ALEKSANDER
There is no way to put it, except heart meet system malfunction two because Jessica Beer smells, sounds, looks and no doubt tastes and feels like velvet heaven.
"Fancy party," her martini glass is on half.
"The Great Gatsby," I keep my eyes on her hands.
She is holding a black feather clutch and red sheer gloves. She must not be wearing them because her injured hand is still covered in a nude compression garment.
I have to say, I now understand Samson's dilemma because to get me off my stammering my mother, who has never set foot in a church except for weddings and funerals, made me read bible stories.
Yes, those.
The one that stands out now as I finally make eye contact with my house sitter, is the story of a roof bathing woman, named Delilah. Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew a man that killed a lion with his bare hands.
His bare hands!
A woman whose splendor hypnotized and drugged a now dead man called Samson. I might not be anything like him but I seem to be falling head first into the same trap.
Except instead of nudity, Jessica is using her accented words as the crimson cloth over my eyes.
It only takes a nudge from my mother to remind me we're in public but sadly, the tides have already consumed me and I am one wave away from sinking. It doesn't even matter if I choose to look away now, I am a goner.
"Hi," my mother nudges again.
Right.
"Jessica, this is my mother, Josephine Henry." I introduce and Jessica's smile is automatic.
It's like it hears the information before her brain processes it.
"Nona Henry? Oh my God, hello." Jessica moves her drink to extend her hand but my mother pulls her in for a hug.
How obvious.
"Finally we meet," they asses each other and beam. "You accent is thicker than a polish dancer's." They laugh for some reason.
"Mother, dad is calling." I signal him and he nods for her to come over.
My father, Enzo and I have been doing this dance since the 6th grade and we're flawless at it because my mother is a short Sicilian lady with no filter.
"Fine but save me a seat honey, we have a lot to discuss." My mother moves a curl off her face and Jessica crosses her heart to promise.
I understand being pleasant but,
"Nona Henry?" I ask the moment my mother is out of ear shot.
"Kylie mentioned once she hates being called grandma, I knew better than to piss off my bosses' mother."
I stiffen when I realize she was trying to make a joke.
She is right, I really don't get her humor because every time I am around her everything spins and stops and then gyrates again. Its nauseating in an eating too much before going on a roller-coaster type of way.
"I see you stuck to the theme," it's her attempt at a conversation.
"You have too." I push my hand into my pocket because it's trembling but from longing not anxiety.
I knew touching her was a bad idea because now I am shaking like a drug addict who needs a fix. I usually have an itching sensation from physical touch but I find myself thinking about last night.
YOU ARE READING
Even The Weak Can Be Wicked (PLAYBOOK #2)
RomancePending academic investigation, homeless and friendless because she slept with her best friend's boyfriend. That was the least of Jessica's problems as junior year came to an end because now she is cut-off by her father and left to fend for herself...
