GABE
In spite of the fact that all I wanted to do was Lily, I still had to do my show. Back at the Willows, I sat down on the sofa with a beer to run through the footage from that afternoon. After she left Uncle Jimmy’s Secret Ingredient, I stayed to shoot some extra scenes to send over to Markowitz. We worked piecemeal like that, making order out of chaos. I went over some shots of the ribs as they rotated through the smokers and the ovens. I’d gotten a nice pan-through of the kitchen and some close-ups of the herbs and spices over the stove. I’d done a few interviews with Jimmy Jr., the medium, and some of the family. But all my favorite shots had Lily, right in the center.
Once I had the rough cuts of an episode put together, I carried my laptop upstairs to the master bedroom, the sheets still rumpled and messy from the two of us. I got in bed and pulled the comforter over my head. I was plunged into darkness, except for my computer screen. Beneath the covers, it smelled exactly like Lily. I inhaled hard. She was the sweetest goddamned thing.
Surrounded by her, I focused on the images on the screen. I hit play on the rough cut and narrated the script I’d put together in my head. Markowitz would slice and dice, and so would our production editors, but this at least would give them an idea of what I was thinking for the segment. Thirty minutes and a handful of audio files later, I shut my laptop and pulled the comforter off my head. Outside, I heard the faint kish-kish-kish of a nearby sprinkler. I lay down and rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow where she’d lain. I ran my eyes over the headboard that she’d hung on to as I fucked her. And I worked her panties on the bedpost into a knot around my fingers. The lace was sexy, but the hottest part of all was the triangle of cotton that showed just how wet I’d made her. That, right there, was my Kryptonite.
On one hand, I respected her boundaries. I respected that she took this job seriously and that she wasn’t going to screw around when it came to fine print. That was sensible, logical, and responsible. But on the other hand, I could feel it in the way she looked at me, the way she’d hung on to the picnic table when I’d gotten close to her: we both wanted it and we wanted it bad.
I thought about what she might be doing in that cute place of hers. Painting her toenails, maybe. Or taking a shower. The image of her all sudsy with shower gel filled my head. Bubbles sliding over her nipples and down between her legs.
My original plan for that night had been to shoot some footage at the Moon River Brewing Company, but I had a way better idea for what the two of us could do together instead. All I could do was set the scene and open the door between logic and instinct, between responsibility and desire; it was up to her to walk through it. So I shot her a text to say:
We’ve got some more work to do tonight, Ms. Jameson.
Dots appeared to show that she was typing a response. When I saw them, I felt my goddamned heart start pounding in my chest. Three months ago, I was swimming in a Costa Rican lagoon with crocodiles and I hadn’t even been particularly nervous. Now, typing-in-progress dots were making my heart rate speed up. She got my gears grinding, no doubt about it. In a second, she replied with:
OK, Mr. Powers.
Just tell me where and when.
Pick you up at 7
I’ll bring dinner
A few hours later, I was showered and changed and walking back into Savannah Dry Goods and Grocery. Lily’s aunt spun around when she heard the bell ding as I came through the door. When she saw me, her face lit up with delight. “Well, hello again, young man!” She sprayed some furniture polish on the gleaming wooden counter and wiped it off with a towel. “Gabe, wasn’t it?”
“That’s me.” I didn’t even have to force a showbiz smile onto my face. This one was instant and genuine. I was going to treat Lily, and I was going to treat her right. I stood at the counter and took a deep breath as I scanned the old-fashioned rows of candies, the racks of fresh bread, and the cooler of fancy cheeses. The place was epic. “So it’s probably no surprise that I’m really interested in your niece.”
She beamed up at me. “Not hard to imagine. She’s the sweetest thing this side of sweet tea, after all.”
Sweet tea had nothing on her. Nothing. “I’m picking her up tonight, and I want to surprise her with all her favorite stuff.”
The delicate skin around Jennifer’s eyes formed into well-worn smile wrinkles. I could see a bit of Lily in her—that same full-hearted joy. “Oooh. How romantic. And thoughtful!”
“I mean everything. Flowers, favorite candies, perfumes, whatever she likes. Money doesn’t matter. If I need to spend the next two hours driving around town to get what she likes best, then that’s what I’ll do. But I figured you’d probably be the place to start.”
She gave me a series of quick, happy claps. “I know a thing or two about what she likes! How’s this strike you for a start?” she asked and hoisted a big picnic basket up onto the table.
It was dark wicker with leather buckles. She opened it, and I saw that the inside was rigged up with all the basics—plates, champagne glasses, forks and knives, and bright-white napkins. I pulled out my wallet and put my credit card on the table. “Let’s do this thing, Auntie Jennifer.”
She reached up and patted my cheeks with her soft, plump hands. “Oooooh. I like you, young man! I like you a lot!”