mini skirt. She adds a red jewel to her navel and checks her lip gloss in the mirror one more time before heading to meet Edward for the last show.
Her steps falter as she approaches the stage. Off to the side, Edward is talking and laughing with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Rose watches as he laughs deep in his throat. His white shirt contrasts with his rich cocoa skin and his brown eyes sparkle as he smacks Edward on the back.
Rose looks down at her outfit and knows she'll have him in her bed tonight. With a wicked grin, she approaches the two men.
"Hey, Edward," she says as her eyes roam over the handsome stranger.
Edward lights up and draws her toward him. "Rosie, I'd like you to meet one of my best friends, Mac. Mac, this is my friend from college, Rose Hale."
Mac's smile is friendly, but his eyes roam the room as he speaks. "It's nice to meet you, Rose. Edward, I gotta get back to my booth. I'll find you later, and we'll catch up."
The two men do that 'hand shake-chest bump-slap on the back' thing, and the gorgeous man disappears into the crowd.
"My God, who was that?" Rose breathes as she fans herself.
Edward barks out a laugh. "My, my, Rosie's gotta crush. I never thought I'd see the day."
She smacks his chest with the back of her hand, "Shut the fuck up and answer me."
"Emmett McCarty. He and I go back a good three years. I met him when I started crashing with Dunny. He's working the Bridges Youth and Family Services booth. He works with Bridges helping inner city kids in Chicago," he says as he leads her to the stairs.
As she makes her ascent, he adds, "Hey, they're having a concert tonight to raise money, The Lingering is playing. You wanna go?"
She flips her hair over her shoulder. "Is he going to be there?"
Edward grins knowingly. "No, his grandma is celebrating her 92nd birthday, and he's heading out to be there," he says with a shrug.
Her eyes scan the crowded room, and then she looks down on her friend. "Mac's a good guy isn't he?" She says with a resigned air. Her heart sinks at the thought of a good man ever wanting her. She remembers how he wouldn't even look at her, and she feels a jolt of shame shoot through her.
"Yes, he's a great guy with a big heart." He steps closer and adds, "Rosie, you're beautiful inside and out. You deserve a great guy. When the time is right, the right guy will be there."
She looks into his earnest eyes and her self-doubt settles. She smiles a genuine smile and turns to work the room one more time.
~o0o~
The concert is a white water rapid of pumping energy. Rose drinks and dances in the safe freedom of Edward's presence, knowing no one will approach her.
Back in his room they order a late snack and sit on the bed eating sliders and fries. When Edward stretches out with his arm over his eyes, Rose scoots closer and runs her hand over his abdomen.
His hand shoots down and stops hers. "You lonely, Rosie?" he whispers softly.
She turns her hand over, entwining their fingers, "Yeah."
He kisses her forehead. "Sleep here with me tonight. I get lonely too, but we're not going to fuck this up, yeah?"
She realizes the stupid mistake she was about to make and swallows thickly and nods. She sighs in relief, reminded once again of what a true friend he is to her.
He nudges her. "Go get your pajamas on and come on back. You don't snore, do you?"
He laughs when she elbows him, but shifts left as she rolls to the right to get ready for bed.
As she brushes her teeth, she thinks of a dorm room four years earlier, where Riley Biers hit her for not wanting to go further. She remembers the suite mate who pulled Riley off her, kicking him in the gut for good measure, before bringing her back to his room, comforting her, and putting her against the wall on his bed while lying sentinel between her and the world through the night—Edward.
He is setting the alarm on his phone as she returns in boy shorts and a T-shirt. He turns the light off as she slides under the covers.
They rustle and shift into comfort, and the room falls into dark, cool, stillness.
"I could be more than this," she whispers.
He frowns against his pillow. "Rosie, you're the whole package. You can do anything you set your beautiful mind to."
A tear escapes the corner of her eye and rolls into her hairline. "Thanks, Edward," she rasps.
"Good night, Rosie."
Her slender foot stretches under the blanket to touch his socked foot, "Good night, Edward."
~o0o~
Four years later, Mac climbs into the RV letting in a gust of cold air. Rose watches him set paper plates on the coffee table.
Her feline eyes narrow. "You don't remember me, do you?" It's more of a challenge than a question.
He stills and then lets out a huff, folding himself on the couch next to her. She watches him turn and place his arm along the back.
He smiles to himself and runs his finger along the seam of the cushion. "You're the Ice Queen."
She stills next to him, and he looks up, holds her eyes and adds, "The Chicago Motorcycle Show, three years ago."
She nods. "Four."
He smiles and nods. He sits back and rubs his face. "I put it together in the food tent. You remember me?"
She smirks. "You're hard to forget," she says looking at her hands in her lap as Mac's eyebrows hit his hairline.
He leans forward and says in his low baritone, "You were unforgettable, Rose."
He doesn't shy away from the fire in her eyes when she fixes her green gaze on him. "You didn't even look at me and couldn't get away fast enough," she says in challenge.
He rubs his neck with a rueful grin. "I was raised in the godly fear of a godly woman, Rose. To ogle you in your costume would have been the height of disrespect. I could feel my mama's slipper upside my head every time I looked at you. And I did look—a lot," he says.
She's quiet for a moment, and he fears he's overstepped.
"So you liked what you saw?" she asks softly.
He shifts closer, nodding. "I liked what I saw very much, Rose. Add to that what I've seen today—your toughness with that little shit," they share a smile, and he continues, "and the tender way you helped Esme ready Bob for bed tonight." His eyes sparkle in the soft lighting as he adds, "That you worked your way through nursing school over the past four years while caring for your alcoholic mother—put that all together and I see a remarkable woman sitting before me," he finishes and reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear.
She leans into his hand and smiles softly to herself at the rightness of the moment.