Here's something I've been working on bit by bit since I figured out how to move on from Fated Hearts. I'm super excited to have something other than
The Masseur
with a more real quality than....well. Let's face it. Eric was just a fantasy, even though I imagined Alexander Skarsgard every time I had to write some sex into that story (swoon). Anyway. This story is purely fictional. There is some German in here. It's nothing that Google translate won't be able to fix for all your problems auf Deutsch. I tried to fill in as much proper translation as possible without being awkward. Yes. The main character is Guyanese. I won't bore you with my history and all of that, but never fear. I won't be typing in any of my Guyanese creole, and I'll try to describe any food that I introduce. This is getting kind of long... Last but not least I'd like to thank jlo24601 for editing this monster (originally 36 pages in word...yikes!).
Enjoy!
-Gia
~*~
"Darling, as your parents, your father and I are concerned about you." Gail's mother reached across the table and placed one expertly manicured hand over the one of her daughter's, holding her cup.
"Concerned about what?" Gail responded warily.
"Well...It's just that we're getting old and we've wanted some grandchildren."
Gail shut her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache. "Mommy, I'm not getting married anytime soon I JUST turned twenty-one," she tried to reason.
"Are you even having sex?"
"Mom!" Gail sputtered, almost choking as she downed the last mouthful of her cup of tea.
"Sheila!" Gail's father, Harvey looked around to make sure no one else was listening.
"I mean...are you a lesbian? You haven't brought any men to meet us."
"Mom..."
"No! Hear this. It's alright I guess. I only want grandchildren. If the good Lord wants to give them to me through artificial insemination..."
Gail groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Mom, I'm not a lesbian."
"Oh praise Jesus. You're too beautiful to be a lesbian."
"Sheila, what does that even mean?" Harvey asked looking around. He knew it was a mistake to bring his outspoken wife to a new place for their weekly brunch dates with their daughter. The inhabitants of their small town were too nosey for his liking.
"Are you ready to order?" The waiter came by, pad in hand, to take their orders.
"Um yes, actually we are." Sheila looked over the menu once more before ordering.
Harvey and Gail shared a look. They both knew very well that Sheila decided on what she wanted when she looked at the menu earlier, but they were used to her melodrama. After taking down their orders, the impeccable man walked away from the table.
"He's gay, you know."
"Sheila! That's enough."
Gail bit back a giggle. Her overly talkative mother always made things interesting when they went out in public. If she didn't have all the hard work to back it up, people would think their money came to them easily. For as far back as she could remember Gail had known that her family was poor. It was when her mother and father opened up their own catering business that they became a little better off. Her mother's natural talent for cooking the island foods she grew up with was as much of a hit with the natives as they were with people who weren't familiar with Guyanese cuisine. Her father placed himself in charge of the managing the whole thing. Together, they were one of the most formidable teams, Gail supposed, since Bonny and Clyde...and just as ruthless.
"So, how was your week?" Sheila asked, taking a sip of her orange juice.
"It was alright, I suppose. I talked to my boss about that raise he's been promising me. I need all the money I can get to pay for grad school." Gail sat back in her chair, cursing to herself at the uncomfortably hard seat.
"Oh, that Dominic Becker is nice enough. You work hard at his firm...even if it is just as a secretary." Sheila mused.
"I'll see if I have enough time before we have to cater that prayer breakfast to make some pholourie for him." She smiled, moving her utensils to the side as the waiter returned carrying the steaming food.
Gail looked down at the chocolate chip and banana pancakes on her plate and felt her stomach rumble. Secretly, she wished she could bribe her mother into making some pholourie for her. She could imagine the soft deep fried dough balls made of ground split peas that had been seasoned with different spices and the savory mango dipping sauce she loved to drown them in. To her family, food was the ultimate way to fix any problem. Whenever her mother got news that someone was getting married, had just died, or was having a baby, Gail's tiny car would be filled with food to deliver to the family.
"How's the business?" She asked around a mouthful of syrup and pancake.
"Don't talk with your mouth full... It's been great. We're booked for a 'West Indian'' theme wedding. You know how much these Americans love tropical vacations." She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah right, ma, I see you pretending, like catering weddings is a hassle for you. You can't wait can you?" She laughed loudly.
"You know I don't mind that much. They're paying good money for good food." Sheila blushed swiping at the sides of her mouth.
It was quiet for a moment as the trio finished their dishes and waited for the check...too quiet. Gail sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for either her mother or father to start talking about something totally irrelevant.
It was as she pulled on her light jacket that her father spoke.
"Oh, and by the way..."
Here we go...
She groaned inwardly.
"We got the invitations for your cousin's wedding. Remember my friend Shelton...the chap who used to play the bass guitar in Pastor Clemens' church?" He paused, tapping his finger on the linoleum table top.
"No." Gail replied stubbornly. Her father only acted nervous if he wanted her to do something she might not like.
"Oh come on, yes you do Gail." Sheila interjected. "He just graduated medical school."
"What about him?" Gail asked, tensely.
"Well...you know...at rehearsal last night, he was asking me if you would go to the wedding with him. Geoffrey knows him from work, so he invited him too you know? It'll be pretty cool if—"
"Absolutely not."
"Felicity Gail Peters!" Sheila gasped. "You don't even know the poor boy and you're turning him down. He has a good head on his shoulders and his mother is a sweetheart."
"I said no! I don't want to know anything about him. He has a
lazy eye
mother!!" Gail whispered furiously across the table.
She hated when her parents meddled. It didn't exactly help that she didn't have anything close to a boyfriend since her high school prom either. She could vividly remember one of the overly eager church boys that her parents pushed at her. Not that there was anything wrong with black men, but all the ones her parents set her up with were just the same, handsy, horny, and forced to go to church with their mothers for threat of having their ears twisted off for their insolence. The only reason she endured the groping in the limo ride to the banquet hall and the overly close grinding on the dance floor was to make her crush jealous.
Enrique Cruz was all types of fine. He was taller than her five foot-six frame, at a whopping six-foot four. His bright green eyes and smooth voice had her fantasizing about what he would do to her in bed...in relation to what she had learned in health class, of course. She briefly felt bad when Wendell, her nonetheless handsome, but pushy date, got told to take a hike as "Sexy Enrique" (as she named him in her head) pulled her away at the end of the night to his house where he whispered dirty things against her lips. After sleeping with him, she decided that he wasn't up to par with all her fantasies, and snuck out of his window a wonderful three minutes after he fumbled around between her legs like a landed fish and filled the condom with a few weak spurts. She snuck back into her house and passed out on the bed in her fancy dress, masturbating to the fantasies of what she expected from "Sexy Enrique". Gail and her friends had a good laugh about it the next day.
And now, she was back at square one. Her parents had pushed too far this time.
I'll tell them what the problem really is. It's them telling me what to do like I'm some sort of child.
She told herself firmly.
"I uh...I'm bringing Michael." was all she managed to get out. Later, she'd explain to her boss' son, her best friend why he was coming to a wedding as her date. At least they were good friends already. He owed her for pretending to be his girlfriend when an ex came by to try to get him back. She took one look at Gail's no-nonsense pose and put her car in reverse, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
"Well, alright...but I think you should take Shelton. He's a nice church boy and—"
"Sheila, I think she already chose." Harvey laughed, getting out of his seat and holding out his hand for his wife.
"Well, okay. We'll call you when we get home, okay baby?" She hugged Gail and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Bye mom. Bye daddy." Gail returned the hugs and kisses and waved as they took off. Once her parents rounded the corner, she fished her cell phone from the recesses of her shoulder bag and dialed Michael's number.
"Hello?" He asked groggily.
"Hey Mikey, It's me, Gail." She managed to get out between her gasps of laughter.
"Hey kitty-kat." He yawned.
"Hmm? No, Heather...I mean Sasha, it's my sister." She heard his muffled voice explain to someone in the background.
"Wild night, huh? It's almost noon and you aren't up yet." Gail mused, trying to avoid the true subject.
"Yeah it was! I went out with Erik and Peter. You know how those Germans drink." He laughed, sounding more awake. Gail smiled as she heard the sheets rustle as he got up, most likely to get out of earshot of his overnight guest.
"Anyway, I met this girl...whatever her name is after the sixth jaeger-bomb. It's miraculous that I...wait." He paused. Gail bit her cheek as she imagined the wary look he would have given her if she was there. "What do you want?" Michael asked grimly.
~*~
Part of the reason he called her kitty-kat was her ability to so smoothly ease a request for a favor into everyday conversation. It was that very skill that got him to accompany her on all sorts of adventures their freshman and sophomore years in college. He once let slip that he'd follow anything to Hell and back if it was wearing a short skirt. Taking his attraction to her thick, shapely legs, Gail had seductively seated herself on his table in the library and asked sweetly if he could take her for a ride on his motorcycle to a strip club for her nineteenth birthday. He took a full minute before he started packing up his things.
