Bleu, Grass, Bourbon

by Olivia Gaines

  “The single mom's idea is nice, but it can’t work,” he said.

  “My mom said the same thing and so did Uncle Javie, but none of them said why,” she replied.

  “Because women like sex just as much as men, and a single mom community will bring out the worst men in the state,” he said. “Pedophiles, pederasts, pimps, peepers, philanthropists who prey, you name it.”

  “That’s some list,” she offered.

  “Even if you did a curfew for male guests in a gated community, there would always be a resident who thinks the rules don’t apply to her and before you know it, the neighborhood turns into this,” he said.

  “Yeah, I found that out the hard way when I attempted to do it a few years ago, so I started working on low-income areas with first time home buying programs for those who want to live in a progressive neighborhood,” she said.

  “How is that going?”

  “Tough,” DeShondra replied. “The eyes of the real estate giants are upon me, so I can only buy two or three at a time. I really want to buy a whole neighborhood and flip them one street at a time. Kind of New York style, with blocks dedicated to certain cultures, but the powers that be would eat me alive.”

  “Historical markers,” he said.

  “Huh?” she said as the door opened and a Hispanic family walked into the house. The father spoke very little English and to Isiah’s surprise, his wife-to-be spoke fluent Spanish. At the end of the conversation, the man pulled out a wad of cash, wanting to buy the house. A light bulb went off in his head.

  She wanted to finish the conversation, but he was tired of the suit and tie he’d worn to church and needed food. The open house was a success, and the red Sold label went across the For Sale sign in the yard. He drove them to the beige house, happy to get out of the dress shoes and into his Crocs, a pair of cut-offs, and his favorite ratty tee.

  “I’m cooking dinner,” he called from the bedroom.

  “Let me lend you a hand,” she said.

  “You? Cook?”

  “Have you met my mother? Of course, I can cook, I just don’t have the time nor the desire for it, but since I’ve been eating regular meals, the little one is not making me so sick,” she said.

  “She cooks, runs a company, speaks Spanish, and loves me until I’m unable to form coherent sentences, which makes me a lucky man,” he said.

  “I speak several languages, but I want to hear this idea of yours with the historical markers,” she said.

  He explained the National Historic Landmarks site preservation process for nationally significant historic places designated by the Secretary of the Interior. Isiah elaborated on the idea of the neighborhoods considered for NHL’s if the areas possessed exceptional value or quality in illustrating or interpreting the heritage of the United States.

  “If any of the communities you are talking about were first settled by African Americans or Native Americans or had someone famous once lived in one of the houses, like Auburn Avenue in Atlanta, you can get around a great number of things,” he said.

  “I like, but most of these areas were once predominantly white, lived in by factory workers who moved to the suburbs,” she said. “Loads of the homes have good bones and are ideal for people who work downtown or are downsizing. I even considered doing a senior’s section for those who can still live independently or have retired and want less house.”

  “Or students fresh out of college,” he said. “A nice little up and coming spot with a community garden, a park with a running track that’s well lit, and a coffee shop that also makes donuts.”

  “I see you’ve thought about this,” she said.

  “Gabriel and I were doing something similar when we started Bleu’s Crew, but his ministry took a different turn, and the homes we bought and flipped became houses for women who needed to start over,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Isiah, I love the idea, but I don’t have a good relationship with a construction company to do that kind of heavy lifting,” she said. “I would lose my shirt trying to make that happen.”

  As he warmed the skillet to cook the pork chops, he played with a few ideas in his head. DeShondra set the rice to boil and pulled fresh kale from the fridge to sauté. He handed her his shirt off the back of the chair.

  “What’s that for? You’d better hang up your own damned shirt,” she said, looking at him with some concern. She’d already told him, she wasn’t going to be that type of wife.

  “No, I am giving you the shirt off my back. I have all the equipment in my barn to deconstruct homes along with saved corbels, doors, and the good stuff before we knock it down,” he said. “A great number of the older homes, if not rat or roach infested, have good wood which can be used again after planing it. I also have the crew to do it, but I don’t know if they would be willing to move.”

  “Okay, but I can’t just go in and buy up every old home in a community,” she said. “It would raise suspicions and alienate me from the other realtors that I am in on a boon and didn’t let them know. Being a black woman in this business is hard. It has been a battle.”

  “You’re not fighting alone anymore,” he said. “The easiest way to do it is to buy a house or two at a time, one to fix, one to tear down, especially the blights. Two side-by-side to start, which will either be the garden or the coffee shop.”

  “But if we don’t sell the property, there is no money to be made on a community garden,” she said. “It’s nice to have, but not profitable. I have employees to pay.”

  “As do I, but the cost to buy and tear down the buildings can be pricey. We buy the blights first, then two flips. Flipping the two will make the money for the teardowns, and we keep going two at a time,” he said. “The houses can be basic, with laminate floors, wholesale tile bought in bulk.”

  “Great, but who is going to manage all of this work?”

  “I can see if Buster is willing to move to Louisville,” he said.

  “You want that man to move his life and family here, start over in a new town, just like that?”

  “Why not? I’m doing it,” Isiah said. “He is renting a double wide and his wife is suffering from depression at losing everything when he went to prison. This can be a new start for her. We can even give her a job to run the office on this project. She is capable of doing it. She ran his office before he lost it.”

  His eyes were twinkling again. Then that eureka smile eked at the corner of his lips. DeShondra, frightened, but stimulated, wanted to know what he was thinking.

  Isiah asked, “What are you planning to do with this house?”

  “Sell it,” she said. “It’s paid for so it would be all profit.”

  “Or you can give it to your parents because Lord knows they need more space. Bleu’s Crew buys their house and sells it to Buster for half of what it is worth, giving him a new start, and your Mom something to do versus repainting the same wall a different color repeatedly each year,” he said.

  “You noticed that?”

  “Yeah, that paint is so thick on that wall, I could peel it off with a paring knife. Her need to do it is kind of like the elephant in the zoo that just stands there nodding his head, wanting to be free,” he said. “Your mother has an interesting story behind her behaviors. It might change your perspective of her if you understand the why of her actions. Plus, that woman needs a new project, and I can imagine she is dying to get her hands on this house.”

  “Let me think on it and run some numbers, and we can revisit this later in the week,” she said.

  “My parents are moving into their old home, which is the one I live in, in a few months,” he said. “The equipment can stay there, or I can move it here. It’s up to you.”

  The flutters started in her stomach again and this time a new set of feelings took over at the thought of going to work and leaving her childhood home in someone else’s care. Zach wasn’t ready to run the company, but Monica could do it in her sleep. A year off? A new venture. A modified vision,
but still on par with the original one.

  I like.

  I like it a lot.

  “Isiah,” she spoke softly. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” he said blushing. “Did I do good?”

  “You have done very well, very well indeed,” she said, patting his arm.

  “Great,” he said flipping the chop. “I look forward to you telling me what it was I did so well.”

  Chapter 14 – Mommy and Me

  DeShondra walked around the bed softly, careful not to awaken the sleeping man who had rested peacefully for the past two nights. This morning she would surprise him by making breakfast, then get her workout in before heading to the office. Last night he’d given her a great deal to think about, along with a bunch of numbers to run for feasibility on the potential new venture. However, this week she would travel with him to Ohio to meet his family.

  Loads to do before then. Breakfast. Bike. Hydrate. Protein. Tea. Find something to wear that fits my ever-expanding ass. And belly. What was I thinking - consenting to a wedding in three weeks? My mom is going to drive me bonkers in three weeks. If I wasn’t so damned happy, I would slit my wrists.

  These thoughts zoomed through her head as she made bacon, eggs, grits, and homemade biscuits with Maya’s Slammin’ Jam on the side. DeShondra took out the strawberry and blueberry since she didn’t know which one her husband, in three weeks, would like. She continued to ponder what she would wear as she climbed aboard her exer-bike, turned on the monitor, and started a relaxing ride through a quaint little town as the calories burned away. It didn’t really matter how many calories she burned, she ate twice as many to feed the babe in her belly.

  In the far bedroom of the house, Isiah awoke to an empty bed. The smell of bacon pulled him to a sitting position with his stomach urging − man eat meat, beat chest, get woman. Shrugging off the Neanderthal instincts crawling out of hibernation in his brain, he made his way to the bathroom to wash, brush, and appear almost human. For two nights, he’d slept like a hairy log, and this morning he felt hungover from too much sleep.

  He didn’t find her in the kitchen. Regular coffee was on and breakfast was on a plate waiting for his consumption, and he looked out the back door for his mother-in-law’s Subaru. An odd sensation came over him when he realized that he had no earthly idea what was on the other side of the house. The house had dormers, but he’d never considered there was a bonus room upstairs, or what the other rooms on the other side of the house held. He simply assumed they were bedrooms.

  Grabbing a piece of bacon, he left the living room, traveling down the long hallway past a water closet. The second room on the left was a guest bedroom. Curiosity made him try the bed, and she was right, it was a hard as a rock. The room on the right was a home office with a file cabinet, a few books, and a couple of real estate signs with his lady love’s face on them. The final room was a Zen room. It held a chaise lounge and a small table which held a book and soft lights. A television was in the room with a player for an MP3 and nothing more. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was a soft blue.

  “Peaceful,” he said aloud, wanting to call for her, but instead, he climbed the stairs he hadn’t known existed. At the top, he found her riding an exercise bike through a small town which flashed on a 60-inch monitor that looked so real that even the people in it were waving and calling her name as she rode by. He cleared his throat.

  “Good morning,” he said to her as she looked over her shoulder.

  “Five more minutes and I’m done,” she said. “I made you breakfast and pulled out some of my Mom’s homemade jam. She calls it Maya’s Slammin’ Jam.”

  The space was amazing. An entire fitness center with stations for circuit training and a coffee table sized model of a neighborhood, which featured much of the same ideas he’d mention to her yesterday. The walls in this space were green.

  “I didn’t know this room was up here,” he said.

  “This is my work tank,” she said. “The blue room is my relax tank. The beige rooms are my “be” tanks.”

  “The rooms are color-coded?” he asked.

  “I think better in neutral spaces. Beige means I don’t have to do anything in that space other than be. Blue means I relax, and in this one, I work through ideas in my head,” she told him.

  “This is a cool model of the community we were in yesterday. I love this. It has much of the same ideas we talked about last night,” he said.

  “Basically, the same idea, but many of them I’ve tried and they haven’t worked, but a new day, new ideas, new plans, alter the vision,” she said in choppy language as she pedaled faster.

  “Are you working out too hard? I mean, that is not straining you or anything is it?”

  “No, the better shape you are in makes the labor easier,” she said.

  “You’ve done your research, I see,” he said.

  “Opposite,” she said, slowing down. “Loads of breeding women in my offices. So much baby talk. Learn through osmosis.”

  The bike slowed, coming to a stop, allowing her to climb off the seat and DeShondra stood in front of him covered in sweat. Her chest heaved up and down and he didn’t know what came over him, but she had never looked more desirable.

  “Good grief,” he said, the front of his boxers moving like a divining rod finding water. “I want to behave, but I can’t. You just drive me insane. Even the smell of your sweat is making me hard as a rock.”

  He lifted her into his arms, kissing her as if he were about to make a suicide run into a maelstrom of bullets. He mumbled words as he grabbed at her shorts, tugging at them, wanting what was inside, the connection, the feel of her around him, gripping him, milking the life givers. Isiah bent, one knee going to the floor, dragging her with him.

  “Tell me you want me as much as I have to have you,” he begged, kissing her passionately.

  DeShondra kissed him back, reaching inside of the boxers, feeling for the treat, her body hot, greedy, hungry for him. She inserted the tip, watching his face, enjoying the pleasure flickering in his eyes.

  “You. Then food,” she said, shifting her position to accommodate the girth of him, gyrating as their bodies connected. He was as intense in his lovemaking as he was in life. Isiah liked a no-frills, direct, to the point approach for accomplishing the mission at hand.

  “I can’t seem to get enough of this...of you,” he said, rolling her to the side, changing his position. He went deeper, gently, touching the parts of her that held no restraint. He loved these moments with her. The times when she lost the cool, calm, and calculated façade and just went with her emotions. Isiah continued moving inside her until he heard that sound. The beautiful sound of her being close to reaching her pleasure. It was then that he went to work. Taking her to the pinnacle, making her scream out his name before he joined her on the summit, floating down on the clouds of pleasure, inhaling the scents of their lovemaking, then collapsing in a heap.

  “You are so lucky you’re pregnant, or I would put another one in there,” he said, kissing the side of her face. “We are going to be so good together.”

  “I would agree, but I think I have rug burns on my ass,” she said.

  “Let Daddy kiss that and make it all better,” he said.

  “Yuck and no. I am all sweaty,” she said.

  “I know,” he chuckled as he disconnected them. “Breakfast, shower, pie, round two?”

  “And nope,” she said, scrambling up off the floor. “Breakfast, shower, dress, work for me. What are your plans today?”

  “Working on our home,” he said. “Whaddya need?”

  “They are delivering the new bed today, so can you be here between 11 and 2?” she inquired. “Set up and breakdown is included, so the guys can help you load the other bed in the guest room on your truck to take to Buster.”

  “Wait, when did you buy a bed? And how do you know I’ll like it? Maybe we should have tested a few first,” he said, disconcerted at how fast she moved. The co
-captain thing he agreed to should have been negotiated better on his end.

  “It is one of those adjustable beds. You can make it fit the softness you want, and I can make my side firm,” she told him. “Win. Win.”

  “I like winning,” he said, pulling up his boxers.

  “Lucky for you that you are marrying a winner,” she said. “Speaking of winners, my folks want to see the house.”

  “I was hoping we could have dinner there tonight with the guys,” he said.

  “That’s cool. They can meet the Bleu’s Crew,” she told him.

  “Okay, I’ll order something and pick it up for the everyone,” he told her, walking down the stairs behind her.

  “No need, already taken care of. Meet you here at six,” she told him. “You also may want to get you a set of keys made to this house in the interim.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Anything else?”

  “Tell me you love me,” she said.

  “You love me,” he told her, lifting her again in his arms, kissing her like tomorrow was an uncertainty. “And I love you, both of you.”

  “Good, let’s get Daddy some breakfast,” she said, sliding out of his arms and down the rock-solid body. DeShondra ran her fingers through her damp hair from the exertion, feeling energized and ready to tackle the day.

  “I UNDERSTAND, BUT I will be out of the office for a few days later this week, Zach. You have the helm but Monica is second in command,” she reiterated.

  “You are saying you don’t trust me,” Zach mewled.

  “What I am saying Zach, and hear me out, please. This past year you have second guessed yourself to the point of having to come into my office and double check with me on everything. That type of behavior I can’t trust with my company,” she told him.

  “But Monica is the office manager,” he whined.