Leif Erickson:Mmm, I do like a challenge. Be careful, Little Cub.
Me:Promises, promises.
Leif Erickson:I keep mine.
Leif Erickson:Call me Jackson.
Leif Erickson:I’ll see you around Teresa.
I read the last message again, and my vagina starts to tingle with excitement and nerves.You need to calm the fuck down. I am not falling for that line.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t listen to me. I get fixated, dozing off as I start to second guess this interaction. Do I want to poke the viking god a little more? From our brief interaction, I remember feeling the solidness of his body under mine and wonder how easily he could pick me up and pin me against a wall. For a moment, I wonder what those lips would feel like brushing against my skin. Shaking my head out of the daydream, I notice another message.
Leif Erikson:Try to think too hard about me, darlin'. Too much filth will rot your brain.
Oh, two can play at this game.
Me:Someone is a little cocky, isn’t he? Listen, when you are tall enough to ride the ride, maybe we’ll give it a chance.
Leif Erikson:Little Cub, playing fire. Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.
Me:I keep my promises, AJ. Do you?
Jesus, instant regret. I know I meant it, but that was my vagina talking, not my mind. Squirrel moment again is leading me to think about the kind of package Leif Erikson’s working with. Jesus, it’s been almost seven years since my last relationship and since I’ve had any sex. That’s what this is – my body reacting to a man flirting with after so long. It has nothing to do with Leif Erickson himself.
I can’t do another relationship, not when my last one ended so poorly. This better not affect me. I’m not about to let a motorcycle, a Viking God of a man, break down my walls. I did that once and it got me nowhere but more heartache and a sense of mistrust in myself. No, I just need to find a different distraction.
Morning comes quickly and I’m ready to tackle the week. I want to check in with the new building process, go down to a couple day centers, see the progress with the call center, and possibly tap more donors to donate to the process. Although I’m the project manager, once in a while, it feels like I’m the CEO.
I let Seamus out one more time before I head towards downtown. The agency is tucked into the city, which is nice when those we serve know where to find us.
I drive through the town roads before getting on the highway. I head towards my exit onto the avenue where my favorite coffee shop is located. I’ve been coming here since I moved to Raleigh. The Angry Dog is a funny name for a coffee house, but I don’t ask questions. As long as I get my latte with my extra shots and my muffin, we’re in business. On my way in, I spot Mr. Jeremiah sitting at the corner of the street.
“Ms. Tessa, Ms. Tessa. I ain’t seen you in a long while. Foundation been hiding you miss. We miss seeing your bright face at the center.” I can hear his sweet southern charm peek through. His smile may not be the brightest, but it lights my heart.
“Mr. Jeremiah, you know I try to come by as often as I can. Are you staying out of trouble?” I ask him, seeing his backpack next to him. He’s holding some flyers, and I glance at them, recognizing the emblem of the center.
“I promise, Ms. Tessa, that I have been nothing but a gentleman. The center got me helping them pass flyers. They have enough resources there now they want my help.” It warms my heart that they’re trying to help others. If anyone could rally others and point them in the right direction, it would be Jeremiah.
“You don’t look like you belong here, sugar. Best get off the streets before anyone gets the wrong idea,”Jeremiah says to me. He’s dressed in brown pants and a black sweater with a vest, plus a brown news cap. His kind eyes, and warm brown skin and handsome face brings a certain welcomeness. But I think this man must be confused. I’m no sex worker. I look down at my outfit; okay, the V-neck shirt isn’t helping my argument right now.
“No sir, I’m not a worker. I’m an intake specialist at the Foundation. I’m just trying to find the Center over here and I think I’m lost,” I clarify, looking at my phone for directions. This is not Richmond city.
Realization dawns on his face. “Oh, you work for Ms. Jean! Okay. Can I give you a piece of friendly advice, sugar? Wear a sweater. Some folks around here would jump at a chance with you with just one wrong look. You look like a nice girl. Where you from?” I’m not feeling any ill will from him, only sweet vibes.
“Richmond, Virginia. I don’t have much knowledge about the community, so Jean thought I could do some visits before getting on the phones and start intake. My first stop is Ms. Aggie, but I think I’m lost.” I slump my shoulders. I definitely don’t feel like I belong here.
Jeremiah wraps his arm around me, guiding in the opposite direction from where I was going. “Listen, sugar, I’ll help ya get to Ms. Aggie. I’ll be honest with ya, though: you gonna need to be a little more vigilant around these parts. These are hard times for folks like us. You come to ol’ Jeremiah and I’ll help you learn the community. If you don’t believe me, talk to Ms. Aggie, she’ll tell ya.” We walk to the Center and I swear I must have passed three or four times.
Jeremiah has overcome homelessness back in the 90’s and opened up a mechanic shop that he partners with community centers to help out those needing employment or training. He is a long standing advocate for the community and volunteers his time with the Center. He is a good man.
“Ms. Tessa, I have news on the streets.” Jeremiah’s voice snaps me out of my memory. He leans forward, grabbing my attention. “The streets have been real quiet lately. I hear whispers of someone asking for help with jobs. You know people around here do anything for money, but quiet ain’t good.” I stare at him intently.
“I’m watchin’ out for peoples, but you know, good things never come when it's quiet. Some people are saying that people have gone missing. Never to see again, not even at the Center,” he continues.
I wince. “Jeremiah, I’m sure the Center and other agencies have their ears on the ground. Please, just make sure you take care of yourself, and let the police know if anything dangerous happens. Don’t be a superhero; you’re too important to the community and me,” I say as I rest my hand on his shoulder.
“Ms. Tessa, I know you care. I leave the cape to you. I hope to see ya soon.” Jeremiah picks up his backpack and turns to leave. I watch him walk down the busy street, vanishing into the crowd. Sighing, I turn to walk through the busy traffic towards the coffee shop. The shop bell rings as I open the door, and the baristas look up with smiles.