Nudge

"Happy New Year," Anthony said as he found Gracie standing on the back porch, nose pressed against the cold glass as she watched the impressive fireworks display.

The beautiful young woman pulled her gaze from the barrage of fireworks and smiled. He let her come to him, let her give him a quick hug and soft kiss on his cheek.

"Happy New Year, Uncle Antnee," Gracie agreed.

"Fixing go. You all right?" Anthony asked.

"Uh huh," Gracie agreed.

"Happy New Year," Anthony said again as he stood by the door leading into the grand ballroom.

"This year's going be better, Uncle Antnee," Gracie whispered hopefully.

Now, three hundred and sixty four days later, Anthony Whitehead did not think of his nieces empty words. Anthony only felt a weariness seeping into his body.

"I need a vacation," Anthony realized. "I sit at my desk every damned day and approve vacation time for everyone else. I need me a vacation."

Sitting at his desk, idly glancing at the numbers, the quotas, Anthony could not think of any vacation plans, though. Dude ranches were out of the question; he did not like horses. To him, a horse smelled bad. Fly fishing in a mountain stream made him think of mosquitos. It also made him think of cold water and that was altogether unappealing to him. The same with Alpine skiing. Skiing meant snow and snow meant cold.

The French Quarter made Anthony think of pushing, pulling, sweating throngs of rude people rubbing against him.

Cruises also did not hold any appeal. Anthony's mother went on cruises. He didn't know why; all Susan Whitehead could ever talk about was the buffets, and how much she needed to lose the twenty imaginary pounds she claimed she'd gained on her last cruise.

Amusement parks were hot, sweaty, sticky. Right after her tragedy, Anthony and Cheyenne had taken Gracie and Lisa to Disney World in Florida. Six days of a nearly catatonic child and tearful mother had been as horrible an experience as any ordeal Anthony had ever endured. Each moment, his heart broke, over and over for the sweet, frightened child.

And after the ordeal drew to a merciful end, Gracie had hugged his knees and whispered "Thank you, Uncle Antnee."

That one hug had made every miserable, sweaty, uncomfortable moment worth it. For that one knee hug, Anthony would gladly do it all over again. But his niece was no longer the mere child.

"Thanks a lot, Father," Anthony said in the quiet office. "Thanks a whole hell of a lot, miserable bastard.

At three forty six, Brent knocked on the door and announced that the last of the time cards were ready.

"Thank you, Mr. Collier," Anthony said, not looking up from the spread sheet of shipping rates.

"Your ass sir," Brent said, almost fully enunciating his insulting salutation.

Anthony gathered the time cards, entered each employee's hours, adding the two hours for each employee to bring them up to the full forty hours for the week. He double-checked each card, then signed each card 'Anthony M. Whitehead' before shutting everything down.

Walking through the semi-darkened floor of the shop, Anthony again looked around. The Christmas tree blinked and flickered, looking somewhat sad in the corner. There were two packages underneath the tree. One package was for an employee that was on vacation. The other was addressed to Anthony W. and again was from '?' and again, Anthony refused to even pick up the gaily wrapped package.

Anthony punched in the code for the alarm. With one last visual sweep of the building, Anthony let himself out into the bitter cold December wind.

Arthur Porter's son, Jake Porter was on duty and nodded in greeting as Anthony entered the gym. Anthony punished a heavy bag, then tried his hand at a speed bag.

"Supposed try doing it quick," a brash young man sneered.

Anthony ignored the youth and continued to pummel the leather bag. Slowly, methodically, he did increase his speed. He would never be as quick as the young man; his bag would never make that 'rata-tata-tata' sound. But he did have a good rhythm going.

Arriving at the country club, Anthony smiled as his nieces green Mustang pulled in right behind him. They edged up slowly and finally, Anthony braced himself against the bitter cold.

"Happy New Year, sir," the valet said cheerfully, handing Anthony his claim stub.

His niece Gracie got out on the passenger side and Anthony smiled warmly. His eyebrow did cock slightly when an attractive brunette got out of the driver's side of the car.

He was introduced to Nancy Hebert, his niece's girlfriend. And before he could stop the words, Anthony asked what they meant by 'girlfriend.'

"We're together," Nancy said, no hesitation in her words.

In the lobby of the country club, Anthony watched as Gracie's girlfriend assisted Gracie. He watched as the beautiful girl unbuttoned Gracie's coat, brought their coats to the coat check room, then grabbed Gracie's hand.

"Thank you, God," Anthony said. "Someone to take care of her."

The young girl at the coat check counter gave Anthony a beautiful smile. Her big brown eyes smiled up at him, her puffy lips stretched wide, revealing one slightly crooked tooth as she wished him a Happy New Year.

Inside the ballroom, Anthony saw his mother chatting with Joanna and Barney Siegel. He did not see their annoying daughter, Barbara and approached the trio.

As if she could sense that she was missed, Barbara waddled to the trio just ahead of Anthony.

"Mother, where's your walker?" Anthony teased.

"Anthony Marcus Whitehead!" Susan shrilled.

"Hi Anthony," Barbara Siegel preened.

Oh. Hi, uh, Betty, right?" Anthony said.

Susan let Anthony know that Cheyenne was there. And was, in fact, headed in their direction. She also commented that she simply did not know what Anthony had ever seen in the brash woman.

"Saw a lot of myself in her," Anthony quipped.

"Incorrigible," Susan declared, walking away.

"Hi Anthony," Cheyenne smirked, leaning so that her large breasts and rose tattoo were plainly visible.

"Hi Cheyenne," Anthony said. "So, uh, where's, oh damn, what was his name?"

"Roland?" Cheyenne offered.

Cheyenne was clearly drunk. Her speech was slurred and she wobbled on her five inch heels. And even though Cheyenne bragged about her twenty four year old boyfriend, Anthony felt her unhappiness coming off of her in waves.

He felt stifled as they talked. He did not feel jealous of Cheyenne, or of Roland, her boy toy. Anthony felt pity for her. And he felt somehow responsible for her unhappiness.

"Well, Happy New Year," Anthony said as Roland Verdot stomped toward them.

The young man's face was dark. His unsteady gait told Anthony that Cheyenne wasn't the only one hitting the champagne hard that evening.

"Roland, how are you?" Anthony pasted a smile on his face and extended his hand. "Cheyenne was just telling me how happy the two of you are together."

"Oh yeah?" Roland said, putting a possessive arm around Cheyenne's waist.

The gesture nearly brought both Roland and Cheyenne down to the ground. Anthony steadied Roland, preventing a mild inconvenience, an embarrassment to the pair.

"Oh yes, said you're twice the man I ever was, and well, what can I say, huh?" Anthony said amiably. "You know, I never could make Cheyenne happy, so if you can? More power to you. More power to you."

The band was a quintet with an emaciated female vocalist. They were good, playing a good variety of songs to dance to. Anthony did dance with his nieces Penny and Stacie, his sisters Cindy, Barbara, and Lisa, and his mother.

Gracie, however, looked delighted to be on the dance floor with her girlfriend. For a few dances, Anthony just stood and watched the two young women as they swayed to the music, smiling at one another.

His younger brother, Jimmy Whitehead, did approach Lisa. Jimmy demanded that he be allowed to talk to Gracie and that he be allowed to make an amends to Gracie. It had something to do with his Narcotics Anonymous program.

A screaming tirade exploded and an enraged Lisa punched Jimmy, knocking him to the floor. Before Anthony could intervene, Susan Whitehead quietly, firmly told Jimmy to leave.

Anthony sat at a table, shaking his head. A very clearly upset Gracie allowed herself to be led by Nancy to the table. Anthony's heart felt as if it would burst, watching the girl comfort, care for his niece. Again, he silently thanked God for Nancy Hebert being in Gracie's life.

After two cups of water, Nancy dragged Gracie onto the dance floor again. Anthony and Lisa shared a smile as they watched the two young women dancing.

"Twist And Shout!" Nancy yelled at the band.

"Come on Mother, let's dance," Anthony demanded, taking Susan by the hand.

He had not intended it, but Anthony was among the last to leave the ballroom. He had not seen Roland or Cheyenne since their earlier greeting and assumed they'd either found a corner to pass out, or had been discretely asked to leave. Anthony did wonder why Cheyenne continued her membership at the country club; she'd always disparaged the country club when they were married. He also wondered how she was paying for the membership.

The coat check girl's smile was a closed mouth, forced smile. The smile did not reach her large brown eyes.

And when Anthony asked what was wrong, the story tumbled out. Her boyfriend had borrowed her car while she was at work. She was due to be off very soon, but the boyfriend wasn't answering her calls or text messages.

Anthony asked the girl to use his phone, deducing that this boyfriend was ignoring his girlfriend's calls. The deduction was correct; Trey Edmonton answered on the third ring.

In his best approximation of a 'ghetto' voice, Anthony told Trey Edmonton that 'he and his crew' would get Trey's girlfriend home, safe and sound. The coat check girl's enticing, warm brown eyes were wide as Anthony disconnected.

Anthony smiled as his phone started to ring. He sent the call to voice mail while telling the young girl that her boyfriend had sounded quite drunk. As her cell phone now started to chime, Anthony offered the girl a ride home.

It was a twenty four minute ride from country club to the girl's apartment. On that ride, Anthony learned that Nessie Breaux was eighteen years old, lived with her mother and her stepfather and two stepsisters in a two bedroom apartment. She'd dropped out of school, but had managed to get her GED, was hoping to get hired on at the country club full time; right now she was a seasonal worker.

'Nessie' was short for Vanessa. With her cheap coat and polo uniform shirt stretched taut over her 34DD breasts, her polyester uniform slacks stretched taut over her sweet looking backside, Anthony decided that Nessie was not a Nessie. She was a Vanessa.

At her apartment, Vanessa demanded Anthony's cell phone. She entered her phone number into his phone, much to Anthony's amusement. Then the eighteen year old girl had given him a kiss that had his cock ready to burst from his tuxedo trousers.

Her lips were full, puffy lips, the kind of lips that models and actresses and girls that wanted to imitate models and actresses would have collagen injected into their lips to achieve. They were soft and moist as they pressed against his lips.

Her tongue was a feather as she pushed it into her mouth. Then she gently sucked Anthony's tongue from his mouth into hers. She sucked on his tongue, massaging his tongue with her tongue.

As she softly pulled from his lips, Vanessa gave his bottom lip a soft little bite with her teeth.

On his way home, Anthony did pass a sub-compact car that had been pulled over by a St. Ann Parish police cruiser. A sullen looking young man sat in the rear of the cruiser and Anthony wondered if this might be Nessie's boyfriend. Nessie's former boyfriend, according to Vanessa Breaux.

His cock had not softened by the time he pulled his Bentley into the garage. He was still rock hard as he brushed his teeth. As he lay down in his large bed, Anthony wondered about those four hour erections the television commercials warned against.

At twelve minutes past eleven the following morning, Anthony's phone chimed. He saw Vanessa's name and thought very briefly of assigning 'Brown Eyed Girl' by Van Morrison as a ring tone for the girl.

"Hi!" a warm voice greeted him when he answered.

"Hi!" Anthony agreed.

"Hey, I uh, listen, you, what you doing for lunch? My Momma's making that stuff you're supposed have for New Year's. You know, the ham, the black eyed peas, and the cabbage. No, no, it's not like that gross cabbage; my Mom actually makes the best cabbage. She fries it? With about a pound of bacon; it is sooo good, and apple sauce, you come over?" Vanessa said in a rush of words.

"I uh, Vanessa, you got any idea how old I am?" Anthony asked.

"No, not really," Vanessa said.

"Sweetie, I'll be forty two on the twenty seventh of February," Anthony confessed.

"Oh. And forty two year olds don't eat?" Vanessa asked.

"We eat. We eat more than we're supposed to most of the time," Anthony laughed.

"Okay, then. Lunch going be at one, okay?" Vanessa said.

Anthony shrugged. He had no lunch plans and cabbage cooked with about a pound of bacon did sound good. He figured he'd go, have lunch, thank Vanessa and Vanessa's mother for their hospitality, and leave.

Burns & Burns grocery store was open. His cell phone listed some wines that were suitable for ham and Anthony scoured the shelves, looking for any of the wines named. He did find one and grabbed it. Turning around, he also located the St. Elizabeth Lager and bought a six pack of the beer.

Turning the corner, going in the wrong direction, Anthony came face to face with the baker as the woman put piping hot loaves of French bread onto the rack.

"Perfect timing," Anthony whooped, causing the rotund woman to laugh.

And, walking down the aisle next to the wine aisle, Anthony saw neatly arranged bouquets of fresh flowers.

"Grocery stores sell flowers?" Anthony asked out loud.

"Valentine's Day? Can't get no better deal," a young male employee assured Anthony. "Them flower places? Charge you what? Twenty? Thirty bucks? Fourteen ninety nine here."

"Huh!" Anthony said.

He carried beer, wine and bread to an open register. Then he ran back to the flower aisle and grabbed two bouquets that were already in vases. One was a mix of various flowers and the other was a collection of white roses.

"Ready?" the haggard looking woman smiled as Anthony raced back with the two vases.

"Think so," Anthony agreed.

"Oh, those are nice. Two of them? Someone going get jealous?" the woman asked as she carefully scanned the vases.

"Might even be gunfire," Anthony said.

"Remember keep your head down," the woman smirked.

"Uh huh, where were you when I was getting my divorce?" Anthony asked and the woman laughed.

In the car, Anthony made sure to snip the price tags from the bouquets of flowers. He then put the two vases on the floorboard of his Ferrari and drove to the apartment complex.

"Hey!" Vanessa cried out happily when she opened the door of the apartment.

"Hey," Anthony said, handing her the vase of white roses. "This is for you."

Vanessa Breaux was nearly a carbon copy of Natalie Arnaud, her mother. Same blonde hair, same brown eyes, same large chests, same rounded backsides and same smile. Natalie's handshake was a warm handshake as she greeted Anthony. Then she fussed at Anthony for bringing wine, and beer, and bread.

"And look what he brung me yeah," Vanessa bragged, showing her mother the vase of roses.

"Man! Aw now, them nice yeah," Natalie said, actually reaching out to gently touch one of the rose petals.

"Be right back," Anthony said.

"Aw now you didn't have do that," Natalie protested when Anthony returned a moment later with the vase of flowers.

"You feeding me? Aw yeah had do that," Anthony said.

"Clarissa? Bunny? This Tony," Vanessa introduced Anthony to two quite chubby girls.

"Anthony," Anthony smiled.

"Nuh uh; I'm call you Tony," Vanessa smiled and kissed him.

"Bunny, you go tell your Daddy dinner 'bout ready," Natalie ordered the youngest girl.

"Yes ma'am," Bunny said and ran down the hall.

Anthony was sure the neighbors beneath the Arnaud apartment did not care for Bunny. The sound of her running was quite loud.

"I'm up, I'm up, you jump on me I pile one on you yeah, hear me," Anthony heard a man declare.

Bunny ran back into the small living room, giggling. A moment later, a short, round man entered, walking briskly.

"No! No! Nuh uh! Nessie, help me!" Bunny shrieked, trying to hide from her father.

"What he tell you?" Vanessa smiled.

"Hey, I'm Frank, how you doing?" Frank Arnaud said, trying to push Vanessa aside so he could get to Bunny.

"Anthony Whitehead," Anthony smiled as Frank did manage to grab the girl by her fat arm.

"Daddy, don't!" Bunny squealed as her father picked her up.

"What I tell you, huh?" Frank said, giving the girl two swats to her plump buttocks, then a noisy kiss on her cheek.

"Hey Anthony, how you doing?" Frank said, sticking out a meaty hand.

"Me? I'm good yeah. You? How you doing?" Anthony said, shaking the man's hand.

Lunch was a celebration. It was loud, happy, energetic. The wine was shared with all six people partaking in a glass, even Bunny and Clarissa. Anthony couldn't help but laugh when both girls made faces at the taste of the wine and quickly rinsed their mouths with the far too sweet iced tea.

"Aw now, beer? Hey Nessie, you need bring him by more, hear?" Frank said when Natalie mentioned the St. Elizabeth Lager Anthony had brought along with the wine and the bread.

"'Kay," Vanessa agreed.

Oh! And we having us some banana pudding; Anthony you like banana pudding?" Natalie asked.

"Man! Who don't like them banana pudding?" Anthony agreed.

Over banana pudding and coffee, Anthony was told of Vanessa's early days. He was even shown photographs of an adorable child.

He also heard of Frank's ex-wife, Bunny and Clarissa's mother 'just up and leaving' them.

"Come home, Oo-wee! Man, I'm 'bout beat yeah. Been on my feet all day there," Frank said.

"What you do?" Anthony asked.

"Mr. Tony, my daddy's a mailman yeah," Bunny said, with obvious pride.

"It Tony? Thought you said it was Anthony?" Natalie asked.

"Guess Vanessa done decided it going be Tony," Anthony smiled.

His smile widened when Vanessa clutched his arm. She put her blonde head on his shoulder.

"Anyway, come home, this one saying, 'oh Daddy, I'm 'bout starve to death yeah' and this one? Man! When the last time that diaper been changed huh?" Frank continued with his tale.

""I'm right next door, man! Them apartments was small, huh?" Natalie smiled at the memory.

"Yeah they was," Frank agreed. "And this one 'bout get smaller yeah."

"What you mean?" Vanessa asked, head coming up from Anthony's shoulder.

"Mean, you 'bout have another little brother or sister, looking 'bout five, maybe six months," Frank bragged.

"No!" Vanessa gasped, then squealed.

Somehow, lunch segued from small dining area to the living room. Anthony was wedged into a corner of the small couch, with Vanessa wedged against him, blonde head on his shoulder. When Anthony divulged that he was the Chief Operating Officer of Whitehead Generators, the only comment Frank said was he knew where it was located.

"But it ain't on my route no. Um, think it's Sharon does that whole block there," Frank mused.

For whatever reason, Anthony felt that he had to downgrade his stature; had to be more like this household. So he told them about working for St. Ann's Parish before his father's death.

"Civil engineering? Oh yeah, remember you," Frankie said, then looked at Anthony. "But man! You been sick or something? Man, you done lost some weight huh?"