"Meri? Meri?"
They were both kneeling on the bed, his massive hands cupping her tear ravaged face as his eyes searched her eyes to get her attention. "Have you heard anything I've said?"
She slowly shook her head, speechless at that moment as she stared into his eyes, knowing that, what she might have to do, could turn him against her. She'd never told him about that part of her past. About being a Chicago gang member. After all, by the time they were in love and working out a life together, her mother had moved from that part of the city to Cicero, a clean cut area of Chicago mostly populated by whites, practically gang free - back in the day, that is. She could have gone back home, but she had met Derrick by then and a whole new life had begun.
"I said ... I will do everything in my power to make this right. I need you to trust me and believe that I would never let anyone, hurt you, or our family. But it will be within the law, we will not - take the law into our own hands, okay?"
She swallowed nervously and slowly nodded her head, okay. Knowing that if, and when, she found where Margaret Wheeler lived - there would be no more threat. She knew that she had other options, after all, there were her cousins. If she told them what was going on and supplied Margaret Wheelers address, then too - no more threat. She hoped to god her husband really could handle it his way, because if not.
"Meri ... okay? You'll leave this with me, right?"
She sniffed, nodded and then answered her husband. "Right ... I'll leave it with you."
* * *
Shawn looked over at Sylvia with a smile on his face and a lifted brow, "I think my wife is having a good ol'time, is that right wife?"
Smiling Sylvia turned to her husband, who was driving once again, "Yes, your wife is having a very nice time, thank you for this."
"And you're not getting tired yet? Because if you are, I can ring them real quick and let them know, we can do this another night."
"No way! I'm fine. Dinner was great, fantastic food. I met two pretty well known authors and their spouses. I met Lowell & Mercy James. Now ... we're actually going back to their house, so we can talk some more, I can't believe they invited us over. And you think I'm giving that up to go home? No way! I already feel my writing juices rejuvenating and starting to flow."
"Emmm, that sounds, sss, oooh."
"Just cease with Mr. nasty - Mr. Styles." She simpered, shaking her head at him.
Shawn chuckled. "Oookay, for now I will. Glad its working to your benefit, you sure weren't saying much at dinner."
"Shawn, I didn't know anyone. Besides, it was more important to listen and learn. Now that the other two couples are gone, we get them all to ourselves, they are so nice. I think Mercy James likes me. She kept looking at me smiling, including me in on the discussion as if she were pitching to me as well."
"That's because she knows you're a writer. Now, she's going to pick your brain, see how good your ideas - I think she has her eye on you."
"Oh Shawn! I hope so! I still hate that I didn't bring any of my work. Shawn - you should have told me to bring something!" She fussed whimpering a bit.
Laughing Shawn shook his head, "Blame me - it's all my fault. But hey, I told you where we were going."
"I know - but I was so nervous about it, I wasn't thinking straight."
"Well don't worry about it now, let's just go in there and enjoy ourselves." He stated pulling up to their winding drive way.
"Honey wait for them to let them in, I'm gonna run upstairs, check on the kids and get out'ah these clothes. When they get in, send Sylvia up as well. I finally get to clear out the preggie section of my closet - yes!" Mercy James was cheesing, cheering and doing a little shimmy dance as she made her way to the stairs.
"Hey! Not so fast, you might wanna hold on to a few." Lowell joked, grabbing his crotch Michael Jackson style, flexing his brows and looking up the stairs at her lustfully.
Laughing, Mercy called down to him, "Man hush yo'mouth you dirty ol'lech! Don't start acting like that with them here! You better behave yourself! Our baby making days are over, ain't no'mo this way comin'." She stated emphatically rushing up the stairs.
"Hey, yo'baby making days might be over, but mine aren't, I'm still in tact, my magazines full."
Mercy stopped at the top of the stairs, peering down at him, "I'll deal with you later," She pursed her lips and threatened.
"Oh great, I'm on a promise tonight! I'm holding you to it." He warned still at the bottom of the steps.
"I know! Now would you let me go and change, and make sure you watch for them please!" She screeched back through the house.
"Ah yeah, now that our baby making days are over, I'm reduced to playing the humble butler!" He shouted up.
She ran back to the top of the stairs to inform him, "Forget it dear, you suck at humble - oh, they're here, they're pulling up and parking now, open the door - make sure you send Sylvia up here." she informed him having spotted their head lights shine in the window and then turn off. She had her shoes in her hands, the back of the dress laying open as she ran to their bedroom quickly shucking off clothing as she went.
Heading for the door, Lowell loosened his tie and began taking off his dinner jacket, mumbling, "I know I know - go get changed woman!" reaching for the door he opened it just as the McPherson's were approaching. There home in LA was not big enough to be considered a mansion, but it was certainly impressive. With them going out of the country twice a year, they didn't want an over-sized mansion and grounds to care for. Their property needed to accommodate their size family with quick work of the gardens in the front and back. That property fit the bill exactly.
Smiling brightly, Lowell greeted them once again that evening, "Glad to see you made it, come on in, hand me your wrap missus; your jacket there good-man; I'm practicing you see, for a new role here, come butler, come cook, come gardener, come maintenance man. That's me, I do it all."
Shawn laughed agreeing, "Nice to hear that I'm not alone!"
"You too? Bloody hell, how do they do it?!"
"Shawn!" Sylvia gasped, although she saw the humor in the situation.
"Mr. Law - I hear you down there, don't start! Send Sylvia up here please!" Mercy James yelled from the top of the stairs again. Lowell paused, looking towards the stairs and then back at the grinning couple. "Mr Law! Sylvia, let me ask you, when you hear the name law, what does that say to you? Does that not strike fear into you? Caution? Trepidation? Wouldn't a name like that make you careful in how you treat it?"
Smiling Sylvia flashed him pearly white teeth and answered, "I guess it depends on whose side of the law you're on? Maybe?"
"Exactly! I can tell you now, she who must be obeyed is not on my side. Breaks the law, everyday!"
"Breaks the law everyday?" Mercy came up behind him, parroting his words mockingly, "You always playing the victim, you need to stop - because you know doggone well it ain't even like that here!" Mercy stood with her hands on her hips, "And how come you didn't send her up the stairs like I asked you to?"
"Bloody hell woman, she just walked in the door." He turned to Sylvia, "My wife wants you upstairs." Then turned back to his grinning wife, "Anything else from your humble servant?"
"Yes, fix me a whiskey sour, and Sylvia a nice glass of Guinness stout."
"Guinness stout?!" Shawn and Sylvia both exclaimed simultaneously.
"She can only have one, its good for the blood, full of iron, so if you're going to have a bit to drink, that would be the drink. Full of the good stuff. In England, some pregnant women low in iron drink at least one glass a day. Come on Sylvia, follow me up. Honey, fix our drinks! Shawn I'll bring you down something more comfortable to wear. Mr Law hang up that dinner jacket, I know you, don't lay it down to get creased, I'll bring you down something to change into as well." She went on as Sylvia followed her up the stairs, looking back at a grinning Shawn. He threw her a kiss and then turned to look at Lowell James, "Whew - is she always like that?"
"Yes she is!" He grumbled
walking towards his game room with Shawn right on his tale. "It's a good thing I have a job, or she wouldn't know me from the kids."
Shawn cracked up laughing, "Hey, I've seen her at other times, she loves you though."
Lowell couldn't keep the face up, started laughing, "Yeah she does, she loves me to bits. I have to let her think she's in charge, bossing me around, so she can get it all out of her system, this way she can burn off all of that energy before bedtime, otherwise, I have to tie her to the bed at night to keep her in it." He joked walking into the game room. "How's about a few games of pool? Wanna play couples?"
"Oh I'd love to, my wife's pretty good and I must warn you, so am I."
Lowell rubbed his hands together with a devilish grin, "Finally, real competition, this aught to be fun." He made his way behind the bar, pushed a button on the intercom to their bedroom upstairs. "Hurry up with them clothes woman!" And then turned to Shawn, "Prep that table Everett."
Walking to the pool table, Shawn thought to correct him on his name, "I ah, think we can move on from you calling me Everett, which is really my middle name. My first name, what family calls me, is Shawn."
"Shawn is it, thee Irish t'be sure, is that ro'it?" Lowell returned in a very heavy Irish brogue.
"That it be sir, that indeed." Both men laughed and then Lowell grew serious eying Shawn, "Now when thee wife comes down, only I be the one to speakin' thee Irish, it turns her on you see, none of that from you." He continued on, still with the brogue.
Shawn nodded laughing, "Hey, you're the boss - no turning on the bosses wife."
Lowell stood behind the bar, setting up the glasses for their drinks, "Will you be having a pint of the black stuff?"
"T'be sure, t'be sure, I'm partial to the black stuff, you see." Shawn winked as Lowell nodded knowingly. "Aye, the man's got taste; so tell me, how far along is she?"
Setting up the table, Shawn answered, "He's due in November."
"Oh, he, you already know the gender then?"
"Yep, I'm pretty sure; the wonders of modern technology, the scans show a boy so far."
Lowell chuckled saying, "Oh yes, the scans. I remember with one of our kids, the technician was showing us the scan and I yelled, oh yes - its a boy - and a fine boy at that. Then the technician corrected me, telling me, what I was pointing at was the umbilical cord, in fact, it turned out to be a girl. So careful how you interpret those scans."
"Oh my god, don't tell me that, I've got my heart set on a boy, we've already named him; Jesse James."
"Oooh, Jesse James, tempting fate a bit aren't you?"
"Actually, the name is after a best friend who died some years ago." Shawn went on to explain as Mercy entered the room with leisure clothing for them, "Here you go you two, you should be comfortable in those, we'll be down in a bit."
"Okay, I'll wait to pour your drinks, luv. Come giz'a'kiss."
She laughed low and raunchy, "No, you can wait - no sense in turning you on this soon, the night is still young." She teased her husband, who came back with, "Yeah, but unfortunately, I'm not."
Shawn cracked up laughing at them, as she turned to him next, "I have your wife going through my maternity clothes for any she likes, that way, she's not forced to buy any."
"Oh she'll like that, anything to save money, I don't doubt she'll take them all."
Upstairs, walking back into her bedroom, Mercy asked, "What do you think, any you like?"
"Are you kidding me, I like'em all! This is money I don't have to spend." Sylvia informed her right away.
Mercy laughed shaking her head, "That is close to what your husband just said when I told him!"
Sylvia made a face and then laughed at herself, "I'm sorry, but I just refuse to spend money I don't have to. And these clothes are sharp. I know doggone well, there are quite a few things in this pile there is no way I would have bought. Are you sure you wanna give me all of these?"
"Sylvia Styles ... take them clothes out of here girl, I don't never wanna see no more maternity nothin', you hear me!"
"Gladly, the only way you gone see these again, is on my back, I can promise you that now. Thank you so much. I'm putting this set on right now, get comfortable."
"That's exactly why you up here. Get - comfortable. Step right behind that changing screen, I'll put your clothes on a hanger for you, just pass them over to me."
"Okay, thanks." Sylvia returned, taking the light weight, jersey, maternity top and bottom with her. She couldn't wait to change into them and get out of her dress clothes.
"So how is this pregnancy going, pretty good?" Mercy asked, folding all of the clothing in half on the bed so she could put them in the two large garbage bags she brought up with her.
"So far so good, I can't complain."
"Everett taking good care of you?"
"Yes he is. He loves me being pregnant, if it were left up to him, he'd keep me this way."
"That sounds familiar, Mr Law, same thing."
Sylvia chuckled as she changed, "If you don't mind me asking you, why do you call him, Mr. Law?"
Mercy smiled, "It's a nickname. His grandfather's name was Law, naturally, so was his grandmother. They raised him for the first 4 to 5 years of his life and they told me, when he was little, he used to walk around with his chest puffed out saying, "I, Mr. Law!" - His cousins, aunts, most friends got used to calling him, Mr. Law and so I also call him Mr. Law. Trust me girl, it fits him because he believes he is a law unto himself and he has few friends, because he doesn't trust people that much, mainly men."
"He and Shawn should get along just fine."
"Shawn?"
"Oh, that's my husband's real name, Everett is his middle name." Sylvia answered coming out from behind the screen, feeling much more comfortable and asking, "Is he, from England?"
"Yes he is, he thinks he's lost his accent, I keep telling him, no way. He's a Yorkshiremen all right."
"A Yorkshiremen? What's the difference in a Yorkshiremen and an Englishmen?"
"Pride. No Yorkshiremen wants to be known as an Englishmen, they wish to be known only as a Yorkshiremen first and will defend that if anyone should call them differently."
Sylvia laughed, "Wow, I'll remember that."
"You know what, that looks good on you. Pregnancy suits you."
"Oh thank you. You know, I'd never admit this to Shawn, but - I love being pregnant. More so by him."
"Ohhh, you all in love with yo'man, I can see it in your eyes and he sure in love with you, I thought my husband touched me all the time. I think your Shawn has him beat." Mercy teased.
Sylvia smiled thinking about it, "He does, you know - before I met him, the last thing on my agenda was getting married and having more babies."
"So you have other kids?"
"Two, a daughter and a son, and - two grandsons."
"Really!? You don't look old enough to have grandkids."
"Well I do, two of them. So needless to say, I was done with the whole deal, my plans for the rest of my life, was to write."
"Ah yes, to write. Anything finished?"
"Yeah, I have one finished, but in all honesty, I don't rate it very high. So I've started another one."
"Good idea, never pause in writing. Doesn't matter how bad you think your first attempt is, keep writing and don't break from it, you can pause, but never out right stop. The more you write, the better you will become. Writing is something not everyone can do, no matter how bad someone might wish to. So before you start, make up your mind which genre you prefer."
"Which is your favorite genre?" Sylvia asked.
"While contemporary is the easiest in terms of research, my love, are historicals; although extremely taxing and challenging, but its my passion. I write contemporary to keep my writing muscles strong. That's why people have such a hard time starting off, they haven't developed the muscles, the endurance, the neural pathways in the brain haven't been formed and strengthened yet, that takes time. The same as an athlete must develop to hone hi
s skills, so must a writer. In fact, writing is very similar to reading, the more you do, the better you get at it. So to write, to start and not stop, you must first feel passionate about a story or about an idea. And that idea must be nurtured just as sure as that baby inside of you, must be nurtured and nourished to full development. If you don't, you'll keep starting and stopping over and over. And Lowell always tells new writers to write about what they know."
Mercy words drove home a very important point for Sylvia, "I'll remember that. I'm working on one now, it's a historical."
"Interracial?" Mercy asked.
"Nooo, not really."
"Em, you might wish to consider interracial. It's a raw market that is now growing by leaps and bounds. All of my literature is interracial, because the world in fact, is just that, more so than people are willing to admit. In England for instance, interracial couples are the fastest growing minority. And besides, it's what I know. And now, its what you know as well."
"Well, soon as I find the time to get back to it, I'll start again."
BOMAW 10-12 Page 25
