3 Weeks 'Til Forever

by Yuwanda Black

  Thinking ‘What the hell,’ Janey smiled and boldly stated, “What, just one?”

  She didn’t know where that response had come from. She’d only had one glass of wine at dinner and one drink at the club, so she couldn’t ‘blame it on the alcohol,’ no matter what that Jamie Foxx song said.

  It must be her subconscious and some deep-seated unmet needs her best friend Carita was always going on about that was speaking for her.

  All she knew was that at that moment, she wanted to feel his lips on hers and she wasn’t going to fight that.

  Redmond opened the door of the van to let her out. He then closed it, took one step towards her and pressed her back against the vehicle. Putting his arms around her waist and holding her gaze, he replied, “Let’s see where one takes us.”

  Bending his head, he lightly kissed Janey’s lips at first. This was followed by a second light kiss. The third time, his tongue probed open her soft lips, finding its way inside her warm mouth. There would be no fourth kiss; no pulling away this time.

  Janey wrapped her arms around his neck, inviting him to explore deeper. His tongue delved into the sweetness of her mouth, tasting the velvety smoothness of the whiskey she’d had earlier.

  The thought of the masculine drink and the taste of it in her very feminine mouth was irresistible to Redmond. She was like an elixir herself – all smooth and coppery and velvety and … just like whiskey, a potion that could make you lose control.

  Feeling the hardening of his manhood pressing into her and suddenly realizing that she was in front of her hotel, Janey slowly pulled back from Redmond. This could get out of control – quick.

  Carita was right, it had been too long – too damned long – since she’d been with a man.

  She hadn’t given it much thought but with this living, breathing, very sexy creature’s powerful hands on her right now, she couldn’t help but think about it.

  Redmond didn’t release her – not that second. Placing a kiss squarely in the middle of her forehead, he said, “I’d like to see you tomorrow Janey. You name the time and place.”

  Janey hesitated, responding, “Why don’t I give you a call before noon tomorrow. That’ll give me time to see how my day is shaping up?”

  Redmond replied, “So is that a yes, or no? I don’t deal in maybe’s,” even though he found himself thinking that he’d accept a ‘maybe,’ a ‘someday’ or even a ‘some other time’ from her.

  But one thing he wouldn’t accept is ‘no.’ So he pressed on, saying, “I want to get to know you better. So will we be getting together tomorrow, or not?”

  Janey could respect his directness because she hated when people, especially men, left her in limbo. She’d played that game too many times – waiting on calls that never came, or came hours late. Waiting on plans to be finalized that were never brought up again.

  Waiting on love … that never materialized or was betrayed.

  Shaking herself out of her self-reflective musing, she said, “I’ll call you before noon to tell you what time you can pick me up tomorrow evening. And as it’s your island, you choose the activity,” she added humorously.

  Smiling, Redmond handed her his business card, moved in for one last soft kiss, then watched as she entered the hotel.

  Janey floated to the elevator.

  Very few men caught her eye; very few. And even fewer captivated her. Redmond definitely captivated her. There was just something about him that made her want to be near him.

  Was it the way he wore that silver bracelet with the thick leather band on his left wrist?

  The way he looked directly at her when he was talking to her?

  The way he walked – tall and straight – as if he knew exactly where he was going?

  Sure.

  Definite.

  Direct.

  These were the qualities her father had been admired for and from a psychological perspective, she quickly realized that these were some of the reasons she was so attracted to him.

  But there was nothing fatherly about the way she felt about Redmond Charleston Hillyard.

  Nothing fatherly at all.

  Chapter 7: Gigolo

  After rising at 6:45 and working straight through until 11:30, Janey picked up her cell and dialed Redmond’s number from the card he’d given her the night before.

  “Tapriha,” he answered. “Redmond here.”

  “Tapriha,” (Ta-pree-ha) meant hello in his native tongue, a dialect that was a mix of several African tribal languages, as well as Greek and Spanish that all Sol y Besoans, the citizens of the country, spoke. In addition, they all spoke English too.

  The deep, melodic sound of his voice was so damned sexy. Janey loved a man with some depth to his voice and Redmond had that in spades. When mixed with the musical way the people of the island spoke naturally, it did things to her insides that she just wasn’t prepared for.

  Smiling inwardly, Janey dreamily traced circles – or was it hearts – into the writing desk where she’d spent the morning working, responding, “Tapriha to you too, Mr. Hillyard. This is JC . . . ah, Janey. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “You could never catch me at a bad time Janey. I’ve been waiting for your call. So, what time shall I pick you up?”

  “Six o’clock.”

  “That’s perfect for what I have in mind,” he replied.

  “And what might that be Mr. Hillyard?”

  “Nuh ugh, it’s a surprise,” he teased.

  “But how will I know what to wear? At least give me a hint,” she pleaded.

  “As you know, we’re very casual here on Sol y Besos. Anything you wear will be fine, so don’t worry.”

  “Hearing a slight ‘beep, beep,’ which signaled another call was trying to get through on his line, she said, “I’ll let you get that. I’ll see you at six.”

  Janey could barely concentrate on her writing after getting off the phone with Redmond. She felt like a teenager getting ready for her first date.

  Her appetite had run off with her common sense, she thought. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror, giving in to the giddiness of the 16-year-old teenage excitement bubbling inside her.

  After about an hour of non-productive writing after getting off the phone with Redmond, Janey decided that she needed to get something on her stomach, as she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning.

  Grabbing her pink, flower-patterned cloth purse from the bottom of her bed, she slipped on her sunglasses, grabbed her room key and all but skipped out of the hotel.

  The previous day, she’d spotted what looked like a charming little restaurant a couple of blocks from her hotel. Reasoning that even if her appetite didn’t return in full she could at least get a blog post about yet another local spot out of it, Janey walked the two blocks to the restaurant.

  Selene’s, which Janey knew was the name of a Greek moon goddess, was the name of the enchanting little eatery. It had a life-size statue of the deity just outside the main entrance – which made it hard to miss.

  All of the tables were adorned with flower vases that held an image of the god, which were brimming with a potpourri of local flowers, some of which were as big as a human head.

  One of the things Janey loved about Sol y Besos was that it was rich in plant life. There seemed to be every kind of tropical flower, tree, plant and bush you could ever want or need on the island.

  Whether you wanted flowers for your dinner table, wood to build furniture, or an herb to cure sunburn, you could find it in the plant life on Sol y Besos – which boasted everything from orchids, to bamboo, to aloe.

  Janey took a window view at a two-seater in the restaurant. She liked to watch people and the spot she chose was perfect for witnessing daily life unfold in the town center while she waited for her food.

  The smells coming from the kitchen of the tiny establishment restored her appetite in full. She’d ordered banana pancakes, some kind of fruit concoction she’d
never heard of, and coffee.

  A smile had just begun to crease the corners of her strawberry-glossed lips when she spotted Redmond across the street – with a woman who had one hand on his chest.

  Even if he’d looked, he wouldn’t have been able to see her as she was partially hidden behind the massive statute of the goddess Selene at the main entrance to the restaurant.

  Redmond and this strange woman seemed to be in deep conversation and she noticed that although he wasn’t touching her, he didn’t remove her hand from his chest.

  Like many of the women on the island, this one was gorgeous – extraordinarily so.

  Sporting short jean cutoffs, 3-inch wedge sandals, a hot pink tee that stopped at the edge of her belly button and huge silver hoop earrings, sensuality oozed from every pore of her beautiful frame.

  About 5’8” and 130 pounds Janey judged, she was almost chin level with Redmond in those platforms, who topped out at about 6’2”. Two thick, child-like curly braids – Indian-style – fell down her back, which was in complete juxtaposition to the obvious mature, sexy woman she was.

  There was definitely an intimate connection there and Janey’s heart shriveled like a raisin in the sun.

  Just thirty seconds ago, she’d been in sheer heaven; floating on clouds and dreaming of rainbow-colored unicorns. Now it felt as if her heart had nose-dived into the ninth circle of Dante’s hell.

  At that precise moment, Janey remembered why she’d chosen to be alone since her mother’s death. It hurt too much.

  It seemed that every time she let herself start to get close to a man; started to get excited about possibilities, some shit like this always happened.

  She was tired, so tired of just wanting someone to love and not deceive her.

  Redmond and the woman talked for a good five minutes. At one point, it seemed like they were arguing, or at least on the verge of it. But by the end of the conversation, the heavenly creature reached up, gave him a kiss on the check and turned to walk away – glancing back once as if to say, “I miss you; I’ll see you later.”

  Appetite completely gone but ever mindful of work, Janey made herself push down a few bites of the banana pancakes and take a couple of bites of the foreign fruit concoction.

  She could at least comment honestly on the food at Selene’s when she wrote her blog post, she thought, as she downed the last sip of lukewarm coffee.

  . . .

  At six p.m. on the dot, the concierge rang her room to let her know she had a visitor, a Mr. Redmond Hillyard.

  Janey told him to tell Mr. Hillyard that, “With regret, I am indisposed right now and will give him a call later.”

  Within seconds, her cell phone rang. It was Redmond.

  She didn’t pick up.

  He called in quick succession two more times. The last time, he left a message, saying, “I deserve an explanation if you’re going to blow me off like this. And while I’d hate to cause a scene, if you don’t let me come up or you come down within three minutes, one of us is going to be embarrassed – and it’s not going to be me.”

  The actual nerve of the man, was all Janey could think. Just who the hell did he think he was!

  Definitely NOT wanting him anywhere near her room, Janey slipped on her tangerine-colored flip flops, grabbed her room key and scurried for the elevator because she had a feeling that he meant every word he said and she was not the type to do ‘scenes.’

  Reaching the lobby, Redmond was pacing, but with the control of a caged panther.

  Motioning for him to follow her into the hotel bar, she found a secluded table in one corner and promptly sat down.

  Waiting until she was seated, Redmond followed suit.

  “Now, will you tell me why you’re trying to blow me off, as you’re obviously not ‘indisposed?’ We had plans and I deserve an explanation if you want to cancel them, don’t you think?”

  Janey hadn’t come up with an explanation because she truly thought that once she ‘blew him off’ as he put it, that would be the end of it. She’d learned a long time ago that the male ego was very fragile and she just never thought it’d get this far.

  “I’m here to work Redmond and I only have about a week and a half left. After giving it some thought and looking at the mounds of work I have to tackle, I decided to just stay focused on that while I’m here.”

  “You’re lying,” was all he said.

  “Something happened between last night and today to make you change your mind about going out with me and it has nothing to do with work.”

  “Now that you’ve gotten lie number one out of the way, would you care to search that overly active mind of yours for lie number two?”

  Not giving her a chance to respond, he continued, “I can actually see the wheels turning, so why don’t you just take the bull by the horns, as you Americans say, and tell me the truth. Then we can deal with the real issue – whatever it is.”

  Again, his directness was so much like her father’s that she was floored.

  Janey hated lies and admired honesty above any other quality in a human being. And she disliked the fact that she’d lied to him; although it was only a partial lie. She did have a lot of work to do over the next week and a half.

  “Alright Redmond, if the truth is what you want, the truth is what you’ll get.”

  “I was having a late breakfast, early brunch – or whatever you all call it here – at Selene’s right down the street about an hour after I got off the phone with you this morning. And as I’m sipping on my coffee gazing out the window, guess who I see with a woman all squished up next to him across the street?”

  Redmond continued to stare directly at her, not saying a word.

  “You. Yes, you. And don’t try to deny it. I …”

  Cutting her off, he stated matter of factly, “It was me; I don’t deny it.”

  “Then ….?” Janey stated, her voice trailing off.

  “Go on, please finish Janey.”

  “I have nothing else to say …”

  “THAT woman is not just a friend,” she rushed on, in spite of herself.

  “It’s obviously more than that and I know very well how famous certain islands in the Caribbean are for men having a ‘main woman’ and several others on the side, especially foreigners. That’s not my scene, so when …”

  Interjecting again, Redmond said, “So from a simple conversation with a female – in plain daylight on a public street in the center of town – you assume that I have a woman and must be some type of gigolo looking to play you?”

  “The way she touched you said ‘this is my man,’” Janey countered.

  “I’ve had enough drama in my life on the man front to last a lifetime. I’d rather be by myself that get caught up in a drama-filled relationship.”

  “So I’m relationship material, huh?” Redmond said, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

  “You are most definitely are NOT relationship material for me Redmond Hillyard,” she countered sternly.

  Softening her tone, she said, “Look, there’s an obvious attraction between us. I can be honest and admit that. But I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl and when I saw you with that woman, I realized that it is highly unlikely that a man like you, at your age, on this island, doesn’t have a woman.”

  “So honestly, that’s what made me retreat. I just don’t have room in my life for complications of any kind – especially those that involve a man. I just don’t.”

  “I respect your honesty,” Redmond said, “now, let me tell you something. The woman you saw me with used to be a – how shall I put this – special friend. In fact, we dealt with each other for about three years.”

  “Like some men, some women can find it hard to let go. I like Natalie; she’s obviously beautiful and we shared some great times together. But, I’ve never been in love with her and I told her so and we stopped sleeping together about a year ago.”

  “At first she thought I was moving on to someone else because
, you’re right, a lot of tourists – which includes many attractive women – come and go on this island. But that’s never been my style.”

  “So why did you stop, uhm, ‘dealing’ with her like that if it wasn’t another woman?” Janey asked. “My impression was that most men – especially once they reach a certain age – like to have a special someone at home, even if they aren’t necessarily in love.”

  “That may be true for a lot of men, especially those who are stuck on an island with nothing going on and no chance of getting off via a work visa, marriage, etc. But again, it’s not my style.