The Cocktail Club (20 page)

“Have the police figured anything out yet?” my daughter asked.

I wanted to go back to her dad and his new house. I wanted to find out when he met with her. I also wanted to hear more about the call that he claimed he was going to return, but I couldn't press the issue. Kendal would pick up on a problem before I could cover it up.

“No, still nothing,” I said. “You want your dressing on the salad or you gonna put it on yourself?”

“I can do it alone, Mom,” she said, and reached for the bottle.

My daughter's tone reminded me that I had fallen into my mommy mode. Kendal hated when I treated her like a kid, and I didn't mean to, but I felt helpless myself.

When my cell phone rang, my pulse began to race. I was hopeful until I saw the caller ID.

The moment my eyes focused on Felicia's number, I went back to the thoughts that had dominated my mind lately. I needed to figure out a way to get to Kyle.

DARBY

T
he following week felt like it had dragged along slowly for several reasons. Imagine trying to explain away naked pictures of yourself to your young son. Kevin Jr. had seen the pictures I had sent to Chandler. I felt like a real filthy slut as I sat and waited to talk with him before his grandmother came over.

“Son, I want to discuss something with you,” I said.

He had been playing one of his car games on the floor in the family room. He barely looked up at me. I deserved it, but I also needed to fix the situation regardless of how uncomfortable it made me.

I swallowed hard and exhaled.

Things had improved at school, but knowing my son had seen raunchy and obscene pictures of me made
me
want to act out.

I walked over and removed the two cars he was playing with.

“Mom!” he cried, and finally looked up at me.

“I need to talk to you,” I said, searching for the right words. “I wanted to talk to you about the pictures you saw on the iPad,” I said softly.

“I didn't look at all of those, Mom,” he said. My child's eyes grew wide and began to water; his lip began to quiver. I felt so small. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure the talk was a good idea.

When massive teardrops began to roll down his cheeks, I wanted to cry myself.

“Son, it's okay; it's okay.”

“Are you and Daddy getting a divorce?” he asked between sobs.

My eyebrows curled downward.

“A divorce?”

My heart raced. Did he know something I didn't?

“Yeah, when me and Lucas saw the pictures, he said you and Daddy was getting divorced.”

There wasn't enough saliva left to swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat. I needed a drink now more than ever before. Not only had my son seen the pictures, but his friend had, too. That explained some things.

“Honey, no one is getting a divorce. I'm sorry you saw those pictures, but that's why Mommy tells you and your brother not to play with the iPad. Those were intended for Daddy's eyes only. I had a skin irritation and needed to take pictures to show the doctor.”

My son's little face twisted into a frown. It looked like he wanted to believe my explanation.

“Did you have to get a shot?” he finally asked.

I nodded slowly, and instantly his focus was off the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“Whoa! Shots hurt!” he said.

I made a mental note to unsync my iPhone and iPad. I also made sure my text messages and pictures were all removed from both.

No wonder the poor boy had been acting out. I was looking forward to washing away the sick images of him and his friend twisting and turning the iPad to make sense of my raunchy X-rated pictures with some mommy juice.

When my mother-in-law came in, I was relieved. I grabbed my purse and ran out of there before she could ask any questions.

“Happy hour is supposed to be happy!” I muttered, nearly to myself, later at the bar. I rolled my eyes, and wanted to curse when I took the last sip of my first drink.

For hours, I had been looking forward to getting drunk. The picture discussion with my son and the stupid situation with Carla had worn me out. I should've told her she had every right to tell the client she wasn't down for a threesome. I couldn't believe she thought I'd agree to hooking.

The last of my drink only made me want more. I couldn't imagine a more somber gathering than the one I felt stuck in with Felicia. She was about as interesting as a faucet that dripped slowly.

“Where is everybody?” she asked and looked around at the other people at the bar. She waved with a few fingers, smiled, and then turned back to me. Those other people seemed to be having a great time. I felt like
they
understood the concept of happy hour!

“You heard about what happened to Ivee, right?” I asked.

Felicia leaned in. “Can you imagine? She was in jail!” Felicia's eyes widened when she said the word jail.

“I tried to call her a few times, but she didn't answer.”

“I knooow. She's not talking to anybody. Imagine how I feel? I was with her at lunch. I tried to hook her up with a new client, and you know how Ivee is. She must've gone way overboard.”

“Felicia, please! What time did you guys go to lunch?”

She shrugged as if she understood the point I tried to make.

“That was last Thursday mid-afternoon, and then of course we met up here for happy hour, so I don't see how you can blame yourself for her getting arrested. She was arrested after happy hour, not after lunch.”

It really bugged me when people tried to make other people's problems somehow relate to them.

Felicia got up from her chair and rushed to my side of the table. She picked up her glass and put it back down again. Felicia looked like her mind was on overload. That wasn't the kind of company I needed at a bar. I wondered whether people realized that our usually loud, fun, and boisterous table had fallen off drastically.

“Darby, the truth is, what happened to Ivee could've happened to any one of us. Think how many times we've thrown back tons of drinks, and then gotten behind the wheel.”

“Okay, Felicia. I'm really not happy right now, and this is supposed to be
happy
hour—you know, with an emphasis on
happy
. This conversation right here, it's messing with my buzz, and if something is messing with my buzz, I ain't so
happy!”

Felicia threw her hands up and shrugged as she frowned.

“Now, move on back to your side. I don't need you bringing any more misery close to me. Lord knows I've got my own pile of mess to deal with.”

“I'm just trying to—”

“Yeah, yeah yeah. I know what you're trying to do, and all I'm saying is, I'm not in the mood!”

When the waitress walked by, I reached out and tapped her. “Can I get another one, please?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “Hey, where's everyone else tonight?” she asked as she reached for the empty glass in front of me.

“Who knows?” I eyed the glass on her tray.

She got the message and moved on. Felicia was not the kind of company I needed, and I knew it. I needed someone to tell me that what I had decided to do wasn't the best move. But Felicia only wanted to have a pity party.

“First, Peta and her trucks! Who the hell would want to do something like that to her? Then, Ivee going to jail,” Felicia deadpanned.

I picked up my phone and sent a text message. The night was still very young. The last thing I wanted to do was sit around and drown other people's sorrows in my martini.

I tried not to stare at the phone, but it was hard.

By the time the waitress had returned with my new drink, and Felicia had delved into her theory about the happy hour curse, I was ready to slit my own wrists.

I couldn't think of a time when we didn't have a great time together. Over the years, we had brought everything to the table on Thursday nights. It didn't matter whether the issues were, big or minor.

The idea that my friends were struggling and felt like the best thing to do was stay away, made me sad, but I didn't want to linger on it.

“…so, all I could think about is, what if Zion is tripping out on her after this whole arrest thing. You know how he gets.”

I stared at Felicia. She insisted on trying to bring me down.

When my phone vibrated, I nearly didn't want to check it. I couldn't handle another disappointment after I had stomached all of Felicia's suspicion about all that was wrong with everyone's life.

Out with friends. ‘Sup w U?

Looking for trouble.
I texted back.

Ppl say trouble is my middle name.

I'm at Eddie V's.

I can be at hotel Derek in under an hr.

My heart nearly stopped.

Sure, what started out as my master plan for revenge had grown into something more. It had turned into us chatting online, through text messages, then blossomed into something that I could've never guessed. We'd been flirting for a long time, but I never stopped to
think about where it would go. I never expected it, or us to end up in a hotel room. But the liquor made me feel adventurous, and nothing appealed to me about Felicia.

“Oh my God! What is it now? Who is it?” Felicia asked, her face twisted up as she waited anxiously for bad news.

I looked up from my phone and knew exactly what I had to do.

“Oh, this?” I raised the phone. “It's nothing, um, Kevin, going on about the kids,” I lied. My eyes began to search the busy restaurant. I needed to find the waitress and end the depressing evening with Felicia.

“Oh no, what's going on?” Felicia asked. Her voice was as worried as ever.

“I need to go. Something is wrong with his mom, and he's freaking out. You know how they can be,” I said.

If I had to wait for the bill, I'd never make it in under an hour. I looked at the table and did the math in my head. I placed two crisp twenty-dollar bills on the table, and eased out of my chair.

“You're about to leave, like right now?” Felicia frowned.

“Yeah, Kevin is worried sick, and I don't want him doing something stupid to our son,” I said.

Felicia's frown deepened. Her busy eyes followed my every move. “But I thought you said it was your mother-in-law,” she said and looked at me like she was confused.

“Oh, yeah, that's what I meant,” I said. I shook my head a little. “Okay, honey, I'll check in with you later tomorrow.”

I did two air kisses on the side of each cheek and moved away from the bar.

“But what about Ivee and Peta?” she yelled after me.

“Oh, they'll be fine.” I dashed toward the door.

On the drive over, I tried to play devil's advocate.

Why does he want to meet now?

We already had plans. Why not stick to the plan?

What if he is trying to set me up?

What will I do when we are finally alone together?

Why am I about to go and meet this man?

I had no common-sense answers to any of the questions I asked myself, but that didn't stop me. At the corner of Sage and Westheimer Roads, my phone vibrated again. Chandler's text message was simple.

Rm 7654.

When I pulled in front of the hotel, I considered whether I should park myself, or use the valet service. I made my decision since they didn't have self-parking and rushed into the hotel's lobby. The sleek, wooden panel against the wall and the shiny, gray cement floors gave the lobby a slick and modern appearance. My eyes fixed on the numbers inside the elevator car. As it took off and rose, it felt like my heart dropped to my toes.

I stood outside of Room 7654 and pulled in a deep breath. I glanced down the hall in both directions, then dug into my purse and pulled out my flask. I unscrewed the top, took a couple of swigs and tried to calm my nerves. Once I put the flask back, I raised my closed hand to knock, but decided against it. I turned and took a few steps away from the door.

Being there was wrong. Being with him was wrong. It…us…we had gone too far. I felt a sudden urge to get away as fast as I could.

“Change of heart?” a deep voice behind me boomed. The low and sensual sound made my insides quiver. I stopped.

When I turned back, the smile he bore had to have been the sexiest I could've ever imagined. My insides went soft.

He held a small glass of liquor, and sexiness all but oozed from
his entire body.

My legs threatened to give out on me. My throat felt scratchy, and I could hardly swallow.

“You came all this way, and you were going to leave and not even knock?” he asked. He sounded hurt.

Chandler stared at me so intensely that I struggled, but swallowed hard and dry. I scrutinized him, sized him up, and looked for any inkling of a possible character flaw.

When I found none, like a brainless zombie, I followed him into the room. The bed looked lush and inviting from where I stood. Instantly, my mind thought of how comfortable the high-thread count sheets and fluffy pillows would be.