Gingersnaps by Delorys Welch-Tyson

Author:Delorys Welch-Tyson [Welch-Tyson Delorys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504033756
Publisher: Open Road Distribution
Published: 2016-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Debra had been savoring her usual morning coffee and bran muffin, enjoying the quiet-before-the-storm moments in her office, when the messenger approached to deliver a huge bunch of tiger lilies.

Her favorite.

She was shocked to find that they were intended for her. She looked at the card to see who could have possibly sent this unexpected gift.

Jeffrey Scott!

She couldn’t believe it.

She tore up the card and dumped the flowers in the wastebasket.

Just at that moment the phone rang.

She answered it, figuring it to be either her mother calling to find out what day she planned to arrive in Chicago for the family’s annual Christmas dinner or her good friend the media director, who also liked to come in early to enjoy the quiet.

“Who?”

She was so outraged, so … so … mad that she spilled her coffee all over her impeccably neat desk. All over her fucking storyboards, no less!

A little over two weeks had passed, and now he decided to pick up the phone. She couldn’t believe his nerve. She and the media director had discussed and agreed on how they both despised the reprehensibly cavalier way men treated women and their feelings.

“Hello, sweet lady, did you get the flowers?” he said brightly, albeit a bit nervously, into her ear. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but … look, let’s have dinner—the dinner we never got around to, okay?”

“So why on earth do you bother now, Jeffrey, after all this time?” she hissed with all the venom that she could muster. “What is it? You only get hungry every couple of weeks or so?”

Who did he think he was anyway? She was no sniveling wimp!

Jeffrey felt the humiliating crawl of raw egg oozing down his face, over his nose, his lips, and under his chin, but he persisted. “Look, Debra … baby …” He was about to plead, but thought, Shit, I am a man, not some sniveling wimp! “Debra, I meant to call, but I misplaced your number. And it’s—”

“Sure, Jeffrey. Don’t hand me that crap. I’m a busy woman, and I don’t have time for your fucking shenanigans!”

“Look, when I got back from Detroit I sent my shirts to the laundry and—”

“Look, Mr. Scott, you don’t have to give me one of those infantile stories you throw at other women. Try it with a nineteen-year-old,” she said dryly, squeezing the receiver, her knuckles becoming beige with the accumulated rage of waiting by the phone all those days.

Damn, he thought; he was afraid that something like this might happen, but what was he to do, never call her again—out of fear?

“Look, Debra, I thought we had a great time. When you hadn’t heard from me after a few days, why didn’t you call me? I left you my number.”

Debra, thinking she heard laughing hyenas mocking her, said, “I don’t call men. Men are supposed to call ladies!”

“Well, I’m sorry. But as I said, I lost your number.”

“Go to hell, Jeffrey. I’m not so desperate that I have to—”

“What on earth is wrong with you, sister? We had one little date.

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