The third installment of our Forbidden Book Club weekly release. If you’re new you can find links to Chapter 1 part 1 and part 2 below.
And if you feel like another kind of light reading, here’s a travel post I did for Fodor’s.
Have a great weekend!
The Forbidden Book Club
Chapter 2, Part 1
Erika thanked her driver and stepped out into the midday summer heat. While she had been exploring the historic district for the past week mostly by foot, she decided to take a ride to her first official book club meeting with Charles. The driver had explained it would be easier to be dropped off on Bay Street, and then walk down to the riverfront from there.
Lush greenery surrounded her. The beautiful, vibrant grass sat perfectly manicured as if a gardener might appear and trim any out of place blade at a moment's notice. Southern live oak stretched toward the heavens with capes of Spanish moss catching wind along the way. Branches older than the city cross-hatched with similar trees across the street, canopying the street in a warming, romantic glow that painted the city in a golden hue. A scattering of monuments to foregone heroes dotted the walkway. In time she'd stop and take them all in. But she had a book club to attend to.
Erika had decided earlier to bypass the professional attire, trading the pencil skirt and full-sleeve blouse in for a tank top, jeans, and a pair of red Converse Chuck Taylor high tops to complete the look. She debated for far too long that morning over shorts or jeans. What does someone wear to a book club? Or perhaps the better question was what does someone wear to a book club when the heat and humidity are an issue? She decided to go with jeans. She knew how to rock a pair of Levis, the light denim hugging her every contour. It made her look sexy while feeling comfortable in her own skin. Not that she wanted to necessarily look sexy for Charles, of course. She also kept her makeup simple, with just enough to bring out her cheekbones and brows. And a lot of hairspray. More than a lot, in fact. If she walked too close to one of the historic gaslights her hair was liable to burst into flames. But as her only defense against the humidity she planned on using it.
Picking out her outfit, she managed to keep Charles out of her mind, at least for the most part. He'd found a way to creep into corners of both her conscious and subconscious over the past week. She didn't mean to let her thoughts wander to him. He just kind of appeared. She looked forward to seeing him today, but not because she found him attractive. She looked forward to the activity of visiting a new bookstore, selecting a book, and eventually discussing it with a new friend. At least that's what she convinced herself. Erika did make sure to hydrate and eat a breakfast though. She didn't want a repeat of her far-too-public exploits this second time around.
Before exiting the car, Erika's driver pointed her in the direction of stairs that led down to River Street. She had expected a wide, elegant staircase, made in a similar fashion as the rest of the historic city. What she found was anything but. A slender stairwell curved down to the street below, but had it been built at any point of the current century it would have been condemned as unsafe. As soon as she started her descent she wondered how many people must have slipped and fallen down to the cobblestone twenty feet below. The stairs clung to a stone wall, the steps just a little too tall and a little too narrow to make every step awkward. The slender, cast-iron railing didn't look very trustworthy either. She was afraid if she touched it, let alone put any weight on it, the railing would snap like a twig and send her careening to the bottom. A gray-haired man in a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and knee-high socks started climbing up the stairs, to which Erika knew there would be no room to squeeze past one another. Thankfully his wife took notice of Erika and called him back down. He didn't seem to understand why his wife had called him down, but he obliged nonetheless.
Didn't know stairs could give me so much anxiety.
The gray-haired man nodded to Erika and the woman gave her a knowing smile. Erika mouthed a "Thank you" and continued on.
The cobblestone walkway opened up onto something out of a fairy tale. The stones, mismatched yet polished from hundreds of years of walking, hard rain, and foot traffic, ran along brick buildings built centuries earlier. Intricate cast iron outlined windows that would be right at home in a Parisian village. On the opposite side of the cobblestone avenue, which was built more for horse and buggy than car, green space of trees and meticulously cultivated bushes opened onto the Savannah River. The rest of the city maintained an appearance of yesteryear, but this, this view, was unlike anything she'd experienced. The lingering smells of freshly baked sweets titillated her nose while the rhythmic clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage passed by.
Erika checked the note she scribbled the address on and turned to walk in the appropriate direction. The breeze coming in off the river tussled at her hair. Despite the heat, despite the humidity, she felt as comfortable outside as she had since arriving.
Walking past one of the street's many candy shops a worker holding a large red tray offered a praline. Erika accepted without a second thought. She didn't need any prodding when it came to treats. The heat from the still cooling snack lifted its sugary goodness into her nose, tantalizing not only her sense of smell but her sense of taste as her tongue salivated. Her mouth was not disappointed as the freshly baked treat melted in her mouth while offering just enough of a nutty crunch.
"Oh my god," she said. Erika looked past the worker inside. There was fudge! An entire display of fresh fudge! And toffee and candy bars and ice cream and everything else her sweet tooth craved. She had a few minutes to spare. She could look but not touch, right? Her eyes traced over chocolate dipped pretzels and gummies and candy from her childhood. And buckeyes! Erika didn't think they made the chocolate and peanut butter treat outside of the Buckeye State. She checked her phone for the time. Had to meet Charles in five minutes. She decided being pulled away from all the snacks was probably a good thing. Normally she didn't struggle with her eyes being larger than her stomach, but if given the chance she had no doubt she'd sit right in the middle of the floor and gorge herself into a deliciously sweet sugar coma.
Across the street under the shade of another massive oak, a man played his baritone sax. It didn't sound like any written, prepared music, but instead a kind of living jazz, as if the score came directly from the man's beating heart. The deep soulful tone filled the street. Erika could almost feel the bass vibrations in her chest. A small crowd started to gather around him. Some sat, others stood taking pictures, enjoying the man's musical gift. Notes twisted together in the air like secret lovers as every smell, every sound, every site, went into building the smile growing on Erika's face. There were times she had wondered if she made the right decision moving to Savannah. At that very moment, she knew she had.
Following the address on her paper, she cut up along a narrow street. Too small to be an actual road, yet too wide to be an alley. In the back of the stunted road sat an ancient looking gray stone building leaning against the brick wall like a crutch. Erika found the book store taking up a portion of the ancient building's bottom floor. Or, more aptly put, she found Charles, waiting by the bookstore.
Dressed in jeans and a muscle-hugging V-neck t-shirt, Charles looked like a country rock star taking it easy between shows. He had his back pushed against the wall, one booted foot on the ground, the other against the stone behind him. Thumbs hooked into the front belt-loops on his jeans, he was a cigarette and cowboy hat shy of transforming into the Marlboro Man.
Charles saw Erika approach and smiled. It had been a week and Erika had forgotten how incredible the dimpled smile was. The sudden shortness of breath quickly reminded her. She almost lost her footing on the cobblestone but managed to avoid face planting.
Charles moved in quickly to help steady her, but Erika had righted the ship before he swooped in. She wasn't sure if she was glad she had or wished she had let him help.
"You okay?"
That southern twang.
"The cobblestone can be tricky to walk on at first," he added.
Erika nodded. "One of these days I need to learn how to walk in front of you."
He laughed.
She laughed nervously in return.
"I have something for you. Maybe it'll help." Charles went to the stone wall and picked up off the ground a small paper bag, neatly folded over at the top
God, please don't let it be more boiled peanuts.
Erika watched him retrieve the bag. The light denim perfectly hugged the curve of his butt as he bent over. His shirt pulled up and she could see the skin of his back. Her breathing quickened. Chest rising and falling as her eyes lingered on the exposed skin. Her right hand caressed her left arm. He seemed to move in slow motion. The vein running down the side of his bicep bulged. She bit her lip. She wanted to run her long fingers along his arm. Under the sleeves. Up the peaked shoulders. She wanted to twist her hands around his back. Follow the warmth to his chest. His abs. Slide her fingers along the vein. Inside his jeans. Down. The heat drawing her hands in.
Girl, slow down! What is getting into you?!
Erika snapped herself back to reality. Charles was just walking back to her with the small paper bag. Her chest still rose and fell like she had run a marathon.
Breathe. Just Breathe.
Charles unrolled the bag and offered Erika the open end. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice her heavy breathing.
"I hope you like these," he said.
Erika looked inside.
"Buckeyes!"
I swear this man can read minds!
"I thought maybe they'd remind you of home. Not sure that's silly of me just because it’s called a buckeye."
"No, you're exactly right. Every grandmother in the state of Ohio makes these things. I've probably eaten an actual ton during my lifetime."
Erika took out one and took a bite. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth stopped chewing. She looked at him like a child trying ice cream for the very first time.
"Oh my god." She reached back into the bag and took out a second buckeye. She took a half-bite and looked at the center. "What is that? Rice crispy?"
"I believe so. Something wrong?"
Erika shook her head. She reached for a third. "I've lived my entire life in Ohio. Every holiday or family gathering someone always has buckeyes and it's always made the same way. Peanut butter center and chocolate exterior. But this rice crispy center is seriously rocking my world." She closed her eyes and chewed, taking in the flavor, accompanied by the newly added crunch of rice crispy. "God, I can never tell my grandmother about this. She'll disown me."
Charles laughed. "Tell her about the rice crispy?"
Erika shook her head again. "No. Tell her that a candy shop in Georgia makes better buckeyes than she does."
"Well, then it'll be our little secret."
Erika smiled, hoping she wasn't blushing. There were a few other secrets she was thinking she might like to make and keep with him as well.
"Shall we?" He motioned toward the open door leading into the small bookstore.
To be continued…