Chapter 21

The good news was the weather broke. That Thursday was clear and crisp as fall kicked in at last. The bad news was Coach was—different. Oh sure, I’d “raped” his wife again, but there’d been no cameras. And yes, although Coach had gotten off, he’d disappeared before Mrs. Jenkins came crawling to me in their pool.

At the hooded expression on his face every time Coach glanced at me during practice, my chest would tighten. Perhaps he’d left because it’d been too much for him to watch. Then again, he’d left towels and two robes. One for his wife and one as if I were going to stay the night again. At that point, what did I really know?

Practice went on and, other than the usual coaching stuff, he’d said nothing. It was only after I’d departed the showers and was dressing that Coach approached me. As he leaned closer, my chest became a block of cement.

“Thanks again, Hiram,” he said, while shoving a thick envelope into my hand.

After only a brief grin, he turned and walked away before I figured out how to make my word-maker work. Although my stomach flip-flopped, my brain had stopped.

Yeah, like I said. What the heck did I know?

Well, I knew enough to remember I owed Chanelle a date. Okay, I get it. After being with Mrs. Jenkins the night before, how could I even think of Chanelle? But as I drove away, the cooling breeze dragging through my hair was a reminder. The seasons had changed. Time was marching ever onwards. And while Mrs. Jenkins was—God, she was beyond special—my heart ached as hard for Chanelle. Even if it was a while before we slept together. Or did anything like what’d happened at Coach’s place.

Once home, I tossed my keys to the kitchen counter and spotted a note from momma. She was at a party and there were leftovers in the fridge. As I ate, I stared at the phone. When I’d called Chanelle before, I hadn’t known any better. But what if I phoned her house and her dad picked up?

“Wait a second. It’s Thursday evening. DiGrigio’s,” I mumbled before palming my forehead. “Idiot.”

After lifting the handset, I flipped through the White Pages to find the restaurant’s number.

Once she’d agreed, I found myself on Saturday afternoon in the farthest row of a movie theater parking lot. All the way to Anniston, the drive had been a blur. Despite going to meet Chanelle, memories of Mrs. Jenkins sprawled naked and rain-soaked in the muddy backyard kept appearing. The gleam in her eyes, even though dulled, as she’d stared at—me. Over and over, since Thursday morning, those images had been whirling in my mind. And now she wanted to go to Atlanta? How was I going to explain that to momma?

As a sigh slipped from me, my heart sped. Then there was Chanelle. Although surprised at my phone call to her job, she’d leaped at the suggestion of a matinee. “First Blood” had just opened. Rocky with a machine gun. What could go wrong?

It was—safer—than another remote date.

Though I remembered what she’d said, about one day sleeping with me. Well, for her, I really wanted it to be significant. Mrs. Jenkins had been with who knew how many men? I chuckled. Coach knew. Perhaps. But Chanelle? Her first time. Nah, that needed to be some place special. As nice as the picnic in paradise had been, I didn’t want us to be rushed so she could get to work.

Another lengthy exhale slid from me as I scanned the packed parking lot. Likewise, there was a bustling crowd before the box office. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel about the crowds. Anniston was near Fort McClellan when it was still an active Army base. However, while there were a few mixed-race groups of GIs, most were white folk.

After another sigh, I brightened at the crunch of tires as Chanelle pulled into the spot next to me. With loose strands of black hair sliding along her cheeks, Chanelle’s brows were knitted and eyes red-rimmed. No sooner had she looked over at me than a forced grin slipped onto her face. As I stepped out, she opened her door. After grabbing its frame, I tugged it wider as she lifted from the seat in a blue denim skirt and a scoop-necked chartreuse blouse.

“Hey there, Chanelle,” I said while closing her car door.

“Um, hi, Hiram,” she replied while scanning the crowd and skimming her palms along both hips.

Although looking as anxious as I felt, after a soft sigh, Chanelle slid under my arm. As we walked towards the line for tickets, she slipped her arm around my waist.

“My Pappy.” Her fingers tightened on my hip. “He knows.”

At her words, I came to a halt beside a 1980 Chevrolet El Camino, mint condition with tinted black windows and shiny rims. Two shallow parallel scratches across the right front quarter panel. To this day, I can remember every single minute detail of the car we were next to when she’d spoken. As I stared at her, my heart tumbled downward.

“I don’t know how, but he found out.” Chanelle swallowed and her arm shook along my spine. “About you. And me.”

“Oh,” is all my constricting brain could manage as the twitching muscles in my body tightened.

A chill, unlike the iciest winter wind, pierced my bones. Well, that’d been a fun fantasy. From the pit of my stomach where it’d fallen, my heart ached. With a protracted exhale, I turned us from the cinema.

“I’m sorry, Hiram. I just...” Her eyes glossed before dropping to stare at the cracked asphalt.

“I understand,” I said in a low voice while starting for my truck, letting her drift from my arm.

Of course, I understood. My stomach churned. What else was there to say? She had her world—Caucasian. And I lived in a different one. As I took another step from her, Chanelle’s nails clawed across my back.

“No!” She flew back into me with such force I gasped for air. “No, Hiram. Please don’t leave me. Please. I know it’s difficult. And maybe I’m not worth it, but please.”

What? Not worth it? I stumbled to a halt as she squeezed me tight. Glittery with tears, her eyes bored into mine.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I eased a loose strand of hair from her face. “You’re ... Wait, what? I thought you, uh, wanted to end this?”

“No, Hiram.” Unleashed, tears raced down her reddened cheeks. “I told Pappy ... Well, I said nothing. Let him think what he wants. He’s an angry drunk anyway. When he’s sober, he’ll...” She stopped to sweep her tears away with the side of one finger. Her red nail polish glinted in the sun. “Perhaps he’ll remember, perhaps not.”

Except the look in her eyes said he’d never forget. And most likely never forgive. My heart flew upwards, thumping at my ribs, wanting to wrap around hers. To protect her. From him. From anyone. Weird, huh? After glancing at the theater, I returned to her with a long sigh.

“How about we skip the movie and, uh, go somewhere and talk?”

After she nodded, pulling away only far enough to walk, I guided us towards my truck. Once I let her inside, I clambered into the driver’s seat. Time wavered to a grinding halt as I stared across the parking lot. Not fixed on anything, I simply let every thought bubble and solidify.

Except they didn’t. I had no plan.

Well, I had one plan. More a concept.

“Kelsey’s? Brisket sandwich can’t hurt, right?”

As Chanelle’s sobbing slowed and a sniffled laugh escaped her, I flashed her a smile. Hey, it wasn’t much of an idea, but it’d gotten her to brighten. And as my soul softened, my grin widened.

Kelsey’s was one of the oldest BBQ joints in town. By the time I halted the pickup in its lot, overrun with cars and customers of every shape and size, my stomach was rumbling. At the ever-louder grumbles, Chanelle kept glancing over. Although still clenching a soggy tissue in her fist, her crying had stopped.

“Drive-thru okay?” I said.

“Sure” As she nodded, a giggle slipped from her, and she gestured at my belly. “We’d better hurry. Somebody’s hungry.”

When I looked at her, letting my eyes drift over her taut frame, she sucked in air. After she gulped, I laughed and pulled into the line of cars. Okay, I’d been obvious. But ... Well, that was important. She needed to understand for whom I also hungered. Oh, and the glimmer in her eyes? Yeah, she had that hunger for me as well. Somehow, we’d find a way to be together.

After taking our order from the window, I rolled back onto the street and drove to a small park. When I was little, momma had taken me there, and I was glad to see it hadn’t changed much. The trees seemed—smaller. Everything was more compact. As Chanelle opened the bag to gnaw on a curly fry, I backed us into a space under a spreading elm tree and cut the engine.

The luscious aroma of fresh barbecue swirled with Chanelle’s delicate perfume. My entire body was electrified with every kind of hunger. When she placed a sandwich in my hand, I couldn’t resist letting my fingertips slide along the back of her fingers. With her outstretched arm trembling, she held it in place while swallowing.

“How did he find out?” I said, after taking the heavy yellow wrapper from her.

“I, uh...” While opening her sandwich, Chanelle still quivered. “Um, I don’t know. Pappy didn’t say. Somebody saw us. At the falls? Heck, could’ve been on our first date. Maybe they told one of my brothers.”

As she stared at the grassy fringe beyond the little lot, Chanelle brought the sandwich to her mouth and bit deep. Her teeth were so—white. Her lips—glossy. And red. And full. With a sigh, I ate. Time remained sluggish as nothing except our chewing and periodic slurps of RC Cola interrupted the silence. At last, after crumpling the empty wrapper and sucking down a long slug of soda, I leaned back in the driver’s seat and exhaled.

“Well, now what?” I said.

Rather than reply, Chanelle’s chest froze. Again, quiet descended for a while until she looked over, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She had such beautiful, perfect lips. The way the sunlight glimmered off them. A tiny streak of glistening grease she’d missed on her upper lip was—mesmerizing.

“Trish and Lisa are heading out to Vegas soon.” She swallowed and tossed her bundled wrapper into the bag. “I’d planned on meeting them out there, but I—we—could leave with them. Lisa knows a guy. He, um, he’s got an apartment for her.”

At my snorting laugh, she narrowed her eyes over the rim of her white and yellow cup. Full, red, and puckered, her pretty lips hovered over her straw.

“What?” she asked, lowering the straw.

“Oh, sure. That’d work. Lil’ ole’ me living with three strippers.”

“You’d better behave, Hiram Boetticher.” With a grunt, Chanelle made a fist and punched me in the shoulder. Her eyes twinkled as she sucked hard on the straw. After swallowing, she sighed. “Besides, Trish has a little boy and Lisa’s into girls.”

“I thought you said a guy gave Lisa an apartment?”

“He doesn’t know.” She shrugged. “Or doesn’t care. I didn’t ask.”

“Well. okay. So, when are you thinking of leaving?”

“Right after Thanksgiving.” At my gasp, she gulped. “I know it’s soon, but if Pappy ... And let’s face it, this is...” Her voice petered out while her eyes swept the area. “I want to leave the South, Hiram. Live with you. Or at least go on a fucking date without being stared at. Or cussed at.”

“A non-fucking date,” I corrected with a wink.

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