by JQ Jones
“You surprised me when you came in. For over two years, I thought you were older, taller, and whiter. Or, as Clint said, you were hideously ugly and that was the reason you never showed your face,” she said. “CJ went on and on about how smart you were, how intuitive, how funny, how nice. He talked about you more and more as the project went on. We couldn’t understand why you didn’t video conference.” Manuela stopped. “Why don’t you video conference?”
“Because I wasn’t older, taller, or whiter,” Iona said. “I didn’t want to lose my first and only job.”
“Makes sense, but that never made a difference to CJ. What are you planning on doing now that you’ve rocked his world?” Manuela chopped herbs for a dinner casserole while Iona ate chopped carrots resting on the cutting board until Manuela gave her a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Iona said, sliding carrots back on the pile waiting for the dish.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t have an answer.” The sounds of an argument drifted into the kitchen. “How long will they keep arguing, do you think?”
“As long as it takes for her to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like she hears it very often. That girl is spoiled so rotten, she not only thinks her shit don’t stink, I figure that she forgets she really does shit every day,” Manuela said. She folded in the vegetables, placed it in the convection oven, and began to knead a loaf of bread. She began wiping the counters. Iona got up to help. They were almost finished when the swinging door slammed against the wall. Elizabeth stood in the doorway.
“We need you in the library.” She spoke in Iona’s general direction then slammed back out the door.
“She means the den.” Manuela continued cleaning. Iona didn’t stop working either. Once the counters were spotless, they sat down waiting.
CJ came in five minutes. “Being stubborn, Lil Bit?” He leaned against the island staring down at her.
“I don’t do command performances. Besides, I can’t see what I would actually add to the conversation. It’s a two-person issue, don’t you think?” Iona looked at him, noticing a slight tic dancing over his left eye. She didn’t say anything when he grabbed her hand pulling her down the hall, past the steps and into the den.
Marcus and Cheryl sat on a large blue couch that faced its twin, where an older blonde couple sat. They were Elizabeth’s parents, the mother an older version of her daughter down to the superior sneer on her face, the father, smartly dressed in a suit that he twitched into place as if it was not comfortable. Elizabeth perched on a red leather chair that was positioned to give the impression that she was the queen surrounded by her court. A slight bruise was visible even under carefully applied makeup. CJ directed Iona to a smaller version of Elizabeth’s chair slightly to the right of the main seating group. He stood beside her with his hands lightly resting on her shoulders.
“You wanted to meet Iona, Clyde? Here she is, Claire. This is Iona Davis. No, we are not married. I plan on getting to know her better before that. Right now all I want to do is call this farce of a marriage off. You can’t make me marry Liz, so why are we still talking about it?” CJ’s voice rumbled low in his chest. Iona could feel the tension in his hands but his fingers gently stroked her shoulder.
“We’re all adults here,” Judge Blankenship said. He was interrupted by Elizabeth.
“Almost all of us,” she said without looking up from her long nails.
“Elizabeth, darling, you’re not helping,” Claire said in a soft voice.
Iona sat quietly, listening as the Judge ticked off the reasons for the marriage to go forward. He went on about family as well as business ties, the need to save Elizabeth from a possible scandal, and CJ’s greater need to have a child of breeding and social status. Iona tucked her legs under her, waiting for CJ to speak but mostly ready to go to her room and pack.
The silence stretched out until Elizabeth said, “CJ, have your little chip…friend. I know that men like to have women like that, but we need to plan a wedding. You can keep her somewhere as long as I don’t ever see her again. As long as she doesn’t think that she’ll be able to have a bastard like Clint getting the run of the house, I don’t care what you do. One major mistake is enough for any family.”
“You don’t have the right to call Clint a mistake. You need to get a grip,” Iona said softly.
“She is not to speak to me either, and if she ever tries to touch me again, I’ll have her arrested for assault. Daddy is a judge after all. Her kind are used to prison,” Elizabeth finished.
“One,” Iona said.
“Liz, this is ridiculous. You don’t like sex, or at least not with me. I’ll not spend my life begging for a fuck. I asked you two years ago to announce you dumped me to save face, but you won’t, so now I have to do it.” CJ moved closer to the couches. He ignored the flare of anger from Elizabeth and her parents, concentrating on his fiancée. “Walk away before this gets ugly.”
“You get your dick wet with some little bit of brown sugar and now you want me to give all this up? You are joking.” Elizabeth began a tirade that went on for a few minutes. She didn’t notice Iona’s soft “two.”
Elizabeth tapped her nails on the arm of her chair. “I think it’s time for the little cunt to leave. She seems to be almost asleep as it is.”
“Three.” Iona slowly walked toward Elizabeth’s chair as the blonde woman continued to speak of mutual friends, their future children, and the need to bring the wedding up.
CJ almost caught Iona as she launched herself at Elizabeth, who screeched and threw herself back in the chair, tipping it over, landing hard on her back. Iona didn’t hit Elizabeth, but she did bang her head into the floor in rapid succession as she growled at her.
“Stay away from me, don’t talk about Clint, and get your little sorry ass out of this house and leave. CJ. Alone.” Iona slammed Elizabeth’s head into the floor to punctuate each word
CJ grabbed Iona by her waist, pulling her as high up as he could. Elizabeth was up and spitting mad. Judge Blankenship and Claire grabbed their daughter’s arms and tried to get her out of the room, but she managed a solid backhanded slap that caught Iona on the right cheek, causing her to flinch back, banging her head into CJ’s chin. He startled back, dropping her at the same time. Iona took that opportunity to throw a left that got the Judge in his temple. He fell to the floor. Claire started for her husband, releasing her daughter, dodging a right hook that got Elizabeth in the mouth.
Marcus calmly moved to the back of the couch where he sat, waiting with a glint in his eyes. Cheryl screamed loudly and constantly. Iona and Elizabeth were in a tangle on the floor, hands intertwined in the other’s hair. Iona was able to get to her knees. Unfortunately her knees were in Elizabeth’s stomach. She drew back her right again but didn’t make the connection as CJ pulled her quickly off. Clint knelt beside Elizabeth, pressing a napkin to her bleeding mouth.
The room was silent as the two women stared at one another, everyone frozen in their positions as if waiting for another whirl of violence. CJ brought Iona closer to him, both hugging to calm and to keep her from attacking again.
Elizabeth rose to her feet and stared at Iona with a vehemence that bespoke of future violence. Manuela silently brought in a bowl of ice and several towels. Clint helped Elizabeth by filling a plastic zip bag with ice for her lip and newly damaged eye. Iona took one for her knuckles, left and right. Still no one spoke. Elizabeth straightened her dress, picked up her chair, and sat back down. She nodded to her parents, who resumed their seats. Cheryl lay prone on the couch, weeping softly into the pillows while Marcus neatly swung his legs over the back and refilled his glass. A raised eyebrow offered a drink to everyone in the room. Manuela crossed over to help him pour out nine snifters of brandy and distributed them.
“Well, son, you got two women fighting over you. How do you do it?” Marcus said. He absently patted his wife on the back a few times and helped her up to accept her brandy. She patted
her face with the available napkins and drank her drink right down, handed the glass back to her husband, and indicated she needed another. Marcus obliged.
“I wasn’t fighting over CJ. He’s a grown man who knows who he wants to be with. I’m just trying to get a ride to the airport so that I can go home,” Iona said. She adjusted herself back against CJ and turned to Elizabeth. “I will not be called everything but a child of God. I was totally wrong, I slept with your fiancé, and that was unfortunate. I’m sorry for putting my hands on you, but you aren’t angry with me, you’re angry with CJ for not wanting what you want, but that’s not his fault either. People want what they want. If he called you and explained what he wanted to do, then you should’ve accepted that or accepted it when he told you in person. You asked for a ‘confrontation’ to show everyone what is totally obvious to anyone. I’m different from what you expect him to want, but that’s totally up to him. I should tell you that he’s not what I wanted to come knocking at my door and I don’t know if it, whatever it is we have, will work, but if I were you, I’d let us try. You do yourself no good by clutching at smoke.”
Iona pulled away from CJ and sat in the red leather chair, hissing as she wrapped her right hand in a napkin full of ice. CJ sat on the chair arm, with arms folded and waiting for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth sat back precisely away from the back of the chair, ankles correctly crossed. She flicked her hair from her face with a quick flip of her head and grimaced. She spoke precisely in a very clipped and proper tone as if none of the past fifteen minutes had occurred.
“Christopher Joseph Davis, you owe me a wedding and I intend to have it. If you try to back out of this contract, I will pursue you legally. As for your little friend, if you don’t do the right thing by me, I will charge her with assault and see her put in prison, where she belongs.”
CJ exchanged a glance with Clint, who shrugged his shoulders. “You really sure you want your friends to know that the only way you can get a man to marry you is to sic the law on him, Liz?” CJ said.
“They won’t have you and I will. I always get what I want,” Elizabeth said.
Marcus said, “I’d say that you have proof of simple assault. You are in CJ’s house after he’s asked you to leave. I could get her probably six months community service. That’s if the judge, any judge in this county exclusive of your daddy, hears the case after I tell them what happened here.” His voice was a more blurred version than CJ’s, but it had the same bass timbre.
Elizabeth looked at him as if a dog had suddenly begun to sing.
“My dear, I graduated from Harvard School of Law and practiced quite successfully for over twenty years before my wife and I decided that we wanted to travel. I can help my son out this once.” He winked at CJ. “The breach of contract, not really done anymore, my dear, but you can try. CJ’s a billionaire as you well know. His lawyers are paid to get him what he wants. And, honey, that ain’t you right now, is it?”
Elizabeth slowly rose to her feet and nodded to her parents who also got up, carefully arranging their clothes. “It seems that we have had a misunderstanding about your attentions, Christopher Joseph. I wish to end our engagement, but, since you are such a gentleman, I will, of course, keep the things we’ve previously mentioned, the credit cards for five years, plus the apartment in Paris.”
“Of course, after all, they’re gifts, Liz. Manuela will see you to the door. Keep the condo in Miami, too. But, no, changed my mind, you can’t have the Paris apartment. I apologize for this, truly,” CJ said.
Elizabeth sniffed and walked out the door Manuela held open for her. Her parents looked dazed and unable to decide what would be the politic thing to do. They chose to nod at Cheryl, curl their lip at Marcus, and ignore Clint, CJ, and Iona.
“Thank you, Marcus. I think you saved me more than a little trouble,” CJ said to his father. Cheryl huddled in the corner of the couch, no longer crying but still washed out and distraught. Marcus smiled broadly at his son, raising his glass in salute.
Iona nursed her hand, unable to figure out how to get out of this without having to talk to anyone anymore. She knew that manners demanded that she at least thank Marcus for his intervention, but her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth.
“Being a gentleman, I can’t really say that I’ve always wanted to smack Elizabeth in the mouth, but I can understand it,” Marcus said.
“I was thinking you got a great set of hands on you, girl,” Clint said. “You box or something?”
“Something. I read a few books on boxing, but I’ve never really hit anybody. It hurts,” she said. “I apologize for losing my temper. My nana used to say that if you have to put your hands on somebody you need to leave. This was the first time I’ve been in a situation like this and I should have left the room, but I didn’t. I plan on leaving in the morning. It was nice to meet you. I have to pack, so if I don’t see you again, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Iona said. She smiled broadly to everyone in the room, closing the double pocket doors
“Do you plan on marrying that creature?” Cheryl said.
“I don’t know if we’ll marry, but she’s what I want. I’ll let her go home tomorrow, but I need her in my life. Don’t forget that we have to finish the UK deal, complete the Swedish wave project I want to do in Sweden, and then start on the desalinization project Iona’s proposing for the Fiji Islands. She can go home for a while, but she can’t stay,” CJ said.
Marcus laughed as CJ stomped out of the room.
Chapter Eleven:
See What We Can Do
Iona sat in an enclosed veranda located to the right of the kitchen, playing with the cigarette case full of joints. She lit one and took a deep, satisfied puff. She sputtered when the screen door banged shut as Manny came outside. The older woman waved away Iona’s offer to join her in smoking. They sat listening to the busy sounds of daily ranch life.
“Where are all the dogs and cats? I thought I heard them last night, but I’ve not seen any,” Iona asked. Manny placed a tray of lemonade on a low wicker table and poured out two glasses.
“They’re all over the place. The dogs work the cattle along with my father and brothers. Cats are in the barn. They’re cats. They hang out were they want to. You have animals?” Manny sat with her head cushioned by the back of the rocking chair.
“Buster and Bunny—my dogs—a gaggle of geese, and a goat. The goat isn’t technically mine. He’s feral and comes off the mountain when he wants to.” Iona followed Manny’s example and lay back in the chair.
The sun was setting and the temperature dropping, but it wasn’t cold, but it had a promise of the fall to come. Trees curved the side of the house, casting a shadow over the area. The air had a slight smell of cattle, a distant hint of a smoke, and the mouth-watering aroma of food from the kitchen.
“Do you like to cook?”
“Nobody has ever asked me that. But yes, I do. I have since I was very, very little. I used to spend time with my abuela, cooking for the family. She had a special chair that I could stand on while she taught me how to make real Mexican food. Then I decided to go to culinary school, worked for restaurants all over the Southwest for ten years or so. Got tired of that, so when Peter asked me if I wanted to take over after Mrs. Smith retired, I jumped at it. I like it here. I grew up here, my parents are here, and I wanted to be close to them.” Manny stopped to sip lemonade.
“I’d never been anywhere before I went to London with CJ. I like where I live. It feels right to me. This,” she swept her arm to indicate the expanse of the horizon. “All this is so fucking big. I’m a big fish in a little pond. Most people only know me virtually and like with you guys they don’t know who I am.”
“Wanna trade real sex for virtual?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then get used to the bigness that goes along with being in the sphere of the Oklahoma Davises. They live huge, but Marcus, Clint, and most especially, CJ, try their best not to run over people. But you do have to keep
up. Can you do that, mija?”
“I can, but I don’t know if I want to.”
“Then you have to get to the want-to. CJ has never brought a woman to this ranch. Elizabeth has dropped by without invitation, but this is his home base and he doesn’t like to shit where he sleeps,” Manny said. She sat forward in her chair, gripping Iona’s hand lightly.
Iona returned the hand squeeze and sat back in her chair. “I hope I get this right.”
“You will, mija, just don’t fuck it up.” Manny and Iona lapsed into a companionable silence and watched the darkness deepen. They sat outside until Manny got up to go to bed.
“I get up really early. I do breakfast for the hands who don’t have a spouse. You stay out here and make the right decision. I will track you back to West Virginia and spank your ass if you think you’re leaving without saying good-bye. I want you to stay, but that’s up to you.”
Iona left her chair to hug Manny. “Of course I’ll say good-bye. I have to eat another meal so that I can report back to my brother-in-law all your recipes.”
“I’ll track you down for that, too.” Manny allowed the door to slap shut as she went back into the house.
The darkness broadened slowly over the sweeping expanse of the ranch. She liked the smell, crisp, clean, and earthy, that permeated through the air. “This is pleasant.”
“Ranchers don’t really use the word pleasant to describe their holdings, cousin, it’s kinda a namby-pamby word.” Clint walked into the veranda from the outside door. He was sweating and reached for some lemonade that he downed without pause and poured another. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, concentrating on his boot tips.
“Well, you leaving tomorrow? When you coming back?”
“Manny and I were discussing that. This is a totally new experience. I’ve been told by an older, wiser person not to fuck it up, but right now I don’t know which way would do that, so as of right now, I’ve decided to stay on this porch until something sensible comes to mind,” Iona said.