The Next Best Thing (23 page)

After a few minutes, Nelson was back to laughing and joking again.

We stopped by George Brett's Restaurant for a couple of drinks, and then went back to Nelson's place for a game of pool, followed by another kind of dessert.

The first thing I saw when I woke up this morning was a pair of hazel eyes peering down at me with grave concern. In my still-hazy state, it took a few seconds for me to process that the eyes belonged to Nelson, and that I was lying butt-naked in the middle of his bed.

“Good morning,” he said, handing me an oversized Reggie Bush jersey to cover my nakedness. “It's nice to know that you're still in the land of the living.”

I stretched and smiled, remembering last night's freaky escapades.

“You put it on me something fierce, but yeah, I'm still here,” I said, pulling on the jersey. I noticed that Nelson was already showered and dressed. “What time is it, anyway?” I asked.

“A little after eleven o'clock. I was just about to feed you breakfast in bed, but since you're up—” He took my hand and pulled me up out of bed. “Come on, let's go eat.”

I followed Nelson into the kitchen, where he had obviously spent half the morning whipping up a feast.

“Orange juice or coffee?” he asked.

“Orange juice is fine, thanks,” I said, surprised and impressed by his thoughtfulness.

Nelson poured the juice and joined me at the table, where we sat down to a breakfast of eggs Benedict, blueberry muffins, hash browns, and fresh strawberries.

After sampling the food, I gave Nelson an enthusiastic thumbs up, which he graciously accepted with a nod.

A gourmet cook and an expert lover all in one? I could definitely get used to this. But, I digress. After all, we are “just friends.”

Nelson was staring at me intently.

“What?” I asked, helping myself to another muffin. “My table manners offending you, or something?”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I was just wondering what your special friend thinks of all of this?”

“And what special friend would that be?” I asked.

“You know, the one you were so serious with that it made you deeply regret sleeping with me that first time.”

Vincent.

“Oh,” I shrugged, nonchalant. “It turns out that he wasn't so special, after all.”

“So, does this mean we can do away with all this friendship stuff?” Nelson asked, and the question made my heart beat faster.

“You tell me,” I said, playing it cool. “You were the one who insisted on all of that in the first place.”

“Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Nelson said, while buttering his muffin. “And considering the chemistry between us and that we get along so great…I don't think it would be a bad idea to call ourselves dating. How about you?”

We smiled big at each other like two goofy teenagers.

“You like me?” I asked in a teasing voice.

“I like you a whole lot,” he said in a suggestive manner. I was about to suggest what we could do with the strawberries when someone started pounding on Nelson's front door.

I continued to enjoy my breakfast while Nelson went and answered the door. A few minutes later, he walked back into the kitchen followed by a smartly dressed couple in their fifties. I was instantly self-conscious as they scrutinized me from head to toe: the morning-after sex glow, the Reggie Bush jersey and nothing else, the disheveled hair.

The couple raised their eyebrows at me, each other, and then Nelson.

“Well, who do we have here?” the man asked, his voice dripping with accusation.

Nelson had a sheepish look on his face, reminding me of the proverbial little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Margaret and Frank, this is my neighbor, Tori Carter. Tori, meet my in-laws, Margaret and Frank Murphy.”

Kara's parents?
Fuck.

“It's a pleasure to meet the both of you.” I smiled, extending a hand that neither one of them bothered to shake.

How's that for an awkward moment?

“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Margaret said, turning her attention to Nelson. “But Frank and I were on our way over to the cemetery and thought it would be nice if you could join us.”

Nelson's face lit up as if he had just been invited on an all-inclusive trip to Jamaica. “Sure, why not?” he said.

All eyes were on me, and I took that as my cue to leave.

I told Nelson “Thanks for breakfast,” nodded good-bye to the Murphys, and experienced a tremendous feeling of déjà vu as I gathered up my things and went home feeling like a discarded hooker.

Nelson, and the three culinary-school students he hired to assist him, invaded my kitchen at six o'clock this morning. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and watched as they brought in dozens of plastic storage bins, filled with pounds and pounds of various ingredients.

Nelson immediately posted plans of action all over the place, which meticulously listed the menu, as well as the timing for preparing each dish.

“I prepared all the desserts and side dishes last night, and I'll keep them stored over at my place until an hour before the party,” Nelson explained to me.

“That's fine,” I replied, tight-lipped and nonchalant.

I really liked Nelson's preparedness, professionalism, and focus, and I would have told him so if I wasn't still mad at him.

It had been almost a week since we'd spoken, because clearly the incident with Kara's parents was a topic we both wanted to avoid.

“Now, I still have to prep all the lobster, and slow-cook the prime rib,” Nelson said. “But everything is pretty much set except for the asparagus and salad, which we'll prepare during cocktail hour so they'll be crisp and fresh…”

While Nelson gave me a rundown on all he had yet to do, I tuned him out and yawned as if I couldn't care less. After being dissed and dismissed so rudely in favor of a visit to the cemetery, I didn't have much to say to him.

I was all business as I showed Nelson and crew where to find whatever utensils they might need.

Once I was sure they were all set, I turned on my heel and was headed back to bed when I stubbed the shit out of my baby toe on one of the metal tables I had rented for the party. The pain was so intense that it blinded me for a few seconds, and a scream got caught in my throat.

Once I got over the initial shock, I released the scream from my throat and grabbed my toe, which only made it hurt worse.

“Are you okay?” Nelson asked, laughter all in his voice.

“I'm fine!” I said through gritted teeth, and then hobbled back to my bedroom.

 

The party was scheduled to start at seven this evening, but relatives and friends of the family started streaming into my condo as early as five o'clock.

The plan was for Junior and I to pretend to be taking our parents out to eat at the Hereford House.

Junior called me when they got downstairs in the parking lot, and I recited the lie that I was running late, and for them all to come on up because it was going to be awhile before I was ready to go.

Daddy must have figured it all out, because he walked in and wasn't the least bit surprised.

The rest of us were stunned, though.

There my father was, looking several years younger, and so spiffy that there were no traces of the country boy from Shreveport, Louisiana. Daddy was uncharacteristically GQ in a brand new Hugo Boss suit, and his hair all slicked back and wavy.

Seeing that he had shaved his trademark mustache brought tears to my eyes because I have not seen my father's clean-shaven face since I was a little girl.

“What's gotten into Daddy?” I whispered to Mama as I hugged her. The pained expression on her face indicated to me that she was not really feeling her husband's new swagger.

The birthday boy wasn't shy about taking control of the festivities. “I'm glad you all could make it here to celebrate my birthday with me,” Daddy announced to his guests. “This one is special to me because, as you all know, I lost my brother Woody a short time ago—”

“Big Wood!” Uncle Ray said. “Rest in peace, man.”

“That's right!” Daddy said. “Woody's not here, but I am, and now I'm living for the both of us, so with that said—let's get down with the get down!”

And the party was on and popping.

Dinner was served on bone china rimmed with fourteen-karat gold, and the eating utensils were expensive sterling silver, which I saw Brent, one of the wayward cousins, sizing up and giving a nod of approval.

The culinary students had changed clothes and were now uniformed servers whose presentations were all synchronized as if they were serving royalty and heads of state, instead of us.

Cookie's parents, Uncle Nate and Aunt Rita, showed up well into dinner, reeking of gin and planting sloppy kisses on everybody, and even though the invitations clearly said Adults Only! Cookie boldly brought along her four bad-ass kids, who did what they always do, which was run around getting in the way, and getting on everybody's last nerve.

Everyone loved the food, even Daddy, which was a relief.

Even though we'd barely spoken all day, I had to give it to Nelson. He really came through for me. The taste and quality of his food surpassed my expectations a thousand times over.

After dinner, we all serenaded Daddy with the soulful version of “Happy Birthday,” and then watched the first of two DVDs I had a videographer put together. Set to the Whispers classic “Just Gets Better with Time,” Daddy's all-time favorite song, the DVD was a photo history of Daddy's life from the day he was born, up until now: snapshots from his childhood, wedding day, Army days, bad outfits from the '60s and '70s, and even in the hospital on the days his children were born.

When it was over, Daddy looked stunned but proud. “I haven't seen any of those pictures in over thirty years!”

“That was so beautiful,” Mama said, and she had tears in her eyes, as did some other people.

Unimpressed, Aunt Vera sucked her teeth and cracked, “Still ugly after all these years!”

“Quick, somebody call Brother Edwards over here!” Daddy replied. “Maybe he can get this old goat to shut her big, fat mouth!”

The room lit up with laughter.

If you didn't know better, you would think that Daddy and Aunt Vera didn't get along, but they love joking and teasing each other. Usually, no harm is meant, and none is taken.

I put in the second DVD, which was like
This Is Your Life
, with Daddy's friends, co-workers, neighbors, and loved ones talking to the camera, giving shout-outs, well wishes, and telling funny stories about things my father had said and done over the years.

When the video was finished, Daddy stood in the middle of the room and said, “Everybody, give my daughter a round of applause for all the sweet and thoughtful things she does, not only for me, but for all of us.”

As everyone clapped and cheered for me, I got choked up looking around at Mama, Junior, Aunt Vera, and all those other smiling faces. It was a special moment, because it was the first time that many of them had expressed any type of gratitude towards me.

Daddy hugged me with tears in his eyes and said, “I don't say this enough but I'm gonna start saying it every chance I get—I love you, baby girl. You mean the world to me.”

And that right there, was worth the price of admission. I hate that it took Uncle Woody's death for my Dad to embrace life and express appreciation for his loved ones, but late is always better than never.

When it was time to cut the cake and open the gifts, my father was nowhere to be found. I went into the kitchen and there he was, having an in-depth discussion with Nelson on how he dry rubs and smokes his meat.

“I like to let it marinate in garlic and Italian dressing for a few days,” Daddy explained. “When I'm ready to cook it, I put it in the oven for an hour just to tighten that skin and seal in the juices—
then
slow-cook it on the grill over wood smoke. See?”

“You're right, Mr. Carter,” Nelson said. “That is a lot different from what my father does down at his restaurant.”

“I know it!” Daddy replied. “And that special technique right there, is what makes Carter barbeque a heap better than Tate's barbeque.”

I was so embarrassed. Nelson had this one-sided grin on his face like he was at some off-the-hook comedy show, and I wanted to punch him in the gut for patronizing my father.

“Daddy,” I said. “Could you please come and cut your birthday cake before Cookie's kids do it for you?”

“Just a minute, Tori. I was just complimenting this young man on the food. Did you know that this here is Oliver Tate's son?”

“Yes, I did,” I said, bothered that Nelson's cologne was permeating the entire kitchen, and that he was looking sexy as hell in a uniform that consisted of a white double-breasted chef's jacket, pressed black slacks, and a KC Royals baseball cap cocked just a little bit to the side.

“I have been getting some valuable advice from your father,” Nelson said to me, and I'm not so sure he wasn't being facetious.

“Well, I used to be in the barbeque business myself,” Daddy bragged. “Made a killing, hand over fist.”

It is not a complete fabrication. My father has made a little extra change over the years by selling barbeque dinners to his co-workers down in the lunchroom at General Motors; but that's where it stops.

“That's it,” I told Daddy, while cutting my eyes at Nelson. “No more fraternizing with the hired help.”

I grabbed my father by the hand and walked him back into the living room, where he finally cut his birthday cake, and the festivities extended late into the night.

Aunt Rita and Uncle Nate were the last to leave because they both got so drunk, I had to call a cab to come pick them up. The husband and wife tag-team of alcohol consumption will probably wake up tomorrow afternoon wondering where their car is, but letting them get behind the wheel in their condition wasn't even an option.

With everyone finally gone, I went into the kitchen where Nelson was still cleaning up.

The dishwasher was running, and the culinary students had left hours ago. There wasn't much food left over, but what little there was, was neatly packed in plastic storage containers.

“You did an excellent job!” I said, handing Nelson a check for twenty-five hundred dollars.

“No, I can't take this.” He handed the check back to me. “It's for a full thousand dollars more than we agreed to.”

We went back and forth for several minutes with the whole
No, I can't take this
, and
Yes, you can. I insist
, before Nelson finally folded the check and tucked it into his back pocket.

I was just about to see him out, when he grabbed me around the waist and said, “I need to know what that funky attitude was all about today.”

“You mean you really don't know?” I pouted.

“Why should I have to guess, Tori? If something I did, or failed to do, is bothering you, then you should be woman enough to come to me to talk it out.”

“I didn't feel like talking about it at the time.”

“So let's talk about it now.”

“Well,” I began. “It's just…Kara's parents made me feel like dirt that day they came over, and you didn't help the situation any by disregarding me and then running off to the cemetery with them.”

“Look, I'm sorry if the Murphys weren't as warm and receptive towards you as they could have been, but it was Kara's birthday.”

“And that gives them a license to be rude to someone they've never met?”

“Kara's folks are good people, Tori,” he explained. “But they're just having a really tough time adjusting to losing their only daughter. Believe me, it wasn't anything personal against you.”

“Well what about you just letting me walk out of your place looking stupid, as if you hadn't said, three minutes before, that we were officially dating?” I asked, and even as I was saying it, I felt silly.

I could tell that I was testing Nelson's patience because he took a deep breath and said, “It was an awkward situation for all of us, Tori. What did you expect me to say, ‘It's too bad about your daughter, but by the way, meet my new girlfriend'?”

“That would have been acceptable,” I said. “Anything to let them know that I am more than
just
your neighbor.”

As soon as I said those words, I was aware that I sounded like a spoiled, self-centered brat.

Of course, it would have been highly insensitive if Nelson had made an announcement like that, and I probably would have lost some respect for him if he had.

Nelson tilted my chin up with his fingertips and looked me in the eye. “You still mad?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, my heart fluttering as we kissed and made up.