Blaze

Nineteen; James

"How about a break, dear. Have some sweet tea." The glasses clatter as Martha lowers the tray to the white wicker table in the middle of her covered front porch. I take a break from removing the red, white and blue bunting from the railing and take a welcome step into the shade.

"Thanks," I say, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead and taking a sip.  I lean against the post of the porch, my back to the street and my head narrowly missing the potted fern hanging from a hook on the beadboard ceiling.

"I was disappointed when you didn't show up to my Fourth of July barbeque," she pouts, glancing down at her watch. "But I got to chat with the new neighbor. Her name is Brenda." She watches my face closely for a reaction.

"Is that so?" I shrug. Martha rocks in her creaky porch swing, scowling at my disinterested reaction.

"Yes," she continues, "She's a young widow and her poor house needs some upgrades. She said she noticed my handyman and wanted to know if you had some extra time," she says sweetly.

"Well, I'm sure she was disappointed when you told her I am not a handyman and not for hire," I reply, peering at her as I remove my sunglasses and set them on the table.

"Well..." she drawls and stands. I laugh and shake my head, and sweat slides down my face. Her eyes flick to the street behind me as I pull up on the bottom of my white t-shirt and wipe the sweat from my brow.

"Oh, excuse me. Is this a bad time Mrs. Jones?" I hear an unfamiliar, feminine voice with a thick country accent. "I didn't realize you had company. I thought you said..."

I turn toward the voice as I lower my sweaty shirt and find the stranger with an eerily familiar face before me, those almond-shaped, blue eyes trained on my recently revealed torso.

"Oh yes, Brenda, this is James."

"Nice to meet you, James. Sorry, but I mentioned to Mrs. Jones I was in desperate need for a handyman, especially someone who can look at the air conditioner as soon as possible." I notice the sheen of sweat covering her forehead. I glance behind her and see the windows of her house open, box fans resting in several of them.

"And I'm sure she was eager to offer up my services." I glance to Martha who doesn't even have the good manners to look sheepish. She's so smug, so proud of herself.

"I did," Martha interjects innocently, and I remind myself not to underestimate her acting skills in the future, "I told her I had a sweet nephew that would be more than happy to help." I'm not her nephew, but I suppose that's a much simpler explanation than the truth.

"I'd really appreciate it. It turns on, then just shuts off after a minute or so. It's so hot and my poor daughters are miserable."

The toddler. I can't stand the thought of that poor baby in this heat.

"Of course. Let me grab some tools and I'll take a look. No promise I can fix it, but I'll see what I can do."

Brenda's shoulders drop and her face relaxes, breaking into a wide smile that reminds me again of Blaise. God, it has been months. Why can't I get that girl off my mind?

I bend down to pick up my tool box and turn to follow Brenda across the street when I hear her familiar, melodic voice.

"Mom, I can't find Eliza's lovey and it's her nap time."

I look up and into Blaise's eyes as she stands frozen, mute, and staring back. She hesitates in the middle of the street and I drink her in, an oasis at the end of my months-long drought.

I tear my eyes away from hers just long enough to notice her tiny blue cotton shorts, rolled down low over her wide hips, exposing a delicious strip of skin between her waistband and the bottom of her tied-up gray tank top. Her dark hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy knot, exposing her long, graceful neck, slender shoulders and the full, round edge of her cleavage. Every inch of her very exposed skin glistens with a slick sheen.

After a moment she gathers her bearings and jogs out of the street toward us. But I'm not ready; I need her to hesitate longer. Brenda looks back and forth between Blaise and I, narrowing her eyes. Martha looks back and forth between Blaise and Brenda and I. She looks just as genuinely surprised to see Blaise as I am, but she's smiling broadly and rocking back and forth on her heels in excitement.

"Mr. Bradford?" Blaise asks, breathless, wiping her forehead and crossing her arms over the exposed skin of her abdomen. "Um, what are you doing here?" she continues, shifting her weight between her feet. Her eyes flick between me and Brenda, who I now realize is her mother.

"You two know each other?" Brenda interrupts.

"Um, yes. Sort of." She's looking directly at Brenda and avoids eye contact with me. "He interviewed me for my scholarship."

"Yes," I say, finally catching up with her and finding my voice, "I work for the University." I'm still eyeing the side of Blaise's head, willing her to look at me. I turn to Brenda, who is still eyeing me skeptically.

"James Bradford," I extend my hand and flash my most charming smile. "Afraid we didn't get a proper introduction, and I apologize that I'm only an amateur handyman."

"Brenda Evans," she says, taking my extended hand and shaking it, reciprocating with a charming smile of her own.

I release Brenda's right hand and she reaches up to lightly touch my elbow with her left. "The unit is in the basement. Follow me." She turns to Blaise, "James here has agreed to look at our air conditioner."

"Oh, thank fuck," Blaise murmurs. I'm surprised by her vulgarity but like the way that dirty word sounds on her sweet lips.

"Blaise! Language," Brenda chastises, and Blaise rolls her eyes.

"Um, okay Brenda," Blaise sarcastically responds. Brenda looks down, the tips of her ears turning red, but says nothing.

"I'm showing James the HVAC unit, please try to get Eliza down for her nap. Her lovie is on my bed," Brenda continues.

Blaise turns quickly and trots toward the yellow house across the street. My eyes roam over her retreating figure. Her skin is exposed right at the spot her lower back curves out into her perfect ass, which is barely contained in those tiny shorts.

She disappears through a creaky screen door and I finally remember there are other people on this planet, starting with Brenda at my side. I peek down at her from the corner of my eye and she's glaring at me, watching me watch her daughter.