Taming Me

by Alexandrea Weis

  I thought of the dozen or so calls that I had received from her over the past few years. From broken water heaters to refrigerators on the fritz, my mother only called when she needed something repaired. Deep down, I knew it was just her way of reaching out to me, and every time she had called I gave in and went to her rescue.

  Glancing at the clock on my microwave I toyed with the idea of leaving Garrett a note, and then I pictured his deep brown eyes seething with outrage that I had stood him up.

  “Fine, Mom. Just give me—”

  A light rap on my apartment door startled me. He was early.

  “Ah, hold on, Mom.” After putting my phone on mute, I went to the door and opened it. Garrett was waiting with his light blue shirtsleeves rolled up and a heavy five o’clock shadow. In his arms were two large brown bags. The smell of Chinese food drifted in my door, making my stomach growl.

  “Take one of these.” He shoved one of the paper bags toward me.

  “Sure.” I took the bag, and after he entered my apartment, I shut the door.

  While I set the bag on the bench by the door, Garrett headed to my kitchen. Returning to my phone, I hit the mute button again.

  “Look, I’m not going to be able to make it. I have a business meeting and I—”

  “Who’s that?” Garrett loudly demanded, coming out of the kitchen.

  “Is that a man?” my mother asked, her voice taut with curiosity.

  “Who is it, Lexie?” Garrett’s dark eyes were swimming with irritation.

  “Who is he? You know I always hated it when you let people call you that,” my mother whined in my ear. “You have a beautiful name. Does he know your real name, Alexandra?”

  I glared at Garrett. “Yes, Mom. He knows my real name. I want him to call me Lexie.”

  Garrett’s brown eyes registered a rare look of shock.

  “So are you coming to help me?” Lily went on.

  He came closer to me, straining to hear my mother’s voice over the phone speaker.

  “No, Mom. I can’t come over right now. I’ll call you later. Bye.” I hung up before Lily could come back with something I could not say no to.

  Dropping the phone on the bench, I reached for the brown paper bag I had set there.

  “I thought you didn’t speak to your mother,” he challenged, blocking my way to the kitchen.

  “I don’t.” I walked around him, carrying the bag. “Every now and then, she calls with these excuses for me to come over. Her dishwasher isn’t working or the hot water heater is out.”

  “What was her excuse this time?”

  “The garage door is stuck and she needed to get her car out.” I put the bag on my Formica kitchen countertop. “It’s silly, but it’s the only time we seem to talk.”

  Garrett came into the kitchen. “She wants to see you.”

  “I don’t want to see her.” I opened the bag, and the aroma of fried egg rolls and chicken with vegetables tempted me.

  “You need to go and see her, Lexie.” His voice had that authoritative edge to it, like when he barked orders at me.

  “Please, Garrett. Stay out of this. Everything between me and my mother is….” I ran my hand over my forehead, as the knots in my stomach twisted tighter. They were the same knots I always got whenever I dealt with Lily.

  “Why don’t you let me drive you to her place? We can fix her garage door. Then come back here and eat our dinner.”

  I held my hands up emphatically. “No way. I could never explain…whatever we are to her, and you don’t need to be exposed to my mother’s scrutiny. She’d rip you apart and ask a million questions about us and—”

  “Us?” He folded his arms over his wide chest. “What about ‘us’?”

  I was only making things worse for myself. “I just meant that she would want to know what we are. That’s all. I did not imply that you and me are anything more than…friends.”

  He laughed, filling the small kitchen with his booming voice. “Friends don’t do what we have done together, Lexie. Just tell her the truth; that I’m your Dom and you are my sub.”

  “No, we can’t tell her that. And when did I ever say I was your sub? I thought this was for the sake of the book. I never consented to be anything to you other than a writer of your story.”

  “Do you really think that’s what we are doing together?” His face lifted into a playfully grin. “Research?”

  I shrugged, not sure if I was ready to tackle that question. What had started out as a simple business arrangement was getting complicated, and I was quickly losing my objectivity. “I don’t know what to think of…whatever we are,” I eventually mumbled.

  “I’m glad you’re confused. It means I’m making headway.” He began unpacking the Chinese food from the bag. “Let’s put this in the fridge and then I’ll drive you to your mother’s. We can figure out what to tell her when we get there.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Garrett.”

  “Yes, I do.” He handed me a carton of fried rice. “Part of being your Dom means that I protect you from all tribulations…and that includes overbearing mothers.”

  * * *

  My mother’s home, in the affluent suburb of Lakeview, overlooked a circular grassy park with sporadic oak trees, and was surrounded by wide, winding streets that boasted newly renovated homes. This part of the city had been decimated by Katrina; even though the national media preferred to concentrate their camera lenses on the poorer sections of the city, the black water did not discriminate. It would seem Mother Nature did not harbor any prejudice when she annihilated a city. Rich and poor, black and white, everyone suffered, making every resident of that city equal in their misery.

  Parking his black, sleek car in front of my mother’s one-story, California-style bungalow, Garrett glanced over at me as he turned off the ignition. My foot was tapping nervously on the floor of the car, and I was chewing on my nails like a starved dog.

  “Are you all right?”

  When I saw the concern in his face, I sat up and wiped my hands over the legs of my jeans. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

  He smiled briefly and then patted my thigh. “She’s your mother, Lexie. How bad can it be?”

  “Ever had surgery without anesthesia?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, of course not.”

  “Then you have no idea what you’re in for.” My hand went to the car door. “Look, no matter what she says, what questions she asks you, just remember Lily is like a computer. She stores away everything you say as ammunition to use on you later. So don’t give her any.”

  “Duly noted.” He reached over and undid my seat belt, carefully freeing me of the black strap. “You forget, Lexie, I’m an experienced manipulator. I can handle your mother.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are so in trouble.”

  I directed my attention to my mother’s soft yellow house with its half-stucco, half-brick exterior. The home had a casual feel to it, with an L-shaped porch that had exposed beams above and a hanging porch light shaped like a Chinese lantern. Garden beds around the porch were dotted with overgrown palms, adding a tropical vibe to the entrance.

  “How long has your mother lived here?” Garrett asked, as we ambled along the long walkway to the porch.

  “About fifteen years.” I pulled my mammoth brown leather purse closer to my body. “She bought it about a year before she retired from nursing.”

  “Your mother’s a nurse?”

  “Yep.” I climbed the steps, still feeling sick to my stomach. “Bugged the crap out of me to be a nurse, but there was no way I was going to follow in her footsteps.”

  “It’s not so bad shadowing a parent. I followed my old man and became an architect like him.”

  I glanced up at his strong profile and noticed that even from this angle, the intensity in his eyes remained. Maybe it was the slight ridge above his brow that made him appear that way, or perhaps it was the person he was: intense, focused, and commanding.

 
My shaking hands stretched for the doorbell, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  “Relax. You’re not the scared little girl you once were, Lexie.”

  “I’m not?” I pressed the doorbell.

  He squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve been with me. Now you’re stronger.”

  I snickered at him. “Stronger for putting up with you, or weaker for submitting to you? It’s a matter of perspective.”

  The slight smile that lifted the edges of his mouth stoked the queasy feeling in my stomach. “You’ve submitted to me?”

  I swallowed hard and turned back to the door. “You’re right…I’m stronger.”

  He was still chuckling as the door opened.

  When I first saw her sinister brown eyes and teased brown hair, I didn’t know what I was expecting. I guess I had hoped that she had aged, or grown some maturity in the year since we had last seen each other. However, the clingy red, rayon dress, high black heels, and slathering of makeup told me Lily Palmer was never going to gracefully accept middle age.

  We looked a lot alike, with the same oval face, creamy complexion, round cheeks, and full, red lips. Lily’s features were rounder than mine with an upturned nose, flat chin, and slightly sunken cheekbones. She had always said I resembled my father—a Ukrainian merchant seaman that she had met in a bar in the French Quarter. I had spent many a night thanking God for that one small saving grace.

  “Well, aren’t you a strapping man?” Lily lilted, sounding like a hooker enticing a John.

  “Jesus, Mom!” I exclaimed, as I barreled in the front door, slouching my shoulders—an automatic physical response to my mother’s usual inappropriate comments.

  “Mrs. Palmer,” Garrett purred in that seductive voice he only used when torturing me. “I’m Garrett Hughes. Lexie’s boyfriend.”

  That word made me reel around and gawk at him.

  “Boyfriend?” Lily was undone. She patted her surgically enhanced bosom, smiled as if she had just eaten the pet canary, and giggled, sounding like an out of tune piano. Could this get any worse?

  “Alexandra never speaks to me about any of the men she’s dating.” My mother avidly waved him inside. “We’ll have to compare notes on my daughter’s bad habits, Garrett.”

  “Mom, enough.” I surveyed the living room with its array of antique furniture and my mother’s collection of paintings. “We’re just here to fix your garage door, and then we can go,” I asserted.

  Garrett’s eyes were drinking in the mixture of darkly finished, heavily carved, American Empire antique furniture. “You have some exquisite pieces. I’ve admired the furniture you got for Lexie in her apartment. I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a collection.”

  Mom’s tittering made my stomach curdle. “Aren’t you sweet?” She sounded like Scarlett O’Hara on crack. “I dated a buyer for Christie’s Auction House for years. Larry taught me the benefit of investing in antiques. I learned a great deal from him.”

  “Uncle Larry was also married with three kids, Mom.” The dig felt good.

  “Separated,” Lily countered. “He could not help it if the silly little cow he was married to wouldn’t give him a divorce.”

  Garrett cleared his throat and motioned to a painting on the eggshell-painted stucco wall next to the front door. “Is that a Wonner?”

  I studied the abstract, still-life painting of a nude woman next to a lake. How in the hell did he know what that was?

  “Yes, a gift from a former admirer who collected art.” My mother sounded unusually demure. “You know Paul Wonner?”

  Garrett nodded, studying the painting. “I had a friend who was an art historian. She taught me all about the abstract impressionists, such as Wonner. It was her favorite style.”

  I figured this had to be a former sub of his and made a mental note to ask him about this one later in the evening. I could already envision another book featuring an art historian, sex in assorted museums, trips to Paris…I really needed to focus.

  “I’m impressed, Garrett.” She turned to me, her mouth twisted in a funny smile. “How exactly did a man like you end up with my Alexandra?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.” I headed over to the connecting dining room and plopped my purse down on the claw-footed Chippendale table.

  “Well, after your marriage to that dirtbag musician, I’ve worried about your taste in men, Alexandra. You need a man to uplift you. You never saw me running around with men below my station.”

  I glared at her. “You have a station? You were the daughter of a grocery store owner from the Seventh Ward.”

  “I raised myself up from my humble beginnings,” she cooed, smiling back at Garrett.

  “Not from where I’m standing,” I quipped.

  “Mrs. Palmer,” Garrett jumped in, giving me a sour frown. “We should see to your garage door. Lexie mentioned something about your needing to go somewhere.”

  “Please call me Lily, Garrett.” She ran her hands down her revealing dress. “Yes, I’m meeting a friend for drinks.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “What’s this one’s name?”

  My mother shot me an impatient smirk. “Charles Langerly, owner of the Langerly Restaurant on St. Charles Avenue.”

  “What are you going to do now, Mom, collect recipes?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” She raised her nose in the air, reminding me of a rat terrier.

  “Just that every new man always coincides with a new collection of things. There was Elliot, the jeweler. Then Dan, the clothes buyer for a major department store who improved your wardrobe. Steve the art collector.” I motioned to the Wonner painting. “Mark the plastic surgeon.” I did not bother to remind her of his contributions.

  “That’s enough, young lady.” She pivoted on her high heels to Garrett. “The garage is this way.” Ignoring me, she marched past me and into the kitchen.

  Garrett came up to me and took my elbow. “Play nice,” he murmured.

  “Not with her,” I grumbled, and allowed him to escort me into the kitchen.

  After showing Garrett through the open kitchen with her updated Viking appliances, and into the cypress-paneled den with its extra wide plasma television and high-tech media system, we walked into the rear of the home and to the one-car garage that housed my mother’s prized red 1987 Mercedes-Benz 560SL roadster.

  “Wow, haven’t seen one of these in a while,” Garrett admitted, studying the perfectly preserved car.

  “Lyle, the antique car dealer,” I proclaimed.

  My mother nervous laughter echoed about the garage. “Really, Alexandra, what kind of impression are you trying to give Garrett about me?”

  “A bad one,” I flatly answered.

  Garrett clapped his hands together. “Let me see if I can find the problem.” He went to the console for the garage door in the middle of the low-hanging ceiling and pulled off the plastic housing over the motor.

  While Garrett was preoccupied, my mother eased up to my side. “Where in the hell did you find him?” Her eyes were going over the curve of his round backside like a praying mantis sizing up a mate. “He’s gorgeous.”

  “Mom, do you think you can turn down your hormones, for once?”

  She elbowed me. “Come on, Alexandra. Tell me about him…and you.”

  I rubbed my arm where her bony elbow had poked me. “No. Nothing you need to know. We’re seeing each other.”

  “Have you slept with him?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Jesus, are you drunk?”

  Garrett glanced over his shoulder at us. I thought he wanted to make sure we weren’t killing each other.

  “No, I’m not drunk. If you haven’t slept with him, do it soon…and you’d better be worth the wait.” My mother motioned to him with a bejeweled hand. “One thing I know is men, and that man gets what he wants. You can tell by the way he handles himself. He’s a thinker.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shifted
her round, brown eyes to me. “He’s plotting out his next move, his next words. A man like that is always thinking ahead.”

  I didn’t bother to tell her how right she was.

  “I found your problem,” Garrett announced. “You have a loose wire.” He wiggled his hand inside the gearbox and the garage door began to open.

  My mother happily clapped her hands. “Thank God.”

  Garrett replaced the plastic housing over the motor, and wiping his hands together came back to my side. “Not terribly complicated.”

  “Another reason why a woman always needs a man around,” Lily declared, elbowing me once more.

  I just shook my head and went back inside the house.

  Once I had collected my purse, Garrett and I headed to the front door as my mother followed us.

  “Make sure you come back for a visit, Garrett, so we can have a nice long chat.”

  I gave my mother an “ain’t gonna happen” stare.

  She ignored me, naturally. “It was so nice meeting you.” She then reached out for his hand. I expected him to pull away from her, but instead he took her hand and gave it a friendly shake.

  I found the behavior somewhat unsettling. Why was my mother given the normal treatment, while I was seen as the one carrying some sort of contagious disease?

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lily.” He sounded as fake as she did. “I look forward to our meeting again.”

  “Anytime, Garrett.” Lily then opened the front door and showed us out.

  On the way back to his car I kept sneaking side-glances at his profile, searching for some hint about what he was thinking.

  “After five minutes with your mother, I can see why you are the way you are,” he commented, opening my car door.

  “You were exceptionally polite. I was beginning to think the real you had been abducted by aliens.” I glanced back at the bungalow home before I slipped into the car. “She’ll be impossible now, having met you.” I took my seat.

  He pulled my seat belt over my shoulder, leaning across me to buckle it. “Or she’ll leave you alone from now on, knowing you have a man to take care of you.”

  His face was inches from mine. I so wanted to kiss his lips, yet I refrained from giving into my impulse, knowing how he would react. Instead, I sat in my seat, waiting for him to do something. Seconds ticked by as he continued to hover inches from me.