by Rose Hudson
“Shut it. Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on with us, so no, I haven’t fucked her,” I growl out. Out of paper clips now, I resort to grabbing a handful of rubber bands. I’ve imagined taking Erin in every way possible. Imagined her sounds, her pleasures, her taste. I’ve thought about it night and day for weeks and this dick head giving me shit about it isn’t helping. The texts and late night phone calls aren’t enough. I need to at least be in the same room with her, breathe her in. God, even her smell is sinful; deeply sweet and richly intoxicating. I get this fucked up urge to lick every inch of her exposed skin when I’m around her, see if her taste compares. That urge hit an all-time high at Moe’s, her wearing that silky green shirt that dipped just enough for me to see the valley between her gorgeous fucking tits. I swear I have never wanted to act so animalistic in my life, wanting to lean over and take both of them in my hands and bury my face in that valley and kiss, and lick, and suck, and bite….
“Fuck!” I kick the chair back as I stand, or more like leap, to my feet and pound toward the door. “I’m going to get some sleep. Lock the door behind you.”
“Are you going to Charlie’s tonight or what?” The words leave Dawson’s mouth quickly before I walk out the door. I pause, hand gripping the doorframe, and consider his question. I can think of a million things that I don’t want to do tonight and Charlie’s is one of them. In fact, there is only one thing I want to do tonight, but I guess that would cross the ‘friend’ parameters that I so aptly fucking made for us. The force of my jaw sets heavy against my teeth and I clench so hard I can hear them grind.
“If I leave my apartment, there’s only one place I’m going and Charlie’s ain’t it. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I can hear the low chuckle leave Dawson when I round the corner out of sight from him and into the work bay. In fact, I can still hear his weasely-ass laugh as I start up the stairs to my apartment. Fucker. If only he knew. Stepping through my door and quickly locking it behind me, my strides are quick and long as I head to the shower, furiously stripping clothes off as I go. I can only imagine the money I’m saving with these cold fucking showers.
“I KNOW ALL OF my girlfriends are just as excited as I am about GRACE. You’ll be seeing familiar faces quite a bit, I’m sure.” Elleese’s smile is wide as she lifts two large shopping bags from the sidewalk when the valet opens the trunk of her car. I wrap my arms around Ruth and kiss the top of her head.
“I look forward to it. If you decide you’d like that piece designed for Kyle’s company party just come by the house and I can draw it up.” With a polite hug, she nods and walks around to the driver’s side, leaving Ruth and I on the busy Friday night sidewalk in front of GRACE. I turn and cup her beautiful face, hands curved around those porcelain cheeks as if holding a small teacup of the finest china. The wrap of her arms, so much longer and stronger than they’d ever seemed before, made me complete and fearful, in awe, and begging for time to stop every time I look at her lately.
“So who all is going to be at Bre’s house tonight? Just you newly crowned cheerleaders?” I release her just enough for her to take a half step back, praying that with this new phase in her life didn’t come deception. But all I saw looking back at me were the bluest of blues belonging to the light of my life, my heart, my daughter. “I want you to know that I am so proud to see you work so hard for something and come out on top, baby. If your brain can keep up with that big heart of yours, then ‘look out world’ is all I have to say!” She pulls into me again, transforming the sounds of people and cars and the million other little noises into a symphony of a mother’s love.
“And I am proud of you. The store looks awesome!” She looks up from our embrace and gives me that soul-stirring smile of hers, pulling at every fiber of my heart. “You sure it’s okay that I spend the night with Bre? What are you going to do?” I squeeze her even tighter at the words drenched in guilt and worry, willing the day to come that she didn’t carry constant concern for me.
“Of course it’s okay! You have worked your butt off this week and I want you to have a good time with your girlfriends. Okay?” I gently gripped each of her shoulders, bending slightly to her level, making sure that she saw the look of love and appreciation in my eyes. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, now go on and get in that car and call me if you need me.”
As they pull away from the curb, I breathe in and out with every tight squeeze of my heart, pulling myself together and taking in the buzz of excitement around me as people begin their weekend. There is a slight chill in the air fitting for the Halloween festivities tomorrow night and an idea strikes, one that will most definitely require the help of one Mel Elliott. Turning to head back inside, my smile grows wide as I take in the front of GRACE; the perfectly coupled contrast of sharp white exterior walls and sophisticated gold of the bold block letters spelling out the name of this store. This masterpiece that has been like raising a baby from conception to adulthood. Well… maybe not quite adulthood yet, more like junior year of high school, but a lot of time and work nonetheless. I’m proud. Happy and truly proud to think of how far I’ve come, how my life has changed, and it takes me back to where I started with Chanin.
During the last semester of classes, before I was granted my bachelor’s degree, a guest speaker and local fashion designer gave a seminar and announced that someone from our graduating class would be awarded a paid internship and possible long-term employment with her company. Her decision would be based on academic performance and a submitted essay explaining what we wished to accomplish in our future fashion careers. A week before graduation, I received a letter stating that I had been awarded the internship and would be the newest member of Chanin Grace Fashions. The only stipulation was that I would have to move to Birmingham where her company was located. Having moved just two years earlier and Ruth just starting to put down roots in the community with friends, school, and church, it was a tough decision. In the end I knew it was an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up, because ultimately this was exactly why I pursued my degree. The chance to work under an established designer didn’t come along every day, and jumping at the chance then would save a lot of disappointment and failed attempts trying to obtain the same job in the future. I wanted to be someone that Ruth could be proud of and set an example as a strong woman that she could learn from, and if I didn’t go I would always feel like I had failed her. When you’re a single mother, failure isn’t an option, because there isn’t another person to pick up the pieces and provide the security necessary for raising children when you fail. You’re it.
Tonight I feel for the first time that I accomplished just that. To hear Ruth say she was proud of me tonight, well that was better than anything I’ve ever done in my career, because she is my reason for it all. She is the reason my lungs unconsciously fill with air and the reason my heart continues to keep me alive. Her recognition and pride are the greatest rewards I could receive. It gives me so much hope for her future, knowing that I did something she could look back on and be proud of, turning into fuel for her own drive and determination in whatever it is she decides to do in life.
“Ms. Abrams.” Lost in my thoughts as I re-enter the Grand Opening party, I turn to see Shaylyn making big strides to catch up to me.
“Hey, everything okay?” I scrunch my forehead at the worried look on her face as she approaches.
“Well, not really. I know I’m supposed to stay and help you clean up after, but my mom just called and said my daughter is running a pretty high fever,” her words come out in a rush of concern, concern I can relate to as a single mother. I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a knowing glare. When she had interviewed for the job and spoke of her daughter and trying to finish up her degree, all as a young single mother, no matter the fact that she had very little experience, my heart wouldn’t deny her the job.
“Shay, quit stressing. I can handle this, you go take care of your daughter and I’ll see you Tuesday,” she nods and turns to leave, but I
grab her hand. “If you need me, you call. Okay?”
“I will Ms. Abrams,” she calls over her shoulder. I’ve told that girl a hundred times not to call me that, but she refuses to let go of those embedded southern manors.
A caterer approaches with a tray of champagne flutes as I survey the room. Seeing that there are few people left in the space, I smile and nod appreciation as I take my first and very welcome drink of the night. Things have been so crazy and busy tonight, in a good way of course, but my feet are screaming to get out of these stilettos. Chanin had insisted that all in attendance from the company wear black, and she had special pieces made for her, Mel and myself. Considering the shape my feet are in, I’m thankful the romper I’m wearing is loose and comfortable. The chiffon material flows freely from the fitted waist to the bottom of the wide pant legs and long sheer sleeves. The only thing I don’t absolutely adore about it is the deep plunge of the V-neck, which required a bit of double-sided tape to ensure the girls didn’t make an appearance as I walked around greeting the hundred or so guests in attendance tonight. I hear Mel’s powerfully magical laughter so I tilt my head up from the stylist counter to see her, Leeland, and Chanin talking to the last of the guests as they hand out business cards and bid their goodbyes. Leelan catches my gaze and crooks his finger at me. I wave my index finger at him, declining the torturous walk to the front of the store, so he concedes and heads in my direction instead.
“Haven’t seen you in weeks Mouse, and you can’t even come socialize. For Shame, Darlin’.” I stick my tongue out at him and roll my eyes, unable to keep from leaning over the counter and planting a kiss on his cheek when he offers it to me.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist Mr. Jameson. Shame these damn heels I’m wearing if you must.” I wipe a smudge of red lipstick from his cheek and shoot a look over his shoulder as Chanin announces she’s locked the doors from behind him.
“So does that mean y’all are finally ready to go have some real fun, because I crossed the ‘ready line’ quite a ways back,” Leelan yells toward the front where Chanin and Mel gather remnants of the gathering as the catering crew rolls out the last of their supplies and equipment.
“Lord Leelan, keep your pants on. You’ve been whining for the last hour,” Chanin teases, approaching the counter and setting her drink down as Leelan grabs her by the waist and pulls her into him, giving a chaste kiss to her lips. Mel gives me a ‘gag me’ face over their shoulders and we both spew out fits of laughter. Don’t get me wrong, I am more than happy that the two of them have finally made it somewhat public in terms of telling everyone that they are in fact seeing one another, but enough with the PDA. I swear they are like two teenagers; always touching and kissing and without a care as to whose around to witness it. I’m sure my reasons to secretly despise their love-fest is for different reasons than most, but I may be a teensy-weensy bit jealous. Or maybe inadequate is the word I’m looking for, hell, I don’t know. It’s just not fair that they are a decade older than me and have each other and I have nobody. What I have is a vibrator and my most recent guilty pleasure, Patrick. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t used that kiss in his truck as fuel for my fire. His firm hands. His soft, yet hard lips, the delectable weight of his solid form pressed into me. I ran my fingers through the long strands of my side-swept ponytail and twisted it around tight, pulling if only a little to tamp down the instant fiery burn at the mere fantasy of him.
“Earth to Erin,” Mel snaps her finger in front of me, bringing me out of my fantasy Patrick induced pleasure-fog. “Are you going with us or what?” I look at her in contemplation, giving me time to come up with a believable excuse, when the quote ‘saved by the bell’ gained new meaning. I reach down and pull out my phone from beneath the counter. Shock is clearly written across my face when Patrick’s name fills the screen. Mel props both elbows on the counter making ugly faces, and I hit answer on my phone. But before I could say hello, his deep voice filled the line and my body became all too aware of his proximity.
“Don’t go with them. Come with me.” His command startles me and I shiver as a chill drips down my spine. Knowing he had to be outside, I look around Mel’s perched form at the counter and out the floor to ceiling windows in the front. Sure enough, there he stands in all his beautiful darkness, phone to his ear as his lips turned up in a broad smile at my approach. Two steps short of the door, his voice low and commanding, he stops me in my tracks. “Stand right there.” I freeze, confused at whatever this game is, unable to keep the grin rising from the left side of my mouth. I don’t only hear the deep release of breath, but I swear I feel the heat transfer from him to me as I watch his stare peruse me from head to toe. Licking his bottom lip and adjusting his stance, the change is noticeable both in his body language and the tenor of his voice. “You’re beautiful Erin. Just…beautiful.” I take a step toward him and when he doesn’t protest, I take the remaining steps and unlock the door, turning it slowly, almost cautiously, before cracking it just enough to stick my head out.
“I’m sorry sir, we’re closed. You’ll have to come again sometime.” Trying my best to feign seriousness, I fail horribly at the goofy look on his face, breath hitching as our eyes lock. Either my protective shield had kept me from truly appreciating him the previous times we’d met, or he continually became more striking with each encounter. His dark chestnut hair slicked back out of his face gave an unobstructed view of his beautiful eyes; the irises so brightly silver gray they nearly fill the space with light. His chuckles originate low in his chest, exhaling in vibrations as he lifts an arm above his head, pressing into the doorframe and bringing his face mere inches from mine still safely on the opposite side of the door.
“For you Ma’am, I’d love to come anytime you’ll have me.” His voice, although teasing, is warm and velvety as it pours over me like the finest melted chocolate, the slightest emphasis on come. My mind immediately goes to that no-fly zone and I know he sees, because his eyes react right along with mine, the atmosphere around us growing dense and warm, replacing the crisp chill of the October night. Instantly, I pull the door open and step behind it, needing to break the moment. I hold it tighter than necessary, wishing it could shield me from the force pulling me into his storm. A storm that were I to get caught in, would surely destroy me, leave me unrecognizable. Standing for a brief moment, returning myself to right, the click of sharp heels against the stone floor draws both our attention from where we stand barely inside the entrance.
“Long time not see, Mr. Lawson.” Chanin’s tone is playful, but inflecting irritation. I look from her to Patrick and back again, trying to catch a clue, but nothing. Smiles and nods are all he gives in return. We’ve been so busy this week preparing for the opening that her and I haven’t had the chance to talk, but I can’t imagine why she’d be annoyed with Patrick. Lord knows if he’d done something to piss her off, we’d all know about it as one always did with her. “Your timing is impeccable though. We were about to make a night of it, so you can escort Erin and meet us at Moe’s.” True to form, Chanin’s tone is matter of fact, directing him, making me flinch in embarrassment. For people that don’t know her, haven’t been around her and understand that’s just her way, put simply, usually find her off putting. But Patrick surprises me by widening his eyes and indulging her with a wry smile across each of his perfect features, stepping forward to place a friendly kiss to her cheek and shooting me a resigned look.
“Instead of Moe’s, why don’t we hit Bordeaux’s. Gregg Fells is playing tonight and he’s worth the change of venue.” I look from Patrick to Chanin, not believing my eyes when she starts to shake her head in agreement. Chanin is a doer. She is a planner. If she plans, you do. And to those of us in her circle it’s just respected knowledge. But apparently I’m not the only one affected by his charm. And lips. And hair. oh God, the hair. And arms…
“You want to ride with me,” his deeply electrifying voice interrupts my thought process. I jerk my gaze from the pronounce
d muscle of his biceps apparent through his gray Henley shirt, up to his silver eyes. Oh yeah, like that’s a better place. Great Erin.
“Ride with you? Yep. Let’s do this,” I say loudly, swinging my hands into a smacking clap, I crush my eyes shut and cringe as I take the few steps to the counter and grab my clutch. What the hell was that? Are you working out or going out? Dipping his head and quirking one side of his mouth, I feel the blush of my skin radiate from my chest to my cheeks, making me hug my middle in regret at the plunging v of my assigned outfit as we walk to Patrick’s truck. With his steely shoulder as a brace, I lift up onto the side step of his truck, thankful I had carried my shoes for a much needed reprieve on our way to Bordeaux’s. When his massive hand makes contact with the back of my thigh, fingers holding deliciously firm as they guide me into the cab, air is non-existent in my lungs until the heat where his hand had been dissipates. If these last thirty minutes are any indication for the rest of the night, I am screwed. I scoot as close to the passenger door as possible and buckle my seatbelt, as if it could keep me from saying or doing anything between here and the restaurant that would give me away completely. If I haven’t already.
BECAUSE OF THE SOCIAL circles wealth provided my family during my childhood, and where I found myself after the fall, I was privileged to experience both sides of the economic fence. Privileged because in most cases, one either experiences either or, and given the chance to live two very different lives has given me an appreciation I’m sure many working class citizens didn’t have. At least not the ones who think they want the greener grass on the other side. When you’re working forty plus hours a week and still unable to do anything but pay your bills, and sometimes not even that, you tend to look longingly across that proverbial fence. But if they could see the dark evil that exist wherever wealth dwells, that envy would transform into a respectful appreciation for what little they do have. I’m not saying the want for more would cease to exist, but I am saying that the grass wouldn’t look quite as green anymore. Even in the darkest of darks there is light. My mother was that light. That one exception. Coming from little, yet fitting in so flawlessly in a life of more. Quick to portray proper etiquette and grace. Quicker to teach me lessons of charity and kindness at every turn. Most people that came to our house for dinner, or had dealings with my father in business, always seemed so self-righteous and deemed themselves better. But not my mother. She loved and cared for everyone. Preferring to surround herself with those like-minded and like-hearted, but most of the time being forced to inhabit the company of those that couldn’t be further from.
