by Leighton, M.
She smiled back at him and they simply stared at each other for a few seconds, like each was hesitant to bring an end to the poignant moment they were sharing. I could see why. I was moved by their interaction, too.
Sophie, however, hadn’t had any such reservations about interrupting. “Come on, Izz. Get in the car so we can get back. Mommy’s not feeling well.”
I threw a withering look over at Sophie, who didn’t look too happy with the way things were going. She was all smiles when we left the testing center, but her mood had soured progressively throughout supper. I’m sure my presence threw a wrench in her diabolical plan. And the fact that I was participating with Cash and Isabella more than she was seemed to be going over like a lead balloon, which only made my disposition that much brighter.
The ride back consisted of Isabella, who I’d insisted sit in the front seat with Cash, changing radio stations and Cash chiming in with made-up words to whatever song she happened to land on. I found myself laughing at him along with her on several occasions while Sophie sat morosely to my right, staring out the window.
Numerous times, I’d looked up to find Cash watching me in the rearview mirror, his black eyes flashing happily. It warmed me through and through to see him this way. It also reinforced my determination to try at every possible opportunity to make a baby with him. He was meant to be a husband and father. That much was plain to see.
Back at Dual, the four of us make our way through the front doors. Cash and I have both taken to using the front entrance since Sophie and Isabella are in residence at the back.
We walk in to find that Gavin has already arrived. He’s on the phone, but he greets us each with a nod as we file past him. He gestures for Cash to wait, so when Cash turns to me, I give him a preemptive wave and tell him, “Take your time. I’m going to go call Dad. See if he needs anything as I come home.”
I follow Sophie and Isabella to the back, where Sophie rushes Isabella straight through the second door and into the apartment. She slams it shut without so much as a thank you or a kiss my ass. I just roll my eyes. She’s simply an ungrateful bitch. That’s all there is to it.
I settle in to Cash’s executive chair and dial Dad’s cell.
“How’d it go?” Dad finally asks after he grudgingly gives me a full account of his day and what he’s eaten, as well as a full health assessment. I know he hates having to answer all my questions, but that doesn’t stop him from humoring me. He knows I mean well and that it’s only because I love him that I keep such a close eye on him.
“Just fine. Mostly,” I add, glaring at the closed door and Sophie behind it.
She’s probably eavesdropping on my conversation, that classless ho!
I’d called to make sure Dad would be okay for the day before we left. He sounded fine and insisted that I go. He seems fine now, too, which tells me that it won’t be long before he’s going to want to go back home to Salt Springs.
“Don’t let her get to you, hon. Just remember that she wouldn’t bother to antagonize you if you didn’t have something she wanted. And you do. You have Cash. He’s happily married to the most beautiful woman in Georgia. There’s not a woman on the planet who stands a chance with him and I’m sure this Sofa person knows it.”
I laugh outright at Dad’s purposeful slip, thinking to myself that she’s probably seen more ass than a sofa.
I’ll have to remember and tell Ginger that one. She’ll appreciate it.
“I know, Dad, but thanks for the reminder. So, I was calling to see if you needed anything as I come home.”
“Not a thing, but don’t rush. I’m enjoying some old boxing matches that ESPN is airing. It’s Sugar Ray Leonard day and I know how you hate boxing.”
I grin. “Are you trying to say that you want me to stay out a little longer, Dad?”
“Of course not! This is your house and you’re welcome in it whenever you feel like coming home. All I’m saying is that if you have something else you’d rather do, I’ll be perfectly fine and entertained until I fall asleep in this chair.”
“Well, I guess I could hang around here for a while and catch up on a few things.”
“I know how much you love your job and spending time with that husband of yours. You don’t need to explain to me. Stay as long as you want. I’m good to go right where I am.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m positive.”
“And if you need something…anything…you’ll call, right?”
“Absolutely. You think I wanna suffer the wrath of Olivia by not calling?”
“Keep it up, mister, and I’ll bring some chick flicks home and we can have a father-daughter movie night.”
“I’m feeling very tired all of a sudden…”
I laugh again. “You just remember that. Call if you need me.”
“Will do, hon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
My lips retain their curve as I sit staring at the phone, thinking of how lucky I am to have a father like mine. If left with just my mother while I was growing up, it’s hard to tell where I’d be today.
Which makes me think of Isabella. She might well be in the same predicament. And Cash might well be the one person who can save her from a life of who-knows-what.
The door behind me clicks open and I turn to see Isabella easing out and closing it quietly behind her. She walks over to me, twisting her little fingers nervously, and stops just a couple of feet away.
“Is something wrong, Isabella?” I ask.
She nods. “My mom is sick. She asked if someone could work her shift tonight. She said she will make it up tomorrow night.”
I guess it’s a good thing Dad doesn’t need me tonight. “Of course,” I reply gently. I almost choke on my next words, which I manage to utter more for this little girl’s benefit than her wretched mother’s. “Is there something I can do?”
She shakes her head negatively. Thank God.
“Are you feeling okay?”
She nods, her eyes brightening up.
“Maybe Cash could take you out for some ice cream a little later. Give your mom some time to rest.”
She nods again, very enthusiastically. “My mom wanted him to take me out for a while so she can rest.”
I keep my pleasant expression intact, despite my awful thoughts. “Cash would love that! Should we go tell him?” I ask, standing and holding out my hand. I’m not sure why I offer it. She’s nine. It’s not like she needs her hand held. But for some reason, I feel like holding it. And she must feel like having it held because she takes it, curling her fingers lightly around mine.
We walk out to find Cash deeply embroiled in a conversation with Gavin, one I don’t want to ask too much about since I have a child in tow. They both turn to look at us.
“Sophie isn’t feeling well, so I’ll work her shift tonight. And this little lady is in desperate need of some ice cream. Think you could help out with that?”
Cash’s face softens when he looks down at Isabella. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s ice cream.” Isabella grins that cute little grin of hers. I can practically see Cash melting. “There are just a couple of things I need to do before we go. Can I come and get you in a few minutes?”
Isabella nods and turns to run back the way we came. We all watch her go.
“Call me when you hear from him. Day or night, doesn’t matter. I want to know what she’s up to,” Cash tells Gavin when he turns back around.
“Will do, mate,” Gavin replies with a nod.
“Who are we talking about?” I ask.
“Gavin’s contact. The guy I told you he’d asked to look into Sophie.”
“What do you think she’s up to?”
“I don’t know, but something’s going on. I can feel it. She hasn’t changed that much and Sophie always had a devious mind.”
Even though he didn’t mean his words to encourage me, I’m still encouraged. I’m encouraged that Sophie hasn’t gotten her claws into my husban
d, that she hasn’t fooled him.
Deep down, I knew I didn’t have anything to fear, but it’s hard not to let worry invade just a little bit. I love Cash and he loves me, and I trust him, but a woman like her…with designs on a man…and no moral qualms about taking what’s not hers…it’s hard to know what lengths she’ll go to in order to get what she wants. I wouldn’t put anything past her. It’s her that I don’t trust, not Cash. Never Cash.
But hearing that my husband isn’t falling for it, whatever “it” is, knowing that his guard isn’t down no matter how relaxed he might seem, makes me feel better. Heart and soul and all the way down to my toes.
φφφφφφφφ
It feels good to be back behind the bar. It feels normal, and normal is very welcome at a time when most everything else feels out of control. It’s like being in my happy place where there’s no worry of pregnancies or paternity or conniving exes. Just the crowd and the bar, the place where I met the love of my life.
I smile at Ginger when she whirls around on her barstool, away from a retreating Gavin, and sips from her nearly-empty martini glass. Her eyes are practically glazed she looks so happy.
“Careful. You’re going to dilute your martini with drool,” I tell her with a grin.
She slurps up some more, oozing vodka from one corner of her still-curved mouth. Delicately, she swipes at it with the tips of her fingers, all lady. But then she licks dirty martini off those very same fingers as she winks at me, all Ginger.
“I’ve heard it’s a punishable offense to waste vodka in Russia,” she announces.
“Well if you ever go there, I think you’re safe.”
She sighs loudly. “The good thing about rocking Gavin’s world is that I get to see you more often.”
“Is that the only good thing about sleeping with him?”
“God no!” she says with a frown that says I’m being ridiculous, which I knew I was. “My lady parts haven’t been this happy since I got my first vibrator.”
I giggle when a guy leaning around her to order raises his eyebrows at her. “I got your vibrator,” he says with a wide, lascivious smile.
Ginger’s mouth drops open. “Seriously? Is that the best you’ve got?”
“What? You’re hot. Something wrong with showing you some interest?”
She slowly swivels away from him, shaking her head before taking another sip of her drink. The guy looks to me in question and I just shrug, moving to fill his order of two gin-and-tonics.
“Keep the change,” he says before he walks away, much more subdued than when he arrived.
“Thanks,” I say to his back as he disappears into the dense crush of bodies.
I’m ringing up his drinks, tapping my foot to Katy Perry’s Dark Horse when I hear the volume level of the crowd drop by a decibel or two. I glance up to see what’s going on.
It seems as though everyone notices him at the same time. Like the world got quieter, the air got stiller. I think every single eye in Dual is turned in his direction.
“Holy shit on a stick! Who the hell is that and why the hell do I have to be a faithful woman?” Ginger breathes from the other side of the bar. From my peripheral vision, I can see that her glass paused half way to her mouth, which is currently slightly agape. That’s the extent of what I notice about my friend. The rest of my attention, like practically everyone else’s, is riveted to the man nearing the center of the room.
He’s easily as tall as Cash, which puts him almost a head above every other man in the club. But his darkness—the midnight hair, the honey-gold skin, the jet black clothes—make him stand out all the more. He’s flawless.
I acknowledge that in the most clinical way possible because Cash is still by far the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Hands down. That’s why I don’t feel like noticing this guy’s physical perfection is a betrayal. It’s more like noticing that the sun is bright or the sky is blue. It’s factual. Accurate. Honest. Even as happily married as I am, there is just no ignoring or denying the breathtaking beauty of the stranger when he walks in. Even the men seem to notice him. I’d say they’re taking note for totally different reasons, though. There’s a calm, confident quality to him that makes me think of extreme competence. Or maybe extreme danger. Like he has nothing to fear from anyone. Ever.
I let my eyes roam his long, muscular physique in a lightning fast skim during which I fully expect to see the bulge of a gun somewhere. That might explain this air of…dominance? Certainty? Fearlessness? I’m not sure what to call it, but whatever it is doesn’t stem from carrying a gun. That much I can see. His body shows only the smooth line of his superb build, covered in snug black material from head to toe.
Back at his face, I see his eyes scan the room. Something in his expression makes me think he managed to take in and catalog even the tiniest, most insignificant of details in that one quick sweep of the space. As though he’s now made an assessment of it all, he begins to weave his way between bodies in a slow, serpentine path. Every woman he passes leans slightly toward him, drawn to him without even realizing it. Every man he passes gives him a slightly wider berth, wary of him without even knowing why.
As he walks toward me, his eyes find and come to a stop on mine. He holds them as he approaches and I note that they’re just as breathtaking as the rest of him. I suspected that they were a light color when I first saw him, and now I see that I was right. They’re a fascinating pale caramel color, like Cash’s favorite whiskey when he pours two fingers into the bottom of a glass.
There’s no smile in those warm depths, but there’s a solidness that tells me whatever men fear in him is no threat to me. And I’d say men definitely fear him. The ones unlucky enough to piss him off. The ones unwise enough to find themselves on the wrong side of him.
I’d say there’s plenty for a woman to fear, too. At least one that’s not as taken as I am. This guy isn’t the bar type. He’s the dark corner type, I bet. The kind that could talk a girl into pretty much anything without even trying. The kind that gets his hooks in so painlessly you don’t even know you’re hooked until it’s too late. Until he’s gone. Gone without a trace. Just a memory you can’t shake. Makes me glad that my heart belongs to someone else. And that he is mine without question. Even when people like Sophie show up every now and then to put us to the test.
It’s on that uncomfortable note that I become aware of practically every head in the joint turning in our direction as the tall stranger leans an elbow on the bar and gives me a crooked smile. I wouldn’t doubt that just such a smile has probably dropped more panties than Wilt Chamberlain, as Ginger would say.
“Hi,” he says in a voice as dark and rich as the oak of the bar.
I take a deep breath. “Hi.”
He turns that crazy-hot grin on Ginger next. She’s already wobbling on her barstool beside him. “So this is where all the beautiful women gather,” he says offhand. When Ginger says nothing, he laughs in a rumble that dances through the air like the sexy thump of a bass drum. “What are you drinking?”
Ginger continues to stare at him for a few seconds before she stammers, “V-vodka martini, extra dirty, extra olives.”
“Extra dirty?” he asks, one smooth black brow arching.
She nods as he holds her wide eyes. When he turns back to me, I see her shake her head, like she’s clearing a fog from it. I can’t help laughing, too. I’ve never seen Ginger at a loss for words before. Not. Ever.
I recover more quickly than everyone else. It seems that bit of levity snapped me right out of the weird thrall that has undeniably captivated the patronage of Dual. “What can I get you?”
“Another vodka martini for the lady. Extra dirty, extra olives.”
“Yes, sir,” I say as I start to make her drink. “Anything for you?”
“A club soda, please.”
“Straight? Or do you want that cut with water?” I tease.
“No, I take it straight. I like the hard stuff,” he says, playing along.
/> I smile.
“So do I,” Ginger pipes up from beside him, finally regaining her wits. “Like the hard stuff, I mean. I’m taken, though. Bummer.”
“Yes, bummer,” he repeats. “But it’s probably for the best. I’d hate to ruin you for other men.” His grin is all cocky male and Ginger falters again.
I slide the drinks out, one to Ginger, one to the stranger. “On the house,” I tell him when he reaches into his pocket for money. “I’ve never seen someone strike this one speechless,” I say, nodding toward the still-gaping Ginger. “If we had a wall of fame, I’d add you to it.”
“If you had a wall of fame, I’d give you a better reason than that to add me to it.”
“I’m taken, too,” I confess mildly.
“Bummer,” he repeats a second time, glancing down at where I’m fiddling with my wedding ring. It’s a comforting circle around my finger. It feels warm against my skin, as though Cash was actually touching me.
The stranger opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, Gavin appears behind him and to the left. He goes to clap his hand down on the guy’s shoulder, but never makes contact. The stranger reaches back and grabs Gavin’s wrist, stopping him in midair. He’s on his feet and facing Gavin in one smooth movement. His reaction is so fast it’s almost blurry. I watch the two face off for three tense seconds before Gavin’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Thanks for coming, mate.”
The men shake hands and Gavin leans around to tell me, “Send Cash to the office when he gets in.”
“You got it, Principal Gibson,” I reply with a mock salute. Gavin gives me a look that’s the expressive equivalent of flipping me the bird.
He turns to move off toward the back of the club, tipping his head for his friend to follow. The dark stranger turns back to me before he walks off. “I’m Jason by the way. Jason King.”
“Nice to meet you, Jason. I’m Olivia. And this is Ginger.”
He nods to me then to Ginger, winking at her before he takes his club soda and follows Gavin. When they disappear into the office, I hear Ginger’s loud exhalation. It swishes through the air, even above the sounds of the crowd and the music.