by Monica May
I look up into her caring eyes as she continues to speak. “I will do everything in my ability to wipe this asshole’s mark off your beautiful body.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Devereaux,” I say, placing my hand over hers and squeezing in appreciation.
“Please call me Melinda. Mrs. Devereaux is my mother. I graduated before I got married and didn't want to bother changing my name on my license so this is what I’m stuck with. And don't consider me your doctor, consider me your friend. Anyone that is a friend of Jackson’s is a friend of mine.”
I look up at her with some concern. “Exactly how many friends does Jackson send your way?” Yeah, the insecure Sunny is coming out of me but I can’t help it. I really don't know this guy, and I need to know if he’s a fixer or if he’s really interested in me.
Melinda erupts in a deep belly laugh, which confuses me. She’s now waving her hand at me to wait since she can’t stop laughing. She finally pulls herself together wiping the tears of laughter from her face.
“Oh, honey, you have no idea how much my brother likes you, do you?”
I shyly look down into my lap clutching my hands together. “I am sorry to say I really don't know much about your brother. I literally ran into him when I interviewed for my job, and we have connected, but we have not had a lot of time to get to know each other.”
“Well, let me tell you this. Jackson has never, and when I say never, I mean, has NEVER sent someone to me to have a tattoo removed. I will go a bit further and tell you it has been over a year since I’ve seen Jackson interested in a woman, and I’m excited to see him come alive again.”
Looking up at her with big eyes, I say, “Really?” I was unsure if I was just another notch on his belt so to hear her say that gave me butterflies in my belly.
“Uh, really. For him to ask me to do this for you is big for him so know he has some interest in you.”
I can’t stop smiling. Melinda goes over all the details of how the procedure will work, how it will feel, and how many times it needs to be done, and I hear none of it. Instead, I keep hearing her say over and over that Jackson has to be interested in me.
“By that look on your face, I’m going to assume you did not hear a word I said other than Jackson likes you.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Laughing and shaking her head in confirmation, she says, “Yes, it is. But that’s okay. He’s a pretty good-looking guy so I’ll give you a pass on that. But only if you give me all the scoop on him. And I don't mean any gross stuff. Remember, my brother, but he does not tell me much, and for gawd’s sake, I’m his twin. I need to know what’s going on with him. Turn over and you can tell me everything while I work.”
I turn over on my belly to give her access to my hideous tattoo while I say, “Well, I have to admit, I really don't know much about him other than he keeps catching me when I fall.”
“Yeah, he’s always been a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
“We are going on a date after this appointment. And when I say date, I use that term very loosely. I’m not sure Jackson knows what a date is.”
“Let me guess. He is either taking you on his boat or to the shooting range.”
I turn my head back to her in surprise. “Is that an acceptable date down here?”
“I wouldn’t say for down here in general, but if you want to date or get to know Jackson Devereaux, then that’s what you are going to get.”
With that, she starts zapping at my tattoo. It takes about thirty minutes for her to complete the first session with five more secessions to go. The time passes quickly with her telling me some really cute stories of Jackson as a child. Once she is done, she uses her phone to snap a picture of my tattoo to show me the change.
Seeing the image makes me feel a little piece of what Rex destroyed in my soul has returned. It’s an amazing feeling. “Melinda,” I gasp, “You removed the words first?”
“Well, of course, I did. He’s not entitled to have a hold on you, Sunny, and you’re nobody’s property.”
I sit up quickly and wrap her in a hug.
“I could never thank you enough for this, and once I have some money, I want to repay you for this.”
“Oh no, ma’am, you will not pay me for this. This is what I do. I make a lot of money from the rich vain society of New Orleans, and I dedicate a certain percentage of that to cases like this. Not all are the same, but it gives me more gratification to remove this tattoo than it does to make Mrs. Robichoiux’s boobs three times too big when her husband is cheating on her with someone twenty years younger anyway. Now get dressed and I will meet you at the front desk so you can make the rest of your appointments.”
I start to tell her thank you, and she swats my words away with her hand and walks out of the room. I laugh out loud when I hear the nurse call, “Mrs. Robichoiux to the next available waiting room please.”
I look up and say a silent prayer in my head. Thank you, God for putting these wonderful people in my path.
When I walk out of the room and turn the corner heading to the counter, I see him. He literally makes my heart skip. He’s leaning on the counter with his ankles crossed and standing next to his sister smiling, laughing, and looking at her with such love. Before they realize I’m there, he pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head. She laughs and pushes him away not wanting to look too mushy with him.
Melinda sees me watching and calls me over.
“Come on, Sunny, come make the next five appointments with Dr. Pain,” she laughs.
“I have to admit, it didn’t hurt that bad.”
“Really?” she asks surprised.
“Maybe I just didn’t feel it as I was distracted by stories of Jackson and his teddy bear.” Jackson’s look of affection for his sister turns into daggers.
“You did not?”
“Oh, little brother, you may be bigger, but you always seem to forget I’m still the big sister. It’s my job to tell embarrassing stories of you as a child.”
“Melinda, you are five minutes older. I have told you time and time again that I let you out first because it was the gentlemanly thing to do.” He lets a small smile spread across his face.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, little brother.”
“Make her appointments so we can get the hell out of here. I hate doctors’ offices.”
“Want me to give you a shot?” she teases.
I make my appointments and say a quick goodbye to Melinda as Jackson pulls me out of the office by my hand. Once we’re out on the street, he turns to me. “Did I mention my sister was a twin and a pain in the ass?”
“Nope, you never mentioned your sister was a twin. And she is not a pain in the ass. She is super sweet in a very sassy way.”
“Oh, she is sassy alright. I have no clue how her husband can put up with her.”
“You are just acting like a brother. I can see why he puts up with her. She is gorgeous.”
“Whatever. You ready to go to the shooting range?”
“As ready as I will ever be,” I say, feeling my stomach turn into knots.
Chapter 13
Sunny
We arrive at our destination. Looking to the right, I see the large sign that reads, “Honey Island Swamp Shooting Range.” The logo alongside the sign is some type of creature that looks almost like a mossy big foot. I look over to Jackson with a questioning look while pointing to the sign.
“Okay, what is the animal on there? And please don't say it’s a voodoo thing because I have had all the voodoo I can handle for one week.”
“Ha, no, it’s not voodoo. Legend has it there’s a swamp monster out here. Same shit you hear across the country about bigfoot, but this one is a swamp monster.”
He says this so nonchalantly while getting out of the Jeep. Before I take his hand to exit the car, I ask, “Well, is it for real?”
“Come on, Sunny, get out of the Jeep,” he says, holding his hand out for me. His jaw tightens in annoyance wi
th my question.
“What happened to you will have patience with me?” I ask.
“You’re asking silly questions trying to avoid coming inside.”
“No, I’m not. I just want to make sure I’m going to come out alive. Now is there a swamp thing in there or what?”
“Woman, you are testing my patience. No, there’s no swamp thing. And if there is one, I will shoot it!”
“My hero,” I say, taking his hand to step out of the Jeep.
We walk toward the structure, which appears to be a large patio nearby. Jackson has a big black bag swung over his back. The area appears deserted until a man pokes his head out of a little office at the end of the row.
“Hey, man, is that you, Jackson?”
“Yeah, it’s me, old man,” he yells back.
An older man maybe in his late sixties walks out. He’s just as tall as Jackson and looks remarkably similar but with grey hair and a smaller muscle build. The man walks up to him as Jackson lets go of my hand wrapping him in a hug.
“Hey, Pops, sorry I haven’t been here in a while. Been busy working.”
Pops eyes me while Jackson is speaking. “Is it safe to say this pretty little thing works with you?”
“Watch your manners, Pops. This is Sunny, and yes, she’s a friend and we work together.”
“Hum, if you say so, Jackson.” Pops holds his hand out to mine. I give it to him thinking he will shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sunny, I’m Jackson’s old man,” he says as he kisses the top of my hand. “If my son doesn’t treat you right, give me a call,” he says playfully with a wink and a smile.
“Pops don't make me call Ma and have her come out here and whip your ass.”
The older and still very handsome version of Jackson winks again at me as he walks back to his office and yells over his shoulder, “Pick a lane, son, any lane. You’re the first person I’ve seen all day.” With that, his father walks away and leaves us alone.
“Your dad is a sweet man.”
“He’s nothing but a dirty old man. My mom keeps his ass in check. He really means no harm.”
“None taken. It’s amazing how much all of you look alike.”
“Who?”
“Who? You, your sister, and your dad.”
“Enough gabbing, woman, let’s get shooting.”
Jackson puts his bag on the table and lays out all the guns, targets, and ammunition. I feel my blood pressure spike seeing the gun on the table. It brings me back to the clubhouse and how carelessly the guys would handle their guns, leaving them sitting out on the bar while they drank or on the table when they ate.
“I see I’m losing you, Sunny. Stay with me and listen to what I’m saying.”
He goes on about the safety of the gun, how to load it, unload it, and what we are going to shoot at. He puts a piece of paper on a clip and hits the button, which sends it flying down the lane to the end of the row. Turning to me, he puts his hands on my shoulders, “I’m going to show you how to do it. Pay attention to my stance, and then you will shoot. Stay right here, and you’ll be able to see me and stay in the safety zone.”
He puts a pair of headphones for ear protection on my head, hands me safety glasses, and turns to the target. Everything about him is so sexy. I take him in slowly while he sets his stance. He has on a pair of jeans that should be illegal. They are hung low on his hips with the roundness of his perfect ass being hugged by the fabric. His black T-shirt hides nothing. It’s a fitted shirt that highlights every muscle he has. His legs are spread wide and his muscular arms are extended. He is focused and serious as he eyes the target. The loud bang of the gun shakes me out of my ogling. He pulls the trigger over and over with the muscles in his arms and face flinching with each shot. It’s so Goddamn hot to watch him, my fear of guns doesn’t even register. Everything about him makes me feel safe yet I don't even know why. “He’s your tiger, Sunny,” I hear the Voodoo Queen’s voice in my head.
Jackson empties his gun, and then he presses the button to return his target. He grabs the paper and throws it on the table without inspecting it. I pick it up to check it out.
“Wow, every shot hit the two middle circles.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been here in a while. I need practice.”
“Practice, I’m not sure I will be able to even hit the paper.”
“Yes, you will.”
“How do you know?” I say, stepping toward him and keeping eye contact. How can he be so confident? He has no clue how bad my aim is. As a kid, I could never hit any of the carnival targets—not in darts, toss games, shooting games, or balloon throwing.
“Follow my instructions and you will do it. Understand?”
I have to admit, I’m a bit intimidated now. There is not one ounce of play in him at the moment. Get a grip on yourself. We are at a gun range, and this is no place for play.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I let out a loud breath.
“This is a Beretta Px4 Storm Subcompact. It’s a perfect pocket pistol for a woman. It’s small enough for you to fully control, and it can be set for single or double action trigger.”
“Oh, I think single is all I can handle right now.”
“Yeah, babe, you are correct. We’re going to start on single, but you will finish with double when I’m done with you, along with your getting a concealed weapons permit. Put your safety glasses back on and stand where I was. I’m going to stand behind you and guide you. Let me do the work the first time so you can feel of the power.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Feeling his heat behind me, I relax and let him take control. Who am I kidding? He has been in control from the moment I ran into him. He uses his foot to spread my legs to the desired shooting position. His feet are then placed on the outside of mine. His hard muscular body presses up against my back. His heat and manly scent is driving me crazy and my heart starts to race. I feel his grasp around my arm as he lifts it. His hot breath is in my ear. “Hold the gun, babe, but don't put your finger in the trigger yet, just hold it.” I do as I’m told. He squats behind me for a moment eyeing up the target from my point of view.
“On the count of three, I’m going to pull the trigger, and we’ll fire it ten times. Ready?”
I shake my head yes as words are not formable due to the sexual tension I’m feeling right now.
“One, two, three,” he says, and the gun goes off. Bang, bang, bang, ten times. The vibration isn’t as bad as I imagined with very little kick. I kept my eye on the target while I pulled the trigger. The gun stops and I don't move enjoying his body up against mine.
“You good, Sunny?”
“That was amazing. Can I try pulling the trigger alone?”
“That’s what we’re here for, babe,” I hear as he steps away, and I feel the loss of his heat.
I turn in panic. “But I still need you to stand behind me. I’m not sure I’m that ready yet.”
“Just stepping away to reload the gun, babe.”
He loads the gun with a knowing grin on his face. “You will never have to beg me to be pressed up against your backside, Sunny.”
We spend about an hour at the range. I am shocked at how fun and liberating it is. Jackson is patient and knowledgeable. I learned so much today. He has talked me into signing up for classes to get my concealed weapons permit. But before we leave, he makes me try one last round ‘all alone!’
“You can do it, Sunny. I wouldn’t allow you to do it if I didn’t know you could do it. If you are going to carry a concealed weapon, you have to have confidence in your ability.”
I take a deep breath knowing he’s right, not only about the gun but also about my life. I have to be confident in my abilities, my strengths, and myself. I load the gun on my own and set my stance. Eyeing the target, I pull the trigger holding it in place and allowing it to unload the ten rounds. I feel Jackson come up behind me hitting the button to return the target.
“Damn, girl, I better not piss you off,” he says,
holding the target up to me. All ten rounds made it in the middle three rings.
“I want to hit only the inner two rings next time,” I say and pout.
“Getting a bit competitive, are we?”
“I like to win. Is that wrong?”
“No, not at all. Just don't expect to beat me at shooting, babe.”
He closes the space between us wrapping his arms around my waist and looking down at me.
“You did an excellent job for a first-time shooter. Did you work up an appetite?”
“I did,” I say, more breathless than intended.
“Seafood or burgers?” he asks, confusing me, as I did not have food on my mind at all.
“Oh, am I hungry? Yes, a little,” I say, looking up into his glassy blue eyes.
“Yeah, you are going to test my patience, alright,” he groans. “Let’s get out of here and get some food,” he says, smacking me hard on my ass.
Back in the city, we stop at a mom and pop shop that sells the most amazing fried seafood. We spend another hour or two just talking. I tell him about my dreams of going to college and becoming a nurse.
“Have you applied for grants yet?”
I chuckle thinking of how crazy things have been since I moved here. “I keep saying I have to do that but I have not.”
“I can help you with that,” he says sincerely.
“Oh yeah. Are you an expert at that or something?”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that. At the end of my military stint, I worked as a recruiter. Everyone gets the GI bill, but sometimes it’s not enough, so I did a lot of research to help my guys find alternative ways to make their dreams happen. I’ll look into grants for you and let you know what I find.”
My heart swells with appreciation. I smile up at him. “Thank you, Jackson, that’s really sweet of you to offer, and I have to admit, I have no clue what I’m doing so your advice is welcomed.”
“Don't mention it, babe, I got this shit under control. We missed the spring registration, but we can get the paperwork going for the summer session. That will give you plenty of time to choose where you want to go and how we can get it paid for.”
