Jyme stood beside me, handing me his empty plate.
“Look I’ll get everything of yours moved out today, but I don’t want you going back there by yourself.”
What did he think I was going to live here forever? And I still had to get a car.
“I still need to find a place of my own and a car. I don’t mind spending ninety percent of my time here, but I really need my own place, Jyme.”
“Why?”
“Just because, and I am not going to get in some big dropkick fight about it.”
“Where do you want to live?”
“I was thinking about trying to get a condo in the same building,”
“WHAT?”
“Jyme that place is the safest. No one can get in. Yes, granted, someone sent me an unwanted package, but no one can get in. It’s well secured, and you know it.”
“I don’t get a say in any of this?”
“A say in what?”
“Cricket, I bought this house for us—me and you and you and me.”
“Jyme, I’ve no security. If we breakup, I’m stuck.”
“Who’s breaking up?”
“You know what I mean.”
“If anything happens, you can just keep the house, and I’ll move back to the reservation” he assured me.
“JYME!”
“That’s it. Problem solved,” he said, walking out of the kitchen.
“Jyme, we are not done talking about this.” I screamed at him, following him to the front door. Jyme unlocked and opened it with me right on his heels.
The four figures at the door scared the shit out of both of us. Four women were standing there. One had a basket, another had a cake, another had some kind of casserole, and then the other had a bottle of wine with four goblets.
“Hi,” they said in unison.
“Good morning, ladies,” Jyme greeted them and turned around to give me a quick peck on the lips. He stepped around them and looked as though he was about to burst with laughter.
“Mrs. Jamerson, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Mr. Jamerson said he was not sure when you would be back from your sick grandmother’s house,” the woman with the cake said.
“Down in Tennessee right?” the woman with the casserole dish asked.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I’m not dressed for visitors,” I told them. I was wearing nothing but Jyme’s white fantasy shirt and panties too skimpy to even be called panties.
“Oh, we can wait,” the woman with the wine said.
“Oh well, please come in,” I told all four of them. I guided them to the kitchen, apologized for the mess, and excused myself.
I ran up the stairs and yanked my phone off the cradle; I pressed my speed dial number one.
“What’s our story?” I asked him.
“Tell the truth just add a couple of years to it.”
“Alright.”
“I love you,” he teased.
“Fuck you.”
“I should have before I left,” he said and my toes started tingling.
“I gotta go.”
“I love you,” he said again.
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll see you at five.”
“Four!” I stressed.
“Okay four.”
I dressed quickly and went back downstairs. The women were all still sitting at the table.
“Mrs. Jamerson, I love the rich bold colors you used in the kitchen. Do you guys plan on leaving the walls bare?” Casserole asked.
“Oh no, the rest of our stuff is at our old condo,” I told them.
“Oh my goodness, where are my manners. I’m Lori Shaffer, the casserole lady said.
“I’m Darlene Walters,” said the cake lady.
The wine lady introduced herself as Jillian Rogers.
“And I’m Athena Jacobs, said the basket lady.
“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you ladies, and thank you so much for the warm welcome.
“Well, Mrs. Jamerson, I see you have some fresh biscuits over there on that innovative oven. I make jams, jellies, and preserves.” Athena pulled the small cloth napkin off the top of the basket, and there were at least eight jars of jellies and what not. I went and got five plates, knives, and soft some butter.
“Oh, what lovely saucers you have,” Jillian admired.
“I just love the texture and depth. It’s so urban,” Lori said.
“So Darlene, what kind of cake is that?” I asked, trying to change the soon to be racial conversation.
“Hummingbird,” she answered.
“Oh, I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s an old family recipe,” she answered.
“And Lori what kind of casserole is that,” I asked. “It’s a cobbler and it’s Rhubarb,” she answered. Neither one of those desserts sounded appetizing to me. “Ladies, I sure do hate to rush you off, but it is already ten and I need to start getting to work. Let me find something to put those wonderful desserts in.”
“No, No, we will stop back by in a week and retrieve them,” Athena said.
“Well, alright. Thank you so much.” I walked them back to the door.
“Mrs. Jamerson, does Mr. Jamerson take his speed boat to work with him every day?” Darlene asked.
“Just about,” I answered with a smile. “You ladies have a good day and see you soon,” I beamed. They all nodded, and then the door was shut. I shook trying to get the freaky Wisteria Lane bunch out of my head. I locked the door and headed upstairs.
I was on my tenth email when Beyoncé started singing on my phone—Jyme’s ringtone.
“Are they gone?” he whispered.
“Yes, finally. They left about twenty minutes ago.”
“There will be two delivery men coming to the house to bring the rest of your belongings from the condo.”
“JYME,” I snapped.
“We’re not having this conversation, Cricket.”
I said nothing. What was the point?
“Have you had a chance to check out Best Buy’s website?”
“No, but I will.”
“Try to get them to deliver and install today.”
“Yes, Sir!” I teased him.
“You still cooking dinner?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, good. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Two loads in the washer, the cleaning of three bathrooms, the changing of sheets on our bed, and four hours later, the deliverymen and the Best Buy geeks arrived at the house within ten minutes of each other. Everything I owned fit in my new closet, and that made me sad. I unpacked all ten boxes, and I pushed all five of the portable closets inside of the big closet. We had three TVs mounted, two Blu-rays set up, two stereo systems connected, and a desktop hooked up. While the Best Buy geeks were mounting the TV in the bedroom, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
“Who am I speaking with?” the male voice asked.
“The person you called.”
“May I speak with Lil Samson?”
I clicked into my phone quickly and found the recorder. “I’m sorry, who?” I asked.
“Jyme” the male’s voice said.
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”
“Oh, so are you not coming home tonight?” the voice asked.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Did you get the little gift I sent you?”
“I’m sorry, sir. You have the wrong number.”
“You can’t hide forever, and when I do find you, I’m going to split you wide open.”
I hung up the phone, and went downstairs. I stepped out the kitchen door onto the deck and dialed his number. I paced back and forth until Jyme answered.
“Someone just called my phone,” I rushed out.
“I’m listening,” I knew instantly Jyme was not alone. He never talked to me so formally. I filled him on what had happened and what was said.
“I will meet with you in a half an
hour.”
“K.”
“I, umm,” he stammered.
“I love you too.”
We both hung up.
I was frantic, so I started cleaning like a mad woman. I swept and mopped the bathroom and kitchen. I was just about to start in on the dining room when I heard the garage door open. I went to the door and opened it.
Jyme got out of a black Dodge Charger. He went to the trunk of the car and pulled out two boxes. He walked up the three steps to the hallway, and I stood in front of him.
“The Best Buy guys are still here,” I warned him before he started talking. He nodded and kissed me on my lips hard. I kissed him right back just as hard.
“Here’s all your jewelry.” He held the two boxes up. “I’ll put them in your closet.”
I nodded and went back to start on the dining room. I was on my knees scrubbing the hardwood when Jyme walked in.
“Babe, your clothes.”
“I know, but I didn’t have time to change into something else, and I have to stay busy.”
“I know, Babe,”
“Mrs. Jamerson, we’re all done,” one of the geeks called from the foyer.
“I’ll be right there.”
I went to rinse off my hands, and then I signed the paper on his clipboard. He handed me the receipt and I let them out. I shut the door and locked all three locks and went straight to Jyme’s office. I put the receipt in the top drawer of the desk.
Jyme walked in and looked all over the room and then smiled.
“This room is nice.”
“It’s all yours.”
He walked over. “Do you still feel safe in the house?”
“Yes.”
He sat at his desk and turned on his new computer.
“We have internet, so I guess we need to order some cable.”
“You get whatever you want.”
“Why aren’t you taking any participation in this?”
“You need this stuff to survive. I don’t,” he explained.
“Jyme, you like stuff just as much as I do, if not more.”
“I don’t need it though; you can’t function without it.”
I said nothing and started to exit the room slowly.
“Cricket, I will do any and everything to make sure you feel safe, and being in control makes you feel safe. This is our house, and it’s safe.”
“I feel safe here,” I assured him.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
I went into the kitchen to start dinner. My mind was still on Jyme’s words, and I wondered how he knew that about me. I didn’t even know that about myself.
My cell phone rang while I was adding some ham chunks to the collards. It was another number I didn’t recognize. I screamed for Jyme. He came running right to me. He nodded, and I answered it on speaker.
“Cricket?” the woman said into the phone.
“Yes?”
“Hi Honey. This is JJ.” Jyme smiled wide and walked out the kitchen. If he only really knew how his mother terrified me, he would have stood right there.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I was wondering if you had time for a little shopping tomorrow. I know it’s short notice, but I have a dinner tomorrow night, and Lil Samson is always praising your style. Can you help me?”
“Sure,” I said reluctantly.
“Oh, good. How about I pick you up at noon tomorrow?”
“I will meet you at Pac Place food court at noon.”
“That sounds great. See you then.”
I rolled my eyes hard and hung up.
Jyme ate his entire plate again, and then he had a slice of the hummingbird cake and a slice of that nasty looking rhubarb cobbler. Jyme told me about some of his fishing adventures and all the fishing mistakes he used to make. I laughed at the majority of his stories, and then he told me they were not supposed to be that funny; but they were. We made love all night and for the majority of the early morning. I hope he never gets enough of me.
I woke the next morning to an empty bed. I listened for the shower, but he was not there. I walked towards the stairs and heard murmuring. He was down there on the phone. I striped the bed and put on fresh sheets. With all of our lovemaking, I will be washing sheets every day. Thank God I ordered a dozen sets from IKEA.
I found an outfit for the day and hopped in shower. I was in there maybe two minutes when Jyme joined me. I turned to kiss him, but his face was distorted.
“Babe what’s wrong?” I pressed up against him.
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I need you to stay at the reservation tonight.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go to California today.”
I swallowed and nodded. I turned back around and finished my shower. He rubbed soap in the palm his of hands and washed my back. He touched my bullet wound all the time now; it was like he was fascinated by its presence. I had many more scars he would never see.
“What makes you feel safe?” I asked him.
“Knowing you, my family and friends are safe.”
“When you’re scared, what makes you feel safe?”
“I guess I’ve never been that scared.”
“You’ve never been bullied before?”
“No, I’ve gotten into fights before, but I was not scared of them. I knew I was going to beat the shit out of them, so it didn’t matter.”
Those words about him beating the shit out someone made my toes tingle and the feeling was rising, but I knew he was not in the mood for that. Oh wait, yes he was.
* * * * *
I met Mrs. JJ on the fourth level at the food court. She wore a black tank top tucked into tapered jeans with a red blazer and suede boots. She looked a mess; we had to stop this train before it wrecked. Two growling stomachs and four hours later, Mrs. JJ ended up with a sequined blazer, three pairs of skinny jeans, a studded sweater dress, two sleeveless paillette dresses, two wrapped jersey dresses, a crepe dress, and four pairs of pumps. We decided to grab a bite to eat in the food court.
The day hadn’t been extremely unpleasant. Mrs. JJ acted civilly, but every now and then, I caught her staring at me as if she was still dissecting me. When we sat down at the restaurant, we both ordered a glass of wine. I knew not to drink too much more because I had to drive us all the way back to the reservation. Jyme had arranged for Mrs. JJ to be dropped off at the mall so we would only have one car. I was not thrilled at all about having to stay on that reservation, but if this made Jyme feel comfortable, then so be it.
“I can’t seem to figure you out,” she told me.
“Well, how about we just stop trying to figure each other out and just enjoy each other’s company?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes and hunched my shoulders.
“I know you’re hiding something, and I can tell it’s something big.”
I sat there staring at her.
“Do you deny it?”
“No.”
She nodded and grinned at me. “You have him fooled, but not me.”
“The secrets that I keep have nothing to do with Jyme and me. I would never do anything to hurt him. I’d leave him before I let that happen,” I explained.
“See that’s what you don’t understand. If you ever left him, that would kill him. You’re in too deep, and the longer you keep this from him the more it’s going to hurt him.”
We both sipped our wine, and then our food arrived. “I won’t pretend like he hasn’t come back to life since he’s met you, but I can’t help but fear the storm that you’re brewing,” she said.
I ate my salmon in silence.
“Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
“Where are your family and friends?”
“Tennessee.”
“Why are you here?”
“My friend Chelle asked me to come to the Pacific Northwest, and I’ve never lived here before,
so I came,”
“Where all have you lived?”
“All over.”
“Where?” she demanded.
I wiped my mouth with my cloth napkin and took a gulp of my wine. “Um, let’s see. New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Florida, Michigan, Georgia, Texas, Louisiana, Illinois, California, Ohio, New Hampshire, and Washington State.”
“Why so many states?”
“Work.”
“Have you always traveled?”
“Yes, I’ve always been in auditing and sales.”
“So, I take it you make a pretty good living?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You must have had a lot of education?”
“The best money could buy.”
“So why are you with a boy from a reservation instead of some white-collar millionaire?”
“White collar men aren’t my type,” I told her.
“So, what is your type?”
“Jyme.”
“Why?”
“Because he understands me better than I understand myself.”
Those words seemed to have had magic powers in them. Mrs. JJ melted right before my eyes. She smiled at me and told me; she understood what I meant. She talked and talked and talked for the rest of the day. She told me exactly how she met Big Samson and about giving birth to his children. She told me the way he used to be with her, and then the kids came and that everything changed. She told me about her childhood. And how things used to be on the reservation. She told me about Jyme when he started fishing and how he loved it. She repeated almost everything Jyme had already told me about how he started his business, but I didn’t stop her. She seemed so laidback talking about her family and all of their adventures.
We talked about sex with the Samson men, and I gave her an inch of information. I had to share something in our bonding stage; this was crucial and Jyme wanted this.
“I know this is difficult for you to talk about, but you have to understand I encourage my children to be sexual and free. They can talk to me about any and everything. I don’t want my children to be embarrassed about sex.”
“Oh, he’s not, believe me,” I said.
“Oh, I know he’s not, but he’s reserved when it comes to you, and I don’t like that,” she told me.
And at that moment, I understood Mrs. JJ a little bit more. Jyme always went to her with all of his issues and thoughts, and now that had changed and she felt like she didn’t know him anymore. Jyme protected me, and she did not know me so that annoyed her. I had to let Mrs. JJ in some kind of way, but she was a mother and I don’t do mothers.
Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) Page 19
