Off the Rails (7 page)

Marcus eased the women back and nodded her way. “Madison and I are having dinner at the yacht club.”

Carol gave Madison a quick once-over, then another, slower look, pausing on the boots, before finally meeting her gaze. “Okay.”

Madison’s polite smile faltered.

Did we need your approval?

“How long have you and Daddy been going out?”

Daddy?

Yes, of course.

Grown men, especially successful plastic surgeons, have grown children who call them daddy…

Daddy
?

Shit
.

Madison pulled her face back together and opened her mouth to say something, anything, but unfortunately nothing came out. After what felt like three minutes, her date remembered himself and stepped forward to rescue her from the thoroughly embarrassing and very awkward moment.

“Madison and I just met,” he chuckled. “About ten minutes ago, in fact. I guess that makes this our first date.”

Carol’s eyebrows knitted together in the picture of daughterly concern. Or was that horror?

Who could blame her? He could’ve said something better than that.
Don’t look at her like she’s some tarty gold-digger
would’ve been a decent start.

Carol gave Madison another obvious once-over. But this time her gaze was ruthless, the way a woman’s was when she was examining every detail of another woman. Another woman who was going out on her first date with
Daddy
.

This isn’t happening. If we leave now, everything will be fine. I can forget this ever happened
.

Madison glanced over at Marcus. As long as he didn’t peel out a strip of family photos at the reunion, everything would be okay. Nobody else would have to know the man she was showing off had a daughter her age…

Carol finally shifted her gaze away from Madison and turned back to
Daddy
. “I’ll have her call you in the morning when she gets up.”

“Tell Nancy to pass the call on through—unless I’m in the middle of a procedure, of course.” He stretched forward to kiss Carol on the cheek and give her a quick hug. “It took me forever to find it. I’m dying to know if she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Carol gushed.

Within seconds, Madison and Marcus were shown to the door and the whole sorry episode was, thankfully, over. The Cadillac waited at the curb, promising protection from further scrutiny and speculation. Madison climbed in gratefully.

“So,” Marcus started once they were on their way. “What do you think of my daughter? Isn’t she great? Too bad Amelia was already in bed. You’d love her, too. She has her mom’s looks”—he tapped his temple—“but her grandpa’s brains.”

While Marcus sat puffed up with pride behind the wheel of his overpriced car, Madison reeled at the truth. She’d only just accepted the fact that her date was
Daddy
, but add to that the unspeakable fact that he was a
grandpa
? Well, those pre-dinner drinks would not be coming too soon.

Madison let the whole aren’t-the-girls-in-my-life-wonderful subject drop and switched to the one that actually mattered. “How much farther to the yacht club?”

“Not much. Do you need me to stop somewhere?” When she remained silent, he added, “For you to use the bathroom?”

His question only served to increase the urgency with which Madison needed to get out of the car, get a drink and regroup. What kind of grown man dated women half his age? Madison winced.
Ones who are all about image. Ones who don’t care about developing a meaningful relationship.

Ones who wanted to impress other people.

How odd. That motivation had seemed okay when she’d told Tia she was going to find a guy awesome enough to impress people. It had seemed kind of cool, even. Modern. Hip. But to think a grown man—somebody’s dad—would do it? A successful man who had gone all the way through medical school?

Well, for him…it was not okay. But just because he looked stupid for doing it, didn’t mean that
she
shouldn’t do it.

Did it?

Why did life have to be so confusing?

Why did a woman have to be driven to such strategies?

It was those reunion witches.

Madison imagined them hunched around a caldron, laughing at all the people whose lives they were throwing into chaos.
Boil, boil, toil and trouble,
they howled, then turned to her and laughed the cruel laugh of the girls teachers actually like.

Them and their stupid, stinking invitation.

What choice did Madison have?

None, thanks that damn reunion.

She turned a winning smile to Marcus. “No. I don’t need you to stop. But thanks.” She leaned closer. “I guess I’m just anxious.”

He looked away from the road long enough to smile back. “I’m anxious to get to know you better, too. You’ll like the club. It’s quiet, but, not, um, boring. Sometimes there’s a band. Do you like to dance?”

Madison had enough sense to know he wasn’t talking about the kind of dancing she and Tia did at The Fifth Quarter after they’d had one too many shots of Jaeger. But she’d done dance scenes in
West Side Story
, so she’d be able to fake
real
dancing. Hopefully. “Sure. I love to dance.”

“My first wife couldn’t dance at all,” he replied, exiting smoothly off of I-75. “Can you believe that? A woman who doesn’t know how to dance? I made sure Carol took dance lessons. She can swing, salsa, polka, clog—you name it, she can do it.”

First wife
. That meant there had to be at least two. Could there be more than two? Past wives was a topic a few steps out of her comfort zone. Madison swallowed hard. “What about Amelia? Can she dance?”

Marcus laughed. “You
are
funny. I’m glad. I need someone to make me laugh.”

“Really?” she asked, honestly interested. “Why?”

“My clients. They drive me crazy sometimes. More than half of them don’t really need any work done and they have no sense of humor. They get indignant if I tease them. All they care about is what other people think.”

“They sound pretty shallow.” After a pause, she asked, “What about the rest?”

He ran one hand through his thick, glossy hair. “They
need
help. Burn victims, kids who’ve been chewed up by dogs. Trust me. There is nothing funny about what those people have been through.” His nervous laugh bounced around inside the car. “Sorry. That’s not a fun topic for a date.”

But at least she knew that he wasn’t completely without morals and values.

Curious thing, though, he didn’t look
that
old. No wrinkles. No loose skin around the neck. Lots of nice hair. No pudgy middle.

Ohhhhhh…

How many times would she have to go out with him before she could ask which parts of him were real and which were, um, adjusted? Did it matter? It wasn’t like she was waiting in line to be wife number…three?

Four?

He couldn’t be that old.

“Do you have any other children? Besides Carol?”

“Two boys.”

Not the answer Madison was hoping for, which would have been
no
.

“They’re both from my second wife. Don’t worry. They live with her.”

Her.

Mercifully, Marcus didn’t elaborate, and Madison, being smart enough to know when to say when, at least some of the time, kept her trap shut.

The yacht club parking lot was jammed full of vehicles she and Tia always made fun of. Hummers, probably driven by macho guys who did MMA, X class Jaguars, driven by people who couldn’t afford Audis and enough SUVs to ruin the air quality of a Third World village. Marcus rolled his Caddy to a stop under a white awning and hopped out. She tumbled out, snuggled deeper into her coat, and took Marcus’ hand. Three valets grinned from under their blue caps, letting their gazes zigzag across her breasts then down her legs as she moved out of the car. Marcus greeted them all by name and didn’t seem to notice the discourteous way they leered at his date. Inside the club, things were pretty much the same. Cheerful personal greetings for the doctor, impolite stares for her. By the time they were seated, the meet and greet seemed to be over. Thank God.

“You have dinner here a lot?” she asked after the waiter had delivered the menus and strolled off.

“Is what you really want to know how often I bring dates here?” Marcus asked as another person showed up to fill their water glasses.

That hadn’t really been what she wanted to know, but his question did clarify the staff stares. If she had known about the reception she was to receive, she would’ve been able to prepare a handout detailing their hook-up and a disclaimer that she was not trying to be the good—aka rich—doctor’s next wife. She only wanted him for one night.

Hmm.

That didn’t sound so great.

But really, she didn’t care what they thought about her. They were complete strangers. The people she was worried about were all those people who had driven her crazy five years ago.

Urgh.

That was so wrong.

Madison looked across the table at Daddy Marcus.
Grandpa
Marcus.

Stupid Tia. “Do people make jokes about your bedside manner?”

He lifted his eyebrows and offered her a sly smile. “On the first date? Only if I get lucky.”

A musical score buzzed inside Madison’s head. The words? She couldn’t quite make them out, but the imaginary director was waving her off stage. “
Exit
!” he hissed. “
Exit
!”

Shit.

The director in her mind, now wearing a plaid vest and puffy knee-length pants, was up on tiptoe and waving his arms like mad. Madison feared that if she didn’t take the cue, the poor man would collapse with frustration.

She pushed her chair back. “Where’s the ladies room?”

“Go back to the entrance, then go left, instead of going right like we did to come into here. Go down the long hall, turn right, and you’ll walk right into it.”

Madison didn’t get away fast enough. Marcus shot to his feet. “Tell you what. The Men’s Bar & Grill is on the way. I’ll walk with you and stop for a drink while you take care of things.”

Being the proper gentleman he was, he took her arm and escorted her back to the entrance, where he led her left, instead of right, then down the long hall, where they were greeted by the low din of men’s voices. As they moved forward, the din turned into a low roar. Marcus stopped her by a dark, narrow doorway. When Madison shifted to take a peek in, he stepped in front of her and pointed to the floor. “Just wait right here when you’re done. I’ll come find you.”

“You’ll come find me?” she echoed.

What the hell does that mean?

Her date had the decency to look uncomfortable, but only for a second. Then his face became a mask of sincerity and righteousness. As though explaining that a
Men’s
Bar & Grill was
only for men
was acceptable in the new millennium. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye out for you. I won’t be long.” He nodded to a gold brocade chair across the hall. “You can sit there, if you like.”

With that, he disappeared inside. The only thing left of him was the sound of his voice as he greeted a cluster of bodies leaning on the bar. Madison turned from the all-male sanctuary to the brocade chair. Above the chair was a collection of watercolors featuring sailboats. The people on the boats were enjoying themselves, while the other people, the ones not in the lovely watercolors, had been left on the dock like puppies who weren’t old enough to not pee on the teak decks.

The seat of the pretty chair looked hard, and only wide enough to accommodate a size eight. Maybe a ten if she had a small ass. It was not a chair for men. It was a chair for the puppies that had to wait on the dock. Beside the chair was a tiny table. On the table was a notepad, bearing the yacht club crest, a cup of tiny pencils and a telephone. Madison looked back into the darkness that had claimed her date.

Curiosity got the better of her, so she went over to get a better look at the hall table. The impression
Cincy Cab 513-654-9816
was visible on the pad of crisp white paper.

Someone had an idea.

Madison pulled out her phone and was just about to call for a ride when her Skype notification flashed. A message from Drew.

Drew: Thanks for talking to me today. I have a question, call when you can. I’ll probably be up late tonight.

Madison: Sure. In about an hour.

Minutes later, she was seated in the back seat of a Cincy cab, her night with the good doctor now just a memory that would later be spun into a funny story.

* * * *

Once home, she debated changing out of the date clothes then decided not to. Drew needed to know she was out and about, not sitting at home. He wouldn’t think she’d changed clothes just for him, would he? Madison considered the quickness of the first call. That level of observation didn’t seem likely. So no worries that he’d think she changed for him.

After checking the lighting, and resolving to be as efficient and concise as he’d been earlier, she started the call. He answered right away, still wearing the same faded green T-shirt but this time sitting on a couch. This time Madison forced herself to speak first.

“Hi, Drew. How’s it going?”

“You look pretty. You changed your clothes. Been out?”

“I—I—”

He tugged on the fabric of his shirt, drawing her attention to his magnificent fingers. “I’ve just been hanging out at home, watching some Netflix. You know.”

Madison watched the motion of his hand as he moved it to place it on his thigh and swallowed hard. Her gaze went automatically to his mouth. He was smiling, and she realized she was smiling back.

“Did you have a question?” she asked, hoping to cover up her sudden nervousness.

“Just if you had any questions about the list I sent. That’s all.”

Madison picked up her phone and waved it at the screen. “Yep. I got it. Looked it over and um, I don’t think I have any questions.” As soon as she said the words, she realized she was rushing the call. Sure, she’d told herself that was the plan. But that was before he’d said she looked pretty. And before she found out that he would notice if she’d changed clothes. “Anything else you want to tell me? About the list?”