Hot Georgia Rein

by Martha Sweeney

  “Enough?” I laugh. “Enough? I’m just getting started.”

  “Ivy Lynn,” Momma calls, snapping me from my tirade.

  I nod, understanding that I’ve proven my point. “Good day to you all,” I say, pushing the cart past them and checking the list that Momma gave me.

  I maneuver through the rest of the aisles, collecting what we need, not speaking a word to anyone—not even Momma. We get into the checkout line, waiting patiently for our turn. Mrs. Rhodes’ nephew is ringing us up and he keeps snickering each time he looks at me. Bobby Sinclair, one of the kids from my school, watches me as we wait to pay.

  Once outside, I load Momma’s truck and then hop in the passenger seat.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Momma praises suddenly.

  I look at her, confused by her words.

  “Oh, Ivy Lynn Abney,” Momma laughs. “The only reason why I interrupted you was for you to stop with them all speechless and you ahead in that argument. If you had said anymore, there’s a good chance you would have kept going down that path that Kiki Mullen did fifteen years ago.”

  “Shit,” I sigh. “I forgot about Kiki.”

  “She never bounced back and had to leave town not long after that,” Momma reminds.

  I nod, sending a little prayer to Kiki Mullen, daughter of Mr. Mullen who owned one of the hotels. Rumors about her late night visits with some of the clients, all arranged by her father as everyone claimed, was her downfall, causing her to crack.

  “Is he coming over for dinner tonight?” Momma checks.

  “Who?” I search.

  “Henry,” Momma says.

  “No,” I reply. “He wants me to go over to his place.”

  “I say that’s good…no one to interrupt,” Momma returns.

  I snicker. “Yeah, like last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Momma pries.

  “That’s what all that was about in there,” I state, flicking my wrist in the air.

  “What happened?” Momma asks.

  I let out a sigh and spill the beans. She’s quiet for a long while, but comes to my defense as soon as I think it really sinks in for her. I have to talk her down from confronting Mrs. Summerlin or anyone else for that matter. The last thing I need is for Papa to have to chase after both of us. He’d need a gun, more to protect everyone else from us rather than us from everyone else.

  “So…is that going to change things between you and Henry?” Momma asks after a long silence.

  “No,” I confirm. “I think it’s just a confirmation that we need to move more slowly for many reasons…including some people like Mrs. Summerlin needing time to heal.”

  “Life goes on, Sweetpea,” Momma states.

  “I know,” I agree.

  “And, Henry and she were having challenges…challenges that no one knew about,” Momma adds. “Everyone grieves differently. You can’t let that control you living your life.”

  I nod.

  “Have you told him yet about…you know?” Momma pries gently.

  “There never seems to be a good time to bring it up,” I mention.

  “There never is,” Momma states. “You just need to reveal it. Let him process it. I’m sure that he might need a little time to understand, but I don’t think it’ll change things between you two. You both have been through a lot…together and apart.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “I’ll try tonight.”

  “Are you more scared of admitting it than really of what Henry will say or feel?” Momma inspects.

  “I think so,” I affirm.

  Momma doesn’t say anything else. She reaches over and taps my hand before leaving hers on top of it until she needs both hands to turn the wheel.

  When we get back, I hang out with my family in the living room, only getting on my phone to answer a few text messages for work and when Cece calls so I can talk to my son. Nana and Pops light up when I let them talk to him too which brightens my spirits.

  Since Henry never really told me a time to come over for dinner, I go up to get ready when Momma starts to make a meal for the family. I take a shower, feeling sweaty from the day and can’t decide what sundress to wear. I check my closet and decide to see if any of my old ones fit. A few do, only being a little tighter in the chest area. I opt to wear the one that’s got a bohemian flair to it and drape a cardigan over my shoulders to cover up my excess of cleavage so Papa doesn’t notice before I leave.

  24 Henry

  “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up,” I say when I hear her knock on the outside of the partially opened barn door.

  “I was debating it,” she confirms timidly, entering.

  I walk over to Ivy, kiss her, and then close the door.

  “Don’t want to take any chances?” she inspects nervously.

  “Something like that,” I confirm, pecking her cheek.

  “Slow,” she reminds.

  “Slow,” I agree. “But, I can’t promise too much of that when we have sex.”

  Ivy grins. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I like the idea of you taking this off,” I state, tugging at the thing she’s wearing over her dress.

  “Not yet,” she claims.

  “Why?” I press with a pout.

  “Too much skin,” Ivy informs, flashing me slightly before continuing toward the table.

  “Damn, Firefly,” I grunt. “Did that dress shrink?”

  “No,” she replies.

  Our eyes meet and I can’t help but smile more. “They’ve gotten bigger.”

  “Duh,” she sighs, dragging her fingers over the tabletop.

  “I knew it,” I reply.

  Ivy’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach her eyes completely.

  “You okay, Firefly?” I inspect as she wanders a little more into the barn.

  “Will be,” she affirms. “Still not a good memory from the last time I was here.”

  “Thought this afternoon would have kept you away more than last night,” I comment.

  Ivy turns sharply in my direction.

  “Word travels fast in this town,” I remind. “I was impressed. I heard your Momma gave them a good licking too.”

  “She started it,” Ivy chuckles. “And, I finished it. She stopped me before I pulled a Kiki.”

  I laugh, “I don’t think anyone could pull a Kiki like Kiki.”

  Ivy doesn’t comment as she starts to peruse at my sculptures.

  “Hey,” I say, tugging her into me. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  Ivy’s head bobs. “Trying.”

  “They don’t matter,” I remind.

  “What this one for?” Ivy asks, inspecting a very personal sculpture.

  “What do you mean?” I search.

  “It’s very different from the rest,” she states. “It’s not me and it’s not us.”

  “It’s me,” I reveal.

  Ivy nods as she studies it more. “The phoenix…that’s how you feel?”

  “Felt,” I clarify. “Felt after the last talk Julianna and I had.”

  Ivy smiles. “I’m glad you two talked.”

  “Me too,” I sigh. I wrap my arms around her, holding her as close as possible.

  “Smells good,” Ivy says.

  “Yeah,” I chuckle.

  “Since when have you been able to cook?” she teases.

  “There’s a lot we have to catch up on,” I remind.

  “True,” Ivy agrees.

  “Shit,” I mumble, letting go of her. “Wait here. I forgot something.”

  I rush up to the house, grabbing some of the condiments I meant to bring down earlier but left because they wouldn’t fit in the mini fridge. I close the barn door as soon as I leave, hoping to give Ivy privacy and to keep her from leaving. Running into the house, I almost knock over a few things.

  Ivy looks relieved when I return. We sit down to eat, and I offer to push in her chair.

  “So,” I begin, trying to let Ivy know it’s safe to talk. “I’
ve been doing construction since you left for college.”

  “Similar stuff to the statutes?” Ivy inquires.

  “No,” I share. “That’s on the side…a stress reliever.”

  “You should really look into marketing them,” Ivy mentions. “They’re phenomenal. I’m sure you could charge a pretty penny for them…especially for made-to-order products.”

  “Something to consider,” I agree, taking a sip of my beer.

  “You drink a lot,” she states lowly.

  “I’ve been cutting back,” I admit. “But, yeah. It was one of the ways I’d dealt with things. Julianna did it more too after finding out.”

  Ivy nods but doesn’t comment.

  “I can drink something else if it’ll make you more comfortable,” I offer.

  “It’s okay,” Ivy claims. “It’s just something to get used to.”

  “I don’t drink to get drunk…not anymore,” I explain.

  Ivy smiles. “Good to know.”

  “Do you drink?” I inquire.

  “On occasion,” Ivy shares. “I’m so busy in New York that I don’t really have time to enjoy it.” She chews and swallows. “Please don’t think that I’m judging. I’m not. It’s just I’m not used to seeing you drink.”

  “When are you going back?” I blurt, wincing the second the words leave my mouth.

  “Next week,” Ivy shares. “I do have a business to run.”

  I nod.

  “But, things are going great, so I can come back regularly and work from here,” she adds.

  “I’m flexible,” I reveal. “I can come up there too.”

  Ivy’s hand pauses when it gets to her mouth. “New York?”

  “That’s where you are, aren’t you?” I laugh.

  “Yeah,” Ivy confirms, taking a bite. “I just never guessed you’d be willing to come up.”

  “I told you that I will do anything for us to be together,” I remind.

  Ivy nods as she continues to chew. “Yeah,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink. “I remember you saying that.”

  “Why do I feel like you don’t believe me?” I press gently.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she sighs. “It’s just not something I expected to hear you say.”

  “What did you expect me to say?” I inquire.

  “That you were hoping I’d move down here,” she states. “Which…I’m willing to do.”

  “You don’t need to uproot yourself,” I say.

  “Nor do you,” Ivy returns.

  We take a few bites, unsure of what to say.

  “I wouldn’t mind leaving New York,” Ivy suddenly admits.

  “Really?” I chuckle.

  “I’ve changed too,” she reminds.

  “Apparently,” I agree.

  Ivy looks away, almost as if hurt by my comment.

  “Sorry, Firefly,” I say, reaching over and taking her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know,” she replies softly. “I know I’ve hurt you.”

  “I only hurt myself,” I correct. “What has happened isn’t your fault.”

  “It is,” she challenges. “I could have handled things differently.”

  “I could have too,” I add.

  She offers a timid smile.

  “I guess,” I say with a huff. “I just wanted you to know that my line of work is everywhere. Meaning, wherever you are, I’d have a job and can provide for us.”

  Ivy nods. “At the rate Abney and Sherman is going, you wouldn’t have to.”

  I study her for a few seconds. “Business is that good?”

  “We just landed a few new clients,” Ivy shares. “Our staff is increasing and as soon as we have at least one hundred of us total, we’ll be able to take on the big clients.”

  “How many more do you need?” I inspect, taking a bite.

  Ivy thinks for a second. “Sixty-four. We’ve doubled in the past eight months.”

  “That’s great!” I praise.

  “Cece and I are hoping to hit the mark by the end of next year, but it depends on the talent we’re able to hire,” Ivy explains.

  “Anything I can help with?” I inspect.

  “Not unless you know people who are great with coding, graphic work, web development, videography skills, or anything else related to that,” she states.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t,” I confirm. “But, I’m willing to learn.”

  “Thanks,” Ivy replies. “We’re good. We just need to keep on bring on enough clients that allow us to hire.”

  “How many more clients do you need?” I inspect.

  “Depends on their size and what they need from us,” Ivy shares. “Forty to fifty of the lower end or about twenty-five for the larger size.”

  I nod, processing how I might help. “I can make a few introductions around town if that will help?”

  “It would depend on their budget,” Ivy explains. “I can give you the details later so you can spot if a company can use us.” She takes another bite. “I’m hoping Grady can tell me who I need to talk to for the company you two work for. You wouldn’t happen to know, would you?”

  “Why is that?” I pry.

  “Because, with the launch, they need more PR than they’ve got,” Ivy informs. “I’ve done some research on what they already have. It’s not bad, but if they want to be booked all year round, they’ll need what we offer.”

  “I’m sure Grady will be able to talk to him or her at some point,” I suggest.

  “I know new companies are already cash strapped, but we can prove our value easily even with just a hundred dollars a week,” Ivy adds. “Those are the companies Cece and I work on directly. Once we get them to where the company is making at least a thousand percent on their return, that’s usually about two or three months in, we’re able to get them to increase how much they’re paying us. We did that with one of Cece’s father’s companies. They’re our biggest client now.”

  “Congrats,” I commend.

  “Thanks,” she says proudly.

  “Is he using you for the rest of his companies?” I check.

  “Not for all of them…yet,” Ivy states. “Like I said, we need to be a large size company before certain ones will work with us openly. We’ve done some consulting work though, which has been beneficial all around.”

  “Good,” I reply.

  “Did helping your dad with stuff around the house get you into construction?” Ivy inquires.

  “Kind of,” I share. “Mr. Prescott needed some help with some housework after his accident. He couldn’t afford to hire a company since he was on disability, so dad and I went over to help. Mr. Prescott paid when he could beyond covering the cost of the materials.”

  “How’s Mr. Prescott now?” Ivy asks.

  “Good,” I reply. “Anytime he needs something fixed or worked on, he calls me.”

  “That’s great,” Ivy returns with a growing smile.

  “So do you live alone in New York?” I search, not liking the idea of her being by herself.

  “No,” Ivy returns. “I’ve…I’ve got a roommate.”

  “Good,” I sigh. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

  Ivy smiles. “Nope.”

  “How far do you live from your office?” I pry.

  “Just a few blocks,” Ivy confirms. “I usually walk unless the weather is really bad.”

  “When isn’t the weather bad?” I tease.

  “New York has its good days,” Ivy says defensively.

  I laugh. “Sure, it does…like five days out of the year.”

  “Georgia isn’t always better,” Ivy reminds.

  “True,” I agree. “But, at least you can breathe down here. There’s actual plant life verse all that concrete.”

  “That, I will agree,” Ivy says. “But, there’s nothing quite like the smell of New York.”

  “You done?” I check, noticing how she hasn’t taken a bite for a while.

  “Yes
, thank you,” she replies. “It was delicious.”

  “Wait until you try dessert,” I return with a grin.

  “You made dessert too?” she asks with a shocked expression.

  “No,” I chuckle. “But, it is edible off a naked body.”

  “I should have known,” Ivy says, shaking her head. “Can I help?”

  I take the dishes she was reaching for. “Yes,” I agree. “Strip down to your underwear.”

  “How is that helping?” Ivy checks speculatively.

  “You’re asking how a practically naked woman helps me do dishes?” I inspect.

  “Yes,” she giggles.

  “It helps me envision what I want to do to your body in the next few minutes,” I inform.

  “Who says I’m going to let you do those things to my body?” Ivy goads.

  “Firefly, this is a battle you will not win,” I state.

  “I beg to differ,” she states confidently.

  “You will be begging, that’s for sure,” I chuckle. “Now, get undressed.” I move toward the kitchen area.

  “No,” Ivy counters.

  I glance back over my shower, depositing the dishes gently into the sink. Placing my hands on the edge of the counter, I warn, “You have three seconds to start undressing, or else.”

  “Or else what?” Ivy baits.

  “Or else you’ll be begging me to let you come…but I won’t,” I declare, turning to face her.

  Ivy plays a little coy. “I can’t take the dress off,” Ivy claims.

  “Sure, you can,” I encourage.

  “No,” she argues. “I can’t reach the zipper.”

  “I’ll help you,” I offer, stepping toward her.

  “No!” she yells.

  I frown.

  “I’m…I’m not…” Ivy begins.

  “I don’t care if it’s that time of the month,” I state.

  Ivy gives me a disgusted look. “It’s not that,” she claims.

  “Then, what is it?” I press, taking another step toward her.

  “I’m….” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  It takes me several seconds to process her words. “You mean to tell me that that dress is all you’ve got on?” I check.

  Ivy nods hesitantly.

  “This whole time?” I check, still shocked at the idea that she’s practically naked.

  Ivy nods again.