Chapter 4
"Jasmine, sweetie, you might want to scrub your feet before putting them up," Billie Wells said, a concerned eye on her lounging daughter's feet, perched on the faded lilac fabric of the armrest. "That's the couch Augusta Bennington gave to me."
Jasmine moved to put her feet on the floor and the older woman's expression brightened as she went on, "Did I ever tell you how that came about? It's such a funny thing. You'd never expect it of Augusta, but there is nothing hoity-toity about her at all. She was all smiles when we met at Justine's gala last month, perfectly gracious, you'd swear she didn't know she had a thirty-seven karat sapphire on her finger..."
Her mother's comfortable chatter was always soothing to listen to. Jasmine had heard her girlfriends groan about their mothers subjecting them to nonstop prattle but unlike them, she had never found the inanity of it irritating. Rather, she had always taken it as a sign all was indeed well if even Billie Wells' ultra-delicate nerves were this relaxed.
The illusion of peace was never more necessary than now to Jasmine. It was jarred, almost shattered by the sudden vibrating of her phone in her jeans pocket.
"What, again?" her mother interrupted herself with a slight frown, eyeing the buzzing bulge at Jasmine's hip. "Are you sure it's not important, dear? I know you keep saying that it isn't-"
"It isn't," Jasmine affirmed with a wry smile. She was all but positive that it was Bailey again, texting the name of some famous attraction in Miami. She took out her phone and checked - of course it was. "Trust me, it's nothing."
"Alright honey, if you say so... Well! Ilona insisted it was nothing but condescension, refused in an absolute fit of histrionics to accept what she called insulting charity, but I said..."
Jasmine nodded vigorously at her mother's words while she tapped out a reply to Bailey.
"Can't wait!"
Then she set aside her phone and gave her mother her full smiling attention. After a minute or so, her mother trailed off then gave a tinkling little laugh, raising a hand to her cheek. "Goodness, what am I thinking of? This must be the last thing you want to hear."
"That's not true," Jasmine protested in all sincerity.
But Billie Wells just shook her head. "No. Let's talk about you, dear. You know, sometimes I feel like we've hardly met. You never discuss yourself. Tell me what's going on in your life right now, even if it's just your plans for the weekend."
"I don't have any plans."
"Oh, for God's sake-"
"It's true! Actually, I was wondering if I could crash here for the weekend."
Her mother looked at her for a long time without comment, her brow knitting in consternation. "You... you're not about to get evicted-"
"No! Mom, come on."
The older woman could not hide her relief. "Well, then, of course you're welcome to spend the weekend, I'd love that. We don't get nearly enough time together, do we? But first, shall I make us some more lemonade?" She stood up and went to get it from the kitchen.
Jasmine began to answer before her phone started buzzing again. She picked it up with a sigh and answered.
"Hello? Bailey, honey, I'm really excited about our trip tomorrow but could you not-"
"Hey Jasmine," came the quiet interruption.
She stilled then sat up very straight. "Ted?" she whispered, only half believing it was him. There was none of the acrimony of their last meeting in his voice.
"Jasmine." Suddenly, his voice sounded deep and passionate. "God, I've missed you, baby girl."
"I've missed you too." His pet name for her, almost forgotten now, brought the rise of foolish tears to her eyes. She was still "baby girl" after all. "Where are you? When can I see you?"
"It's not safe for you to be around me, Jazz, you know that."
"I don't know why."
"And you don't need to."
"Of course I do," Jasmine said simply. She didn't have to say anything else. She heard Ted release a hard sigh, then answer with obvious strain.
"I'm sorry, but it's better this way. I shouldn't even be calling you, it's just... well, I had a weak moment."
"I'm coming to see you," Jasmine announced, already rising to her feet.
"Dammit no! Jasmine, this ain't something you can just barge into and fix for me."
"Someone's got to!"
"Yeah," Ted agreed at once, "and that someone's not you, it's Reggie McComb. He's been doing just that, and I like it a lot better that he's the one exposed to the risks, not you."
"Reggie McComb," she repeated soundlessly with her eyes closed.
She had known Reggie was involved in this mysterious business from the start, had come to surmise that he wasn't exactly the villain of the piece either. She was not quite surprised at Ted's admission but just the mention of the man's name overwhelmed her with a nameless emotion.
"...Jasmine?"
Her eyes snapped open again. "I'm here. I just... why didn't you just let me know-"
"That I was getting help from a known gangster, a no-good bastard who made his fortune selling drugs?" A dry laugh left him. "Just didn't seem like something to shout from the rooftops, nahmean?"
Boy, did she ever know the shame of getting into bed with Reggie McComb. "I need to see you," Jasmine stated in an abrupt change of subject. "If I have to come over there right now-"
She stopped midsentence as her mother was returning with a tray bearing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. To leave now would be impossible without hurting her mother's feelings.
"Tell me what happened, Ted," Jasmine requested, keeping her voice low. "What is it that you did? You know you can tell me, you can tell me anything."
"Tomorrow," was all Ted said, resigned. "I'll tell you all you want to know tomorrow, but please, just leave it alone for now."
"Okay," she conceded, then her lips gave way to an irresistible smile. "God- It's so good to hear from you again, Ted-"
"Oh, is that your friend Ted, from NYU?" Billie Wells enquired with a bright smile. At Jasmine's nod, she went on, "Tell him I said hi! It's been ages since he visited here last, I hope he's doing okay."
"He's good," Jasmine replied, then at a query on the other end, she said, "It's my mom, I'm spending the weekend with her at her place. She says to say hi."
"Tell her hi right back. I gotta go now, Jasmine, you gonna be alright?"
"Me?! Of course, I'm not the one in some kind of trouble..." Her voice trailed off.
"I'll tell you everything tomorrow," Ted reiterated firmly, if somewhat tiredly. "Take care of yourself, Jazz."
Before she could respond he had hung up. She stared at the phone for a while in silence. The relief spreading through her entire body felt like a healing balm. For the first time in weeks, it felt like her friendship with Ted may yet be salvaged. She savored the feeling all day.
It was inexplicable, then, that that night her thoughts strayed very far from Ted's brotherly companionship. Lying in her narrow bed, her sleep-drugged mind conjured fragmentary images of long, dark-skinned limbs twined with her own, not a stitch of clothing between them.
The stiffness of her nipples chafed against her cotton nightshirt. All of a sudden they were being soothed by wet, languid kisses followed by gentle suckling.
A blissful sigh escaped her lips. Her head turned back and forth on the pillow as she slowly shifted to lie on her back. Her knees drew up so her open thighs formed a welcoming cradle.
A familiar weight settled above her and pressed her down into the mattress, a heaviness her young body had learned to associate with the promise of earth-shattering pleasure.
How long had it been since she and her mate had lain thus? Too long, her fevered body insisted. He would have to nail her, right goddamn now! Her hips lifted off the mattress in a shameless display of impatience.
She wanted, needed the impaling she was certain was coming, the solid heat sliding into her aching wetness, the joyous friction to follow.
Even in the dark, she could see his eyes, a smoldering brown flecked with gold, soulful with desire. He wanted her too, that was plain. So why, oh why was he holding back?
There was intense pressure between her thighs, an emptiness that throbbed with ever mounting intensity till she grit her teeth and moaned from the torture of it.
A tear slid down her left temple, another down her right, somehow escaping past her tightly shut eyelids. God, she was literally crying for him! Did he have no mercy? Did he mean to drive her completely out of her mind?
"Now." Her voice was little more than a whimper. "Reggie, please-"
The shock of hearing who her lips were begging for jolted Jasmine awake. Her eyes opened and all she saw was pitch-black air. No pair of predatory, hypnotic eyes holding her own captive. No hard waist between her knees and definitely no hope, none whatsoever of being made love to tonight. By Reggie. For who else would do?
She had thought she'd escaped him, thwarted his ridiculous plans to take her to Miami. But even in her dreams he made her his, with her wholehearted consent. He was under her skin, against her will, against all that was right.
A sob burst from her throat. She quickly rolled over to muffle the next one in her pillow.
Whether it was from bitterness at her body's betrayal or the acutest sexual disappointment, she could not sleep until the first gray light of dawn appeared in the curtains. Then she fell into the dreamless torpor of fatigue.
When Jasmine next awoke, it was late in the morning. After showering and nibbling half-heartedly at a bagel, she called back Bailey who had apparently spent the entire morning trying to reach her, judging from the number of missed calls she found.
"Yeah, I know, it sucks," Jasmine rasped, running a hand through her dishevelled hair, "but what can I do? My mom started talking about how we don't spend enough time together, she barely knows me anymore - I couldn't tell her to hold that thought till I came back from Miami with my awesome new friends who she's never met."
The sound Bailey produced from behind her clenched teeth was pure frustration. "Mothers! How do they keep doing this shit to us? It's not fair."
"I know. Trust me, I know," Jasmine commiserated.
