Grammy had such a nice ring to it and Graham had just grinned when his mom had suggested that’s what she wanted Amalie to call her. Grammy it was and I hoped it would be.
“Here, Ma, let me take her?” Graham said, after opening his mom’s car door.
She gave Amalie a kiss and reluctantly handed her over to Graham.
“No, no,” Amalie said, shaking her head and reaching for her Grammy. “Me Me.”
“She’ll be calling me Grammy before we know it.” Mrs. Edwards face lit up with a smile. “Any time you want me to keep her you have Graham call me, okay?”
“Absolutely,” I quickly agreed. “How about Friday night? Graham had suggested us having a date night and I’m not sure if Carmella will be available.”
“It would be just perfect.” If she was fazed by her son having a date night with someone other than his wife, she sure didn’t show it. “I’ll keep her the whole weekend if you’d like.”
“I’ll bring her out Friday afternoon then,” Graham said.
“We’ll have so much fun, won’t we, Amalie?”
Amalie clapped her little hands in approval.
“Bring Odessa with you and I’ll fix us a big old salad for lunch.”
I smiled, happy that she’d remembered I don’t eat meat.
“That red hair of yours is so pretty in the sunlight.” Mrs. Edwards reached out and touched a strand of my hair and then surprised me with a genuine hug. She was such a tiny woman that she barely came up to me boobs, so I had to lean over to hug her back. I held on to her a little longer than maybe I should have because I found her touch so soothing. Her entire aura radiated with such intense love for Graham and Amalie that I actually enjoyed empathing her wonderful energy.
“You take good care of that angel baby,” she said before turning to Graham and adding, “Give her my phone number.” She gave me another quick hug. “You call me anytime you need me. I’ll always be there for my little Amalie, no matter what.”
“Thank you, that means a lot to us.”
“It sure does,” Graham agreed, helping her into her car and holding Amalie so she could give her Grammy a good bye kiss.
“Bye, Bye,” she said waving at Amalie. “Love you, sweet girl.”
“We love you, too,” Graham said.
Amalie waved at her until the Oldsmobile was out of sight.
Graham opened my car door for me and said, “That turned out better than I’d expected.”
I threw my arms around him, crushing our daughter between the two of us. “I love you and your mama and our beautiful daughter.”
“Love you, too.” Graham laughed and handed Amalie to me after I got in the car. “I think that lithium is kicking in.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the lithium or the gin. All I knew was that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so contentedly happy.
“Want me to put the top down?” he asked.
“That would be lovely.”
The weather was just right for cruising down the highway with the wind whipping my hair. There was nothing more I could have wanted as I had my daughter nestled comfortably in my arms and my lover, looking as devastatingly handsome as always, behind the wheel of the Mercedes.
“You, know,” Graham said, when we stopped at a red light. “I think my mom actually likes you and she sure does love Amalie.”
“Me Me,” Amalie said, grinning from ear to ear. “Me Me.”
“Yeah, you and Grammy hit it right off.” I kissed the top of Amalie’s head. “She really does favor your mom.”
“I told ya so.” Graham reached over and took my hand.
We drove in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sunny day and his favorite country music blasting on the radio. I’m usually a girl more into Sinatra, but I do enjoy a good Patsy Cline song.
Just as we passed the Welcome to Tampa sign, Always came over the airways. This time Graham didn’t seem to mind as I sang along. “Not for just an hour. Not for a day. Not for a year, but always.”
“Always,” Graham agreed. “I’ll be loving you, always.”
A Message From Jezebel
Dear Readers,
Thank you for purchasing this story. Over the next several months Odessa and I will be sharing more of her naughty adventures in anticipation of releasing her full story.
Reviews are appreciated. If you find any formatting errors or typos please let me know at [email protected]. I always enjoy hearing from my readers and appreciate your support.
If you liked this story I hope you will consider checking out some of my other titles. I’ve included the first chapter from Fly Away. If you do decide to purchase Fly Away just forward me the confirmation email and I will send you a free copy or either Under My Skin or The Lady Is A Tramp.
Jezebel
PS… Odessa’s other stories are a bit smuttier and more erotic in nature, especially The Lady Is A Tramp and Under My Skin.
Fly Away
Odessa
"Blessed Goddess, please, oh please, let her be home," I chanted the words as my mantra, gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers ached almost as bad as the blistering heat searing my face.
The pain was getting close to unbearable and made worse by the brat sleeping fitfully in the passenger seat. If I stopped the car I just knew my daughter would start screaming again. My daughter? It didn’t seem possibly that this little bundle of terror could possibly had come from me. I shivered at the very thought of the whole horrific birthing process. That was a memory I doubted I’d ever forget.
In my best attempt to quell her cries, I'd been up all night driving the streets of Tampa. It was bitterly cold for a February morning in Florida. The wind had run rough shot over my long red hair and my eyes burned behind the lenses of my dark sunglasses. In my haste to shush her screams, I hadn't though to put the top up on the convertible before starting this journey to nowhere.
The 1967 Mercedes 280SL always had a soothing effect on the both of us. Graham had given me his sleek convertible on a hot August day as an appeasement for the sperm he'd shot into me some eight months prior. His atonement for the child inside my swollen belly. A baby he'd insisted we keep. The supposed beginnings of a loving family that had yet to be.
He'd driven the car two years before turning it over to me. Long enough for his ass to leave an imprint in the soft tan leather seat. His essence lingered with me every time I decided to go for a drive. I couldn't have loved it more if the car had been brand new. My existence would have been nothing, if not for my beloved Graham.
I swallowed down a defeated howl when I saw Carmella's deserted driveway. No sunshine yellow Beetle in sight. My best friend had been the one to bring my little Amalie kicking and screaming into this world. In the seventeen some months since, she was also the only one able to figure out how to appease the child’s constant neediness. Now it appeared she had deserted me in favor of her thriving baby birthing business.
Carmella had tried to get me to assist in her new career of midwifery. Birthing babies just wasn't my thing. All that blood and gore and pain. Not an appropriate career option for an empath such as myself. It wasn't just emotions I absorbed. I was also cursed with feeling the physical pain of others if I allowed them to get too close. I'd gotten to where I could shield from most people. Just not the brat sleeping beside me or my beloved.
There was no use in dawdling around waiting for Carmella. I had dropped my guard long enough to feel the expectant mother's pain shooting through my own womb. That baby wouldn't be here for hours. I quickly threw up the best shield I could muster and sped down the road.
As if by its own accord my Mercedes traveled through the familiar streets of Sunset Park, an affluent neighborhood right on the water. Florida living at its finest. The perfect place to raise a family. You and me and baby makes three. Yeah, right, maybe for him and the wife he'd married when I'd still been a little girl trapped in North Carolina with only my snakes for solstice.
I turned onto
South Dundee and my head felt like it might explode. Graham's migraine hit me with such intensity that I had to fight a wave of nausea. It infuriated me how he hadn't so much as bothered to call me going on three whole days, yet I still couldn't shield against his fucking headache.
It must have been my punishment for driving by his house. Wednesday's were very busy for him with TV tapings and all the wrestlers in and out of his office all day. Normally I would have taken to my bed to soak all of the pain from his body into mine, but after a night with his screaming child I wasn't feeling all that charitable.
Knowing that Graham had already left for his office, I gave serious consideration to pulling into the driveway. Maybe a conversation with his wife was in order. She knew about me and Amalie. Our affair was no secret. We all knew I was the one he truly loved. Yet, she stayed, refusing to walk away from the luxury of being Mrs. Graham Edwards. His name meant a great deal in this town and I suppose his money meant even more to her. No amount of money could have ever convinced me to stay with a man who's heart belonged to another.
Damn his heart and my freaking headache.
I drove to the end of the cul-de-sac and didn't look back as I sped by his house. If I wanted to stalk his sorry wife I could go to my own home just across the canal on West San Jose. The view from my property's pier offered up a perfect glimpse of his oak tree shadowed backyard. I often felt his eyes upon me when I striped naked each night in front of the French doors of my bedroom. It was no coincidence he'd chosen both his homes to be so close together, broken only by a rivulet of the enormous Tampa Bay.
It seemed best to take the scenic route to the Sportatorium, turning a ten minute drive into a trek around Bayshore Boulevard and cruising slowly along to watch the waves crashing against the bay. I wasn't in any hurry to get to a TV taping I couldn't attend with baby girl asleep in the car.
Gas, however, was another matter. The gauge had slid past empty and the blinking angry red light only added to the pounding inside my head. I was going to have to risk stopping for gas. I pulled into the parking lot of a market just down the street from the Sportatorium and Amalie let out a little snore. Taking that as a positive sign, I tucked her blanket up to her nose and held my breath as I cut the engine. Her eyes didn't flutter. I eased my door open and pumped the gas, even risking to move the car up to a space by the front door without rousing my little sleepyhead. I stopped at this market all the time and everyone there knew us. Graham had even set up a charge account for me. So, it wasn't a big deal to leave her sleeping in sight of the front window.
"Howdy, Miss Odessa," the clerk said, way to overenthusiastic for such a glum day. “You’re looking pretty as always this morning.
Miss? I had to bite my lip to keep from informing him I wasn't missing anything, least of all Graham. It always amazed me how people were never taken aback by my disheveled appearance. The one downside to being a red head is that every dark circle, bruise or blemish is magnified upon my pale skin. I'm not vain enough to believe I am as stunning as most make me out to be.
"How'd you like those t-bones Mr. Edwards brought home yesterday?"
My stomach churned at the mere thought of dining on dead cow.
Instead of informing the man those steaks were for his other family, I gave an insincere tightlipped smile and said, "He forgot the wine."
"Want me to get a bottle of that merlot you like."
"That would be lovey."
"I'll be right back," he said, walking over to where they kept a surprisingly large assortment of beers and wines.
I grabbed a Diet Coke, juice for Amalie, and since Graham was paying I fixed him a cup of coffee heavily doused with cream and sugar, just the way he liked it.
"The new wrestling magazines came in this morning if you want to take one for Mr. Edwards," he said, as he rang up my purchases. "Want me to put this on his tab?"
"Of course." I glanced at the cover of the magazine and my spirits soared at the sight of Roger Rohde's beautiful face grinning at me on the cover. "I believe I'll take two of these," I said, tucking one copy in my purse.
I put Graham’s coffee in the cup holder and started up the car, holding my breath in hopes that Amalie wouldn’t awaken. Just as I took my first sip of Diet Coke, the child came to life with a sobbing howl that startled me into spilling soda down the front of my blouse.
"How about some juice?" I asked, already reaching to fill her sippy cup.
She tossed the cup to the floorboard, screaming in animate displeasure.
"I hate to break it to you kid, but my butt is sore from all this driving and I'm exhausted. We're going to see your daddy whether he likes it or not."
The Sportatorium was just down the street. I cut past the line of fans waiting for the doors to open and pulled in the back alley, blocking in Graham's matching black Mercedes. I ignored Amalie’s wails long enough to pull my hair back into a loose ponytail and take another sip of my drink.
Scooping Amalie into my arms, I threw my purse over my shoulder, somehow balancing Graham’s coffee cup in my hand. I kicked the back door open and let out my own scream when my toe hit the door frame. No wonder my feet were cold, I'd forgotten to put on shoes.
Purchase Fly Away
About The Author
Jezebel Jorge is a practicing witch and gifted medium. When she's writing it usually feels like she's merely taking dictation for the voices running amok inside her head with their stories demanding to be told.
She currently lives in Nashville, TN with a spoiled rotten Golden Retriever / Great Pyrenees mix named Harry Potter and a mouthy spirit guide with a fondness for snakes who just happens to be named Odessa.
To find out more about Jezebel Jorge, please visit
www.witchlitchick.com or www.jezebeljorge.com
Odessa's Stories:
Under My Skin
The Lady is a Tramp
Fly Away
Other books by Jezebel Jorge:
Desire (A Ring Dreams Retro)
Wicked Desires (A collection of Ring Dreams Snippets)
Dirty Weekend (A Ring Dreams Novella)
Wanton (A Ring Dreams Snippet)
Shattered (A Ring Dreams YA)
Hexed (A Ring Dreams Novel)
Vexed (A Ring Dreams Novel)
Infinity - An Anti-Valentine's Novella
Need You Tonight – An Evernight Publishing Romance On The Go
Non-Fiction
Give It To Your Guides:
How To Connect With And Accept Help From Your Spirit Guides
Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Spirit Boards But Were Afraid To Ask
Always Page 4