“You finally meet a respectable girl, and you really thought you would get away with not bringing her home to me.” Maria shook her head.
Bryan gave her a hug. “Maria, I’m sorry. We’ve just been so busy.”
“I know, darling, always, always, that’s your excuse. But still, how could you possibly be too busy to see me?” She wagged a finger at him. Then, as if resigned to never resolving that dispute, she turned her attention to Callie. “Okay, let me get a look at you.” She reached out and grabbed both of Callie’s hands, pulling her forward from where she’d been hiding, partially behind, and partially beside Bryan. “Oh Bryan, she is a lovely girl, but much too skinny. Come, come, Callie, you must come into the kitchen and let me fatten you up. Running around with Bryan you’ll never get any decent food,” she said, tugging Callie towards the kitchen.
Callie looked back over her shoulder and gave Bryan a bewildered look, frantically signaling for him to join them. In what was clearly a coordinated stratagem, B.T. grasped Bryan’s shoulders firmly and directed him towards the den. Bryan simply shrugged and gave Callie a sheepish grin. Callie took a deep breath and resigned herself to being alone with Maria in the kitchen. Though she couldn’t be sure, she suspected that she was well on her way to an interrogation the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the Spanish Inquisition.
Callie looked around the spacious kitchen, which was obviously the domain of a gourmet cook. The six-burner Viking stove looked straight out of a five-star restaurant and had all the markings of daily use. In keeping with the Spanish colonial style of the house, the floor was covered in terra-cotta tiles, with a coordinating backsplash and borders in bright Mexican tiles. The well-seasoned pots hanging from the pot rack overhead and the glass-front Sub-Zero refrigerator added to the impression that this was actually a cooking kitchen, not a designer’s idea of what a kitchen should look like. Watching Maria bustling about, it was clear that despite their obvious wealth, she did most of the cooking without assistance from a cook or other “help.”
Without inquiring as to whether Callie could cook, Maria handed her a bunch of vegetables and asked her to prepare a salad as she made Bryan’s favorite shrimp chimichangas.
“So, do you cook for my boy when you’re back home?”
“No, not really, Mrs. Breedlove. Back home I own a bookstore, and I spend most of my time working there,” Callie replied, tearing the romaine lettuce into bite-size pieces.
“Ah, a career woman,” Maria muttered to herself as she folded the shrimp mixture into the crust.
Callie didn’t know what to make of that comment, so she chose to remain silent.
“How long have you two been in love?”
Callie bobbled the lettuce as she gasped out, “Mrs. Breedlove…”
Maria interrupted, “Please, call me Maria. Breedlove is such a ridiculous name, if I hadn’t loved Robert so much, nothing in the world would have made me take it.”
Callie puzzled over that for a moment, then realized that Robert was B.T. “Okay. Anyway, Maria, Bryan and I aren’t in love,” she said, firmly shaking her head for emphasis.
Maria turned away from the stove. “Oh really? Are you saying that my boy would bring a girl home to me that he didn’t love?”
“Uh, Mrs. Breed…” Maria raised a brow imperiously. “Sorry, Maria. I thought you pretty much insisted that we come to dinner.”
“My boy didn’t have to come, did he? You’ve known Bryan long enough now to know that he doesn’t do anything unless he wants to. Besides, he met your folks, didn’t he? Why wouldn’t he bring you home to meet his family?”
Callie wondered irritably if there was anything that Bryan hadn’t told B.T. If he’d told him about the kiss in the kitchen, she would kill him!
“Robert told me that your father really put him through the wringer. Bryan doesn’t have to put up with that just to be with a girl. Yep, my boy is definitely in love.”
Callie had no intention of responding to that statement and worked in silence.
Then, “Robert said you really helped Bryan deal with Brodie’s death.”
“I don’t know if I helped or not…,” Callie responded tentatively.
“Of course you did. My Robert wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t so.”
Callie rolled her eyes, fairly certain that Bobby Tom would say pretty much anything, but thought it would probably be better to allow Maria to maintain her illusions.
Maria continued contemplatively, “They were both my boys. I remember when Robert brought them home. My poor babies were like abandoned puppies…”
Callie interrupted, “I thought they were already teenagers when they met B.T.?”
Maria corrected her. “Initials are what you embroider on your underwear when you go to camp.”
“But isn’t that the name he goes by?”
“Yes,” Maria replied snappishly, “but I don’t have to call him that, do I?”
Callie raised her brows and wondered if Maria had ever told B.T. that his name belonged on his drawers.
Maria continued, “Anyway, yes, they were seventeen or eighteen years old. But they’d never had anybody to care for them. They were desperate for love, but it scared them too. It took months before they’d even return a hug. What kind of people are fortunate enough to have such fine sons and then just throw them away as if they’re garbage?” she asked forcefully. Maria had obviously gone off on this tangent before, and didn’t seem to really expect a response, which was a relief to Callie as she didn’t have any idea of what she should say. “All I can say is, it’s fortunate I never met either of their so-called parents.” Then as if suddenly recalling Callie’s presence, she ended her diatribe. “Anyway, it was a tough time.” She turned back to the stove. When she spoke again her voice was hollow with grief. “Robert and I never had children of our own. Now I know the pain of losing one of my babies, without having the pleasure of holding that child to my breast.” Then she smiled. “But now my other boy has brought home a nice girl, and there’ll be babies for me and my Robert.”
“Maria…,” Callie tried again to interject. Where had she gotten these ideas from? Did she act like this every time Bryan brought a woman to the house? Then she remembered that Bryan had told her he’d never brought anyone home before. Well, she could certainly understand why!
“You’ll take good care of my boy. You two are crazy in love with each other, there’s no doubt about that. You can see it all over your faces. I’ve prayed that he’d meet a good girl, and you know the Lord answers prayers. Come on, let’s get this food on the table. As usual, my boy is in a hurry.”
Callie gave up disagreeing with Maria. After all, who was she to argue with a deity, and she didn’t mean the Lord. She had quickly realized that like her own mother, Maria suffered from what Callie jokingly referred to as “little woman syndrome.” Having lived with a mother with the disorder for years, she recognized it in Maria immediately. Both were tiny women who could steamroll an opponent without mussing their hairdo. Neither woman would back down from her own viewpoint, and both would walk right over you if you allowed them. And even worse, they had the ability to make you adore them despite their assertive tendencies. She meekly finished the salad and followed Maria into the dining room, though she made a mental note to find a mirror as soon as possible to see exactly what, if anything, was showing on her face.
Dinner was a festive affair with Maria playing queen bee over everyone. She forced food onto them, insisting that both Bryan and Callie were much too skinny, and remonstrated B.T. for eating too much fatty food. She continued to probe into every aspect of Callie’s life. Bryan took it all in good humor and kept giving Callie amused looks and smug grins. She in turn pantomimed the injuries she intended to inflict on him for putting her through this. Fortunately, they had a built-in excuse to leave shortly after they finished dinner.
As they walked to the door Maria harangued them to give her plenty of advance notice to prepare the wedding. She’d never been the mother-of-the-groom before and really looked forward to it. And of course, they were not to wait too long to present her with lots of lovely grandchildren; twins might not be a bad idea. After all, they weren’t getting any younger. Callie had no idea which couple she referred to, and didn’t dare ask.
Once they escaped to the truck and their hosts had returned to their home, Callie began punching Bryan in his arm repeatedly for not warning her about his surrogate mother.
Bryan doubled over with laughter, holding up his hands in defense. “Would you have come had I told you about her? Besides, I put up with worse from your dad!”
Aside from his inquiry into the etymology of the word “haint,” they’d pretty much avoided discussing Bryan’s conversation with her dad. Bryan hadn’t needed to understand that a “haint” is a ghost to recognize an implied death threat when he heard it.
Callie squeezed the back of her neck and exhaled, the breath hissing through her teeth, “God, from the way folks are acting, you’d think we were a couple of horny teenagers. My folks trying to scare you away, your folks rushing us to the altar. What’s wrong with people that they don’t understand that we’re simply…well, you know.” Callie fumbled to a halt, flustered by the effort to define their relationship. Even she had to acknowledge that she and Bryan had gone past the “friendship” stage quite a while back, but she had no idea what to call their relationship now.
Bryan chuckled at her confusion, “Did you tell Maria that we’re just, ‘you know’?”
Callie sucked her teeth. “I don’t think anyone has told that woman anything since 1965. No, to hear her tell it, we’ve got one foot on the altar and the other on a banana peel.”
Bryan laid his arm across her shoulders and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “How do you know we don’t?” he asked quietly.
Mesmerized by the loving regard she saw in his eyes, Callie didn’t reply as Bryan leaned forward to place a velvety soft kiss on her lips.
Callie had almost grown accustomed to her response to Bryan’s touch, but the newness of the kiss seemed to suck all the oxygen from the truck. She felt as if a large hand was squeezing her heart, leaving her breathless and lightheaded with the wonder of it all. Instinctively she parted her lips, inviting his tongue inside for further exploration. Bryan stroked her tongue and the inside of her mouth as if it were a soft-serve ice cream cone. The very delicacy of the gesture seemed to heighten her arousal, and when Bryan removed his tongue in an attempt to break the connection, she followed it back into his mouth, setting off another chain reaction of desire. Bryan finally grasped her chin and firmly moved away to end the kiss, all the while mentally damning the responsibility that necessitated doing so.
He knew without a doubt that he was falling in love. He wanted this woman as he’d wanted only one thing before in his life: music. She awakened a hunger in him that even music couldn’t assuage. God only knew what Callie was feeling with all this “you know” stuff. Surely she knew that he wasn’t toying with her, but she seemed unwilling to acknowledge the power of what was happening between them. Of course, he understood her hesitancy. Given his background, very few normal women were willing to throw themselves into the breach. His celebrity status only exacerbated the problem, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had family opposed to interracial relationships. But if nothing else, his childhood had given him a formidable drive and determination, and he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Callie. He knew that she was attracted to him. He just needed to convince her that his feelings for her were genuine, not an insurmountable task in his estimation. He cleared his throat. “Are you sure we have only one foot on that banana peel, Callie?” He started the truck and backed out of the Breedloves’ driveway.
* * *
The auditions were far less grueling than Callie had anticipated. It was a deceptively simple process; each guitarist would play a song of his choice on the acoustic guitar. Those who played well acoustically were asked to play another song on the electric guitar. Finally, they were invited to jam with the band. Very few of the musicians made it to this point, making Callie wonder if they would ever find a new guitarist. Fortunately, the very first candidate after the dinner break stood head and shoulders above the rest. His name was Thaddeus, and he was the strangest looking person there. In a crowd of tattooed, longhaired rockers, he was dressed neatly in a pair of pressed chinos, a button-down shirt with a sweater vest and looked to be about seventeen years old. Seeming painfully shy, he didn’t look up once during his entire set. Callie initially wondered if he had come to the wrong place, but she could tell from Bryan’s reaction to the first chord the young man struck that he was the one. As one body, Bryan and the other band members walked over to their instruments and joined him. Despite his traditional manner of dressing and diffident manner, he fit in seamlessly with the rest of the band, and Callie could see the relief on Bryan’s face. Thaddeus quickly ran through a medley of Storm Crow songs, displaying an admirable knowledge of the band’s catalogue. His aptitude meant that the transition to a new guitarist would be much smoother than anticipated. After they finished the set, they dismissed the other applicants and offered him the job on the spot, after confirming that he was of legal age.
Naysa, the band’s stylist, looked Thaddeus over carefully. “You know, I think I could work with this.” She gestured towards his outfit. “A kind of nouveau geek look would be perfect.” She tapped one sleekly manicured nail against her perfect white teeth as she circled around the youngster. A petite Japanese girl with dainty doll-like features, Naysa wore her straight dark hair in a short pageboy hair cut with bangs. The style, commonly called the China doll, emphasized the dramatic slant of her eyes. Her cowboy hat, leather vest and vintage jeans created a unique look that had contributed to her success as a stylist for celebrities. On her tiny frame and with her strongly Asian features, the dichotomy of the look was arresting.