Putting the note and the petals in the top drawer of my desk, I opened my laptop and Skyped my roommate. We talked for almost an hour before I started feeling too tired to continue. A hot shower and fresh knickers later I slipped into a restless sleep.
The next day followed almost the same routine as the day before, except that I didn't smoke nearly as much marijuana as I had the day before. I found that only after a few hits, I was feeling plenty good so I stopped. A few more of Casey and Jarod's friend's came over, including a girl named Stephanie; my small circle of friends began to grow.
An hour before the sun began to set, Casey dropped me off at the beach and I rode my bike home, still feeling the effects of the weed. My legs and my lungs were stronger now and I could make the ride with hardly any effort at all. I was torn whether to stop by Kyle's or not on my way home. It was almost a guarantee that I'd end up having sex if I went there. I knew I couldn't resist that temptation if I was there, and I was still a little sore from before. Recovering from sex was taking less and less time and the overall experience had become so much better, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for it tonight.
I decided to at least stop by and say hi.
The black seven-series BMW in his driveway made me change my mind, however. I knew it wasn't Kyle's unless he'd just gone out that day to buy a new car, but a posh high-class car like that wasn't his style. Miriam's face flashed into my memory and I was fairly certain that she was the owner. I turned my bike around and began to peddle away when I heard my name.
"Jamiee," shouted Kyle. Damn, he'd seen me.
I turned around and saw him and Miriam stepping out of the front door. I wanted to keep going, but it would be too awkward now that we had all seen each other. So I turned around yet again and met them in his front yard.
"It looked like you weren't going to stop," teased Kyle, knowing that's exactly what my intention was.
I shrugged and got off of my bike, keeping it between Miriam and myself, "I saw the car and thought you had company. I didn't want to disturb," I said, truthfully, then added, "Hi Miriam," I said so as not to be rude.
She smiled at me warmly, "Hello, Jillian, it's good to see you again."
I gave her a tight smile.
"Can I talk you into coming with us?" asked Miriam.
"Where to?" I asked hesitantly.
"I was bringing Kyle over to my house for dinner, but I'd love to have both of you over... please?" she asked.
"I'm all covered in sand and salt, I really need to have a shower," I said, presenting with an easy excuse.
"Take a quick shower here; you still have clean clothes upstairs in the bedroom," said Kyle.
Seriously Kyle? I'm trying to find a polite way out and you just sink my best excuse. The last place I wanted to be was trapped with Miriam—in her house no less.
Seeing my hesitation, Miriam added, "No pressure, Jamiee. But I'd love to have you over for dinner. And since you two are stubborn enough to try to make this work, maybe I can give you some answers to your questions. Please let me help."
Did she say to have me over for dinner, or have me for dinner? I tried to remember what I'd just heard. Miriam's sincere voice and charming smile were too disarming. She seemed so genuinely interested in me that I couldn't stop the answer from coming out of my mouth.
"Alright," I'd agreed like someone had put me on autopilot.
Before I could change my mind, Kyle hustled me into the house and up the stairs. I had my shower while Kyle watched, smiling the entire time and then dressed in a pair of Capris and a white tee shirt. Slipping my flip-flops back onto my feet, I was soon in Kyle's jeep as we followed Miriam's BMW up the Five freeway and then into one of the most exclusive neighborhoods of Del Mar. We went through two separate security gates and were finally at her home. It was breathtakingly large with a long driveway that led to its front doors.
As we approached I couldn't help but admire the stonework around the base of the home and up the corners. It was real stone and not the fake looking stuff you'd see at Home Depot. The decorative window treatments also caught my eye; they looked like they were solid brass.
We followed Miriam's car around the back of the home where the driveway led downward and ended at a garage door that was well hidden behind the house. The garage opened slowly and soon we were inside of the most spacious garage I had ever seen. There were several other high-end sports cars to the right, a waterskiing boat just in front of us and several jet skis next to it. My brothers would think they'd died and gone to heaven if they had a place like this.
Miriam led us out of the garage and to a wide set of stairs. I couldn't help but notice the racks and racks of wines along one wall as we neared the stairs. And if I thought garage was fancy, it was nothing compared to what I found on the floor above. Darkly stained crown and base moldings contrasted sharply with the lighter colored walls. The wood floor looked scarred and pitted but somehow looked just as beautiful as the rest of the home.
I took in as much as I could, but it was almost too overwhelming. We passed through a library that looked like it belonged in an old castle. The bookshelves rose upwards from floor to ceiling and a mezzanine walkway allowed one to walk around the perimeter of the upper shelves. This was a room I could die in happily, but we were moved along into the kitchen where, of course, every wall was covered with opulent alder wood cabinets. Opulent was the word that kept coming to mind. This home was over the top, and I had only seen a fraction of it.
A slender, older man with thinning gray hair greeted us as we entered, "Oh, there they are," he declared happily. "Please take a seat, dinner is nearly ready."
"Jillian," Miriam caught my attention, "This is my husband, Doctor John Brandt," she then introduced me, "John, this is Jillian Aimee Boyack."
I extended my hand and he shook it warmly in both of his, "Welcome, Jillian, I'm so pleased to meet you."
If I thought Miriam was charming, she was nothing compared to her husband—who I'd mistakenly thought was a butler when I first entered the room—that exuded charisma like expensive cologne.
"Thank you," I said, "It's nice to meet you, too, Doctor Brandt—but please just call me Jamiee."
He smiled so warmly I felt as if I'd known him all my life, "Only if you'll call me John then," he said with a wink.
I couldn't help but nod as I smiled like a four-year-old girl seeing Santa Claus for the first time.