An Island Affair

by Monica Richardson

“Do they look like you?” Devante grinned from ear to ear. Colorful braces adorned his teeth.

  “Some of them do, I suppose.”

  “They’re beautiful, but not quite as beautiful as my girl.” Jackson gave Devante a glance in the rearview mirror.

  “Are you two going to get married?” Devante asked.

  I shrugged and Jackson responded.

  “Someday, maybe?” Jackson looked at me as if he expected me to respond. “Marriage is a huge step, but not totally out of the question...for us...maybe...”

  “We hadn’t really thought...talked about it,” I said.

  “It would be kind of hard, considering she lives in the Bahamas and I live in Key West,” Jackson added.

  “Exactly. Not to mention, after he finishes work on the Grove, he’ll go back home to Florida and I’ll be some long-lost memory.”

  Jackson gave me a sideways look. “What she means is that she’ll probably totally forget about me.”

  We’d gotten caught up in our own awareness of our relationship, and totally forgot about Devante’s initial question.

  “I just wanted to know if I could come to the wedding,” Devante interjected.

  It was apparent that a future conversation needed to take place between Jackson and me.

  “You’ll be one of the first people to receive an invitation, if we ever decide to get married,” said Jackson. “And I’m not saying that we will, but...”

  “If you don’t marry her, I sure will.” Devante laughed.

  “Very funny!” Jackson laughed, too. “You’ll never be old enough to marry her. I think you’d better stick with Ashley.”

  The three of us laughed and talked until we finally pulled up in front of the American Airlines Arena. We enjoyed an action-packed game, and I cheered every time the Heat scored a basket and cursed when the other team did. By the fourth quarter, we were all standing and whistling with each play.

  * * *

  It was bumper-to-bumper traffic as we left the arena’s parking lot and made our way toward South Beach. We managed to snag a parking space and strolled the boardwalk under the moonlight. People zoomed by on a set of Rollerblades, and Devante snapped photos of beautiful women sporting skimpy bikinis. We peeked inside expensive boutiques and window-shopped and then enjoyed deep-dish pizza and cannolis at a local restaurant. At the end of the night, we stopped at Starbucks for lattes before turning in at our downtown hotel.

  In our two-bedroom suite, Jackson and I took separate rooms while Devante slept on the sofa sleeper in the living area. I lay awake in my empty bed, stared at the ceiling for a while and then toyed with my phone for a bit. I checked email and my newsfeed on Facebook. I flipped the television on and channel-surfed, but unable to find anything that kept my interest, I flipped the television off and lay awake in the dark until my eyelids finally grew heavy.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt Jackson’s body slide into bed next to mine. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed my eyelids until I opened them.

  “What are you doing in here?” I asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he whispered. “Needed to be near you.”

  “What if Devante wakes up?”

  “He won’t.”

  His lips kissed mine, and his tongue danced inside my mouth. His hand traveled to my breasts, squeezed them gently and then danced across my belly. I trembled from the coldness of his touch. When his fingertips caressed the insides of my thighs, my heart thumped rapidly. My breathing changed and my stomach trembled. His fingers found the wetness between my thighs and I moaned loudly.

  “Shhh,” he whispered.

  I giggled as he continued to explore the sensitive parts of my body with his lips and fingertips.

  “I love you, Jackson,” I whispered. It was the first time I’d proclaimed my love to him, although I’d known about it for some time. I knew the first time we’d made love that I needed him in my life.

  His lips hungrily engulfed mine, and he aggressively pulled my legs apart and swiftly removed my panties. He planted a trail of kisses from my lips to my neck, moved his way down to my breasts and laved my firm nipples. Soon I felt soft kisses on my stomach and a tongue circling my navel. He lingered near my abdomen before surprising my inner thighs with his gentle exploration. By the time his tongue reached my tender place, I was grasping the bed’s headboard. My bare toes curled as I attempted to regain control. It seemed I always lost control when I was with Jackson. He caused my body to experience things it had never felt before and always left me longing for more.

  Jackson removed his pajama bottoms, and before I could think twice, he’d already entered me. His breath was warm against my ear. We moved together in a perfect rhythm, and I dug my fingernails into his back. His lips found mine again and we kissed vivaciously until we both discovered our peak. I was sure I’d found the true meaning of euphoria as Jackson’s heavy body collapsed on top of mine. Exhausted, he slid onto his back and both of us lay there silently for a few moments.

  Soon I felt his strong arms wrap themselves around my waist from behind and squeeze tightly.

  “You drive me crazy,” he whispered in my ear. “I can’t even describe what I feel when we’re together.”

  “It’s called testosterone,” I teased.

  “It’s called captivation,” he said. “I’m enamored by you, Jasmine Talbot.”

  “And I, you.”

  “You’ve come in and rearranged my entire life. Got me doing things that I’d almost forgotten how to do, like live. It’s been a long time since I’ve taken time from my busy schedule and done anything fun,” he said. “You have me enjoying life.”

  “Life is short, Jackson. If you don’t enjoy it, you’ll miss it.”

  “I only want to enjoy it with you.”

  “I don’t see that happening beyond the Grove,” I said. “Once the project is complete, you’ll go back to your home in Key West.”

  “Will you visit me?”

  “Of course,” I told him. “We can try commuting back and forth between Florida and the Bahamas for a while, but we both know that long-distance relationships never work. Eventually, you’ll go back to your workaholic lifestyle and I’ll be inundated with work at the Grove.”

  “And we’ll lose all of this?”

  “I honestly don’t see any other way,” I told him. “I’ve made up my mind to just enjoy what we have right now. I don’t want to think about what happens after the Grove. Don’t want to get my hopes up, only to be disappointed by a man again.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  They were hard words, but I needed to speak them. Love had been unexpected and I wasn’t willing to allow myself to get off track again in my life. I was committed to the Grove, and that was all.

  “I’d rather we live for right now and enjoy this for as long as we can,” I whispered.

  “Me too.” He kissed my neck and then stood up, and I couldn’t help but revel in his nakedness. But then he picked up his clothes and began to dress.

  “Where you going?”

  “Back to my room before Devante wakes up.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  He was gone too quickly, and left me with too many questions racing through my head.

  * * *

  I checked the address of the tall, glass-and-steel upscale structure that was Alyson’s building. I said goodbye to Jackson and Devante, who had plans to shoot hoops at the local community center for the day, and I went through the lobby and up the elevator to the door of her condo. She answered wearing a gray business suit and holding a cell phone. Fully engaged in her conversation, she gestured me in and I made my way into the living room. It was the first time I’d visited my sister’s home, and I looked around—really scrutinized the place. With colorless art on the
walls and her sensible furniture, her home was just as I’d imagined it would be—quintessential Alyson.

  I perused the books on her bookshelf—many of which were self-help or real estate. I noticed that she had a particular fixation for books about leadership and power. There weren’t any family photographs on the wall or shelves, just a few vases and expensive-looking artifacts. The kitchen was spotless, with granite counters that sparkled from the sunlight and stainless-steel appliances. The wooden dining room table held a huge basket filled with fresh fruit—bananas, oranges and mangoes. Her hardwoods were impeccable. I stepped over to the picture window and looked down at the Miami River—a breathtaking view. It was the liveliest part of the home, and I could’ve stood there forever and just taken it in. Instead, I took a seat on the leather sectional, grabbed the remote control and flipped on the television. Alyson continued to chat on the phone, while I flipped through the channels.

  “Sorry about that, Jasmine,” she said once she was done. “Let me slip into something a little more comfortable before we go. Make yourself at home.”

  I did just that. Slipping my embellished sandals from my feet and curling them underneath my bottom, I forced myself to relax. After all, it was my sister’s home. As different as we both were, the same blood that ran through my veins ran through hers. She was the same sister I’d grown up with in our home on Governor’s Harbour. I would find my way into her life if it killed me.

  “Okay, let’s go.” She entered the room wearing a casual pantsuit, which was way more conservative than the blue jeans I’d chosen for the day and the sexy, fuchsia-colored knit sweater that hung below the shoulder line.

  “I’m not underdressed, am I?”

  She scrutinized my outfit. “It’ll do.”

  We made our way into the parking garage and hopped into Alyson’s pewter-colored convertible BMW. My body sank down into the black leather seats as she let the top down and we pulled out of the garage and onto a busy thoroughfare. She quickly maneuvered through traffic toward Little Havana, an area in the center of the Miami Cuban community. We cruised past Calle Ocho, the famous street, and the Walk of Fame, down the Cuban Memorial Boulevard and the Tower Theater. My hair blew in the wind.

  Alyson parked the car at a meter on the street and paid with her credit card. We stepped out and strolled past the mom-and-pop shops that lined the streets—boutiques, cigar shops and Cuban restaurants. We walked past the famous Domino Park, where several older gentlemen gathered and competed in games of dominoes. My mouth watered for a Cuban sandwich garnished with Swiss cheese, mustard and pickles on a baguette—the ones they served at just about every family-owned eatery along the strip, but Alyson had another place in mind.

  “This is my favorite restaurant,” she said as we stepped inside the café and were greeted by soft Spanish music.

  A Cuban hostess led us to the small table near a window. She mumbled something in broken English before handing us a menu. The smell of strong spices filled the room—reminiscent of the spices we used in Bahamian cooking. It was apparent why Alyson loved the place so much.

  “It feels like home,” I said.

  “That’s what I like about it.” She smiled. “That and the garlic chicken, pastelitos and Cuban coffee.”

  “What are pastelitos?”

  “It’s a pastry with guava and cheese. We’ll have it for dessert,” explained Alyson.

  “May I take your drink order, ladies?” A beautiful Cuban server appeared at our table.

  “I’ll have a mojito,” said Alyson, “and one for my sister.”

  “Since when do you drink in the middle of the day?” I asked.

  “I have an occasional nip,” she said, “during special times.”

  I smiled inside. She considered this a special time.

  “Order my lunch for me, too,” I said. I wanted to experience my sister’s special place through her eyes.

  “Okay, let’s see.” She looked over the menu. “We’ll start with some croquetas and sweet plantains. You order the Cuban sandwich. I know that’s your style.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “And I’ll order the garlic chicken. That way we can share, and we both get a taste of each other’s food.”

  “Sounds good.”

  After placing our order with the server, I gazed out the window and watched as people strolled past. I was afraid that our dinner conversation would be strained, as my sister and I knew very little about each other and had even less to talk about. Her phone rang and she took the call, but wrapped it up quickly. Then she shut the ringer off and stuck the phone into her purse.

  “So tell me about Jackson,” she said. “How did the two of you end up...you know, hooking up?”

  I was taken aback by her question. She jumped right in there and asked what she wanted to know. So typical of her.

  “I don’t know. It just happened. One day we were fighting and the next he was kissing me.”

  “He’s very handsome. Is he a worthy lover?” she asked.

  I laughed. The question seemed strange coming from my sister, who quite possibly hadn’t had a worthy lover in some time.

  “Yes, he is.” I blushed and answered honestly.

  “I know you think I’m a stick in the mud, but I’m not. I might not live as interesting a life as you, but I’m not a prude.”

  I almost asked, “You’re not?” Instead I lied and said, “I didn’t think you were a prude.”

  “I’ve had my share of handsome, worthy men. Just no one that I wanted to spend any considerable amount of time with,” she said. “I want a man just like my daddy and they just aren’t out there anymore. Our dad is one of a kind.”

  “I agree. I’ve always wanted a man like Daddy, too. I think Jackson is very much like our father. He’s gentle and kind, hardworking, a man’s man,” I said. “I love him.”

  “Don’t be fooled by love, Jasmine. Love is an illusion,” said Alyson. “Besides, it could never work between you two. You live worlds apart. When he’s done with the Grove, he’ll return home to Key West. And then what? You planning to move to Key West or are you planning to date him long-distance?”

  “We’re just going to enjoy what we have now and worry about later...later.”

  “Smart girl. Don’t be fooled into thinking that this can last long-term,” said Alyson. “I never let any man get too close. It’s too risky to put my heart out there. Besides, men are intimidated by my wealth and independence. I’ll die alone.”

  That was a sad thought—that my sister might never find someone to spend the rest of her life with. She would cause her own demise and miss out on love because she was too rigid.

  When our drinks arrived, I took a sip.

  “Haven’t you met anyone that you loved even a little bit?”

  “Just one man. Jimmy Franklin. Well, he wasn’t a man at the time. He was a boy,” she said matter-of-factly. “But we both know how that ended.”

  “I’m very sorry about Jimmy Franklin,” I told her.

  I was afraid that topic might come up. It was the one conversation that I dreaded having with my sister. I sighed and took a long sip of my drink. I needed it if we were going to tread the Jimmy Franklin waters.

  “I’ve always thought that you wanted him, and I hated you for so long because of it.” She took a long sip of her mojito.

  “I wanted him?” I took another swallow of my drink and decided now was the time for honesty. Maybe it was the mojito talking, but I said, “I hated him. Jimmy made advances toward me when you weren’t around. My rejection only encouraged him more. Ultimately he tried to rape me.”

  Alyson looked positively shocked. “What? He tried to rape you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what happened,” she said.

  I wanted to forget the detai
ls of Jimmy Franklin’s attempted rape. Wanted to wipe the thought of it from my mind forever.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me how it happened. I want all the details.”

  I sighed. Was she serious?

  “I need to put this behind me,” she said, “please.”

  I finished my drink and then signaled for the server to bring me another. “Um, I was on my way home from school one day. I had to stay late because I had a detention. You’d already gone home early, and Edward had basketball practice. Whitney, who I usually walked home with, had stayed home that day. So I had no choice but to walk home alone. He was teasing me about my hair.”

  “I cut it,” Alyson remembered. “You had a piece of gum stuck in your hair, and I tried cutting it out. Left you looking crazy.”

  “Yes, exactly. I was embarrassed to go to school like that, but I went anyway. Jimmy followed me home, teasing me about my hair the whole way. And I just ignored him. That only made him angry, and then he grabbed me. Tried to kiss me and I pushed him away.”

  “And?” She hung on my every word.

  “And then he got rough with me.” I couldn’t look at her anymore as I continued. “He pinned me against that old banyan tree and forced my underwear to the ground. I kneed him in the groin and took off running.”

  “Bastard!” Her response startled me.

  “When I got home, I told Daddy what happened. Next thing I knew, he was gone and not too soon.”

  When I looked up, Alyson had tears in her eyes. I didn’t know how to comfort her.

  “I’m sorry that it happened, Alyson. I didn’t mean to have the love of your life sent away, but...”

  “I’m not crying for him,” she said. “I’m crying for you. I’m sorry that it happened to you. I didn’t know.”

  “I asked Daddy not to tell you or the others. I was too embarrassed.”

  “All this time...” She wiped tears away with her cloth napkin. “All these years we lost.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I’m sorry, Jasmine.”

  I went over to my sister, knelt down beside her and held her. I didn’t care that every eye in the restaurant was on us. We needed that moment.