BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

  “Deidre! Leave him! Give him time to think. It’s a million dollars, after all.”

  Deidre stopped, turning with a heated blaze from her gold-hazel eyes towards her father. “Was ruining my life and our marriage not enough for you? Will you do it to Angela, as well?”

  “Sorry, but ruining your life was your doing, when you came home to us pregnant with that man’s child. Don’t blame me for trying to fix it for you,” Oscar defended.Deidre turned away from him, shaking her head, and following Shawn as he headed for the door.

  “Shawn, wait! Hold on…the bag!” she called, speeding up to catch him as he made his rapid exit out the door and down the few steps.

  “Wait, Shawn, you have to believe me. I had nothing to do with what he said in there. You have to believe me. I know you love Angela. I agree with you. I want her to lead her life in the direction she wants as well.”

  “Then why do you stay here? Why do you continue to subject her to this man’s bullshit? Why can’t you stand on your own two feet and get out of here? You that stuck on this lifestyle, that you’re willing to sacrifice your daughter’s happiness to keep it?”

  “You don’t understand!”

  “An’ don’t want to! The bag, please!” He held his hand out to retrieve it. Sighing, feeling lost and hopeless, she handed it over.

  “Can we get together and talk, Shawn…before you leave town, following your business here?” she asked, following him to the car where he opened the door, throwing the bag to the back seat.

  “About what?” he asked sharply.

  “I want us to talk,” she admitted softly.

  “We have nothing to talk about, Deidre. Only thing between us, is our daughter.”

  “Surely she’s worth us at least getting together to talk? To resolve some things between us,” she furthered. Shawn ran his hand over his face, his foot propped up inside his car door as he leaned his triceps on the top of the open door. Turning to her, he looked at her. It suddenly occurred to him that way back when, he hadn’t really been in love with Deidre. But he’d been raised right, raised to be responsible for his actions. Though they hadn’t been teenagers—Deidre, 28 and he, 33—Shawn still thought it was the right thing to do; get married and try to build a family, since it had already begun. He’d gotten so caught up in her being pregnant with his child and the fun they had together, he honestly believed they could make it…that they were in love.Had he been in love, he would be trying to rekindle it now…instead of opposing it.There was only one woman on his mind he was trying to gain the acceptance of love and marriage from, and that was Sylvia. Suddenly it became abundantly clear to him, that he was in love with her…in love with Sylvia Payne. That’s what he wanted. That’s who he wanted.

  “Shawn?”

  “Look, Deidre. Thank you, for not being in on that with you father. That’s nice. That’s good, and I’ll do my part to be more present for Angela. I want her to come and stay the summer with me next year. I, too, would like for us to get along better than we have, for her sake. But…that’s all that can be fixed between us. That’s all. As long as you understand that, we’re fine.”

  “I see. So, there’s someone else in your life then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “The woman I’m going to marry.”

  Deidre sucked in, stunned. “Oh.”

  Shawn swallowed in sympathy to her obvious distress. “I’m sorry, Deidre, but…too little, too late.”

  “So, who is she? Where’d you meet her?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you probably already know?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Our daughter, of course,” he replied.

  Deidre sighed, then admitted, “Are you sure you’re up for that type of challenge in a relationship?”

  “I guess I am.” With a brief salute, Shawn sank into the car seat, slamming the door. He started the engine and was off. Deidre stood watching him make his exit from their driveway, thinking it couldn’t be over…somehow, she had to make him see that his future happiness lie with her and his daughter. Even if it meant relocating to Wisconsin to make it happen. She turned away and headed for the house, and by the looks of things, the sooner she made the move, the better.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh…hi, how are you?”

  “Missing you.”

  Sylvia lay in bed. It was 10:30 at night. She’d been up reading, thinking about him. The page she stopped on, she’d reread four times already. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say that you miss me.”

  “Shawn…Shawn…” A sigh escaped her.

  “Say that you miss me,” he repeated, determined.

  “I-I…miss you…being around,” she said finally. She could hear him sighing on the other end, then silence grew between them.

  “What’s wrong? Something happen there?” she asked, sensing it.

  Again she heard his deep inhaling, not yet ready to answer and then, “Bullshit and life go hand in hand…doesn’t it?” he finally stated. This was different from the man she’d come to know. His tone was different. He had a need in him, and he’d called her with it. Suddenly, Sylvia’s heart picked up pace, pumping hard in her chest for this side of him, she was scared to death she’d fallen in love.

  “From time to time…for us all, I’m afraid. What’s happened?”

  “Oh, nothing I can’t handle. I wish I were there right now. With you. Stealing a kiss…” he chuckled deep. “…ah, but you still owe me from the bet.” For once she smiled and did not fight it. “Yes, I do owe you…and were you here tonight…I’d be prone to pay it.”

  That made him sit up straight. “What! Oh, great! Of course that won’t be the tune when I’m there, you tease!”

  Her chuckle was deep and throaty…almost erotic. He groaned, sliding back into his bed. “One more week, lady, and I’ll be wrapping things up on this end, making my way back to you. Expecting to claim that kiss you just promised me.”

  Sylvia laughed out, “I don’t remember promising you anything. All I said was, if you were here, tonight, I’d be prone to pay it. Who knows what next week will bring,” she simpered. He could hear the smile in her tone.

  “You are a tease.”

  “I am not a tease. I just refuse to give myself over to a man simply for his play and pleasure. I’m worth more than that, and I refuse to accept less.”

  “That you are. I agree with you, lady. That’s why I can’t wait to get home. We’ve got things to talk about.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Doggone right, it is. I want you, Sylvia Payne, and I aim to have you. Get that through your head now, because I’m not wasting another moment with you when I get back home. Goodnight.” Click.

  Sylvia gasped as she was left holding the phone. Sighing, she clicked the off button on her cordless and sat it on her bedside table. Sliding down under her covers once again, a smile followed her to sleep.

  Chapter 19

  With lightness in her heart, Sylvia sat at her computer and for once in the last few weeks, she knew where she was going with her writing and her pitch to various agents. Smiling, she finished off the last of her query letter, selected print, and started that going as she reached for her tablet with her historical jottings. Laid before her were two of Mercy James' novels. She’d read them many years ago, and admired her writing style. Mercy James was a historical writer, whereas her chosen genre was contemporary, however, an idea had come to mind. Shawn now knew this woman personally, and he’d shared with her the fact that she and her husband were starting a publishing house of their own. Maybe, just maybe, if she were to focus on a historical of her own…

  She had started one years ago, writing the outline, but never worked on it to completion. This just might be her ticket…now was the time see. Excited and optimistic about the story, and because she hadn’t read the outline or thought about it for so long, she forgot how really good this no
vel could be. As for the queries that she'd written, she would take them to the post office later. For now, she needed to see if she could get into the creation of this potential historical fiction romance. Surrounded by all of her needed essentials, she did some scribbling and sat back a moment to really think about how she would open up the first scene. With a growing smile after writing out a few possibilities, the setting finally began to unfold in her mind.

  For hours she sat, with her adrenaline pumping, elated because it was coming together just as she imagined. She poured into the tale, stopping only for coffee, the bathroom, or a quick nibble of food to sustain her. The words seemed to flow endlessly. She giggled out here and there as she began to see the main male character starting to take on the characteristics of Shawn McPherson. What finally brought it to a halt, after going full flow for most of the morning, was the need for some historical accuracies. Having scoured the internet for various tidbits, she decided that it was time to take a little drive to the Tomah library. Though she appreciated the convenience of the internet, there was still some information that you just needed the old-fashioned hard copy for. Thus, her next three days were spent in intense writing and searching through the old books she’d borrowed, checking and confirming her time periods, wardrobe, events, and terminology of that era. Part of her dreaded picking the particular time period, having no idea how difficult it would be to create a setting so far back in history.

  As for her nights…if not dreaming of Shawn, they were spent talking to him on the phone when he called—usually around bedtime, knowing that she was in bed, as was he. Nights filled with sultry, intoxicating whisperings between two anticipating lovers. He never failed to take the conversation to what he planned to do with her in bed. Shocking her, stimulating her senses and making her fully aware that she was starved for the touch of a man—mainly, his. Even going so far as to try to engage her in a little phone sex. He consistently received a very firm,

  “No, Shawn! That’s kinky!” from a laughing Sylvia.

  “No, it’s not. What’s kinky about it? That’s real safe sex, baby.” Tossing herself on her side, a fat wide grin on her face as she gathered the covers close and the phone stuck to her ear, she replied, “Oh, really…and here I always thought safe sex took place in a bank.” She joked and heard him burst with laughter, coming back with, “Yeah, but first, I’ll have to make a deposit…and then…a withdrawal."

  “Shawn!” Sylvia gasped out.

  “Hey, you started it,” he defended low and husky.

  “I did not, how did I start it?”

  “Turning me on…that’s how. And now there’s no turning me off,” he furthered.

  Scratching her head, fluffing her hair, she exclaimed, “Yeah, right…and I can just hear your argument when you return: ‘come on, Sylvia…we’ve already had phone sex’! Not! No way…I ain’t havin’ it.” The sound of his deep chuckle sent tingles down her spine as he replied,

  “Come on, Sylvia…you know you want to feel my tongue coming through your ear piece and into your ear.” She suddenly pulled it away to look at it, and then threw herself back laughing. Grimacing, she cried, “Yuck! What a picture that presents! Your tongue comes through this ear piece, and I’m outta here!”

  “Ah, come on, surely you’re not afraid of a little tongue?”

  “Shawn!” her voice squealed in a slightly excited pitch.

  “I canth thalk, Thylvie, I got my thongue thtuck!” he came back.

  Sylvia threw her head back with such a guffaw, it brought tears to her eyes as he pretended to be stuck, calling her name, ”Thylvie…Thylvie…he’ m’.”

  Gasping for a breath, wiping away her tears, she blurted, “You're so silly! That will teach you to attempt phone sex!”

  “Ah, what can I say, a woman with no sense of adventure. Afraid of a little tongue.”

  “It can’t be that little.”

  “Well, it depends…are we still talking about my tongue?”

  “No, I think we’re now talking about your ego."

  “Well, Sylvia, wherever I go, he go.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Otis! You remember Otis, don’t you?”

  “Oh, Shawn, we’re not going back to talking about your shortcomings, are we?”

  “Lady, my comings ain’t never been short; and if I were to get a hold of you, neither would yours,” he said it so confidently, so low and so sexy, she felt herself pooling with heat, swelling with a throb that made her clench her thighs.

  “Ooooh…” the groan slipped, unable to stop it.

  “Uh-oh…was that a little groan I heard? Emmm, I bet it was. Let me help you with that, Sylvia?” he asked huskily.

  “I think you’ve helped me enough…goodbye, Shawn!” After hanging up, she lay there a few moments to give her body time to cool back down. Another moment went by, only to find her flipping the covers away, leaping out of bed, stripping down and heading for a nice cool shower.

  Thus, her days … her nights.

  Sylvia gave a stretch, her lower back and butt needed a rest from sitting in front of the monitor. She looked across the street, through the light flurries. She hadn’t been back to the house since the day she did all of the unpacking; he would be home in a few days. She saved her work, closed out of her program then slid her chair back from the desk and stood, stretching once more, giving a satisfying “She-Tarzanna” screech with it, laughing at her own lighthearted antics behind the unlady-like noise. In the kitchen, she slipped her thick-socked feet into her boots, grabbed her jacket from the hook, took his keys from the key plaque and headed out the door slipping her arms into the light jacket.

  Wiggling the key to pull it out of the door, Sylvia stepped within closing the door behind her, reaching, she flicked on the lights. She turned to a somewhat stale smell in the air. With a sigh, she walked through toward the kitchen. As soon as she flicked on the light, a small dark object shot across the counter at the speed of light.

  “Oh, nice…mice! And on the counter at that! Nasty little buggers. I wonder if know that you have mice Mr. McPherson,” she said out loud, approaching the counter to get confirmation of what she saw. “Droppings…delightful, little nasty droppings…you must be one of the nastiest creatures on the earth…to eat and crap all in the same spot…ugh!” And so she began banging through his cabinets looking for disinfectant cleaners, finding only a half spray bottle of Fantastic, some dishwashing liquid and an almost empty bottle of some Amway cleanser. “Amway? You gotta be kidding me! His mama must sell the stuff.” She grinned. Turning, she closed the cabinets, knowing that she would have to go to the store and get him some decent cleansers to freshen up the house and disinfect behind his squatters, making a mental note to grab some traps as well.

  Chapter 20

  With the small basket filled and her arms as well, she made her way to the counter. It was already dark out and Maggie was about to close. She liked this time to shop; it usually gave them time to chitchat a little as Maggie rang up her purchases after she locked the door. Her peripheral vision absently caught a lone figure standing by the pop machine not far from the end of the counter. She was talking to Maggie about something as Sylvia sat down the items in her arms. Maggie gave the woman a brief reply then turned to Sylvia with a smile.

  “How you doin’ tonight?”

  Sylvia smiled. “About to do some serious cleaning and setting a few traps.”

  “Oh, yeah, this time a year, they come in from all around to get in out of the cold,” Maggie commented, starting to ring up her items.

  “Don’t do no good to set traps for ‘em…there’s always more to come. I just leave ‘em be. They leave me alone, I leave them alone,” said the woman leaning at the soda machine. Sylvia gave Maggie a you gotta be kidding look. Maggie rolled her eyes stating, “I guess there are some folk that can just about live with anything or anyone.” This subtle insult went right over the woman’s head as she agreed saying, “That’s me. I just about can live with anythin
g…or anybody…of course, there’s some bodies better than others to live with.” She laughed out.

  Sylvia and Maggie declined to encourage any more on that subject, but the woman needed no encouragement as her next words caught Sylvia by surprise. “Hey, I bet you know the truth of that—don’tcha?”

  Sylvia looked up stunned, because she knew that the “hey” was directed at her. First offense, which left her with no other way to reply other than, “Excuse me?” This coming out with a tilt of her head, only missing her hand on hip.

  “You heard me. I guess now you gonna pretend it ain't so?”

  “What isn’t so?” Now the hand went to her hip, as the opposite one dropped for a stance prepping for battle. Both stood suddenly sizing the other up, instant dislike was like a clanging bell in the dead of the night. Sherry, the woman by the soda machine, stood a bit shorter than Sylvia and could be considered very pretty with a beautiful figure, if her manner, dress and overall skuzziness didn’t paint her otherwise. Wearing a well-worn black leather jacket that had seen better days, her blonde hair needed washing and combing, especially in the back. Her clothes looked like she’d worn them two or three days, tossed them, couldn’t find anything to wear a week later and found those again to wear. Her eyes were an absolutely beautiful blue, long lashes and all, with full lips beneath a small cute nose. But her decorum and etiquette was what a dictionary would definitely define as the product of white trash. It didn’t help her much that she was a chain smoker. She pulled her cigarettes out of her rear pocket to tap upside down on her hand, then turning them up to peel away the string and plastic cellophane that sealed them closed.

  “No smoking in here, Sherry,” Maggie warned tactfully.

  “I know, I know…I’ll just crack the door open so it all goes out,” she informed Maggie.