Page 60 of Take Two

“Do I look like the type of woman who does that?” she asks. “You know who you married.”

“You also know who you married. And it’s not like Mama hasn’t already taught you how to cook some of my favorite meals. What’s one more?”

Vickie puts a hand to her chest then reaches for his arm and tries to pinch him. He anticipates it and swats her hand away. “You better not let that slip outside of this family or else.” She pretends to slice her throat with her finger.

“It will be fun. We can cook at my house. I’ll make a playlist and we can listen to music while we cook,” I say to Vickie.

“Oh, fine,” she says, doing her best to look bothered, but the smile on her face gives her away. “But don’t get any more ideas, Chastain.” He puts his arms around her and lifts her off her feet.

“I so don’t love you,” he says.

“Thank goodness because I don’t love you either.” He tilts his head up, and she leans down to kiss him.

“Someone set the table,” Mary Leigh says.

“I feel so bad that you’ve been cooking for hours,” Violet says. She tilts her head up, and I bend down to give her a kiss. Even when she’s sweaty, I still can’t get enough of her. “It smells good though, and I’m starving.”

I grab an apple and hold it to her mouth. She takes a huge bite, and I take one too.

“Don’t feel bad. I love to do this.” I’ve always loved to cook, but cooking for a woman you’re in love with, one who loves and appreciates everything you make for her, is its own special kind of high, and it’s way better than being drunk. If I could, I’d make cooking for her my only job.

She inches closer, and her hand snakes around and grabs my butt.

“Darlin’, stop. I don’t want to meet your mama with an erection.” That doesn’t stop her. She squeezes my butt until I move away from her.

“Fine. I’ll go shower. It’s your own fault for having such a nice ass.” She tries to grab it again, but I move out of the way. She pouts but finally walks down the hall. I stand and admire her in her black yoga pants and matching top. I let out a loud whistle. She turns her head around and winks.

While she’s gone, I check the beef bourguignon and the sides, then search her cabinets until I find a set of shallow dishes. While I put them on the table, I hear a knock on the door. I open it, expecting to see her mother and sister, but an older black man is standing at the threshold instead. He’s holding two bottles of wine, one red and one white.

“You must be Charlie,” he says. He steps in and looks around the place. “I’m Miles Dixon.” He puts the wine on the island and offers me his hand.

“You’re Violet’s daddy,” I say. They have the same face shape, but this man is light-skinned compared to Violet’s brown. He’s of average height, and when he looks up at me, he whistles.

“She hasn’t called me daddy since she was a little girl. God damn. How tall are you? Eight feet?” He whistles again.

“Half an inch short of seven feet, Mr. Dixon,” I tell him.

“It’s Miles.”

“I was expecting Lettie’s mama and sister. She didn’t say you were comin’ too.” He takes a seat at the island, and I get another place setting for him.

“That’s because I didn’t tell her. My presence is going to piss off her mother, so that’s why I’m here.” He lets out a laugh before he starts to eat the cheese and crackers I set out. “Where is Lettie?” He cackles at the nickname. “And it smells good in here. Did she order that food and put it in pots to impress her mother?” He snorts as if that’s absurd. “Not that she deserves it.”

“No, I cooked, and she’s takin’ a shower.”

“Good. Gives us guys some time to get to know each other.” He stands and looks me over. “As long as you’re good to her, we won’t have a problem. If you ever stop being good to her, I know a lot of people in this city.” He laughs, and I’m not sure if he’s serious or not, but luckily the knock on the door interrupts this strange talk.

I guess this is another thing drinking took from me. I’ve never met a girl’s parents. I didn’t go to prom because I was so depressed about losing my scholarship. When I open the door again, I look into the eyes of an older version of Violet. She gets her coloring from her mother. Everything about them is the same, and I get a glimpse of what Violet will look like in thirty years.

“Hi Charlie,” Terri says from behind her mother. She gives me a big smile before she comes forward and hugs me. “This is my mom, Wanda Scott.”

I gesture for everyone to come in and say, “Mrs. Scott.” I offer her my hand. She takes it while she cranes her neck to look at me. “Lovely to meet you.” I lift her hand and kiss the back of it.

She smiles at me, and that smile is Lettie’s. She walks further into the apartment and comes to a stop when she sees Milessitting at the island. He smirks at her and says, “Come over here and give me a hug, Terri.” She runs into his arms and he kisses her cheeks. “You look good, kid,” he says when he pulls away. “I’ve missed you. Let me pour you a drink.” He grabs the bottle of red and starts to look through the drawers until he finds a corkscrew. He doesn’t bother to look at Wanda again.

“Excuse me a moment.” I rush down the hall and go into the bedroom. Violet’s sitting on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties applying body butter on her legs. “Darlin’, your daddy is here, and there’s some tension out there.” The bottle in her hand falls to the floor.

“My dad is here?” When I nod, she says, “Oh, shit. I talked to him earlier and told him my plans, but he didn’t say anything about coming. I should have known though. He and my mom are always trying to one-up each other, and I’m always stuck in the middle. Dad can be a little messy when it comes to Mom.” She stands and pulls a long blue dress over her head. She grabs a belt and while she ties it around her small waist, I stand behind her and pull the necklace out of my pocket and drape it across her neck.

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