Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "beach"
On the Road...
I will be galavanting off to Wilmington for the weekend with fellow authors Shannon Simmons and Kataya Marie...in the mean time I will be doing occasional check ins to see what is HOT on the grid. Don't for get to vote for me in the MARSocial.com front page competition!!
http://marsocial.com/docs/if-he-cant-...
I'm still in the number one spot this week!! :)
I will be posting pictured from my trip on instagram!!
http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
I am also going to be doing a little tweeting while I'm gone!!
https://twitter.com/augustafern
Last but not least, I've been asked to write an article for the front page of MARSocial...I will keep you posted on that ;)
http://marsocial.com/docs/if-he-cant-...
I'm still in the number one spot this week!! :)
I will be posting pictured from my trip on instagram!!
http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
I am also going to be doing a little tweeting while I'm gone!!
https://twitter.com/augustafern
Last but not least, I've been asked to write an article for the front page of MARSocial...I will keep you posted on that ;)
Babet has arrived, WELCOME TO WILMINGTON!!!
In Wilmington I stop at an upscale gas station and grab my bag from the back. To meet the Gunnar family I have packed one of my sundresses and a newer pair of flip flops. I pair the white sundress with a black sweater since the spaghetti straps are less than conservative. In the mirror I finger my tresses and add a little bit of eye-liner and mascara. My Mamma says without makeup I look like, “Death warmed over.” She’s right and it’s worse since I’ve been in the car for the entire day. I take a deep breath; gather my jeans and t-shirt and head back to my car.
My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.
I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.
“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.
“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.
“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.
“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.
“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”
“Of course.”
Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.
The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.
“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”
We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.
“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.
I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.
“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.
“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.
“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.
We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”
I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.
“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”
“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”
“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”
“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.
“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”
“Ah.” I simply retort.
“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”
“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.
I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”
I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.
“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”
He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”
Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.
“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.
I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.
He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.
“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.
He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.
I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”
He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.
My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.
I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.
The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!
I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.
This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.
I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.
My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.
I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
To see who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany go to PINTEREST.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Augusta Fern
My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.
I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.
“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.
“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.
“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.
“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.
“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”
“Of course.”
Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.
The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.
“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”
We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.
“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.
I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.
“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.
“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.
“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.
We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”
I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.
“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”
“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”
“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”
“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.
“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”
“Ah.” I simply retort.
“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”
“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.
I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”
I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.
“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”
He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”
Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.
“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.
I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.
He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.
“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.
He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.
I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”
He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.
My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.
I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.
The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!
I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.
This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.
I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.
My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.
I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
To see who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany go to PINTEREST.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Augusta Fern
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
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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.
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