Games We Play

by Ruthie Robinson

  “My students give me hope, and they help me remember the ideals and dreams I had coming out of college. I’ve learned that changing the world doesn’t have to be this huge undertaking. It doesn’t have to be all Gandhi or MLK big. You can do small, make a difference with what you do and who you are.”

  He was silent still.

  “It’s what you do with Aunt Myra,” she said, still not giving up on getting him to admit the part he played with helping her aunt and the town. He wasn’t taking her bait tonight either. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not helping, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Why is that so important to you?” he said.

  She shrugged. “It’s not, and it is.”

  “Whatever that means,” he said, and leaned over and placed his lips to hers. He liked touching her, whether it was her lips or her ass or wherever. He just liked the feel of her. “So what happened to Houston?” he asked after a bit, changing the subject.

  “We are two very different people, even though we were raised by two similar people. His father is a lot like Vivian. They even dated—or whatever it was they did—for a while. We want two different lives.”

  “Like?”

  “He was all for spending, acquiring, and living large for the sake of it. He made six figures and he loved to point that out to anyone who would listen, as if that was all that was required of him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking that. It just wasn’t for me, and it reminded me too much of living with my mother. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life tied to the male version of her,” she said.

  “He was that bad?”

  “No, he wasn’t, but I knew that being with him would mean I’d have to live that life.…Anyway, enough of this serious stuff,” she said, and ran her lips over his chest. She glanced up at him before she kissed his body further down this time, in the vicinity of his navel.

  She glanced at him again and smiled, laughing at the smile he gave back, sexy and turned on, and she slid lower, kissing the area at the top of his right thigh. He inhaled this time, sharp and sweet-sounding to her ears, and his hands found her hair. She looked up one final time at the handsome picture he made, naked and male, and listened as he made another deep inhale. She loved the sound of him, here in the heat of things; nothing sucked her in more than to hear how pleased he was by the things she did to and with him. He’d closed his eyes, so she kissed him again, on a spot that caused him to groan in pleasure this time. She smiled and closed her eyes, content to enjoy this moment with him.

  #

  Saturday morning

  “You’re here early, Colonel,” Cooper said from his spot behind the bar. He was stacking glasses under the bar, prepping for the day.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” the Colonel said, walking over to stand in front of Cooper.

  “Sure, sounds serious, though.”

  “It is.”

  “Shoot. It’s early, and no one’s here but me and Alex,” he said, smiling, hoping to lighten the Colonel’s mood. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen his friend this serious, this stressed. Maybe it had been when they were waiting for the election results to come in.

  “I’d rather we talk in your office,” the Colonel said.

  “You’ll have to give me a minute then,” he said.

  “Sure, no problem,” the Colonel said. He walked away, over to the brew room. He stood just outside of it, waiting for Cooper to put away the last of his bar glasses.

  “Ready,” Cooper said close to ten minutes later, leading the way to his office. He took a seat behind his desk, waiting for the Colonel to sit in front of him.

  “Okay, what’s up?” Cooper said, smiling.

  “There are some things being said about you.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “The Proctor brothers are spreading some malicious things around town about you, things that you might have done while growing up here. They’re targeting the residents who are new to town, the ones you and Myra have helped in some way.”

  “You mean the ones Myra has helped,” Cooper said, correcting the colonel.

  “Last night they told me…” the Colonel began.

  “I don’t need to hear the specifics,” Cooper said, interrupting him.

  “I thought you would want to know.”

  “No, I don’t. I was there growing up with them. So no.”

  “I see.”

  “Good. I’m glad,” Cooper said.

  “You’re different now?” the Colonel asked, or said; Cooper wasn’t sure which.

  “Was that a question or a statement?” Cooper said, offering his first sincere smile since this discussion had started.

  “A statement. I know who you are.”

  “You sure about that?” Cooper asked.

  “I’m sure,” he said, staring back at Cooper. “This was what I was worried about from the start. Not everyone plays nice and fair, Cooper. We have to fight back.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  “I do.”

  “So you think we should leave them alone, allow them to continuing spreading their malicious stories? You could talk to the Proctor men. They’d listen to you. They’re here often enough, and I think they respect you for what you’ve built here. It’s obvious that Hank’s egging them on.”

  “I’m not going to ask.”

  “I see.”

  “It’ll work itself out,” Cooper said, and smiled. “If that’s all, then I’d better get back to the front. It gets busy here, but I don’t have to tell you that.” Cooper smiled as he followed the Colonel out of his office and back to the front.

  “If you’re sure,” the Colonel said, standing by the front door, preparing to leave.

  “I am. Really, don’t worry about it,” Cooper said.

  #

  First week of July, Tuesday evening

  Kendall sat at the bar, watching Cooper clean up. This was the newest addition to her daily routine. She’d spend all day with Myra, have a nightcap with her, then head over to Cooper’s for a different type of nightcap. It had begun last week, Thursday. He’d asked her to stop by. Friday the same, and then it had changed to see you later, and both of them had known what that meant—here at the bar at the end of the day and his home later.

  They seemed so in sync with each other, both of them game with everyday sex, except for that one time, when she’d had too much beer and fallen asleep. Early the next morning, she’d awakened to his nude body at her back, curled into hers, arm thrown across her waist. She hadn’t wanted to move; she’d wanted to remain there forever if she could. She’d closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of his home, thinking she could get used to this. And, yeah, she knew what that meant.

  After a while, his breathing had changed, and he’d moved his hand to her hip, placing his mouth to her neck, and seconds later, she’d felt the hardness of him entering her, and God it had been perfect, beautiful even—soft, slow, early-morning lovemaking.

  He’d cooked breakfast afterwards, and then it had been home to Myra’s to shower and whatever Myra had planned for the morning. Who would have thought that there was so much to do, so many people to help?

  “What are you going to do with him?” Kendall said, pointing over her shoulder at a man who had clearly had too much to drink and was sleeping it off. “Surely you’re not going to let him drive himself home.”

  “No, I’ll call Jeremiah.”

  “Who’s Jeremiah?”

  “He runs one of the local taxi services. He’s on standby for some of our regulars. A lot of them have standing orders to be picked up and delivered home.”

  “Now that’s what I call planning ahead,” she said, glancing over at Hugo snoring up a storm in his chair. Not-so-nice Hugo. She’d caught him staring at her, him and his brother, the Proctor brothers, and what a pair, straight from some old movie in which everyone threatened black folk on the daily with bodily harm. Where is the other one? she wondered.r />
  When they stared at her, she stared back, and they’d end up in a crazy staring contest. She knew it wasn’t smart to lock horns with the brothers—nothing would change their thinking, and they would never get with the new and improved program called change. But she stared back anyway.

  “I’ll need to finish something up, so I’ll be in my office. We can leave as soon as Hugo’s gone. Do you mind watching him? Call me when Jeremiah comes, and I’ll come out and let him in.”

  “I don’t mind letting him in.”

  “No, it’s okay, I’d rather deal with Jeremiah personally. He can be a bit tricky sometimes,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said, shaking her head, glad that Cooper had devised a method to ensure that his most intoxicated customers found their way home, even the not-so-nice ones—and what had he meant by tricky?

  She sat back on her barstool, listening to the snores from Hugo, watching as he relocated himself from his chair to the floor underneath the tables. Okay, whatever, she thought. The hardness of the floor apparently wasn’t a problem for him.

  Hearing a car door slam, she walked over to the front door. She could see a minivan through the window. It must be Jeremiah. A van stood parked next to the curb, had one of those removable signs on the doors that read Taxi. She opened the door.

  “You must be Jeremiah,” Kendall said, smiling. She’d had to look up. God, he was tall, built like a mountain man, sleeveless T-shirt covering a huge chest, guns built for doing some serious damage, and enough tattoos for three people.

  “Where’s Cooper?” he asked, looking at her like she was something that had left a bad smell on his shoe.

  She stepped away. “In the back,” she said, answering in the best way she knew how when encountering his type of male—with no small amount of confidence and no show of fear. She’d seen others like him before.

  “Jeremiah,” Cooper said, emerging from the back, and this was a very different Cooper from the one she knew.…He was as serious as he’d been on that night he’d accused her of wanting to take advantage of her aunt.

  “Where’s my customer?” Jeremiah said, standing at the door, not even a hint of pleasantness in his voice.

  “On the floor,” Cooper said.

  “Under the table,” Kendall added.

  “Hugo,” Jeremiah said, recognizing the man as he strode toward him.

  “Hugo,” Cooper said.

  Jeremiah slid the man out from under the table by his feet. He lifted him from the floor effortlessly and carried him in his arms, like you would a baby, through the pub and out the front door. The swastika tattoo on his right bicep caught Kendall’s attention, confirming her first impression of him. She stood and watched as Cooper followed him out the front door.

  They were talking now, Jeremiah and Cooper, and she moved closer to the window to listen. Cooper opened the back door to the van, like you would an ambulance, watching as Jeremiah placed Hugo inside.

  “I hear Hank’s back,” Jeremiah said as he strapped Hugo in.

  “He is.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It is what it is,” Cooper said.

  Jeremiah smiled. “We can finally put an end to your experiment with the old black woman,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Cooper said, closing one side of the door while Jeremiah closed the other.

  “I can’t believe you. Here with her. What are you thinking? This is a public place. You could at least try to hide what you’re doing,” he said, shaking his head. “What would your father think? It’s a good thing he’s dead, because you’re a disgrace to the Cooper name.”

  “It’s really none of your business,” Cooper said. He stood watching as Jeremiah turned away from him and climbed into the driver’s seat. Cooper remained standing on the curb as Jeremiah slid behind the wheel and pulled the van away. He locked the front door behind him after he was back inside.

  “Give me five,” he said, turning to face her. He was angry. “And next time, would you do as I ask?” He walked away from her, heading toward his office.

  Okay…she thought, biting back her temper and her who-the-hell-are-you-talking-to retort. She followed him into his office, determined to talk to him about what she’d heard Jeremiah say about her and the old black woman, to tell him that she didn’t hide from anybody. She stood watching as he took a seat behind his desk.

  “He’s an asshole,” she said.

  “Really? What gave it away?”

  “I overheard what he said about me and Myra.”

  “I wish you hadn’t. He’s a part of Coopersville’s past. He can be difficult, which is why I asked you to tell me when he was here,” Cooper said, running his hand through his hair.

  “I can handle his type. I’ve seen it before. But I’m sorry anyway. You did ask,” she said.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “So he doesn’t care for me?” she said.

  “He doesn’t know you,” he said from his chair.

  “You know what I mean. Not Kendall me, African American me,” she added. Cooper didn’t respond, just sat there staring at her. “He has the tattoo of a swastika on his arm.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “It does, but what can I do about it?”

  “Nothing, I guess. Does he come here often?”

  “He’s the regular taxi service of some of the patrons here, remember. So yes, he does.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Curious,” she said.

  “Leave it alone,” he said.

  “So you’re telling me to allow him and his bigotry to go unchallenged?”

  He ran his hand through his hair again, pulling it up, as if he could make it stand on end. “What good would it do to argue with him?”

  She could tell he was still angry. “It would make me feel better, how about that?”

  He ran his hand over his face this time. “Really, besides making you feel better, will it change him? Hank’s proposal is just bringing out the old ways that used to rule here. I’m sure you’ve heard how it used to be in this town. It was a very different place, and some of that attitude still lives here.”

  “You have to fight back,” she said.

  “I don’t need you to tell me that,” he said, cutting his eyes over to her.

  “I don’t want to argue with you, certainly not about him,” she said.

  “Good, then we’re in agreement.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking at him oddly. “Is there something you need to tell me?

  “If there’s something I think you should know, I’ll tell you,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

  It was quiet for a few minutes as they stared at each other, both of them a little angry, still working to let go of it, although their anger wasn’t really at each other; it was the result of dealing with folk like Jeremiah. It was always a bit of a surprise to face that brand of hate, and no amount of preparation made you ready to see it.

  After a few moments had passed, Cooper blew out a breath. “What did you think the first time we met, at the gas station? Did you wonder if I’d dated African American women before you started to flirt with me?” he asked.

  “You smiled when I smiled, you laughed at my humor, you liked the way I looked. I could tell you were interested. Was any of that not true?” she asked.

  “No, it was all true,” he said, continuing to stare at her. “I would really rather not discuss the racial past of Coopersville, Texas. I grew up with it, whether I wanted to or not, so excuse me if I try and limit the amount of energy I spend giving it additional thought,” he said.

  “Fine,” she said, her tone indicating that it was anything but.

  He sat in his chair watching her for a minute, still silent.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I enjoy looking at you,” he said, changing the subject. He stood up and walked over to her. “You do k
now that you’re beautiful?” he said, kissing her neck, pushing her toward the door with his body.

  “I thought we were leaving.”

  “We are, in a minute,” he said, continuing to lightly push her until her back rested against the door. His hands found her waist, and he leaned into her, kissed her. She tasted like his beer and mints. He smiled at the beer part.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I like tasting my beer on you. I like having you here at the end of each night. I like waking up with you in front of me or behind me—it doesn’t matter where, only that your body is next to mine to do with as I please.” He whispered the last few words before his mouth found hers again, all warm and welcome.

  “Hefeweizen is still my favorite,” she said, her lips on his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands sliding down her dress. He lifted her legs, placing them around his waist. She unzipped his jeans and reached inside, taking the time to run her hands over him. He groaned, and she smiled at what was quickly becoming another of her favorite sounds.

  “Condom,” he said, and placed it in her hands to do the honors.

  He removed her underwear, then replaced her legs around his back, tilting her hips up at an angle and entering her in one smooth thrust. The sound of their commingling moans filled the air as he held her tightly to him, his arms wrapped around her waist, moving her up and down. It was fast, and it was quick, both of them climaxing a few minutes later.

  “I am so glad we agreed to this summer thing. I like being here with you too, and waking up with your body behind mine, all hard and smooth, is my favorite,” she said, her forehead resting against his. She was testing him to see if he’d started to think of the future too.

  “You keep talking like that and we’ll be here all night,” he said, smiling, and then kissed her again.

  “You’re a good guy,” she said.

  “You think so?” he said, and kissed her before placing her feet back on the floor.

  “Bathroom,” he said, turning away before she could read his expression.

  “Sure,” she said, stepping aside. What an odd question, she thought. Did she think so? She watched him close the bathroom door, pondering that question and his actions and reactions before he’d initiated sex. Her mind returned again to Jeremiah, and how he hadn’t found one ounce of friendliness when she’d said hello. There was more to the Cooper story, and it was vastly different from the friendly man who supported and loved her aunt.