Breakfast in Bed

by Rochelle Alers

  There came another moment of silence. “Who is she?”

  “She’s a chef who will oversee the restaurants at the DuPont Inn once it’s up and running.”

  “When am I going to meet her?”

  Gage chuckled. “It’s not what you think, Mom. Tonya and I are friends who happen to be chefs, divorced, and have children in their early twenties.”

  “I didn’t ask if you’re getting married. I just want to meet the woman who can get my son to take some time out his hectic schedule to have some fun.”

  “I must admit I enjoy being with her.” The admission rolled off his tongue so easily that Gage hadn’t had to think about it.

  “Good for you.”

  He maneuvered down the street leading to his condo and found a parking spot in front of it. “I’m home now, Mom, so I’m going to hang up so I can shower and change.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon. Love you, son.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Gage disconnected the Bluetooth, and then sat staring out the windshield. He had admitted to his mother what he had been reluctant to admit to himself. Not only did he enjoy spending time with Tonya, but he was beginning to like her and want for their friendship to become much more. He wanted to become her lover.

  He realized both of them had had previous unhappy marriages that ended in divorce, yet both were mature enough to be able engage in a no-strings-attached relationship, to enjoy whatever they were willing to offer each other. Gage turned off the engine. Sitting in the vehicle thinking about Tonya and the possibility of their having an ongoing relationship was premature on his part, and he did not want to come on too strong or get ahead of himself, because she may not be that into him.

  He finally got out and unlocked the door leading to the courtyard. Hopefully, before the night ended he would know exactly where he stood with Tonya, because it would be their first official date.

  * * *

  Tonya had quickly come to the conclusion that most of her clothes, other than her chef’s tunic and checkered pants, were black. When, she mused, had she become the quintessential New Yorker sporting the ubiquitous black year-round? The daytime temperatures had dropped to the mid-forties, so she decided a black wool gabardine pantsuit, silk shell, and a pair of matching kitten heels would be appropriate for the evening.

  She paid special attention to putting on makeup, something she had not been used to since moving to New Orleans. It was a blatant reminder that she had had little or no social life over the past few years, which translated into not having that many dates since her divorce. Joining co-workers for get-togethers did not count as dates, and the few times she and Darius had gone out in the year since she saw him exclusively were unremarkable.

  Tonya peered at her reflection in the mirror over the bathroom vanity as she washed her hands. The deep raspberry color on her lips matched the faint shade under her eyebrow and the blush on her cheeks. Pleased with the results of her handiwork, she returned to the bedroom to fill the small cross-body bag with her cell phone, tiny compact, lipstick, mints, and tissues. She smiled when recalling what she had mentioned to Gage about carrying pepper spray. Whenever she knew she was coming home late, even if it was with a car service, she made certain to take the canister out of her bag before getting out of the car.

  The doorbell rang, and she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was exactly eight o’clock. She had left the main gate open for him.

  She left the bedroom and walked across the living room to the door. Peering through the security eye, she saw Gage. Smiling, she opened the door, her breath catching in her chest when he stood there dressed completely in black: mock V-neck sweater, slacks, and shoes. Her gaze lingered on his smooth, shaven jaw before moving up to the professionally barbered salt-and-pepper strands.

  “It looks as if great minds think alike,” he said, smiling. “We’re both wearing black,” he added when her eyebrows lifted, questioning.

  “You’re right. I didn’t realize until I went through my closet that I had so many black clothes.”

  His lids lowered over his eyes. “I didn’t think you could improve on perfection, but you have.”

  Heat flooded Tonya’s face with the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready?”

  She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and chest. “Yes.”

  Gage closed the self-locking door, making certain it was firmly shut, then reached for Tonya’s hand. “I reserved a table for us at Jazzes. I’m sitting in for the keyboard player for one number, so we’ll have time to sit together and enjoy the music.”

  “Do you play there every weekend?” she asked as they followed the path to the front of the main house.

  “Just say I play there most weekends. Fridays are amateur nights, but it’s always the house band on Saturday. Most of the guys in the band grew up together, so whenever I need a break, there’s always someone willing to step in.”

  “Do you always play the trumpet?” she asked as he opened the passenger-side door and helped her up. She stared down at him staring up at her, trying to see his expression in the diffused light coming from stanchions along the path leading up to the main house.

  Gage closed the door and came around to sit beside her. “Yes. It’s my favorite instrument. Even when I began taking piano lessons I aspired to be like Louis Armstrong, so when I went to middle school and took band, I selected the trumpet.” He pushed the start-engine button, and the distinctive voice of Maxwell filled the SUV. “I can change the music if you want.”

  “No, please leave it. I really like his music.”

  “What other male vocalists do you like?”

  “I’m partial to Anthony Hamilton.”

  Gage nodded, smiling. “He’s a throwback to old school R and B. When it comes to R and B, I happen to like Jaheim. I never get tired of hearing his ‘Remarkable.’ ”

  “I don’t recall if I’ve ever heard that song.”

  “I’ll play it for you whenever you come over again.”

  Shifting into gear, Gage circled the driveway and drove along the winding path. Within seconds of the rear wheels driving over the metal plate, the gates closed automatically. He reached for Tonya’s left hand, holding it in his loose grasp as he steered with his free hand.

  “I can’t say it enough, but I love cooking with you.”

  “It’s the same with me.”

  He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I find that I can’t keep my hands off you, and I must confess I can’t remember if a woman has ever affected me like this.”

  “What about your ex-wife?”

  Gage sucked in his breath, held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling. He had mentioned to Tonya that he wanted to have an honest relationship with her, and that meant she had a right to know about his past. “I had a very unconventional relationship with my ex. She used to come into a club where I used to play, and one night in a moment of madness I went home with her and we had unprotected sex. We continued to sleep together, but always using protection, but I guess the first time proved to be the wrong time, because she came to me a couple of months later to tell me she was pregnant. Three weeks later we tied the knot and moved into an apartment not far from Bourbon Street.”

  He revealed how within weeks of their living together Winnie complained bitterly because she wanted to live in a big house with someone to come in and clean for her. Chez Toussaints was open full-time, and he left for work at dawn and returned home twelve hours later to find his wife in bed watching television while the sink was filled with unwashed dishes and dirty clothes were stacked in piles around the house.

  “And because she claimed she didn’t feel well, I decided not to press her about coming home to a dirty house. After Wesley was born, it didn’t get any better. There were times when she left the boy with her parents and disappeared for hours. And when she returned home she pretended nothing had happened. One day I found a stack of money she’d hidden in a draw
er, and when I confronted her about it, she said she had gotten a part-time job to save enough money so we could buy the house she wanted. I later found out she was sleeping with a man over in another parish. When I confronted her she promised to stop, and she did, but only for a while.”

  “How long were you married?” Tonya asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Six years. I only stayed because of my son.”

  Gage knew he couldn’t tell Tonya that the final straw was when Winnie revealed Wesley wasn’t his son, that she didn’t know who had fathered the child because she had been sleeping with several men at the same time. They mutually agreed not to tell Wesley that Gage wasn’t his biological father, and even after the divorce he continued to provide monetary support for the child. However, she broke her promise when Wesley turned fifteen and she told him Gage wasn’t his father, that she was pregnant when she first slept with him, and she didn’t know who his father was. The disclosure resulted in a downward spiral for the adolescent.

  “Wesley was fifteen when his mother moved to Baton Rouge, and that’s when his life changed dramatically. He and his mother were drinking and drugging together. I tried to get custody of him, but my ex fought me, because she knew she would lose the child support. The judge denied my request when she agreed they would both go into treatment. Even after a number of stays in a residential treatment program, Wesley can’t stay clean. Last year I gave him an ultimatum to come work at the restaurant, and if he manages to stay clean, I’ll buy him a car and help him get an apartment.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Twenty. He managed to finish high school and get into a local junior college, but he’s missed so many classes they keep flunking him. Then the police contacted me instead of his mother because he’d been arrested for driving under the influence. The judge revoked his license for six months, and I took back the car I’d given him. If he’s able to stay out of trouble I’ll give him back the car, but that can’t happen until April.”

  * * *

  Tonya digested what Gage had just revealed and knew what he was going through. Her brother had started out selling drugs, and in the end they were responsible for taking his life. “I’ve worn out my knees praying my daughter will stay away from drugs or anything that will derail her education. But that’s not to say she won’t meet a knucklehead who could sabotage everything she’s worked so hard to achieve.”

  Gage gave her a quick glance. “Is that what happened to you?” he asked perceptively.

  She nodded. “I met my ex in high school, and we were practically inseparable. I’d just completed my second year of college when I found out I was pregnant. We married right away, and three months later I lost the baby. I’d planned to go back to college, but Samuel insisted I wait because he wanted a family. I had two more miscarriages before I finally had Samara. By that time I was almost thirty, and I knew I would never have any more children.”

  “When did you go back to school?”

  “Samara was school age, and by that time I knew I wanted to become a chef. My ex put up every roadblock he could to keep me from succeeding, and it got so bad, I left him, filed for divorce, and sent my daughter to live with my parents while I attended classes in Rhode Island. I missed Samara, but in the end I knew the sacrifice was worth it.”

  Gage squeezed her fingers again. “Of course it was worth it, babe. You have a daughter you can be proud of, and I’m certain she’s proud of you, because you’re an incredible chef.”

  Tonya averted her head at the same time she blinked back unshed tears, because she wanted to cry for Gage’s son. Once her brother started using, he alienated himself from his parents. Every once in a while Ian would call her, and they would talk for hours. He would admit going cold turkey, remain clean for months, once even for several years; but then he would relapse, because drugs took him to another place where nothing mattered. Tonya had just celebrated her thirty-eighth birthday when she got the call to come down to the coroner’s office to identify a body. The only identification the police found on him was her name and telephone number. The hardest thing she had ever had to do was tell her parents that their son had died from a drug overdose. Her father arranged for Ian to be cremated. It was years later they were able to talk about Ian and why he’d chosen the life he did, but they were still not able to come up with an answer, except that dealing drugs was exciting and his career as a therapist dull and monotonous in comparison.

  Talking about their past cast a pall over the occupants of the vehicle as all conversation stopped, and there was only the sound of Maxwell’s melodious voice singing “Fortunate.” Pressing her head against the headrest, Tonya closed her eyes and listened to the music until Gage pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the jazz club. She waited for him to get out and come around to assist her after he retrieved the jacket from the rear seat. Even though she was wearing two-inch heels, he still towered over her, and she made a mental note that the next time they went out together for an evening affair she would wear stilettos.

  A small crowd had gathered at the front door, waiting to gain admittance to the popular music venue. “We’re going around the back to the employees’ entrance,” Gage whispered in her ear.

  Tonya smiled. There had been a time when she had been willing to wait on line for hours to get into a concert or sporting event, but those days were in her past. Holding on to Gage’s hand, she followed him around the building, where a man who’d been taking a smoke break opened the door for them. Gage led her past a kitchen and into the club, where tables were quickly filling up with those who had come to eat, drink, and listen to live music.

  Chapter 14

  Gage removed the “Reserved” sign from a table that was positioned with an unobstructed view of the stage and seated Tonya. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair opposite hers. “I’ll be right back, as soon as I let the band know I’m here.”

  Tilting her chin, she smiled up at him. She had met Gage for the first time three weeks ago, yet it felt as if she had known him much longer. Hannah had confided to her that at their age they were mature enough to know what they did or did not want. Within minutes of reuniting with St. John and learning that he was no longer married, Hannah knew she wanted more than friendship. Now it was Tonya’s turn to decide what she wanted. She could not deny the physical attraction that was evident, but was she willing to take their friendship to the next level?

  Keep an open mind, the silent voice reminded her. Whenever faced with a quandary, the inner voice would remind her not to overthink or overanalyze a situation. After all, she and Gage were adults with adult children, and potential grandparents.

  Gage returned with a food and beverage menu. He shifted a chair and sat next to her, resting an arm over her shoulders. “Let me know what you want to eat, and I’ll have one of the waitstaff get it for you.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “What are you having?”

  He pressed his mouth to the diamond stud in her lobe. “I’ll eat later. I’m only playing one set, so after that I’m all yours.”

  “What if I wait for you to eat?”

  “You don’t have to, Tonya.”

  “I want to. What do you want me to order for you?”

  “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  Tonya gave the menu a cursory glance, and then recalled the tapas she had sampled. “The last time I was here I had tasso shrimp, crawfish with morel mushrooms, and deviled crab.”

  Gage smiled. “Have you ever tried the oysters en brochette?”

  “No.”

  “I recommend you add the oysters and the spicy garlic shrimp. I’ll tell the waiter to bring our order in half an hour. Meanwhile, what do you want to drink?”

  “I’d like a glass of prosecco.”

  Tonya watched as Gage approached a waiter to give the young man their order. Everything about his body language communicated relaxed confidence. It was apparent he was comfortable and content with his curren
t lifestyle, while she still hadn’t settled into hers. She enjoyed cooking and baking for Chez Toussaints and dating a man who, unknowingly, was the missing piece to make her life complete. Before relocating to New Orleans she thought she had it together, but interacting with Gage was a constant reminder that she had been in denial—that she did want a man in her life.

  Gage returned to the table and brushed a light kiss over her mouth; she held onto his arm until he deepened the kiss. It ended, and he stared at her, complete surprise freezing his features. “Thank you,” Tonya said breathlessly against his parted lips. Easing back slightly, she rubbed her nose over his smooth cheek and inhaled the cologne mingling with his body’s natural masculine scent.

  He smiled. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, but I like it.”

  Tonya stared up at him from under lowered lids. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his mouth. “I’ll tell you later. And lipstick doesn’t become you,” she teased.

  Gage blinked once. “Ms. Martin, are you flirting with me?”

  She winked at him. “As a matter of fact I am. Does that bother you?”

  “Hell, no! To tell you the truth, you don’t flirt enough. There was a time when I thought maybe you didn’t like me very much.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Toussaint, because I happen to like you a lot.”

  His expressive eyebrows lifted a fraction. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Roll with it.”

  Gage made the peace sign with his fingers. “We’re going to have a lot fun together.”

  “You promise?”

  He nodded. “Promise.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got to meet the guys in the dressing room, so I’ll see you later.”

  She watched his retreating back until he disappeared from view. A waitress wearing a white shirt, black slacks, shoes, and a red bowtie approached her table, balancing a tray on her shoulder. She set a coaster stamped with the club’s logo on the table, along with napkins, two place settings, small plates, and a glass of prosecco.