Malley kept his eyes on the street. “Don’t park in front. Pull around the back and knock on the kitchen window. You sure your mama’s home?”
Leslie swung the car around. “It’s Saturday. Lunchtime. Where else would she be?” She backed the Buick into her mom’s yard and popped opened the rusty trunk. She left the keys in the ignition.
Malley put on his cap and jacket with the collar up. He unloaded the bags while Leslie walked quickly up the stairs to her mom’s back door and tapped on the window. They had finally showed up with pampers and milk and a week’s worth of dirty laundry.
Malley waited by the car just in case someone other than Betty looked out the window. Leslie signaled him over.
Betty opened the back door and stood guard in the doorway. She was short and wide and wore a bright floral housedress that clung tight around her thick biceps and hinged up past her knees. She looked ready for battle.
“You must be out yo mind!” she said loud enough to startle the neighbor’s dog across the street. “You runnin’ ‘roun’ hidin’ from the police while I had to git the County to help take care of yo babies!”
“Mama, I know,” Leslie said while trying to work her way around Betty. “I promise we’ll pay you back.”
Malley climbed the stairs and just stood there.
Betty looked at the bags. “How you git the money this time?” she asked.
“Betty, I know we messed up, but I swear Leslie and I didn’t steal from that man or hurt him. CJ had to be high, and it all went wrong.”
Betty said nothing, and Leslie sat down on the porch and nervously tugged at her ponytail.
Malley put down the bags and pleaded, “Betty, all I need is just a few hours here to think, then I’ll go to my place.”
“And then what? You got plans for Leslie and the babies?”
“Mama, my apartment came through this morning in Richmond,” Leslie said as she stood up. “Me and the boys can move in next week, and I found a job too.”
Betty stepped aside and let her in. She blocked the door again when Malley picked up the bags.
“I swear, Betty, just a few hours,” he pleaded again.
Betty finally allowed him in but scowled at the laundry bag he left on the porch.
***
Olivia held out the spoon and tucked one hand under it to catch any drippings. “Be honest, how is it this time?” Olivia, with Grandma Rita’s help, had been honing her culinary skills so she could impress Maureen.
Maureen tried the marinara sauce once more. “Another dash of oregano,” she said as she took parmesan bread out of Olivia’s oven and stirred a pitcher of ice tea. Maureen confessed to being hopeless at cooking but an expert at ordering takeout and microwaving popcorn.
“Okay, one more taste test,” Olivia said. This was her third try at making a sauce that didn’t taste like ketchup. She held the spoon again as Maureen took a taste. She watched and felt a tingle behind her ears that ran down her back.
“Mmm! Pour it on the spaghetti and let’s eat.”
“The bread smells good. Where’d you get it?” Olivia asked as she sat across from Maureen.
“I stopped by a bakery in Richmond.” Maureen broke off a piece and dipped it in her sauce. She reached across the table and offered to place it in Olivia’s mouth.
Olivia got that tingling feeling again and, for a second, forgot to chew as she looked into those brown eyes smiling at her. She managed to say, “Keep doing that, Ms. Jeffries, and we’ll never finish lunch.” But those same brown eyes told her that Maureen was just getting started.
“Did you know some people say tomatoes are a ‘feel good’ food?” Maureen asked. She soaked a larger piece this time and took a bite before offering the rest to Olivia.
Olivia opened her mouth and took it in.
Maureen used her thumb and forefinger to wipe Olivia’s lips and slowly wiped her own with the same fingers. “Feeling good, Miss Winston?” she asked.
Olivia blushed as a heat wave moved down her back and across her thighs.
Maureen laughed and reached out to hold Olivia’s hand.
“If tomatoes make you flirt like this, I’m starting my own garden next spring,” Olivia said.
“It’s easy flirting with you.” Maureen entwined her fingers with Olivia’s.
Olivia squeezed Maureen’s hand and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t resist flirting back. “I think I’ve heard one or two things about tomatoes too,” she said.
“Really? Tell me.”
“I’ve heard that just one bite of a tomato makes you want to kiss the woman sitting across from you.” Olivia waited for approval. Until now, she and Maureen had shared only light kisses on the cheek and brief hugs at the end of their dates. Their sexual attraction was strong but restrained. Neither wanted to move too fast or create any expectations.
“I’ve heard the same,” Maureen said.
Approved. Olivia, seizing the moment, released Maureen’s hand and stood. She stepped closer until she was looking down at the gorgeous, brown woman. She bent and brushed her lips over Maureen’s slightly open mouth and pressed gently until she felt Maureen’s mouth open wider. She opened wider too and felt Maureen’s hand on the back of her head. The kiss was deep.
Olivia pulled away slowly and saw a familiar sparkle in Maureen’s eyes.
Maureen rose out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Olivia. She then whispered in Olivia’s ear, “My turn.” She ran her hands down Olivia’s back and up to her shoulders.
Olivia pressed closer. Nothing compared to feeling Maureen’s breasts touching hers. The soft beat between her legs was telling her so.
Maureen kissed Olivia on her ear and cheek and brushed the tip of her tongue across Olivia’s brow. She continued down to Olivia’s nose and lips where she used her tongue to open Olivia’s mouth and slide inside.
Olivia heard herself moan as her tongue rubbed against Maureen’s. She could feel Maureen’s firm thighs pressing against her and realized she might come right there.
Maureen slowly removed her tongue and brushed her lips against Olivia’s. She whispered again, “We need more tomatoes.”
Olivia laughed. One quick kiss was followed by another. “Our spaghetti’s getting cold,” she said.
Maureen licked her lips. “I’m still hot. Let’s do this again for dessert.”
***
Malley was nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen sink and could hear Leslie on the bedroom phone talking to her cousin who was babysitting Leslie’s kids. Leslie was still too paranoid to use her cell phone. They had been at Betty’s for four hours--long enough to use most of the hot water taking showers and running the washing machine.
Malley heard the floorboards creak and knew it was Betty approaching. She arrived at the archway between the kitchen and living room and stood with her hands on her hips.
“I need to git some rest then go to work. When you leavin’?” Betty asked as she looked at Malley and waited for an answer.
Malley looked at the cheap, faded clock on the wall. It was a minute before five. He downed his coffee and snatched his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair. “I’ll take Leslie to see the babies on my way home.”
Malley hadn’t been back to the trailer since CJ was arrested. He had been to the house several times by taking a back road and walking up through the woods. The house set back on a wooded lot separate from the trailer, and neither was visible from the main road.
The senior Malcolm Henry had built their home with his bare hands a year before Malley was born. It was a classic three-bedroom log cabin with a stone fireplace and a ceiling that boasted large, wooden support beams. And a vegetable garden took up the entire backyard. Nobody would have guessed that Lucille Henry, a former schoolteacher from Danville, had home-schooled her three boys there. She had kept her sons in line.
She and Malcolm, Sr., had also kept their boys close at hand--so close that the family never set foot in Mr. Brooks’ ‘Grand Central Station’ post office and had stayed off the local rumor mill radar.
The Henrys had good reason to be reclusive. They were an interracial couple in the Commonwealth and hoped Goslyn was a safe place to settle and start a family. Malcolm, Sr., after a brief stint as an Army engineer, had worked days as a farm hand and nights as a moonshine runner until he could afford the private wooded lots. He used any extra money to make low interest loans to county officials who regularly “misplaced” taxpayer dollars and to businessmen who blew their profits in card games before they made it home to their wives. The loans gave some guarantee that any locals, troubled by a white man living with a black woman, wouldn’t harass him and Lucille.
They still had a good life after Malcolm, Sr.’s, death twenty years ago. Ronnie and Calvin were in their early twenties and Malley in his mid-thirties. Malley, taught by his dad how to build a house from the ground up, used his skills to help support the family.
Lucille Henry maintained a decent life for her sons, and all three continued to live at home. But she wanted CJ, her youngest, to be more independent. So she bought a trailer for him to live in on the other lot. After her death five years ago, CJ slowly lost his way despite help from Malley. Ronnie dabbled in get-rich-quick schemes and went off on his own. Malley, as the oldest, felt like he had failed his parents by not keeping his brothers together. He used beer to drown the guilt--guilt that grew deeper each time he had to manhandle CJ after catching him rummaging through the house for money to buy drugs. Life at the Henry home was nothing like it used to be.
Malley put on his jacket and picked up the bag of pampers. Leslie quickly packed her things and kissed her mom on the cheek. She opened the back door but turned before stepping out.
“It’ll be okay, mama,” she said. “I promise.”
Malley forced himself to look Betty in the eye. He had no idea how things would turn out. He was sure of only two things--that he would do anything to stay out of jail and that he desperately wanted another drink.
“Take care, Betty,” he said. He followed Leslie and closed the door behind him.
***
“Think you have an ice cream addiction?” Maureen asked as she and Olivia left the grocery store.
“For any kind that’s got chocolate in it,” Olivia said.
Lunch had ended with more flirting and kissing and had left Maureen craving for something sweet. She easily talked Olivia into making a junk food run. Hershey Kisses and a half-gallon of royal fudge would be dessert as she and Olivia planned to spend rest of the day watching a classic movie channel.
“What’s your favorite movie of all time?” Maureen asked on the way back to her car.
“The original Heat of the Night with Sidney Poitier,” Olivia said.
“Good one. I also like him in Buck and the Preacher.”
“So do I, but don’t ever mention that to my grandma. She thinks Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is the best movie he ever made. “What’s your favorite movie?” Olivia asked.
“Inherit the Wind with Spencer Tracy.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”
“We can watch the DVD at my place next week,” Maureen said.
Olivia’s phone rang just as she tore open the Hershey bag. “Hey, partner. Don’t tell me you’re in the squad room on a Saturday?”
“Painting the garage was supposed to be a family affair until everybody bailed on me,” Marcus said. “I came in to finish going through that stuff we got from Betty Collins. I got a message from the front desk that your plainclothes friends spotted a man and a woman pulling out of the alley behind Betty’s house. They think it was Malley and Leslie. The man dropped the woman off at a 7-Eleven.”
“I owe them big,” Olivia said. She glanced over at Maureen and knew their plans were about to change.
“They couldn’t get a clear look at the tags and lost him somewhere off of Bailwick,” Marcus said. “I think I know where he’s headed though.”
Olivia could hear Marcus flipping pages.
“I found pieces of torn up letters from the County Tax Assessor’s Office. They look like past due notices for taxes owed by a Lucille Henry--two lots located on Government Road. Had you chased CJ another fifty yards into those woods, you would’ve been on Malley’s front doorstep.”
“You mean the dirt road where he crashed the van?” Olivia noticed Maureen was on the street that led directly to the county’s police department. “Hold on a second, Marcus.” She looked at Maureen, “You can drop me off, and I’ll get a ride home.”
“No way. I wanna play too. You guys have a freezer for the royal fudge?”