Love Me ~ Like That (10 page)

He looks at me, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”

I stick out my hand. “I’m Cash Wilson, I just moved in across the street, sir.”

He nods and shakes my hand.

“Do you know what happened to your wife, sir?”

He shakes his head. “Will she be okay?”

“Her pulse is weak and she’s unconscious, but she is breathing.”
Thank God she’s breathing.
No need to start CPR. “Is there someone we should call?”

He pauses a few seconds then hands me a notebook. I look inside and see phone numbers written down. I look down the list for Bailey’s number, but the names aren’t in alphabetical order so I call the number at the top, “Hello, may I speak with Kathy Rose, please?”

“This is Kathy.”

The woman answering the phone sounds puzzled.

“What is going on? And are my parents okay? Where is Bailey?”

I hear fear in her voice. “Ma’am, I’m Cash Wilson, I moved in across the street a few days back. I came over a few minutes ago and heard your mom fall. She is unconscious and has a faint heartbeat. I think she might have had a heart attack. I’ve called for an ambulance and they are on their way.” I can hear her telling someone else what I just told her.

“Oh, no! Where’s Bailey?” She starts to cry.

“Ma’am, I saw her leave an hour ago and there doesn’t appear to be anyone else here but Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. I hear the ambulance now, and we should know more in a few minutes.” The paramedics come barreling into the house, and I get shoved against the wall while they take their assessment of Mrs. Jackson’s condition. I notice Mr. Jackson’s wringing his hands, his eyes wild with fear. The paramedics ask to which hospital to take Mrs. Jackson. I give them Kathy’s instructions and they load up Mrs. Jackson.

Kathy asks me if I can bring her dad because he has dementia and can’t be left alone. I have to physically lift Mr. Jackson into my truck, but he’s not very big, neither one of them are. Mr. Jackson is about five six and he might be one hundred forty pounds. Mrs. Jackson is even smaller than he is. She can’t even be five feet tall. I close his door for him and walk to my side of the truck and get in.

“Thank you,” he says with a nod. “Are we going to go to the hospital too? She needs me up there with her.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Yes, sir, we’ll get there as fast as we can,” I say.

On the way to the hospital, I call mom to let her know what is going on. Now that I know Mr. Jackson has dementia, I’ll research the condition so I know what to expect when I’m keeping an eye on him. I’ll ask Kathy to tell me how to best handle Mr. Jackson’s fears when he is struggling. Having the woman you love laid out in the middle of the floor is scary enough, let alone having a stranger bust through the door. “Mr. Jackson, are you okay over there?”

He looks over at me. “You know I used to work at an orange packing company in Florida. And so did my wife. I made the boxes to begin with then I became the boss over the women. Addie worked on the line checking the oranges making sure they were good enough to eat…”

I guess he is lost in his own thoughts.

“You know we have been married over sixty-five years?”

Being married that long is almost unheard of these days and is something to be proud of. “Is that right, Mr. Jackson? You must be doing something right. Are you going to let me in on your secret?” Maybe getting him talking will ease his mind.

“She is always right, that is all you have to know.”

I can’t help but laugh.

He grins, too. “Always say ‘yes dear’ and you will stay married forever. That is the secret.”

That’s kind of funny. I bet he was a lot of fun before he got sick.

He looks out the window, “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

I really don’t know what to say. Do I reassure him? If something does transpire, what will happen to him? “I’m sure the doctors will do everything possible for her.”

His eyes get glossy with tears, “I don’t want to live without her. I won’t be able to go on with half a heart.”

What do I say to that? This feels too deep and I’m not good at this kind of stuff, but I feel like he needs some kind words right now. “Mr. Jackson, I think you’ve been very lucky to have someone so special in your life that you feel like you can’t live without them. I don’t think everyone gets that lucky, sir.”

“I am the luckiest man to ever walk the face of this Earth. I’ve spent my whole life loving the woman of my dreams.” He wipes his eyes. “You know what, I think you might have a good head on your shoulders, and I like you. So I’m going to let you in on another little secret.”

I glance over at him, and he looks so serious, “Please tell me, I need all the help I can get.” I can’t wait to hear this. I love the advice the older generation likes to dish out. Some of it is useful and some of it is genuinely funny.

“You need to be with someone who can’t stay mad at you for very long, and is a little afraid of losing you. You need to feel that way for them too. When you find that then she is the one you say ‘yes dear’ to. When you’re that way with each other, it makes all the ups and downs in life bearable.”

I think this man could be a genius. I laugh lightly. “Is that how is goes, Mr. Jackson? I’ll have to remember that.”

He gazes at me with sad eyes then looks out the window again. I guess he’s returning to his own little world.

I pull up in front of the hospital bay and head around the truck to help him out. I walk into the emergency room to help him find his family. At the nurses’ desk when I ask about Mrs. Jackson, I hear someone call out.

“Daddy, we’re over here.”

I look around and see a younger version of Mrs. Jackson. I help guide Mr. Jackson over there as he is a bit unsteady on his feet.

“Hello, I’m Cash, the Jacksons’ neighbor.” I offer my hand to the lady.

She shakes my hand and gives me a side hug. “I can’t thank you enough for all of your help today. I’m Kathy. Mom calls me Kathy Rose. She told me all about you and your mom the other day. Already, she’s very fond of you two. This is my best friend, Kate.”

Kate gives me a hug too and says her pleasantries.

“Over there is the rest of our crew, you can meet them later.” Kathy gives a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kathy, Kate, but I wish it was under other circumstances. Mr. Jackson seems to be awfully worried,” I say.

Kathy turns toward Mr. Jackson and talks to him. I guess I should stay at least a few minutes. I would feel bad dropping him off and running. About thirty minutes later, a nurse comes out to tell us Mrs. Jackson has suffered a heart attack and they are moving her up to surgery.

Everyone gets up to walk upstairs, and Kathy says to Kate, “Lizzie went to get Bailey from the country club and I swear, if that jerk causes problems, I will kill him myself. I don’t see what Bailey sees in him, I can’t believe she is with someone like him.”

“Kathy, she will come to her senses, but if you try to keep her from him she’ll only want to be with him more and you’ll end up with him as your son-in-law. Lizzie said she’s going to talk to Bailey soon.” Kate says.

They don’t like that prick either. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Not that I’m eavesdropping, but they aren’t whispering.

Everyone shuffles upstairs with worried looks on their faces, and I can feel the tension radiating off everyone. “Is there anything I can go get for anyone or do for y’all?”

They all shake their heads.

“Thank you for just being here, Cash,” Kathy says.

I walk over and sit by Mr. Jackson to see if I can get him to talk to me. “Mr. Jackson, how are you holding up? Do you need a coke?”

He is looking at the floor. “Oh, I need to pay you for bringing me up here.” He stands up reaching into the back of his jeans pocket for his wallet. “I don’t know where my wallet is, do you know where it is?”

He looks concerned.

“I bet with us rushing to get up here, you forgot it at home. Besides, you don’t owe me anything at all. Neighbors are supposed to take care of each other, right?”

He is looking at the floor again, and Kathy and Kate have stopped their conversation to look at me. So have all the other family members. I feel a little out of place.

I turn on the radio to our local country station, and Hendrix looks over at me like I’ve killed his puppy. I know all too well, he isn’t fond of my taste in music.
Let me see if I can change his mind.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I reach over and unzip his pants. I see his mood is changing already. I pull him out of his boxers and start stroking him gently. “You don’t like country music?” I give him my best pouty voice. “Would you like it better like this?” I lay my head down in his lap and give the tip of his cock a little flick. “Are you liking my music any better now?” I taste him, teasing him. I play around licking the vein hard.

He is enjoying this. He has one hand in my hair and the other on the steering wheel. He urges me to take him in my mouth by pushing my head down. I wrap my lips around him and move down his length. He moans and I feel him pulsing in my mouth. He keeps his hand on my head applying more pressure.

I lick and suck for what seems like forever. I let him get very close to finishing then pull off him with a pop. I’m being mischievous. I know that’s not all he wants from me. I’ve heard what he wants several times. I just can’t bring myself to “finish” the job.

“That might work one day if you would ever swallow.”

He’s agitated after that. Seriously? Will anything other than me swallowing please him?

“I don’t like that, Hendrix. I told you that.” I say softly as I put him back together. I sit back in my seat and look out the window.

“Just this one time, Bailey, finish what you start for fuck’s sake.”

I should Google and learn how to give better blowjobs. I want to please him but apparently I don’t do a good job. I never had any complaints before, but Hendrix is never satisfied. I look over at him. Should I finish him? I unzip him again. I’m not as playful this time as I take him in my mouth. I’m focused on the task at hand and hope this doesn’t take long. I wrap my hand around his shaft and pump to make this quicker. I make little noises so he will feel the vibrations and hopefully lose control sooner rather than later. He doesn’t take long. In a few short minutes, he spurts in my mouth. I swallow and gag a tad because it’s thick, but it doesn’t taste as bad as I thought it would. I sit back up and wipe my lips with my fingers. I look at him expectantly.

“Next time, be more careful with your fucking teeth.”

I know he didn’t just say that. I buckle my seatbelt then turn off the radio. I no longer feel like listening to music. I know good and well, my teeth didn’t as much as graze him. He has to have something to complain about. It just can’t be good for him. Next time, I’ll make sure I accidentally bite him. Asshole.

The rest of the ride to the club goes by in a blur. I hold onto the “Oh, Shit Bar” for dear life. I do try to make idle chit chat in hopes to get back in the right frame of mind. “Do we have a reservation at seven o’clock?”

“Yes, Mother and Father have a standing reservation every Sunday night at seven.” He pulls into the parking lot of the country club.

His parents are out of the country. Where did they go? Somewhere for his sister.
Think Bailey
. “Aren’t they in Milan for your sister’s show?” His sister is getting started in fashion designing and already had a show in Milan. How does someone get that fortunate, really? Getting my lipstick out of my purse, I flip down the visor to use the mirror. I look over at him and give him a sexy wink.

“No, they flew back in yesterday.” He pulls up to the valet. The attendants on each side are dressed better than I am.

Shit, dammit, hell
.

They open our doors, and Hendrix walks around the car putting his elbow out for me. Okay, I guess I am lacing my arm through his arm. This feels so formal and strained.

“They must be tired. Did they have a nice time?”

He is looking straight ahead with a fixed smile on his face as he escorts me into the dining room, skipping right past the hostess. I guess you don’t have to check-in when your parents have standing reservations. I’m glad we don’t have to stop and talk to the hostess anyway because she is giving Hendrix, “I want to fuck you” eyes. I lean closer and whisper, “Do you know her?”