by Shana Burton
“Have you been waiting long?” she asked him when she approached his table after ordering her coffee.
He put down his sausage biscuit and wiped his mouth. “Not really. Sit down.”
Sullivan sat down across from him, still giddy. She hadn’t been this excited since she discovered online shopping. “It looks like it’s going to be a pretty day today,” she said, making idle chatter.
He nodded. “You want something to eat?” “No, this coffee’s fine.” She lifted the lid and inhaled it. “Hot and black, just like I like it.”
“That’s how I like my women, too,” he said and winked at her.
She wanted to melt. “I bet a man like you has no trouble in that department.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I do all right, I guess.”
“What—a stud like you doesn’t have a steady girlfriend?”
Vaughn shook his head. “I’m not really the relationship type.”
She smirked. “Oh, you just hit ’em and quit ’em, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say all that. I just have a hard time finding females I can vibe with. Not many women my age like doing the kinds of things I want to do.”
“What kind of girl doesn’t enjoy fuel injections?” she asked, teasing him.
“I can do more than just work on cars, Miss Sullivan. I’m also an artist. You should stop by my place and see my work some time.”
Sullivan was impressed. “You paint?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“It surprises me when I meet anyone who loves art. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to be locked away in my studio with a canvas and a paintbrush.” She sighed, thinking back on that creative and carefree period of her life. “That was a long time ago, though.”
“What happened to make you stop?”
“I don’t know. Life, I guess.”
“Do you still have any of your old paintings?”
“A few.”
“Maybe you’ll let me see them one day.” His eyes twinkled. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Sullivan blushed, feeling twelve again. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Vaughn sat back and took stock of her. “So, is this what you do all day—sip coffee and look beautiful?”
“Not all day,” Sullivan corrected him.
“But you don’t work, do you?”
“No, not in the traditional sense.”
“Then why aren’t you using this time to paint?”
She thought about it. “That’s a good question. Why aren’t I painting?”
Vaughn reached for her hand. “The next time we see each other, I want you to have painted something, all right?”
Sullivan batted her eyes. “Are you planning on there being a next time?”
“You never know. . . .”
They stared each other down a minute before saying anything else.
“Before I forget, I have something for you,” Vaughn said and reached down into his duffel bag and pulled out a small white sack.
Sullivan rubbed her hands in anticipation. “I can’t resist a man who comes equipped with presents.”
“I thought about you and got it when I stopped for gas this morning.” He reached into the bag and handed her an apple turnover. “It’s still warm. The deli inside the gas station makes the best pastries.”
She raised her hand to decline. “I don’t eat sweets first thing in the morning. It’s bad for the stomach, at least according to Doctor Big Mama. Besides, I skipped breakfast this morning. I should probably have some real sustenance first.”
Vaughn moved in closer. “I promise you it’s worth any stomach pangs you may have to endure later.” His voice was incredibly seductive. “Look at that flaky crust and the icing drizzled across the top. Here, smell it.”
She inhaled the aroma of warm cinnamon and baked apples.
“Taste it.” He licked his lips. “You know you want to.”
Her eyes were fixed on his lips. “Just because I want to doesn’t mean I should.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. If you taste it, we’ll keep it between us, and no one ever has to know that you broke the breakfast rule, not even Big Mama.”
The temptation was more than she could withstand. He clutched the turnover as she sank her teeth into it. She licked a bit of residual icing off of her finger. “That’s the best part,” he told her.
Sullivan smiled up at him. “I think I’ll have one more bite.”
He fed her another piece. “Careful—don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
She didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively. “You got any more surprises in that bag of yours?”
“I have several tricks in my bag, but we’ll save those for another time.” Vaughn slid his hand over her knee and glanced at the clock. “I should probably be heading out.”
Sullivan pouted. “So soon?”
He rose. “I’ve only been working for Mike a couple of months. It’s too soon to start coming in when I feel like it. I know that you’ve got it made, but some of us have to make a living the old-fashioned way.”
Sullivan stood too. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Vaughn.” Saying good-bye was harder than she thought it would be. “So, what now? Do we shake hands, give a pound?” she pondered nervously.
He smiled. “How about a hug?”
Sullivan shrugged and slid into his opened arms. He had the firmest back she’d ever groped, and he smelled like fresh linen. She had to stop herself from wrapping both her arms and legs around him.
Vaughn pulled away. “Why don’t you let me take you to lunch tomorrow?”
She wanted to, she desperately wanted to, but she knew she couldn’t. Coffee was one thing, but there was no way she could take this kind of risk again. “I can’t. Nothing personal. I have a husband, remember?”
“I remember. I was just wondering if you did. Anyway, it’s just lunch, Sullivan. If you don’t want to go, say that. Don’t make excuses.”
“My marriage isn’t an excuse, it’s a legally binding agreement,” she disputed. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that Charles and I weren’t happy, it wasn’t my intent. My marriage is solid.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
“Plus, Charles is running for public office. That makes anything I do up for scrutiny. The last thing his campaign needs is a scandal.”
Vaughn shook his head. “I couldn’t have people all up in my business like that.”
“You get used to it. Plus, I don’t get nearly the attention that Charles does. He’s the one out in the public eye campaigning. I’m just the supportive wife.”
“It sounds like he’s a busy little boy.” He brushed his hand against her cheek. “Busy little boys usually don’t have enough time to keep their women happy.”
“I suppose Charles and I are the exception,” she boasted.
“If you’re so happy, Miss Sullivan, then why are you here with me?”
For once, Sullivan didn’t have a snappy comeback.
Chapter 17
“I’m a grown woman . . .”
—Sullivan Webb
“Flashlight . . . neon lights,” sang a tipsy Sullivan over the music as she staggered to her friends during the annual Labor Day cookout in Lawson’s backyard.
“If the church could see you now . . .” mumbled Reginell, taking note of Sullivan’s inebriated state.
“I’d just tell them I got a hold of some of the communion wine yesterday at church,” slurred Sullivan and threw up her hands. “Let’s get this party started! Who wants to boogie?”
Lawson sniffed into the plastic cup Sullivan was holding. “That smells like something stronger than communion wine to me, and I know you didn’t get that from here because I put nothing but sodas and bottled water in that cooler.”
“Fortunately, E’Bell was kind enough to share his secret stash.” Sullivan raised her cup toward
E’Bell. “Kina, te
ll that husband of yours that he’s all right with me.” Sullivan tried to dance, but found that she couldn’t keep her balance.
Kina helped Sullivan to a chair and glanced over at E’Bell, who looked to be three sheets to the wind himself. “It’s bad enough that he drinks that stuff. I’m not giving him any encouragement from you.”
“Sully, you’re the First Lady of the church, and here you are carrying on like some frat boy,” scolded Lawson. “You’re supposed to be setting an example.”
“I’m sick of being First Lady, and I’m tired of setting examples,” cried Sullivan. “I can’t do this, and I can’t do that. Gotta go to revivals and anniversaries and funerals and christenings. Gotta direct the children’s choir. Gotta feed the homeless. Gotta visit the sick. . . .” She took another gulp from her cup. “Screw it! I want to dance, and I want to paint. I want to be myself, not stuck in some amen corner for the rest of my life.”
Angel shook her head. “Sullivan, you’re drunk. Maybe you should go in the house and lie down.”
“See, there you go again, telling me what to do. I don’t need to lie down. I’m a grown woman, Angel—grown!” Her eyes fluttered. “And I do what I wants to do.”
“I am so thankful that it’s just us out here,” said Lawson. “Charles is not only a pastor, but he’s also campaigning. He doesn’t need this kind of press.”
“Charles, Charles, Charles,” mocked Sullivan in her best Jan Brady impression. “Why is everybody always worried about Charles? Nobody ever worries about me.”
“Oh, we’re definitely worried about you too,” replied Angel, watching as Sullivan fought to stay awake. “Look at you. You’re a mess, Sully.”
“Did I hear somebody call my name?” asked Charles, approaching them from his post on the grill.
“Those ribs are calling my name!” replied Kina. “When will the food be ready?”
“Feel free to help yourself to the vegetable tray, Kina,” urged Angel.
“Charles, didn’t nobody call your name,” barked Sullivan, slumped over.
Charles rubbed her back. “Baby, are you feeling okay?”
“I think she’s a little lightheaded,” explained Lawson, not wanting to reveal that Sullivan was completely wasted.
Charles was alarmed. “Do you want me to take you home, honey?”
“Let me guess. My behavior is not befitting of the First Lady of Mount Zion Ministries,” recited Sullivan. “Well, you know what, Charles? I really don’t give a rat’s behind about what is befitting of a First Lady right now. I’m here to have some fun.”
Angel pointed to the grill. “Pastor, those flames look a little high.”
Charles turned his gaze to the flames leaping from the grill. “It does look a bit out of hand, doesn’t it? Can you all keep an eye on her while I tackle this fire?”
Kina shooed him away. “Sure. You just make sure the food’s all right.”
Charles massaged Sullivan’s neck. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
“Take your time,” called Sullivan as he rushed off to tend to the grill.
“God has given that man the patience of Job,” assessed Lawson. “Charles is too good a man for you to treat him this way, Sully.”
Sullivan rolled her eyes. “Maybe I don’t need a good man.” She turned up her cup. “Maybe what I need is a smokin’ hot bad boy.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that!” chimed in Reginell.
Kina pinched Sullivan. “Girl, hush! Charles is standing right over there!”
Angel dunked her celery sticks into the vegetable dip. “I’m sure Lawson can help you out with finding a bad boy. Her school must be crawling with ’em.”
Lawson chuckled. “Don’t even get me started!”
“Burnout already?” asked Kina.
“It’s not full-blown teacher burnout yet. More like a smoldering fire. It does get crazy at times, though. I was hoping to start working toward my master’s next semester, but it looks like that might have to wait until the summer when things settle down some.”
Kina stared at the ground. “Lawson, I envy the way you just get in there and go after what you want without letting anything stop you. Here you are talking about your master’s, and I haven’t even started on my first degree.”
“What’s stopping you?” asked Reginell.
“I have my hands full with work and Kenny.” Kina looked over her shoulder at E’Bell. “Plus, I don’t know how E’Bell would feel about me spending all my time at school instead of at home, where I belong.”
“I’m sure he’d be proud of you for going back to school,” said Lawson.
Kina shook her head. “Then you don’t know E’Bell.”
“If you’re worried about being away from home, you can always take classes online,” suggested Angel.
“E’Bell would go ballistic if I blew our money on a computer.”
“You can use the one at the office until you can afford your own.”
Kina laughed to herself. “Shucks, I haven’t stepped foot in a classroom in about twelve years. I would be light years behind everyone else.”
Sullivan smacked her teeth. “Will you stop making excuses and just do it? I’m sure you can list a hundred reasons for why you shouldn’t go to school, but twice as many for why you should.”
Lawson caught the football Namon tossed to her. “Savannah State offers several degree programs and online classes. That’s where I’m going for my master’s.”
Kina was still leery. “Maybe I’ll give them a call next week.”
“Call tomorrow,” insisted Lawson, throwing the ball back to her son. “You would’ve talked yourself out of it by next week.”
“What about E’Bell?” asked Kina.
Angel made a face. “What about him? This is something you need to do for you. If he doesn’t want to better himself, that’s on him.”
“Who is that?” exclaimed Reginell when she looked up and saw two men entering through the gate into the backyard.
Lawson squinted her eyes to block out the sun. “That looks like Mike from the church. I don’t know who that sexual chocolate is with him.”
Sullivan raised her head and saw the two men greeting Charles at the grill. “What is Vaughn doing here?” she wondered.
“Sully, you know him?” asked Reginell, surprised and intrigued.
“Yeah, he fixed my car.” Dazed, Sullivan stood up and walked toward them.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Charles kissed her on the cheek. “You know Mike from the church. This is his apprentice . . . Vaughn, isn’t it?” Vaughn nodded.
“Sister Webb, it’s good to see you,” replied Mike. He reached out to shake Sullivan’s hand, but she was too distracted by Vaughn to notice.
“What are you all doing here?” asked Sullivan, more to Vaughn than to Mike.
“Well, Pastor was kind enough to invite us when he came in for an oil change earlier. Business was kind of slow with it being a holiday and all, so we decided to take him up on his offer,” supplied Mike.
“Sister Roslyn couldn’t make it?” asked Charles.
“Roslyn said that she wasn’t getting out of the bed before it was time to go back to work tomorrow. She believes in getting into the true spirit of Labor Day.”
“Well, I can’t blame her there!” said Charles with a hearty laugh. “You brothers can grab a plate and something to drink from the cooler. Relax and enjoy the fellowship.”
Mike gave a slight nod. “Thank you, Pastor.”
Vaughn followed up with, “Yeah, ’preciate it.”
“Make yourselves at home,” added Sullivan and nearly tripped over her own feet.
Charles caught her. “Whoa, I got you! You’ll have to excuse her,” explained Charles. “She’s not feeling well. Baby, why don’t you go inside and take a time out?”
“Don’t talk to me like a child, Charles,” Sullivan snapped.
“I wasn’t trying to. I just think you should rest until you’re feeling better.”
Lawson aided Angel. “Come on, Sully, lean on both of us,” directed Lawson, trying to shift and balance Sullivan’s weight between the two of them.
Vaughn stepped in and grabbed Sullivan by the waist. “I’ll take her in for you. You ladies can stay out here and enjoy the party.”
“Thanks!” exclaimed Lawson, happily passing Sullivan off on Vaughn. “She’s a lot heavier than she looks.”
“You need some help, son?” asked Charles.
Vaughn draped Sullivan’s arm around his neck for extra support. “No, I got her.”
“Thank you, brother.” Charles returned his attention to the grill while Vaughn hauled the barely coherent Sullivan into the house.
“Are you trying to steal me away from my husband?” asked Sullivan once they were inside.
“Not hardly,” grunted Vaughn. He smelled her breath. “Dang, girl, what have you been drinking?” Vaughn found an empty bedroom and eased Sullivan onto the bed.
“It’s been a long time since another man has gotten me into bed,” she replied, giggling.
“Go on and sleep this off. You probably won’t even remember it in the morning.”
Sullivan propped herself up on her elbows. “Then you might as well take advantage of the situation and kiss me if I’m not gonna remember it anyway.”
Vaughn laughed and sat down next to her. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
Sullivan clamped her arms around his neck. “Now, about that kiss. . . .”
Vaughn peeled her off of him. “Sullivan, what are you doing?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing? Come on, kiss me. You know you want to.”
He gave in and kissed her on her neck. Sullivan began to moan. Vaughn sighed and pulled away from her. “We can’t do this. Not with your husband right outside.”
“Your lips feel so good. I don’t want you to stop.”
He rose. “Maybe not now, but you’ll thank me when you wake up.”
“Come on, just one little bitty kiss,” cooed Sullivan.