Heart's a Mess Ch. 01

Here's something I've been working on bit by bit since I figured out how to move on from Fated Hearts. I'm super excited to have something other than The Masseur with a more real quality than....well. Let's face it. Eric was just a fantasy, even though I imagined Alexander Skarsgard every time I had to write some sex into that story (swoon). Anyway. This story is purely fictional. There is some German in here. It's nothing that Google translate won't be able to fix for all your problems auf Deutsch. I tried to fill in as much proper translation as possible without being awkward. Yes. The main character is Guyanese. I won't bore you with my history and all of that, but never fear. I won't be typing in any of my Guyanese creole, and I'll try to describe any food that I introduce. This is getting kind of long... Last but not least I'd like to thank jlo24601 for editing this monster (originally 36 pages in word...yikes!).

Enjoy!

-Gia

~*~

"Darling, as your parents, your father and I are concerned about you." Gail's mother reached across the table and placed one expertly manicured hand over the one of her daughter's, holding her cup.

"Concerned about what?" Gail responded warily.

"Well...It's just that we're getting old and we've wanted some grandchildren."

Gail shut her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache. "Mommy, I'm not getting married anytime soon I JUST turned twenty-one," she tried to reason.

"Are you even having sex?"

"Mom!" Gail sputtered, almost choking as she downed the last mouthful of her cup of tea.

"Sheila!" Gail's father, Harvey looked around to make sure no one else was listening.

"I mean...are you a lesbian? You haven't brought any men to meet us."

"Mom..."

"No! Hear this. It's alright I guess. I only want grandchildren. If the good Lord wants to give them to me through artificial insemination..."

Gail groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Mom, I'm not a lesbian."

"Oh praise Jesus. You're too beautiful to be a lesbian."

"Sheila, what does that even mean?" Harvey asked looking around. He knew it was a mistake to bring his outspoken wife to a new place for their weekly brunch dates with their daughter. The inhabitants of their small town were too nosey for his liking.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter came by, pad in hand, to take their orders.

"Um yes, actually we are." Sheila looked over the menu once more before ordering.

Harvey and Gail shared a look. They both knew very well that Sheila decided on what she wanted when she looked at the menu earlier, but they were used to her melodrama. After taking down their orders, the impeccable man walked away from the table.

"He's gay, you know."

"Sheila! That's enough."

Gail bit back a giggle. Her overly talkative mother always made things interesting when they went out in public. If she didn't have all the hard work to back it up, people would think their money came to them easily. For as far back as she could remember Gail had known that her family was poor. It was when her mother and father opened up their own catering business that they became a little better off. Her mother's natural talent for cooking the island foods she grew up with was as much of a hit with the natives as they were with people who weren't familiar with Guyanese cuisine. Her father placed himself in charge of the managing the whole thing. Together, they were one of the most formidable teams, Gail supposed, since Bonny and Clyde...and just as ruthless.

"So, how was your week?" Sheila asked, taking a sip of her orange juice.

"It was alright, I suppose. I talked to my boss about that raise he's been promising me. I need all the money I can get to pay for grad school." Gail sat back in her chair, cursing to herself at the uncomfortably hard seat.

"Oh, that Dominic Becker is nice enough. You work hard at his firm...even if it is just as a secretary." Sheila mused.

"I'll see if I have enough time before we have to cater that prayer breakfast to make some pholourie for him." She smiled, moving her utensils to the side as the waiter returned carrying the steaming food.

Gail looked down at the chocolate chip and banana pancakes on her plate and felt her stomach rumble. Secretly, she wished she could bribe her mother into making some pholourie for her. She could imagine the soft deep fried dough balls made of ground split peas that had been seasoned with different spices and the savory mango dipping sauce she loved to drown them in. To her family, food was the ultimate way to fix any problem. Whenever her mother got news that someone was getting married, had just died, or was having a baby, Gail's tiny car would be filled with food to deliver to the family.

"How's the business?" She asked around a mouthful of syrup and pancake.

"Don't talk with your mouth full... It's been great. We're booked for a 'West Indian'' theme wedding. You know how much these Americans love tropical vacations." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah right, ma, I see you pretending, like catering weddings is a hassle for you. You can't wait can you?" She laughed loudly.

"You know I don't mind that much. They're paying good money for good food." Sheila blushed swiping at the sides of her mouth.

It was quiet for a moment as the trio finished their dishes and waited for the check...too quiet. Gail sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for either her mother or father to start talking about something totally irrelevant.

It was as she pulled on her light jacket that her father spoke.

"Oh, and by the way..."

Here we go... She groaned inwardly.

"We got the invitations for your cousin's wedding. Remember my friend Shelton...the chap who used to play the bass guitar in Pastor Clemens' church?" He paused, tapping his finger on the linoleum table top.

"No." Gail replied stubbornly. Her father only acted nervous if he wanted her to do something she might not like.

"Oh come on, yes you do Gail." Sheila interjected. "He just graduated medical school."

"What about him?" Gail asked, tensely.

"Well...you know...at rehearsal last night, he was asking me if you would go to the wedding with him. Geoffrey knows him from work, so he invited him too you know? It'll be pretty cool if—"

"Absolutely not."

"Felicity Gail Peters!" Sheila gasped. "You don't even know the poor boy and you're turning him down. He has a good head on his shoulders and his mother is a sweetheart."

"I said no! I don't want to know anything about him. He has a lazy eye mother!!" Gail whispered furiously across the table.

She hated when her parents meddled. It didn't exactly help that she didn't have anything close to a boyfriend since her high school prom either. She could vividly remember one of the overly eager church boys that her parents pushed at her. Not that there was anything wrong with black men, but all the ones her parents set her up with were just the same, handsy, horny, and forced to go to church with their mothers for threat of having their ears twisted off for their insolence. The only reason she endured the groping in the limo ride to the banquet hall and the overly close grinding on the dance floor was to make her crush jealous.

Enrique Cruz was all types of fine. He was taller than her five foot-six frame, at a whopping six-foot four. His bright green eyes and smooth voice had her fantasizing about what he would do to her in bed...in relation to what she had learned in health class, of course. She briefly felt bad when Wendell, her nonetheless handsome, but pushy date, got told to take a hike as "Sexy Enrique" (as she named him in her head) pulled her away at the end of the night to his house where he whispered dirty things against her lips. After sleeping with him, she decided that he wasn't up to par with all her fantasies, and snuck out of his window a wonderful three minutes after he fumbled around between her legs like a landed fish and filled the condom with a few weak spurts. She snuck back into her house and passed out on the bed in her fancy dress, masturbating to the fantasies of what she expected from "Sexy Enrique". Gail and her friends had a good laugh about it the next day.

And now, she was back at square one. Her parents had pushed too far this time. I'll tell them what the problem really is. It's them telling me what to do like I'm some sort of child. She told herself firmly.

"I uh...I'm bringing Michael." was all she managed to get out. Later, she'd explain to her boss' son, her best friend why he was coming to a wedding as her date. At least they were good friends already. He owed her for pretending to be his girlfriend when an ex came by to try to get him back. She took one look at Gail's no-nonsense pose and put her car in reverse, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

"Well, alright...but I think you should take Shelton. He's a nice church boy and—"

"Sheila, I think she already chose." Harvey laughed, getting out of his seat and holding out his hand for his wife.

"Well, okay. We'll call you when we get home, okay baby?" She hugged Gail and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Bye mom. Bye daddy." Gail returned the hugs and kisses and waved as they took off. Once her parents rounded the corner, she fished her cell phone from the recesses of her shoulder bag and dialed Michael's number.

"Hello?" He asked groggily.

"Hey Mikey, It's me, Gail." She managed to get out between her gasps of laughter.

"Hey kitty-kat." He yawned.

"Hmm? No, Heather...I mean Sasha, it's my sister." She heard his muffled voice explain to someone in the background.

"Wild night, huh? It's almost noon and you aren't up yet." Gail mused, trying to avoid the true subject.

"Yeah it was! I went out with Erik and Peter. You know how those Germans drink." He laughed, sounding more awake. Gail smiled as she heard the sheets rustle as he got up, most likely to get out of earshot of his overnight guest.

"Anyway, I met this girl...whatever her name is after the sixth jaeger-bomb. It's miraculous that I...wait." He paused. Gail bit her cheek as she imagined the wary look he would have given her if she was there. "What do you want?" Michael asked grimly.

~*~

Part of the reason he called her kitty-kat was her ability to so smoothly ease a request for a favor into everyday conversation. It was that very skill that got him to accompany her on all sorts of adventures their freshman and sophomore years in college. He once let slip that he'd follow anything to Hell and back if it was wearing a short skirt. Taking his attraction to her thick, shapely legs, Gail had seductively seated herself on his table in the library and asked sweetly if he could take her for a ride on his motorcycle to a strip club for her nineteenth birthday. He took a full minute before he started packing up his things.

"You ready to go?" He'd asked, not once taking his eyes off her smooth cocoa-brown legs.

"Slick as a cat stealing milk!" her mother would say.

"Ohhhhh...nothing."

"Gail...I know you better than that. I swear to God if you come to my house wearing another short skirt..." He let his threat dangle.

"I told my parents you'd be my date to my cousin's wedding." She blurted as she got into her car.

"What's in it for me...?" He asked after pausing for a minute.

"Anything."

"Anything?" Gail heard the hopefulness in his voice.

"Yep."

"Can you make me some of those pineapple tarts and cheese rolls you brought to work the other day?" He asked quietly.

"Mike it's not crack, why are you whispering?" Gail giggled.

"I don't plan on sharing them with anyone." He whispered sheepishly.

"So, is it a deal?" Gail asked, checking her mirrors and fastening her seatbelt.

"Deal." Michael said quickly "Got to go. Whats-her-face just walked into the room bare ass-naked." He said, not even saying goodbye as he hung up.

Gail smiled to herself. Michael Becker was something else.

~*~

"Why do we have to match?" Gail asked as she and her mother browsed the aisles of the dress warehouse.

"So people know we're related." Sheila looked up from a peach colored monstrosity. "And plus, supposedly all the well-to-do's will be there. Business opportunities wait for no man or woman. Try this on." She shoved a slinky teal evening gown into Gail's arms.

"Mom, this isn't even my size. Do they have a sixteen? You know we have to accommodate the girls." She gestured to her large chest, handed her mother the dress and began a search of her own.

"Make sure it's something long and blue-ish."

Gail nodded and pulled something to add to the already growing pile draped over her arm.

"I just don't know why we're putting this off until the last minute..." Gail grumbled to herself as she hung all six dresses on the hooks scattered on three walls of the changing room.

"Tell me when you're ready. We'll come out together and compare." Sheila yelled over the partition.

"Okay." Gail yelled back, pulling one of the dresses off the rack. She slid the stretchy material over her head and fastened the halter behind her neck. Gail fussed over the ruching covering her tummy before calling out to her mother.

"Ma, I'm coming out." She said as she pushed open the door.

"Oh, Gail!" Sheila cried out. "You look stunning! That is beautiful. We're getting that one." Her mother decided for her. "Did you even see yourself?" She asked, ushering Gail to the bank of mirrors lining one wall of the fitting room.

"Oh my god." Gail whispered.

The halter neckline made her neck look long and elegant, drawing the eye to her generous cleavage. As her gaze travelled further down, she marveled at the way the draping folds of royal blue material covered what she thought were here more undesirable curves and floated down to her toes. She turned to look at the back of the dress and smiled when the light caught the impossibly shimmery waterfall of sequined material molding against her butt. Upon closer examination, she found a tiny zipper in the side of the dress. She tugged it up, until it stopped about mid-thigh, before sticking her leg out.

"Oh. I like that." She smiled to herself before turning to show her mother.

"Let me see yours, mom." She turned to the side so her mother could squeeze in next to her.

"Do you think it's too much? I know he said black tie, but I feel like this isn't 'black-tie' enough." Sheila fussed with a baby blue scoop necked dress.

"It's springtime, summer is going to be here in a few weeks, so I guess you'll be alright. The shimmery parts in the bottom make it a little more formal" Gail nodded. "We'll get that one for you, and this one for me."

~*~

Gail sucked in a breath and swept the mascara wand over her eyelashes again. She discarded it a moment later and grabbed the eyelash curler.

"Damn, that doesn't hurt?" Michael asked as he poked his head in her room, nursing a can of beer.

"No." Gail answered tightly as she reapplied her eyeliner for the millionth time.

"What if they don't believe you? What if they know that I'm not really your boyfriend?"

"Michael, get out of my room. I already had those questions in mind before you came in here fucking up my routine..."

"What routine are you talking about?! You've been in front of that mirror for over an hour!" He complained.

"I'm already dressed, my hair is done. This just needs to be...perfect." She smacked her lips and turned around to strike a pose for him.

Michael would be a liar if he said that Gail didn't look stunning in the dress she had on. It was curve hugging and figure enhancing all in one go.

"Whatever kitty-kat, get your shoes on and lets bounce."

"Never say that again Mike." She grimaced.

He laughed. "What? I'm just saying...you look really hot. We might not make it out of here. You know my horn dog tendencies control me." He put a hand to his chest in an over exaggerated show of self-preservation.

"Just keep those hands to yourself." She swept past him in a flurry of blue sequins and vanilla scented perfume to her living room. Her long silver earrings lay against one perfectly made-up cheek as Gail fastened the buckles on her strappy low heeled sandals.

"Why don't you just wear high heels like normal women? They would make your legs look even better than usual." Michael smiled, grabbing his suit jacket on the way to the door.

"Because you'd like it if I wore something that made me a foot taller just so you can stare at my legs." She stood up and smoothed her dress again.

"Oh, come on. Me, stare at your legs? I would never." Michael groaned sarcastically and opened the door. \

"Okay, okay. I'm ready." Gail laughed.

"Stairs?"

"Elevator!"

"You have on low heels kitty-kat."

"And you're about to have a black eye. This dress is delicate." She huffed.

"Where did you park?" Gail asked once they reached the lobby of her building.

"Right outside the doors. I begged your doorman to not call the towing company, that we'd only be a minute. I um...'borrowed' my dad's Jaguar, so that would be a lot of trouble if it got towed." He smiled at her when she rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't know why you couldn't just ask him." She reached for the handle on the passenger door and sucked her teeth when he batted her hand away and opened it for her.

"We aren't acting very much like a couple, Gail," Michael reminded her as he held the passenger door open for her. He bit back a laugh when she bumped her head on the door.

The ride to the country club was quiet and uneventful. Gail fiddled with the radio to hide her nervousness. Michael grimaced as she left it on a classic rock station.

"What is it with you and Journey?" He asked irritably over Steve Perry's raspy voice.

"I like them, what's wrong with that?" She asked defensively forgetting to worry about her family's reaction to her date.

"That's your date...your best friend?" Then, they'd look at her parents and think, "We're so sorry your daughter is the last one in the entire family who isn't married yet."

So far, her sisters and brothers followed the pattern to a tee. Helene was on baby number three with a flourishing optometry office she and her husband had in the city, Edward and Errol were both practicing lawyers with two children each, and Rita had a four year old and was an RN at the local hospital.

Maybe it was the fact that she was more rebellious than her siblings. Maybe she was just used to having her own way as the baby in the family. Whatever the reason, Gail couldn't find the will to fill another cookie-cutter mold her family forced on every child that had the fortune and misfortune to come into the family on either side. She craved something more exciting than a white picket fence and minivan everyone else had. Something inside her shouted at her that she deserved to be happy on her own terms, family wants be damned. It therefore didn't surprise her parents much when she announced last year that she was foregoing the law school path to become a kindergarten teacher. The angry phone call from her grandparents was enough to confirm that teaching was actually what she wanted.

"You're throwing your life away with some low-income dream, Felicity. This isn't why we came to this country! What happened to law school? You already had a job at a firm; you could have worked there once you graduated," the wrinkled matron of the Peters family yelled over the phone.

"No, granny, I know what I want. And I don't want to be a lawyer or a doctor."

She'd tried hard to listen to the disappointment in her role model's voice and the dial tone after Amy Peters slammed the phone down on her. She would be in the clear by Christmas...her grandmother was like her mother: a drama queen if nothing else.