Ava and Patience, a Purple Love Story

By B.L Wilson

Ava Thomas is an attractive, wealthy, older single Black woman who practices abstinence, that is, until she meets a shy, quiet bartender at her friend’s private club who loves purple as much as she does.
Patience Meeks has been observing Ava throughout her dinner with friends. When a drink order from Ava’s table comes to Patience, she decides to mix a special concoction in honor of the sexy purple designer dress Ava is wearing. The tasty purple drink and Patience’s quiet observations during dinner arouse Ava’s curiosity. Patience feels foolish as she stutters and stumbles over her words and simply walks away from Ava in mid-sentence and hides in the employee lounge until Ava leaves.
What should be the end of the connection between the two women is not. Ava wants to know more about the shy, female bartender who loves purple, has a devilish cockatoo named Socrates, and loves taking pictures of anything and everything, including “night people.” And hence begins a seesaw relationship between the two women.
Is a love of purple, pictures, and birds enough to keep two women from far different worlds together? Find out in Ava & Patience, a purple love story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.L Wilson
• Release date: Sep 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463105948

B.L Wilson

B.L. has always been in love with books and the words in them. She never thought she could create something with the words she knew. When she read ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird,’ she realized everyday experiences could be written about in a powerful, memorable way. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge so she kept on reading.Walter Mosley’s short stories about Easy Rawlins and his friends encouraged BL to start writing in earnest. She felt she had a story to tell...maybe several of them. She’d always kept a diary of some sort, scraps of paper, pocketsize, notepads, blank backs of agency forms, or in the margins of books. It was her habit to make these little notes to herself. She thought someday she’d make them into a book.She wrote a workplace memoir based on the people she met during her 20 years as a property manager of city-owned buildings. Writing the memoir, led her to consider writing books that were not job-related. Once again, she did...producing romance novels with African American lesbians as main characters. She wrote the novels because she couldn’t find stories that matched who she wanted to read about ...over forty, African American and female.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: The purple lady’s table

Patience Meeks sat up in bed, rubbing her hair and then her belly. She’d hadn’t eaten dinner. Last night, all she had to eat during her walkabout was a hot dog and a soda from one of the few frank stands still open after midnight. She talked to the owner Marco, or rather, he talked on and on while she listened. He made his usual complaints about the lack of customers because of the rain. Then he went to his favorite gripe. He complained about his twin daughters. One daughter was a lesbian but couldn’t find a good woman. The other one was a bisexual. She seemed to attract decent men and women but wasn’t ready to settle down with any of her paramours. Or to give him and his second wife the grandbabies they both wanted.

She grinned as she climbed out of bed. Marco’s conversations always boiled down to her going out with his lesbian daughter again. She did take his daughter out once. When they met for the first time, they looked at each other, then grinned in recognition. The daughter was a butch too. They were both wearing suits and ties. They decided to make Marco happy and spend a few hours together. She and Marco’s daughter knew nothing would come of the date. They did it for the old man they both admired.

She had to admit Marco’s daughter Rebecca, better known as Beck, was a nice-looking woman. Beck was a little too thin for her liking, but that was okay, since that wasn’t the point. Like her father, Beck was very talkative. Like him, Beck seemed to have little or no boundaries. Beck talked about her father, her step-mother, and her sister, but most of all, she went on and on about herself. She described in great detail what she liked to do in bed to her women and what they’d better not do to her. When Beck finally got around to asking what she liked sexually, she knew it was time to ask for the bill. She paid the bill, shook hands with Beck, and left.

She made up her bed, plumping up the pillows and straightening out the quilt and bedlinens. She pulled, tucked, and adjusted the bedcovers. She kept adjusting until all four corners were square and tight enough to bounce a quarter off of and not leave a dent. She finally stopped fiddling once she realized she wasn’t living behind the wire. She was in her own two-bedroom apartment. She paid rent for the place every month to a landlady. She had a key for it. She didn’t have let anybody inside that she didn’t want to be there. Nobody was coming to inspect her bedmaking ability and issue demerits or negative chips that would lead to punishment later on.

Damn it, bitch! Wake up. Wake up.

Patience chuckled loudly then called out, I’m awake, you old fart.

Old Fart, old fart, old fart. Wake up, old fart.

Patience grabbed a plaid flannel robe with homemade padded shoulders from the door after she pushed her feet into cheap plastic crocs when she couldn’t find her slippers. I’m coming, Socrates, so cool it.

Cool it. Cool it, old fart. Cool it. Damn it, bitch. Wake up. Wake up.

Laughing now, Patience strode out to the combination dining and living room. She removed the privacy screen and the half-on and half-off cover. Then she peered into the large cage containing her parrot with the slate gray beak. He was almost all white. Whenever he became agitated, his wing feathers puffed out and his pale yellow under feathers were visible. Angry or agitated, he did what male animals did since the beginning of time: he puffed up his feathers to appear bigger and more threatening to his opponents. In Socrates’s case, she was his supposed opponent, but she was also his buddy.

I see you’re awake, huh, Socks?

Wake up! Damn bitch, wake up! Old fart, wake up. Wake up.

Patience chuckled. I bet you’re tired of that cage, huh? She unlocked the cage then slowly stuck a hand inside. She learned not to startle him by inserting her hand into his kingdom too quickly. She had the fading scars across the backs of her hands and fingers to prove it. Come on, Socks, hop on. She watched him tilt his head at her hand as he backed up into a corner. Okay, stay in there, then. She started to pull her hand out when he climbed onto her wrist. There’s a good little man. She carefully eased him out then allowed him to hop on top of the cage using his large beak like a hand to grip the cage and steady his body.

Feed me! Damn it, bitch. Wake up. Socrates squawked then used his beak to climb down the sides of the cage and onto the floor. His claws scratched the floor as he walked like an old man with a hip replacement over to a basket of toys in the corner.

Patience followed him. Okay, Socks. I’ll clean your cage while you play with your toys. She grabbed a plastic bag and bucket from the closet and filled it with hot water and soap. She pulled on some gloves and got busy cleaning the cage and placing clean newspapers down at the bottom. Of course, Socks decided to play with her feet, pecking at her crocs, then he flew up and landed on her shoulder. She could feel his claws digging into the pads on her shoulder as he balanced his weight. You know, Socks, you coulda really messed my shoulder up just now.

Crazy bitch. Crazy bitch. Crazy damned bitch.

Patience sighed. Why can’t you learn good shit?

Shit! Clean up shit. Crazy bitch. Shit. Shit.

Patience leaned down so Socrates could hop onto a padded chair back while she went to answer the door. Socks, stay there on the chair. She heard a key turning in the main lock. She’d given a copy of her key to one person. She walked to the door and helped Bethany open it. Warn me before you come in, Bet.

Bethany giggled then reached up to try and pinch the tip of a soft breast, but Patience managed to dodge her hand. Yeah, I could, but I was hoping to catch you bare-assed naked during one of my unannounced visits. She wiggled arched eyebrows at her next-door neighbor. Her eyes swept up and down Patience’s outfit and settled on the fly of her purple, green, and black plaid boxers, then moved up to her purple t-shirt. She glanced at the bright orange and yellow crocs on her bare feet and giggled. So much for the sensual lesbo image. You have enough colors on to make a great clown suit.

Ha, ha, that’s so-o funny. What do you want anyway?

Cook me breakfast, Patience. You know what I like. I know you went grocery shopping yesterday before work.

Why would I do that?

Because I promise to babysit Socrates anytime you want.

Patience groaned. That’s an easy offer to make since you know I don’t date.

Bethany reached out to stroke her neighbor’s cheek. Girlfriend, you don’t socialize, so how could you date? You’re in here developing your photos when you aren’t busy taking those night walkabout thingies. She shook her head sadly then pretended to pout. You’re absolutely positive you won’t sleep with me?

No, I won’t. You know why too.

I’m not a baby dyke. Anyway, if I am, you’re the expert. You could make my second time so special.

Patience ignored her to walk into the kitchen. I’ll make you a cheese omelet and fry some fake bacon.

I want orange juice mixed with cranberry juice. Home fries would be nice too.

Patience shrugged then glanced at Bethany, who followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table with the mismatched fourth leg. She needed to trim the leg down and reshape it to match the other three legs then re-paint the entire table glossy white. She couldn’t believe the good quality of stuff people threw out these days. It was one of many little projects she planned to do to make her place feel cozy.

How about you mix that crazy juice you want? I’ll fix the cheese omelets, fake bacon, and sugar toast. You make us oatmeal and coffee. She frowned in disgust. Nope, you just make the instant oatmeal and the cray-cray juice. I’ve tasted your coffee. Eck, it tastes like brown piss!

Bethany walked over to give Patience a hip bump before she opened the refrigerator. She giggled then helped Patience take out the egg carton, a chunk of cheddar cheese, Sizzlean, bread cinnamon, the bottles of OJ and cranberry juice.

Forty-five minutes later, Bethany pushed away from the table then raised her baggy T-shirt and unfastened the first snap on her jeans. Ah, that was so good, Girlfriend, she remarked, rubbing her belly.

Patience looked at her next-door neighbor and rolled her eyes upward. Don’t be such a pig. You wouldn’t have to loosen your clothes if you didn’t eat so much.

I can’t help it if you cook so good, Patience.

Next you’ll want to camp out on my couch and take a nap.

Bethany nodded. Can I please, please. My place is so messy. Stuff is all over the place. Nothing is organized. I can’t find a thing.

Patience groaned. I’m not going over to that house of horrors and straighten it up for you again. I told you how to do it, Bet, so go do it. She walked over leaned down and offered an elbow. Grab on me, get up, and go do. I’ll stop by in a couple of hours so we can go to work together. She helped Bethany stand then steered her to the door.

At the door, Bethany turned around with a frown. I’m not walking, Patience.

Patience raised her hands in surrender. Okay, okay, so we’ll take the train to work.

Bethany grinned. Great. Wake me up in a couple of hours. I might have a surprise for you. Her mind automatically envisioned Patience naked and on her bed on top of her. Another woman suddenly popped into her head. She was the sexy, older woman that one of the club’s members brought with him half dozen times. If she could have both women in her bed, she’d be ecstatic. Hmm, nice dream.

Bethany shook her head when Patience’s two snapping fingers hung in front of her face. Go dream on your own, Kiddo. I got film to develop and a bird to train.

Wake up, old fart. Clean up shit, bitch! Socrates squawked.

Your bird has a filthy mouth, Patience!

Patience grinned. Yeah, I know. Isn’t it great? I aim to teach him every swear word I couldn’t say in prison without pissing off somebody. She watched as Bethany marched across the hallway to her place. Then she waited until Bethany stepped inside and locked the door.

In The Downtown Club hours later, Bethany hurried over to the bar to offer information in an excited whisper. She’s here! She’s here. She’s sitting at my table, Patience. What should I do?

Patience continued to clean the shot glasses and goblets she’d just washed with a disposable towel without looking up. She held the glass up to study it, looking for spots. It’s too dark in here. You’ve got young eyes. Does this look clean to you?

Bethany groaned when Patience ignored her question. Are you listening to me? What should I do?

Take their orders, Bet. Try not to screw up so you can earn a big tip.

Okay, I’ll try to do it.

You can do it with ease, Bet.

Patience sighed then set the glasses among the other ones stacked up behind her. She looked up and caught dark eyes studying her from across the floor. She continued to stare, as did the woman with the stylishly cut all-white Afro. The woman’s warm, burnt sienna complexion and her full figure, what Patience could see of it from a distance, were quite … Her mind paused as she thought about how to describe the woman’s looks. Indescribably attractive came to mind.

The white-haired woman rose from a table in Bethany’s area to walk across the floor to the restroom. She wore a fitted, deep purple suit jacket with a matching flared skirt. So the woman liked purple too, Patience mused as she followed the woman’s journey to the luxurious lounge in the back. She sighed. She noted the mink coat the woman removed and left on the chair at the table. She studied the men at the table. She recognized one of the men as Mr. Goldman, who had interviewed her for the bartender’s job.

She realized she’d seen them all here at the club before. She decided the woman that excited Bethany so much deserved a special drink when the table ordered drinks. Club members like Mr. Goldman had unlimited drink privileges for their dinner guests.

Bethany came over to the bar minutes after the woman wearing the purple outfit returned to the table. Here’s the drink orders. She pointed to the daiquiri order. Instead of that crappola, make her something special, Patience.

I was thinking the same thing, maybe something purple.

Bethany grinned. That’s great. I’ll go put in the dinner order and come back for the drinks later.

That’s fine by me.

Patience watched Bethany walk into the kitchen to place the orders with the chef, his associates, and his assistants. She got busy making other drinks that customers ordered from the bar as they sat eating munchies and watching football from several wide-screens located around the bar area. She kept a curious eye on Bethany’s purple lady table, periodically glancing over to see if they might be ready for drinks. She met dark eyes studying her with a curious look. She quickly dropped her eyes and grabbed a glass to dry it or wipe down the countertop. She felt like a voyeur, but she couldn’t help watching the purple woman. She watched her hold a steady discussion with Mr. Goldman. She’d stop to take a bite of her food and then she’d look her way for a long moment. Their eyes met. She could feel her own face flush red hot.

CHAPTER TWO: Who is that bartender?

At the table, the woman in purple watched the cute young woman who served their food and the bartender with the soulful eyes exchanging conversation for a short moment. The bartender who had been eyeing her from her position behind the bar pointed to the drinks, which the server stacked on her tray. One of the drinks the server brought over wasn’t something she remembered ordering. She read the nametag pinned to the server’s white shirt. Bethany, I didn’t order this. What is it?

Our bartender makes specialized drinks for people, Ms. Thomas. Bethany nodded at Josh Goldman. Isn’t that right, Mr. Goldman?

Josh nodded. That’s right. His cell phone beeped. He read the text then gulped down his cocktail and looked up. I have to run. Bethany, all of this goes on my account. Add a nice tip for yourself. He shrugged at Ava Thomas, who was the last board member at the table. Elijah and Kenny stayed for drinks and appetizers. She was the only one to share dinner with him. Stay as long as you want, Ava. Have more drinks, dessert, or whatever. He squeezed her shoulder then bent down to kiss a cheek. She kissed him back, leaving a lipstick stain on his cheek. Bethany, our waitress is single, he whispered. I hear she likes older women.

Ava groaned. She’s cute but way too young for me. I’m not looking to be a mentor.

Josh sighed and then stood upright. Not even for a night? Ava, it’s not good to be alone.

I have my birds and my fish. I’m fine, Josh.

You sound just like our newest bartender. She has dogs or a dog. Josh frowned. Cats, maybe it was cats. Whatever, it was some kind of pet. I’ll talk to Artie tomorrow and get back to you.

Convince him, Josh. I’m really afraid for Vernella. Ava nodded at Josh as he hustled out the back door to the parking lot. She sighed. When she turned around again, the bartender was standing at the opposite end of the table. She cleared her throat. Her voice was deep and throaty, but it was her large light brown eyes that mesmerized Ava.

I hope that I’m not intruding. I heard you mention birds. I have birds too. I mean, I have a bird … a big ole ill-tempered cockatoo. The guy repeats everything I say … bad and good. She stopped talking and stood staring at Ava. She shoved her hands into her pockets then pulled them out too quickly. The coins in her pocket popped out and scattered all over the floor. Several coins landed near dark purple shoes. Shit. Sorry. She knelt down, picking up the closest coins first, and decided to leave the others near the woman’s shoe for later retrieval after all the guests left.

Ava watched the bartender rise then back away. Her round, handsome face was completely covered with a red blush as she marched back to the bar. Hmm, Ava remarked, watching the bartender rush back to the safety of her workspace. The woman was thick in all the right places. Her hips and thighs looked strong, as did her shoulders. Hmm, she remarked again as Bethany reappeared.

Can I get you anything else tonight, Ms. Thomas?

Ava played around with the stem of the purple drink. She rubbed the stem with a manicured finger. Then she dipped a finger into the drink and she licked it. The drink was a bit tangy. Yes, Bethany. Go trade places with the bartender. She frowned at her outburst. No, don’t do that. You both might get in trouble. I’ll do it my way. She rose from the table and picked up her drink. She strolled over to the bar, watching the bartender watch her. The woman’s eyes never left her face except to sweep up and down her body in a way she hadn’t seen or felt in years. Lord, the woman made her feel hot and bothered but hadn’t laid a finger on her … yet.

The bartender cleared her throat. Is the drink not to your liking, Ma’am?

You left some coins at my feet.

The bartender’s forehead broke out into a sweat. Yes, I know. I thought it wise to leave them there until you left. I didn’t want you to think I was… I mean that I… She closed her eyes, picturing the words in her head. She opened her eyes when the purple woman set the drink on the black marble countertop then leaned over to touch her cheek with the back of a hand. Her hand was warm, her touch gentle.

Are you all right? You should sit down for a moment. You’re perspiring like you have a fever.

I sweat when I’m nervous. I sweat when I’m embarrassed. I sweat when I exercise. I sweat when I make love. The bartender frowned at her own words. Shit! I didn’t mean to say that, she muttered as she closed her eyes again. She hadn’t meant to say that to the prettiest woman she’d seen in here in a long time, maybe all times. She opened her eyes and found the woman’s twinkling dark eyes studying her. She had a slight smile on her face.

I sweat when I’m exercising. I sweat when I’m hot too.

Then you must sweat all the time because you’re hot all the … time. The bartender groaned. No! I didn’t mean you’re sweaty. I meant you’re hot all the time. Shit. That’s not what I meant to say. I meant you look… The bartender squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath to control her outbursts.

Ava giggled softly. It was nice she still had the ability to make a handsome stud nervous. She wondered what else she could make this very sexy woman do tonight. I think you’re a fellow purple lover.

Yes, I am. The bartender looked down at her purple boutonniere and the woman’s fingers delicately touching it. She bit into her lower lip when the fingers missed the flower’s petals and made contact with her vest. It made her wish she was at home and the woman was in her arms in her bed.

I’m Ava Thomas by the way.

Yes, I know. Mr. Goldman said we were to treat you and your friends with special care tonight.

Ava glanced into pools of honey light and became fascinated when they changed colors from lighter to darker. Did he?

Yes, Ma’am, he did. Anything you or your friends want to eat or drink, we’re supposed to get for you. I made Purple Rain when I noticed your purple suit. The bartender’s height allowed her to look down the front of Ava’s jacket. She stopped speaking to admire full breasts encased in a lacy purple bra. She wanted to touch them. She wanted squeeze them and see how they filled her hands. She wanted to love them with her hands and then she wanted to … Sweet, sweet, honey, she whispered in a hoarse, ragged voice. Her mind suddenly snapped back, realizing where she was. She needed to leave and take care of herself. She marched over to the bartender on the other side of the bar. I’m taking break, Sully. A long one. Anybody that wants to know why, tell them I have the runs or something.

As slow as it is, take the rest of the night. I’ll clock you out, Pat.

Thanks, Sully.

Patience left quickly, avoiding the woman standing at the bar by exiting through the front door. Then she walked around the outside of the building and returned through the employee entrance and exit. She hadn’t meant to encourage the woman into thinking she was interested. While she was very interested, she needed her bartender job. She could just imagine Mr. Goldman’s reaction if he ever found out she’d made a pass at one of his friends. Not that he could fire her, but he could complain to the folks running the Second Chance Program. They’d kick her out in a New York minute. She’d be in the unemployment office faster than she could spit on the sidewalk. If she couldn’t find a job, spit wouldn’t be the only thing on the proverbial sidewalk. She’d be living there too.

Ava Thomas left Josh Goldman’s private club frustrated with its shy bartender. She watched the woman simply walk away from their conversation to speak with another bartender. She thought they were getting to know each other, when the woman stuttered. She didn’t even excuse her handsome self. Instead, the bartender just walked off, leaving her feeling stupid. No woman in recent memory had left her like that or made her feel silly. Well, she was a grown-ass woman. This grown-ass woman was leaving. She marched out the front entrance and stepped into her waiting limo.

Charles, let’s go. I want to go home right now! she snapped, slamming the rear door. I loved the food but hated the wait staff.

Okay. Do you want to stop anywhere first?

No, I don’t want to stop. Take me home. Ava sighed. Bethany the waitress was cute, but the bartender was very attractive. The bartender liked birds and she loved purple too. She even made a special purple drink for her. She kept looking at her throughout dinner. She came over to speak with her about pets and the drink. She was so nervous, she spilled everything in her pockets on the ground.

Ava glanced at the coins jingling in her hands and wondered if the handsome woman would miss them. She noted they were old coins. Why would a woman keep such coins in her pocket? They belonged in a coin collection safely stashed away in a safe somewhere. Hmm, she was curious about the woman. She dug into her purse for her cell phone. Hello, Josh. I’m sorry to be calling you so late.

Ava?

Yes, it’s me.

How did you enjoy the dinner?

It was great. That’s why I called.

"Oh?

I liked Bethany. She was quite nice.

See? I told you, Ava. She expressed a desire to meet you too. I knew you’d like each other when you met. I’m glad I could help with that.

Josh. Sweetie, let me speak.

Okay, Ava, speak away.

Your bartender, tell me more.

Sully is Irish. Nice guy, but he’s married with children. Josh frowned. Since when was Ava bisexual?

God. Josh, you are so thick-headed tonight. I meant the female bartender who makes special drinks for club members.

Oh … her. Josh sighed then sipped his brandy as he sat in front of his fireplace. His wife was asleep against his shoulder.

What does your sigh and rather unenthused response mean?

Well, let’s see. We hired her because she was part of a diversity employment program.

Meaning what exactly?

Josh sighed. Ava, please don’t say I told you this. She’s part of Second Chance, Work Opportunity Program for ex-offenders. She has a record.

For what? What did she do to land in jail?

Josh scrunched up his face in thought. Let me think a minute. I sat in on her interview. I promised one of the program’s reps that I would. Was it violent or non-violent? Hmm, I remember wondering if I’d do the same thing in her situation. Ah yes, I remember now. She’s a night person … a photographer.

And … what? Ava remarked, hearing the hesitancy in his voice. Come on, Josh. Tell me what her deal is. I want to know.

For Christ’s sake, Ava. She’s a goddamned ex-felon! Bethany is finishing her degree, a combined BA and MBA at Baruch. She goes during the day and weekends. She works at night to help pay for everything her scholarship doesn’t. She’s got a solid job offer with a buddy of mine after she graduates in June.

She’s a kid, Josh. She’s far too young for me to date. What would we even talk about?

Not really, Ava. Bethany is a late bloomer. She’ll be twenty-nine when she graduates. Your jailbird is over forty. I think she’s forty-five or six.

I see.

Do you, Ava? Josh exhaled. How do you know she won’t set you up to be robbed or something worse?

Ava sighed loudly. Hmm, so that’s the crime she committed, huh? The bartender didn’t seem like the type. She seemed gentle and shy.

Nope. She actually prevented a mugging. But she lost it and beat up the mugger pretty badly.

Tell me the entire thing, Josh.

I can tell you what the police report said. Josh sighed then closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d read about her. If I remember correctly, the DA’s office didn’t want to ask for much time. They wanted to lower the charge on her. The cops who arrested her wanted testify on her behalf.

Was that in the report on her?

No. I know the wanna-be mugger’s daddy. For argument’s sake, let’s call the mugger Sonny Boy. His daddy is a wealthy son of a bitch like us. Sonny Boy isn’t really a kid. Actually, he was close to thirty when he and a couple of druggy friends tried mugging as a new source of income. I guess his generous allowance wasn’t enough to buy all the drugs he needed.

Did her victim, you called him Sonny Boy, go to jail for attempted robbery?

Not with the expensive mouthpiece his father hired. It pays to be a big contributor to the DA’s campaign. Sonny Boy went into rehab. He got a year’s worth of community service and probation. He was under house arrest until his plea deal and his sentencing. Your friend, the bartender, went to jail for a couple of years for assault. She couldn’t prove the kid had help or that she was defending the mugging victim. If Sonny Boy’s daddy had his way, our infamous bartender would still be in jail. As it was, Daddy paid off his son’s friends to disappear and keep them from talking. I heard he paid the mugging victim to lie as well. Your bartender friend was the only one behind bars.

Ava nodded. All right, Josh. Why don’t you think I should see her?

"She’s an nonconformist. Take my advice. See her at the club but don’t go out with her or go to bed with her, Ava. She’s an oddball if I ever met one. She rarely says much to club regulars. You know how we like to talk and talk. Her coworkers say she’s too quiet. She never says much to anybody