Wildflower (5 page)

“There’s still time for that drink,” Preston said.

Iris nodded, “Okay.”

They arrived at the Peach Frog after a brisk walk.  The Peach Frog was one of those places where the food had to be good to make up for what it lacked in ambiance. It was the proverbial hole-in-the-wall type of joint, where people went to have a good time and good food.

Preston led Iris to a wobbly folding table draped in a red-and-white checkered vinyl eyesore of a tablecloth. It barely masked the rickety table. The chairs were the typical uncomfortable folding type, like the ones found at school assemblies or on the lawn at informal outdoor events.

She felt particularly beautiful in her white dress. She let her hair down again, freeing her long curls to cascade to mid-back. With a broad smile that lit up his face, Preston held the chair for her, pushing it in gently as she sat. In this lighting, she noticed his stubble might’ve begun as an unruly goatee. She loved a man with a beard — particularly the way it felt when it brushed against her thighs. She missed that sensation. Just for a moment, she got lost in the memory of Peter pleasuring her, replacing Peter’s face with Preston’s. His beard. His tongue. She snapped out of it when she felt Preston’s moist lips press softly against hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

A risk taker,
she thought. She liked it. She grinned, still a little rattled from thinking about that beard and her thighs and…

“Thank you,” she said.

Preston ordered a beer and Iris requested a “tall, I mean, large iced tea.”  The waitress wrote the order in restaurant shorthand on her tablet. After she’d rushed off, Preston leaned back comfortably in his chair, seemingly admiring Iris’ good looks.

Feeling a lot more comfortable with her, he leaned forward and said, “You shouldn’t dress like that.”

“Like what?” She looked down at her outfit, then back at him. “It’s a simple dress.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t wear that body.”

She blushed.  It had been a long time since she blushed like that.

“I thought I was buying you a real drink.”

“Iced tea is a real drink. It just doesn’t have alcohol in it,” she smirked.

The restaurant was half full and very dark.  The band was setting up.  Iris noticed a poster taped — yes, taped — to the wall, announcing live music by the Bandanas every Saturday.  The Bandanas was an ethnically-diverse group of men and one woman, each wearing a bandana representing the flag of a country.  One wore a Jamaican flag, another Canadian. There were three U.S. flags and one, she assumed, was Mexican.  The drummer — the woman — didn’t bother with a country. She had the state flag of Illinois on her bandana, and her t-shirt boasted the Chicago Bears logo.

The waitress returned with their drinks and a basket of thinly sliced onion rings and two dips. Who came up with the idea of serving onion rings as a table snack?
Onion breath anyone?
Come on, really? Iris passed on the onion rings but happily sipped her iced tea, still relishing Preston’s compliment.

***

Preston gave her a searching look.  She was smiling and sipping her tea and laughing at his silly jokes.  He leaned in and caressed her bare arm.  She rested in his caress with her head tilted, shoulder raised to her chin.  The waitress returned to take their order.  They both ordered a burger and fries.  Preston asked for another beer.  Iris stuck with the iced tea.

“I’m having a lovely time, Preston.”

“I’m glad,” his voice trailed off.  Just for a brief moment, he thought about his family but quickly shook that thought from his mind.  He was enjoying Iris’ company too much to let his thoughts dampen the moment.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m just fine.”

“That you are,” she reiterated.

A flirt,
he thought.

Just then, the squeal of the mic ripped through the restaurant, and the drums boomed, followed by the bass.  Before Preston could say anything else, the band was into its first set.  The music was loud, drowning out Preston’s voice as he tried to hold a conversation with Iris.  She couldn’t hear him.  She kept saying ‘what?’ and ‘I can’t hear you.’  Shortly thereafter, the waitress arrived with their drink refills and their food.

The Bandanas weren’t half bad. They were loud but enjoyable.  The lead singer had a soulful, raspy voice, and his R&B and Rock n’ Roll renditions of the classics were quite amazing.

Preston signaled for the check then he and Iris left the noisy restaurant for a more peaceful walk, hand-in-hand, through Grant Park.  As they approached the fountain, Iris turned to face him, walking backward slowly, smiling, and pulling him along until they could feel the mist from the fountain.

“Make a wish,” she said.

He smiled and dug in his pocket. Closing his eyes, he mouthed a few words, and tossed the coin into the fountain.

“What did you wish for?”

The setting sun gave the sky a vibrant hue.  The colorful lighting on the fountain glowed, spotlighting the blonde highlights in her hair.  Preston reached his hand around the nape of her neck, under her hair, easing her closer to him. She closed her eyes at his touch.  He liked when she did that. It made him want her more.

“You,” he said.

He leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly.  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Spotting the ice cream vendor cycling around the trail just outside of the boundaries of the Taste of Chicago event, she got excited. She jogged to the cart and waved for Preston to hurry.  There was really no need to hurry — there were only a few kids who reached the vendor ahead of her —so he took his time.

Preston finally arrived and they ordered two waffle cones. Preston had chocolate walnut and Iris, butter pecan.  He watched, enraptured, while she enjoyed her ice cream, the way she toyed with it,  licked it — how she took the full mound of the creamy delight into her mouth, allowing it to melt in the warmth of it – and pulled it out slowly.  Yeah, Preston watched, imagining — no, wishing — that he were that ice cream cone. He got lost in it for a moment. He took a step closer, so close that she backed up.  He took his napkin and moved towards her face with it. She flinched a little, not knowing what to expect. When he saw her shudder, he pulled back.

“May I?” he asked, holding up the napkin and gesturing in the general direction of her face. “You have a little ice cream right here,” he said as he dabbed the creamy mess from her face.

“You didn’t want to lick it?”

Preston surprised himself with his wide-eyed silence.

“…So disappointing, Preston,” she joked.

“Oh, you continue to surprise me. Do I get a do over?”

“Ah, too little too late, my handsome knight in shining armor.”

“Your kni… When did I become all of that?”

“When you kissed me at the Peach Frog,” she giggled.

“Lick your cone.”

“Uh-uh. You missed your chance, Mister.”

“Just lick your cone, woman.”

She laughed playfully then complied without taking her brown eyes off of him.

She managed to smear ice cream on the tip of her nose and chin.  He knew it had been deliberate and fully planned to take advantage of it.  He took the cone out of her hand and tossed it, along with his, in the receptacle next to them.

“Hey!” she shouted. “I was still eating that!”

“I can’t watch you eat that anymore — making a mess of yourself,” he grinned.

“You know you can’t resist,” she teased.

He slowly leaned towards her, hands in his pockets to control himself from doing anything inappropriate.  He wanted her, right then and there. The public be damned.

Her soft, sticky palms cupped his face. He kissed the ice cream from nose, then her chin. Before he could pull back, she wrangled him closer and kissed him gently on the mouth. Her lips were like pillows against his. He felt a rise in his pants that he needed to subdue. But when her tongue toyed with his, he lost the battle.  He stretched out his leg a little, trying to be inconspicuous. He needed to adjust himself, and that was the best way he could do it without bringing attention to the situation. Iris noticed and smirked.

Cutting through Grant Park, Preston walked with Iris to Michigan Avenue, arm-in-arm, sometimes hand-in-hand, until they reached her brother’s building.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” she said poetically, as if those words had been her own composition.

“Tomorrow?” he asked. “May I see you again.”

She stepped back, positioning herself under the awning near the lobby door, then dug in her purse.

“Give me your hand.” She used her teeth to pull the cap from the black Sharpie.

“Here’s my phone number.” She wrote it on the medial side of his arm. “Use it wisely.”

He opened the lobby door. She stood, gazing into his eyes wantonly.

He reached for her hand and pulled her close. He pushed her windblown hair from her face and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips – gently and passionately.  She didn’t want to break from the warmth of his touch.  When they reluctantly parted, she went into the building. Preston watched as she disappeared around the security desk.

Iris sauntered into the condo, singing happily as she twirled through the door. Idris lived on Chestnut Street in a high rise apartment that occupied the entire twenty-eighth floor.  She knew Idris had done well for himself but she’d had no idea he was doing this well.  He always had a new hustle. She couldn’t define what he did for a living.  He’d invest in this or that, he’d buy a few buildings here and there.  He dabbled in just about anything that would turn a profit for him. The last time she had been home, Idris was living in the South Loop, renting an apartment near the corner where Michigan Avenue and Roosevelt Road intersected.  It was really nice and the view was to die for.  His new place was much more than just a view, though. It was elegant.

She dropped her keys in the key tray near the door and stopped at the sitting area midway down the hall.  The moon vibrantly beamed through the window. She sat there for a moment, thinking about her fabulous evening, but then everything else began to seep in, taking over her pleasant thoughts. What was next? There was nothing left in Houston for her and the thought of living so close to Peter and Sara repulsed her. As large as Texas was, it wasn’t large enough for her to distance herself from them.  She had no job, so what was the point in going back home?

Home.
Now that was a misnomer if there’d ever been one.  She didn’t have a
home.
She had been crashing on Cam’s sofa.  She had no family in Houston except her ex-husband.  But, seeing that he was now her
ex
, it disqualified him from the family category.  So what was in Houston to go back to?  Home? She was homeless.

Idris hadn’t returned from wherever he was.  She suspected he was off somewhere grieving, maybe with a woman.  He had been much closer to Jolene than Iris was.  He loved Jolene like any son loved his mother.  He was even more pained that the two women he loved most in the world, his sister and mother, disliked each other.

She went through Idris’ pantry and refrigerator and masterfully created a succulent meal for whenever he returned.  She enjoyed cooking.  All the years she spent preparing last minute dinners and planning short-notice functions for Peter had forced her to learn to be creative.  It was the creativity that she loved, only second to watching people enjoy her food.  Idris was no different.  Whenever she came home, he’d submit his request for one of his favorite dishes. While he was judgmental of her life choices and controlling of his environment, Idris loved Iris and welcomed her visits… as few as they were.

She sent Idris a text message letting him know she had cooked and the food was in the refrigerator.

***

Iris ran water for a hot bath using bath salts that were left behind by Idris’ ex-girlfriend.  She sat the glass jar of crystals on the pedestal beside the antique tub. Although it was summer, Iris lit the electric logs in the fireplace that sat in the corner of the bathroom near the tub — just for the ambiance.

“Oh, this feels nice,” she said as she lowered herself into the hot tub.  It had been a long while since she had been able to relax alone like this, having shared a bathroom with two men — albeit gay men — for the past six months.  It had been even longer since she surrounded herself with the finer things she enjoyed at her brother’s condo — state-of-the-art everything. Cam’s place was nice and she was comfortable there, but Idris’ condo was like something out of Architectural Digest. It was pristine.

Her phone vibrated. She didn’t recognize the number. When she answered, the voice on the other end was deep, smooth, soft.

“Wildflower.”

She smiled.

“Preston.”

“Bad time?”

She shook her head as if he could see her.

“No.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I had a good time tonight.”

“Me, too.”

“What are you doing?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Soaking in the tub.”

Silence
.

“Hello?” Iris said, cutting through the sudden silence.

“Shh. I’m envisioning you in the tub. Don’t interrupt.”

She laughed.

“May I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said, almost before he finished asking. “Preston?”

“Wildflower.”

“Come see me.”

“What?”

She sat erect in the tub, dangling one of her arms over its side, fidgeting with the fluffy threads of the bath rug.

“Come over for…,” she searched for the right euphemism, “coffee.”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee.”  She closed her eyes, licking her lips. “Steaming, hot, robust coffee.”  She opened her eyes and leaned back in the tub.  “Hurry,” she said. “I’d hate for the coffee to get cold.”

“You honor me with your offer,” he said softly with an ear-to-ear grin.

She got out of the tub and wrapped the towel around her slender body, walking through the condo to see if Idris had made it back home.  He hadn’t.

“I — I really enjoyed spending the rest of my day with you, Preston.” She slipped into her boy shorts then adjusted them so that the band hugged her hips.  “You were a pleasant surprise I hadn’t expected.”

She paused to slip her tank top over her head. She also wanted to give Preston an opportunity to talk since she’d been doing most of the talking for the past several minutes.  When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“It’s been an emotional rollercoaster ride for me with all that’s been going on. So, you were a welcome treat. I just…”

“Wildflower.”

“Yes?”

“Buzz me in.”

“Buzz you in? You’re here? Already? I thought your brother lived in River Forest.”

“He does but I decided to get a hotel room. Just wanted to be in the city. I liked what I saw.”

Silence
.

“Iris?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Hold on.”

After she buzzed him in, she ran into her room, changing into a blouse and shorts.  She brushed her hair into a wispy style, spritzed body spray on her hot spots, and smoothed lip gloss onto her lips, pinching her cheeks to give them a natural blush.