Page 42 of Until Now
“It wasn’t, Lovebird; it was a ball.” Grandpa Davis takes her hand.
“Boone, what do you think, son?” She tilts her head in anticipation of her child’s agreement.
“Ball, Mama.”
“You men need new glasses.”
It takes a certain amount of grit to argue with her all-star son.
The entire room erupts in sound as the next pitch is swung at and missed.
Dominique digs her nails into my arm.
“This is it. Full count.”
The next pitch will settle the outcome. It’s either World Series or depression for the Mavericks. Either way, we will be partying tonight. That was the decision of the Swifts and has been every year they’ve been in this position.
The windup seems almost to be in slow motion. The ball sails toward the batter, and it looks like it’s going to be perfectly placed in the strike zone. But at the last moment, it dips into Atticus’ glove, just as the batter swings and misses! Strike three!
The sound inside the suite swells as we all rise. There are hugs and kisses; Boone picks up his wife and bounces her like a sack of potatoes. She’s laughing, so I guess it's their thing. Grandpa Davis places a gentle kiss on Birdie’s nose. As for me, I’ve wrapped Dominique in an embrace, and I’m going in for the kiss.
* * *
“I love how this house is designed,” I say, stepping into my shoes. “There’s enough bedrooms for all of us to stay in, but it doesn’t seem like we’re in a cavern. There’s a lot of warmth to the home.”
Dominique looks over her shoulder for one last check in the mirror.
“They have literally thought of everything. Did you notice the plugs inside the bathroom drawers? I love that idea,” she says.
“You look beautiful, babe. But then, that’s a given.”
She bats her long eyelashes in my direction. “Thank you, Beauregard. I wore it for your pleasure.”
The exaggerated Southern accent makes me chuckle and join in on the fantasy.
“Beulah, you make a man lose his control.”
“Beulah? I don’t want that name. I sound like your favorite cow.” She says it in her own voice, so I know she’s serious. Apparently, Dominique is the Director of this one-act play.
“Please forgive me. I was stunned by your beauty. I meant to say, Miss Scarlett. Is that better?” My southern accent leaves a lot to be desired, but she ignores that and enjoying that I’m playing along.
This pleases my girl, and she proves it by leaning down and coming within a few inches of my face.
“I’d kiss you, Beauregard, but I just washed my hair.”
I recognize that from a movie we watched one late night. Bette Davis always had the best lines. Or maybe she just could deliver them. Dominique has the talent too. Perhaps it’s that she has me by my heart. And the dick and balls. Everything the woman does seems sort of adorable. Jesus. I’m a goner.
“Unless you plan on getting your makeup smeared, we better head downstairs. You’re making my dick hard.”
Her mouth opens in surprise, but the eyes … they twinkle with the thought.
