Anderson cleared his throat, “I messed up. I’ve been thinking this whole drive about what to say to fix this. I’m not very good at this.”
“Well, you’re right about that. You’re not.”
21
Anderson
The day started like any other Wednesday—a list of tasks Jurnee and I had to check off to get to the next phase of the project. Monday and Tuesday were awkward without our usual banter. We were researching coffee distributors, and Graham suggested we book a trip to visit final candidates on site. Alan’s objections to notifying potential vendors, by ordering samples before there was a signed contract, were noted and quickly forgotten.
Come on, Man. Talk to her. You know you miss her.
Martin dropped off another box of coffee bean samples and offered to pick up snacks for taste testing. I was laying out the samples and scanning the corresponding documentation, not paying attention to the snack banter, nor when he actually left the conference room. That’s when it happened again. My mouth ran without my mind’s okay.
“I’d like to try practice dating again, but less on the practice side.” Jurnee lowered the coffee bean sample packet she had been smelling to reveal a stunned expression. “I miss spending time with you. I swear to never touch your phone or violate your privacy.”
“I–”
This wasn’t the time to allow her to shut me down before all the words were on the table. “I also understand that this will be my only second chance.”
Jurnee looked down at the conference room table covered in different coffee samples. “We–”
“Okay. Maybe dating is too much for you right now. It’s not for me, but I’m willing to wait. Let’s just spend time together without calling it dating and have Derrick take down your profile.”
“How–”
“You’re right.” I threw my hands in the air. “I just said I have no intention of interfering with your practice dating on the dating app.”
Jurnee sat the sample on the table and sat back in her chair directly across from where I was seated. Her head tilted to the right, causing her hair to fall in front of her eyes. A smile appeared as she brushed the hair behind her ear. Is that a smile? I’ve missed that smile. Man, you are totally a pussy.
“Is it safe for me to talk now?”
My brain screamed ‘no,’ but I pushed my lips together and waited.
“I’ve missed spending time with you as well. I was going to suggest we have dinner together before the end of the day if you had said nothing.” Her nervous laughter caused a released of all the tension in my shoulders.
We spent the rest of the afternoon comparing coffee samples, discussing supply chains, and catching each other staring before turning away like teenagers’ first experience of chemistry.
Don’t ask her out for tonight. Play it cool, Man. “Are you available tomorrow night?”
“Actually, tomorrow works perfectly. I’m taking Friday off to look at apartments.”
Shaking my head, I fought to release control. “Anywhere you’d like to go for dinner?”
“You pick.” Jurnee jotted a note in her planner.
“Are you sure? How adventurous are you?” The surprise on her face made me laugh.
She shut her planner and placed her pen on top. “Let’s start off tame and see where it goes.”
“Dinner, right?” Dude, you are not a fifteen-year-old horny kid.
“Very funny. Yes, dinner.” Jurnee grabbed my forearm, “Oh, near a bridge.”
“I don’t understand. Near a bridge?”
Jurnee sighed, “I haven’t been able to see much of the city yet.”
“Ah. I believe I’ve got the perfect place in mind to enjoy a warm breezy Autumn evening dinner date.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Now, if apartment hunting can go as easily, I’ll be winning.”
“My friend, Eric, has a few apartments available. I think you’d like them. I’ll text you the address.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Okay. That went better than I thought it would. Let’s do this.
[***]
A warm stream of vomit ran down my pant leg as I gathered Jurnee’s thick shoulder-length hair out of her face. Her whimper reverberated against my inner thigh moments before the meal and wine we had enjoyed earlier covered my leg, car seat, and floor. Jurnee getting sick outside the restaurant where we had just finished a great meal and even better conversation, took the night in the opposite direction than I would’ve predicted.
“Where to?” Markus asked as Jurnee’s heaving came to a pause.
“Home.” I scanned the sidewalk to see if anyone was paying attention to the car.
“Parents?”
The confirmation on my face met Markus’s waiting stare in the rearview mirror. Dry heaving had replaced vomiting. At one point, Jurnee sat up. A flood of emotions passed over her face before she turned her body toward the window and curled up into a surprisingly small ball on the seat next to me. I gently collected her into my arms and brought her to my lap. Bowing to place a soft kiss on the top of her head, it hit me that there was no place I’d rather be than covered in vomit holding this woman. What is happening to me?
Her whimper vibrated into my chest as I smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. The many facets of this woman kept me enthralled. No part of me wished her pain and suffering, but I liked the fact that I was here to take care of her. The significance of this was not lost on me. And that I chose the meal that made her sick.
Markus glared at me as he pushed the elevator button and clutched Jurnee’s bag in his hand. This was uncharted territory for both of us. Women didn’t come to my parents’ house. Ever.
“Too much to drink or the food?”
Feeling Jurnee shift, I moved my hold from around her shoulders to her waist. “Food. Can you–”
“Call the restaurant and let them know before I take the car to be scrubbed? What did she eat?”
“Seafood ravioli.”
The doors opened on the first floor. Markus offered to bring up fluids after the call and pressed the sixth floor’s button from outside the elevator. Two minutes later, Jurnee assured me she was strong enough to shower. I peeled off my vomit-soaked clothes and headed down the stairs to Madeline’s suite for something for Jurnee to wear. The realization there was no place I’d rather be hit me like a sledgehammer as I grabbed some of my sister’s leggings.
I deposited the change of clothes on the bathroom counter, then began to play For Stormboy softly on the piano as Markus walked in, carrying an armful of supplies and Jurnee’s purse.
“Ginger ale. Crackers. Water. She alright?” He laid Jurnee’s purse on the chaise.
“She was strong enough to request a shower. I’m guessing she will be fairly out of it soon.”
“Need anything else?”
“No. Thanks for your help.”
We both turned to see Jurnee exit the bathroom. Averting his eyes, he quickly excused himself. I made my way over to the bed and pulled back the covers for her.
“Do you have clothes in all sizes, or was I just lucky?”
“They’re Madeline’s.”
Jurnee snuggled down into the bed like a little girl settling in for a good night of sleep. “Your sister?”
“One of them.”
Her eyes closed. I brushed my fingers over her cheek and placed a bottle of water in her hand. “Drink some of this before you sleep.”
Taking several small sips, Jurnee handed the bottle back and laid back down. She whispered an apology and slipped off to sleep. After a few minutes of watching her sleep, I returned to the sitting room and my piano, my fingers dancing over the keys as a sadness filled the room. I finished the piece I had been mindlessly playing and returned to my bedroom, standing over Jurnee, watching her sleep. So far, I had successfully kept these fears deep down inside me. But they were beginning to push to the surface.
She’s not your ex.
22
Jurnee
“AHHHHHHH!”
An older woman entered holding folded sheets and suddenly screamed. The sight and sound caused me to scream. Three men busted into Anderson’s bedroom, making me scream again.
“AAAAAAAH!”
One of them towered over the other two in height and muscles. Both of his arms had solid black tattoos peeking out from under his short-sleeved shirt. The two guys with him were all-American types featured in magazines and movie posters, but no one ever remembered. All three joined the woman staring at me.
A not-so-small pig trotted into the room, setting me off with another scream.
The pig approached, making me leap onto the unmade bed. What was going on?
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“Jurnee. Jurnee Messer.” For some odd reason, I held up the sheet I had been trying to remove mere moments ago, as if they’d asked me to show my hands.
“Awwww. The three AM emergency call woman?” It was just like in the movies. One of those moments when you watch a person try to reach into the air and capture the words he just spoke.
What did he just say? An emergency call.
“Three AM?” Of all the words, that was what came out.
“Hello.” The woman looked at the guys before they made a mad dash out of the room. “My name is Linda. I’m Anderson’s head housekeeper.” Linda was dressed in a grey uniform with a white apron tied at the waist. She instantly reminded me of the housekeeper from the Brady Bunch with her grey hair pulled back in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Her face was warm, and I calmed when she gave me a big smile. “That is Rover. Anderson’s pet–”
“Pig? Rover is a pig?” Was all I could say as I stared down at the farm animal standing on its back legs trying to reach the top of the bed.
“Yes.”
“Rover’s a dog’s name.” His snout popped up over the side of the bed.
“It used to be.” Linda’s flowery scent filled the room as she moved around the bed to remove the remaining corner of the sheet. “He is very friendly.”
“I’ll do the bed. I was the one that was sick.”
“Nonsense. I’ll finish. Job security for me. Any idea where Anderson is?”
I moved out of Linda’s way and smiled down at Rover. “I mentioned Chinese food a couple of hours ago and–”
“Say no more. That man loves his Chinese. Why don’t you go down to the third floor? The guys are playing poker.”
“Poker?” Linda stopped in her tracks at the lift in my tone.
“Are you a bit of a poker player?”
“I played a bit in college.” I twisted my hair to try and create a ponytail effect, but it just fell down my back.
Linda laughed and marched me to the elevator. She shooed Rover in the car with me. By the time we reached the third floor, Rover and I decided to be friends.
Having no idea which way to turn, I followed the pig to the left. The sound of laugher got louder as we approached an expansive room with a round table with the guys that stormed the room sitting around it.
“Hi.” The guys all leaped to their feet as they turned to see me standing in the doorway. “I thought we could do this over again. I’m Jurnee. Sorry about the screaming. I wasn’t expecting anyone but Anderson.”
“I think we were all expecting Anderson.” The Incredible Hulk-like guy with dark brown skin made his way over to me, “I’m Eric. Please join us.”
Gesturing to a seat, Eric reached down to give Rover some attention. How completely weird that his dog is a pig. And am I sitting with a group of ‘sexiest man alive’ runners up?
Eric continued. “This is Otis and Bryan. I see you’ve made friends with Rover.”
“Nice to meet you. Fair warning, and I’m sorry in advance, I suck at names, but I don’t forget a face. Eric, you look very familiar, and I’m going to figure out from where.”
“You’re working with Morgan Financial Holdings on coffee shops?” Eric asked, heading out of the room, “Wanna beer?”
“Please.” Otis shuffled cards as the other guy focused on his phone. Shit, what’s his name? “Though for the record, it was only supposed to be one coffee shop, Latte Love.”
“Not the best name, but congratulations on the partnership. Anderson says they’re going to get you in three to five locations by this time next year.”
“What?” I struggled to catch a breath. “A year. I didn’t…”
Eric shrugged and handed me a beer. I instantly placed him.
“You’re the sign guy. Construction sites or something.” It relieved me to figure it out because it would have bugged me.
Eric smirked at the friend with the dark brown hair and pretty light hazel eyes whose name I can’t remember while the one named Otis doubled over in laughter. I didn’t feel like they were laughing at me, but I was definitely missing out on an inside joke.
“So, Jurnee, what kind of music do you listen to?” I stared at his goatee that looked too perfectly trimmed to be an afterthought.
“I’m pretty fluid with music. I like songs more that remind me of memories. You know what I mean? I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”
“Bryan.” He emphasized his name before looking over at Otis in alarm, who continued to shuffle the cards.
“Memories… I don’t get it, not even a little.” Otis placed his bottle on the table like he was not ashamed to admit it. His build was like the others, but Otis’ face was what some experts would call chiseled. His short brown hair made his bright blue eyes stand out. His best feature, and the one that stood out the most, was his confidence. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he owned the space.
“It means I’m horrible with song names and artists. I’m one of those that make up the words I think I hear.” Eric got up laughing and headed to the kitchen.
“Did she answer the question because that was a lot of words.” The guys chuckled, and they passed another look among them, making me feel like I was still missing something.
“So, I’m guessing this is a really awkward moment on levels that I’m not even aware of.” Someone had to say it.
“You have no idea.” The one with a goatee thumbed the stack of poker chips. “It’s what songs are written about.”
Otis pointed at Bryan and chuckled. “You are so pathetic.”
“So pathetic.” Eric confirmed as he returned with a beer and a shot.
“What are you guys playing tonight?” I turned the beer up, expecting the thick kind that you just about need a fork to drink. Much to my surprise, it was light and had a low citrus taste.
“Five card–”
“This is delicious.” The heat of all eyes being on me dragged my focus from the beer bottle. “What?”
Rover squealed, making me turn and look. Anderson walked in with a huge grin on his face as he bent down to greet his pig.
“Am I the woman from the emergency call at three in the morning?” His friends were statues.
“You are.” He looked over at his friends and then back at me, “Sorry I’m late. I ran to Chinatown to get you a sampling of my favorite Chinese. I see you met my best friends in the world. You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here to meet them.”
23
Jurnee
His words went into a loop in my mind. First woman. His friends. Breathe. I took a quick sip of my beer. “Should we play?”
Laughter broke out between his friends, and Anderson planted a quick kiss on me. “You still weren’t feeling well earlier. Are you sure you’re up for beer and Chinese?”
“Are you kidding? Cards, beer, and takeout are the world’s best medicine.” I whispered not so quietly into Anderson’s ear, “I didn’t know there was a game and didn’t bring any cash. Can you cover me?”
Wide-eyed, Anderson laughed, “You sure? They won’t take it easy on you just because…”
“Because I’m a girl?” I huffed.
“I was going to say because you’re here with me.” He poin
ted toward the floor, “Rover, down.”
The pig, who had placed his front feet on the edge of Anderson’s chair, dropped back down to all fours. I stared as Rover made his way to Eric. He really has a pig.
Eric chuckled as he reached down to scratch Rovers chin, “The girl part is irrelevant to us as well.”
Cracking my knuckles, I stretched my arms above my head. I knew I would obsess about his phrase ‘with me’ later, but it was time for my game face, “Deal me in.”
“I’ve got a problem I need to take care of.” Eric put his shot in front of Otis, pet Rover on the head, and headed for the elevator.
The poker game progressed the way they do. Otis was up, and Bryan lost everything early. Having been to many poker nights at Michigan State, I knew to start slowly, only winning a hand here and there to get a feel of each of their tells.
Bryan was obvious with his tell. I imagined all the people sitting around the table knew that when he had nothing in his hand, he would hum a tune that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t name.
Otis was sneaky with his game, and it took me a couple of losses to figure out his signals. When he had a good hand, he would stack the chips in front of him. On hands that were garbage, he would unstack his chips. The dual actions took me longer to figure out than it should have. The most difficult part became not looking directly in his direction to see if he was touching the chips.
The player that was hardest to read was Anderson. The smirk on his face made me wonder if he knew I was analyzing everyone’s playing. It wasn’t until halfway into the night that I caught Anderson’s tell. Whenever he was holding a good hand, he would look at the chip stacks in front of the players around the table. I had him, and now I was ready to take all their money.
In the last hand of the game, I was neck and neck with Anderson and Otis. A couple of pairs with jacks high meant I just needed to mentally sit back and wait. I had been schooled on my tells at MSU by one of the world’s best poker players, so I was aware of my movements when the cards had been dealt. Otis asked how many cards I wanted.
Mister Manhattan: A Hero Club Novel Page 11