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Authors: Pat Tucker

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BOOK: The Cocktail Club
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34
IVEE

“Is everything okay?” Jessica asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I lied. There was no way I'd admit to her, or anyone in the office, that I had been arrested. Since I had gotten out of jail, the nightmares had been wicked and frequent.

“Yes, I won't be in the office for a few days,” I explained over the phone. “I'm still working, and you should definitely call me if Geneva calls a meeting,”

“Okay, well, you mean this is not a vacation or something like that?”

“No, just me working from home. That's it. That's all.”

Once I finished that call, I tried not to look at the clock. I picked up the proposal that I was working on for Wayne, and decided I'd call and set up a meeting with him. I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn't be focused on what Ted was doing to make sure I could keep my license.

We only had fifteen days to avoid the possible suspension.

I had the pleasure of sitting and not watching the clock or the phone as I waited for the results of the Administrative License Hearing. I was grateful my lawyer could attend that in my place. I didn't want to go near a jail cell ever again.

Also, Zion thought it would be better if I didn't drive until we got word about the hearing. This thing made him near neurotic,
and it was all I could do to not go off on him at times.

My last call with Ted left me hopeful.

“What's the worst-case scenario for me?” I asked.

“I think you're gonna be okay. Trust me on this. Since you have an otherwise clean record, and this is your first alcohol or drug-related offense, you will not be required to serve any jail time. I'm gonna push for probation here,” he said.

The way he dismissed jail made me happy. As long as I didn't have to think about going back to that hellhole, I could handle pretty much anything else.

“Probation? Are you sure about that?” I asked. “Or I guess the better question is has a person ever gone to jail after their very first DWI arrest?”

“Well, of course,” he said.

I sighed. That was what I was afraid of. If it was possible, I felt like there was a good chance it might happen to me. The entire experience had left me completely petrified and nervous.

“But hear me out here, Ivee. As long as the DWI didn't result in serious bodily injury or a death, the judge can give you anything from six months to two years probation.” He continued when I didn't respond. “Believe it or not, Ivee, no one wants to throw a harmless, nonviolent woman in jail. That serves no one any good. Now let me get in here and get back to you later, after the hearing,” he said.

That conversation had taken place more than six hours earlier, and I had been going bananas ever since.

Later that evening, I fixed dinner and waited anxiously for Zion and Ted. Ted didn't call me like I expected him to do. Instead, he had called Zion.

When the phone rang later in the day, I fully expected it to be
Ted, but it was my husband.

“Hey, listen, Ivee, Ted's stuck in court on a different case, but I told him he should come on over to the house for dinner tonight. That way, he can give us the skinny on the best move here,” he said.

I was confused. I thought the best move was going to be the probation Ted had assured me I qualified to get. I was more upset that he hadn't bothered to call me back, but called my husband instead. I had spent the bulk of my day stressed and worried over it, and he had left me to suffer.

“So, he called you instead of me?”

“Well, I'm paying the damn bill,” Zion snapped.

When I didn't say anything, I heard him breathe hard in my ear. The last thing I needed was an argument.

“Okay, you can tell, I'm still a little bent out of shape over this whole thing, but, Ivee, I'm not trying to argue with you. I was actually calling to tell you that Ted was able to save your license, but there's a catch. You're only supposed to drive to and from work or for work-related events. He also mentioned another option that he wants to talk with us about, which is why I suggested he come over for dinner,” Zion said.

“I wasn't planning on cooking.”

I had mixed emotions about what he'd said. I felt put out because he snapped at me, and tried to throw it in my face that he was picking up the tab for Ted. On the other hand, I was relieved that I'd get to keep my driver's license.

“I'll order some takeout,” I offered.

“Baby, that's cool. I don't think Ted cares whether you cook or not. I figured it would be easier for Ted to talk to us together, in person,” he said.

I was ready for our conversation to be over. I wondered how
long I'd have to endure Zion's outbursts over my mistake.

“Okay, well, let me go. I need to figure out what we're eating. As soon as I place the order, I'll call and let you know.”

“Ivee,” Zion called out to me.

“Yeah?”

“You can't ever screw up like this again,” he said.

He actually tried to sound sweet. It had been more reassuring to talk to Ted than my own damn husband. I wanted to tell him that I didn't set out to drink, drive, and get arrested, but that breakdown would've been lost on him.

“I'll talk to you soon,” I said.

If he wanted to say anything else, he didn't get the chance. I ended the call.

“Why would Ted call him and not me?” I told myself not to focus on the negative. The important thing was there was another possibility for me. That was really good news because whatever it was, it had come after court.

I felt trapped. I'd spent the bulk of my day waiting, only to have to return to the waiting game again.

35
PETA

T
hree minutes! That was the amount of time that had passed since I looked up and thought I saw the back of Kyle's car turn the corner down the street from my house. I didn't know whether I should try to chase him, or come up with another idea of how to make him come to me.

“If I spent my time chasing down every glimpse I see of him, I wouldn't get anything done!”

Lately, I'd been on the verge of losing my mind. At the grocery store, every other man looked like Kyle from behind. Then in traffic, his car either whizzed by me in the opposite direction, or it was several cars up ahead. I barely recognized my life anymore. Things had started tightening up around the house, and I had run out of ways to hide it from Kendal.

“Mom, why are we eating spaghetti again? Isn't it like the third time this week?” she asked.

“Dang, Mom, we're out of juice.”

“Mom, can I use your body wash? We're out of soap.”

Two weeks had passed since the last time I had spoken with the insurance company, and each day I prayed I'd find a check in the mailbox, but I never did.

Inside, I tried to ignore the bottle that seemed to call my name louder and louder since my world had flipped. Beverly had returned to work, and things had slowly gotten back on track, but it wasn't
the sense of security I enjoyed when all four trucks were out and working. Still, life was getting back to what was about to be my new normal.

Since I didn't feel up to a battle with the insurance company or the stonewall from the detective, I decided a drink wouldn't hurt.

I grabbed a glass and was about to grab a bottle when the doorbell rang. My spirits rose momentarily as visions of an insurance check by special delivery danced through my mind.

“Coming!”

As I skipped to the door, I didn't even bother to ask who was there. I would've bet anything that good news was on the other side. That was exactly what I needed.

When I pulled the door open, and Ivee stood there with bags in her hands and at her feet, I wasn't sure what to say.

“Darby is parking the car. We don't know what the hell is going on, but we're not about to let you go through it alone.”

“Oh sweet Jesus! What are you talking about?”

“Peta, with two of those trucks down, I can only imagine how hard it must be for you. Then Felicia mentioned something about Kyle no longer paying child support, and well…we knew you'd never ask for anything.”

“So, we brought a few things we thought you and Kendal could use,” Darby said as she walked up to the doorway.

Ivee motioned to the bags that were at her feet. Both of her hands were full. “Here, grab this bag,” she said.

“You guys.” I sobbed.

“Can you move? This stuff is heavy!” Ivee said.

I stepped aside to allow them in, and grabbed the bags Ivee had stepped over. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I struggled to carry all of the bags of groceries inside.

As I was about to close the door, Felicia screamed, “Hey, hold
on! Hold on! I need some help out here.”

Darby met me back at the door to grab the bags from me. “I've got these. Go help her.”

My pantry, refrigerator, and cabinets were full. By the time the ladies finished unloading and unpacking the groceries, I was so overwhelmed. They had come in right on time.

“You guys did not have to do all of this.”

“Girl, please. Crack open some wine or something,” Darby said.

I looked around a bit. “Ummm, I have some leftover vodka.”

It felt horrible that all I could offer besides the vodka was water. Outside of the things they'd bought, I was down to nearly nothing. I didn't want to think what would've happened if they hadn't stepped in when they did. Felicia jumped up. “Oh, I forgot the box I was trying to get in before you closed the door.”

“You left the drinks in the car?” Ivee asked.

“I couldn't carry everything!” Felicia grabbed her keys. “Darby, come help me?”

When the two of them walked out, I looked at Ivee and shook my head. “This was nothing but you, huh?”

“No, girl. It was all of us. And don't be acting all silly and stuff. We ain't doing nothing you wouldn't do for all of us if the tables were turned.”

Once everything was put away, and I poured us all drinks, we sat and got ready to catch up.

“What are you gonna do about Kyle?” Darby asked.

“I can't find him. I finally went by his house a week or so ago only to discover that he had moved! I told the AG's office that I didn't intend to sign the letter, but no one seems sympathetic to what I'm saying. It's my signature, so saying I was coaxed into signing apparently sounds so ridiculous that no one believes me.”

“Wait, you never did say what happened. How'd he get you to
sign?” Felecia asked.

“That bastard! He got me drunk. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but he brought an extra large bottle of Skyy Vodka over and we got drunk. By the time he started talking about needing my signature on something, I could barely see straight,” I admitted.

“Oh, that was dirty,” Ivee said.

“And he gets away with it just like that?” Darby asked.

“He had a letter with my signature saying it was no longer necessary for him to pay. They were doing their job and cut me off. For all they knew, we had worked something out together and it was what I had requested.”

“They didn't need to verify anything with you first?”

I shrugged. “I guess that's not how they work down there. Now, I'm gonna have to hire a lawyer and take him back to court.” I shook my head. “And that, like every damn thing else, costs money.”

“The state has money to prosecute my ass, but bastards like Kyle can get away with falsifying documents, so he could basically rob you and his own flesh and blood!” Ivee said.

“I know things are tight, but last week, Felicia and I looked around and we were the only two at happy hour,” Darby said.

Ivee and I looked at her.

“We've always been close, and we're all going through it right now, but if we start pulling away from each other, then who knows what will happen.”

Her voice cracked a bit. Now, all eyes were on her.

“What, you mean like folks might start getting arrested for DWI or something?” Ivee suggested.

BOOK: The Cocktail Club
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