Chapter 9 No Chaser
No Chaser
Jamie
It was nothing short of astonishing when Eve showed up at Jamie’s door for dinner.
After the awkward start and abrupt end to their morning, he didn’t expect to see her again for at least another week, and only if he sought her out first. But she’d arrived in a pleasant enough mood, happily making small talk for a while.
In fact, he’d learned that she was much more charismatic than their first few interactions would’ve led anyone to believe.
However, as they sat there eating, Jamie had to wonder why she’d shown up.
He couldn’t figure out whether she was enjoying herself.
One minute, she was regaling him with the details of her job, and her face, already gleaming in the dim room, absolutely lit up as she spoke.
But in the next breath, she was downing her tumbler of whiskey and snapping at his joke, like the very idea of being on a date with him was insulting.
“I was kidding, but it’s good to know where I stand,” he said in response. He traded his fork for his water, his eyes staying on hers as he took a long sip. “If it’s not too forward for me to ask, how long have you and your boyfriend been broken up?”
Eve paused before answering. “Not long.” She seemed to be avoiding him as she picked up the tongs and added more salad to her plate. “We should’ve broken up months ago, but neither one of us could bring ourselves to do it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it was easier to pretend we were happy. When in the end, it just…it drove us insane. Or me, at least.”
Jamie felt as though he could see that in her. It explained that oddness that he liked so much. “Was it a bad breakup?”
“The worst.” She stood from her chair, empty glass in hand, off to find his liquor cabinet again. “Can I get you anything?”
“I should be asking you that,” he said, peering at her as she shuffled across the room. “But no, I’m good.”
“I wish you’d drink with me so I don’t have to feel like a lush.” She said it as she generously poured herself another glass of brown liquor, which he found rather funny. “How about a shot?”
“I’m good.” He raised his glass of water as if to prove it. “I didn’t realize we had to drink to have a good time.”
“If you insist on talking about past relationships, we’re gonna have to drink.”
“I wasn’t insisting on anything.” He laughed again, nervously this time, feeling as though they were both being put on the spot.
“I thought we were just talking.” Eve repeatedly steered the conversation away from anything too personal.
She had a wall up, and Jack Daniel’s seemed to be its reinforcement.
“We can talk more about your job, if you’d like. ”
She removed the bubblegum-pink hoodie she was wearing—a different one from that morning—leaving her in a black tank top and leggings, allowing Jamie an unobstructed view of her many curves.
The ones in her muscular arms stole his attention first, and he would’ve guessed she was an Olympic runner before anything, which just made her all the more compelling.
“What about you?” she asked, returning to their dinner. “You make these things for a living?” She tapped on the table. “Or is this a hobby?”
He was entertained by the way her speech seemed to hasten the more she drank.
“It’s my job.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin before going on about how he was in the business of bespoke woodcraft, mostly for rich folks back in Nashville, but he had customers all over the country these days.
He pointed out his liquor cabinet, as he’d noticed her admiring it earlier.
“That was supposed to go to one guy who passed away suddenly. Most of the things here are just designs I wanted to try out.”
Eve’s eyes widened. “And it’s just you?”
“I have a small staff. Including a couple of guys who do really great work.”
“And you’re the boss?”
Jamie shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that. If you met Floyd Hicks, you’d know he doesn’t take orders from anyone.”
“Floyd Hicks,” she repeated loudly, failing to contain her amusement and, therefore, her giggles. “Now that’s a country-ass name.”
“That’s a pretty normal name in Tennessee. I once did work for this guy named Reynolds Boderham.”
Eve burst into laughter. Loud, genuine laughter. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. His wife’s name was Bonnie.”
“You’re making this up.”
“I swear it. They had this little Pomeranian named Peaches that she carried everywhere. It was somethin’ out of an SNL sketch.”
“That is hilarious.”
“I’ve definitely met some characters along the way,” he agreed, still smiling at the joy she got from this simple thing. “Your grandmother was one of ’em.”
Eve raised an eyebrow. “She was one of your customers?”
“A repeat customer,” Jamie said proudly, hearing the disbelief in Eve’s slight New York accent.
“There was the table in the kitchen, a chest upstairs, and I redid the front door. I also fixed a leak on that downstairs bathroom sink. And I ended up giving her a couple of maple end tables I didn’t need. ”
Eve cracked the tiniest of smiles, and it looked like there was a bit of regret attached to it. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure my mom took that kitchen table after the funeral.”
“Is that right?”
“The one with the legs?” Eve used her hands to make the shape of an orb, and he nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, she actually drove that table to New York herself, because she ‘didn’t trust the shipping process,’?” she said.
Jamie laughed again, imagining someone who looked like Hazel and Evie saying something like that.
“Miss Hazel talked about all of y’all pretty often, but especially you,” he said.
He remembered how proud she was to say her only granddaughter had gotten her doctorate. “She would say how you worried her.”
Eve looked down. “I’m just surprised she let you in her house,” she said, her dark brown eyes twinkling.
“Yeah…” Jamie was well aware that Hazel Beasley would talk to white people all day long, but they didn’t get past that threshold if she could help it. “If it makes you feel any better, she made sure I knew she had her derringer handy at all times.”
“I bet she did,” Eve said, giggling.
He turned solemn thinking of how Hazel had just disappeared from his life. “I wasn’t here as often as I liked after business picked up. I was heartbroken hearing she passed.”
“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” Eve said. “I’m glad you were.”
Jamie considered it something of an honor to hear that.
Conversation comfortably ceased as Eve began to slowly cut the rest of her pork chop into big chunks, not unlike the way he would for Jack.
It felt like she was on the verge of opening up to him, and he was at a loss for words, fearing the wrong ones might ruin the moment.
When his phone vibrated loudly in the silence, he took it as a sign not to force it.
“Sorry.” He pulled his LG from his pocket to see Lucy’s name scrolling across the front screen. “I gotta take this.”
“Of course.”
He slipped outside to take the good-night call from Jack, with it coming the news that Lucy and Tyler had gotten him a dog.
A beagle that Jack named Bucky. Jamie had to convince himself that it wasn’t some shameless attempt to curry favor with an eight-year-old.
But when he glanced inside to see Eve gone from the table, he realized he was being rude and ended the call, which kept him from dwelling on it.
Inside, he found that Eve (and her drink) had drifted across the room, landing in front of his bookshelf.
It was a cabinet he’d made of Panamanian rosewood, about a foot taller than her, with a glass door that allowed her to see the contents inside.
He watched her scan the titles, noticing that she’d paused on the second row, containing the Unfortunate Events and Dark Materials of the world.
She then lingered on the fourth row, which boasted works from Jane Austen and George Orwell, James Baldwin and Octavia Butler.
She stopped and opened the bookcase at the fifth, as if the Broken Earth series had physically summoned her, which sat beside some newer greats like Brit Bennett, Colson Whitehead, and Roxane Gay.
She looked back at Jamie then, her expression seeming to convey surprise, as though she thought he’d written all those books himself.
“Sorry about that,” he said, holding up his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket. “I talk to Jack every night before bed, and I was late.”
“Not a problem.” She set her glass on top of the bookcase and pulled out the Black Panther novel about Shuri, which he recognized as one of Jack’s favorites. This was his second copy, in fact. “You’ve read all these?” she asked.
“Most of ’em,” he said, joining her. “Some with Jack. Some I didn’t finish.” He pointed to a couple of titles that he hadn’t chosen for himself. “My brother-in-law sends me some things, too. He’s one of those intellectual types, so I try to listen to him.”
Eve stared at the selection a bit longer before returning the Shuri book to its rightful spot. “So…does any dessert come with this dinner?” she asked, handing over her emptied glass. “Because an important thing to know about me is that I love dessert.”
“I do have some ice cream.” He headed off to the kitchen to retrieve it.
“You ever been to that ice cream parlor down near Dollywood? Old Mill Creamery?” Eve appeared to be distracted as she continued to study his books and his furniture, and he wished he knew what she thought of it all.
She seemed impressed, which was encouraging; he craved her approval for reasons unknown. “Eve?”
She turned back to him. “Huh?”
He held up two white tubs of ice cream for her to see. “You wanted dessert? Banana pudding or whiskey ribbon?”