Someone to Watch Over Me (22 page)
Read Someone to Watch Over Me Online
Authors: Michelle Stimpson
Chapter 23
“A
re you absolutely, positively sure?” Lexa's line of questioning vexed me to no end.
re you absolutely, positively sure?” Lexa's line of questioning vexed me to no end.
“Yes. I'm sure about this data. I've considered every demographicâethnicity, age group, geographic location, income, etcetera.” I lowered my speed on the treadmill so I could hear her better. Maybe I shouldn't have informed Lexa I had a phone signal.
She sighed heavily. “If you say so, I guess I'll have to just . . . trust you on this one, Tori.”
I was sick of her asking for my expertise and then second-guessing my proficiency. “Do what you want to do, Lexa. Adios.”
I really didn't have time to fool with her anyway. We were only a day away from launching Dottie's Throwbacks as a proactive attack against the Walmart scheduled to open the following week. In preparation, I'd made copies of flyers and worked in the back office, constructing an obnoxious floor display for the bargain of the day. The town's newspaper had been kind enough to run a story about the upcoming daily special sales, so people were chomping at the bit for the announcement of the first deal.
I wanted to be excited, for Cassandra's sake, but in actuality, I held onto hope that when Aunt Dottie fully recovered and realized she needed to slow down, she would liquidate. Maybe even move back to Houston with me.
I hadn't talked to Kevin directly in weeks. We texted regarding logistics only. He asked me twice when I would be home again.
Not sure
, I replied.
Not sure
, I replied.
Need 2 know. Lost without you.
How could he be lost without me when he was hardly ever home? I have to admit, however, part of me wished that he would come running to Bayford, knock on Aunt Dottie's door, beg me to forgive him for taking our relationship for granted, then bend down on one knee and pop the question. Not that I would say yes, just that it would be nice to be treasured. Or at least be somebody's one-that-got-away. Selfish, I know. Fact was, I assumed, at some level, we had already broken up minus the formal announcement. It's kind of hard to break up something that obviously never really meant anything to one party in the relationship. Still, it hurt to say good-bye in my heart.
How could he be lost without me when he was hardly ever home? I have to admit, however, part of me wished that he would come running to Bayford, knock on Aunt Dottie's door, beg me to forgive him for taking our relationship for granted, then bend down on one knee and pop the question. Not that I would say yes, just that it would be nice to be treasured. Or at least be somebody's one-that-got-away. Selfish, I know. Fact was, I assumed, at some level, we had already broken up minus the formal announcement. It's kind of hard to break up something that obviously never really meant anything to one party in the relationship. Still, it hurt to say good-bye in my heart.
Two years down the drain.
Jacob stopped by the store during his early lunch break. Since this would, hopefully, be one of our last slow mornings, I figured it best to take him up on his offer for brunch. “I've missed seeing you on church grounds now that the tower is in place.”
One of our regular customers, Miss McDermott, passed an all-knowing glance over Jacob and me. She sang under her breath, “Looks like love is in the air.”
Jacob and I transported our conversation to the next aisle. “Can you get away for an hour or so?” he pressed.
Cassandra and Elgin said they could handle things at the store. Cassandra mocked, “Don't ever let it be said I blocked Cupid's route.”
Were it not for the very technological innovation that relieved me from the church parking lot, I wouldn't have had the luxury of a few free hours in the middle of the day. But as the Walmart windfall would have it, NetMarketing had become a virtual breeze. I still had a full load. However, learning to prioritize under fire had paid off greatly. What used to take me an entire eight or nine hours a day only took me five now. I amazed myself, quite honestly.
As Jacob and I rode several miles outside city limits to this mystery location, I wondered how far this rumor about the two of us had traveled. Joenetta knew. Cassandra knew, though I could easily trace her information's path. She was, after all, Jacob's first cousin. Aw, who was I kidding? Everybody in Bayford was kin. This might have given me reason to investigate Jacob's lineage further if I had been related to the Lesters by blood.
Jacob's undisclosed location turned out to be a TGIF establishment. He laughed as we walked through the door. “I know it's not an exclusive steak house, but have you tried their sizzling chicken and cheese?”
I shook my head, knowing I couldn't stomach a heavy meal this early in the morning. “Sounds good, but I'm gonna have to pass.”
We were seated in a booth almost immediately.
“All right,” Jacob joked, “have your bunny rabbit salad, but don't ask me for half my food later.”
I rolled my eyes. “I won't.”
We talked some about DeAndre's wretched baseball team and their 1â5 record.
“I tell them over and over,” Jacob dramatically lamented, “when you hit the ball, don't sit there and watchârun to first base, man!”
Jacob's frustration gave us both cause for laughter. “Seems like some of these kids haven't seen one baseball game in action their entire lives. Not even on television. I don't know how to teach them things they've never observed.”
I took the opportunity to encourage Jacob. “Don't be too hard on yourself, Coach. You're doing a great job with the boys.”
“I could say the same about you with DeAndre. Which brings me to one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I heard back from his other grandmother.”
“She called you?”
“Yes, and I tried to give her your number, but she wouldn't accept it.”
Okaaay?
“What did she say?”
“What did she say?”
“She said wherever DeAndre is now, he needs to stay put. Said her daughter needed a child like she needed a hole in her head.”
“Wow. That's pretty harsh, coming from her own mother.”
“I told you, Z's family is different. This woman talked about her own daughter like the girl was a dog. I can only imagine the kind of verbal abuse Z must have suffered.”
“Did you get to ask her about visitation?”
He shook his head. “We didn't make it that far. She must have thought I was calling to ask for financial help with DeAndre. She spent five minutes talking about how broke she was and what a hard time she had raising her other daughter's children. Matter of fact, she asked
me
for money by the end of our talk. When I told her I couldn't help her, she promptly called me a hypocrite and hung up the phone.”
me
for money by the end of our talk. When I told her I couldn't help her, she promptly called me a hypocrite and hung up the phone.”
“Are you serious?”
Blank gaze. “As a heart attack.”
“That is so wild, Jacob.”
“You tellin' me?”
Our waiter, an older Asian woman with a high-pitched voice, laid our plates before us. “Here you go, folks.”
Jacob blessed the food and prayed a special prayer for the Simpsons.
After amen, I resumed. “So, I guess that's a no for visiting DeAndre's mom?”
“As far as I know.”
There had to be another way. “I wonder if we can writeZ a letter and ask her to add us to her visitors' list.”
He shrugged. “I guess that's an option, if her mother will give you the prison address and her inmate ID number.”
“Prison records are public information. Has to be somewhere on the state's Department of Corrections Web site.”
Jacob shook his head. “I'll bet you look up everything on the Internet, don't you?”
“Mmmm . . . not necessarily.”
“Have you Googled me?” he flirted.
“No. Should I?”
“Maybe. I Googled you.”
Both my eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
“I wanted to know more about you. You're everywhere. LinkedIn, Myspace, Facebookâalthough you really do need to update your status notifications. You haven't been on in months.”
“Haven't had time. Plus my employer has advised us to stay off those social media sites for personal use. I've already blocked information that might be remotely personal. Back up, though.” I gave him the stop-sign hand. “What's up with all the private investigation?”
“Wanted to make sure you didn't have a criminal record.” He couldn't hold a straight face for long. “I don't know. I was just playing around on the Internet one day and thought it would be fun to see what old Tori Henderson's been up to. Nice profile pictures, by the way.”
I wriggled under his gaze. “Thank you.” Suddenly, my salad needed eating. Jacob followed my lead and took a bite of his onion-layered chicken dish. Cheese didn't rank high on my list of desires, but there was something enticing about the food on Jacob's plate. I must have looked at his cuisine too long.
“Tori, take a bite.”
We'd been through this before, might as well. “Just a little piece.”
“Go for it.”
I stuck my fork and knife into his entrée, mentally calculating how many minutes this tidbit would cost me in workout currency.
Worth every minute. “I can't dine with you or your family too oftenâI'd have to live on my treadmill.”
“Naaa,” he disagreed. “Every woman ought to have a little meat on her bones.”
“What are you trying to say?”
He shifted nervously. “Nothing, nothing. You're fine the way you are.”
“You think I've got meat on my bones?”
“No. Um, yes. You do have
some
meat.”
some
meat.”
“Clean it up,” I admonished him.
“Oh, you crack me up,” he said with a laugh. “I like you, Tori.”
“I like you, too, Jacob. You're cool with me.”
His smile morphed into a serious flatline. “I don't mean in a âcool' way.”
Maybe it was time we put it all on the table. For real, Jacob had to be one of the most coveted bachelors in Bayford. No way was he eyeing me, and no way was I in the running for a preacher, no matter how attractive, fun, and caring he was.
“Jacob, I can't like you as . . . more than a friend. To be honest, I
do
like you as more than a friend, but I'm soooo . . . not . . . preacher's girlfriend material.”
do
like you as more than a friend, but I'm soooo . . . not . . . preacher's girlfriend material.”
He kept his mouth shut, too busy chewing to respond.
“I mean, you're all . . . holy. Your father is a preacher. Your grandfather was a preacher, too. I saw his picture in the church foyer.”
“And?” Jacob interrogated.
“And you come from this long heritage of preachers, men and women of God. When I'm around you, I have to totally forget you're a preacher in order to be comfortable. I have to think of you as Jacob Carterâfootball player. Jacob Carterâboy who sat beside me in Spanish two class.”
“I sat
behind
you in Spanish two,” he interrupted.
behind
you in Spanish two,” he interrupted.
“Behind me?”
“Yeah. You wore your hair in one of those diagonal, architecture styles.” He made a triangle with his hands. “And you had this one long section in the back. What was that style?”
“We called it an asymmetrical mushroom, and it was the bomb, thank you very much,” I declared for the record.
“For real, you kept your do in check every day. Never a hair out of place.”
“Is it safe to assume you were watching me?”
He winked at me. Giddy heat swooshed through my circulatory system.
“So anyway, like I was explaining . . .” I cleared my throat. “I can't
date
you date you, if that's what you're asking.”
date
you date you, if that's what you're asking.”
“Depends on your definition of dating,” Jacob chided. “According to the Bayford grapevine, we're already a couple.”
“I'll bet your mom is having a cow.”
Jacob nearly choked.
See there, what kind of mess is this? Who in their right mind accuses the church's first lady of having a cow?
“I'm sorry.”
“I'm sorry.”
He took a swig of water. “No, no need to apologize. I can assure you, she has given birth to many cows on many occasions.”
Eased by his joke, shame subsided.
“My mom knows I respect her opinion, but I'm a grown man with a mind of my own. Plus, she's changed.”
“How so?”
“She's not as judgmental as she used to be.”
“What changed her?”
“The Word. Study, meditate, and apply it long enough, it'll change anybody for good.”
“You're doing it again,” I stopped him.
“Doing what?”
“Going into preacher mode. This is when I have a hard time seeing you as . . . someone who's regular.”
“You think I sit up at night reading the Bible and praying?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You're right. I do,” he confirmed.
“Thanks, Jacob. That really helps,” I kidded.
He held up a finger. “But, eventually, I go to the restroom, brush my teeth, get ready for bed. Might watch me a little
Sanford and Son
before I hit the sack.”
Sanford and Son
before I hit the sack.”
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