Jack & Diane

by Hampton, Lena

  His voice interrupted her thoughts. “The name’s Jack by the way.”

  “Diane.”

  He chuckled, “Jack and Diane.”

  “Yes, Jack and Diane,” she said slowly, not understanding what was humorous about their names.

  “Like the song.”

  She just looked at him trying to figure out what he was talking about. “Sorry. No clue what song you’re talking about,” she said shaking her head.

  “John Mellencamp.”

  “Aahhh,” she’d heard of him but wasn’t familiar with the song. The car went silent. That was just fine with her.

  “Do you go to IU?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your major?”

  “I’m in law school.”

  Diane picked up his iPod and started looking through it. There were many names she did not recognize, probably country artists and some surprising ones. Under the playlist “soul” were artists like Ray Charles, Otis Redding and Stevie Wonder. There were also playlists for classical music and rap. Curiosity really kicked in when she saw “guilty pleasures” it included artist from N*SYNC and Britney Spears, to the Jonas Brothers. Even more confused by her rescuer she glanced over at him. That one dimple in his right cheek had made an appearance again.

  “If I show you mine you have to show me yours.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked throwing her guard back up.

  “A person’s iPod is like their diary. It’s a window into their souls. Since you’ve seen mine I should get to see yours.”

  She laughed. The window to his soul was like an M. C. Escher painting. “It would be dangerous for you to look at it while driving. Anyway, my collection isn’t as…” her voice trailed off trying to think of a polite word.

  “Eclectic.”

  “I was going to say weirdly random, but we’ll go with eclectic.”

  “I love music of all kinds. I was a musician.”

  She did not trust people she could not read and he was like Egyptian hieroglyphics before the Rosetta Stone was found. He was handsome, if you went for deep smooth voices, clear blue eyes, stubble and a dimple type. That had never been what floated her boat and she was trying to remind herself of that fact but that dang dimple kept distracting her. Each time he spoke it made every nerve in her body come alive. And it still felt like his hands were on her body helping her into the truck. Maybe she should have stayed in the car and froze.

  “Diane?”

  “Yes Jack?”

  “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uneasy?”

  “Why do you think I’m uneasy?”

  “You’ve had one hand on the door the entire time you’ve been in the truck with me.”

  She didn’t think he had noticed. In her mind she was prepared to throw herself from the fifty foot high truck at the first sign of crazy. It was difficult but she moved her hand onto her lap. “Well, Indiana was never part of the confederacy.”

  “Come again?” he requested confused.

  “Your front vanity plate. ” She shook her head. “Nevermind.”

  “Please tell me. I really want to know.”

  “Since Indiana was never part of the confederacy, when I see the confederate flag, especially here, I don’t think “black friendly”. To me it’s a symbol celebrating the not so glorious days of the South, complete with slavery. When you pulled up, friendly and helpful weren’t the first things to cross my mind.”

  His eyebrows furrowed and an unpleasant look crossed his face. The truck slowed down. Without a word he hopped out and went to the truck bed. Then he walked towards her door. She stopped breathing and her heart was racing. She unfastened her seat-belt and slipped her hand into the pocket where the phone was set to call the police. She was ready to climb over the armrest to escape out of his door, but he kept walking. He bent down, the front of the truck blocking him from her view. Moments later she heard the driver side door open.

  “The flag doesn’t mean those things to me. The plate was a party symbol left over from my misspent youth when I thought I was Bo Duke. I had actually forgotten it was there.” He reached it out to her. “I am really, really sorry. I never had any bad intentions. I would never want to do you any harm. I hope you accept my apology.”

  It seemed like he was holding his breath waiting for her to respond. She looked from him to the plate. His apology over a vanity plate held more sincerity than Dr. Insincere had for cheating. Hesitantly she took the plate from him. He continued to look at her expectantly.

  “What do you want me to do with this,” she asked him. To herself she mumbled, “This is the weirdest gift I’ve ever received.”

  “Whatever you want. Toss it out the window. Keep it. Burn it. Whatever makes you happy. I want you to be happy. Do you forgive me?”

  She searched his eyes. He was waiting on her answer as if it was life or death. Boy, were his eyes beautiful. They were like the sun reflecting off the Caribbean Ocean. She wanted to go swimming in them. Wait a second. She’s not supposed to be swimming in his eyes right now. Just because he removed the plate doesn’t mean he’s not some kook trying to lull her into a false sense of safety before dropping her in a hole and giving her lotion to keep her skin moisturized like in Silence of the Lambs.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Your freedom of speech gives you the right to put whatever you want on the front of your truck.” That didn’t seem to appease him. “However, you removing it is greatly appreciated,” she added.

  He smiled a lopsided smile that deepened the dimple on his right cheek. “Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you for stopping and especially for waiting. I can pay you for your trouble if you stop me at a gas station and get some cash from the ATM.”

  “Your money is no good here, but if you grab a bite to eat with me I’ll consider that payment. You hungry?”

  With all the stuff that had been going on she did not realize that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The refrigerator at the apartment was empty because they thought it would be full of thanksgiving care packages. What could it hurt? Maybe she’d have leftovers for tomorrow since everything would be closed on campus and she did not have a car to go anywhere else.

  “Okay, but it’s my treat. I owe you.”

  “Sorry, my mother told me to never let a lady pay for a date.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Date?”

  “Well…I…you know what I meant,” he said nervously.

  “No I don’t. That’s why I asked you. Do you see this impromptu dinner as a date?”

  “Do you want to be a trial lawyer that makes the witness breakdown in tears and confess on the stand?”

  “No, I want to practice contract law. Nice attempt to change the subject, but I’m still expecting an answer to my question. Do you think this dinner is a date?”

  He let out a quick laugh that was music to her. “Well Nancy Grace, I did kinda ask you out and you said yes. So I guess yes, this could be considered a date.”

  “I didn’t know I was accepting a date with you. I thought we were just ‘grabbing a bite’. A date is slightly deeper than that. At any rate, I said yes because I don’t have any food at my apartment and I won’t have transportation to get any until I can get my car towed and fixed.”

  “Don’t worry about getting your car towed. I’ll take care of it for you. I can look at it on Friday.”

  She just looked at him. She was so confused about what was going on. What was his motivation? It’s one thing to stop and offer help, but he was truly going above and beyond. She was wondering if this was just novelty to him. A country boy like him probably had never been with a black girl and he saw this as his opportunity.

  When he called it a date she actually felt some excitement followed quickly by forced guilt. She had just broken off her engagement. Dr. Insincere hadn’t crossed her mind since Jack’s blue eyes peered through her window. Jack intrigued her.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

  “They’re more expensi
ve than a penny.”

  “What’s your price?”

  “I’ll share my thoughts with you if you’ll share what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

  “Never mind, that’s too expensive for me,” she smiled. “Do you think I’m pretty or were you just using a colloquialism?” The question was asked out of curiosity, not vanity.

  “I don’t go on dates with women that aren’t pretty.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question since we’re not going on a date,” she smiled then bit her lips when she realized she was flirting with him.

  “Tonight we’re just grabbing a bite to eat. But by the end of dinner you may be asking me out,” he said with a wink. They’d reached Bloomington and he pulled into the parking lot of a chain bar and grill. “Is this place okay?” he asked.

  She nodded and unlatched her seat belt.

  “Wait a second and I’ll be around to open the door and help you out.”

  The hostess escorted them to their table. He took his hat off and a mullet fell out. Her eyes widened when she saw it. She tried not to stare and tried to suppress a laugh by biting her lips. Just when she thought he wasn’t a stereotypical hick, along came a mullet.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing is nothing. It’s the hair, right?”

  A giggle escaped her mouth before she could clasp her hand over it. “I’m sorry. It’s just, well, I’m sorry,” she said through laughs. “I’m so sorry, I think it’s out of my system now.”

  “No need to be sorry. I’ve got a mullet. That’s pretty darn amusing to everyone but my mother who thinks it’s illegal.”

  Laughter exploded from her mouth again. It had been a long day and her silly side began to show when she was tired. Normally a person’s hair choice was not this funny, but this was her first time she’d seen a mullet up close. It was like she was at a museum looking at the endangered mullet exhibit. He put his old worn ball cap back on and she felt bad. Here she was laughing at him when he’d been so nice. That sobering thought made her reach out and touch his hand.

  “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to laugh.”

  He looked at her hand on his. His hand was warm. He wondered if all her skin was this soft and smooth. She wanted to take hold of his hand and not let go. The thought made her pull her hand away quickly and set it on her lap. She could still feel the warmth of his touch.

  His dimple appeared. “It’s okay to laugh. That’s what you’re supposed to do. I lost a bet and my buddy thought this would be funny.”

  She laughed. “He’s not really your friend.”

  “Oh, I’ve made him do worse on a lost bet.”

  “Impossible!” she said on a laugh.

  He was quite handsome. His deep voice made her feel something quite inappropriate each time he spoke. He made her laugh. He was generous. As long as the day had been already she wouldn’t mind it being longer because she did not want their time together to end. She was really enjoying spending time with him. This thought scared her. Less than an hour ago she was certain he was a racist country boy. She now refuted the racist part but the verdict was still out on the other.

  “Can I see your iPod?” he asked interrupting her thoughts. “Remember, it’s only fair since you’ve seen mine and I’m not driving anymore.”

  Hesitantly she pulled it out of her purse and handed it over to him. He was right, music preferences are like a window into the soul. She wasn’t comfortable with him seeing hers.

  He began reading some of the artists and her playlists. He read some of the names aloud, “Adele, Anthony Hamilton, Jill Scott, James Morrison, Stevie Wonder, Robin Thicke, Maroon 5…”

  As he read the names she started to wonder if she secretly had a thing for white boys. So secret that she did not even realize it until this moment, sitting across from a pair of blue eyes she was lost in.

  “No rap or Hip Hop?”

  “Being black doesn’t mandate me to listen to certain kinds of music,” she said defensively.

  “No it doesn’t, but being under sixty does. Even my parents listen to some. Heck, even my grandma does.”

  “You get the Jo Bros off of your iPod before you judge me.” She gently ripped her player out his hands.

  “I wasn’t judging. I was just curious.” He said seriously.

  “I listen to some if it’s on the radio, but I’m not a big enough fan to buy any. If you must know, my mother didn’t allow such “base level music” influencing her children. I never really listened to it. I’m more a top forty with some influence from my daddy’s taste for soul and jazz.”

  “What about country music? You ever listen to it?”

  She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Would it be hypocritical to say I don’t listen to that because I’m black?” They both laughed.

  “I bet you I can make a country music fan out of you.”

  “If I lose will I have to grow a mullet?” she said and giggled. He threw a french fry at her as he smiled.

  ♥♥♥

  Diane walked into the front door of her apartment. She looked at the clock on the microwave in her kitchenette. It was quite late. She had enjoyed talking with Jack more than she’d expected to and they sat in the booth long after their meal was done. Though she was tired she wanted to feel hot lavender scented water wash away the stress of the day.

  An hour later Diane lay in bed and closed her eyes to pray. It had been an eventful day, but she felt blessed that she had made it home safe and sound. She prayed that she would come to forgive the unkind doctor and that her relationship with her mother would be better. Before she said amen, she thanked God for sending Jack to rescue her, even if he was totally not who she asked for.

  Despite herself, Diane couldn’t fall asleep. Thoughts of Jack kept popping in her head. She’d really enjoyed their dinner together. It was relaxed and easy. They’d talked and laugh until it was almost time for the restaurant to close down. She tried to dismiss it as the rebound effect. The rebound effect is like Cupid’s arrow. The first guy you meet after a breakup is always far more perfect in light of the transgressions of your recent ex. Each time she tried to dismiss Jack for all the reasons he was wrong for her, she would think about his dimple, and the way his deep voice tickled her ears, or the way his blue eyes looked at her like she was the prize bike for selling the most Boy Scout popcorn. Her attraction was beyond the physical, he was a gentleman too. Eventually she drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Jack still dancing through her dreams.

  ♥♥♥

  social network:

  Jack Sloan Status: Thank God for foreign cars!

  Comments:

  Cooper Smith: Your father would shoot you if he heard you say that.

  Jack Sloan: Good thing he doesn’t get online.

  Diane Clark Status: Don’t judge a book by its cover, or its mullet.

  Comments:

  Rebecca Moore: OMG mullets are always guilty as charged!

  Andre Stephens: what’s wrong with a mullet? I thought it would fast track me to partner.

  Ne’Kesha Townsend: Who has a mullet in Gary?

  Diane Clark: I’m not in Gary. I’m at school. Apparently Andre has a mullet in Gary.

  Ne’Kesha Townsend: I thought it was called a shag on black folks.

  Diane Clark Relationship Status: Single

  Comments:

  Ryan Clark: Please come home so I can have some peace. I can’t do this holiday alone. All I’ve heard is how you hung up on mom. Save me.

  Amara Adams: Don’t listen to him. As usual he’s only thinking of himself.

  Noli Freeman: OMG! What happened Princess Di? The engagement’s off? I can’t believe it.

  Ryan Clark: Amara, there’s someone else I think about constantly.

  Amara Adams: Whatever Ryan Clark.

  Diane Clark: @Noli Yes the engagement is off. @Ryan who are you constantly thinking about? I didn’t hang up on mom, my phone died.

  35 MORE COMME
NTS

  Chapter 3

  Early Thanksgiving evening there was a knock on Diane’s door. She paused the TV. A spontaneous smile lit up her face when she saw Jack standing in the hallway with jeans that fit snug on his muscular thighs.

  “Hello, Jack.”

  His crooked smile appeared slow and easy, but he was rendered speechless as his eyes perused her. She was wearing fuzzy knee socks, shorts and a t-shirt. The shorts were itty, bitty, displaying her long legs. From firm smooth thighs to stripe sock clad calves. Her t-shirt was stretched across her round, bra free breast with nipples hardened by the cold outside air that met her when she opened the door.

  “Um…hi,” was all he could manage from his hormonal brain.

  Diane looked down then quickly she crossed her arms over her chest. That didn’t help him focus any better because all that did was enhance the cleavage peeking out of the V of her t-shirt.

  “It’s Thanksgiving. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Thanksgiving,” he repeated nodding his head. She must think he was a stupid horn-dog with the way he was talking and acting. He looked into her eyes to help him focus and get the blood flowing back to his brain. “I didn’t want you to miss out on the holiday so I brought you some food.” He stretched his arms out to hand the bags to her.

  She opened the door wider instead of taking them. “Would you like to join me?”

  He wished she was more readable, but she held her thoughts close to her vest. Was she glad to see him or ready to call the police and get a restraining order. So far none of his normal charms had worked. She was all he could think about but there was no clue if she’d even given him a second thought. She was nice to him, no she was polite to him, but nothing beyond that. He could not tell if she was just being polite or if she really wanted him to join her.

  “I didn’t call ahead or anything. I wasn’t inviting myself over. I just didn’t want you to be the only person in the country not eating a good meal today. I’ll just set it in the kitchen and be on my way.”