The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  “Bring Jones up to visit us in Colorado,” Tim said.

  “Right,” he said. Non-committal it sounded to Memphis’s ears. He was headed back out to the grill.

  “So what do you do?” Sonora asked.

  “I sell insurance,” Memphis said, almost done with the table setting. All was left were the wine glasses.

  “Insurance. That’s good, there is always a need for that,” Sonora said, setting the bowl of salad into the center of the table.

  “The fish is ready,” Z said, entering with his platter, aromas that smelled wonderful surrounding it.

  “Nice table, Jones,” he said, and winked. She smiled, and everyone took their places and it was eating and drinking, mixed in with talk of art and artists and Z’s upcoming opening.

  #

  “This wasn’t the way I’d planned to spend the evening, or to end the night with you,” Z said, after dinner. They’d left his parents sitting on the deck, enjoying his wine. They stood beside Memphis’s car now, with her wedged in between him in front and the driver’s side door behind her. His hands were at her waist, and his gaze stared into hers.

  “I’m sure you want some time with your family, and I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  “Stay anyway. They don’t care,” he said, not giving up on her spending the night yet. “They aren’t staying inside. They’re in the house out back.” He said, setting his lips to hers, for a quick kiss.

  “You have a house out back? Where?” she asked, pulling away for the onslaught that was his mouth and hella persuasive.

  “It’s behind the utility building. Nothing major, it’s just a small two-room guest house.”

  “When did you see them last?” she asked to the top of his head.

  “Last summer,” he said, his words muffled by the tops of her breasts.

  “So this will be your first night with them in almost a year. No way am I interfering with that. I’ll see you tomorrow if you want,” she said, pulling his head up, to meet her eyes.

  “You’re killing me, Jones. I’ve waited all day for this,” he said, pulling her body closer to his. She could feel every inch of his desire for her and it was so tempting.

  “It’s not just you, I’ve been waiting all day too. Tomorrow for sure,” she said.

  “Fine,” he said, and kissed her one last time before he let her go, and she settled herself behind the wheel. He stood there watching her back out and then drive away, and he remained standing for a while longer, following the taillights of her car as it moved down his road.

  “She is why you wanted us here early?” his father said, coming to stand beside him. Jones’s car had disappeared around the curve and was no longer in view. “The reason you called asking us to come early,” he said, placing an arm around his son’s shoulders.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “If you’re serious about Memphis, you have to stop calling her Jones,” his mother said, standing on his other side now. His mother had always been stealthy in her movements. It used to drive he and his brother crazy as kids.

  “She doesn’t mind,” he said.

  “Your dad and I are closing in on thirty-seven years,” Sonora said, smiling at her husband, who was removing his t-shirt.

  Z rolled his eyes. “Don’t start,” Z said.

  “Have you told her about us?” Sonora asked.

  “Not yet, no, we’re still in the beginning stages of this,” he said.

  “You’re serious about her, beginning or not. I can see that,” she said, meeting his gaze. “A mother knows her children, sometimes better than they do.”

  “Love, son,” Tim said, pointing to the tattoo over his heart, which had been there for as long as Z could remember: his mother’s name was written across his father’s chest in red script, surrounded by twenty or so tiny red hearts. He’d gotten it touched up at the twenty-five-year anniversary and would do so again at the fifty-year mark.

  “More wine?” Tim asked, turning and leading the charge back to the house.

  “Yep,” Z said, laughing. He was going to lock the gate after Memphis cleared it. But yes, more wine. And Memphis had been right. He had missed his parents, very much.

  #

  Thursday morning

  “Checking in on the invalid,” Charlotte said, entering her oldest daughter’s room with Memphis in tow. Alex had taken over the bottom bunk in Alicia’s room.

  “Look who’s here,” Alex said, lying on her side, a book in the bed with her.

  “How are you feeling?” Memphis asked from the doorway, while running her eyes over her sister. Relaxed was what she saw. Good. Charlotte with the baby in her arms somehow maneuvered themselves to a spot on the floor, something her sister must have done often, if the ease in which she did it today was any indication.

  “Still alive,” Alex said, working to sit up. “She,” Alex said, pointing at Charlotte, “is driving me crazy.”

  “Act like a three-year-old, and of course I’ll treat you like one.”

  Alex rolled her eyes playfully. “The detective stopped by this morning. Nothing to worry about, he just was tying up loose ends. It’s all good.”

  “How’s the nurse?”

  “Fine. Been here every day so far,” Charlotte said, smiling. “And since we are on the subject of boyfriends, how’s your coach? Alex told me he asked for your address on Sunday. He stopped by, I assume.”

  “He did and I’ve met his parents,” she said, proudly.

  “What? So this is serious?” Charlotte asked.

  “I don’t know,” Memphis said.

  “What don’t you know?” Charlotte asked.

  “He asked me to get to know him. I think he thinks there is something about him that I won’t like. Any ideas, Alex?” Memphis asked.

  “Nope. He just wants to be sure of you M is what I think. Last year with Brittany left him cautious. I don’t really know. Just give it time, that’s the advice I gave to Aarik,” Alex said.

  “What about you? How do you feel?” Charlotte said.

  “I like him. He reminds me of Pops, and I would have not thought that possible of someone who is non-African American. And no lectures, please,” she said in warning.

  “No lecture. But let me say this one thing. Pops was a collection of character traits, right: strong, kind, protective, artistic, and all mixed in with his life experiences, and cloaked under skin that’s brown in color. So why is it impossible for a person with another color of skin to have the same character traits as Pops? When you say you want to marry a man like Pops, you’re referring to the traits that make him this incredible man, right? Well, those characteristics can be found in men of all colors, as they can be found in men with brown eyes or yellow hair. And before you say it, yes there are cultural differences that separate us, that shape how we view the world. But we are all human underneath and we can’t forget that,” she said.

  “You have a point. I just never thought about it in that way, but it’s not important to me anymore, and maybe it never should have been.”

  “I’m so proud. My babies are finally growing up,” Charlotte said, and they all started laughing.

  #

  Lunch found Memphis sitting at the counter of her agency, eating her lunch in between answering customer calls, filling in for Amanda. She looked out the window at the sound of a car door closing. It was Aubrey, parked in one of the parking spots just outside of her office door, and heading this way.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked to her friend. When had she stopped making the effort? Not since the Houston training had she seen Aubrey. She’d thought about calling and telling her of her decision to pull out of the running for Billie’s job, had picked up the phone with the intention of doing so but hadn’t and it wasn’t all on her either. Aubrey had stopped calling too; a silent agreement to move on was what she had started to think they’d both decided.

  “Hey,” Memphis said, and smiled. A very pretty woman in a simple summer dress was Aub
rey today. “I was just thinking that it’s been awhile since we’ve talked,” she said.

  “I know, which is why I’m here, or one of the reasons. I heard that you’re no longer in the running for the district manager’s job. I heard you withdrew,” Aubrey said, taking a seat on the couch.

  “I did,” Memphis said.

  “Why?”

  “I was always torn between leaving my sisters. You know that. And after Alex was hurt, the need for me to be here, and close to them, became clearer.”

  “Alex was hurt? What happened?”

  “Her last boyfriend returned, looking for her.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes. It’s a long story, but one with a good ending.”

  “Are you sure about pulling out? Who knows when a district manager’s position will open up again?”

  “I’m sure,” Memphis said.

  “Billie didn’t try to talk you out of it?”

  “No, she understands my reasons,” Memphis said.

  “I guess you know what’s best for you,” Aubrey said.

  “I do,” she said, smiling.

  “That’s good then. How’s everything else? I heard Z’s still training you. I overheard you talking to Yancy,” she said, her answer to the how question she read in Memphis’s eyes.

  “Yes, he is training me,” Memphis said, and no way would she tell Aubrey anymore than that.

  “You making any progress?”

  “I think so, hope so,” she said, smiling.

  “Getting ready for tryouts for real, huh?”

  “Yep. You?”

  “I’ll be there too,” she said, smiling. “How’s that crush of yours?”

  “What crush?”

  “You know what crush. Your Z crush, the reason you stopped talking to me. I made you look bad, and that’s unforgivable, I guess. I was only looking out for you.”

  “I know, you’ve told me so very often,” she said, fighting back her irritation, growing just that quickly.

  “He’s seeing someone now,” Aubrey said, sitting back in her chair, a look of self-satisfaction on her face.

  “Oh… really.”

  “Yep, he told me that too. I don’t know who, and he didn’t say, in case you were still thinking things were possible for you.”

  Memphis chuckled and shook her head slowly from side to side. “You know, there is something I need to tell you, and I should have told you way before today,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Thank you for being my friend, especially when I was younger. I don’t know why you befriended me, but I needed it at the time and whether you meant it or not, it helped me to survive. You coming over to help me with my mother and my sisters… and while I’m sure I would have survived on my own, you helped me tremendously, made it so much easier. So thanks for that.”

  “Okay… and you’re welcome,” Aubrey said, a look of surprise on her face.

  “You’re wondering why I’m telling you all of this now?” Memphis asked.

  “I am.”

  “I think we should be friends from a distance from now on. I need the distance and I wanted you to know all you’ve done for me first.”

  “Is this because of Z?”

  “Nope, just a realization I’ve been coming to for a while now,” she said, and it was true, although seeing and hearing Aubrey again was all the reminder she needed to make her decision final.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s okay. I have to take this call,” she said, and clicked the button to answer. “Foundation Insurance. How may I help you?” she said, watching as her friend stood for a second, staring at her, before making her way to the door. She glanced back once in the parking lot before getting into her car. That had so been the right decision, Memphis thought, however hard it was to do; to move past people that, for whatever reason, weren’t truly in your corner. As Alex had done; as she was doing now.

  #

  Thursday

  Memphis parked in the parking spot outside the restroom doors later on that evening. Training, so come prepared had been the text she’d received from Z this afternoon. She was disappointed, to say the least, that they weren’t going to do something else instead, something equally as physical.

  She grabbed her bag from the back seat and made her way over to the restrooms to change. Not a soul in sight. Z’s studio door was open, so maybe he was busy working. She entered the building, headed down the hall, and just as she was passing the shower room door, a hand popped out and snagged her wrist.

  “What the hell,” she said, following the hand up the arm and over to the face belonging to none other than Z.

  “What took you so long?” he said, pulling her inside, his mouth moving toward hers before she could blink. She released a moan at the feel of his tongue pushing through her lips, to tangle with hers.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, a few minutes later, before disappearing through the door. Curiosity had her following him, opening the door a little, to peek out. He was standing beside the front door, using his key to lock it. He grinned as he walked back to her. “Just to be safe,” he said, before locking the door to this room too.

  “What are we doing?”

  “What do you think?” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “My parents are at my house. This is the only place I could think to bring you where we’d have a semblance of privacy,” he said, stripping before her. It was quick and he was nude and really happy to see her. She smiled.

  “I love the way you dress. Everything about the way you dress,” he said, walking his nude self over towards her. “Take this dress: red, hugs you in all the right places,” he said, turning her so that her back was to him, giving him access to the zipper. He unzipped it, and watched as she pushed and pulled herself out of it.

  “Memphis,” he said, staring at the woman standing in front of him, his young boy’s pin-up dream. Bra and panties, red and black; simple, and all he wanted to do was stare. Okay, that wasn’t all he wanted to do.

  “Jones,” he said, the only word that came to mind as his fingers skimmed over the tops of two magnificent breasts, pushed higher by her bra. He lowered his head and settled his face in between them.

  She laughed after a few minutes of him with his face in her cleavage, his hands at her waist, and him doing nothing but breathing. “What?” she asked, chuckling.

  He lifted his head and smiled, leaned in and placed his lips softly on hers, a starting-out-slow kiss that turned into a hang-on-to-your-head kind that left her breathless and wanting more.

  “Turn around,” he said. He unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground as he cupped her breasts from behind. “Keep the heels on?” he said, helping her to lose her panties.

  She chuckled. “If you insist,” she said.

  He turned her to face him, moving them until her back hit the wall. He smiled and kissed her again, soft, not-in-any-hurry kisses that started at her mouth, but eventually trailed down to her breasts, dividing his time between the two, skimming along the tops, tugging at her nipples, or doing something else she couldn’t name, but it felt scrumptious when he did it.

  He continued to kiss her body, moving steadily downward until he reached the juncture of her thighs. He lifted her left leg and placed it over his shoulder, before his mouth met the center of her again. She moaned at the things he could do with two lips and a tongue. He stayed for a while, bringing her to several heights of pleasure. He was moving up her body now, bringing her legs with him, a leg thrown over each arm at his elbows. He touched her lips with his again, his tongue inside, a sweeping and demanding kiss, while he entered her with one smooth thrust of his hips.

  He groaned then at how she felt; warm and made wet by the things his mouth had done to her a few minutes ago. He held her in place as he slowly began to pump his hips into hers.

  There was nothing but the sounds of pleasure, groans, and moans of breathing changes, as he thrust his hips into her, his chest on hers
, his mouth on hers, as he worked to maintain a steady rhythm of in and out, and damn she felt good, surrounding him. He gave his desire free rein then, a relentless steady thrusting of his hips into her, until he could feel the beginning of his climax stirring around underneath his skin. He placed her legs around his back then, and moved his hands to her ass, to push her hips to meet his, to take him inside of her body, again and again, and it went on like for a while, until it didn’t and he was climaxing, and moaning into her hair.

  “Stay the night with me,” he whispered into her ear, breathing like he’d run a race.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They remained limbs and mouths intertwined for who knew how long, and eventually they stopped, long enough to chuckle, before moving over to the shower, where they stood under the overhead flow of water, and, once again, against the back shower wall, did what they’d done earlier, all over again.

  #

  Dinner with his parents tonight was outside on the deck, something simple Z had prepared with the rest of them taking their same dinner prep assignments from Monday. It was a nice night, Memphis thought, seated beside Z and across the table from his parents.

  “Z was such a serious kid. I bet you didn’t know that about him,” Sonora said.

  “Really. I can see that,” Memphis said, smiling at him.

  “I had to be,” Z said.

  “Why?” Memphis asked.

  “He thought we were too free. Did he tell you about his childhood, growing up in a commune of those artists and strange people? That was how those that lived in town thought of us. Those crazy Sloans, weed-smoking old hippies and ne’er do wells,” Sonora said, chuckling.

  “It wasn’t a commune exactly. My father, Z’s grandfather, the first Zachary Sloan, was a tad bit eccentric, let’s just say,” Tim said, chuckling. “He believed in having many wives. It wasn’t anything official, his marriages, all common law. He wasn’t up for any trips to the courthouse.