Bleu, Grass, Bourbon

by Olivia Gaines

  “Business is good,” he said, walking into the front door of the offices. Everyone was scurrying about while phones rang, copiers zipped, and couples met with agents. He only wanted to see the one in charge.

  “Can I help you?” the pretty young black woman behind the counter asked him.

  “Yes,” he said, thinking for a moment about how he wanted to handle this. “I’m with Bleu’s Crew Construction. I’d like to speak with Ms. Leman.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” the girl asked. Her nameplate read “Monica Leman.”

  “Ms. Leman, I do not, but I am certain if you let the other Ms. Leman know I’m here, she will be willing to see me,” he said.

  “I’m sorry sir, but she currently has an appointment, then she has another following that one, and after that, she is scheduled for lunch,” she told him.

  “Does she go out for lunch?”

  Monica chuckled. “Rarely. She usually sends me out to get her something.”

  “I tell you what, Monica, today is your lucky day, and I’m going to do you a solid and go pick up lunch for Ms. Leman,” he said. “I just need you to get me on her schedule during that time.”

  “I don’t know you!” Monica said. “You can’t just walk in here and think you are going to bring my boss some food that I don’t know where it came from or you for that matter. You could be trying to poison her or something!”

  Isiah stood still, blinking, looking at the woman. He appreciated how protective she was of his lady love, but he realized he needed a different approach. The one he tried was not working. Instead, he pulled out his badge.

  “Put me on her calendar for a lunch meeting,” he said with bass in his voice. “Next, tell me where I can get a home cooked meal with a meat and two sides.”

  Monica was blinking now at him. She also changed her tactic with Isiah, adding some bass to her voice as well.

  “Unless she has listed a property that is a crack house or meth shop, you have no authority here, so you can put your little badge away. I swear, you guys try everything you can to get into that office, but I’m not buying it. Are you ATF and here to represent the government or are you Bleu’s Crew Construction?” Monica said. “Either way, it all smells fishy to me, and you are going to have to do a whole lot better than that to get past me.”

  “Good grief, you must be related to DeShondra!” he said, frowning.

  “I am her cousin,” she said. “You still have not clarified who you are, which means you aren’t getting past this desk.”

  Isiah had met a formidable foe, but he was smarter. He dealt with sneaky characters every day of the week, and he’d learned a few tricks that he kept up his sleeve, but if she was DeShondra’s cousin, then the lady had some inside information. To play it safe, he only had to provide enough to get past the guard dog.

  “You maintain her calendar?” Isiah asked.

  “Down to the second,” Monica told him, daring him to challenge her accuracy. He had no need. He knew exactly what to say.

  “Friday, February the 9th, Monday the 19th, March 9th, Monday the 16th of April and Saturday, April 21st were the days she was away for the weekend,” he said, watching Monica’s face.

  She smiled at him. Those were the days DeShondra had left town and returned with a relaxed look on her face and a calmness about her. Monica added one and one and came up with Bleu.

  “Hmpf,” she said, looking at the blue-eyed bearded man in front of her desk in the plaid shirt and khakis who drove a big monster truck. “Down the street, on the left side of the road is a big red sign, Auntie Ruth’s. She has a great baked chicken and Ms. Leman loves her mac and cheese.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You need to hurry. Her appointment is ending and the next one is only scheduled to last for twenty minutes,” Monica said.

  Isiah nodded his head as he left the offices to find Auntie Ruth’s. His stomach was also rumbling and he could use a bite to eat. He hadn’t planned to have lunch on her desk, and if that is what she did daily, it would have to stop. She was eating for two and growing another person who required his Momma rested, relaxed, and taking in some good nutrients. By the looks of things, little Abraham, the name he’d chosen for his arriving son, needed somebody to take care of his Momma.

  “I’m just the man for the job,” he said, starting up his truck.

  Chapter 3 – What Was I thinking?

  DeShondra sat staring at her phone, silently willing by the sheer mental ability for it to ring and be Isiah calling. She needed to see him. Lately, she’d been so sick and unable to hold down any food that she had almost called her mother over to take care of her. That would have been the final straw in her spiral into motherhood hell. This baby was going to be the death of her, and she was only in her first trimester.

  “What was I thinking, trying to have this child? I am not suited for motherhood. I don’t even have the time,” she said, almost in tears as a bout of nausea hit her hard.

  “DeShondra, your lunch appointment has arrived,” Monica called on the intercom.

  Her fingers still pressed to her lips, DeShondra checked her calendar for the third times this morning and didn’t see a lunch appointment. I never schedule appointments during lunch. Checking her schedule again, she saw the late entry of a Blue’s Crew Construction. She didn’t know who that was. Angrily she stomped to the door of her office, yanking it open to look out at the reception area. Not spotting anyone she didn’t know, she stormed to the front desk, ready to rip Monica a new one.

  “I don’t know any company or anyone from the Blue’s Crew. Did this person give you a name?” DeShondra asked.

  Isiah, nestled in the corner, almost hidden by a banana plant, slowly stood. He watched his lady love’s face as she turned to look at him, seeing, but not seeing, that he was really standing there and in Louisville.

  “Neary,” he said. “Isiah Neary and I were hoping that if I brought food it would give me a better chance at getting on your hectic calendar.”

  Everyone in the office was watching as DeShondra gave no indication she knew the man. “Right this way, Mr. Neary,” she said, walking back to her office, her back rigid, her head held high as she passed workstations and cubicles. To his amazement, the office was busier now than it had been when he was here less than thirty minutes ago.

  Also, to his astonishment was the sheer functionality of her office. The desk held no personal photos, and the walls only held images of homes with her real estate signs in the yard. The walls were all painted a soft shade of green to match the neutral laminate flooring. It didn’t match her personality at all. Isiah found himself disappointed, but it was her workplace.

  “I didn’t expect you to come in person,” she said.

  “You said you wanted a face-to-face, so here’s my face,” he said, sitting the lunch on the desk. “Talk to it.”

  “Talk to what?”

  “My face,” he said, opening the lunch containers to reveal baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, and greens beans. The food looked delicious but her pregnancy-odor-sniffing nose only smelled the grease, too much sodium, and a hint of pork that activated the reflex to hurl.

  “Uhmm,” she said, taking a seat and closing the box. “Well, as you know, I’m expecting our child.”

  “Yeah, when is it due to arrive?”

  “In about six months,” she said, watching him open his container filled with fried chicken livers, two chicken wings, dressing, and a heaping helping of cabbage.

  “Vegas eh?” he said, reaching for her hand and closing his eyes. “May the Lord make us truly thankful for what we are about to receive.”

  “Amen,” she said, watching him as he grabbed a wing, ripped it apart, and shoved half of the drumette in his cake hole. It came out clean like a cartoon character sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner. She opened her mouth to speak, but a tap came to her door. Before she could answer, a slim man with blond hair and cornflower blue eyes stepped inside her office.


  “Sorry to interrupt, DeShondra, but the Murphy’s will not come down on the asking price,” he said.

  “Zach Waters, this is Isiah Neary. Mr. Neary, Zach is my second-in-command,” she said, looking back at the man and giving him an answer. “The comps for the area will not support that price increase even if she had a completely revamped kitchen.”

  “I know, but they did add in some fresh paint,” Zach said, his eyes going to the food and Isiah’s relaxed demeanor.

  “Doesn’t change the fact that they are not going to get ten thousand over market value,” she told him. “Either they drop the price or go with another agency.”

  “Really?” Zach wanted to know.

  “I’m in a meeting, Zach,” she said, trying politely to dismiss the man. It didn’t matter. In less than the twenty minutes Isiah was in her office her second-in-command came back four more times. Three other people came in as well to ask her the most mundane questions that he sincerely felt could be rectified via text, an email, or by the people she paid to do their jobs. The irritation of incompetence arrived in his joints when her food had gotten cold and she had no desire to eat it.

  “You have to eat,” he said softly.

  “Eating is the least of my concerns at the moment,” DeShondra confided. “I am pregnant, can’t hold down any food, and can’t sleep, and I swear I have to pee every fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m here to help,” he said, watching her nibble on a piece of chicken and eat a spoonful of the macaroni. Zach entered the door just as she jumped up and kicked off her shoes to run into her office bathroom. He could hear her taking a tinkle, the flush of the toilet, and then a loud gag. This would never do.

  “Is she okay?” Zach asked.

  “No, she isn’t,” Isiah said.

  “My wife was like that with our first child. I don’t know how our son got any nutrition at all as much as my wife threw up,” Zach said, his eyes growing wide at the realization that his boss was expecting.

  “You have kids, eh?”

  “I do. We have two,” he said. “I wanted a third, but my wife...I dunno. She doesn’t seem to be as interested in me as she is the guy who does our lawn.”

  “You think she is cheating on you?”

  “Well...,” he said, looking forlorn. Isiah had seen enough. The man clearly lacked a sense of self-worth, but he was going to give him a hearty dose of man the fuck up.

  “Since you have two kids it means you have a dick,” Isiah said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t get all gentlemanly on me. You have a dick, you need to start swinging it instead of coming in here every five minutes asking questions like you don’t know your job. She wouldn’t have made you her second-in-command if you didn’t know what you were doing,” Isiah said, standing up and wiping the chicken grease on the ends of his shirt, caveman style. “Show me your Daddy’s home face.”

  “My Daddy's face...I don’t know what that is,” Zach said.

  Isiah demonstrated by snarling his lip, Ice Cube style, lowering his brow and showing some teeth. “This face means that Daddy is home and ready to handle business, Zach,” he said. “Are you ready to go home and show your wife and kids how Daddy handles business?”

  “I don’t know how Daddy handles business,” he mumbled.

  “Listen, Zach,” Isiah said moving in closer. “A woman likes to have her man come through the door and handle things. You can’t ask your woman all soft like to take care of you but a man has to show her what you want while giving her what she needs.”

  The cornflower blue eyes were wide with interest but the sound of Deshondra hurling her guts up in the bathroom was pulling Isiah’s attention away. He snapped back to Zach, as he demonstrated a He-man pose, flexing his muscles and showing off his Daddy’s home face. It took three tries, but Zach finally emulated the move. Isiah provided a fatherly praise for the effort, going one step further.

  “Now this evening, pick up a pizza and a couple of movies for the kids and stick them in front of the tv. Call your wife into the bedroom and use that tie, loop it around her neck, and pull her into your body real close like. When she starts to protest about laundry and all the shit she needs to get done before she closes her eyes, shove that tie in her mouth,” Isiah said. “Push her over on the bed, yank down them panties, and get you a mouthful of fur pie!”

  “Fur pie!” Zach said, snarling his lip and posing in his He-Man stance. “I’m going to get me some fur pie!”

  DeShondra came out of the bathroom looking green around the gills to find Zach and Isiah facing each other. Her second-in-command had his lips curled and his brow furrowed with a stance that she had never seen him use. His chest puffed out when he spoke to his boss. The words laced with confidence.

  “I’m taking off early today, DeShondra. I will get the Murphys to settle on a reasonable price or get the hell out of my office, then I’m going to get me some pie!”

  “Okay then,” she said, watching Zach walk out of her office like he was about to go kick somebody’s ass. Her focus was now on Isiah. “What did you just do?”

  “I either saved his marriage, or I’m going to get the hell slapped out him,” he said chuckling at the difference in the man who just left her office.

  “My question is what are you going to do to save me? I’m out of my depth and drowning, and the only life raft close by is the one in front of me that is slightly out of range,” she said to him.

  “All you have to do is reach. I will do the rest,” he told her, watching her face.

  DeShondra leaned across the desk, her hand reaching out to him. Isiah accepted it, placing a kiss on the tips of her fingers. He noticed the watering in her eyes as he took a seat in the chair across from her. Reaching down, he picked up another brown bag and passed it to her.

  “You kissed my fingertips but not me,” she said, looking at the paper bag, “What’s in this?”

  “A grilled cheese sandwich, no butter, and a small serving of pudding,” he said. “I didn’t kiss you because of that whole vomiting thing. We can save it for after you brush your teeth.”

  She ripped open the bag and started with the pudding. To her amazement, it didn’t want to come back up. She heard the crack of a canned beverage as he placed a ginger ale in front of her. DeShondra sipped at it greedily, excited to have something on her stomach.

  “Isiah, what are we going to do?” she said to him with a mouthful of grilled cheese. “You live in London, which is two hours away, and I can’t move my business.”

  “Not necessary. I moved here,” he said to her. She stopped chewing. “Well, not officially yet. My new job starts in three weeks. I gotta go to Georgia next week for a couple of days, but this weekend I am with you. Bought a farm not too far away that I think you are going to love, but I need the keys to your place so I can drop off my things before I...”

  “Stop it!” she told him. “We are not living together. I am not some baby Mama jump off.”

  “Didn’t plan for you to stay as my baby mama,” he said.

  DeShondra squinted her eyes as if it would help her hear him better. “Are you proposing to me, Isiah?”

  “Yeah,” he said, closing the box of food which had gotten cold. “You wanna?”

  “Wanna what?”

  “Marry me, make the baby all legit and shit,” he said giving her a crooked, sheepish grin.

  “Hell no, especially if you ask me like that, and what makes you think I want to live on a damned farm?” she said, taking another bite of the grilled cheese sandwich, which tasted like a chunk of heaven.

  “When you see it, ya gonna change your mind, and I plan to make the proposal all fancy and shit tonight, but I didn’t want to leave the office without you knowing where I stand. I took a desk job in Louisville and bought a house which moves the raft closer to an arm reaching range. I just need you to reach out again so I can help you climb on board,” he said. “So, you reaching or sitting over there in your pride ready to drown?”

/>   DeShondra stuck a single finger out, leaning a bit across the desk. He tapped at it with his own.

  “Beautiful, Mrs. Neary. Weak, but it’s a start,” he said with a wink. “Now, pass me them housekeys so Daddy can get home and get settled in for the night.”

  It was the way he said Mrs. Neary coupled with the way the man looked at her with those damned smoldering blue eyes which had put her in the current predicament. This man, the adorable, bearded, butt slapper who brought her food she could digest, wanted to marry her and make the baby all legit and shit, as he so eloquently put it. Oddly enough, as many times as men offered her sideways proposals and empty promises of loving relationships, all had either scared her into running or completely ignoring their interest. Isiah Neary did not.

  The idea of being his wife didn’t make her want to run or break out in hives. DeShondra removed her set of house keys from her purse and passed them over the desk. “I’m usually home by six,” she told him with a happy-bellied smile.

  Chapter 4 – Honey, That’s a lot of Beige.

  Isiah found himself grateful for the well-displayed house numbers in the subdivision which DeShondra lived in because all the houses looked the same. It reminded him of a Hollywood movie of suburban hell. Each model of a MacMansion lined the street in the same lackluster shade of beige with brown doors and minimal landscaping. A few houses had pops of colors with perennials, but outside of that, it felt claustrophobic to him, almost sucking the life force from his body. Locating DeShondra’s home, he pulled into the driveway, thinking he should pull the monster truck into the two-car garage to keep from ruining the aesthetics of the subdivision, but then a sly grin came to his face at the thought of her pulling up and seeing the camouflaged monstrosity parked in her drive.