Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “It was an impression, nothing specific. Miss Nela babbles a lot from time to time. Bode made for good table conversation. Both the Judge and Miss Nela were very good to me while Callie was in the hospital.”

  “They’re very kind people,” Sela nodded. “I know for a fact that Bode absolutely adored Judge Summers. I believe the feeling was reciprocated. It made for a good relationship. Bode is a good man, Wyn. I would never, ever, say one bad word against Bode Jessup.” She was stunned at how fierce her voice sounded.

  “I don’t get it. He’s black. As children I could see that not mattering. But now you’re grown, there’s a difference.”

  “To whom? That’s about as racist as you can get. I’m ashamed of you, Wyn. I mean it. People are people. Why does it have to matter what color they are? I love Bode as much as if he were my brother. I love Pearl more than life itself. I never, I swear, ever thought of them as different. They’re my family, and don’t you forget it.”

  “I was raised one way, and you were raised another,” Wyn said defensively. “Those people have their place, and I have mine.”

  “Thank God the rest of the world doesn’t think like you,” Sela snapped. “Nobody should be relegated to a place. This is just my opinion, but I think you cannot bear the thought that Callie preferred a black man over you. That’s what you can’t come to terms with. That’s what you think, but none of us can prove it for a fact. Even if it’s true, so what? Does this mean our hookey playing is canceled?”

  “Only if you want it to be.”

  Sela studied the man across from her. “I guess it takes all kinds of people to make up the world. You know how I feel, and I know how you feel. I’m not going to change. How about you?”

  “I can try.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes. I can’t make you a promise that I’m going to fall in love with Bode Jessup overnight. I’ve got years of . . . whatever it is I have to get through before I can reach where you and Brie are. I will try, though, you have my word.”

  “Brie doesn’t think much of your word; neither does Pearl. I can’t speak for Bode, but I can imagine what he thinks.”

  “Then why are you here?” Wyn asked sourly.

  “I don’t honestly know. I’m my own person. I’m pretty up-front, Wyn. Until someone can prove to me you were responsible for that accident, I’m prepared to take you at your word.”

  “Doesn’t that cause a rift in your relationship with the others?”

  “At times we get testy with one another, sure, but we accept one another for who and what we are. That’s why our friendship has lasted all these years. We’ll always be close, like a family should be close. I think we’ve talked this to death, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much so. You were Callie’s best friend. She spoke about you a lot. Oh, she loved Brie, too; but you were special to her. She said you had guts and spunk and weren’t afraid to experience life. She told me once you could climb a tree faster than the others.”

  “That’s because Brie and I didn’t mind getting scabs on our knees. Bode showed us how to shinny up a tree. Callie was afraid to go above the second branch. She never had bumps or bruises. When I look back now I think of Brie and myself as the two black-and-blue kids. Bode always wore jeans so he didn’t get scraped like we did. Pearl used to put Mercurochrome on us. Iodine sometimes, too. We were always half-orange from something or other. I remember once she painted us with this purple stuff. Whatever it was, it fixed us up real good.” Sela gurgled. “Pearl always knew what to do to make things better. Bode did, too.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Guess so. I want to stop in the ladies’ room while you pay the check. I’ll meet you back at the Holiday Inn, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  It, was a fun day even though it was cold and raw. They laughed and told jokes, held hands as they ran along the beach, and giggled like youngsters when Wyn bought a pound of peanut-butter fudge and two hot chocolates. They devoured all of it, moaning and groaning about waistlines.

  “Listen, we can either go out to dinner or we can go over to a condo I have on the beach. I keep a fairly well stocked freezer there, and I can cook a little. We can light a fire, have some wine and we’ll be back in Summerville by eleven. Your call, Sela.”

  “Right now, this minute, I’ll do anything to get warm. Let’s go to the condo. Callie didn’t say anything about you having a place here.”

  “She didn’t much care for it. She said it was like something out of a magazine and didn’t feel comfortable in it. I had a decorator do it, and I think she got carried away. I always take my shoes off by the door. Yellow carpet.” He winced.

  “Let’s dirty it up.” Sela grinned. “My boots are full of mud. Do you have satin bedspreads and drapes that match the carpet, and furniture that looks like it’s not to be sat on?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Sela hooted with laughter.

  “What are you going to cook for us?” This is nice, she thought, being with a man who’s a friend, enjoying each other’s company. Wyn was fun when he forgot to be serious. They’d hardly talked about Callie at all since breakfast.

  “Probably steak. You can put a frozen steak under the broiler. I have a grill on the deck, too, if you prefer a charcoal flavor. I also have some frozen vegetables. I used to go there after work on a Friday night when I first bought it, and cook when I got there. When Callie said she felt uncomfortable I stopped coming. Someone goes in once a month or so and airs it out and dusts it up. I’ve been thinking of selling it.”

  “Beachfront property should bring a pretty penny,” Sela said.

  “Spoken like a true real-estate agent. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

  “I might.”

  “Then the commission is all yours. We’re here. What do you think?” Wyn asked as he steered the car into the carport.

  “It looks nice from the outside. When you said condo I thought you meant high-rise. These are just two floors. I think I like this better. Which floor is yours?”

  “Both.”

  “Then that makes it a town house, not a condo.”

  “My papers refer to it as a condo,” Wyn said tartly.

  “Okay, okay. How many square feet?”

  “Eighteen hundred, I think. Three bathrooms.”

  “Ooohhh, this is nice,” Sela said. “I like this tile in the foyer. I didn’t know there were foyers in condos. Guess you can do whatever you want if you’re willing to pay for it, right?”

  “Look around. I’ll turn up the heat and make a fire. If you’re really cold you can take a shower. Callie has some clothes here. I don’t know if you—”

  “No, thanks. I’ll get warm once the heat comes up. A glass of wine would be nice. In front of the fire.”

  Wyn was right, the place looked like no one had ever lived in it. There were no knickknacks, nothing personal on any of the tables. The prints on the wall were standard ocean scenes and dunes. Everything seemed to be a mix of green and yellow or “Florida colors” as she called them. The furniture was excellent-quality white wicker: The tables, and there were many, all had glass tops with lamps to match the green-and-yellow furnishings. The bedroom was done in satin. Satin bedspread, satin drapes, satin coverings on the chaise longues. The television was white. She frowned. She’d never seen a white television set before.

  Sela peeked into the bathroom. Yellow sink, tub, and toilet. A green-and-yellow shower curtain with a harlequin design almost blinded her when she noticed it matched the patterned towels and carpet on the floor.

  This was definitely not a man’s condo. Then again, maybe it was. She remembered the hideous bridesmaids’ dresses Wyn had chosen. “No taste,” she muttered.

  When she returned to the living room, Wyn was holding two wine flutes. The fire was blazing, and the lamps had been turned on. She kicked off her boots and watched them sail across the room. “This carpet is to die for. It must be six inches thick—almost as good as a mattress,�
� she giggled as she accepted her wine. “What should we drink to?”

  “Whatever you like.”

  “How about me selling this condo for you?”

  “Fine. How do you like your steak?”

  “Walking. Bloody rare.”

  “I like mine that way, too. Callie liked hers charred—so well done you couldn’t tell what kind of meat it was.”

  “What did you two have in common?” Sela asked.

  “I really don’t feel like talking about Callie. Let’s talk about you. What is it you’re looking for out of life?”

  “A good life, I guess. One where I don’t have to bust my ass twenty-four hours a day. Eventually I’d like to get married again to someone I’m compatible with. I’m not sure about children—I don’t know if I’m mother material. Of course, that might change if I find a man I can’t live without. How about you, Wyn?”

  “How about me?” He grimaced, “I don’t see myself getting married now: I plan to go into politics at some point, perhaps next year. What was your marriage like?” he asked.

  “A nightmare. I was too young, too inexperienced to get married. Half of it was my fault. I get depressed when I think about it.”

  “How about Brie?”

  “She’s been in a few relationships that didn’t work. Brie is . . . I’m not sure. I always kind of thought she was in love with Bode, and no one else could measure up. She’d never do anything about it, though—you know, act on it, because we both thought Bode was in love with Callie. Now, Wyn, that doesn’t mean Callie was in love with Bode. Callie would never cross over that racial line. Never.”

  “Would you? Would Brie?”

  “I don’t know. Why are we talking about this?”

  Wyn shrugged. “Conversation, I guess.”

  “Well, let’s talk about something else. Did you find out about that property adjoining Callie’s?”

  “Yes, I asked the Judge yesterday. He told me one of the heirs lives in the outback in Australia and is not interested in selling. Seems you aren’t the first agent to try and sell that property. Guess you’re going to have to find another parcel for your. golf course.”

  “That’s the problem. There are no other parcels except for Callie’s. I found one over on Highway 61, but Heywood said he didn’t like it. Actually what he said was it wasn’t suitable. He pretty much told me I could name my price if I came up with the right property. He’s willing to go as high as a hundred and fifty thousand dollars an acre. Maybe more if the squeeze is put on him. Do you know what that would mean to me personally? Megabucks,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “God, what I couldn’t do with money like that.”

  “Money’s important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Since I never had any, yes. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth like some people.”

  Sela was on her fifth glass of wine when she said, “What will you do with Callie’s property if . . . if she doesn’t come out of her coma?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. That’s a damn ghoulish question to ask me.”

  “It’s a realistic question, Wyn,” Sela said from her cocoon in front of the fireplace. “Whatever possessed you to get brocade cushions? They scratch. Did you and Callie make love here in front of the fireplace?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Sela,” Wyn said tightly.

  “C’mon, sure it is. That’s why you suggested we come here. You want to have sex with me. Guess what, I want to have sex with you, too,” Sela said, slurring her words.

  “I’ll leave the decision up to you and you’re wrong, that’s not why I came here. I just don’t want to go home, and you are good company.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  “I didn’t say that . . . You’ve had too much to drink, and that’s my fault. I’m going to make some coffee and then we’re heading back home. Give me the glass, Sela.”

  “Come and get it,” Sela trilled as she rolled away from him, the pinkish wine spilling and beading up on the yellow carpet. “Oh shit,” she muttered.

  Wyn reached down to take the glass from her hand. One minute he was on his two feet, the next he was on top of Sela. “Bet you didn’t think I was that strong, huh?” she said, removing her hand from his waist. “Sorry about that wine flute. Don’t you get good luck if you smash a wineglass into the fireplace?”

  “That’s only in the movies,” Wyn said hoarsely.

  “Shhh,” Sela said, placing her finger over his quivering lips.

  Everything happened at once. Her finger came away from his lips, then the tight cashmere sweater was lying next to him on the floor, along with a lacy bra. He stared as she leaned over him balanced on one hand, the other working the jeans down over her hips. He watched, mesmerized, as her flowered panties followed. He felt a tickle of delight when he realized she wasn’t going to remove the thick, red wool socks. And then he was breathing so hard he thought he’d come in his Jockeys.

  Moments later he was undressed, wearing only his socks. He had one brief second to wonder if there was something symbolic about wearing socks if you were going to have sex.

  “There’s nothing I like better than a hard man under me,” Sela said lazily. “Hmmmn, that feels sooo good.” She giggled then and said something she probably never would have said if she’d been sober. “I had no idea you had such a big dick. Give it to me, Wyn, every inch of it. Now!”

  “How do you want it?” Wyn hissed in her ear as he flipped her over onto her back. “Talk dirty to me.”

  “Faster than a speeding bullet and don’t stop for anything, and if you can get your balls in there, that’s fine, too. Oh God,” she moaned. “You have the biggest damn cock in Summerville. What about my tits? My tits, damn you. Don’t you know how to do it? You fuck me and suck my tits at the same time. Just do it,” she groaned, undulating under him.

  They were a pretzel, contortionists, her fingers sluicing around his balls, his mouth trying to cover her nipples.

  “Oooohhh, faster, quick, faster, faster. Oh God, oh God, I’m exploding!”

  “Jesus Christ !” Wyn bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  “Was that good or what!” Sela demanded, her breathing ragged.

  “Where did you learn to do that ?””

  “You mean that part where I—”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s the part.”

  “I listen to other people. I read a lot. You liked it, didn’t you?” Sela grinned. “Bet Callie never did that. She was straight missionary, right?”

  He ignored the question and bent over until her dusky nipple was in his mouth again. His hand moved down to the flat of her stomach. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

  “What I want is for you to fill me with the essence of your body. I want to feel you slide in and out of me. I want you to drive me to the brink, return and do it again and again until I cry for mercy. Then you fuck me, hard and fast like before. What do you want me to do to you?” she whispered.

  “Everything. Suck me until my cock falls off. Let me lick you till my tongue is raw. I want you to get on top of me and fuck my brains out.”

  “Then let’s get started,” Sela drawled. “Shall I begin?”

  “Jesus, yes,” Wyn said, lying back against the pillows.

  “You got it, big juggernaut. Close your eyes and let Sela work some magic.”

  “It’s not necessary to be that gentle,” Wyn whispered.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  It was ten minutes to midnight when Wyn hobbled out to the car, Sela hobbling behind him.

  “I’ll never be the same,” Wyn muttered. “How about you?”

  “Women bounce back real easy.” Sela laughed. “I think I can truly say I’ve never been fucked with such . . . precision, such vitality, such . . . abandon. I loved every minute of it. Of course, we aren’t going to do this ever again, right?” she said, buckling her seat belt.

  “Right,” Wyn said.


  “We’re such liars.” Sela grinned. “How about Saturday evening? I can drive to Beaufort or I can meet you at the Holiday Inn. Give the servants the night off if it’s Beaufort. You tend to get a bit rowdy.”

  Wyn doubled over laughing. “You got it, Miss Hotpants. Were you serious about my dick being the biggest one you’d ever seen?”

  “Yep.” No need to tell him she’d only ever seen three of any importance in her life and the first guy couldn’t really get it up so his didn’t count. The second guy’s was a thin stick that didn’t do a thing for her. The third was her husband, who didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it except jerk off before it got to the good part. The babies in high school simply didn’t count.

  “I’ll count the hours,” Wyn said.

  “Me too.”

  “I could do this every day,” Wyn said.

  “Me too.”

  “Then let’s do it. Tomorrow. Let’s not wait for Saturday.”

  “Okay. Call me with the time and the place.” Sela laughed.

  14

  Bode Jessup scrawled his signature in five different places.

  “Congratulations, Bode, you are now a homeowner. You get to mow the lawn, fix the drains, clean the gutters, and polish your own windows. No one around here does windows. How’s it feel?” Hatch cackled.

  “Overwhelming. Just tell me why I need a four-thousand-square-foot house. Who in the hell is going to clean it? How’d I let you talk me into this?” Bode said, accepting a ring of keys.

  “It’s a good tax write-off. You need some new roots, and you can’t put down roots in a condo or apartment. You need walking-around room. We have great star-spangled nights. Think about yourself sitting outside in your hot tub with a cold frosty beer, looking up at the stars. You might get married someday, and you want to be able to offer your bride comfort. Women love houses and fireplaces. Kitchens too. Bet you didn’t know that. They also like bathrooms. They match the towels to the tile and stuff like that. They put artificial flowers in little baskets behind the toilet. I saw that in a decorating book.” Hatch guffawed. Bode offered up his middle finger. Hatch threw back his head and laughed again.