Let It Go

by James, Brooklyn

  “I could do that,” she affirms. “Sounds very logical.” Her chin juts out astutely, a bit of a playful poke at Brody’s methodical way of thinking, even where romance is involved. “I do like to slurp my cereal in the morning though,” she warns of the slightly annoying ritual.

  “That’s okay.” Brody shrugs. “I drink out of the milk AND the juice carton. Well, pretty much anything in the fridge. If it’s liquid and comes with a cap, it’s fair game.”

  Savannah smiles, unbothered by his confession, completely content with the idea of his lips on her milk jug. “You like the holidays?” She thinks about the time of year.

  “Love ’em. I like the feeling they bring,” he says, rubbing his hands over her thighs, simultaneously enjoying that feeling as well. “We’ll get a tree. Do it up right. Our first Christmas together.” He tugs lightly at each side of her dirty blonde locks lying over the front of her shoulders. “So you like my man talk, huh, Bondurant?” He smiles triumphantly.

  “Maybe.” Her eyes dance playfully beneath a challenging brow, a warning for him to refrain from gloating.

  “Which part hooked you?” he pries. “The clear boundaries of knowing what I want and going after it? The old-fashioned values and chivalry?” He takes great pleasure in mirthfully tooting his own horn as he blows on his fist, rubbing it against the massive mound of flesh on his chest. He takes note of Savannah’s eyes, following his fist and meandering over his musculature. “Or was it my manly stature?” Both fists rise to his pectorals, beating about them momentarily, a regular Tarzan.

  Savannah throws her head back with a blissful chuckle. “Let it go, McAlister,” she says before seizing his comically beautiful mouth in hers, happy to finally snatch the opportunity to throw his advice back at him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thanksgiving is well underway in downtown Savannah as the streets are lined with spirited patrons ready to welcome the holiday season. The weather, finally accommodating, delivers a cool, crisp winter inspired night. Savannahians happily sport festive coats, hats and gloves, relieved to pull them out of their closets for the rare climate change.

  An immaculately decorated, full-bodied Fraser Fir tree stands gloriously in the center of the square awaiting its lighting debut, scheduled for nightfall. Christmas music laces the air courtesy of local high school and collegiate marching bands and choirs in the holiday parade.

  Savannah and Vangie stand side by side along the street, Payton and Brody flanked around them. Luka and Zoey enjoy the high life perched one each atop the men’s shoulders.

  “Ooh…Santa!” Zoey points excitedly at the passing float, her animation causing Brody to get a better grip on her flailing legs lobbed down over his chest.

  “Santa?” Luka, the eldest of the two inquires confused. “But he just went by throwing candy. How can there be two Santas?”

  “Well duh,” Zoey chirps, looking at her sister as though the answer is obvious. “He probably has a brother.”

  Her reply sends Brody and Payton into a hearty laugh. “Good deduction, Zoey.” Brody offers up his hand, to which she eagerly slaps a high-five.

  “That was good, baby,” Payton affirms. “How about we try it without the ‘duh’ next time.”

  “Yes Sir,” Zoey replies half-heartedly, her chin dramatically falling to her chest, to which Luka releases a pleasurable smirk, holding back the urge to stick her tongue out at her know-it-all little sister.

  “It’s just not the same without Mama,” Vangie talks discouraged to Savannah. “She started this tradition. And now she’s not even here. Since when did some date become more important than family time?”

  “I think it’s good,” Savannah says encouragingly. “At least she’s finally getting out there.”

  “Where did she meet this man?” Vangie crosses her arms. “And where is she going on Thanksgiving night?”

  “She met him playing bridge. With Noah’s Mama…Nadine,” Savannah explains. “They’re having a big card party tonight.” Savannah nudges Vangie in the ribs. “Rumor has it our mama is quite the shark.” She giggles.

  “They could have just as well come with us.” Vangie refuses to be understanding.

  “Why? So you could give her date the stink eye all night long?” Savannah shakes her head with a grin, knowing Vangie will be the hardest nut for their mother’s suitor to crack as she was their father’s favorite. Although he never proclaimed such, he always had an extra soft spot for the middle child.

  “It’s weird.” Vangie reflects. “Seeing her with someone besides Daddy.”

  “You think it isn’t weird for her?” Savannah empathizes. “You better dig out your big girl panties, sister love. Don’t go discouraging Mama from moving on.”

  “I know. I know,” Vangie mutters.

  “When is Aunt Jac-You-Up coming?” Luka asks, impatiently awaiting the derby girls’ float.

  “Should be pretty soon, honey,” Vangie says, running her hand along Luka’s leg and down over the side of Payton’s face as the tot rests upon his shoulders.

  Payton returns Vangie’s affection with a kiss atop her red and green holiday-inspired hat. Four-year-old Zoey watches happily at the interplay between her parents, her tiny, gloved hands clapping above Brody’s head.

  Six-year-old Luka rolls her eyes bashfully. “They’ve been acting like a couple of teenagers all week long,” she says.

  Savannah chuckles, leaning in to Vangie, her voice at a whisper, “I take it things are going good?”

  “Better than they have been in a while. Feels like old times,” Vangie says, her eyes and smile glowing.

  “Who’s ready for hot chocolate?” Gavin and Noah return, their hands proffering cups full of the rich, chocolatey lava topped with whipped cream swirls.

  “Me! Me!” Luka chants.

  “Me too!” Zoey chimes.

  “You might want to take her down off your shoulders,” Payton advises Brody, his fatherly experiences no stranger to astronomical amounts of sticky spills.

  Brody stands Zoey up on the concrete, kneeling down to her, holding the oversized cup of hot cocoa in his large hands. “Blow on it first,” he coaches an eager Zoey, who watches him through a mesmerizing gaze not yet convinced that he isn’t a giant.

  “Whew…whew…whew,” she blows, her bright eyes awaiting Brody’s approval.

  “You think maybe I should try it first?” he asks, the steam still steadily rising from the open cup. Zoey nods, her mouth salivating at the sight of the puffy clouds of whipped cream. Brody sips from the edge, his upper lip acquiring a white frothy mustache. “Give it a go,” he affirms, one steel blue winking at the cherub-faced darling in front of him.

  Zoey giggles, duly sinking her lips into the sugary topping, siphoning from it the chocolatey nectar below. “Mmh,” she hums. “Aunt Vannah.” She pulls on Savannah’s pant leg causing her to kneel aside Brody. “Have some.”

  Savannah can’t help but plant a peck on Zoey’s adorable whipped cream laden mouth. “Mmh!” she affirms.

  “Brody’s got a nustache, too,” Zoey confuses her m with an n, wringing her gloved hands together expectantly.

  Savannah indulges Zoey and herself with a solitary kiss to Brody’s mouth, efficiently accepting from it another dose of sweetness. “Delicious,” she purrs.

  “These two are acting like a couple of teenagers, too!” Zoey announces.

  “Copycat,” Luka snips.

  “Am not!” Zoey stomps her foot.

  “Are too!” Luka stomps her foot harder.

  “Cool it, you two,” Payton disciplines.

  Brody watches the exchange, completely smitten. “We gotta have a couple,” he says to Savannah.

  “Spend a weekend with them. You might change your mind,” Payton jousts, knowing he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “We could take them this weekend,” Savannah offers. “I know y’all are on the road,” she speaks of his college football team. “Take Vangie. You two make a get-away of it.�
�

  Payton grins accepting. “You’ve always been my favorite sister-in-law.” He squeezes her about the shoulders as she and Brody stand.

  “Yeah,” she chirps. “Bet I am.” She chuckles considering Jac’s protective and often intrusive nature.

  “You think she’ll ever forgive me?” Payton inquires of the eldest Bondurant sibling.

  Savannah nods. “She’ll let it go, eventually. As always, she just has to make her point.”

  “You get along with Jac?” Payton turns to Brody.

  “So far so good,” Brody replies.

  “You want to make it in this family, I suggest you keep it that way.” Payton grins shaking his head.

  “Here comes Aunt Jac-You-Up!” Vangie diverts excitedly, The Pulverizing Peaches float coming into view.

  “Ooh Ooh!” Luka and Zoey squeal in unison, quickly hopping back upon their posts, Brody’s and Payton’s shoulders.

  “I’m taller than you are,” Zoey taunts, Brody’s six-foot-four frame catapulting her to the rafters.

  Luka refuses to acknowledge her goading, too enthralled with The Pulverizing Peaches to care. Their float is one giant Georgia peach. The women brave the cool weather in their traditional derby gear—boy shorts, form-fitting tees, leg warmers, skates and helmets—each one personalized and representative of their derby girl persona.

  “Wrecking Ball Rita!” Luka yells, recognizing her from the locker room.

  “Lightning Rod Luka and Zero Tolerance Zoey!” Rita yells back from the float, fully exaggerating their derby girl handles, waving in their direction.

  “Whit-Whew!” Vangie and Savannah whistle at Jac, their hands floundering about in the air.

  Gavin joins in with a few catcalls of his own, taking in his main squeeze atop the float, her cover girl form, muscularly toned and curvaceous versus the typical waifish in vogue physique, completely intoxicating. “Cousin,” he elbows Brody, “I do believe I am in love.” Blowing her a kiss, he plays off her moniker, yelling over the crowd, “Jac-Me-Up, please!”

  Jac wings a string of specialized, derby girl Christmas beads from the float. The circular series of tiny Mrs. Clauses on skates in full derby gear lands appropriately around Gavin’s neck, symbolism that he has been lassoed, taken, claimed. The rarely enamored Jac returns his gesture, blowing him a kiss as their float cruises on by.

  “Mama, can we go ride the Ferris wheel?” Luka asks, having seen what she came to, The Pulverizing Peaches.

  “Yep. Let’s make our way toward the rides and games before they light the tree,” Vangie says. Payton takes his cue, leading the pack through the crowd.

  “Hey Brody,” Zoey calls from above his shoulders. “Will you ride with me?” she solidifies her seat on the Ferris wheel figuring Brody is tall enough to make the height requirement for the both of them.

  “I’m afraid of heights,” he kids. “You might have to hold my hand.”

  “You got it!” Zoey encourages, her gloved appendage now begging of a high-five from him.

  Once they clear the crowd, Luka and Zoey scurry down from their posts making a run for the Ferris wheel line, Payton’s watchful eye keeping track of their petite forms.

  “Where’s Willow?” Savannah digs at Noah as he walks between her and Vangie, trailing behind.

  “This isn’t really her thing,” he says, a victorious grin forming. “She did invite me over for a Thanksgiving nightcap, though.”

  “I bet she’ll be awful thankful.” Savannah giggles.

  “You think I should go? I mean, isn’t there some kind of rule about having so many dates before,” he searches his vocabulary, “giving of the thanks.”

  “Do you want to go?” Savannah’s eyebrow ascends tauntingly.

  “Well yeah,” he says as if that’s a no-brainer.

  “Willow’s no amateur. If she invited you over, she knows exactly what she is prepared to offer, or not,” Savannah advises. “You’re both big boys and girls. If you want to go, go.”

  “Willow? As in your boss, Willodean?” Vangie asks. “You and Willow?” She looks to Noah. He smiles bashfully. “Why am I always the last to know everything in this family?”

  “Because you’re judgmental,” Jac pipes, finally catching up to them in the crowd, having swiftly exited the float parade.

  “Isn’t that the big fat pot calling the kettle black!” Vangie spars at her domineering senior. “Speaking of, did you know Mama ditched us for a date with some old geezer from the bridge club?”

  “Are you still on this?” Jac shakes her head. “I listened to this all the way over here,” she informs Savannah of the shared car ride where Vangie outwardly obsessed over Buffy’s newfound independence. “Mama is a geezerette,” Jac returns her conversation to Vangie. “It’s good for her to hang out with her crowd. Would you just let it go, already.” She slaps Vangie on the bottom, briskly making her way to the front of the pack, jumping upon Gavin’s back.

  “Hey baby!” he greets, his arms encircling the backs of her knees, happy to piggyback her through the crowd. “You were pretty damn phenomenal up there on that float.”

  “A regular Misfit America.” She laughs, kissing the side of his face, her short, spiky platinum blonde hair tickling his skin. The usual purple-tinted ends now red, facilitating the holiday season, a nice accent to her tiny red and green spiraled candy cane nose stud.

  “You cold?” he asks, her limbs still bare in her derby gear.

  “Not anymore,” she purrs, the warmth of his back heating her up.

  “Luka!” Payton yells, as he and Brody play interception amongst a scuffle in the Ferris wheel line. “You can’t do that,” he scolds, pulling the southpaw away from a boy her age after having thrown a punch square in his abdomen.

  “But he pulled Zoey’s hair and cut in front of her in line,” Luka argues, her angry little brows furrowed.

  “Good girl, Luka!” Jac cheers from the sideline.

  Payton waves her away with his hand, knowing Luka doesn’t need any encouragement. “We don’t hit,” Payton returns to Luka.

  Zoey milks Brody’s affection, as his large hands take great care in wiping tears away from her cheeks. “It’s alright, baby girl. We’re still going to ride that Ferris wheel.” Her frown quickly reciprocates his wide smile.

  “Don’t you think you should apologize?” Payton asks Luka.

  “Well, I’m not sorry,” she says, her head giving one stiff nod.

  “Look, little dude,” Payton addresses the boy who holds his arm across his stomach, apparently unsupervised, no parents in sight. “You can’t go around pulling people’s hair and cutting in line. Okay?” The boy nods. “Since apologies seem to be out of the question, maybe you two can shake on it,” he prods. The boy cautiously offers up his hand to Luka, who, with Payton’s insistence, half-heartedly meets his palm.

  “What’s going on over there?” Vangie sputters walking up on the scene. She and her group keep their distance, letting Payton mediate.

  “Seems this kid thinks he’s Jimmy Bruschi,” Jac informs, the second grade menace who underwent the same fist to the stomach after pulling Vangie’s pigtails.

  “Luka,” Vangie whispers, her tone somewhere between pride and scorn. “Those two fuss and fight with each other, all day, every day. Yet they’re the first to come to one another’s defense.”

  “Thick as thieves,” Jac says admirably.

  “Just like watching those two all over again.” Savannah chuckles, gesturing to Vangie and Jac, as she informs Noah.

  “Wish I would’ve been around to see that.” Noah takes them in with his eyes, the women they are now providing colorful imagery of the girls they were then.

  “You shoot darts?” Gavin asks Jac, the Balloon Dart Throw game in his peripheral aside the Ferris wheel.

  “I can try,” she answers, purposefully unsure.

  “We’ll win Zoey a stuffed teddy bear. That’ll make her feel better.” He claps, stepping up to the booth, laying his money down. Settli
ng in behind Jac, he coaches her on her form, enjoying the closeness. “Now, you try,” he says.

  Jac levels her elbow with the balloon, the dart held precisely between her thumb and index finger, releasing with a flick of her wrist, the balloon disintegrates. “Will that do?” she says, smiling at him as if experiencing beginner’s luck.

  “You little hustler.” Gavin nuzzles her neck, stepping up aside her. “Best out of three,” he challenges with a wink.

  Jac’s head cocks to the side, enjoying his competitiveness. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to you.” She giggles momentarily, returning her determined attention to the task at hand.

  “Oh boy,” Vangie mutters. “Bogey inbound. Nine o’clock,” she warns.

  Savannah turns in the direction, noticing Jack Brigant and Daisy approaching. “Now, be cordial,” she whispers out the side of her mouth.

  “It’s not me you have to worry about.” Vangie’s eyes grow large, darting in Jac’s direction.

  Jack inspects Noah as he walks up, the handsome, well-built man roughly around Savannah’s age. “Savannah. Vangie,” Jack greets, his eyes settling on Noah.

  Daisy tightens her grip on Jack’s hand, her body slightly hidden behind him, apparently not feeling so brass without her texting phone to communicate.

  “Jack. Daisy,” Savannah replies, consciously making herself include his companion into her salutation.

  Jack extends his hand to Noah, pressing to know exactly who he is. Noah looks to Savannah for introductions, picking up on her slightly apprehensive body language and tweaked tone.

  “Jack Brigant, this is Noah Bondurant. Our brother.”

  “Brother?” Jack’s facial tension releases with the favorable information, now growing confused at the notion that the girls have a male sibling.

  “Long story,” Savannah keeps it short. “But a good one.” She smiles affectionately at Noah.

  “Aunt Vannah!” Zoey calls from atop the Ferris wheel, her hands thrown up over her head mirroring Brody’s. “Look at us!” Her ecstatic laughter sounding over the hum of the giant wheel’s engine.