"Under the Weather"
A TJ Jackson Erotic Short Story By:
MJsLoveSlave
Hidden Valley, New York
Late
Summer, 1999
...clitter-clatter....clitter-clatter....
There was nothing quite so eye-opening and
invigorating as a hot, steamy shower, first thing in the morning.
At least, that was the lie I had been
habitually telling myself for several years as it bridged the gap
between my slapping the “snooze” button on my alarm anywhere from
three to seven times, depending on my mood and state of varying
consciousness, and making my way down to the kitchen for the
prerequisite cup of java I had been downing, without fail, since
grade school.
...clitter-clatter....clitter-clatter....
Hidden from the world,by panels of blurred,
frosted glass, until I was somewhere near ready to face it without
committing a mass murder, I was not at all alarmed by the sound of
objects thudding and rattling covertly, a few feet from me.
That was an expected and ingrained, yet
annoying factoid of my routine which I could not avoid, no matter how
I screamed, cursed or flung my fists against my daily thief's little
body.
...clitter-clatter....clitter-clatter....
There was no rush, as I knew the moment I shut
off the spigot, my thief would scurry away with the booty, that had
been stolen—though I knew exactly where to go to reclaim what was
rightfully mine.
Rinsing what was left of the Cucumber-Melon
scented soap from from my naked body, the water crinkling over my
pink dotted shower cap, I let my hands twist the knobs, the water
ceasing, and as predicted, the fast-paced movement falling between a
fast walk and full on gallop, the bathroom door squeaking on its
hinges.
Sliding the door back, I reached just far
enough to grab my robe, terrycloth, and covered in a rendition of Van
Gogh's Starry Night, I wrapped it around myself, making a
beeline across the cool tiled floor to my wide washbasin, that also
doubled as my vanity.
I was meticulous about my belongings.
A place for everything and everything in its
place.
And as the exact placement of everything was
burnt into my brain, like a brand mark on a steer's hind quarters, it
took mere seconds to spot what was amiss.
Two objects, a tube of metallic silvery
lipstick, called Moon Glow, and a small pot of silver body
glitter suspended in a clear gel, Stardust had “sprouted
legs and walked away”.
Again, I didn't rush...there was no need to
disturb my routine.
Now, I had to wipe the fog from the mirror and
spend a good fifteen minutes critiquing myself, turning a blind eye
to my attributes and casting a spotlight of doubt onto my perceived
flaws.
If only I had known then what I knew now...
Removing my cap, I set my hair, long, thick and
raven black, a single streak of honey blonde to accent the right side
of my face, free.
(I had initially wanted two face-framing
streaks like Ginger Spice of the Spice Girls, but, getting the one
spot bleached had burned so, I completely nixed the second one!)
Staring into the reflecting glass, I examined
myself, and while I idolized singer/dancer/actress, Jennifer Lopez,
even being half-Puerto Rican, I unfortunately, looked nothing like
her...at least I didn't think so.
My younger sister, Lark, also known as the
thief who plundered my cosmetics on the daily like I was her own
personal Claire's, had taken after our father with his fairer
complexion, apple green eyes and naturally straight black hair.
I, on the other hand, showed more traits as
handed down by out African-American mother, namely a darker, more
tawny complexion and hair that was wildly curly if I didn't take a
flat iron to it on a regular basis. Sure, I had the more...Angloid
features of my father, the smaller nose, thinner lips, etc, but Papa
had strong genes; my sister possessed the exact face, only, lighter.
I squinted...no I had Mama's lips...thicker,
poutier...my lips just appeared thin form my aggravation and I had
unwittingly mashed my mouth into a flat line.
Turning to the side, I looked over my figure.
In order to maintain control over a figure
which had blossomed early with breasts, hips and buttocks that needed
to remain as hourglass as possible, I had been on some kind of diet
at all times for nearly half my life, starting at ten, and still
clinging at nineteen.
Did I mention my father was a large man and if
I even thought of some sugary delight, the pounds would appear?
I hadn't eaten a proper meal since the Reagan
Administration!
But such was my lot in the impossible quest for
unattainable perfection.
A half-hour later, I slipped from my boudoir
into the upstairs hallway, dressed simply in a striped halter top,
and long denim skirt, barefoot as I had no particular plans to do
more than sit and watch Beavis and Butt-Head reruns all
day.
I had applied makeup, more out of habit than
anything else, as I did live in an appearance-conscious, affluent
neighborhood and I'd learned from experience the one day I decided to
go with a naked face, everyone and their dog wanted to drop in!
At the end of the hall, the door to the master
bedroom had been shut and locked since the end of May, when my
parents had taken off for Nassau to celebrate their twentieth
anniversary, by spending the entire summer on a second honeymoon.
And thusly leaving me in charge of the
household and my sticky-fingered sister.
Across the hall from my room, while the door
was also shut, I could quite plainly hear every beat and lyric of
“Bye, Bye, Bye” by boy band, N'Sync blasting.
At eight-thirty in the morning!
Tossing my head, I advanced to the door,
pounded on it a good three times like the police before a battering
ram was employed and hollered,
“Lark!
Breakfast! Now! Move it! And put my shit back in my room while your
stealing ass is at it!”
With that,I turned on my heel and made my way
down to the kitchen, where, a bowl, spoon, gallon of milk and box of
Fruity Pebbles were hastily thrown onto the granite-topped counter.
From the timed coffeemaker, my favorite drink
was in my favorite mug, black with two sugars, and being devoured to
liven me up.
Around the third straight cup, Lark decided to
grace me with her presence.
Madre de Dios...my sister, my sister...
The child was thirteen going on twenty-five,
and after years of arguing with not only me, but our mother on trying
to look older than her age—mostly, as she wanted to do every
blessed thing I did, though six years separated us—I had learned to
save my voice, because my complaints fell on deaf ears.
Lark was a pretty child, if you could see past
the bright silvery makeup she had to have spackled on with a trowel.
Every scant inch of her tiny body, without a curve to be spoken for,
just shy of five feet tall, not covered by a silver halter top and
low slung black jeans sparkled with my pilfered body glitter.
Her hair, twisted at the front wiggled with the
addition of articulated clips in the shape of dragonflies.
Hoops swept her shoulders and bangles clacked
on her wrists.
As she hopped up onto a stool and began to pour
cereal, I couldn't help teasing.
“So...when do you leave?”
Minty-colored eyes glanced at me, caked lashes
fluttering.
“For what?” She grumbled through a mouth of
crunchy sugar flakes.
“To be a back-up dancer on Christina
Auguilera's world tour!” I snorted, helping myself to another cup.
Took about five cups of liquid breakfast to get me going.
“Oh,
ha-ha, very funny, Dove!”
Those eyes rolled with aggravation as she
resumed her eating.
“Just try no to get knocked up--” I started
snidely, as I knew she hated when I hinted her loose dress would end
up with her making our parents grandparents.
(In truth, aside from bawdy, trashy looks, Lark
was actually a very “good” girl...Trust me, I snooped in her
diary every so often to ensure that!)
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong! Ding Dong!
“--What
in the hell?”
In the distance, someone was ringing the front
doorbell like they had never used one before.
Setting my mug down as the ringing continued
incessantly, coming close to triggering a headache it grew louder the
closer to the door I got.
And if I ended up with a headache I planned to
knock liberate a few teeth from the person who had the audacity to
abuse the bell!
Wrenching the door open. I was besieged by a
skinny, zebra print clad tornado,that latched onto my arm, nails
digging, wailing,
“Dove!
Dove! Dove! OhMyGerd! You're gonna die! Do your hear me? D-I-E, when
I tell you what's happened!”
As she continued bobbing around, red painted
mouth flapping, words spilling incoherently, switching between
English and Mandarin in her excitement, fire-engine red bob swishing,
slanted eyes at their widest, I took her flushed face, bearing even
more cosmetics than Lark's, in my hands and spoke slowly.
“Avery! Avery Sue Tran, calm down, or
I'll have to slap you out like they do in the movies. Now what's up?”
I'm forever convinced Avery lived with an
undiagnosed anxiety disorder, as the slightest of events, such as
seeing a favorite music video on television or buying a new pair of
shoes put her in near hysterics.
And confidentially. I had slapped her more
times than I could count!
What came from my unrestrained buddy's mouth
next, threatened to leave me needing the back of her hand to knock
common sense back into me.
Soft, cool hands gripped my shoulders,acrylic
French tips digging into my dermis some more.
Thin, penciled brows raised and in a hushed
whisper, Avery confided, dark eyes glimmering,
“The
'Teez' are back!”
“GET
OUT!”
Without thought I shoved my friend so hard in
disbelief, she flew out onto the sidewalk, staggering in wedge
sandals.
“Damn it, Dove!”
Rushing after her, it was my turn to clutch
her.
“The 'Teez' are back? From Costa Rica? How
do you know—who told you?” I demanded, unable to fully
process it!
“Oh my God, I bet all my birthday money
Taryll Jackson got so tan and buff
helping to build that school for the needy!”
Avery's and my hot-blooded screeching came to
an abrupt end at the dreamy proclamation, the pair of us turning to
see our duo had become a trio, with Lark lingering in the open
doorway, mead leanign against the frame, eyes shut in what appeared
to be ecstasy.
“You've got the hots for Taryll Jackson?” I
demanded, tossing my hair at such a ridiculous statement! “He's in
his twenties! Way too old for your fast--”
“Don't nobody give a flying fuck about
Taryll!” Avery declared saucily, causing the young teen to
pout, fists curling at her sides. “Everyone knows the best looking
Jackson is the oldest one—Taj. I mean, you've seen him...”
She turned back to me, looking every bit as
goofy as my kid sister, hand grasping mine.
“...Taj is a total babe, right? I mean with
those braids and I hear he's into all kind of nerdy shit, like animae
and Star Wars—you know I love nerdy ass dudes! And then he's
Black too! Me and him could have a kid that looks like that
model—Kimora Lee? OhMyGerd!”
Avery was getting wound up again.
I didn't feel like smacking her!
That's a lie, yes I did!
“The man just got back to town already you're
popping out a baby for him?” I asked, peeling her digging hand off
mine. I wanted to keep some of my skin!
“And you two never even been on a date. Does
he even know your name?”
The red head swished with arrogance.
“If
he doesn't know, he will LEARN!”
Sloe eyes ran me up and down.
“Besides, if memory serves me correctly,
aren't you one who freaked out over the youngest one? TJ? Have been
for years! Cause I remember a certain somebody ringing my
phone off the hook about him washing his car with no shirt on--”
Feeling more embarrassment than I could had I
lived a millienia more I pinched her overdrawn lips together,
silencing her, as Lark giggled somewhere behind me.
That's right, just give the monster ammunition,
already!
“No need to rehash that, Megaphone...”
I tittered, patting at her face playfully. “The important thing is
they're back from Costa Rica--”
“What a way to waste a summer.” Avery
scoffed, running a hand through her tresses.”Off in some country I
can't even locate on a map, and I bet the people couldn't even thank
them in English! I'd rather just write a check and throw it at them”
“You mean your mother would.” I
pointed out and eyes narrowed at me spitefully, as Avery was the
spoiled only child of two over-indulgent parents. She really could be
so elitist at times.
“And don't look now, your ignorance is
showing.”
Hands o her slim hips, Avery's mouth dropped
open in consternation.
“I am not ignorant! You take that
back, right this minute Dove Saldana!”
“I'll do nothing of the kind!.” I chuckled
deviously, beaming viciously, inching closer until our bodies
collided
“Oh
yes you will!
“I
won't, either!”
“Why,
you bitch!”
“I
can call you a bitch, too!”
“Little
words for little minds!”
“You said it first, pea-brain!”
“Who
in the hell you calling a pea-brain--”
Abruptly, Avery fell silent mid-sentence, mouth
clamping shut and all but disappearing off her face, her skin going
sallow as those dark eyes widened again, this time with an odd, glaze
which had been absent seconds prior.
At the same time, her flattish bosom, contained
by her animal print tube top began to expand and contract rapidly,
nostrils flapping in the center of her round face.
It didn't take much investigation to find what
had put the brakes on her flapping jaw.
At the end of the sidewalk, two young men were
gazing on us peacefully, and loitering silently.
“Oh
Lord...”
I could just barely make out the exclamation
from Lark, coming more as a rush of air than true spoken word.
But I couldn't lie; the pair at the end of the
walk...were a sight to behold.
The slightly shorter of the two had his hands
shoved into the pockets of baggy black jeans, contrasting the
brilliant blue of his oversized tee, emblazoned with the Almond Joy
candy bar logo.
His hair, arranged in dozens of
shoulder-grazing plaits had been swept back into a half-ponytail,
revealing a handsome, thoughtful, yet serious face, so darkly tanned
beyond the natural paler golden hue I knew his complexion to be, he
should have been severely burnt and peeling all over creation.
Beside him, the taller man was just as deeply
bronzed, his loosely waved hair, tips frosted honey, his natural
blackish roots having grown out quite a bit, accentuated his baked-in
coloring.
He was just as comfy in an huge red polo and
what appeared to be plaid pajama pants, sleepwear worn as casual
wear, hanging off his much leaner frame.
I never knew why such thin men wore such
gargantuan clothing, but it was the style every male from nursery to
nursing home was going for. Why they wanted to do the backstroke in
so many extra yards of voluminous fabric, I'll never know.
There they were, Taj and Taryll Jackson.
And with about three yards of concrete
separating them from us, I could see how their unannounced appearance
was not only affecting Avery, going so pale, she appeared jaundiced,
but also my sister.
Lark had zeroed in on Taryll, green eyes
assaulting his face, silvery mouth transformed by a huge, doofy grin,
wearing her emotions and crush on him as plainly as the insects in
her hair.
I had only a passing acquaintance with the
elder Jackson brothers, as they were a few years older than I was;
they were college men and we moved in different social sets. My
knowing them came more by sight than actual interaction, though they
lived four blocks down from me and had many years
It was then I noticed Taj's eyes, a smoked
brown under straight dark brows, were on me, much like Avery's were
on him; he and his brother were sauntering towards me.
“Hey, ladies...”
Taj spoke first as they reached us, his voice
as soft and mild as a spring breeze. Taryll nodded wordlessly.
“Hi.” The three of us chorused, with
Lark inching closer to Taryll, continuing to beam up at him openly,
while Avery shifted, tucking her hair behind her right ear, showing
the seven small hoops lining the lobe.
Taj looked at us each in turn, before his gaze
returned to me.
Rubbing his chin, showing a small scar to the
left of the dimple in it, he started,
“Uh, I was hoping you could help me,
Sparrow--”
“Dove.” I corrected him politely,
and he grinned, round cheeks jiggling at his mistake.
It wasn't everyday that members from the
best-looking family on the block stopped by to chat.
And the fact that Taj Jackson had managed to at
least ballpark my name surprised me.
It was a watershed moment!
“Sorry, Dove. I knew it was some kind
of a bird” Absently, he scratched at one his ears, sticking out and
framed by his braids.
“Um...is Dr. Saldana in? Either of them?”
In spite of myself I could feel a brow raising
with curiosity. Why was he seeking my parents?
Perhaps he did have a sunburn blistering him
somewhere out of sight!
“I'm sorry, my folks are in the Bahamas for
the summer...” I informed him, starting to twirl the blonde lock of
my hair, my eyes darting around, but not discovering the youngest of
the bunch, TJ.
Where was he? I was dying to inquire, but held
my tongue.
“...is something wrong?”
“I...I'm not really sure...” Taj dragged
his words out, bridge of his small nose crinkling as he mulled it
over, with him shooting a glance to Taryll who shrugged helplessly in
nonverbal response.
His eyes shifted back to me with him finishing
his though, quietly,
“Well, maybe you can help us, Dove. Can you
suggest a really good cough syrup that actually works--”
“Oh,
you poor baby!”
Taj was cut off by Avery rushing forward,
practically wrapping her entire body about his right arm, red head
resting on his shoulder.
“Are you ill? What is it? Typhus? Typhoid?
Malaria? Scabies? Rabies?”
Taj's eyes narrowed with mild aggravation and
much to my delight, he voiced exactly what I was thinking,
“All of those diseases are contagious! If I
had any of them—which I most surely don't—you'd be
infecting yourself right now!”
He started to turn back to me, but paused, lips
pursing when Avery declared lowly, eyes running rampant all over his
body, likely picking out the wedding invites in her head.
“I
want all your germs!”
Or maybe the hotel for the honeymoon....
“What in the...” Taj mumbled, face showing
his utter disbelief at her forwardness.
Taryll had a hand over his mouth, doing a poor
job of stifling his giggles.
“You're...you're not sick are you?” My
sister stammered, eyes saucer-like, hands clasped to her chest with
apprehension, her fear for whatever might have been ravaging Taryll,
cloaking her.
Plucking one of the dragonflies in her hair
playfully, he snickered,
“Do, I look sick, Sweetheart?”
Lark never did reply. She was thrown into
shocked, speechlessness by the single term of endearment, which I was
sure meant nothing more than politeness and boyish teasing. Taryll
was over ten years older than her!
Hand up and slowly, yet deliberately peeling
Avery's hand from his bicep, Taj added,
“We're not sick—it's TJ.”
I could feel the blood fleeing my face and
neck, and my intestines starting to do the mambo in my abdomen.
So, that was why TJ where nowhere in sight, he
was sick.
With worry tearing me apart like a bear with a
migrating trout, by some grace of God, I managed to maintain my cool.
I had to, with Avery and Lark losing their
minds and composure so conspicuously.
Hormones were a hell of a thing.
“What....what exactly is wrong with him?”
Did I sound as hoarse to them as I did to myself?
Taryll's shoulders moved up and down again,
with him replying curtly, as he shifted, placing a hand on top of
Lark's head, her tiny mouth hanging at his touch.
“We don't know. He's just been under the
weather for about the last two weeks. You know we've been in Costa
Rica all summer, building a school for the natives--”
“Yes, you're such humanitarians... Tajjy,
you were so brave going into the wilderness like you were Crocodile
Dundee or something...” Avery tried to hold onto Taj's large
hand, and it was promptly pulled away with him crossing his arms over
his chest, eyes rolling in his skull; he clearly didn't want to be
touched so intimately.
“My name is Taj...” It was
his turn to correct about his name. “Only Mother and Grandma call
me Tajjy.”
False lashes fluttered at him, with Avery
undeterred,
“I can call you by any name you like...shout
it as loud as you want...” She hissed, plucking to his earlobe,
garnering a scathing sideways glare.
“Seriously? God Almighty!” Taj was
still grumbling under his breath, pulling his head away, as Avery
twisted one of his braids between her fingers
“Can you not touch my hair? I just had it
done this morning...my head is still sore...please.”
“Are these synthetic?” Avery wondered
adding, “I have a cousin who owns--”
“It's human hair and I have a guy
already who gets the bundles for me, thank you.”
Taj was moving yet again, getting out of her
reach, tossing his head with scorn.
“Anyway...” Taryll rolled his eyes
more openly—was Lark breaking into a sweat?—explaining,
“We wanted to send TJ home early, but he was
determined to see the school finished. TJ's just stubborn like that.
I don't blame him though. We built it from the ground up. He's been
in bed sleeping ever since we got home last night. He was still
knocked out when we left. Pops told us to get some kind of medicine,
but we didn't know. That's why we walked down here. We know your
folks are physicians, Dove. Can...can you suggest something?”
I started to answer, when Taj, moving to the
side, yet again, as Avery tried to grab his shoulder, interrupted,
“Yeah, we need him better by the seventh.
Taryll and I are having a joint birthday party—my birthday's on the
fourth and his is on the eighth. It's...”
He stepped around me to get out of Avery's
reach.
“It's
six days away!”
Rubbing his palms together, Taryll made a show
of licking his lips—Lark appeared to swoon at his side, and I knew
he was cutting up purely for her benefit, the way his eyes danced
with amusement—offering,
“Do you girls want to come to the party? I
mean it's really informal. Just some of our family and friends, and
Pops is barbecuing.”
“That'd be great, thank you.” I was trying
my best to exude an aura of nonchalance in the face of the best
social engagement I had been faced with all summer, but mentally
ransacking the mall for an outfit to knock TJ's eyeballs out.
An invite...to a party at the Jacksons' house!
And I'd be a there as a guest! I wanted to
pinch myself!
“I wouldn't miss it for the world...” Avery
purred, lurching around me to Taj's side, holding his arm once more,
his patience wearing thin, as his eyes fluttered shut, corners of his
mouth dipping in distaste, an audible groan sounding.
Couldn't that overheated gal take a hint?
“Am I invited too?” Lark was timidly poking
at Taryll's bicep, covered by the sleeve of his polo.
“Oh...yeah...” Taryll began and the grin
eating up my sister's face fell to her feet by the time he reached
the end of his sentence.
“...there will be plenty of kids your
age there.”
I had to turn my back on Lark she was grimacing
so, and I didn't want to laugh in her face.
She truly thought Taryll was taking the scenic
route in asking her underage self out.
I should say not!
I believed the man wanted a girl who could at
the very least, fill in a brassiere!
And you know, who wasn't still in junior high
school!
“I'm very mature for my age...” Lark
finally announced and Taryll's brows went up so high, they should
have gotten a nosebleed.
“Is that so?”
“Yes....”
“Dove.”
Taj was staring again, and it took me a moment
to realize he was still seeking my advice on medicine for TJ.
“You might want to try Goldman's Cough
Elixir. That's what my sister and I use when we're sick--”
“Yuck!”
Lark, had worked up the nerve to hold onto
Taryll's hand, it intertwined between both of her smaller ones and
was being allowed to do so,unlike Avery, shaking her head
emphatically.
“Well, it does taste like all hell...” I
admitted with a wry chuckle, which Taj echoed as he jerked his
shoulder from under Avery's head. “...but it does work. It'll cure
you stuff you didn't even know you had!”
Was Avery really trying to hug up to Taj?
“Would you PLEASE...let
go of me, Darling?”
The request came through gritted teeth but
buffered by the “Darling” attached, all I'm certain Avery heard
of the sentence, as he loosened her hands, which had been knotted
together over his hip,getting out of her grasp, cheeks piping
crimson.
But as one last insult to injury, before Taj
could pull away, she took his hand and kissed the back of it, leaving
a scarlet lip print on it.
Good Lord, she had marked the man as her
“territory”!
“Thank you--” Taj snatched his hand
away, smearing the lipstick off on the side of his jeans.
“Thank you...Dove!”
Scurrying away hastily, he banged into his
brother.
“Come on, Taryll! We're burning up daylight!”
He called moving quickly, and once he hit the
main sidewalk, was sprinting away, braids flying back and off his
shoulders.
Taryll lingered, taking care to slowly remove
his hand from Lark's, so as not to crush her ego, as Taj had tried to
with Avery—and failed.
“You got glitter on me.” He snorted, his
hand sparkling and pinched her cheek, causing her to gasp I
amazement, before bolting off into the house.
His eyes drifted to Avery, hand on hip,
watching Taj still making it in the distance, biting her bottom lip
sultrily, then looked to me.
“The party starts at two on Saturday. And
thanks for the tidbit about the cough syrup. I appreciate it.”
He nodded, and ambled away more slowly than his
brother had.
Avery and I remained, watching him go.
Once Taryll was out of earshot , Avery made a
statement that rearranged my entire mind.
“I wish to God and Baby Jesus in the Manger
it had been Taj who got sick!” She grumbled, raking her fingers
through her hair dejectedly.
“I'd give my right arm and leg to be the one
to nurse that gorgeous hunk of Caramel Bliss back to health! Jesus
Christ!”
Avery bellyached some more, but I went deaf to
it.
I could only hear the gears in my head whirling
and my lips began to curl as an idea—an idea so bold, so audacious,
so brazen began to form—it could go one one two ways:
Else fail miserably, or succeed spectacularly!
And I prayed vehemently for the latter.
The
Following Afternoon
“...Rocko's Modern Life....Rocko's Modern
Life...That was a HOOT!...”
I don't know how long I stood behind the couch,
staring at the back of my kid sister's head, her hair parted down the
middle and in a pair of messy buns,but I knew it had to have been a
pretty decent chunk of time, because when I had first arrived in my
living room, Lark had been putting a clear base coat onto her bare
fingernails.
And now, however later it was, all of the nails
on her right had had been filled in with Serpent Teal polish,
courtesy of my bathroom, of course.
I had lain awake the greater part of the night,
formulating a scheme like nothing my young mind had ever hatched
before.
It was crazy, it was forward, it
was...something I felt deep in my soul needed to be done.
I was more logical and level-headed—Lark was
typically the impulsive one.
But the shoe was on the other foot and now even
if I wanted to stop, I couldn't; the wheels were already in motion...
“Hey...I'm gonna step out for a little
while...” I informed my sibling, as she put her hand to her
mouth blowing on the nails to quicken the drying process.
“You'll be alright for a couple of hours? I'm
making a grocery run--”
“Will you get me some more Dunkaroos and
Fruit Roll-Ups, please?”
She peeked over her shoulder at me innocently,
her makeup dark and grungy, mouth a deep brick shade. Mama would have
had a fit!
“You got it!” I patted her head,and
started for the door.
Once outside, I glanced at my black Audi a long
moment, and deciding against it, I struck out on foot, bouncing in
platform Sketchers sneakers.
I could walk right back; I was only going four
blocks down the street at the moment, anyway.
It was a beautiful day. Bright, cloudless, not
too hot.
In the middle of the road a pack of children
were playing street hockey, while a little girl sold cups of lemonade
from a makeshift stand for a quarter.
It really was an idyllic sort of day.
Hell, a few of the crumb-snatchers even waved
to me.
I think I waved back, my mind a million miles
away, on one particular house.
The rambling, three story, cream-colored French
colonial with the dark, contrasting shutters and trim.
The house where a novelty mailbox was made to
look like a tiny vintage Jaguar Coupe.
The house Avery, Lark and I mooned after three
different inhabitants of.
The Jackson House.
The house was filled to the brim with male
Jacksons and had since nineteen eighty-eight.
Like I said, I only had a passing acquaintance
with the family but from what I had gathered, mostly through rumor
and hearsay, was that the patriarch of the family, Tito, whom had
made his fortune with several Jaguar car dealerships, as evidenced by
what I recognized as his white sedan and TJ's midnight blue
convertible—the other two cars, Taj's red convertible, and Taryll's
green one with a yellow racing stripe, were gone, from the wide open
two car garage—moved his three sons to our gated community after a
divorce.
I'd never seen the Ex-Mrs. Jackson, nor even
heard mention of her name, but from what I had learned through the
grapevine, she was a beautiful woman, and that Taryll most closely
resembled her.
Halting at the end of the curving driveway
leading up to the house, I reflected about TJ.
He'd lived on my block since I was eight and he
was ten, but I hadn't noticed him until some three years later.
I was eleven and in the last strains of
membership to the Girl Scouts, was going door to door selling boxes
of those godforsaken cookies. I'd never forget it.
I rang the bell at the Jackson house, and TJ,
wearing his Intermediate Baseball League uniform, the Gotham City
Coyotes if I remember correctly, had answered the door. Tall, lean,
tan, TJ, smiling crookedly and who kindly bought all of my Thin
Mints.
I had been gone on the man ever since, some
eight years later.
Our meetings had been few and far between,
especially with him being two years older, but each time he'd been
polite to me, quiet and witty through our few exchanges.
He had never failed to enchant me as I watched
him from afar. His ball games—he played so many sports, baseball,
hockey, soccer and basketball—watched him from the sidelines of my
life.
Pining for him, wanting him, dreaming of him.
Hardly anyone one could call that the basis for
trying to kick start a relationship, but the few straws I had, I was
grasping at for dear life.
An overgrown crush that had been nurtured for
nearly a decade.
Slow-moving, but I was about to throw a lit
match on the kerosene and get this fire to roaring--
“...No! Are you listening to me? I need
you to get a few slabs of beef ribs, IN ADDITION, to the pork ones!
Are you even listening? Jermaine is Muslim, he can't eat pork, but he
loves inhaling ribs!Get beef for him, and his wife! Please tell me
you're writing this down Marlon!”
The spell as cast by the elusive TJ Jackson was
broken, the sound of a man's voice, very similar to that of Taj's,
but a few octaves deeper, reached my ears.
“There's gonna be tons of people. Everyday
one of them jokers of mine are inviting somebody ELSE to the party!
We're at damn near three hundred people right now. Gotta feed them
all! Now I need ground beef patties, the ribs, chickens, hot
links—the good spicy ones that make your nose, eyes and ass
run—yeah. And the ladies are making sides, potato salad, coleslaw,
and stuff like that. Naw...naw. Mother's not making the cakes! I'm on
my way to the bakery right now to see about the cakes...”
Hulking from the garage, a small towel in one
hand, a cell phone mashed to his ear with the other, was Tito
Jackson.
A heavyset, teddy-bear looking man he was, his
features had been mirrored by his eldest son Taj so well, they could
have passed for twins, though Mr. Jackson was of more a mocha shade
while Taj was...how had Avery phrased it?, Caramel Bliss.
Unlike his sons, who all seemed to buy their
clothing from the Giant Collection, Mr. Jackson's clothes fit his
frame, and he was casually dapper in a white oxford, pinstriped
slacks, topping the ensemble off with a black bowler. Dark glasses
hid his eyes.
“...no
they want two completely different cakes. Taryll plays Chess, so his
will look like a game board, and Taj wants something with little
green aliens. You know he's loony as a road lizard over Sci-Fi shit.
But they're my boys, so they get what they want on their
birthdays...”
As Mr. Jackson continued to chat on his phone,
wiping down his Jag with the towel, I squared my shoulders and
approached him, standing just behind the back of his luxury vehicle.
“...no,
no, no! You know Latoya can't cook. Only person I ever know to burn
boiling water! That's why I told her to do the Heirloom Tomato
platter. All she has to do is slice them up, chill them until they're
ready to be served and sprinkle salt and cracked black on them...”
Reaching the trunk of his car, I was finally
noticed, as Mr. Jackson jumped slightly startled, his scruffy brows
raising behind his frames.
I had tried my best to look as wholesome and
unassuming as possible in a plain white tank, and flared, patchwork
jeans. Slightly tomboy, slightly skater...my weak, whack
interpretation anyway.
“Hey,
Marlon...let me call you back. Go get that meat from the butcher. You
can run it by in the morning...yeah. See you then. Bye, Bro...”
The phone was flipped shut and slipped into his
pocket.
Smiling me, I noticed he and Taj just couldn't
seem to call me by the correct name.
“What can I do for you...Sparrow?”
“Dove, Sir.”
“Pardon me, Dove. I knew it was some
kind of bird. What's on your mind?”
The towel was tossed into the back of the car,
shades tilted to show sleepy, yet inquisitive dark eyes.
“Well, Sir...Taj and Taryll dropped by my
house yesterday and mentioned that TJ hadn't been doing so great
since they got back from South America. Is...is he doing any better
today?”
I put my hands behind me, so he wouldn't' catch
sight of them trembling.
“To be honest, not really. He's still
sleeping; I peeked at him right before I came out here. Boy's going
to lie there and waste away. He hasn't had a drop of food since he
got back...”
The bowler came off with Mr. Jackson scratching
at his hair, black and cropped into a low flattop.
At the mention that TJ wasn't eating much was
like God shining beams directly from Heaven onto me, as this played
into the plan I had slapped together all along,
“Mr. Jackson...” I began, patting at his
shoulder. “...does TJ like chicken?”
“HA!” TJ's father laughed so loudly,
it was my turn to be startled.
“Does he like...find me a Black man that
doesn't like some of that yard bird! I just ordered about two
dozen hens for the party on Saturday!”
“Do...do...” I could feel the bawdiness and
bravado leaving me and I had to spit out my question before my nerve
was lost entirely,
“Do you suppose it would be alright if I made
something for TJ? S...s...something good and hearty, to help him get
his strength back?That is, if it's alright with you, Sir.”
The shades dipped further, with Mr. Jackson
looking me over quite thoroughly,his mouth twisting with deep
thought.
The lips soon parted with a friendly grin, a
relief to me.
“I do supposed a young lady such as yourself
could probably fix something better than four men bumbling around in
the kitchen. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come back tomorrow and
cook up something then? You can use my kitchen. Here...”
A leather wallet was produced and opened, a wad
of green bills being pulled loose, and held out to me.
“Why...Mr. Jackson, I couldn't take your
money--”
Ignoring my pleas, he was shoving the bills
into my hand anyway.
“I insist. TJ's been home almost three days
and outside of the family seeing about him, you're the first person
to show some concern, coming to the house. You're already proving
you're a friend, wanting to cook something for him, and I refuse to
let you go in your own pocket to pay for it too. No, this is on me.
Glad to know my son has at least ONE upstanding friend.”
A hand patted my shoulder in return.
Was I breathing? What was air? Was this all a
dream?
“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a
man about some cakes—you have been invited?”
“Y-y-yes Sir...” I stammered staring down
at the cash then up at him. “Thank you.”
Opening the door to his car, Mr. Jackson
paused,
“I
think TJ will be the thankful one, Dove.”
With that, the car purred to life, and I
stepped aside, allowing him to back away, waving.
I couldn't believe it. Just ten minutes
earlier I was barely a blip on the radar, and now TJ's own father was
referring to me as a friend! A friend to TJ Jackson!
I waved back, tucking the cash into my pocket,
and glancing up at the house.
I wasn't sure, but I could have sworn I saw one
of the curtains on the second floor moving, as if someone had been
peering out at the driveway.
Early
the Next Morning
“...and
you're really going to be in the Jacksons' house? All day? Cooking?
Really, Sis?”
Resting on my knees in the center of the
kitchen, checking the bags of groceries I had procured, I groaned,
looking at the small bare feet, toenails also polished Serpent Teal,
I replied for what had to be thirtieth time since I had risen that
morning.
“Yes! Mr. Jackson said I could! How many
times do I have to repeat it, Lark?”
“Until I can believe it!” A small hand was
on my shoulder as I transferred the bags to a small red wagon to
easily move them down the street. “Wow! You're gonna be in Taryll's
house! I mean, he sleeps and eats and bathes his naked booty
there...you....you sure I can't come along?”
“Nope!” I admonished climbing to my feet
and hovering over her. “ And you're thirteen, you're not supposed
to be thinking about anybody's“naked booty”! Besides Taryll isn't
even home, I saw him and Taj go flying like bats out of hell this
morning in that lime on wheels your man drives.”
“Wish he was my man...he's just so buff!”
She was hanging onto my arm swooning. “He's such a babe, looks like
an Exotic Ken Doll--”
“Look here Barbie...” I dug in my
pocket coming up with a few bills. Mr. Jackson had given me so much,
I had a surplus. “Here's forty bucks. I want you to go down to the
Multiplex, take in a few movies, on me. Just stay outta trouble and
don't dye your damn hair a weird color!”
Leaning I pecked her cheek.
“You got it, Sis! Thanks!”
While Lark scurried to change her clothes, I
grabbed the handle of the wagon, and started for the door, my heart
leaping around my rib cage.
I was leaving my house a single woman.
Would I return as one half of a couple?
Ten minutes later, I was apprehensively picking
my way up the driveway towards the Jackson home, tugging the wagon.
Instead of going directly to the front door, I
was drawn to the navy, gleaming convertible, its top down, pristine
white leather interior sparkling.
From the rearview mirror a pair of purple and
white fuzzy dice—TJ's school colors as he attended NYU Business
School, learning to one day run his own dealership like his father.
The vanity plate was emblazoned with his full
name “Tito Joe”.
I couldn't help myself.
I allowed myself to imagine him driving me
around in that Jag, the wind whistling through my hair, his hand on
my thigh--
“Woo, my son is going to be one little
spoiled brat!”
A voice hooted, and my head snapped up, as Tito
Jackson was jogging towards me, beaming.
“All this is for TJ?” He questioned, taking
the wagon from me and pulling it, waving me along with his free
hand.
“Yes, Sir...I'm...I'm making Chicken and
Dumplings....”
“That sounds good!”
Following him past the garage, the buggy
jostling as Mr. Jackson led me through a door, down a small corridor,
that eventually opened into a large, kitchen, decorated in creams and
off-whites, echoing the French country look of the exterior of the
home.
“Make yourself at home...” Mr Jackson
encouraged, lifting the bags onto the huge island in the center of
the room. “Pots, pans, spices, whatever you need...”
He pointed to a cabinet beside the double-door
fridge. “There's a television there if you want to kick around in
here as you cook--”
“Where's TJ?”
I hadn't meant to be so blunt, but curiosity
was sticking it to me
“Upstairs...” Across the room, an archway
marked a back staircase. “Still sleeping. I swear, if the smell of
good food doesn't wake him, I'll go up and slap the curl out his
hair.”
Mr. Jackson nodded at me.”Now, if you'll
excuse me, I have to drive out and meet my brother at a liquor store.
Just ain't a party until someone is goofy--”
I was on his arm, aghast.
“You're leaving?”
Both the room and my head spun.
He...he was leaving me alone...with TJ?
I was going to be alone with TJ?
“Yeah...just don't steal my silver!”
I was winked at, and that quickly, Mr. Jackson was gone...
And I was alone with TJ.
The two of us, in that big old
house...together.
I lasted in the kitchen...perhaps six minutes,
just long enough for Mr. Jackson to drive away.
As soon as I was faced with taillights, I was
creeping up the back stair like a thief in the night.
Any shred of sanity I possessed had fled the
scene and I wouldn't be able to contain myself until I had set eyes
on TJ Jackson myself.
The upstairs hall was huge and rambling, marked
by many doors, most shut and at the far end, the balcony like opening
for the grand front stair.
In between the doors, photos of the Teez, from
infancy to adulthood lined the walls, almost like a shrine. Little
League photos, newspaper clippings about the winning of city and
state-wide tournaments, family portraits.
As I neared the center of the hall, I didn't
have to hunt hard for the door to TJ's bedroom.
A set of three doors, each engraved with their
first and middle names, in a perfect baseball, greeted me.
First was Tariano Adaryll—was that Taj's real
name?
I thanked God that Avery was having her roots
colored or she'd have likely ransacked his room...or hidden in the
closet to maul him.
Next was Taryll Adren, and I had to peek in,
just to tell Lark I had seen inside the room.
And where he dressed his “naked booty”.
It was neat and orderly, bright blue and white,
with sports trophies tying up a wall.
Uh-oh...on his nightstand was a framed portrait
of an attractive young woman, and from across the room, I could make
out the inscription,
“XOXO
Bethany!”
Taryll was off the market. Lark would die
another day.
In the meantime, I was breaking into a cool
sweat, the door marked Tito Joe, ajar.
Standing outside the room, I paused to
straighten, my purple muscle tee and black hip hugging jeans,
stumbling a bit in my sneakers.
Fluffing my hair, I laid a hand on the silver
ball-link choker around my neck, light dancing on the matching
bracelet.
Inhaling deeply, I moved my hand to the knob,
turning it.
In sharp contrast to Taryll's orderly room,
TJ's was Gunga Din as it seemed he'd gone on a direct course from
door to bed.
Bags and luggage were strewn about, some with
clothing and shoes falling out onto the hardwood floor.
An acoustic guitar laid on its side, its red
paint clashing with the somber green of the room.
In the center of the room, the bed, a rumpled
mess of plaid sheets and a comforter, contained an occupant.
Sprawled out atop the covers, TJ Jackson was
sound asleep, one leg dangling off the side of the bed.
His slim, toned body, was draped in a vibrant
turquoise Miami Dolphins tank top—Lord I had forgotten how
ripped that boy was despite being so slender—and matching
sweatpants.
His chest rose and fell rhythmically as I eased
beside the bed gazing down at him.
He was so remarkably, jarringly beautiful, my
breath was swept away..
He was the only one of his siblings who bore
their father's darker complexion, and a month in the Costa Rican sun
had turned him a shade of copper so deep and dewy, I wanted to drool.
His face...
Eyes shut with long lashes fanning his hollowed
cheeks beneath ,wide, prominent and sharply arched black brows.
Above the brows, his hair, a purposefully messy
explosion of lush coils, were tinged with shades of golden-brown,
auburn and chocolate, adding more depths of warmth to his dark sienna
coloring.
His nose, small and upturned, sculpted nostrils
flaring with each breath, small, plump mouth set.
A touch of a five o'clock shadow draped his
pointed chin, lacking a cleft,unlike his brothers, showing he really
hadn't moved for days! A beard was growing in!
“Oh TJ...”
Stepping closer, I noticed the bottle of cough
syrup, the brown liquid half gone.
At least he had been trying to take that vile
concoction.
As the child of a pair of doctors, I found my
hand on his forehead, feeling for a fever.
He was cool and a touch clammy...no fever.
That was a relief.
Even though he hadn't moved in about three
days, the way his father had told it, TJ appeared clean, his room
smelling sweetly of a cinnamony cologne, ever so faintly.
“Caliente!”
I leapt back, jerking my hand away, as in his
sleep, TJ shifted, mumbling in Spanish, brow wrinkling.
I squinted at him, though I was half Latin,
Spanish was not my first language and it took a moment for me to
decipher what he was saying.
“
... Está tan caliente ... ¿Por qué es tan caliente? .... Es
demasiado caliente! ... Es demasiado calor!”
The heat.
He was asking why it was so hot.
Over and over, TJ complained, in Spanish, about
it the heat, head rocking back and forth.
Why is so hot? Why is it so damn hot?
He had to have been dreaming about Costa Rica,
because, in the still house all was air conditioned, and pleasantly
cool..
“...Está
tan caliente...”
I didn't want to leave him.
I really didn't.
“...
¿Por qué es tan caliente? ....”
Laying there, troubled by whatever it was
causing him to cry out, he seemed so small, when seconds ago he had
been so muscular and standing I knew he was over six feet tall.
Eventually, he fell silent, his breathing
easier, face lax once more.
Backing away, I kept an eye on him until I was
out in the hallway.
Pressing my own forehead against the cool wood
of the door I sighed, the Chicken and Dumplings weren't going to cook
themselves, but I hoped desperately that TJ would be alright.
That he wasn't too, too sick...
And if he was, how would I care for him?
Three
Hours Later
“...that's
Sadro! No “Mister”, accent on the DO!...”
Mouthing the oft-repeated line of the
long-suffering, hack magician whom had become the centrifugal
character of many vignettes of the psuedo-horror program Are You
Afraid of the Dark?, I was busy shredding an entire chicken,
carefully removing the tender meat from the bones.
I had let the bird simmer so long in a pot
filled with aromatics such as onions, celery, carrots, bay leaves,
rosemary and thyme, it was more falling off the bone than
necessitating being physically stripped.
The whole of the kitchen was perfumed with the
scent of soup in the making, and while I continued shredding the
meat, the large copper pot, full of stock was boiling and reducing,
in anticipation of the reintroduction of the chicken pieces to it,
and the addition of the dumplings.
On the far end of the island, under a sheet of
cheesecloth, a pan of dough, quite heavy with butter and flecked
green with parsley, oregano and more thyme had been rising for some
time, as I had been taught by both my mother and grandmother, to
ensure a light, delectable dumpling.
Moving from the foul, I then turned my
attention to the blonde roux on the stove, a simple mixture of flour
and butter that I had browned just enough to rid the flour of its raw
flavor, but not enough to darken it, as I wanted the gravy/broth to
be a creamy color.
Carefully, I removed the lid from the stock pot
and pushed in the roux, making haste to stir it, watching it thicken
up before my eyes.
With the gravy gurgling, I then picked up the
plate of meat and dumped it in, stirring, and taking the time to
taste it, cracking more fresh black pepper into it.
Yes, it was warm, hearty, flavorful and robust.
Just the kind meal a man needed to stick to his
ribs and everywhere else.
I had wrestled with myself mentally, in an
effort to stay in the kitchen and leave TJ alone upstairs.
He did need his rest.
It seemed so surreal to be his house, where he
lived, and cooking a meal for him.
Frankly, I knew very little of TJ, outside of
the sports he had played when we were in high school and I had heard
talk he played baseball for a recreational team now.
Was I his type of girl? I knew he had dated
frequently in school, but I had kind of turned blinders on to it,
being emerald green whilst he was with a particular girl and heaving
that sigh of relief when they called it quits. I never actually,
really looked at the girls.
It was then the kitchen dimmed, as another
thought dawned on me:
What if TJ was taken...
No, I immediately dismissed such a haunting
thought.
If TJ had been involved, it was almost a
certainty his father would have mentioned it.
Not allowed me in.
And surely wouldn't have allowed me to spend
the last three hours cooking a meal from scratch if I was aiming for
a disastrous crash, heartbreak and possibly tears in the end.
No
one could be that cruel.
And wouldn't TJ have had a picture of his
girlfriend on display as Taryll had of the mysterious Bethany?
Grinding more pepper into the pot, I mulled it
over.
No, I hadn't seen anything that looked like a
photo of a girlfriend in his bedroom, unless someone wanted to count
the pinups he had of Britney Spears, Aaliyah and Lil Kim.
Steadily cracking, I wondered if TJ would
venture down to the kitchen of his own volition or if...
I'd have to go back up and wake him.
How would he react to me?
The furthest I had been in his house, prior to
this, was the front foyer when I had sold him the Thin Mints, so many
years ago.
Was I making the biggest the mistake of my
nineteen years of life--
No!
I shook my head violently against the idea.
So far, my time in the Jackson kitchen had been
pleasant, with no further disturbances from TJ and as far as I knew,
he was still slumbering peaceably above me.
Once I was satisfied with the flavor of the
gravy—perhaps a touch too much black pepper had gone in, but it was
too late now—I tossed in the dumplings, quick to stir them to avoid
them clumping together into one gigantic mass of dough.
A half hour later, I found myself easing up the
back stair, a wicker tray in my hands, carefully balancing an
oversized bowl of soup, and a tall glass of orange juice, making my
way back to TJ's room.
Bumping the door open with my hip, I was
instantly flabbergasted.
Nearly four hours earlier the room had looked
as though a cyclone hit it, clothes and luggage strewn about.
Now, the room was tidy, all of the clothing and
the four large Louis Vuitton rolling cases hidden from sight.
Nearing the bed, I saw that TJ, though still
asleep, had changed positions...and his appearance was altered.
Before he'd been lopsided in bed, now he laid
flat on his back, head propped on several plump pillows, piled
against the dark wood headboard, hands folded on his abdomen, slowly
rising and falling as he breathed, socked feet crossed at the ankles.
As was his room, TJ's appearance was much
neater.
He seemed a totally different man than the one
whom I had left upstairs languishing and lamenting in Spanish.
Gone were the Dolphins tank and
sweatpants, replaced by a baggy white tee, NYU emblazoned on
the front in purple lettering. He wore purple sweatpants, but instead
of being oversized and billowing, they fit his frame perfectly, and
my head ached as I noticed how they clung to and stretched over his
long, taut, legs, dense with muscles.
The perfect legs of a lifelong athlete.
My eyes traveled back up to his face, that
jarring, arresting, angular face with the high cheekbones.
I squinted in wonder.
His five o'clock shadow was missing...had...had
he shaved?
I could now make out the beauty mark on his
left cheek.
And his hair, though still very wild and all
over the place, did seem a bit more tamed.
The scent of that spicy, cinnamon-based
fragrance was more plain and noticeable.
Had he cleaned up...for me?
I was flattering myself...the man had been
lights out for three days, it was only natural he'd clean up. He
wasn't a slob.
Turning from him, I started to set the tray on
his nightstand.
“Are you an Angel?”
A voice, soft, melodic and a trifle sleepy
questioned from behind me.
I paused a long moment, mostly to gather myself
and not drop the tray, my hands began trembling so hard as I placed
it on the stand.
“I'm not an Angel--” I faced him, hands
clasped in front of me shyly as recognition was realized on TJ's
face, hose heavy, arched brows rose in pure surprise, his eyes,
golden-brown growing in his face.
“Dove?” He questioned, brows raising across
his forehead even higher,
“Dove Saldana, is that you?”
“You...you...” My heart was picking up pace
and doing the mambo in my bosom, as he pulled himself into a seated
position, staring at me.
“You
know my name?”
“Well, duh...of course I know your name,
girl.” He grinned up at me, his teeth so pretty and pearly, eyes
crinkling at the corners so beautifully.
“You live right up the street from me. We
went to the same prep school...I think you sold me some Girl Scout
cookies once.”
My mouth fell to the floor as TJ stretched his
arms over his head, yawning softly,
He not only knew my name, but...he remembered
buying the damn Thin Mints from me!
I was reeling over the simple fact he knew who
I was. Knew my name.
How, God, how?
“What's in the bowl? It smells mighty good!”
He inquired, eyes drifting from me to the steaming platter.
“It's...it's Chicken and Dumplings...” I
heard myself declare, my voice cracking. “I made it
...for...ahem... for you.”
“For me?” Incredulity took over his
features, with him swinging his feet over the egdge of the bed,
sitting up fully, and pulling the bowl into his lap.
“You cooked...for me Dove?”
I could only nod, having caught sight of the
admiration in his eyes.
He...he
was admiring me!
I watched as heaping spoonful went into his
mouth, eyes beginning to dance rapturously.
“Hey!” He declared, several more
spoons being devoured in rapid succession.
“It tastes even better than it smells! You're
a great cook Dove, thank you!This is delicious!”
“It was no problem...” I whispered, feeling
mushy all over. He really was inhaling that soup.
Spooning a dumpling into his mouth and smacking
on it, he questioned idly.
“What day is it anyway?”
“Tuesday, August third--”
TJ hacked suddenly, and the half chewed
dumpling flew from his mouth across the room, splatting in the
distance.
“Tuesday? It's Tuesday?” He coughed
into his fist. “You mean to tell me I've been sleeping for three
days straight?”
“Well...you were sick. You father and
brothers said you were sick--”
I reasoned, stopping mid-sentence as TJ leapt
to his feet, looming a good six inches over me,chest heaving.
He was so statuesque.
“I was NOT sick!”
TJ snapped, his hands coming up and grabbing at his curls in
disbelief. “I told those damn fools I was tired! Not Pops—my
brothers! Hell, I had every right to be tired! I mean we were in the
wilderness. In little canvas tents. A tree was the bathroom for a
month for eighteen guys and one chick--Bethany! We bathed in a river.
Mosquitoes ate us alive. And it was a hundred and ten in the
shade...”
No wonder he was moaning about the heat!
The curly head shook with TJ chewing on his
bottom lip, continuing,
“We
worked from sunup to sundown, but I didn't mind because I knew we
were building a school for children who had never even held a book,
much less could read! It was hard work, very hard, but I knew what I
signed up for. We all did. I mean it wasn't like I went on vacation
to Cancun, you know...it made me appreciate what I have back home. I
mean, eventually I was able to get on a plane and come home to a
house and my own bed and air conditioning and indoor plumbing.”
Arms folded across his chest and a foot tapped
a moment against the hardwood floor, mouth poked out.
“I was just tired. I mean I mainline Red
Bulls when I'm at home—they didn't have them where I was at. Didn't
even have running water! And then the hours they had us going, it was
just a funky time. I needed rest, but Jesus, I didn't know they'd let
me sleep for three whole damn days!”
The hateful glaze that had been in his eyes
while he vented dissipated as he focused back on me,
“I'm...I'm sorry, Dove. I didn't mean to yell
at you. You haven't done anything. But when a guy loses three days of
his life...”
His head lowered in remorse.
“It's okay, really. I'm just glad you're
alright.” I assured him, as he brushed past me, crossing the room
to the long window alongside his entertainment unit.
“Yeah...” He murmured dourly,
peeking out the curtain, at the neighborhood below.
With his back turned, I found my attention on
his backside, hugged and outlined so perfectly by his sweats, a high,
proud globe protruding above his legs.
Glancing at the nearly empty bowl, I offered,
“Do you want seconds? There's plenty in the
kitchen... I bet you're famished after three days--”
“Worse...” TJ shook his head, curls
bouncing. “We didn't eat so much in South America...when we landed
at LaGuardia, I made Pops stop at Nathan's. I went kind of crazy. Got
four Chili Cheese Dogs, a mess of fries and a big lemonade. All of
us were eating like we were on our way to the electric chairs! All we
had in Costa Rica was a bunch of fish,the natives caught everyday and
we don't really like seafood. We had some fruit too, but it was slim
pickings! Everybody lost weight...”
That poor man. My heart truly bled for him.
He'd spent the month not only suffering from the heat, but he was
undernourished too?
(No wonder his brothers had been swimming in
their clothes, not as a fashion statement; but they'd lost weight!)
Picking up the bowl, I informed him,
“I'll get you some more soup...”
I trailed off as TJ sprinted back across the
room to me, eyes large in his slender face,
“Why?”
He demanded, eyes searching my face.
“Why?” I echoed, misunderstanding. “Why,
what, TJ?”
“Why...why are you here, Dove? Why did you
cook for me? I can tell that soup is scratch-made! Why...why would
you spend your entire day in here hanging over a stove for me?”
My head drooped, and I twirled my blonde lock
once more.
“I...I...I...” I whimpered, feeling his
eyes boring into me.
“I
like you TJ!”
I spat the words at him, head lowering further.
“I've
always liked you! For years and years! Since we were kids. I just...I
never had the nerve to say anything. I mean, how could I? You were
two years ahead of me, Big Man on Camp--”
His arms were around me.
He was hugging me...TJ Jackson was hugging me!
He was so strong, so warm, smelled so much like
a cinnamon stick.
“Thank you, Dove...” His cheek was
pressing mine. “Thank you for...for caring so much...”
Leaning back, he looked me over a joker-like
smile curling his lips.
“I...I was so lonely while I was gone.
Taryll, he went in like a vulture on the only girl in our work
group...and Taj...Taj's girlfriend went on vacation to Europe, but
she was writing and sending him French and Swiss chocolates the whole
time...”
My ears perked up.
Taj had a girlfriend? This would not go over
well with Avery Tran!
No wonder Taj kept dodging her like she was the
plague.
I was squeezed again.
“Everyone had somebody...except me. With the
bugs eating me I kept wishing at night I had someone...and I do—I
have you, Dove!”
My vision was going spotty.
Had I...had I heard right?
TJ was claiming me?
As...as his girlfriend?
“You...you mean...” I pulled away, chest
aching. “You want me...?”
Coyly his bottom lip was bitten and he nodded.
“Yes...I
have for years too...”
I was reeling and had to sit down, TJ resting
on his knees at my side, clutching my hands.
“I've liked you since I bought those cookies.
To be honest, I don't even like Thin Mints. I gave them to Pops....”
He...he had liked me since I had liked him? All
those years? All those long, painful, wasted years.
“Why...why didn't you say anything?” I
questioned, his lips bumping over the tops of my hands.
All the years we could have been together. Been
an item. Hell, we could have been getting married!
“I...I was shy...” TJ admitted sitting back
on his heels smiling warmly up at me. “You started to say I was the
Big Man on Campus. You weren't doing too shabbily yourself. On the
school newspaper, in all kinds of academic clubs. I kept up with what
you were doing, even after I went to college. You were so close, a
walk down the street and I never could get the courage to walk down
to talk to you. In school, I couldn't make myself walk over to you.
You're so smart and then you're so beautiful too...”
I was gobsmacked.
TJ not only liked my appearance but that I was
intelligent too?
And he'd been intimidated by me? On what
planet?
“You think I'm beautiful?” I
whispered and the head bobbed, teeth flashing as TJ grinned at me.
“From my window, I could see you all the
time. I'd watch you. Walking around with your sister and that
red-haired girl...I thought about you so much. Maybe that's why it
didn't work out with my other girlfriends. I was preoccupied with
you, Dove.”
TJ rose up onto the bed beside me.
“I thought about you while I was in Costa
Rica too...I just couldn't stop...”
His hands were up, tucking my hair behind my
ears.
His face was hovering near mine, eyes
penetrating mine desperately,
“I
don't want to stop, Dove. Do you want me to stop?”
“No...”
The word barely passed my lips before TJ's
collided with mine.
His mouth was so intensely hot, steamy and
succulent, the savory flavors of the soup clinging to his lips.
Weakened as he drew my soul from me in that one
electric moment, I sagged in his arms.
“Are...are you sure?” He cautioned a
second time, starting to recline with me still wrapped against him.
He was being so careful, so caring, so
concerned for my welfare first and foremost.
I almost didn't hear him over my heart
thundering in my chest.
Was this really happening? Was this really,
truly happening?
Gently, I was placed against the pillows, the
very same pillows TJ had been resting on, a short while earlier.
Oh, I was covered in goosebumps all over. Could
barely breathe, and my vision was coming and going.
TJ may not have been my first lover...but I
knew he'd be the one I'd remember for all eternity.
“Wait...wait right there...” He flagged at
me, slipping from the bed and taking the time to peck my mouth.
Swiftly, he cross the room, locking the door,
and flicking out the overhead light, the late afternoon sun washing
everything in an amber glow.
He had asked if I were an angel. He was shy of
a pair of wings himself.
Hovering alongside the bed, TJ put a hand out
cupping my cheek.
“You don't know...how long I've dreamt of
this, Dove...being with you...”
In short order, his clothing was all but gone,
save for a pair of white briefs, trimmed in red piping.
My heart was in my throat as I took in so much
of his soft tanned flesh at once.
The broad shoulders, the proud, defined pecs,
the six pack abs, the muscular, defined arms and legs.
His hands were suddenly on me.
Pulling my clothing away...delicately, but with
purpose at the same time.
My tank and jeans were gone, added to the pile
on the floor with his own, and I lay, looking aup at him with what
had to be a deer-in-the-headlights-of-an-eighteen-wheeler expression
as I ad been reduced down to a little nothing peach brassiere and
matching panties.
“Oh my God...oh girl...” He purred,
nestling himself alongside me on top of the covers.
“I...I
didn't think you looked like this. Even better than I ever...”
His eyes snapped shut and I felt myself
smiling, looking on as a hand went down, grasping after his groin, so
scarcely concealed by the white cotton, a swelling beginning and
growing...
Right there, between us.
Unable to control myself, I teased,
“Are
you hard?”
“Girl, yes...” His nose bumped mien
as his mouth took mien again, savagely kneading his lips against
mine, our arms looping each other.
My hands were in his curls, his fingernails
grazing my scalp as he held onto my head.
His tongue, sharp,wet, and rough, slashed
against mine, and I found myself sucking on it.
God, I was sucking on the man's tongue!
His hands...his hands were everywhere.
With one snap, he'd undone the band on my
brassiere and it was off, draped over his headboard,
“TJ....TJ....Oh...”
I shut my eyes, as his face disappeared between
my breasts, lips pecking over my warmed, goosebump covered flesh.
“You like that don't you?” He murmured, a
kiss being left on my shoulder.
“Si, Papi...” I groaned, feeling the
full weight of his body as he laid on me, hs face over mine.
“You can speak Spanish?” He was amused, so
devilishly good-looking, lips moving around my face.
“Yes...some...” I confirmed, the tiny bit
of fabric that passed as my underwear being eased off.
“I
like that...”
His mouth smothered mine, with him shifting and
getting situated over me.
He never did take his shorts off completely, I
don't think he wanted to move to be away from me that long.
He merely pushed the red and white fabric
aside.
I...didn't see it. Didn't see his manhood.
But I felt it.
“Ah!”
I gasped, as deliberately he was sliding into
me, touching me in the most intimate way possible.
He was so large, so much larger than anyone I
could recall being with.
How did he fit? Why wasn't I being torn to
shreds...
Was it I all the way in--
My eyes had been closed in ecstasy, but they
snapped open, my vision obscured by his brown curls falling in my
face.
His scent enveloping me.
He wasn't through, he...he was still
pushing himself into me!
“TJ!”
I hissed into his ear, my lips mashing along
his jawline, trying to put my hands up on his strong shoulders.
Instead, my wrists were in his hands.
Eventually, the fingers on both our hands were
intertwined, with TJ pressing them back against the mattress.
“Girl...Dove...oh....oh...you
feel...you feel...aw, damn...”
TJ was unable to formulate a sentence, and I
buried my face into his shoulder as he began to rock his hips, slowly
at first, the mattress squeaking lightly beneath us.
Was this happening?
Was this real?
Was I really...being banged by TJ Jackson?
(Author's
Note: I snorted so hard I triggered an asthma attack!)
I had to be. I couldn't possibly be imagining
this.
This couldn't be a vivid hallucination.
“Yes...yes.
Dove, yes. Oh my God! Yes! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ah! Ugh!”
TJ was in my ear, huffing, the flapping of his
hips becoming stronger, more poignant.
He was starting to perspire.
His body became slick, started to glisten.
The chocolate was melting.
Suddenly, he was off me, rearing back, his
hands circling my plump hips.
Steadying himself.
His lips curled around his teeth in a sneer, as
he tried to catch his wind, his hair tousled over his head, His eyes
narrow slits as he stared down at me.
His gaze remained on me, so solidly, for so
long, out of sheer trepidation, I grabbed onto the only things
available to me, my own boobs, my breathing slowing.
Anticipation.
I was anticipating his next move.
Any move at all.
“Please...please TJ...” I begged, my
hand coming up and petting after his cheek, letting it slide down
onto his chest, rubbing after one of his nipples.
He continued to stare at me, to the point I
began to feel uneasy.
“What is it? What's wrong?” I whispered,
hunting in his face for any grain of an answer.
His lips pressed together...
And when they parted, I believe I died beneath
him for a moment or two.
“I...I love you, Dove. I love you...”
He confessed, eyes shutting, thick brows furrowing.
“I was looking at you...I was making a
memory. Trying to fix it in my brain never to forget this moment, how
you look, how you taste, your perfume, everything about you. I want
to remember everything. Your face, your curves, the sounds you're
making. Everything Baby...”
“I love you, too...” I heard the
words leave me, and there was a swelling in my bosom.
A deep, rich, appreciative feeling.
Yes, I did love him.
I had loved him all this time.
A wild, heartfelt smile took TJ's face and he
fell forward, large hands cupping my face, his eyes trained on my
face.
Watching.
He was watching me.
Registering my reactions to him.
To what he was doing to me.
What we were doing.
His hips!
Oh how that man could throw his hips!
Christ, how could one person have so much
control?
What in the hell was he doing?
“TJ!”
I cried as without any provocation, TJ hugged
me tightly and rolled, so that our positions were reversed, him flat
on his back with me now on top.
His eyes sparkled so wonderfully at her as he
ordered, his own voice weak and heated,
“Ride me, Baby.”
I don't know how I mustered the strength.
I don't know where it came from, but I found my
hands on his shoulders, moist and slick with sweat, my nails digging
down into his flesh as I began to roll my hips.
Forcing myself not up and down on TJ in the
traditional sense, but with my groin resting flush to his, I was
going in a circular motion, leaving the entire length of him inside
my little triangle.
All for his pleasure.
“Yeah!
Yeah! Dove! Yeah! Work me! That's how I like it! Holy Shit! Go girl!”
TJ, eyes closed, nose crinkling, lips curled
happily, curls swaying, with some sticking to his dampened forehead.
His hands had been on my hips, but found their
way up onto my bosom, playfully mashing and toying with my globes.
Tossing my hair as I ground on him harder, I
leaned forward, pressing my lips to his, forcing my tongue into his
mouth.
“DOVE!”
He shouted my name down my throat, eyes flying
open in lusty surprise.
It was strange.
I didn't usually let control be handed over to
myself in situations such as these, but with TJ it was different.
For the first time in my life, I felt confident
in my own skin.
Just knowing he looked at me and wanted to be
with me...
Had that been what I had been seeking all these
years?
The right person?
Was...was I finally “complete”?
“DOVE!”
Yanking his mouth from mine, TJ shouted my name
a second time.
“Come
here Baby, come here!”
Hands crushed my shoulders and I was pulled
down onto him.
“I...I can't let you do all the work...”
He whimpered, embracing me, one hand on the back of my neck, the
other wrapping my waist.
“Ah!
Ah! Ah! AH! AH! AH! AH! AH!”
I screamed as his thrusts topped out at their
most powerful, a blinding blow with each flick of his hips, each
plunge sharper than the last.
“TJ!
Ow! TJ! Ah! Ah! Stop! Stop! Oh no!”
I wailed, as he was hitting my deepest depths
unlocking emotions and sensations I never realized existed.
“TJ,
please... No! NO! NO! NO!”
In desperation as I was being carried along too
fast for comfort, I tried to pull away, throw myself, even roll off
of him.
But TJ's hold on me was ironclad.
Once more he was staring at me.
His eyes piercing mine.
He....he wanted to see it.
He wanted to witness it.
He wanted to watch me climax.
“You're gonna come aren't you?” He
inquired, through grit teeth, his nose squishing harder.
“Ah!
Ah! Yes! Yes! LET ME GO! TJ PLEASE!”
I winced as he slapped my backside, and
giggled.
“I
can't stop...I'm gonna come too--”
“TJ!--”
His mouth eclipsed mine and with one, divine
thrust, our bodies met, and simultaneously, the two of us succumbed.
Between us was a warm, wet, tingling sensation.
The melding of two as one.
“Oh...aha...ha-ha...oh...” TJ cackled,
pulling his lips from mine, pecking them quickly.
“That...that was...that was beyond...”
His hands were in my hair, pushing it back to
look on my face.
“Was is it good to you, Baby?”
Feeling warming all over, my heart pounding, I
could only manage a nod, as I laid my head against his wet chest,
listening as his own heart jumped against my ear, TJ still stroking
after my hair.
“Mmm-hmm...” I hummed and smooched
at his jaw and throat, tasting so sweetly salty.
“So...um...we're together now, right?” TJ
wondered, squeezing me, making no rush to disconnect us, and truly I
could have stayed in that position until the end of time.
“Yes...” I glanced up at his
swarthy, smiling face. “...if you do.”
“You
know I do, Baby...”
Together.
We were together.
And it was the most fantastic feeling in the
world.
Four
Days Later
“...are
you sure I look alright? My dress isn't too short? My hair and makeup
are alright?”
I questioned, giving myself a final once over
in the huge mirror taking up most of the wall in the downstairs
bathroom of the Jackson home.
“You look perfect...in every way...” TJ, at
home in oversized plaid pajama bottoms and tight fitting red tee,
contrasted my second-skin dotted blue spaghetti strap dress worn over
an a slight baggy white tee.
“Well, can I help being nervous, your entire
family is out in the backyard!” I giggled, taking hold of the hand
offered me.
“And they're all going to love you as much as
I do, or I'm just gonna have to kick some ass today!” TJ grinned at
me and we started out of the bathroom.
I stopped short.
Perched on the couch, in the living room fists
beneath her chin, pouting, was Lark.
Uh-oh, someone had discovered that Taryll was
not solo but one half of a duo.
I started for her, when I noticed a young boy,
close to my sister's age, standing a few feet away, looking on
anxiously.
I looked to TJ questioningly, and he whispered
to the unasked inquiry,
“That's
my cousin, Austin, he's been staring at your sister since you got
here...”
Smiling, as I was led through the rest of the
house, I didn't think it would take a full eight years for Austin and
Lark to spark up, if it were meant to be.
“...and
I want you to meet my Grandma and Grandpa and aunts and uncles...”
TJ was chattering on joyously as a magpie as we
exited out into the expanse, rolling backyard, decorated with
colorful streamers and banners proclaiming happy birthday to both Taj
and Taryll.
On the far end of the lawn a tremendous buffet
had been erected, over flowing with eelectible treats.
The centerpiece was, instead of the two cakes
I'd heard their father talking of getting.
Instead, the idea of aliens and chess had come
together in one huge dessert.
On top of huge, crashed space ship, a pair of
little green aliens were playing chess, all made from fondant.
The yard was filled with chattering, happy
adults, some drinking, most eating, all dancing to the light R-n-B
music playing. Packs of children roved about, screeching and
laughing.
I first spotted Taryll, drink in hand, smiling,
with his arm around the same woman who's photo I had seen in his
room—Bethany.
By the time I spotted Taj, it was much too
late.
Trouble was on its way.
Taj stood near the impressive cake, camera in
his hands, shooting photographs of it before it was too be cut, and
the overflowing display of presents on a table behind it.
And off to the side of Taj, a petite, curly
haired woman wasn't directly in his way, but close enough to show she
belonged to him, was nibbling from a small plate of deviled eggs.
Further away, beating a direct path towards
Taj, halfway giggling out of a leopard print tube dress, was my
flame-haired friend, Avery.
TJ and I were too far away to intervene, it was
too late.
Although I didn't hear what Avery said, no one
could miss the sound her smacking Taj on the ass, In thin pajama
pants like TJ, which echoed even over all of the general noise and
revelry.
WHACK!
Taj Jackson, wearing his mortification like the
braids on his head, spun around, face flooding red as Avery's hair,
and raised a hand to start sacking her out, while Avery put her hands
on her hips saucily.
“I
KEEP ASKING YOU, PLEASE DON'T TOUCH ME!”
Taj bellowed, drawing stares and causing those
closest to him to stop dancing.
Avery was unphased—when was she ever, when
trying to catch a man—and adding insult to injury, pinched at Taj's
cheek.
“GIRL--”
It was the last move she made.
If only she'd seen the curly-haired girl
throwing her paper plate aside and taking her hoop earrings off!
“Avery—Ooooh!” I shouted and
immediately cringed as a tiny fist, bearing a mood ring, connected
with the side of her head and laid her on the lawn instantly.
“Holy
Shit!”
“Did
you see that?”
“Oh
my God!”
“FIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”
“Taryll,
shut the hell up!”
“Sorry
Pops!”
Instantly, Taj dropped hs camera and was trying
to restrain the woman as she tried to go after an unmoving Avery.
“Let
me at her! Who is that bitch? Tariano! Who is she? Why did she slap
your ass! TAJ!”
“Alicia!
She's nobody! Baby! Stop! Everyone's looking! Alicia!”
Taj wrestled with her several moments before he
bodily picked her up, kicking and wriggling and put her over his
shoulder, stepping over Avery.
“Gonna
hit my man on the ass like she knows him! Taj put me down! Tariano! I
don't care if it is your birthday! God damn it!”
The pair disappeared around the side of the
house.
Tito Jackson, a few feet away at the grill,
flipping burgers, trying to run damage control,
“It's
not a party until someone gets knocked out!”
As Avery came to, dazed and swearing, TJ draped
an arm around my shoulders.
“Promise me you won't club a tramp if she
tries to holler at me. I can't have my beautiful baby scrapping.”
He half-laughed and poking the tip of his nose, I vowed,
“I won't as long as they don't put their
hands all over you!”
I was winked at, and my cheek kissed before TJ
called out to a man being dragged across the lawn by two small
children,
“Uncle Mike! Hold on, I want you to meet
my girlfriend!”
As Avery, embarrassed made a speedy exit,
probably to nurse the shiner she was sure to wake up to The following
day, I was blissfully, inescapably happy.
I had nursed a man back to health and the man
was finally mine.
