Sugar Butter Flour Love

by Nicole Falls

  Tonight, was the second to last episode, and I guess Isobel’s Gamma Betty thought she was going to get me to break tonight of all nights as she sidled up beside me with a mischievous grin on her face.

  “Hello, Travis. My, you’re looking awfully handsome tonight!”

  I chuckled, shaking my head, already knowing where this was going.

  “Hey, Gam!” I replied a name I now called her—at her insistence and to Isobel’s chagrin—before bending down to press a brief kiss against the soft, downy skin of her cheek, “I can’t te—”

  She shook her head, “No, that’s not what I’ve come to talk to you about, son. Come walk with me.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she kept walking, because she knew that anyone that she commanded in that soft, melodic voice of hers always fell in line. She had a way of suggesting that you do something that always seemed to feel like you were convincing her to do the thing instead of the other way around. I was curious now though because if she wasn’t going to try to get spoilers about Bake Off out of me, I had no idea what she would be trying to speak with me about now. We settled at a table not too far from the main group. I helped her settle into a chair before sitting across from her with an expectant look on her face.

  “Next week is the finale, and the bar will be closed. Grainger’s shutting the bar down all week to go out of town to visit some relatives or something. Apparently, he doesn’t trust his staff to keep things running smoothly while he’s gone, so…we need somewhere else to hold our weekly watch party for the finale. And Lydia was telling me about the lovely theatre room you have in your place that I think would be perfect for watching you and Belly take home the W next week. So, what do you say?”

  I looked around at the folks who’d become a part of our regular crew gathered in the bar and took a minute to think about it. The crew was between twenty and twenty-five people, most I’d known from growing up or just frequently seeing around town. No true strangers were in the group, so I wasn’t worried about inviting them over to detrimental results but, my theatre room only had seating for twelve. Another idea, however, sprung to mind, so I gave Gam an affirmative answer. Letting her know to get everyone’s contact information before the end of the night so I could send them the details.

  “Uh oh, it looks like you’re over here brewing up trouble, Gam! I know that look in your eye,” Isobel said, approaching the table.

  While they were sparring back and forth, I took the opportunity to take in Isobel’s beauty unchecked. She was dressed down today in jeans, a simple navy tee shirt advertising Whisk, and chucks on her feet. Her long hair swept up into a messy bun, random pieces of it hanging and framing her makeup-free face. She looked good…damn good. Since we’d been home, I’d tried…multiple times to bring up that night in Blackwood and the subsequent energy I’d felt between us since then, but she always managed to elude my attempts. I’d taken the hint and left it, savoring the memories of the night we shared while I was sure she worked valiantly to forget it. I felt like a simp ass nigga, still pining to get a whiff, but honestly, it was something more.

  “This, young lady, is a January, February conversation; so, you can march on back to wherever you came from,” Gamma Betty replied, rolling her eyes.

  “More like, January December conversation,” Isobel muttered before turning around to do exactly what her grandmother had commanded.

  “Was that all you needed, Gam?” I asked, anxious to get back to the larger group because I could see the opening credits for Bake Off beginning.

  “Yes, that’s it for now, son. We’ll talk later about how you’re gonna man up and tell my granddaughter you’ve got feelings for her.”

  I sat, mouth agape, as Gam got up and slowly made her way back to the group. I thought I’d been discreet, but apparently, I had not. In the weeks since we’d been home and gathering to watch the episodes of Bake Off, Isobel had been less frosty, but definitely not in a way that gave me hope that she’d be willing to explore whatever had begun to blossom between us during taping. Seeing her in her element, with her people? My attraction towards her grew more.

  She and Gam bickered like kids, but you could see the love between them was palpable and intense. I’d learned little tidbits about her life that I’d not known about during the interstitial one-on-one interviews that were interspersed in the footage of us competing in the kitchen. I learned exactly why the competition and Whisk were so important to her. Her strong belief in maintaining family legacies was something with which I could deeply relate as it was my main reason for starting the foundation, I co-ran that was in my father’s honor. Gam was right; I needed to man up. Pride be damned, I wanted Isobel Knight to be mine, and it was high time she got on board with the program.

  When I finally made my way back over to the group, I sat down beside my mother who was fussing about Jacob and Marsei. Just like everyone in the actual competition, no one in the real world could stand the two of them either. Every week, the entire cast live-tweeted the episodes, and the “two dough queenz” got blasted worldwide as they racked up the ire of everybody with their arrogance and antics. Our folks were especially fiery whenever either one of them showed up on the screen.

  “I hope this is the week that those two weak jokers get voted off,” my mother complained, “I’m so tired of seeing their li’l idiotic dance moves week after week. They should have been eliminated when they were in the bottom after episode three. This show really needs to move to an American Idol style of voting where America gets to decide!”

  “And what if America had decided that Isobel and I should have gone during the week we were in the bottom? What then, ma?” I asked.

  “Children should be seen and not heard, Travis Monroe Coleman,” she quickly replied, shushing me so she could hear Thad announce the bottom two.

  I chuckled, shaking my head before heading to the bar to settle up. Isobel was waiting up at the bar already, presumably doing the same thing that I was about to. My thoughts were confirmed when she signed a credit card slip with a flourish before handing it back to the bartender and was about to walk off until I stopped her.

  “You know the next week is about to be crazy,” she laughed, after I told her that we would be at my house for the finale next week, “I could barely keep Gam from asking me if we’d won or not, and I know now that she sees we’re in the finale it’s about to become even more progressive.”

  “I’d expected you to break by now, honestly,” I laughed.

  She mugged me before slugging me in the arm, “Damn partner, you have zero faith in me?”

  “I mean, you are the master of subject changing, so I guess I should assume that you use those powers over everyone and not just me?”

  Isobel bit her lower lip to hide the grin that my words prompted before speaking, “I don’t change the subject on you, Coleman. I just avoid talking to you altogether.”

  She finished that statement with a little tap to her temple as if it was a genius idea.

  “Oh, so you’ll admit you’ve been avoiding me?” I asked, eyebrows raised, “Well look at that. Gonna put you on notice; this avoiding thing isn’t really working for me. I know you close Whisk tomorrow. I’ll be by for some of those pecan bars and also, so we can talk, aight?”

  “Are you asking or telling me, Mr. Coleman?” Isobel inquired.

  “Telling,” I confirmed, “And don’t try to skip out early on me either. Or else I’m telling Gam.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Coleman. What is telling my grandmother going to do?”

  “You wanna risk it?”

  Isobel shook her head quickly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  Isobel walked away, and I grinned as Tesh walked up to take her place.

  “Well well well, that looked cozy, cuzzo. You and Isobel buried the hatchet?” she asked, with a sly grin, “Or did you bury your hatchet in Isobel?”

  “Tesha,” I groaned, “Really?”

 
“Yes, really. Look, my life is boring, and if I see the least bit of excitement in someone else’s life around me, I gotta know the tea. So…what’s tea between you and Isobel, bro?”

  The loud collective gasps and shouts of “that’s some bullshit” that reverberated around the bar when Billie and Traine were eliminated got me out of answering her question. It also took me back to being in the kitchen on that day we taped. The “bullshit” was exactly my thoughts and feelings…and after watching this episode I can definitely see that they were robbed. The judges eviscerated Jacob and Marsei, but they somehow managed to stay to the end? I didn’t know about how they managed. I feel like some of their dramatics kept them around more than the actual baking. I wasn’t one for conspiracy theories, but to me, it seemed like something was awry with that decision.

  “You know, typically when someone asks a question, the person with whom they’re speaking will answer that…unless they have something to hide,” Tesh piped up again.

  “Cuz…chill. Unless you wanna answer the question of where you and Dre disappeared to that night we all went out…” I replied.

  “Oh, that’s simple. Since that last bar y’all took us to was attached to a hotel, we got ourselves a room and—” I cut Tesha off instantly.

  “Cuz! I don’t want to hear the dirty details of your sex life. Ever!” I shuddered.

  “Yeah, yeah stop deflecting, my guy. What’s going on with you and Isobel?”

  “Right now? Absolutely nothing beyond a recent partnership on a televised baking show,” I said.

  “But later?”

  “Is none of your black business,” I said with a pat to the top of her head.

  She swiped at my hand, growling, “You gotta chill with that puppy shit, Travis.”

  “Only when you stop acting like a lil…”

  “Chill, Trav.”

  “What?” I shrugged, “I didn’t finish it.”

  “Yeah, but I know what you’re implying, you jerk. In fact, let me tell Isobel that she needs to keep avoiding you because you ain’t no good,” Tesha said, turning on a heel to head into the direction in which Isobel was helping her grandmother into her coat.

  “Relax, Tesh. Damn you can’t take a joke!” I said before rushing to help Gam into her coat and walk them out to Isobel’s car.

  “Thank you, Travis! Look, Belly. This right here is a real gentleman. You’d do well to keep him on your team,” Gam said with a wink in my direction.

  Isobel said nothing in return, just gave a slight smile before I shut Gam’s door and tapped lightly on the roof of their car to send them on the way. I was going to take Isobel’s lack of protest as a positive sign that she would be…amenable to whatever I ended up proposing to her tomorrow. The problem was? I had no idea what I was going to say to her tomorrow evening. Guess I’d better figure that out in the next twelve or so hours…

  “Now that you’ve seen your little girlfriend and her grandma to their car safely, you mind getting a move on to ensure your mama isn’t standing out in this cold for too much longer,” my mama quipped, breaking me out of my haze.

  “Yes ma’am,” I replied, grabbing her arm and escorting her to my truck.

  After we’d been driving for about seven minutes, I noticed the car was quiet, which was rare when Tesha was around.

  “Ma, where’s Tesh?”

  “Oh, you’re just noticing that? She took an Uber from the bar, said she was meeting up with some friends who were in town.”

  “Mmm…friends,” I mumbled.

  Dre must’ve found a way to town for a visit.

  “Speaking of friends,” my mama started, “I noticed you didn’t protest when I called Isobel your little girlfriend. You are holding out on me, son?”

  I laughed loudly…because I know she’d been holding onto that since we stood outside the bar.

  “Nah, mama. I’m not holding out. But tired of denying the inevitable,” I shrugged.

  “So, you do like her, huh? Done went up there to tape a television show and fell in love. My baby all grown up now,” Mama sighed.

  “Whoa, relax, mama!” I laughed, “Nobody has said anything about love.”

  “You don’t have to say it, baby, it’s evident. And,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “it ain’t one-sided, love. Her nose is just as wide open as yours. Everyone but the two of you can see it. Underneath those barbs and calling each other by your last names…there’s a spark, baby.”

  “I’ll admit a greater appreciation for her now than before heading down to Blackwood to tape, but that’s all you’re getting, lady!”

  “Mmmmhmm…what’s it you young people say now? I’ma let you cook,” Mama laughed.

  I rolled my eyes while shaking my head at her and this newfound love of “hip” slang. I had to get her from up under Tesh all the time. It was clearly not good for my sanity.

  “For what it’s worth, baby. I like her, a lot. She’s a very nice girl and the perfect foil to your overinflated ego that reappears every now and then. I know you were a football player, but you played basketball for a bit in junior high, so I know you haven’t forgotten that shooters shoot!”

  “Ma! I’m ‘bout to send you off to live with Auntie Cindy. I can’t take too much more of Tesh’s influence on you.”

  “Whatever, boy. You know I’m not moving anywhere but to that in-law suite on your property once you finally stop playing and bring home a young woman—like Isobel—who is worth keeping around for more than a season of Insecure.”

  “Mama, what do you even know about Insecure?”

  “I know that Isobel isn’t like Issa or Molly….and given your track record of bringing those types home? This is a marked improvement. You’re a little late to cuffing season, but your roster is bare anyway. So hopefully Isobel will take some sympathy on you and—” I cut her off.

  “And we’re done here!” I said, pulling into the garage and killing the engine on the truck, before running around to help her down from the passenger side.

  “I’m just saying…”

  “I hear you, mama. I hear you.”

  “Do more than hear,” she said, reaching up to tap my ears, “Actively listen, Travis.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied with a grin as she brought back a tactic she’d levy in my childhood whenever I said I heard her.

  I was actively listening, in more ways than one. My mother was right about the type of women I usually dealt with being different from Isobel, but I’d been in need of some changes in my life. Seeing where things could go with Isobel would be the kickoff to making those changes.

  -9-

  I’d been on pins and needles all day waiting on Travis to appear at Whisk. I knew what he’d wanted to talk about and had thwarted his efforts to do so in the few weeks we’d been home, but today all of that was going out of the window. My nervous energy was palpable though because after I dropped the last pan of almond croissants while bringing them out to replenish the display case, our part-time worker Dominique kindly asked me to step back into my office and said that she’d handle the front of the house for the rest of the night. Luckily, I had some bookkeeping things to take care of, so I didn’t take too much offense to this daggone twenty-year-old bossing me around, but she was right. I needed to sit down and settle down. So, I did what I always did best and buried myself in work. I was so distracted that hearing the ding of the door ten minutes before closing didn’t deter me from my task at hand. It wasn’t until I felt the energy of the tiny space that encompassed my office shift and I looked up to see Travis hovering in the doorway that my nerves were back in full force.

  Jesus, he is finer than any man need be, I thought as he stood in the doorway, the small teal box that I knew held the pecan bars he’d mentioned the night before dwarfed by his massive hands. Massive hands that had roamed every inch of my body, just weeks ago, giving me immense amounts of pleasure that I hadn’t felt before and was certain I wouldn’t feel ever again.

  “Earth to Knig
ht,” Travis called out, chuckling.

  I shook off my lusty thoughts, standing up and gesturing to the chairs in front of my desk, “Sit down…I’m gonna let Domo go, lock up and then we can…talk.”

  “Aight,” he said, opening the box that was now sitting on my desk and retrieving one of the pecan bars inside.

  I was barely two steps from my office when I heard him let out a low moan of satisfaction that took me back to that hotel room in Blackwood. I hastened my steps, letting Domo know that we were going to shutter a little early tonight and she could take off. Together she and I quickly worked through the end of the night routine. Domo cleared the scant number of leftovers in the display case, packing them up to take home and I counted down the till. Domo would be passing the bank on her way home, so I asked her to make the drop for me and headed back to my office once I’d seen her out to her car safely.

  When I returned back to my office, Travis was polishing off another pecan bar.

  “Wow, you really like those, huh?” I said as I walked back into the room, sounding stupid to my own ears.

  “Yep, the second most delicious item I’ve ever tasted from this shop,” he replied with a smirk.

  “And the first?” I asked.

  He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows with that same silly smirk on his face.

  My face got hot instantly as I realized he was referencing me.

  “I…y-y-you wanted to t-talk to me?” I stuttered before taking a seat behind the desk.

  Travis gave a slow nod before getting up from the chair in which he was seated to come around to the side of the desk I was on. He sat on the desk, then grabbed my hands, bringing me to stand between his legs as his hands settled on my waist.