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“Ah, ah, ah miss Jacobs. That wasn’t ‘necessary’.”
“Yeah it was,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
“I brought cards,” she said and threw a deck of cards on the bed next to me.
She rolled my computer chair over the wood floor and wedged it as close to me as possible. She sat and shuffled like a regular Vegas dealer then split the deck in half for a very grown up game of War.
“So, can I confess something to you?” She eyed me flirtatiously, laying down a card.
“Always.”
“After calming down last night, I started thinking about you on your white horse and everything and I gotta’ say, I found you extraordinarily attractive when you came to my rescue. That’s my hand sweetheart. My jack beats your eight.”
“Sorry,” I said, distracted.
“Yeah, I mean, the taking charge, commanding a room, throwing that punch. Sexy. And your Monty Python reference? Icing on the cake.”
“Well, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
“See?” She laughed. “I’m not ungrateful that you came to my rescue, not at all, but I’m a little surprised. Growing up, you were so patient, I just always kind of pegged you for the ‘lover not a fighter’ sort. Well, also you do the ‘loving’ part so extraordinarily well.”
I cleared my throat and grabbed her wrist tightly, surprising her. “You know, I’ve never understood the phrase, ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter’. If you’re passionate in love why would you not equally be as passionate enough to fight for it?”
Her mouth fell wide open, “Touché baby, touché.”
That night, after Jules went home, after a lecture from both my parents, and after her parents got in from New York, Jules called me.
“Elliott?” She asked.
“Yeah, babe? What’s up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Have you talked to Maddy today?” Her voice trickled sarcasm.
“Uh, yeah,” I laughed.
“Did she happen to mention to you anything that might have happened at church today?”
I swallowed hard.
“What happened?”
“Well, I guess Maddy’s been quite the chatterbox, a regular Ouiser Boudreaux, couldn’t wait to mention our little indiscretion to Mrs. Kitt’s daughter apparently and as you probably now suspect, Georgia Kitt spread it around like wildfire. Would you like to take a guess as to her first stop?”
“Mrs. Kitt?”
“Oh yeah and guess what else Elliott?”
“What?”
“The old Kittster called my mom.”
“I’ll kill her.”
“Yeah? Send my condolences to your mama.”
“Julia!” I heard in the background.
“Gotta’ go sweetheart. See you in, I don’t know, a year?” She laughed and hung up.
