Authors: James Henderson,Larry Rains
So she did.
Two months later, Neal moved into his aunt’s garage. Still he ate the majority of his meals in her kitchen, slept on her couch three to four nights a week, and enjoyed her bed once or twice a month.
Although Neal benefited more than she from this arrangement, Tasha was thankful that he could be counted on in a moment’s notice to look after Derrick whenever her job called her in.
Neal’s presence also added that home-feeling to the two-bedroom apartment. As when they were married, Neal, a holiday enthusiast, cooked the Thanksgiving dinner, put up all the Christmas decorations, barbecued on the Fourth-of-July, or whenever he saw someone else doing so, and presented handmade gifts on Derrick’s and her birthday.
I’ll always love him, though he has a habit of making me want to choke him.
Derrick entered the bedroom. “Momma, can I have a drink of water?”
“No!” Tasha said. “Not until you give me a hug.” Derrick approached hesitantly and hugged her. “I’m sorry for what I did,” she said, her voice creaking. “I love you.”
Derrick stepped back. “Not letting me go with Daddy?”
Tasha shook her head. “No. I’m not sorry for that, and I’ll never be sorry for tagging your behind when you need it. I’m sorry…” The words caught in her throat. “Hey, I’m off tomorrow. Why don’t we go to the park and catch a movie?”
Derrick’s face lit up. “Yeah. What about Daddy? You want me to call him and he can go with us?”
“No. I was thinking only you and I.”
Derrick looked pained. “It’s no fun without Daddy.”
Chapter 12
Perry watched the man go inside Krogers. Good-looking, she thought. Not bad at all. Tall, slightly muscular, handsome face. Dresses half-ass decent, though she wouldn’t advise a T-shirt with green Dockers. His skin looked fairly well, at a distance.
She exited her car, went inside and selected an empty cart. After a brief search she found him in the frozen food section with a box of Morton Fish Sticks under his armpit, thumbing through a wad of coupons. A moment she stood behind him, watching.
With her he wouldn’t need coupons. She’d wine and dine him on crabs, lobsters, salmon, walleye, filet mignon, seafood you couldn’t buy with coupons.
She aimed the cart and rammed him. “Excuse me!” she said, almost before hitting him.
He winced in pain and stooped to rub the back of his leg. “What the hell!”
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!”
Seeing her face, he squelched his anger. “It didn’t hurt,” he said, obviously lying. “It’s all right.”
Perry knelt and rubbed his thigh, just below his groin. “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”
“Naw. I’ve been hit ten times harder than that.”
She stood up and extended her hand. “Perry Davis,” smiling.
She intentionally held out her left hand to flash the ten-caret gold sapphire ring on her index finger. This gesture was risky. If he was a thug he might pop her head and abscond with the ring. He took her hand and held it.
Perry said, “You’re shopping for the wife?”
“No, no, no,” finally releasing her hand. “I’m not married.”
“Is that right? So am I.” Laughing coquettishly: “I mean, I’m not married, either.”
Their conversation carried to the checkout line, through the automatic double doors and into the parking lot, where they stood in front of his white Hugo, in dire need of a wash and paint job.
“Where do you work out?” Perry asked him.
“At home,” he lied. “I’ve instituted my own workout program. It’s more strenuous and produces better results than those health spas.”
“I see,” Perry said. “It looks all good from where I’m standing.”
“Yeah,” nodding in agreement, “it’s
all
good.”
A moment there was awkward silence.
Perry said, “If your girl rode by and saw us chatting, she wouldn’t flip, would she?”
He shook his head. “Naw. I’m solo right now.”
Perry stared at him, incredulous. “I’ve heard that before. A thousand times. A good-looking guy like yourself, and you don’t have a hundred women hanging on your jock? Yeah, right.”
“Straight up. When I go out to a club or something I have to beat em off with a stick. Now I’m just chilling, resting my swinging arm.”
“Yes, I hear you. I better be going.” She started backing away. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Hey, wait! You don’t even know my name.”
She stopped. “I know your name.”
“How do you know?”
“What’s your phone number?”
“Uh…you see…I…”
Perry opened her purse, pulled out a card and handed it to him. “The first number is my BlackBerry, the last my home phone.” She turned and walked away. Over her shoulder: “Call me anytime.”
He did. The moment she arrived home. The dialogue was an extension of their earlier conversation: Perry complimenting him and he heartily agreeing.
After an hour of fatuous flattery, Perry offered an invite. “You care to see my house?”
“Yeah,” he said. “When?”
“How ’bout tonight? I could cook you something. You like red wings?”
“Red wings? Never tried em. Chicken, right?”
“No. It’s the other dark meat. Has a distinctive taste. Or I could fry up jumbo shrimp and homemade fries, wouldn’t take a few minutes. Not bragging, I make hush puppies that’ll make your toes curl. What you say?”
“Uh…do you have a man? I’d hate to be nibbling on a shrimp and your man comes in raising hell.”
“What type of woman you think I am?”
“A woman too good to be true.”
“I’m true. You’ll need to get to know me deep inside and see I’m not a good little girl. In fact I’m nasty, know what I mean? Very nasty! Tonight is perfect. You prefer red or white wine?”
“Uh…surprise me.”
Perry laughed. “Sugar, surprising men is my forte.”
* * * * *
After jotting down directions to her house, he changed shirts, slathered on too much Brute and gargled with Scope and Listerine. He was ready.
Driving, he talked to himself: “Gotta calm down. She’ll think I’m not sophisticated. Should have washed the car. Naw, she already saw it, won’t matter. Can you believe my luck? Man! Not only she’s fine as frog hair split four times, she’s stacking paper. Reams of it! Red or white wine? Damn! I almost asked what color was Boones Farm. Gotta remember: chill. Just chill.”
But when he pulled into Perry’s driveway, his tongue flopped out, like a dog in a meat packing plant.
“Damn!” he said, admiring the colorful house.
And when Perry appeared at the front door wearing a short, red silk dress, the fluorescent glow of the porch light offering an inside view of her curvaceous figure, he started talking like Scooby Doo.
“Aarg…arrk…”
“Come on in,” Perry said.
“Arrgh!”
“Excuse me?”
“O-o-okay,” he managed.
Perry gave him the grand tour, showing him the parlor, highlighted with a grand piano. The patio. The pool. Two full bathrooms, three spare bedrooms. The master bedroom. And the two-car garage, where she insisted he sit inside a black Cadillac Escalade.
Then she led him to the dining room, where she’d laid out fine silver, several bottles of wine, a large cauldron filled with fresh salad and enough jumbo shrimp, fries and hush puppies to feed a platoon.
Perry said, “I wasn’t sure which wine you prefer, so I bought a variety.”
He picked up a bottle and read the label. “Chateau Ste. Michelle. My favorite.”
Perry watched as he ate and drank, smiling each time he looked up at her. “You like my house?” she asked.
Chewing: “It’s…it’s breathtaking.”
Perry sighed. “Yes, it is. All this, however, does not make a happy home. You see, there’s one thing I don’t have, and without it my life is meaningless, empty.”
A mouthful of jumbo shrimp, he said, “A maid?”
Perry laughed. “No, silly. A man.”
He felt embarrassed.
Damn! Chill. She’s hungry. Yeah, but hungry for what?
Something about her that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Something below the surface. An ulterior design of some sort, or was it the wine? He felt lightheaded, and horny.
While she conversed on and on in that imperious manner of hers, he mentally undressed her…
undo the strap with my teeth, nibble her shoulder, neck, lips, and go for the poonanie.