Bleu, Grass, Bourbon

by Olivia Gaines

  “No problem, Ma’am,” he replied. “I will get them soon as I clear the table.”

  Isiah watched her eyes, knowing she was up to something. “Shondra, did you buy stuff for the wedding?”

  “Actually, I bought things for Jacob,” she said. “He is starting school next week and needs some new clothes.”

  Jacob, who had been clearing the table, stopped midstride to look back at her. “Ma’am, I can’t start school. One, I have no transportation, and two, because of my record, I can’t get any student loans,” he said with pain in his voice.

  DeShondra rose from the table to collect her purse. She pulled out a car key and tossed it to him. “This is the key to your pick-up truck. It’s not new, and it’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours. You must pay the insurance on it and upkeep, but it’s solid enough to get you back and forth to your culinary classes at Jefferson Community and Technical College,” she said.

  “What?” Isiah and Jacob both said at the same time.

  “I have paid for your first two semesters and purchased your uniforms. However, I will not pay a dime more if you fail and half-ass finish classes. This is your chance, so don’t squander it,” DeShondra said.

  “You paid for me to go to cooking school?” Jacob asked in disbelief.

  “No, I paid for two semesters to get you started,” she said. “I will continue to pay if you get in there, kick butt, and come out the best chef this state has ever produced.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jacob said.

  “Start with thank you,” Isiah told him.

  “Thank you. Thank you both,” Jacob said, running into them with gangly arms, squeezing them both in an embrace. “This means so much to me. I won’t let you down. Either of you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, let me go,” DeShondra said, pulling out of the embrace. “Go to my car and get your stuff.”

  “Yessum,” he said, grinning, heading to the door, and looking for his truck.

  Isiah, on the other hand, had not let her go, but instead held on to her. “How do you know that it wasn’t my intention to get him a truck and put him in school once we got settled?”

  “Didn’t matter,” DeShondra said. “He needed to connect to a now, not a future. I hope I didn’t overstep in buying him the truck or calling in a favor to get him in class on Monday.”

  “You did overstep,” Isiah said, making DeShondra balk a bit at his words, “but in a good way. In the future, because of his therapy, please talk to me first. That truck could be a great instrument in getting him from Point A to Point B, or you could have just given him a 3,000-pound weapon to commit suicide.”

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think of that,” she said, her eyes wide.

  “That’s why you can’t unilaterally make decisions like that for him, but giving the boy two semesters as a trial is a wonderful thing,” Isiah said. “Let’s just see how it goes.”

  Jacob returned through the front door, holding the bags of clothing. His face lit up like a kid at Christmas at all the goodies. Also, like a child, he sat in the middle of the living room floor, opening each bag with oohs and ahhs for everything: two packs of socks, a backpack, jeans, tees, and underpants. The basic black chef’s coat brought him to the brink of tears.

  “I thought my life was over,” Jacob said through snot and a tear-soaked face. “They all turned on me. Treated me like I was some kind of pervert and made me register as a menace to society. I just wanted a normal teenage life. You’ve given me back that. I am so grateful.”

  “You are welcome, but Isiah’s rules still apply. Do you understand?” she asked Jacob.

  “I do. Doc Neary, I will still go to therapy once a week, plus take care of Lady and Hamlet,” he said. “I will have to make a new schedule to go around my classes.”

  “We will work it out,” Isiah told him.

  Jacob hadn’t moved from the floor as he looked at the textbooks for his new classes, the clothes, and the class schedule. He bit his bottom lip as he looked up at them watching him sitting on the floor like a kid. “You guys are going to make great parents,” Jacob said. “I love and appreciate you both.”

  The emotion was evident in Isiah’s voice when he spoke, softly saying, “Enough of the mush. Get those things washed and put away. The trailer will be ready tomorrow for you to move in.”

  “When do you guys move into the farmhouse?”

  “I start my new job on Monday, and after that, we have a wedding to prepare for, so, shit, I don’t know,” Isiah said.

  “We will start this weekend,” DeShondra said. “Isiah’s stuff is all in, and the movers are coming next week for my stuff.”

  “Uhhm, can I still come and have dinner with you guys?” Jacob asked.

  “Not every day,” DeShondra said. “Twice a week works well. Pick your days wisely.”

  “Cool! Maybe I can try out new recipes I learn in school,” Jacob said with a smile.

  “Maybe,” DeShondra replied, feeling a rush of emotion as well. The three of them, Isiah, his growing pea in her pod and Jacob were turning her into a mush soaked pancake, sitting on the table waiting for flies. They had infested her with their emotions and good deeds. She loved every moment of it.

  THE NIGHT AIR SWIRLED around them as they rested on the patio, holding each other on the chaise lounge.

  “I start my new job on Monday,” he said. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “You have to give it a chance,” she replied. “You may actually love the new role and change in your life and schedule.”

  “Or, I can be stuck in a room having meetings all day with men who set times to have more meetings, which means nothing ever gets done,” he told her. “I’m trying to be positive. I want to be positive. I’ve just been to the office one time too many to see anything good coming from that group of pencil pushers.”

  “Do you think you won’t fit in with the group?”

  “I know I won’t fit in,” he said, “but I’m going to try.”

  “I can’t ask anything more of you,” DeShondra said. “If it doesn’t work, then you will need a Plan B.”

  “Plan B,” he said somberly. Truthfully, he never planned to stay with the ATF as long as he had, but ten years later, he remained with the organization, not sure if he wanted to stay until retirement. In a few days, he would find out. “Let’s get inside and ready for bed. This is a busy weekend, plus, we have to turn in our assignments to Pastor Thomas.”

  “I have done all of mine and turned them in already,” she said, pinching his arm.

  “Chronic overachiever,” he mumbled. “I am going to have trouble keeping up with you.”

  “No, you don’t have to keep up. Just always be where I can see you or meet me at the finish line,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist for a hug.

  “Co-captain manning the oars,” he said.

  “You said we were getting an outboard motor,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, now we have a 19-year-old who is going to culinary school and driving a car, a crew of men with no teeth, and a Pookie,” he said, chuckling lightly.

  “Oh yeah, we can’t forget about a Pookie,” she told him, heading toward the back door. “All in all, Doc Neary, I think we are going to have a great life.”

  “When you call me Doc Neary, it turns me on. Hell, when you look at me, it turns me on.”

  “I’m looking at you,” she said, staring into the blue eyes.

  The gaze intensified as his head lowered, and Isiah’s lips met hers for a soft kiss that turned carnal. Hefting her into his arms, he carried her through the back door into the house. Gently laying her on the bed, he disrobed her slowly, kissing, touching, caressing her body from head to toe before making love to her, then cuddling closely and drifting off to sleep. His mind filled with ideas for a Plan B.

  Just in case Plan A fell on its ass.

  THE MOVERS HAD SHOWN up on Saturday morning and unloaded the items from Isiah’s home in London, filling a few of the ba
re rooms with the furniture pieces he’d chosen to bring with him. A couple of items he moved into the trailer for Jacob, who also had moved into his home and was excited to get to class on Monday for school. Isiah provided him with a tablet that doubled as a laptop in order to get the school work done, which made the kid ecstatic.

  “Bleu, I ordered a new rug for your Bourbon room, but I am not sure what order these bottles go in,” Pookie told him. Isiah hadn’t seen the new room and pulled the stairs to enter the fresh space, which made his breath catch.

  “That was a closet...,” he said, pointing at the glass-enclosed shelving.

  “Yes, it was. Mrs. Neary, I like calling her that, said to make it your new display case for your collection, but I need some help. I mean, unless you want me to just place them bottles on the shelf and you come back later and rearrange them,” Pookie said.

  “You can just place them. I will organize them later,” he told him. “I was wondering, Pookie, if you don’t mind, can you get over to our house and get things ready for the move? Oversee the movers kind of thing. I don’t want DeShondra stressed about that kind of stuff.”

  “What day?”

  “I want it to happen this week,” he told him.

  “Let me know, and I can make it happen, but I tell you the truth, her Mamma is a hot mess. That woman has me strung out with this wedding reception and all,” Pookie said.

  “Oh, you love it,” Isiah replied.

  “You know I do! This reception is going to be amazing,” he responded. “You are going to be so pleased with the results.”

  “I trust you,” Isiah told him with a wry smile.

  “That means a lot to me,” Pookie said. “Honestly, it means a lot to all of us. We have been looking around for a new home office and places to live so we can relocate here with the business. I know you start your new job on Monday, but the guys want to have a sit down to chat about our futures.”

  “I’m hearing you,” Isiah said, “and I’m working on a few details here and there, but I have to find the work to put you to work.”

  “Hearing you right back,” Pookie said. “Let the team know what you need from us.”

  “Will do,” Isiah said, “and Pookie, fantastic job on the house. I love it.”

  “Thanks, Boss Man,” Pookie said with a flourish of his hands and a swish of his hips. “Now, to get her stuff moved over.”

  ISIAH NEARY, ASSISTANT Director of Operations, walked into his new office in Louisville and felt the air being compressed from his lungs. Most of the morning he had spent in training with Human Resources, securing his new badge and building access and meeting his staff. That afternoon, he had sat in meetings he knew nothing about with a bunch of misogynistic men who wanted the only woman in the room to make coffee. Instead, he stood, asking her to remain seated as he started the coffee pot, making the dark brew with the same used grounds from the pot before. He secretly hoped they would all choke on it and go home sick.

  The Director of Operations, a ruddy-faced man with pocked mark skin, a sunken chest, and beer bottled glasses welcomed him aboard. Tim Westland, the D.O. with B.O., handed him a stack of manuals on policies and procedures and sent him to the Assistant D.O.’s office to spend the last hours of the day combing through the books. Books Isiah never opened.

  “I need to finalize my Plan B because this shit ain’t gon’ work out for me,” he mumbled.

  He only mumbled to DeShondra when he got home, remained quiet through dinner, and slumped off to bed with a brief kiss to her cheek. The rest of the week didn’t fare much better as Tuesday morphed into Thursday and the quietly spoken man became morose by the time Friday rolled around.

  She poured him two fingers of his best Bourbon that he kept at her house, and she sat next to him on the couch. His tie half undone, the shoes kicked off, and the spirit of a strong man appeared weakened by the first week’s trial. She asked, “Well, how was your first week?”

  “I hate it,” he said. “This tie feels like it is choking me. The men in the office are misogynistic ass wipes who treat the few women in the office as if they are personal assistants and my boss is dumbass.”

  “Other than that, how does it look? Is there an opportunity to make things better, really make a difference in the job?”

  “There are no differences to be made with pencil pushers and button counters. They show up, push pencils, and count a few buttons until the bell rings and everyone can retire and go home,” he said. “I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be for me, but I will have to find a way to make it work.”

  “Or quit and do your own thing,” she said.

  “What? I can’t quit my job. I have responsibilities. A family. Bills to pay, a woman to spoil, a child to raise and a Jacob,” Isiah said in disbelief. “I’m going to be somebody’s Daddy!”

  “I didn’t say you didn’t need or have to work. You just don’t have to work that job,” she said. “Think about it or continue to go in every day to a job you hate and men you don’t respect or forge your own path to help broken men find a new direction.”

  “DeShondra, I don’t want a practice of seeing patients,” he said emphatically.

  “Then don’t build one,” she offered with a smile. “You can consult like the guy on Law & Order SVU, you know, The Jurassic Park dinosaur grower man.”

  “B.D. Wong?”

  “G.D. Right,” she said, laughing at her own clever quip. “Listen, I have two other office buildings. One can be used for the Bleu’s Crew and the other for your consulting practice. There is a tenant in one of them down on Chancey Street who is not renewing his lease. The lease runs out next month. The other building is directly behind me and was my first office building. Think about it.”

  “Sure,” he mumbled, ready to get through the weekend move and prep for the wedding the following week. “I’ll think about it.”

  This weekend he would clear his head with a ride on his horses, maybe a bit of fishing in his pond, and a long nap on his favorite couch. The rest, he would figure out later.

  Chapter 21 – Pre-Wedding Jitters

  To both DeShondra and Isiah’s amazement, moving her items to the new home went smoothly and without a hitch, which could easily be attributed to Jacob and Pookie Jenkins, who oversaw the movement of each piece from the old house to its placement in the farmhouse. It didn’t take long for DeShondra to settle in, nor for Isiah to get accustomed to the squeaks and moans of the new house.

  “They did a great job with this house,” DeShondra said, as he carried her across the threshold.

  “Indeed, they did,” Isiah replied, as they walked through each room, touching the mixing of her furniture with his own, bringing both styles to life in one space. “I love this house.”

  “So do I,” she said softly. “At first I was doubtful, but then I could see the vision you had for this as our home, which is going to be full of people soon.”

  “Plus, a baby,” he said, placing his hand on her stomach. “You never said what you were going to do with your house.”

  “I am going to gift it to my parents like you suggested,” she said. “The carpets are getting cleaned and the small details are getting handled before I hand them the keys.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he told her. “This has been the most intense five weeks of my life and next week, we are getting married.”

  “You still have time to back out and run,” she told him.

  “No way. You got away from me once. I’m not letting you go again,” he said. “Speaking of getting away from someone, have you had any word from that John Lucas?”

  “Funny you should ask. He showed up one day last week at my office and brought me lunch, but I was not there. John’s also sent flowers a few times, but I always put give the bouquets to Monica,” she told him. “It weird. I don’t like it.”

  “Don’t worry about that guy.”

  “I can’t. I’m too busy worrying about this one,” she said patting his chest. “How’s it going?”


  “It’s going,” he said. “In a few weeks, I get to actually do the job versus sitting in meetings all day. That portion I hate. The neckties take some getting used to, but hey, it’s part of the uniform.”

  “You don’t have to be unhappy with how you make your living,” she told him. “There are options.”

  “I have to work every option available to me first before chucking this one out the window,” he told her. “Give me time to work it out.”

  “And the counseling for the PTSD?”

  “I’m seeing a professional,” he said softly. “So far, so good.”

  “You’re sleeping better.”

  “That’s because that bed is a seducer of men,” he said with a laugh. “That thing starts to vibrate and I lose all thoughts in my head to just give in to the delights of my path to Sleepyville.”

  “Sounds good, but I am offering you one last chance to run before everyone begins to arrive for this wedding,” she said.

  “No can do,” he told her. “My parents arrive mid-week, then my brothers by the weekend. You never mentioned a honeymoon or where you wanted to go.”

  “Honestly, I don’t care. A few days away with you is more than enough,” DeShondra said.

  “No beaches with white sand or turquoise waters?”

  “A mountain cabin with a lake sounds equally divine,” she said. “I don’t like touristy spots.”

  “Duly noted,” he said. “Hey. Did I tell you that I love you today?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “You kinda mentioned it yesterday in passing, but not today. I must admit, I’m feeling some kind of way about that.”

  “DeShondra Leman soon-to-be Neary, I love you,” he said.

  “And I you,” she replied, stepping into his embrace, holding on for dear life. The ride was about to get rocky and she needed to grip as tightly as she possibly could.

  MARY AND JOE NEARY arrived mid-week to be greeted by a bubbly, effervescent Maya Leman, who welcomed them with open arms. Xavier Leman greeted the father of groom with a hearty handshake and offers to have them over for a cookout the next time they were in town. In the background, Isiah shook his head no to his father. Joe, picking up the cue, offered instead to cook for them on his son’s monster grill that had been brought down from the house in London.