The Cocktail Club Page 3

  “Good. I’m glad you like it. It was sorta like a peace offering,” I said cautiously.

  “Hmm, well, whatever it was, it was all good. So, what’s up? You free tonight or what?” he asked.

  That was music to my ears. Between the issues with work, and whatever the hell Kyle was up to, I needed some one-on-one adult distraction. Gordon could handle that with no problem whatsoever.

  “It depends on what you have in mind,” I teased.

  “Well, that picture you sent told me exactly what you have in mind, so what’s up? You ain’t into teasing, now are you?”

  “No, nothing like that at all. I thought you’d like to see the new line of pearls I ordered for the boutiques,” I joked. I had taken a topless picture with strands of pearls strategically placed around my neck, and sent it to Gordon’s phone.

  “Shiiiit! I don’t give a damn about some pearls. Those beautiful-ass titties you got told a different story,” he joked.

  “Oh, yeah? What did they say?”

  “They said, ‘Can you come and handle a situation over here?’ ”

  “Oh, is that what they said?”

  “Damn straight!”

  “Umph, you may have been reading a lot into a simple picture,” I told him.

  “C’mon now, girl. That picture said everything you expected it to say. And I ain’t for all this bull right now. You wasting precious time.”

  Gordon seemed rushed, and that wasn’t the mood I was in. I wanted to play a little. We both knew how the night would end.

  “Oh, really? How you figure?”

  “Peta, soon you gon’ be whining about having to get home to your kid and all that so, what’s up? We gon’ do this or what?”

  “Well, I’m kind of hungry,” I said.

  “Okay, so you basically saying I gotta wine and dine you before I can hit that.”

  “Gee!” I squealed.

  “See, you playing and shit, and I’m trying to tell you let’s make this happen! What time you gotta be back at the house tonight anyway?”

  “I got a free pass, alllll niiiight long,” I sang.

  “Whhhhaaaat?! You doin’ it like that tonight?”

  “You tell me,” I said.

  “Well, listen. I could eat a lil’ somethin’ myself, and then maybe we can order some food!”

  “Boy, you so nasty!” I joked, loving every minute of our back-and-forth tease.

  “That’s exactly how you like me.” He laughed sexily.

  “So, for real, what are we gonna do? You wanna meet somewhere? You said you’re hungry, too. What kind of food you in the mood for?”

  “Oh, you said food, right?” he asked.

  We laughed at that.

  About an hour later, I found a parking spot, and eased out of the car. Gordon had already texted me that he had arrived at the restaurant. We were at Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen in the Fountains, located off of Highway 59, in Stafford.

  The moment I hit the door, it was sheer chaos. The place was packed. Music, laughter, and loud chatter seemed to compete for attention. I was so glad Gordon was being escorted to a table the moment I walked in, since usually the restaurant wouldn’t seat you until your entire party arrived.

  He turned and smiled. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

  I squeezed by a throng of people who stood near the hostess’ podium at the front door, with drinks in hand. I pecked Gordon on the lips. He smelled great, and looked good in a pair of dark, designer jeans, loafers, and a painter’s button-down shirt that fit his body extra nicely.

  As we followed the hostess to the table, I noticed a few heads turn to look at us. Gordon and I looked good together, but I wasn’t ready for anything hot and serious.

  We were seated near the back of the restaurant in somewhat of a quiet area, and that was cool with me. Once we were left alone, Gordon smiled. I fought the urge to jump across the table, and shove my tongue down his throat.

  “What made you reach out tonight?” he asked.

  I gave him a half shrug, and picked up my menu. I wasn’t sure what I craved more—the tantalizing seafood entrees or him. I told myself to chill out. No one liked a thirsty chick, regardless of how mutual the attraction.

  “I ain’t tryin’ to start nothing, but maaaan, it pisses me off when you hang out with your baby daddy,” Gordon said. He hadn’t looked up from the menu.

  There he goes with that again. That term baby daddy made my skin crawl and my blood boil every time I heard it. I told myself that now wasn’t the best time to point out to Gordon that he really didn’t have a right to be mad about who I chose to spend time with. He and I were cool, but we weren’t making-future-plans-cool. Since I wanted to end the night in his bed, I held that thought.

  “My ex-husband wants to make sure he’s a dominant figure in our daughter’s life. Sometimes the way he goes about it isn’t the best, but I had a little talk with him. All I can do is hope he will respect the boundaries I set for him.”

  Gordon looked up at me. He smiled, and gave a little chuckle while his mouth stayed closed.

  I shrugged.

  “Babe, all you gotta do is say the word, and I can make the message real clear to him, if you know what I mean.”

  I had no idea what he meant by that, but the focused look in his eyes sent a chill up my spine. Despite that, my other body parts that needed his attention later forced me to ignore whatever his comment might have suggested.

  “You ready to order?” I asked.

  A young and handsome Mexican waiter bounced over.

  “Hi, I’m Eric, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” He flicked two paper drink coasters from his apron and placed them on the table. “Can I get you started with cocktails from our full-service—”

  “I’ll have a Swamp Thing,” I blurted out before he could finish.

  Gordon’s eyes widened in delight. “Add a Long Island Iced Tea for me.”

  We flirted with our eyes and feet under the table. I was glad to be with him, and wanted to get to the best part. We kept the conversation light and flirty, which meant we’d avoid an argument or disagreement.

  Dinner was fast and great, but nearly thirty minutes later, dessert promised to be even better.

  My head still swirled a little from the strong drinks I’d had back at the restaurant, and each time I licked Gordon’s perfect, chocolate nipples, I swore they tasted like hints of the hurricane and margarita mixture I’d sucked down earlier.

  His body was magnificent. As I spread my legs to allow him entry, I clutched on to his ripped biceps, and relished in the sheer bliss that he’d deliver.

  Gordon lowered his head, and planted a wet, sloppy kiss over my mouth as he entered me.

  5

  DARBY

  I hated when Kevin pulled this kind of mess. It wasn’t enough that I had to break him out of adding water to milk and juices to make them stretch, but his obsession with hoarding money was too much. I sat at the ATM machine, fuming.

  How could there not be enough money for me to withdraw forty damn dollars? It didn’t help that I had just ended a screaming match with my brother, Roger, who insisted that I had betrayed my family, and therefore, I needed to make myself available for the unannounced visit that my mother and aunt were trying to execute. There was no doubt that I was in a hot, funky mood.

  Their antics reminded me of when we were little. Roger, the youngest, was always in the middle of any brewing mess. Darlene and I were the epitome of twins. We finished each other’s sentences, dressed alike, and even felt each other’s emotions. We were closer than anyone could imagine. When she was killed, my life changed forever. Since her death, nearly eighteen years ago, our entire family had fallen apart. I was no longer close with my mom, my aunt, or Roger, who used to lovingly call me “Sissy.”

  • • •

  Most of us had moved on, but my mother didn’t want to let go of Darlene. Out of all of us, I was messed up the most over Darlene’s death. I still missed her like she had died
a few seconds ago, but my sister would’ve wanted us all to live; not mourn her the way my mom had.

  While I’d made an effort to move on with my life, I vowed that I would do whatever it took to avenge her death. I became obsessed with getting next to the man who had killed her. Chandler would feel my pain, even if I died making sure he did. I would get next to him, gain his trust, and set him up. I had it all planned. I was going to plant two kilos of cocaine in his house, and then call the police. His fancy lawyer would not be able to get him out of that one.

  Roger told me that he felt trapped in the middle of a major family feud. If he would stop trying to force reconciliation, he wouldn’t feel that way. As I told him, if he was going to turn my entire family against me, maybe we weren’t as close as I thought we were in the first place.

  When a horn honked behind me, I realized that I was blocking the ATM. After I exhaled, I dipped my card back into the machine, and pressed the option to read the balance. When I saw the numbers that appeared across the screen, I wanted to strangle my penny-pinching husband. There was $39.89 in the account.

  Suddenly, that fool’s words ran through my mind as if he’d spoken them seconds ago. “Hey, I put some money in the account.”

  “For Christ’s sake! What in the hell is wrong with him?”

  Instead of taking my frustration out on the machine, I whipped my car out of the bank’s parking lot, and headed to the Walgreens across the street. I stormed inside, bought a pack of gum for thirty-five cents, and then requested thirty-nine dollars back in cash.

  “You want thirty-nine dollars?” the pimple-faced cashier asked.

  “Yes!” I snapped.

  “Oh, okay. Just checking to make sure it was the right amount.”

  A slow-burning anger took hold of me as he counted out my tens, fives, and four one-dollar bills. I strode out of the store’s automatic doors on fire.

  “Ma’am,” the cashier called after me.

  I almost didn’t turn around until I heard him yell, “Your gum! You forgot your gum!”

  Everyone thought my life was a fairytale since my husband insisted that he didn’t want me to work outside the home. If they only knew the shit I had to deal with in exchange for that so-called luxury.

  With the money clutched tightly in my hand, I climbed back into my car, and headed toward my son’s school. Since Kevin was the sole breadwinner in the family, nearly everything else fell on my shoulders. He may have been a chemical engineer, but I was the domestic engineer, and my job was far more stressful!

  When the school called about my son’s sudden change in behavior, there was no question about who would go up there and meet with the principal.

  My mind was still stuck on my husband’s cheap, frugal behind when I realized that I needed to get it together before the meeting. Sitting outside of the school, I tried to put my mind in the right state. I dug into my purse, and pulled out the small, rhinestone-encrusted flask. I removed the lid, and took a couple of swigs.

  Next, I checked my lipstick in the rearview mirror, and then I popped a peppermint into my mouth. I sucked on the candy really hard, chewed it up, and popped another one in.

  Once I felt I was good to go, I got out of the car, and walked into the cool building.

  The front office was decorated like a living room with two large, plush sofas. There was a coffee table, two small bookshelves, and a flat screen TV that hung in a corner. I turned to my right, and spoke to the lady who sat at the desk.

  “I’m Darby Jaxon, and I have an appointment with Principal Johnson.”

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Jaxon, he’s expecting you. Right this way.” The secretary stood and walked to meet me at the doorway. She escorted me behind the half-swinging door and down a carpeted hallway.

  When she knocked at the door, my stomach did an awkward somersault. I never liked the principal’s office, and all these years later, nothing had changed.

  “Who is it?” a male voice asked from behind the closed door.

  “Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Jaxon is here to see you.”

  “Oh, yes!” I heard movement, and soon the door swung open. “Thank you, Linda,” Mr. Johnson said as he looked at me.

  Linda nodded slightly, and turned to leave.

  “Mrs. Jaxon, thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me. Please have a seat.”

  Principal Johnson was a fortyish-year-old man with a slicked-back mane of thick, jet-black waves. He towered over my petite frame, and didn’t take his seat until I sat.

  “Well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I said.

  His office was neat and homey. There was a large, wooden desk, and two wooden file cabinets to the left. A tall, leafy tree stood in the opposite corner, along with an oval-shaped table surrounded by several chairs. The lighting in the room was far too soft for my taste, but I could feel the mood he tried to set with the faint jazz that played in the background. He even had curtains at his windows.

  It was hard to believe that the idea of a visit with the principal struck such dread into my heart, yet the thought of my kid in trouble frightened me even more.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Jaxon? Can I offer you some coffee or water?” he asked.

  A flood of adrenaline rushed through me as I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. I didn’t like the idea of him and his colleagues talking about my family, and that was probably exactly what they had done.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine, but thank you. Now about Kevin Jr.”

  “Yes, well, as my secretary told you, this is most unusual. I’ve been an educator for more than thirty years, and I can read children pretty well. Here lately, he’s seemed very hostile. He’s on edge quite a bit, and it’s almost as if something drastic has happened. So, naturally, we try to reach out to mom and dad to see if there are any significant changes at home?”

  I scoffed inwardly. The hairs on my neck bristled on end as I listened to the man describe a stranger. It took a moment for me to grasp that there was a question in his statement.

  “Oh, nothing has changed at home,” I said quickly, realizing how long the pause had been. He eyed me skeptically.

  “We often see this sudden change when parents talk of divorce, or if a close relative dies suddenly.” He tried to lead me into a confession. I had nothing for him.

  I sat erect in the chair, my hands folded in my lap as he described a couple of other possible scenarios that could explain the change in my son’s behavior. Still, I felt lost. At home, Kevin Jr. seemed normal. I would notice the so-called change if it was as drastic as the principal described.

  Then, as if he had read my mind, he asked, “By chance, have you noticed any changes at home?”

  “Nothing. This is all so strange to me.”

  “Well, we finally called when Kevin told Lucas that he’d slap the piss out of him the other day,” Principal Johnson said.

  “Lucas Stevens?” My eyebrows probably touched my hairline.

  Lucas lived a few houses down, and the boys played together often, or at least they used to. I knew where my son had heard those words, and I prayed the principal didn’t question their origin, although I feared he already knew.

  “So, again, this is completely unlike Kevin. We are at a loss.”

  The two swigs in the parking lot had definitely not been enough. I should’ve drained the flask, I thought as I stared blankly at Principal Johnson. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say.

  After a few additional moments of awkward and uncomfortable silence between us, he asked, “You do stay at home? I mean, you don’t work outside the home, correct?”

  It might have been the way he asked. I was instantly irritated.

  “That is correct.”

  It never failed. Everyone thought that was supposed to make such an incredible difference. Right off the bat, I knew where his mind was. Of course my kid couldn’t act up. My perfectly manicured lawn, and leisure-by-day, laid-back lifestyle didn’t allow for such an abnormality.

  After all, I did sta
y at home! What in the hell was I doing with all of my free time? Was I too busy consuming bonbons and being pampered to notice that my perfect, suburban kid was morphing into a thug? He probably thought I had a gardener whose bedroom privileges blinded me to the chaos that had been brewing in my own damn house.

  Being under the principal’s scrutiny was no fun at all. I really needed to have a talk with my child, and then enjoy a stiff drink.

  6

  IVEE

  My focus centered on the hairline crack that created a zigzag pattern on the wall near the clock. I was determined not to check the time again. It seemed as if the hands had started to taunt me long ago. Could they move any slower? Had they gone a few seconds backward? I sighed. When thoughts of what I would’ve rather been doing flashed through my mind, I shook them off. I shifted in the chair that was too hard for comfort, stifled another yawn with a forced, fake smile, and tried not to make my eye roll too obvious.

  Yes, I was bored, and beyond tired of work. I had to be present at my last meeting of the day. Or at least I thought I had to be there. It was clear that my client was in a mood, as Jessica had already warned. On top of that, I realized he was angry that I’d made him wait an entire day for the meeting. As I sat across from him, allowing his words to sink in, I wondered when the integrity in business had vanished. I had totally missed the memo on the new wave of business people.

  Carson Liam was a middle-aged man who ran his family’s business. He could pass for much older with his potbelly and receding hairline that looked more like a greasy mop of salt-and-pepper strands. The blemishes and age spots that marked his face did very little for his appearance. With the dark, drab colors he always wore, he looked just as miserable as he probably was.

  “You see here, Ivee, these figures are for the three-week period following the media campaign you designed specifically for us,” Carson said.

  My eyes followed his raggedy finger, with dirt-encrusted nail beds that had probably never seen a manicure, and took in the numbers he pointed out in an effort to make me seem incompetent. I forced myself to focus on his fingers. His teeth, covered in what looked like a yellow blanket, made my skin crawl.