| General Fiction posted January 22, 2023 | Chapters: |
...43 44 -45- 46... 
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Miranda and Mitch get acquainted.
A chapter in the book The Miranda Chronicles
Just the Facts (Miranda)
by GWHARGIS
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child. She and Mitch exchange a proper kiss after she asks him why he's interested in her. Now they go to a diner to have lunch and talk.
**************
Maybe I don't have a lot to compare Mitch's kiss to, but I can tell you one thing. If his kiss was a casserole, I'd definitely go back for seconds.
I kissed a few boys in high school and they were, well, high school boy kisses. The kind where they either had too much saliva or they hesitantly darted their nervous little tongues in and out of my mouth like they were afraid I was gonna bite them.
Farley kissed for one reason, and one reason only. It was foreplay. Unless he thought we were going to have sex, he guarded his lip locks like they were gold.
And, lastly, Dougie Wilcox. He could kiss but it was odd. Deep down, I always felt like his kisses were staged. Like he was acting.
Mitch's kiss made my knees weak. He gently touched my cheek while our lips touched. He didn't grope me, press against me, or cop a feel. It was the best kiss I've ever had.
His face is a very pleasant shade of pink. He grins sheepishly. "I probably should have asked first."
"Well, that was something. It certainly was."
"Let's go to lunch." He holds out his hand and waits for me to take it.
"Where did you have in mind?" I ask.
"Ever heard of Uncle Frank's Barbeque Pit?"
"That place out past Iverton?"
He nods. "Not much atmosphere, but the best barbeque in North Carolina. You do like barbeque, don't you?"
"Do I look like a communist?"
He laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."
***************
To say that Uncle Frank's is a dive, would be a compliment. It looks to be right out the 1960s. Cracked red vinyl booths with wood slab table tops. A dispenser of white paper napkins and a table top juke box.
I flip through the music and laugh. "The most current song is Achy, Breaky Heart."
"Want a quarter?" Mitch reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change. He let's it out on the table. "There's got to be something good. Go on and pick something."
I settle on an older beach tune. He nods his head. "Never pegged you for a beach music kind of girl."
"What kind of music did you think I liked?"
"Hair bands. Glam rock. Cinderella, Bon Jovi, maybe Metallica. "
I wrinkle my nose. "I honestly like this stuff, older Motown. Don't listen to the radio much anymore. At work it's soft rock so I tune it out."
"I like Marvin Gaye. Would that be considered Motown?"
"Soul." I lift the plastic coated menu up and pretend to study it. I have a very important question to ask. And, whether or not we proceed from that most wonderful kiss, will depend on his answer. "So, are you still married or what?"
"Divorced. Going on three years. Why?"
"Because you were right. I don't like playing games. And falling for a married man is one very dangerous game."
"We split within six months of my becoming sheriff. I spent too much time away from home."
"She said that?"
Mitch looks down at the tabletop. "She did, but it was true. I wanted to be the best sheriff the county has ever had. I put my career before my family. And it cost me."
"Your daughters live with your wife?"
"Ex-wife. And they bounce back and forth. We're friends, Sherri and I. We've made peace."
"It's none of my business, but if you made peace, why didn't y'all try again? "
He shrugs. "Sometimes it's better to move forward than to go back and try to fix things. Too much time had passed."
"Any questions for me?"
"Ever been married?"
"When I was nineteen, I married a guy I was dating. Lasted about 9 years."
"That's a pretty long time. You guys just grow apart?"
"He cheated on me ... repeatedly."
"Sorry."
"First time was at his bachelor party. Then it was like there were babies being born all over this county that looked just like him. He was like Johnny Appleseed, except he wasn't scattering apple seeds."
"He sounds like a prince."
"I would probably still be with him, but my mom sat me down and said, Miranda Lynne Jessup, he does not deserve you. Pack his belongings and send him back to his momma."
"We all need our mommas sometime, don't we?" he says. "After Sherri and I split, I went to my mom's and stayed in my childhood bedroom for three months, until I found a house to rent."
"I was thankful she made the decision for me. I was under the assumption that being cheated on was part of that for better or worse bullshit in the vows."
The waitress saunters over. Her pink uniform faded from years of being laundered. The yellowed plastic name tag read Liz. She looked about as interested in us as a blindman at a nude beach.
"Y'all want anything to drink?"
Mitch glances at the beer selection. "Budweiser in a bottle. Miranda?"
"Same."
"I'll be right back for your order."
"She looks happy," I say under my breath.
"I came here when I was a teenager. She's been here since then. Her demeanor hasn't changed. I always thought she was Frank's wife but apparently not."
"I shouldn't laugh," I say, sighing. "That's gonna be me at The Little Eagle, one day."
I glance toward where Liz pops the tops off of our frosty bottles. She's just going through the motions. There's no smile on her face, not really any emotion whatsoever.
"Hey," Mitch says. "That's not you. And it never will be ... if I can help it."
I've been promised a lot of things over the course of my lifetime, and ninety percent of those promises get broken. I hope this promise makes it into the ten percent of unbroken ones.
To be continued ...
So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired and left to take care of her ex-lover's child. She and Mitch exchange a proper kiss after she asks him why he's interested in her. Now they go to a diner to have lunch and talk.
**************
Maybe I don't have a lot to compare Mitch's kiss to, but I can tell you one thing. If his kiss was a casserole, I'd definitely go back for seconds.
I kissed a few boys in high school and they were, well, high school boy kisses. The kind where they either had too much saliva or they hesitantly darted their nervous little tongues in and out of my mouth like they were afraid I was gonna bite them.
Farley kissed for one reason, and one reason only. It was foreplay. Unless he thought we were going to have sex, he guarded his lip locks like they were gold.
And, lastly, Dougie Wilcox. He could kiss but it was odd. Deep down, I always felt like his kisses were staged. Like he was acting.
Mitch's kiss made my knees weak. He gently touched my cheek while our lips touched. He didn't grope me, press against me, or cop a feel. It was the best kiss I've ever had.
His face is a very pleasant shade of pink. He grins sheepishly. "I probably should have asked first."
"Well, that was something. It certainly was."
"Let's go to lunch." He holds out his hand and waits for me to take it.
"Where did you have in mind?" I ask.
"Ever heard of Uncle Frank's Barbeque Pit?"
"That place out past Iverton?"
He nods. "Not much atmosphere, but the best barbeque in North Carolina. You do like barbeque, don't you?"
"Do I look like a communist?"
He laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."
***************
To say that Uncle Frank's is a dive, would be a compliment. It looks to be right out the 1960s. Cracked red vinyl booths with wood slab table tops. A dispenser of white paper napkins and a table top juke box.
I flip through the music and laugh. "The most current song is Achy, Breaky Heart."
"Want a quarter?" Mitch reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change. He let's it out on the table. "There's got to be something good. Go on and pick something."
I settle on an older beach tune. He nods his head. "Never pegged you for a beach music kind of girl."
"What kind of music did you think I liked?"
"Hair bands. Glam rock. Cinderella, Bon Jovi, maybe Metallica. "
I wrinkle my nose. "I honestly like this stuff, older Motown. Don't listen to the radio much anymore. At work it's soft rock so I tune it out."
"I like Marvin Gaye. Would that be considered Motown?"
"Soul." I lift the plastic coated menu up and pretend to study it. I have a very important question to ask. And, whether or not we proceed from that most wonderful kiss, will depend on his answer. "So, are you still married or what?"
"Divorced. Going on three years. Why?"
"Because you were right. I don't like playing games. And falling for a married man is one very dangerous game."
"We split within six months of my becoming sheriff. I spent too much time away from home."
"She said that?"
Mitch looks down at the tabletop. "She did, but it was true. I wanted to be the best sheriff the county has ever had. I put my career before my family. And it cost me."
"Your daughters live with your wife?"
"Ex-wife. And they bounce back and forth. We're friends, Sherri and I. We've made peace."
"It's none of my business, but if you made peace, why didn't y'all try again? "
He shrugs. "Sometimes it's better to move forward than to go back and try to fix things. Too much time had passed."
"Any questions for me?"
"Ever been married?"
"When I was nineteen, I married a guy I was dating. Lasted about 9 years."
"That's a pretty long time. You guys just grow apart?"
"He cheated on me ... repeatedly."
"Sorry."
"First time was at his bachelor party. Then it was like there were babies being born all over this county that looked just like him. He was like Johnny Appleseed, except he wasn't scattering apple seeds."
"He sounds like a prince."
"I would probably still be with him, but my mom sat me down and said, Miranda Lynne Jessup, he does not deserve you. Pack his belongings and send him back to his momma."
"We all need our mommas sometime, don't we?" he says. "After Sherri and I split, I went to my mom's and stayed in my childhood bedroom for three months, until I found a house to rent."
"I was thankful she made the decision for me. I was under the assumption that being cheated on was part of that for better or worse bullshit in the vows."
The waitress saunters over. Her pink uniform faded from years of being laundered. The yellowed plastic name tag read Liz. She looked about as interested in us as a blindman at a nude beach.
"Y'all want anything to drink?"
Mitch glances at the beer selection. "Budweiser in a bottle. Miranda?"
"Same."
"I'll be right back for your order."
"She looks happy," I say under my breath.
"I came here when I was a teenager. She's been here since then. Her demeanor hasn't changed. I always thought she was Frank's wife but apparently not."
"I shouldn't laugh," I say, sighing. "That's gonna be me at The Little Eagle, one day."
I glance toward where Liz pops the tops off of our frosty bottles. She's just going through the motions. There's no smile on her face, not really any emotion whatsoever.
"Hey," Mitch says. "That's not you. And it never will be ... if I can help it."
I've been promised a lot of things over the course of my lifetime, and ninety percent of those promises get broken. I hope this promise makes it into the ten percent of unbroken ones.
To be continued ...
This is part of a larger body of work.
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