The Cocktail Club (14 page)

I wanted to ask if she was really the right person to give advice on how to handle grief, but I decided that would be too disrespectful. I hoped to never learn the pain of losing a child. My mother had been through too much.

“Tell her you're not doing it anymore,” Roger pleaded. “God! I don't get it! What do you even think you're gonna get out of this?” He shook his head and rushed to our mother's side.

My cell phone rang, and I didn't hesitate to answer the phone. I needed the break.

“Hello?”

“Darby, are you busy?” Carla sounded like she was out of breath. As usual, her timing was off, but I completely needed the break.

“Ummm, kind of Carla. Why? What's up?”

“I've got lots of cash over here, and I don't feel comfortable. I wanted to know if you could make a pick up. My next client comes in about an hour.”

“So, why can't you drop it off?” I asked.

“I was hoping you felt like getting out for a few.”

“Well, I can't come now. So, if you can't bring it, you're gonna have to hang on to it until later,” I told her.

I heard her grumble through the phone, and the rest of what she said was hard to understand. The call ended abruptly.

I turned my attention back to my mother. She broke my heart. The moment my focus was on something else, she zoned back in on the pictures on my mantel. It was as if she needed to study them all. She didn't say another word to me.

Suddenly, she turned, looked at Roger, then said, “I've seen my grandkids; let's go.”

Their timing was actually perfect. I had told Carla to bring the cash, but I decided the walk would do me some good after all.

If I stayed around in the house alone, I'd start thinking about the sad and faraway look in my mother's eyes. Then I'd start to ask myself whether I really had done something wrong.

An hour after I left Carla's house, I counted the money again, and put it away in my secret hiding spot. Once that was done, I tried to busy myself with little chores around the house. Every so often, I'd glance up at the computer monitor. When I did, I'd find something else to do.

My house was clean, the beans in the crock pot were nearly done, and there was nothing else for me to do until I left to meet with my son's teacher. I was nearly about to relax when the phone rang. It was Kevin.

“Hey, honey, what's up?”

“Just checking up on you,” he said.

Checking up on me?
His choice of words seemed a bit odd, but I let it go.

“Okay, did you need something?”

“You have that meeting at the school, so I wanted to let you know I'll be home a little late. Bruce needs me to come by after work to look at some new equipment he just bought,” Kevin said.

I wondered why Kevin felt the need to share that with me, but I wasn't invested enough to ask. He made more small talk, and then told me he had to go.

Later, when my phone chirped, I wasn't sure who it was. I was emotionally spent, and didn't have the energy to go another round. I fully expected it to be my brother or Carla, but it wasn't. I looked at the phone again, and tried to contain my excitement. My eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

Sup?

When I saw the three letters, I felt the butterflies come alive in the pit of my belly. I didn't even bother to answer the text message. I rushed to the computer, and logged on to Facebook.

What took u so long?
he typed.

The question made me feel special.

IVEE

I
wasn't about to spend all of my time thinking about the mess at work and the drama that would eventually come from it. I hated when work stayed on my mind so strong that I couldn't focus on having a good time or enjoying myself with my girls.

“What's the matter?” Peta asked.

It was hard, but I tried to catch myself before the others detected that my mind was someplace else. Happy hour was designed for dishing the dirt and hot gossip. Work wasn't supposed be on the brain or on the menu.

“We're going upstairs tonight or what?” Felicia asked.

“For sure.” I tried to shake it off.

“You sure you good?” Peta asked.

My thoughts simply confirmed for me that I hadn't had enough to drink. Most days, I felt invincible at happy hour, but the fact that my stupid client tried to dog me out, and my boss didn't defend me, kind of put a damper on things.

“I'd be a whole lot better if we could get another round,” I said.

All eyes wandered around the room. We searched for our waitress so we could put the order in, but she was nowhere to be found.

“We going upstairs?” I pointed upward.

It was so packed and loud in Eddie V's, I could hardly hear myself think. I was good and fucked up, and I was certain everyone else was, too.

“Yeah, let's go dance,” Felicia said. She began to snap her fingers. “Who all is going upstairs?” I tried to ask again.

Our table was crowded and almost everyone was distracted.

Upstairs at Saint Genvieve, the party was really nice. We finally found seats on the balcony after another group got up right as we walked in.

“Who wants another shot?” When no one raised their hands, I gawked at them.

“Seriously? Y'all gon' make me get fucked up even more by myself?”

“We're already fucked up!” Felicia yelled.

“Peta, are you already on water?” I screamed.

“Shit, I was on water while we were still downstairs. Ivee, we can't keep up with your lush behind. You could probably drink a sailor under the damn table,” she said.

“Thank you for that compliment.” I drained my glass.

Everyone cracked up with laughter again. When the waiter came to our section on the patio, I waved him closer.

“I want you to bring a round of Patrón,” I whispered when he leaned in to me.

He pulled his head up and looked like he tried to get a head count. Since everyone was talking and paid no attention to me, they couldn't talk me out of the last round of the night.

The evening was perfect. The DJ was on point, and all the pretty people must've gotten a free pass to hang out. I loved the vibe and atmosphere, and I especially loved the fact that my girls seemed to be having a real good time.

It didn't matter if it was the headaches at work or Zion and his many issues, drinks on Thursday night made it all better. Or maybe the drinks simply made me feel so good, I was only under the impression that it was better. Either way, when the waiter came back, none of it mattered anymore.

I noticed a few eye rolls, but when all was said and done, they'd drink since the premium liquor had been bought and paid for.

“Okay, y'all; c'mon! It's the last shot of the night,” I announced.

Everyone was slow to claim their shot glasses, but I didn't let that deter me. The waiter placed a cup of lime wedges in the center of the square coffee table that sat between the two sofas we occupied.

“C'mon!” I grabbed one of the tiny glasses and stood. I waited for everyone else to pick up their shot glasses, and then we began. When I saw the shot glasses hoisted in the air, I started our mantra.

It wasn't as loud and boisterous as it usually was, but in unison, we all shouted.

“Up to it! Down to it! We do it because we're used to it! Fuck those that don't do it! Now let's get fucked up!”

We took our drinks to the head at pretty much the same time, and then dropped the glasses when we were done. As usual, the liquid burned as it blazed down my throat. I winced, swallowed hard, and blinked my watering eyes.

“Now, y'all know that was niiiice,” I said.

PETA

T
wo weeks later, I watched my daughter leave for the school bus stop and pitied myself. Quite a bit had happened to me, and I couldn't understand why when it rained, a tsunami had to follow. It was the first time since I could remember that I didn't want to go to happy hour. I was simply not in the mood.

Bills from the trucks' vandalism were taller than a mountain. I decided to have the ladies double up on the two remaining trucks that were not damaged, but that quickly became a nightmare. They couldn't get along.

As I sat and thought about all that had happened, it dawned on me that I'd never called about Kyle's child support check.

The simple thought of his name flooded my mind with memories of the last time we were together. The vision was imprinted on my brain. As usual, it was completely unexpected, but it happened. I tried to block the thoughts, but it didn't work that way. Kyle and I were together more now than during our marriage. The last encounter was last Thursday night, and he had caught me again when I was vulnerable.

“You leaving already?” I asked as I met him at my driveway.

“Y'all gonna get enough of running the streets every week,” he said.

“Really? Why's that?” I asked.

I felt good, and that meant trouble wasn't far behind. It didn't
matter that I had recently had Gordon. Kyle was at the right place at the right time.

“Where's your purse?” Kyle asked.

Suddenly, I looked around and realized I didn't have my purse. It was gone!

“Oh, shit! I 'ont know,” I slurred.

“Maybe it's in the car,” Kyle suggested.

He followed me back to the driveway, reached around me from behind, and opened the door. His scent drove me wild. I wasn't sure if it was his cologne mixed with this fresh night air, but it did something for me. When Kyle climbed into the back seat, for whatever reason, I slipped behind the wheel.

“This shit is crazy, Peta. You go get shit-faced with your girls, and for the life of me, most times, I don't even know how you make it home.”

One minute we were searching the vehicle, the next, I was in the back seat on my back, and Kyle was between my legs. Everything in me screamed to stop him. There were so many issues I had with him and the things he had done to make my life miserable.

But when my lips moved, it was in response to his tongue's push for entry. I sucked his lips, his tongue, and it felt really good—so much so that I didn't want him to stop. My brain felt like it was on autopilot, and the only message that seemed to register was,
Do it, girl! Do it, and enjoy it!

“Jesus, Peta, why you do this to me?” he moaned.

His voice sounded so intense, it was as if he needed me.

We tore at each other's clothes. The small space somehow intensified the action, and I couldn't help but react to everything he did.

“Damn, Kyle. Damn you,” I cried.

It didn't take long. He tore at my shirt, pulled a breast out of my bra and found my stiffened nipple. When he suckled, it felt like the right thing. Everything felt so good, my blood was on fire. My heart felt like it was on speed, and I was so excited.

I clawed at his head and shoulders, and did whatever I could to keep him where he was.

When he came up for air, I sucked at his mouth. He had undone his belt and zipper. He pulled back momentarily, placed the edge of the black-and-gold wrapper between his teeth and ripped it open.

“Hurry, Kyle; hurry.”

I was hungry and on fire.

Once he shielded himself, I grabbed and welcomed him like no man had ventured there in months. Kyle did it all the right way. He knew exactly where to find my spot and what to do once he was there.

“Oh, God, Kyle. Oh, God!”

When he pulled back, I wanted to beg him not to stop. I looked deep into his eyes, and suddenly I felt something strange. I frowned.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

His eyes turned wild, he panted lightly, and I could feel his wild heartbeat.

It was almost as if I'd somehow caught a glimpse of us as we made out like horny teenagers on steroids. I stopped and drew back a little.

“What in the hell are we doing?” I asked.

“Shit, we gettin' it in,” Kyle breathed.

I felt ashamed. I was drunk, scared, and my world had suddenly spun completely out of control.