“Oh, well, it’s not like I look up every detail on someone who comes in, even if it’s someone I’m interested in.” My head dips down, lips grazing each hers, making sure my toothpick isn’t gonna be a hindrance but not taking it further either. I know if that happens, neither of us will get any work done.
“I might be late getting back tonight. You need a night away, stay in my room. Shit seems better between you and your old man I’ll leave you be, if not I’ll see you in the mornin’.” Jolie smiles, showing me a hint of her dimples she has on one cheek and not the other, which means she’s pleased as punch with what I said.
“Okay, go do macho man MC stuff and have a great day.” Total goofball, my woman. I nod my head, turn around, and leave to go do said macho man MC stuff.
Twelve
Jolie
“Thanks, Shila, you’re a lifesaver,” I tell her, never wanting her to doubt how thankful I am to have her here. My shoulders drop, finally not high with tension after the cleaning out of Aunt Captain Hook’s room. The way she left it, it took most of the day, and I almost missed Shila leaving after getting the laundry done for the day.
“Girl, you’re helping me. Though, remember it’s only until I finally graduate from Massage Therapy school.” That’s going to suck big time for me here at the Inn. It’s going to be amazing for Shila, though.
“I won’t, promise, and you are going to kick ass, too!” I hug her before walking back around the counter to mark it down in my calendar, because if I don’t, it’s out of sight, out of mind.
“Later, Jolie.” She waves over her shoulder.
“Have a great day, Shila,” I return. I’d like to say what I told Decker was true and that I was only cleaning one room and then talking to Shila, but that’s not the case. Apparently, once a workaholic, always a workaholic. I get lost in looking at the website I’ve created for The Breezeway, updating pictures, seeing what gets the most clicks, rooms available, and realize I need to add a few things. In other words, I’m getting lost in my day, forgetting about everything, eating, drinking, calling Decker to let him know everything’s going well. Heck, I don’t even think about the fact that my father left early this morning to go find help until the desk phone rings, jarring me out of my daydream.
“The Breezeway Inn, this is Jolie, how may I help you?” I answer the phone, only then realizing it’s getting closer to dinner time.
“Sweetness, you never called, and the only way I could get ahold of you was through the Inn’s number. We’re gonna have to figure that out tonight,” Decker’s voice purrs on the other end of the line.
“Shit, I didn’t even think of that. I got involved in work and lost track of life,” I admit, resituating myself in the desk chair.
“I’m done earlier than I thought.” His voices causes my thighs to clench, and then he says, “Want you on the back of my bike. Gonna feed my woman, want to end up with you wrapped around me, not a stitch of clothing on, and sinkin’ deep inside of you.” I’m totally done for. His wish is my command.
“Okay, let me make sure Dad’s okay. Then I’ll get ready. I need about an hour. Is that alright?”
“Got nothin’ but time, Jolie. I’ll be ready when you are.” We finish our conversation, then I’m closing out of the computer and am on my feet, rushing to my side of the house and into my room.
In fact, I’m busy in my own head, lost in a cloud, used to no one really being around or wanting to talk unless it involved bitching from a certain person or dealing with my father. But honestly, half the time he wasn’t even coherent, so did that really count?
“Where’s the fire?” my dad asks, standing in our kitchen as I walk by. I stop in my tracks. There’s a slight sheen of sweat doting his forehead. He’s got a glass in his hand, and the only tell that it isn’t alcohol is because I can’t smell any, at least not from here. Plus, he’s never been much of a clear liquor alcoholic.
“Decker’s taking me out to dinner tonight. Are you going to be okay alone?” I should have been thinking about my father more. Shame hits my stomach in a giant ball.
“Yep, I already talked to a sponsor. He’s coming over in an hour or so. Then counseling tomorrow. It’s long overdue. I’ll never get over losing your mother, but I do need to learn to breathe without the overwhelming feeling of guilt slicing me up.” This is the most Dad has ever said about his depression over Mom.