Birthright

by Shay Savage

  “I’m sure you have many talents.” She presses her lips together, hiding a grin. “You’ll do fine here.”

  She quickly closes the office door.

  My mouth drops open as I realize what she must think. I go as far as to raise my hand to knock on the door and clarify but think better of it. Instead, I shuffle back to my car, trying to sort out my feelings.

  I’m thrilled to have employment, especially a job I think I’ll really enjoy. I’m also irate at Nate’s interference as well as confused by it. I don’t understand why he would go to the trouble.

  “He doesn’t even know me.” I slam the car into drive and pull out of the parking lot.

  The drive is short, and when I stomp back into my apartment, I’m definitely angry about Nate’s contacting Melissa but also elated to have employment so soon. It’s not even Nate’s calling her that has me angry but the impression his request clearly left on her.

  “She thinks I’m a whore.” I slam my keys down on the kitchen table. “Nate Orso owns the east side of town, and my new boss clearly thinks I’m sleeping with him. Fucking fantastic.”

  I huff out a breath and yank open the fridge, looking for comfort food, but nothing looks appetizing. Doing any actual cooking requires far more effort than I feel like expending right now, so I grab a yogurt and a spoon.

  Vee sits in judgment at the kitchen table.

  “I haven’t slept with him,” I mutter. “We weren’t even on a date together. We’d only just met! I have no idea why he would do something like that.”

  I shovel yogurt into my mouth and then crush the little cup. I replay Saturday night in my head, specifically the conversation with Nate about my interest in botany and the point where he handed me a napkin with a job lead on it.

  “Nate, what are you doing? Offering me a job?”

  “Technically, you’ll have to interview, but if you want to move past the bullshit, yes.”

  I already knew what he was doing—he had made it clear from the beginning. I didn’t have to go through with it. Am I angry because he intervened or because of Melissa’s assumptions? He was just trying to help me out, knew about a job I might like, and put in a good word for me. What was wrong with that?

  Absolutely nothing.

  It was a kind gesture. It’s not his fault Melissa thought it was something else. Melissa’s attitude is the problem here, not Nate.

  “Am I making too much of this?” I lick the edge of the spoon, removing the last bit of yogurt from it. “I mean, she did say I was qualified, but she has to have had other qualified applicants as well. Would I have gotten the job if she didn’t think I was banging the king of the east side?”

  Banging Nate.

  I can’t stop the fantasy that begins to flow through my mind. Nate taking me into his arms, reaching down and pulling up my skirt as he presses his mouth against mine. He picks me up, my legs wrapped around his waist. I dig my fingers into his hair as he rips his jeans open with one hand and shoves me up against the wall…

  My face feels hot, my hands are sweating, and my clit is absolutely throbbing.

  Yep. Too many romance novels.

  I clench my hands into fists, initially trying to fight off the feeling. I give up the conflict quickly and race to my bedroom, tossing the phone onto the blanket covering my bed and pulling up my skirt. I grab the small pink vibrator out of the nightstand drawer and continue the fantasy.

  I gasp as I think of his hands gripping my ass, his mouth on my nipples, and his cock buried deep inside of me. I can feel his hot breath on my shoulder, and I hear him cry out my name…

  “Oh, Nate!”

  I freeze, unable to breathe for a moment as the orgasm begins to build inside of me. I’m so close. I run the fingers of my free hand over my nipple. Nearly there…

  “BING!”

  I startle, drop the vibe, and the mounting pressure is abruptly gone.

  “Ugh!”

  I grab the phone, nearly throw it against the wall, and then see it’s a text from Nate.

  Of course it is.

  Nate O: How did the interview go?

  I’m panting and my hands are shaking. My mind is racing. I want to finish myself off, but I also want to reply to him. I want to rub the phone over my pussy and come to the words on the screen.

  “Good lord,” I mumble. “You are a mess.”

  I sigh heavily, head to the bathroom to wash my hands, and then come back to the phone to answer him.

  How should I answer, and why is he even asking? He probably already knows that I have the job. In fact, he knew that before I even showed up for the interview. He knew before I even called about the job. I narrow my eyes a bit.

  It went very well, as I’m sure you already know.

  It takes only a moment for him to respond.

  Nate O: Guilty as charged. I hope you aren’t upset about that.

  Am I upset? Perturbed, maybe, but not really mad. How different is what he did from my Aunt Ginny’s playing bridge with the librarian who hired me? The result is the same, but those people had known my Aunt Ginny and me since I was a child, and Nate doesn’t know me at all, not really.

  I type out a carefully worded reply.

  A little. I did need a job, and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I suppose I should say thank you.

  There—appreciative but not a pushover. That works.

  Nate O: You are very welcome. Glad I could help out. I’d love to take you out for a celebratory dinner this weekend, if you’d allow me.

  “Oh. Wow.” I lick my lips. I wasn’t expecting him to ask me out this soon or so candidly. “Or are you reading too much into it again?”

  Only one way to be sure.

  Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Orso?

  I hold my breath.

  Nate O: Yes, Miss Bay, I am.

  My heart beats faster. In my head, I’m screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” but my fingers are feeling a bit coyer.

  What if I say no?

  As soon as I press send, I regret it. Am I trying to play hard to get? If so, why the hell am I doing that?

  Nate O: Then I will be forced to drown my sorrows alone.

  “Ah, shit! His brother-in-law!” I’d totally forgotten about the death in his family, and now I feel like a complete ass. I need to make up for it but still keep the mood light.

  I suppose I agree then. Drowning would surely ruin your suit.

  “Ugh! Why did you mention suits? It will make him think of funeral attire.” I hit myself in the forehead, debating if I should apologize, but he replies first.

  Nate O: It just might. While I have other suits, I’m glad you’ve agreed to dinner. Friday at 7 work for you?

  Friday night. Did we have to wait so long? I probably would agree to fifteen minutes from now. Such a pushover!

  I don’t have my work schedule yet. I should get it tomorrow. I’ll have to let you know.

  Nate O: Please do, Miss Bay. I’d be happy to work around your schedule.

  Wait a minute—how does he know my last name? I was sure I had only given him my first name, and I hadn’t used a credit card at the club, so how does he know?

  I’m about to ask him, but then I realize Melissa probably told him. Again, I’m reading too much into things and giving in to my suspicious nature. Knowing my last name doesn’t make him a stalker, and I’m just being ridiculous. Again.

  I’ll let you know when I get it.

  Nate O: Glorious. I look forward to talking to you again soon.

  “Glorious!” I laugh. “He does seem to like that word.”

  *****

  I stare at my phone.

  I haven’t heard anything from Nate since Tuesday morning when I sent him my work schedule, and we agreed to go out Friday night. It’s now Thursday evening, and though I want to text him, I have no idea what to say.

  I had seen him though.

  Yesterday, I tried to go to the county clerk’s office on the east side of town, but it was
closed. A note on the door said it would open again Thursday, right about the time I would be starting my first day at work. As I tried to figure out why they were closed in the middle of the week with the flag at half-mast, a long black hearse rolled slowly down the street, followed by too many cars to count. I saw Nate through the passenger seat window in the car directly behind the hearse, but he was talking to the driver. A woman in a black hat sat directly behind him, openly crying.

  I had walked home in silence, wondering if I had made a big mistake.

  As I walked through the woods today, meticulously counting and measuring trees, I continued to feel as if I should have gone to the visitation. The quiet atmosphere provided a lot of thinking time, and the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t decide if avoiding the event was the correct thing to do.

  I can’t stop thinking about it now, either. I hadn’t felt comfortable with the idea of going to the visitation, and now that it’s far too late, I wish I had. Clearly the town had shut down for the event, and I should have gone to offer my condolences.

  In my head, I picture the scene as it might have happened. I’d stand politely in the line for the viewing, reach the family members, and extend my support to people I didn’t know and then finally to Nate, who would wonder what the fuck I was doing there at all.

  So very awkward.

  “It was best I didn’t go, don’t you think?” I ask Vee. “I mean, I don’t even know his brother-in-law’s name, and I just moved here, so I don’t know the family or the town. Showing up for such a ceremony wouldn’t be proper, right?”

  I have no idea, and Vee offers no advice whatsoever. I look down at the phone again, wondering if I should text him first or wait for him to get back to me. He’s also had a trying week, I’m sure, and I don’t want to interrupt the family’s grieving process.

  “Since I didn’t go, I should at least offer my condolences,” I say to myself for the tenth time in the last two days. I start to type a text but then quickly delete it. Nothing sounds right.

  Jessie’s knocking on my door provides a welcome distraction.

  “It’s all done!” She squeals and holds up a bundle of cloth.

  “What is?”

  “Your quilt!” She brushes past me and holds the bundle higher, letting it fall partially open. “I never did get the colors for your bedroom, but I hope this will work for you.”

  Surrounded by a blue border, the quilt is made up of a kaleidoscope of square pieces of fabric, most of which have a flower pattern of some sort but in all different hues.

  “It’s got all the colors,” Jessie says with a laugh, “so it should go with everything, I think. And I know you like flowers. See this piece? It’s the only fabric I could find with cherry blossoms, but I thought you would appreciate that.”

  I reach out and run my fingers over the quilt, noting the different textures of the fabric squares.

  “Jessie, this is amazing! Where did you learn to do this?”

  “From my grandmother,” she says. “Mom had no interest in sewing or quilting or anything like that, but my gramma taught me how after I found a bunch of fabric at a yard sale.” Jessie laughs at the memory as she shoves the quilt into my arms. “There was a whole box of fabric pieces for just a dollar, and I thought I’d make myself my own quilt. All I had to do was sew the little pieces together in straight lines, and there wasn’t much else to it, right?” She laughs again. “Boy, was I wrong! Come on then! Let’s go put it on your bed!”

  I follow Jessie into my bedroom, immediately embarrassed by the dirty clothes lying on the floor, the unmade bed, and the mess of coffee cups on the nightstand. If Jessie notices, she doesn’t comment. Instead, she hands me the quilt, quickly pulls my sheet up to the pillows, and then helps me spread the quilt over the bed.

  “This piece here,” Jessie says, pointing to a square of purple fabric with pink roses on it, “is one of the squares I got from the yard sale all those years ago. I try to incorporate a piece into every quilt I make now. I still have a lot of pieces left in that box I picked up almost thirty years back. Can you believe it?”

  She starts going on about stitches and batting and backing while I run my hand over the quilt. It’s thick and heavy and will certainly keep me warmer than the blanket I had on there before. Though the flowery pattern is random and rather haphazard, it’s really quite pretty.

  “Thank you so much, Jessie.” My throat tightens and tears well up in my eyes though I’m not sure why. “This is so kind of you—going to all that trouble—and you only just met me.”

  “Oh, hunny, I just wanted to make my new neighbor feel welcome!” Jessie reaches over and pulls me into a tight embrace as I try to rein in the tears. “Now, let me boil up some water for tea, and you can tell me all about your first day at your new job. I haven’t worked in a few years now, you know. Retired at my age! Can you believe it?”

  Chapter 10—Funeral

  I fucking hate visitations.

  I smile politely, shake hands, and thank people for coming as Jack lies in a casket next to me, his insides sewn back in for the occasion. Nora weeps openly, and it’s giving me a headache. I don’t think I closed my eyes for more than ten minutes last night, and the lack of sleep is getting to me.

  The mayor shakes my hand and leans toward me to offer his sincere condolences and hopes that he’ll have my support in the fall when election time comes around. I glare at him, and he backs away quickly. Some other city official stops in front of me, offers his hand, offers a kind word, and moves on.

  This continues over and over again until I’m ready to lose my mind.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter as I move away from the receiving line despite my sister’s protests. I find my way to the kitchen in the back where Threes is helping himself to an early dinner.

  “Wish I’d thought of that,” I say as I grab a carrot from a tray and shove it into some ranch dressing. “When is this over?”

  “About another hour to go before they load up the hearse, and he can be on his merry way,” Threes replies. “We can cut it short if you want. No one will argue.”

  “Nora will.” I sigh. “She’s so pissed at me. I should probably keep things in order today.”

  “For her sake?”

  “For the sake of my fucking sanity.” I grab another carrot. “You remember their wedding?”

  “It was only four months ago,” Threes says, “so yeah, I remember.”

  “They’d only known each other half that long. He fucked up her middle name during the vows.”

  “Yeah.” Threes chuckles. “He did. But it had to be moved up. A wedding has to follow a funeral.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter, not really listening to his words.

  “Is she going to find another guy, or are you…?” Threes lets the question fade, and I don’t bother to respond.

  I don’t care what Nora does at this point.

  “But you are working on that wedding, aren’t you?” Pops leans against the wall near the fridge.

  “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

  “It’s tradition,” Threes says. “Bad luck if the family doesn’t replenish and all that. We didn’t have one after Micha, and…well, you know.”

  “Do you want to marry Nora?”

  “Oh, hell no!” Threes backs up with his hands held out in front of him, palms facing me. “I’m perfectly happy with my position in this family. Pretty sure Nora wouldn’t marry a black dude, anyway.”

  “She might.” I shrug. “I don’t think she cares.”

  “I love your family, dude, but hell no.”

  “Funerals should be balanced with weddings,” Pops says. “You are the one who needs to work on that.”

  “Really? You’re going to do this now?” I shake my head and walk out of the kitchen.

  “What? Offer you my love?” Threes laughs. “We can hug if you want to.”

  “Enough.” I shake my head. “I was joking about Nora. Forget it.”

  Threes foll
ows me into one of the side rooms filled with couches and boxes of tissues. I take a seat in a wingback chair and pull out a flask from my jacket pocket. I take a swig before offering it to Threes.

  “I wouldn’t subject you to my sister,” I tell him. “I wasn’t serious.”

  “I know you weren’t, boss.”

  “Besides, you’ve been seeing someone, right? How is everything with her?”

  “Angel?”

  “She’s the blonde, right?”

  “Yeah. I had to get rid of her.”

  “What?” I feel my skin get a little cold, not sure exactly what he means.

  “Not like that,” Threes says with an evil smile. “I just mean I dumped her.”

  “Oh! Yeah, that’s probably better. Why did you break it off?”

  “The sex sucked. She clearly wasn’t into me, and I figured it was a bit too much like that guy with the blowup doll.”

  “She wasn’t into it?”

  “Let me put it this way,” Threes says as he crosses his arms over his chest. “The last time we hooked up, I was doing her from behind. When I was done, she looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Was that it? I didn’t get through all my lives in Candy Crush.’”

  I stare at him, openmouthed, waiting for him to laugh at the joke but not entirely sure if he’s kidding.

  “Dude,” I finally say, “that’s brutal.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t take it anymore.” He shrugs, still with no indication of his level of seriousness. “Sorry to see her go, but I think it was over a long time ago.”

  “How long you two been together?”

  “A little over two months.”

  I shake my head as he grins.

  “Shall we call it and head to the cemetery?” he asks.

  “Yeah, please.”

  The visitation line is still out the door, but I really don’t care at this point. I tell the funeral director to get moving and then stand in a dark hallway away from the line, avoiding everyone. Father Brian walks up and down the line, ceremonial robes and sash flowing around him as he informs the remaining people that the visitation is ending, and the burial is a private, family affair.

  As the crowd disperses, Nora finds me.