Lovely Shades of Me

The Drive

Ryan-Alexander

Andrew's eyes almost popped out of his beautiful head as he opened the passenger side door to my truck. I had completely forgotten that my truck is like a rolling trash can when I offered to drive him to the airport. Oops.

I tried to remove as much junk as I could to the backseat so he could have somewhere to sit. Even though I had a perfectly, acceptable office, I rarely spent time there. This ole truck was really where I did everything. It was extremely uncommon for me to have a passenger, well except Josh, but even that only happened occasionally. Josh also would not hesitate to chuck all my s**t into the back.

If Josh was here now, man. He would certainly give me a nice little lecture on cleanliness. 

"This is why you should keep your truck clean." He would scold. "You never know when an opportunity to impress someone might arise."

Sometimes Josh could sound exactly like my mother.

I pushed the pretend conversation from my mind, as Andrew buckled his seatbelt.

"All ready to go?" I asked.

"Roger that," He responded in a hilarious astronaut voice. "Prepare to blast off."

I could not help but let out a loud laugh. This guy was as much of a geek as me. 

My tires spun out a bit and gravel went flying everywhere as I pulled away from the church parking lot.

I wasn't exactly sure what to think of Andrew Moore Jr. at first. But after a surprisingly charming lunch, Mr. Moore was naturally growing on me. On the surface he seemed like just another handsome, pretty boy, that just so happened to be a billionaire. But even after a brief time with him, I could tell there was more to him than what meets the eye.

He was funny, witty even. He was also sensitive. Although he didn't want to admit it, his father's death was clearly affecting him more than he led on. I was positively sure that there was something that he was hiding. I wouldn't exactly call it a secret, because he didn't really owe me any explanations, or his life story. But there was something troubling him. Something he didn't want to share, but it was very painfully written clear as day across his face.

"There goes another one. You guys really do have one on every corner." Andrew declared disrupting my thoughts.

"And what exactly would you be talkin' bout?" I asked.

"Churches. We are not even a mile down the road and we have already passed two more churches! I guess that is why this is often referred to as the bible belt."

"Yeah. You'll find a church and a Waffle House on every corner."

"I just can't believe how different everything is here. It is like being in another world."

"Yeah. Believe me when I lived in Boston-"

"You lived in Boston! When?" This constantly interrupting me s**t was getting old. I don't think I have EVER had someone interrupt me more than once.

Without saying a word, I turned my head and just glared at him. I STARED. HIM. DOWN.

He just kept on talking. I kept staring. He talked about when he went to Harvard and asked the years I lived in Boston, not even pausing for a minute to let me answer.

Finally he looked over at me. I'm guessing he figured out something was wrong based on my lack of answers. He looked at the expression on my face. He sunk back into his seat. Judging by the look on his face, I could tell he had realized his mistake. Mission accomplished.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you again. I don't normally do that." He turned his pretty little head in shame.

I started to return my own head forward. But seconds before my eyes hit the road Andrew hollered,

"RAY!! WATCH OUT!" 

I slammed on brakes. A deer had jumped right out in front of me. Andrew closed his eyes and braced himself for impact. Instinctively, I reached my arm out across his chest.

I said a silent prayer, "Lord, Jesus, don' let me kill this man," and pushed down on the brake pedal as hard as I could. The truck came to a screeching stop and a cloud of thick black smoke surrounded us.

That's what I get for trying to intimidate a man while drivin' I thought to myself.

Well if me staring him down didn't scare the hell out of him, that sure did.

We both were panting like two dogs in heat. I nervously looked at him. My arm was still leaned against his tight chest. Good Lord, this was hell of a man. I could feel every breath he took. As the air from his exhale reached my arm, every hair stood straight up. It was at least 92 degrees outside, but I was covered in goosebumps.

"Are you okay?" I started to remove my arm, but he grabbed me by the crook of my elbow.

"I'm fine," he said and our eyes locked.

I found myself lost in those emerald blue-green eyes. We sat there for a moment or two as our breathing slowed. He didn't let go of my arm and I didn't try to move it again. In fact, I felt myself being drawn towards him. Our faces got closer and closer until they were mere inches apart...

Suddenly a horn honked behind us, causing both of us to break away.

Whoah! That was close. Too close.

Get it together RAY! This is not some arm candy. This is the man that could make all of your dreams come true. Do not blow this over some lusty hormones. I reminded myself just how important this meeting was to me. I couldn't let myself get distracted no matter how dreamy this man might be, I needed to stay focused.

We drove on in silence for a bit. I was preparing myself. I only had the length of this car ride to figure out exactly what I was going to say to Mr. Moore. When this meeting was scheduled with the late Mr. Moore, Sr. I knew exactly with whom I was dealing with. I believed with Mr. Moore, Sr. could allow the property to speak for itself. After all, he was willing to come all this way just to see it. He already believed in its potential. But young Andrew here, didn't seem like he was exactly thrilled to be in Georgia. I felt lucky that he even agreed to make the detour. This was my only chance to impress him.

I took a deep breath. I was trying to get my head on straight, but I was slapped in the face by the smell of the most intoxicating cologne. I wanted nothing more in than to pull this truck over, and mount him like a pony. I wanted to bury my face in his chest so I could fill my lungs with only his delicious smell. I wanted to run my fingers through that sandy blonde hair. If only I could allow myself to get lost in his eyes. I would lean in and savor his luscious lips as if I was taking a bite of the juiciest damn peach I have ever tasted. Thinking about the possibility made my mouth water.

"So what exactly did you and my father discuss in regards to this property?" This time I was grateful for the interruption.

"Oh, Nothin' much. I just told him the history of the property, and I had emailed him some of my sketches."

He looked like he had a follow up question, but he waited a few seconds before responding, in fear of interrupting me again. I chuckled.

"You have sketches?" Again, it looked like he had more to say, but he was showing perfect restraint by waiting. I smirked, proud at the victory.

"I do." I confessed. I tried to catch a sly glance of his face out of the corner of my eye.

I didn't dare take my eyes off the road again. But I was trying to get a feel for Mr. Moore's expression.

Was he eager to see them? Curious?

Just based off of the quick peek, I felt like he was probably a little bit of both. I felt comfortable enough to show the sketches to him.

Without taking my eyes off the road, and using a combination of one hand and my knee to steady the steering wheel, I reached behind Andrew's seat. I carefully tried to not let any part of me touch him. We had just really started to get down to business and I didn't need any more distractions.

Avoiding touching him was a mute point. Being this close to the forbidden fruit and not touching him, sent shivers down my spine. I think I was feeling a tad bit of the temptation that Eve felt in the garden. I made a mental note to bring this up with the reverend next time we had one of our famous front porch debates.

Focus damn it!

I gathered the rolls of paper from the backseat and placed them in Andrew's lap. I couldn't help but take a gander at the specimen that held some of my most prized possessions. Who knew that a man in khaki dress pants could be so damn sexy?

I bit my lip.

Not just because this gorgeous man was poisoning my thoughts, I was nervous. I genuinely hoped that Mr. Moore would be impressed with my work. He carefully unrolled the first sketch.

I tried to focus on the road and not on the mumblings coming from my passenger. Was he going to say something? I looked over for just a second. I tried to study his face.

I might have accidentally swerved a bit.

"Easy there lassy! Eyes on the road. Do they just let anyone get a driver's license down here?"

Hmph. So he could comment on my driving but not my life's work?!

"Who was the architect that designed these?" He inquired.

I was scared to answer. If my Daddy taught me one thing about negotiations, when you are asked something you don't want to answer, respond in turn with your own question. So that is exactly what I did.

"Why? Is there somethin' wrong with them?"

"No! In fact these are incredible. I was just wondering if it was someone I know. I wanted to maybe use him on future endeavours."

Phew! What a relief. I thought to myself.

"Of course! I can check the stamp."

Before I could interject, he completely unrolled the sketch.

"R-A-H," he whispered, rubbing his fingers over my initials in the middle of my signature. "Ryan-Alexander... these are yours?" He was dumbfounded.

I would be offended, but this would be unusual even if I were a man. It is not at all common for someone to be an architect and a general contractor. Sure, most architects and contractors work closely together. But most people don't decide to do both. Of course, I am not most people.

"Yes Sir," I shly admitted. I am not sure why I was still so apprehensive, he already confessed that he liked my work.

There was just something very vulnerable about showing another person something that you put your heart and soul into. These drawings in particular were very personal. Every piece of me was etched into the smallest details.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I was scared to look. For one, I didn't want to get harassed about my driving again. More importantly, I was fearful of his reception.

"So in your spare time you just draw stunning buildings? And once you find adiquent cash flow, you build them?" He sounded confused.

I couldn't help but laugh. This was certainly not how things were normally done.

"Well do ya want the short answer or the long complicated version?" I was secretly hoping for the later. I bit my lip in anticipation for his response.

"How much time do we have?" I could tell he had learned a thing or two about negotiating from his daddy as well.

"So originally, when I went off to college I chose a non-specific history major," wait that wasn't right, "no. no. It was actually political science I do believe, " I corrected myself.

Andrew just nodded his head listening in silence.

"Regardless, I studied a lot of history," I continued. "Now, my college was about," I paused to think, and looked out at the window at the trees passing by. "I don' know maybe forty-five minutes from Savannah. Not really the point, " I rubbed one hand across my face. "The point is that Josh and I spent a great deal of town in that historic city. But you know what I realized?"

"You really like to tell long stories?" He thought he had jokes. I shot him the dirtiest look I could muster, while also trying to hide the smile creeping across my face.

"I learned that I was more captivated by the different buildings the city held, and not the stories and secrets within the city's limits. Savannah is probably the most historic place south of the mason dixon line, but the history was not what I wanted to learn more about. It was the buildings that stole my heart! For the first time in my life, I had found something I was passionate about," I recalled the memory like it was a new revelation. 

It was easy for me to forget why I chose this complicated life I lead. Retelling this story was just the motivation I needed.

"In fact," I pointed my finger in no particular direction, just for further emphasis, "I learned that the buildings themselves had their own stories to tell. You just had to ask the right question."

"So you decided to become an architect?" Andrew seemed genuinely interested in my story.

"You got it. I transferred down to the Savannah College for Art and Design, or like us allums like to call it SCAD." It wasn't no ivy leagues, but I was proud of my degree, even if it was from an art school.

"I have heard of SCAD," Andrew sounded almost insulted. "I did just spend half of a week in Savannah." His face had that painful expression again.

What was he doing in Savannah? I wondered to myself. I wasn't sure, but I would bet good money that it had something to do with the secret he was hiding.

"So how did you become a contractor?" He seemed eager to change the subject.

"Well," I clicked my tongue against my teeth, "after I graduated, I moved to Boston to work at a fairly large firm."

"So that's when you live in Boston. I wonder if we were there at the same time."

"I was only there for about two years, that's 'bout how long it took me to realize I hated just being an architect."

"You hated it, really? But your drawings... are like nothing I have ever seen before! You have so much raw talent. I can't believe you just walked away from it all." Andrew was ranting.

"Now, I didn' say I hated being an architect, what I said, was I hated bein ' just an architect. There's a difference."

"So what did you hate?"

"I found it was entirely too difficult to get contractors to work with me," I sighed, still frustrated with the lack of respect I was shown.

"So you just quit because it was hard?" The moment those words left his lips, I knew Andrew wanted to take them back. I could feel the regret.

"AS A MATTER OF FACT," there was no stopping me now, "I did NOT quit, I decided to rise above," I said as cool as a cucumber. "If I couldn't get contractors to work with me, I would just have to become a contractor myself. I could have made other contractors work with me. But it took me 2.5 seconds to realize, I didn't like handing over control after I put so much work into my creations. I had to see my projects through. And I had to be hands on while they were being built. No contractor was going to allow me to do all the design work and manage the job the way I wanted."

"Essentially, what you are saying is that you are a control freak?" He playfully teased.

"I like to consider myself detailed oriented."

"Wow. So just like that you became a contractor?" Now it seemed as if he was mocking me.

"Did you become a billionaire just like that?" I returned the blow.

"Actually, yeah I did. My dad died and suddenly I was in control of three companies and 1.7 billion dollars," his tone was not at all bragging, just very matter of fact.

"Well for us normal people, we don't just get everything we want at a drop of a hat." I was annoyed. This guy absolutely knew nothing about what it means to earn your way in this world.

"I am also sure your father didn't die before you earned your title either," he snapped back.

Damn. I had been a complete and utter b***h. Why didn't my mama teach me to think before I opened my big fat mouth. Oh, that's right. She tried. I didn't listen. 

Fuck man. I needed to apologize,

"Andrew. Oh my god, Andrew. I am so so so so sorry. I absolutely did not think before I said that. It was beyond callous and just flat out rude." I was almost in tears.

I wouldn't be surprised if he asked me to pull over so he could call a cab to finish taking him to the airport. Here I was at the edge of our destination and now I bet he won't even let me finish the drive.

I was expecting him to say "Pull this car over right now." But instead he was laughing?

I shifted my eyes nervously. He just kept on laughing. I don't mean a quiet little giggle. I mean he was full out belly laughing. I insulted this man, and he was laughing at me? I pulled over onto the side of the road.

Was he having a breakdown? I've heard about things like that happening when someone is suddenly faced with emotions they had been suppressing for a long time. I wasn't sure if I should be scared or worried. So I just sat there until he stopped.

He sat up straight. He pulled tightling on the chest piece of his beige blazer.

"Andrew, I really am truly-" He held up one hand instantly silencing me.

"Ray. Can I confess something to you?" His tone was very serious. But he didn't seem mad. God, I hoped he wasn't mad.

He reached out to hold my hand in his. I felt a warmth wash over me. My palms were sweaty and a little shaky. He squeezed my hand gently. I couldn't speak. I found myself on the verge of tears. I just nodded my head.

He took a deep breath and squeezed my hand again. "Ray...I hated my father. I hated him when he was alive. I hated him when he was dying. And...I shouldn't be telling you this, but I have discovered some things about him since his passing...things that, I'm not sure I can forgive, or should forgive. So now, even in death, I actively hate him." He let out what sounded like a huge sigh of relief, but he didn't let go of my hand.

A single hot tear ran down my face. I am sure I looked like a crazy emotional woman. But I wasn't exactly sad. I was mad! I was so angry at myself for being so stupid. I was hurting for Andrew because his father had obviously hurt him in ways that I could not begin to understand.

"So you don't hate me?" I whimpered. Who was this blubbering mess of a woman. Since when did I give a fly f**k what anyone thought about me. It almost felt like I was having an out of body experience.

Andrew smiled in a way that could fix everything. "No. I don't hate you." 

He reached across and using the back of his hand, he gently wiped my cheek. The touch of his hand on my face made me want to melt. This man was going to break me.

We sat in complete silence for a few moments while we w both regained out composure. This had been the strangest business meeting of my life.

After we were both back to a semi-normal state, Andrew was the first to speak. "So are you going to finish telling me how you became a contractor?"

I laughed. "It don't seem important anymore. It ain't all that interestin'"

"I really want to know Ray. I want to know you better. Besides I need to know that you are in fact a contractor and not f*****g with me." The swear that he let slide startled me a bit. If only he knew the thoughts that ran through my mind. f*****g him was almost all I could think of.

I quickly removed my hand from his. I placed a clinched fist over my mouth, and bit down on my knuckle. It took every ounce of strength I had to not say or do what I really wanted.

I could not be thinking like this. This could not happen.

He was grinning from ear to ear in a mischievous way. The look on his face told me that he was thinking exactly what I was thinking. I had to ease this s****l tension fast, or I wasn't going to be able to stop myself from jumping his bones. I felt him moving closer.

"It was Josh's dad," I blurted out. "Mr. Bradley, is a contractor. He taught me everythin' I needed to know. He showed me how to run a good crew. He helped me ace the test to get my general contractor's license. I am in fact a general contractor and I have the paper work to prove it. Mister Moore."  Surely that was enough to wind that train down to a complete halt.

Andrew slapped his hands on his legs, pretending to smooth out a wrinkle. He closed his eyes. He sounded like a steam engine trying to decompress. The mention of my best friend, another man, was just enough to diffuse the situation.

"Where are we in proximity to the property? We must be getting close by now?" His questions informed me that he was ready to get back to business.

I shifted my truck into drive, and started down the red dirt road. I could feel the butterflies bursting in my stomach.

"We are here."