by Zuri Day
“I’m going to take a shower.” Eden grabbed her purse and began pulling her luggage toward the staircase.
Jansen raced to her side, quickly picking up the gun Eden eyed with disdain. “Don’t worry, it won’t bite you. Here, let me get that.”
Eden batted away his hand. “I can get it myself.”
“Oh, it’s like that? See, I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re acting all independent and whatnot. But I understand, baby girl. Things happen when I get too close to a woman, and even in that raggedy T-shirt and jeans, I can see that Mike’s little sis is definitely all grown up!”
Eden hoisted the suitcase onto the first step and then the second. By the fourth step, her strength was drained. Why didn’t I think to just get out what I needed and leave the datgum case downstairs? Now Eden felt she’d put herself in the position to prove that she could indeed carry the suitcase up the entire flight. She took a deep breath, grabbed the handle . . . and suddenly felt the weight of nothingness as Jansen took the case from her and effortlessly mounted the stairs.
Eden raised her head to deliver a sarcastic comment but just as quickly lowered it. The towel around Jansen’s waist was a short one that perfectly outlined his round, hard buns. Two more steps, and Eden knew there was a good chance that she’d be able to see the package Jansen was working with. And even though they would be under the same roof for only one night . . . Eden knew life would be easier if she didn’t know.
3
After a long, revitalizing shower, Eden realized she was hungry. She’d spent the night in Phoenix and then delayed her journey to spend the morning with her mother. Eden had pushed herself the last three hundred and fifty miles into Los Angeles—across the Arizona desert blazing with August heat, into the cooler, greener California, and finally into the burgeoning City of Angels. All the way up the 10 freeway, she’d tried to reach her brother and had promised her mother that she’d call as soon as she reached his house and found out what was going on.
Eden used the towel to squeeze excess water from her hair and then combed it back and put it in a ponytail. She donned her favorite lounging outfit—black yoga wear. The pants were formfitting yet comfortable, both they and the oversize top made of soft, organic cotton. After uncovering the house shoes that were at the bottom of her luggage, she plopped on the futon she’d made up with fresh, clean sheets in the weight room and reached for her phone.
Even though it was close to midnight, Phyllis Anderson answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Hey, baby. You in Los Angeles?”
“Yes, I finally made it.”
“You’re just now getting there?”
“No, I got here about an hour ago.”
“And you’re just now calling? Where’s your brother? It’s not like I can catch him half the time either, but still, I’m worried sick.”
“Michael’s fine, Mom. He’s out of town.”
“What’s that got to do with why he’s not answering his cell?”
“He’s in London. Promoting some new, hot band. Guess he’s late on getting one of those international calling plans,” Eden uttered amid a yawn.
“But you got into his house okay. You had a key, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I got in. And almost got shot in the process.”
“What?” Phyllis sat straight up in bed, the Essence magazine she was reading falling on the floor.
“Jansen’s here. Thought I was a burglar.”
“Jansen McKnight?”
“Who else.” Eden explained why Jansen was in Michael’s house.
“Kathryn told me he was thinking about moving back after the divorce. But I didn’t know he was already back there.”
Jansen’s divorced? Eden looked up to make sure her door was closed. Even so, she lowered her voice. “How did I miss that news flash? Jansen isn’t with his wife anymore?”
“Child, please. You’ve been so busy it’s hard for you to remember your own name, much less what someone tells you. I told you three or four years ago that he and his wife were having problems. Come to think of it, though, that was when you were in the throes of the Obama campaign. That part of your life is probably just a blur.”
“That’s for sure.” Eden yawned again, and her stomach growled. “Mom, I’m going to go now. See if I can scrounge up something resembling a vegetable in Michael’s kitchen.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that. You’re the only vegetarian in the family. Your brother is strictly a meat-and-potatoes man.”
“Don’t remind me.” Eden’s stomach lurched at the thought of having to endure meat in the refrigerator, even for a night.
“I feel good knowing Jansen is there with you. Tell him I said hello and not to be a stranger.”
“I will, Mom. Bye.”
Minutes later, Eden hesitantly opened her brother’s refrigerator. The pickings were slim but were much as she’d feared: a six-pack of cola and another of beer on one shelf, a couple leftover takeout cartons on another, and various packaged, processed meats and cheeses in the see-through crispers. There was nothing even green, much less fresh. Eden began opening cabinet doors and fared no better.
“Sorry, I haven’t been to the store yet,” Jansen said. “But there’s some lunch meat in there. And some chips in the other cabinet.”
“No, thanks,” Eden replied, reaching for a box of shredded wheat she spied on a cabinet’s top shelf. She glanced at Jansen, thankful that he’d covered his body, even though the pristine white wife beater T-shirt, paired with low-riding shorts, accented his athletic physique almost as good as the towel.
“What, you too good for bologna now?”
“No.” Eden again looked into the refrigerator. There was every condiment known to man in the door, but no milk. “I’ve been a vegetarian for the last five years.” She poured some of the biscuits into a bowl and began to eat them dry.
“But you still eat, what, chicken and fish?” Jansen watched in fascination as Eden popped one wheat mini biscuit, and then another, into her mouth.
Eden shook her head, still chewing. “I don’t eat meat or fish of any kind, and I’m weaning myself off dairy. I plan to become vegan within the next year.”
“What’s this, some kind of religious position or health kick or something?”
“It’s the way I choose to live. Makes me feel good.” Eden crunched down on another mouthful of wheat and then rose and began scanning the cabinets again. Then she walked back over to the refrigerator. The shredded grain may have been healthy, but it wasn’t doing much to assuage her appetite at the moment.
Jansen sat down at the table Eden had just vacated. “Little garden,” Jansen said, using the nickname he’d used to call Eden just before he’d mess up the thick, naturally curly locks Eden used to wear all over her head. “Guess you’re trying to live up to my moniker.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Eden laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that stupid name. Ooh, you used to get on my nerves with that.”
“I got on your nerves with a lot of things.”
“Tell me about it. Between you and Michael, it’s a wonder I made it out of the house without losing my mind.”
While Jansen and Eden ate bowls of vanilla Swiss almond ice cream she’d found in the freezer, they caught up on each other’s lives.
“So what have you been doing since graduating Howard in what . . . 2000?”
“1999,” Eden corrected around a spoonful of creamy goodness. “With a degree in business administration.”
“Human relations? So how’d you get into politics?”
“My minor was political science, but trust me, I hadn’t envisioned a career on Capitol Hill when I moved to DC. That just sort of happened after an internship with a senator during my junior year.”
“And a marriage sort of happened, too, correct?”
“Yes,” Eden said, finishing the last scoop of ice cream. “For the both of us, from what I understand.”
“Yeah, my marriage just sort of happened. But my divorce was well thought out.”
Jansen placed Eden’s empty bowl on top of his and walked to the sink. Eden watched him, admiring his firm, round backside, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. She’d forgotten how nice Jansen could be when he wasn’t being a knucklehead. But she remembered other things as well. Like how much of a player he’d been during his teen years, and how many hearts he’d broken. Given his dark brown bedroom eyes and how he was wearing that sleeveless T-shirt, Eden imagined the pain hadn’t ended when he’d left Crenshaw High.
“I’m up and out by six-thirty,” Jansen said as he washed out their bowls. “Hopefully, I won’t wake you.”
“I’ll probably sleep like a log,” Eden replied, “and will be gone by the time you get home.”
“So your place is ready.”
“Not for another week or so. But that’s okay, I’ll find a hotel.”
“Ha! Can’t stand the heat, can you? You know that if you stay here, you’ll try to seduce me.”
Eden fixed Jansen with a look. “Me, try to seduce you? That will be the day.”
“Well, why are you running then? If ”—Jansen ran a hand down his well-toned abs—“all this ain’t bothering you, save your money and hang out.”
“Whatever, Jansen. Good night.”
“You just know you couldn’t handle staying here with me,” Jansen said to Eden’s retreating back. “You know you’ve always had a thing for me, girl. And now I know it, too.”
These words stopped Eden in her tracks. True, she’d been among the goo-goo-eyed females who’d relished watching Jansen run up and down the basketball courts. He’d been a star senior, after all, a sports stand-out, and she’d been a lowly freshman, vying to make a statement amid fast, fly girls with their own various bags of talent. Eden was hardly an introvert, but she had been the more studious type. And there was only so much sexy that her mother had allowed. What was a fourteen-year-old to do but dream?
But Jansen doesn’t know this. There’s no way he could know about the crush I had on him from the time I was in junior high. And there’s no way he’ll ever know. Eden came out of her musings to hear Jansen singing a famous Gap Band song about putting pedals to the metal and burning rubber. He ended the chorus with hearty laughter, obviously garnered at her expense. As tired as she was, Eden couldn’t get back into the kitchen fast enough.
“You might have it going on with all these other sistahs in LA, but you forget that I knew you when you stuttered, your knees were ashy, and your head was too big.”
Jansen turned to face Eden fully. His brown, almost black eyes bore into hers. “So you’re not attracted to me?”
“Boy, you’re almost my brother, and hardly my type.”
“Not even a little bit?”
Yes. “No.”
“Because you know . . . I’m not your brother.” Jansen wriggled his eyebrows.
“Jansen McKnight, I am not attracted to you in the least.”
“Then prove it. Stay here until your place is ready. And I guarantee that before you leave, I will have seduced you. That is . . . if you don’t seduce me first.”
“Get over yourself, Jansen. I’m not feeling you like that.” Eden’s smirk was not because of what she’d said, but that she’d successfully pushed that lie out of her mouth.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“And unlike the other women you’ve obviously encountered, I don’t give in to soft touches and warm words.”
“Which makes the challenge all the more exciting. . . .”
Eden spun on her heels and walked toward the stairs.
“So can I take that as a yes?” Jansen yelled out. “You’re staying?” Jansen came around the corner and leaned against the wall. Effortless self-assurance oozed out of his pores. “I dare you. In fact, I double-dog dare you!” When Eden didn’t respond, a smile broke out on Jansen’s face. Eden’s heart did flip-flops even as her back stiffened and her chin showed the slightest tilt. “Trying to get your nerve up, I see. You would need to.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh? Who’s to say it won’t be you who’ll end up panting after me, that the tables will turn and you’ll be the one who ends up getting seduced?”
Jansen wasn’t necessarily opposed to this idea. His interest in Eden had been piqued a few years ago, when Michael had come back from a Thanksgiving holiday with pictures of the family. Jansen had joked about Eden looking old, but the truth is that he’d wondered when she’d gotten so fine.
“So you think you can seduce me,” he drawled, his voice lowered along with his eyelids.
He licked his lips, and the squiggle that had begun in Eden’s stomach moved lower. She crossed her arms and raised her chin higher, showing a bravado she was far from feeling. “Guess there’s only one way to find out. Wait a minute, what’s the prize? What do I get after successfully seducing you?”
“Trust me, baby girl, I am your prize.”
Eden rolled her eyes.
“Okay,” Jansen shrugged. “You name it, I’m game.”
Eden tapped her chin with a forefinger, in serious thought. “Let’s say that if—I mean when I seduce you—you’ll take yoga classes and eat no meat for a month! Oh, and you’ll lose the ego, find some humility, and treat me with nothing but the utmost respect for as long as we live.”
“Okay,” Jansen answered, much too quickly for Eden’s taste. “And what do I get for seducing you?”
“What do you want? Wait, let me rephrase that.”
“Yeah, watch your words because I’m going to get what I want. But right now we’re talking about the prize relating to the dare.”
“It doesn’t matter what you come up with. You’ll never get to experience whatever it is.”
“If I win,” Jansen said thoughtfully, totally ignoring Eden’s last jab, “you’ll come to the shooting range with me, learn how to handle a firearm. And I’ll get to handcuff you . . . at a time of my choosing.”
Eden wasn’t into S and M, but the thought of being handcuffed suddenly sounded like a very good idea. She once again turned to head up the stairs, lest her face betray her salacious thoughts.
“So it’s a done deal then? You’re staying here?”
“Yes, just so I can wipe that smug look off your face,” Eden retorted before marching up the stairs. Jansen’s deep, melodious laughter followed her up there, settling around her warm, tired shoulders like a hug. It was only then that she realized how tight she was, after sitting almost ten hours straight in an automobile. The shower had helped, but Eden knew she could use an expert massage. She thought about Jansen’s large, strong fingers and just as quickly shook her head to banish the idea. Two minutes later, Eden realized her thoughts were more of a premonition when Jansen knocked on her door.
“Little garden, are you asleep?” No answer; and he couldn’t see the smile that his childhood pet name elicited from Eden’s lips. “I thought you might like a nice . . . long . . . massage. It’ll make you sleep like a baby, I promise.” Still, no answer. “All right then. I have a feeling you can hear me, but it’s probably best that you don’t answer.” Jansen’s voice dropped to a near whisper, one that Eden had to strain to hear. And strain she did. “Because once I put my hands on you . . .” The soft sound of Jansen’s bare feet on the polished oak floors ended the sentence. Seconds later, she heard the subtle thud of the guest-room door closing, and in spite of repeated attempts to quell her wandering mind, she wondered whether Jansen slept in pj’s, boxers, or nude.
Eden was exhausted and had envisioned this moment—lying horizontally with a pillow against her stomach and another tucked under her head—since hitting LA’s city limits. It had been a long day, one that had begun just before dawn. But as she tossed and turned, her mind whirling with thoughts and her body wide awake, Eden concluded that the night would be even longer.
4
“Yes, reservations, please. Thanks.” Eden mu
nched on a banana while waiting to be connected. Her quick trip to the nearest 7-Eleven earlier that morning wasn’t going to cut it. As soon as she made hotel arrangements, she was going to look up a vegetarian restaurant and eat a real meal. “Hello, I’m interested in whether or not you have special rates for extended stays.” Pause. “Ten to fourteen days.” Eden told the reservationist the specific dates she’d be staying.
“One moment, please,” the operator replied with barely there enthusiasm. The click-clacking of computer keys filled the silence. “We have an online special of eighty-nine dollars a night, plus tax and incidentals.”
“And there’s no further discount for stays lasting longer than a week?”
“That is our lowest price. Would you like me to reserve a room for you?”
Eden had done a quick calculation in her head and knew the answer was no. Now was not the time to spend a thousand dollars, especially when such an amount had not been budgeted. While she had a nice savings built up, along with a few solid investments, Eden was being cautious. She didn’t know how long it would take to find a job in her desired field of holistic living, and when she found one, she was sure the pay wouldn’t equal what she’d made as a congressman’s aide. She had enough to live comfortably for quite some time but was determined not to spend needlessly.
But is this needlessly? Is there any cost too high to keep me from potentially making a fool of myself with my brother’s best friend? Eden snatched the tank top over her head, knowing that the only one she could truly be angry at was herself. “I must have been a fool to take Jansen up on his ridiculous dare,” she chided aloud as she roughly brushed back her hair and put it in a ponytail. She knew that one of the first items on her agenda needed to be finding a hair salon. Maybe I’ll do that today after I check on my house. Then again, Jansen will think I’m getting cute for him. “I couldn’t care less what you think, Jansen McKnight! Germy Jansen,” she sang to herself in the mirror, screwing up her face and recalling the nauseating tone he used to adopt in childhood just to get on her nerves. She knew that she must look foolish, and was acting much younger than her thirty-four years, but Eden didn’t care. She’d backed herself in a corner. And now she had to sleep in the bed she’d made. Her biggest fear wasn’t the bed, per se, but that she may not be able to say no to Jansen when he came to join her in it.