Have Mercy

by Siobhán Béabhar

  "One time would have been more than enough for me. Why stay?" Penelope asked.

  "I love my job. I knew from the beginning that this was the profession for me," Red answered.

  "Was the money that good?" Melia asked.

  Red balked at the question. "There are many people who do jobs that they hate, but they do it for the money. For me, the money was good, but I loved my work. I liked being wined and dined. I liked mingling with powerful men," she confessed.

  "Powerful men who are someone else's husband," Penelope countered, shooting a withering glance at Red.

  "If it wasn't me," Red scoffed, "it would be someone else. I'm not the one who broke any vows."

  Penelope looked away. Her husband hadn't left her for an escort. He had left her for her own trusted confidante. "Were you ever married?" Penelope asked Red.

  Finally, a reaction. Red flinched at the question. "I married once, but it didn't last a year. I had stopped working not long after meeting him, so that wasn't the issue. He was just one of those fellas that wanted the dream but couldn't deal with the reality."

  "I was married once," Albertine said, breaking the silence that had descended.

  Melia turned to her friend, surprised. Red remained silent, but she seemed speculative as she watched Albertine. Penelope's mouth hung open as she turned towards me. I, obviously, had nothing to say to that.

  Albertine glanced around the kitchen. Then her face blossomed into her beautiful smile. She laughed, breaking the stillness. "I'm only joking," she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  I was looking forward to the soiree. Red informed me that she had invited a special guest for me. I was positive that it was General Washington. Baxter had told me the General would be gone for a few months to attend a training exercise, but I was hoping for a surprise visit. I wanted him to see my home. I wanted him to see beyond my escorting gig.

  Earlier that day, I had fumbled through my closet, hoping to find a miracle outfit. I wanted to exude sensuality. I wanted to inspire interest, desire. Unfortunately, I didn't have a clue as to how to achieve that, so I borrowed inspiration from Red.

  I went out and purchased one of those popular maxi dresses. It was semi-sheer and a deep, luscious red color. That morning, instead of straightening my hair, I decided to add a few rollers, hoping to build more texture in my waves. On a whim, I braided my hair and pinned it just behind my left ear. It was probably a style better suited to a woman half my age, but I was hoping it would inspire someone to want to run his hands through my hair.

  "Mercy, they'll be here soon," called a voice through my bedroom door. I searched through my jewelry, deciding to wear a simple gold chain. Tugging at the fabric around my breasts, I left the bathroom and walked down the stairs.

  Stepping out into the parlor, I marveled at everyone's transformation. Melia and Albertine stood at the piano, reading over a sheet of music. They were both dressed in black, taking the musical performance quite seriously. Melia wore a black pencil skirt and a ribbed black tank top. I didn't blame her for showing off her arms. Albertine wore black trousers and a short-sleeved cotton shirt. The most noticeable thing about Albertine was the absence of her glasses.

  The little wren was a surprisingly lovely creature. Her glasses had been a distraction, deceptively suggesting that she was a plain, uncomplicated individual. Her face was round. Her eyes were dark and inviting, and she wore mauve lipstick that complemented her brown skin.

  I tossed a wave their way as I walked through the parlor and went down the steps. Red and Penelope stood in the kitchen, bickering as usual. An artful display of fruit stood on the kitchen island. They seemed to be debating how to carry it upstairs.

  "I'm telling you. We should leave the food here and let people carry their plates upstairs," Red argued.

  Waving her hand over the food, Penelope countered, "The food should be upstairs where people can grab and nibble whenever they want to. The food will go to waste if we keep it down here."

  Red rolled her eyes and turned towards me. "Mercy, this one says we need to carry all of this food upstairs. I think it's fine right here."

  I surveyed the kitchen, noticing the strategically placed platters of food. Penelope had chosen well, selecting trays with small sandwiches, artisan cheeses, veggies, and pastries. "Nice job, Penelope," I said, giving her the thumbs up.

  There was a lot of food and I wasn't looking forward to carrying anything, but I agreed with Penelope; the food should go upstairs. "People are coming to listen to Melia and Albertine. They'll want the food nearby so they won't miss anything."

  Red huffed and snatched the fruit display off the table. Penelope had no time to gloat over her small victory as she followed behind Red, making sure none of the fruit fell to the floor. I grabbed the tray of sandwiches and walked towards the stairs. There was a knock at the door.

  "Come in," I yelled out, hoping the door was unlocked.

  The door swung open and Baxter entered the house, carrying two bottles of wine. "I brought the good stuff," he said, hoisting the bottles.

  "Great! Bring them upstairs," I said, entering the parlor area. Penelope motioned to a side board and I placed my tray down. I took a step back, not recognizing the piece at first. It was something I usually hid behind the couch, but it had been pulled out and placed against the wall.

  "Thomas, do you mind helping with the food?" Penelope asked as she walked back down the stairs. It sounded like a question, but the order was implied.

  Grinning at me, he whispered, "And here I thought that I was a guest. Looks like I'm the help."

  I laughed, swatted his arm, and said, "Get on, boy." He left the parlor, trotting down the stairs before Penelope yelled again.

  I heard the sound of voices outside the front door. I went down the stairs and pulled the door open. "Good evening, sirs."

  Craft walked into the house, a reticent expression on his face. "Is that bastard here?"

  "Which bastard?" I asked.

  "Hector," he said, staring into the living room. He swiveled and peeked into the kitchen. He pointed upstairs, but I shook my head.

  "He's not here. Carol said she didn't invite him," I said.

  He waved his hand, dismissing my comment. "That's why he's a bastard. He has a tendency of showing up where he isn't invited." Suddenly, Craft moved towards me, brushing a kiss across my cheek. "Hey cutie. Looking good!" He patted my ass and withdrew into the kitchen.

  There had been two voices outside, but only Craft had walked in. I poked my head out and noticed Powell standing in the yard, smoking a cigarette. Chagrined, he hunched his shoulders, dragging the cigarette from his mouth. "I thought I could get in a quick smoke."

  "I didn't know anyone smoked nowadays," I teased, coming out onto the porch.

  He shook his head. Lifting his finger, he motioned for me to wait as he took another drag. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it on the ground, stomping it out.

  "I hear congratulations are in order! Was it a little boy or girl?" I asked as he walked onto the porch.

  He smiled, his face glowing with happiness. "A beautiful little girl. She has my daughter's eyes. My late wife's eyes," he said softly.

  He entered the house and followed Craft's voice into the kitchen. I stood on the porch, enjoying the warm night.

  "There should be only a handful more," said Baxter from the doorway. I turned, surprised at his approach. He came out onto the porch and stood beside me. "Such a quiet neighborhood."

  I smiled. "The only excitement on this block is what happens behind those walls," I said, motioning towards my home.

  Lights flickered as a car parked in front of the house. "I think that you'll like them," he said, nodding towards the new arrivals.

  A man walked around the car and opened the passenger door. A petite woman stepped from the car, placing her hand in the man's palm. Hand in hand, they walked towards the house, smiles on their faces.

  At the porch, the woman held out
her hand and said, "Are you Mercy?"

  We shook hands as I said, "I am. Welcome to my home." I stepped aside, allowing them to enter. They smiled as they walked past me and into the foyer.

  I heard squeals as Red ran towards the couple. She hugged the woman and kissed the man. The three of them disappeared, making their way upstairs.

  "That's former Assistant Secretary of the Interior, Gary Harvey, and his wife Lin," Thomas explained. He observed the interest in my face. He bent towards my ear and whispered, "Former clients."

  "Of Carol?"

  He ducked his head. "Indeed."

  "Both of them?"

  "Both of them," he answered. "Surprised?"

  "About Carol? No, no, I'm not," I said.

  He clarified, "I meant that they were both former clients."

  "I guess that it shouldn't surprise me, but it does. A little." I turned around and re-entered the house, holding the door open for Thomas.

  We stepped into the empty foyer. Music was already drifting down from the parlor. "How rude," he laughed, stomping up the stairs. "There should be one more," he said as he reached the landing.

  I did a quick check of the kitchen, making sure that all of the food had been taken upstairs. It was empty, and I had managed to get out of some grunt work. Score one for me.

  As I began to climb the stairs, I heard the front door open. I stopped at the landing, looking down at the late arrival.

  The man entered the house, closing the door behind him, softly. He held a jacket in his hand and wore a newsboy cap. He was dressed in a plain white, long-sleeved t-shirt and dark colored pants. He was tall and muscular, and I marveled briefly at the plushness of his backside. I hid my grin, realizing it was rude to ogle my guest.

  Ducking my head, a wave of bitter disappointment suddenly swirled around me. Truman wasn't in attendance. I had really hoped that he would be. Feeling like a child playing dress-up, I began to regret my choice of outfit.

  I wanted to pound out my frustration; instead, I pinned a polite smile on my face. Thinking we could sneak up together, I waited for my unexpected guest to turn around. He removed his hat and stepped into the foyer. His looked up and my eyes connected with unusual violet-blue eyes.

  "What are you doing here?" I snapped, storming down the steps. I grabbed his arm with the intention of pushing him out of the house.

  He spoke quietly, glancing in the direction of the music. "I was invited."

  "By who?"

  Abruptly, he grabbed my arms, switching our positions. He pushed me against the door; I raised my hands between us, trying to keep him at a distance. When his hard body pressed into mine, I felt that twinge again.

  His mouth hovered near my ear. He answered, "By you." He shifted to stare down into my face. I focused on the staircase, refusing to look at him. "At least I was told the invitation was from you."

  He dropped his hands and took a step back. My jaw was clenched shut. I wanted to yell at him, but I didn't want to cause another disturbance. Not tonight.

  I peeked upstairs. No one knew of his arrival. A wicked grin bloomed on his face as he realized my quandary. His fingers traced my jaw, the unexpected caress causing my stomach muscles to clench in anticipation. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

  It was an invitation for him to explore my body. He brought his hand to my waist and then moved upwards, his thumb tracing the curve of my breast. His movements shifted the fabric against my skin, creating conflicting sensations. Soft. Abrasive.

  I felt his mouth return to my ear. His breathing was heavy as he flicked his tongue against my earlobe. I whimpered. His thumb traced my bottom lip, tugging on it.

  My lips parted, expecting to feel his mouth settle across mine. Nothing happened. My tongue darted out to moisten my lips and accidentally flickered across his thumb. I felt him tense. I smiled, knowing I wasn't the only one affected by our closeness.

  Abruptly, he abandoned me, retreating several steps. My eyes snapped open and my thoughts swirled as I regained my equilibrium. Turning away from me, he glanced up towards the parlor. Then he left me standing there as he walked up the stairs. My gaze followed him, but he didn't look back.

  My head fell back, colliding with the door. I needed the pain. I hoped it would knock the arousal from my body. I pushed away from the front door and escaped into the kitchen.

  Needing a moment to collect myself, I fumbled around in the dark until my hand grazed the refrigerator door. I pulled it open and grabbed a bottle of water. I took a sip then placed the cool bottle between my breasts, against my pounding heart.

  During our previous encounters, I had purposefully erected a polite distance between Jack and me. Since the moment we met, I had focused on the difference in our ages. I didn't know his exact age, but I knew I was old enough to be his mother, so I tried to push away any lustful thoughts. I didn't want to be a horny cougar panting after the fine, young stallion. How strange that it never entered my mind that he could be attracted to me, too.

  I returned upstairs, joining the others in the parlor. My eyes connected with Red's and she grinned, pleased with herself. I lifted my hands, mimicking a choking motion. She laughed and turned back to Craft as they listened to Melia sing.

  Walking to the sideboard, I grabbed a plate and selected some cheese and fruit to nibble on. Plucking a grape from its stem, I lifted it to my mouth and savored the texture of the fruit. There was a soft sound behind me. I turned my head just as Jack's arm reached around my waist and grabbed a grape from my bunch. I looked at him, watching as he sucked it into his mouth. My eyes narrowed, watching him crush the grape between his teeth. A boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed another grape and moved away from me.

  I looked guiltily around the room. Everyone was absorbed in the music; Penelope and Red were even singing along with Melia. I grabbed my plate and turned around to search for a place to sit.

  The couch and loveseat faced the piano. The couch was to my left, but Baxter and Jack blocked the path. I could have gone around, but that would have meant walking in front of Penelope and the Harveys.

  I walked past Baxter, apologizing for my interruption. His smile was distracted, his eyes focused on the piano. I scooted by Jack, feeling his fingers tug lightly against the fabric of my dress. I moved more quickly, taking my place on the love seat.

  "Lovely, am I right?" Red whispered in my ear.

  I swatted at her. It was almost like she was invading Jack's recently claimed space. "I can't believe how good they are," I said, referring to Melia and Albertine.

  Red shook her head, tilting it towards Jack. "No. I meant that one."

  My eyes flashed in his direction. His head was angled as he leaned forward to listen to Baxter. He glanced at me, his eyes sweeping over my body as he answered the Admiral.

  I almost dropped my plate. I stood up from the couch and then sat back down. I meant to stand up again, but Red grabbed my arm, holding me in place. "He's got you off-kilter."

  His appearance had been a surprise. His blatant interest had left me reeling. I sat in my chair, pretending as if I hadn't been affected by his touch.

  Albertine's hands dashed across the keyboard as she ended their last song for the night. Melia stood, beaming, and hugged her friend. They grinned as the others cheered their performance.

  Penelope stood and walked towards the piano. She placed her arms around Melia and Albertine's shoulders. She stood with them, facing the room. "I would really like to thank these ladies for sharing their gifts this evening. Melia and Albertine! I am so happy to have met you," said the politician's ex-wife. I realized she had taken over the hostess role for this evening, coordinating everyone.

  "Please introduce us to your friends," Mrs. Harvey said, walking to stand next to Penelope.

  "Lin, these are my friends, Melia and Albertine. Ladies, meet Mrs. Linette Harvey. This is her husband, Mr. Gary Harvey," Penelope said as he approached the group.

  "When Carol mentioned this little get together, we
couldn't wait to attend. Lin's something of a musician herself," Gary said to the group.

  "Really? Do you sing?" Albertine asked, interest in her eyes.

  "No, I play the cello," Lin answered.

  "I love the cello," Albertine said. All of the string instruments really, but the cello reminds me of an old man's mellow voice. You know, the rumble in his throat."

  "I know what you mean," Lin said, leaning toward Albertine. "I started out playing the violin, but it was the cello's soulful sound that led me to switch."

  "You should join us one evening," Penelope said, referring to our little gathering.

  Lin grinned. "I would love that. I know a few others that love to dabble with music. If you ever wanted to hold a soiree of sorts...." She left the thought hanging in the air.

  "I think that would be fun. Maybe Melia could sing one of her traditional songs," Albertine said.

  "Like a traditional African tribal song?" Lin asked, turning to Melia.

  "No, like a traditional song of the Tle'katan," Melia answered.

  Lin looked curious. She shifted closer to Melia, her eyes locked on her face. "I read a book about them last year. It was about Junior's quest for revenge. Are you part Native American?"

  "All of me is Indian," Melia answered, her patience waning.

  "Really?" Penelope laughed, looking polite.

  "Really. Both of my parents were Indian and Black," Melia said. "We are the descendants of Indians who intermarried with Buffalo soldiers and freed slaves. Junior brought us all together and that's how we got the name, Junior's Band."

  I half listened to Melia as she talked about her tribe. Jack was standing with Powell and Baxter. I stood, moving away from the others. Red had disappeared with Craft into her bedroom. I didn't think they were retiring for the evening, so I waited for their return. I watched the glow radiating from Albertine's face; the little wren was blossoming under the attention.