* * *
Jesse took a deep breath. Though it was warm, the late afternoon air, thick with the weight of summer in New York, was just what he needed to clear his head. Was he really made to be cooped up inside a shop all day? Would the stuffiness of it all, the tediousness of a sure ’nuff more than nine-to-five stifle the life out of him? He froze as he realized he was doing what he’d always done whenever what felt like a scary and, who knew, possibly promising opportunity came before him. He was making excuses and planning his escape.
It was his way. He was good at it. The only person who’d never let him run, who’d somehow been able to hold on to him when everyone else considered him a lost cause—his mother, his first foster families, the group home—was Mama Joy. And now here he was trying to run from the opportunity she had left him. No, with the bank loan and his brothers going all in with him, it wasn’t an opportunity but a responsibility that she’d left him.
He slowed his steps further and looked back toward the shop, now noticing the trash next to the cans off to the side, and frowned. He’d have to clear that up. Mama Joy would never let there be trash in front of the shop. Not ever.
The image of her sweeping and clearing carelessly thrown trash from the sidewalk when it should have been something he did for her burned through his memory. He could no longer make excuses. Just like he could no longer lie to himself by saying it was his fear of the shop that had him on the run. No, it was the woman who was currently inside the shop: Kerry, with her serious demeanor but at the same time equally soft heart. She scared the shit out of him. Her looks, the way she stared. He knew she wanted him. Worse than that, he knew she cared for him more than he ever did or would deserve being cared for. Still, the fact remained that he needed her. Needed her for the shop and needed her for his soul right now.
She hated it when he said she would be the driving force that kept the old customers coming in, but it was true, and not in the way she’d taken it.
The older women came because of the kinship they’d felt with Mama Joy. During the times that Jesse had been in the shop, in and out, sometimes sitting in the back during a class or just hanging in the loft, he loved seeing the women as they came in and their immediate transformations when they entered the shop’s welcoming atmosphere.
He would watch as it seemed like a little of the weight of the world—not all of it, mind you, but just a bit—was lifted from their shoulders as they browsed the yarns or talked about a pattern with Mama Joy. For that small stretch of time they were almost carefree. Mama Joy had a gift, and that same gift was in Kerry too.
And he couldn’t lie to himself about Kerry any longer either. He thought of her inside the shop now, angry, agitated, hungry and possibly a little hurt by his mixed signals. He was a first-class jerk for confusing her, though. A-plus on that one. If there were degrees for screwing over women and fucking up their minds and hearts, then he’d have a doctorate for sure. But he didn’t know what else to do when it came to Kerry. Jesse let out a sigh as he got to the bodega door and walked inside. His eyes met the slightly judging gaze of Mickey, the black-and-white cat that guarded the establishment from his perch on a high spot over the laundry detergents and floor cleaners. He gave Mickey a nod and got dust in response. I feel you, Mick, he thought.
He waved to Santi, who was on the register, and went to the back to place his order with Ray, who was on the grill. Jesse fought to clear his mind of Kerry as he looked around the shop. He grabbed a two-liter soda for the two of them to share, put it back and went for a sixteen-ounce for her instead and a beer for himself. Then the image of her tossing all those beer cans and Erika came to his mind, and he put the beer back, guilt rising up his throat. “Shit, I might as well just get myself a juice box, acting like this,” he mumbled to himself.
“What was that, Jesse Strong?”
Jesse turned and looked down at Sister Purnell, one of the shop’s regulars and Mama Joy’s longtime knitting circle friends. The petite older woman with the barely lined caramel skin was currently looking up at him like she was ready to take off her flip-flop and hit him with it. It was clear that she’d heard what he’d said, which was just perfect. She was probably thinking, “Is that how Joy raised you to talk?”
“Um, it was nothing, Sister Purnell. Thanks so much for the food you dropped off. It was delicious. You were too generous. All you ladies were,” he said by way of trying to cover his getting caught cussing in public by the old lady.
Sister Purnell looked him up and down sternly, then waved her hand. “It was nothing,” she finally said. “What else should I do? Joy was my friend; practically family. Of course I’m gonna look out for her boys.” She cleared her throat loudly, then frowned deeper. “You gonna pick a drink or just stand there letting all the cold air out of that icebox?”
Jesse was tempted to curse again, but thankfully he held it back, or he just might have gotten a flip-flop to the head. He opted for the two liter and closed the fridge.
Sister Purnell nodded, then reached up for some rice mix on a high shelf. Jesse instantly grabbed it for her. She finally cracked a smile. “Thanks, dear.” She looked at him closer, and he fought to not crack under her inspection as the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. “You’re all right. I can see that,” she finally declared.
Jesse blinked as he tried to let the woman’s words wash over him. How could she say that when he felt anything but all right? What gave her the right? Just because she called herself saved and fancied herself some sort of prophetess. She was prophesying up the wrong tree today. Jesse cleared his throat. “If you say so. I’d better get going. My sandwiches are probably up.”
He was about to walk away when her words stopped him before he got past the ramen noodles. “Dinner for two?” Sister Purnell’s voice was as innocent as it could be for such a loaded comment.
Jesse turned.
“I wouldn’t go so far as that, Sister Purnell. It’s just dinner—nothing more.”
She smiled wider, and Jesse hated the sharp look behind that smile. “Well, you keep behaving, Jesse. We’ll be by to check on you, and tell Kerry I said hi. I’m glad to hear the whole uproar at her building wasn’t too serious and she’s landed in a safe place.”
Jesse nodded and mustered up a weak smile as he hightailed it to the counter.
Jesse couldn’t pay for his sandwiches and get back to the shop fast enough. He was all right, a safe space and they would come to check on him? A vision of Sister Purnell and the Old Knitting Gang busting in on him, needles and hooks at the ready if he dared defile Kerry, had him practically sweating. And here he had thought having her in the shop to bring in the sweet old ladies was a good idea.
16
If timing wasn’t a total bitch, he didn’t know what was. He had perfect, or at least in his mind it was perfect, chopped cheese just waiting on them—lettuce, tomato, mayo, ketchup, oil and vinegar—but his sandwiches would be ruined if he didn’t defuse this situation before his eyes and do it quickly.
“I told her you were out and we aren’t officially opened for business yet,” Kerry said, jutting her chin toward a stone-faced Erika as Jesse hit the vestibule of Strong Knits.
Upon noticing he’d come up, Erika turned around toward him. She smiled but he still caught the hard edge of tension she’d been sporting around her lips a moment before. Just how long had she been here, and what had these two been talking about during that time?
Erika held up a small bag and waved it at him. “And I told her I wasn’t here on business—look, I brought refreshments.”
“I bet you did,” Kerry mumbled.
Jesse held tight to his smile. That was surprising.
Still, he didn’t have time, and he thought he had been clear with Erika when she’d left the other morning. Why was she back here now? “I understand, Erika, but now is not a good time. Kerry and I still have a lot of work to do.”
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br /> Erika looked down at the bags in his hands, the soda, chips and sandwiches easily visible through the cheap plastic of the deli bags. “Work?” she questioned, her eyes going from the bags and back up to him. “Looks to me like the two of you are settling in for a nice evening.” She eyed Jesse, then let her glance slide over to Kerry. The look she gave her before her gaze went back to Jesse could be described as dismissive at best. He felt his blood start to heat. “Come on. Enough with the work. It’s quitting time. I’m sure your assistant here would understand.”
“Kerry is not my assistant.”
“No,” Kerry chimed up. She reached out her hand past Erika toward the bags in Jesse’s hand. “Not his assistant at all. But I am hungry.” She looked at Jesse as she lifted the bags from his fingers. “I’ll let you take care of this while I set up the food upstairs. It’s getting late and I am ready to eat.”
She didn’t look twice at Erika as she took the bags and peeked in, giving the sandwiches a sniff. “Oh, they smell terrific,” she said, her smile bright and her brown eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “And you got me honey barbecue chips. My favorite!” She was laying it on thick as hell, which spoke to what must have been going on before he’d gotten there.
“I know,” Jesse said, knowing he was further exasperating the situation, but he’d thought he’d been clear with Erika when he’d seen her off. Besides, he didn’t like her stance over Kerry, or the way she was talking as well as just so happening to show up at the shop lately. It all felt off and, he didn’t know, slightly predatory. Like she was pouncing on his feelings of not wanting to be alone. He hated feeling like he may have let his guard down that much and shown himself to be so vulnerable, especially to someone like her, who clearly didn’t have any true feelings for him.
Kerry looked from him to Erika, then cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll head upstairs and get this set up.”
Erika’s exhalation of breath was practically enough to knock down a less formidable person, but Kerry only walked away without a backward glance. He could almost describe her exit as savage, but he never thought he’d describe anything Kerry did with such a word. She was always so sweet, calm and steady. No, “savage” was not a word he’d use for her.
Before Kerry was completely out of earshot, Erika turned back to him. “Your assistant really is uppity in her opinion of herself.”
He frowned. “‘Uppity’? Hmm. What a strange word to use. But if you say so, she just may be.” He smiled, looking back into the shop toward where Kerry had gone, then returned his attention to Erika, more serious now. “And I told you, she’s not my assistant.”
Erika crossed her arms over her ample chest. The bag with the bottle of whatever she’d brought to ease them both into a sexual trance rustled as she did so. “Well, if she’s not your assistant, then what’s her position?”
He smiled, suddenly thinking of multiple positions he’d happily like to see Kerry in, some professional and some personal, all probably not feasible if he had any hope of keeping her as his friend. He felt Erika’s gaze intensify even further, practically boring through him. Why he had fallen for her easygoing, friends-with-benefits, no-strings-attached line was beyond him.
Yeah, he knew she wasn’t seeing him exclusively. It wasn’t like Erika hid that fact. But she was pressing him on his relationship with Kerry like she was ready to change that. Her thinning lips and narrowed eyes showed a side of her that he was embarrassed to say he was never interested in seeing. They were both sleeping with other people and exclusivity was never their deal, but yeah, he knew he probably should have seen the signs with Erika and maybe should have been stronger with warding her off when she was getting too close. “I don’t think you’re in a position to ask that question,” Jesse said. Erika’s eyes hardened further, and he got the distinct feeling his answer could bring on more problems than solutions—not for him, but possibly for Kerry. He let out a sigh. “She’s my coworker and longtime friend, but that isn’t any business of yours.”
Erika stared at him for a few beats. He could practically hear the clicking of the wheels of calculation turning behind her eyes before she blinked and smiled. “Okay, I get it. You’re busy, and she’s helping you out.” She reached out her hand and brought it around to the back of his neck. She rubbed at it, the action meant to be sensual but, right now, feeling like a vise threatening to turn into a tight clamp. “I just came because I thought you might need some relaxation. You don’t want to work too hard. You know what they say about ‘all work’ and all that.”
Jesse ducked his head and removed himself from her grip. “Right now, all work is what it is for me. Listen, thanks, but maybe next time a text first?”
She fixed her mouth into a pout. It had worked the other night but wouldn’t tonight. “I did text,” she said. “You didn’t answer.”
Jesse looked at her. His eyes softened and an apology was on the tip of his lips. Erika licked her lips and suddenly for some reason his mind went to his chopped cheese with the works waiting for him inside. He was damned hungry. He tilted his head. “Maybe next time you wait until you get an answer.”
* * *
Kerry wasn’t waiting. Screw that. The sandwich was hot, and she was hungry. Hungry and angry. Hangry. She didn’t know if she wanted more to take a bite out of the chopped cheese, Jesse or Erika. She shook her head as she sat down, took a breath and looked at her plated sandwich. Definitely not Erika. She was a full-on annoyance but not worth Kerry putting her back into getting stressed over. Besides, for all Erika’s hard looks and flexing like she was the shit, it was easy to see she was just insecure and trying her best to get Jesse’s attention.
Kerry picked up her sandwich and took a healthy bite. It was good, as usual, with the perfect ratio of cheese to meat, and Jesse hadn’t messed up on her toppings and the hot sauce was perfect. But still it didn’t taste quite right. She looked over at the empty seat opposite, looked at his still-wrapped sandwich on the white plate with the floral border and thought of Jesse downstairs dealing with a clearly irate Erika.
Kerry had seen different versions of the same story told many ways over the years. Erika was just a new package. Jesse was a man who loved women but didn’t love holding on to them. He wooed them fast and easy with his good looks and easygoing smile, and just as fast and just as easy, for him at least, he let them go. Attachment was not his thing. He’d given up a little of his time. But never his heart. She’d seen it since junior high. The girls who would come through looking for him under the guise of being interested in knitting and the shop. They’d have all sorts of flattering words for Mama Joy, and some would even go so far as to spend their precious allowances or hard-earned part-time money on a skein, but the conversation would always find its way to “Oh, and how is Jesse?” “You’re his mom, right?” “Can you tell him Sandra, Yolanda, Tisha or whoever stopped by?”
The saddest of all were the girls who actually returned. The ones who used their yarn and actually made something for Jesse. Kerry often wondered what he did with all the hats and scarves woven with the tears of the brokenhearted. And Erika was no different. Here she was showing up at his door when one look at him and it was clear that she was on her way to the back of the line. Kerry frowned. Only difference with Erika the Toe Taylor was that her gift, packaged in tight Lycra with a side of 80-proof courage, wasn’t as sweet and innocent as a handknitted scarf.
She worried about Jesse drowning his feelings in alcohol instead of facing them head-on. She knew she couldn’t force her thoughts on him or even get him to talk. But still, thinking of him just screwing and getting drunk . . . that couldn’t be the way either.
She took another bite and thought of pushing the sandwich aside when he appeared in the kitchen doorframe.
Kerry looked at him, and despite herself, her lips tightened, and she picked up her phone, because yeah, she suddenly had something urgent to check. Now who was the game play
er? She heard Jesse snort and looked up.
He was walking toward her with a half smile, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. Don’t comment. It’s not your business. Don’t comment. “So you got rid of your company?” she said. Fuck. What happened to not commenting?
He nodded and sat. “I did. Sorry about that. I hope she didn’t give you too hard a time. I didn’t expect her to show up like that. I thought the other morning would be the last time.” He started to unwrap his sandwich, then paused, scratching his ear. Was he waiting for her to say something? What was she supposed to say to that?
Kerry picked up her sandwich and stared at him. “So I gathered. But I don’t think she’s on the same page. I also don’t think she’s one to get the hint so easily. She’ll be back.” She took a bite of her sandwich, then a sip of her drink.
He nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It’s probably her just being clingy. She thinks we’re hooking up, so I guess that threw her off.”
Her soda got caught in her throat and she coughed. “Thinks? Her morning-after look said hookup all the way.” Kerry sighed and forced the sweet liquid down with a hard swallow. “You really are a lot, Jesse Strong. But I hope you set her right. I know I was a little cheeky downstairs, but of course she knows nothing is going on between us.”
Jesse shrugged. Just shrugged.
“WTF with the shrug, Jes?”
He smiled and reached for her plate. “Come on. It’s way too tense and quiet in here. Let’s go eat in the living room. The game is on and I want to watch.”
Kerry frowned. “What if I don’t want to watch the game?”
He shrugged again. “Then we’ll trade off on times. You let me check the score and I’ll let you be in charge of the remote.” Kerry raised her brow. It did seem fair. Now it was her turn to shrug. “Okay, fine. But you’re going to tell me what happened with the rest of that conversation.”
Real Men Knit Page 17
