She paused.
I waited.
And after she took an audible breath, she kept going.
“And he might like you too. It might be that time where he’s decided he needs to move on from the love of his life and find someone to settle down with. But I’m not Johnny Gamble’s friend. I’m your friend. And you deserve to be the love of someone’s life. Not the one who followed that first act, and you get it good because you got yourself a good man, but you don’t get it how you deserve it.”
I looked unseeing to the pasture. “He had bath salts in his bathroom.”
“He had what?”
“He’s really, you know, a guy. And he had this pretty glass jar with blue bath salts in his bathroom.”
Deanna said nothing.
“Do you think they’re hers?”
“I think this is . . . when you found out, and you’d find out, it just sucks that it’s me who has to tell you . . . the kind of question you’d be asking yourself a lot if things go far beyond this dinner tomorrow with Johnny Gamble.”
“Should I . . . do you think I should tell him I know about this and talk to him about it?”
“I don’t know. Did you guys hook up or did you guys connect?”
I knew what she was asking and answered honestly, “I don’t know.”
“You’d know, Izzy,” she said softly.
I would.
I would know.
He told me about his dad and he gave me the code to his phone and he got mad when he thought I was scraping him off.
But he also talked to me about not wearing panties more than once, and at the time it just seemed sexy and thrilling and flattering, but it could just have meant that he didn’t want any obstructions when he was ready to get back to the real reason he was spending time with me.
“Honestly, Izzy,” she said carefully, “I was hoping you’d get my texts last night so I could stop you from letting anything happen. I’ve seen the man. I’m chocolate with a taste for nothing but chocolate but I still can see clear that man is fine. And if I knew you to be a girl who could go out and get herself some without her head getting in a tangle about it, I wouldn’t have texted back anything except not to worry about your menagerie. But you’re not that girl. You might want to try it out but that’s an outfit that will never fit. Like me and skinny jeans. They look tight on other sisters, but I look like someone squirted me into denim sausage casings.”
I wanted to smile.
But with all she was saying to me, there was no chance of a smile.
“So I’ll just say, be careful,” Deanna continued. “You’re a sweet chick but you aren’t stupid. You’ll see things as they are, especially now that you got all the info that you need. Take care of you and just play it by ear. But most important in that is, take care of you. There’s a man out there for you, Izzy, who’s gonna be your Charlie. He’s gonna treat you like the queen you are and you should accept nothing less. If I’m wrong about Johnny Gamble, I’ll be happy to pour barbeque sauce on them and eat my words. Just . . . be careful.”
“I will.”
“You want me to come over?” she asked.
Deanna said I was sweet but she was even sweeter. She liked to say I was white chocolate. Take a bite of me, I’m so sweet, I’ll make your jaw ache. And she was bitter chocolate, take a bite of her and get a caffeine rush.
But she wasn’t.
She was the finest truffle you’ve ever tasted. The kind you let melt in your mouth, and as it does, you pray it’ll never melt away.
“No, I’m good. I just . . . well, with Kent doing the things Kent did and me not being the kind of girl who does this kind of thing, now this, I don’t know. I mean, we had a night together, he made me breakfast. He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow. We exchanged numbers. But he didn’t ask me to be the mother of his children and pledge the rest of his life to me. I haven’t even known him twenty-four hours.”
“You’re also not a risk-taking girl. It took you five seconds flat to decide to adopt Dempsey but it took you six months to research buying your new car. God willing, you’ll have Dempsey far longer than you will that Nissan. I’m hoping you get what I’m saying, so I’ll repeat, be careful. Treat Johnny Gamble like your Nissan. Do not adopt him like a member of your menagerie because they’re glad to have a home, someone to love who loves them in return. Not sure that’s what Johnny Gamble is looking for, but bottom line, that isn’t all you should be looking for from a man.”
My eyes were on the boxer mix I got as a puppy a year ago. Dempsey. He had white feet and a white flash on his chest that slid up to his white snout, the rest of him was red fawn.
He was grown up now, beautiful, all mine, and one of the reasons Kent had lost his mind eight months ago and broke down the door to my house.
The other reason was that Kent was creepy, stalkerish, pathologically possessive and possibly insane.
I’d adopted Dempsey when I was with Kent, so somehow Kent got it into his mind that when I ended things with him and refused to start them back up he should have Dempsey, so he set about taking him.
Sadly for Kent, not so much for me, Dempsey didn’t like Kent breaking down the door, shouting down the house (anytime he did that), but evidently Dempsey was fed up with it that night. To wit, Dempsey mauled the heck out of Kent’s arm while my other dog, Swirl, attacked his leg. All this as I was frantically talking to the 911 operator.
After the “attack,” Kent then tried to make me have Dempsey and Swirl put down.
Fortunately, the cops saw Kent for what he was, what with the breaking down of my door and all, thought Dempsey and Swirl were the bomb and refused to press the issue.
Unfortunately, Kent got an attorney.
Fortunately, the judge saw it the cops’ (and my) way.
Unfortunately, Kent continued to be such a nuisance, I had to sell my little house and move to Matlock.
Fortunately, it meant I had my horses not stabled elsewhere but right outside my back door.
Unfortunately, all this meant I headed into Home last night and met Johnny Gamble who I’d like to think could be someone special in my life but who might just be a really great memory.
“Izzy, are you there?” Deanna called.
“I’m not thinking I’m made out for the hook-up kind of life,” I muttered.
“Oh, baby,” she crooned. “You sure you don’t want me to come out there?”
“No, but maybe next Saturday you and Charlie can come over so I can make you something a whole lot better than chicken enchiladas to thank you for taking care of my zoo today.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes I do.”
She let that sit for a moment before she replied, “Yeah, you always do.”
Deanna and I worked together. Deanna and I met at the office. Deanna and I moved up the ranks together. Deanna and I were both directors of different departments now.
I’d been at the hospital with her after her mother had her stroke. She’d come to the hospital with me repeatedly when mine was dying of cancer.