Enjoy!
Book Twenty-Three: Sweet Georgia Honey
I Never Loved A Man
"Georgia, you gotta stop going out to them joints! It ain't right, you being out all night like that!"
Georgia flashed her big smile at her brother before finishing applying her lipstick. "Delroy, I am fine. I'm just going to sing and that's it." She replied, fixing her hair.
Her older brother shook his head. "Moma not gone be happy with down there again. Besides, you supposed to be studying."
Looking over her shoulder she smirked. "Well what moma don't know, won't hurt her. If she asks, tell her I'm at Catherine's studying."
"Georgia, you always pulling this stunt! One day it's gonna catch up with you," Delroy warned, crossing his arms over his chest and aggressively leaning against their shabby kitchen door frame.
Nevertheless, Georgia just laughed, that infectious laugh of hers that could light up even the darkest room. She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror before switching her gaze towards Delroy. "Don't you worry about me, big brother. I can take care of myself."
"You ain't even grown yet!" Delroy exclaimed, his voice filled with exasperation over his little sister's reckless behavior.
The rebellious young girl then grabbed her purse from the bed and waltzed out of their small bedroom. "That never stopped Aretha Franklin, or Tina Turner" she said with a raised eyebrow, her words hanging in the air as she slammed the front door behind her.
Left in silence except for the ticking of the old cuckoo clock on the wall, Delroy sighed deeply. He knew too well that arguing with his spirited sister was akin to shouting at the wind. His gaze fell on the worn photograph of their departed father on the mantle, and he felt a pang of regret. Their father had been a blues man too, lost in the allure of music and night-time revelry.
As the evening wore on, Delroy found himself sitting alone in the dimly lit kitchen. His mother was working late at the seamstress shop downtown and wouldn't be home until dawn. Georgia's contagious laughter echoed in his memory, making the silence around him all the more deafening. He looked down at his calloused hands, hardened by daily labor at the local mill, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
He turned his attention back to his own studies, reaching for his dog-eared math textbook. He was determined to make something of himself, to pursue a future that didn't involve late nights and smoky bars. He wanted stability – a simple job, a wife,kids, a home that was more than just a couple of rooms in a rundown apartment building. A life that was as steady and predictable as the metronome that had once kept time for his father's lonely guitar.
As the old cuckoo clock struck midnight, Delroy lifted his eyes from the scratchy pages filled with numbers and equations. He found himself staring at that picture of his father again, the one with his battered guitar and far-off gaze. It was then he felt it - an unmistakable twinge of understanding, maybe even sympathy. His sister had inherited their father's love of music; it coursed through her veins like a river refusing to be tamed.
Outside, the sounds of the city stirred restlessly in the night - car horns honking, sirens wailing distantly, anonymous laughter spilling from the bars down the street. Somewhere amidst all that cacophony was Georgia, using her enviable talent to captivate smoky rooms filled with strangers.
Undeterred and invigorated by her brother's disapproval, Georgia strode through the bustling streets of their city. Streetlights flickered above her, casting a dim glow on the uneven pavement, as shadows danced around her like mischievous spirits. The night was alive with a cacophonous symphony of sounds; the distant murmur of a jazz band practicing in an upstairs room, the sizzling hiss of food frying in street side stalls, the occasional laughter spilling out from front doors left ajar, all blending into the monotonous hum of city life.
She had always been drawn to this symphony, to the vibrant nightlife that held an inherent promise of adventure and new experiences. Her heart pounded in sync with every echo reverberating around her as she neared Flash's, the local bar where she planned to sing.
There was something about Flash's that made it feel like a world separate from everything else. Flash's was squeezed between two towering buildings like a secret whispered between two old friends. A dilapidated neon sign hung above the entrance, flickering erratically in the night and lighting up the cobblestone path leading up to it in hues of pink and blue. The music inside was a melange of jazz, blues, and soulful renditions that filled the night air with an intoxicating enchantment.
As Georgia pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, she was immediately consumed by the smoky haze that hovered thickly in the air. The room was dimly lit, with small circles of light scattered over a handful of tables occupied by patrons engrossed in low murmurs or lost in their own meditative reverie while nursing glasses of bourbon. At the far end of the room, against a backdrop of exposed brick wall, a small stage came into view.
Recognizing some familiar faces, she made her way through the crowd, her heels clicking rhythmically on the worn wooden floor. When she reached the stage, the current act—a young trumpet player whose notes were as smooth as velvet—gave her a nod of acknowledgement as he wrapped up his set. The murmur in the room grew to a buzz as the patrons recognized who was about to step up.
As Georgia climbed the small steps onto the stage, her heart pounded in exhilarating anticipation. The spotlight focused on her, casting the rest of the room into an even deeper haze of darkness. She stole a moment to soak in the ambiance: the musty smell of old smoke and stale beer, the walls adorned with faded pictures of past performers, and most importantly, the expectant hush that fell over the room as she positioned herself at the microphone.
The pianist's fingers danced effortlessly over the keys, filling the room with a soulful melody. Georgia sat with closed eyes and bated breath, her heart beating in rhythm with the music. As the final notes faded away, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, letting her soul intertwine with each note as she prepared to sing. "You're a no good heartbreaker. You're a liar and you're a cheat! And I don't know why I let you do these things to me."
Her voice filled the air, thick as the smoke and twice as potent. The raw emotion in her tone caught the room off guard, ensnaring everyone within earshot. Her words echoed through the spaces, seeping into the cracks in the walls, filling the room with an untamed power. The huskiness of her voice blended with the deep notes of the piano to create a spellbinding harmony that silenced every whisper and muted every clink of glass.
Each verse she sang seemed to pull something from within her and project it out to the world. It was as if she were not just singing about heartbreak but reliving one with every breath. As she drew close to the end of her song, her voice rose in intensity, culminating in a soul-stirring crescendo that held everyone in a firm grip.
When she finished singing, she opened her eyes to a room that was utterly silent for what felt like an eternity. Then someone clapped. Another joined him, then another, until the room erupted in applause. Some patrons whistled in appreciation, others pounded their tables with delight, while some simply watched her wide-eyed, captivated by the raw intensity she had just demonstrated. It was a sound as loud and vibrant as the city outside.
Georgia blushed under the dim bar lights, thanked the crowd, and stepped down from the stage amid their enthusiastic cheers. As the next act took over and a new melody filled the air, she found a corner booth to catch her breath.
As she settled into the worn leather seat, a figure emerged from the indistinct background, as though materializing from the smoke-filled air itself. It was Jude Jones. He was taller than most men in the room with his broad shoulders and firm jawline that glinted with a hint of stubble under the dim light. His dark eyes, full of mystery and intrigue, were now completely focused on Georgia.
He started navigating his way through the crowd, his tall frame casting elongated shadows on the uneven wooden floor beneath him, murmuring apologies as he gently brushed past the spectators still engrossed in their spirited conversations. The scent of his cologne wafted through Georgia's senses like an unexpected summer breeze, adding an edge to her already heightened emotions.
As he approached her, all she could hear was the subtle rhythm of her own heart - its cadence playing an intimate duet with the sultry bass notes filtering through from the new act on stage. She could feel a
rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation that made her almost shudder with anticipation. The air between them seemed to hum with an unspoken promise, a symphony yet to be played.
"Georgia," he said in a voice as smooth as the whiskey that swirled around in his glass. "Your performance was...mesmerizing."
She felt a warm blush creeping up her cheeks as she met his gaze, "Thank you, Jude."
A brief silence fell over their corner, only punctuated by the distant strumming of a guitar and the husky voice of the new singer on stage.
Jude broke the silence, "You know, there's something about your voice...it's like it carries its own soul. It's raw and powerful."
Taking a moment to collect herself and taming the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, she replied, "It's all about singing from the heart, Jude. If you can feel it, they can too."
Jude smiled, taking in her beauty. "Mind if I join you?"
Georgia contemplated his question before smirking. "Did you think it would be that easy?"
"... I guess I'm uptight and I'm stuck like glue…" Mercedes sang, while cooking breakfast for her grandfather. She'd been enjoying staying with and loved that he wanted to hear her sing.
Jude chuckled at the memory that flashed into his mind while quietly listening to his granddaughter sing the exact song that made him fall in love with her grandmother.
Mercedes floated around the kitchen as cooked breakfast, her sisters were coming over and she was excited to see them and her nephew. She'd woken up with the song on her mind and couldn't stop singing it.
Her voice, melodious and joyful, danced around the room, filling it with a warmth that even the sunlight streaming through the windows couldn't match. Jude couldn't help but join in, the familiar tune coming back to him like second nature. Together they sang, their voices creating a symphony of love and joy that echoed within the walls.
Just as they finished the last note of the song, there was a knock on the door. Mercedes rushed over to open it, her face lighting up at the sight of her sisters and young nephew standing on the doorstep.
"Hey y'all, come on- the food's almost done." She said moving aside.
"Papa, was that you I heard singing?" Tiffany asked, walking over to their grandfather to hug him.
Jude chuckled."You know Honey, she always forces me to sing with her."
Lydia followed suit with her son, going over and hugging the older man. "We'll it's good to hear you sing. Ain't that right Lucas?"
The young boy smiled, nodding. "Yeah. Can I go play outside?"
Jude pinched his great-grandson's cheek. "Not today champ, I saw a few snakes out but you can play with the trains."
Lucas seemed a little disappointed, but he perked up at the mention of the trains. Jude had a large model railroad set that took up most of the basement. It had been his passion project for years, and Lucas loved watching the tiny trains bustle about their tracks.
"OK," Lucas said, his eyes wide with excitement as he raced down to the basement to play with the trains. The adults watched him go, each one wearing a smile that was a blend of nostalgia and love.
Mercedes turned back to the stove, expertly flipping pancakes while her sisters poured themselves coffee and started setting out plates and silverware.
Meanwhile, Jude moved to his favorite chair by the window. From here, he could watch both his great-grandson at play in the basement and his granddaughter cooking breakfast with fond affection.
As he observed their happy family bustle, Jude quietly hummed the same song that Mercedes had been singing earlier. It was a content moment, undisturbed by any worries or concerns. It was just his family, occupying the home that had seen generations of love and happiness.
In the kitchen, Mercedes served up a stack of golden pancakes, drizzling them with syrup and topping them with fresh berries before placing the platter in the middle of the table for all to share. Her sisters helping cook crispy bacon, fluffy eggs and a side of grits while they sipped their coffees, their easy banter filling Jude with a warmth he found both familiar and comforting.
Downstairs, Lucas' delighted squeals echoed through the house as he made little trains chug along their tiny tracks, building imaginary adventures for each one. His youthful innocence was infectious, his enjoyment pure and unfiltered. It was a sound that invoked deep-seated joy within Jude, reminding him of his own childhood and simpler times.
As breakfast neared its completion, Mercedes called out to Lucas to come upstairs. The boy's footsteps could be heard rumbling up the staircase, each step accompanied by excited chatter about the adventures his tiny trains had been on. He burst into the kitchen with a wide grin, taking his place at the table and reaching for a pancake.
As they all sat down to eat, Jude glanced around at his family with fondness in his eyes. His gaze lingered on each one of them; Mercedes who always had a song in her heart, Tiffany and Lydia, his granddaughters who had now grown into beautiful women and his great-grandson Lucas, full of life and joy just like his mother when she was young.
Breakfast was an affair filled with warmth as they dug into the food Mercedes had lovingly prepared. Pancakes disappeared off the platter, bacon and eggs were shared while Jude made his signature breakfast bowl with the creamy grits. Cups of coffee were replaced with orange juice, and laughter filled the room as Tiffany told a hilarious story from when she was a child.
After breakfast, they all helped clean up. The clinking of dishes and soft humming filled the air, harmonizing with the rustling of leaves from the trees outside. Lucas, now full of pancakes and bacon, took up his post by the window, watching the birds flutter around the bird-feeder Jude had hung.
Mercedes looked over at her grandfather, still sitting in his favorite chair, a soft smile on his face as he watched his family. Jude was humming their song again, his voice carrying an undercurrent of peace and contentment that seemed to blanket the room.
"Grandpa," she called softly, pulling him out of his reverie. "Why don't you tell us a story? One from when you were young."
Jude chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Alright," he began, his voice taking on a narrative rhythm that they all recognized. "The year was 1957..."
As he spun a tale of youthful adventure and life lessons learned, the room fell quiet. His family, enraptured by his rich storytelling, listened intently to every word, their eyes shining with anticipation and admiration. Mercedes, Tiffany, Lydia, and even little Lucas hung on his every word, captivated by the image Jude was painting of a world they had never known.
Sam jogged along the street, his music blaring in his ears as he focused on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement. He loved these early morning runs, when the world was still quiet and he could clear his head before starting his missed New York but nothing compared to a southern sunrise.
Just as he was rounding the corner, the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing everything in a soft, golden light. He slowed his pace, pulling out his earbuds and taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful scene before him. The world seemed to hold its breath, as though even nature was taking a moment to admire its own creation. Then, the spell broke as life began to stir once more - birds started to chatter in the trees, a dog barked in the distance and the faint hum of traffic began to pick up.
He resumed his run, feeling energized by this simple interaction with nature. He followed his usual path through town, passing familiar landmarks - Mrs. Davidson's bakery with its tantalizing smells of fresh bread and pastries, old Mr. Thompson's hardware store which never seemed to open before 10 am, and finally Mrs. Davis's garden that always held an array of vibrant flowers regardless of the season.
He stopped looking at the similar crossroads he'd been gone by every morning since he'd started his jogs. He always went left but something was telling him to go right this time around.
Taking a deep breath, he turned right, allowing his feet to carry him along this new path. The road was lined with oak trees, their leaves casting dappled shadows on the pavement. It felt like he had stumbled onto a forgotten route, one untouched by time.
As he jogged further down the road, the houses became fewer and more spaced out until eventually, an old farmhouse appeared in the distance. Its paint was peeling and the porch seemed worn from years of weathering but it held a compelling charm.
Intrigued, Sam slowed to a stop outside the wooden fence that enclosed what must have been a vast garden once upon a time. Now, overgrown bushes and wildflowers accepted the reigns of nature. It was still beautiful in its wildness, like a painting that had crossed the lines of its canvas.
As he was about to continue his run, something grabbed his attention. He noticed a swing hanging from an old tree in the yard, swaying calmly with the gentle morning breeze. Then, he heard shouting.
"LUCAS! STOP HIDING, WE DIDN'T AGREE TO PLAY HIDE AND SEEK!"
Sam scanned his surroundings with quick, darting eyes before cautiously making his way towards the mysterious sound that had caught his attention. He strained his ears, trying to pinpoint its source amidst the bustling noise of the city streets. Suddenly, in his haste, he collided with someone in front of him. The force of the impact sent him stumbling backwards, but not before the person's firm grip on his shirt pulled him forward again and caused them both to tumble to the ground in a tangled heap. As Sam struggled to regain his balance and orient himself, he couldn't help but notice the warmth and musky scent of the person beneath him.
His gaze fell upon the woman he had been unable to get out of his mind for a whole week. A smile spread across his face, but then he suddenly noticed that he was unintentionally crushing her with his weight. "Oops, my apologies," he exclaimed, quickly shifting off of her and helping her up from the ground.
The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air as they stood face to face, both slightly flustered by the unexpected encounter. She smiled back at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me." Mercedes said teasingly.
Sam shook his head, trying to find the right words. "I... didn't..." He stumbled over his words before she broke into laughter.
"Gotcha," she said with a smile. "You're not from around here, so there's no way you would know about this shortcut."
"Shortcut?" Sam echoed, his eyebrow raised in interest. Mercedes nodded, dusting herself off before gesturing at the long pathway they were in.
"It's a quicker path to the other side of town," she explained, her eyes flickering with a sense of satisfaction as if she had just revealed some grand secret. "Very few know about it."
Sam's heart pounded with excitement at her words. He had spent countless days wandering aimlessly around the city, trying to familiarize himself with its winding streets and crowded plazas. Yet he had never come across this particular shortcut.
"I see," He said, offering her a sheepish grin. "Thanks for the tip. Maybe I won't be so lost anymore."
Mercedes chuckled softly before stepping away from him, her body swaying slightly as she began walking down the dirt road. "Do try not to collide with anyone else along the way and if you see an incredibly cute little boy let him know Auntie Cedes is looking for him." she quipped over her shoulder.
Sam's eyes followed her until she disappeared from his view, then he made a swift choice to chase after her. "HEY!" he called out, causing Mercedes to halt and glance back at him. "Do you need help finding the little boy you mentioned?"
Mercedes raised a brow, her lips curving into an amused grin. "You offering?" she asked, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. Her gaze was curious, almost as if she were gauging his sincerity.
"Sure thing," Sam said, crossing the distance that separated them. His heart pounded in his chest as he added, "I can't promise I'll be any good at it, but two pairs of eyes are better than one."
A laugh bubbled from Mercedes. She pushed away from the tree and nodded. "Be warned though, he's got an uncanny talent for disappearing when he doesn't want to be found."
"Well," Sam laughed softly, "Good thing I'm always up for a challenge."
With no other words exchanged, they set off together down the quiet path. Mercedes leading the way, her long hair danced with the rhythm of her strides. The scent of her perfume filled Sam's senses as he subtly tried not to watch the sway of her hips or drool over the fullness of her ass.
"So you're performing tomorrow night?" Sam asked, looking through a few trees to see if he saw any little kids.
Mercedes nodded,parting a bush before sighing. "Yeah, me and my friends are doing a group act. We're gonna bring the house down."
"Sounds exciting," Sam said, his eyes sparkling with interest. "What's the act about, if you don't mind me asking?" He followed her through the bush, ignoring the bite of thorns on his arms. The soft rustling of leaves underfoot was the only sound that accompanied their conversation.
Mercedes glanced back at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now, wouldn't that be telling?" she teased, her lips twisting into a smug grin. "You'll have to come see for yourself."
Sam chuckled, raising an eyebrow in question. "Is that an invitation?"
Mercedes only laughed in response, her eyes scanning the underbrush as they continued their search. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with shared smiles and secret glances. They scanned the trees and bushes for any signs of mischief or little boy laughter.
"I think I see something," Sam suddenly said, pointing towards a small clearing up ahead where a distinctive giggle floated.
"Ah! Found him!" she exclaimed, excitement lighting up her features. Sam followed her gaze, spotting a small child darting between the trees.
The chase was on as they darted after him, their laughter echoing in the afternoon sun. Weaving through the stand of trees, the boy's giggles were infectious as he led them on a merry chase. Finally, Mercedes managed to scoop him up from behind, swinging him around as they both erupted into fits of laughter.
"Gotcha!" she crowed victoriously, holding tight to the squirming bundle of energy in her arms.
Sam skidded to a halt beside her, panting slightly. "You've got quick reflexes," he admired, leaning over to ruffle the little boy's hair. The child squirmed and giggled again, still caught up in the sparkling threads of excitement.
"Let me go, let me go!" he chanted, his small hands prying at Mercedes' hold. She laughed and set him down gently, then watched as he took off running again, his laughter echoing through the forest.
"I swear that kid has more energy than a jackrabbit," Mercedes mused with a shake of her head. Her smile never left her face, though, betraying the fondness she held for the boy.
Sam watched her, an affectionate smile playing on his lips as he observed the warmth in her eyes, the ease with which she cared for the child. "You're good with kids," he noted, stepping beside her as they resumed their walk to keep pace with the little boy's bounding energy.
Mercedes smiled slightly at his words but didn't deny it. "I just understand them," she said simply. "Children are much simpler than adults. They tell you exactly what they're feeling and rarely hold grudges."
"I can see that," Sam replied, his gaze lingering on her face before shifting to watch the boy darting around a tree trunk. "And Lucas over there seems to love you."
Mercedes laughed softly, her gaze fond as she watched Lucas jump over a fallen log and whoop with triumph. "That's because I'm always up for his games," she admitted, shrugging. "And I might occasionally sneak him some extra sweets."
A silence fell between them as they continued to watch Lucas. He had now moved on from leaping over logs to chasing after a group of butterflies, his little legs carrying him as fast as they could. His laughter was pure and infectious, causing both adults to chuckle.
"Are you always this... free-spirited?" Sam asked suddenly, glancing sideward at her. His eyes held a strange mix of curiosity and admiration.
Mercedes looked over at him, her eyebrows raising slightly. "Why wouldn't I be?" she responded, tilting her head to the side. The sunlight filtered through the trees above them, casting dappled shadows on her face and causing her red hair to glow like embers.
Sam shrugged. "I guess... I guess it's rare to see someone so unafraid to live in the moment, to appreciate the here and now."
His words hung between them like a fragile glass ornament, causing Mercedes to look away from him as she considered them. She had always lived by her own creed, her soul wired to the rhythms of the present. Dancing on the edge of moments, she had always believed, made life richer. But nobody had ever noticed before. Not like this.
"I suppose," she finally said, following Lucas with her gaze again, "I see each moment as a gift. You never know which one will be your last, and I don't want to waste any of them."
His silence spoke volumes but when she dared to glance at him again, his lips were curved into a small smile and his eyes twinkling. "That's quite a philosophy," he mused.
Lucas' happy yells drew their attention then as he ran back towards them, arms waving in triumph. In his hands was a butterfly, its wings beating gentle against his small fingers. As he reached them, he carefully handed it over to Mercedes who accepted it with an adoring smile.
His words hung between them like a fragile glass ornament, causing Mercedes to look away from him as she considered them. She had always lived by her own creed, her soul wired to the rhythms of the present. Dancing on the edge of moments, she had always believed, made life richer. But nobody had ever noticed before. Not like this.
"I suppose," she finally said, following Lucas with her gaze again, "I see each moment as a gift. You never know which one will be your last, and I don't want to waste any of them."
His silence spoke volumes but when she dared to glance at him again, his lips were curved into a small smile and his eyes twinkling. "That's quite a philosophy," he mused.
Lucas' happy yells drew their attention then as he ran back towards them, arms waving in triumph. In his hands was a butterfly, its wings beating gentle against his small fingers. As he reached them, he carefully handed it over to Mercedes who accepted it with an adoring smile.
"Thank you, Lucas," she said softly. The butterfly flexed its wings and lifted into the air again. It hovered for a moment before moving toward Sam. It landed on his right shoulder, causing him to freeze in surprise.
"See? Even the butterfly agrees with me," Mercedes chuckled lightly, beaming at the unusual spectacle before her. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the delicately patterned wings of the insect.
Sam hardly dared breathe as he watched her. He was acutely aware of how close she was, how he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, smell the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the surrounding crisp forest air. The butterfly, seemingly content on his shoulder, fluttered its wings every so often but didn't move to leave.
Her hand withdrew and she looked back up at him. "Nature has a way of reminding us about the beauty of being in the moment," she spoke softly, her smile gentle and reassuring.
He nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from hers. He felt something deep in his chest, a warmth that spread and enveloped him entirely. He felt it in the way his heart fluttered like the wings of the butterfly on his shoulder. He felt it as he watched the softness in Mercedes' eyes, the corners of her lips curving upwards into a smile that made his own lips mimic its shape.
"Mercedes, would-"
"HONEYYY!" They both jumped, realizing how close they were standing.
She ran her hand over her hair before stepping back. "Thanks for the walk… I gotta go."
"Y-yeah," Sam stuttered, stumbling back a bit as the sudden change in atmosphere caught him off guard.
"Come on Lucas, it's time to head back." She said and the little boy frowned but obeyed as he grabbed her outreached had, bouncing along side her.
He watched as Mercedes turned on her heel and walked briskly towards the loud, calling voice. His eyes followed her until she was enveloped by the waving greenery of the forest path they had been strolling down.
For a moment, he stood there, staring absentmindedly at the path she had just disappeared down. The butterfly on his shoulder seemed to sense his sudden melancholy and flew up, hovering before his face for a moment before flitting off into the sunlit forest.
Turning around, he realized that in that short time with Mercedes he hadn't remotely thought about the girl waiting on him back in New York. He hadn't thought about New York, school or his fleeting time in Georgia since he met Mercedes, and that gave him pause.
How could a woman he didn't even know already have this much hold on him?
slow burns... blah lol