Page 6 of My Forbidden Boss
“Oh, absolutely. And if she doesn’t anytime soon, I’ll just fly out there myself for a visit. Don’t even get me started on the state of shopping out here. It’s all just one big truck stop… Seriously! I swear, the actual motto for Tyler – no, all of South Dakota – is ‘Denim and Antiques’ as far as the eye can see. You would think it’s Nineteen Ninety-Six here, like some kind of twisted time capsule. The word around town is that you can still find gold hidden in these hills. Still, based on the so-called definition of ‘style’ in these parts, you would think that flannel is what most of these people consider a prized possession. I’m not kidding!”
I giggled and covered my face with my free hand, embarrassed. After a few more back and forths between the three of them, I was finally able to cut in and end the conversation, telling my parents goodbye for the time being. I smiled as we exchanged multiple rounds of byes, well wishes, and smooching sounds, then I finally ended the call. I sighed and let my arm drop to my side. Rubbing my shoulder, which was already sore from moving, I leaned against the door frame, thankful to be relieved from holding the phone outstretched.
I sighed again, much more relaxed as I glanced down at the screen and confirmed that the line was indeed dead. “Hi, Brandon. I’m sorry about all that.”
He scrunched his nose and propped both hands on his hips. “Oh, my dear, sweet Tisha Marie… Wait, that was just a guess. What is your middle name?”
“Uh… It actually is Marie, funnily enough.”
“Ha! And they say horoscopes are bullshit. Obviously, as an apparent psychic, I can say with absolute confidence that they indubitably are not.” He paused and cleared his throat emphatically. “Miss Tisha Marie Crawford… Shit, now I forgot what I was going to say.”
I smiled at his animated flamboyance but simultaneously winced, once again returning to rub circles into the muscles along my jawline. I realized with disbelief how much I felt right at home. The feeling followed beneath the surface of my awareness as my attention returned to Brandon. “Uh… I don’t know! What did I last say? Uh… I said…”
He cut me off with a quick flick of his wrist. “Oh, I remember! Shh! Shut it, girl, before I strangle you. Don’t make me forget it again!”
Before I could fully grasp that I had just been shushed into submission, let alone what my preferred response should be in retaliation, Brandon was already back to explaining. Without meaning to, I listened along and, thereby, was conned into quiet obedience.
“I remember now. You said, ‘Hi, Brandon’ when you hung up the phone, honey. I was going to instruct you on the proper greeting for these parts.” He took an excessive amount of time, pretending to clear his throat in preparation for a demonstration.
“It shall no longer be, ‘Hi there, so-and-so’ or ‘Hello,’ or ‘Greetings, earthlings.’ Listen closely. It’s pronounced, ‘Hooowdy theyur, neighbor!’”
I shook my head in fright, feigning a look of absolute horror.
“No! Please, No! Anything but that! I can’t! I won’t!”
With the back of my hand draped across my forehead in a counterfeit Hollywood swoon, I dropped the act and, instead, imitated my attempt of absolute sternness personified.
“You will find none of that ‘y’all’ stuff from me, either, so don’t even try. In fact, you better check all of that country bullshit at the door. Otherwise, I will be inclined to give you the other kind of greeting I expect to find around here… the deep metallic ‘click-click’ of me pumping a fresh bullet into my shotgun.”
“Oh, dear God… No, No, No… This just will not do. Oh, my dear Tisha, you really do not belong around here, honey. Not yet, anyway. I thought that Chicago was known for its murders? I am going to have to sign you up for some kind of class or seminar. It’s either that, or I am going to have to start offering ‘Professor Brandon’s Town of Tyler Class for City Folk out of their Element.’ Shotguns do not shoot bullets, my dear. It’s shells, or cartridges… or grape-shot, or… whatever, never mind. I guess that we will get to that later. Tell me this, though, do you know what to do if you’re driving and a bull blocks the road?”
I sipped my coffee. “A bull? Like… a cow? I don’t know, honk and wait? Drive around? Does this have to do with something red? My car is green…so…”
Brandon looked flabbergasted. I could not even begin to fathom why.
He made a show of losing his balance, pretending to almost fall over, all at my expense. “Something red?! No, not a cow, Tisha – a bull! A bison! You know… a buffalo?”
There were a lot of things that I learned to do while living in Chicago that would seem strange to any outsider who hadn’t lived in a big city but based on Brandon’s alien string of words, I found myself completely baffled and confused.
“Buffalo? What does that even mean?!”
He just stood there, dumbfounded, and I started to entertain feelings of ignorance, insanity, and exasperation.
“What are you talking about? Brandon, I… I don’t understand. When did we start telling riddles?”
Still, he said nothing. By all appearances, it seemed that my new friend and soon-to-be coworker had completely lost his ability to think, let alone correspond.
“Brandon! Am I an idiot…? Did I mishear you? I swear you said, ‘buffalo.’ Does someone have some around here or something? Are there buffalo… or bison, or whatever you called them… somewhere around here? Jesus Christ, Brandon… Say something! You’re making me feel self-conscious now.”
Brandon shook his head, stricken with a look of severe sympathy. “I had no idea… Well, I suppose it isn’t necessarily naiveté, but… You really had no idea what this place was like when you transferred, did you?”
I was struck dumb with uncertainty as I tried to figure out whether I was supposed to defend myself or confirm his statement’s accuracy.
Chances are that I would never have reached either conclusion. Luckily, Brandon realized my dilemma and proceeded without an answer. “Yes, dear. We have buffalo in South Dakota. Quite a few, actually. Not in town, of course – and no, nobody owns them. They’re wild. Just think of them as really big cows, I guess. Except they roam in herds by the dozen or even hundreds, and… well, obviously, they are much bigger and way more dangerous. Regardless… just don’t drive too far without me, okay? For now, at least. Just until we have time to go over everything you should know.”
I must’ve looked concerned or scared because he immediately doubled back, attempting to reassure me instead of just leaving the subject stranded with nothing but a vague warning. “Oh, don’t worry. It really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s just one of those things you have to be aware of living here, just like learning how to drive in the snow or what to do if you live in tornado country and a twister is on its way. Bison are precious creatures, especially the little ones, and, honestly, they really are like big, wild cows. Just… don’t go near one on foot, no matter how small it might look, especially in the summer when the bulls… er… the males… are rutting and mixed in with the herds.”
“Rutting? You mean… mating?”