Just To See Her (The Bancrofts: Book 8)

by Barrett, Brenda

  Jessica got up again. "See you later at the Greens. Don't be late either. I am keeping the seat beside me for no more than five minutes."

  Clay grinned. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

  Chapter Two

  After his final class for the day, Clay drove into Blue Palm Apartments. His car's dashboard clock was five minutes fast; it read, five-thirty. He had just thirty-five minutes to shower, get dressed, search his poem book for a piece to impress Jessica, and show up at the Greens. The Greens was a lawn area behind the performing arts building that had an open theatre kind of feel.

  He glanced at the clouds when he stepped out of his car and saw that it was overcast. Please God, let it not rain, he thought silently. The poetry recital would be a big distraction from her Khaled obsession and he wanted to make the most of the opportunity.

  He almost bumped into a young woman who was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit. "Watch it," she hissed. She was carrying a square cake box. "This is my only way to get back with the in-crowd at the law fraternity. The whole snobby lot of them have shunned me, but they like cake."

  "Sorry," he grinned.

  She nodded stiffly then her eyes lit up when she looked at him fully. "Oh, it's you, my handsome neighbor from Apartment 1B."

  "Yes," Clay nodded, "if you are in 1A then we are neighbors."

  "Tracy Carr is the name," she said, holding out her hand cautiously while using her body to balance the box.

  "Clay Reid." Clay watched the box carefully while he shook her hand.

  "You know, we have a block party every September to welcome new tenants to Blue Palm. It is on Saturday night. You should come. We have a bonfire, eat s'mores, and meet and hangout with other people who live on the building."

  "Well, I am not exactly new," Clay said, "I was around in the summer."

  "Ah," Tracy nodded. "You are still new to us. What are you doing up here? Surely you aren't a freshman? You don't look fresh, and I say that in a good way."

  "I am a chemistry major. I came back to finish a couple of courses. My uncle said that Mount Faith is a laid-back school so it is the perfect place for me to finish my degree. I have this thing where I have to finish what I started. I should be graduating next year."

  "Well, good for you." Tracy smiled. "Listen, I am looking forward to seeing you at the bonfire. If you ever need anything, just holler at me next door. This is my final year as well. I am doing law."

  "I got that," Clay nodded, "and you fell out with your frat members."

  "Over something so petty only idiots would have me up for that." Tracy shook her head. "See you later."

  "Later," Clay watched as she carefully placed the cake in the back of her car and then drove off.

  He looked at his watch. Yikes, he only had twenty minutes to meet Jessica and he did not want her to give his seat to someone else.

  *****

  When he arrived at The Greens he realized that it was well attended, mainly by artsy students. He stopped counting how many persons were attending when he got to fifty.

  Weak sunrays made their way through the overcast skies and lit up the lawn to a golden glint. Jessica waved to him from the second row and he went over to sit with her. She looked gorgeous in the fading sunlight. She had on a yellow blouse and a yellow headband that kept her wild curls from her face. Her beautiful caramel skin looked like it was glowing in the waning sun.

  "Hey," she said when he sat beside her. "I kept your seat."

  "Thanks." Clay smiled at her, unable to look away. She smelled good and looked good. She was like a breath of fresh air. He wanted to savor this image of her, but high- energy Jessica wouldn't sit still, and she quickly turned to somebody beside her and was talking animatedly.

  "Oops, sorry," she said, turning to Clay, "this is my friend, Davia. She is dating my cousin, Vanley. She is practically family too, soon to be Mrs. Bancroft."

  She leaned back so that he could see the girl, who was looking quite pleased at the introduction.

  Davia smiled at him. "Hey."

  "Hey," was all he could muster before someone took the microphone that was in the middle of the makeshift stage and cleared her throat. The microphone made a squealing sound that had everybody cupping their ears. When the microphone noise stopped, the girl on stage, who looked to be in her late teens, and who was attired in a white 'floaty' dress, clutched the microphone and said solemnly, "Hi everyone. My name is Emily. I am kicking off the poetry readings this evening with my poem ‘Hush’."

  The mumblings died down as everyone focused on Emily.

  "Hush," Emily said, vigorously contorting her face into a caricature of pain.

  "Hush," she said again, more vigorously this time.

  "Hush," she squealed in the night air.

  "Hush!" She belted it out so loudly that the microphone squealed again.

  She said “hush” twenty more times, each time pausing between her squealing, then she walked off the stage. Her face was wet with sweat, and she was trembling from the energy it must have taken her to put on the performance.

  People were cheering and clapping their fingers in appreciation, but Clay was trying hard to hold in a laugh that was on the verge of bursting out. He looked at Jessica, who looked like she was having the same challenge.

  "Hush," Jessica said to him. "If you make me laugh..."

  Clay chuckled, and then he burst out laughing. Then he realized that Jessica had joined him, leaning on him, her slim frame shaking. He liked that. He almost stopped laughing to better appreciate her womanly curves resting on his side.

  Davia was chuckling. "You two stop it. The girl did her squealing best."

  That, of course, sent them over the edge, with Davia joining in.

  The subsequent poems were not so bad. Some were profound, and others were just okay. Jessica went up for the freestyle section. "Hey, everyone," Jessica said softly. "This poem was written today when a particular dream of mine died. I wrote it in my sadness, so excuse me if it sounds a bit morbid:

  You may not understand it, but he was my dream.

  His voice like tentacles surrounded me,

  Trapped me in his world.

  His words like honey ensnared me,

  And after a while I didn't want to be free.

  In my mind, he was mine

  And I was his,

  What a dream, how foolish...”

  Her poem had four stanzas, each one as hopeless as the previous. Clay looked at Jessica when she returned to her seat. "You feel that strongly about Khaled?"

  "Yup," Jessica said, "but I am sure it will get better some day. Whatever this is that I have for him will eventually die."

  Clay resisted taking her hand in his and squeezing it with reassurance. He looked out on the lawn instead. The paper lanterns that they had strewn over the theatre area were rocking to a gentle wind. He drew his jacket closer to himself.

  "It was a good poem," he whispered, "I would cut each verse to three lines and use the part where you said, 'in my mind, he was mine, and I was his, what a dream, how foolish,' as a chorus. I actually like it."

  "For real?" Jessica looked at him interestedly. "You think Khaled would sing it?"

  "Most definitely," Clay said. "Your emotions sound very much like those he expresses in his latest album. It was unhappy, wasn't it?"

  "Are you criticizing him again?" Jessica hissed. "Because if you are..."

  "No," Clay said, "it's just that his last album sounded like he was fed up. I could hear anger and a bit of depression in it; it was quite unlike his first five albums. He must have been feeling some sort of uneasiness to sing those songs with such emotions."

  "Yes," Jessica frowned. "You are right. You are really good at this analysis thing aren't you?"

  Clay grinned. "I told you: I'm an hybrid."

  "A man who loves music, a man who loves art." Jessica whispered.

  "Respects the spirit world and thinks with his heart." Clay whispered back. "That's me. Are you ready for love, Jessi
ca?"

  They were whispering so loudly that the persons behind them started mumbling for them to shut up.

  Jessica was looking at him transfixed after he asked her that question. She knew that they were quoting from India Arie's song, but he had asked her seriously, and something inside her had silently responded.

  "Want to go get a drink at the Business Center?" Clay asked.

  "Sure," Jessica said, snapping out of her contemplation. She turned to Davia to tell her goodbye and then she turned back to him.

  They walked around the Performance Arts Building to the side where they had the outdoor sculptures. Jessica was moving so swiftly that Clay found that he was practically panting to keep up with her. "Wait, Jess. I was thinking of a slow walk, you know, like a stroll?"

  Jessica smirked. "Sorry, I was thinking." She was actually thinking about him and how her heart leaped when he asked if she was ready for love: real love, with a real guy. She took slower steps. "How am I doing?"

  "Much better," Clay said, slowing his pace to fit hers. "Do you always have this much energy?"

  "Only at nights. I am nocturnal." Jessica smiled. "When dark covers the land I am infused with a burst of energy, but I tend to wilt in the mornings."

  Clay laughed. "I guess I am nocturnal as well. I am more creative at nights."

  "I forgot that we have that music thing in common." Jessica turned to him, "What did you do at your uncle’s studio?"

  "Everything," Clay said. "I was a jack of all trades. I could practically run the place by myself…technical stuff…production, that sort of thing. I also write songs for artistes."

  "So, why are you studying science?" Jessica looked at him in the half-light.

  "I finish what I start." Clay shrugged. "I also wanted a break from the studio, so I thought why not take this year and finish my degree. I only had a year of courses left to do anyway."

  They entered the courtyard at the Business Center. Students were still milling around there.

  "Let's get ice cream," Jessica said, "instead of a drink."

  Clay shuddered. To him the night was very chilly, but obviously it was no problem to Jessica. "Sure, why not?" he said valiantly, hoping that his teeth didn't chatter when he sat down to eat with her.

  Clay got a small cup of frozen yogurt and was eating it slowly. They were now sitting near the fountain, in front of a potted palm.

  "So tell me about you, Jessica. I really don't know anything about you except your love for Khaled."

  He silently chastised himself for bringing up Khaled's name. He didn't want Jessica to be sad again or start discussing him. It didn't seem to affect her because she said lightly, "I love vanilla ice cream." She innocently licked the ice cream that was running down the side of the cone; looking at him, not realizing that her little pink tongue was creating havoc in his body.

  Clay looked at her, mesmerized, then looked away. She was eating her ice cream innocently, and had no intent to seduce him, but there he was, thinking dirty thoughts.

  "I would have tagged you as some exotic flavor," Clay said, "like sour sop or guava."

  "This is going to sound really fanatic, and it probably is," Jessica said, "but one day I read that Khaled likes vanilla, and since then I have felt that vanilla tastes right somehow."

  "Jessica, I work with celebrities. I am sorry to say, but most of what those celebrities tell you is rubbish. You know that, right?"

  Jessica paused her eating. "Does Khaled like vanilla ice cream?"

  "No, he doesn't," Clay said. "Maybe in the interview he said he liked vanilla because that was a neutral flavor, something that most people can identify with. You know Jessica, when you have a publicist most of what is said in the public domain is carefully thought out. Many things are targeted to the core fans so that they can identify with the brand."

  "Jessica mused. You worked in the business; you must be right. I am a stone cold idiot. Aren't I?"

  "No," Clay said, "just a tad naïve." He put down his yogurt. The thing was making him chillier than he was already feeling. He looked at Jessica and grinned, "I think you are way too involved with Khaled."

  "I know, I know." Jessica laughed. "My Mom has been on my case since recently to burn my Khaled tapes and start acting my age. She has this bee in her bonnet that when she was twenty-one she was already married and pregnant with my brother, Micah, and was running her own house. She says it so often these days that I think she is hinting that I should move out of the house. What do you think?"

  Clay shrugged. "I don't know your mother, but I know that parents like it when their children settle in a happy relationship with someone they like and know well. I understand why you having a fantasy over a guy like Khaled would worry her, especially at your age."

  "What's your Mom like?" Jessica finished her ice cream and wiped her lips. "Does she hound you to settle down and find yourself a wife?" She looked at the crinkle lines at the side of his eyes as he laughed at the question.

  He went from cute to really handsome when he laughed. She laughed with him. Even though she didn't intend her question to be funny, it felt good to be talking to a human being who actively listened to her, especially since not many persons in her life really listened to her. It made for a nice change, and even though Clay had recently walked into her life, she realized that she had good chemistry with him.

  "My mother doesn't hound me," Clay said. "She is concerned about my relationships, yes, but I think she is even more concerned about my relationship with God and stuff. She hates the studio; she hardly comes by because she thinks that everybody there drinks and does drugs."

  "Do they?" Jessica asked breathlessly.

  Clay chuckled. "Oh, no, not at iJam. We are a very professional outfit. If that sort of thing were going on there, my Mom wouldn't allow me to work there in the first place. I used to go there in the evenings after high school to spend time with my uncle. That's where I learned everything I know now about the business."

  "What about your Dad? Where's he?" Jessica asked.

  "My Dad works on a ship. He is only home three months out of the year. Since I was little it has always been Mommy and me. My uncle Neil has been there for me as well "

  "Mommy's boy," Jessica said teasingly.

  "Daddy's girl," Clay teased back.

  "Not really," Jessica said. "All my siblings think that I am Daddy's favorite, but it is only because I am the youngest and I still live at home, and I make no waves in the family. All my siblings are colorful, but I am like that vanilla ice cream I just ate."

  "Surely, that can't be true," Clay said, looking at her expressive face. "You seem like you are the life of every party, the center of attention for your family."

  "Nah," Jessica said. "That center-of-attention honor definitely goes to my oldest brother, Micah. He is a loner and remarkably laid back, but for some reason he raises Daddy's blood pressure sky high on a regular basis. A few months ago he secretly married his fiancée, Charlene, at the courthouse without telling anyone."

  Clay chuckled. "How did your parents take it?"

  "Like always." Jessica grinned, "There was a family meeting. Daddy screamed, and Mommy cried, while Micah sat in a corner and ignored us. To make things worse with Dad, Micah quit his job at the university so he can focus on his farming. He has several greenhouses, which he is now running with his wife."

  "He used to work here?" Clay said, enjoying watching her as she spoke about her family.

  "Yes. He ran the whole operation at the Business Center." She looked around. "It always feels a little odd coming by without going up to Micah's office."

  "So you have one older brother to chase the boys away?"

  "One, goodness no!" Jessica grinned. "I have three brothers besides Micah. We are a pretty large clan. There is Taj. He's really the eldest of us; he has a different surname, but that's another story. He heads the Psychiatry Center. Then there is Adrian. He and his wife, Cathy, have two children. They visit the house quite often, so I see them
all the time. And then there is Marcus. He is currently the most interesting and famous of us all. He won a gold medal at last year's Olympics. I also have a sister, Kylie, who is pregnant, but she is not a happy pregnant lady. Apparently her belly is hampering her from crouching over the computer." Jessica laughed. "I actually saw her trying to do it. It's funny, but really, I am happy for her and her husband, Gareth, even though they are already planning to have me baby-sit, not that I mind."

  Clay chuckled. "You know, I had no idea that Marcus Bancroft was your brother."

  Jessica looked at him incredulously. "Really?"

  Clay shrugged. "Sorry. I am not as current as I should be. I heard his story though. A few months after losing his memory and breaking his legs, he won the 400 meters. That story was really inspirational. I watched it in the studio with the rest of the crew. I could swear some of the guys were crying."

  "They were?" Jessica asked brightly. "Was Khaled there?"

  Clay groaned inwardly. Why on earth couldn't he remember to stop mentioning the studio?

  "He was there," Clay said reluctantly.

  "So he knows about my brother" Jessica remarked craftily. "That means he is just one step away from knowing me."

  Clay quickly changed back the subject to Jessica's family. "So did you go to the games last year?"

  "Yes," Jessica said. "It was like a family reunion, and it was even sweeter because Marcus won his pet event and came second in his other one."

  Clay smiled. "I can say that I truly envy you for your family. You guys seem so normal and close knit."

  "You are an only child, huh?" Jessica giggled, "I can’t imagine how that feels. My siblings are so involved in my life; it doesn't matter that they have their own families and should be minding their own businesses. They just like rifling into mine."

  Clay was going to clarify what he meant about his family, but Jessica, in her high-energy style, had moved on, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief that she had. What was he doing? He had only met her today and already he was about to spew family secrets.