I'm back! A day late and a dollar short but hopefully this makes up for it. I'm actually pretty nervous about this chapter just because it's sooo much different from anything I've ever written. I'm crossing my fingers that y'all like it.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, playing on Charlaine Harris' playground does not give me ownership rights. Rated M for language and lemons. Walter's not mine either. He belongs to Jeff Dunham.
7. And the Joke's On You
I dropped my handbag and shoes by my front door as soon as I walked in. When I used the inheritance money Gran left me to open a small mystery bookstore in downtown Shreveport, I had no idea how much work owning my own business would be. Without Eric's support and business savvy, I doubt I would have survived the first six months. Four years later the Cloak & Dagger was holding its own, hopefully making Gran proud. Still, there were some days I was more than happy to hand the reins over to my assistant manager, Holly. This was one of those days. I needed an extra large glass of merlot and a weeklong nap in my comfiest PJs. What I didn't need was someone ringing the doorbell. I stared at it as though it were the enemy and contemplated first: who it could be, and second: if I really cared. I'm not embarrassed to say I did the childish thing and slumped into the couch. The bell rang once more and the door still went unanswered. The week had been one incident after another, starting with the divorce then Eric's accident and ending with today's shipment of oranges instead of James Patterson's latest book. That door was a metaphor. If I opened it, reality would think it was welcome.
Nope. Not today.
o-o
I don't know if it was the stress of the day or the mammoth-sized glass of wine but I zonked out the second my head hit the pillow. Eight and a half hours of blissful nothingness. After a shower and a quick round of morning breath versus Colgate, I was feeling better then I had in a long time. A glance at the clock told me I didn't have to be at the shop for a few hours. I donned a pair of denim cutoffs and a white tee. June in Louisiana was way to hot for much else. I found one sandal by the nightstand and one by the closet. I needed to drop by the bank then thought I'd spend the morning with Lafayette. My handbag was by the front door where I'd dropped it the night before and I was on my way. When I stepped out and turned to lock the lock the deadbolt behind me, something brushed against my foot. I looked down and shock slowed my heartbeat to virtual nonexistence. As unassumingly as possible, a flower lay on my doormat. A yellow hibiscus, to be exact. I stared at it blankly for a long moment, bracing myself for a maelstrom of emotion. Instead, the only thing to come was a wistful smile. It kind of surprised the hell out of me. I reached down to pick it up, flipping over the attached note but knowing instinctively what it said.
And there it was. Nothing but a neatly scrolled 'E'. I looked up and down the empty hallway as if it would whisper back to me. Who left this? Had Eric been here? Was this the result of the doorbell I'd ignored yesterday? Not surprisingly, the hallway had no answers. I brought the golden bloom up to my nose and inhaled its fresh scent. The edges were darkened, probably from being out all night with without water, but it didn't fail to coax pleasant memories to the forefront of my mind.
My first meeting with Eric could generously be termed a disaster, romantically speaking. What obviously passed for charming in his bimbo-filled world, came across as practiced, unimaginative, and just plain sleazy. I wondered if "Can I buy you breakfast?" actually worked for him. If I hadn't been so affronted, it would have made me sad to know there were so many girls out there whose Grans hadn't taught them that a place in a lady's heart and bed could not be bought by a few drinks and an inviting smile. But, damn what a smile it was. There was no way not to notice the gorgeous man on the altar-like stage as soon as you entered Loki's Playground. He was lord and master of all he saw. Every woman in the place (and some of the men) either consciously or unconsciously vied for his attention. I was getting a few curious looks and many more jealous glares just for our brief conversation. I had noticed his eyes on my before he ever took a step in my direction and it had quickened my heart rate more than I'd care to admit. I tried to appear unconcerned with his interest but the longer he looked, the lower that beat pulsed. My lady bits were hosting their own Mardi Gras. But that was before he'd ever opened his mouth. By the time Amelia and I left Loki's, I'd have loved nothing more than to shower Eric's slime off of me. A week passed and I put the whole incident behind me.
Apparently Eric hadn't.
He showed up at the front door of Gran's old farmhouse in Bon Temps, where Amelia and I were living at the time, with a dozen roses. He was even more gorgeous in the sunlight than he had been at the club. He cleaned up well in nice jeans and a blue button down shirt that simultaneously set the blue off in his eyes and contrasted the subtle gold in his hair. That became the first chink in my armor. As tempted as I was to slam the door in his face, there was something new in his demeanor that held me off. He took my one step's worth of hesitation and paved a 4-lane highway. His presence began to fill every facet of my life until I didn't know how to untwine us, until I wouldn't have it any other way. After I'd laid into him about the expense of a dozen roses the first time, he started to send me just one yellow hibiscus flower every time he wanted me to know he was thinking of me.
Why would he send me this now? With my thoughts racing, I sniffed the bloom once last time and made my way down to the lobby. I hopped into my car, with the flower riding shotgun and made my way into the heart of town.
The bank was quick and painless but it was still a relief to walk through the threshold of Laf's bakery. The atmosphere always reminded me of the comfort of Gran's and the smell of fresh baked goodies only added to that. You know, if Gran's kitchen had pinstripes of purple sequins on one of the walls and "Dancing Queen" playing in the background. I ordered an iced cappuccino and a muffin from the cute guy behind the counter and, after asking him to let Laf know I was here, took a seat. Laf made it a priority to hire the most gorgeous, albeit slightly dim ones in the lot. His kitchen should have had a revolving door. Jesus (according to his nametag) came back a second later and signaled Laf would just be a minute. That was no problem, I had one of his awesome cinnamon and sugar muffins to keep me company. I washed down my first buttery bite with a swig of coffee when Laf entered the main floor. And I do mean entered in the most Liza Minelli sense of the word. His black dew rag, muscle shirt, and jeans were standard. The purple eyeshadow and hot pink feather boa on the 6'2" muscular black man were probably what caused most people to stop and do a double take.
"Homo." The muttered word had my head swirling around to face behind me. the man sitting at that table was wearing a bright blue Walmart vest. The expression on his face screamed "curmudgeon". He was probably in his sixties and balding. He might remind me of a sweet old grandfather if he'd smile. He, however, took me back to my Gran telling me as a child that the frown on my face would "stay that way" one day if I didn't stop pouting. He hadn't looked up from his newspaper though, so I righted myself and hoped I was just hearing things. Lafayette made his way over to me with a not-so-subtle sashay in his hips, most likely for Jesus' benefit since he was not-so-subtly watching.
"Sookie!" He leaned over my table to kiss my cheek then gracefully relaxed himself into the seat across from me. "How's life?"
"Nothing big. Work stuff. Divorce. Eric's accident. More work stuff. And this." I picked the flower I'd brought in with me and waved it a little. I held the note out to him and he snatched it from my grip.
"Oh Sugar…" The frown on his glossed lips was the last thing I needed to see. I took a deep breath and let it all out quickly.
"What do I do, Laf?"
"Mm mm mm mm mm," he tsked. "I can't decide that for you, honeychild. What ch'you wanna do?"
"I don't know. What does that mean even mean? Does he want to talk to me? See me? Is this a near-death-experience booty call?"
"Yum! The best kind." His posture perked right up at the mention of sex.
"You said the same thing last week about make-up sex."
"Yum! The best kind." He waggled his eyebrows at me.
"Horny bastard." Now THAT I heard.
This time I stood and whirled my entire body to face the old man seated at the next table. My mouth was still gaping in astonishment when Lafayette started chuckling. I turned my "are you crazy?" look on him.
"Sooks, sit yo' big ass down." He kicked my chair out a bit more for emphasis then waved the end of his boa in the other man's direction. My ass is not big. It's just not small. "Walter here is all bark and no bite. He's in here every mornin' hidin' from his wife."
I was a little skeptical but sat anyway.
Laf centered his attention on the man. "So where is the wife today?"
"Shopping. With her shrew sister. Spending my money. Complaining about me. Having a good time, as always." He paused then muttered. "Pisses me off."
Laf rolled his eyes so that his eyeshadow glittered in the lights and turned back to me. He looked pointedly down at the flower. I groaned, laid my head on the table, and covered it with my arms. I allowed myself to hide for just a few more seconds then peeked out. Laf had crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer.
"I can't do it. I can't call him."
"Nuh uh. That's not what I asked you, hooka. What you wants ta do?"
I sighed and cast my eyes down to my lap. "I want my happily ever after."
"Well then there's only one way to get it. Eric still loves you. He just ain't never been able to resist givin' those big blue eyes of yours anything he thinks you want. And you did ask for the divorce, if I remembers correctly."
"He didn't have time for me anymore! He couldn't put me before his money and his business so I gave him an easy out. And he took it."
"Oh good God." And here I'd almost forgotten Walter was there. I braced myself for whatever he had to say next.
"Even I can see you're still in love with this guy. And I think we all know you're going to call him eventually. Yet you're sitting here whining. Wah-wah-wah. It seems the wheel is turning but the hamster's dead. Any dumbass can sit here, drink pretentious coffee, and cry. He doesn't love me but I love him. Well la-di-frickin'-da. Get off your ass and prove it."
"So what do you suggest? I drag him home then spend the rest of my life wondering if that'll be the day he leaves again?"
"Beats sittin' around here ruining the rest of my day."
If looks could kill…
"Listen, Sooks," Lafayette interjected. "Surliness aside, boyfriend's got a point." He pulled my handbag off the chair and began rummaging around for something. His deep purple polished fingers emerged with my cell phone. He flipped it open and held the number 2 key down so it would activate the speed dial for Eric's cell and handed it to me.
"See what the man has to say."
I panicked but took the phone from him anyway. Even if I hung up now, my name would still appear on his caller ID. I snatched my bag back from Lafayette and contemplated (only briefly, I swear) using it to wipe the smirk off his face. I called him a meddling bitch as I walked toward the door. Gran probably rolled over in her grave at my "fresh" language. I was halfway out, with the phone still ringing, when he shouted "That's Mistress Meddling Bitch to you!"
To see Walter in action, you HAVE TO check out Jeff's act on YouTube. The links are on my profile. If nothing else, it'll give you a face to put with the sarcasm.
::Peeks out from behind my laptop:: So? Comments?
