Augusta Fern's Blog
June 16, 2015
Why are memories so painful?
Waning Sun begins to set up and I suppose we unfortunately missed Den of Sin, since Waning Sun is the headliner tonight. Lily Bullet arrives and is dressed in her sexy gothic best; black and red corset that has her breasts defying gravity. She’s paired the corset with a black pleated skirt, fishnet stockings and black stilettos that aren’t much different from the pair Estella gave me.
Lily’s jet black hair is completely bone straight, her lips are as red as her corset and so are her fingernails. Her eyes are rimmed with black coal making their hazel hue big and bright. She is angrily approached by a tall dark haired man who is quickly ushered out, Lily doesn’t let it phase her; going about her sound check duties. Bron positions himself behind Lily on a tall barstool, his guitar resting against his chest as she cloaks herself in front of the microphone. Her face is barely visible giving her aura a haunting element. Sound check ends, Waning Sun eases into “An Open Gate” and then “Land of Slow Sleep”. I’m in an acoustic trance as I dance to Lily Bullet’s soft and sweet, almost sad, melodic voice. Finally they play, “Chosen Paths”, I take a deep breath before closing my eyes to sway to the sound. I’ve often felt Waning Sun’s music and Lily’s lyrics embody all my feeling and emotions; the absolute epitome of my longing for Cian.
I’m pulled out of it by his scent, Cian and I look around the club for any sign of him. In a distant corner I see a tall dark haired man hunched over a petite blonde girl, it looks as though he’s cloaking her from the crowd to feed from her. Another unexplained urge befalls be and I can’t stop my feet from trudging toward the dark corner. It takes a minute as passing through a club full of dancing fools is not as easy as it might appear. I’m bumped a couple times and I’m pretty sure someone purposely grabbed my ass. I don’t turn around because that could be an issue in itself and push me back to either where I was or a whole other part of the club.
It happens in slow motion it seems; I blink and the strobe light has moved the person in front of me to the left of me and blinking bodies flash before my eyes. I finally close in on the figures huddled in the corner and lightly place my hand on the man’s back. This startles him and when he slowly turns to face me, I instantly realize my mistake.
I attempt to walk away but he grabs my arm, “Yes, you may cut in.” He holds my arm up to view the rest of me, this infuriates the woman he’s been molesting. She glares at me before huffing and puffing away. I make an, “I’m sorry, my mistake” face but she’s not buying it.
I turn back to the “gentleman” that has a hold of my arm and attempt to apologize, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
He releases me and says, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” His breath reeks of vodka and I have to turn away when he speaks. He is the same height and shape as Cian, but that is all. His black hair is an optical illusion under the changing lights, and I see it is dark brown. His bloodshot eyes are brown and his skin is wrecked with acne scars. What the hell is this bond doing to me, I must be completely insane, walking up to complete strangers and interrupting trashy PDA in a club. What the fuck is wrong with me.
I’m pulled from chastising myself by JB, “Everything okay over here Babet?” He’s eyeing “Drunky” warily.
“It’s my fault JB; I thought he was someone else. It’s my mistake.” I’m nodding my head and looking back and forth from both men.
Drunky staggers and attempts to gather his swagger, “I told her I’d be whoever she wanted me to be.”
JB rolls his eyes before looking at me, “Okay.” He then looks to “Drunky”, “Okay, we’re going back to our table; take care man.”
“I’m sorry, again, my fault.” I say to “Drunky” who winks at me. I look up at JB, “Sorry man, I really thought he was someone else.”
“No worries Babet, we saw him grab you and Chloe got worried.” We make it back to the table in one piece but Chloe hugs me so tight I feel like I’m about to split in two.
“Hey!” She says. “I’m drunk.”
“I know, but you’re cute about it.” I reassure her, but she doesn’t need it, she’s having a grand time tonight.
“Thanks!” She smiles big and bright.
I lean into her ear as we listen to the end of Waning Sun’s set, “I think I’m going to take off; okay?”
“Aw, noooooo!” She cries and makes a pouted lip face.
“Be careful, someone will come along and put a drink down on that.”
She pokes it out further and swiftly shifting her eyes for the possibility of a floating drink needing a resting place. She smiles and hugs me again, “Thanks for coming out, I hope you had fun?”
“You know I did.” I look up to JB, “Take care of her, you hear?” He salutes me like only dry humored JB can, “And thanks for rescuing me from…that.” He nods like it’s no big deal.
I don’t feel inebriated and I’m still in my heels so I feel confident about driving home, but the walk to my car is not a fashion show. I steady myself against the railing of the ramp down from Ziggy’s and remove the shoes, I breath out a sigh of relief once my feet are free. I see my car and pull out the keyless entry mechanism from my bra. It’s hard to carry keys when you have no pockets, a woman’s bra can be a mini purse; which is also where I keep my cash when I go out. As I walk the music from Ziggy’s slowly fades but I feel a presence or at least eyes watching me.
I’m almost to my car when I hear the slurred speech of a man say, “I meant what I said…in there.”
I turn to see “Drunky” has also left Ziggy’s and it looks as though it wasn’t his choice to do so. His lip is bleeding and his black shirt is torn at the neck, his jeans and boots are sandy and there is still a little in his hair. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel bad for him, “Are you all right…sir?” I make the question a formality so not to provoke anything.
“Sir.” He stops and scoffs before advancing again causing me to backup against my car. The shoes in my hand hit the door.
He’s literally two feet from me when I say, “Look, I’m sorry I mistook you for someone else but I’m going home now. I hope you have a nice evening.” My tone is stern but I can hear the trepidation behind it.
“Can I go with you?” He’s drunkenly looking at my car and me and whatever else his eyes try to focus on.
I laugh a little, “Um, no; I’m sorry.” And as if a switch had been flipped, he was no longer drunk, no longer staggering and takes a giant step forward, pinning me to my car with his body and of course I drop my shoes. Fuck!
He’s pressing against me so hard it hurts, I wince from the pain, he likes this; chuckling at my struggle before I hear the most frightening tone, “That little beating your friend gave me sobered me up; you should thank him for what I’m about to do to you.” He leans in further and I actually cry out this time.
“Please!” My hands are clinched so tight my nails are digging into the flesh of my palm and at that moment I realize, my nails. I unclench my fists, draw my hands up and smile at him as if I’m giving in, which throws him off a little. I put my hands on either side of his face and with all my might dig my nails into his flesh. He staggers back to grip his face but he’s angry and fast, he attempts to lunge at me but he doesn’t get the opportunity, something loud and guttural; something I’ve heard before spooks him. He looks beyond me and his face turns a shade of white, reserved for the dead.
I turn to see what he sees, but all I see when I do is the darkness beyond the parking lot. When I spin around to watch my back for “Drunky”, he’s staggered half way back to Ziggy’s padding his face with his fingers. Serves him right but what the hell scared him away, it wasn’t me; he was coming back for me. Again, that sound. I heard that sound over and over in the depths of Morte’ cradling Griffin’s bloody body in my lap, not from him but the imprisoned vampires. I open my car door, gather my shoes, get in and lock it. I have to drive around the circle on my way out, passing the club again and I don’t see “Drunky”. With my windows down the music is still permeating the air but of course no sign of anything that would have made that sound. On the way back to Watersedge I can’t help but think of Griffin.
“Get in there!” The handsome Spanish man who abducted me from Audubon throws me into a dank musty cell and slams the cage closed. He smirks at me and begins to laugh heartily on his way out of the corridor. I slowly shuffle around the dirt floor because it so dark I can’t see my own feet which are bare. That asshole made my lie to my children, threw a black bag over my head and shoved me out the door without shoes. I don’t know where I am or what the hell is going on, my thoughts are spinning out of control on the verge of a panic attack when my toes hit something soft like fabric. I jump back because whatever is in here with me is definitely alive, barely but alive none the less.
My voice is a panicked whisper, “I’m sorry.” I back myself against the cell’s bars.
I hear a shifting and movement before a familiar voice says, “Babe?” The sound is barely audible but I know who it is, the way he says my name.
“Grif?!” I lift my body from its resting place and crouch to crawl over to where he is, “Griffin…I thought, oh Grif!” I’m pawing his body for his head and once I find it I gather his heavy frame into my lap, “What happened? Have you been here the whole time?”
He coughs before taking slow shallow breaths, he winces when I shift my body to cradle him more comfortably for both of us, “I don’t know, I remember getting us coffee…” I roll my eyes at my demands for coffee the night he went missing, I could have made a pot at home but no, I had to have Café DuMonde. I take a deep musty breath as he continues, “I was walking back through the archway when some “thing” grabbed me, and bit me. It left me for dead.” Griffin coughs and winces again.
“How did you get here?!” I ask in a whisper
“I don’t know I couldn’t focus on anything. I could only hear what they were saying.”
“What were they saying?” I begin to stroke his thick brown hair. Oh how I wish I could see his blue eyes, Henri’s eyes. I start to tear up thinking about all this and why, why does anyone want me? Why am I so fucking special?
“They kept laughing and joking about how I would see you again, very soon…” he trails off and I feel his body tense atop mine but he laughs and it’s a strange sound at this moment, “…They were right, here you are.” He laughs again causing him to cough and wince.
“Shh, don’t talk. It’s okay.” My voice cracks and I feel Griffin’s weak hand on my thigh, I place my free hand on top of his, “We’re going to be okay.” I say but not even I am convinced by the words.
We sit in silence for a while before Griffin remembers, “Scarlet? Henri?”
“Are safe, they are safe.” I feel as though I’m convincing both of us of that fact.
“Don’t let them get the kids Babe, you can’t.” Griffin is delirious and I detect his heartbeat is slowing.
Instead of bursting into tears I have to be strong for Griffin, I take a deep breath, again the mustiness burns my nose, “I won’t Grif. I promise.” I lean down and brush my lips across his sticky iron smelling forehead, “I love you.”
“Always, my love.” Those were the last words Griffin said to me before Keane accompanied by another tall blonde vampire freed me from my jail, leaving my dead husband’s body behind.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote BE on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Lily’s jet black hair is completely bone straight, her lips are as red as her corset and so are her fingernails. Her eyes are rimmed with black coal making their hazel hue big and bright. She is angrily approached by a tall dark haired man who is quickly ushered out, Lily doesn’t let it phase her; going about her sound check duties. Bron positions himself behind Lily on a tall barstool, his guitar resting against his chest as she cloaks herself in front of the microphone. Her face is barely visible giving her aura a haunting element. Sound check ends, Waning Sun eases into “An Open Gate” and then “Land of Slow Sleep”. I’m in an acoustic trance as I dance to Lily Bullet’s soft and sweet, almost sad, melodic voice. Finally they play, “Chosen Paths”, I take a deep breath before closing my eyes to sway to the sound. I’ve often felt Waning Sun’s music and Lily’s lyrics embody all my feeling and emotions; the absolute epitome of my longing for Cian.
I’m pulled out of it by his scent, Cian and I look around the club for any sign of him. In a distant corner I see a tall dark haired man hunched over a petite blonde girl, it looks as though he’s cloaking her from the crowd to feed from her. Another unexplained urge befalls be and I can’t stop my feet from trudging toward the dark corner. It takes a minute as passing through a club full of dancing fools is not as easy as it might appear. I’m bumped a couple times and I’m pretty sure someone purposely grabbed my ass. I don’t turn around because that could be an issue in itself and push me back to either where I was or a whole other part of the club.
It happens in slow motion it seems; I blink and the strobe light has moved the person in front of me to the left of me and blinking bodies flash before my eyes. I finally close in on the figures huddled in the corner and lightly place my hand on the man’s back. This startles him and when he slowly turns to face me, I instantly realize my mistake.
I attempt to walk away but he grabs my arm, “Yes, you may cut in.” He holds my arm up to view the rest of me, this infuriates the woman he’s been molesting. She glares at me before huffing and puffing away. I make an, “I’m sorry, my mistake” face but she’s not buying it.
I turn back to the “gentleman” that has a hold of my arm and attempt to apologize, “I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
He releases me and says, “I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” His breath reeks of vodka and I have to turn away when he speaks. He is the same height and shape as Cian, but that is all. His black hair is an optical illusion under the changing lights, and I see it is dark brown. His bloodshot eyes are brown and his skin is wrecked with acne scars. What the hell is this bond doing to me, I must be completely insane, walking up to complete strangers and interrupting trashy PDA in a club. What the fuck is wrong with me.
I’m pulled from chastising myself by JB, “Everything okay over here Babet?” He’s eyeing “Drunky” warily.
“It’s my fault JB; I thought he was someone else. It’s my mistake.” I’m nodding my head and looking back and forth from both men.
Drunky staggers and attempts to gather his swagger, “I told her I’d be whoever she wanted me to be.”
JB rolls his eyes before looking at me, “Okay.” He then looks to “Drunky”, “Okay, we’re going back to our table; take care man.”
“I’m sorry, again, my fault.” I say to “Drunky” who winks at me. I look up at JB, “Sorry man, I really thought he was someone else.”
“No worries Babet, we saw him grab you and Chloe got worried.” We make it back to the table in one piece but Chloe hugs me so tight I feel like I’m about to split in two.
“Hey!” She says. “I’m drunk.”
“I know, but you’re cute about it.” I reassure her, but she doesn’t need it, she’s having a grand time tonight.
“Thanks!” She smiles big and bright.
I lean into her ear as we listen to the end of Waning Sun’s set, “I think I’m going to take off; okay?”
“Aw, noooooo!” She cries and makes a pouted lip face.
“Be careful, someone will come along and put a drink down on that.”
She pokes it out further and swiftly shifting her eyes for the possibility of a floating drink needing a resting place. She smiles and hugs me again, “Thanks for coming out, I hope you had fun?”
“You know I did.” I look up to JB, “Take care of her, you hear?” He salutes me like only dry humored JB can, “And thanks for rescuing me from…that.” He nods like it’s no big deal.
I don’t feel inebriated and I’m still in my heels so I feel confident about driving home, but the walk to my car is not a fashion show. I steady myself against the railing of the ramp down from Ziggy’s and remove the shoes, I breath out a sigh of relief once my feet are free. I see my car and pull out the keyless entry mechanism from my bra. It’s hard to carry keys when you have no pockets, a woman’s bra can be a mini purse; which is also where I keep my cash when I go out. As I walk the music from Ziggy’s slowly fades but I feel a presence or at least eyes watching me.
I’m almost to my car when I hear the slurred speech of a man say, “I meant what I said…in there.”
I turn to see “Drunky” has also left Ziggy’s and it looks as though it wasn’t his choice to do so. His lip is bleeding and his black shirt is torn at the neck, his jeans and boots are sandy and there is still a little in his hair. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel bad for him, “Are you all right…sir?” I make the question a formality so not to provoke anything.
“Sir.” He stops and scoffs before advancing again causing me to backup against my car. The shoes in my hand hit the door.
He’s literally two feet from me when I say, “Look, I’m sorry I mistook you for someone else but I’m going home now. I hope you have a nice evening.” My tone is stern but I can hear the trepidation behind it.
“Can I go with you?” He’s drunkenly looking at my car and me and whatever else his eyes try to focus on.
I laugh a little, “Um, no; I’m sorry.” And as if a switch had been flipped, he was no longer drunk, no longer staggering and takes a giant step forward, pinning me to my car with his body and of course I drop my shoes. Fuck!
He’s pressing against me so hard it hurts, I wince from the pain, he likes this; chuckling at my struggle before I hear the most frightening tone, “That little beating your friend gave me sobered me up; you should thank him for what I’m about to do to you.” He leans in further and I actually cry out this time.
“Please!” My hands are clinched so tight my nails are digging into the flesh of my palm and at that moment I realize, my nails. I unclench my fists, draw my hands up and smile at him as if I’m giving in, which throws him off a little. I put my hands on either side of his face and with all my might dig my nails into his flesh. He staggers back to grip his face but he’s angry and fast, he attempts to lunge at me but he doesn’t get the opportunity, something loud and guttural; something I’ve heard before spooks him. He looks beyond me and his face turns a shade of white, reserved for the dead.
I turn to see what he sees, but all I see when I do is the darkness beyond the parking lot. When I spin around to watch my back for “Drunky”, he’s staggered half way back to Ziggy’s padding his face with his fingers. Serves him right but what the hell scared him away, it wasn’t me; he was coming back for me. Again, that sound. I heard that sound over and over in the depths of Morte’ cradling Griffin’s bloody body in my lap, not from him but the imprisoned vampires. I open my car door, gather my shoes, get in and lock it. I have to drive around the circle on my way out, passing the club again and I don’t see “Drunky”. With my windows down the music is still permeating the air but of course no sign of anything that would have made that sound. On the way back to Watersedge I can’t help but think of Griffin.
“Get in there!” The handsome Spanish man who abducted me from Audubon throws me into a dank musty cell and slams the cage closed. He smirks at me and begins to laugh heartily on his way out of the corridor. I slowly shuffle around the dirt floor because it so dark I can’t see my own feet which are bare. That asshole made my lie to my children, threw a black bag over my head and shoved me out the door without shoes. I don’t know where I am or what the hell is going on, my thoughts are spinning out of control on the verge of a panic attack when my toes hit something soft like fabric. I jump back because whatever is in here with me is definitely alive, barely but alive none the less.
My voice is a panicked whisper, “I’m sorry.” I back myself against the cell’s bars.
I hear a shifting and movement before a familiar voice says, “Babe?” The sound is barely audible but I know who it is, the way he says my name.
“Grif?!” I lift my body from its resting place and crouch to crawl over to where he is, “Griffin…I thought, oh Grif!” I’m pawing his body for his head and once I find it I gather his heavy frame into my lap, “What happened? Have you been here the whole time?”
He coughs before taking slow shallow breaths, he winces when I shift my body to cradle him more comfortably for both of us, “I don’t know, I remember getting us coffee…” I roll my eyes at my demands for coffee the night he went missing, I could have made a pot at home but no, I had to have Café DuMonde. I take a deep musty breath as he continues, “I was walking back through the archway when some “thing” grabbed me, and bit me. It left me for dead.” Griffin coughs and winces again.
“How did you get here?!” I ask in a whisper
“I don’t know I couldn’t focus on anything. I could only hear what they were saying.”
“What were they saying?” I begin to stroke his thick brown hair. Oh how I wish I could see his blue eyes, Henri’s eyes. I start to tear up thinking about all this and why, why does anyone want me? Why am I so fucking special?
“They kept laughing and joking about how I would see you again, very soon…” he trails off and I feel his body tense atop mine but he laughs and it’s a strange sound at this moment, “…They were right, here you are.” He laughs again causing him to cough and wince.
“Shh, don’t talk. It’s okay.” My voice cracks and I feel Griffin’s weak hand on my thigh, I place my free hand on top of his, “We’re going to be okay.” I say but not even I am convinced by the words.
We sit in silence for a while before Griffin remembers, “Scarlet? Henri?”
“Are safe, they are safe.” I feel as though I’m convincing both of us of that fact.
“Don’t let them get the kids Babe, you can’t.” Griffin is delirious and I detect his heartbeat is slowing.
Instead of bursting into tears I have to be strong for Griffin, I take a deep breath, again the mustiness burns my nose, “I won’t Grif. I promise.” I lean down and brush my lips across his sticky iron smelling forehead, “I love you.”
“Always, my love.” Those were the last words Griffin said to me before Keane accompanied by another tall blonde vampire freed me from my jail, leaving my dead husband’s body behind.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote BE on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
May 7, 2015
What is SHE doing?!
Chapter 13
My death wish mentality takes over and I don’t care how creepy this corridor is; if Cian is here and stuck in the bowls of Fort Macon I need to get to him and help him. I pull my cell phone out and use it as a flashlight; all along taking deep head-rushing breaths as I walk slowly through the darkness. I get a cold chill and pick up my pace; there are plenty of ghost stories about the fort and considering the type of “person” I’m searching for I’m not about to start discrediting ghosts. I look back and forth, turning around every so often; as if reenacting a Scooby-Doo episode. All I need is the cheesy music to accompany me. I want to call out his name but the light I see in the distance tells me my senses are playing tricks on me again.
I round the corner and scare the absolute shit out of a pair of teenagers who can’t believe I just came from where I came from, “Did you really just walk through there?” The bleach blonde girl in a pair of booty shorts and bikini top asks me as I ascend the steep staircase to the outer level of the fort.
“Yeah, it’s not that bad.” I say and I think, “you liar.” Her boyfriend cranes his head around to peer into the nothingness I came from. I vaguely hear him tell her where she can go if she wanted him to go in there. I balance beam the outer membrane and take pictures of the gun slits built into the brick and I find a small hill to stand on for the best aerial shot of the structure I’m going to get. I shoot the wrought iron staircases and cannon rollers. On Memorial Day the Civil War re-enactors dress in the garb of the time and shoot the cannons off every couple of hours.
I’m satisfied with my photos and head back to my car. It’s blistering hot in here; I immediately roll my windows down and before I leave the Fort Macon area I check my cell. I smile big and bright; Justus has been calling me consecutively since I silenced his call this morning. I drop it back into my bag and stop at the first gas station I come to across for a bottle of ice cold water; it’s delicious, freezing my throat as it moves down.
While I’m on this side of the island, instead of going back to Emerald Isle, I take the right onto the bridge into Morehead city. I decide to escape the heat and head to the History and Art museum. Kill two birds with one stone; appreciate preserved art while preserving myself in the air conditioning. I of course make a generous donation to the facility before making my way around the museum admiring the work of those that came before me and flourished beyond me.
I feel refreshed and decide to vacate the premises because I’m hungry and when you’re in Morehead City you eat at Sanitary Fish Market. I order a shrimp plate to go and while I wait for my food I purchase t-shirts for Scarlet and Henri. Black short sleeve for Scarlet and long sleeved tie-dye for Henri. I take my lunch across the bridge into the beautiful town of Beaufort; I find a cozy little spot in front of the water where the large boats, nay, yachts dock. While I eat my lunch I people watch; the tan captains fitted with their visors and talk of “the big catch”, couples hand in hand, window shoppers and rowdy children.
After I finish I take out my camera and photographically capture them all as well as vacant boats and storefront restaurants. I throw my trash away and start for the row of historic homes lining the waterfront. Instantly I feel like I’m at home walking down the streets of the Garden District, palatial whitewashed homes with black shutters and accents; each one has either an upper balcony or a widow’s walk. I shoot every single house and keep every single picture no matter how blurry it might be.
I take a photography break and go inside the Maritime Museum once again to cool off, it may be September but it’s still humid and every day is different. The cold air hits me fast, the sweat gathered at the base of my spine freezes and sends a refreshing shiver through me. I remove my sunglasses and make another monetary contribution before meandering around. I pass through displays galore; wildlife and sea life of eastern North Carolina. Animatronics of the salt life, tanned bleach blonde boys show what life is like on the water day to day. As interesting as it is, I’ve seen it but what I stumble on in the museum’s special interests section is currently the progressive running display of pirate attire and findings from the wreckage of the Queen Anne’s Revenge; Blackbeard’s flagship found off the coast of Beaufort inlet. For years and years people have returned from the site of the wreckage with something never before seen by the modern populace. This year it’s a conglomeration, of which I can’t take pictures and I respect the rule unlike others among me; I roll my eyes at the insolence. The flash from each picture could potentially ruin the integrity of the glass encased pirate pageantry.
Before I leave I buy replicated doubloons for Henri and a compass pendant for Scarlet, I know she has a chain at home she can wear it on. I also buy a poster sketch of Blackbeard and the various pirate flags to frame for my new house. Maybe I’ll decorate Henri’s new room in North Carolina pirates. I hear my phone chime, I pull it out; it’s a text from Justus, “We need to talk, stop avoiding me.”
He’s right; again I’m making assumptions about Justus. He’s a grown, single man and I’m not in the habit of stringing anyone along, regardless of my minimal feelings for him. If they are real feelings at all since I’ve projected my missing Cian on him more than once. I have to make this black and white; let him go. I call and he answers immediately, “Hi.” His voice is husky and solemn.
“Hi!” I say cheerfully
“You sound really well.” He says and I can hear the hangover in his voice.
“You don’t; I’m sorry.” I’m still overly cheerful.
“I suppose you found what you’re looking for?”
“Not yet; still looking. I went to Fort Macon today, right now I’m in Beaufort; it’s exceptionally beautiful here. How’s Wrightsville?” I ask not wanting to get into who answered his phone this morning because it’s none of my business.
“It’s here…Babet?” He says solemnly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come see you?”
“No Justus, besides I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I comfort him.
“I know, I just…I need to see you.” His tone is almost pleading.
“You’ll see me on your birthday; bright and shiny and ready to party!” I do a little shimmy and get an awkward glance from a few people, I smile it off.
“And if you find him before then?”
I hadn’t thought about that, what if I did find Cian before September 30th and deserted Justus on his birthday; the hope for seeing me when my job resumed is off the table due to studio issues in Wilmington. I keep it light and joke, “Then he will come with and celebrate too.”
He is silent.
“I realize it’s not exactly what you had in mind but at least we can hang out again.” I try to reassure him.
“It’s, in no way…at all…what I had in mind.” His tone is ominous and seductive.
I laugh, “I’m sure.”
“Where are you right now?”
“I told you Beaufort, I just left the Maritime Museum. Across the street is the vessel restoration warehouse and it looks like their restoring a WWII landing craft. Besides there, I haven’t decided where to go next, this place is so picturesque.”
“You sound really happy.” He doesn’t.
“It’s this place; I swear it’s where I’m supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong; I love and miss New Orleans, but here it’s just…I don’t know.” I take a deep breath and again I can smell Cian, “Justus?”
“Yeah?” He asks, still no happiness in him.
“I have to go, I’ll call you later.” I say and hang up. I walk nonchalantly trying to not look like a nut job as I continuously breathe deep. I round the blocks by the waterfront but the scent fades away. Frustrated I go back to my car and drive over to the Beaufort cemetery to shoot the mausoleums, headstones and obelisks. I come close to one of the cement mausoleums with iron work doors that looks like something Teacup would do. I swear I can hear something inside; like singing. I circle it like a shark, shooting it from all angles and as I stand before the doors I drop my camera into my bag and place my hand on the metal and then my ear. I hear muffled echoed singing and I have to resist the imperative urge that engulfs me, to enter. I back away, shaking the ridiculously strange compulsion. I warily shoot the doors one last time before going back to my car and heading back to Atlantic beach.
I decide to make another stop at “A Little Pot?” In hopes Chloe is there; I like Helena but she will talk you to death, bless her heart. I park and go inside; I don’t see anyone behind the counter so I mosey around to see more of local artists are featured. Pottery, Watercolors, charcoal sketches and iron work are displayed in nice groups. Helena carries a lot of beach stuff too; towels, flip flops, sunglasses and various t-shirts. I go over to the Wildberry incense display and pick out my favorite scents from the glitter fairy series; I buy ten of each, Fairy dust, Fizzy Pop and Isis.
By the time I’m ready to pay there is a girl behind the counter, not Helena or Chloe, “All set?” She asks me as I place my bags of incense on the glass. She rings me up and asks if I need a bag, I decline and leave. I look across and see the carnival rides and amusement midway has returned to the Atlantic beach circle. The Atlantic beach circle is a drive thru at the largest public entrance to the waterfront, very popular for many years with the younger crowd, teens and young children are a common staple. The teens enjoy the cruising and the kids enjoy the rides. In later years as I see now, the police have been steadily increasing their patrol in this area and for a long time the midway stayed away due to crime.
I park where I can and walk over to Ziggy’s by the Sea; a well known club on the water front in Atlantic beach. Famous for its small but fun venue, lots of big names have graced the stage at Ziggy’s. I remember when I was here last, Clutch played to a packed house. On the marquee the music festival this year features less well known bands but I’ve heard of three that will be performing. Deep Fuzz a melodic metal band, similar to Clutch; their songs are well written and the music is deep. Their guitarist, Dubs Williams is a bassist for another band in Charleston, SC.
I see the other two bands I am familiar with; Den of Sin and Waning Sun. Both bands feature a Puerto Rican singer who looks like a petite Angelina Jolie, before the actress became a mom. Lily Bullet has black hair and dark makeup, in the two photos she is dressed in a black corset and tight leather pants which only accentuates her curves, her lips are bright red and her eyes have a hint of evil about them. In the Waning Sun photo she is featured with a Viking looking gentleman I assume is her husband Bron who has long blonde hair down to his ass and pale skin. In the Den of Sin photo she is flanked by three others, a girl and two men. I take a flier for the show next Saturday. I make a mental note to attend and hopefully get the Warrens to go with me.
I begin to walk back to my car when I hear my name being called, “Babet! BABET!” I turn around and Calista LeBeau Keever is headed my way.
I squint because I can’t believe she’s here, “Calista? HEY!” I wrap my arms around her neck, “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same; I heard you were taking some time off, but I didn’t know where you were headed.” She is smiling dumbfounded.
“Yeah, small world! I was just checking out Ziggy’s line up next Saturday, how long are ya’ll in town?” I ask showing her my flyer.
“Oh, we leave tomorrow. Do you want to go have dinner with us?”
“Sure.” I follow Calista and her husband John to the Four Corners Diner. We order a fish plates and a couple of rounds of beers. We talk and talk, it’s nice to spend real time with Calista. We went to high school together and once I returned to New Orleans, she and I became very close. Back then we were young and had little to no responsibility. Boy how times change and age spins your life faster and faster, the more you gain and take on. After I’ve had a few I grab Calista’s arm and check out her healing, “You’re taking good care of it, right?”
Calista’s husband answers for her, “She’s kept sunscreen on it religiously.” He says before taking a swig of his beer.
I wink at her as I finish my mine. We part ways after it’s nearly time to close the diner and I drive back to Watersedge. At the Hilliard’s the Coop is gone again, I think to get my camera to go down to the pier, but I’m tired and I decide to shower and call Justus.
I call and he answers on the first ring, “Babet?!”
“Hey, sorry to call so late; I just ran into an old friend and got to talking.” I sound like I’m groveling.
“You are a piece of work you know that?!” He sounds aggravated.
“Okay; how so?”
“I don’t like being hung up on and I still need to talk to you about your job.”
“I already know; I’m not needed.” Now, I sound aggravated.
“I wouldn’t put it that way; but yes, I suppose my father sent you an email?” His tone is subsiding.
“He did, he said things could change again though. I’m keeping an eye on my email, so…” He cuts me off.
“You still need to finish Soren’s portrait too.” Justus is enjoying telling me what I already know.
I take a deep breath, “I had intended to finish it the morning after your birthday celebration but if you are going to act like an ass, I’m not coming. I’ll come to Wrightsville, pick it up and take it back to Emerald Isle to finish it; only to mail it to your father. You won’t see me again.” I don’t see it as much of a threat but I know Justus does.
“You wouldn’t?” He says snidely.
“Oh, wouldn’t I.” I’m trying to joke with him, but it’s not getting through.
“You would leave me all alone on my birthday?” His tone is childlike.
I decide to pull my ace in the sleeve, “You wouldn’t be alone, I know you wouldn’t.” the last bit is snide out my lips.
Justus stammers before saying, “I surrender; I don’t want to fight with you.” As if I can hear him holding his hands up to relent.
“So you don’t deny having company the other night?”
“No.” He plainly states.
“Fair enough, I’ll see you September 30th Justus; tell your father I replied to his email since,” I fake looking at the tablet, “I see he hasn’t emailed me back.” I don’t care if he has or not, Justus always enjoys a game and we’ve begun to play.
“Good.” Again, he plainly states.
“But I want to ask something of you and it’s a condition of my coming back to Wrightsville for your birthday?” I say baiting the hook.
“Oh? I’m listening.” The line is cast.
“I want to you discontinue calling me, emailing me, or texting me until your birthday, can you do that? Can you do that for me Justus?” I’m waiting for the bite.
“Why?” Oh man, he’s pulling.
“Because I need to focus on finding Cian and if you care about me at all, you will do this.” I’m reeling, he’s pulling and pulling. He’s silent, “When I came to work for your father, I had an agenda. I had a plan, meeting you disrupted my plan and because of our friendship my focus has been derailed.” I’m still reeling.
He is silent again, before saying; and I hear the elation in his voice, “Okay…but I don’t like it.” Got ‘em!
“Thank you…so?” I ask humorously.
“So, what?” His confusion is hilarious.
“So what do you want to talk about? You have me for the rest of the night.” I say cheerfully but I forget myself with Justus.
“Only on the telephone…” Justus and I talk for hours until I yawn and he makes a joke about boring me. I laugh and after I told him of my day and I tell him about watching his show, he relents, letting me off the hook. I hang up with Justus and I’m tired but I’m not. I pull out the cellophane of extraordinarily good cannabis from the Warrens and roll another pin joint.
Instead of enjoying it in the tub I take my little friend outside; it’s late enough for the “crowds” to have gone to bed so I feel less than self conscious about walking down to the beach front while I smoke. I walk out of Watersedge and across the street to a public beach access entrance. The sand through my toes is cool and grainy and the closer I get to the crashing waves the wetter and colder it becomes. The silence of the night is enhanced by the deafening sound of crashing waves. I shut out everything and focus on the sound, rhythmic and hypnotic.
The salty wind whips my hair across my eyelids occasionally stinging them and with the joint in my hand I grab my hair to one side only to release it and resume the fight with nature. In the wind the joint goes out, I cup it in my hand and walk back to Watersedge. Every time I come in and out of this neighborhood I pass the Hilliard’s and I notice something about the Coop DeVille; it’s gone during the night and always here during the day. Maybe the kid has a night job, but what could that be in a beach town? All the strapping work is done during the day and Mrs. Hilliard said he was a handy young man.
I get back to Everett’s and clean up to climb into bed; my legs are somewhat sore from walking all day and my little constitutional just now. I slip away and dream of my kids playing in Jackson Square and Mamma and Daddy, Frankie and Molly; I dream of home.
When I awake I feel less than great and I spend most of the day hanging around the house, watching television and occasionally work on my current painting; the sunset over the Emerald Isle sound. The following day and rest of the week I’m useless, the Warrens call about the festival at Ziggy’s and I’m just not feeling it.
Chloe isn’t letting me off the hook, “Come with us Babet; it will be fun. Besides, JB has some pretty hot single friends.”
I relent because it might be fun, oh hell, I know it will be fun, “Okay, I’ll meet you down there. But, Chloe, I’m not interested in meeting anyone, okay?”
Chloe giggles before saying, “Okay. Yay! Okay, we’ll meet you down there at 9:15, JB want to be sure to see Deep Fuzz.”
I hang up with Chloe and search my duffle for something to wear. All my sundresses are too goody-two-shoes and my shorts aren’t rock-star enough for Ziggy’s so I improvise with a pair of cropped black yoga pants, Estella’s stilettos and the t-shirt Justus gave me. Rockabilly; black on black on black, perfect. I smooth my hair and apply more makeup than usual. I walk the house a couple of times to get used to my shoes again and make a mental note not to drink too much or I will be on my ass in these things. I make the twenty minute drive to Atlantic beach and park as close as I can to Ziggy’s by The Sea. Outside I don’t see Chloe or JB so I decide to go ahead inside and pay my cover. I stand in line with others dressed like me and once I reach the door girl to hand her my cash I see that the pretty young woman has punctured her beautiful face with adornments.
Her eyes light up when she sees my t-shirt, “That is my favorite show!” She comments smiling.
I look down, and play it off like it’s my favorite show too, “Team Bane for sure!”
“For sure!” She retorts and stamps my hand.
After I pass her into the club I scan the bar and the surrounding tables for the Warren’s. I don’t see them, but Ziggy’s has a great Oceanside party deck so I move through the crowd to go outside, low and behold the Warren’s and their inner circle are monopolizing the area.
Chloe turns when JB taps her arm and points to me, “Babet! I’m so glad you came!”
I smile and hug her, “Thanks for getting me out, this will be fun.” I can’t help but feel eyes on me and I look in the direction of the gaze. Once I catch eyes with the lurker he starts to head over to Chloe and me.
“Chloe, introduce me to your friend.” His tone is slimy and arrogant. “Hi, I’m Raphael.”
“Raphi, I told you; my friends are off limits.” She says rolling her eyes and sipping her drink through a tiny stirring straw.
I hold my hand out politely, “Babet.” I say emotionlessly.
Raphael takes my hand and kisses it; I look up at Chloe who rolls her eyes again. Raphael is only around 5’11 with a curly black mop of hair; his eyes are dark brown and almond shaped. He has a decent physique but his egotistical attitude makes him very unattractive. His pouted lips leave my hand and when his back is turned I wipe the back of my hand off onto my pants. Suddenly I feel another pair of eyes on me, in that direction I see the owner of Hawk’s Eye. Barron’s friends are engaged in conversation, but Barron isn’t paying attention. He smiles at me and looks as though he is going to walk over. I smile and wave just as Chloe nudges me.
“Let’s get you a drink.” She suggests.
I make a closed teeth, tight-lipped smile and say, “Yeah, please.”
I follow Chloe back into the club and through the crowd again to the bar, she bounces up to it and turns to me, “Shots, Beer, Wine, or Mixed?”
“Shots. And then maybe a beer.”
“What’s your poison? Wait…wait, let me guess?!” She’s already feeling pretty good. “I remember you used to drink Jager?” She says pointing at me and smiling.
I tilt my head to congratulate her and thankfully, after I notice the club has the black syrupy liquor chilled on tap, I hold up two fingers. Chloe orders twelve shots of Jagermeister and directs the bartender to the party deck; he has to call her back to pay. She rolls her eyes at herself but recovers and bounds through the club back outside. I lag behind and scan the club again just for kicks; when I notice Deep Fuzz is setting up on stage. I remembered what Chloe said about JB being a big fan and as I crest the party deck I sit next to and lean into Chloe to let her know. I also lock eyes with Barron again, who begins to make his way over.
“Hello again.” He says sitting beside me on the bench.
“Hey! Sorry, I had to get a drink first.” I laugh.
“No worries, hear back from Molly?”
I laugh again; this kid’s got it bad, “No, she’s a busy girl though.”
He shakes his head at the embarrassment, “Oh, yeah, of course. I would love to go to one of her shows.”
I’m about to tell Barron about Molly’s last show when Chloe sits up from her cross-legged relaxed position, cigarette in hand, “JB!” She hollers but he can’t hear her or he is ignoring her, I can’t decide which, but when she calls out to him again it’s elongated, “Jaaaay Beeee!” That gets his attention and he shakes the hand of the guy he’s talking to before making his way over to Chloe, “Baby! Deep Fuzz is setting up!”
JB is in a relaxed mood, clearly they have been here for a while, he looks over to me, “Hey Babet.” I nod and smile, “Okay Clo; it takes at least an hour to set up and get sound right, we’re good.”
“Well, I just don’t want you to miss them.” Her speech is much more slurred.
“The only thing at this point would keep me from seeing them is if you pass out before they even go on. Take it easy baby, how many have you had anyway?”
As if the Gods were high above watching this conversation and decided to throw a comical wrench in Chloe’s chain, the bartender arrives on the deck with twelve shots of black liquid for, “Chloe!” The look on JB’s face is priceless as she holds up her hand; the bartender sets the tray on the bench seat beside her. JB looks from the tray to Chloe who is purposely paying him no mind and says nothing as she saunters around the deck passing out shots.
Barron and I watch Chloe in al her glory, she is such an upbeat person. Barron turns to me, “So Molly’s next show? Do you know when it is?”
“No, she had one six months back, you know before the southern heat kicked in full force. She sold every piece and donated all proceeds to charity, specifically Katrina relief.” I explain.
“Yes, I think that is why I admire her so much, she has such a big heart. Only natives of our part of the country can truly understand what we went through during that storm.”
“I agree, she’s a classy lady.” I wink at Barron.
“I’d really like for you to meet my band, as I predicted they don’t believe I met someone who knows Molly DuBois.”
“Sure.”
“Well, I saw you met Raphi, he’s our bass player…” I don’t let him finish.
“Do you know Chloe?” I ask.
Chloe returns with five shots. I take one, and I’m about to drop the other when I decide to offer it to Barron, who declines, “Yeah, I met her through Raphi.”
The second shot goes down my gullet. I blow out the toxic air and get a chill all over my body from it. Chloe takes one as does JB, they share the last one. Before long Deep Fuzz is warming up for sound check. The Warren’s and their entourage pile into the club as I follow Barron inside. Luckily he doesn’t search long for his friends who I meet and confess to being acquainted with Molly, Barron even asks me to show the band the picture of us gals. I oblige and courteously bow out before meeting back with Chloe and JB.
The band opens with “Vanishing Point” and the sound rocks. The tick tock of the guitar alarms you to a grind which is a Deep Fuzz trademark. Girls dance to the infectious rhythm of while guys head bang or jump around; whatever they consider dancing. “Beer”, starts slow and melodic but builds up to what is something musically spectacular. The rooted bassline and guitar distortion switches to what feels like a dream sequence. The drums trance until picking you up to drop you into a crunchy rabbithole. “Lowery” rounds out Deep Fuzz’s set. JB and Chloe go over to Dubs Williams as he is disassembling equipment to chat up the approachable rock-star. His band mates Mick and Lane don’t seem too pleased that the Warrens are monopolizing the front man’s limited time. But Dubs is gracious. I sit and people watch while I nurse a Blue Moon and orange slice; occasionally getting harassed by the male demographic and again by Raphael. I easily scare him away by my two kids and emotional baggage; death of my husband is a game killer. I smile when he sulks away defeated.
Chloe and JB walk over to where I’m seated, “Hey Babet!” Chloe is in such a good mood.
“Hi Chloe!” I say back at her in the same shrill.
JB leans over to kiss Chloe’s head before saying, “Be right back.” She and I watch as he approaches the bar again and orders six shots.
“Uh oh!” Chloe says. I smile at her drunken silliness.
JB sets the small tray of shots on the table and places two in front of me and two in front of Chloe, he takes the last two off the tray, “Now that the Fuzz is done, Chloe can drink as much as she likes.”
I hold up my shot glass to instigate cheers, our glasses clink together and down the liquid goes. Chloe makes an awful face and I swear she is going to toss her cookies, but she doesn’t. In fact once she recovers she boasts, “Not too much though, I’m trying to get laid tonight!” She throws the second shot down and smiles. I follow suit as does JB who seductively winks at his wife.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I picture when I write my books about the folks surrounding Babet Beauregard on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
My death wish mentality takes over and I don’t care how creepy this corridor is; if Cian is here and stuck in the bowls of Fort Macon I need to get to him and help him. I pull my cell phone out and use it as a flashlight; all along taking deep head-rushing breaths as I walk slowly through the darkness. I get a cold chill and pick up my pace; there are plenty of ghost stories about the fort and considering the type of “person” I’m searching for I’m not about to start discrediting ghosts. I look back and forth, turning around every so often; as if reenacting a Scooby-Doo episode. All I need is the cheesy music to accompany me. I want to call out his name but the light I see in the distance tells me my senses are playing tricks on me again.
I round the corner and scare the absolute shit out of a pair of teenagers who can’t believe I just came from where I came from, “Did you really just walk through there?” The bleach blonde girl in a pair of booty shorts and bikini top asks me as I ascend the steep staircase to the outer level of the fort.
“Yeah, it’s not that bad.” I say and I think, “you liar.” Her boyfriend cranes his head around to peer into the nothingness I came from. I vaguely hear him tell her where she can go if she wanted him to go in there. I balance beam the outer membrane and take pictures of the gun slits built into the brick and I find a small hill to stand on for the best aerial shot of the structure I’m going to get. I shoot the wrought iron staircases and cannon rollers. On Memorial Day the Civil War re-enactors dress in the garb of the time and shoot the cannons off every couple of hours.
I’m satisfied with my photos and head back to my car. It’s blistering hot in here; I immediately roll my windows down and before I leave the Fort Macon area I check my cell. I smile big and bright; Justus has been calling me consecutively since I silenced his call this morning. I drop it back into my bag and stop at the first gas station I come to across for a bottle of ice cold water; it’s delicious, freezing my throat as it moves down.
While I’m on this side of the island, instead of going back to Emerald Isle, I take the right onto the bridge into Morehead city. I decide to escape the heat and head to the History and Art museum. Kill two birds with one stone; appreciate preserved art while preserving myself in the air conditioning. I of course make a generous donation to the facility before making my way around the museum admiring the work of those that came before me and flourished beyond me.
I feel refreshed and decide to vacate the premises because I’m hungry and when you’re in Morehead City you eat at Sanitary Fish Market. I order a shrimp plate to go and while I wait for my food I purchase t-shirts for Scarlet and Henri. Black short sleeve for Scarlet and long sleeved tie-dye for Henri. I take my lunch across the bridge into the beautiful town of Beaufort; I find a cozy little spot in front of the water where the large boats, nay, yachts dock. While I eat my lunch I people watch; the tan captains fitted with their visors and talk of “the big catch”, couples hand in hand, window shoppers and rowdy children.
After I finish I take out my camera and photographically capture them all as well as vacant boats and storefront restaurants. I throw my trash away and start for the row of historic homes lining the waterfront. Instantly I feel like I’m at home walking down the streets of the Garden District, palatial whitewashed homes with black shutters and accents; each one has either an upper balcony or a widow’s walk. I shoot every single house and keep every single picture no matter how blurry it might be.
I take a photography break and go inside the Maritime Museum once again to cool off, it may be September but it’s still humid and every day is different. The cold air hits me fast, the sweat gathered at the base of my spine freezes and sends a refreshing shiver through me. I remove my sunglasses and make another monetary contribution before meandering around. I pass through displays galore; wildlife and sea life of eastern North Carolina. Animatronics of the salt life, tanned bleach blonde boys show what life is like on the water day to day. As interesting as it is, I’ve seen it but what I stumble on in the museum’s special interests section is currently the progressive running display of pirate attire and findings from the wreckage of the Queen Anne’s Revenge; Blackbeard’s flagship found off the coast of Beaufort inlet. For years and years people have returned from the site of the wreckage with something never before seen by the modern populace. This year it’s a conglomeration, of which I can’t take pictures and I respect the rule unlike others among me; I roll my eyes at the insolence. The flash from each picture could potentially ruin the integrity of the glass encased pirate pageantry.
Before I leave I buy replicated doubloons for Henri and a compass pendant for Scarlet, I know she has a chain at home she can wear it on. I also buy a poster sketch of Blackbeard and the various pirate flags to frame for my new house. Maybe I’ll decorate Henri’s new room in North Carolina pirates. I hear my phone chime, I pull it out; it’s a text from Justus, “We need to talk, stop avoiding me.”
He’s right; again I’m making assumptions about Justus. He’s a grown, single man and I’m not in the habit of stringing anyone along, regardless of my minimal feelings for him. If they are real feelings at all since I’ve projected my missing Cian on him more than once. I have to make this black and white; let him go. I call and he answers immediately, “Hi.” His voice is husky and solemn.
“Hi!” I say cheerfully
“You sound really well.” He says and I can hear the hangover in his voice.
“You don’t; I’m sorry.” I’m still overly cheerful.
“I suppose you found what you’re looking for?”
“Not yet; still looking. I went to Fort Macon today, right now I’m in Beaufort; it’s exceptionally beautiful here. How’s Wrightsville?” I ask not wanting to get into who answered his phone this morning because it’s none of my business.
“It’s here…Babet?” He says solemnly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come see you?”
“No Justus, besides I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I comfort him.
“I know, I just…I need to see you.” His tone is almost pleading.
“You’ll see me on your birthday; bright and shiny and ready to party!” I do a little shimmy and get an awkward glance from a few people, I smile it off.
“And if you find him before then?”
I hadn’t thought about that, what if I did find Cian before September 30th and deserted Justus on his birthday; the hope for seeing me when my job resumed is off the table due to studio issues in Wilmington. I keep it light and joke, “Then he will come with and celebrate too.”
He is silent.
“I realize it’s not exactly what you had in mind but at least we can hang out again.” I try to reassure him.
“It’s, in no way…at all…what I had in mind.” His tone is ominous and seductive.
I laugh, “I’m sure.”
“Where are you right now?”
“I told you Beaufort, I just left the Maritime Museum. Across the street is the vessel restoration warehouse and it looks like their restoring a WWII landing craft. Besides there, I haven’t decided where to go next, this place is so picturesque.”
“You sound really happy.” He doesn’t.
“It’s this place; I swear it’s where I’m supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong; I love and miss New Orleans, but here it’s just…I don’t know.” I take a deep breath and again I can smell Cian, “Justus?”
“Yeah?” He asks, still no happiness in him.
“I have to go, I’ll call you later.” I say and hang up. I walk nonchalantly trying to not look like a nut job as I continuously breathe deep. I round the blocks by the waterfront but the scent fades away. Frustrated I go back to my car and drive over to the Beaufort cemetery to shoot the mausoleums, headstones and obelisks. I come close to one of the cement mausoleums with iron work doors that looks like something Teacup would do. I swear I can hear something inside; like singing. I circle it like a shark, shooting it from all angles and as I stand before the doors I drop my camera into my bag and place my hand on the metal and then my ear. I hear muffled echoed singing and I have to resist the imperative urge that engulfs me, to enter. I back away, shaking the ridiculously strange compulsion. I warily shoot the doors one last time before going back to my car and heading back to Atlantic beach.
I decide to make another stop at “A Little Pot?” In hopes Chloe is there; I like Helena but she will talk you to death, bless her heart. I park and go inside; I don’t see anyone behind the counter so I mosey around to see more of local artists are featured. Pottery, Watercolors, charcoal sketches and iron work are displayed in nice groups. Helena carries a lot of beach stuff too; towels, flip flops, sunglasses and various t-shirts. I go over to the Wildberry incense display and pick out my favorite scents from the glitter fairy series; I buy ten of each, Fairy dust, Fizzy Pop and Isis.
By the time I’m ready to pay there is a girl behind the counter, not Helena or Chloe, “All set?” She asks me as I place my bags of incense on the glass. She rings me up and asks if I need a bag, I decline and leave. I look across and see the carnival rides and amusement midway has returned to the Atlantic beach circle. The Atlantic beach circle is a drive thru at the largest public entrance to the waterfront, very popular for many years with the younger crowd, teens and young children are a common staple. The teens enjoy the cruising and the kids enjoy the rides. In later years as I see now, the police have been steadily increasing their patrol in this area and for a long time the midway stayed away due to crime.
I park where I can and walk over to Ziggy’s by the Sea; a well known club on the water front in Atlantic beach. Famous for its small but fun venue, lots of big names have graced the stage at Ziggy’s. I remember when I was here last, Clutch played to a packed house. On the marquee the music festival this year features less well known bands but I’ve heard of three that will be performing. Deep Fuzz a melodic metal band, similar to Clutch; their songs are well written and the music is deep. Their guitarist, Dubs Williams is a bassist for another band in Charleston, SC.
I see the other two bands I am familiar with; Den of Sin and Waning Sun. Both bands feature a Puerto Rican singer who looks like a petite Angelina Jolie, before the actress became a mom. Lily Bullet has black hair and dark makeup, in the two photos she is dressed in a black corset and tight leather pants which only accentuates her curves, her lips are bright red and her eyes have a hint of evil about them. In the Waning Sun photo she is featured with a Viking looking gentleman I assume is her husband Bron who has long blonde hair down to his ass and pale skin. In the Den of Sin photo she is flanked by three others, a girl and two men. I take a flier for the show next Saturday. I make a mental note to attend and hopefully get the Warrens to go with me.
I begin to walk back to my car when I hear my name being called, “Babet! BABET!” I turn around and Calista LeBeau Keever is headed my way.
I squint because I can’t believe she’s here, “Calista? HEY!” I wrap my arms around her neck, “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same; I heard you were taking some time off, but I didn’t know where you were headed.” She is smiling dumbfounded.
“Yeah, small world! I was just checking out Ziggy’s line up next Saturday, how long are ya’ll in town?” I ask showing her my flyer.
“Oh, we leave tomorrow. Do you want to go have dinner with us?”
“Sure.” I follow Calista and her husband John to the Four Corners Diner. We order a fish plates and a couple of rounds of beers. We talk and talk, it’s nice to spend real time with Calista. We went to high school together and once I returned to New Orleans, she and I became very close. Back then we were young and had little to no responsibility. Boy how times change and age spins your life faster and faster, the more you gain and take on. After I’ve had a few I grab Calista’s arm and check out her healing, “You’re taking good care of it, right?”
Calista’s husband answers for her, “She’s kept sunscreen on it religiously.” He says before taking a swig of his beer.
I wink at her as I finish my mine. We part ways after it’s nearly time to close the diner and I drive back to Watersedge. At the Hilliard’s the Coop is gone again, I think to get my camera to go down to the pier, but I’m tired and I decide to shower and call Justus.
I call and he answers on the first ring, “Babet?!”
“Hey, sorry to call so late; I just ran into an old friend and got to talking.” I sound like I’m groveling.
“You are a piece of work you know that?!” He sounds aggravated.
“Okay; how so?”
“I don’t like being hung up on and I still need to talk to you about your job.”
“I already know; I’m not needed.” Now, I sound aggravated.
“I wouldn’t put it that way; but yes, I suppose my father sent you an email?” His tone is subsiding.
“He did, he said things could change again though. I’m keeping an eye on my email, so…” He cuts me off.
“You still need to finish Soren’s portrait too.” Justus is enjoying telling me what I already know.
I take a deep breath, “I had intended to finish it the morning after your birthday celebration but if you are going to act like an ass, I’m not coming. I’ll come to Wrightsville, pick it up and take it back to Emerald Isle to finish it; only to mail it to your father. You won’t see me again.” I don’t see it as much of a threat but I know Justus does.
“You wouldn’t?” He says snidely.
“Oh, wouldn’t I.” I’m trying to joke with him, but it’s not getting through.
“You would leave me all alone on my birthday?” His tone is childlike.
I decide to pull my ace in the sleeve, “You wouldn’t be alone, I know you wouldn’t.” the last bit is snide out my lips.
Justus stammers before saying, “I surrender; I don’t want to fight with you.” As if I can hear him holding his hands up to relent.
“So you don’t deny having company the other night?”
“No.” He plainly states.
“Fair enough, I’ll see you September 30th Justus; tell your father I replied to his email since,” I fake looking at the tablet, “I see he hasn’t emailed me back.” I don’t care if he has or not, Justus always enjoys a game and we’ve begun to play.
“Good.” Again, he plainly states.
“But I want to ask something of you and it’s a condition of my coming back to Wrightsville for your birthday?” I say baiting the hook.
“Oh? I’m listening.” The line is cast.
“I want to you discontinue calling me, emailing me, or texting me until your birthday, can you do that? Can you do that for me Justus?” I’m waiting for the bite.
“Why?” Oh man, he’s pulling.
“Because I need to focus on finding Cian and if you care about me at all, you will do this.” I’m reeling, he’s pulling and pulling. He’s silent, “When I came to work for your father, I had an agenda. I had a plan, meeting you disrupted my plan and because of our friendship my focus has been derailed.” I’m still reeling.
He is silent again, before saying; and I hear the elation in his voice, “Okay…but I don’t like it.” Got ‘em!
“Thank you…so?” I ask humorously.
“So, what?” His confusion is hilarious.
“So what do you want to talk about? You have me for the rest of the night.” I say cheerfully but I forget myself with Justus.
“Only on the telephone…” Justus and I talk for hours until I yawn and he makes a joke about boring me. I laugh and after I told him of my day and I tell him about watching his show, he relents, letting me off the hook. I hang up with Justus and I’m tired but I’m not. I pull out the cellophane of extraordinarily good cannabis from the Warrens and roll another pin joint.
Instead of enjoying it in the tub I take my little friend outside; it’s late enough for the “crowds” to have gone to bed so I feel less than self conscious about walking down to the beach front while I smoke. I walk out of Watersedge and across the street to a public beach access entrance. The sand through my toes is cool and grainy and the closer I get to the crashing waves the wetter and colder it becomes. The silence of the night is enhanced by the deafening sound of crashing waves. I shut out everything and focus on the sound, rhythmic and hypnotic.
The salty wind whips my hair across my eyelids occasionally stinging them and with the joint in my hand I grab my hair to one side only to release it and resume the fight with nature. In the wind the joint goes out, I cup it in my hand and walk back to Watersedge. Every time I come in and out of this neighborhood I pass the Hilliard’s and I notice something about the Coop DeVille; it’s gone during the night and always here during the day. Maybe the kid has a night job, but what could that be in a beach town? All the strapping work is done during the day and Mrs. Hilliard said he was a handy young man.
I get back to Everett’s and clean up to climb into bed; my legs are somewhat sore from walking all day and my little constitutional just now. I slip away and dream of my kids playing in Jackson Square and Mamma and Daddy, Frankie and Molly; I dream of home.
When I awake I feel less than great and I spend most of the day hanging around the house, watching television and occasionally work on my current painting; the sunset over the Emerald Isle sound. The following day and rest of the week I’m useless, the Warrens call about the festival at Ziggy’s and I’m just not feeling it.
Chloe isn’t letting me off the hook, “Come with us Babet; it will be fun. Besides, JB has some pretty hot single friends.”
I relent because it might be fun, oh hell, I know it will be fun, “Okay, I’ll meet you down there. But, Chloe, I’m not interested in meeting anyone, okay?”
Chloe giggles before saying, “Okay. Yay! Okay, we’ll meet you down there at 9:15, JB want to be sure to see Deep Fuzz.”
I hang up with Chloe and search my duffle for something to wear. All my sundresses are too goody-two-shoes and my shorts aren’t rock-star enough for Ziggy’s so I improvise with a pair of cropped black yoga pants, Estella’s stilettos and the t-shirt Justus gave me. Rockabilly; black on black on black, perfect. I smooth my hair and apply more makeup than usual. I walk the house a couple of times to get used to my shoes again and make a mental note not to drink too much or I will be on my ass in these things. I make the twenty minute drive to Atlantic beach and park as close as I can to Ziggy’s by The Sea. Outside I don’t see Chloe or JB so I decide to go ahead inside and pay my cover. I stand in line with others dressed like me and once I reach the door girl to hand her my cash I see that the pretty young woman has punctured her beautiful face with adornments.
Her eyes light up when she sees my t-shirt, “That is my favorite show!” She comments smiling.
I look down, and play it off like it’s my favorite show too, “Team Bane for sure!”
“For sure!” She retorts and stamps my hand.
After I pass her into the club I scan the bar and the surrounding tables for the Warren’s. I don’t see them, but Ziggy’s has a great Oceanside party deck so I move through the crowd to go outside, low and behold the Warren’s and their inner circle are monopolizing the area.
Chloe turns when JB taps her arm and points to me, “Babet! I’m so glad you came!”
I smile and hug her, “Thanks for getting me out, this will be fun.” I can’t help but feel eyes on me and I look in the direction of the gaze. Once I catch eyes with the lurker he starts to head over to Chloe and me.
“Chloe, introduce me to your friend.” His tone is slimy and arrogant. “Hi, I’m Raphael.”
“Raphi, I told you; my friends are off limits.” She says rolling her eyes and sipping her drink through a tiny stirring straw.
I hold my hand out politely, “Babet.” I say emotionlessly.
Raphael takes my hand and kisses it; I look up at Chloe who rolls her eyes again. Raphael is only around 5’11 with a curly black mop of hair; his eyes are dark brown and almond shaped. He has a decent physique but his egotistical attitude makes him very unattractive. His pouted lips leave my hand and when his back is turned I wipe the back of my hand off onto my pants. Suddenly I feel another pair of eyes on me, in that direction I see the owner of Hawk’s Eye. Barron’s friends are engaged in conversation, but Barron isn’t paying attention. He smiles at me and looks as though he is going to walk over. I smile and wave just as Chloe nudges me.
“Let’s get you a drink.” She suggests.
I make a closed teeth, tight-lipped smile and say, “Yeah, please.”
I follow Chloe back into the club and through the crowd again to the bar, she bounces up to it and turns to me, “Shots, Beer, Wine, or Mixed?”
“Shots. And then maybe a beer.”
“What’s your poison? Wait…wait, let me guess?!” She’s already feeling pretty good. “I remember you used to drink Jager?” She says pointing at me and smiling.
I tilt my head to congratulate her and thankfully, after I notice the club has the black syrupy liquor chilled on tap, I hold up two fingers. Chloe orders twelve shots of Jagermeister and directs the bartender to the party deck; he has to call her back to pay. She rolls her eyes at herself but recovers and bounds through the club back outside. I lag behind and scan the club again just for kicks; when I notice Deep Fuzz is setting up on stage. I remembered what Chloe said about JB being a big fan and as I crest the party deck I sit next to and lean into Chloe to let her know. I also lock eyes with Barron again, who begins to make his way over.
“Hello again.” He says sitting beside me on the bench.
“Hey! Sorry, I had to get a drink first.” I laugh.
“No worries, hear back from Molly?”
I laugh again; this kid’s got it bad, “No, she’s a busy girl though.”
He shakes his head at the embarrassment, “Oh, yeah, of course. I would love to go to one of her shows.”
I’m about to tell Barron about Molly’s last show when Chloe sits up from her cross-legged relaxed position, cigarette in hand, “JB!” She hollers but he can’t hear her or he is ignoring her, I can’t decide which, but when she calls out to him again it’s elongated, “Jaaaay Beeee!” That gets his attention and he shakes the hand of the guy he’s talking to before making his way over to Chloe, “Baby! Deep Fuzz is setting up!”
JB is in a relaxed mood, clearly they have been here for a while, he looks over to me, “Hey Babet.” I nod and smile, “Okay Clo; it takes at least an hour to set up and get sound right, we’re good.”
“Well, I just don’t want you to miss them.” Her speech is much more slurred.
“The only thing at this point would keep me from seeing them is if you pass out before they even go on. Take it easy baby, how many have you had anyway?”
As if the Gods were high above watching this conversation and decided to throw a comical wrench in Chloe’s chain, the bartender arrives on the deck with twelve shots of black liquid for, “Chloe!” The look on JB’s face is priceless as she holds up her hand; the bartender sets the tray on the bench seat beside her. JB looks from the tray to Chloe who is purposely paying him no mind and says nothing as she saunters around the deck passing out shots.
Barron and I watch Chloe in al her glory, she is such an upbeat person. Barron turns to me, “So Molly’s next show? Do you know when it is?”
“No, she had one six months back, you know before the southern heat kicked in full force. She sold every piece and donated all proceeds to charity, specifically Katrina relief.” I explain.
“Yes, I think that is why I admire her so much, she has such a big heart. Only natives of our part of the country can truly understand what we went through during that storm.”
“I agree, she’s a classy lady.” I wink at Barron.
“I’d really like for you to meet my band, as I predicted they don’t believe I met someone who knows Molly DuBois.”
“Sure.”
“Well, I saw you met Raphi, he’s our bass player…” I don’t let him finish.
“Do you know Chloe?” I ask.
Chloe returns with five shots. I take one, and I’m about to drop the other when I decide to offer it to Barron, who declines, “Yeah, I met her through Raphi.”
The second shot goes down my gullet. I blow out the toxic air and get a chill all over my body from it. Chloe takes one as does JB, they share the last one. Before long Deep Fuzz is warming up for sound check. The Warren’s and their entourage pile into the club as I follow Barron inside. Luckily he doesn’t search long for his friends who I meet and confess to being acquainted with Molly, Barron even asks me to show the band the picture of us gals. I oblige and courteously bow out before meeting back with Chloe and JB.
The band opens with “Vanishing Point” and the sound rocks. The tick tock of the guitar alarms you to a grind which is a Deep Fuzz trademark. Girls dance to the infectious rhythm of while guys head bang or jump around; whatever they consider dancing. “Beer”, starts slow and melodic but builds up to what is something musically spectacular. The rooted bassline and guitar distortion switches to what feels like a dream sequence. The drums trance until picking you up to drop you into a crunchy rabbithole. “Lowery” rounds out Deep Fuzz’s set. JB and Chloe go over to Dubs Williams as he is disassembling equipment to chat up the approachable rock-star. His band mates Mick and Lane don’t seem too pleased that the Warrens are monopolizing the front man’s limited time. But Dubs is gracious. I sit and people watch while I nurse a Blue Moon and orange slice; occasionally getting harassed by the male demographic and again by Raphael. I easily scare him away by my two kids and emotional baggage; death of my husband is a game killer. I smile when he sulks away defeated.
Chloe and JB walk over to where I’m seated, “Hey Babet!” Chloe is in such a good mood.
“Hi Chloe!” I say back at her in the same shrill.
JB leans over to kiss Chloe’s head before saying, “Be right back.” She and I watch as he approaches the bar again and orders six shots.
“Uh oh!” Chloe says. I smile at her drunken silliness.
JB sets the small tray of shots on the table and places two in front of me and two in front of Chloe, he takes the last two off the tray, “Now that the Fuzz is done, Chloe can drink as much as she likes.”
I hold up my shot glass to instigate cheers, our glasses clink together and down the liquid goes. Chloe makes an awful face and I swear she is going to toss her cookies, but she doesn’t. In fact once she recovers she boasts, “Not too much though, I’m trying to get laid tonight!” She throws the second shot down and smiles. I follow suit as does JB who seductively winks at his wife.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I picture when I write my books about the folks surrounding Babet Beauregard on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
April 21, 2015
Arrival is bitter sweet...
Chapter 12
Mr. Everett’s house is similar to the Hilliard’s, at least its layout is. I open the door to a living space, decorated in of course, early beach; blonde wooden floors throughout, white trim and seafarer blue walls, much like my bathroom at home. I smile as I round the corner to the wide open kitchen; passing the breakfast bar to continue down the hall one small bedroom on the left, lavender and green commands this room. Further down the hall are the laundry facilities and a large bathroom. A soaking jet tub dominates the room, directly across is a double sink basin, flanked by a large mirror and it’s painted a soothing, creamy yellow.
At the end of the house is the master bedroom; which Mr. Everett has decorated differently from the rest of the house. I stand at the end of a chestnut wooden bed with a leather inlaid headboard covered in chocolate and powder blue bedding. Matching accompaniments of furniture but my eye is drawn to a portrait hanging on the wall of a young woman from the early 1800’s. At the bottom of the portrait a bronze plaque says Augustine Covell, 1810; First Inhabitant of Emerald Isle. I nod and say, “Nice to meet you Augustine.”
After I get all my baggage and supplies in the house I realize how hungry I am. Living with the Gunnar’s I never had to worry about eating, with Henley on staff I could barely miss a meal. I open the refrigerator and pull out the fruit I bought at the store on my way in. I open the plastic container of strawberries and start cutting; I peel four or five tangerines, along with two bananas. I cut up and eat a giant fruit salad before flipping through my phone. I see that not only did Justus create a playlist but he programmed his phone number into my phone; I know because I missed two calls and a text from him. No voicemails, just a text, “Get there OK?”
I text back, “Safe and sound, call later.”
I’m cleaning my bowl in the sink when I hear a new ringtone to match my newly programmed phone number, “Wicked Game” but it’s not the original Chris Issac version, it’s the Finnish band H.I.M.’s cover. I roll my eyes before answering, “Hi Justus.”
“Hi, yourself. Have you found him yet?” He laughs
I mirror his laugh, “I’ve been here two hours Justus.”
“Keep me posted.” Is all he has to say.
“Will do.” I retort. “Good-bye Justus.”
“Good-bye Babet.” That sexy motherfucker pronounces the ‘T’ with precision. I roll my eyes. God, he makes me do that a lot.
I get cleaned up and change into one of my sundresses. I slide on my flip flops, pack my camera and cell phone before I get into my car with the intent to head toward Atlantic beach. Before I leave Watersedge I deposit an envelope of cash into Mr. Everett’s mailbox and hop back into my car. The sun is beginning to go down the further I drive 24, so I stop off at one of the many public accesses to take a few pictures.
I get back in my car and make another stop at the only art supply store on the Island. The door chimes as I enter. I’m immediately greeted by a man my age with thick black hair, hazel eyes and overly tanned skin, “Welcome, holler at me if you need any help.”
“Thank you.” I reply making eye contact with him. My gaze is diverted to a framed copy of Molly’s New Orleans cityscape mounted to the wall behind the counter. The gentleman is trying not to notice my staring above his head, but he can’t for long.
“It’s very expensive.” He says looking above him then back to me.
“I know. The photographer and I discussed pricing when she took it.” I smile at him before moseying around the store. I don’t get far.
“You know this artist?” He asks.
“Yes.” I retort, albeit a bit smug I admit.
“Molly DuBois?”
“Yes. Look.” I pull out my cell and show him the last picture Frankie took of Molly and me.
“Holy shit!” He exclaims taking my phone for a closer look. His eyes widen and his brow shoots up, “That’s her all right. How do you know her?”
“I should ask you the same, I didn’t think her work was familiar this far north.”
“I’m originally from Texas.”
“That explains it. She and I grew up together; she’s one of my oldest, closest friends.” I boast.
“Are you a photographer as well?” He inquires.
I laugh, “No; I paint.”
He holds his hand out, “We have a vast section for artists such as yourself. Please feel free to peruse our wares. Any friend of Molly DuBois is a friend of mine.” He smiles.
I bow my head, “Thank you.” I turn from him and walk but as I do, I text Molly to let her know I met a fan of her work. She immediately texts back a cheesy grin smiley face. I turn back to the store owner, “What is your name?” I ask.
“I’m sorry?” He is quite confused.
“I want to give Molly your name.” I say holding my cell up to show the text screen.
Hi eyes widen again, “Uh…Barron, Barron Hawk.”
The touch screen vibrates with each letter selected, “Barron Hawk of Hawk’s Eye Art Supply in Emerald Isle.” I hit send and smile at him.
He can’t stop smiling, like I secured him a meeting with Molly, “Wow, Molly DuBois knows my name. My band isn’t going to believe me, ya know?”
“Your band?”
“Yeah, I play various clubs on the island with my band.”
“What is the name of your band?”
“No Signal.” He states.
I nod, “So you can’t be an art supply store owner without being an artist yourself. Where is your work?”
“I’m a welder, so my work is too large to feature in house, I have a website. My studio is off island, I live in Swansboro.” He turns back to the counter to hand me his business card.
“Thanks.” I drop it into my bag, “Welder, Store owner and musician. You have a lot on your plate.” I comment.
“That I do, but it keeps me out of trouble.” He smiles.
I mirror him, “Well, my name is Babet, Babet Beauregard. It was nice to meet you Barron.” We shake hands prior to my departure from Hawk’s Eye.
I get into the Atlantic beach area and like a beacon there is my former employer’s store, “A Little Pot?” I pull into the parking lot and bound across to enter the store.
It’s exactly as it was thirteen years ago, dark wood paneling with multi-colored tapestries from ceiling to floor, which is also a dark bamboo color. I don’t get the opportunity to case the rest of the store before I hear a very familiar voice, “Babet! Babet Beauregard, is that you!?”
I zero in on the counter and there stands Chloe Warren, big long ringlets atop a skinny body. I swear the biggest thing on this girl has always been her hair and as beautiful as it is, she hates it.
“Chloe!” I shriek and race over to embrace her as she crests the counter. I can’t help but be incased by her tresses which smell like coconuts and lime, she pulls away but keeps her hands clasped on my arms. She’s wearing baby blue vintage corduroy board shorts and a yellow store t-shirt that says, “Need a Little Pot?”
“How long has it been, I swear you haven’t changed. You are as pretty as ever.” She says sincerely.
“Thank you Chloe, but you…look at you, you look great! How’s married life?”
She sighs and looks up thoughtfully, “Wonderful; JB (short for Jethro Bodine, yep, that one) is doing so well with the golf course. I mean, hell I don’t have to work here, but I love it so much. And Helena; she really needs reliable help, the last girl she had was stealing from her. And you know Helena, sweetest woman in the whole world…” Chloe trails off when a customer enters the store, “Welcome! If you need any help, let me know.” She doesn’t wait for a response, directing her attention right back to me, “So what have you been up to?” Her tone is one of hope for gossip.
“Well, I had my own studio and gallery back home, until it burned to the ground,” Her mouth drops but she doesn’t interrupt, “You know I had a baby right,” She nods, “well Scarlet; she’s thirteen now and I have a two year old son, his name is Henri.” This time she interrupts.
“So, did you marry that John guy?” She cranes her neck to visually check on the customers.
“Uh, no.” I snicker, “I ended up marrying a guy from back home, Griffin Benoit.”
“Oh is he here in town with you?”
“No, he passed away after the fire.” I look down at my ring finger, the indentation of my rings are still present. I take a deep breath and smile nervously. She is pitying me with her stunning hazel eyes but I swat at her and say, “It’s okay and it’s part of why I’m here!” I buck up like a champ and smile brightly.
“That’s great! Why here though?” She makes a face, “Why not go to like, Jamaica?” She winks and smiles
“You remember me well, my dear.” We both laugh heartily, “Speaking of, you and JB?” I make a gesture she knows.
“Yeah, actually, JB’s turf horticulture degree pays off in more ways than one.” She continues to smile.
“Give me your number, I left all my stuff in Wrightsville and I may be here a while.” We exchange phone numbers and discuss possibilities for getting together later this evening. She mentions the annual music festival at Ziggy’s among other up and coming events.
“Where did you get the stuff you left in Wrightsville from?” She asks inquisitively.
“Home; NOLA baby. In fact I’d like to take a bit from here to my dude back home.” I laugh. “I left it in Wrightsville because I eventually have to go back, thought it would be nice to go back to.” I smile.
“What are you doing in Wrightsville?”
“I’m an Au Pair to the sweetest little boy, short of my own son and I’ve been fortunate with the employer, he lets me paint. In fact I painted two port…well, one and a half portraits while I was there. Made a nice chunk of change too, I sent the majority of the money to my Daddy this morning before I left.”
“That’s awesome girl!” She exclaims.
“Thanks; while I’m here I intend to replace some of the work that got torched.” I feel someone behind me; Chloe’s customers are ready to check out.
“All set?” She asks receptively.
The couple places a set of beach towels and a slender bag of incense on the counter. Chloe rings them up and once they leave the store we resume our conversation.
“Do you have pictures of your kids with you?”
“Oh yeah.” I dig into my bag and fish out my cell phone, I show Chloe a picture of Scarlet first; the day Frankie colored her hair hot pink, the second picture I show her is of Henri, wearing my sunglasses.
She takes my phone from me and gazes at the two pictures, “They are beautiful children, Babet; good job girl. Hey, how are your friends, Frankie and Molly?” She says handing my phone back to me
“They’re doing great, both very successful in their endeavors.” I take my phone from her and gaze a little while at my children; I’m about to drop it in my bag when my new ring tone plays again, “Excuse me…Hello?” I know who it is, but I don’t want Chloe to get the wrong idea about Justus, not to mention she may know who he is and that would open a whole new can of worms.
“Hi.” The voice on the other end has been drinking.
I smile and hold one finger up to Chloe; she takes the hint and goes about her duties. I retreat out of the store to talk to Justus, “Justus? Have you been drinking?”
“Yeah, sake.” His speech is slurred and I wonder how many bottles he’s had.
I don’t want to upset him in any way since he is clearly drowning his sorrows as it is, “Nice; how’s Soren?”
“Fine, he finally calmed down about an hour after you left.”
I laugh, “I miss him too.” And I realize where this is going to go, open mouth insert foot. I scrunch my face in anticipation of what’s next.
“And me?” Just as I though and when he says “me” his voice cracks.
“Yes, and you. I enjoyed my mix.”
This seems to perk him up, “Yeah, appropriate songs in my opinion.” He laughs.
I mirror him because I have to keep this lightly sarcastic, “Oh and thank you for programming your phone number in my cell.”
I hear the smile in his voice “Did you like the ringtone I selected?”
“It’s one of my favorite songs of all time, I grew up with the original recording and I love H.I.M. which only magnified my love for them with a killer cover of that song. Thank you Justus.” I say the last part whole heartedly and I know he can hear it.
He takes a deep breath and when he releases it a slight whimper comes out. I get a painful twinge through my body at the sound. I look into the store; Chloe is watching me through the chiming door.
“Listen, Jus…I have to go, I just ran into my old friend; Chloe. Can I call you later?”
He is silent and I hear him release a breath, he’s taking a shot. The glass hits the table, “Yeah, call me later.” He hangs up on me.
I press the end button on my phone and go back into the store. Chloe is nowhere to be seen, I call her name, “Chloe!?”
“Back here!” I hear from the store-room.
I walk back there; she is smoking a cigarette out the back door. She smiles while pulling a drag and holds the pack out to me, “You want one?”
“Sure.” I take the pack and lighter and pull one out. I stick it in my mouth and light it; I haven’t smoked since before I was pregnant with Scarlet and like riding a bike its second nature and tastes so good. Not that I condone smoking and I’ve been cigarette free for years, but it wouldn’t be hard to go back. Chloe and I talk and walk around the store, she shows me all the new local artists Helena is featuring. Chloe can talk…and talk. I mention heading back, before I go she calls JB to bring me a small bag of dank, it looks like bright green popcorn and smells like blueberries. I’m overly appreciative and get the details of the Ziggy’s music festival coming up in Atlantic beach.
I drive back to Watersedge and slowly case the Hilliard’s place; the Coop is gone. I quickly park my car at Everett’s and walk down to the Hilliard’s pier with my camera. The moon is out, hovering over the small island just left of our island; I take multiple pictures of that area and the sound side with the piers all in a row. I shoot the giant tree that hovers over the Hilliard’s house; it’s like a cranky old man, this tree. The knobs and chunky bark are thick and old; barnacles are growing on it along with sea moss. The Hilliard’s have built their deck around this old tree, respecting its age. This island has only been developed for the past sixty years. Various people have owned the land as it had gone untouched over time, sitting idle through death and inheritance the island has passed through the hands of sons and daughters.
I move back to the end of the pier after I focus on the tree and in the wind the sea and salt is all around me blowing through my hair. My tresses are whipping me in the face but I embrace it and close my eyes. In the distance I hear a car approaching; I open my eyes and begin to stride quickly back to the landing of the pier, headlights barely catch me before I’m out of sight. I feel like a secret agent running behind houses like I’m being chased but I’m not and when I arrive back at Everett’s I laugh at myself when I slam the door shut.
I take a hot bath, smoke a very small pin joint, and call Justus. He doesn’t answer so I wait for his voicemail and leave a message. I get into bed and I’ve opted for the lavender and green room; not that I have anything against the master bedroom; it’s just doesn’t have that beach feel like this one does. I bury myself under the gauzy green duvet and try to sleep. No luck, great we’re back to this again. Frustrated I grab my tablet and hope that Mr. Everett or someone close has WI-FI; I’m kicking myself for not asking Mrs. Hilliard.
I’m in luck and get a signal immediately. I check my emails, something I rarely do and it shows; two hundred thirty seven in my inbox. I flip through the social networking notifications and delete the spam. I see I have a few emails from my girls, Frankie and Molly; I open one from Frankie first since she is my boss.
Babe,
I hope you’re having fun, we all miss you, call me when you can.
Frank
Babe,
Your dad is cooking up something big for you when you get home; you didn’t hear it from me.
Frank
Hi Babe,
I hope you are taking lots of pictures for me!
Luvies, Molly
There is also an email from Lars.
Babet,
I apologize for having to deliver this news through email, but I am not coming back to Wrightsville after my vacation. Studio issues, which could change; it’s an inconvenience I know and again, I apologize. Please pick up and finish Soren’s portrait, Justus will be at the house until October. If you do not hear from me by October first…Thank you for your trustworthy service and I hope to speak to you and your father soon.
Lars
I hope the studio works its issues out, I promised to take Soren to the Battleship again. After I check my email I try calling Justus again, but again, I get his voicemail. I hope he’s okay and I wonder, if he got the message my position had become more intermittent than it already was and got piss drunk over it. I send him a text to call me as soon as he is conscious. I close out the tablet but I figure, if I have the access I might as well check out his show. I pull up my favorite search engine which also serves as my email provider and in the long box I type Justus’s name. Instantly I see his face; pictures related to his show or him alone on the red carpet. I scroll down and see the Wilmington airport and Justus sauntering through it the day I met him. I gasp and shoot up in the bed as further down I see a picture of Justus, Soren and me exiting the airport. I have my hand clasped over Soren’s head and Justus is ducking to avoid the photographers. I have to admit, I look pretty good. I laugh at my silliness.
I watch a couple of snippets of Justus’s show; it’s sexy and wildly entertaining not to mention seeing more of Justus’s body on television than I ever did living with him. He plays a werewolf, who while on a bounty hunting job, finds his long awaited love; that sounds familiar.
At some point in the night I do fall asleep and I start to think that my time with Justus has disrupted my Cian tracker. In the morning I make my coffee and sit on the deck to enjoy the morning air. I have my phone and decide to answer all my emails including Lars’ when the light bulb goes off to call and check on Justus since he has yet to call me.
It rings and rings until a female voice picks up, “Hello?” She sounds exhausted and put out by the call. I start to think I called the wrong number, but I know that isn’t the case. In the background I hear the familiar sound of Justus waking up, “Who is it?” He says faintly, until as clear as I bell I hear, “Hello?”
I quickly hang up. Instantly my phone rings, “Wicked Game”, I silence it and get dressed to go out. Let’s see how he likes being avoided. I eat the remainder of my fruit salad and make a plan to go to Fort Macon. On my out of Watersedge I see the Coop is back and the tint on the windows is nonexistent. I park my car off to the side of the driveway and take my time to look over this magnificent vehicle. I run my finger over the paintjob while I check out the interior. The dark blue leather interior mimics the satin Midnight blue exterior and I think, I was sure it was tinted. It could be the electronic tinting where two pieces of glass hold darkness between them activated by a switch in the car. I occasionally listened when Griffin talked about such things.
I get back in my car and drive down the main drag of Emerald Isle which turns into the main drag for other parts of the island like Salter Path, Indian Beach and Atlantic beach where the highway ends at Fort Macon. I park and walk through the newly erected museum and gift shop area, populated with families and make my way down the stone path that leads to the fort. I pass through the large wooden doors, which resemble castle doors, to enter the pentagonal structure. I shoot the doors, the floor and the ancient brick. Inside the fort are various displays, life as a soldier at Fort Macon; what they ate, how they slept and the hardships of the time they endured. Other displays show the fort as a prison and when the structure was forgotten, left to be taken over by the elements. The Parks system in North Carolina took it back and refurbished it, making it a National Park.
I shoot a pathway of stone arches in black and white along with the old brick oven they used to make bread; I open the cast iron door and shoot the interior. I follow the labyrinth until I get into the far depths of the fort; no man’s land apparently since I’m suddenly alone and really cold. I stand quietly in the damp dreary darkness and shoot my flash off continuously trying to see further in. I check the pictures and see nothing but an empty corridor. I take a deep breath and let it out in a laugh; but when the scents of the area hit me, it’s there; alluring and indiscernible.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Mr. Everett’s house is similar to the Hilliard’s, at least its layout is. I open the door to a living space, decorated in of course, early beach; blonde wooden floors throughout, white trim and seafarer blue walls, much like my bathroom at home. I smile as I round the corner to the wide open kitchen; passing the breakfast bar to continue down the hall one small bedroom on the left, lavender and green commands this room. Further down the hall are the laundry facilities and a large bathroom. A soaking jet tub dominates the room, directly across is a double sink basin, flanked by a large mirror and it’s painted a soothing, creamy yellow.
At the end of the house is the master bedroom; which Mr. Everett has decorated differently from the rest of the house. I stand at the end of a chestnut wooden bed with a leather inlaid headboard covered in chocolate and powder blue bedding. Matching accompaniments of furniture but my eye is drawn to a portrait hanging on the wall of a young woman from the early 1800’s. At the bottom of the portrait a bronze plaque says Augustine Covell, 1810; First Inhabitant of Emerald Isle. I nod and say, “Nice to meet you Augustine.”
After I get all my baggage and supplies in the house I realize how hungry I am. Living with the Gunnar’s I never had to worry about eating, with Henley on staff I could barely miss a meal. I open the refrigerator and pull out the fruit I bought at the store on my way in. I open the plastic container of strawberries and start cutting; I peel four or five tangerines, along with two bananas. I cut up and eat a giant fruit salad before flipping through my phone. I see that not only did Justus create a playlist but he programmed his phone number into my phone; I know because I missed two calls and a text from him. No voicemails, just a text, “Get there OK?”
I text back, “Safe and sound, call later.”
I’m cleaning my bowl in the sink when I hear a new ringtone to match my newly programmed phone number, “Wicked Game” but it’s not the original Chris Issac version, it’s the Finnish band H.I.M.’s cover. I roll my eyes before answering, “Hi Justus.”
“Hi, yourself. Have you found him yet?” He laughs
I mirror his laugh, “I’ve been here two hours Justus.”
“Keep me posted.” Is all he has to say.
“Will do.” I retort. “Good-bye Justus.”
“Good-bye Babet.” That sexy motherfucker pronounces the ‘T’ with precision. I roll my eyes. God, he makes me do that a lot.
I get cleaned up and change into one of my sundresses. I slide on my flip flops, pack my camera and cell phone before I get into my car with the intent to head toward Atlantic beach. Before I leave Watersedge I deposit an envelope of cash into Mr. Everett’s mailbox and hop back into my car. The sun is beginning to go down the further I drive 24, so I stop off at one of the many public accesses to take a few pictures.
I get back in my car and make another stop at the only art supply store on the Island. The door chimes as I enter. I’m immediately greeted by a man my age with thick black hair, hazel eyes and overly tanned skin, “Welcome, holler at me if you need any help.”
“Thank you.” I reply making eye contact with him. My gaze is diverted to a framed copy of Molly’s New Orleans cityscape mounted to the wall behind the counter. The gentleman is trying not to notice my staring above his head, but he can’t for long.
“It’s very expensive.” He says looking above him then back to me.
“I know. The photographer and I discussed pricing when she took it.” I smile at him before moseying around the store. I don’t get far.
“You know this artist?” He asks.
“Yes.” I retort, albeit a bit smug I admit.
“Molly DuBois?”
“Yes. Look.” I pull out my cell and show him the last picture Frankie took of Molly and me.
“Holy shit!” He exclaims taking my phone for a closer look. His eyes widen and his brow shoots up, “That’s her all right. How do you know her?”
“I should ask you the same, I didn’t think her work was familiar this far north.”
“I’m originally from Texas.”
“That explains it. She and I grew up together; she’s one of my oldest, closest friends.” I boast.
“Are you a photographer as well?” He inquires.
I laugh, “No; I paint.”
He holds his hand out, “We have a vast section for artists such as yourself. Please feel free to peruse our wares. Any friend of Molly DuBois is a friend of mine.” He smiles.
I bow my head, “Thank you.” I turn from him and walk but as I do, I text Molly to let her know I met a fan of her work. She immediately texts back a cheesy grin smiley face. I turn back to the store owner, “What is your name?” I ask.
“I’m sorry?” He is quite confused.
“I want to give Molly your name.” I say holding my cell up to show the text screen.
Hi eyes widen again, “Uh…Barron, Barron Hawk.”
The touch screen vibrates with each letter selected, “Barron Hawk of Hawk’s Eye Art Supply in Emerald Isle.” I hit send and smile at him.
He can’t stop smiling, like I secured him a meeting with Molly, “Wow, Molly DuBois knows my name. My band isn’t going to believe me, ya know?”
“Your band?”
“Yeah, I play various clubs on the island with my band.”
“What is the name of your band?”
“No Signal.” He states.
I nod, “So you can’t be an art supply store owner without being an artist yourself. Where is your work?”
“I’m a welder, so my work is too large to feature in house, I have a website. My studio is off island, I live in Swansboro.” He turns back to the counter to hand me his business card.
“Thanks.” I drop it into my bag, “Welder, Store owner and musician. You have a lot on your plate.” I comment.
“That I do, but it keeps me out of trouble.” He smiles.
I mirror him, “Well, my name is Babet, Babet Beauregard. It was nice to meet you Barron.” We shake hands prior to my departure from Hawk’s Eye.
I get into the Atlantic beach area and like a beacon there is my former employer’s store, “A Little Pot?” I pull into the parking lot and bound across to enter the store.
It’s exactly as it was thirteen years ago, dark wood paneling with multi-colored tapestries from ceiling to floor, which is also a dark bamboo color. I don’t get the opportunity to case the rest of the store before I hear a very familiar voice, “Babet! Babet Beauregard, is that you!?”
I zero in on the counter and there stands Chloe Warren, big long ringlets atop a skinny body. I swear the biggest thing on this girl has always been her hair and as beautiful as it is, she hates it.
“Chloe!” I shriek and race over to embrace her as she crests the counter. I can’t help but be incased by her tresses which smell like coconuts and lime, she pulls away but keeps her hands clasped on my arms. She’s wearing baby blue vintage corduroy board shorts and a yellow store t-shirt that says, “Need a Little Pot?”
“How long has it been, I swear you haven’t changed. You are as pretty as ever.” She says sincerely.
“Thank you Chloe, but you…look at you, you look great! How’s married life?”
She sighs and looks up thoughtfully, “Wonderful; JB (short for Jethro Bodine, yep, that one) is doing so well with the golf course. I mean, hell I don’t have to work here, but I love it so much. And Helena; she really needs reliable help, the last girl she had was stealing from her. And you know Helena, sweetest woman in the whole world…” Chloe trails off when a customer enters the store, “Welcome! If you need any help, let me know.” She doesn’t wait for a response, directing her attention right back to me, “So what have you been up to?” Her tone is one of hope for gossip.
“Well, I had my own studio and gallery back home, until it burned to the ground,” Her mouth drops but she doesn’t interrupt, “You know I had a baby right,” She nods, “well Scarlet; she’s thirteen now and I have a two year old son, his name is Henri.” This time she interrupts.
“So, did you marry that John guy?” She cranes her neck to visually check on the customers.
“Uh, no.” I snicker, “I ended up marrying a guy from back home, Griffin Benoit.”
“Oh is he here in town with you?”
“No, he passed away after the fire.” I look down at my ring finger, the indentation of my rings are still present. I take a deep breath and smile nervously. She is pitying me with her stunning hazel eyes but I swat at her and say, “It’s okay and it’s part of why I’m here!” I buck up like a champ and smile brightly.
“That’s great! Why here though?” She makes a face, “Why not go to like, Jamaica?” She winks and smiles
“You remember me well, my dear.” We both laugh heartily, “Speaking of, you and JB?” I make a gesture she knows.
“Yeah, actually, JB’s turf horticulture degree pays off in more ways than one.” She continues to smile.
“Give me your number, I left all my stuff in Wrightsville and I may be here a while.” We exchange phone numbers and discuss possibilities for getting together later this evening. She mentions the annual music festival at Ziggy’s among other up and coming events.
“Where did you get the stuff you left in Wrightsville from?” She asks inquisitively.
“Home; NOLA baby. In fact I’d like to take a bit from here to my dude back home.” I laugh. “I left it in Wrightsville because I eventually have to go back, thought it would be nice to go back to.” I smile.
“What are you doing in Wrightsville?”
“I’m an Au Pair to the sweetest little boy, short of my own son and I’ve been fortunate with the employer, he lets me paint. In fact I painted two port…well, one and a half portraits while I was there. Made a nice chunk of change too, I sent the majority of the money to my Daddy this morning before I left.”
“That’s awesome girl!” She exclaims.
“Thanks; while I’m here I intend to replace some of the work that got torched.” I feel someone behind me; Chloe’s customers are ready to check out.
“All set?” She asks receptively.
The couple places a set of beach towels and a slender bag of incense on the counter. Chloe rings them up and once they leave the store we resume our conversation.
“Do you have pictures of your kids with you?”
“Oh yeah.” I dig into my bag and fish out my cell phone, I show Chloe a picture of Scarlet first; the day Frankie colored her hair hot pink, the second picture I show her is of Henri, wearing my sunglasses.
She takes my phone from me and gazes at the two pictures, “They are beautiful children, Babet; good job girl. Hey, how are your friends, Frankie and Molly?” She says handing my phone back to me
“They’re doing great, both very successful in their endeavors.” I take my phone from her and gaze a little while at my children; I’m about to drop it in my bag when my new ring tone plays again, “Excuse me…Hello?” I know who it is, but I don’t want Chloe to get the wrong idea about Justus, not to mention she may know who he is and that would open a whole new can of worms.
“Hi.” The voice on the other end has been drinking.
I smile and hold one finger up to Chloe; she takes the hint and goes about her duties. I retreat out of the store to talk to Justus, “Justus? Have you been drinking?”
“Yeah, sake.” His speech is slurred and I wonder how many bottles he’s had.
I don’t want to upset him in any way since he is clearly drowning his sorrows as it is, “Nice; how’s Soren?”
“Fine, he finally calmed down about an hour after you left.”
I laugh, “I miss him too.” And I realize where this is going to go, open mouth insert foot. I scrunch my face in anticipation of what’s next.
“And me?” Just as I though and when he says “me” his voice cracks.
“Yes, and you. I enjoyed my mix.”
This seems to perk him up, “Yeah, appropriate songs in my opinion.” He laughs.
I mirror him because I have to keep this lightly sarcastic, “Oh and thank you for programming your phone number in my cell.”
I hear the smile in his voice “Did you like the ringtone I selected?”
“It’s one of my favorite songs of all time, I grew up with the original recording and I love H.I.M. which only magnified my love for them with a killer cover of that song. Thank you Justus.” I say the last part whole heartedly and I know he can hear it.
He takes a deep breath and when he releases it a slight whimper comes out. I get a painful twinge through my body at the sound. I look into the store; Chloe is watching me through the chiming door.
“Listen, Jus…I have to go, I just ran into my old friend; Chloe. Can I call you later?”
He is silent and I hear him release a breath, he’s taking a shot. The glass hits the table, “Yeah, call me later.” He hangs up on me.
I press the end button on my phone and go back into the store. Chloe is nowhere to be seen, I call her name, “Chloe!?”
“Back here!” I hear from the store-room.
I walk back there; she is smoking a cigarette out the back door. She smiles while pulling a drag and holds the pack out to me, “You want one?”
“Sure.” I take the pack and lighter and pull one out. I stick it in my mouth and light it; I haven’t smoked since before I was pregnant with Scarlet and like riding a bike its second nature and tastes so good. Not that I condone smoking and I’ve been cigarette free for years, but it wouldn’t be hard to go back. Chloe and I talk and walk around the store, she shows me all the new local artists Helena is featuring. Chloe can talk…and talk. I mention heading back, before I go she calls JB to bring me a small bag of dank, it looks like bright green popcorn and smells like blueberries. I’m overly appreciative and get the details of the Ziggy’s music festival coming up in Atlantic beach.
I drive back to Watersedge and slowly case the Hilliard’s place; the Coop is gone. I quickly park my car at Everett’s and walk down to the Hilliard’s pier with my camera. The moon is out, hovering over the small island just left of our island; I take multiple pictures of that area and the sound side with the piers all in a row. I shoot the giant tree that hovers over the Hilliard’s house; it’s like a cranky old man, this tree. The knobs and chunky bark are thick and old; barnacles are growing on it along with sea moss. The Hilliard’s have built their deck around this old tree, respecting its age. This island has only been developed for the past sixty years. Various people have owned the land as it had gone untouched over time, sitting idle through death and inheritance the island has passed through the hands of sons and daughters.
I move back to the end of the pier after I focus on the tree and in the wind the sea and salt is all around me blowing through my hair. My tresses are whipping me in the face but I embrace it and close my eyes. In the distance I hear a car approaching; I open my eyes and begin to stride quickly back to the landing of the pier, headlights barely catch me before I’m out of sight. I feel like a secret agent running behind houses like I’m being chased but I’m not and when I arrive back at Everett’s I laugh at myself when I slam the door shut.
I take a hot bath, smoke a very small pin joint, and call Justus. He doesn’t answer so I wait for his voicemail and leave a message. I get into bed and I’ve opted for the lavender and green room; not that I have anything against the master bedroom; it’s just doesn’t have that beach feel like this one does. I bury myself under the gauzy green duvet and try to sleep. No luck, great we’re back to this again. Frustrated I grab my tablet and hope that Mr. Everett or someone close has WI-FI; I’m kicking myself for not asking Mrs. Hilliard.
I’m in luck and get a signal immediately. I check my emails, something I rarely do and it shows; two hundred thirty seven in my inbox. I flip through the social networking notifications and delete the spam. I see I have a few emails from my girls, Frankie and Molly; I open one from Frankie first since she is my boss.
Babe,
I hope you’re having fun, we all miss you, call me when you can.
Frank
Babe,
Your dad is cooking up something big for you when you get home; you didn’t hear it from me.
Frank
Hi Babe,
I hope you are taking lots of pictures for me!
Luvies, Molly
There is also an email from Lars.
Babet,
I apologize for having to deliver this news through email, but I am not coming back to Wrightsville after my vacation. Studio issues, which could change; it’s an inconvenience I know and again, I apologize. Please pick up and finish Soren’s portrait, Justus will be at the house until October. If you do not hear from me by October first…Thank you for your trustworthy service and I hope to speak to you and your father soon.
Lars
I hope the studio works its issues out, I promised to take Soren to the Battleship again. After I check my email I try calling Justus again, but again, I get his voicemail. I hope he’s okay and I wonder, if he got the message my position had become more intermittent than it already was and got piss drunk over it. I send him a text to call me as soon as he is conscious. I close out the tablet but I figure, if I have the access I might as well check out his show. I pull up my favorite search engine which also serves as my email provider and in the long box I type Justus’s name. Instantly I see his face; pictures related to his show or him alone on the red carpet. I scroll down and see the Wilmington airport and Justus sauntering through it the day I met him. I gasp and shoot up in the bed as further down I see a picture of Justus, Soren and me exiting the airport. I have my hand clasped over Soren’s head and Justus is ducking to avoid the photographers. I have to admit, I look pretty good. I laugh at my silliness.
I watch a couple of snippets of Justus’s show; it’s sexy and wildly entertaining not to mention seeing more of Justus’s body on television than I ever did living with him. He plays a werewolf, who while on a bounty hunting job, finds his long awaited love; that sounds familiar.
At some point in the night I do fall asleep and I start to think that my time with Justus has disrupted my Cian tracker. In the morning I make my coffee and sit on the deck to enjoy the morning air. I have my phone and decide to answer all my emails including Lars’ when the light bulb goes off to call and check on Justus since he has yet to call me.
It rings and rings until a female voice picks up, “Hello?” She sounds exhausted and put out by the call. I start to think I called the wrong number, but I know that isn’t the case. In the background I hear the familiar sound of Justus waking up, “Who is it?” He says faintly, until as clear as I bell I hear, “Hello?”
I quickly hang up. Instantly my phone rings, “Wicked Game”, I silence it and get dressed to go out. Let’s see how he likes being avoided. I eat the remainder of my fruit salad and make a plan to go to Fort Macon. On my out of Watersedge I see the Coop is back and the tint on the windows is nonexistent. I park my car off to the side of the driveway and take my time to look over this magnificent vehicle. I run my finger over the paintjob while I check out the interior. The dark blue leather interior mimics the satin Midnight blue exterior and I think, I was sure it was tinted. It could be the electronic tinting where two pieces of glass hold darkness between them activated by a switch in the car. I occasionally listened when Griffin talked about such things.
I get back in my car and drive down the main drag of Emerald Isle which turns into the main drag for other parts of the island like Salter Path, Indian Beach and Atlantic beach where the highway ends at Fort Macon. I park and walk through the newly erected museum and gift shop area, populated with families and make my way down the stone path that leads to the fort. I pass through the large wooden doors, which resemble castle doors, to enter the pentagonal structure. I shoot the doors, the floor and the ancient brick. Inside the fort are various displays, life as a soldier at Fort Macon; what they ate, how they slept and the hardships of the time they endured. Other displays show the fort as a prison and when the structure was forgotten, left to be taken over by the elements. The Parks system in North Carolina took it back and refurbished it, making it a National Park.
I shoot a pathway of stone arches in black and white along with the old brick oven they used to make bread; I open the cast iron door and shoot the interior. I follow the labyrinth until I get into the far depths of the fort; no man’s land apparently since I’m suddenly alone and really cold. I stand quietly in the damp dreary darkness and shoot my flash off continuously trying to see further in. I check the pictures and see nothing but an empty corridor. I take a deep breath and let it out in a laugh; but when the scents of the area hit me, it’s there; alluring and indiscernible.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
April 6, 2015
Saying goodbye shouldn't be this difficult...
Chapter 11
He opens the door to his room and it’s definitely different from the rest of the house. Justus’s room is virtually black and white. Off white walls and dark wood floors stretch throughout. All the furniture is dark as well. His ornate black bed frame with black and white geometric bedding and pillows is quite contemporary. There is a black and white geometric rug underfoot and a modern black couch with chrome trim sits facing a pair of French doors, the upper balcony on the front of the house. Justus has been holding out, this room is beautiful. The rest of the furniture is decorated with black and white bottles; and for a guy, the room is pristinely clean. I look up on the wall and my painting of the Burgwin-Wright house hangs over the headboard.
I gasp, “Justus!” He had it framed on his errands; the house looks spectacular wrapped in a black baroque frame. “It’s beautiful in here!”
“It’s perfect, yes?” He beams. “My father bought the house this morning; it’s his to do with as he pleases.”
“Yes.” I mirror him. “Wait…your father just up and bought the house?!”
“Of course.” He says like his father buys a house a day.
I sit on his bed like he does mine, grabbing the remote to the flat screen TV, I flip it on and the last thing Justus watched was HGTV. The host of the currently playing show is describing how to refurbish your deck at minimal cost. I change the station to music television, I look up Justus is staring at my presumptiveness, “What?” I say like he would.
He smiles and closes the door behind him; bounding onto the bed beside me. We hunker down and watch television until I see the sun coming up; I nudge him, “Justus.”
He groans into his pillow, “Huh?”
“Watch the sun rise with me before I go.”
He throws his heavy arm over my legs, “No.” He says, barely audible.
“We can’t go through this again, come on.” I push his arm off.
He moans again and rolls out from under the duvet, “Okay. Okay.”
I’m up and dancing around like I have to pee, “Come ON!” I prance out of his room and run down the stairs quietly. Justus is lagging behind, “Time is of the essence.” I whisper; directing him down the stairs like an air traffic controller.
I open the door and step out, I leave it wide behind me. Justus finally exits and after rubbing his eyes he clasps his arms around my neck, my back to his front. We watch as the sun comes up over the reeds and water.
I take a deep breath and Justus kisses the top my head before saying, “I’m going to miss you.”
I grab his forearm, “I’m going to miss you too.”
“Come on, it’s up.” Justus rushes into the house and back up the stairs. He closes the bathroom door behind him. I follow up to my room and grab my linen sack; I hear the faint sound of my cell alarm and reach into my bag to pull it out. I dismiss the wake alarm and snooze the reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard for another hour. It’s way too early to discuss rental properties.
After I check my phone I go downstairs, drop my bag the steps and start a pot of coffee, Henley hasn’t arrived yet. I look up at the wall clock, it’s nearly 6:30, where is he?
Just then I hear the door open, “I’m here, I’m sorry sir.” Henley darts into the kitchen, “Oh Hey Babe; I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“I don’t have lodging yet, besides, I need to cash my wages check.”
“Yeah, got to have money to travel.” We both laugh and nod.
I hear the sounds of Justus carrying my tubs down from my room, I bolt into the foyer, “You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”
He smiles, “I know.” He winks before walking out to my car a duffle bag over each shoulder and his arms stuffed.
“Keys?” I chime.
“Got ‘em.” He calls back.
I go back into the kitchen to fix my coffee. I select a large cup from the cabinet, mindful to bring it back in October. Henley is moving around the kitchen on a mission and I try to keep out of his way. I stop him and kiss his cheek, “See you in October, Henley.”
Henley clasps onto my arms, “Be careful Miss Babe, you come back safe to us, ya hear?”
“I will.” I smile at him.
“She will; she better.” Lars enters the kitchen in his bathrobe.
“Lars,” I say walking over to him, I kiss both his cheeks, “Thank you.”
He gently taps my nose, “You earned it.” He winks, like father like son.
“Are you not working today sir?” Henley asks handing Lars a cup of black coffee.
“Writers, Studio issues, you name it. Long story short, I’m off today.” He says smiling while sipping his coffee. “Do you mind staying Henley; I need to make some calls during Soren’s quiet times.”
“Yes sir; of course.”
“Oh, here,” Lars reaches into his robe pocket and hands Henley a check.
“Thank you sir.” Henley graciously sticks the paper in his pocket.
I take my coffee outside where Justus is still trying to figure out how I got all this stuff here. Standing with my arms crossed, cup in hand, I watch while he shifts and moves things here and there; he catches me, I raise my eyebrows and smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” He says sarcastically.
“Thoroughly; can I help?” I put my cup on the top of my car and begin to remove Henri’s car seat. I round to the trunk and place the seat by the back tire.
“Excuse me,” I gently shove Justus aside and pull the shallow tubs from the trunk. Justus holds his arms out for me to start stacking, “Thank you. Will you put them in my back seat?” He smiles and shakes his head, “What?” I ask.
“I could have been very rude just then. Shame on you for trying to set me up like that.” He jokingly sneers at me.
I realize the joke and laugh, “You’re getting better.” A smile sneaks off the side of my mouth but it slowly, weakly diminishes. My brow furrows because even though I want to go, so desperately, by the same token I want to stay. The supposedly philandering arrogant actor I met weeks ago is not so at all, he is sweet and attentive. He cares what people think of him even though upon first meeting you wouldn’t guess it in your wildest dreams. I’ll admit it, I listened to Henley’s inaccurate information without hesitation, formed a “judge a book by its cover” opinion on Justus and there is a shame on me. Shame on me for listening to gossip and taking it for what it’s worth, I have always been open minded to any and all. Even if I don’t agree, I’m not on this Earth to judge anyone. In fact the basis for more than one of my friendships is solidly founded on never listening to the terrible things people say about each other.
Justus secures the tubs and closes the back door, he turns to me smiling and when he sees my tumultuous facial expression his smile diminishes. He lunges toward me but steps back, grabbing both sides of my body, “I will ask one last time, okay? Are you okay?”
I snicker and nod before taking one of the deepest breaths I have ever taken and I swear I get the Penhaligon’s scent in my nose, like I can smell him; Cian.
Justus attempts to take me in his arms but I pull away, “I have to make a few calls, thank you for helping me.” I retreat as fast as I can around the house to the beach; I look up at the back deck; no one, good. I take another hard, long, and deep breath. It’s there, his scent. Over and over, I take in air; the scent of salt and sand is gone, all I smell is him. I bound up the staircase to the deck and into the house to grab my linen sack; Soren is now up and all the men are quietly staring at me from the breakfast table. As I creep back out to the deck I hear Justus say something to Lars in Swedish; Soren busts them cold, and I know they are talking about me when little guy calls out, “Broder love Babe.”
I can’t think about that right now, it’s definitely a decent hour to discuss renting a house. I call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord in Emerald Isle and I literally have my fingers crossed for two reasons. Number one, I hope I don’t wake her. Number two, I hope her house is vacant.
“Hello?” The sweet voice on the other end is already up and raring to go for the day.
“Mrs. Hilliard?”
“Yes?”
“This is Babet Beauregard, do you remember me?” I have my fingers crossed and now one eye is closed.
“Babet…Oh yes, of Babet, Frankie and Molly, right?”
I sigh in relief and I grin like the Cheshire cat from ear to ear, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, hey sweetie! How are you?!”
“I’m well; I hope you and Mr. Hilliard are?”
“Oh yeah, we’re still plugging away!” She laughs, sweet and kind Mrs. Hilliard.
“I’m glad to hear it; Mrs. Hilliard, I’m coming into EI to do some painting and wondered if your home was available?”
She is silent for a moment before she says solemnly, “I’m sorry honey; it’s occupied until November. Cute young man too, very handy; but…” she trails off.
“Mrs. Hilliard, are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. Well, now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Don’t get old honey, it’s the pits.” She laughs again.
I mirror her before asking, “Do you know of any other houses in the immediate area available?”
“Let me check with Randolph…” faintly I hear her and her husband discuss the possibility of other vacancies in the neighborhood, “Babet?”
“Yes!” I say expectantly.
“Mr. Everett’s house is vacant; if you’re interested, I can call him?”
I am over the moon, Mr. Everett’s house is up the street from the Hilliard’s and while the neighborhood pier is okay, it lacks the privacy the Hilliard’s pier offers, “Yes ma’am, please!” If I end up successfully renting Mr. Everett’s, I’ll then ask permission from Mrs. Hilliard to use their pier.
She laughs, “Okay sweetie, and is this your cell number?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
“Thank you so much Mrs. Hilliard, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!”
“Glad to help. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay, good bye.” I hang up the phone and sigh, wheels in motion. I cradle my phone in my hand while looking out over the water, the hot wind blows over me while I rock back, and I would rock forth, but my chair has stopped. I crane my neck to see Justus holding the finials decorating the top of the chair. I roll my eyes and look back over the water, “How long have you been there?” Okay, so he’s still a little rough around the edges; eavesdropper.
“Long enough to know you are almost ready to leave.” His tone is deep and ominous.
I rest my arm on the chair and my chin on my hand, Justus releases me and sits in the chair next to me; I tilt to face him, “Not quite, waiting for a call back. Besides I have to go to the bank before I head out of town.”
He perks up, “I can take you.”
“To the bank?” I make a face.
“Yeah, why not?” He rises from his chair.
“I guess I’m not doing anything else at the moment, okay; let’s go.” I get up and follow Justus in the house.
We cross the great room and Justus calls to Lars of our soon to be whereabouts, he turns to me and says, “Your purse?”
“Oh, yeah.” I scoff at myself; dip down and grab it and sling it over my head. It hits my rear end hard and I forgot I packed all my electronics in it. I scoff at myself again as I get into the Jeep. I put on my seat belt and start the endorsement process on the back of my check. Justus pulls into the bank parking lot and instead of asking me my preference drive thru or inside; he automatically pulls under the drive-thru canopy, “I don’t have an account here.”
“It’s not a problem, they know me and my father here,” He says taking the clear cylinder from the vacuum tube, he opens it to me.
“Okay.” I drop my check and driver’s license into it.
He slides it closed and replaces it, sending it soaring through the vacuum tube. The bank teller grouchily greets us but after making eye contact with Justus the young woman flips her switch, “Oh, hello Mr. Gunnar.” Her tone is suddenly breathless.
Justus is polite, “Good Morning.”
“How would Miss Beauregard like her…uh, sir, this is entirely too much to send through the drive-thru, would you please come inside.” She is giddy at having to request such an inconvenience.
“Of course.” Justus smiles, he knows what he is doing.
I roll my eyes, “You do this shit on purpose, you know.”
He continues to smile his radiant smile, “I know.”
I take a deep breath as he parks in front of the bank. He attempts to come with me but I halt him, “I’ll be right back.” I say holding my hand up.
He settles back into his seat, resting his long arm out the window. He thinks I don’t see, but he watches me until I’m inside. Upon my entry I’m greeted by a manager type, suit and tie, glasses, stress balding and clearly stress eating. He offers his chubby hand, “Miss Beauregard, I’m the Bank Manager; Preston Cleary.”
I shake his sweaty palm and when he’s not looking I wipe my hand clean, “Babet.” I say as I follow him into his office.
He shuts the door and offers me a seat, “I apologize for the inconvenience but this large sum is…well, must be handled differently.” His tone is condescending.
I’m not impressed but I use the opportunity to play with him a little, “I’m aware of that, I asked Mr. Gunnar to park, but he insisted…” Preston Cleary cuts me off.
“Say no more, we’ll have this taken care of for you. I assume you want all cash?” He asks like he’s had to do this with other nannies.
I decide to make him think, “No; please give me a thousand in cash, all hundred dollar bills and the remainder I would like in a money order; paid to the order of Pierre G. Beauregard.”
He is taken aback, “Um, yes of course,” he grabs a pen from the conglomerate on his desk, “Pierre?”
“Yes. Pierre, with two R’s.” I sit properly in my seat. He pulls my check close to him to write out Beauregard.
Preston Cleary smiles snidely before he gets out of his chair, “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly.
Twenty minutes later Mr. Cleary returns with my money order and a white envelope I assume is my cash and driver’s license. I handle it a little after he hands it to me and my assumptions are correct. I shove the two into my back pocket. He takes his seat as I vacate mine and as I head toward his office door he says, “Tell Mr. Gunnar we appreciate his business.”
“Will do; have a nice day Mr. Cleary.” I reply and close his door behind me. On my way out of the bank four female tellers leer at me, the one in particular, the one from the window, is extraordinarily disappointed that Justus didn’t come in with me. I can almost feel the invisible daggers she is firing from her eyes. I duck quickly through the double doors and the second set of doors.
Back in the car Justus is listening to the Rihanna and Chris Brown duet “Cake” and when he sees me open the door he spins the volume dial down. He starts the engine and backs the Jeep out of the parking spot.
“Your phone was ringing.” He says. I reach down to fumble through my bag for it.
Mrs. Hilliard called twice and left a voicemail, “Thanks.” I say. I press the button to dial her back and thankfully I get her.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hilliard? It’s Babet, I’m so sorry I missed your call.” I say looking at Justus who is smiling big.
“Hi Babet, I talked to Everett and he is more than happy for you to rent his house. How long were you thinking of staying in town?” She sounds like she is about to take notes.
“I want to come in today and I will be heading back to Wrightsville Beach October fifteenth.” Justus snaps his head in my direction and furrows his brow at the date. I hold a finger up to silence him.
“That will be fine, the next tenants aren’t due in until Christmas week. Some people like to have Christmas by the Sea, interesting notion.”
I laugh, “Yeah, very interesting.”
“Anyway, his daughter will drop the keys off; she hides them under the boulder of coral by the door. There is a shed with chairs and other beach toys; it’s locked but that is the small key on the ring, okay?”
“Okay great, how do I get money to him?”
“His daughter comes by to get the mail daily, put your check in his box by the entrance to the neighborhood and you’re all set!” She sounds joyous and I can’t get over how wonderful this woman is.
“Thank you so much, again Mrs. Hilliard; you have been an absolute angel as usual.” I smile thinking of her motherly ways while my girls and I lived in her sound side beach house. She would lovingly cook and bring us a meal at least once a week; I think she missed her own daughter and enjoyed our company as much as we did hers.
“Of course, darlin’…I hope to see you while you’re there.” She says inquisitively.
“You know where I’ll be.” I reply.
“Bye-bye Babet.”
“Bye.” I hang up my phone. I look over at Justus; he’s studying the road but behind it I can see he’s pondering something, “Do you mind if we drive for a bit?” I ask.
He seems to lighten up, smiling as he says, “Sure. Where to?”
“The post office? I need to mail something to my Daddy. Will you roll up the windows please?” I say while rifling through my bag. Justus turns on the air conditioning and rolls up the windows closing out the heat. I pull out the remainder of my care package from home and begin to roll, what is called a “hogleg”. I wrap the bag into a cylinder and hold it out to Justus.
“What?”
“For you.” I say flopping it at him.
“I can’t take your last…”
I cut him off, “It won’t take long to acquire more, please.” I’m still holding the bag, but he doesn’t take it. I sigh and lift the center console cover and place the bag under a handful of cd’s. “Be sure you take it out before your dad gets in here and smells it, or worse.”
Justus takes a deep breath, nods and drives me to the post office. I go inside and Priority mail the money order with a note to my Daddy, which cost a bit more than two pieces of paper should, but the amount of money on said piece of paper is worth the high priced security.
I get back in the car and Justus drives toward the house on Lumina Avenue but he passes it and heads in the direction of the Coast Guard Station. We don’t go that far, and I realize where we are going, the public beach access where I took his pictures. He parks and we find that same little spot hidden from the populace. He sits on the sand; his knees up to rest his arms on, I hand him the joint and drop my bag before I take a seat beside him.
The burning sand is hot on my legs but I don’t mind it, since it will subside momentarily. I pull the lighter from my pocket and blocking the wind, I successfully light the joint. It burns and runs a little; I lick my finger to stop the run. Justus is watching me and holds his hand out expectantly after I get it going.
He hits the joint and holds it gazing out over the blue water. In this spot we are alone, like we are stranded on our own little island and we luckily have one last joint. It’s ironic though, as if said island is our short relationship and the smoke is the signification of its end. Granted I’ll see him to celebrate his birthday, but from there, what? He will go back to Hollywood and then Sweden and I’ll go back to New Orleans probably never to cross paths again. He hands it back to me and I feel moisture on my hand when he does so. I look up at him, in my reverie and inner thought I hadn’t noticed, Justus sitting right beside me, has begun to cry. I see another bauble race down his cheek under his aviator sunglasses, this one he lets fall on the sand.
I pull my hair to one side, since it’s been whipping me in the face, and lean to rest my head on him. He maneuvers his arm out to wrap it around me and pull me closer to him. Before I know it he is sitting behind me as I rest myself against his chest. I snuff out the joint and hand him the butt, instead of burying it, he tucks in into his shirt pocket. I brush the sand off my rear and as he rises his button up shirt billows in the wind giving me one last look at his gorgeous back.
“We should get going. I need to hit the road.” I can hear my own less than convincing tone.
Justus walks ahead of me toward the car; I watch his shirt dance in the wind on his back. His gloriously developed muscles contort with every step he takes trudging through the sand. We drive back to the house and I hug everyone good-bye. It’s official; I have vexed the Gunnar sons; Soren is throwing a moderate fit and Justus looks like someone just ran over his puppy. I give them all one last smile before dropping my sunglasses onto my face. I wave and honk my horn; each yielding another salute from the Gunnar’s.
I start my shuffle payer and to my surprise there is an added mix on it, titled, simply “Justus”. I listen to it as I drive out of Wrightsville and Wilmington. The song titles he selected are “Summertime Rolls”, by Jane’s Addiction, “Blood Sugar Sex Magik” and “Sir Psycho Sexy”, by Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Lounge Fly” by Stone Temple Pilots, and “Paparazzi”, by Lady Gaga among others. The last is a joke regarding our first meeting and I laugh out loud over it. All the songs are funny or sexy until I get to “What Do I Have to Do”, by Stabbing Westward. I begin to tear up while I listen to the heart wrenching lyrics and before the song can finish I turn it off. I don’t turn it back on until I get on 24 from 17, with no traffic problems and as I pass through Swansboro I roll my windows down and take in the difference a few miles makes. The humidity is less heavy here and I can feel a slight coolness as the wind blows over the bridge into Emerald Isle.
I begin to recall the conversations with my Daddy after work each night, prior to the arrival of his coven. Daddy and I sit in the billiards room, face to face across the chess table. Low classical music plays, Bach and Beethoven, Souza and my Daddy’s favorite, Handle. It became like ritual; a friendly chess game played over awkward conversations about vampire blood bonds and a further explanation of why I am the way I am.
I draw my foot up to rest on the seat of my chair, I rest my chin on my knee and move my black knight, my father watches intently, eyeing me with a smile out of the corner of his mouth, “You’re artistic ability is more than a God given gift. Granted, the women on my side of the family have always had an eye but you have an exceptional one. You paint what you see, point blank, period. The lifelike quality of your ability is extraordinary, but there is a difference to it. You see more than what meets the eye, like you paint who they are instead of how they look. As far as what you’ve done since you’ve been home; the speed at which you work, is breathtaking.” He stops to move his white queen in position; I immediately knock her out with my king.
“You did that on purpose.” I say smiling at my Daddy, “Well it’s hard to sleep while visions of Mora dance in your head. But I digress, go on.”
“Internally all your senses are heightened, but you see more than the average human, and that may be your extension from life gift. Externally; your eyes are intimidating. When you were little, I used to watch you focus on someone and slowly watch that person become increasingly uncomfortable. Almost like you were looking right through them; seeing all their flaws.”
“It used to hurt my feelings the way people looked at me.” I mention sadly.
“That’s something else; your moods and emotions have always been volatile and dominating.” He says not looking at me but at the chessboard.
“Volatile?”
“When you loved something, you loved it with all your heart; it consumed you. On the rare occasion you hated something or someone, you hated it or them, to death. With you there was no gray area, it was always black and white, yes or no. Oh, and telling you “No” was never an enjoyable experience.” He takes a deep breath and his eyes widen at the thought.
“Do tell.”
“Don’t you remember the puppy?” He asks.
I laugh because I wanted a Siberian husky puppy so badly; I was going to name him, “Apollo.” I say and my Daddy begins to laugh along with me.
“Yes; Apollo.” He smirks, “You were angry with me for weeks.”
“I remember.”
“Talk about emotional overload. Excitement, wanting, anger…your mother said you were quite the handful in your teen years.”
“Yeah, I had to apologize in French…a lot.” My Daddy laughs, recalling his quirky gesture getting him out of trouble with my mother.
“She said you found a way to cope but she didn’t want to tell me what it was.” He’s eyeing me, waiting for me to confess my secret.
“I did”, I say but I’m not ready to admit to smoking marijuana to my father just yet, “So everything I went through, everything I am is because of what you are? And what Cian did to help?”
He takes a deep breath, assuming I’m angry, “Yes, baby girl and I know it’s been hard, but look how far you’ve come and how great of a mother you are. Until Mora interfered you had it all; unbeknownst to you that is.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t know about Cian or the bonds and you were happy with Griffin.” My Daddy rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his blood cocktail. He hated my husband, but I think it’s a long historical story I don’t care to get into.
“I was happy, but I won’t lie; there was something missing. Something more I felt I wanted…” I trail off.
“Babe?”
I shake the reverie of Cian’s face flashing through my mind, “I was going to say, that when I met Cian; that, wanting, went away.”
“Wanting.” My Daddy says quietly, I let him have his moment. He sees me waiting and smiles, “Yes, when you want something, you would work any angle you could, come hell or high water you would do your damndest to get it; within reason that is.”
I nod, “Apollo.”
My Daddy mirrors me, “Yes, Apollo.”
“Anger…anger for you was dangerous, I can only imagine how bad it got when you were a teenager.”
“I remember secluding myself a lot and it was very difficult to overcome.” I admit.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” He says smiling.
What have I got to lose, nothing. My father will still love me, he might not like it, but if it helped me steer clear of a murderous rampage. “Fine; I started smoking cannabis.” I say closing one eye expecting the worst and I specifically call it by its genus because something in the back of my mind says my Daddy will appreciate the intelligence of it.
“Whatever works, right?” He’s smiling but I can see underneath he’s slightly disappointed.
“It worked, but it ostracized me from people further.” I ignore his tone.
“The friends that stick around are the ones that count.”
“Agreed, can we talk about the good things again?” I ask implying we’ve diverted from positivity.
“Of course, baby girl; there are a-plenty.” He draws out his Creole accent.
I smile, “Like?” I fish.
He smiles back, “Well for one; your wit. At a young age you had a come-back for every tongue lashing. Your Sunday school teacher always said how special you were.”
“Special? Huh, yeah that’s nice coming from Deena Smalls.” That woman used to grab the back of my arm and dig her nails in the meat on the underside.
“She died, you know.” My father says with a devious smile on his face.
I don’t miss a beat, “Hmm, rest in peace; I suppose.” I roll my eyes and move another pawn. “What else?” I smile.
“Let’s see…hmm, your intelligence, your cunning and your beauty.”
I blush at the last sentiment; I’ve never been one to take a compliment graciously.
“What it all comes down to, baby girl, is that you were born to be, what may be; but, you have the choice to stay who you already are.”
I stare at my Daddy blankly, that was overly cryptic; “And if I want to be more?” I ask.
“Then you have made your choice. Just know that the gifts you have grown into and possess are a diluted version of what you will experience if you become what I am.” He cautions.
“How diluted?” I ask.
“The best analogy I can use for you would be coffee.”
I tilt my head; furrow my brow and try to wrap my head around where he’s going, “Coffee?”
“You love Café DuMonde coffee, correct? The chicory infusion is your favorite.”
“Yeah, of course.” I smile; I do love Café DuMonde coffee.
“Imagine drinking some regular old homemade watered down coffee pot coffee.” He says; I make a disgusted face. “Exactly, it’s diluted and lacks the full flavor of the coffee bean.”
“Are you saying I’m like a diluted vampire?” I giggle a little.
“Extremely diluted; you eat food, very little, but you do. Your gifts are gifts, but diluted gifts. I can’t speculate exactly on what will transpire should you make the choice to change, but I’ve been researching here and there. I just hope once it happens you come directly home so you can be protected until your stability resumes. And by home I mean here, with me.”
“Where else will I be Daddy, I live here.” I say jokingly obvious.
“Who knows where you and Cian end up; you could be in Europe when it happens, you just never know.”
I laugh and my Daddy is eyeing me again, “Sorry, Daddy I was thinking of the way Cian came over from Europe.”
“Oh, yeah? I haven’t heard this one.”
“No?” I’m surprised, but I continue, “He hitchhiked in one of the soldier’s coffins after World War II.”
My father clasps his hands together and laughs heartily, “That man is resourceful; isn’t he?”
“After two thousand years, I would suspect so.” I stop and make my move, “Checkmate!” I cry out and pump my fists in the air above my head.
I hear quiet clapping from the door. I turn to see Daddy’s coven has arrived. I rise from my seat as Alistair and Flannaghan, Estella, Angelique and Dat, flanked by Sophia and Xavier glide into the billiards room, all of them dressed impeccably well. I kiss my Daddy’s cheeks and hug Estella. Alistair and Flannaghan are all business. They set up behind the bar with paperwork, but they are polite, smiling as they pass me by.
I bend down to talk to Dat, “Henri has missed you.” The little vampire smiles at me. The two boys get along wonderfully, even though Dat is sixty years older than Henri. I smile sincerely at the sisters and Xavier on my way out. I close the door behind me and ascend the grand staircase. I realize what my father and I discuss these many nights are the revelations I need to hear but subconsciously already knew; I’m different, strange and most importantly; unique.
I’m tingly at the thought of simply being in town; after thirteen long years. I take a deep breath and there it is, mixed into the salt smell, him. Cian, he is here; Justus was right. I make a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things until tomorrow and continue driving on until I get to the Bogue Sound neighborhood of Watersedge. I make a left onto Lu lane and slowly creep through Watersedge looking for Mr. Everett’s house. I pass the Hilliard’s and sure enough there in the driveway is a refurbished 1966 Cadillac Coop DeVille. The satin paint job is spectacular in Midnight Blue and if the windows weren’t tinted to the lowest percentage I could see the interior; I look in my rearview mirror as I realize I’m holding up traffic gawking at the steel beauty.
I hold my hand up to signal my absentmindedness and move on. I hope I get a chance to see the interior, I think to myself. At the end of Lu lane, at the beginning of Jamie circle is Mr. Everett’s house. I pull my car in and wave to my temporary neighbors as I exit my car. I climb the few steps and lift the coral to a pair of keys underneath; one small, one large. I open the door and survey the area; thankfully Mr. Everett’s daughter already turned on the air conditioning.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
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He opens the door to his room and it’s definitely different from the rest of the house. Justus’s room is virtually black and white. Off white walls and dark wood floors stretch throughout. All the furniture is dark as well. His ornate black bed frame with black and white geometric bedding and pillows is quite contemporary. There is a black and white geometric rug underfoot and a modern black couch with chrome trim sits facing a pair of French doors, the upper balcony on the front of the house. Justus has been holding out, this room is beautiful. The rest of the furniture is decorated with black and white bottles; and for a guy, the room is pristinely clean. I look up on the wall and my painting of the Burgwin-Wright house hangs over the headboard.
I gasp, “Justus!” He had it framed on his errands; the house looks spectacular wrapped in a black baroque frame. “It’s beautiful in here!”
“It’s perfect, yes?” He beams. “My father bought the house this morning; it’s his to do with as he pleases.”
“Yes.” I mirror him. “Wait…your father just up and bought the house?!”
“Of course.” He says like his father buys a house a day.
I sit on his bed like he does mine, grabbing the remote to the flat screen TV, I flip it on and the last thing Justus watched was HGTV. The host of the currently playing show is describing how to refurbish your deck at minimal cost. I change the station to music television, I look up Justus is staring at my presumptiveness, “What?” I say like he would.
He smiles and closes the door behind him; bounding onto the bed beside me. We hunker down and watch television until I see the sun coming up; I nudge him, “Justus.”
He groans into his pillow, “Huh?”
“Watch the sun rise with me before I go.”
He throws his heavy arm over my legs, “No.” He says, barely audible.
“We can’t go through this again, come on.” I push his arm off.
He moans again and rolls out from under the duvet, “Okay. Okay.”
I’m up and dancing around like I have to pee, “Come ON!” I prance out of his room and run down the stairs quietly. Justus is lagging behind, “Time is of the essence.” I whisper; directing him down the stairs like an air traffic controller.
I open the door and step out, I leave it wide behind me. Justus finally exits and after rubbing his eyes he clasps his arms around my neck, my back to his front. We watch as the sun comes up over the reeds and water.
I take a deep breath and Justus kisses the top my head before saying, “I’m going to miss you.”
I grab his forearm, “I’m going to miss you too.”
“Come on, it’s up.” Justus rushes into the house and back up the stairs. He closes the bathroom door behind him. I follow up to my room and grab my linen sack; I hear the faint sound of my cell alarm and reach into my bag to pull it out. I dismiss the wake alarm and snooze the reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard for another hour. It’s way too early to discuss rental properties.
After I check my phone I go downstairs, drop my bag the steps and start a pot of coffee, Henley hasn’t arrived yet. I look up at the wall clock, it’s nearly 6:30, where is he?
Just then I hear the door open, “I’m here, I’m sorry sir.” Henley darts into the kitchen, “Oh Hey Babe; I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“I don’t have lodging yet, besides, I need to cash my wages check.”
“Yeah, got to have money to travel.” We both laugh and nod.
I hear the sounds of Justus carrying my tubs down from my room, I bolt into the foyer, “You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”
He smiles, “I know.” He winks before walking out to my car a duffle bag over each shoulder and his arms stuffed.
“Keys?” I chime.
“Got ‘em.” He calls back.
I go back into the kitchen to fix my coffee. I select a large cup from the cabinet, mindful to bring it back in October. Henley is moving around the kitchen on a mission and I try to keep out of his way. I stop him and kiss his cheek, “See you in October, Henley.”
Henley clasps onto my arms, “Be careful Miss Babe, you come back safe to us, ya hear?”
“I will.” I smile at him.
“She will; she better.” Lars enters the kitchen in his bathrobe.
“Lars,” I say walking over to him, I kiss both his cheeks, “Thank you.”
He gently taps my nose, “You earned it.” He winks, like father like son.
“Are you not working today sir?” Henley asks handing Lars a cup of black coffee.
“Writers, Studio issues, you name it. Long story short, I’m off today.” He says smiling while sipping his coffee. “Do you mind staying Henley; I need to make some calls during Soren’s quiet times.”
“Yes sir; of course.”
“Oh, here,” Lars reaches into his robe pocket and hands Henley a check.
“Thank you sir.” Henley graciously sticks the paper in his pocket.
I take my coffee outside where Justus is still trying to figure out how I got all this stuff here. Standing with my arms crossed, cup in hand, I watch while he shifts and moves things here and there; he catches me, I raise my eyebrows and smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” He says sarcastically.
“Thoroughly; can I help?” I put my cup on the top of my car and begin to remove Henri’s car seat. I round to the trunk and place the seat by the back tire.
“Excuse me,” I gently shove Justus aside and pull the shallow tubs from the trunk. Justus holds his arms out for me to start stacking, “Thank you. Will you put them in my back seat?” He smiles and shakes his head, “What?” I ask.
“I could have been very rude just then. Shame on you for trying to set me up like that.” He jokingly sneers at me.
I realize the joke and laugh, “You’re getting better.” A smile sneaks off the side of my mouth but it slowly, weakly diminishes. My brow furrows because even though I want to go, so desperately, by the same token I want to stay. The supposedly philandering arrogant actor I met weeks ago is not so at all, he is sweet and attentive. He cares what people think of him even though upon first meeting you wouldn’t guess it in your wildest dreams. I’ll admit it, I listened to Henley’s inaccurate information without hesitation, formed a “judge a book by its cover” opinion on Justus and there is a shame on me. Shame on me for listening to gossip and taking it for what it’s worth, I have always been open minded to any and all. Even if I don’t agree, I’m not on this Earth to judge anyone. In fact the basis for more than one of my friendships is solidly founded on never listening to the terrible things people say about each other.
Justus secures the tubs and closes the back door, he turns to me smiling and when he sees my tumultuous facial expression his smile diminishes. He lunges toward me but steps back, grabbing both sides of my body, “I will ask one last time, okay? Are you okay?”
I snicker and nod before taking one of the deepest breaths I have ever taken and I swear I get the Penhaligon’s scent in my nose, like I can smell him; Cian.
Justus attempts to take me in his arms but I pull away, “I have to make a few calls, thank you for helping me.” I retreat as fast as I can around the house to the beach; I look up at the back deck; no one, good. I take another hard, long, and deep breath. It’s there, his scent. Over and over, I take in air; the scent of salt and sand is gone, all I smell is him. I bound up the staircase to the deck and into the house to grab my linen sack; Soren is now up and all the men are quietly staring at me from the breakfast table. As I creep back out to the deck I hear Justus say something to Lars in Swedish; Soren busts them cold, and I know they are talking about me when little guy calls out, “Broder love Babe.”
I can’t think about that right now, it’s definitely a decent hour to discuss renting a house. I call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord in Emerald Isle and I literally have my fingers crossed for two reasons. Number one, I hope I don’t wake her. Number two, I hope her house is vacant.
“Hello?” The sweet voice on the other end is already up and raring to go for the day.
“Mrs. Hilliard?”
“Yes?”
“This is Babet Beauregard, do you remember me?” I have my fingers crossed and now one eye is closed.
“Babet…Oh yes, of Babet, Frankie and Molly, right?”
I sigh in relief and I grin like the Cheshire cat from ear to ear, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, hey sweetie! How are you?!”
“I’m well; I hope you and Mr. Hilliard are?”
“Oh yeah, we’re still plugging away!” She laughs, sweet and kind Mrs. Hilliard.
“I’m glad to hear it; Mrs. Hilliard, I’m coming into EI to do some painting and wondered if your home was available?”
She is silent for a moment before she says solemnly, “I’m sorry honey; it’s occupied until November. Cute young man too, very handy; but…” she trails off.
“Mrs. Hilliard, are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. Well, now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Don’t get old honey, it’s the pits.” She laughs again.
I mirror her before asking, “Do you know of any other houses in the immediate area available?”
“Let me check with Randolph…” faintly I hear her and her husband discuss the possibility of other vacancies in the neighborhood, “Babet?”
“Yes!” I say expectantly.
“Mr. Everett’s house is vacant; if you’re interested, I can call him?”
I am over the moon, Mr. Everett’s house is up the street from the Hilliard’s and while the neighborhood pier is okay, it lacks the privacy the Hilliard’s pier offers, “Yes ma’am, please!” If I end up successfully renting Mr. Everett’s, I’ll then ask permission from Mrs. Hilliard to use their pier.
She laughs, “Okay sweetie, and is this your cell number?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
“Thank you so much Mrs. Hilliard, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!”
“Glad to help. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay, good bye.” I hang up the phone and sigh, wheels in motion. I cradle my phone in my hand while looking out over the water, the hot wind blows over me while I rock back, and I would rock forth, but my chair has stopped. I crane my neck to see Justus holding the finials decorating the top of the chair. I roll my eyes and look back over the water, “How long have you been there?” Okay, so he’s still a little rough around the edges; eavesdropper.
“Long enough to know you are almost ready to leave.” His tone is deep and ominous.
I rest my arm on the chair and my chin on my hand, Justus releases me and sits in the chair next to me; I tilt to face him, “Not quite, waiting for a call back. Besides I have to go to the bank before I head out of town.”
He perks up, “I can take you.”
“To the bank?” I make a face.
“Yeah, why not?” He rises from his chair.
“I guess I’m not doing anything else at the moment, okay; let’s go.” I get up and follow Justus in the house.
We cross the great room and Justus calls to Lars of our soon to be whereabouts, he turns to me and says, “Your purse?”
“Oh, yeah.” I scoff at myself; dip down and grab it and sling it over my head. It hits my rear end hard and I forgot I packed all my electronics in it. I scoff at myself again as I get into the Jeep. I put on my seat belt and start the endorsement process on the back of my check. Justus pulls into the bank parking lot and instead of asking me my preference drive thru or inside; he automatically pulls under the drive-thru canopy, “I don’t have an account here.”
“It’s not a problem, they know me and my father here,” He says taking the clear cylinder from the vacuum tube, he opens it to me.
“Okay.” I drop my check and driver’s license into it.
He slides it closed and replaces it, sending it soaring through the vacuum tube. The bank teller grouchily greets us but after making eye contact with Justus the young woman flips her switch, “Oh, hello Mr. Gunnar.” Her tone is suddenly breathless.
Justus is polite, “Good Morning.”
“How would Miss Beauregard like her…uh, sir, this is entirely too much to send through the drive-thru, would you please come inside.” She is giddy at having to request such an inconvenience.
“Of course.” Justus smiles, he knows what he is doing.
I roll my eyes, “You do this shit on purpose, you know.”
He continues to smile his radiant smile, “I know.”
I take a deep breath as he parks in front of the bank. He attempts to come with me but I halt him, “I’ll be right back.” I say holding my hand up.
He settles back into his seat, resting his long arm out the window. He thinks I don’t see, but he watches me until I’m inside. Upon my entry I’m greeted by a manager type, suit and tie, glasses, stress balding and clearly stress eating. He offers his chubby hand, “Miss Beauregard, I’m the Bank Manager; Preston Cleary.”
I shake his sweaty palm and when he’s not looking I wipe my hand clean, “Babet.” I say as I follow him into his office.
He shuts the door and offers me a seat, “I apologize for the inconvenience but this large sum is…well, must be handled differently.” His tone is condescending.
I’m not impressed but I use the opportunity to play with him a little, “I’m aware of that, I asked Mr. Gunnar to park, but he insisted…” Preston Cleary cuts me off.
“Say no more, we’ll have this taken care of for you. I assume you want all cash?” He asks like he’s had to do this with other nannies.
I decide to make him think, “No; please give me a thousand in cash, all hundred dollar bills and the remainder I would like in a money order; paid to the order of Pierre G. Beauregard.”
He is taken aback, “Um, yes of course,” he grabs a pen from the conglomerate on his desk, “Pierre?”
“Yes. Pierre, with two R’s.” I sit properly in my seat. He pulls my check close to him to write out Beauregard.
Preston Cleary smiles snidely before he gets out of his chair, “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly.
Twenty minutes later Mr. Cleary returns with my money order and a white envelope I assume is my cash and driver’s license. I handle it a little after he hands it to me and my assumptions are correct. I shove the two into my back pocket. He takes his seat as I vacate mine and as I head toward his office door he says, “Tell Mr. Gunnar we appreciate his business.”
“Will do; have a nice day Mr. Cleary.” I reply and close his door behind me. On my way out of the bank four female tellers leer at me, the one in particular, the one from the window, is extraordinarily disappointed that Justus didn’t come in with me. I can almost feel the invisible daggers she is firing from her eyes. I duck quickly through the double doors and the second set of doors.
Back in the car Justus is listening to the Rihanna and Chris Brown duet “Cake” and when he sees me open the door he spins the volume dial down. He starts the engine and backs the Jeep out of the parking spot.
“Your phone was ringing.” He says. I reach down to fumble through my bag for it.
Mrs. Hilliard called twice and left a voicemail, “Thanks.” I say. I press the button to dial her back and thankfully I get her.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hilliard? It’s Babet, I’m so sorry I missed your call.” I say looking at Justus who is smiling big.
“Hi Babet, I talked to Everett and he is more than happy for you to rent his house. How long were you thinking of staying in town?” She sounds like she is about to take notes.
“I want to come in today and I will be heading back to Wrightsville Beach October fifteenth.” Justus snaps his head in my direction and furrows his brow at the date. I hold a finger up to silence him.
“That will be fine, the next tenants aren’t due in until Christmas week. Some people like to have Christmas by the Sea, interesting notion.”
I laugh, “Yeah, very interesting.”
“Anyway, his daughter will drop the keys off; she hides them under the boulder of coral by the door. There is a shed with chairs and other beach toys; it’s locked but that is the small key on the ring, okay?”
“Okay great, how do I get money to him?”
“His daughter comes by to get the mail daily, put your check in his box by the entrance to the neighborhood and you’re all set!” She sounds joyous and I can’t get over how wonderful this woman is.
“Thank you so much, again Mrs. Hilliard; you have been an absolute angel as usual.” I smile thinking of her motherly ways while my girls and I lived in her sound side beach house. She would lovingly cook and bring us a meal at least once a week; I think she missed her own daughter and enjoyed our company as much as we did hers.
“Of course, darlin’…I hope to see you while you’re there.” She says inquisitively.
“You know where I’ll be.” I reply.
“Bye-bye Babet.”
“Bye.” I hang up my phone. I look over at Justus; he’s studying the road but behind it I can see he’s pondering something, “Do you mind if we drive for a bit?” I ask.
He seems to lighten up, smiling as he says, “Sure. Where to?”
“The post office? I need to mail something to my Daddy. Will you roll up the windows please?” I say while rifling through my bag. Justus turns on the air conditioning and rolls up the windows closing out the heat. I pull out the remainder of my care package from home and begin to roll, what is called a “hogleg”. I wrap the bag into a cylinder and hold it out to Justus.
“What?”
“For you.” I say flopping it at him.
“I can’t take your last…”
I cut him off, “It won’t take long to acquire more, please.” I’m still holding the bag, but he doesn’t take it. I sigh and lift the center console cover and place the bag under a handful of cd’s. “Be sure you take it out before your dad gets in here and smells it, or worse.”
Justus takes a deep breath, nods and drives me to the post office. I go inside and Priority mail the money order with a note to my Daddy, which cost a bit more than two pieces of paper should, but the amount of money on said piece of paper is worth the high priced security.
I get back in the car and Justus drives toward the house on Lumina Avenue but he passes it and heads in the direction of the Coast Guard Station. We don’t go that far, and I realize where we are going, the public beach access where I took his pictures. He parks and we find that same little spot hidden from the populace. He sits on the sand; his knees up to rest his arms on, I hand him the joint and drop my bag before I take a seat beside him.
The burning sand is hot on my legs but I don’t mind it, since it will subside momentarily. I pull the lighter from my pocket and blocking the wind, I successfully light the joint. It burns and runs a little; I lick my finger to stop the run. Justus is watching me and holds his hand out expectantly after I get it going.
He hits the joint and holds it gazing out over the blue water. In this spot we are alone, like we are stranded on our own little island and we luckily have one last joint. It’s ironic though, as if said island is our short relationship and the smoke is the signification of its end. Granted I’ll see him to celebrate his birthday, but from there, what? He will go back to Hollywood and then Sweden and I’ll go back to New Orleans probably never to cross paths again. He hands it back to me and I feel moisture on my hand when he does so. I look up at him, in my reverie and inner thought I hadn’t noticed, Justus sitting right beside me, has begun to cry. I see another bauble race down his cheek under his aviator sunglasses, this one he lets fall on the sand.
I pull my hair to one side, since it’s been whipping me in the face, and lean to rest my head on him. He maneuvers his arm out to wrap it around me and pull me closer to him. Before I know it he is sitting behind me as I rest myself against his chest. I snuff out the joint and hand him the butt, instead of burying it, he tucks in into his shirt pocket. I brush the sand off my rear and as he rises his button up shirt billows in the wind giving me one last look at his gorgeous back.
“We should get going. I need to hit the road.” I can hear my own less than convincing tone.
Justus walks ahead of me toward the car; I watch his shirt dance in the wind on his back. His gloriously developed muscles contort with every step he takes trudging through the sand. We drive back to the house and I hug everyone good-bye. It’s official; I have vexed the Gunnar sons; Soren is throwing a moderate fit and Justus looks like someone just ran over his puppy. I give them all one last smile before dropping my sunglasses onto my face. I wave and honk my horn; each yielding another salute from the Gunnar’s.
I start my shuffle payer and to my surprise there is an added mix on it, titled, simply “Justus”. I listen to it as I drive out of Wrightsville and Wilmington. The song titles he selected are “Summertime Rolls”, by Jane’s Addiction, “Blood Sugar Sex Magik” and “Sir Psycho Sexy”, by Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Lounge Fly” by Stone Temple Pilots, and “Paparazzi”, by Lady Gaga among others. The last is a joke regarding our first meeting and I laugh out loud over it. All the songs are funny or sexy until I get to “What Do I Have to Do”, by Stabbing Westward. I begin to tear up while I listen to the heart wrenching lyrics and before the song can finish I turn it off. I don’t turn it back on until I get on 24 from 17, with no traffic problems and as I pass through Swansboro I roll my windows down and take in the difference a few miles makes. The humidity is less heavy here and I can feel a slight coolness as the wind blows over the bridge into Emerald Isle.
I begin to recall the conversations with my Daddy after work each night, prior to the arrival of his coven. Daddy and I sit in the billiards room, face to face across the chess table. Low classical music plays, Bach and Beethoven, Souza and my Daddy’s favorite, Handle. It became like ritual; a friendly chess game played over awkward conversations about vampire blood bonds and a further explanation of why I am the way I am.
I draw my foot up to rest on the seat of my chair, I rest my chin on my knee and move my black knight, my father watches intently, eyeing me with a smile out of the corner of his mouth, “You’re artistic ability is more than a God given gift. Granted, the women on my side of the family have always had an eye but you have an exceptional one. You paint what you see, point blank, period. The lifelike quality of your ability is extraordinary, but there is a difference to it. You see more than what meets the eye, like you paint who they are instead of how they look. As far as what you’ve done since you’ve been home; the speed at which you work, is breathtaking.” He stops to move his white queen in position; I immediately knock her out with my king.
“You did that on purpose.” I say smiling at my Daddy, “Well it’s hard to sleep while visions of Mora dance in your head. But I digress, go on.”
“Internally all your senses are heightened, but you see more than the average human, and that may be your extension from life gift. Externally; your eyes are intimidating. When you were little, I used to watch you focus on someone and slowly watch that person become increasingly uncomfortable. Almost like you were looking right through them; seeing all their flaws.”
“It used to hurt my feelings the way people looked at me.” I mention sadly.
“That’s something else; your moods and emotions have always been volatile and dominating.” He says not looking at me but at the chessboard.
“Volatile?”
“When you loved something, you loved it with all your heart; it consumed you. On the rare occasion you hated something or someone, you hated it or them, to death. With you there was no gray area, it was always black and white, yes or no. Oh, and telling you “No” was never an enjoyable experience.” He takes a deep breath and his eyes widen at the thought.
“Do tell.”
“Don’t you remember the puppy?” He asks.
I laugh because I wanted a Siberian husky puppy so badly; I was going to name him, “Apollo.” I say and my Daddy begins to laugh along with me.
“Yes; Apollo.” He smirks, “You were angry with me for weeks.”
“I remember.”
“Talk about emotional overload. Excitement, wanting, anger…your mother said you were quite the handful in your teen years.”
“Yeah, I had to apologize in French…a lot.” My Daddy laughs, recalling his quirky gesture getting him out of trouble with my mother.
“She said you found a way to cope but she didn’t want to tell me what it was.” He’s eyeing me, waiting for me to confess my secret.
“I did”, I say but I’m not ready to admit to smoking marijuana to my father just yet, “So everything I went through, everything I am is because of what you are? And what Cian did to help?”
He takes a deep breath, assuming I’m angry, “Yes, baby girl and I know it’s been hard, but look how far you’ve come and how great of a mother you are. Until Mora interfered you had it all; unbeknownst to you that is.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t know about Cian or the bonds and you were happy with Griffin.” My Daddy rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his blood cocktail. He hated my husband, but I think it’s a long historical story I don’t care to get into.
“I was happy, but I won’t lie; there was something missing. Something more I felt I wanted…” I trail off.
“Babe?”
I shake the reverie of Cian’s face flashing through my mind, “I was going to say, that when I met Cian; that, wanting, went away.”
“Wanting.” My Daddy says quietly, I let him have his moment. He sees me waiting and smiles, “Yes, when you want something, you would work any angle you could, come hell or high water you would do your damndest to get it; within reason that is.”
I nod, “Apollo.”
My Daddy mirrors me, “Yes, Apollo.”
“Anger…anger for you was dangerous, I can only imagine how bad it got when you were a teenager.”
“I remember secluding myself a lot and it was very difficult to overcome.” I admit.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” He says smiling.
What have I got to lose, nothing. My father will still love me, he might not like it, but if it helped me steer clear of a murderous rampage. “Fine; I started smoking cannabis.” I say closing one eye expecting the worst and I specifically call it by its genus because something in the back of my mind says my Daddy will appreciate the intelligence of it.
“Whatever works, right?” He’s smiling but I can see underneath he’s slightly disappointed.
“It worked, but it ostracized me from people further.” I ignore his tone.
“The friends that stick around are the ones that count.”
“Agreed, can we talk about the good things again?” I ask implying we’ve diverted from positivity.
“Of course, baby girl; there are a-plenty.” He draws out his Creole accent.
I smile, “Like?” I fish.
He smiles back, “Well for one; your wit. At a young age you had a come-back for every tongue lashing. Your Sunday school teacher always said how special you were.”
“Special? Huh, yeah that’s nice coming from Deena Smalls.” That woman used to grab the back of my arm and dig her nails in the meat on the underside.
“She died, you know.” My father says with a devious smile on his face.
I don’t miss a beat, “Hmm, rest in peace; I suppose.” I roll my eyes and move another pawn. “What else?” I smile.
“Let’s see…hmm, your intelligence, your cunning and your beauty.”
I blush at the last sentiment; I’ve never been one to take a compliment graciously.
“What it all comes down to, baby girl, is that you were born to be, what may be; but, you have the choice to stay who you already are.”
I stare at my Daddy blankly, that was overly cryptic; “And if I want to be more?” I ask.
“Then you have made your choice. Just know that the gifts you have grown into and possess are a diluted version of what you will experience if you become what I am.” He cautions.
“How diluted?” I ask.
“The best analogy I can use for you would be coffee.”
I tilt my head; furrow my brow and try to wrap my head around where he’s going, “Coffee?”
“You love Café DuMonde coffee, correct? The chicory infusion is your favorite.”
“Yeah, of course.” I smile; I do love Café DuMonde coffee.
“Imagine drinking some regular old homemade watered down coffee pot coffee.” He says; I make a disgusted face. “Exactly, it’s diluted and lacks the full flavor of the coffee bean.”
“Are you saying I’m like a diluted vampire?” I giggle a little.
“Extremely diluted; you eat food, very little, but you do. Your gifts are gifts, but diluted gifts. I can’t speculate exactly on what will transpire should you make the choice to change, but I’ve been researching here and there. I just hope once it happens you come directly home so you can be protected until your stability resumes. And by home I mean here, with me.”
“Where else will I be Daddy, I live here.” I say jokingly obvious.
“Who knows where you and Cian end up; you could be in Europe when it happens, you just never know.”
I laugh and my Daddy is eyeing me again, “Sorry, Daddy I was thinking of the way Cian came over from Europe.”
“Oh, yeah? I haven’t heard this one.”
“No?” I’m surprised, but I continue, “He hitchhiked in one of the soldier’s coffins after World War II.”
My father clasps his hands together and laughs heartily, “That man is resourceful; isn’t he?”
“After two thousand years, I would suspect so.” I stop and make my move, “Checkmate!” I cry out and pump my fists in the air above my head.
I hear quiet clapping from the door. I turn to see Daddy’s coven has arrived. I rise from my seat as Alistair and Flannaghan, Estella, Angelique and Dat, flanked by Sophia and Xavier glide into the billiards room, all of them dressed impeccably well. I kiss my Daddy’s cheeks and hug Estella. Alistair and Flannaghan are all business. They set up behind the bar with paperwork, but they are polite, smiling as they pass me by.
I bend down to talk to Dat, “Henri has missed you.” The little vampire smiles at me. The two boys get along wonderfully, even though Dat is sixty years older than Henri. I smile sincerely at the sisters and Xavier on my way out. I close the door behind me and ascend the grand staircase. I realize what my father and I discuss these many nights are the revelations I need to hear but subconsciously already knew; I’m different, strange and most importantly; unique.
I’m tingly at the thought of simply being in town; after thirteen long years. I take a deep breath and there it is, mixed into the salt smell, him. Cian, he is here; Justus was right. I make a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things until tomorrow and continue driving on until I get to the Bogue Sound neighborhood of Watersedge. I make a left onto Lu lane and slowly creep through Watersedge looking for Mr. Everett’s house. I pass the Hilliard’s and sure enough there in the driveway is a refurbished 1966 Cadillac Coop DeVille. The satin paint job is spectacular in Midnight Blue and if the windows weren’t tinted to the lowest percentage I could see the interior; I look in my rearview mirror as I realize I’m holding up traffic gawking at the steel beauty.
I hold my hand up to signal my absentmindedness and move on. I hope I get a chance to see the interior, I think to myself. At the end of Lu lane, at the beginning of Jamie circle is Mr. Everett’s house. I pull my car in and wave to my temporary neighbors as I exit my car. I climb the few steps and lift the coral to a pair of keys underneath; one small, one large. I open the door and survey the area; thankfully Mr. Everett’s daughter already turned on the air conditioning.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
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March 18, 2015
Packed again, Emerald Isle bound...
Chapter 10
Labor Day weekend has come fast upon us; Soren and I have developed beautiful tans, bordering on competition with the Adams and Green kids who are under strict rules today, their end of the season party is tonight and while I have yet to pack for Emerald Isle I’m pondering making an appearance before I go. I remember the black dress and stilettos I brought for such an occasion but I’m still unsure. After Soren’s lunch, he goes down for a nap and I take the opportunity to begin packing. Like clockwork, Justus is in my room, his face is downtrodden and he hasn’t shaved.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Are you really leaving?” He doesn’t look at me.
“You know I have to.” I reply.
“No you don’t.” He is still looking at his hands or the floor, I don’t know which, but he isn’t looking at me.
I walk over and stand in front of him; he rests the top of his head on my stomach. I can’t help but stroke his sandy blonde hair. He takes my waist in his hands before moving his head to spin me around landing me in his lap. He is clutching me and nuzzles into the back of my neck, I let out a sigh as desire resonates inside me, and the tingling down low is persistent. I begin to feel something move below me a hardening beneath my legs.
I’m uncomfortable, but I don’t want to move because I need this closeness, I know it’s not Cian; but the body needs what it needs. Justus is moving his lips across my shoulders and the tingling magnifies. I let out another sigh that ends with a groan.
“Babet.” Justus says my name and he pronounces the T, like Cian.
I can’t speak, “Hmm?” Is all that hums through my lips.
“Stay. Please. Don’t. Leave.” Each word brushes my skin, giving me goose bumps.
I wriggle away from his grip, “I’m sorry Justus, I must.”
He huffs and gets to his feet causing me to step back. He walks over to my easel and stares at the painting I started of Soren. His is complete and in his father’s possession.
“Where is mine?” He asks looking down at the Burgwin-Wright house and the blue downtown building I realized on my second trip down there, was a restaurant.
“Your father has it.” I reply watching him cautiously.
“What are you doing with these?” He points at the two unclaimed paintings.
“I suppose I’ll take them with me.”
He turns to face me, “How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much do you want for them?” He has both hands on his sculpted hips.
I’m speechless; I never imagined he liked them that much. My eyes are wide but thoughtful, “Justus; I don’t have a number, you can just have them.”
“I won’t hear that, let me pay for them.”
“Not necessary, they’re a gift.”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes, “How much?”
Exacerbated I reach into my purse and fish out the receipts for the canvas, “Here, if you must pay for them, here is the cost of the canvas.”
He stuffs the piece of paper in his pocket before he says, “So will you finish Soren’s in Emerald Isle?”
“No, when I return I’ll finish his. Your father said while he’s in Sweden I could leave it here.”
“Well, I will be here. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Wait, you’re not going back with them?”
“No, they will be going home to see Vilma; the next season of my show starts filming in October, so I will stay here until then. Besides you promised to take me out for my birthday.”
“September 30th, right?”
He winks at me, “And we’ll celebrate yours too, it’s only what, six days after mine?”
“Yep and you will be in LA by then.”
“Please stop reminding me.” He says like a sad child. I notice he is clutching something in his hand.
“What’s in your hand?”
“Oh, yes speaking of LA. This is for you, it’s a cheesy shirt from my show, but I thought it would remind you of me.” He hands me the t-shirt.
I open it and it says, “TEAM BANE” with a scrolled black wolf on it. The shirt is soft cotton and has a v-neck, my favorite. I reach up and hug Justus. He takes it to the extreme and picks me up.
I’m safely on the floor when I say, “Thanks Justus, but I could never forget you.” I smile.
“I won’t forget you either,” He says and tilts his head toward my paintings but I can tell he wants to say something more; “Will you accompany me to the Adams/Green Labor day party?” He seems embarrassed.
“Justus…I…” But he cuts me off.
“I will take you shopping; I don’t suppose you brought a nice dress with you.”
“It’s not that, I brought a dress; better safe than sorry, ya know? It’s just…” he is leering deviously at me, I relent, “yes, I will accompany you.” I say sweetly, “Besides, we can give them something to talk about.”
He laughs, “Now you’re talking! Show me your dress.”
“Why?” I ask offensively.
He rolls his eyes, “Just show me the dress.”
I flit over to the closet; the only thing hanging is the dress Estella provided me for Molly’s show. I grab the hanger and dip down to gather up my heels. I hold my dress out away from me in one hand and my shoes in the other. I watch Justus; smiling.
“What?” I ask.
“You will look exquisite in that. Love the heels.” He is looking at me like he could go for seeing me sans dress. “You may be a little over dressed, but I can match you. We will definitely give them something to talk about.”
I smile and shake my head, “Fine…”
“BAAAAAABE!” Soren calls from his room.
Justus heads to the door, “I got him.” He opens Soren’s door and is hit with cries, “No Broder! BAAAAAABE!”
I rush past Justus into Soren’s room, “Hey. Hey, it’s okay Soren. Babe’s here.”
“Babe…Moder…” He slips back to sleep; I’m holding him as he does so. I gently lay him back down before looking at Justus. He is standing in the doorway watching me.
I whisper, “Bad dream.” We leave Soren’s room and close the door. “Henri has them a lot.”
“You’re a good mother.” Justus says out of the blue.
“Thanks.” My tone is surprised. “I’ve been at it for a long time.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Thirteen.”
“You have been a mother for a long time.” He laughs. “Listen, I’ve got some running around to do before we go to this shindig. I’ll see you later.” He kisses my head.
“See ya.” I return to my room. I have Soren duties soon, so I continue to pack until he really wakes.
In the kitchen, Henley gets Soren going on his dinner; Teriyaki chicken with rice and broccoli. He’s eyeing me.
“What is it Henley?”
“I don’t know if you know what you’re getting into with him.”
“I leave tonight, what is a little party going to hurt?”
“I just hope you get away without a scratch.”
I smile but it diminishes when I hear the door open, “Jus!” Lars is home.
“Hi Lars.” I say as the elder Gunnar enters the kitchen.
“Hello Babet; have you seen Justus?”
“He said he had some errands to run before the party.”
“Yes; speaking of, Soren and I will let you and Justus represent us. I’m not up for it and I have been missing this little guy,” He tousles Soren’s hair. “Will you tell Justus?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” He directs his attention to Henley, “Henley, I’ll be in the shower.”
“Yes sir.” Henley says smiling.
The door opens and closes again, “Dad?!” Justus is calling from the foyer.
I round the kitchen, “He went to take a shower, everything okay?”
Justus looks flustered and doesn’t answer my question. He goes into the dark hall of the master area; I have yet to see that room. I shrug off Justus’s reaction and look out the front window; the back hatch door of the Jeep is wide open. I start to open the door to go outside when Justus closes it from behind me. I look back at him frustrated.
“Uh uh, not yet.”
“Not yet, what?” I ask.
“You’ll see when my father gets out of the shower, until then, stay away from the door.” He is cutting his eyes at me in a humorous way. I look past him at the wall clock; it’s almost 6:00. I leave Justus and go back into the kitchen to see if Soren is ready for his bath. I clean his hands and take him upstairs; my bedroom door is open, I specifically closed it when I came down earlier. I have Soren secured to my hip as I walk in my room, “Babe room.” Soren says.
“Yeah…” but there is something missing, the two portraits I told Justus he could have are gone. I guess he took my offer for gift after all. I shrug it off and get Soren in the bath. Lars comes up to relieve me; he lets Soren play extra which puts me off my ready time, but I don’t care; the man is enjoying his son. I piddle around in my room until they vacate the bathroom. I don’t take long to shower and since my hair is shorter it takes much less time to dry and fix. I put on moderate makeup and leave the bathroom to dress. I slide on the black dress and sit to apply my heels. I take a moment to walk around in them since I typically wear flip flops or no shoes at all. Click, clack, and clop I’m watching my feet when I see my door open and the Adonis before me.
Justus is debonair in a pair of flat front black dress pants and jacket, underneath the jacket a white cotton v-neck shirt peeks through. His skin is bronzed and the silver chain from his necklace sits atop it gloriously. His shoes are square-toed loafers. I meet his eyes; he is gawking at me in my heels.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I confess.
He turns away from me and juts his arm out for me to take it. I slide my arm inside his as he leads me out of my bedroom, down the hall and stairs.
Lars is standing at the bottom with Soren attached to his hip, “You two look great.” He beams.
“Broder! Babe!” Soren shrieks in his father’s ear.
“See you later, yeah?” Lars asks. “Babet, if I don’t see you before you leave, we look forward to seeing you when you return. Right Soren?”
“Right!”
I hug Lars and kiss Soren on his little cheek before I step out the door. Justus assists me down the driveway and up the neighbor’s drive. The Adams/Green house is nearly identical to The Gunnar’s, massive, except it’s constructed from a white stucco material. This house looks like it belongs in an episode of Miami Vice. We ring the bell; an attendant greets us at the door. He invites us in and closes the heavy door behind us.
Instantly we’re inundated by Autumn Green and her best friend, “This is Summer. Weird right, best friends with seasonal names?” she’s flustered in Justus’s presence.
I shake Summer’s hand and introduce myself and Justus, since I know the girls aren’t really here to talk to me.
“Hi.” The girls say; dreamily in unison.
“Ladies.” Justus says and shakes both their hands. They giggle. He smiles politely and when the two girls turn to leave his smile fades.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been waiting to meet Babet all night! Hey, I’m Brooke Green, Autumn and Aaron’s mother.” Brooke is a tan petite blonde woman.
“Nice to meet you, your kids have great talent.”
“Oh, thank you, you’re sweet. They love it, that’s for sure. Good evening Justus.” She says politely.
“Mrs. Green.” Justus has a limited vocabulary at the moment.
“Babet, I hear you are leaving tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. Emerald Isle bound.” I say smiling, I honestly can’t wait. I’m giddy until I look up at Justus who seems as though he’s been stabbed in the heart. My smile falters but I recover it.
After Brooke introduces me to various single men with Justus in tow and this person and that, she is distracted by a food mishap. As soon as her back is turned Justus grabs my hand and leads me out to the screened in porch, it’s packed. There are people everywhere; except the beach. Justus makes a path through the bodies to the screen door. I head down the steep staircase in my heels when I stop, grab Justus’s hand and remove the torture devices from my feet. I take a deep breath and sigh when they are both off. I let go of Justus and bound down the less than difficult staircase; jumping the last three steps. I turn waiting for Justus; he is taking his sweet time. I brush the hair from my face expectantly.
He stops on the step I jumped from, “You know; I wish you would paint your own portrait. You look so…beautiful right now.”
I take a deep breath and smile, “Well, the joy of being an artist is I never have to paint my own portrait.” I laugh.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and bends his head to mine, “I saw your panties when you jumped.” He smiles when I look up at him.
“You mean you saw my ass.” I say, because I’m wearing a thong. I push off of him and run toward the beach in front of our house, he catches me and spins me around. He pushes the hair from my face and leans in, I want to stop him because I’m leaving in a couple of hours, but because I am leaving I want this last moment with him. I tilt my head up, receptive.
“You sure?” He asks as I open my eyes.
“Kiss me Justus, just kiss me.” I say and reach up to his lips. We connect and the world around me is gone, I have escaped into his mouth. His tongue swims against mine and it deepens, like we can’t get any closer to one another. He reaches down and grabs the underside of my thighs, hoisting me to him. He stops and pulls away, we are both breathless and words I cannot believe I uttered leave my mouth, “Make love to me, Justus.”
He takes a deep breath and trails his lips up my neck to my ear, “No.” And then back down to my neck. I pull away while he is still holding me, we are face to face, “You know you really don’t want that.” He kisses my breastplate before placing me back on the sand. “Listen, if after you have reunited with your “boyfriend” you still feel this for me, maybe. But I respect you; and I hope I know you well enough to judge for myself that you miss him and are reflecting these feelings for him onto me.” I begin to feel like a villain, “Which normally I would jump at; but I like you Babe.”
I step back from the “new” Justus and say, “That is officially the most gentlemanly thing you’ve said to me. And you’re right; I apologize…I do miss him.” I begin to fidget with my dress.
Justus takes my hand from the hem of my dress, “Come on; you’ve had your fill of these folks right?”
“Absolutely.” I sigh.
“I’ll help you finish packing.”
I smile at him and halt his stride, from inside the cleavage of my dress I pull out a joint, “One last time.”
Justus pulls me over to the base of our staircase; we hunker down and smoke before going back in the house, a little gigglier than before. We are quiet up the stairs, except when Justus insists on getting tangerines out of the refrigerator. He crests my doorframe with three in each hand. He drops them on the bed before removing his jacket, awkwardly I might add. By this time I have already gotten out of the dress and into my damask shorts and white boat-neck shirt. He sees this and jokes that he missed the show.
I smile while stacking the tubs of all my supplies by the door along with my duffle bags piled on top of each other. All my electronics are in my linen sack and there is barely a hint of my ever being here. The only remnant is Soren’s half finished portrait leaning against the far wall away from daylight. My easel is already in the set aside items. I have my hands on my hips looking around at the room while Justus peels tangerines I ask, “Where are the paintings I gave you?”
“Uh uh, I bought those.”
“I have yet to see a penny from them.” I joke.
“Yeah, yeah. You can collect when you get back for my birthday; besides it’s not like my father isn’t paying you for mine already, plus your wages.”
“But I didn’t get anything from him before we left for the party.”
“I know; I have it.” He says reaching into his pocket; he pulls out a personal check. He dangles it in front of me, waving it around just so it misses my grasp, “Oh, and it’s a rather large too!”
I snatch it from him, “Give it.” My mouth drops, “Oh, no this is way too much!”
“Is it?!” Justus cranes his body to peek at the check, “No its right and it’s local, you can cash it before you leave, but then you would have to wait until morning.” He smiles slyly.
“You did this on purpose!” He cuts his eyes down and then back up at me.
I jump on the bed and punch him in the arm, he falls over and I topple onto him. I instantly jump off, “Shit!”
“What?” Justus watches me.
I dip down into my bag and retrieve my cell, two missed calls from my Daddy and one missed text from Scarlet. I hit the voicemail button and hear my Daddy voice, “Babe, honey; sorry I missed you. I hope you’re having fun while you’re there. Lots going on here, call when you can. I love you baby girl.” The text from Scarlet says, “Big surprise for you when you get home, luv.” While I have my cell in hand I program an alarm for 6:00 am and a reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord. My greatest hope is I can rent my old house.
“What?” Justus repeats.
“I missed my Daddy’s call and Scarlet text me.”
His eyes are wide and expectant, “And?”
“Apparently they are extremely busy right now, surprises and what not.”
“When do you head home?”
“After Halloween, your father will be leaving with Soren back to Sweden. I will make my trek home then.”
Justus hops up from the bed, putting his orange peels on the dresser; I make a face at this. He rolls his eyes, “Come.” He takes my hand and practically drags me into the hall.
“Where are we going?” He stops me in front of his bedroom door, the first room on the left. We’ve shared a wall this whole time.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Babets-Epipha...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Labor Day weekend has come fast upon us; Soren and I have developed beautiful tans, bordering on competition with the Adams and Green kids who are under strict rules today, their end of the season party is tonight and while I have yet to pack for Emerald Isle I’m pondering making an appearance before I go. I remember the black dress and stilettos I brought for such an occasion but I’m still unsure. After Soren’s lunch, he goes down for a nap and I take the opportunity to begin packing. Like clockwork, Justus is in my room, his face is downtrodden and he hasn’t shaved.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Are you really leaving?” He doesn’t look at me.
“You know I have to.” I reply.
“No you don’t.” He is still looking at his hands or the floor, I don’t know which, but he isn’t looking at me.
I walk over and stand in front of him; he rests the top of his head on my stomach. I can’t help but stroke his sandy blonde hair. He takes my waist in his hands before moving his head to spin me around landing me in his lap. He is clutching me and nuzzles into the back of my neck, I let out a sigh as desire resonates inside me, and the tingling down low is persistent. I begin to feel something move below me a hardening beneath my legs.
I’m uncomfortable, but I don’t want to move because I need this closeness, I know it’s not Cian; but the body needs what it needs. Justus is moving his lips across my shoulders and the tingling magnifies. I let out another sigh that ends with a groan.
“Babet.” Justus says my name and he pronounces the T, like Cian.
I can’t speak, “Hmm?” Is all that hums through my lips.
“Stay. Please. Don’t. Leave.” Each word brushes my skin, giving me goose bumps.
I wriggle away from his grip, “I’m sorry Justus, I must.”
He huffs and gets to his feet causing me to step back. He walks over to my easel and stares at the painting I started of Soren. His is complete and in his father’s possession.
“Where is mine?” He asks looking down at the Burgwin-Wright house and the blue downtown building I realized on my second trip down there, was a restaurant.
“Your father has it.” I reply watching him cautiously.
“What are you doing with these?” He points at the two unclaimed paintings.
“I suppose I’ll take them with me.”
He turns to face me, “How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much do you want for them?” He has both hands on his sculpted hips.
I’m speechless; I never imagined he liked them that much. My eyes are wide but thoughtful, “Justus; I don’t have a number, you can just have them.”
“I won’t hear that, let me pay for them.”
“Not necessary, they’re a gift.”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes, “How much?”
Exacerbated I reach into my purse and fish out the receipts for the canvas, “Here, if you must pay for them, here is the cost of the canvas.”
He stuffs the piece of paper in his pocket before he says, “So will you finish Soren’s in Emerald Isle?”
“No, when I return I’ll finish his. Your father said while he’s in Sweden I could leave it here.”
“Well, I will be here. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Wait, you’re not going back with them?”
“No, they will be going home to see Vilma; the next season of my show starts filming in October, so I will stay here until then. Besides you promised to take me out for my birthday.”
“September 30th, right?”
He winks at me, “And we’ll celebrate yours too, it’s only what, six days after mine?”
“Yep and you will be in LA by then.”
“Please stop reminding me.” He says like a sad child. I notice he is clutching something in his hand.
“What’s in your hand?”
“Oh, yes speaking of LA. This is for you, it’s a cheesy shirt from my show, but I thought it would remind you of me.” He hands me the t-shirt.
I open it and it says, “TEAM BANE” with a scrolled black wolf on it. The shirt is soft cotton and has a v-neck, my favorite. I reach up and hug Justus. He takes it to the extreme and picks me up.
I’m safely on the floor when I say, “Thanks Justus, but I could never forget you.” I smile.
“I won’t forget you either,” He says and tilts his head toward my paintings but I can tell he wants to say something more; “Will you accompany me to the Adams/Green Labor day party?” He seems embarrassed.
“Justus…I…” But he cuts me off.
“I will take you shopping; I don’t suppose you brought a nice dress with you.”
“It’s not that, I brought a dress; better safe than sorry, ya know? It’s just…” he is leering deviously at me, I relent, “yes, I will accompany you.” I say sweetly, “Besides, we can give them something to talk about.”
He laughs, “Now you’re talking! Show me your dress.”
“Why?” I ask offensively.
He rolls his eyes, “Just show me the dress.”
I flit over to the closet; the only thing hanging is the dress Estella provided me for Molly’s show. I grab the hanger and dip down to gather up my heels. I hold my dress out away from me in one hand and my shoes in the other. I watch Justus; smiling.
“What?” I ask.
“You will look exquisite in that. Love the heels.” He is looking at me like he could go for seeing me sans dress. “You may be a little over dressed, but I can match you. We will definitely give them something to talk about.”
I smile and shake my head, “Fine…”
“BAAAAAABE!” Soren calls from his room.
Justus heads to the door, “I got him.” He opens Soren’s door and is hit with cries, “No Broder! BAAAAAABE!”
I rush past Justus into Soren’s room, “Hey. Hey, it’s okay Soren. Babe’s here.”
“Babe…Moder…” He slips back to sleep; I’m holding him as he does so. I gently lay him back down before looking at Justus. He is standing in the doorway watching me.
I whisper, “Bad dream.” We leave Soren’s room and close the door. “Henri has them a lot.”
“You’re a good mother.” Justus says out of the blue.
“Thanks.” My tone is surprised. “I’ve been at it for a long time.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Thirteen.”
“You have been a mother for a long time.” He laughs. “Listen, I’ve got some running around to do before we go to this shindig. I’ll see you later.” He kisses my head.
“See ya.” I return to my room. I have Soren duties soon, so I continue to pack until he really wakes.
In the kitchen, Henley gets Soren going on his dinner; Teriyaki chicken with rice and broccoli. He’s eyeing me.
“What is it Henley?”
“I don’t know if you know what you’re getting into with him.”
“I leave tonight, what is a little party going to hurt?”
“I just hope you get away without a scratch.”
I smile but it diminishes when I hear the door open, “Jus!” Lars is home.
“Hi Lars.” I say as the elder Gunnar enters the kitchen.
“Hello Babet; have you seen Justus?”
“He said he had some errands to run before the party.”
“Yes; speaking of, Soren and I will let you and Justus represent us. I’m not up for it and I have been missing this little guy,” He tousles Soren’s hair. “Will you tell Justus?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” He directs his attention to Henley, “Henley, I’ll be in the shower.”
“Yes sir.” Henley says smiling.
The door opens and closes again, “Dad?!” Justus is calling from the foyer.
I round the kitchen, “He went to take a shower, everything okay?”
Justus looks flustered and doesn’t answer my question. He goes into the dark hall of the master area; I have yet to see that room. I shrug off Justus’s reaction and look out the front window; the back hatch door of the Jeep is wide open. I start to open the door to go outside when Justus closes it from behind me. I look back at him frustrated.
“Uh uh, not yet.”
“Not yet, what?” I ask.
“You’ll see when my father gets out of the shower, until then, stay away from the door.” He is cutting his eyes at me in a humorous way. I look past him at the wall clock; it’s almost 6:00. I leave Justus and go back into the kitchen to see if Soren is ready for his bath. I clean his hands and take him upstairs; my bedroom door is open, I specifically closed it when I came down earlier. I have Soren secured to my hip as I walk in my room, “Babe room.” Soren says.
“Yeah…” but there is something missing, the two portraits I told Justus he could have are gone. I guess he took my offer for gift after all. I shrug it off and get Soren in the bath. Lars comes up to relieve me; he lets Soren play extra which puts me off my ready time, but I don’t care; the man is enjoying his son. I piddle around in my room until they vacate the bathroom. I don’t take long to shower and since my hair is shorter it takes much less time to dry and fix. I put on moderate makeup and leave the bathroom to dress. I slide on the black dress and sit to apply my heels. I take a moment to walk around in them since I typically wear flip flops or no shoes at all. Click, clack, and clop I’m watching my feet when I see my door open and the Adonis before me.
Justus is debonair in a pair of flat front black dress pants and jacket, underneath the jacket a white cotton v-neck shirt peeks through. His skin is bronzed and the silver chain from his necklace sits atop it gloriously. His shoes are square-toed loafers. I meet his eyes; he is gawking at me in my heels.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I confess.
He turns away from me and juts his arm out for me to take it. I slide my arm inside his as he leads me out of my bedroom, down the hall and stairs.
Lars is standing at the bottom with Soren attached to his hip, “You two look great.” He beams.
“Broder! Babe!” Soren shrieks in his father’s ear.
“See you later, yeah?” Lars asks. “Babet, if I don’t see you before you leave, we look forward to seeing you when you return. Right Soren?”
“Right!”
I hug Lars and kiss Soren on his little cheek before I step out the door. Justus assists me down the driveway and up the neighbor’s drive. The Adams/Green house is nearly identical to The Gunnar’s, massive, except it’s constructed from a white stucco material. This house looks like it belongs in an episode of Miami Vice. We ring the bell; an attendant greets us at the door. He invites us in and closes the heavy door behind us.
Instantly we’re inundated by Autumn Green and her best friend, “This is Summer. Weird right, best friends with seasonal names?” she’s flustered in Justus’s presence.
I shake Summer’s hand and introduce myself and Justus, since I know the girls aren’t really here to talk to me.
“Hi.” The girls say; dreamily in unison.
“Ladies.” Justus says and shakes both their hands. They giggle. He smiles politely and when the two girls turn to leave his smile fades.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been waiting to meet Babet all night! Hey, I’m Brooke Green, Autumn and Aaron’s mother.” Brooke is a tan petite blonde woman.
“Nice to meet you, your kids have great talent.”
“Oh, thank you, you’re sweet. They love it, that’s for sure. Good evening Justus.” She says politely.
“Mrs. Green.” Justus has a limited vocabulary at the moment.
“Babet, I hear you are leaving tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. Emerald Isle bound.” I say smiling, I honestly can’t wait. I’m giddy until I look up at Justus who seems as though he’s been stabbed in the heart. My smile falters but I recover it.
After Brooke introduces me to various single men with Justus in tow and this person and that, she is distracted by a food mishap. As soon as her back is turned Justus grabs my hand and leads me out to the screened in porch, it’s packed. There are people everywhere; except the beach. Justus makes a path through the bodies to the screen door. I head down the steep staircase in my heels when I stop, grab Justus’s hand and remove the torture devices from my feet. I take a deep breath and sigh when they are both off. I let go of Justus and bound down the less than difficult staircase; jumping the last three steps. I turn waiting for Justus; he is taking his sweet time. I brush the hair from my face expectantly.
He stops on the step I jumped from, “You know; I wish you would paint your own portrait. You look so…beautiful right now.”
I take a deep breath and smile, “Well, the joy of being an artist is I never have to paint my own portrait.” I laugh.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and bends his head to mine, “I saw your panties when you jumped.” He smiles when I look up at him.
“You mean you saw my ass.” I say, because I’m wearing a thong. I push off of him and run toward the beach in front of our house, he catches me and spins me around. He pushes the hair from my face and leans in, I want to stop him because I’m leaving in a couple of hours, but because I am leaving I want this last moment with him. I tilt my head up, receptive.
“You sure?” He asks as I open my eyes.
“Kiss me Justus, just kiss me.” I say and reach up to his lips. We connect and the world around me is gone, I have escaped into his mouth. His tongue swims against mine and it deepens, like we can’t get any closer to one another. He reaches down and grabs the underside of my thighs, hoisting me to him. He stops and pulls away, we are both breathless and words I cannot believe I uttered leave my mouth, “Make love to me, Justus.”
He takes a deep breath and trails his lips up my neck to my ear, “No.” And then back down to my neck. I pull away while he is still holding me, we are face to face, “You know you really don’t want that.” He kisses my breastplate before placing me back on the sand. “Listen, if after you have reunited with your “boyfriend” you still feel this for me, maybe. But I respect you; and I hope I know you well enough to judge for myself that you miss him and are reflecting these feelings for him onto me.” I begin to feel like a villain, “Which normally I would jump at; but I like you Babe.”
I step back from the “new” Justus and say, “That is officially the most gentlemanly thing you’ve said to me. And you’re right; I apologize…I do miss him.” I begin to fidget with my dress.
Justus takes my hand from the hem of my dress, “Come on; you’ve had your fill of these folks right?”
“Absolutely.” I sigh.
“I’ll help you finish packing.”
I smile at him and halt his stride, from inside the cleavage of my dress I pull out a joint, “One last time.”
Justus pulls me over to the base of our staircase; we hunker down and smoke before going back in the house, a little gigglier than before. We are quiet up the stairs, except when Justus insists on getting tangerines out of the refrigerator. He crests my doorframe with three in each hand. He drops them on the bed before removing his jacket, awkwardly I might add. By this time I have already gotten out of the dress and into my damask shorts and white boat-neck shirt. He sees this and jokes that he missed the show.
I smile while stacking the tubs of all my supplies by the door along with my duffle bags piled on top of each other. All my electronics are in my linen sack and there is barely a hint of my ever being here. The only remnant is Soren’s half finished portrait leaning against the far wall away from daylight. My easel is already in the set aside items. I have my hands on my hips looking around at the room while Justus peels tangerines I ask, “Where are the paintings I gave you?”
“Uh uh, I bought those.”
“I have yet to see a penny from them.” I joke.
“Yeah, yeah. You can collect when you get back for my birthday; besides it’s not like my father isn’t paying you for mine already, plus your wages.”
“But I didn’t get anything from him before we left for the party.”
“I know; I have it.” He says reaching into his pocket; he pulls out a personal check. He dangles it in front of me, waving it around just so it misses my grasp, “Oh, and it’s a rather large too!”
I snatch it from him, “Give it.” My mouth drops, “Oh, no this is way too much!”
“Is it?!” Justus cranes his body to peek at the check, “No its right and it’s local, you can cash it before you leave, but then you would have to wait until morning.” He smiles slyly.
“You did this on purpose!” He cuts his eyes down and then back up at me.
I jump on the bed and punch him in the arm, he falls over and I topple onto him. I instantly jump off, “Shit!”
“What?” Justus watches me.
I dip down into my bag and retrieve my cell, two missed calls from my Daddy and one missed text from Scarlet. I hit the voicemail button and hear my Daddy voice, “Babe, honey; sorry I missed you. I hope you’re having fun while you’re there. Lots going on here, call when you can. I love you baby girl.” The text from Scarlet says, “Big surprise for you when you get home, luv.” While I have my cell in hand I program an alarm for 6:00 am and a reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord. My greatest hope is I can rent my old house.
“What?” Justus repeats.
“I missed my Daddy’s call and Scarlet text me.”
His eyes are wide and expectant, “And?”
“Apparently they are extremely busy right now, surprises and what not.”
“When do you head home?”
“After Halloween, your father will be leaving with Soren back to Sweden. I will make my trek home then.”
Justus hops up from the bed, putting his orange peels on the dresser; I make a face at this. He rolls his eyes, “Come.” He takes my hand and practically drags me into the hall.
“Where are we going?” He stops me in front of his bedroom door, the first room on the left. We’ve shared a wall this whole time.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Babets-Epipha...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
March 2, 2015
What a difference a day makes...
Chapter 9
The following morning I have Soren on the beach after breakfast, its supposed to be overly hot later today and personally I’ve been neglecting my own tan. I’m in heaven in a tri-fold chair, my black bikini and my toes in the sand watching Soren play in the shallows of the waves. Autumn, her brother Aaron and their cousins are all working the water. Soren waves to Autumn when she wipes out and yells to her, “It’s okay.”
Around lunch time the surfing cousins come out of the water and I’m introduced to Landon, who is the oldest of the three Adams boys and the cockiest to boot. Winking at me and mentioning something about smoking when he shakes my hand. His brothers Deacon and Tristan look almost identical to each other, not at all like the eldest Adams brother. They seem shyer than him also. Deacon appears embarrassed by his overly confident brother. Tristan, the youngest, is also the tallest of the three. Physically all the boys are similar, extremely tan with sandy blonde hair and defined abs; surfers. Autumn and Aaron have identical physiques to the Adams boys, tan, defined frames but while Aaron’s hair is sandy blonde like the other boys, Autumn’s in chestnut brown. Because their skin is so dark, their blue eyes are more prominently vibrant. Again, Autumn is different, her eyes are light hazel.
“You’re coming to the party right, Babet?” She says wringing the water out of her long hair.
“I didn’t know you were having a party.”
“End of season, Labor Day party; you have to come!” Her tone is excitable.
“Oh, Labor day; I leave that night for Emerald Isle.” I shrug and in the distance I see one of the managing mothers heading our way.
“Hey!” The tall brunette, Blake is trudging through the sand, she holds her hand out to me, “I’m Blake Adams. You’re Babet, right?”
“Yes ma’am. Babet Beauregard.” I take her offered hand.
“Ya’ll got our party invitation?”
“I’m not sure, I collected the mail, but it’s not mine so…” Blake cuts me off.
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, tell Lars you are all invited, even Soren.” She says in a childlike voice; Soren smiles. I see a figure emerge from the deck and when I look back, Justus has donned his beach attire, nearly collapsing Autumn when she sees him. He is all smiles, shirtless and glowing. His blue and white hibiscus print board shorts hang perfectly on his hips and I can’t stop staring; hell none of the females in this tiny group can. I hear deep sighs and scoffs from the Adams boys and Aaron; Tristan declaring, he was “out of here”. Justus gets within ear shot and Blake says, “Babet I don’t see a ring on that finger, come to the party; there will be lots of attractive, single, wealthy men there.” She locks eyes with Justus who doesn’t seem happy about her suggestion.
“Okay, thank you. Nice meeting you Blake.” I call after they turn to leave.
“See you at the party!” She calls back with her hand over her head.
Justus shakes his head and sets up a chair beside mine. He makes himself comfortable before turning to me, “The invitation is in the kitchen, if you want to go.”
“I told her I was leaving that night.” I say looking out over the water.
“Right.” His tone is disappointed.
Justus and I sit in silence while the blue waves crash over tan sand until I engage him, “Why did you kiss me yesterday?”
He smirks and a little laugh exudes, “I thought; after you pulled out of my grip, that it was the only way to shock you into coming quietly.”
“Just so you are aware, I didn’t oblige you out of shock value, I did it because I didn’t want to hold up traffic.” I turn to face him, aviators to aviators.
“You sure about that?” I see one of his eyebrows shoot up.
“Positive.”
“Sure you didn’t enjoy it a little bit?” He holds his thumb and finger up.
“I won’t lie, it’s been a while since I’ve been kissed and yes, subconsciously women of course, want to be “taken” to a degree, but don’t misconstrue that for anything other than what it was.”
“So you didn’t feel anything when it happened?”
I’m silent, because I so felt something when he grabbed me and kissed me in the middle of Lumina Ave. Him being who he is; I should, like the sorority girl said, feel lucky. But he is not who I truly and irrevocably want. I know he is waiting for a reply, an honest reply. After our day yesterday, everything from me is translated in complete honesty, he knows this.
“Okay, you win. Yes I felt something Justus, but it can’t go anywhere. You’ve seen why. It’s him I love. It’s him I want,” Under my breath I say, “It’s him I need.”
He takes a deep breath, “Well, he’s not here.” He adjusts in his chair.
I keep my mouth shut because internally I’m in stitches, if Cian came out here right now, he would burst into flames. Actually, I don’t know what would happen if Cian saw the sun; it’s not something we discussed while I was under vampire care.
“True.” I say nodding.
“And from what I hear you don’t know where he is either.” His tone is snarky and cocky.
“Wow, Justus! You know so much about me; please enlighten me.” I’m spitting fire, angry.
He begins, “Okay, just for the record our fathers are friends and discuss many things.” He stops.
“Fair enough.” I relent.
“Your father wanted to help you with your situation by sending you here to clear your mind, get closure for all that has happened; which by the way, I don’t know everything, just some things. He said your “boyfriend”, “ He uses air quotes, “had business in Europe and once he returned he was to go somewhere he knew you would find him…I take it, that is why you are so eager to go North to Emerald Isle. Babet, I am being completely honest with you right now…” He stops.
“Appreciate it.” I say.
“He is there. In Emerald Isle, I don’t know specifics, but he is there.”
I get a wonderfully erotic flush roll over me, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because for once, someone; you, had the decency to be honest with me about what this city thinks of me. Even if those girls know what they did was unjust.” He pauses, “Seems kind of childish, what you’re doing.”
“Like you said, you don’t know everything.” I say readjusting in my seat.
“True.” He mirrors me.
“We have an understanding then?” I ask.
“Yes. Under the condition you don’t sneak out and quit on us.” He laughs.
I nod, “Agreed.”
The next morning it’s Soren’s turn to participate in a photo shoot. I take him all around Downtown Wilmington; Cape Fear Museum, Fort Fisher Aquarium, and the Railroad Museum; again. A trip downtown for Soren isn’t complete unless he sees the Battleship, so I oblige him. Low and behold as soon as we get there guess who’s waiting? Standing at the entrance to the Battleship, Justus has his hands clasped in front of him. Soren pulls his tiny hand from mine and rushes over to his big brother, who picks him up and twirls him around.
I saunter over with a smirk across my lips, “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I would surprise Soren…and you.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. My face gets hot and I know I’m blushing even though the gesture is so common at home.
He straightens and smiles at me before Soren tugs him from his reverie, “Broder! Broder!”
I follow behind the Gunnar brothers while they explore the vessel. I’ve seen it with Soren and alone, besides the brothers are very cute together. Justus bends to listen to Soren talk about the switches and knobs and lifts the little boy when he can’t reach or see something. I take pictures of the two of them, no flash and minimal sound. Unaware of being watched, Justus is so sweet with his younger brother. My insides begin to hurt when I think of Griffin and Henri at the zoo or the Aquarium in Baton Rouge. I tuck the camera away and I feel a tear leave my eyes.
Justus turns to look at me at this precise moment and his face becomes fearful, “What’s wrong Babe?”
He calls me Babe, but I let it go and smile, “Nothing.” I shake my head and laugh.
Justus walks over while holding Soren’s hand, his brow is furrowed but his eyes are sympathetic. He reaches up to wipe the second tear on the verge of descending. He looks down at Soren who is obviously confused by what is going on.
“Soren, are you ready to go?” Justus asks.
The little boy again looks at both of us before saying, “Yes.”
“We don’t have to leave.” I tell Soren in my “Soren” voice.
“No, I hungy.” Soren boasts.
“Me too.” Justus agrees and smiles at both of us, “Let’s go to The Blockade Runner!”
“No!” Soren shrieks which surprises both of us and a couple of people close by.
I woman carting her own brood around the vessel leans in to me and says, “Two, huh?”
“Yes.” I reply cordially.
“A lot for Mommy and Daddy to handle.” She looks to both Justus and me; she’s smiling like an idiot.
I begin to protest when Justus intervenes, “Yes, he’s a handful…right honey?” He looks at me smiling like an idiot too.
I play along; it’s easier than explaining the actual situation, “That he is.” I wink at Soren who is looking from his brother to me confused. I take Soren’s free hand and lead him out of the Battleship.
We are nearly to my car when Soren yells, “Jester’s!”
“What?” Justus asks.
I explain, “He wants to go to Jester’s for lunch, it’s on Castle St. downtown.”
Justus follows behind in the Jeep to Jester’s, we eat lunch and on the way home Soren falls asleep. My phone rings its default tone and I answer, “Hello?”
It’s Justus, “Hi.”
“Hi?”
“Can we go through the photos you took of me yesterday?”
“Sure, you ready to pick one?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, sure.”
He is silent for a moment before saying, “Can we partake?”
“Is your father working all day?”
“Yes and since I’m in town Henley is off for rest of the day.”
“Why?”
“Because my father wants to take us out to dinner. He wanted to last night, but I beat him to the punch.” I hear a smirk in his voice.
I swear all this eating out, poor Henley is going to be out of a job, “Okay.” My tone is a little put upon.
“Are you okay?” Justus asks.
“Are you going to ask me that until I leave? I’m fine, I’m a grown woman.”
“Yes, yes you are.” He sounds enticed.
“Good bye Justus.” I say hanging up the phone and turning into the driveway.
The Jeep pulls in behind me and we both exit our cars. I roll my eyes at him beneath my sunglasses as I remove Soren from the car seat. His little blonde head flops onto my shoulder as I bring him into the house. Henley is still here and I’m thankful to talk to him. I ask him to wait for me while I lay Soren in his bed. Justus is out of sight, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t far away.
“Henley.” I say entering the kitchen.
“Miss Babe! How has your day been?”
“Oh, fine. Listen Henley; where did you get your information about Justus?”
“I have a niece who works for one of the nanny agencies, she told me.”
“Ah.” I say and it all makes perfect sense, word of mouth can be so detrimental.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I don’t think it’s true.”
Henley laughs, “Oh Miss Babe, he’s an actor. Don’t let him fool you. You ain’t no fool.”
“True, I’m not. I just think Justus has been railroaded, is all. He’s a nice guy for the most part.”
Henley’s eyes turn serious, “What did he do Babe?”
I look down, “He kissed me.”
Henley shakes his head, “Damn, where?”
“On my lips.” My tone is obvious.
“No…I mean, here at the house or…”
“In the middle of the road actually.” Henley looks so confused. I explain, “I was angry with him and jumped out of the car. He tried to grab me, no, he did grab me; but I pulled away from him. He didn’t like that and grabbed me again and kissed me; quite forcefully.”
Henley’s lips purse in a hard line, “That son of a bitch!”
“Henley, its fine. We talked about it.” I pop a blueberry from the bowl of fruit on the counter into my mouth.
“I like you Babe,” He stops for a moment, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I laugh, “Trust me Henley, if anyone is going to get hurt it’s him. He really doesn’t know what he’s trying to get into.”
Henley takes a deep breath, “Okay Miss Babe.” He lightens up, “I hear ya’ll are going out tonight.”
“I suppose so, me and the Gunnar boys.” I laugh because it sounds like a country band. Henley laughs with me.
I bid Henley ado for the night and go upstairs to my room. Again Justus is already in there and has put himself to use breaking up on my tablet. I reach into my bag and toss the pack of papers at him.
“Oh, you’re going to have to roll if you want to use these.” He holds the papers in between his index and middle finger.
“Why, you rolled the blunt just fine.” I ask, hand on hip.
“My hands are too big to handle the thin paper, it tears.”
“Okay.” He finished breaking it up and hands the tablet to me, papers on top.
I pull out a sliver of paper and sprinkle the bright green herb in its cradle. I roll it and lick the glue to seal it. I look up at Justus while I my tongue is attached to the paper, he is staring at my mouth. I smile and complete the apparatus. I hand it to him and turn to crack my bedroom window. The smell of salt water fills the room before the scent of cannabis pushes it out. I have to admit, I enjoy smoking with Justus; he’s a borderline newbie with his little coughs and philosophical conversations. We laugh and joke, we wrestle and punch each other. Besides the urge to fuck him, based on my missing Cian, I see Justus as a brother, a very magnetizing attractive brother.
While we are inebriated I begin asking him questions, because I know he will answer them truthfully. I start out mild, “What is Sweden like?”
His eyes widen and he begins a tirade about the European country, “Beautiful, picturesque and peaceful. We have four distinct seasons; spring is my favorite; when new life blooms forth. Summer is strange, we have eighteen hours of daylight in late June, but late in winter we only have six hours making the holiday season nightlife start earlier. Sweden is such a large country that sixty-five percent of it is covered in forests. Stockholm is in southern Sweden where it seems the sky is always clear and blue.” He looks off thoughtfully, “People are very nice. I don’t have to worry with photographers there, the obsession with celebrity is not as important in Sweden as it is here. I can go to the corner store and engage the cashier without having to hear about my show or questions about my father; just chit chat about the weather or politics.”
“Ooh, politics are a hot button here; you have to be careful who you engage in that kind of conversation.” I say trying to deter him from any more geographical lessons.
“So I’ve noticed. Americans get so angry when they talk politics, why do they take it so personally?” His accent leaks out more when he’s high. It’s funny and cute.
“I guess people figure, I elected that man or woman, any attack on them is a personal attack on me. It’s stupid. Most politicians have their own agenda, they tell you what you want to hear to get you to elect them and go about their own merry way regardless of the promises they’ve made. My Daddy was friends with a couple of politicians that were straight shooters…I don’t remember the name of one, but Fussell was the other.”
“You know, you’re right!” He says smiling.
“So, you live in Stockholm regularly?”
“Yes. I travel too much to buy another place. I thought about L.A., but it’s not home. You know how when you travel, the only thing you can’t wait to get back to is, home?”
I quietly, almost depressingly say, “Yes.”
“Oh, Babe…Babet, I’m sorry…I didn’t…” I cut him off.
“It’s okay, and I suppose you can call me Babe now. You smoked my weed and all.” I laugh and peek up at him through my lashes.
“I like Babe. I was hurt I couldn’t call you that.” He is mirroring me, his brow wrinkled.
“Another one of my defense mechanisms I’m afraid, part of the package.” I smile, I love turning that phrase. It reminds me of my Daddy…and Cian. Don’t think of Cian. I furrow my brow but recover quickly.
Justus smiles then sits up to stretch, he is massive. He towers over me even sitting on his ass. I have to crane my neck to watch his fingertips lace into each other. His muscles contort his biceps and triceps; I trace my eyes down to his rib cage and the sculpting there. He has little to no body fat and the notch at his hip is so delightful. He opens his eyes and catches me watching, he smiles brightly and his teeth are perfection.
“Say something to me in Swedish.” I say playfully.
His eyes turn serious and it’s like they’re burning a hole into mine, “Jag onskar att du var min.”
“And that means?”
“You’ll have to figure that out on your own, Babe.”
I laugh, “Okay.” I sit silently for a minute before I remember my conversation with Henley, “Can I ask you something; serious?”
“Of course.”
“How many girls in my position have you slept with?”
He slightly fidgets before recovering, “Honestly; one. The one that started all the bull shit.”
“How old were you?”
“I was Twenty-six. She was nineteen; before you ask. She cared for my sister Lena.” His mood has changed and I need to remedy it.
“Hey, I’m…” I was about to apologize for bringing it up, but my cell phone chimes Scarlet’s designated tone, owls hooting. “Sorry, it’s my daughter.” I pick up my phone, the screen reads, “What’s up?” I roll my eyes, what’s up indeed, teenagers. I text her that I haven’t been able to get up with Daddy or anyone, where have they been? I simply get back, “It’s a secret.” I give up, they’re fine; but my Daddy and I still need to talk. Justus looks at me inquisitively; he’s learned to not ask if I’m okay. “Its fine, I’ve been trying to get in touch with my father…”
He cuts me off with a subject change, “What did you do before you came up here, besides painting?”
“I was; I am a tattoo artist.” I say pulling my shoulder forward.
“Yes, I was going to comment on your ink, but I didn’t want you to think I was using it as a catalyst for conversation. Men do that, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” I say laughing.
“You have a shop in New Orleans then?”
“I do, I bought into my friend Frankie’s hair salon.”
“Hair and Tattoo?”
I laugh, “Yes, and nails, tanning; they are widely separated though. My part of the shop is segregated from the hair salon.”
“Is it lucrative?”
“It is, very much so. I hated leaving on such short notice, but you go where art calls you.”
“May I ask you something serious?” His tone has deepened and it’s one of his alluring attributes.
“Of course.” I mirror his reply.
“What happened to you?”
I take a deep breath because the way he presents the question is rather bold and technically none of his business, but I asked him and it’s only fair I divulge as well, “I was stalked by someone who used others to try and sever my ties to the world in order to make me theirs.” It’s not terribly far from the truth; the specifics are a highly blurred. “They killed my husband and tried to kill my kids in a fire.”
“Your studio? Right?”
“Right. I was taken into special custody and once my kids and I were safe we were released, it just so happen to coincide with my father returning from the dead after twenty two years.”
“Yes, I recall meeting your father when I was a teenager; he looks the same as he did then, now. The man ages well.”
I laugh, “Yep, those Creole features last forever.”
“But you don’t look Creole, well at least clothed you don’t.” He smiles, “I peg you for Scotch-Irish, especially your face and eyes.
“My mother was a Lancaster, English rose.”
“That’s it then, you favor your mother.” He pauses and shifts like he wants to ask something else, “When you were under “special” protection was Cian, the special protector?”
I begin to shift as well, “Yes.” And I want to divulge more but, it’s dangerous.
“But?”
“Hmm?” I mimic.
“You seems like you have more to say about it? I have a theory if you wouldn’t mind humoring me?”
“By all means.” It keeps me from speaking further; my mouth filter needs to start working.
“My theory is that he cared for you in your time of need, you formed the attraction out of his shielding you from the harm befalling you.” He sounds like Freud.
“That is part of it, yes; but there is so much more to it than that.” I stop trying to figure out how to put this nicely, “If I could tell you, I would; but it’s too complicated to get into. So many factions of the past lead up to it all.”
“You’re not in a cult are you?” He says laughing and I can’t help but do so too. That was funny.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
The following morning I have Soren on the beach after breakfast, its supposed to be overly hot later today and personally I’ve been neglecting my own tan. I’m in heaven in a tri-fold chair, my black bikini and my toes in the sand watching Soren play in the shallows of the waves. Autumn, her brother Aaron and their cousins are all working the water. Soren waves to Autumn when she wipes out and yells to her, “It’s okay.”
Around lunch time the surfing cousins come out of the water and I’m introduced to Landon, who is the oldest of the three Adams boys and the cockiest to boot. Winking at me and mentioning something about smoking when he shakes my hand. His brothers Deacon and Tristan look almost identical to each other, not at all like the eldest Adams brother. They seem shyer than him also. Deacon appears embarrassed by his overly confident brother. Tristan, the youngest, is also the tallest of the three. Physically all the boys are similar, extremely tan with sandy blonde hair and defined abs; surfers. Autumn and Aaron have identical physiques to the Adams boys, tan, defined frames but while Aaron’s hair is sandy blonde like the other boys, Autumn’s in chestnut brown. Because their skin is so dark, their blue eyes are more prominently vibrant. Again, Autumn is different, her eyes are light hazel.
“You’re coming to the party right, Babet?” She says wringing the water out of her long hair.
“I didn’t know you were having a party.”
“End of season, Labor Day party; you have to come!” Her tone is excitable.
“Oh, Labor day; I leave that night for Emerald Isle.” I shrug and in the distance I see one of the managing mothers heading our way.
“Hey!” The tall brunette, Blake is trudging through the sand, she holds her hand out to me, “I’m Blake Adams. You’re Babet, right?”
“Yes ma’am. Babet Beauregard.” I take her offered hand.
“Ya’ll got our party invitation?”
“I’m not sure, I collected the mail, but it’s not mine so…” Blake cuts me off.
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, tell Lars you are all invited, even Soren.” She says in a childlike voice; Soren smiles. I see a figure emerge from the deck and when I look back, Justus has donned his beach attire, nearly collapsing Autumn when she sees him. He is all smiles, shirtless and glowing. His blue and white hibiscus print board shorts hang perfectly on his hips and I can’t stop staring; hell none of the females in this tiny group can. I hear deep sighs and scoffs from the Adams boys and Aaron; Tristan declaring, he was “out of here”. Justus gets within ear shot and Blake says, “Babet I don’t see a ring on that finger, come to the party; there will be lots of attractive, single, wealthy men there.” She locks eyes with Justus who doesn’t seem happy about her suggestion.
“Okay, thank you. Nice meeting you Blake.” I call after they turn to leave.
“See you at the party!” She calls back with her hand over her head.
Justus shakes his head and sets up a chair beside mine. He makes himself comfortable before turning to me, “The invitation is in the kitchen, if you want to go.”
“I told her I was leaving that night.” I say looking out over the water.
“Right.” His tone is disappointed.
Justus and I sit in silence while the blue waves crash over tan sand until I engage him, “Why did you kiss me yesterday?”
He smirks and a little laugh exudes, “I thought; after you pulled out of my grip, that it was the only way to shock you into coming quietly.”
“Just so you are aware, I didn’t oblige you out of shock value, I did it because I didn’t want to hold up traffic.” I turn to face him, aviators to aviators.
“You sure about that?” I see one of his eyebrows shoot up.
“Positive.”
“Sure you didn’t enjoy it a little bit?” He holds his thumb and finger up.
“I won’t lie, it’s been a while since I’ve been kissed and yes, subconsciously women of course, want to be “taken” to a degree, but don’t misconstrue that for anything other than what it was.”
“So you didn’t feel anything when it happened?”
I’m silent, because I so felt something when he grabbed me and kissed me in the middle of Lumina Ave. Him being who he is; I should, like the sorority girl said, feel lucky. But he is not who I truly and irrevocably want. I know he is waiting for a reply, an honest reply. After our day yesterday, everything from me is translated in complete honesty, he knows this.
“Okay, you win. Yes I felt something Justus, but it can’t go anywhere. You’ve seen why. It’s him I love. It’s him I want,” Under my breath I say, “It’s him I need.”
He takes a deep breath, “Well, he’s not here.” He adjusts in his chair.
I keep my mouth shut because internally I’m in stitches, if Cian came out here right now, he would burst into flames. Actually, I don’t know what would happen if Cian saw the sun; it’s not something we discussed while I was under vampire care.
“True.” I say nodding.
“And from what I hear you don’t know where he is either.” His tone is snarky and cocky.
“Wow, Justus! You know so much about me; please enlighten me.” I’m spitting fire, angry.
He begins, “Okay, just for the record our fathers are friends and discuss many things.” He stops.
“Fair enough.” I relent.
“Your father wanted to help you with your situation by sending you here to clear your mind, get closure for all that has happened; which by the way, I don’t know everything, just some things. He said your “boyfriend”, “ He uses air quotes, “had business in Europe and once he returned he was to go somewhere he knew you would find him…I take it, that is why you are so eager to go North to Emerald Isle. Babet, I am being completely honest with you right now…” He stops.
“Appreciate it.” I say.
“He is there. In Emerald Isle, I don’t know specifics, but he is there.”
I get a wonderfully erotic flush roll over me, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because for once, someone; you, had the decency to be honest with me about what this city thinks of me. Even if those girls know what they did was unjust.” He pauses, “Seems kind of childish, what you’re doing.”
“Like you said, you don’t know everything.” I say readjusting in my seat.
“True.” He mirrors me.
“We have an understanding then?” I ask.
“Yes. Under the condition you don’t sneak out and quit on us.” He laughs.
I nod, “Agreed.”
The next morning it’s Soren’s turn to participate in a photo shoot. I take him all around Downtown Wilmington; Cape Fear Museum, Fort Fisher Aquarium, and the Railroad Museum; again. A trip downtown for Soren isn’t complete unless he sees the Battleship, so I oblige him. Low and behold as soon as we get there guess who’s waiting? Standing at the entrance to the Battleship, Justus has his hands clasped in front of him. Soren pulls his tiny hand from mine and rushes over to his big brother, who picks him up and twirls him around.
I saunter over with a smirk across my lips, “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I would surprise Soren…and you.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. My face gets hot and I know I’m blushing even though the gesture is so common at home.
He straightens and smiles at me before Soren tugs him from his reverie, “Broder! Broder!”
I follow behind the Gunnar brothers while they explore the vessel. I’ve seen it with Soren and alone, besides the brothers are very cute together. Justus bends to listen to Soren talk about the switches and knobs and lifts the little boy when he can’t reach or see something. I take pictures of the two of them, no flash and minimal sound. Unaware of being watched, Justus is so sweet with his younger brother. My insides begin to hurt when I think of Griffin and Henri at the zoo or the Aquarium in Baton Rouge. I tuck the camera away and I feel a tear leave my eyes.
Justus turns to look at me at this precise moment and his face becomes fearful, “What’s wrong Babe?”
He calls me Babe, but I let it go and smile, “Nothing.” I shake my head and laugh.
Justus walks over while holding Soren’s hand, his brow is furrowed but his eyes are sympathetic. He reaches up to wipe the second tear on the verge of descending. He looks down at Soren who is obviously confused by what is going on.
“Soren, are you ready to go?” Justus asks.
The little boy again looks at both of us before saying, “Yes.”
“We don’t have to leave.” I tell Soren in my “Soren” voice.
“No, I hungy.” Soren boasts.
“Me too.” Justus agrees and smiles at both of us, “Let’s go to The Blockade Runner!”
“No!” Soren shrieks which surprises both of us and a couple of people close by.
I woman carting her own brood around the vessel leans in to me and says, “Two, huh?”
“Yes.” I reply cordially.
“A lot for Mommy and Daddy to handle.” She looks to both Justus and me; she’s smiling like an idiot.
I begin to protest when Justus intervenes, “Yes, he’s a handful…right honey?” He looks at me smiling like an idiot too.
I play along; it’s easier than explaining the actual situation, “That he is.” I wink at Soren who is looking from his brother to me confused. I take Soren’s free hand and lead him out of the Battleship.
We are nearly to my car when Soren yells, “Jester’s!”
“What?” Justus asks.
I explain, “He wants to go to Jester’s for lunch, it’s on Castle St. downtown.”
Justus follows behind in the Jeep to Jester’s, we eat lunch and on the way home Soren falls asleep. My phone rings its default tone and I answer, “Hello?”
It’s Justus, “Hi.”
“Hi?”
“Can we go through the photos you took of me yesterday?”
“Sure, you ready to pick one?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, sure.”
He is silent for a moment before saying, “Can we partake?”
“Is your father working all day?”
“Yes and since I’m in town Henley is off for rest of the day.”
“Why?”
“Because my father wants to take us out to dinner. He wanted to last night, but I beat him to the punch.” I hear a smirk in his voice.
I swear all this eating out, poor Henley is going to be out of a job, “Okay.” My tone is a little put upon.
“Are you okay?” Justus asks.
“Are you going to ask me that until I leave? I’m fine, I’m a grown woman.”
“Yes, yes you are.” He sounds enticed.
“Good bye Justus.” I say hanging up the phone and turning into the driveway.
The Jeep pulls in behind me and we both exit our cars. I roll my eyes at him beneath my sunglasses as I remove Soren from the car seat. His little blonde head flops onto my shoulder as I bring him into the house. Henley is still here and I’m thankful to talk to him. I ask him to wait for me while I lay Soren in his bed. Justus is out of sight, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t far away.
“Henley.” I say entering the kitchen.
“Miss Babe! How has your day been?”
“Oh, fine. Listen Henley; where did you get your information about Justus?”
“I have a niece who works for one of the nanny agencies, she told me.”
“Ah.” I say and it all makes perfect sense, word of mouth can be so detrimental.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I don’t think it’s true.”
Henley laughs, “Oh Miss Babe, he’s an actor. Don’t let him fool you. You ain’t no fool.”
“True, I’m not. I just think Justus has been railroaded, is all. He’s a nice guy for the most part.”
Henley’s eyes turn serious, “What did he do Babe?”
I look down, “He kissed me.”
Henley shakes his head, “Damn, where?”
“On my lips.” My tone is obvious.
“No…I mean, here at the house or…”
“In the middle of the road actually.” Henley looks so confused. I explain, “I was angry with him and jumped out of the car. He tried to grab me, no, he did grab me; but I pulled away from him. He didn’t like that and grabbed me again and kissed me; quite forcefully.”
Henley’s lips purse in a hard line, “That son of a bitch!”
“Henley, its fine. We talked about it.” I pop a blueberry from the bowl of fruit on the counter into my mouth.
“I like you Babe,” He stops for a moment, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I laugh, “Trust me Henley, if anyone is going to get hurt it’s him. He really doesn’t know what he’s trying to get into.”
Henley takes a deep breath, “Okay Miss Babe.” He lightens up, “I hear ya’ll are going out tonight.”
“I suppose so, me and the Gunnar boys.” I laugh because it sounds like a country band. Henley laughs with me.
I bid Henley ado for the night and go upstairs to my room. Again Justus is already in there and has put himself to use breaking up on my tablet. I reach into my bag and toss the pack of papers at him.
“Oh, you’re going to have to roll if you want to use these.” He holds the papers in between his index and middle finger.
“Why, you rolled the blunt just fine.” I ask, hand on hip.
“My hands are too big to handle the thin paper, it tears.”
“Okay.” He finished breaking it up and hands the tablet to me, papers on top.
I pull out a sliver of paper and sprinkle the bright green herb in its cradle. I roll it and lick the glue to seal it. I look up at Justus while I my tongue is attached to the paper, he is staring at my mouth. I smile and complete the apparatus. I hand it to him and turn to crack my bedroom window. The smell of salt water fills the room before the scent of cannabis pushes it out. I have to admit, I enjoy smoking with Justus; he’s a borderline newbie with his little coughs and philosophical conversations. We laugh and joke, we wrestle and punch each other. Besides the urge to fuck him, based on my missing Cian, I see Justus as a brother, a very magnetizing attractive brother.
While we are inebriated I begin asking him questions, because I know he will answer them truthfully. I start out mild, “What is Sweden like?”
His eyes widen and he begins a tirade about the European country, “Beautiful, picturesque and peaceful. We have four distinct seasons; spring is my favorite; when new life blooms forth. Summer is strange, we have eighteen hours of daylight in late June, but late in winter we only have six hours making the holiday season nightlife start earlier. Sweden is such a large country that sixty-five percent of it is covered in forests. Stockholm is in southern Sweden where it seems the sky is always clear and blue.” He looks off thoughtfully, “People are very nice. I don’t have to worry with photographers there, the obsession with celebrity is not as important in Sweden as it is here. I can go to the corner store and engage the cashier without having to hear about my show or questions about my father; just chit chat about the weather or politics.”
“Ooh, politics are a hot button here; you have to be careful who you engage in that kind of conversation.” I say trying to deter him from any more geographical lessons.
“So I’ve noticed. Americans get so angry when they talk politics, why do they take it so personally?” His accent leaks out more when he’s high. It’s funny and cute.
“I guess people figure, I elected that man or woman, any attack on them is a personal attack on me. It’s stupid. Most politicians have their own agenda, they tell you what you want to hear to get you to elect them and go about their own merry way regardless of the promises they’ve made. My Daddy was friends with a couple of politicians that were straight shooters…I don’t remember the name of one, but Fussell was the other.”
“You know, you’re right!” He says smiling.
“So, you live in Stockholm regularly?”
“Yes. I travel too much to buy another place. I thought about L.A., but it’s not home. You know how when you travel, the only thing you can’t wait to get back to is, home?”
I quietly, almost depressingly say, “Yes.”
“Oh, Babe…Babet, I’m sorry…I didn’t…” I cut him off.
“It’s okay, and I suppose you can call me Babe now. You smoked my weed and all.” I laugh and peek up at him through my lashes.
“I like Babe. I was hurt I couldn’t call you that.” He is mirroring me, his brow wrinkled.
“Another one of my defense mechanisms I’m afraid, part of the package.” I smile, I love turning that phrase. It reminds me of my Daddy…and Cian. Don’t think of Cian. I furrow my brow but recover quickly.
Justus smiles then sits up to stretch, he is massive. He towers over me even sitting on his ass. I have to crane my neck to watch his fingertips lace into each other. His muscles contort his biceps and triceps; I trace my eyes down to his rib cage and the sculpting there. He has little to no body fat and the notch at his hip is so delightful. He opens his eyes and catches me watching, he smiles brightly and his teeth are perfection.
“Say something to me in Swedish.” I say playfully.
His eyes turn serious and it’s like they’re burning a hole into mine, “Jag onskar att du var min.”
“And that means?”
“You’ll have to figure that out on your own, Babe.”
I laugh, “Okay.” I sit silently for a minute before I remember my conversation with Henley, “Can I ask you something; serious?”
“Of course.”
“How many girls in my position have you slept with?”
He slightly fidgets before recovering, “Honestly; one. The one that started all the bull shit.”
“How old were you?”
“I was Twenty-six. She was nineteen; before you ask. She cared for my sister Lena.” His mood has changed and I need to remedy it.
“Hey, I’m…” I was about to apologize for bringing it up, but my cell phone chimes Scarlet’s designated tone, owls hooting. “Sorry, it’s my daughter.” I pick up my phone, the screen reads, “What’s up?” I roll my eyes, what’s up indeed, teenagers. I text her that I haven’t been able to get up with Daddy or anyone, where have they been? I simply get back, “It’s a secret.” I give up, they’re fine; but my Daddy and I still need to talk. Justus looks at me inquisitively; he’s learned to not ask if I’m okay. “Its fine, I’ve been trying to get in touch with my father…”
He cuts me off with a subject change, “What did you do before you came up here, besides painting?”
“I was; I am a tattoo artist.” I say pulling my shoulder forward.
“Yes, I was going to comment on your ink, but I didn’t want you to think I was using it as a catalyst for conversation. Men do that, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” I say laughing.
“You have a shop in New Orleans then?”
“I do, I bought into my friend Frankie’s hair salon.”
“Hair and Tattoo?”
I laugh, “Yes, and nails, tanning; they are widely separated though. My part of the shop is segregated from the hair salon.”
“Is it lucrative?”
“It is, very much so. I hated leaving on such short notice, but you go where art calls you.”
“May I ask you something serious?” His tone has deepened and it’s one of his alluring attributes.
“Of course.” I mirror his reply.
“What happened to you?”
I take a deep breath because the way he presents the question is rather bold and technically none of his business, but I asked him and it’s only fair I divulge as well, “I was stalked by someone who used others to try and sever my ties to the world in order to make me theirs.” It’s not terribly far from the truth; the specifics are a highly blurred. “They killed my husband and tried to kill my kids in a fire.”
“Your studio? Right?”
“Right. I was taken into special custody and once my kids and I were safe we were released, it just so happen to coincide with my father returning from the dead after twenty two years.”
“Yes, I recall meeting your father when I was a teenager; he looks the same as he did then, now. The man ages well.”
I laugh, “Yep, those Creole features last forever.”
“But you don’t look Creole, well at least clothed you don’t.” He smiles, “I peg you for Scotch-Irish, especially your face and eyes.
“My mother was a Lancaster, English rose.”
“That’s it then, you favor your mother.” He pauses and shifts like he wants to ask something else, “When you were under “special” protection was Cian, the special protector?”
I begin to shift as well, “Yes.” And I want to divulge more but, it’s dangerous.
“But?”
“Hmm?” I mimic.
“You seems like you have more to say about it? I have a theory if you wouldn’t mind humoring me?”
“By all means.” It keeps me from speaking further; my mouth filter needs to start working.
“My theory is that he cared for you in your time of need, you formed the attraction out of his shielding you from the harm befalling you.” He sounds like Freud.
“That is part of it, yes; but there is so much more to it than that.” I stop trying to figure out how to put this nicely, “If I could tell you, I would; but it’s too complicated to get into. So many factions of the past lead up to it all.”
“You’re not in a cult are you?” He says laughing and I can’t help but do so too. That was funny.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
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February 16, 2015
"Quality" Time with the Infamous Justus?
Chapter 8
After I secure my door and bound down the stairs, my dress billowing as I descend. I reach the bottom and all the Gunnar men are seated around the kitchen table which is covered in a smorgasbord of deliciousness. Soren calls out, “Babe!”
I smile at him and glance at the table, then up to see Henley standing behind the counter; I pass the table to ask Henley about his granddaughter “Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, Miss Babe; don’t you worry. They’re fine, baby and mother are both healthy.” He says proudly.
“That’s wonderful, I’m glad.” I give Henley a little side hug.
“Get you some breakfast Miss Babe, big day ahead of you I hear.” He looks at me like I’m crazy to agree to spend the day alone with Justus. I simply wink at him, letting him know, “I got this.”
This spread before me is unimaginable, fresh croissants and nearly every fruit you can think of, strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, honeydew, and grapes of both varieties, green and red. Henley has lovingly prepared bacon, sausage, and pancakes with a plethora of syrups. Which Soren is enjoying at the moment. I listen silently as the eldest Gunnar and his older son speak back and forth in Swedish, occasionally looking at me, but I don’t let on that I see them. I select a croissant and strawberries; Henley is already bringing me a cup of coffee the way I like it, “Thank you Henley.” I say smiling. I take a seat and I engage Mr. Gunnar, “Lars, who is Soren staying with today?”
Lars finishes the bite of food in his mouth, “Soren and I will be spending the day together.” He smiles at his youngest son.
Soren mimics him with a mouthful of pancake, “Fader.”
Justus finishes his meal and retreats upstairs, before he turns to leave he looks at me, “I’ll be right down.”
I nod biting into a strawberry, I know he’s watching. Lars finishes his breakfast before takes Soren upstairs to prepare for their day together and I take back the thoughts I had about Lars attentiveness to his children. It’s just Henley and I in the kitchen while I finish my croissant. He comes to sit beside me once it is safe to speak freely.
“Miss Babe, what are you getting yourself into?” His tone is concerned and if I didn’t hear it, it’s written all over his face.
“No worries, Henley, I got this.” I say before tipping the remaining coffee into my mouth.
“Well, you look lovely today.” He says; hints of disappointment in his voice.
I kiss his cheek before popping up from the table, “Thank you Henley.” Justus is at the bottom of the stairs when I come into the foyer, “Ready?” I ask.
“Ready.” He says and he looks handsome, his hair is combed to the side and I think, in this beach atmosphere that won’t last. I almost welcome it; he is much more attractive with it messy. I reach for the door and head toward the Jeep; however Justus is heading toward the Audi TT.
He tilts his head to me, “Let’s ride in style.”
I duck into my car before I meet him at the tiny two door vehicle; I grab an already rolled joint from my visor and safely tuck the bag from Teacup in the center console. I reach the Audi and slip into the bucket leather seat; the inside of the car is immaculate and smells brand new. Justus puts the soft top down before looking over to smile at me; I can see myself in his aviator sunglasses. I look like a fun house image in his specs. I reach into my bag and put mine on as well. It’s a beautiful North Carolina day, not a cloud in the sky.
We pull onto Lumina Avenue when Justus says, “Where to first, Babe.” He is smiling and his tone is one of entitlement.
“Babet.” I say over rushing wind.
“Sorry?”
“My name is Babet.” I explain; my tone harsh.
“I just assumed…” I cut him off nicely.
“You assumed wrong. I let your brother call me Babe because it’s easier for him to say. I allow Henley to call me Babe, because we are in the same position; employees. You and your father are employers. I consider you an employer.” I try to be as cordial as possible.
Justus isn’t letting me get away that easy, “My father is your employer, not me. If it were up to me I would have that woman care for her son like my mother did my siblings and me.” I seem to have hit a nerve, because he isn’t finished. His body tenses and his grip on the steering wheel tightens as I feel him jump on a soapbox, “My mother is a well respected Lawyer in Sweden, a lawyer that raised five children, with no outside help.” He takes a deep breath and begins to relax after his little outburst. “Besides, last night you didn’t look like an employee.” He says under his breath.
I roll my eyes under my glasses, “I know, I apologize. That was unprofessional.”
“I wasn’t complaining, just making an observation.”
I smile away from him out toward the passing houses and slits of blue ocean and golden sand between them, “You must, really hate her.” I reference Soren’s mother as I turn back to face his profile.
“I have no respect for her is all; I apologize for my overzealous outburst.” He places a sarcastic palm to his chest. I can’t help but laugh.
He joins me until re-submitting his previous question, “So, where to…Babet.” I smile again, he learns quickly.
“Let’s go Downtown. We can take some shots of you there, have lunch and I can stop at Arrow Fine for some canvas. How does that sound for starters?” I rest myself back into the comfortable seat and allow Justus to take me where I need to go.
“As you wish.” He says keeping his attention on the road. I could get used to this and I get the feeling so could he. I’m sure he’s carted around on the regular to this and that, I wouldn’t know but I imagine it’s frustrating to be told what to do and where to go. Not being able to drive your own car because it’s more convenient to throw you in a limousine. I realize I haven’t checked my phone this morning and since I actually SLEPT I have no clue what I missed, if anything.
I pull out the device and turn in on, no luck; it’s dead. Oh well, I throw it back into my purse.
“Everything okay?” Justus asks as we are circling the fountain.
“Yeah, my phone is dead.”
He reaches into his shirt pocket, “Here, you can use mine.”
“Oh, no worries. I just didn’t know what I missed while I was sleeping last night.”
“You say that like you don’t sleep.”
“Oh…um,” FUCK, you moron! “Sometimes I have trouble.” I say as a nervous rush floods me.
We park and I take a ton of pictures of Justus around Downtown. We opt for lunch at Trolley Stop Hot Dog; we each have two hotdogs and share an order of onion rings. After we finish I ask if Justus is ready to go to Arrow Fine.
“Sure, you lead, I follow.” He smiles brightly.
I buy four more canvases, all the same fabric and I’m intrigued by Justus’s attentiveness. He is carrying all four canvases back to the TT. They barely fit and because of the awkwardness we head home to drop them off before heading back out. I suggest we go out to one of the many public access areas of the beach and possibly the pier. When we get back in the car Justus turns on the radio and of course it has to be playing one of my favorite songs, “3 Libras” by A Perfect Circle. Justus seems to agree and turns the radio up, coolly he pulls out of the driveway and we head the opposite direction. The song ends and Justus reveals after turning the volume down, “That is one of my favorite songs.”
I nod, “Mine too; I’m a Libra.”
He snaps the sunglasses off his face, “So am I!” He says smiling, “When is your birthday?”
“October 6th. When’s yours?”
“September 30th!” He sucks his teeth and a smirk crosses his lips, “I knew there was something about you.”
“So your birthday is coming up, what will you all be doing?”
“Celebrating on the beach with you…if I’m lucky.” He returns the glasses to his face. Another delicious little smile crosses his lips.
“That may be difficult; I will be out of town by then. Labor Day weekend is my last before I go on my mini vacation. I don’t return until the second week of October…wait… that means, you will be alone on your birthday!” I say sadly.
“I’m used to it, besides I’m going to be thirty six, who wants to party with a thirty-six year old?” His tone turned is sad.
It’s not right, I ‘m a huge Birthday person, each year you make it is a year worth celebrating, “Listen; I promise,” I say with my hand over my heart, “I will return to take you out for your birthday, okay?”
A smile appears at the side of his mouth before saying, “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date. I‘m taking you out for your birthday; as friends.”
He nods, “Deal.”
We park at the public access not far from the Chrystal pier, its early afternoon and I’m in the mood to smoke but after my speech about employers versus employees I spat at Justus, I’m wary of proposing anything to him. Fuck it.
We’re walking out to the water when I reach into my bag, “Justus?”
“Hmm.” He says turning around to walk backwards.
I hold up the white twisted apparatus. He removes his sunglasses and rushes toward me. I begin to get the feeling that I may be in trouble or worse, fired. To my surprise he picks me up and hugs me to him, twirling me around so hard my legs are flailing, “Okay, okay!” I laugh.
“Oh, you have no idea Babet; of course!” He puts me down and pulls my hand toward a mass of reed grass, “Here; I’ve smoked back here in the past.” He sits and pats the sand beside him. His movements are childlike and fun.
“Wow, you would have thought I just asked you to marry me.” I say laughing. I smooth my dress so not to get sand on my butt before I have a seat. I put the joint to my lips and fire it up. We smoke and I can tell Justus is not a habitual smoker; his eyes are glazed over after three hits. I decide to drive from here on out, unless he sobers. He is giggling like a teenager while he talks about his other siblings and the fun they used to have sneaking out to smoke.
“How many siblings do you have?”
“I have three younger brothers and a sister, then there is Soren; he’s our half brother.”
“What are their names?”
“The twins are Isak and Axel, my other brother is Noak. My sister’s name is Lena.”
“I’m an only child, I always wanted a brother or sister.” I say, “Someone older to rely on, ya know?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’m the oldest. They all came to me or father. I guess for me, father was like an older brother. Don’t get me wrong he’s a wonderful father, but he and I connected on a different level, which pissed my other brothers off.” He hands me the joint.
I take a hit and divulge a little more about me, “Frankie and Molly were like sisters to me, I couldn’t have asked for better sisters if I had had any.”
“Three musketeers, huh?”
“Well, lots of girls came and went but the three of us just stuck together. God, the things we got into…” I trail off nostalgically.
“Explain.” He says handing it back to me.
“The three of us did it all, short of certain things we knew to stay far away from, but yeah,” I laugh before I hit the joint again. “We had games we invented, like “25 shots” and the standard drinking games like, “Threeman” with “rhyme time”.”
“Rhyme time?” he asks speculatively.
I laugh, “Yeah.”
“Oh, that was just the alcohol. There were mushrooms and acid, ecstasy and cocaine. Molly did something called “candy-flipping” and had a bad experience with the spirit of a frat boy in a house off fraternity row at Baylor. Frankie got pretty deep in cocaine while she was in hair school. I had some pretty epic birthdays with those girls. One birthday was spent out on the Pontchartrain River with a bag of high test mushrooms, naked swimming and moon gazing.”
“High-test?” He asks. I forget my slang falls on ignorant ears.
“Good quality or potent.” I explain.
“Ah.” He says, schooled.
I tell him about apple bowls and watching countless sunrises after all night concerts. And even though our activities as youths were illegal and immoral I still feel our communion with nature during these experiences helped to mold me, Molly and Frankie as artists in our adulthood. Of course there were indoor activities including substances that spawned something besides seriousness. The hilarity of those times we still recall and laugh about. Not to mention the photographic evidence, thanks to Molly.
“Tell me about one.” Justus commands.
I laugh because his tone of voice and the words don’t mix, under the influence he has less presence, “Okay…Frankie bought some really good shit…stuff, sorry…and we were down to the last, we were good and high sitting on either side of her coffee table. I reach up and take the spongy bud between my two fingers, in all seriousness I looked her dead in her face and said, “You know when you should save this for?” She looked at me like something very real was about to happen and asked, “When?” I held it up again and said, justifiably, “Later.”” I laugh out so loud I don’t notice if Justus gets it, or if for him it’s a “you had to be there” moment. For me it’s classic stoned silliness and still makes me laugh so hard I could cry, which I end up doing when my eyes open and I can finally breath again. Thankfully it isn’t lost on Justus; he’s also in stitches.
“That is funny.” He says slowly calming his own breathing. As he does I can see the wheels turning, his mouth turns down to blow the smoke. He hands it back to me and begins to take a breath of speech, “You know I find the history hard to believe; you seem too subtle, or subdued if you will. Someone with that track record would be certifiably insane.”
“Well, besides the photographic proof, Thank you Molly, I like to think my father’s resilient genetics helped keep me from a straight jacket.” I laugh as I can see Justus is confused, “He’s military, a war dog. A survivor, ya know?” I smile, but internally I’m laughing. Vampire genetic intervention.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing some of those photos.” Justus jokes.
“Well they were taken way before the digital revolution. All those pictures are printed and in a shoe box in Molly’s loft. Frankie and I have asked her to go through them and dispose of or lock away the incriminating ones, considering…” I trail off, I am divulging a little too much.
“Considering?” Damn, I’m caught. Justus is peering at me from the side of his glasses.
I have to move away from talking about me as soon as possible, “Molly is a well known photographer back home, Frankie is a successful business owner and my family is…my family. It would be very bad for some of those photos to get, in the wrong hands. That’s all.”
“Yes, I can understand wanting to keep certain things from your family, or the public for that matter. My siblings and I went through a lot during our parent’s highly publicized divorce.”
Luckily he attaches to the family thing and away from the prior, “How old were you when your parents divorced?” I ask.
“Late twenties or so, not a big deal.” He takes another hit from the joint before passing it to me.
“Do you like Vilma, Soren’s mom?”
“Not particularly and she isn’t fond of me either.”
“Why?”
“I don’t kiss her ass. Honestly none of us do, but I am the only one who doesn’t care and shows up to spite her.” He takes the joint from me and hits it, holding it in his lungs. He attempts to hand it back to me but I hit his hand so it falls in the sand, I cover it. I hop up and hold my hand out to him.
“Let’s go,” I say and he follows me to the shoreline. “Turn around.” I hold up my camera and shoot, shoot, shoot. He is overly photogenic and I can see why he’s an actor. The light hits him perfectly causing the scruff on his face glows with a red hue. I tell him to pay no attention to me and I shoot him unawares. I prefer these photos, people aren’t posing they are just themselves. Realistic beauty. The sun is perfect, right above us. I keep shooting Justus, occasionally just taking a picture of the water. He calls out to me as I’m doing just that.
“You hungry?” He asks and I know he just has the munchies.
“I could eat. Where you thinking?”
“The Oceanic?” He suggests.
“Sure.” I tuck my camera in my bag and walk back to the car; I hear quick steps in the sand behind me. Before I know it Justus is carrying me running across the beach. I embrace it because at this point we’ve smoked, we’ve talked; I consider us friends. But he can’t call me Babe. I kick my leg out and hold my arm against my eyes as if I am a damsel in distress. I hear him laughing while he runs. He places me on the asphalt by my car door, “Thank you good sir.” He opens my door and I slide in, the leather is on fire and the back of my thighs are getting a serious heat treatment. I embrace that as well, another sick obsession; pain. Justus open his car door and clambers inside, he is too damn tall for this car, but it is entertaining to watch. As soon as his rear hits the seat he jumps; bracing his frame on the door and console. Luckily the top is still down.
“Oh my God! That’s hot; I’m sorry.” He says looking at my bare legs against the leather.
“No worries.” I say taking a deep breath.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure; we can go anytime you’re ready.” I wave my hand around.
“Okay.” He pulls out of the parking spot and we are down Lumina Avenue yet again. He takes his cell phone from his pocket and dials, “Henley; Justus…Yes, I’m taking Babet to dinner; please tell my father…Thank you Henley; I’m sorry…what? Hold on.” He hands me the phone. I shake my head and roll my eyes behind mirrored aviators.
“Hello Henley!” I say overly exuberant.
“Miss Babe? He ain’t tried nothing has he?”
“No Henley, everything is fine; how’s Soren?”
“Oh he’s fine; you worry about that other one for now.”
“I will. Thank you, Henley.” I hang up on Henley’s worrisome tone.
I hand it to Justus; he places the phone in his lap. He begins to turn off onto Iula St., stopping the car. We are close to the Oceanic but I’m becoming wary of why we are stopped. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face me, full on, but says nothing.
“What?” I ask.
“What has Henley told you about me?” His is serious and his tone has deepened, it’s scary but alluring at the same time.
I feel a nervous rush go through me and instead of shying away like the good little girl I should be, I respect Justus enough at this point to keep it real, “He says you have a reputation.” I mirror his stance in the car.
“What else?” He is fuming.
“That your father had to hire me all the way from Louisiana because the nanny services around here won’t work with him; because of you and your philandering ways.” I say the last bit in jest and he smiles. Whew. But he isn’t asking any more questions and readjusts himself in the driver’s seat, but he’s not getting away that easy, “Hey,” I grab his arm to halt him, “I respected you enough to tell you the truth, I have a question or two myself.”
He relaxes, “By all means.”
“Why did your father hire me; it’s not the nanny thing is it?”
He takes a deep breath, “No. My father hired you because your father suggested you as a reliable, trustworthy employee. You see, we have had major issues in the past with locals getting grandiose ideas about my father and our family. I have been harassed; my father has been sued…”
“Wait…WHAT!?” I say.
“These girls come in to work for my father, their main priority; my siblings? Correct?”
I answer him, “Well, yes.”
“They end up snooping through personal things and selling stories to the tabloids. I had a girl accuse me of rape; it’s been pretty bad. When our fathers last met in Iceland, they talked about you and…here you are.”
“The nanny service and the portraits.” I state.
“Yes.”
“So why do you have an interest in me; after all you’ve been through?”
“Because I know I can trust you.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because my father has been watching you since you arrived; nothing in your bedroom or the bathroom, but in the kitchen, great room, and there is a small camera watching the beachfont.”
My face flushes and I swear I’m going to throw up; I smoked out there.
“Your father assured mine that it would be no problem, he said we can trust you. You have proven that we can. It’s a welcome change, for my father and for me. Don’t worry about smoking either, he doesn’t care.”
I feel like a tiny mouse that is being loomed over by two, no three giant elephants. One of them, my own father. I readjust myself in the car and I don’t feel like eating, “Can we just go please?”
“Of course.” He starts to take the right toward the Oceanic and I’m over it completely.
“Please drop me off at home.” I say looking off into the distance.
“What?!” He pulls off onto another side street. “NO!” He is angry and staring at me through sunglasses. I can’t keep my face on his and I turn away. “Please Babet; forget the conversation, let’s start over.”
I remove my glasses, a single tear floats down my face, “We can’t start over, please take me back to your father’s beach house.” I’m so ill at all this; I don’t even want to call it “home”; temporary or not.
“No.” He says again and cuts the engine.
I take a deep breath. Oh boy; this is so not my first time at the rodeo with this bull shit. “Fine.” I get out of the car and begin to walk down Lumina Avenue. I sling my bag over my head and trudge on. My mind is racing, at first I want to go back to the house, pack my shit and leave but I realize the commitment I’ve made to Soren; sweet little Soren. I roll my eyes at myself when further realization rears it’s ugly head and the only freedom I have is to hole up in my room and paint or listen to music and drive, anything but face that family again. But I certainly can’t leave. I don’t get the luxury of avoiding the Gunnar’s, Justus catches up to me in the car and swerves so I can’t pass, “What the fuck do you think you are doing!” I try to pass and he inches the car forward to stop me, “JUSTUS!” I shriek.
He throws the car in park and gets out, he lurches at me and grabs my arm; I jerk it away. His face is stunned, like no one would dare, he grabs me again and arches me backward, kissing me passionately. I’ll admit I’m stunned but I’m weak in my state of Cian-less-ness, I relent and kiss him back. Traffic is small but its gathering and car horns begin to honk. He stops, releases me and angrily looks down at me, “Get in the car.”
I take another deep breath and oblige, I would hate to be blocking traffic. I shake my head, I asked for this. I played with him not knowing what all the specifics were and if I don’t talk to my damn Daddy tonight I am going to scream. I hate being left in the goddamn dark. My father may have been on a twenty two year hiatus, but I ‘m going to show him what he’s missed as far as my tolerance for this shit is going to go.
In the car I’m silent until we are seated at an outdoor table, I’m silent. I do eventually open my mouth again, out on the Chrystal pier at the Oceanic when Justus asks me what I want to eat, “I don’t want anything to eat.” I say.
He places his menu down, “Please, Babet. I truly am sorry…and…” He trails off but begins to get irritated, “You know, your father said you would understand.”
I don’t want to defend myself, I don’t want to talk to this prick at all anymore but suddenly I want to drink heavily so until I order a drink, or two, he gets nothing out of me. Our waiter, thank god, shows up to take our drink orders. I ask him if they have Jagermiester chilled on tap.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Bring me two and keep them coming.” I look past Justus at the ocean and I can’t wait until I’m safe in Emerald Isle.
“Jager, huh?” Justus says when the waiter arrives with my shot glasses.
Thick and cold in my hand I shoot one glass of black liquid and then the other. “Glass of water please?” I look at his nametag, “Josh.” I say sweetly to our waiter. I keep smiling at Josh but when I turn to face Justus my smile slowly fades. Josh returns with a Heineken for Justus and a sweating glass of ice water for me. I decide to talk after all, “Well now that I have had a drink, yes I can understand your precautions, however; I don’t appreciate the fact that not only you and your father, but my own father keeping it all from me. How old were the girls who gave you so much trouble?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Early twenties.”
I lean forward in my seat, “I’m thirty two years old; I don’t care about you or your family. I don’t even know who you are or anything about your show! It’s meaningless to me. I came here to care for your brother because I felt bad for the little guy.” I quickly sit up straight. Josh has come back to our table with two more shots for me, “Thank you Josh.”
The confused boy retreats. I direct my attention back to Justus, my speech a little slurred, “Not to mention being able to paint this beautiful landscape. You see, what you don’t know about me is that; seven months ago my house, my business and my studio burned to the ground. Well not to the ground, but a burned out shell like husk. Anyway…” The alcohol is really kicking in, “I had to go through a good bit of my own shit to get back on track.”
“So?”
“So, what?”
“I am waiting for my apology.” He smiles.
“You will be waiting for an eternity.” I take another shot.
“Fair enough, will you at least eat something? It’s not fair to me to drag your drunken carcass into the house and have Henley think even less of me.”
“Is that all you ever think about? Yourself. Besides by the time we get back Henley will be long gone.”
“I like the sound of that.” He smiles and resumes looking at the menu.
Justus orders a seared tuna and vegetable medley; I reluctantly agree to eat a small salad and bread. Josh returns and I order a coffee. The sun is going down and I pull out my camera to shoot Justus one last time.
“Hey.” He says. I smile, giving in to the evening. I don’t have to be a hard ass and I smile again when Justus asks, “Do you have any more of that…” He doesn’t want to say it out loud.
“Yeah, in my car at the house.”
“Well, let’s go then.”
“Stop and get me coffee and you’ve got a deal.” I reply just as Josh returns with the teacup and saucer.
We both look up at him, “Cancel it please sir and put the bill on my father’s tab.”
“Yes, sir Mr. Gunnar. Have a nice evening, Ma’am.” He nods to me. I smile at him before Justus ushers me toward the beach ramp.
“Do you mind if we walk this way back to the car?” He asks.
I shake my head, my brow raised, “No.”
We walk and just as we are about to reach the parking lot, Justus stops causing me to clumsily halt my stride. He says nothing but takes my shoulders in his hands, turning me to face the water and the front of The Oceananic, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I sigh or gasp, I can’t figure which but my breath is taken away. The massive restaurant looks like a gigantic beach house not a business. The sun blocks my vision just enough so I don’t see the sign just the wrap around deck reeds lapping the walkway. I shake Justus’s grasp and dig in my bag for my camera. I hear him chuckle as I snap and click over and over. I finish, close the lens and look up at Justus, “Thank you.”
We are back in the car and I suggest stopping at a gas station. I go in and buy a conglomerate coffee brand drink and a mango wrap paper. The cover of the wrap is a woman’s red lips encasing a piece of juicy mango. I hand Justus the paper bag. He peeks inside, “Oh, big plans!” I smile as I slide back into the car.
It’s after 8:00 and the house is quiet. Soren is most likely in bed and Lars as well, if he spent the day with his two year old son. Justus begins to ascend the stairs but looks back at me, “You coming?”
“I have to go out to the car, I’ll be right back.” I reach into my bag, “Plug my phone up for me?”
He takes it from me, “Sure, I’m going to change my clothes.” He continues up.
I dip outside to retrieve the bag from the center console of my car. Back inside the house I quietly go upstairs and into my room. Justus is already there lying on my bed with his feet up watching TV in a pair of long gym shorts and t-shirt. I decide to play since he has already started the game. I walk over to where my duffle is and pull out a pair of cloud print boxer shorts, sliding them on under the skirt of my dress. I don’t wear a bra with my sundresses so I turn away from him and remove my dress. My bare back to him I bend over to retrieve my blue fitted shirt. I peek in my peripheral at him, he is watching like a hawk. I pull the shirt over my head and begin to turn around while I bring it down over my breasts; my midriff exposed momentarily.
I reach into my linen sack and throw the bulging plastic bag and wrap at Justus, “Make yourself useful.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing my tablet to break it up on. He rips the foil package open on the wrap and rolls the blunt like a champ. I grab the remote to the TV off the bed beside Justus and he clamps his hand onto mine. I smile and snatch it. I change the station to music television and I’m overjoyed when one of my favorite videos is on, I stare at the TV before I remember I wanted, no needed, to talk to my Daddy.
I locate my phone and remove the charger plug from the wall, “Excuse me.” I say while retreating to the bathroom.
I dial my Daddy’s personal line in the billiards room; no answer. I call the house phone; no answer. I call Scarlet’s phone; straight to voicemail. I know it’s silly, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m being avoided. I text Scarlet; “Call me as soon as you get this.”
I go back into my room and tell Justus, “Light it up.” As I return my phone and sit on the bed.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
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After I secure my door and bound down the stairs, my dress billowing as I descend. I reach the bottom and all the Gunnar men are seated around the kitchen table which is covered in a smorgasbord of deliciousness. Soren calls out, “Babe!”
I smile at him and glance at the table, then up to see Henley standing behind the counter; I pass the table to ask Henley about his granddaughter “Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, Miss Babe; don’t you worry. They’re fine, baby and mother are both healthy.” He says proudly.
“That’s wonderful, I’m glad.” I give Henley a little side hug.
“Get you some breakfast Miss Babe, big day ahead of you I hear.” He looks at me like I’m crazy to agree to spend the day alone with Justus. I simply wink at him, letting him know, “I got this.”
This spread before me is unimaginable, fresh croissants and nearly every fruit you can think of, strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, honeydew, and grapes of both varieties, green and red. Henley has lovingly prepared bacon, sausage, and pancakes with a plethora of syrups. Which Soren is enjoying at the moment. I listen silently as the eldest Gunnar and his older son speak back and forth in Swedish, occasionally looking at me, but I don’t let on that I see them. I select a croissant and strawberries; Henley is already bringing me a cup of coffee the way I like it, “Thank you Henley.” I say smiling. I take a seat and I engage Mr. Gunnar, “Lars, who is Soren staying with today?”
Lars finishes the bite of food in his mouth, “Soren and I will be spending the day together.” He smiles at his youngest son.
Soren mimics him with a mouthful of pancake, “Fader.”
Justus finishes his meal and retreats upstairs, before he turns to leave he looks at me, “I’ll be right down.”
I nod biting into a strawberry, I know he’s watching. Lars finishes his breakfast before takes Soren upstairs to prepare for their day together and I take back the thoughts I had about Lars attentiveness to his children. It’s just Henley and I in the kitchen while I finish my croissant. He comes to sit beside me once it is safe to speak freely.
“Miss Babe, what are you getting yourself into?” His tone is concerned and if I didn’t hear it, it’s written all over his face.
“No worries, Henley, I got this.” I say before tipping the remaining coffee into my mouth.
“Well, you look lovely today.” He says; hints of disappointment in his voice.
I kiss his cheek before popping up from the table, “Thank you Henley.” Justus is at the bottom of the stairs when I come into the foyer, “Ready?” I ask.
“Ready.” He says and he looks handsome, his hair is combed to the side and I think, in this beach atmosphere that won’t last. I almost welcome it; he is much more attractive with it messy. I reach for the door and head toward the Jeep; however Justus is heading toward the Audi TT.
He tilts his head to me, “Let’s ride in style.”
I duck into my car before I meet him at the tiny two door vehicle; I grab an already rolled joint from my visor and safely tuck the bag from Teacup in the center console. I reach the Audi and slip into the bucket leather seat; the inside of the car is immaculate and smells brand new. Justus puts the soft top down before looking over to smile at me; I can see myself in his aviator sunglasses. I look like a fun house image in his specs. I reach into my bag and put mine on as well. It’s a beautiful North Carolina day, not a cloud in the sky.
We pull onto Lumina Avenue when Justus says, “Where to first, Babe.” He is smiling and his tone is one of entitlement.
“Babet.” I say over rushing wind.
“Sorry?”
“My name is Babet.” I explain; my tone harsh.
“I just assumed…” I cut him off nicely.
“You assumed wrong. I let your brother call me Babe because it’s easier for him to say. I allow Henley to call me Babe, because we are in the same position; employees. You and your father are employers. I consider you an employer.” I try to be as cordial as possible.
Justus isn’t letting me get away that easy, “My father is your employer, not me. If it were up to me I would have that woman care for her son like my mother did my siblings and me.” I seem to have hit a nerve, because he isn’t finished. His body tenses and his grip on the steering wheel tightens as I feel him jump on a soapbox, “My mother is a well respected Lawyer in Sweden, a lawyer that raised five children, with no outside help.” He takes a deep breath and begins to relax after his little outburst. “Besides, last night you didn’t look like an employee.” He says under his breath.
I roll my eyes under my glasses, “I know, I apologize. That was unprofessional.”
“I wasn’t complaining, just making an observation.”
I smile away from him out toward the passing houses and slits of blue ocean and golden sand between them, “You must, really hate her.” I reference Soren’s mother as I turn back to face his profile.
“I have no respect for her is all; I apologize for my overzealous outburst.” He places a sarcastic palm to his chest. I can’t help but laugh.
He joins me until re-submitting his previous question, “So, where to…Babet.” I smile again, he learns quickly.
“Let’s go Downtown. We can take some shots of you there, have lunch and I can stop at Arrow Fine for some canvas. How does that sound for starters?” I rest myself back into the comfortable seat and allow Justus to take me where I need to go.
“As you wish.” He says keeping his attention on the road. I could get used to this and I get the feeling so could he. I’m sure he’s carted around on the regular to this and that, I wouldn’t know but I imagine it’s frustrating to be told what to do and where to go. Not being able to drive your own car because it’s more convenient to throw you in a limousine. I realize I haven’t checked my phone this morning and since I actually SLEPT I have no clue what I missed, if anything.
I pull out the device and turn in on, no luck; it’s dead. Oh well, I throw it back into my purse.
“Everything okay?” Justus asks as we are circling the fountain.
“Yeah, my phone is dead.”
He reaches into his shirt pocket, “Here, you can use mine.”
“Oh, no worries. I just didn’t know what I missed while I was sleeping last night.”
“You say that like you don’t sleep.”
“Oh…um,” FUCK, you moron! “Sometimes I have trouble.” I say as a nervous rush floods me.
We park and I take a ton of pictures of Justus around Downtown. We opt for lunch at Trolley Stop Hot Dog; we each have two hotdogs and share an order of onion rings. After we finish I ask if Justus is ready to go to Arrow Fine.
“Sure, you lead, I follow.” He smiles brightly.
I buy four more canvases, all the same fabric and I’m intrigued by Justus’s attentiveness. He is carrying all four canvases back to the TT. They barely fit and because of the awkwardness we head home to drop them off before heading back out. I suggest we go out to one of the many public access areas of the beach and possibly the pier. When we get back in the car Justus turns on the radio and of course it has to be playing one of my favorite songs, “3 Libras” by A Perfect Circle. Justus seems to agree and turns the radio up, coolly he pulls out of the driveway and we head the opposite direction. The song ends and Justus reveals after turning the volume down, “That is one of my favorite songs.”
I nod, “Mine too; I’m a Libra.”
He snaps the sunglasses off his face, “So am I!” He says smiling, “When is your birthday?”
“October 6th. When’s yours?”
“September 30th!” He sucks his teeth and a smirk crosses his lips, “I knew there was something about you.”
“So your birthday is coming up, what will you all be doing?”
“Celebrating on the beach with you…if I’m lucky.” He returns the glasses to his face. Another delicious little smile crosses his lips.
“That may be difficult; I will be out of town by then. Labor Day weekend is my last before I go on my mini vacation. I don’t return until the second week of October…wait… that means, you will be alone on your birthday!” I say sadly.
“I’m used to it, besides I’m going to be thirty six, who wants to party with a thirty-six year old?” His tone turned is sad.
It’s not right, I ‘m a huge Birthday person, each year you make it is a year worth celebrating, “Listen; I promise,” I say with my hand over my heart, “I will return to take you out for your birthday, okay?”
A smile appears at the side of his mouth before saying, “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date. I‘m taking you out for your birthday; as friends.”
He nods, “Deal.”
We park at the public access not far from the Chrystal pier, its early afternoon and I’m in the mood to smoke but after my speech about employers versus employees I spat at Justus, I’m wary of proposing anything to him. Fuck it.
We’re walking out to the water when I reach into my bag, “Justus?”
“Hmm.” He says turning around to walk backwards.
I hold up the white twisted apparatus. He removes his sunglasses and rushes toward me. I begin to get the feeling that I may be in trouble or worse, fired. To my surprise he picks me up and hugs me to him, twirling me around so hard my legs are flailing, “Okay, okay!” I laugh.
“Oh, you have no idea Babet; of course!” He puts me down and pulls my hand toward a mass of reed grass, “Here; I’ve smoked back here in the past.” He sits and pats the sand beside him. His movements are childlike and fun.
“Wow, you would have thought I just asked you to marry me.” I say laughing. I smooth my dress so not to get sand on my butt before I have a seat. I put the joint to my lips and fire it up. We smoke and I can tell Justus is not a habitual smoker; his eyes are glazed over after three hits. I decide to drive from here on out, unless he sobers. He is giggling like a teenager while he talks about his other siblings and the fun they used to have sneaking out to smoke.
“How many siblings do you have?”
“I have three younger brothers and a sister, then there is Soren; he’s our half brother.”
“What are their names?”
“The twins are Isak and Axel, my other brother is Noak. My sister’s name is Lena.”
“I’m an only child, I always wanted a brother or sister.” I say, “Someone older to rely on, ya know?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’m the oldest. They all came to me or father. I guess for me, father was like an older brother. Don’t get me wrong he’s a wonderful father, but he and I connected on a different level, which pissed my other brothers off.” He hands me the joint.
I take a hit and divulge a little more about me, “Frankie and Molly were like sisters to me, I couldn’t have asked for better sisters if I had had any.”
“Three musketeers, huh?”
“Well, lots of girls came and went but the three of us just stuck together. God, the things we got into…” I trail off nostalgically.
“Explain.” He says handing it back to me.
“The three of us did it all, short of certain things we knew to stay far away from, but yeah,” I laugh before I hit the joint again. “We had games we invented, like “25 shots” and the standard drinking games like, “Threeman” with “rhyme time”.”
“Rhyme time?” he asks speculatively.
I laugh, “Yeah.”
“Oh, that was just the alcohol. There were mushrooms and acid, ecstasy and cocaine. Molly did something called “candy-flipping” and had a bad experience with the spirit of a frat boy in a house off fraternity row at Baylor. Frankie got pretty deep in cocaine while she was in hair school. I had some pretty epic birthdays with those girls. One birthday was spent out on the Pontchartrain River with a bag of high test mushrooms, naked swimming and moon gazing.”
“High-test?” He asks. I forget my slang falls on ignorant ears.
“Good quality or potent.” I explain.
“Ah.” He says, schooled.
I tell him about apple bowls and watching countless sunrises after all night concerts. And even though our activities as youths were illegal and immoral I still feel our communion with nature during these experiences helped to mold me, Molly and Frankie as artists in our adulthood. Of course there were indoor activities including substances that spawned something besides seriousness. The hilarity of those times we still recall and laugh about. Not to mention the photographic evidence, thanks to Molly.
“Tell me about one.” Justus commands.
I laugh because his tone of voice and the words don’t mix, under the influence he has less presence, “Okay…Frankie bought some really good shit…stuff, sorry…and we were down to the last, we were good and high sitting on either side of her coffee table. I reach up and take the spongy bud between my two fingers, in all seriousness I looked her dead in her face and said, “You know when you should save this for?” She looked at me like something very real was about to happen and asked, “When?” I held it up again and said, justifiably, “Later.”” I laugh out so loud I don’t notice if Justus gets it, or if for him it’s a “you had to be there” moment. For me it’s classic stoned silliness and still makes me laugh so hard I could cry, which I end up doing when my eyes open and I can finally breath again. Thankfully it isn’t lost on Justus; he’s also in stitches.
“That is funny.” He says slowly calming his own breathing. As he does I can see the wheels turning, his mouth turns down to blow the smoke. He hands it back to me and begins to take a breath of speech, “You know I find the history hard to believe; you seem too subtle, or subdued if you will. Someone with that track record would be certifiably insane.”
“Well, besides the photographic proof, Thank you Molly, I like to think my father’s resilient genetics helped keep me from a straight jacket.” I laugh as I can see Justus is confused, “He’s military, a war dog. A survivor, ya know?” I smile, but internally I’m laughing. Vampire genetic intervention.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing some of those photos.” Justus jokes.
“Well they were taken way before the digital revolution. All those pictures are printed and in a shoe box in Molly’s loft. Frankie and I have asked her to go through them and dispose of or lock away the incriminating ones, considering…” I trail off, I am divulging a little too much.
“Considering?” Damn, I’m caught. Justus is peering at me from the side of his glasses.
I have to move away from talking about me as soon as possible, “Molly is a well known photographer back home, Frankie is a successful business owner and my family is…my family. It would be very bad for some of those photos to get, in the wrong hands. That’s all.”
“Yes, I can understand wanting to keep certain things from your family, or the public for that matter. My siblings and I went through a lot during our parent’s highly publicized divorce.”
Luckily he attaches to the family thing and away from the prior, “How old were you when your parents divorced?” I ask.
“Late twenties or so, not a big deal.” He takes another hit from the joint before passing it to me.
“Do you like Vilma, Soren’s mom?”
“Not particularly and she isn’t fond of me either.”
“Why?”
“I don’t kiss her ass. Honestly none of us do, but I am the only one who doesn’t care and shows up to spite her.” He takes the joint from me and hits it, holding it in his lungs. He attempts to hand it back to me but I hit his hand so it falls in the sand, I cover it. I hop up and hold my hand out to him.
“Let’s go,” I say and he follows me to the shoreline. “Turn around.” I hold up my camera and shoot, shoot, shoot. He is overly photogenic and I can see why he’s an actor. The light hits him perfectly causing the scruff on his face glows with a red hue. I tell him to pay no attention to me and I shoot him unawares. I prefer these photos, people aren’t posing they are just themselves. Realistic beauty. The sun is perfect, right above us. I keep shooting Justus, occasionally just taking a picture of the water. He calls out to me as I’m doing just that.
“You hungry?” He asks and I know he just has the munchies.
“I could eat. Where you thinking?”
“The Oceanic?” He suggests.
“Sure.” I tuck my camera in my bag and walk back to the car; I hear quick steps in the sand behind me. Before I know it Justus is carrying me running across the beach. I embrace it because at this point we’ve smoked, we’ve talked; I consider us friends. But he can’t call me Babe. I kick my leg out and hold my arm against my eyes as if I am a damsel in distress. I hear him laughing while he runs. He places me on the asphalt by my car door, “Thank you good sir.” He opens my door and I slide in, the leather is on fire and the back of my thighs are getting a serious heat treatment. I embrace that as well, another sick obsession; pain. Justus open his car door and clambers inside, he is too damn tall for this car, but it is entertaining to watch. As soon as his rear hits the seat he jumps; bracing his frame on the door and console. Luckily the top is still down.
“Oh my God! That’s hot; I’m sorry.” He says looking at my bare legs against the leather.
“No worries.” I say taking a deep breath.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure; we can go anytime you’re ready.” I wave my hand around.
“Okay.” He pulls out of the parking spot and we are down Lumina Avenue yet again. He takes his cell phone from his pocket and dials, “Henley; Justus…Yes, I’m taking Babet to dinner; please tell my father…Thank you Henley; I’m sorry…what? Hold on.” He hands me the phone. I shake my head and roll my eyes behind mirrored aviators.
“Hello Henley!” I say overly exuberant.
“Miss Babe? He ain’t tried nothing has he?”
“No Henley, everything is fine; how’s Soren?”
“Oh he’s fine; you worry about that other one for now.”
“I will. Thank you, Henley.” I hang up on Henley’s worrisome tone.
I hand it to Justus; he places the phone in his lap. He begins to turn off onto Iula St., stopping the car. We are close to the Oceanic but I’m becoming wary of why we are stopped. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face me, full on, but says nothing.
“What?” I ask.
“What has Henley told you about me?” His is serious and his tone has deepened, it’s scary but alluring at the same time.
I feel a nervous rush go through me and instead of shying away like the good little girl I should be, I respect Justus enough at this point to keep it real, “He says you have a reputation.” I mirror his stance in the car.
“What else?” He is fuming.
“That your father had to hire me all the way from Louisiana because the nanny services around here won’t work with him; because of you and your philandering ways.” I say the last bit in jest and he smiles. Whew. But he isn’t asking any more questions and readjusts himself in the driver’s seat, but he’s not getting away that easy, “Hey,” I grab his arm to halt him, “I respected you enough to tell you the truth, I have a question or two myself.”
He relaxes, “By all means.”
“Why did your father hire me; it’s not the nanny thing is it?”
He takes a deep breath, “No. My father hired you because your father suggested you as a reliable, trustworthy employee. You see, we have had major issues in the past with locals getting grandiose ideas about my father and our family. I have been harassed; my father has been sued…”
“Wait…WHAT!?” I say.
“These girls come in to work for my father, their main priority; my siblings? Correct?”
I answer him, “Well, yes.”
“They end up snooping through personal things and selling stories to the tabloids. I had a girl accuse me of rape; it’s been pretty bad. When our fathers last met in Iceland, they talked about you and…here you are.”
“The nanny service and the portraits.” I state.
“Yes.”
“So why do you have an interest in me; after all you’ve been through?”
“Because I know I can trust you.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because my father has been watching you since you arrived; nothing in your bedroom or the bathroom, but in the kitchen, great room, and there is a small camera watching the beachfont.”
My face flushes and I swear I’m going to throw up; I smoked out there.
“Your father assured mine that it would be no problem, he said we can trust you. You have proven that we can. It’s a welcome change, for my father and for me. Don’t worry about smoking either, he doesn’t care.”
I feel like a tiny mouse that is being loomed over by two, no three giant elephants. One of them, my own father. I readjust myself in the car and I don’t feel like eating, “Can we just go please?”
“Of course.” He starts to take the right toward the Oceanic and I’m over it completely.
“Please drop me off at home.” I say looking off into the distance.
“What?!” He pulls off onto another side street. “NO!” He is angry and staring at me through sunglasses. I can’t keep my face on his and I turn away. “Please Babet; forget the conversation, let’s start over.”
I remove my glasses, a single tear floats down my face, “We can’t start over, please take me back to your father’s beach house.” I’m so ill at all this; I don’t even want to call it “home”; temporary or not.
“No.” He says again and cuts the engine.
I take a deep breath. Oh boy; this is so not my first time at the rodeo with this bull shit. “Fine.” I get out of the car and begin to walk down Lumina Avenue. I sling my bag over my head and trudge on. My mind is racing, at first I want to go back to the house, pack my shit and leave but I realize the commitment I’ve made to Soren; sweet little Soren. I roll my eyes at myself when further realization rears it’s ugly head and the only freedom I have is to hole up in my room and paint or listen to music and drive, anything but face that family again. But I certainly can’t leave. I don’t get the luxury of avoiding the Gunnar’s, Justus catches up to me in the car and swerves so I can’t pass, “What the fuck do you think you are doing!” I try to pass and he inches the car forward to stop me, “JUSTUS!” I shriek.
He throws the car in park and gets out, he lurches at me and grabs my arm; I jerk it away. His face is stunned, like no one would dare, he grabs me again and arches me backward, kissing me passionately. I’ll admit I’m stunned but I’m weak in my state of Cian-less-ness, I relent and kiss him back. Traffic is small but its gathering and car horns begin to honk. He stops, releases me and angrily looks down at me, “Get in the car.”
I take another deep breath and oblige, I would hate to be blocking traffic. I shake my head, I asked for this. I played with him not knowing what all the specifics were and if I don’t talk to my damn Daddy tonight I am going to scream. I hate being left in the goddamn dark. My father may have been on a twenty two year hiatus, but I ‘m going to show him what he’s missed as far as my tolerance for this shit is going to go.
In the car I’m silent until we are seated at an outdoor table, I’m silent. I do eventually open my mouth again, out on the Chrystal pier at the Oceanic when Justus asks me what I want to eat, “I don’t want anything to eat.” I say.
He places his menu down, “Please, Babet. I truly am sorry…and…” He trails off but begins to get irritated, “You know, your father said you would understand.”
I don’t want to defend myself, I don’t want to talk to this prick at all anymore but suddenly I want to drink heavily so until I order a drink, or two, he gets nothing out of me. Our waiter, thank god, shows up to take our drink orders. I ask him if they have Jagermiester chilled on tap.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Bring me two and keep them coming.” I look past Justus at the ocean and I can’t wait until I’m safe in Emerald Isle.
“Jager, huh?” Justus says when the waiter arrives with my shot glasses.
Thick and cold in my hand I shoot one glass of black liquid and then the other. “Glass of water please?” I look at his nametag, “Josh.” I say sweetly to our waiter. I keep smiling at Josh but when I turn to face Justus my smile slowly fades. Josh returns with a Heineken for Justus and a sweating glass of ice water for me. I decide to talk after all, “Well now that I have had a drink, yes I can understand your precautions, however; I don’t appreciate the fact that not only you and your father, but my own father keeping it all from me. How old were the girls who gave you so much trouble?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Early twenties.”
I lean forward in my seat, “I’m thirty two years old; I don’t care about you or your family. I don’t even know who you are or anything about your show! It’s meaningless to me. I came here to care for your brother because I felt bad for the little guy.” I quickly sit up straight. Josh has come back to our table with two more shots for me, “Thank you Josh.”
The confused boy retreats. I direct my attention back to Justus, my speech a little slurred, “Not to mention being able to paint this beautiful landscape. You see, what you don’t know about me is that; seven months ago my house, my business and my studio burned to the ground. Well not to the ground, but a burned out shell like husk. Anyway…” The alcohol is really kicking in, “I had to go through a good bit of my own shit to get back on track.”
“So?”
“So, what?”
“I am waiting for my apology.” He smiles.
“You will be waiting for an eternity.” I take another shot.
“Fair enough, will you at least eat something? It’s not fair to me to drag your drunken carcass into the house and have Henley think even less of me.”
“Is that all you ever think about? Yourself. Besides by the time we get back Henley will be long gone.”
“I like the sound of that.” He smiles and resumes looking at the menu.
Justus orders a seared tuna and vegetable medley; I reluctantly agree to eat a small salad and bread. Josh returns and I order a coffee. The sun is going down and I pull out my camera to shoot Justus one last time.
“Hey.” He says. I smile, giving in to the evening. I don’t have to be a hard ass and I smile again when Justus asks, “Do you have any more of that…” He doesn’t want to say it out loud.
“Yeah, in my car at the house.”
“Well, let’s go then.”
“Stop and get me coffee and you’ve got a deal.” I reply just as Josh returns with the teacup and saucer.
We both look up at him, “Cancel it please sir and put the bill on my father’s tab.”
“Yes, sir Mr. Gunnar. Have a nice evening, Ma’am.” He nods to me. I smile at him before Justus ushers me toward the beach ramp.
“Do you mind if we walk this way back to the car?” He asks.
I shake my head, my brow raised, “No.”
We walk and just as we are about to reach the parking lot, Justus stops causing me to clumsily halt my stride. He says nothing but takes my shoulders in his hands, turning me to face the water and the front of The Oceananic, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I sigh or gasp, I can’t figure which but my breath is taken away. The massive restaurant looks like a gigantic beach house not a business. The sun blocks my vision just enough so I don’t see the sign just the wrap around deck reeds lapping the walkway. I shake Justus’s grasp and dig in my bag for my camera. I hear him chuckle as I snap and click over and over. I finish, close the lens and look up at Justus, “Thank you.”
We are back in the car and I suggest stopping at a gas station. I go in and buy a conglomerate coffee brand drink and a mango wrap paper. The cover of the wrap is a woman’s red lips encasing a piece of juicy mango. I hand Justus the paper bag. He peeks inside, “Oh, big plans!” I smile as I slide back into the car.
It’s after 8:00 and the house is quiet. Soren is most likely in bed and Lars as well, if he spent the day with his two year old son. Justus begins to ascend the stairs but looks back at me, “You coming?”
“I have to go out to the car, I’ll be right back.” I reach into my bag, “Plug my phone up for me?”
He takes it from me, “Sure, I’m going to change my clothes.” He continues up.
I dip outside to retrieve the bag from the center console of my car. Back inside the house I quietly go upstairs and into my room. Justus is already there lying on my bed with his feet up watching TV in a pair of long gym shorts and t-shirt. I decide to play since he has already started the game. I walk over to where my duffle is and pull out a pair of cloud print boxer shorts, sliding them on under the skirt of my dress. I don’t wear a bra with my sundresses so I turn away from him and remove my dress. My bare back to him I bend over to retrieve my blue fitted shirt. I peek in my peripheral at him, he is watching like a hawk. I pull the shirt over my head and begin to turn around while I bring it down over my breasts; my midriff exposed momentarily.
I reach into my linen sack and throw the bulging plastic bag and wrap at Justus, “Make yourself useful.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing my tablet to break it up on. He rips the foil package open on the wrap and rolls the blunt like a champ. I grab the remote to the TV off the bed beside Justus and he clamps his hand onto mine. I smile and snatch it. I change the station to music television and I’m overjoyed when one of my favorite videos is on, I stare at the TV before I remember I wanted, no needed, to talk to my Daddy.
I locate my phone and remove the charger plug from the wall, “Excuse me.” I say while retreating to the bathroom.
I dial my Daddy’s personal line in the billiards room; no answer. I call the house phone; no answer. I call Scarlet’s phone; straight to voicemail. I know it’s silly, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m being avoided. I text Scarlet; “Call me as soon as you get this.”
I go back into my room and tell Justus, “Light it up.” As I return my phone and sit on the bed.
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February 4, 2015
An Outing with a Celebrity; Babet's slip up...
Vito’s is busy not only because it’s Friday night, but it’s almost the last weekend of the season. Labor Day, the last weekend of the season, will be wild around here. But after; the beach cities lose their tourist influx and seaside havens become local fare for another eight months. We walk in, immediately the hostess stares longingly at Justus while collecting two menus. I smirk internally because this is so ridiculous.
His charm oozes when the girl attempts to put us at a table in the middle of the restaurant, “Excuse me, Jill is it?” He says and leans into her pointing to a booth in the corner, “Could we sit over there please?”
“Um…sure, right this way.” Her nervous chuckle is even more entertaining.
Once we are shown to the table I ask Jill for a highchair, she doesn’t look at me when she agrees. I nod and sit taking the strap of my bag from around my neck. I suppose I’m settling in aggressively because Justus is staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, smiling and drapes his arm along the back of the booth. His arm is so long that his fingers rest comfortably at the end of the vinyl seat. We order and of course I’m not engaged once by the waitress. Justus orders Soren’s favorite; the Sweetwater pie and an order of onion rings. I order a salad with blue cheese to accompany my pizza. The waitress is overly attentive while we eat, to the degree of insanity; her other tables are glaring at us.
We’re approached by a gaggle of sorority girls and Justus obliges them with pictures. Cell phone cameras click and more than ten standard camera pictures are taken while Soren and I eat. I pay it no mind until one of the sorority girls leans over and tells me how lucky I am. I shrug it off and she takes this personally, but how can I be impressed with someone I know nothing about? I realize she doesn’t know that, so I smile as sincerely as possible to soften my reaction.
Soren is clearly tired of all the hoopla and calls out, “Broder!” over and over again.
Justus turns back to table at Soren’s incessant hollering. I add to it; my face is showing aggravated patience.
“Thank you ladies, thank you for watching the show. It was lovely to have met you all.” And it’s an unspoken agreement amongst them; the girls disperse as Justus takes his seat, and thankfully Soren stops yelling.
Soren and I have finished our meal while Justus has yet to begin; he looks around for our waitress who jumps when she sees him searching, “Yes sir?” She certainly is eager.
“Jill,” his tone is sincere, “Please wrap this up for me to leave?”
“Of course.” She sadly removes our plates and disappears in the back.
Justus turns to meet my eyes since I’m boring a hole in the side of his face. Once he does I turn to Soren and ask him if he is ready to go, “Yes.” He says quite agreeably.
Jill returns with Justus’s to go box and on top she has written her phone number inside a heart. I roll my eyes where she can’t see me and pull Soren out of the high chair. The restaurant is quieter as we leave then it was during our meal and I feel a thousand eyes on me. We are out the door but I can’t help turning to stare at the blue building when conversations re-erupt and laughter re-permeates the space. I shake my head walking to the Jeep.
The sun is twenty minutes from descending below us and before I get into the car, I grab my camera from my linen sack, “Give me five minutes.” I say holding my hand up.
“Five!” Soren jovially calls from the back seat.
Justus huffs but I slam the door anyway and crest the side of Vito’s to capture the remaining light of the day. I get five or six decent shots of just the sky and a few land shots to represent scale. I flip through the memory before walking back to the Jeep.
I open the door and hop in, “Thanks.” I say while securing my camera back in my bag.
Justus starts the engine and we ride down Lumina Ave in silence; I watch the infinite line on the road out my window.
We are almost back at the house when Justus asks, “Did you get some good pictures?”
“I‘ll have to look at them further when we get back.” I say but I don’t face him.
We arrive and Justus pulls the Jeep in behind my Audi, blocking it in. I begin to protest, but I don’t plan to go out again tonight so I keep my mouth shut; except to ask Justus to get Soren out of the car so I can gather the mail and newspaper from this morning. I don’t scan the letters, not my mail; but there is a thick invitation like envelope in the mass. I throw the mail on the kitchen table and look at the clock.
It’s past Soren’s bath time, hell, by now it’s past his reading time and his bed time, “Soren?” I call, he looks over, “Take a bath?” I ask.
“Bath!” He says and races over to the stairs. He holds his hand out and up we go; Soren is splashing around in the water in no time as I sit on the side of the tub while he plays.
I get him dressed and into bed, I grab one of his favorite books and read until he is asleep. I gently close his door and go into my room without a second thought of Justus downstairs or where ever he is at the moment. I change my clothes and go back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Lars, I suspect will be home soon and I learned my lesson the first night I was here. The door to the bathroom is cracked while I brush; my sonic style toothbrush vibrates my hand like my tattoo gun. I think of Frankie and Molly then Scarlet and Henri. I brush twice as long as the recommended time, I‘m lost in thought so long.
In my peripheral I see the door slowly open; Justus is standing outside of it in a pair of old, loose medical scrubs and nothing else. The thin blue pants leave nothing to the imagination. He passes behind me and grabs an untouched blue toothbrush, in the mirror I watch him apply a generous amount of toothpaste to it before inserting it into his pouted mouth. I finish and rinse, replacing my toothbrush in its charger base. I glance up at Justus once more before leaving the bathroom. He smiles through minty foam.
In my room I prepare to paint; I put on my shuffle player and thankfully the trance inducing sound of the Gorillas is what begins. I pull my men’s dress shirt on over my white tank top. I remove my pajama pants so I don’t ruin them. I often paint in my underwear, it’s easier to clean paint off skin than it is clothes. I don’t realize it when I put it on, but this is the blue pinstripe shirt of Griffin’s I was wearing when…and it hits me harder than ever.
Repressing the urge earlier, not once but twice, was more than a terrible idea. I don’t see anything; I’m in complete checkerboard Alice in Wonderland-ville but the sensations my body is exuding are exquisitely overpowering. A rush of erotic sparks rolls from my head to the tip of my pinkie toes and I suppose I lose balance and fall because I don’t feel like I‘m on my feet. I hear a loud bang but I can’t concentrate on it because the rush has reached each tip of each of my nerve endings; my nipples pucker and they are wound so tight it’s deliciously painful. That wonderful sensation sends a message to the sexual button at the apex of my thighs and the only thing I hear is my own voice call out, “CIAN!” I feel spastic as my back arcs and the moistness down low escape me. I gasp for breath and slowly focus my vision, the checkerboard diminishes and I’m utterly mortified at the figure hovering over me.
“Who’s Cian?” Justus is holding his hand out for me to take it.
I feel like an idiot, but I lift from the floor and the back of my head hurts so intensely, I grab it, “Oh”, I look at my hand for blood, nothing thankfully. I take Justus’s hand and get to my feet, “Thanks.” I say adjusting my shirt and the fact that I’m in my underwear in front of the boss’s son is the least of my worries.
“Are you okay?” He asks and in his face I see genuine concern.
“I’m fine.” I say backing away from him. His body is exuding that heady smell. And in my current state of mind it’s not helping the situation.
I’m on my feet but Justus’s attentions are diverted to the finished Burgwin-Wright painting and the beginning of the Downtown building, “You painted these?!” He says and the exhilarating sincerity in his voice is pleasing.
“Yeah.” I respond as I’m still trying to regain composure, rubbing the back of my head.
“Their magnificent!”
“Thanks. I need to pick up more canvas but so far they are the only two I’ve done. I have to save these two for your and Soren’s portraits.” I stand behind him pointing to the blank spaces.
He turns back to face me, “Why these?”
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“Why do you have to save these canvases for our portraits?”
“They are a higher quality, meaning more expensive, canvas. If I use this consistency of fabric your portraits will stand the test of time short of being submerged in water.”
I seem to have gone over his head because he changes the subject, “My father called, he is on his way home.”
“Oh, well it’s after 8:00 so I’m up here for the night. Tell him I said hello.” I walk toward the door hoping Justus will follow. He doesn’t take the hint and stands in the middle of my bedroom, shirtless, statuesque and handsomely confused.
“I don’t understand.” He says.
I hold my hand out to usher Justus from my temporary dwelling, “Please.” He scoffs and walks out of my room. He turns to say something else, but I close the door in his face. I hear him down the hall and down the stairs, I take a deep breath thankful he didn’t want further explanation of my fainting or yelling but I’m sure it will come up again. I get the feeling his type doesn’t let embarrassing moments like that go.
I’m truly in a zone shading and finalizing the Downtown building since I don’t hear knocking at my door and I have no idea what time it is until Justus blatantly enters my room, “What the hell?!” I say oblivious to the fact that I have removed my over shirt, my painters pallet and brush firmly in hand.
Justus stands staring, literally casing me from head to toe. I look down for a safe place to set my pallet and brush down, but decide at the last moment, I’m going to play with this arrogant prick. Slowly I stretch; arching my back so that my breasts elevate. As I do so my white boy shorts ride slightly into the crack of my behind, I reach back and insert my fingers in between the seam and my skin to cover the bulges of flesh. He is watching with great intention as I slither over to grab my over shirt; I slowly insert one arm and then the other, my body contorting playfully. I look up at him, he is watching my hands. I take each button and secure them before asking, “Can I help you?”
Justus blinks repetitively before saying, “I’m sorry; but I did knock. My father is home and would like to speak with you.”
Instantly I’m obedient, rushing around my room for my pajama pants. I slip them on all while Justus remains standing in my room, enjoying my frenzy. I pass him out the door and I hear a small laugh as I round the corner. Downstairs Lars is standing in the kitchen eating a banana, “You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He finishes the mass of mush in his mouth and says, “Yes, Babet. I’m sorry to wake you, its just…”
I don’t let him finish, “Your schedule, yes sir.” My tone is one of complete understanding.
“Yes, well…I’ve been speaking with Justus and if I make arrangements for Soren tomorrow would you be willing to begin the portrait process with him?” He throws the peel in the trashcan by the refrigerator.
I’m slightly confused, “Soren or Justus?”
“Justus.” He says looking over my head.
I don’t notice Justus is standing behind me until I smell him; I turn to look from him to his father. They are both waiting patiently for an answer, Justus more so than his father. I run a hand through my shorter tresses and take a deep breath. Alone with Justus; just fabulous, my thoughts are dripping with sarcasm but I keep my polite southern composure, “Of course.” I smile and turn on heel but I don’t get far.
“What time should I be ready?” Justus calls and I hear the arrogant smile in his voice, its playtime for Babet.
I smile before I turn back around, “If you have time right now, we can talk about it. I heard you have some ideas.” My sweet smile turns alluring.
He takes the bait and his eyes show his excited shock, “Uh, yes.” He recovers quickly, that one, “Where should we…?”
“I’ll be in my room when you are ready to discuss specifics.” I explain before slowly ascending the stairs. I know he and his father are watching and once they think I’m out of ear shot I hear the distinct sound of someone getting patted on the back. I have half a mind to give Justus a piece of my mind once we are behind closed doors and rest assured, he would fucking choke on it. But I won’t, I’m keeping up the ruse until the day I leave for Emerald Isle. If what Henley says is correct, when I return for the second leg of the job; Justus will be gone.
In my room I‘ve resumed painting, to further his expectations I‘ve removed my over shirt and I’m once again in my undergarments. I hear a quiet knock at the door, “Yeah.” I say and the word is hushed out of my mouth, almost husky.
The door opens and Justus comes in, gingerly closing it behind him. He sees me and stops short surprised at my lack of attire. I put down my pallet and brush again and grab my tablet. I sit on the end of the bed while the devise loads. I look up at him as I settle on the bed cross-legged, “Have a seat.” I say before looking back down to bring up the folder of Wilmington pictures. “I know you have some ideas, and I’m receptive but I would like to explain my process to you and we can go from there; okay?”
“Okay.” Justus sits and leans back on his hands. I know this is a move to slowly lower himself to the bed.
I decide to accelerate the situation because, honestly, this is fun. I roll my body from the seated position to lying flat on my stomach on the fluffy duvet. I know my clothes have shifted and that’s the point; I bring my feet up into the air and rub them together while I molest the tablet, “Here are shots of downtown on the Cape Fear Waterfront, I have a great one with trees dripping Spanish moss…” I trail off and crane my neck over my shoulder tilting my head toward the photos, “See.”
Again Justus takes my bait; his brow furrows and he shifts his body to mimic my position. In no time we are flipping through electronic folders of my recently taken photos like a couple of girlfriends. I show him the portraits I painted of my kids and parents; he remarks how well my father has aged. I laugh, but he doesn’t understand. I close that folder and he notices a folder marked “CIAN”.
He points to it, “Open that one.” I open it and his eyes get wide. He smirks, “Hard to compete with that.”
I smile and close the folder without looking at a single picture of my vampire love. Justus asks to see the portrait of Henri again. I open the folder and select the picture, “Is this the painting or the photo you rendered it from?” He asks.
“This is the painting…here,” I say while I open the folder with all the photos I’ve painted, “This is the photo.” He stares at the two side by side, “Check this out,” I expand the painting, “Here, you can see the brushstrokes.”
“I don’t see the brushstrokes, but again, your work is beyond magnificent. I truly look forward to seeing how you see Soren and…me.”
“What do you mean, how I see you? I paint from the photo, I really don’t embellish.” I defend.
“Please don’t take offense, I may not see your brushstrokes here, but I do see a difference in the two. They’re precise to the photos; aside from the passionate adoration you are broadcasting when you paint the eyes. The photo of your son,” He leans over and fingers the screen in front of me, “doesn’t compare to the portrait, his eyes have so much love in them here,” again he expands the picture of the portrait, “these eyes are only what a mother sees. No camera can capture that. So I am truly looking forward to how you see me.”
“Thank you.” I say quietly and I appreciate the sentiment and compliment but the fear of what he will see in his portrait begins to plague me. I can’t dwell on this and it all becomes very lighthearted as I actually feel a somewhat kinship to Justus until he asks about his father’s behavior, “Has my father had any unannounced guests while he’s been here?”
“How would I know if they were unannounced?” I say smiling before I stick the tip of my tongue out at him.
He laughs and he has a beautiful smile, “Touché. I mean, is that why you stay up here after 8:00?”
I decide to keep it real because I feel like Justus lacks honest friendly bonding time, “Uh yeah, the first night I was here, well the second night I was here…I was on the couch playing with this thing,” I tilt the tablet, “He didn’t seem too happy I was still awake.”
Justus simply takes a deep breath and nods his head. He changes the subject and in the short time we’ve spent together I realize this is his defense mechanism, “Well, I like Downtown, but at the Battleship would be so masculine.” He looks to me for a sarcastic reaction and he gets one I am eyeing him like he’s nuts.
“I mean, we can shoot you at the Battleship if you like.” I say trying not to laugh.
He leans over to bump shoulders with me and our feet touch, there is an awkward hole between us which I quickly fill, “Seriously though, any of these places interest you?” I look over to see him staring at me, his eyes trailing from my lips to my eyes.
“I’m not interested in any place but right here, right now.”
I smile, but I know this is another move and I want to verbally lay into him but I can’t and I won’t; not just yet, “Justus?”
“Hmm?” He moans.
“Since I don’t have your brother as my main priority tomorrow, would you be willing to make a day of scouting the perfect location? We can have breakfast and hit the town.”
He seems taken back by my boldness and even though I’m scantily dressed the seriousness of this professional opportunity is not far from my mind. I stand to make a nice chunk of change for painting the two portraits Lars Gunnar has commissioned of his sons. Justus shifts back to sitting on the edge of the bed but he is silent.
“Hello?” I say and mirror his position, “Something I said?”
“No, I…I’m sorry, yes of course. Breakfast, I will see you at breakfast.” He stands quickly and leaves my room, gently closing the door behind him.
Granted it was awkward but he accepted and since I won’t sleep I grab my pallet and brush. But I put it back down again and pick up my tablet. I open the “classified” folder which contains the paintings of that night and nights I spent with Cian. I flip past the “Death of Mora” section and reach the pictures of the being I want to look at for eternity. I open the depiction of our first meeting, at the burning of my studio. His beautiful ice blue eyes and raven mop stand out, flanked by a midnight backdrop with bursts of orange, blue and red. How his eyes darkened when our hands touched, the relief I felt when he was there; and the despair I felt when he was not.
I close that one and open another of his alluring face. I finally open the one that I took great patience with, the one I bled, sweat and cried over. My sex tightens when the picture loads and there he stands stark naked in front of me, the Roman backdrop of Mora’s basement flanks his pale angelic frame. I focus on each rippling stomach muscle trailing down to his sculpted hips where I ran my thumbs before taking his magnificent manhood into my mouth. How cold his cock felt on my tongue and at the back of my throat. My eyes close as my fingers dip below the seam of my panties. I see him clear as day in my mind as he dives down to my inner thigh, grazing his protruding teeth across my delicate flesh. I remember how thrillingly frightened I was when he held my wrists in his giant hand, like an adult holding a pair of baby’s legs. My body tenses when I remember his words, “I won’t hurt you.” The ripple of ecstasy bursts through and I grab my right breast when the moist warmth inside, flows out. I hear a whisper, “Cian.” And I know it’s my own cracking voice echoing my ears.
My eyes don’t open until I hear rapping at my door. I sit up and grab the back of my head again; I look around and out the window. The sun is up, had I slept? Had I actually slept? I turn in the bed and hear my tablet hits the floor. I don’t get to invite the caller in before he enters, again; unannounced.
Justus is standing at the foot of my bed, he is dressed casually in jeans and a white polo shirt and I assume this portrait is a casual one. He crosses barefoot to the window and opens the blinds; I flinch at the shock of morning light. He saunters over to me and picks up my tablet, unfortunately it is still on the picture of Cian in not but his skin. I rub my forehead while Justus stares at it. He smirks before saying, “Hmm, I’d like you to paint me this way. Brave gent posed for photos eh?”
Oh, this is going to be grand, “No, I painted that one from memory.” I say giving him a sleepy smile.
He isn’t amused, but I am as I watch him place the tablet on the bedside tablet without closing it, “Breakfast is ready.” His clipped tone makes me grin.
I jump up to grab the tablet and close the folder down before locking the devise. Justus is still watching me as I look up at him, “Do you mind? I need to get dressed.”
“I don’t mind.” He says sitting on the bed.
I roll my eyes and grab my clothes to stomp into the bathroom. Once I’m beyond the doorframe I smile, and like an evil cartoon character I’m tapping my fingers together, “Splendid.” I put on my baby blue sundress and flip flops. I finger my hair through the little tangles and apply modest makeup; Mamma always says wear makeup to look like you’re not wearing makeup; Natural beauty. I don’t use lipstick, but I do line my lips and apply gloss. Again; it’s more of a natural look. I leave the bathroom to throw my clothes in my room; Justus has dispersed and left my door wide open. I go in then close it behind me after I gather the things I need for the day. Camera, Tablet, Bag, Cell phone…and I remember, FUCKING A!!! I need to call my Daddy. I keep getting distracted by the precise person I need to talk to him about.
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His charm oozes when the girl attempts to put us at a table in the middle of the restaurant, “Excuse me, Jill is it?” He says and leans into her pointing to a booth in the corner, “Could we sit over there please?”
“Um…sure, right this way.” Her nervous chuckle is even more entertaining.
Once we are shown to the table I ask Jill for a highchair, she doesn’t look at me when she agrees. I nod and sit taking the strap of my bag from around my neck. I suppose I’m settling in aggressively because Justus is staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, smiling and drapes his arm along the back of the booth. His arm is so long that his fingers rest comfortably at the end of the vinyl seat. We order and of course I’m not engaged once by the waitress. Justus orders Soren’s favorite; the Sweetwater pie and an order of onion rings. I order a salad with blue cheese to accompany my pizza. The waitress is overly attentive while we eat, to the degree of insanity; her other tables are glaring at us.
We’re approached by a gaggle of sorority girls and Justus obliges them with pictures. Cell phone cameras click and more than ten standard camera pictures are taken while Soren and I eat. I pay it no mind until one of the sorority girls leans over and tells me how lucky I am. I shrug it off and she takes this personally, but how can I be impressed with someone I know nothing about? I realize she doesn’t know that, so I smile as sincerely as possible to soften my reaction.
Soren is clearly tired of all the hoopla and calls out, “Broder!” over and over again.
Justus turns back to table at Soren’s incessant hollering. I add to it; my face is showing aggravated patience.
“Thank you ladies, thank you for watching the show. It was lovely to have met you all.” And it’s an unspoken agreement amongst them; the girls disperse as Justus takes his seat, and thankfully Soren stops yelling.
Soren and I have finished our meal while Justus has yet to begin; he looks around for our waitress who jumps when she sees him searching, “Yes sir?” She certainly is eager.
“Jill,” his tone is sincere, “Please wrap this up for me to leave?”
“Of course.” She sadly removes our plates and disappears in the back.
Justus turns to meet my eyes since I’m boring a hole in the side of his face. Once he does I turn to Soren and ask him if he is ready to go, “Yes.” He says quite agreeably.
Jill returns with Justus’s to go box and on top she has written her phone number inside a heart. I roll my eyes where she can’t see me and pull Soren out of the high chair. The restaurant is quieter as we leave then it was during our meal and I feel a thousand eyes on me. We are out the door but I can’t help turning to stare at the blue building when conversations re-erupt and laughter re-permeates the space. I shake my head walking to the Jeep.
The sun is twenty minutes from descending below us and before I get into the car, I grab my camera from my linen sack, “Give me five minutes.” I say holding my hand up.
“Five!” Soren jovially calls from the back seat.
Justus huffs but I slam the door anyway and crest the side of Vito’s to capture the remaining light of the day. I get five or six decent shots of just the sky and a few land shots to represent scale. I flip through the memory before walking back to the Jeep.
I open the door and hop in, “Thanks.” I say while securing my camera back in my bag.
Justus starts the engine and we ride down Lumina Ave in silence; I watch the infinite line on the road out my window.
We are almost back at the house when Justus asks, “Did you get some good pictures?”
“I‘ll have to look at them further when we get back.” I say but I don’t face him.
We arrive and Justus pulls the Jeep in behind my Audi, blocking it in. I begin to protest, but I don’t plan to go out again tonight so I keep my mouth shut; except to ask Justus to get Soren out of the car so I can gather the mail and newspaper from this morning. I don’t scan the letters, not my mail; but there is a thick invitation like envelope in the mass. I throw the mail on the kitchen table and look at the clock.
It’s past Soren’s bath time, hell, by now it’s past his reading time and his bed time, “Soren?” I call, he looks over, “Take a bath?” I ask.
“Bath!” He says and races over to the stairs. He holds his hand out and up we go; Soren is splashing around in the water in no time as I sit on the side of the tub while he plays.
I get him dressed and into bed, I grab one of his favorite books and read until he is asleep. I gently close his door and go into my room without a second thought of Justus downstairs or where ever he is at the moment. I change my clothes and go back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Lars, I suspect will be home soon and I learned my lesson the first night I was here. The door to the bathroom is cracked while I brush; my sonic style toothbrush vibrates my hand like my tattoo gun. I think of Frankie and Molly then Scarlet and Henri. I brush twice as long as the recommended time, I‘m lost in thought so long.
In my peripheral I see the door slowly open; Justus is standing outside of it in a pair of old, loose medical scrubs and nothing else. The thin blue pants leave nothing to the imagination. He passes behind me and grabs an untouched blue toothbrush, in the mirror I watch him apply a generous amount of toothpaste to it before inserting it into his pouted mouth. I finish and rinse, replacing my toothbrush in its charger base. I glance up at Justus once more before leaving the bathroom. He smiles through minty foam.
In my room I prepare to paint; I put on my shuffle player and thankfully the trance inducing sound of the Gorillas is what begins. I pull my men’s dress shirt on over my white tank top. I remove my pajama pants so I don’t ruin them. I often paint in my underwear, it’s easier to clean paint off skin than it is clothes. I don’t realize it when I put it on, but this is the blue pinstripe shirt of Griffin’s I was wearing when…and it hits me harder than ever.
Repressing the urge earlier, not once but twice, was more than a terrible idea. I don’t see anything; I’m in complete checkerboard Alice in Wonderland-ville but the sensations my body is exuding are exquisitely overpowering. A rush of erotic sparks rolls from my head to the tip of my pinkie toes and I suppose I lose balance and fall because I don’t feel like I‘m on my feet. I hear a loud bang but I can’t concentrate on it because the rush has reached each tip of each of my nerve endings; my nipples pucker and they are wound so tight it’s deliciously painful. That wonderful sensation sends a message to the sexual button at the apex of my thighs and the only thing I hear is my own voice call out, “CIAN!” I feel spastic as my back arcs and the moistness down low escape me. I gasp for breath and slowly focus my vision, the checkerboard diminishes and I’m utterly mortified at the figure hovering over me.
“Who’s Cian?” Justus is holding his hand out for me to take it.
I feel like an idiot, but I lift from the floor and the back of my head hurts so intensely, I grab it, “Oh”, I look at my hand for blood, nothing thankfully. I take Justus’s hand and get to my feet, “Thanks.” I say adjusting my shirt and the fact that I’m in my underwear in front of the boss’s son is the least of my worries.
“Are you okay?” He asks and in his face I see genuine concern.
“I’m fine.” I say backing away from him. His body is exuding that heady smell. And in my current state of mind it’s not helping the situation.
I’m on my feet but Justus’s attentions are diverted to the finished Burgwin-Wright painting and the beginning of the Downtown building, “You painted these?!” He says and the exhilarating sincerity in his voice is pleasing.
“Yeah.” I respond as I’m still trying to regain composure, rubbing the back of my head.
“Their magnificent!”
“Thanks. I need to pick up more canvas but so far they are the only two I’ve done. I have to save these two for your and Soren’s portraits.” I stand behind him pointing to the blank spaces.
He turns back to face me, “Why these?”
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“Why do you have to save these canvases for our portraits?”
“They are a higher quality, meaning more expensive, canvas. If I use this consistency of fabric your portraits will stand the test of time short of being submerged in water.”
I seem to have gone over his head because he changes the subject, “My father called, he is on his way home.”
“Oh, well it’s after 8:00 so I’m up here for the night. Tell him I said hello.” I walk toward the door hoping Justus will follow. He doesn’t take the hint and stands in the middle of my bedroom, shirtless, statuesque and handsomely confused.
“I don’t understand.” He says.
I hold my hand out to usher Justus from my temporary dwelling, “Please.” He scoffs and walks out of my room. He turns to say something else, but I close the door in his face. I hear him down the hall and down the stairs, I take a deep breath thankful he didn’t want further explanation of my fainting or yelling but I’m sure it will come up again. I get the feeling his type doesn’t let embarrassing moments like that go.
I’m truly in a zone shading and finalizing the Downtown building since I don’t hear knocking at my door and I have no idea what time it is until Justus blatantly enters my room, “What the hell?!” I say oblivious to the fact that I have removed my over shirt, my painters pallet and brush firmly in hand.
Justus stands staring, literally casing me from head to toe. I look down for a safe place to set my pallet and brush down, but decide at the last moment, I’m going to play with this arrogant prick. Slowly I stretch; arching my back so that my breasts elevate. As I do so my white boy shorts ride slightly into the crack of my behind, I reach back and insert my fingers in between the seam and my skin to cover the bulges of flesh. He is watching with great intention as I slither over to grab my over shirt; I slowly insert one arm and then the other, my body contorting playfully. I look up at him, he is watching my hands. I take each button and secure them before asking, “Can I help you?”
Justus blinks repetitively before saying, “I’m sorry; but I did knock. My father is home and would like to speak with you.”
Instantly I’m obedient, rushing around my room for my pajama pants. I slip them on all while Justus remains standing in my room, enjoying my frenzy. I pass him out the door and I hear a small laugh as I round the corner. Downstairs Lars is standing in the kitchen eating a banana, “You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He finishes the mass of mush in his mouth and says, “Yes, Babet. I’m sorry to wake you, its just…”
I don’t let him finish, “Your schedule, yes sir.” My tone is one of complete understanding.
“Yes, well…I’ve been speaking with Justus and if I make arrangements for Soren tomorrow would you be willing to begin the portrait process with him?” He throws the peel in the trashcan by the refrigerator.
I’m slightly confused, “Soren or Justus?”
“Justus.” He says looking over my head.
I don’t notice Justus is standing behind me until I smell him; I turn to look from him to his father. They are both waiting patiently for an answer, Justus more so than his father. I run a hand through my shorter tresses and take a deep breath. Alone with Justus; just fabulous, my thoughts are dripping with sarcasm but I keep my polite southern composure, “Of course.” I smile and turn on heel but I don’t get far.
“What time should I be ready?” Justus calls and I hear the arrogant smile in his voice, its playtime for Babet.
I smile before I turn back around, “If you have time right now, we can talk about it. I heard you have some ideas.” My sweet smile turns alluring.
He takes the bait and his eyes show his excited shock, “Uh, yes.” He recovers quickly, that one, “Where should we…?”
“I’ll be in my room when you are ready to discuss specifics.” I explain before slowly ascending the stairs. I know he and his father are watching and once they think I’m out of ear shot I hear the distinct sound of someone getting patted on the back. I have half a mind to give Justus a piece of my mind once we are behind closed doors and rest assured, he would fucking choke on it. But I won’t, I’m keeping up the ruse until the day I leave for Emerald Isle. If what Henley says is correct, when I return for the second leg of the job; Justus will be gone.
In my room I‘ve resumed painting, to further his expectations I‘ve removed my over shirt and I’m once again in my undergarments. I hear a quiet knock at the door, “Yeah.” I say and the word is hushed out of my mouth, almost husky.
The door opens and Justus comes in, gingerly closing it behind him. He sees me and stops short surprised at my lack of attire. I put down my pallet and brush again and grab my tablet. I sit on the end of the bed while the devise loads. I look up at him as I settle on the bed cross-legged, “Have a seat.” I say before looking back down to bring up the folder of Wilmington pictures. “I know you have some ideas, and I’m receptive but I would like to explain my process to you and we can go from there; okay?”
“Okay.” Justus sits and leans back on his hands. I know this is a move to slowly lower himself to the bed.
I decide to accelerate the situation because, honestly, this is fun. I roll my body from the seated position to lying flat on my stomach on the fluffy duvet. I know my clothes have shifted and that’s the point; I bring my feet up into the air and rub them together while I molest the tablet, “Here are shots of downtown on the Cape Fear Waterfront, I have a great one with trees dripping Spanish moss…” I trail off and crane my neck over my shoulder tilting my head toward the photos, “See.”
Again Justus takes my bait; his brow furrows and he shifts his body to mimic my position. In no time we are flipping through electronic folders of my recently taken photos like a couple of girlfriends. I show him the portraits I painted of my kids and parents; he remarks how well my father has aged. I laugh, but he doesn’t understand. I close that folder and he notices a folder marked “CIAN”.
He points to it, “Open that one.” I open it and his eyes get wide. He smirks, “Hard to compete with that.”
I smile and close the folder without looking at a single picture of my vampire love. Justus asks to see the portrait of Henri again. I open the folder and select the picture, “Is this the painting or the photo you rendered it from?” He asks.
“This is the painting…here,” I say while I open the folder with all the photos I’ve painted, “This is the photo.” He stares at the two side by side, “Check this out,” I expand the painting, “Here, you can see the brushstrokes.”
“I don’t see the brushstrokes, but again, your work is beyond magnificent. I truly look forward to seeing how you see Soren and…me.”
“What do you mean, how I see you? I paint from the photo, I really don’t embellish.” I defend.
“Please don’t take offense, I may not see your brushstrokes here, but I do see a difference in the two. They’re precise to the photos; aside from the passionate adoration you are broadcasting when you paint the eyes. The photo of your son,” He leans over and fingers the screen in front of me, “doesn’t compare to the portrait, his eyes have so much love in them here,” again he expands the picture of the portrait, “these eyes are only what a mother sees. No camera can capture that. So I am truly looking forward to how you see me.”
“Thank you.” I say quietly and I appreciate the sentiment and compliment but the fear of what he will see in his portrait begins to plague me. I can’t dwell on this and it all becomes very lighthearted as I actually feel a somewhat kinship to Justus until he asks about his father’s behavior, “Has my father had any unannounced guests while he’s been here?”
“How would I know if they were unannounced?” I say smiling before I stick the tip of my tongue out at him.
He laughs and he has a beautiful smile, “Touché. I mean, is that why you stay up here after 8:00?”
I decide to keep it real because I feel like Justus lacks honest friendly bonding time, “Uh yeah, the first night I was here, well the second night I was here…I was on the couch playing with this thing,” I tilt the tablet, “He didn’t seem too happy I was still awake.”
Justus simply takes a deep breath and nods his head. He changes the subject and in the short time we’ve spent together I realize this is his defense mechanism, “Well, I like Downtown, but at the Battleship would be so masculine.” He looks to me for a sarcastic reaction and he gets one I am eyeing him like he’s nuts.
“I mean, we can shoot you at the Battleship if you like.” I say trying not to laugh.
He leans over to bump shoulders with me and our feet touch, there is an awkward hole between us which I quickly fill, “Seriously though, any of these places interest you?” I look over to see him staring at me, his eyes trailing from my lips to my eyes.
“I’m not interested in any place but right here, right now.”
I smile, but I know this is another move and I want to verbally lay into him but I can’t and I won’t; not just yet, “Justus?”
“Hmm?” He moans.
“Since I don’t have your brother as my main priority tomorrow, would you be willing to make a day of scouting the perfect location? We can have breakfast and hit the town.”
He seems taken back by my boldness and even though I’m scantily dressed the seriousness of this professional opportunity is not far from my mind. I stand to make a nice chunk of change for painting the two portraits Lars Gunnar has commissioned of his sons. Justus shifts back to sitting on the edge of the bed but he is silent.
“Hello?” I say and mirror his position, “Something I said?”
“No, I…I’m sorry, yes of course. Breakfast, I will see you at breakfast.” He stands quickly and leaves my room, gently closing the door behind him.
Granted it was awkward but he accepted and since I won’t sleep I grab my pallet and brush. But I put it back down again and pick up my tablet. I open the “classified” folder which contains the paintings of that night and nights I spent with Cian. I flip past the “Death of Mora” section and reach the pictures of the being I want to look at for eternity. I open the depiction of our first meeting, at the burning of my studio. His beautiful ice blue eyes and raven mop stand out, flanked by a midnight backdrop with bursts of orange, blue and red. How his eyes darkened when our hands touched, the relief I felt when he was there; and the despair I felt when he was not.
I close that one and open another of his alluring face. I finally open the one that I took great patience with, the one I bled, sweat and cried over. My sex tightens when the picture loads and there he stands stark naked in front of me, the Roman backdrop of Mora’s basement flanks his pale angelic frame. I focus on each rippling stomach muscle trailing down to his sculpted hips where I ran my thumbs before taking his magnificent manhood into my mouth. How cold his cock felt on my tongue and at the back of my throat. My eyes close as my fingers dip below the seam of my panties. I see him clear as day in my mind as he dives down to my inner thigh, grazing his protruding teeth across my delicate flesh. I remember how thrillingly frightened I was when he held my wrists in his giant hand, like an adult holding a pair of baby’s legs. My body tenses when I remember his words, “I won’t hurt you.” The ripple of ecstasy bursts through and I grab my right breast when the moist warmth inside, flows out. I hear a whisper, “Cian.” And I know it’s my own cracking voice echoing my ears.
My eyes don’t open until I hear rapping at my door. I sit up and grab the back of my head again; I look around and out the window. The sun is up, had I slept? Had I actually slept? I turn in the bed and hear my tablet hits the floor. I don’t get to invite the caller in before he enters, again; unannounced.
Justus is standing at the foot of my bed, he is dressed casually in jeans and a white polo shirt and I assume this portrait is a casual one. He crosses barefoot to the window and opens the blinds; I flinch at the shock of morning light. He saunters over to me and picks up my tablet, unfortunately it is still on the picture of Cian in not but his skin. I rub my forehead while Justus stares at it. He smirks before saying, “Hmm, I’d like you to paint me this way. Brave gent posed for photos eh?”
Oh, this is going to be grand, “No, I painted that one from memory.” I say giving him a sleepy smile.
He isn’t amused, but I am as I watch him place the tablet on the bedside tablet without closing it, “Breakfast is ready.” His clipped tone makes me grin.
I jump up to grab the tablet and close the folder down before locking the devise. Justus is still watching me as I look up at him, “Do you mind? I need to get dressed.”
“I don’t mind.” He says sitting on the bed.
I roll my eyes and grab my clothes to stomp into the bathroom. Once I’m beyond the doorframe I smile, and like an evil cartoon character I’m tapping my fingers together, “Splendid.” I put on my baby blue sundress and flip flops. I finger my hair through the little tangles and apply modest makeup; Mamma always says wear makeup to look like you’re not wearing makeup; Natural beauty. I don’t use lipstick, but I do line my lips and apply gloss. Again; it’s more of a natural look. I leave the bathroom to throw my clothes in my room; Justus has dispersed and left my door wide open. I go in then close it behind me after I gather the things I need for the day. Camera, Tablet, Bag, Cell phone…and I remember, FUCKING A!!! I need to call my Daddy. I keep getting distracted by the precise person I need to talk to him about.
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January 21, 2015
Wilmington isnt NOLA; Meet Justus Gunnar
Chapter 6
I upload all my pictures to my tablet and peruse, deleting the few I can’t use. I’ll have to get a lot closer to the Battleship, all my shots are so far away the pristine lines of the vessel are blurred. I am however, in love with the shots of the trees dripping with Spanish moss around the Burgwin-Wright house. The fountain at the center of downtown was difficult to shoot without a car passing through. I have maybe three usable shots. The church with its massive steeple in the background is lovely. I have other various shots, an old cemetery, shop fronts and a corner building that caught my eye by the waterfront; reminding me of home with its veranda and balcony tables, French doors flanking them.
I don’t realize the time when I hear the front door open, “Oh, good evening Babet.”
“Hi.”
“It’s late, why are you still up?” Lars asks, almost scolding.
“I didn’t realize the time. I was uploading my pictures to my tablet…” he cuts me off.
“Please go up to bed, you need your rest if you are to be one hundred percent for Soren.” This he says as an order.
“All right. Good night.” I say with a hint of attitude behind it. I don’t look at him as I pass, but I feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
I don’t let it phase me, once I’m up in my room I continue looking over my pictures. I hear distinct female laughter outside. I peek through my blinds and see Lars ushering a tall brunette into the house. I hear him shush her because she’s clearly intoxicated. Even though this is none of my business, my speculation of drama is overly confirmed and I see why Lars didn’t want me downstairs when he came home.
I listen for the closure of his bedroom door before I sneak down stairs and out to my car. I grab the joint concealed in the visor and walk around the side of the house to waterfront. I always keep a lighter in my pocket; I sit on the sand and light the apparatus. In no time my entire throat is hit with the actual potency of Teacup’s latest batch. I blow the smoke and repeat multiple times before I hear the Adams boys on their deck. I hear one of them say, “Smells good out here!” I roll my eyes and suffocate the joint in the sand.
I wait until they retreat inside before I sneak back into the house. I try the door to the deck, but it’s locked. I can see inside the house is still clear so I round back to the front. By the time I open the front door I hear giggling coming from the kitchen. I pull the door enough to make it appear closed and I watch through the glass as the naked brunette slinks back to the master area. Once she is out of sight I crest the door and bound up the stairs. I hold my breath the entire time and release a gust of wind when I’m safely inside my room.
The following day begins just as yesterday but the difference is today I’m taking Soren to the Battleship, and it’s a day for both of us. After yesterday’s crappy shots I am looking forward to taking the tour and shooting it closely. We are on Batteship Rd when Soren calls out at the sight of it. He is a ball of energy to tour the vessel. He pulls me all over that ship, in complete bliss as he does so. I get very few shots of the vessel, but some is better than none. Luckily I talk Soren into leaving for a bite of lunch at Jester’s Café. Afterward he and I walk down to the Arrow Fine Art Supply store. I purchase four portrait sized canvases and one of the attendants helps carry them out to my car. I secure Soren in Henri’s car seat before we head back to Wrightsville. The house is quiet when we arrive and it is after Soren’s nap time; Henley is already gone for his break. I take Soren upstairs and he lies down without question; I definitely tuckered him out today. I go back out to my car and retrieve the canvases. I assessed the lighting in my room and place one canvas on the easel while I lay the rest on the floor by the window.
Tonight I would be able to do some painting; a gush of elation rushes over me at the thought. The same rush I feel when I think of Cian and of course the two coincide and I double over when my sex clinches and the same result as the last. I erupt in erotic fervor; my eyes close so tight I can almost see checker board print in front of them. I feel the sensation ripple my body and I grab for something to brace against. My hand lands on one of the plastic tubs I put on the bed. It topples over and all my tubes and brushes scatter everywhere.
This one is more powerful than the previous and I can only wonder if my body is telling me to hit the road. What will happen next time? Where will I be? This could prove to be dangerous but I have no choice, I’m committed until I’m relieved of duty. I can’t conceive of making a conscious effort not to think of Cian, which only leads to constantly thinking of Cian. Constantly saying, “Don’t think of Cian.” His name alone spirals me when I hear it out loud. I gain composure more quickly this time, taking deep breaths to regain my vision.
Henley returns and Soren wakes. We all eat dinner together, Henley included. Sweet and spicy seared salmon, asparagus and homemade mashed potatoes are on the menu. I bathe and read to Soren, he falls asleep after three books. I’m free and spend the rest of the evening scaling and painting the Burgwin-Wright house from the pictures on my tablet.
The rest of the week is monotonous and I actually welcome the arrival of the infamous Justus Gunnar. After Soren goes to bed at night, I stay holed up in my room painting, taking the occasional smoke break. I hardly ever see Lars. I either see him coming or going; he never stays. Henley and I are pretty close at this point and I have become quite accustomed to the “Schedule”. I talk to my kids and Mamma every so often.
Friday morning I leave my room to wake Soren and on my door is a note, “Please pick up Justus from Wilmington airport at 3:00 pm, Gate 6. Thanks, Lars.” I pull the note off my door and stuff it into my shorts pocket. I would need to make arrangements with Henley. Soren is awake and playing, we count down the stairs and he takes his place at the table. While he eats I discuss the note with Henley.
“This was taped to my door this morning.” I say pulling the paper from my pocket.
Henley takes the crumpled piece of paper from me and sighs, “Yes, I’m sorry Miss Babe. I was supposed to pick him up but my granddaughter is pregnant and she needs a ride to her doctor’s appointment. I am so very sorry; I’m leaving in an hour and I’ve taken the whole day. Can you handle Soren’s meals?” He is overly sincere in his apology but becomes serious when talking about Soren.
“Of course, any rules to the kitchen? And its fine Henley, I just didn’t know if I was taking Soren with me, I guess I am.” I stop and stare at the paper, “Besides it might be nice to have Soren as a buffer. I mean he can’t move on me of his baby brother is in the car.”
I look to Henley; he is wide eyed and smiling like I have no clue, “No rules, just clean what you mess up. And don’t underestimate Justus, Miss Babe. Here, take this.” He hands me a white board and marker from the refrigerator.
“He doesn’t know what you look like and vise versa if you don’t watch television. Write his name on this and wait for him. Easy as pie.”
I take the whiteboard and write his name on it, Henley watches me, “What?” I ask.
“You have beautiful penmanship.”
“Oh, thank you. Part of the package I’m afraid.” I say and I smile thinking of the turned phrase.
“What package?” Henley looks confused.
“Normally I’m an artist by occupation. I would have refused this job had I not been able to take some time off to head north up the coast and paint.”
Henley is surprised, “I had no idea. Mr. Lars didn’t tell me you were an artist.”
“It’s not my main purpose for being here, but the opportunity is a bonus in my opinion. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you; I’m supposed to paint Soren and Justus’ portraits.” I say and I see the light bulb go off over Henley’s head.
“Ah, it all makes sense now.”
“What?”
“I think Mr. Lars is throwing you, someone Justus’s own age, at him. Hiring you to come all this way made half sense, now it makes perfect sense.” Henley says and the half sense I assume is the lack of cooperation with nanny services in the area. The whole sense I assume is the hiring of someone his own age, in his fetish position, might keep him out of trouble. I really don’t appreciate being used this way, but two can play this game.
“Does my father know this?” I ask and I make a serious mental note to call my Daddy as soon as the sun is down. But by then Justus will be here and I’ll have Soren all to myself, no Henley buffer. I don’t dwell, after 8:00 pm is my time; regardless of pompous philandering actors.
“I don’t know Miss Babe, I talk to Mr. Lars, but not about everything, obviously…” He trails off, and looks over at the wall clock, “Oh, I got to go. You sure you’re okay?” He asks and his facial expression is fearful.
“I’ll be fine Henley, take care of your family, but can we talk more about this tomorrow?” I say as Henley rounds the counter and kisses me on the cheek. I’m suddenly excited because that “Schedule” goes out the door today!
“Of course, bye!” Henley’s voice echoes the foyer.
I make Soren’s breakfast; toasted croissant with honey and a fruit salad. I accompany it with a glass of orange juice. He devours it and we head down to the beach, he doesn’t argue. I slather him with sunscreen before he plops down in the sand to build his next creation. I keep a close eye on the time and after fifty drip castles we head inside for lunch. I make Soren a turkey and cheese sandwich with fish crackers. There is enough time for him to take a short nap before we leave to pick up his brother from the airport and Soren does just that. He sleeps from the time he finishes his lunch until I wake him to get in the car. I secure him in the car seat and but I have to run back inside for the whiteboard and pen. I leave the driver door and Soren’s passenger door open while the car runs, the A/C on full blast. My car is pretty decent at cooling down quickly and by the time I return the temperature is already significantly lower.
I put on my aviator sunglasses when we pull into the Wilmington airport. It is busy, but not busy with travelers; the paparazzi are circling Gate 6 like sharks. My guts wrench at this possible scenario. These vultures are here to photograph Justus and Soren and I will be caught in the middle. I crane my neck to watch until the last moment, I pull around and park my car. I place the ticket on my dashboard, like I’m used to doing at home. I get Soren out of the car while he calls out “Broder” over and over again. I assume this is Swedish for “brother” so I respond as so. I have the white board resting under my other arm; my keys firmly tucked into the front pocket of my shorts. I check the board as we walk and my bag, while in the car, has erased half of Justus’ name. I get to a side walk and place Soren on the ground. I tell him to stay put while I re-write the invisible letters.
I hand Soren the whiteboard and ask him to keep it safe. He takes this very literally, holding the written side away from his body as I carry him. I smile, thinking this is something Henri would do. Instead of going to the Gate I avoid the camera people and head toward the baggage claim area. I don’t look their way and they don’t look mine. I have no clue how famous this family is and God forbid one of those cretins recognizes little Soren. I quicken my pace to baggage claim; which is also busy, but with the proper; travelers.
Soren and I go stand with a group of other people with signs; most of them dressed like chauffeurs. There are one or two regular clothed folks around also. I mix in between the two.
“Okay Soren, hold the sign up so broder can see.” I tell him and he holds it out proudly. The entire plane piles out and collects their baggage. Soren and I are left standing with two chauffeurs before his broder comes strolling over. At first glance, yes; I can see what all the fuss is about.
Justus Gunnar is luring, seductive and enticing in his gray pencil suit which has obviously been specifically cut for him. He is luminary in his own aviator sunglasses, Ray Ban no doubt. There is a flock of photographers behind him as he glides over to me and Soren. The closer he gets to us the taller he becomes, like father like son. His sandy blonde hair is coifed to a perfect mess and when he removes his sunglasses, I see the difference in Justus from the rest of the family staring into my eyes.
“Babet?” He says, his voice is raspy and deep.
His blue eyes are not just blue; they are green and have hints of hazel. I’m surprised at my own lack of tongue, but I will give it to Autumn; Justus Gunnar is magnificent. I’m pulled from my daze by the flashes of cameras and Soren yelling “Broder!” in my ear. I immediately put my sunglasses back on. An airport attendant is assisting Justus with his bags as I cover Soren’s head and duck through the crowd out the door.
We’re followed until we are under the parking deck when a nice large gentleman suggests they leave us alone. I press the key less entry button and quickly secure Soren in the car seat. Justus says nothing but watches me until I round my side of the car. I feel uncomfortable, but I was warned and like I said, two can play this game. I smirk at him before I get in; this throws him off, he takes a moment to slide in and when he does I’m reminded of Cian riding in my car for the first time.
Oh Christ; I feel it mounting but I can’t! Not here, especially not now! I turn my head away and look out across the parking deck. The photographers are still itching to get another shot but I can’t let them. Thankfully this thinking drags my desire for Cian away and I focus on the task at hand. I barely have my hand on the key to start the ignition when he speaks.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Justus.” His slightly Nordic tone is more diluted than his father’s but I still detect it and his own name rolls of his tongue delightfully.
“Babet.” I say backing out of the parking space but I don’t look at him until he realizes we won’t be passing the paps again. I smile and drive in the opposite direction.
“You could have picked me up outside baggage claim.” He says, I can hear the sex ooze from his voice.
I keep it very lighthearted, “I’m not in the habit if picking up celebrities at the airport. The only person I ever drop of or pickup from the airport is my Mamma.”
“Hmm.” He hums. He turns around to engage Soren, “Hi Pojke!”
“Broder!” Soren shrills from the back of my car.
Justus turns back to look at me and in my peripheral I see him smirking arrogantly before engaging me in conversation again, “You’re older than the others.” His bold statement I let slip in and out of my brain but behind it his tone is inquisitive.
“Well I don’t usually cross state lines for a babysitting job, but your father has offered me proper work while I’m here, so I took it.” I look in my rearview at Soren and smile.
Justus is watching me and it’s almost as if he is sizing me up behind his sunglasses, “You are the artist then, I assume.”
“You assume correctly. Your father wants me to paint you and Soren while I’m here.” I keep my attentions on the road.
“I have some ideas…I just don’t know if I can sit for hours on end.” He chuckles at himself.
I begin to laugh and I try to hold it back, but I can’t. Both brothers are staring at me, “I’m sorry; no one sits for portraits anymore.”
“Oh.” His tone is slightly disappointed.
I explain, “I will take your picture, over and over in different places. From there I will upload it to my tablet and paint it.”
“I see.” This time his tone is overly disappointed. He changes the subject, “What is Henley cooking tonight?”
“Oh, um…Henley is off the rest of the day and evening. We are on our own.” I smile at him before going back to the road.
“Well, I came in on an off day, didn’t I Soren?” He inflects his voice to gain Soren’s attention, but it doesn’t work. Soren is on the verge of passing out in the car, the airport can be a stressful place.
It’s nearly 5:00 when we arrive back at the house and this is supposed to be my break time but with Henley gone, I seriously doubt Justus will keep an ear out for his brother while I do my own thing. I relent and come to terms with my lack of a break today.
I get Soren in the house and up the stairs to his room. I tuck him into his bed; a little second nap can’t hurt. I want to go in my room and finish the shading on the Burgwin-Wright house but the hospitable southern girl in me says I need to entertain the boss’s son. Downstairs Justus is bringing in his own bags and thankfully hands me my linen sack but makes a comment about its scent.
“Something smells interesting in your bag.” He holds it out for me to take but draws it back to himself when I go for it.
“Really?” I say snatching it from his hand. I sling it over my head and flop into the kitchen.
Justus follows me, “So what are you cooking for dinner tonight?”
I pull out a bottle of sake I had Henley pick me up earlier in the week and crack the seal. I decide to play with Justus Gunnar while I pour a shot, “Well, I was only commissioned to prepare Soren’s meals, so…” I take my plum flavored liquid to the head.
“May I?” He asks, I pour him a shot of sake. He takes it and grimaces, “Ooh. That’s…smooth.” In his face I see the progression of taking a sake shot; the initial bite then the soothing plum aftertaste. “So, we should finish this bottle. Call a taxi, take Soren out to dinner and buy another bottle on the way home. What do you say?” His offers are a lovely thought, but I’m wary of taking Soren out for the evening without Lars permission. “Don’t worry, my father won’t mind. Besides, Vilma won’t be coming into town, especially not while I’m here.” He rolls his eyes at her name and smiles devilishly at the reason she is staying away.
“I heard Henley mention that. It’s a shame, I would have loved to have met her.” I pour another shot for myself. Once I shoot it back I pour Justus another; I slip up and a little trails down the side of the glass.
He picks it up and licks the escaped liquid before shooting the rest back. I have to admit it’s a seductive move, but it’s been done and I may have subconsciously spilled to see what he would do. Match point –Babet! He slides the glass at me and I stop it to pour another and another. The bottle is almost empty when I think I may have gotten Henley in trouble.
“What else did Henley say?” He places the tiny glass down on the granite counter.
“That was all, I asked when I would be able to meet Soren’s mother. Moder.” The Swedish I say under my breath but Justus calls me out and begins to speak in full on Swedish, “Whoa, whoa. Hold up; I only know that and Broder. He’s been spouting it all day.” I laugh and rinse the empty glass.
“Apologies; I assumed…”
“Yeah. No.” I laugh again.
“So?”
“So?”
“Dinner?” He says and the condescending tone isn’t flying with me.
I decide it isn’t a terrible idea, “Sure. Yeah, let’s do it.” I straighten from my crouch against the counter. “No more sake though.”
“Fair enough, I obviously need to change my clothes.” He says and begins to unbutton his suit jacket; beneath it is a crisp white dress shirt tucked into flat front gray pants. He removes the jacket slowly and I watch him watch me as he does so. I don’t back down and with Henley’s warning clear in my mind I continue my ruse of interest. He is smiling and turns away from my gaze to drape his jacket over Soren’s favorite eating spot. I don’t take my eyes off him and this catches him off guard. That whole move was as rehearsed as I have ever seen. I cock my eyebrow up and have one hand on my hip when he looks back at me. He quickly regains his swagger, “Where would you like to go?”
“Uh uh, your idea. Your choice.” I ooze a little of my own seduction.
He takes a deep breath, “Has Soren had Vito’s yet?”
I smile and nod.
He rolls his eyes, fidgets and looks uncomfortable because of it. He reaches into his pants pocket, his suit is cut so precise the indentation of his manhood is clear as day. I have to keep my ruse and I don’t look away while he pulls a cell phone out. He pokes and prods the device before looking up smiling.
My tone is serious, “Find something?”
“Maybe, have you been downtown yet?” He asks like its some great adventure.
“Yeah, I took Soren down there twice this week.” After the Battleship tour, later in the week I took the little guy to the Wilmington Railroad Museum.
Justus says something in Swedish I don’t understand but I don’t let on that I care, even though I do since it sounded like a curse. I walk over to him and I’m eye to eye with his chest. I can smell him; the scented aura around him is heady and intoxicating; like musky lavender treated leather. I don’t take it in anymore than I am now. I peek up at him and push the phone away. He seems to take this as a move and lowers his hand slowly while watching me.
I see him slightly bend as if to kiss me but I turn away from him and head toward the refrigerator, I pull it open, blocking Justus’s gaze, before taking a deep breath inside the cold container. I move some bottles and jars around as if I ‘m searching for dinner options but in reality I’m trying my best not to wrap my head around the Nordic Adonis. And I know it’s not really Justus making me react so ridiculously; its Cian. It’s Cian I want, I so desperately I miss him. I pull myself out of these thoughts because they only lead to unexplainable trouble.
“Well, there isn’t really anything in here besides sandwich stuff, fresh fruit and veggies and Soren’s juice. Henley made mention of going to the grocery store before he left.” I lie, Henley said no such thing. I honestly want to see how far he is going to take this rehearsed seduction.
“We either go out or you can make me a sandwich.” He says smiling deviously.
“Or you can make us sandwiches.” I say and I can tell no one has ever suggested such a thing. His brow furrows and he turns on heel out of the kitchen. “Was it something I said?” I say to myself and giggle a little because I just scored another point. I see him disappear up the staircase.
I mill around the kitchen and great room before checking the time. It’s nearly 6:00. I go upstairs to wake Soren and when I pass the first uninhabited room on the left the door flies open. Justus is standing in the frame and he nearly has to duck to stand under it. He has changed from his suit to a pair of khaki cargo shorts and black v-neck shirt. His long legs are extremely long and I see he has opted for no shoes. His feet are massively huge. “You like?” He asks; his arms out as if to say, “ta-da!”
“It’s more fitting than that suit you had on.” My tone is sarcastic but I smile to soften it. He mirrors me. “I need to get Soren up; maybe he will have an idea for dinner.” I walk away but Justus is hot on my heels.
Before I can open the door to his brother’s room Justus says, “What did you mean, fitting? These are loose clothes?” His accent sneaks through.
““Fitting” is a southern term for appropriate or proper. Your suit wasn’t proper or “fitting” attire for the beach; understand now?” I explain as we stand in the dark hall, I swear all the light in this house is either in the bedrooms or downstairs. This hall is a windowless black hole.
“I understand now.” His tone is deep and wanting and again he leans into me. But I have my hand on Soren’s door.
I pop the door open and see Soren is still sleeping; I maybe should have kept him awake. I can only hope this doesn’t affect me finishing my latest painting of the “New Orleans” like building close to the Cape Fear Riverfront.
I saunter through toys. Justus is right behind me as I lean down to wake his baby brother. In my peripheral I see him pick up the picture frame of Soren’s mother Vilma. He scoffs and replaces it before smiling at his waking sibling.
“Hi.” I say sweetly.
“Hi.” Soren is rubbing his eyes; he focuses and says, “Broder!” He jumps up to hug Justus. The elder Gunnar embraces Soren and spins him around. It’s a sweetness I don’t expect from the pompous actor.
He places Soren on the floor before dropping to his level, “What would you like for dinner pojke?”
“Pizza!” The little boy shrills.
“You already…” Justus cuts me off.
“Vito’s it is!” His tone is that of a superhero, saving the dinner day.
I smile but roll my eyes when Soren’s light up. He hugs his brother again and the two walk out the room hand in hand. I follow before ducking into my room to grab my camera. If we are out I may be able to get a few good sunset shots. I descend the staircase but I stop because Justus has Soren sitting on the bottom step tying his shoes. He looks up at me, catching me watching them and he smiles. Every time he does so it’s devious and devilish. I’m beginning to think it’s something he can’t help; it’s just the way he’s put together. But I do think, no; I know he uses it to his advantage, be it sexual or not.
“There, all tied.” He says, placing Soren feet down on the floor. I step down and fish my keys out of my bag. I look up and Justus is shaking his head, “We’re taking the Rubicon.” His tone is authoritative and I welcome being chauffeured.
Before I drop my keys back in my bag I make sure Justus is able to drive after sake shots, “You able to drive?” I ask with a snarky smile.
Justus picks up Soren but as we head out the front door he retorts, “If you can handle it, I can. Look how tiny you are compared to me.”
“Touché.” I say as I make my way over to the Jeep.
As soon as the doors to the Jeep are open, Autumn from next door steps out to retrieve her mail, “Hi Babet! Hi Soren!” She looks to Justus and freezes; she grips the letters in her hand and drops her head before retreating quickly into her house.
I look over at Justus who is smiling that smile. This outing is going to be very similar and I’m almost sorry I agreed to go out in public with a moderate celebrity.
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Augusta Fern
I upload all my pictures to my tablet and peruse, deleting the few I can’t use. I’ll have to get a lot closer to the Battleship, all my shots are so far away the pristine lines of the vessel are blurred. I am however, in love with the shots of the trees dripping with Spanish moss around the Burgwin-Wright house. The fountain at the center of downtown was difficult to shoot without a car passing through. I have maybe three usable shots. The church with its massive steeple in the background is lovely. I have other various shots, an old cemetery, shop fronts and a corner building that caught my eye by the waterfront; reminding me of home with its veranda and balcony tables, French doors flanking them.
I don’t realize the time when I hear the front door open, “Oh, good evening Babet.”
“Hi.”
“It’s late, why are you still up?” Lars asks, almost scolding.
“I didn’t realize the time. I was uploading my pictures to my tablet…” he cuts me off.
“Please go up to bed, you need your rest if you are to be one hundred percent for Soren.” This he says as an order.
“All right. Good night.” I say with a hint of attitude behind it. I don’t look at him as I pass, but I feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
I don’t let it phase me, once I’m up in my room I continue looking over my pictures. I hear distinct female laughter outside. I peek through my blinds and see Lars ushering a tall brunette into the house. I hear him shush her because she’s clearly intoxicated. Even though this is none of my business, my speculation of drama is overly confirmed and I see why Lars didn’t want me downstairs when he came home.
I listen for the closure of his bedroom door before I sneak down stairs and out to my car. I grab the joint concealed in the visor and walk around the side of the house to waterfront. I always keep a lighter in my pocket; I sit on the sand and light the apparatus. In no time my entire throat is hit with the actual potency of Teacup’s latest batch. I blow the smoke and repeat multiple times before I hear the Adams boys on their deck. I hear one of them say, “Smells good out here!” I roll my eyes and suffocate the joint in the sand.
I wait until they retreat inside before I sneak back into the house. I try the door to the deck, but it’s locked. I can see inside the house is still clear so I round back to the front. By the time I open the front door I hear giggling coming from the kitchen. I pull the door enough to make it appear closed and I watch through the glass as the naked brunette slinks back to the master area. Once she is out of sight I crest the door and bound up the stairs. I hold my breath the entire time and release a gust of wind when I’m safely inside my room.
The following day begins just as yesterday but the difference is today I’m taking Soren to the Battleship, and it’s a day for both of us. After yesterday’s crappy shots I am looking forward to taking the tour and shooting it closely. We are on Batteship Rd when Soren calls out at the sight of it. He is a ball of energy to tour the vessel. He pulls me all over that ship, in complete bliss as he does so. I get very few shots of the vessel, but some is better than none. Luckily I talk Soren into leaving for a bite of lunch at Jester’s Café. Afterward he and I walk down to the Arrow Fine Art Supply store. I purchase four portrait sized canvases and one of the attendants helps carry them out to my car. I secure Soren in Henri’s car seat before we head back to Wrightsville. The house is quiet when we arrive and it is after Soren’s nap time; Henley is already gone for his break. I take Soren upstairs and he lies down without question; I definitely tuckered him out today. I go back out to my car and retrieve the canvases. I assessed the lighting in my room and place one canvas on the easel while I lay the rest on the floor by the window.
Tonight I would be able to do some painting; a gush of elation rushes over me at the thought. The same rush I feel when I think of Cian and of course the two coincide and I double over when my sex clinches and the same result as the last. I erupt in erotic fervor; my eyes close so tight I can almost see checker board print in front of them. I feel the sensation ripple my body and I grab for something to brace against. My hand lands on one of the plastic tubs I put on the bed. It topples over and all my tubes and brushes scatter everywhere.
This one is more powerful than the previous and I can only wonder if my body is telling me to hit the road. What will happen next time? Where will I be? This could prove to be dangerous but I have no choice, I’m committed until I’m relieved of duty. I can’t conceive of making a conscious effort not to think of Cian, which only leads to constantly thinking of Cian. Constantly saying, “Don’t think of Cian.” His name alone spirals me when I hear it out loud. I gain composure more quickly this time, taking deep breaths to regain my vision.
Henley returns and Soren wakes. We all eat dinner together, Henley included. Sweet and spicy seared salmon, asparagus and homemade mashed potatoes are on the menu. I bathe and read to Soren, he falls asleep after three books. I’m free and spend the rest of the evening scaling and painting the Burgwin-Wright house from the pictures on my tablet.
The rest of the week is monotonous and I actually welcome the arrival of the infamous Justus Gunnar. After Soren goes to bed at night, I stay holed up in my room painting, taking the occasional smoke break. I hardly ever see Lars. I either see him coming or going; he never stays. Henley and I are pretty close at this point and I have become quite accustomed to the “Schedule”. I talk to my kids and Mamma every so often.
Friday morning I leave my room to wake Soren and on my door is a note, “Please pick up Justus from Wilmington airport at 3:00 pm, Gate 6. Thanks, Lars.” I pull the note off my door and stuff it into my shorts pocket. I would need to make arrangements with Henley. Soren is awake and playing, we count down the stairs and he takes his place at the table. While he eats I discuss the note with Henley.
“This was taped to my door this morning.” I say pulling the paper from my pocket.
Henley takes the crumpled piece of paper from me and sighs, “Yes, I’m sorry Miss Babe. I was supposed to pick him up but my granddaughter is pregnant and she needs a ride to her doctor’s appointment. I am so very sorry; I’m leaving in an hour and I’ve taken the whole day. Can you handle Soren’s meals?” He is overly sincere in his apology but becomes serious when talking about Soren.
“Of course, any rules to the kitchen? And its fine Henley, I just didn’t know if I was taking Soren with me, I guess I am.” I stop and stare at the paper, “Besides it might be nice to have Soren as a buffer. I mean he can’t move on me of his baby brother is in the car.”
I look to Henley; he is wide eyed and smiling like I have no clue, “No rules, just clean what you mess up. And don’t underestimate Justus, Miss Babe. Here, take this.” He hands me a white board and marker from the refrigerator.
“He doesn’t know what you look like and vise versa if you don’t watch television. Write his name on this and wait for him. Easy as pie.”
I take the whiteboard and write his name on it, Henley watches me, “What?” I ask.
“You have beautiful penmanship.”
“Oh, thank you. Part of the package I’m afraid.” I say and I smile thinking of the turned phrase.
“What package?” Henley looks confused.
“Normally I’m an artist by occupation. I would have refused this job had I not been able to take some time off to head north up the coast and paint.”
Henley is surprised, “I had no idea. Mr. Lars didn’t tell me you were an artist.”
“It’s not my main purpose for being here, but the opportunity is a bonus in my opinion. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you; I’m supposed to paint Soren and Justus’ portraits.” I say and I see the light bulb go off over Henley’s head.
“Ah, it all makes sense now.”
“What?”
“I think Mr. Lars is throwing you, someone Justus’s own age, at him. Hiring you to come all this way made half sense, now it makes perfect sense.” Henley says and the half sense I assume is the lack of cooperation with nanny services in the area. The whole sense I assume is the hiring of someone his own age, in his fetish position, might keep him out of trouble. I really don’t appreciate being used this way, but two can play this game.
“Does my father know this?” I ask and I make a serious mental note to call my Daddy as soon as the sun is down. But by then Justus will be here and I’ll have Soren all to myself, no Henley buffer. I don’t dwell, after 8:00 pm is my time; regardless of pompous philandering actors.
“I don’t know Miss Babe, I talk to Mr. Lars, but not about everything, obviously…” He trails off, and looks over at the wall clock, “Oh, I got to go. You sure you’re okay?” He asks and his facial expression is fearful.
“I’ll be fine Henley, take care of your family, but can we talk more about this tomorrow?” I say as Henley rounds the counter and kisses me on the cheek. I’m suddenly excited because that “Schedule” goes out the door today!
“Of course, bye!” Henley’s voice echoes the foyer.
I make Soren’s breakfast; toasted croissant with honey and a fruit salad. I accompany it with a glass of orange juice. He devours it and we head down to the beach, he doesn’t argue. I slather him with sunscreen before he plops down in the sand to build his next creation. I keep a close eye on the time and after fifty drip castles we head inside for lunch. I make Soren a turkey and cheese sandwich with fish crackers. There is enough time for him to take a short nap before we leave to pick up his brother from the airport and Soren does just that. He sleeps from the time he finishes his lunch until I wake him to get in the car. I secure him in the car seat and but I have to run back inside for the whiteboard and pen. I leave the driver door and Soren’s passenger door open while the car runs, the A/C on full blast. My car is pretty decent at cooling down quickly and by the time I return the temperature is already significantly lower.
I put on my aviator sunglasses when we pull into the Wilmington airport. It is busy, but not busy with travelers; the paparazzi are circling Gate 6 like sharks. My guts wrench at this possible scenario. These vultures are here to photograph Justus and Soren and I will be caught in the middle. I crane my neck to watch until the last moment, I pull around and park my car. I place the ticket on my dashboard, like I’m used to doing at home. I get Soren out of the car while he calls out “Broder” over and over again. I assume this is Swedish for “brother” so I respond as so. I have the white board resting under my other arm; my keys firmly tucked into the front pocket of my shorts. I check the board as we walk and my bag, while in the car, has erased half of Justus’ name. I get to a side walk and place Soren on the ground. I tell him to stay put while I re-write the invisible letters.
I hand Soren the whiteboard and ask him to keep it safe. He takes this very literally, holding the written side away from his body as I carry him. I smile, thinking this is something Henri would do. Instead of going to the Gate I avoid the camera people and head toward the baggage claim area. I don’t look their way and they don’t look mine. I have no clue how famous this family is and God forbid one of those cretins recognizes little Soren. I quicken my pace to baggage claim; which is also busy, but with the proper; travelers.
Soren and I go stand with a group of other people with signs; most of them dressed like chauffeurs. There are one or two regular clothed folks around also. I mix in between the two.
“Okay Soren, hold the sign up so broder can see.” I tell him and he holds it out proudly. The entire plane piles out and collects their baggage. Soren and I are left standing with two chauffeurs before his broder comes strolling over. At first glance, yes; I can see what all the fuss is about.
Justus Gunnar is luring, seductive and enticing in his gray pencil suit which has obviously been specifically cut for him. He is luminary in his own aviator sunglasses, Ray Ban no doubt. There is a flock of photographers behind him as he glides over to me and Soren. The closer he gets to us the taller he becomes, like father like son. His sandy blonde hair is coifed to a perfect mess and when he removes his sunglasses, I see the difference in Justus from the rest of the family staring into my eyes.
“Babet?” He says, his voice is raspy and deep.
His blue eyes are not just blue; they are green and have hints of hazel. I’m surprised at my own lack of tongue, but I will give it to Autumn; Justus Gunnar is magnificent. I’m pulled from my daze by the flashes of cameras and Soren yelling “Broder!” in my ear. I immediately put my sunglasses back on. An airport attendant is assisting Justus with his bags as I cover Soren’s head and duck through the crowd out the door.
We’re followed until we are under the parking deck when a nice large gentleman suggests they leave us alone. I press the key less entry button and quickly secure Soren in the car seat. Justus says nothing but watches me until I round my side of the car. I feel uncomfortable, but I was warned and like I said, two can play this game. I smirk at him before I get in; this throws him off, he takes a moment to slide in and when he does I’m reminded of Cian riding in my car for the first time.
Oh Christ; I feel it mounting but I can’t! Not here, especially not now! I turn my head away and look out across the parking deck. The photographers are still itching to get another shot but I can’t let them. Thankfully this thinking drags my desire for Cian away and I focus on the task at hand. I barely have my hand on the key to start the ignition when he speaks.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Justus.” His slightly Nordic tone is more diluted than his father’s but I still detect it and his own name rolls of his tongue delightfully.
“Babet.” I say backing out of the parking space but I don’t look at him until he realizes we won’t be passing the paps again. I smile and drive in the opposite direction.
“You could have picked me up outside baggage claim.” He says, I can hear the sex ooze from his voice.
I keep it very lighthearted, “I’m not in the habit if picking up celebrities at the airport. The only person I ever drop of or pickup from the airport is my Mamma.”
“Hmm.” He hums. He turns around to engage Soren, “Hi Pojke!”
“Broder!” Soren shrills from the back of my car.
Justus turns back to look at me and in my peripheral I see him smirking arrogantly before engaging me in conversation again, “You’re older than the others.” His bold statement I let slip in and out of my brain but behind it his tone is inquisitive.
“Well I don’t usually cross state lines for a babysitting job, but your father has offered me proper work while I’m here, so I took it.” I look in my rearview at Soren and smile.
Justus is watching me and it’s almost as if he is sizing me up behind his sunglasses, “You are the artist then, I assume.”
“You assume correctly. Your father wants me to paint you and Soren while I’m here.” I keep my attentions on the road.
“I have some ideas…I just don’t know if I can sit for hours on end.” He chuckles at himself.
I begin to laugh and I try to hold it back, but I can’t. Both brothers are staring at me, “I’m sorry; no one sits for portraits anymore.”
“Oh.” His tone is slightly disappointed.
I explain, “I will take your picture, over and over in different places. From there I will upload it to my tablet and paint it.”
“I see.” This time his tone is overly disappointed. He changes the subject, “What is Henley cooking tonight?”
“Oh, um…Henley is off the rest of the day and evening. We are on our own.” I smile at him before going back to the road.
“Well, I came in on an off day, didn’t I Soren?” He inflects his voice to gain Soren’s attention, but it doesn’t work. Soren is on the verge of passing out in the car, the airport can be a stressful place.
It’s nearly 5:00 when we arrive back at the house and this is supposed to be my break time but with Henley gone, I seriously doubt Justus will keep an ear out for his brother while I do my own thing. I relent and come to terms with my lack of a break today.
I get Soren in the house and up the stairs to his room. I tuck him into his bed; a little second nap can’t hurt. I want to go in my room and finish the shading on the Burgwin-Wright house but the hospitable southern girl in me says I need to entertain the boss’s son. Downstairs Justus is bringing in his own bags and thankfully hands me my linen sack but makes a comment about its scent.
“Something smells interesting in your bag.” He holds it out for me to take but draws it back to himself when I go for it.
“Really?” I say snatching it from his hand. I sling it over my head and flop into the kitchen.
Justus follows me, “So what are you cooking for dinner tonight?”
I pull out a bottle of sake I had Henley pick me up earlier in the week and crack the seal. I decide to play with Justus Gunnar while I pour a shot, “Well, I was only commissioned to prepare Soren’s meals, so…” I take my plum flavored liquid to the head.
“May I?” He asks, I pour him a shot of sake. He takes it and grimaces, “Ooh. That’s…smooth.” In his face I see the progression of taking a sake shot; the initial bite then the soothing plum aftertaste. “So, we should finish this bottle. Call a taxi, take Soren out to dinner and buy another bottle on the way home. What do you say?” His offers are a lovely thought, but I’m wary of taking Soren out for the evening without Lars permission. “Don’t worry, my father won’t mind. Besides, Vilma won’t be coming into town, especially not while I’m here.” He rolls his eyes at her name and smiles devilishly at the reason she is staying away.
“I heard Henley mention that. It’s a shame, I would have loved to have met her.” I pour another shot for myself. Once I shoot it back I pour Justus another; I slip up and a little trails down the side of the glass.
He picks it up and licks the escaped liquid before shooting the rest back. I have to admit it’s a seductive move, but it’s been done and I may have subconsciously spilled to see what he would do. Match point –Babet! He slides the glass at me and I stop it to pour another and another. The bottle is almost empty when I think I may have gotten Henley in trouble.
“What else did Henley say?” He places the tiny glass down on the granite counter.
“That was all, I asked when I would be able to meet Soren’s mother. Moder.” The Swedish I say under my breath but Justus calls me out and begins to speak in full on Swedish, “Whoa, whoa. Hold up; I only know that and Broder. He’s been spouting it all day.” I laugh and rinse the empty glass.
“Apologies; I assumed…”
“Yeah. No.” I laugh again.
“So?”
“So?”
“Dinner?” He says and the condescending tone isn’t flying with me.
I decide it isn’t a terrible idea, “Sure. Yeah, let’s do it.” I straighten from my crouch against the counter. “No more sake though.”
“Fair enough, I obviously need to change my clothes.” He says and begins to unbutton his suit jacket; beneath it is a crisp white dress shirt tucked into flat front gray pants. He removes the jacket slowly and I watch him watch me as he does so. I don’t back down and with Henley’s warning clear in my mind I continue my ruse of interest. He is smiling and turns away from my gaze to drape his jacket over Soren’s favorite eating spot. I don’t take my eyes off him and this catches him off guard. That whole move was as rehearsed as I have ever seen. I cock my eyebrow up and have one hand on my hip when he looks back at me. He quickly regains his swagger, “Where would you like to go?”
“Uh uh, your idea. Your choice.” I ooze a little of my own seduction.
He takes a deep breath, “Has Soren had Vito’s yet?”
I smile and nod.
He rolls his eyes, fidgets and looks uncomfortable because of it. He reaches into his pants pocket, his suit is cut so precise the indentation of his manhood is clear as day. I have to keep my ruse and I don’t look away while he pulls a cell phone out. He pokes and prods the device before looking up smiling.
My tone is serious, “Find something?”
“Maybe, have you been downtown yet?” He asks like its some great adventure.
“Yeah, I took Soren down there twice this week.” After the Battleship tour, later in the week I took the little guy to the Wilmington Railroad Museum.
Justus says something in Swedish I don’t understand but I don’t let on that I care, even though I do since it sounded like a curse. I walk over to him and I’m eye to eye with his chest. I can smell him; the scented aura around him is heady and intoxicating; like musky lavender treated leather. I don’t take it in anymore than I am now. I peek up at him and push the phone away. He seems to take this as a move and lowers his hand slowly while watching me.
I see him slightly bend as if to kiss me but I turn away from him and head toward the refrigerator, I pull it open, blocking Justus’s gaze, before taking a deep breath inside the cold container. I move some bottles and jars around as if I ‘m searching for dinner options but in reality I’m trying my best not to wrap my head around the Nordic Adonis. And I know it’s not really Justus making me react so ridiculously; its Cian. It’s Cian I want, I so desperately I miss him. I pull myself out of these thoughts because they only lead to unexplainable trouble.
“Well, there isn’t really anything in here besides sandwich stuff, fresh fruit and veggies and Soren’s juice. Henley made mention of going to the grocery store before he left.” I lie, Henley said no such thing. I honestly want to see how far he is going to take this rehearsed seduction.
“We either go out or you can make me a sandwich.” He says smiling deviously.
“Or you can make us sandwiches.” I say and I can tell no one has ever suggested such a thing. His brow furrows and he turns on heel out of the kitchen. “Was it something I said?” I say to myself and giggle a little because I just scored another point. I see him disappear up the staircase.
I mill around the kitchen and great room before checking the time. It’s nearly 6:00. I go upstairs to wake Soren and when I pass the first uninhabited room on the left the door flies open. Justus is standing in the frame and he nearly has to duck to stand under it. He has changed from his suit to a pair of khaki cargo shorts and black v-neck shirt. His long legs are extremely long and I see he has opted for no shoes. His feet are massively huge. “You like?” He asks; his arms out as if to say, “ta-da!”
“It’s more fitting than that suit you had on.” My tone is sarcastic but I smile to soften it. He mirrors me. “I need to get Soren up; maybe he will have an idea for dinner.” I walk away but Justus is hot on my heels.
Before I can open the door to his brother’s room Justus says, “What did you mean, fitting? These are loose clothes?” His accent sneaks through.
““Fitting” is a southern term for appropriate or proper. Your suit wasn’t proper or “fitting” attire for the beach; understand now?” I explain as we stand in the dark hall, I swear all the light in this house is either in the bedrooms or downstairs. This hall is a windowless black hole.
“I understand now.” His tone is deep and wanting and again he leans into me. But I have my hand on Soren’s door.
I pop the door open and see Soren is still sleeping; I maybe should have kept him awake. I can only hope this doesn’t affect me finishing my latest painting of the “New Orleans” like building close to the Cape Fear Riverfront.
I saunter through toys. Justus is right behind me as I lean down to wake his baby brother. In my peripheral I see him pick up the picture frame of Soren’s mother Vilma. He scoffs and replaces it before smiling at his waking sibling.
“Hi.” I say sweetly.
“Hi.” Soren is rubbing his eyes; he focuses and says, “Broder!” He jumps up to hug Justus. The elder Gunnar embraces Soren and spins him around. It’s a sweetness I don’t expect from the pompous actor.
He places Soren on the floor before dropping to his level, “What would you like for dinner pojke?”
“Pizza!” The little boy shrills.
“You already…” Justus cuts me off.
“Vito’s it is!” His tone is that of a superhero, saving the dinner day.
I smile but roll my eyes when Soren’s light up. He hugs his brother again and the two walk out the room hand in hand. I follow before ducking into my room to grab my camera. If we are out I may be able to get a few good sunset shots. I descend the staircase but I stop because Justus has Soren sitting on the bottom step tying his shoes. He looks up at me, catching me watching them and he smiles. Every time he does so it’s devious and devilish. I’m beginning to think it’s something he can’t help; it’s just the way he’s put together. But I do think, no; I know he uses it to his advantage, be it sexual or not.
“There, all tied.” He says, placing Soren feet down on the floor. I step down and fish my keys out of my bag. I look up and Justus is shaking his head, “We’re taking the Rubicon.” His tone is authoritative and I welcome being chauffeured.
Before I drop my keys back in my bag I make sure Justus is able to drive after sake shots, “You able to drive?” I ask with a snarky smile.
Justus picks up Soren but as we head out the front door he retorts, “If you can handle it, I can. Look how tiny you are compared to me.”
“Touché.” I say as I make my way over to the Jeep.
As soon as the doors to the Jeep are open, Autumn from next door steps out to retrieve her mail, “Hi Babet! Hi Soren!” She looks to Justus and freezes; she grips the letters in her hand and drops her head before retreating quickly into her house.
I look over at Justus who is smiling that smile. This outing is going to be very similar and I’m almost sorry I agreed to go out in public with a moderate celebrity.
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Augusta Fern
December 31, 2014
Meeting new people is always so fun!
Chapter 5
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
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