The Secrets of Paradise Bay (17 page)

Ivana made a moaning sound of understanding, his erection filling her mouth. Before he could climax, she lowered herself onto Trey, feeling him impale her deeply and tightly. She began to move slowly up and down him, running her long fingernails across his chest. Ivana wanted him to feel good, even as she tried to distance herself from past sins and pleasures.

Trey gripped her breasts, putting the nipples between his fingers and caressing them expertly. Ivana quivered from the sensations, along with those from her clitoris rubbing against him. She felt herself constricting around his penis. She bent down and began to kiss him feverishly. Trey gave back as much, putting his tongue in her mouth.

Ivana pressed her thighs tightly against Trey's body, feeling her orgasm coming. Her mind meandered between Trey and Clyde, as if making love to two men at once. She ultimately settled on her husband and one true love as he gripped her buttocks, raising and lowering her onto him with a needy passion. She felt his throbbing climax and listened to Trey's quickening breath, matching her own.

Ivana allowed Trey to suck her nipples and hold her tightly as she came. The surge ripped through her body, slick with perspiration, leaving her exhausted and satiated.

“Oh . . . Trey,” she murmured as his hard erection continued to fill her with wonderful sensations.

“I'm right here,” he promised.

Ivana took that to heart as they clung to each other for a few moments of silent intimacy before she lifted off his body. She kissed Trey's mouth. “I'm going to my room now.”

“Stay the night, Ivana. Please?” begged Trey. “I just want to keep holding you.”

She thought about it, but wasn't ready. Too many issues swam through Ivana's head about love, infidelity, miscarriage, and definitely shame.

“I can't—not tonight.”

“I understand.” Trey kissed her hand. “Take all the time you need. I love you.”

Ivana looked at him sadly. She wished she could turn back the hands of time and take away any memory of being with Clyde. Would Trey ever be able to forgive her?

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and added with meaning to soften the blow, “Love you too.”

Ivana moved away from Trey and off the bed. She picked up her wrap and quickly left the room. The abashment of giving herself to Clyde for all the wrong reasons settled in like a thick haze.
What have I done?

Tears filled her eyes, and Ivana allowed them to flow down her cheeks as she reached the relative comfort of her bedroom. She had fallen into a trap of her own doing in hoping to maybe punish Trey, along with misguided lust for the wrong man. Now she felt cheap, humiliated, and bewildered. She couldn't look at Trey without seeing Clyde. And vice versa. How would she get past this, so her life with Trey would not suffer?

Willie sat in a coffee shop eating blueberry pancakes and sausage links. He watched as Roselyn brought plates to another table, flirting with a man though his woman was sitting there, and began to walk toward him.

“Hi, baby.” She gave him a bright smile.

“You lookin' to replace me with that asshole or what?”

Roselyn glanced over her shoulder. “You mean him?”

“Yeah, I do,” Willie grumbled, feeling sorrier for himself than usual and a little jealous, even if she had given him no real reason to be.

“Get real. The man's old enough to be my daddy. Besides, you're more than enough man for me, Willie.”

He blushed. “That's good to know.”
I'll decide when it's time to go our separate ways
.

She flashed her teeth. “Want a second helping? It's on the house.”

Willie finished off the last stack of pancakes and found his stomach still had room for more. “Yeah, why not?”

“Coming right up, along with more coffee,” she told him.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand. “What time you gettin' off?”

“About two hours. Why?”

He eyed her breasts through a tight uniform. “Thought we could have some fun.”

She giggled. “Sounds good to me. Pick me up and we can have as much fun at your place as you like.”

“How about your place?” Willie gazed up sharply.

Roselyn frowned. “We've already been over this, baby. There's too much friction between you and Gail. I'd rather not deal with you two coming face-to-face and maybe to blows right now, if I can help it.”

That bitch. Keeps sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Maybe I'll break it for her trouble
.
Or worse.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” he muttered. “Wouldn't want to come between you and her.”

Roselyn smiled. “Thanks for understanding and being so sweet about it.” She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. “Let me go place your order. You'll get dessert tonight.” She winked at him.

“Can hardly wait.” Willie envisioned getting her naked and having his way.

Ten minutes later, Willie was enjoying more pancakes when Luther joined him.

“Got your message,” he said, sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

“Hungry?” Willie asked. “I can get my lady to fix you up.”

Luther grinned. “Sure, why don't you.”

First things first
. “I need you to do something for me, man.”

“Yeah, what's that?” Luther grabbed an empty cup on the table and turned it over in preparation for coffee.

Willie leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial undertone, “I need a piece, man.”

Luther's eyes expanded. “What happened to the one you had?”

“I tossed it. Too hot to handle.” Willie didn't mention that he'd used the gun in a solo store robbery and didn't want it traced back to him.

“You got the money for it?”

“I'm workin' on it,” Willie said, and thought about his sex date with Roselyn tonight. He'd sweet-talk her into giving him what he needed in hard cash.

A crease dented Luther's forehead. “I'll need a few bills.”

“Don't worry about it. Just line up the piece and you'll get your money.”

Luther paused. “All right. I'll see what I can do.”

Willie flashed a half smile. “Good.”

“So what you got goin' on?” Luther asked curiously.

Willie pondered that. He planned to use the gun to go after Clyde when the time was right. But no need to let Luther in on the details just yet, particularly since Willie was short on particulars while long on intent.

“Always pays to be prepared . . . just in case.”

“For what?”

Willie tasted cold coffee. “You never know when a war might break out. If it does, I want to be sure I get the first shot.” And the last.

Luther leaned forward. “Are we talkin' about going after Clyde Lancaster . . . and maybe his rich-ass brother?”

Willie paused and said noncommittally, “Let me put it to you this way: I always pay my debts. And I also like to see to it that I collect what's owed me with interest—no matter what it takes.”

He spotted Roselyn and signaled her to come over.

Trey arranged a meeting with Blake Lewis at the Violet Supper Club, hoping to be able to entice him into an earlier retirement. The club was the ideal place to take over, with the least amount of cash influx needed for renovations. But Trey had already lined up some other properties to look at should this one fall through. He really wanted to give Clyde this opportunity to make something of his life, along with allowing them another chance to work together as business partners and brothers.

“Thanks for meeting with us, Blake.” Trey shook his hand, followed by Clyde.

“I have to admit, your offer was intriguing and more than generous,” Blake said. “Let's sit down.”

Trey watched Clyde take a seat on the other side of Blake. Though seeming composed, he imagined his little brother had butterflies, in taking maybe the biggest step in his life on the right side of the law. Trey was only too happy to guide him through the process.

“We think we can carry on your legacy with this place and make you a generous offer to sell it,” Trey told Blake, while holding a glass of Pinot Noir.

He cast his eyes on Trey. “I'm listening . . .”

At the last moment Trey decided to defer this part to Clyde, since he would be running the club, wanting him to feel like the front man. “Why don't you tell Blake your plans for the club, Clyde?”

Clyde straightened his shoulders and took a breath. “I'd like to add a regular jazz singer to the mix,” he explained, “while maintaining the piano music and fine food. Maybe have the singer sing a blend of standards, Latin, and even some jazz-pop. We could probably also fill more seats if we had a ladies' night and even a special night for the men.”

Trey wondered if Clyde had laid it on a bit thick, putting off Blake and his more old-fashioned views on what a supper club should be. Maybe Blake might think he'd be better off closing the place lock, stock, and barrel, and preserving his memory—and everyone else's.

Blake gave Clyde a thoughtful look before putting a broad grin on his face. “I think I like your brother, Trey. He has some interesting ideas on what to do with the club. It needs the passion of some younger people to better reflect today's clientele. I believe that we can do some business, and I can live to see what I started succeed with a new generation.”

Clyde gleamed, as did Trey, who was impressed with his brother's concise and well-thought-out presentation.

Half an hour later the three men shook hands on an agreement. It was Trey's suggestion that the new club be called, appropriately, Clyde's Jazz Club. Trey wanted his brother to really feel it was Clyde's place to run, with Trey putting up the capital while staying in the background. He was beginning to feel more and more like this venture would pay off handsomely.

Clyde could hardly believe what had once seemed like little more than a pipe dream had suddenly turned into reality. He felt as if this was the break he'd waited for all his life. Now that it was on the verge of happening, he had to do all he could to make sure the faith Trey placed in him was not mislaid. Or that he didn't allow anyone else to stand in the way of what Clyde saw as the opportunity of a lifetime for someone whose life had seemed to go downhill far more often than up.

That included Ivana. Clyde was leery of her, given the way he'd rejected her latest advances. Would she try and ruin him in Trey's eyes? Or recognize things for how they were and should be between them, with Trey being the wild card? He could only hope she did right by his brother and committed herself to making their marriage work.

Clyde finished off the rest of his drink in solitude before catching up with Trey, who had stepped away to call his wife to share the news.

“What's up, man?” Clyde smiled as he stood outside the prison gates and watched his ex–cell mate, Raymond Gunfrey, emerge a free man.

Raymond, six foot five, bald, and built like a freight train, had a wide grin on his face. “Hey, dude.” The two embraced and then exchanged a sturdy handshake. “Thought this day would never come.”

“Tell me about it,” Clyde said.

Raymond took one look back at the prison. “If I never see that place again, I'll be one damned happy man.”

“You won't—not if I have any say in it.” Clyde had taken it upon himself to steer Raymond clear of the types of bad choices that led to his incarceration.

Raymond scratched his pate. “We'll try to keep each other on the right side of the law.”

Clyde patted him on the shoulder. “Let's get out of here.”

“Any place in particular?”

“Yeah, my place.”

“Cool.” They walked to Clyde's car. “This yours?”

Clyde nodded, almost embarrassed. “A gift from my brother.”

Raymond gazed at the BMW approvingly. “Nice. Good thing you've got someone with deep pockets lookin' out for you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Clyde didn't always agree with that, but now it seemed like it was a very good thing that Trey was in his corner when the chips were down. He doubted that Trey would be as agreeable about his renewed association with Raymond. Clyde could almost hear Trey's lecture about bad influences. He'd heard it all before. Only he didn't consider Raymond to be a bad influence. Just the opposite. He was someone who had been there and understood what it was like to do time and try and regroup in the outside world.

“This is it,” Clyde said of the spacious loft apartment over the club that he'd inherited from the previous owner when he moved in three weeks ago. It had restored white oak hardwood flooring, exposed beams and rafters, and an open floor plan. Clyde had purchased a few retro furnishings to spruce up the place, and still had a ways to go before considering it truly his own. “Make yourself at home,” he told Raymond.

“This could take some gettin' used to after a six-by-nine cell,” Raymond said. “But I'll try . . . at least 'til I get my own crib.”

“Stay as long as you like,” offered Clyde. “You can bunk over there.” He pointed to a futon against the far wall.

“Thanks.” Raymond tossed his bag on it. “Can hardly wait to get my first night's sleep in the free world.”

“Definitely makes a difference.”

“Yeah.”

“Why don't we go grab some chow,” suggested Clyde, certain that Raymond was ready for some real food.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” laughed Raymond.

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a table with barbecued ribs, salad, and biscuits. Clyde watched with amusement as his friend ate like it was his first meal. Or last.

“Don't let me stop you,” he said, chuckling.

Self-consciously, Raymond seemed to force himself to hold back from enjoying the meal. “Guess I've forgotten what it was like to eat somethin' that wasn't crap.”

“I hear you,” Clyde remarked, and thought of the pure ecstasy he'd experienced when, fresh out of the pen, he'd first tasted Francine's cooking. Raymond drank beer to down the food and wiped his mouth, studying Clyde. “So what's this big plan of yours for us? Or are we not there yet?”

“You're sitting in it,” Clyde responded after a moment.

Raymond reacted. “You mean this club?”

Clyde grinned. “I own the place—at least half of it. Bought it last month with my brother. Still in the process of making a few changes, but for now it's business as usual.”

Raymond scanned the surroundings and gazed at him in shock. “This is for real?”

Clyde laughed. “Would I lie? I'm turning it into a jazz supper club—Clyde's Jazz Club, as a matter of fact—a classy, elegant establishment that'll be
the
place to be in Paradise Bay.”

Raymond shook his head in utter amazement. “
You
runnin' a stylish supper club? Who woulda thought?”

“No, man,
us
running one,” Clyde told him. “Just as we planned.”

“Tell me more . . .”

Clyde tasted his beer. “I'll be handling the day to day operations, with Trey doing his thing behind the scenes. I figured you could be in charge of security—you know, make sure things stay orderly and trouble free. You can also have a stake in the club, so it becomes more than just a job to you.”

Raymond's face lit. “Yeah, that could work.”

“We'll make it work.”

Raymond bit into a biscuit. “I gotta say, when you get somethin' in your head, you really stick with it.”

“Just trying to make a good life for myself,” Clyde said, realizing that this opportunity had sort of fallen into his lap, and he was taking full advantage and thinking positive. “I want you to have that good life too.”

“We're definitely on the same page there,” Raymond agreed. He stuck his hand out for a shake. Clyde took it. “Thanks, Clyde, for not forgetting about me.”

“That wasn't going to happen,” Clyde assured him.

Raymond met his eyes. “I won't let you down, man.”

“I know you won't.”
Have to make sure I don't let myself down, or Trey,
Clyde thought, aware that there were always potential pitfalls along the road.

 

 

“You did what?” Trey flashed Clyde an incredulous look, turning from the steering wheel.

Clyde had expected this negative reaction to the news that he had hired Raymond and offered to sell him a stake in the club.
So just be cool and don't backpedal.

“We talked about getting together and making something of our lives while in prison,” he explained. “I'm just following through on that.”

“You don't make deals with ex-cons,” snapped Trey.

“I'm an ex-con,” Clyde reminded him. “And you put your trust in me.”

“But you're my brother, for crying out loud.”

“Yeah, and he was like a brother to me while I was in a bad place. If Raymond hadn't been a steadying influence and had my back, I might never have made it out alive.”

Trey's hard stare seemed to soften. “So maybe you do owe the man something. Does that mean he's entitled to a piece of the club?”

“It won't come from your half,” Clyde promised him. “I'm only keeping my word. Besides, Raymond deserves a break, just like I do. He'll earn whatever he puts into the club.”

“I doubt that,” said Trey. “Hiring an ex-con to be in charge of security is like hiring a bank robber to run your savings and loan.”

Clyde bristled at the suggestion. “It's not like that. Raymond used to have his own security firm before he ran into bad times. He's the right man for the job!”

“If you say so. I just hope you know what you're doing and who you're dealing with.”

“I do,” Clyde maintained and looked out the passenger-side window. He knew he could count on Raymond through thick and thin. He wasn't sure if the same thing could be said of Trey. Especially if Ivana ever decided to spill her guts.

 

 

Ivana went for her monthly visit to the hairdresser. She actually welcomed the chance to spend a few hours away from home, which she associated with so many things, good and bad. On the good side, the situation was relatively calm between her and Trey. They had resumed a sexual relationship and even spent the whole night together a few times as she eased her way back into their sharing the same bedroom permanently.

On the bad side, she still felt terribly guilty for cheating on Trey with his brother, even if part of Ivana believed the experience had brought her out of her shell and made her reassess what she truly wanted out of life. And whom.

“You're doing good, girlfriend,” Jacinta said over her. “It won't be too much longer.”

“Just make sure you don't ruin my hair,” Ivana half teased her. She was giving tree braids a try, believing they would look nice on her.

“Not a chance! My business depends too much on pleasing rich folks like you to misstep.”

Ivana smiled. “I figured that.”

“How did things go—or not—with your brother-in-law?” Jacinta asked.

You would remember that.
“Excuse me?” Ivana played dumb.

“I seem to recall that you had a thing for the man. Did you ever act on it?”

At first, Ivana wanted to deny any such thing. But she needed to get this off her chest and not with a therapist, who would likely only end up reporting it to her husband. “Yes, something happened—” she hummed.

“Oh, really?” Jacinta's voice rose.

Ivana swallowed. “It wasn't planned.”

“No one's pointing any fingers at you. You're human—so is he.”

We'd both been through a long dry spell
, Ivana thought, seeking to justify their actions to herself. It was almost inevitable that this would draw them together sexually. Even if it also tore them apart.

“Well, how was he?” Jacinta asked. “Details, please . . . I know I'm shameful in asking, but my own sex life is a big bore, so it's nice to live vicariously through others.”

“He was wonderful,” Ivana admitted. “The man definitely knew what he was doing, and did it all.” The memory caused a prickle between her legs and she fought to resist such feelings further.

“I'm jealous,” said Jacinta. “I can barely keep up with one man and you have
two
brothers competing for your affections.”

“It's not like that,” Ivana stressed, feeling the guilt come back in droves. “It was just a onetime thing with the brother. I still love my husband . . . and want our marriage to work.”

“I'm happy to hear you say that, girl. No reason to see it go down the drain for all the wrong reasons. You got the brotherly sexual attraction thing over with and can now get on with your life and make the
real
relationship work.”

I want that to happen more than anything,
Ivana thought
.
Maybe she and Trey really could go back to when there was no one else coming between them
.
Yes, there was hope for that
.

 

 

Trey shook hands with Clyde's ex–cell mate and imagined that by the size of him, he might be better served as a bouncer at the club than head of security, though he doubted Clyde would concur.

“Clyde's been telling me a lot about his rich big brother,” Raymond said as the three men huddled near the kitchen in Trey's loft, holding beers.

Wish I could say the same
. “Just don't hold any of it against me.” Trey forced a smile.

Raymond grinned. “Wouldn't think of it. I know you've got Clyde's back like I do.”

“Yeah, I guess that is what's most important,” conceded Trey. “So I understand that you have a background in security?”
How did you ever end up on the other side of the law
?

Raymond nodded. “Did a stint in the Persian Gulf for the army, and then opened up my own private security firm. It paid the bills—least for a while, before things went south on me. . . .”

“I see.”

“No, you probably don't see,” Raymond said. “I made some bad investments, followed by poor choices, and paid the piper for it. I doubt you could relate.”

“Don't be so sure about that.” Trey gazed at Clyde and wondered how much he had divulged to Raymond about his infidelity and the problems it caused in his marriage. “We all do things we regret. Hope you make the most of your second chance.”

Raymond gave a half smile. “I intend to.”

“I plan to put ads in the paper and maybe on the Internet for a new bartender and jazz singer,” Clyde broke in. “Maybe we'll get lucky and put the right pieces in place from the start.”

“Good idea,” Trey said, wanting to support him in every way. “The sooner we have the team ready to go, the sooner we can concentrate on making Clyde's Jazz Club the hottest place in town.”

“I'll work on that right away.” Clyde looked at Raymond. “We'll also have to assess what's needed in the security area. That's your baby.”

Raymond nodded. “I'll take good care of it.” He raised his bottle. “Here's to Clyde's Jazz Club and new beginnings.”

Clyde lifted his beer in toast, and Trey did the same thing, happy to see that Clyde was taking charge and committed to making this work, as was he. Apparently Raymond would have a positive effect on his brother, which should be enough to keep both of them out of trouble.