by S. K. Lessly
Now, maybe the word will get around not to…
“Good morning, Misty.”
I closed my eyes, ignored the woman speaking to me, and walked quickly into my office.
Chapter Fifteen
Misty
“Did you get the patio completed yet?” Dr. Ashton King, my father, asked me.
My eyes were glued to the latest Star Trek movie playing on my parents' forty-six-inch television.
“Yes, sir, everything is done and it looks great.”
Typically, on the weekends, when I wasn’t weighed down with a case, I would spend time with my parents. We’d do something as a family on Friday or Saturday night, depending on when I arrived at their house. And Sunday we would go to church then afterwards we’d have brunch before I made my way back home. This week had been hectic. To top off my crazy caseload, I had been trying to work through what was happening between Shane and me, doing my best to rationalize it away. It wasn’t working and the multitude of foreign feelings I was experiencing wasn’t helping the situation. I needed this weekend to regroup.
My parents had lived in the affluent area of South Arlington, Virginia, called Penrose in a spacious two-story, four-bedroom home for years. The house, in my opinion, was too large for them. I was their only child, thank goodness, and I hated sharing. I was typically the only one whoever visited them. But the house was in a great neighborhood, and they’d ended up getting it at a pretty decent price, so I guess it was fine.
Tonight was movie night. This was our third movie and my mom was making a fresh bowl of popcorn for the last movie of the night.
“Maybe we’ll come down to your house next weekend or the weekend after and cook out on the grill that you never use. Maybe we’ll even go swimming if it’s nice that day,” Dr. Thomasina King offered from the kitchen.
I pulled my eyes from Chris Pine’s fine self and looked at my mom. “Yeah, that sounds cool with me. Maybe Dad can show me how to work the dang gas grill he bought me.”
“That’s sounds good to me, too.” My dad chimed in. “I’ve been wanting to break in that grill. I know it hasn’t been touched since I put the thing together.”
My dad stood and moved to the open kitchen door where my mom was filling a large bowl with hot popcorn. I smiled and looked over my shoulder at my dad.
“I was waiting for you, Dad.” I batted my eyes. “I know how much it would mean for you to pop its cherry and all.”
My father laughed and shook his head, but my mom sucked her teeth at me.
“I swear, Misty, that mouth of yours is atrocious. I tell you all the time you will never find a good husband because of the way you talk.”
“Mom, you do know that my mouth brings all the men to the yard,” I said to her.
A confused look come over her face. “Your mouth brings what? What does that mean?”
I shrugged and grinned at her. “If I teach you, then I’ll have to charge.”
My father chuckled as his wife turned to look at him for any sense of guidance in dealing with her only child.
“Do you have a clue what she’s talking?”
My father leaned into her. It took a second for him to explain the quote from an old rap song by Kelis, and when she got it, her face turned beet red.
“Grace Michelle King!”
My father looked at me, and we both laughed. Don’t ask me how my father knew the song or what it meant since I was quoting the clean version. He surprised me a lot with the things he knew. I had even caught him using current slang words and idioms one day and I almost passed out.
Of course he decided to ruin the moment when he wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and brought her close to him. “Do you want me to tell you what you did to bring me to the yard?” he whispered in her ear, but not softly enough it seemed.
My eyes fell shut and I fell back against the couch. “Oh, will you two cut that shit out, please? You’re going to make me vomit in my mouth for real.”
I heard my mom giggle and I swear I gagged. They didn’t listen to me at all. It was always like this with them. Once they entered into their own world and started smiling and kissing, nothing or no one existed; not even their remarkable only child.
My mom was a looker. She was 5’5” and had some serious hips. She was lighter than I was, more peanut butter than caramel in color. She had long black hair that she wore straight like mine. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of gray. She was mixed with Dominican, Caucasian, and African-American, which was the reason for the light eyes and hair texture we shared.
My dad was 6’2”. He was a solid, large, brilliant, black man. He wore his hair short and his beard trimmed and lined to perfection. He had brown skin like me and remarkably, his eyes were the same shade as my mom’s.
They were a very hot couple and neither of them looked a day over thirty. They worked out, stayed active, and lived very full lives. As a matter of fact, they’d just come back from some rock-climbing expedition in Arizona that my mother had described as rewarding and invigorating. It was just the beginning for them to start climbing all of the known mountains around the world.
Yeah, no thanks.
I didn’t want any parts of climbing some mountain only to possibly get stuck up there and either freeze to death, have to eat people from my climbing party, or worse, get eaten by bears or wolves.
I started to hear kissing noises behind me and I was about to yell back to get a room when my cell went off.
I looked at the message and I nearly dropped the damn phone. “Fuck!”
“Misty, your language!” my mother admonished.
“Sorry, Mom. Son of a bitch!”
I stood and read the message again.
Dinner tonight 7! Stop trying to avoid me. SC
Before Shane went out of town, we talked about having dinner when he got back. I had agreed, but when he texted me two days ago, I flaked out on him. When he tried to reschedule yesterday, I ignored his text. Don’t ask me why I was avoiding him. I had no rational answer; No, that was a lie. I had a genuine, legitimate answer, but it would require me to admit things to myself that I just didn’t want to do.
Did I miss him? Hell, yes, I missed the hell out of him? You bet your bottom dollar I did. So why the hesitation and why was I hiding out? It was because I missed him and I wanted to see him again that I was dodging him.
As I mentioned before, I’d been busy over the last couple of days trying to think everything through. Having a crush on someone that was completely clueless about how you felt was safe. The person didn’t have to live up to any of your expectations. Most times, your feelings about a crush would eventually die after a while anyway. Then you’d realize that the person wasn’t all that special and you’re ecstatic that you kept your mouth shut and dodged a bullet that could have been catastrophic.
This situation was different. The crush I had never died. Instead, it grew. And even though I hadn’t revealed my feelings for him, I felt that time was coming no matter what. I was so out of control with Shane. I wanted him every second of every day. My body had been going through some rather uncomfortable Shane withdrawals. And let me be clear, it wasn’t just about the sex, although that was over the top, mind-numbingly fantastic.
I wanted more, you know? I wanted to see him, hear his voice, touch him, be touched by him, and consumed by him. I wanted to be with him to get to know that other side of him that I knew existed underneath the guarded man. We were friends yes, but not as close as Josh and I were or even Malcolm. But I wanted that connection with Shane so badly and that frightened me. I wasn’t sure if he wanted the same thing. If he didn’t, I would be crushed. But if he did…
So meeting him for dinner was a bad idea, right?
My phone went off again and my eyes bulged out of my face.
You leave me no choice. I’ll see you in a few. Let my favorite doctors know that I’m on my way and I’m bringing wine and dessert.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” I blurted and fired of
f a response.
Okay, I’ll meet you. Where?
I expected him to respond right away, but he actually left me hanging. Really?
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” my mom asked, coming from the kitchen carrying a very large and wonderful-smelling bowl of popcorn.
I stared at my phone waiting for a reply. “I have a date that I forgot about.”
“A date?”
I looked up at her when I heard the excitement in her voice. “Not a date, date, Mom. It’s more like dinner with a friend.”
“And who is this friend?” my father chimed in.
“Shane,” I told them just as my phone buzzed.
Glad to hear it. Meet at the BLT around 7. See you soon.
“Do I know this Shane person?” My mom asked, sitting the popcorn in front of me.
I reached over and grabbed a large handful and sat back down on the couch. I shoved the popcorn in my mouth before I replied, “You know Shane Cooper, Josh’s brother.”
My mom looked at me for another second before she started smiling. “Oh that Shane.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that Shane?” I asked, using the mocking tone she had just used in reference to Shane’s name.
I looked at my father and then my mother. They looked at each other before they drowned themselves in a handful of popcorn.
“Oh, that’s cute. You know what?” I stood again and looked down at my cutoff jean shorts and T-shirt. I should be good wearing this.
“What restaurant are you two going to and what time?” my father asked.
“Yes, and what are you wearing?” My mom added.
I shrugged, bent over, and reached for more popcorn. “In two hours and I’m just gonna wear what I have on. He must be in the mood for bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches or something. He said to meet him at some BLT place. I should text him and—”
“Uh, honey, I don’t think that was what he had in mind.” My mother actually blanched. “And as um…pretty as you are, you wouldn’t get into the parking lot of that restaurant with that outfit on.”
“What do you mean?” I looked at my dad. “What kind of place is this?”
“Misty, BLT is arguably one of the best steakhouses in D.C. It’s very upscale and serves its guests by reservation only. You can’t just walk in and get served unless of course you’re the President of the United States or someone of wealth and influence.”
“And the attire isn’t jean shorts and a tank top,” my mom added. “It requires you to dress a little bit more elegantly than normal.”
I shook my head and wiped my buttery hands along my jean shorts. “This has to be a mistake. No way would he pick that kind of restaurant. It’s not that kind of a date.” I grabbed my phone and fired off another text.
Is the BLT some fancy smancy place?
His reply came quickly. Yes.
I shook my head and replied. Then I’m not coming.
Then I’ll C U soon. Ask your parents if they prefer cake or pie.
“Argh!” I cried out and texted him back. Y R U being an ass?
Not being an ass. Want the best steak and they have it. He returned then replied again in all caps. STOP STALLING AND BRING YOUR SEXY ASS ON. I’M STARVING!
I was still trying to work something out, an alternative spot. I was trying anyway.
What about Applebee’s or Red Lobster? They have a great steak.
No reply. I even sent question marks to him and got nothing.
I looked at my expectant mother. “Looks like I’m going to BLT.”
I looked lost. I felt lost. If I were at home, I would be better prepared. I had a closest dedicated to clothes and a separate one for shoes. Going out on the town and dressing up… I did that when I wanted to. I thrived on being the center of attention. I didn’t have any clothes at my parents’ house, and I knew my emergency clothing duffle bag in my trunk didn’t have anything worthy of wearing to the BLT. I blew out a frustrated sigh and texted.
I hate you!
U luv me.
Huh! Uh… No I don’t!
U will.
And my heart just stopped.
“Perfect,” my mom squealed, scaring the shit out of me. I found her glittering gray eyes dancing. She stood, clapped, and then rubbed her hands together. “I have just the dress for you.”
I groaned and shifted my eyes to the ceiling. “Mom, you know I can’t fit anything you own.”
“Bah,” she waved her hands dismissively and moved toward me. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the steps. “I have just the dress. Believe me it will fit.”
My mom led me into their posh bedroom decorated with dark mahogany wood and grey and purple bedding. I sat on their four-post king size bed and crossed my legs as she disappeared into her walk-in closet. There was no way my mother was going to squeeze my ass and boobs into one of her dresses.
Now I said my mom had hips for days, but unfortunately, that was it. However, what she lacked in ass and boobs, I kindly made up for. I watched petrified as I heard her making crazy unintelligible noises as she rummaged through her closet.
“Are you okay in there?” I called to her.
She replied, “Ah, here it is!” She exited the closet with a dress that I knew I wouldn’t be able to get over my right thigh.
I shook my head. “Mom I can’t fit that thing.”
“Sure you can.” She moved closer to me as if once I saw the dress up close, I would suddenly change my opinion.
“Uh, no, Mom I can’t. And if I miraculously got in it, I wouldn’t be able to eat. What size is it?”
“It’s a size that will fit. Will you just trust me and go shower and shave the essentials. Hurry up! You don’t have much time.”
I reluctantly did as I was ordered and hopped in the shower. When I emerged polished and smelling lovely, my overzealous mother helped me fit my ass into her extra small dress. I looked at myself in the mirror afterwards and I had to give my mother credit. I looked pretty damn hot. My mom smiled theatrically of course, gloating that she was right. I rolled my eyes at her, but I gave her a fist bump none the less.
My mom continued to help me get ready. She did my makeup and my hair. I gave her a questioning look when she pulled out this long draw string ponytail out of a drawer in her bathroom. She offered no explanation when I asked why she had it. She just continued raking her fingers through the synthetic strands with a huge smirk on her face as if she were remembering a fond memory or something. That could only mean one thing. I shook my head. Freak…
Once she was done with my hair, I accessorized my outfit with my mother’s diamonds, which consisted of a pair of teardrop earrings, a simple thin rope necklace with a diamond pendant, and a solid gold bangle encrusted with sparkling rocks. And to put the icing on the cake, I placed a pair of black, four-inch Christian Louboutin stilettos on my feet. I took a glance in the full-length mirror and nodded my approval.
“Not bad, Mom. Not bad at all.” As I continued inspecting my reflection, my proud mother was smiling behind me, and I returned her smile.
Ready to dazzle the world and make Shane putty in my hands, I moved slowly down the steps.
My father looked up from the movie on TV and whistled. “Are you sure Shane is just a friend?” He grinned slyly at me.
I stumbled slightly and had to grab the railing next to me. “Uh, yes, Dad. Of course he is. Why would you ask me a question like that?”
My father looked skeptically at me, but didn’t reply.
“Ash, darling, women don’t get dolled up just to gain the attention of a man. We get glamorous to gain attention from every man and have you all eating out of the palms of our hands,” my mom said beside me as she helped me walk down the rest of the steps. I was sure she figured that my stutter step had to do with the heels on my feet and not the mention of Shane being more than a friend.
I looked up in her eyes, and she smiled.
Nope, she knew. Damn it.
My father stood and pulle
d out his phone. I groaned.
“Dad, really? This isn’t prom night. I’m coming right home this time,” I protested, but I posed for the picture.
“You look beautiful, baby.” He kissed my cheek and then narrowed his eyes at me. “Is this the dress?” He looked up at my mom.
She shook her head and pushed me toward the door. “No, honey. Of course not,” she said dismissively. “That’s still in my closet.”
“Really?!” my father replied. “Will you put it on later?”
And bile started to rise from my stomach into my throat from the sound of his voice. I kept moving toward the door.
“Oh, of course, baby. Anything for you,” my mother cooed.
Oh no!
I heard them moaning and kissing and I couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. “Can you two wait until I leave before you start fondling each other?” I called over my shoulder without bringing my eyes to the scene that I knew was developing behind me.
“Then you better hurry up,” my father called back.
My mother giggled shamelessly.
Shit.
I grabbed my keys from the counter and made it to the door.
“Have fun,” they said in unison as I opened the door.
I mumbled the same back to them in a mocking tone before closing the door. “Perverts,” I whispered, shaking my head.
I made two steps toward my baby, a 1970 black, two-door Ford Mustang, when I realized that in my haste to get the hell away from my perverted parents, that I grabbed their keys instead of mine.
Fuck!
I turned around and started back for the house when I heard loud moaning coming from behind the door. “Ewwwe!
Yeah, I wasn’t going back in there and I had to shake my head to get the visual out of my mind before I started puking in their bushes. Feeling thoroughly sick to my stomach, I turned and looked at the black on black Tesla S that was sitting in the driveway.
