him so I can meet him,” Davis cajoled.
“I don’t know about that, Davis.”
“Just think about.”
Fifteen minutes later when Jules hung up from talking to her brother she began to seriously consider the possibility of inviting Germaine to dinner on Sunday. Was it too soon? She didn’t want him to read more into the request than there was. But at the same time, Davis was on to something: maybe having Germaine around would tone her mother down a bit.
Or maybe it would amp her up.
She had better not take that chance. No, Germaine definitely wouldn’t be going to this one.
But on Sunday morning, with the stress of the evening’s event taking a toll on her, Jules felt herself caving in.
“Hello?” Germaine mumbled, clearly still half asleep. It was 6 a.m., and she knew he was probably wondering who could be calling him at that hour on a Sunday morning.
“It’s me, Jules.”
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he asked, only slightly more alert.
“I need you,” Jules said, working hard to keep calm despite the feeling of panic building in her gut.
“Huh?”
“Can you come with me? Later? To my mom’s?” Jules asked.“She wants me to come for dinner. And I know it’s last minute, and I really wasn’t going to ask you, because I thought it was too soon for you to meet her, but I can’t do my mom by myself. I mean I won’t be completely by myself, my brother will be there, but he really doesn’t count ‘cause she likes him—”
“Jules, it’s okay,” Germaine said, stopping her in the midst of her ramble. Jules’s poorly disguised anxiety had fully awoken him.
“Okay? Does that mean yes? You’ll come?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“Okay. You can pick me up at five,” she said, hanging up the phone before he had a chance to protest.
Eleven hours later Germaine was knocking on Jules’s apartment door. On the second knock, the door flew open and a restless Jules stood before him.
She looked absolutely gorgeous in wedges and a loose-fitting, yellow halter dress. However, it didn’t take much for Germaine to realize that she was more than a little uncomfortable.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, as he stepped inside.
“Yeah, sure, I’m fine.” Jules tried to force a smile. He saw right through it.
“Come here,” he murmured as he pulled her into an embrace. Jules wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly. Jules sighed. If he knew what she did, he wouldn’t be so sure.
“Let’s go,” Jules said.
“So there are some things you need to know,” Jules continued once they were in the car and on the way to Whitby. “Here are the rules—”
Germaine laughed. “There are rules?”
Jules looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Was he serious?
“Of course there are rules,” Jules said incredulously. “And you plan to come out of this evening alive, then you better follow them.”
Germaine shook his head.
“Okay, so here goes. My mother will ask you a million questions. Attempt to answer all of them. If you don’t, she’ll think you’re rude. Some of them will be very personal; don’t be alarmed or offended. It’s just her way. She will ask you what you do. At no point can you call the Lounge a nightclub, or a disco. No matter how you try to spin it, she will think you’re working for the devil—”
“So what am I supposed to call it?” Germaine asked with a laugh as he switched lanes and got off the highway.
Jules bit her lip thoughtfully.
“Say it’s a record store with a café, where you have small events sometimes.”
“Café … Wow. I never heard it described like that before,” Germaine said dryly. “What if she starts asking more questions about the type of events and artists we have there? What if she asks about the bar or if there’s dancing—”
“No!” Jules exclaimed, her eyes wide open. “No talk of bars, or dancing. You know what, maybe you
“I don’t know about that, Davis.”
“Just think about.”
Fifteen minutes later when Jules hung up from talking to her brother she began to seriously consider the possibility of inviting Germaine to dinner on Sunday. Was it too soon? She didn’t want him to read more into the request than there was. But at the same time, Davis was on to something: maybe having Germaine around would tone her mother down a bit.
Or maybe it would amp her up.
She had better not take that chance. No, Germaine definitely wouldn’t be going to this one.
But on Sunday morning, with the stress of the evening’s event taking a toll on her, Jules felt herself caving in.
“Hello?” Germaine mumbled, clearly still half asleep. It was 6 a.m., and she knew he was probably wondering who could be calling him at that hour on a Sunday morning.
“It’s me, Jules.”
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he asked, only slightly more alert.
“I need you,” Jules said, working hard to keep calm despite the feeling of panic building in her gut.
“Huh?”
“Can you come with me? Later? To my mom’s?” Jules asked.“She wants me to come for dinner. And I know it’s last minute, and I really wasn’t going to ask you, because I thought it was too soon for you to meet her, but I can’t do my mom by myself. I mean I won’t be completely by myself, my brother will be there, but he really doesn’t count ‘cause she likes him—”
“Jules, it’s okay,” Germaine said, stopping her in the midst of her ramble. Jules’s poorly disguised anxiety had fully awoken him.
“Okay? Does that mean yes? You’ll come?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“Okay. You can pick me up at five,” she said, hanging up the phone before he had a chance to protest.
Eleven hours later Germaine was knocking on Jules’s apartment door. On the second knock, the door flew open and a restless Jules stood before him.
She looked absolutely gorgeous in wedges and a loose-fitting, yellow halter dress. However, it didn’t take much for Germaine to realize that she was more than a little uncomfortable.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, as he stepped inside.
“Yeah, sure, I’m fine.” Jules tried to force a smile. He saw right through it.
“Come here,” he murmured as he pulled her into an embrace. Jules wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly. Jules sighed. If he knew what she did, he wouldn’t be so sure.
“Let’s go,” Jules said.
“So there are some things you need to know,” Jules continued once they were in the car and on the way to Whitby. “Here are the rules—”
Germaine laughed. “There are rules?”
Jules looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Was he serious?
“Of course there are rules,” Jules said incredulously. “And you plan to come out of this evening alive, then you better follow them.”
Germaine shook his head.
“Okay, so here goes. My mother will ask you a million questions. Attempt to answer all of them. If you don’t, she’ll think you’re rude. Some of them will be very personal; don’t be alarmed or offended. It’s just her way. She will ask you what you do. At no point can you call the Lounge a nightclub, or a disco. No matter how you try to spin it, she will think you’re working for the devil—”
“So what am I supposed to call it?” Germaine asked with a laugh as he switched lanes and got off the highway.
Jules bit her lip thoughtfully.
“Say it’s a record store with a café, where you have small events sometimes.”
“Café … Wow. I never heard it described like that before,” Germaine said dryly. “What if she starts asking more questions about the type of events and artists we have there? What if she asks about the bar or if there’s dancing—”
“No!” Jules exclaimed, her eyes wide open. “No talk of bars, or dancing. You know what, maybe you
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