by DL White
"Don't change the subject. What were you doing on the roof?"
"I was on a date," I answered slyly, swiping more crackers. "With the guy from work."
"Aren't you—can you do that? Date him and work on the contract?"
"Not really." I shrugged. "We're not dating. We're hanging out."
"Unh huh. On rooftops and riding Ferris wheels and shit." Jada's eyes rolled skyward. "So, you think you like him? I mean, he got you up on a roof, so I guess so."
"Yeah. I'm... kind of thinking that he might be The One. I mean, I don't mean my soulmate. But I mean…"
"You're trying to decide if you're going to fuck him."
"I came to you because you're sensitive and romantic, Jada." Her belly laugh was contagious. I laughed, too.
"Hell, Esme. I have two teenage children. I haven't been romantic in about sixteen years. My husband sends his regards."
"Whatever. You two moon over each other all the time."
Jada smiled. Her eyes squinted like they always did when she talked about her husband, Joe. "He is the shit, ain't he?"
"Anyway, so yeah. I'm thinking that I might… you know."
"If you can't say the words, you can't do the deed. You're grown. You can say sex. Intercourse. Fuckin'. Dick in pussy—"
"Yeah, I got it. So, yeah. I might see if he's interested."
"In letting him hit that? Poppin' that cherry?"
I threw up my hands in frustration. "I feel like I'm talking to Layah right now."
"What do you want from me, Esme? Should I encourage you to go for it because you're about to turn forty, and now's as good a time as any? Do you want me to talk you out of it because it's something that should be organic? What do you want?"
"Organic isn't going to happen," I mumbled, coming back from my silly mood. "If I want it, I have to take control. Make it happen. Make sex happen."
There was the matter of a list and a contract and two businesses in the balance, but I couldn't really talk about that part of the situation.
"I don't think you'll have to work that hard, Es. Men like sex."
"Do they like sex with virgins?"
"Some do.”
I huffed, balancing my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands. "I want him to want me and want me to be ready. I want him to want me to have a good time and not be weird about it being my first time. I want him to make sure I come and not think less of me because I waited so long, and I didn't fuck him like a pornstar right out of the gate. Men don't like… instructing."
"You don't think— what is this man's name, so I can stop calling him the guy from work?"
"Trey. His name is Trey."
"You don't think Trey can be that guy? Tell him what you need. Can he deliver or not?"
I sat up, then. "So, today, he told me that when this contract is out of the way, he plans to pursue me. He asked if I wanted that, because if not, he'd back off."
Jada's brows rose. She urged me to continue. "And you said…"
"I said… I... would welcome his pursuit."
"Well, ok. You 'bout to bust it open!"
"Until he finds out that I'm a virgin. He's expecting sex and—"
"The whole point is for him to expect sex."
“I don’t want to feel like I'm tricking him, like getting him to the point and then springing it on him. But I also know from experience that men fade away when you tell them that you don't have the same history that his last five girlfriends had."
"The women that came before you have nothing to do with you. They're none of your business. There's no wrong answer here, Es, but I promise you can make this happen without tricking him into sleeping with you. You're taking that step on your terms, and that's going to have to be enough for him. If it's not, he's not the last man on the planet. Alright?"
“Right.” I nodded. “In the meantime? I still want him."
Jada grinned. "Tell me all about this man that got you on a Ferris Wheel and took you to a rooftop. Have you sampled the goods? You know what I mean?"
"Jada…" I laughed, shaking my head. “No. We kissed, though. Twice."
"But you're not dating. Hanging out, huh? He got skills?”
I huffed, fanning myself. "That shit felt like fucking with our clothes on."
"Because you know how that feels."
"I know exactly how that feels. We danced for few minutes. We were close enough that I… well, I got an idea of what he's working with."
"He's got a big ol’ dick?"
"I don't know why I thought you'd be more sensitive than Jewel would be. She wants me to jump him already."
"So does O'Neal. Three for three. What do you want?"
I hesitated before answering because Jada knew me better than anyone. I had a great relationship with Jewel, and O'Neal was my best friend, but I had a special kinship with Jada, always had. She'd know if I was lying or holding back. I squirmed in my seat, twisting so I leaned close enough to say what I wanted to say without whispering.
"I want… him… to fuck the shit out of me." I nodded.
“Mmmhmm. Speak on it."
"Multiple times. In multiple ways. Just…” I formed a fist and pounded the table. “I need him to hit it hard, one good time.”
“You probably need more than one good time, but I feel you.”
"I'm serious, Jada. I was on fire. I almost asked him to follow me home last night.”
"See, you need to be careful. Good dick will trap you. Turn you right out. That's how I ended up with that man and those hooligans you call niece and nephew."
"Jada, shut up. Joe chased you all the way through college."
"I let him think that. I'm hooked, honey. You find yourself a good man with a good dick, you don't let go. You got a picture of this Trey?"
I pulled out my phone again and scrolled to a photo that I'd saved off the Pettigrew Construction website. “It’s an old picture," I told her, turning the phone around. She frowned, and I understood why.
Trey wasn't much to look at in whatever era that photo was taken, but since then, he'd had a glow up. "He's thinner now. Leaner with a beard and a nice cut. You heard O'Neal. He's working with something."
"If you like him, I love him. And you didn't scream once on that Ferris wheel? Didn't wail and demand they let you out of that thing like you did every fucking time we tried to take you to an amusement park?"
I locked the phone again and put it away. "I might have tried to climb out of that gondola before the attendant shut us in. And I also might have impaled his hand with these claws you put on me." I furled my nails toward her like a cat. "He's not a fan of these."
"Joe likes when I use them on his—"
"Mama?" I turned to find my niece halfway hanging out of the open space between the salon and the patio.
"Dammit, Layah. I'm trying to have a conversation with your Auntie! What?"
"My ride to practice has to pick me up early, in about an hour. Adam said he'd cover the phone."
"Alright. Don't leave this building without letting me know you're gone, little girl."
"Yes, mama."
"Mmmhmm. Yes, mama all day and then do what you want. You're one bad decision from losing your phone. I'm not playing."
"I hear you, mama." I felt Layah roll her eyes when she turned around to walk back to the salon.
"What is that about?"
"House rules, Esme. When they break them, they've got to feel the consequences. That one—" She pointed in the direction of the salon. "Acting like she's grown and out of my house like I don't pay a pretty penny for her lifestyle. She don't bankroll nothin'."
I laughed while Jada fumed. My phone buzzed inside my bag. I pulled it out and saw that I had a new incoming text. Trey and I had finally exchanged phone numbers if we needed to reach each other outside of Miller.
Or, in Trey's case, if he needed to send me texts that I read in his quiet storm voice.
Trey Pettigrew: Hey, girl. How you doin'? Anyway, if you're not busy tom
orrow night, we could do whatever scary thing you gotta do from your list...after you join me for dinner. Let me know.
"Uh… hang on a second, Jada. I got a text. From… from work." Why was I lying about Trey texting me? "Can I meet you at your chair?"
"Yeah. It got hot out here anyway."
I waited until Jada was back inside the cool shade of the salon before I opened my texts and thumbed out a reply.
Next on the list is an extreme sport. You up for that?
Trey Pettigrew: I'm up for whatever. Extreme sport, though?
You read me. You scared? :)
Trey Pettigrew: Nah. I'm not scared of nothin but Pops. Can I pick the sport? I have some ideas.
I guess. But I'm done with heights for now.
Trey Pettigrew: No bungee jumping. Got it. Can I pick you up?
I started to answer yes. Then erased it, to type that I could handle my transportation. Him picking me up would make it too much like a date. But then I argued with myself about my Esme-ness and went back to the app.
Sure. Since you know where I live. No sushi.
Trey Pettigrew: Still missing out on a good thing. I'll let you know what time to be ready tomorrow. Can't wait to see you.
My cheeks were flush and round when I closed the app and headed into the salon.
"Was that Trey on the phone?"
My eyes met hers in the mirror as I sat in her salon chair. Her lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "I don't know who you thought you were fooling. It's Jada, baby! Your whole face tells the story. Y'all doing some more hanging out?"
"Yeah, tomorrow," I admitted. Jada shook out a large black smock and circled my body with it, fastening the Velcro at the neck.
"Where to? Bungee jumping?"
"Hell no." My chest went cold at the thought of that. "I explicitly said no heights. I don't know where. He's planning it."
"A man that plans dates. I know the bar is on the floor, but as an old married woman, that's impressive."
"When men think they're going to get some, they work pretty hard."
"Any reason he should think otherwise, Esme? You said you planned to open the candy shop."
"Do you… do you have to put it like that?"
"Chile, I am grown and sexy. I can put it a lot of ways. And so can Joe."
"Isn't it time for my shampoo? I swear, I can't stand you. Did Joe cook, though? I'll be starving when I get out of this chair."
"He's grilling now. I was supposed to tell you that Jewel and Corey and the kids were coming over and that you were invited."
"The single, hungry bitch in me likes the sound of that."
Chapter Eighteen
Trey
* * *
I used my sleeve to wipe a bead of sweat before it could trickle down the side of my face, but it was pointless. It was a hot, humid day, and I was working outside.
"I think it may be time to get a riding mower," mused Pops, who'd been keeping me company all day while I worked in the yard. Mom wouldn't let him do anything, but supervising was his strong suit, so he sat nearby in long khaki shorts that showed off muscular legs that needed sun and a thin t-shirt. Mom came out periodically with glasses of tea, a few snacks, and refilled my steel water tumbler.
"You need to hire a professional," I grumbled. "The trimming, the gardening, the mowing, not to mention the painting and repairs and minor renovations. It never used to be like this, but over the years of adding this and adding that…"
I wiped my face again, trying again to keep sweat out of my eyes. "There's too much going on here. You can't do it, and I don't plan to spend two Saturdays a month over here for the rest of my life."
"I know, son. We appreciate you coming to fill in."
"And I know you hate me picking on your baby girl, but Missy's arms and legs work fine. There's no reason she can't help, but when I call her, I get voicemail."
"Missy is—"
"Special. I know, Pops."
"In therapy on Saturdays, since you know so much. If you'd take the time to speak with her, you'd know her new therapist is working wonders with her. He has her on a whole new program."
I didn't have to look at him to know his face bore a scowl. It had been a nice day, near heat stroke notwithstanding. I opted not to poke the bear.
"I love doing it myself," he said, changing the subject. "It's soothing, and it gets me out of the house. You know your mother is picky about how things are done."
I looked up from the lawnmower, where I'd been detaching the bag that caught the clippings to dump them into a bin. I would drag that bin to a shed at the edge of the property where we kept compost materials. In the spring, Mom used that nutrient-rich mix for her new plantings. She swore by it and had been doing it for years.
"Yeah, I know. That's how I got stuck with your chore list."
"It's hard getting used to change. I keep thinking that I'll be back to full power soon, but full power almost killed me. I have to give up some things. I don't like that. I'm not used to giving up control."
I stopped myself from commenting about riding me on the Miller acquisition, among other Pettigrew projects. He knew his shortcomings and faults. It didn't mean he wanted them parroted back.
"You don't have to give up control, Pops. You're sitting in the yard watching me do your job. You're in control right now. It would make it easier for you to stay healthy and have time and energy to do the things you really want to do."
His head bobbed with his nod. "You're right. I'll look into it. May have some companies come by this week to give estimates."
"I'll believe it when I see it. I need to cut out early today, so I'm not staying for dinner."
"Oh? Big plans tonight?"
"Hanging out with a friend, Pops."
"Oh. Well. Alright. I'll let your mother know that it's just the two of us for dinner, then."
He rose from his lounge chair, walked through the emerald green, freshly cut, weeded and trimmed yard and entered the house. I set about cleaning off the lawnmower, then dragging the compost bin to the shed.
He wanted to press for information, just because I was being cagey. I was thankful that he resisted because I didn't want to lie to him about having a date with Esme. We were calling it hanging out, but I wasn't fooled by that term. By the heat level of our last kiss, and the conversation in the office the day before, neither was Esme.
Besides, I'd made it plain that I was attracted to her and that I had every intention of following through with that attraction. And she made it clear that she was open to that.
More than that, he could never know about our side deal. It was working, getting me to make progress with Miller. And getting me closer to Esme.
Speaking of Esme, I pulled my phone from my pocket and navigated to the text app. She hadn't responded to any texts since the night before, and I hadn't expected any, but I was open to a surprise flirty text or two if she was so inclined.
I thumbed out a short text and sent it. Hey, girl. How's your Saturday?
The bouncing dots that said she was replying didn't appear right away, so I put the phone back in my pocket and went back to dumping grass clippings into the compost bin. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Esme Whitaker: Hi. My Saturday is great. Yours?
Weird, but I heard her voice in my head as I read her words. Yard work, I responded. Hoping we're still on tonight so I have an excuse to bail.
Esme Whitaker: LOL. Yes, we're still on. What time will you be here? And where are we going?
Does 6:00 work? And you'll find out when we get where we're going. Still trust me?
Esme Whitaker: 6 is fine. You only asked me to trust you for a few minutes.
Trust me for a few hours. It'll be fun. See you at 6.
I locked the phone and slid it back into the pocket of my shorts, then cleaned up my mess and put the bin back in its assigned space. I mowed my parent's property twice a month, alternating the front and the back of the house, so I didn't have to come back to thi
s shed full of decomposing, disintegrating yard waste for another few weeks. I closed the door tight, then attached the padlock and slipped the key into its hiding spot.
I lifted a hand to wave at my parents, who were having afternoon tea on the patio and admiring my handiwork. I climbed into the Acadia and backed out of the driveway, debating a quick nap before the evening's events.
It had been a long day in the yard after a sunrise Peloton session. I was exhausted, sweaty and filthy. I was eager to get home and get right for Esme.
I pulled up to the resident parking gate at my building and climbed out, handing the key to the valet. I told him I'd be back down around 5:15, so bring the car back up then. As always, I stood back while he carefully navigated the ramp to the parking garage, then swiped into the building and punched the elevator button for the tenth floor.
By the time I crossed the threshold of my condo, I was already halfway undressed, having shed my t-shirt in the hallway from the elevator. I was itchy and covered in grass, so I dropped my shorts and t-shirt at the door, kicked off my shoes, took off my watch and headed straight for the shower.
Minutes later, I breathed a sigh of relief as I stood in the spacious gray marble shower under a torrent of hot water. The day cascaded off of my skin as I scrubbed a soapy washcloth over my body, then used an exfoliating cloth and cleanser on my face.
Finally, I stood under the shower head, letting the cooling water rinse the suds away. The force of the water pounded onto my shoulders, which was relaxing. In the back of my mind, I remembered that it wouldn't be another chill night at home watching whatever sport I could find, sprawled across the couch or even driving out to Pettigrew because there was always a pile of work on my desk that needed my attention.
Tonight, I would be with Esme. More than one part of my body became excited at the thought of being near her, touching her, the light perfume she wore invading the fiber of my clothing so that I smelled her scent even when I wasn't with her.
I would watch her roll those deep brown eyes at my corny jokes and twist those thick, red tinted lips when I said something smart… or smile when I complimented her. Which, by the way, I planned to do a lot of. There was so much to compliment, and she was pretty when she blushed.