The Secrets of Paradise Bay (6 page)

Trey sat across the booth at the Paradise Bay Restaurant from Helene DeCroch, his former lover and the wife of one of his best customers, millionaire hotel owner Grant DeCroch. At thirty, Helene was as beautiful as she was graceful, and could be a look alike to the sleek actress Audra McDonald. The two had met at the grand opening of her husband's newest hotel seven months ago, and sexual sparks flew, culminating in a brief but intense affair. It was one Trey deeply greatly regretted for the trouble it had caused him. Neither ever had any intentions of walking away from their marriage—only succumbing to mutual attraction and needs for the moment.

Even after the affair ended, the two had remained friends and confidants. Trey had become dependent upon Helene's platonic friendship, filling the void for what was missing emotionally at home.

“Thanks for coming,” Trey told her.

“I was happy to,” Helene stressed, tossing back stylishly short hazel hair. “That's what friends are for, Trey.”

He smiled, wondering for an instant how his life might have been had he met Helene first, assuming she had been single and available. The thought dissipated as Trey realized that Ivana would always be his soul mate and he couldn't imagine life without her.

“You truly are a good friend, Helene.”

She blushed and then trained bold café au lait eyes on him. “So tell me what's wrong, Trey.”

“Where do I start? Last night I made love to my wife for the first time in months.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Trey stressed. “Just the opposite.”

“So what's the problem?”

“The problem is, this morning, Ivana let me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't ready to resume an intimate relationship with me and I shouldn't expect what happened between us to happen again anytime soon. Apparently last night was just a damned aberration and not a real step forward in our marriage.”

“It was a step forward,” Helene said. “Maybe a baby step. Just be patient with her.”

“I've been nothing but patient for the past six months. I love my wife and really want to give her all the time she needs. But then I say to myself, ‘Are we simply going in circles forever with this to forgive and not to forgive? Or am I being the typical male who just doesn't get it?'”

“She's hurting, Trey. I would be too if it was my man who turned to another woman. No matter how much I wanted to accept his apologies and promises that it would never happen again. In the back of my mind, I'd always wonder if he could meet someone else to start sleeping with behind my back.”

Trey grunted. Grant was twenty years Helene's senior and treasured his wife, as far as Trey knew. But that didn't mean the man walked on water and wasn't vulnerable to the right temptation if it came along.

“Grant isn't that crazy,” he told her anyhow, knowing what a good catch she was for someone else.

“And you are?” Helene eyed him with her face tilted.

Trey shifted uneasily. “Maybe I was a little crazy at the time.”

“We probably both were. But for all the right reasons.”

Trey wasn't so sure about that. Was there ever any reason to stray from someone you loved? He enjoyed the intimate time spent with Helene more than he cared to admit, while filling a void in both their lives. He still wished he could take it all back, though. It wasn't worth the aftermath.

“I gave Ivana a diamond bracelet as a small token of my love,” Trey said thoughtfully over his cocktail. “I probably haven't done enough of that lately, yet somehow it never seems to be enough.”

“Oh, honey, don't beat yourself up. I promise you she loved the bracelet and still loves you. Women are very good at feeling sorry for themselves. We take it out on our men, even when we know that they're as human as we are and can make mistakes—sometimes nearly unforgivable ones.” She put a warm hand on his. “Trust me when I tell you that no matter how wishy-washy Ivana has been, she wants this marriage to work. I know firsthand just how tender and passionate you are as a lover; as well as your gentle nature as a man. So does she, deep down. Ivana will come all the way around. Let her do so her own way. She knows what a good heart you have.”

“And I know what a good one you have,” Trey said, realizing just how much he hoped Grant did 'til the day he died.

Helene colored. “I'm sure Grant appreciates me, even if he doesn't always show it.” She removed her hand. “So when do I get to meet this brother of yours—or do I?”

Trey didn't want to add fuel to the fire by suggesting to Clyde that he was still seeing Helene. On the other hand, she was a good friend and there was no real harm in introducing Clyde to her.

“Of course you do. I'd be happy for you to meet Clyde. I'll arrange it.”

Helene gave Trey an understanding look. “Has it been rough for him trying to adjust to being on the outside?”

“So far, so good, knock on wood. Clyde seems to have mellowed out a bit. Maybe through years of soul-searching, he's ready to finally get his act together. I've given him a job in hopes that he might want to someday partner up with me. Or at least stick around long enough to get some stability in his occupational life.”

“That's wonderful, Trey. I'm sure your brother can use his big brother's support right now. Working together is a nice way to build bridges.”

Trey agreed. “There's been too much water under the bridge, so to speak. I hope we can put our differences behind us and just go from here.”

“I don't see why not,” Helene said, lifting her drink. “Family is supposed to stick together, through thick and thin. Just like true friends . . .”

“I'll drink to that,” Trey said, and hoisted his wineglass. “Here's to family unity and unbreakable friendships.”

Their glasses clicked and Trey felt better for it. Now for the hard part—trying to figure out precisely what it would take to win Ivana over on every level while remaining true to himself.

 

 

“This is our showroom,” Trey told Clyde, displaying an array of shiny new cars on multiple levels.

“It's cool,” Clyde said, trying hard not to feel resentment toward his brother for making success seem so easy, while his own life had been so damned hard with every step he took. Maybe things were finally about to change for the better.

“Edwin, get over here,” ordered Trey.

Clyde watched the thirtysomething, stocky man in a tight-fitting navy suit approach.

“Clyde, this is Edwin Turner, my top salesman.”

Edwin stuck his hand out. “So you're the little brother Trey can't seem to stop talking about?”

“Not so little.” Clyde grinned crookedly while looking down on him. “And don't believe everything you've heard.”

“Only the good things, right?” joked Edwin.

“Yeah.”
What bad things has Trey said about me? Does every one of his employees know I've just gotten out of prison
?

“Well, if you need any pointers on sales technique that Trey can't answer, come to me.”

“Yeah, I'll do that.”

Trey indicated that a customer had come in, and Edwin excused himself.

“Looks like you run a tight ship here, bro,” Clyde said, unsure whether to be impressed or concerned that he might not fit in.

Trey made no apologies. “Wouldn't be where I am today if I didn't.”

“I suppose not.”
And maybe I'd be somewhere different at this time in my life if I didn't always have to stand in your shadow
.

“Let me show you the rest of the place.”

Clyde followed him as they entered Trey's office, which included various framed awards and photographs with local civic leaders and celebrities.

“Nice,” Clyde said, as though compelled to.

“Just comes with the territory,” Trey downplayed.

In the next office over, a woman was talking snappily on the phone. “Those cars were due yesterday, Fred. I don't want to hear your lame excuses. Just get it done!”

She cut the conversation short when noticing Trey and Clyde.

“Stella, this is my brother, Clyde,” Trey introduced. “Stella Rockwell is my assistant manager. She's been with us from the very beginning.”

Stella got out from behind her desk. “Nice to meet you, Clyde.”

“Same here.” While shaking hands, he briefly studied the forty-something, medium-sized woman sporting a dark-kinky twist, and silver glasses.

“Clyde's going to be working with us,” Trey said.

“Oh?” Stella was clearly surprised.

“Yes. He'll take Larry's office.”

“Uh, all right,” she muttered. Her phone rang. “I have to get that.”

“Don't let us stop you,” Trey said.

Stella gave him a dirty look and said to Clyde, “I'll talk to you later.”

“Sure.” In the corridor Clyde said uneasily, “That seemed to go over well.”

Trey half smiled. “Don't worry about it. Stella's just having one of her moods. Sometimes I think she takes this job way too seriously.”

“Yeah, sounds like someone else I know,” cracked Clyde.

Trey pulled his nose wryly. “You think?”

“It's probably infectious around here. So who's this Larry anyway?”

Trey led them into a corner office. “He used to work here as our sales manager—'til I had to let him go for spending too much work time on the Internet in porn sites.”

Clyde couldn't help but chuckle. “Guess he found something there he wasn't getting elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” conceded Trey. “No substitute for the real thing, as far as I'm concerned.”

“True,” Clyde said, wondering when that might come his way.

“Anyway, that's his problem, and this is your office.”

Clyde looked around, feeling not too surprisingly out of place. He kept it to himself. “I'll try not to let you down.”

“You won't,” Trey said confidently. “More importantly, Clyde, try not to let yourself down. This is a chance for you to step up to the plate and make it count.”

That's what I'm afraid of
, thought Clyde,
striking out and ending up back where I started
. Not if he could help it. He only wanted his piece of the pie. Maybe a little more.

He just wasn't sure he'd find it there.

Ivana went shopping at a fashionable boutique for some new clothes, simply because she could. Ever since her modeling days, she'd appreciated wearing the top designer clothing. She used to wear either to impress or because they made her feel beautiful and sexy. Now it was all about buying what her husband could afford and replacing those clothes that had become too large or hopelessly outdated.

She noticed an attractive African American woman around her age with a baby stroller. The little girl inside had to be around six months old. She was pretty, with loads of dark hair. It made Ivana think about how nice it would have been had Catherine been born a healthy child with a bright future ahead.

The thought was depressing, making Ivana long for a martini to soothe her nerves and make her forget. At least for a short while.

She stopped at a nearby lounge for a few drinks—three or four, she'd lost count. That didn't prevent her from wanting another before heading home. Only the bartendar seemed to have a problem with that.

“Sorry, ma'am, but I think you've reached your limit.”

“I think I haven't,” Ivana retorted. “Give me another martini now!”

“No can do,” the man insisted. “You need to go home now.

“Either you give me a drink or I'll get it myself,” Ivana slurred the words.

“I don't think so. We could lose our license in serving someone who has definitely already had too much. Sorry.”

Ivana glared. “Screw you—and your damned lounge.” She got up and stumbled before sitting back down. Her head spun a little and Ivana wondered if she could even make it to her car, much less drive home.

“Is there someone you can call to come and get you?” the bartender asked.

The first person that came to mind was not her husband, but his brother. Ivana had a feeling that unlike Trey, Clyde was not one to pass judgment.

Clyde was admittedly surprised as hell when he received a call from Ivana, of all people. Not that he had anything against talking with his damned good-looking sister-in-law. Quite the contrary, he enjoyed hearing her voice and being around Ivana—maybe too much.

The last thing he expected to hear her say was that she needed a ride home from a bar. Other than when she requested he not mention a word about it to Trey.

Clyde left work early, saying only that he had a few things he needed to take care of. Trey accepted this, giving him plenty of leeway in adjusting to being on the outside and working for him. Clyde appreciated this, even if it meant not being straight with Trey where it concerned his own wife. But Ivana obviously had her reasons for not wanting him to know that she'd apparently had too much to drink.

Clyde entered the lounge and saw Ivana sitting all by her lonesome at the table, looking lost in her own world.

“Ivana,” he said, getting her attention.

She looked up through bloodshot eyes. “Thanks for coming.”

“Not a problem. You want to get out of here?”

“Yes.” Ivana stood on wobbly legs.