The Cocktail Club (4 page)

W
hen more than an hour had passed and I hadn't received a response, I knew what I had to do. I hated having to kiss up to Gordon, but being lonely and horny was a bitch.

Kyle had taken Kendal for the night since she had an early morning field trip, and it was his turn to chaperone. That meant I was as free as a horny
Home Alone
teenager whose parents were out of town. I was about to hang up the phone when he answered.

“Oh, hey what's up?” Gordon said.

He didn't sound like he was still pissed about the other day with Kyle, but still I decided to tread lightly.

“Yo', I got that pic you sent me. That was on point!” The tone in his voice was friendly and cool, which I liked.

“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.

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.”