Ivy’s Hot Shots

Ivy’s Hot Shots

By Dana Littlejohn

Ivy York had always been a hot commodity among young airmen. She tried not to date them, but having an air force general for a father gave her a challenging social life. Her mother’s only goal in life seemed to be to get her to settle her down with the next available pilot and birth as many babies as possible. Just as Ivy let her mother set her up with an extremely handsome tech sergeant name Steven Jones, she met Jonathan Hayes. Having spent time with both men, Ivy can’t help but wonder if her mother finally got lucky in choosing Tech Sergeant Jones...or is Jonathan Hayes a better match for her after all?

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the young men and women looking to find their own way in the shadow of great parents.

Inspired by my oldest son’s time in the Air Force, I came up with Ivy’s Hot Shots. When Lattie returned home, I asked him how his time in the service was. My question sparked this book about how I think life could be growing up with powerful parents in the service. I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Copyright © 2020 by Dana Littlejohn

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher/author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, September 2020

Dana Littlejohn

www.DanaLittlejohn.com

authordanalittlejohn@gmail.com

Chapter One

Ivy York climbed inside and slumped, half asleep, in the back of a cab. The driver turned to look at her expectantly.

Central Park West and sixth, please. The Vanderbilt building.

You got it, lady.

After taking the long ride to the twentieth floor, she dragged her bags and herself into her apartment and plopped on the couch, exhausted. Looking across the room, she managed a smile and walked over to her fish tank, tapping it. The two angelfish inside swam behind the little castle on the bottom.

Hi, babies, Mommy’s home. Did you miss Mommy? Mommy missed you, she said in baby talk, leaning against the glass. Walking back to the couch, Ivy pulled her phone from her purse and hit the speaker button.

Hey girl! This bouncing from state to state is wreaking havoc on our Saturday morning ritual, said a happy female voice. What’s a best friend got to do to get some time? Let me know when you get home, girl. I’ve got something for you, okay? Love ya! Ciao!

Ivy kicked off her shoes and chuckled.

Ivy, it’s your boss, a monotone feminine voice began. Call me when you get back to town and settle in. I have your next assignment ready. Oh, and just a reminder, your Indiana article is due on the twenty-seventh. That’s this Monday, Ivy, so get you some rest and I’ll see you then.

Uggh! I just got in the door and already she’s trying to send me off again. Ivy laid back on the couch and pulled the cushion over her head as the next message began.

Hello, Sweetheart. You know I hate to talk on these things, but you’re never home. The male voice cleared his throat before continuing. Your mother and I worry about you when you go gallivanting off from place to place. One minute you’re here, the next you’re there. We can hardly keep up. Your mother doesn’t understand why you find this job necessary. We’re your parents, Ivy. If you need anything, you only have to ask and we’d be more than happy to give it to you. What did you say, honey? Tell her what? Oh, yes, and Ivy, we’d like to see more of you, too. We speak to your brother more than we speak to you and he’s on duty in Germany at the moment. Call us when you get home, dear.

She nodded under the cushion.

Hi, Ivy, it’s Robert. You’re not still angry with me, are you? I thought that if I gave you a little time to cool off, you’d call me, and we could talk about this. It’s been, well, we’ve been playing phone tag for almost eight months. I gotta tell you, Ivy. I’m starting to think that you’re ducking me, he added with a chuckle. Call me so we can talk things over.

She rose to her elbow to delete the messages. "Wow, and here I am thinking that I was pretty clear about not wanting to talk to him again. I guess when I said, go to hell, drop dead, and fuck you and the horse you rode in on wasn’t plain enough for him to understand that I didn’t want to see him anymore. Huh, who knew he was that dumb. Perhaps the use of weapons along with words might do the trick next time."

Ivy settled onto the couch to sleep but was startled awake by the phone a short time later. 

So much for a nap. Yes, hello.

Ivy, dear. Are you alright? Where are you?

I’m fine, Mom. I’m home. My flight came in earlier this afternoon. I must have fallen asleep, she said, rubbing her eyes. How’s everything?

Everything is fine, sweetheart, just fine. Your father will be home around six if you’d like to talk to him.

That’s cool.

Is everything all right, honey?

Yeah, Ma. I’m just tired.

Are you dating anyone now?

Ivy sat up with a groan. No, Mom, I’m not and can we not go there.

We're not going anywhere, Ivy.

Mom...

I just think you’re getting a little old to be alone, that’s all.

I’m not alone, Mom. I’m single. There’s a difference.

"Well, I think that at thirty years old you should be married with children already not single."

Ivy scoffed and pulled a discarded pillow onto her lap as she sat up. "I’m going to be twenty-six, Mother, not thirty. That’s my brother. You’re mixing your children up, she told her. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pack the years on me just yet, okay?"

I know how old you are, Ivy. I was just rounding off. All I’m saying is—

"Mom, please, I know what you’re saying. You say it all the time. You say, Ivy, you need to get married so you can stay home and give me some grandkids, she told her mimicking her in a high pitch voice.  Then I say, for the one-hundredth time, Mom, I like my job and I’m not ready to have kids yet."

I don’t sound like that, Ivy.

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Yes Mom, you do. Besides, you need a man to make these wonderful grandkids you want so badly. At the moment I am very much man-less. The good thing is I’m cool with that. It’s by choice that I’m single."

Yes, Ivy. I’m aware of that, but I know plenty of eligible young airmen that are bachelors. If you want me to I—

Thanks, Ma, but no. I can find my own dull, boring, career-building husband serving in the air force if that was what I was looking for, Ivy said, rolling her eyes.

That’s very funny, Ivy, but every woman needs a husband and children to keep her in high spirits. You, your brother, and your father made my life extremely content, her mother said undeterred.

"Mom, I am happy. You act as though I hate my life like I don’t even have a life without a man. Ivy threw the pillow to the side and walked across the room to the small bar in the corner. I do like my life, you know. Why is that so hard for you to grasp?"

She pulled out a glass from underneath, dropped in two ice cubes, and pulled a bottle of dark liquor from the small fridge.

It isn’t, Ivy. It’s just that every woman needs a husband to give us direction and children to keep us focused, her mother insisted. It’s part of what we do as women. It’s who we are.

Ivy stared at the phone, flabbergasted. Mom, that statement is straight from the dark ages. It scares me that you even believe it. She reached under the bar and removed a can of diet cola, poured it into the glass on top of the alcohol and ice then stirred the mixture with her finger. "What makes you think I don’t have any direction? I have direction. I directed myself to college, then into an internship at Hot. When I started at Hot, we were both brand new. Now it’s a widely circulated magazine and I’m a full time and a well-known writer in my field...remember? Ivy lifted the cup and took two big gulps. I think that shows some type of direction. Don’t you?"

Yes, yes, Ivy. Your achievements are very nice, admirable even, but you still need a husband and children to feel totally complete. We all do.

Ivy stared at the phone again with a raised brow. Shaking her head, she gulped down the rest of her drink and quickly made another.

Okay, Ma, you know what? I have to go. I’ll call back when dad comes home.

All right, Ivy. I love you.

Love you, too, Ma. Bye. Ivy hung up and shook her head. How could she have spent most of her life over here and still manage to live in the dark ages at the same time? Unbelievable. She sipped her drink. Huh, I might consider having a boyfriend—hell, maybe even a husband—if she wasn’t trying to throw a bunch of crazy airmen at me all the time. She thought for a moment then shook her head and dialed another number. Nah!

Hey, Kell. What’s up?

Ivy! Girl, tell me you’re back. I have got some great news for you, came the excited reply.

Yes, I’m back. I got in earlier this afternoon.

Are you free for an early dinner?

Sure. What time?

How about an hour, at Mama Leone's?

An hour? Girl, I thought you were talking about seven o’clock, maybe even seven-thirtyish. I haven’t even been up for an hour, Kelley, and I just got off the phone with my mother.

"Hmm, you guys had that married with children talk again?"

Yup.

Well, you’re probably in need of a good drink.

Ivy paused in mid-sip and toasted the air. Oh yeah. I’m already having it.

Kelley chuckled. Come on, Ivy. I’m trying to find a way to get you out of the house. I haven’t seen you in three weeks. I miss you, man. It’s not as much fun playing handball by yourself, you know.

Kelley... she whined.

Oh, come on. You gotta eat, right? I know how much you like to eat. Hey, I’ll buy it.

She sighed. Okay, okay. I’ll be there.

Great, and look cute, too, okay? Bye!

What? Look cute? Kell...uggh! She slid the phone across the coffee table and finished her drink. I swear. Between Kell and my mother, I can’t take another aggravating ass woman in my life.

Ivy put her empty glass next to the phone and went back to her room. Passing the long mirror on the wall that separated the closet and her dresser, she stopped and viewed herself turning to and fro.

Well, I guess she didn’t mean my jammies when she said cute, so... She pulled open the closet doors and pushed past several business type suits, skirts, dresses, and pants, before coming to the black jeans she was looking for. After adding a sleeveless, light brown sweater, black boots, and a little makeup, she brushed her hair and stepped back in front of the mirror. Ivy was often told while growing up that she looked like her mother because of her strong Asian features, but she didn’t think so. Of course, she thought her mother was beautiful, but she was small and petite. Ivy was taller and curvier, more like the women in her father’s family. It was true that Ivy shared her mother’s dark Asian eyes, long dark hair, and high cheekbones, but there was a natural curl to her hair and her skin was light brown, thanks to her father’s contribution to her gene pool. She turned this way and that, smiling.

I’ll have to call Tina and tell her she was right about this little outfit. The view of the back of her outfit made a face. Hmm, a little more butt to fill out the back view wouldn’t kill me, though.

With a shrug, she went into the living room and dragged one of her bags to her bedroom. Digging through it, she stuffed several items into a plastic bag, transferred her personal effects from one pocketbook to another, and left her apartment in search of a cab.

Arriving at Mama Leone’s, a popular Italian eatery on Broadway and Forty-Third Street, Ivy quickly spotted her best friend. Kelley Kingsley stood out in the crowd. They were opposites in almost every feature. Kelley’s tall voluptuous body, large almond eyes, flawless, dark skin, and her extravagant use of jewelry made her appear to be some sort of African royalty. She rose with her arms wide and a pleasant smile as Ivy approached. As her friend bent low to hug her, Ivy chuckled to herself. She was used to the staring eyes when she and her friend were together.

Kelley, you look fantastic and your hair is laid, as usual. 

Thanks, girl. You know when you ain’t here. I gotta call your girl Tina to keep me hooked up with what’s in style. Kelley pushed one of the long braids that framed her face behind her ear. You know I got to have my braids, girl, her friend said with a tilted head. Okay, Ivy, what is this? She flicked a hand at her. I thought I said give me cute.

Ivy looked down at herself. I thought this was cute.

"Okay, I’ll give you that, but it’s casual cute. I wanted sexy-cute."

Ivy lifted a brow. "Sexy-cute?"

Yeah, girl. You know you always gotta come prepared because you never know who you might meet. Oh! Speaking of cute girl, do you like the shoes? I just got them.

Kelley flung her foot from under the table, showing off a black patent leather shoe with a little pink bow around the edge.

Ooo very cute. Ivy chuckled. "What does that make, like, your five hundredth pair of cute shoes?"

"Not yet, girl, but I’m working on it. Okay, so I guess I need to be a little more specific with the level of cuteness I be requiring of you, huh? That was my fault, but damn, Ivy, get with the program. When I said it, you should have known where I was coming from. You could have at least worn a sweater that showed off your boobs better. You’ve got nice ones and they’re real. You need to flaunt them more. You can’t find a man by keeping the girls covered up," Kelley told her.

What is with you? Ivy sent a quick look around the restaurant. You better not have some fool jumping from out of the shadows, meeting us here. I’m not in the mood for any blind dates. What I really want to do is just jump in my pajamas and crash, but you swayed me with the offer of food. She chuckled. I did just get back from Indiana, you know.

How was Indiana? Kelley asked, ignoring her mini outburst.

It was a blast, man. Indianapolis is a nice city.

Good evening, ladies, and welcome to Mama Leone’s. I’m Eric, and I’ll be taking care of you.

Ivy looked up at their waiter as he handed her and Kelley their menus. His clean-shaven face had boyish good looks and deep dimples.

"Can I get you something to