by J. D. Mason
“I’ll be ready.”
She could tell that he wanted to talk longer, but Terri didn’t and ended the call feigning the demand of a contractor needing her attention.
Terri sat there realizing she couldn’t spend the rest of her life sitting under this tree, eating chips, drinking, and brooding over what wasn’t. She was getting ready to turn forty-four, and she needed a job, a purpose. Terri needed something to do every day. But what?
She damn sure wasn’t waiting tables or being anybody’s receptionist. Terri had been a presenter at the Daytime Emmy Awards, for crying out loud. So, what could a woman with her experience do in a town like this? Teach? The very notion of being surrounded by children of any age made her shudder.
Write? She perked up a little at the thought. She was a creative person and writing was creative. So, write… what? Screenplays? She’d read a million of them so writing one was a no-brainer. Maybe that was it. Maybe, it was time for Terri to shift her focus from being in front of the camera to being behind it. She sat up and placed both feet on the ground. Her heart fluttered with a hint of excitement.
“I mean… why not?” she said with warm enthusiasm.
She was an industry veteran and Terri knew the ins and outs of the movie industry, so why not?
“Whoa,” she said, raising her hands in front of her as if to stop the momentum.
Wasn’t she supposed to be walking away from the industry? Terri was supposed to be reinventing herself, starting over brand new, doing something with her life that didn’t leave her feeling like she wasn’t good enough, young enough, talented, or beautiful enough. She was tired of beating herself up whenever she was passed over for a role or fired from reality shows.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head.
It didn’t matter what side of the camera she was on. That old, familiar feeling of anxiousness and desperation came with it, and that’s what she was leaving behind. No more rejection. No more waiting, hanging on the edge of a cliff by her fingernails for some producer or studio to validate her, as an actress or as a screenplay writer.
Terri sighed and closed her eyes. That small voice inside, begged the question, “But…why not?”
Mending, Blending
Geraldine’s on the Q was legendary for their oysters on the half shell and seafood gumbo. Terri turned her nose up at the oysters, but appreciatively devoured a pan seared sea bass, steamed asparagus, and buttered mashed potatoes. Nick started with oysters, then finished up with rosemary baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, and a small bowl of gumbo.
“Oh, I was ambitious as hell as an undergrad,” Nick boasted over dinner, beaming at the memory of his young, college self. “I was Neurosurgeon bound, for real.”
“Brain surgeon. Wow. Impressive.”
“It was,” he said, swiping his napkin across his lips and tossing it on top of his mostly empty plate. “Until reality kicked in, and after that second year of med school, I was like, nope. Not going to happen.”
Terri wrinkled her pretty nose. “Too hard?”
“My ass was tired,” he admitted, laughing. “Maybe I could’ve done it, and maybe I still will, but I honestly fell in love with Emergency medicine and all the unknowns that it brings. Something about it feels more organic and feels like what practicing medicine should be. You never know who’s going to walk through those doors or what they’re coming in for.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s real. Real and unscripted. No pun intended.”
Nick had always believed he’d specialize in internal medicine or, at one point, neurology, but emergency medicine chose him during his first rotation in an emergency room as an intern.
“Sounds like you have to be a jack of all trades, though,” she reasoned.
“You get to be,” he agreed. “That’s why I dig it.”
She smiled, and he melted a little on the inside. The last time they’d been together, she’d been emotional, even a little down. Tonight, Terri was a beautiful woman enjoying good food, his company, and a night out on the town.
“Well, you don’t look like any doctor I’ve ever had,” she admitted, sipping wine. “I prefer my doctors old, mottled, and out of shape.”
“Thank you,” he said, grinning.
She shook her head and smiled. “You know you’re hot. Don’t sit there acting like you don’t.”
He returned an introspective nod. “Yeah.”
Terri tossed her napkin at him.
Damn. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her. Terri had pulled her hair back tonight. Bright eyes bore into his, soft lips… taunted him, daring him not to lean in for a kiss. Of course, he did.
“I taste like garlic?” she asked, frowning.
“I dig garlic.”
After dinner, they walked three blocks over to Bourbon street and slipped into a club called The Truth. The place was packed, but Nick called in a favor with the owner. He’d treated the man’s son a few months ago, and he’d made Nick a promise.
“We almost always have a packed house, Doc, but if you ever decide to come through, give me a call,” he handed Nick a card, “I’ll save you one of our VIP spots.”
Nick gave his name to the hostess and she immediately led the two of them to a table near the stage in the center of the room.
“What can I get you two to drink?” the hostess asked. “On the house.”
Nick draped his arm over the back of her chair, and Terri leaned into him. The vibe, all evening, had been perfect. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of a connection to a woman. Nick wasn’t a schoolboy. He never rushed into things, especially when it came to relationships. He’d always been levelheaded, patient and objective. Getting his education was his priority when he was younger. Next, he focused on getting his medical degree and finishing his Internship. He’d dated. He’d even had a girlfriend here and there, but he wasn’t interested in anything serious back then. Now, his life had settled into somewhat of a routine. Nick was getting older, and he wanted a family. It was time. Not that there were any guarantees with Miss Terri, here. She had an issue with this age difference thing, but she was definitely giving him a taste of the kind of life he wanted, the kind of woman he wanted, and a clear view of what could be.
The DJ played for about twenty minutes before the owner, a heavy set, white man, bald, with a funky soul patch, took to the stage with a microphone.
“All right, y’all,” he said to the audience. “I’m not going to stand up here and talk too long. This lady is amazing and we’re so happy she agreed to bring her show here. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you,” —he raised his arm to usher her in— “the incomparable, Ms. Cleo Taylor.”
She was old school. Nick dug old school and from the look on Terri’s face, she was impressed too.
The tall, light skinned woman, wearing her hair cut nearly as low as Nick’s, was stunning, probably in her fifties. She had one helluva voice, covering Chaka, Anita, Whitney and even threw in a little Jill Scott for good measure.
“Thank y’all so much,” she said, after finishing Jill’s A Long Walk. “I have a special treat for you tonight.” She smiled at the audience. “A friend of mine… a Louisiana native as matter of fact, has—after much begging and pleading, and flashing a little thigh,” she teased, jutting out a shapely leg, “agreed to share the stage with me tonight.”
Nick’s eyes lit up at the sight of Luther coming out on the stage and kissing Cleo on the cheek. Some people in the audience hooped and whistled at the sight of him.
“Luther Hunt, ladies and gentlemen.” She smiled and hugged him.
His father bowed slightly before someone handed him a guitar. Nick’s chest filled with unexpected pride. He hadn’t seen his dad handle a guitar since he was a kid sitting on the floor at Luther’s feet, staring up at a man, larger than life. And he’d never actually seen him perform live. Growing up, the closest Nick ever got to seeing Luther play was catching a glimpse of him in videos or on television. Every now and then, Nick would pull
up an old YouTube video and see Luther grooving in the background.
Luther stepped back and played the riff leading into Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze.” Cleo took to the mic with the lyrics, and the world vanished all around Nick except for him and his dad. Luther was a giant on that stage, and not just physically. His father had an air about him that resonated under a light that shined differently from everyone else’s, even Cleo’s. She might’ve been the star, but Luther had a presence that would easily overshadow hers if he wasn’t careful. He played like he knew how powerful his presence was on that stage, standing away from her so as not to dull her shine with his own.
Luther didn’t notice Nick until he saw him standing and applauding with everyone else after they’d finished the set, nodding an acknowledgment and grinning. Luther, eventually weeded his way through the congratulatory crowd and made his way to Nick, embracing him in a way he hadn’t done since Nick was a kid.
“Good to see you, son,” he said.
Nick couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re fuckin’ amazing.”
Luther reared his head back and laughed, “Coming from you, that’s everything.”
“Hi,” Terri said.
Shit. Nick had almost forgotten she was there.
“Dad, this - this is Terri.”
His father nodded, cordially. “I know. Good to see you, too, and welcome to New Orleans.”
“Great, great show,” she beamed. “I didn’t know you were a musician.”
“Retired,” he clarified.
“Why?” she asked.
“Y’all met?” Nick asked.
“At the bar,” Luther said.
She glanced at Nick. “I’ve been there a couple of times.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Luther said to Nick. “I mean that.”
It was never perfect between the two of them, but every now and then, Nick and Luther had their moments.
“Me too.”
Cleo Taylor seemed to appear out of thin air and stood next to Luther, wrapping her arms around him. “I see you have a fan,” she said, winking at Nick. “Or two.” She smiled at Terri.
“My son, Nick, and his date,” Luther said, “Terri.”
“Your father and I go way back,” she told Nick.
Nick resisted the urge to read more into her sentiment than what she’d said.
“We backed up everybody from Luther Vandross to, shit,” —she looked at Luther— “Tina Turner?”
Luther draped his arm over her shoulder. “Yeah. Just about every damn body.”
“He used to keep pictures of you and your mother on the walls of the tour bus to mark his seat,” she laughed. “Everybody knew that was his spot.”
“Oh yeah,” Nick said, feeling that pride rising again.
“Talked about you all the time. You’re a doctor. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bragged about you, long before you became one.” She looked at Luther.
Luther sighed, “He doesn’t need to know all that.”
Nick didn’t say it out loud, but yes. He did need to know all that.
Cleo laughed, then looked at Luther. “Can I count on you for the second set?”
He shrugged. “My stamina ain’t what it used to be,” he joked.
“Oh, your stamina’s fine, Daddy-O,” Cleo damn near purred.
“Whoa.” Luther shot her a warning look. “Not in front of the kid.”
She glanced at Nick. “He’s hardly a kid. Besides, he’s doctor. He knows all about anatomy.”
It didn’t take a genius to know these two were more than just old friends. Regardless of what Nick suspected might or might not have happened between two of them in the past, when his mother was alive, tonight Luther was back in the one place that probably felt more like home than anywhere else. He was on stage, and for the first time, in a long time, the man actually looked happy.
From Inside
Luther was music, plucking the strings of that guitar like angels had created it just for him. The man was mesmerizing, a god, beautiful and commanding, illuminated by a heavenly light. Was Terri the only one who saw it? Watching him perform, bobbing his handsome head to the rhythm ignited a place inside her that had gone dark… that had once believed in miracles. Luther’s guitar playing revived her faith in all the things she’d once found magical but had forgotten existed.
“Enjoying yourself?” Nick asked, breaking through the spell she’d fallen into.
Terri managed to tear her gaze from the stage, look into Nick’s eyes and force a smile. “Yeah. He’s amazing.”
He’s amazing. A slight Freudian slip, but thankfully, one Nick didn’t seem to catch.
He leaned in and kissed her and then turned his attention the stage again. Terri sat like a statue, trying not to swoon or melt. Nick was her date. Luther was her secret wish. Nick was a dream walking. Luther was otherworldly. Shit! Terri felt like a rotten person. A bad date. A desperate fan. Jealous of the way that Cleo woman kept smiling at Luther… knowing that she was probably taking him home.
Terri always avoided making a fool of herself over a man, any man, especially the father of the one she was dating. Nick Hunt was his own prize, first prize. He wasn’t a runner up to anyone and she knew this. Cleo Taylor flirted. Luther flirted back. Terri was jealous, but perspective crept in with every chord, every note, and by the end of the second set, she realized she was simply being a silly woman with a crush.
At the end of the performance, Nick, Luther, and Terri stood outside the club, saying their goodbyes.
“I had no idea you were that damn talented,” Nick said, his tone filled with admiration.
“Yeah, well.” Luther shrugged. “I was in my element.”
“Why’d you stop playing?” Terri eventually asked.
The two men exchanged quick glances. “My wife passed away,” he explained, scratching his head. “Nick’s mother. I was on the road and came home when we knew she wasn’t going to pull through this time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Nick.
He’d briefly mentioned his parents in the month that he and Terri had known each other, but he’d never told her that his mother was dead.
“Complications from Lupus,” Nick offered.
Terri nodded.
“Anyway,” Luther continued. “I didn’t have it in me to get back out there, so I decided to stay home and open up the bar.”
Body language between the two men, checked glances, told her that there was more to the story than either of them wanted to share and Terri wouldn’t pry.
“You and Miss Cleo a thing?” Nick asked with a sly grin.
Luther raked his hand across his head and sighed, “Cleo and I go way back.”
“I’m sure you do.”
There was no amusement in his tone and Terri caught a look between the two men, signaling tension.
Luther sighed. “’Night, son,” he said, heading back inside.
Nick called after him. “Be responsible,” he called out after his father. “You know what I’m talking about,” he said, sounding light. “I’m too old for siblings.”
Luther chuckled and disappeared inside.
Nick’s condo was within walking distance to the World War II Museum in a restored cotton mill building, complete with signature New Orleans charms, tall ceilings and windows with exposed brick and wood beams. Not your typical black leather with red and gold accents she’d come to expect from a bachelor, but still, it screamed, ‘man’. His condo boasted clean and simple lines and neutral grays accented with splashes of color. It was classic, timeless, and pretty.
He sat her bag down on the sofa, shoved his hands into his pants pockets and stood in front of her. “Can I get you anything?”
She’d had sex with him already. It only made sense that both of them would expect to fuck again. Right?
“How many bedrooms?” she asked.
He raised both brows in surprise. “Uh, one.”
Hand
some Nick. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, about him that she didn’t like.
“Is that okay?” he asked, his tone pensive.
“Why wouldn’t it be,” she said, smiling.
He lowered his head and turned it slightly to one side. “Are you sure?”
Terri took two steps, stopped in front of him, then took hold of both his hands before looking up at him. “Positive.”
This time, sex wasn’t some frantic attempt to distract from entangled and overwrought emotions. Nick wasn’t caught off guard and nobody was going to be dismissed and sent home when it was over.
He took the lead.
She let him.
Nick took his time peeling her out of her clothes and then stripping down to his skin. Kissing was his thing, lips, face, neck, breasts, stomach, even feet. He worked hard to impress her, probably because he’d come in five minutes the last time they were together, but that wasn’t his fault. Terri had come at him like a freight train and taken what she needed from him. That’s all. This time, he came at her with an agenda, one proving he was no one-minute wonder. It was hard not to be both amused and impressed.
It took twenty minutes of foreplay and her begging and pleading for him to finally put it in. Nick took his sweet time, working her into a frothy, clawing, clinging mess.
“Oh, Nick,” she heard herself say, wrapping arms and legs around him in what amounted to a bear hug.
When it was over, Terri was the one laying limp like a rag doll, too weak to move. Nick stretched out next to her, his broad chest heaving, perfect white teeth exposed in a proud smile.
He held her all night. Terri briefly drifted off to sleep but woke up before dawn, staring out of the window. The sex was amazing. The connection… was not. She wanted it to be. Terri wished it were, but as wonderful as Nick was, she was emotionally absent and had no idea why. He’d come into her life unexpectedly. She wasn’t looking for a relationship when she met Nick, but maybe she needed one.
Terri had spent so much time focusing on so many other things that she wondered if it was even possible for her to romantically connect to another human being. Nick was damn near perfect. A bit too young, but still… he was wonderful. She wanted to be wonderful with him, to be excited to be with him. Terri was empty inside, an emotional void, a black hole of cold space.