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Authors: Terra Little

Running From Mercy (15 page)

BOOK: Running From Mercy
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Turning to other women seemed the lesser of two evils, and it was the route he had opted to take. His first affair was with a woman he'd met while attending a teaching conference in Atlanta, and theirs was a week-long, mutually satisfying fling. After that, he had carried on a three-year affair with a woman from East Point and then she'd decided she wanted more than he was willing to give and they had parted ways. The last woman he'd been involved with was a recent transplant to the area, a teacher at the high school he was inexplicably drawn to. She lived forty miles away in Juilienne, was single, and had gone out of her way to let him know she was interested. He was seven months into an affair with her before it dawned on him that he was drawn to her because of the way her hair flowed down her back when it was loose and because of her lips. They were large and plump. Like Pam's.
She hadn't demanded any more of Chad than he could or would give and, just six months ago, she told him she'd met someone and wanted to see where the relationship might go. Chad had wished her well and backed off.
He swallowed another mouthful of liquor as he thought of the woman now, recalled that she had approached him after Paris's funeral and suggested he call her sometime. But by then he knew that Pam was nearby, and all thoughts of other women had gone flying right out of his mind. They were all nice women and he'd cared about each of them in his own way, but he was reasonable enough to admit that having them had been a means to an end. For him, Pam was always the beginning, the middle, and the end. And now she was back and just as unreachable as she'd been for the last eighteen years. Close enough to touch, see, and smell, but still so far away.
Lust was eating at him when he rolled out of bed this morning, was sinking its teeth in his flesh as he went to work and tried to concentrate on deciding which extracurricular activities he would approve and which ones would have to be cut from the budget. It was wriggling around in his gut by the time he returned home and debated with Nikki over what to have for dinner. Finally he'd narrowed his options down to either locking himself in his room and relieving himself, driving out to the B&B and throwing himself at Pam's mercy, or fixing himself a drink and drowning his lust until it went away. He'd finally settled on the drink.
Chad found himself chuckling over his predicament. He swallowed more cognac, chased it with water, and threw his head back as the liquid slid down his throat. He rocked back on the hind legs of his chair and stayed that way for several seconds, studying the slatted porch ceiling and noticing a crack that he needed to repair.
Then he came forward in his chair, set his glass down with a soft thump and saw her standing on the steps outside the storm door, staring at him. In the here and now, his senses went on full alert, but his mind took him back in time. He stared at her and remembered . . .
“Come on, come on, come on,” a twenty-year-old Chad chanted impatiently. He was yanking at the hem of Pam's halter-top, anxious to have it up and over her head. “Hurry
up
, Pam. Damn, I think I'm dying here.”
Pam giggled as she shimmied out of her skirt and kicked it out of the way. She slipped her fingers inside the rim of her panties and lowered them slowly. “You act like you're starving.” She gasped as he dropped to his haunches and took her panties with him. His mouth fastened on her crotch, her head slammed back against the wall, and a long hiss escaped her lips. He knew just what to do to make her come quickly and violently.
Chad stood and pulled his T-shirt over his head. His jeans were barely unfastened and out of his way when he pressed Pam against the wall and lifted her for his entry. As she sank onto him, his mouth fell open in ecstasy. He held himself still and helped her out of her halter-top and then he palmed her breasts to bring to his mouth.
“I
am
starving,” he growled, then sucked her breast deep in his mouth. “All damn week I've been thinking about this. I missed you, baby. You miss me?” He was a freshman in college and she was a junior in high school, so he made the drive from Atlanta back to Mercy at least twice a week to see her. This week he'd had finals and could only come on the weekend.
“Yes,” Pam shrieked as he began moving inside her.
She lifted a leg and hooked it high on his waist, rocked forward to meet his powerful thrusts. “Oh, that feels so good. Don't stop.”
“I'm never stopping,” Chad vowed hoarsely. Sweat beaded on his brow, a signal to Pam that his release was near. She reached up and smoothed it away with the palms of her hands, then gripped his shoulders to steady herself. “You hear me, Pam? I'm never stopping.”
Pam took his tongue in her mouth when he offered it to her and went with the orgasm as it smacked into her and left her breathless. Seconds later, Chad was shouting into her mouth, telling her that he had arrived, too.
They were spread out on the couch with Pam straddling Chad's lap, making love again, when Jasper entered his apartment and caught them in the act. He came up short, looked from Chad to Pam, and then averted his eyes as he walked across the living room and into his bedroom.
“Oh my God,” Pam cried, covering her breasts with her hands, though she was a day late and a dollar short. She hopped up and raced around the room, gathering her clothes and trying to pull them on at the same time.
“Okay, so, I'll go in there and talk to him.” Slightly irritated at being interrupted, Chad stood and stepped into his jeans. He was still hard and it took a few seconds of shifting around before he was able to situate himself and yank the zipper up. He hustled Pam toward the door. “Go downstairs and find something to do. I'll be down in a minute.”
“He said he wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning.” She paced in a small circle and pushed her hands through her hair. “I can't believe he saw my tits.
God, Chad. Shit
. I'm probably fired now.”
Chad cupped a hand around her neck, brought her mouth to his and kissed her softly. “I know, and his timing is really fucked up on top of that. I was just about to come.” He opened the door and nudged her out of it. “Fix your hair. Go downstairs and wait for me.”
Twenty minutes later, Chad came jogging down the steps and met Pam in the hallway. She hopped up from the bench she was sitting on and damn near knocked him over. “What did he say?”
“He said you're not fired, but that he
is
getting his locks changed first thing in the morning,” Chad said and burst out laughing.
Back from his trip down memory lane, Chad was chuckling to himself as he rose from his chair in slow motion and went to unlock the storm door. Pam heard the lock slide free and hesitated before pulling the door open and stepping onto the porch. She'd been out driving around and had somehow found herself here.
“Where's Nikki?” she whispered.
“I hope she's asleep. Did you park in the driveway?”
“Down the street. I came through the back way.”
“Up the alley?”
“Yeah. Damn cat came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. I'm out of practice for sneaking around in the dark.”
“You used to be so good at it.” He slid his arms around her shoulders to lock the storm door and then used them to pull her into his body. “Why are you sneaking around in the dark anyway?”
Pam slipped her hands underneath the hem of his shirt and skimmed her fingers along the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a sharp breath and let his head fall forward to rest against hers. They stared into each other's eyes.
“This is wrong,” she finally said.
“Is it?” He caught her lips with his own and spread them wide for his tongue, walking her around in a circle as he kissed her. He backed her against the wall and pulled her skirt up around her waist. He hissed from behind his teeth when he discovered she was wearing thongs rather than panties.
“Nikki might wake up, Chad.”
“Damn, I hope not. I might have to kill her.” Chad dealt with his pants and pressed into Pam urgently. “We'll be quiet. Damn . . . make love to me, Pam.”
TWELVE
The festival at Truman Field was in full swing by the time Pam pulled her car into an illegal parking space on the dry cleaner's lot across the street and climbed out. She slipped dark sunglasses over her eyes and leaned her butt against the car door to watch the commotion. The mood of the crowd would dictate whether she crossed the street and ventured into the fray or went scurrying back to her room.
The setup was just as she remembered it: carnival rides spaced out all over the field with food carts in between and children running wild, from one ride to the next. Parents trotting along behind them, glancing at their watches and counting the hours until bedtime. Until it was time for the real fun to begin. After dark and their children weren't around to bear witness, the adults swarmed to the rides, swapped bullshit stories from yesteryear, and cackled like idiots the whole time. Free-flowing beer and wine kept anyone from noticing the mosquitoes or the teenagers sneaking off into the woods in pairs. It was the one time of the year when hatchets were buried and people kicked back and let loose.
The smell of roasting hot dogs and barbecue was heavy in the air, and a nose full of the tantalizing aromas had Pam's stomach growling. If her nose was telling her right, Jasper and a few of the other old heads were manning the grills and putting their feet in them in the process. She knew she wouldn't leave without indulging in at least one hot dog and maybe two cups of homemade ice cream. If Miss Loretta still made it using her secret recipe, she might have to have three cups.
An involuntary smile curved Pam's lips as the Ferris wheel swung up in the air and spun a load of screaming kids around. She remembered quite clearly the rush of being hoisted into the air, suspended for long seconds before excitement took over and the big squeaky machine started rolling around in circles. Other kids had always looked down into the crowd and picked out faces to wave at, but she and Paris had held on to each other for dear life and whispered back and forth inside their cage. For them, there was no one in the crowd to search for and wave at.
Pam crossed the street slowly and skirted the crowd gathering near the curb patiently waiting in line for cotton candy. Several heads turned in her direction, and she pretended not to see them as she moved deeper into the flock of bodies. She followed her nose over to the barbecue grills and studied the balding heads stooped over them until she found the one she was looking for. It was almost the only one with sprigs of hair still attached to it. Just as she had suspected, Jasper was surrounded by smoke, flipping slabs of ribs and dabbing on sauce like he had eight hands instead of two.
“You save me a hot dog, old man?” Pam asked across the dome of a giant smoker.
Jasper looked up and grinned around the cigarette parked between his lips. He speared a blackened hot dog, held it out for her to bite into and then popped the rest in his own mouth. “Took you long enough to get here, gal.”
“Nikki wouldn't let it rest, so I figured I had to at least show my face,” she said. “How come you're not wearing the Uncle Sam costume you always wear to the festival?”
“Ain't wore that thing in five years,” he grunted. He pulled his apron over his head and called out for someone to take over his grill, then came around to meet Pam. “They got me doing the announcements now. You want a beer?”
She shook her head, looking at him in shock. “You mean they actually talked you into being the emcee?” He rolled his eyes at her and took off walking toward a nearby concession stand. She ran to catch up with him and hooked her arm through his. “That means you have to sing the anthem, Jasper. Damn, I'm glad I came now.”
“I'll let you do the singing, if it's all right with you. You know I can't hold a note.” He ordered a beer and slid a sideways glance at her.
“How many beers have you had?”
“This is my first one.” He watched her squirm around as he slurped foam from the rim of his cup. She looked in one direction, then the other, touched her glasses and swallowed no less than three times. Her mouth worked, but no sound emerged. He knew he'd put her on the spot, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The idea to ask her to sing had been in his head all day and now that she was here, he planned to see to it that she did. “You can do the Negro National Anthem. Always liked to hear you sing that when you was working at the funeral home.”
“You eavesdropped on me?” she croaked.
“Every chance I got. You gonna do it or not?”
“Jasper, you know the last thing these people want is to hear me sing. Half of them won't even speak to me.”
“These people are your people, Pam. That's why they so pissed off at you. Well . . . most of 'em, anyway. Pearline Dennis probably still mad about her husband chasing you around town like he didn't know he had a wife and seven kids at home, but that's neither here nor there.” He took a hefty sip of beer and swallowed it slowly. It was ice cold and smooth going down after a long morning behind the grills. “Most of the old folks is giving you the cold shoulder 'cause they think you done forgot where you came from and you done forgot them. You gotta kiss a little ass to make it up to 'em.”
“Can you blame me for wanting to forget, Jasper?” Pam hissed.
He put up a hand to ward her off. “I didn't say
I
felt that way. I just said some of the old heads was a little up in arms over the fact that you never came back. You sing their song for 'em and they might be willing to forgive you.”
“Oh please,” she flapped a hand, irritated. She turned away from him and looked over the crowd, noticing almost every pair of eyes that skirted away when hers shifted toward them. “I'm leaving next month. Did I tell you that?”
“Ask me why I ain't surprised? What's that got to do with you singing for me, Pam?”
“I need to get out of here, Jasper.” She stepped closer and searched his eyes. “You know it's not the people. They don't know, but you do. This place is making me crazy.”
“Okay, so you gotta go and you will. I understand that, but they don't. All they want to do is hear you say you're from Mercy. That's it. Sing for ‘em a little bit, so they can stop pestering me and leave me the hell alone.”
“What are they bothering you about?”
“Let me think for minute.” He looked around when someone called his name and lifted his beer in greeting. “Verna mentioned something about thinking you would've at least came in and let her see to your hair while you was here, but you haven't so much as darkened her doorstep, even though she used to see to your hair all the time when you was a girl. Willie been bitching about the fact that you done ate at Hayden's round about twice now and he ain't had to run you out of his kitchen once, like he used to have to do. And Merlene going around talking about how she used to have to run you out of her front room back in the day, but you ain't came by to sit a spell with her, yet.”
“They're mad with me about silly shit like that?”
Jasper nodded. “And you walk around with them dark glasses on, like you ashamed of where you're at.”
“That's bullshit.” But she reached up and snatched the glasses off of her face. She hooked them in the vee of her shirt and looked away from him. “And I can't believe you're listening to it.”
“Small as this town is, you can't help but listen to gossip, gal. You know that yourself.”
Her face was turned away from him, but he didn't need to see it to know that she was pissed off. He poked her in her side gently and made her look at him. “But you know I don't contribute to it, Pam. Quit acting like you mad with me and look here. I ever told you something wrong?”
“No,” she sniffed reluctantly, not quite ready to give in.
“I'm telling you right now, too. You left 'cause you had to leave, I know that. They don't, so show 'em you ain't forgot about them whilst you was off in big old fancy Cal
ee
fornia.”
“I didn't bring my guitar,” she said several seconds later, and Jasper knew he had her then.
Wisely, he hid the grin threatening to take over his lips and concentrated on drinking more of his beer. “I think Willie brought his, if I ain't mistaken. That old tired-ass band of his is playing later on. You ask nicely and he might let you use it.”
“I might just use it to conk his old ass over the head,” she snapped.
Jasper shook his head and cracked up, his gut bouncing with the force of his laughter. “That's the Pam I know,” he said, still chuckling. “Now things is back like they used to be.” He gave her a gentle push away from him, tipping his head in the direction he wanted her to look. “Go on over there and tend to your fans. I'm going back to my grill, but I'll call you when I'm ready for you, so don't pull no disappearing act on me.”
Pam glanced over her shoulder and did a double take. A small group of teenagers were standing around trying to look like they weren't waiting for her to look in their direction and failing miserably at it. She winked at Jasper and then took casual steps over to them. Halfway there, she stopped and stared at one of the teens like she was seeing a ghost.
“You're the spitting image of Josephine Henry,” Pam told the boy she was staring at. She took in his pecan-brown skin and close-cropped hair, his dimpled cheeks and wide smile and shook her head. She'd know that face anywhere. She and Josie Henry had gotten into their share of trouble together in high school and had a ball doing it. His face was so exactly like his mother's that it was like seeing double.
“Yes ma'am, I'm Jon. I go to school with Nikki.” He stepped forward and thrust a CD case at her. “She gave me a CD she said you signed, but I want to make sure I got the real deal. Could you sign this one, please?”
“Planning on auctioning it off on eBay?” Pam teased as she unfolded the paper insert and scrawled her name across her picture. She slid him a look from the corner of her eye and saw him blush to the roots of his hair. “I'm just kidding, Jon,” she laughed and looped an arm through his. He swallowed loud enough for her to hear and be flattered. “You're precious. Introduce me to your friends.”
As she stood there signing autographs, posing for photos, and talking with the kids, more kids and a few adults approached her. One of the more mannish boys asked Pam for a kiss, which necessitated her having to give him a quick peck on the lips after warning him not to slip her any tongue. Over an hour passed before Pam was able to excuse herself and by then, she had pecked a total of seven boys on the lips and eleven more shy ones on the cheek. She smoothed on more lipstick and decided to go in search of Josie Henry.
Jon pointed her in the right direction and she found her old childhood buddy right where he said he'd left her a little while ago. Pam walked up behind Josie and plopped down beside her in the grass. “So what did you do, pay someone to clone you and out came Jon?” she asked, then gave up a lopsided grin when Josie's head spun around in shock. They flew into each other's arms for a warm hug.
Other than Paris or Nate, when she'd had a mind to be devious, Josie was always willing to be a partner in crime. In high school, they'd spiked the punch at more than a few dances, skipped classes whenever the mood struck, and stolen candy and cheap cosmetics from the A&P with frightening regularity. They had also sneaked cigarettes together between classes and cheated on more tests than she cared to count. Now, nearly twenty years later, they strolled around Truman Field, sneaking ride tokens off the roll when the attendants weren't looking and going from ride to ride like idiots. Josie nabbed a stuffed zebra from one of the prize booths, even though she hadn't played any games and then goaded Pam into sharing not one, but two cherry topped funnel cakes with her. They carried on just as they had as teenagers, and Pam was hard-pressed to figure out which of them was the worst influence on the other. She left Josie to see to her newborn and sneaked off to repent for the sins she'd knowingly committed during the last few hours.
She was standing on the edge of the field leaning against a tree, feeling sick to her stomach and smoking a cigarette, when Chad found her. She flicked a glance at him, took in his faded jeans, brown polo shirt, and brown leather sandals, and shifted her attention back to the festivities.
“Your toes are out.” She blew a thin stream of smoke through pursed lips and darted another glance in the direction of his feet. He'd always had nice feet and she liked to think she was partly responsible for that. Before he'd learned to appreciate pedicures, she was the one who had pampered him. Kept his toenails cut and neatly shaped and convinced him that it was okay for him to bare them every once in a while. It was only one of the many ways she'd spoiled him.
Chad lifted the cup he was holding and sipped deliberately. “So are yours.” He wondered if she remembered that he had loved to tongue the soles of her feet as they were making love. Wondered if she'd ever lain awake at night remembering. Instead of asking, he said, “You've been avoiding me since the last time we were together.” It wasn't a question, and he didn't let it sound like one.
BOOK: Running From Mercy
9.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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