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“You go right on ahead and do that.”
“I surely will, as certain as my name is Iris Danielle Ashford. I told you this story ’cause sometimes, dirt cheap prices, and great deals, ’specially when it comes to people, ain’t so great after all. Everything that shines ain’t gold, Mr. Cooper. You can be a tall glass of darkness, like the looming shadows in a little girl’s room, or the white light they saw surrounding them, the one that smelled like Great-Grandmama’s perfume, tryna protect them from harm—but at the end of the day, it’s our choice to stay or go. Now, I came out with you tonight to conduct business, and get to know you better.”
“Mmm hmm.” He smirked at her as he sipped his wine, seemingly getting off on her aggravation and concerns.
“I can’t accuse you of not being real with me. To an extent. You’re devious. Something about you rubs me the wrong way.”
“Well, devious or not, Ms. Ashford, I could rub you therightway, if given the chance.”
Her pussy clamped like a damn seashell. She forged on, ignoring his sexual crudeness.
“I could be overreacting, I don’t know, but I’m going to go ahead and work the farmland, paint the house, and put up the curtains, but if I see a ghost just one time come outta you,” she held up her finger, “I’m gone. I won’t be going to the barn and leavin’ in the morning. No, sir. I’m leavin’ right then. Don’t ask me to be no drug mule. I bet not see a baggie, a pipe, a needle, even a white ball of cotton or a speck of salt. Nothin’. Don’t involve me in that shit.”
“You’ve been watching too many gangster movies, Iris.” He rolled his eyes, smiled, then took a slow sip of wine. “That’s not what modern men like me in this industry do…”
“Fine. I’m glad you run a legit business, too, because legit is the only way this is gonna be. Now, where’s the dessert menu?” She looked about. “I been wanting to try this tiramisu stuff for a while now…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged
“Ididn’t knowis all. You didn’t say anything until now.”
“Well, now you do.” His hand slid against the white and black striped leather covered steering wheel. “Is this a problem?” He shot her a glance.
“No. I have no problem with it, just would’ve been nice to have known earlier.”
“I didn’t want you to prepare. I want to see how you naturally go about it.”
Jude put his car in park as they sat in front of Best Days Adult Care Center. It was privately owned and cost him an arm and a leg, but offered peace of mind.
“So, this is a test?”
“Everything in life is a test, Iris.”
He smashed his cigarette in the ashtray, exhaled the smoke from his last puff, and turned off the car. Moments later, food from the restaurant in hand, he helped Iris out of the vehicle. He stood in front of her, blocking her view. The woman was about five-foot-seven, maybe five-eight, and wearing black heels which bumped her up an additional two to three inches. He watched her chest move up and down, her breathing uneven, though she tried to keep a straight face as she clutched her purse under her arm. Still, she didn’t break their gaze.
He bristled when she suddenly reached out and set about fixing his collar with a flutter of fast working fingers adorned with long green and gold talons. Soft skin brushed ever so gently against his neck, and he got a whiff of her perfume.
“There. That’s better. You want to look presentable, now don’t you?”
They headed towards the home under dim lights, then the motion detection lights came on as they drew closer to the entrance.
“Are they even open this late, Jude? Allow guests?”
“Not for most people. But for me, they’re open.” She made some sort of noise and sported a smirk. “That was one of my stipulations.”
“Stipulations? You’re using big words. A man after my own heart.” She chortled.
That’s not the only thing about me that’s big…but he kept the seedy thought to himself, figuring she’d find out on her own soon enough.
“I want to have access to Eli twenty-four-seven. I feel like, with my schedule ’nd all, I should be able to just drop in, as long as I’m not making a ruckus.”
“I understand.”
He pressed the buzzer. Once the door clicked open, he then placed his finger against a scanner. His name immediately showed up on a screen, and a second set of doors opened. Pat, an older woman with long, braided curly red hair and rosy cheeks sat at the nurses’ station, a pair of green reading glasses set on the tip of her nose. She often smelled like Sweet Tarts candies mixed with the scent of library books, and a dash of chicken soup. Comfort in the flesh. Drinking from a bright yellow coffee mug, she was staring at her computer screen. Her eyes lifted when he drew closer, she looked up and her gaze flitted to Iris. A mixture of surprise and wonder showed in her expression.
“Good evenin’, Pat.”
