Page 44 of Crave

“For Deedee.”

“No.” Her sharp word is accompanied by a vigorous shake of her head.

“No?”

“No. She is Deedee only for me. You can call her Sandra, but not Deedee.” She walks from behind the counter and points her finger in my face. “You got it?”

“Got it, ma’am.”

“Mama, he was just leaving.”

“Yes, we were. Are you ready to go, Sandra?”

“Go where?” her mother asks, looking at her daughter for an answer.

“Lunch, ma’am.”

They whisper some, Dee walks away, and her mother laughs.

“I’ll be right back, Jake. Just let me get my stuff from the back.” It takes me a second to register her words, but when she walks away, I nod like a fool to her mother and Steve.

“This is my nephew, Steve. He finished third year at Northeastern.” Mrs. Etienne is proud of her nephew. She gets on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek. Steve reaches over and shakes my hand while giving me a smirk.

He takes Sandy’s place behind the counter, and I rush over to grab my things, unsure of what to make of her change of heart.

I check my watch and notice that about ten minutes have passed since she went to get her stuff. I stand there for another ten minutes, craning my neck towards the back door as I wait for her to emerge.

“You know she left, right?” Steve finally speaks as he wipes down the spotless counter.

“What?” I ask. “She told me she’d be right back.”

Steve shakes his head at me.

“She went out the back door. That’s what she told her mother she was going to do since you won’t leave her alone. She played you, man.” A customer walks into the bakery and Steve ignores me while he takes her order.

“I can’t believe this shit,” I mutter as I yank the front door open and stomp to my car. She just abandons me after I spend hours waiting on her. No wonder her mother finally cracked a smile. Fuck that! She’s going to have to deal with me.

A few minutes later, my car comes to a screeching stop in the middle of her driveway. A door slam and a few steps later, I’m banging on her door as if the devils of hell are after me. Her car’s not here, but I wouldn’t put it past her to park on another street to throw me off.

“Sandra! Open the damn door before I break it down.” No response. I stop banging long enough to listen for any signs of life on the inside. Nothing.

I pound on the door some more until, finally, a door opens, but it’s not Sandy’s.

“Are you trying to wake the dead?” Tash steps out of her house and fixes her eyes on me.

“I’m trying to get your stubborn as hell sister to talk to me.”

She crosses her arms, unimpressed with my tantrum.

“Talk to you about what? Trying to pass her off to your friend last weekend?” I open my mouth to defend myself, but she holds up her hand to silence me. “It’s too late.”

“What do you mean it’s too late? It’s been less than a week. And if she’d pick up the phone or answer my texts, we could have cleared this up six damn days ago.”

“You don’t get to play the victim card, Jacob.” She takes a step closer to me, and just like her mother did a few minutes ago, she points her index finger at my chest. “She gave you a chance. You blew it. I rooted for you. I convinced her you were into her and helped her get ready for your date, only for you to treat my sister like shit. Now, she’s mad at me for making her think it was a date.”

“I can fix it. Just tell me where she is.”

“She’s at the hair salon.” Before I can ask where that is, Tash drops the bad news on me. “She has a date tonight.”

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