Wrong Way Renee

by Wynter Daniels

  “I like you too, Joe. And I'm very attracted to you. But I need a little time. Thank you for understanding.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow or Sunday? Maybe we can rent a movie or something? Or go out, I don't care what we do, I just want to be with you.”

  “How about tomorrow?” The sooner, the better.

  “Okay. I'll be over about six. We can decide what we want to do then.” He walked her to her car, kissing her before she got in. Again, the bulge in his pants pressed into her stomach. “I need to take a cold shower.”

  “You and me both, mister.” She slid into the seat. “Thanks for dinner. You're a multi-talented man.”

  “Just wait.” His eyes sparkled, hinting at pleasures yet to come.

  She knew he'd be worth the wait. But as much as she liked him and knew she could easily fall for him, the prospect of introducing a white man to her family gave her pause. Who needed a cold shower when the image of her mother’s face was all the sobering it took.

  * * * * *

  Just before lunch Saturday morning at the salon, Chantelle's cell played the theme from The Jeffersons. “Mama? What's up?” she asked, then she quickly held the phone away from her ear.

  Renee could hear Chantelle's mom shouting, “You bitch, you rotten bitch.”

  After waiting a moment, Chantelle put the phone back to her ear, laughing. “Oh, Mama, it was a joke…I don't know, I thought maybe you'd meet him… Can't you take a joke?” After a short, less-than-sweet conversation, she put the phone down and continued working, oblivious to the fact that every eye in the salon was fixed upon her.

  Finally, Zoey came over. “Chantelle, was that about Hazel?” Muscles around her jaw visibly tightened.

  Chantelle feigned innocence. “Hmm? What Zoey?”

  “You heard me. Was that about Hazel?”

  “Oh, my mother was venting, that's all.”

  Zoey’s complexion was growing redder by the second. “Did she get a call from Hazel?”

  “Um, yeah, I think so.”

  Zoey tapped her foot. “And?”

  “She told him she wasn't interested. I'm sure she was polite to him. He told her over the phone about his…uniqueness.”

  “You better pray that's how it went down.”

  Chantelle continued filing her client's nails as Zoey stomped away. Chantelle’s poor client was getting her skin filed off too.

  After a tense and unusually silent afternoon, Becky stood in the center of the room and banged the broom handle on the wood floor. “I call a meeting,” she bellowed. Anyone could call a meeting as long as there were no clients in the shop and all the hairdressers and nail techs were there for it. They all stopped their cleaning and sat down.

  “Here's a new rule, ladies.” Becky propped the broom against her chair. “There will be no fixing any client up with any other client, friend or relative. This practice can prove detrimental to our livelihoods. Are we all in agreement?”

  “Yes,” they all muttered.

  “Okay. Meeting adjourned.”

  Renee loved that about Becky. She didn't say much until you really needed her to. Then she stepped right up to the plate with no fanfare and took care of business. With any luck, that would be the end of the strife in the salon.

  * * * * *

  “Is that for me?” Renee gestured toward the gift bag Joe carried as he came inside her apartment to pick her up Saturday night.

  “Nope. It's for my other girl.”

  What? “Who is that?”

  He opened the bag and took out a catnip-stuffed mouse. Grabbing the tail, he dangled it above the floor. “Here, Apple.”

  The cat came scampering over and jumped high enough to snatch the toy from his grasp.

  “Good girl.” He gave Renee a sexy wink. “I thought the best way to your heart might be through your cat. I'm not very subtly trying to win her over. What do you think?” Snaking his hands around her waist, he drew her closer.

  She leaned into him, brushing her lips over his, drinking in his comfort. Desire flared inside her.

  Joe covered her mouth with his, coaxing her lips apart. Not that it took much effort. He tasted minty and sweet. God knew she had a sweet tooth, especially when it came to men. She took her fill of him and he did the same.

  Finally, reluctantly, she pulled away. “Where are we going?”

  “Here's what I had in mind. I thought we'd stop by the Seven-Eleven to pick up a couple hot dogs. Then we'll go out to the mud bogs or watch the demolition derby championships.” His grin gave him away.

  “You scared me there for a minute. What are we really doing?”

  “Okay, you found me out. I'm a lousy liar. Here's the real deal. We're going to a seafood place I know where they have the best shrimp, mussels and clams I've ever had. Do you like shellfish?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Then we'll head to International Drive for a game of miniature golf, which I am really good at, by the way.” He squared his shoulders. “I plan to beat your pants off.”

  She grinned. “You won't get them off any other way. Tonight.”

  He feigned a choking cough. “Anyway, then we'll head to a smoke-free pool hall I know of where I'll beat you at that. After I’ve bested you again, I'll climb a tree and beat on my chest to proclaim my dominance over the weaker sex.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, buddy. The gauntlet has been tossed. Let's go.”

  They had a dinner of shrimp cocktail, steamed mussels and fried clams. Renee had to agree, it was the best shellfish she'd ever had. Joe played footsy with her all through dinner.

  At the Wonders of the Ancient World Miniature Golf Course, they were tied the entire game until the very last hole where Renee got a hole in one. She jumped up and down screaming, “Whew, whew.”

  “Anything you can do, I can do better,” Joe said.

  “You might be able to do it as well as me, but at this point, you can't do it any better.”

  He lined up his shot with his putter, kneeling on the ground to scope out his best plan of attack. He took a full minute to set it up then hit the ball toward the hole. It rolled right around its mark, then veered away. Sinking to his knees, he cradled his head in his hands. “Nooooooo… I'll never hear the end of this. Why, God?”

  “Don't blame him for your lousy shot.” She rested her putter over her shoulder and marched to the cashier hut.

  Joe complained all the way to pool hall. “You cursed me. That's why I missed it. The moon is full and everyone knows that gives women an advantage.”

  “What are you talking about? Admit it, you're an inferior player. Go ahead and say it. Say 'Renee is a better player than I am.' Say it.” They stopped for a red light and she tickled him.

  He squirmed in his seat, doing a poor job of keeping himself from laughing.

  “Say it,” she demanded.

  “Never.”

  When they arrived at the pool hall, Joe carefully picked out a cue. He tested four before deciding on one, rolling each between his hands. Renee chose one of his rejects. She let him break. In fifteen short minutes, she'd handily beaten him.

  He stood there, shoulders drooped, stunned. The second game yielded the same results. She was positively giddy from her win.

  He buried his head in his hands. “I can't believe you beat me.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Face it, I'm better at two games.”

  “I'll never admit defeat.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She took his cue and returned it with hers to the rack. “Ready to go, cowboy?”

  He followed her to his cruiser like a wounded puppy. “At least I can catch bad guys better than you.” He leaned toward her and fixed his smoky stare on her lips. He grazed her cheek with a gentle hand, then raked his fingers through her hair. When he kissed her, it was soft and sweet yet at the same time demanding.

  Heat spread from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes.

  “Ever do it in a police car?” he asked, grinning.
>
  “No.” She stared at him, wide eyed. “Have you?”

  He sat ramrod straight. “Against the rules, ma'am. I'd never do anything like that.”

  “Couldn't beat my pants off, mister. I guess you'll have to get them off me the old fashioned way.”

  He ventured a sideways glance at her. “Will I get that opportunity tonight?”

  “No, sorry. I feel like I have loads of testosterone coursing through my body tonight from my various kills.”

  “Must be where all mine went. That is so not funny.”

  Much as everything inside her wanted to feel Joe’s body next to hers, to hold him all night, she couldn’t bring herself to sleep with him as long as she was also dating Cleave. Soon she’d have to decide between them. And either way, one man would be hurt because of her.

  * * * * *

  Cleave gave Renee a peck on her cheek as she let him into her place Sunday afternoon. Apple circled around his feet, causing him to stumble into a chair.

  “Sorry.” She handed him a glass of ice tea. “She does that to me all the time. I'm such a klutz that I trip when I just think about her getting under my feet. You should try negotiating a room in the dark with her weaving in and out of your path.”

  “I'd like to have that opportunity some time.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “So where are we off to?”

  “I think Jordan's has a great selection of golf clothes. I thought we'd start there.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind. Biting her top lip, she glanced around the room and tried to come up with a reason to nix the Jordan's idea.

  “Is that okay?”

  “I don't like Jordan's any more.”

  “Why is that?”

  She turned away from him and busied herself with straightening a pile of unpaid bills on an end table. “Well…they pulled a bait and switch on some shoes that were on sale. I'm boycotting them.”

  “How about Outdoor World, near International Drive?”

  “Great, that's great.” Relief swept through her.

  An hour later, they found two golf outfits and golf shoes at the store. Cleave insisted on buying all of it for her. He dropped over three hundred bucks like it was nothing. Despite herself, she was impressed. She'd never had a man spend so lavishly on her. Except her father.

  Next, Cleave took her to the restaurant at the country club where they had cobb salad, croissants and appletinis. By time they climbed into a golf cart, she was feeling a little tipsy.

  He talked about the game like it was some sacred rite only the privileged few could understand. He took his time with each shot, lining it up and calculating the best strategy.

  When it was Renee's turn, he stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her to show her how to swing the club. His hands caressed her, moving over her bare arms.

  She had to admit, she enjoyed having him so close and doting on her. Each time she got back in the golf cart, she tried to muster up the courage to ask him if she could drive it. But she didn't want to appear too forward.

  At the fourth green, another cart approached and a young, big-breasted sister asked Cleave if she could get him a beer or wine.

  “What do you think, Renee? Shall we indulge?” he asked.

  “It's not like my game could get any worse. I'll have white zin.”

  By the time they hit the eighth green, she’d polished off the wine. The drink cart approached again as Cleave putted.

  “Another, please,” she told the buxom barmaid.

  Cleave held up his hand. “Nothing for me. I've got to drive. But you have one, Renee.”

  That was all the encouragement she needed. May as well drown her sorrow over her inadequacy as a golfer.

  At the fifteenth green, she eyed their golf cart. “Cleave?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think I could drive that thing?” She tipped her chin toward the cart.

  He sat on the passenger side and grasped the edge of the seat. “Carefully now.”

  It was easier than she'd imagined. As they approached the sixteenth green, she decided to open it up to see how fast a golf cart could go.

  “Slow down,” Cleave warned. “You're too close to the water.”

  “I know how to drive. Will you calm down?”

  “Look out!”

  She took her eyes off the course just long enough to veer left next to the pond. Before she even knew she'd done anything wrong, the cart glided into the water. Thankfully, it was only a foot deep.

  Cleave jumped out and managed to push it back onto the grassy bank. They both had water up to their knees.

  “Oh God, I'm so sorry.” Had she ruined everything with him?

  “Next time listen to me when I tell you something, will you?”

  She lowered her head in a pout. “I said I was sorry.”

  He dropped his shoulders. “No, no. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’m sorry, too.”

  When they emerged from the pond, legs soaking wet, he looked them over and chuckled. Renee resisted at first but then couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing too, partly because she was relieved that his anger had subsided.

  “Remind me next time to give you a golf cart lesson before the golf lesson. I guess we should have put the cart before the course.”

  She doubled over with laughter.

  Cleave called the club office to tell them what had happened and promised to pay for any damages before he hung up.

  Alarm bucked through her. “I'll pay for it. It was my stupidity.” But she knew he'd never let her.

  “No you won't. It's no big deal. It was worth it to see you having such a good time.”

  He’d definitely moved up several notches in her book today. “You're a very generous man. And not just with your money.”

  He led her to his car then placed towels he borrowed from the club on the seats and floor to protect them from the pond water. They drove past Lake Henrietta Shores to Woodland Heights, an exclusive gated community.

  In the stone guardhouse a uniformed man waved them through the gate. They wound their way around a circle of huge two-story homes on large manicured lots. Cleave pulled his car into the drive of a white colonial house with a three-car garage.

  She took the bag with her clothes, got out of the car and strode toward the boat parked at the far end of the garage, her shoes squishing watery footprints on the floor.

  “Nice toys you have.” She ran her hand along the side of the boat. Like his car, it appeared to be very well cared for with a fresh wax job. She wondered if he'd pay as much attention to her if their dates led to a more serious relationship.

  “Come on inside.” He held open the door for her as he switched on the kitchen light.

  It was the most beautiful kitchen she'd ever seen. Dark wood cabinets and floors complimented green marble counter tops and stainless steel commercial grade appliances. A massive cooking island stood in the center with a rack of copper pots hanging over it. As she started to explore, a huge German shepherd bounded into the room, nearly knocking her over.

  She resisted her natural reaction to scream since Cleave immediately grabbed the animal by his collar. “Down, boy. Sit, Duke.”

  When the dog complied, she set her hand over her chest. Her heart was beating a wild tattoo against her ribs. “I'm sorry. I'm afraid of big dogs. He's beautiful, though.” She tried to gather the nerve to pet him but with the animal’s teeth bared at her, she decided against it.

  “Thank you. Good boy, Duke. He's a great watchdog. Let me show you around.” He led her through the house.

  Every room was neat but sparsely furnished as if no one lived there. Duke followed them wherever they went, making her a little nervous. She made sure to stay right next to Cleave for protection.

  The kitchen opened to a big family room with soaring cathedral ceilings, a stone fireplace and a view of the pool area. The furniture was cozy and warm in shades of brown and gold. The family room led to a foyer with the sam
e high ceilings. To the right was a formal dining room, to the left, the living room.

  She followed him to the master bedroom. Two closets with mirrored doors formed an entrance hallway into the bathroom. A white marble vanity held two sinks, each with a mirror surrounded by lights. The shower was the size of her whole bathroom. Leaded glass windows flanked a sunken Jacuzzi tub on three sides.

  “You should find everything you need in that drawer.” He gestured to the sink vanity.

  “It's beautiful, Cleave. The whole house is.”

  “As you saw, two of the bedrooms are unfurnished and the living room needs some work. Go ahead and take a bath or shower. I'll make us some hot chocolate.” He left, thankfully taking Duke with him.

  Renee felt like a princess in the luxurious suite. She opened the drawer to find scented soaps, lotions, bath salts, shampoos and conditioners. After choosing milk-and-honey scented bath products, she slid into the inviting tub and turned on the jets. She was in heaven.

  When her fingers and toes looked like prunes, she finally got out, slathered lotion all over, then slipped on the terrycloth robe. Leaving her clothes in the bedroom, she headed downstairs to get the hot chocolate Cleave had promised.

  She found him in the kitchen wearing a clean polo shirt and shorts looking every bit the first black cover model for Home and Leisure.

  “I showered in the guest room.” He handed her a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  “You're fast.”

  “Actually, you're slow. But I wanted you to take your time to relax in there. What do you think of my little retreat?”

  “Little? I wouldn't say that. It's…heavenly. You certainly keep it well stocked. Is that for the parade of women in your life?” She sipped her drink and eyed him with amusement.

  He moved close to her, so close she could smell his cologne. “I don't have a parade of women in my life. I have very discriminating taste. Which is why I wanted you to come over.”

  She swallowed hard. “So I guess I should be flattered.”

  “I'm the one who's flattered because you're here with me looking quite sexy in that robe, I might add.”