“Son, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” Big Sam continued as he asked, “What is her name?” He cast his line into the water once more, keeping an eye on the little snake moving closer to Jesse.
“What makes you think I’m having woman troubles, Dad? I may just be having a rough time on the job.” Jesse frowned, resenting his father’s interruption of his thought process.
Big Sam whistled a bit and thought, The hell with it. “I know it’s woman troubles because if it wasn’t, you would have seen that snake trying to crawl up your pants leg.” It was worth it just to see his six foot tall, two hundred and fifteen pound son screaming like a ten-year-old cheerleader while trying to shake the snake out of his pants. The shaking obviously wasn’t doing it for Jesse, who decided to remove the pants altogether. He was still screaming and was now flapping his arms. He was whirling his pants about over his head like a fan flag at a Friday night football game. Always with the overreaction. It was still unclear why Jesse had removed his shirt, but Big Sam sat there chuckling as his half naked son’s head snapped from side to side as if he was being flanked by an enemy hoard of garden snakes.
“Sit down, boy, before you kill your fool self,” Big Sam told him followed by, “The snake slithered off five minutes ago. Now put your clothes back on before someone calls the police on you!”
Jesse dressed in a hurry as Big Sam fired questions at him, starting with her name.
“Her name is Savannah.” Jesse admitted as well as how much he was missing her after choosing to stay away from her the past two weeks.
Big Sam eyed his son’s face as he asked the next question. “Her name sounds colorful and exotic. Am I understanding that correctly?”
It was now Jesse’s turn to eye his father’s expression. “Yes, Dad, she is part black and part Choctaw Indian.” Before Big Sam could utter a word, Jesse went all soft and he began to extol her virtues. He told his father how accomplished and smart she was, that she was pretty, a great cook, and made fantastic meatloaf. “Dad, when I stay over on Thursday nights, she always packs me a lunch for work the next day.” Jesse’s eyes were still dancing as he told his father about the time she gave him a pedicure and sloughed the rough skin off his feet.
Big Sam asked, “What made her do that?”
Jesse’s face was flat as he told his father, “She said my feet looked like I had been walking with Jesus.”
A hearty gut-busting laugh poured from Big Sam. What made it even funnier was thinking about the first time his wife gave him a pedicure because of his rough feet. Big Sam wanted to know more.
Jesse hung his head in shame when he admitted that she was not his. He told his father how they had met, the immediate attraction, the mind blowing.... “Ahem ... sorry, Dad,” ... the furniture building and chess playing. Big Sam asked how long they had been seeing each other and Jesse admitted it had been seven months. The father watched his son’s head drop lower as he also admitted that the fiancé was a bit of an ass.
“How do you know that, son?”
“I had dinner with them one night,” Jesse told him.
Big Sam laid down his pole. “Son, are you involved in some freaky sex shit with these two?”
Jesse explained that it was his meatloaf dinner she had cooked that night and that man got in his way. It was then that he admitted to awarding Darwin’s company the contract, just to remove him from the scene. “Dad, I feel like I compromised my ethics just to have this woman.”
“Son, the world revolves around the principle of the 3 P’s: power, profit and poonanny. Wars have been started for a lot less. I am not sure how beautiful Helen of Troy was, but her face launched a thousand ships.” He stood up and put his arm around his son’s shoulders. “Your mother was dating a jerk. I intentionally ran him off the road during a drag race. His car caught on fire and I drove that rascal to the hospital, all the while comforting your mama, telling her he would be okay.”
Jesse looked at his father with new eyes. “Jesse, eventually he was okay. But while he lay in the hospital, I took your mama to the prom, out dancing and romancing, and then I wooed her over to me. I have never looked back.”
He turned Jesse to face him, his hands still resting upon Jesse’s shoulders. “You are asking yourself the wrong questions, my boy.”
Jesse’s head popped up. “Son, there are two things you need to find out. One, how long have they been engaged? Second, why can you only come over on Thursday nights? Unless she is married, she is fair game.”
“But Dad, she’s promised to another,” he said, still feeling a bit defeated.
“Son,” Big Sam said as he went back to his pole. “People break promises all the time. She opened the door to let you in and has been allowing you to come back for 7 months. You owe it to both of you to find out why.”
“I don’t know Dad, I still feel it is dishonest,” Jesse told him.
“If your intentions are just for fun and not for anything long term or permanent, then you are correct: your actions are dishonest. If you think that woman should spend the rest of her life with you, making your ma and me some cream-colored grandbabies, then stake your claim and make her yours.”
“Daddy, are you okay with cream-colored grandbabies?” Jesse asked.
Big Sam never looked back at him. “I love you, Son. I will learn to love whoever you marry. My grandbabies could be purple and funny looking, but they would be mine and I am going to love them too.”
Jesse threw his arms around his father, gave him a big wet kiss, and started to pack up their stuff.
“Hold on, Son, I’m fishing here,” Big Sam told him.
“Not anymore, Daddy, I got work to do. Helen of Troy is awaiting me,” Jesse told him as he ushered his father to the truck.
Big Sam mumbled all the way home, complaining that he failed to understand why Helen had to ruin his fishing. He was insistent, even when Jesse dropped him off at home, that he should conquer Troy on his own time, not when it was their fishing time together.
Chapter Eighteen
It had been nearly a month since Savannah had heard from Jesse. Her heart was heavy, but she knew it was for the best. Family and friends had begun to notice her withdrawal, as well as the noticeable demise in her newfound spunk. It was Tuesday. She sat on the couch with Darwin at one end and her at the other. He was on his laptop and she was pretending to read Deep Fried Trouble, the latest book by Tyora Moody. Her mind began to wander to the thought that if she were to die, would Jesse come to her funeral and reveal himself as her lover?
She smiled a wide grin, toying with the idea that she had a lover. Had, as in past tense. What had she done that was so terrible? She had been honest with the man she was cheating with. Life required order. Her life had to contain order. Monday and Wednesday were Zumba and paper grading nights. Tuesday nights she spent with Darwin. Friday nights she spent with the girls and Saturday, if it wasn’t date night with Darwin, then it was her own as well as Sundays. For seven, glorious, sweat soaked months, Thursdays had belonged to Jesse.
When she looked up from her book, she noticed Darwin’s mouth moving. “How goes your furniture building, Darling?”
She provided an artless answer was provided as she spoke of a small unit she was constructing for the hallway to hold towels and necessities for the downstairs bath, freeing up some space for the small water closet.
“How is Jesse?” Darwin asked her with feigned curiosity.
There was no need for Savannah to lie so she told him the truth. “I haven’t seen or heard from Jesse in a month.”
Darwin closed his computer and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I thought for a minute, there was something more between you two. I was even more suspicious after I met him and was called in a week later to be interviewed for the Riverchase project.”
Savannah said nothing as she watched Darwin work through his thoughts. “I hate to admit it, but when I got the assignment I thought he pushed me through to get me out of his wa
y,” Darwin confessed and watched her face closely. She gave away very little as she frowned, appearing to look confused.
“Get you out of his way for what reason, Darwin?” Her voice was sincere when she posed the question.
“To have unlimited access to you,” Darwin told her, no shame in his statement.
Savannah was about to rise and move closer to him when her phone buzzed. It was 9:30 at night so something must be wrong. She asked Darwin to hold his thought as she crossed the room to get her bag. It was a message from Jesse.
She responded with a simple, no.
As she returned the phone to her bag, it buzzed again.
She responded again, no. Who did he think he was, giving her ultimatums and making demands on her time when he had disappeared for a month?
The next message confused, excited, and angered her all in one.
She cleared the message, placed the phone in the bag and sat back down, this time closer to Darwin, as he asked if everything was okay. She placed her hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently saying, “You worry too much about small things. It’s unhealthy.” She kissed him and initiated an episode of mediocre sex. Although she had made several attempts, Darwin just was not improving in his efforts to please her in bed. The truth, as she had been taught in church, will set you free. She said the words aloud as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.
My fiancé is a lousy lay.
Chapter Nineteen
Friday arrived and Savannah opted for a loose fitting black skirt, a lavender silk top, and a pair of comfortable shoes. She wore the skirt, along with crotchless undies, in case Jesse needed quick access.. Her need for him was bad. Her body was juiced up so she changed her underwear. It would be embarrassing to leave wet spots of her nectar wherever she sat.
He arrived at six on the dot, dressed in khakis and a red button down shirt. He looked as sexy as ever. She invited him in but he refused and escorted her downstairs to his truck. The crimson colored Ford F-150 had been washed, detailed, and shined up for the evening. The snarky side of her wanted to ask if he had his own car or if he just liked driving the company vehicle.
“I missed you, Jesse,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat, making sure she allowed her breast to graze his arm.
“I missed you as well, Savannah,” he added as he closed the door and walked around the vehicle. It was going to be a tough night, but Jesse had a plan. He was going to stick to it. Now, if he could just keep his boner from banging up against the steering wheel, he could get through this night. One touch was all it took from her and his body went ape shit. The skirt was making it worse. Focus, Jesse, focus.
“What is that scent you are wearing?” he asked after placing the vehicle in gear and maneuvering the truck into traffic.
“It’s called Night Stalker,” she told him, taking a small bottle out of her bag that was labeled the Pilgrim Soap Company.
Savannah smelled good enough to lick, eat, and swallow whole. She lifted the hem of her skirt and the scent of her ambrosia sweet nectar wafted up to his nose. Her body was ready and calling to him like a siren luring sailors to their deaths. I don’t believe it, my shit just got harder. Focus, Jesse, focus. “I like it. I smelled it on you before. It’s sultry.”
They arrived at the Olive Garden and were seated right away. Jesse had been craving chicken marsala and liked the way they prepared it. Savannah opted for the appetizer of calamari and suggested they share. The dinner ticket with drinks only came to $31 and some change and Jesse was pleased. That was the cheapest he had ever bought dinner out for two people, especially on a date.
“I learned that trick several years ago. Order an appetizer and a meal, then split the food. It cuts down on the cost of eating out,” she said with a smile.
Jesse was now getting a real understanding of how she had lived her life, skimping and cutting as many corners as she could to save a dime. The thoughtfulness was appreciated and her considerateness didn’t end there. At the movie theater, she showed her faculty pass, which reduced the cost of her movie admission, saving him more money. Jesse had allocated enough money for the date and had only spent fifty dollars.
Inside the theater, they sat on the very back row. Savannah rarely went to the movies; it was not in her budget. Movies were limited to rentals from Redbox, but this was nice. When the lights went down, she placed her hand on Jesse’s thigh. He took her hand in his and interlaced her fingers within his own. Savannah was not going to be discouraged so she uncrossed her legs, spreading them slightly and placed their joined hands in her lap. Jesse moved their hands back to the center divider between the seats.
This was insane. He brought her to a movie to actually watch it! What in the hell was this movie anyway? Riddick. Since she was not going to get a happy ending, she hoped the movie had one. It was an engaging film, but not a first choice for her. After the movie, he took her for coffee and dessert. Jesse opened the discussion.
An hour later, they were still bantering back and forth on the similarities between Pitch Black and the reboot of the new version. They argued about character flaws, script inadequacies, and the death of the dog creature. Even in the vehicle on the way back to her place, Savannah still felt the plot was predictable and she felt cheated not seeing the love scene between Riddick and Dahl. Jesse knew she was about to feel cheated twice.
He walked her to the door. “I enjoyed our date, Savannah. Have a good night.”
Wait a cotton-picking minute! Did he think he was going to leave after he had stimulated her mind and body and reenergized her spirit? And now he wasn’t even going to give her a mustache ride? Oh hell no!
“Jesse, aren’t you coming inside?” she asked with some elevated degree of concern.
“No,” he said as he headed for the stairwell. “Goodnight, my Lovely.”
She took off running after him. “What is this? Is it some kind of game?”
Jesse seemed surprised by the question as well as the next one, “Jesse, are you playing with my emotions?”
His face was solemn when he answered, “Are you playing with mine? You said if I loved you, you would love me back. Then you told me you didn’t believe in love. You lied. I can’t trust you.”
Savannah pointed at the door, telling him this was not the place to have this discussion. He reluctantly walked inside and stood at the door listening, but not listening, to her rant and diatribe about love, relationships, and the need for a physical release. This is what he had been waiting for. This was his moment to turn the tables.
“I am a man with feelings, hopes, fears, and desires of my own. I am not going to allow you to use me as your personal sex toy and discard me when you are finished.” He watched Savannah’s jaw drop. But he had a few more nails in his pocket. He pulled back his arm and allowed the hammer to fall.
“If you want any more of this ...” his hand made a circular motion around his crotch, “... you are going to have to give me something in return.” To irritate her beyond measure, he gripped himself showing her the outline. “If you want some of this love, you will have to let go of your bullshit ideas and love the whole man. If not, we can just be friends and spend wonderful evenings together like tonight.” Bishop to Queen Three ... Check.
He opened the door and walked out. “Good night, my lovely friend. You have the number.”
Bishop to Knight Three ... Checkmate.
She was fit to be tied. Of all the cockamamie nerve! Now, she was pissed, frustrated, and hornier than ever. She grabbed her keys and headed to Darwin’s. He answered the door, concerned that something was wrong since it was midnight. She stomped past him and headed straight to his bedroom. He joined her there seconds later. “You want to know how I like it, let me show you.” She pushed him back on the bed, worked him up with her mouth and climbed aboard. Each time Darwin got close, she would unhinge the two of them and straddle his face, bringing her closer to her finish. Finally, when she was ready, she slid over him, and rode him to the finale. She h
eld nothing back as she gyrated, pulsated, and milked him of everything he had. Her clothing had not been removed, but she righted herself, telling him goodnight as she pulled the covers over him.
It still was not even close to the level of what she had with Jesse. Fine! He wanted emotion and love? She would give it to him by the bucket. She had held back so much over the last three years. If Jesse wanted it, she would let him have it. Love him back? He was going to regret this request. She sent him a text.
Jesse arrived at her apartment at six on the dot. Although his birthday wasn’t for a few more days, he was happy she had remembered. Savannah instructed him to go and wash the day off him. In the guest bathroom, he found a change of clothing and a fishing magazine. Showered, shaved, and dressed, he walked down the stairs and stared at her. Jesse felt she was up to something.
“You look very handsome,” she told him as she straightened his collar. “Are you ready to roll?”
He wore dark grey slacks, a cerulean blue shirt, and a pair of open toe gray men’s leather slides, an entire outfit she had purchased for him. Jesse looked down at his feet with a scrunched face. “How did you know what size shoes or sandals?”
“Your feet need to breath. You always wear closed in shoes, it is not healthy for the skin on your feet,” she explained as she extended her arm to demonstrate how she measured his shoe size.
Smart.
“And how did you know what size pants and shirt to buy?”
A coy smile crossed her lips as she sat on the couch. “I told the guy in the store your waist was about this big.” She spread her legs in her skirt, indicating how wide her legs had to go to accommodate him.
Thursdays in Savannah Page 9
