He’d be getting out about as soon as he’d be planning on being a daddy himself, and Mamie knew it. “Got orders.”
All four women sucked in a breath as one. Miss Flo crossed herself.
“You be careful over there, y’hear?” Miss Ophelia said.
“Moving orders,” Jackson clarified.
Their breaths whooshed out as one too.
“To Gellings.”
Mamie let out a whoop, and Miss Ophelia gave his cheek another pinch. “Don’t you be scaring us like that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle.
“You looking to settle down while you’re here?” Miss Flo wanted to know. “I got a granddaughter about your age. She’sreal nice. Bakes good biscuits too.”
“That means she ain’t got the looks God gave a porcupine, bless her heart,” Miss Ophelia said.
“She’s a real sweet girl,” Miss Flo insisted.
“That she is,” Miss Dolly agreed. Miss Ophelia added an “Mm-hmm,” but Mamie rapped a knuckle on the table. “Y’all leave my grandbaby alone. Just ’cuz he’s back here in God’s country with all these nice Southern girls don’t mean he’s gonna pick the first one what comes along. He’s gonna be trying biscuits all over half the state when the mommas find out he’s come home, you mark my words. How long you gonna be here, sugarplum?”
“Couple years.” But he wouldn’t be sampling just any biscuits. A few assignments ago he would’ve, but he’d learned the hard way when he sampled the biscuits, the biscuit baker expected him to bring home the butter, and he sure wasn’t planning on doing that.
Mamie might write those nice books with happy endings, but he knew firsthand the biscuits went stale and the butter spoiled. He’d rather not have the biscuits at all.
Milk, though, that’d be hard to give up altogether.
Mamie was looking at him like his daddy used to whenever Jackson would get a notion to head out with Craig for some no-good fun. Like she could read his brain cells. “Ain’t you a little young to be talkin’ smack about forever?” she said softly.
He reckoned she was in a position to think so. But it wouldn’t change his mind. “You go on and write me a happy ending, Mamie.”
’Cuz that was the only forever he’d be buttering in this lifetime.
CHAPTER FIVE
When she first made a splash in the world, she rippled out of her comfort zone in small waves. When the world made a splash in her life, she discovered in her possession a tidal wave of sparks with which to splash back.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
Friday night, Anna climbed off the stage at Taps, hot and sweaty and laughing after a rusty rendition of “Summer Nights.” She sucked as Sandy, but Rodney was worse as Danny. And he’d reveled in his badness for every last horrific second.
They made their way through the crowd to their table. Brad jumped up on his chair and gave a whistle. “More! More!”
Jules yanked at his belt loops. “God, how can you still hear after that? Get down.”
“You kidding, babe? That was like angels.Angels. If I’d been up there?—”
“My eardrums would still work,” Jules said.
He hopped down and bumped into their waitress. Her tray flew out of her hands. Full soda cups went flying. People at the next table skittered for cover. Anna shrieked and ducked, but she got splattered with half a Sprite.
“Smooth, bro.” Rodney held out a fist, and Brad bumped it. “You okay, Anna?”
Jules handed her a wad of napkins. They disintegrated on the sugary liquid on Anna’s arms. “Just wet,” she said.
“So to speak,” Rodney and Brad said together. They shared another fist bump and a “Giggidy.”
