Bringing The Heat E-Book

Jamila Jasper

• Herausgeber: Publisher s23991
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

When Dirk -- a white South African bodyguard -- saves Gigi's life, she finds him pompous, arrogant and... undeniably sexy.

With the two of them stranded on an island, Gigi can't think straight about Dirk. 

The constant beach romps aren't helping a darned thing.

In between their love-making, Gigi starts to change everything she thought about happily ever after.

Before thinking about forever, they have to make their way off the island... Alive.


This BWWM novel is an ultra-sexy read so hot it might melt your device.

Leseprobe

Copyright

Copyright April 2017 © Jamila Jasper Romance

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Daddy’s Funeral

Gigi barely knew her father. She knew that he was wealthy, and that her mother had been knocked up at nineteen years old by a man a decade older than her. Her father had always been a mysterious absentee figure, but not in the traditional way. Jerome Jackson had always provided for his daughter financially.

Gigi stood next to her two half-sisters looking down at the body of the man she barely knew. Jerome Jackson — born June 11th 1958, died February 14th 2017. Dinah was the one who had found him. As she told it, he’d been sitting in his study with his hand clasped around a glass of whiskey.

Gigi stood next to the sister that she barely knew and slipped her hand in hers. Dinah was crying, but neither Gigi nor their third sister Tyra could muster up tears yet. Neither of them knew Jerome quite the way that Dinah did. Dinah was the one who had grown up with him.

The funeral would start in forty-five minutes. Strangers would fill this room and gawk at her father’s body. Most of them would probably know Jerome better than Gigi ever had. Her father, the stranger.

Even if he had been a stranger, Jerome had ensured Gigi had the best of the best. She’d attended the best private day schools in New York and then she’d been shipped off to a New England boarding school for high school. All on her father’s dime.

In her community, Gigi’s life had caused whispers. Despite her expensive education, she had grown up in a small two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. Her mother’s job as a public school teacher could never have afforded her all the luxuries she had growing up.

She’d only met and hung out with her sisters three times in the past. When Gigi was eighteen years old — Tyra, sixteen, Dinah, fifteen — Jerome persuaded Gigi’s mother to let Gigi join him for a special summer vacation. He thought it was important for all his daughters to know each other. After much pleading, Gigi remembered her mother reluctantly allowing her to go.

She remembered being eighteen and standing in line at JFK, ready to meet her father in person for only the tenth time in her life. She remembered the image she had constructed of him from his letters alone and filled in by her active imagination. She remembered picturing her sisters in her head; she imagined they would all be perfect copies of her, the best friends she’d been searching for her whole life.

Gigi cracked a smile as she recalled that vacation. It had been far from perfect. Tyra and Dinah were nothing like her and they were used to being “only children”. Jerome hadn’t been the perfect father either on that vacation. Instead of spending time with them, he’d given them each a credit card and sent them off on their own. Gigi and her two sisters had an insane month in Paris together followed by a month in London. There had been laughter, shopping... and more fighting than ever.

Those were some of the best and worst memories Gigi had of Jerome. She reached out and touched his stiff hand in the coffin. Those tears finally found their way out of her eyes. Dinah squeezed her hand tightly and rested her head on Gigi’s shoulders.

“I don’t know if I can do this today,” Tyra whispered.

“Well. We have to.”

“I know,” Tyra replied, “But I think I’ll need a drink.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Gigi warned.

“Easy for you to say,” mumbled Tyra.

“I think I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

They walked into the other room. It felt strange having the funeral out of Jerome’s house, but that was what he requested. Viewing and funeral in the foyer downstairs and then he’d be cremated later that week. Each of his daughters would get 1/3 of his ashes and 1/3 of his assets.

He might have been more absent than not, but he’d always provided financially, even in death.

Dinah had hired an event co-ordinator to manage the entire affair. They approached Jerome’s bar and each ordered a drink. Tyra ordered a stiff whiskey on the rocks (Jim Beam, just like her father drank). Dinah ordered a glass of white wine. Gigi ordered cranberry juice with a splash of vodka in it. She wanted presence of mind throughout this entire affair. She wanted to remember — even if remembering would hurt like hell.

She felt sad that Jerome had died but not from missing him. Heck, she’d grown used to missing him her own life. What really gnawed at Gigi’s heart was all the time she didn’t get to spend with her father. She realized all the things she didn’t know about him. She knew that he’d made millions of dollars in investment banking and investing in technology. She knew that he was a renowned womanizer who hadn’t just dated their mothers but a number of celebrities.

But Gigi didn’t know how he liked his coffee. She didn’t know what her father liked to do in his down time. All she knew was that he’d worked, provided and then died. His personality would always be a mystery to her. His death was so painfully final. She downed as much of her drink as she could manage, her racing mind causing her to rethink her abstinence from alcohol.

“What happens next Dinah?” Tyra asked.

Dinah morosely took a sip of her wine before answering. By some cruel fate, the youngest of them had been completely responsible for putting all of this together. She was the only one of them who really knew Jerome. She’d grown up in this very mansion and ultimately, she’d been the one to find her father’s body. It was like Dinah was suffering just for being the only one of Jerome’s children he’d paid any mind.

“I meet with the estate lawyer and the accountant. You guys don’t have to stay here. Once you send me your banking information and addresses, I should be able to sort it all out.”

“Jesus,” Tyra mumbled.

“It’s a lot of money,” Gigi confirmed.

Dinah smiled, “I guess it is. I’m just so used to all this, you know?”​

Tyra nodded, “Lucky you. I grew up in East L.A. Daddy provided for me but mama would have never let any of this get to my head.”​

Dinah furrowed her brow a bit.

“Don’t mean any offense.”

“None taken. It’s just… Sometimes I wonder how daddy could have left y’all across the country. Why me?”

Gigi shrugged, “My mama had me at nineteen. It was a long time ago. Maybe with you he just wanted things to be different.”​

“I guess. But it still bothers me. Doesn’t it bother you? That we didn’t grow up together?”

Tyra and Gigi exchanged glances. Yes, it did bother them. Of course it did. Their father was internationally renowned and incredibly wealthy but for a reason neither of them knew, he’d only picked the youngest of them to take care of properly. To them, Jerome was a concept. Dinah was the only one of her sisters who had grown up with a real father. It would have been bizarre for them to remain unaffected.

“I guess it bothers me,” Tyra mumbled.

“Well, we have a chance to get to know each other now,” Gigi offered.

Dinah sighed, “But how? After this… you’ll head east and Tyra’s going to head west.”

“And then you’ll be the baddest bitch left in Costa Rica,” Tyra grinned.

The three of them laughed. It was the first time that the three of them had shared a proper laugh since they’d arrived at Jerome Jackson’s tropical mansion. This was the country that Dinah had grown up in while Gigi was away at boarding school and while Tyra had attended a private day school in California.

“Well, since we only have a few minutes, why don’t we just have another drink,” Dinah said.

They were starting to realize that like it or not, they would have an emotionally exhausting day. They ordered second rounds of their drinks as time ticked towards the start of the funeral service.

“Do you remember Paris?” Gigi asked.

Dinah cracked a smile.

“Yes, I remember Paris. It was insane… The drinks, the shopping…”​

“The fighting…” Tyra finished.

“What did we even fight over?”

“Everything,” Gigi smiled.

“It all seems so silly and so far away,” Tyra replied.

Dinah nodded, “Daddy barely even spent any time with us that vacation. We had no clue about anything but we ran around the streets of Paris like little African princesses.”

Gigi had never really thought of herself as African, but Dinah wasn’t wrong. Their father, Jerome Jackson was an African immigrant who changed his name when he was eighteen years old to the alliterative, Americanized name Jerome Jackson.

In fact, Gigi had no clue who her father had been before he’d changed his name. Growing up in Brooklyn, she was utterly cut off from her Nigerian heritage. She never even thought about it. As far as she was concerned she was just a regular African American girl. Tyra felt the same way.

“Have you been to Nigeria?” Tyra asked Dinah, letting Gigi know that they were probably thinking the same thing.

Dinah pushed the hair from her wig out of her face and she nodded.

“Yeah. I went last year to daddy’s mansion in Maitama. It’s beautiful out there.”​

“I can’t believe I’ve never gone.”

Dinah shrugged, “Maybe we should go there some time. After the funeral.”

“If I can get time off work,” Tyra answered.

Gigi wondered if Tyra was serious. They would each be inheriting something to the tune of $10 million dollars. They would co-own his mansion in Costa Rica, his apartment complex in Chicago and the mansion in Maitama. Their father’s assets were global. For the rest of their lives they could sit back and do nothing. Gigi had only just figured out just how extensive her father’s wealth was and she didn’t know if she planned to work at all considering what she would inherit.

She’d struggled in her adulthood since graduating from college and she didn’t feel ashamed about putting an end to that struggle, whether or not she earned the money to do it. Apparently, Tyra was different.

They sat back and they reminisced about Paris. They reminisced about the boy that Gigi had fallen for in France — a black twenty year old Parisian named Christophe. They reminisced about the time Dinah drank so much they had to sneak her into the apartment through the back entrance. They reminisced about how Tyra had almost had them kicked out of a nightclub because she tried to fight some girl on Dinah’s behalf.

As they reminisced, they did everything to try to forget the fact that their father’s body was dressed up in a custom Italian designer suit only a few feet away. They tried to forget the fact that this might be the last time they all saw each other. They tried to forget about all their anxieties about growing older, about love, happiness and the lot of it.

“Are any of you married?” Dinah asked.

Gigi and Tyra both shook their heads.

“Nope.”

“Nah.”

“Do you ever want to be?” Dinah asked.

Tyra shrugged and Gigi nodded.

​“I do. But I’ll need to meet the right guy. Maybe I’m getting two old though.”

“Nonsense!” Tyra said, “There’s no such thing as two old.”

“Well, I don’t think I want to get married. I watched daddy go through three wives in my childhood. None of them could have kids and none of them lasted very long.”

They were silent again. Even if they tried, they couldn’t help but think of Jerome. The good, the bad, the ugly — they were forced to confront all of it now in his death.

“I never knew he was married.”

“After I turned eighteen,” Dinah said, “But I still lived here after college and during vacations. So I got to see a lot of it. I wonder if any of them ever really loved him.”​

“Are any of them coming today?” Gigi asked.

Dinah shook her head, “They all made excuses when I called.”

They were silent again as they were forced to confront another unpleasant truth. Jerome had a string of women on his arm but his actions had also made him many enemies throughout his life.

They talked until guests started to pull into the driveway. Black cars manned by mestizo Costa Ricans pulled up and then all manner of Americans descended upon the Jackson mansion for Jerome’s funeral.

Gigi, Tyra and Dinah waited by the door, playing the part of perfect sisters and going through the exhausting process of greeting every single person who had come to say goodbye to their less than perfect father.

The house was filled with upwards of 100 guests who all fit into the viewing room. The priest arrived somewhere in the middle of the pack and Dinah pulled him aside to discuss the proceedings. Gigi took in the room before making her way to the reserved seats in the front.

The room smelled like new leather and designer perfumes. Gigi had never been surrounded by such wealth in her life. She never understood what Dinah’s life had been like until now. They were tucked away in the jungle in what was possibly the biggest home in the small Central American country.

The start time of the funeral drew near. Tyra joined Gigi in the front and their eyes drew to Dinah as they waited for her to join them. The priest stood in the front of the room waiting to officiate and Dinah stood off to the side talking to a short, gently tanned latino man. When Dinah finished speaking to him, she joined the duo.

“Who was that?” Gigi whispered to her.

“Luciano.”

“Who?”​

Dinah whispered, “A friend of my father’s. He helped me get everything together today before you guys arrived.”​

“Oh. I see.”

Before Gigi could ask any more questions, the funeral service started. The priest began to speak about her father’s life. Gigi started to learn things that she’d never known about Jerome, including the fact that he was a practicing Catholic and took holy communion in his home on a weekly basis — a special privilege. She learned that Dinah had grown up knowing the church well.

When it came time for Jerome’s eulogy, Luciano was the one who stepped up to the podium to speak. Gigi drew her eyes to him, hopeful that she could gain some final lasting insight into the man her father was.

Luciano spoke with a thick Spanish accent, but he eulogized Jerome well. He spoke about their memories together in Costa Rica and all the times that Jerome bailed him out of trouble. He spoke to the heroic image of her father that Gigi had always carried with her (whether intentionally or not). She got an image of her father as a Nigerian man that loved laughter, liquor and loving women. He had been boisterous, untamable and loyal to a fault once he decided you were worthy.

Gigi could feel tears spilling out of her eyes involuntarily. Dinah was weeping softly and Tyra sat up stone faced. She never allowed her grief to be on display for the room full of people. Dinah and Gigi couldn’t help it. They all gripped each other’s palms as Luciano said his final words.

“…And I want to say a final goodbye to you, amigo. I promise that I will carry you in my heart forever and I will make sure that nothing happens to your beautiful daughters. Adios.”

Luciano left the podium and Gigi watched as a single tear streamed down his face. The room was filled with people who were either weeping or looking sullenly forward. The priest continued with the rest of the service and when the collection box was passed around, people dropped $100 bills into the box as if it were nothing. Everything about that day had felt utterly surreal, including the ease with which a room full of people parted with what would total up to a year’s worth of her rent.

Towards the end of the service, they sang and a friend of Dinah’s played the piano. And just like that, the funeral service was finished. The gangly events co-ordinator led the guests to the other room for a small wake while Gigi and her sisters said their final goodbyes to Jerome. After this, his body would be taken to the funeral home. He’d be cremated and the ashes would be split in three and shipped priority mail to Gigi and Tyra. This was it — their last time with their father.

Gigi’s chest balled up like a fist as she stood above her father’s body for the last time.

​“Goodbye,” She whispered through her tears.

Tyra handed her a handkerchief which she used to dab beneath her eyes. Dinah planted a kiss on their father’s forehead and Tyra just stood staring at him. Gigi thought her head seemed like it was swimming with thoughts. There was a lot to think about and a lot to mourn.

When the funeral home arrived and the coffin closed for the final time, Gigi felt the fist around her heart clench even tighter. They had to go back out there and face the folks who had all come expecting to see the three of them after the funeral.

“I’m starting to think the next part is what’s going to be the hardest,” Gigi said.

​Dinah sighed, “You’re right. But… We can do it. I know we can.”​

“At least we’ve got each other for this next bit.”

“Let’s go then.”

They pushed open the doors into the next room and walked out into the…

Chapter 2

Daddy’s Last Hurrah

…middle of the party.

Booze flowed like water. Jerome’s specific instructions for how his funeral was supposed to be carried out had been followed to the letter. Dinah’s meticulous attention to even the smallest details had panned out.

“I have a feeling this party’s going to last all night,” Tyra said.

“Too bad your flight’s in four hours, huh Gigi?”

Gigi nodded, “I know. Hopefully I’ll be able to come back to see you girls for Christmas.”

“You really think we could make that happen?” Dinah asked hopefully.

Gigi nodded.

​“Of course. I know we’ve been separated most of our lives, but maybe this is a chance for us to make it all work.”

“And maybe by then you’ll be married. Or have a kid,” Dinah offered.

Gigi chuckled, “We’ll have to see won’t we.”

She doubted that Dinah’s prediction held any weight. But a part of her wondered if Dinah needed one of them to have a kid. If it wouldn’t be her, there were only two other options for Jerome Jackson’s bloodline to get passed on. He’d never had any sons. Before the women could continue talking amongst themselves, more of Jerome’s old acquaintances approached them to make uncomfortable grief ridden small talk.

One of Jerome’s old clients came and gave them a diatribe about a trip she’d taken with Jerome to Amsterdam. Two of his old university friends spoke at length about how much of a great man he was. People filed in and out of the circle and each one of them knew more about Gigi’s father than she did. The discomfort in her chest sank to her stomach and she couldn’t wait another moment until all of it was just over.

Finally, the time had come for her to get a cab away from this place. She’d called a small local company earlier that morning and hacked her way through a booking in her bad first-year-of-college Spanish.

“Are you sure that you’ll be alright?” Dinah asked as she walked Gigi to the door.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll have Maria bring your bags downstairs for you.”​

“Thanks.”​

“Promise me that you’ll be safe, okay Gigi? I want to see you again.”

Gigi wondered if Dinah’s caution was just her fear that she’d lose more people in her rapidly shrinking family. Jerome was the only person she was really close to. Dinah had lost her mother young.

“I’ll be safe. I promise.”

“I’ll take care of Tyra until she leaves.”

“Good. I think she needs it. She’s not like us. She doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve.”

Dinah smiled and walked Gigi to the door. Dinah stood at 5’4”, five inches shorter than her older sister. She wore her hair in a short straight bob. The two had a similar dark complexion, so dark that they had trouble finding makeup that fit their skin. For the first time, Gigi saw some of her facial features in Dinah. They both had wide flat noses and gorgeous smiles. Dinah’s eyes were wider than Gigi’s but they shared the same deep brown color.

“But I’ll be fine,” Gigi reassured her.

“And you said goodbye to Tyra?”

Gigi nodded, “That was hard. We don’t get to see each other much.”

“I know. But that’s all going to change. Trust me Gigi, everything will change.”

They gave each other one last hug and Gigi walked to her cab, waiting for Maria to bring her bags down. Then she’d say goodbye to this jungle mansion once and for all. Goodbye to Jerome, the father she never got a chance to ever really know.

Maria brought the bags down and Gigi cast one last look at the Costa Rican mansion. What a strange place for Jerome to have his funeral — tucked away from everything he knew and held dear. Gigi stepped into the backseat of the cab and the cap pealed away from the mansion.

Gigi hoped that she’d see her sisters again soon.

Gigi couldn’t remember the drive to the airport exactly, but she was sure that the cab driver understood her directions. Gigi hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but he seemed like a pale local with coarse dark hair all over his face. He wore sunglasses that covered his eyes and he wasn’t much of a talker.

Gigi kept her eyes glued out the window as she appreciated the Costa Rican landscape for the last time. Soon, she’d be on her flight back to the United States and life would go back to normal for a while. Her money would clear in two months, she’d quit her job and buy herself a house on the outskirts of the city. Gigi was fantasizing about what the future would bring her — and her mother when she noticed that the landscape wasn’t what she thought it would be.

“Excuse me…” She started speaking to the cab driver.

He gave no indication that he heard her.

Gigi continued, “Excuse me! Is this the route to the airport?”

She asked her question slowly, emphasizing each word. Still, the cab driver didn’t say anything. This time, Gigi was sure that he’d heard her. She started to panic. She had no idea where she was, her Spanish was barely passable and she was starting to get the feeling that whatever this man was up to was 100% no-good.

The cab took a sharp turn right.

“HELLO. Where are you taking me?! This isn’t the way to the airport!” Gigi cried, trying not to sound frantic.

The man slammed on the automatic locks, locking Gigi into the backseat. Her heart was racing in her chest.

“What are you doing?!”

The man kept driving but turned around, holding a handgun to Gigi.

“Be quiet. Or I’ll shoot.”

His English slipped out cautiously while still managing to pack a terrifying punch.

“Don’t touch your phone,” He snarled.

Gigi sat there, frozen. He put the gun down on his lap and kept driving forward. Gigi saw the car drive past the airport and she saw a plane taking off, flying into the air just as she was flying into big trouble.

The cab driver picked up his phone and called a number.

“Yes. I have the delivery. As long as you have the package, it’s yours.”

He hung up. Gigi found herself reaching for the door, pulling on it.

“I said be quiet,” He snarled again.

She gave up. There was no way out of the car. He had a gun. Gigi just closed her eyes and tried to breathe and think of a way out of this. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks. Why was this happening?

“Who are you? Please… Let me go! I’ll pay you! Anything!”

The man let out a grunt and kept driving. He was driving for thirty minutes, in which time Gigi sat there limp, uncertain of what to do next. He pulled off the main road and started driving towards the beach. Gigi knew she was going to die. Here in Costa Rica, this man was obviously planning to kill her and leave her body on the beach. Or sell her into sex slavery.

When I get out of this car, I have to run. I don’t care if he shoots me. I need to run like my life depends on it. This can’t happen to me. Momma…

THUD.

Gigi screamed. Someone had slammed into the back of the cab and the car started spinning out across the road. She threw her hands up over her head to protect her skull and her body whipped back and forth until the car came to a stop. Gigi’s body was shaking. She tried to move but she couldn’t. She tried to scream again but the words couldn’t find their way out of her mouth.

“H-h-h-…”

The cabbie was still alive and no longer worried about Gigi. He stepped out of the car. Gigi turned her head towards the window and saw him raise his gun. Even through his sunglasses she could almost see the determined look of a killer behind the lenses. Gigi tried to scream again — but there was nothing.

Her mouth refused to produce any sounds. She heard a gunshot and saw the cab driver crumple to the ground. He screamed and Gigi screamed too. Her mouth was too dry for the sound to carry too much further. The cab driver groaned on the ground and Gigi waited to see who had shot him.

Leave me here. Leave me alone. Leave me alone and I’ll run away.

No such luck. The door to Gigi’s side in the backseat swung open. Gigi looked up and saw a tall, blonde man standing before her.

Gigi sat frozen, expecting him to raise the gun to her head and end her life. Instead, he slipped the gun into a holster and spoke in clear English.

“Get out of the car, Gigi.”

How does he know my name?

Gigi tried to unbuckle her seatbelt, her hands still shaking.

“I’m Dirk by the way.”

She tried to stand up but her legs were shaking too much.

“Hurry up, we’ve got to get out of here. There are more of them coming.”

“We?”

“Yes. Black Lexus back there — you get into the front. I’ll get you out of here.”

“No!”

Dirk’s face grew dark.

“Listen ma’am… Either you come with me or I’ll have to bring you out of here.”​

“Fine! Fine! I’ll come with you.”

“Good.”​

Gigi stood at the door of his black Lexus SUV. She opened it and climbed into the passenger seat. The car smelled brand new. She watched as Dirk emptied another few bullets into the kidnapper. Her stomach churned.

Then Dirk pulled her suitcases out of the cab’s trunk and thrust them into the Lexus. He rejoined Gigi and peeled off onto the highway.

“So I presume you’re not going to be taking me to the airport?”

Dirk chuckled.

“No.”

“I’m going to miss my flight!”

Dirk frowned as he opened the glove compartment.

“Listen. Take this gun. You know how to shoot?”

Gigi did know how to shoot. In college, Jerome had paid for her to have a few lessons. She was far from a sharpshooter but she knew the basics on how to handle a firearm.

“Yes.”

“Don’t go waving that thing around. Only use it if we need to.”

Gigi nodded. She looked over at Dirk and wondered where on earth he was driving her to. He wasn’t hard on the eyes but she didn’t like the way he acted; as if he was the boss of her.

“Listen,” Dirk continued, “There will be people coming after him and I need to get you out of here, okay? If you want to be alive by the end of the night, just do what I say.”

Gigi didn’t say anything. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“And you won’t tell me where you’re taking me?”

“No. Give me your phone.”​

“Why?”

“I said… Just give me the phone, okay?”

Gigi reluctantly handed her phone to Dirk. He rolled down the SUV’s windows and chucked it out as far as the phone could go.

“Are you out of your damned mind?!” Gigi shrieked.

“You don’t understand a thing missy. That phone? They could be tracking you right now.”

“And who the hell is they? Why am I just supposed to believe you when you won’t even tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dirk sighed, “Listen. I’m trying to think. I don’t have time to run through every little detail. Just let me get out of this village and I’ll do my best.”

Gigi pursed her lips shut and her eyes stayed glued out the window. She didn’t even want to deign herself to glance in Dirk’s direction.

Arrogant prick.

They drove for thirty more minutes in complete silence. Gigi began to wish she hadn’t handed him her cellphone. Now she really had no way out of here. But she trusted this guy...somehow. Something about Dirk soothed her.

Sure, he’d shot the cab driver and he’d literally handed her a gun. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t trust him. Maybe that just showed how far he’d really go to protect her.

Or perhaps he was preparing her for something far worse.

“You’re a lot like him you know.”

“A lot like who?”

“Jerome.”

“What do you know about my father? I didn’t see you at the funeral.”

​“I said goodbye long before the funeral.”​

That answer still left a lot of questions about who Dirk was and what on earth had compelled him to ram into another car and save Gigi’s life.

“I think you saved my life,” Gigi said.

Dirk chuckled, “Not yet I haven’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We aren’t out of hot water yet, that’s all.”

“Do you ever give straight answers?”

Dirk chuckled, “Only when I need to, ma'am.”

“Can you stop calling me ma’am? It makes me feel… old.”

“Sorry m—… Sorry miss,” Dirk said, “Where I was raised, everyone gets called ma’am.”

​“And where were you raised?”

“Partly in Louisiana. Mostly in South Africa.”