Naked Truth (7 page)

Boss, Violet, dinner with parents. Boss, Violet, dinner with parents. I repeat today’s mantra.  I can do this.

I linger at the bank a few extra minutes just so I can soak in my girl’s brightness. Susie gives me the cold shoulder now that I don’t go straight to her window, but I don’t give a shit. Violet brings me the calmness and tranquility I crave after a long day.

I arrive at my parents’ house at the exact time I said I would.  My parents, Angela and Tom, are both retired U.S. Postal workers.  We are a working class family, but have always lived comfortably.  In my family, being a government employee is something to be proud of.

Without bothering to knock, I walk through my parents’ front door as though I still live here. The door opens into their great room, which consists of their dining, family, and living rooms. The kitchen is in the back of the house. I’m lost in my head thinking about the visit I just had with my flower when my mom appears in my sightline.

She steps in to hug me hello, so I bend down to help her out. She’s small, just about the same size as Violet. Not that everything makes me think about her. Except that it does.

“Hello, dear.”

“Hi, Ma,” I say after placing a kiss on her cheek. The temple is completely off limits from now on, that belongs to my one and only.

“So what, or should I ask, who put that smile on your face?”

“Smells great in here,” I deflect.

“Nice try but you can’t get one past your mother.”

I chuckle at my mother’s prying, but my mind immediately goes back to Violet who always knows how to make me laugh. Then I smile at the thought of her laughing. Shit! I shake my head, trying to focus.

“Where’s Pop?” I ask.

“In the kitchen, taste testing.” She laughs.

“Shocker.” I shake my head in mock surprise.

We both start toward the kitchen when I notice the dining room table is set for four. I am an only child, and we don’t have any family in town, so what gives?

“Uh, Ma? Am I missing something?”

“Honey, don’t get upset,” she says slowly and carefully.

“Ma?” I question her again, this time a little more sternly than I should be when speaking to my mother.

“It’s nothing, Jordan,” she back peddles.

“Ma, start talkin’,” I demand.

“It’s nothing crazy.  There is a woman in my book club that I see once a month.  She’s really friendly. Anyway, we got to talking a few months ago and it turns out she has a daughter your age.  Then last month, her daughter came to a meeting and I asked her if she’d be interested in meeting you. She said yes and we exchanged numbers. So, when you agreed to come for dinner tonight, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to have her over, too,” she explains in detail. Too much detail.

I huff. “Life isn’t like those books you read, Ma.”

“I know, but I want you to be happy,” she tells me and now I feel like a total asshole for snapping at her.

“I know, Ma. I actually just started dating someone and I really like her. I don’t want to ruin it before I get to see where it can go.”

“You don’t have to marry her.  Just meet her. We’ll have dinner. You may like her,” she tries again.

I bow my head in defeat.  “What did you tell her about me?” I ask in annoyance.

“Nothing, honestly.  Just that you are the same age. And also enjoy reading.”

“I’ll stay for dinner, Ma, but nothing more.  I want to see where this is going with my new girl.”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Yeah. So far she’s been great.”

“What’s her name?”

“Violet.” I smile just saying her name.  I’m a total goner.

“Like the flower?” she asks, smiling, probably because I’m smiling.

“Like
my
flower.”

My mother nods in understanding just as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!”  My dad shouts as he pushes through the swinging door that leads from the kitchen out to the great room where we are still standing. He gives me a slap on the back in greeting as he passes by. “Son,” he acknowledges with affection.

My mother and I follow him to the door.  I grab my balls and suck it up, as my manners win over my frustration with my mother.  It’s not this poor girl’s fault.

I lean down to my mom’s ear and ask quietly, “So what’s her name anyway?”

But my father opens the door before my mother is able to speak, and I get the answer myself. Shit.

This is bad. This is very bad. 

Like Seinfeld opening the door to Newman, I grit my teeth and welcome our guest.

“Susie,” I bite out.

But Susie just stands there like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widen like saucers, and for a split second, she actually looks…genuine? Within seconds, I see her facial expression morph into a manipulative-bitch face, and know this is not going to be a pleasant evening.

“Oh good! You already know each other; this should be fun!” my mother says then welcomes her into the house, completely oblivious to my disdain.

“So nice to see you again, ma’am,” she says sickeningly sweet.

“Please, call me Angela, dear.  And this is my husband, Tom,” she introduces my father.

My hands ball involuntarily into fists as I try to contain my annoyance. My father notices my change in demeanor and sends me a questioning look.  I just shake my head, silently telling him, “don’t ask.”

“Of course, Angela.  What a beautiful home you have,” she sucks up some more and my lunch makes it’s way back up.

“Thank you, Susie. How kind of you,” my mother falls for her fake act.

“Why don’t we eat,” I suggest, wanting to get this night over as quickly as possible. There will be no more before dinner chitchat.

I help my mother carry all of the food and drinks to the table to expedite the process.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, Ma,” I say while we are alone in the kitchen gathering everything.

Her homemade meatloaf is usually my favorite, but the acrid taste in my mouth that Susie created completely killed my taste buds. What a fucking disappointment.

“Dear, why don’t you sit next to Susie so you can catch up.”

My mother points to the two chairs that are side by side.  She and my father are already sitting at the heads of the table, but there is absolutely no reason for us to be sitting next to each other. I don’t want to be anywhere near her to be honest.

“That’s alright, Ma. I can sit across from her. That’s close enough,” I say.

“Don’t be silly, Jordan.” My mother is still clueless. She doesn’t sense the hostility oozing from my pores.

“Darling, let your son sit where he would like.” My dad comes to my rescue.

My father obviously feels the tension and helps with subtly getting my mom to back off.

I grab the chair that is next to Susie then drag it around the table until I reach the other side. I then reach across and slide my place setting so that it is now in front of me.  My father hands me my wine glass, and I thank him with a nod.  He just smirks at my antics.

“So, Susie, what do you do?” my father asks, keeping the conversation light and neutral.

Susie tells my parents about working at the bank.  She relays a few funny stories about different customers but then starts on “the girl” that is at the window beside her, and my irritation rises.

Fortunately, my mother doesn’t focus on that. “And that’s where you two met?” she asks innocently.

“Yes,” she answers, “Actually, he comes in a few times a month and always comes to my window.” She smiles and I want to throw my mashed potatoes at her smug face.

If she only knew the real reason I go to her window and not Violet’s is because I am insanely attracted to Violet and am afraid of making an ass out of myself in front of her.  Plus, I wasn’t ready for a committed relationship at the time, and I would never offer a beautiful soul like Violet’s a one night stand. She’s worth more than that. And now, after spending quality time with her, I’d kill another man who tries to take her from me.

Suddenly, I hear a rustling under the table then feel her running her foot up the inside of my pant leg. What the ever-living fuck is she thinking? I glance across the table to give her a “what the fuck?” look, but all I see is a haughty smile, almost daring me to react. Apparently, she doesn’t think I would make a scene in front of my parents. I try to be subtle by scooting farther back so she can’t reach any higher. She is a manipulative bitch and I can’t stand another minute of this.

“Isn’t that right, Jordan?” she asks innocently, while trying to be flirty, and I am repulsed.

I throw her another nasty look across the table as I swat her left foot away from me.  She knows damn well that I don’t like her calling me Jordan, but I can’t correct her in front of my parents. I really don’t want to come off like a complete asshole in front of them if I don’t have to. But she is pushing my limits. Jesus! Trying to fondle me under the table while eating dinner at my parents’? She’s disrespectful and disgusting.

“Actually, I come every Wednesday. Same day, same time. Something you should know. Violet has no problem remembering,” I say resentfully, taking a cheap shot.

“Oh Violet?  Your Violet?  She works at the bank with you, Susie?” my mother asks.

“
Your
Violet?” Susie questions, raising an eyebrow. Hearing Violet’s name come out of Susie’s lips irritates the shit out of me.

“She’s a bit dowdy if you ask me,” Susie adds narcissistically.

“Nobody asked you,” I grind out.

“Jordan!” My mother scolds.

I over-dramatically throw my napkin onto the table.

“Ya know what? I’ve had enough. Sorry, Ma. Pop. The meatloaf was delicious; I can’t say I enjoyed the company.”

I stand up to make my way out.

“Jordan.” My mother tries to get me to stay.

“Let him go Angela. Dinner’s over.”

-6-

I’m almost done with what I need to do at Ragin’ Richards. Thank fucking god!  I think I may actually be able to wrap things up within a month, two the most.  There is some shady drug shit going on. Once I am able to find out who is supplying the garbage and who is selling it, I can clean house and get the club running legally. I mean, that is what I was sent to do – clean shit up and get their asses together.  Like I told you before, and as my old boss knows, and counts on, I like rules and structure.  I may blur them, but I never cross them.

The night I was late to work from being with Violet, I walked in on the manager arguing with some burly dude.  Bingo! It wasn’t a top level guy, looked more like an enforcer type. You know, the one who comes to break kneecaps, but it was more than I had learned the previous few months and I was ecstatic.  So I started snooping around more, asking questions.  It’s interesting the things you learn when you figure out the right people to ask.  Mainly the ones who have the most to lose – sick family members, young kids, child support payments, and school tuition. 

It’s been two long fucking weeks since our dinner date, a week since the disastrous surprise set-up with Susie, and I can’t wait another minute to see Violet.  I miss her and how light I feel when she is around, like nothing else matters. We have been talking on the phone every evening and texting throughout the day. We talk about everything from likes and dislikes to the weather and politics.  Interestingly, we haven’t touched too much upon family, friends, or jobs.  And of course, I haven’t had the balls yet to tell her what went down with Susie.  I know I need to tell her before Susie says something inappropriate or makes some shit up that isn’t true. But every time I try to tell her, I get distracted, or don’t want to ruin the moment. Tonight’s the night, I vow.

Sadly, I have been so busy at the club at night, and obviously, she works banking hours, so we haven’t been able to find time together.  But if I am able to get back to my old job sooner rather than later, then my time will free up dramatically.  She had actually requested for today, Thursday, off months ago for a dentist appointment this morning. So, instead of going in for a half-day, she decided to play hooky with me.  I’m so excited I can barely contain myself.

I make sure to arrive at Game Zone a few minutes early so Violet doesn’t have to wait for me.  My ulterior motive, I like watching her when she drives up and looks for me. I realized when she did that before our first date at the Brewery House, it gave me a secret thrill.  I also wanted the chance to check out what they have here, so I don’t look like a douche when she gets here reading the menu board, checking out our options.  Of course, she pulls up with a few minutes to spare, my punctual little flower.  As soon as I catch sight of her, my body reacts viscerally, sending my hormones into overdrive. I’m like a teenager around her, and the adrenaline rush thrills me. After working at the club all these months, I was starting to think I would never be able to get a hard on again. But this little fucking ray of sunshine has me turned inside out.

I walk over to her Mini Cooper – tiny and adorable, just like her…and her umbrella!  – and she already has one leg swinging out. And all I see is leg. Leg. And more leg. I think I’m going to come in my pants like the aforementioned teenager.  As I lean down to help her completely out of the car, I get a full view of her. Holy shit!  She is wearing a green tank top, which makes her bright green eyes sparkle like a perfect emerald. Her cut-off jean shorts emphasize her toned legs and taut ass, and her hot pink chucks remind me of her sense of humor and sass. And my favorite part, her shiny strawberry blonde hair, is in a braid cascading down one shoulder.  She looks delicious and I’m going to be the one suffering for it. I lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

“Hi, beautiful.”

“Hey back,” she answers, shyly.

“Are you trying to distract me so I can’t win?” I ask teasingly, trying to get her to relax a little.

“I don’t need to distract you.  I’m gonna beat your booty fair and square,” she challenges.

I laugh. “There’s my feisty girl.”  And there’s my favorite blush.

When I told her where we were going, I was hoping she wouldn’t protest like some of the other snooty women I’ve attempted to bring to a place like this.  Instead, she challenged me.  The little pisser got all competitive on me and challenged me to a round of mini golf.  I was so turned on that I had to take a cold shower just to get myself under control before I took the stage. Now I just have to decide whether to let her win. I grab her hand, thread my fingers through hers, and lead her inside.

“I like the nail polish,” I compliment.

“Thanks!” she chirps. “I went for a manicure with my mom over the weekend.”

“That must’ve been fun. You guys close?”

“Yeah, I actually live at home still,” she tells me hesitantly. “My parents are a little conservative and won’t let me live on my own until I’m married. My sisters still live at home, too.” She shrugs. I wonder if she’s a little embarrassed by it because it never came up in our texts or phone chats.

“That’s cool.  It’s nice that they still want to take care of you. I see my parents weekly.  We’re really close, too.”  Now would be the perfect time to tell her about Susie.  Don’t be a coward.

“Yeah, I guess. And I come and go as I please, but I still have them there if I need them. I don’t mind it much.  Just the lack of privacy gets to me sometimes. Do your parents live in South Miami near you?” she asks.

Shit, I’m not ready to tell her; I don’t want to ruin our date.  Plus, don’t want to talk much more about my personal life, so I answer vaguely before I change the subject. “Nope, more North. Do you want anything to eat or drink before we start our adventure?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks.  You want anything?” she asks, politely.

I raise her hand that I am holding in the air. “I’ve got all I want right here.”

She smiles shyly and I see my favorite blush again creeping its way up her neck. I better stop.  As much as I love watching her blush for me, I don’t want to be walking around Game Zone with a hard on. There are families here, and there is nothing I can do to relieve myself. I’m not going to be the creepy guy jerking off in the bathroom of a family friendly game place. Could you imagine that headline?  Anyway, since we are both ready to play, I need to find out what she wants to do.

“So they have video games, laser tag, bumper cars, batting cages, and miniature golf. We can do as much or little as you want.”

She just flashes me a look and I know exactly what she wants. “Mini golf it is. Care to place a wager, oh confident one?”

She starts chewing on her thumbnail, and I already know her tell so I make my own suggestion. “How about…if I win, I get to pick what we do on our next date. If you win, you get to choose.”

“So either way you win?”

I laugh. “You have me all figured out, huh?”

“Can’t get one past me.” She winks and we both chuckle.

“Okay, Tiger Woods, let’s do this!”

Seventeen holes later, and we are neck and neck. And to be honest, I couldn’t care less who wins because either way, we are going out again. Score one for me!  I am having so much fun that I completely forget how nervous I was earlier. Jordan puts me completely at ease. It’s like he knows exactly when I am nervous or need a little push. He keeps me laughing, and conversation with him is so easy. I really like him and that actually kicks my nerves up a notch. I want him so badly but am scared to death of getting him. I know it makes no sense, but it totally does in my head.

As we get to the last hole, the score is pretty close, almost tied. Actually, I’m winning by one.  I step up to the hole and he tries to distract me, but I’m not letting him get to me.  I may be a little timid, but I have a competitive edge to me as well.

“Come on, Tiger, you’ve got this,” he says encouragingly. 

I just smile and wink at him.

I take a few practice swings then hit the little blue ball pretty straight, but it stops inches from the hole.

“Dangit!”  I groan in frustration, but he just chuckles, calling me cute. 

I pretend like I’m offended, but I am eating it up on the inside.  It takes me one more stroke to get the ball in the hole.  Pretty pleased with myself, I show off with a fist pump, Arsenio Hall style.

“Eat your heart out, Mr. Taylor,” I tease.

He offers me a sexy smirk and I can’t decide if I want to run back over to him and jump him or hide from the blush creeping up my neck. 

I do the latter, of course.  Still standing down by the hole, close to the windmill, I’m waiting for him to go. I hold my arm out for him to play through, signaling to him it’s his turn. He squats down and eyeballs the hole then licks his thumb and tests the air.

“Who are you? Greg Norman?” I ask jokingly.

He stands up quickly and shoots me a questioning look.

“How do you know who Greg Norman is?  I thought you didn’t follow golf,” he asks.

“I don’t really, but I do read and watch TV, ya know?”

He nods in understanding. “Gotcha, but I’d much rather be compared to Phil Mickelson,” he tells me, a boyish smile gracing his face.

My mind starts to do its thing, and I just can’t stop it.  Like an unavoidable accident, the useless facts just spew from my lips.  “Why would you prefer to be compared to someone who was ranked #3? I mean, okay, maybe Phil had more wins than Norman, but Greg was the shit.  Not only was he ranked overall the #2 best player in the world, but he still has his own clothing line and…” I stop myself. Crap, there is no way Jordan is going to want date three after this.  Heck, once he learns about my condition, he’s not going to want to have anything to do with me.

“Tiger….Violet….Vi,” I hear him calling me.  I look up to confused hazel eyes.  Beautiful greenish-brownish eyes. I’m going to miss them when he tells me he no longer wants to see me.

“Oh...um…sorry, I was lost in thought,” I answer abashedly. 

“Where…I mean, how, did you know all of that?” he asks, and I can’t quite decide if he is annoyed or fascinated by me. 

“Just a really good memory, I guess,” I tell him, then make an exaggerated poke at my temple.

“Wow! That is impressive,” he tells me and I can feel myself breathe a little.  So he is not disgusted by me, that’s a start.

“Yeah, it came in handy in school.” I make light of it and change the subject. “So, you gonna take a swing, Phil? You need a hole in one to win and I don’t think Mickelson has ever beaten Tiger!” I mock.