"Howdy, stranger." Joss's voice rose from behind a huge steel pot. All Bonnie could see of the younger woman were her jeans-clad legs and her hands, clutching the handles of the vat-like metal object.
"Uh ..." The theater lecturer blinked at what looked from her perspective like an enormous, ambulatory pot. "That's a lot of food. Did you invite several football teams I don't know about, or are you just really hungry?"
"Chili ain't worth makin' unless you make it big." Joss proclaimed, one hazel eye peering around the side of the huge steel vessel. "C'n I come in?"
"Oh, of course." Bonnie stepped aside. "Can you see where you're going?"
"More or less." The Montanan replied cheerfully, as she maneuvered through the door and carried the pot over to the stove-top. "Mind if I warm this up a bit? It's all fully cooked, but it'll have cooled off some on the trip over."
"Go ahead. You didn't carry that thing over on your bike, did you?" It was a frightening, if rather absurd, mental image.
"Aimee? No, I had to leave my baby girl at home." Joss settled the pot in place, and then wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "I've got a crappy old sedan I use whenever I need baggage space." She wrinkled her nose. "It's nowhere near as much fun to drive, though."
"Do you want something to drink?" Bonnie offered, gesturing at the fridge. She was too nervous to feel thirsty herself, but she'd mentally rehearsed this line too often not to use it. "I got some of that pre-fabricated orange juice, since you thought the do-it-yourself stuff was too much work." That sounded totally stupid. Idiot.
Despite Bonnie's opinion of her delivery, Joss chuckled at the attempted joke. "Just tap water would be great, actually." She turned the gas burner to low. "I don't want anythin' to interfere with tastin' the chili."
"You're pretty proud of this stuff, huh?" Bonnie peered over the other woman's shoulder. She had to admit the viscous, bubbling mixture was giving off a tantalizing aroma.
"Heck, yeah." Joss nodded. "I learned this recipe as a kid. It's awesome. Best quality ground beef, jalapenos, fresh vine-ripened tomatoes, plenty of beans, garlic and onions, and my dad's secret chili mix."
"Your dad has a special recipe? What's in it?"
"It's a secret chili mix."
"Oh ... sorry."
"I'm kidding." Joss grinned, gently bumping her shoulder against the taller woman's. "Actually, t'be honest, dad did tell me, but I don't remember the full list. There's cumin, I remember that. I can ask him to send me the recipe, if ya like."
"That'd be cool. Thanks." Bonnie stepped over to the sink, filled a glass with water and pushed it along the counter to Joss. Then, more to keep her hands busy than any other reason, she filled one for herself. "I, uh, made up some cornbread this afternoon if you'd like to have that with the chili."
"Cornbread? You made cornbread?" Bonnie couldn't see Joss's face, but she could hear the pleasure in the younger woman's tone.
"Yeah. Honey butter, too."
"Honey butter?" Joss turned, a huge smile on her face. "Bonnie Rockwaller, you may be the perfect woman. Wanna run off to Canada and get hitched?"
Yes.
"Uh, I have classes in the morning. Can't really miss them. Sorry."
"Darn." The shorter woman gave a dramatic sigh. "The good ones always have classes to take in the morning." She grinned at Bonnie again, then lifted a spoonful of chili to her mouth and took a taste. "Mmmmm. Just a minute more and this'll be ready to eat."
"... speaking of the good ones ... who's this woman you met?" It was a question to which the former cheerleader didn't really want an answer, but which she couldn't stop herself from asking. All things considered, she was pleased - if a little surprised - at how casual she'd managed to sound. Guess all those acting lessons did some good after all.
"Well ..." Joss tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot a couple of times. "... whattya want to know about her?"
"A name would be a good start." The older woman managed to keep her tone lightly teasing. "So I don't have to keep calling her 'that woman'." Though there are plenty of other names I'd be happy to use.
"I guess it would be a good start, at that." The Montanan grinned. She glanced around. "Where do you keep your bowls? Thanks." She pulled open the drawer Bonnie had indicated and removed two pale green bowls. "Her name's Reba. Reba Aun."
"Reba Hound? As in a dog?" Or a bi-. The former cheerleader clamped down on the thought. That was a little too 'High School Bonnie' for her to feel comfortable.
"Aun. No H, no D. And spelled with an A, not an O. It's Vietnamese." Joss began ladling the chili into the bowls.
"Oh." Bonnie's instinctive dislike of the new woman in Joss's life bled into her tone. "So, is 'Reba' a common name in Vietnam?"
"Why, Miss Bonnie Rockwaller." Joss adopted an atrocious attempt at a deep Southern accent. "Ah do declare that is the nearest Ah have evah heard you come to bein' unkind. What has poor Reba evah done to y'all?"
"I can see why you're a rocket scientist, and not an actress." Bonnie recovered herself, returning to the light, bantering tone she'd used before. "It just seemed an odd combination. I didn't intend it to sound mean." Liar.
"So not the drama." The younger woman accepted the explanation at face value. "Reba's dad is Vietnamese, but he came over as a child refugee during the war, so he grew up here in the States. Reba had to take lessons to learn Vietnamese because her dad barely speaks it. Her mom's all-Alabama stock." She picked up the bowls of chili. "I'll take these to the table. We eatin' on the balcony again?"
"Yeah, I set up the cutlery out there since it's a nice night. I'll get the cornbread and butter." Bonnie followed the younger woman outside, and placed everything onto the table, then quickly ducked inside again to bring out their waters. "So, her mom's from Alabama, but Reba lives in Atlanta?"
"Nah, she was just in town for a conference." Joss shook her head as she took a piece of cornbread and lathered it with honey butter. "She lives in Decatur." The younger woman took a bite of the cornbread and gave a moan of pleasure. "Miff if awefome." She congratulated the chef, her mouth still half-full, then blushed and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Thanks." Torn between amusement at the younger woman's less-than-genteel appreciation of her food, and disappointment at learning of Reba's home town, Bonnie kept her answer short. Decatur ... that's less than thirty miles from here. It had been her uncharitable hope that the three hour drive to Atlanta would put a strain on an ongoing relationship. Try to be a grown-up: you can't give Joss a relationship, so it's not fair to stand in the way of this one. In this case, green is not your color. "So, have you guys met up for a second date, yet?"
Joss shook her head. "Not yet. I did call her yesterday, though. Reba suggested doin' something tonight, but I already had plans." The Montanan gestured at Bonnie and the food-laden table.
"Oh ... you should have called me. We could have rescheduled." It was the hardest thing Bonnie had ever said. Being a grown-up sucks.
"Hell, no." Joss pulled a face at the suggestion. "I knew a girl in college who got a new boyfriend ... she'd make plans with friends, then cancel them to be with him. I think that sucks."
"Well, you know ... the rush of young love and all that." Bonnie reasoned. "I'm sure it meant a lot to her boyfriend to know he was her first priority."
"I'm sure it meant a lot to him to know he could get a booty call whenever he wanted one." Joss snorted uncharitably. "I mean, I get that when you meet someone new, ya wanna spend time with 'em. I wanna spend time with Reba. And if it's an emergency of some kind, that'd be different. But it wasn't, and I think it'd be pretty damn rude to invite m'self over here like I did, then ditch ya at the last minute just because I got a 'better offer'." She put down her spoon long enough to make air quotes with her fingers. Despite their conversation, which had left Bonnie's chili almost untouched, the Montanan had somehow managed to demolish three-quarters of a bowl.
It would probably have been the grown-up thing to point out that Reba might not appreciate being told that a prior commitment was more important than seeing her. But there are limits to how grown-up one woman can be during a single night.
"Anyway, I'm gonna drive over to Decatur tomorrow night, instead." Joss continued. "And both our schedules are clear this weekend, so we're gonna get together then, as well. I'm sure as hell not gonna ignore her, or not call, or anythin' like that. I don't play all those bullshit games." The shorter woman looked down at her bowl, which was now empty. "I'm gonna get some more chili. You got everythin' you need, for now?"
Bonnie nodded. Her own bowl was still more than half-full. "Yes, thanks. This is really good, by the way. Tell your dad I'm impressed."
"Thanks. I will." Joss slipped inside, and returned soon after with another giant helping of the thick, rich meal. For a few minutes, both women concentrated on their food, until Bonnie broke the silence, curiosity winning out over dread.
"So where specifically did you meet Reba?"
Joss paused in the midst of raising her spoon to her mouth, then put it back in her bowl. "Do you know the women's clubs in Atlanta?"
"Sure." Bonnie answered without thinking, then silently cursed herself as she saw the flicker of surprise in Joss's expression. Crap. Her mind raced for an explanation of her answer. "I mean, I've never been in any of them, but I work in the Theater department, you know? I hear stuff from my students and colleagues." That's all true enough ... it just isn't the whole story. But it would be hard to explain why I've read about these clubs so often.
"Oh ... right." The younger woman nodded in reply, her eyes wandering out across the view from the balcony. "We met at, uh, Eve's. Do you know it?"
Bonnie had been told once that a shark could scent blood in the water from up to a mile away. And for years, she'd dedicated herself to being Jaws in the ocean of High School angst: training herself to recognize weakness, to know instinctively when an embarrassing secret was being hidden, or when a verbal barb had struck home with particular force. It was a skill gone rusty with disuse, but even so, every aspect of the younger woman's tense, slightly hunched posture screamed one message to the dormant predator in her brain.
Joss is lying.
Author's Note: Now why would Joss lie about where she met Reba? And could I have come up with a worse pun for a name? (Yes, yes I could.)
I gotta say, it's kinda fun letting 'the old Bonnie' peek through from time to time, as happens in this chapter.
The basic outline of the rest of this tale is now all plotted out. The last couple of nebulous plot points got nailed down over the weekend. Huzzah! Of course, I have no idea how many chapters it will work out to be. Stuff always seems to take longer than I expect :)