BOMAW 1-3 (30 page)

“I see. Sylvia, you ain’t tell me all this. Now I see why you kept so much to yourself,” she observed. Shawn was dressed in black jeans, a black and white tweed sweater and white shirt, wearing
a black leather jacket
over it all, and he smelled wonderful. The incredible scent of
Devin
by Aramis filled the room, surrounding both women.

“You mean to tell me she didn’t tell you about me? Now that hurts…hurts me to my heart. After all I’ve gone through for this woman, to be spurned at every attempt! I can tell you this, she knows how to crush a man’s confidence.” He made sure to keep eye to eye contact with her mother, flashing a bright, white smile that few women could survive, especially with the play of his dimples. Lydia chuckled, shaking her head.

Sylvia stood back from him, watching him work her mother for everything he was worth. She wanted to kick him but didn't.

“You mean to tell me, you drove all the way down here from Wisconsin for her, when she do you like that?” she asked, grinning now herself, enjoying his presence and the charm. At the moment unconcerned with him being white. He was a breath of fresh air and she was eating it up.

“What can I say, ma’am? Not everyday a man encounters a woman like this one, until now, that is.”

“Oh, give me something to stand on, it’s gettin’ deep,” Sylvia mumbled from behind Shawn. He heard her and grinned.

Unable to resist it, he kept it coming, “Here I thought she was an original, only to see she’s just a copy…but you know what they say about copies…the quality is not quite the same as the original.” Lydia was all teeth, and he did get the kick now to his Achilles tendon, this time “Owww! She kicked me, see how mean she is?” He grabbed the back of his ankle, lifting it up, looking back at Sylvia who stood with narrowed eyes.

“What you kick that man for? Here, you sit on down. Take that jacket off. My daughter ain’t got no manners or hospitality. Girl, get his jacket and hang it up! Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, ma’am, I—”

“Mama, he’s not staying, he just dropped by—”

“Excuse me? I didn’t drive four hours to
‘just drop by’
. However, I should go and get myself a room first,” he inserted, looking from Sylvia to her mother.

“Look, don’t
you
mind her. As for a room, I got one right off the kitchen you can stay in—”

“Oh, ma’am, I couldn’t,” Shawn returned, looking sincere but not.

“No, mama, he can’t…he’ll get a room.”

“I beg your pardon, this my house. And if I say he stays, then he stays. Understand?” She was looking at Sylvia, who sighed deflated. Then she turned to Shawn. “My house and hospitality not good enough for you?” Her hands were on her hips.

“Yes, ma’am, it is. I’d be delighted to stay. I just didn’t want to put you out. See, I’m a man with a mighty big appetite and well, truth be told, I’m hungry now. So I better—”

“You just go get whatever bags you brought with you and bring‘em in. Sylvia gone get something on for you to eat right now. Aren’t you?”

Sylvia’s mouth dropped wide open.

“I was kinda hopin’ for some greens, ma’am, and some catfish…if you can direct me to a restaurant—”

“Lord have mercy, listen at him. What you know about greens and catfish?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, ma’am, don’t let the color fool you. I happen to be a man with very good taste in food and…in women.” His eyes were right on Sylvia when he said it.

“Ooohhhwee!” Her mother chuckled. “You just go get your bags and get settled in your room, and I’ll fix you up some serious greens and catfish.”

“Yes, ma’am…you sure? I mean, I could go out for it. Better yet, how about I take you two out for dinner? To a real good soul food restaurant?”

“Listen here, you just go get them bags, I’ll take care of the rest!” she ordered in no uncertain terms. “Sylvia, I’m going to the store. You get in that kitchen and fix him something to hold him off till I get back and cook him some sho’nuff good greens and catfish. Boy, you days too late, we had that the day Sylvie come. That’s okay, I don’t never get tired of eatin’ some greens and catfish.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes to the ceiling and headed off to the kitchen, sticking her finger down her throat, gesturing nausea when she heard him say, “So what’s your specialty…collards, turnips, or mustard? I like turnip and collards the best.” Again he was grinning, waiting for her mother to get her coat and purse, leaning against the dining room table as comfortable as if he’d been there many times. Wowing, thrilling, shocking her mother into laughter and high squeals. In the kitchen leaning against the sink, she heard her mother give him the keys to the house. “Here, baby, don’t wait for her to open the door for you…she have you out there all night.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I didn’t think she was ever gonna open the door when I came.”

“I know…it’s my own home and she had me out there ringing the bell, for
ten
minutes when I get home! And, baby, you don’t want to be caught out on my doorstep in this neighborhood with no quick way in. Here…let me show you the keys, follow me. She grow up here using these keys, and still don’t know'em.” That spun Sylvia into view from the kitchen down the hall, where she stood looking at them about to exit.

“Mama! You know you didn’t have all these locks on the door when I was living here!” she defended herself. Her mother stood dressed to go out, with Shawn standing behind her; both looking at her as if uninvited to speak while they were talking.

“Is anybody talkin’ to you? Get back in that kitchen and fix him somethin’ to eat!” her mother ordered.

Sylvia stomped her foot and spun out of sight. Not from what her mother said…but from the irritating grin and wink Shawn taunted her with. Sylvia was infuriated. In a matter of minutes, Shawn had shown up at her mother’s and once again, he had just taken over, charming her mother as he did other women. And her mother didn’t even like white men, white people much, period! Not that she was hardcore prejudice or anything, it was just that Sylvia never really heard her say much that was all that positive about them. Yet, for Shawn Everett McPherson, one would think she had a crush on him or something. “Ugggh!” Sylvia grunted and shook, slamming the refrigerator door. “I don’t know what to fix him!” Standing there a moment facing the refrigerator, she thought about the quick hot snacks she made for her children when they got home from school hungry.

"Ramen noodles!" she exclaimed as it came to her. “I shouldn’t fix his butt anything! I mean, come up in here at ease as you please, twisting my mama around his finger! Just wait till he get back up here. I got a thing or two to say to you Mr. McPherson. You can twist my mother and other women around your finger, but I have your number! Will not be pulling that mess on me!” she grumbled low, yanking out a small pot, filling it with hot water to put on to boil. From the refrigerator, she took out an egg, mozzarella cheese to grate on the noodles when they were done, and two Oscar Mayer hot dogs, wishing to make it filling for him. Heading for the pantry, she grabbed two packs of chicken-flavored noodles, breaking them up while they were still in the closed plastic wrapper. At the boiling pot, she chopped up the weiners and dropped the segments into the water. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, she cracked the egg in it; that’s when she heard the jingling of the keys. He was back with his bag. Her insides turned to mush; she battled with anticipation and simmering hostility. The gate slid back into place, the lock went on.

She beat the egg harder.

The door closed, the locks clicking.

She beat faster, her heart pounding, nerves rattled.

Finally, his footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

Bracing herself, she faced away from the hallway, setting the bowl down and picking up the noodle packs to dump them into the boiling water. She knew he stood quietly behind her, watching. After the second pack, if felt as if his voice gripped her from the depths of her being.

“Why’d you leave me?” he asked the question deep and soft. She turned, facing him.

“I didn’t leave you, I just left. What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” He sat his leather case down to take off his jacket.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I’ll always know where you are. Either you’ll tell me, or I’ll find out.”

“Oh, I see. You’re into stalking now, are you?”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” he asked in all seriousness.

“Let me get something across to you right now, Shawn Everett McPherson. I’m a grown woman, single and free. I can come and go as I please, and I certainly don’t have to report to you when I do so!”

"So you’re back to running again.”

“I’m not running from anything! I just needed to get away!”

“From me?”

“Look, I don’t know why you drove all the way here! I told you the way I felt before
that
happened!”

"It seems to me you’ve forgotten something!” he replied, picking up his case, carrying it into the room around the door from where he’d been standing, tossing his jacket on the bed along with the case.

“What?” The water from the noodles started boiling over. She turned adding the beaten egg, stirring it in. Behind her, Shawn snatched off his sweater, laying it on the bed. Reaching up, he undid the top three buttons on his shirt as he came back into the kitchen where Sylvia stood finishing up his soup.

“I suppose you’re going to stand there and tell me that you’ve forgotten everything else that happened earlier that evening?” He was leaning against the counter by the sink, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her answer.

“And I suppose you’re going to just forget everything I said to you, before you forced that kiss on me.”

“Oh, isn’t this nice…now I forced the kiss on you.”

“You know you did, you said it yourself!” she returned, walking by him to the cabinet, bringing down a large bowl for her to pour the noodle soup into. One thing was for certain, no matter what her mind argued in the war against her body, every time she was within inches of him, her system went into a squirming frenzy. Not a moment was wasted to open up space between them. Pouring the finished soup in the bowl, she sat it down on the table.

“Here! I don’t want
mama
thinking I didn’t feed you enough.” She turned and started putting everything away as he stood quietly watching the steam rise from his soup. For some strange reason, he thought they’d gotten past this hold up in their relationship, but obviously he was wrong and he wasn’t quite sure of what to do to get past it. He’d worked frantically on the drawings and painting for the book layout of Mercy James’ trilogy in the time Sylvia up and left without a word. He wasn’t done, but he could no longer concentrate on what he was doing. He’d remembered her daughter’s name and called information.

Talking to her, he’d made
the reason he needed to know where Sylvia was and the number
sound like legitimate business. Her daughter wasn’t stupid…what had won her to giving it over was that she simply liked him. There he stood, her daughter liked him, her mother even liked him so far, but as for her…jeez louise! He had work to do at home, it was his livelihood, and here he was just about begging Sylvia Payne to trust and love him. To give him a chance. Well, he hadn’t said that in so many words, but he wasn’t about to risk being a complete idiot and give his heart free and clear to a woman who had practically fought him at every turn. He stood there so long, she finished cleaning up, asking him, “Are you going to eat or not?”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he returned sad, quiet. “Eat some with me, I don’t want to eat alone,” he invited softly. She sighed. “Please?” he asked again.

“Reach up beside you and pass me a bowl.” She gave a soft smile behind the request.

After dividing the noodles between them, they sat in silence eating when he spoke up saying, “What all did you put in here? I’ve never had'em like this before.” She grinned, slurping up a long noodle.

“You mean to tell me, I’ve fixed something to your satisfaction, something different?” she simpered.

He had that devil come in his eyes. “I never said it was to my satisfaction.”

She shot to her feet with her hands on her hips. “Listen here, Mr. McPher—”

Suddenly his hands were at her waist, pulling her onto his lap. “Shawn!” she squealed, her heart hammering with excitement, her body reacting with absolute arousal. Hands pressed at his shoulders she tried to push back off, but he held her firm, bringing her closer to him. “What do I have to do to convince you of how much I want you?”

“Shawn…please.” She was still struggling, growing weaker by the moment.

“I missed you…while you were gone. I missed you while I was gone. All those nights, us talking on the phone, made me miss you even more. I know what you do to me; what do I do to you, Sylvia? What does being this close to me make you feel?” he asked softly, huskily.

Sylvia sucked in a gasp, staring into his eyes, he had the most endearing face, and the new-grown beard…she couldn’t help herself; giving up the fight, she melted as her hands came up to cup his cheeks, running her fingers through the course, bristly dark facial hair. He sat staring up at her, a softness came into her eyes as they suddenly watered up.