Chapter 9: The Invitation

I hurried inside and grabbed my phone and brought it outside. Snuggling up to the hedges outside one of Mr. Jones's open windows, hoping it was loud enough that my idea would work. I set my phone to detect the song and anxiously waited for my phone to pull up the title.

I almost did a happy dance when it worked. I immediately bought the whole album and hurried inside. As the first heart-pounding song began, I felt a swift but small sense of victory.

I sat down and grabbed the damned invite and wrote them out quickly, listening to the new playlist.

That night when my homework was done, I fell into bed too exhausted to even consider a repeat performance of last night. But, tomorrow… tomorrow I would invite Mr. Jones to my birthday party, personally. My stomach did a giddy flip-flop at the thought of seeing him again. I snuggled deep into my comforter then pulled Leroy close. I willed myself to sleep quickly in order to hurry tomorrow's coming.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

I had hopped out of bed and grabbed my clothes even before my alarm went off the next day. I hurried through my morning routine at an almost inhumanly fast speed and bounced down the stars. I grabbed the stack of invitations off the table to put them in the mailbox before I even realized how early it still was.

"I see you finally listened to me about not dawdling in bed all morning," my mother said as she walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Mrs. Short.

Mrs. Short was the sweet lady that cooked for us. She was older than my mother in her mid to late sixties, but whereas my mother also looked so stern, Mrs. Short was as open and bright as the sun, filling the room with light from just her smile. I smiled, happy to see her before I went off to school, which was out of the norm. Mother must have made her come in early this morning for whatever contrived reason my mother had. Sometimes I think my mother just liked to boss her "employees" around to show she could.

"Becca, my dear! You look radiant!" Mrs. Short commented, grabbing my hands.

"Thank you! You look amazing today as well!" I greeted her back.

I leaned in and gave her a little hug, then whispered into her ear. "Thank you for the recipe."

My mother would not be happy if she found out that the cook had a hand in teaching me how to cook.

"Anytime, dear," she replied just as quietly, remembering the last time she had been at the receiving end of my mother's lectures.

I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, half-listening to my mother going over the menu for the upcoming week.

"And don't' forget that Mr. Delaney and I are going out of town this weekend, so you will need to be here to cook for Rebecca," Mother commented.

Mrs. Short's face fell a bit behind my mother's back.

"No, she won't," I interrupted before Mrs. Short could agree to anything. "I can cook for myself."

"Rebecca, that's totally unnecessary. We hired Mrs. Short for a reason," Mother stated.

"Yes, but Mrs. Short's grandchildren are coming in this weekend. She should be spending time with them instead of with me. Therefore, I will cook for myself," I told her.

Mother paused for a moment, then looked at Mrs. Short.

"You have grandchildren?" Ingram asked in a state of shock.

I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Short had spoken about her children and grandchildren often. Not to mention she had brought them over a few times to go swimming on the weekends that she hadn't been able to get off. Of course, my mother would never remember anything like that. Mrs. Short just nodded, having grown used to the closed-minded way my mother was. I had no idea why it was grating on my nerves so much, but it really was. I didn't wanna deal with her uppity behavior anymore.

"Either way, Mother. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Mrs. Short and Mrs. Robinson can both take the weekend off, and I will survive," I told my mother.

Mother looked extremely displeased but relented on the condition both came in early on Monday to clean up any mess that I may have left over the weekend.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Mrs. Short shook her head slightly at me, agreeing quickly with my mother.

Mrs. Short leaned down and whispered in my ear when my mother wasn't looking. "Pick your battles, my dear. But, thank you."

I gave her a slight nod and looked at the time once more. It was time to go!

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I hugged Mrs. Short once more and waved goodbye to my mother.

I skipped out the front door and headed to Mr. Jones' after slipping the cards in the mailbox. Just like yesterday, his front room light was on. However, this time his front door was not open. I felt a bit disappointed, but I pushed those feelings aside. I stuck the invite in the crack in the door so he would see it when he got ready to leave. I hurried to get out of there before I disturbed him.

I had just barely gotten the card situated with its flourished writing sticking out front when the front door pulled open, dropping it to the ground. I reached down to grab it and found myself looking up at the very man I was hoping to see. What I first noticed was his bare feet. I would never have said feet were sexy until this moment.

I looked up and up, taking in his tan dress pants and the white button-up dress shirt that he hadn't tucked in yet. I finally met his eyes, and there was no smile on his face. But instead of anger, the emotions that his eyes held made me shiver. He held out his hand to me, and I quickly slid the invite into it.

"What's this?" he asked as he held it up.

"An invite to my birthday," I whispered.

"I thought you had just turned 19?"

"I did, but my parents are celebrating it in a few weeks. Better for my father's business," I explained, not even trying to deny the meaning behind it.

"That's dumb," Mr. Jones commented before tossing the invite on the table behind him and reaching down for me.

I allowed him to help me up and stood in front of him, trying not to drop my gaze from his intense gaze.

"Babygirl, you have no idea how beautiful you looked when you handed me that invitation," he whispered.

I felt my cheeks flush and my body hum. Mr. Jones had said I was beautiful… and the way he called me baby girl… made me melt into him. Literally, I leaned forward and inhaled his scent, letting it surround me and fill me. I realized I had closed my eyes and was leaning into him like a crazy lady. I started to move back, trying to regain my composure, when he grabbed me. He dragged me inside and closed the door behind me.

"You are playing a dangerous game, Rebecca," he quietly warned as he backed me up to the door.

I swallowed hard and shook my head able to unable to speak my thoughts.

"No? You don't think it's dangerous?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, Sir," I whispered finally. "I just don't know how to play."

He leaned forward and pressed his hands against the door, pinning me in.

"Believe me, sweetie. I know that all too well. Tell me, sweet one, have you ever even been kissed?" he asked while his head moved closer to mine.

"Y-yes, Sir," I murmured, unable to take my eyes off his lips suddenly.

An odd sense of anger or jealousy seemed to flash through Mr. Jones's eyes.