The Cocktail Club (29 page)

I was baffled by his statement, but there was also a part of me that didn't really care. If he had been screwing Carla or some of the other women, he had done a good job hiding it.

Kevin pecked me on my forehead and left.

As I cleared the table, a funny thought popped into my mind. The way my husband pinched pennies, I doubt I had to worry about
him paying for some ass.

I shouldn't put anything past him because he was still human, and he was still a man, but the way he was, he'd be hard pressed to spend more than twenty-five dollars. And because I handled the books, I fully understood that little bit of change wouldn't get you a simple hello from Carla and the other ladies.

When I finished the kitchen, I decided to take a long bath. My plan was to try and meet with Carla around lunchtime, and that was several hours away.

Upstairs, the scent of vanilla floated out of my Jacuzzi garden tub, and I couldn't wait to get in with a great book. I still had on my robe, so I decided mimosas would make the bath even better.

I went downstairs and pulled a chilled bottle of champagne from the wine cooler. Once I mixed my drink, I poured myself a glass and started back upstairs.

The sound of the doorbell's chime stopped me.

“Shoot, Carla, your timing sucks,” I muttered as I padded over to the front door.

When I pulled it open and saw Chandler, a mixture of fear and excitement shot through my veins.

“Aren't you gonna ask me in?” he asked.

I wanted to slap his face, and then slam the door in it. I wanted to ask if he had gone and lost his rabbit mind. But I didn't. I stood frozen with my door wide open, my hand clutching a flute full of mimosa, and my eyes fixated on my lover at my front door. It finally registered. My lover was at my front door! Obviously, he knew exactly where I lived.

“Okay, not quite what I expected, but here, let me invite myself in,” he said.

Chandler eased past me and used a hand to push the door closed.

“Ah, what are you doing here?” I managed.

“I wanted to see you. I waited 'til he pulled off with the kids and waited for nearly an hour after that before I got out of my car,” he said.

He spoke as if his explanation made complete sense. Did he not know the ethical rules he had shattered when he decided he had to see me at my house?

There was nothing I could do once he was inside. A small part of me had no desire to try to put up a struggle. I watched as Chandler wandered down the hall. He glanced at the pictures that lined the wall, and then he moved into my family room and began to look at the pictures on the mantel. Warning lights flashed brightly in my head.

“It smells good in here,” he said. He turned to look at me and added, “Kind of like bacon, eggs, and vanilla?”

That's when I remembered my bath.

“You have to go. Go, and I will come meet you,” I said.

“I'm going to stay,” he said calmly.

I stared at him in utter disbelief. He hadn't moved an inch.

“You can't. Kevin could come back,” I stammered.

“He won't. It's been more than an hour. He's gone for the day,” Chandler said. He looked around the room again. “So, were you cooking?”

“Oh, no, I was about to take a bath when the doorbell rang,” I said.

His eyebrows inched upward and a twinkle danced in his eyes. When the devilish grin spread across his face, I read what was on his mind. That was another opportunity for me to do the right thing, but I didn't want to.

“You have to go, Chandler.” I didn't sound convincing, but I tried.

He waved his arm in a sweeping movement and smiled.

“After you. Where's the bath? Upstairs?” He tilted his head upward.

“Let's not do this, not here,” I pleaded.

He inched closer and pulled me into his arms. His scent awakened something in me, and I was in trouble. The hold he had over me was like nothing I'd ever felt before. As if in a trance, I put one foot in front of the other and took shaky steps.

Chandler pointed to the drink in my hand. “Oh, wait. Where's the rest of that?”

I motioned silently in the direction of the refrigerator. I used the back of my hand to wipe the moistness from his kiss. He stepped toward the refrigerator, opened the door, and grabbed the glass pitcher.

“Okay. I'm ready now,” he said.

I couldn't move.

“Let's go. I won't do anything you don't want me to,” he whispered.

PETA

I
jumped when I heard the frantic knock at my front door. I looked down at the bloody mess near my feet and felt conflicted.
Has the knocking gone on for an eternity? What if I don't answer? Who was it anyway?

My heart raced as I tried to figure out the best thing to do. It didn't matter who was at the door, they had to have known I was home—both my car and Kyle's were outside. Beverly was going to leave it after her ride came.

My mouth felt dry and my hands were unsteady. When I heard the door open, I didn't know whether I should walk up front to try to keep whoever it was away or simply stand there.

There wasn't much time to decide.

“Peta, sorry. I had to pee,” Beverly said, then suddenly screamed. “Oh, shit! What the hell—” She stumbled back a bit. “What in the hell happened here? Oh, sweet Jesus! Is he—” She started breathing hard. “Oh, God, don't tell me he's—”

I shook my head. I had no idea. I could hardly feel my feet. “I don't know. I don't know,” I repeated.

“What the hell?” Beverly rushed toward us and bent down over Kyle's body. I didn't move a muscle.

I watched as she reached down and pressed a couple of fingers near his neck. I couldn't move.

“Where do you keep your dishtowels?” Beverly asked. She was frantic.

It was an odd question, but I pointed toward the drawer. She moved quickly. She opened it, grabbed a can of vegetables from the pantry, wrapped it in the towel and opened the French doors that stood to the left of the kitchen.

I watched as she used the towel to turn the knob. She stepped outside and then broke one of the windowpanes closest to the lock and came back in. Once back inside, Beverly's wild eyes looked around. She put the towel and can in her purse. Then she grabbed the phone from the counter.

“OH MY GOD!” she cried. “We need an ambulance quickly. We walked in to my boss's house and found someone stabbed on the floor,” Beverly cried. “Hurry! He's lost lots of blood!”

Beverly hung up the phone and looked at me.

“Hurry, go wash your hands,” she said. “Peta, do you hear me talking to you? Go wash your hands!”

I moved over to the sink and washed my hands. They trembled so much I thought they'd fall off.

“I need you to pull it together. We walked in here and found him like this! Stop looking like you saw a ghost.”

A few minutes later, I heard sirens. Everything happened so quickly I could hardly keep up. The moment we heard movement at the door, Beverly guided me down over Kyle's body.

“Put his head in your lap,” she instructed.

I did everything she told me without any questions or resistance.

“Houston Fire Department Paramedics,” a voice announced.

“In here! Over here,” Beverly said. Two uniformed men rushed into the room.

“Ma'am,” one of them said to me. “Let us take over from here.”

I got up and stepped back. I watched as paramedics put a breathing
mask on Kyle's face.

The paramedic looked at me and asked how long we had been in there. I stammered through my answer as Beverly glanced in my direction every few minutes.

An officer asked Beverly to repeat her story.

“Yeah, so we pulled up, and when we came in, there he was,” she said.

“Ma'am, what happened?”

“I-ah, I tried to move the knife,” I stammered.

He wrote that down on his notepad.

“Yeah, that's when I told her not to touch it. I explained to her that he could die if she did,” Beverly chimed in.

The officer looked at her and said, “Yeah, that was very smart.”

He turned his focus back on me.

“Who lives here?” he asked.

“My daughter and I,” I said. “But he came over a lot,” I added.

“She's real shaken up over this,” Beverly said to the officer. “The paramedics had to tell her to move out of the way because she kept trying to help.”

“Yeah, she was cradling his head in her lap,” a paramedic confirmed, “and from what I can tell, he suffered blunt trauma to the back of the head.”

Another officer walked up. He looked at the detective who spoke to Beverly and me and said, “Looks like forced entry over there.” The officer pointed toward the back door where broken glass still lay scattered on the floor.

“Okay,” the detective said.

His glare raked over me, then switched to Beverly. “You do know we are going to interview Mr. Nixon, right?”

Beverly put on a tough-girl stance.

“Shoot, he better tell y'all the truth! We heroes! We saved his
life, if you ask me,” she proudly proclaimed.

The gravity of what I had done fell heavy on my shoulders. Kyle would be dead had Beverly not come in when she did. I stood and watched, but I had no desire to help him.

As far as I was concerned, he had ruined my life, and I didn't feel like he deserved to live. The drinks I'd had may have clouded my judgment a bit, but I was still very pissed.

The detective looked at us for a long while, and I wasn't sure if he wanted to arrest us, or was simply trying to intimidate us with his mean-mug stare. It didn't seem to have any impact on Beverly, but two minutes more, and I would've probably confessed to everything.

“If you don't have any more questions for us, I wanna take her upstairs so she can lie down,” Beverly said.

All I could think was,
What in the world would I have done without her?

“That's it for now,” he said. “But don't go anywhere far. We'll be in touch after we've had a chance to talk to Mr. Nixon.”

“Okay, good. You do that,” Beverly said.

I watched as she walked with him toward the front door.

When she came back alone, she looked at me and frowned.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked.

I shook my head. I had no words. I felt defeated. It was obvious to me that my days of freedom were numbered and none of it really mattered anymore.

“What time does your daughter get home?” she asked.

“Oh, God, Kendal,” I stammered.

“Here, let's get this mess cleaned up. Where's your bleach? You got any candles?” Beverly asked.

DARBY

N
o jury in the state of Texas would ever convict him! All Kevin would need was one sympathetic man or woman who had ever been done wrong before being seated in that box. That's all it would take for him to walk out of jail a free man. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind.

Chandler and I had polished off the mimosas, and I sent him downstairs to get something stronger. What started out in the bathroom as him simply watching as I eased into the tub had taken a turn, and I was completely lost.

I mulled over it for a few seconds. Then I raised my wet leg out of the water and into the air. I was in bliss when Chandler and I were together.

“You are so sexy,” he said.

I turned to see him leaned against the wall as if he'd been watching me. It didn't matter. I basked in the glow of his attention like it was the most natural thing to do.

“So very, very sexy,” he said.

It could've been the alcohol talking, or he could've meant every single word. But it didn't change a thing. We were both so completely out of order, that at times, I stunned myself.

By the time we had finished off the third round of drinks, I had lost all inhabitations and common sense. I moved around the tub like a carefree teen in love.

“You should get in with me,” I teased. “The water's perfect.” I felt good.