Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2)

by Braxton Hicks

  “Won’t it be great to be partners, Ty?”

  Gina was excited at the prospect. I was too, for that matter. It was just letting Trey know what I'd done if the offer was accepted that made me a bit nervous. I guess I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

  As it turned out, Trey’s phone conversation from the night before had been with Tristan. He was going to be in Atlanta this coming weekend with Libby and wanted all of us to get together. Trey had shared that with me when he called from his office at lunch time. I dreaded having to deal with that bitch again.

  He was acting as if everything was back to normal. I still was carrying guilt about my fantasy, but Gina had told me over and over it was perfectly normal. She told me, under no circumstances, should I confess it to Trey.

  I'd made Trey’s favorite dinner tonight: pot roast with carrots, potatoes and gravy; I'd followed his mother’s recipe and baked him a chocolate pie. I set the dining room table very formally with good china and cloth napkins. I opened a bottle of merlot to breathe.

  I dressed Preston in one of her wool plaid jumpers with a long sleeved shirt underneath. I put winter tights on her and a pair of patent leather dress shoes. She looked adorable. I moved her high chair into the dining room. Trey came in around six-thirty and immediately knew something was up.

  “Shit, we aren’t having company tonight, are we?”

  “No, silly,” I said, helping him off with his trench coat. “I just wanted us to have a nice romantic dinner, that’s all.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, looking around the room and then back to me. “Where’s the baby?”

  “She’s in her playpen right over there, Trey. Why don’t you go in and spend a few minutes with her while I get dinner on the table, okay?”

  I went back to the kitchen and finished pureeing some of the baked yams I'd made for Preston. I poured Trey and I a glass of wine and set it on the table. I finished putting the food on the table and filled our crystal tumblers with ice water. Everything looked delicious.

  “Dinner's ready, Trey. Would you put Preston in her high chair?”

  Trey was impressed with dinner. He complimented me over and over again about how great everything tasted. He said my chocolate pie was every bit as good as his mother's. I felt better about last night, seeing how happy I'd made him this evening. After dinner, Trey offered to bathe Preston and get her ready for bed.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” I said. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

  He leaned down and kissed me softly on my lips. “Thanks for a wonderful dinner, baby.”

  An hour later, Trey and I were in bed watching a movie together. I was curled up in his arms, feeling better about everything. Gina was right. Fantasies were a normal part of sexuality. My phone chimed on the nightstand. It was Gina.

  “Hi, Gina, what’s up?”

  “Great news! Jesse just phoned that Ian’s attorney got back with him this evening. It’s a go. He’s accepted the buyout. You and I'll be equal partners at the Sanctuary, how about that?”

  “Really?” I said. I found myself excited now over the prospect that this was really going to happen. I'd have something of my own.

  “So,” Gina continued, “We need to get the funds together. Jesse says a cashier’s check will do. I'll call you in the morning, once he gets the partnership LLC papers together.”

  “Sure, Gina, I’ll talk to you then.”

  “What was that about?” Trey asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  Holy shit…

  “Oh, that was Gina.”

  “I know it was Gina; that much was evident. What’s going on?”

  “She's going to buy out Ian’s share of the club. She has a partner."

  “She found a partner that quickly?”

  “Yeah. It’s me.”

  Chapter 21

  I soon learned that Trey could give as well as he got when it came to the silent treatment. He hadn’t said a word to me once he'd stopped yelling. He was furious when I told him that I'd used my savings account money to buy out Ian’s share of the club. He said that I had no business doing that without discussing it with him first. I told him that I didn’t see it that way.

  He left for work the following morning without so much as kissing me good-bye. Gina came by around ten to pick Preston and me up. We headed to the bank to get the cashier’s check, and then on to Trey’s office building. I was thankful that Jesse was on a different floor. He had received the signed bill of sale from Ian’s attorney; he'd prepared the LLC partnership agreement between Gina and me. It was fairly simple. The difficult part was yet to come. I had no clue how to run a business—or in this case, help run a business.

  Gina admitted that Ian had taken care of booking the talent, advertising, payroll, hiring, and firing. She said she'd trained the bartenders and scheduled their shifts, filling in when one of them called off. They had an outside accountant who kept the books. An audit and full accounting had been conducted prior to the drafting of the separation agreement that would become Gina and Ian’s final divorce decree in about thirty days.

  Our LLC took possession of the club immediately upon execution of transfer of title. Gina was ecstatic; I was scared shitless. It didn’t help that Trey wasn't speaking to me. I needed his support now, more than ever.

  Gina said our first order of business was to fire the “skank” which she had no reluctance in doing. She announced that I'd be the upstairs bartender after terminating the skank. Of course, I knew nothing about the science of mixology. My experience entailed getting a beer from the fridge for Trey or pouring myself a glass of wine. I hadn’t even operated a computerized cash register. Gina didn’t see that as an obstacle.

  She presented me with my work uniform, which consisted of a short black skirt, a tight white blouse with the first three buttons unbuttoned, and a silky black vest. I was instructed to wear dark hose and a minimum of three inch black heels.

  She gave me a bartender’s guide for mixed drinks and scheduled training time for me over the next two days at the club for four hours at a shot.

  Jean had been released from rehab. She'd called me her first day home, letting me know that she was ready to start back to work. The timing was perfect. She assured me that she had no physical restrictions and felt as good as she had before the accident. When I asked if she might possibly be interested in babysitting while I started back to work, she was thrilled at the idea. She assured me that she was more than up to caring for “her little angel.” That warmed my heart immediately. She watched her the two afternoons while I underwent Gina’s training.

  Tristan was coming to Atlanta to spend a long weekend with Libby. I didn’t know exactly what Trey had planned as far as entertaining or hanging out with them, since this would by my inaugural weekend as half-owner of the Sanctuary. Jean was going to be at the apartment on Friday by five to stay with Preston until Trey got home. I'd conveyed that to Trey verbally, receiving little more than a nod and a grunt in return.

  Thursday night, I bathed Preston and got her dressed in her pajamas. I sat with her in the rocking chair in her bedroom and read from her favorite book, “Goodnight Moon.” She'd try to turn the pages before I was finished reading. She soon became distracted from the book and squirmed against me. “You ready for bed?” I asked her.

  Trey had been working in his study and passed by the nursery where we were. He poked his head in and asked if she was ready to go to bed. “Just getting ready to put her down for the night,” I said. “Why?”

  “I just wanted to kiss her goodnight,” he replied.

  “Don’t let me stop you, Trey.”

  He came over to where she was safely ensconced in my arms and leaned over; brushing her hair gently with his hand, he kissed the top of her head several times.

  “Good-night Preston, Daddy loves you more than anything,” he said softly. He turned and left the room without ever really acknowledging my presence. I'd never felt so disconnected and distant from him. A single teardrop spilled from my eye,
running down my cheek, and dropping onto Preston.

  I continued to rock her, gently stroking her hair and singing softly to her until she fell asleep in my arms. I lowered her gently into her crib, tucking her in. I shrugged off my shirt and jeans and crawled into the bed in the nursery, finding comfort in being close to the one person in this apartment who I knew loved me unconditionally.

  I awoke the next morning hearing Preston chatting baby talk in her crib. She was sitting up and had arranged her stuffed toys around her in a circle. She was pulling at her diaper under her PJs.

  What time is it?

  I glanced at the clock on the dresser, seeing that it was 8:27 a.m. I couldn’t believe that Preston had slept this late. Trey had apparently left for work without saying good-bye. My heart was heavy once again.

  “Does Preston need a fresh diaper?” I asked. She immediately glanced over in the direction of the bed, not realizing that I'd been in her room all night. She broke into a wide grin, crawling over to the crib rail, trying to pull herself up.

  After I fed her breakfast, I dressed her for the day. Gina was over at the apartment promptly at ten to quiz me on my knowledge of mixing drinks. She'd turned it into a science as far as her club was concerned.

  She'd managed to go into the database on her computer at the club and capture the most popular mixed drinks sold, aside from the usual ones such as rum and coke, gin and tonic, vodka and orange juice—the very “generic” drinks as Gina liked to refer to them. The drinks I'd been studying were the most popular at the Sanctuary over the past year and I had been memorizing the recipes.

  “Okay, girlfriend,” she said very seriously. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded my head nervously. I really wanted to succeed at this. I knew that there was both an art and a science to mixing drinks and tending bar in general. Gina had a stopwatch. We'd arranged various containers of colored water to represent the various liquors and liqueurs, along with an ice bucket, tongs, and various sizes of glasses. I'd use an unattached hose nozzle when I had to add the various sides, such as soda, tonic, Coke and Sprite.

  “Okay, now remember, when I call out the drink, you repeat, out loud, the ingredients as you're making it so that I know you understand the ingredients.”

  “Yes, Gina,” I replied warily. She'd been a relentless taskmaster over the past couple of days.

  "Gimme a Grateful Dead,” she ordered, clicking on her stopwatch.

  I put myself in action with the array of bottles that had various levels of food-colored water in them.

  “A Grateful Dead,” I repeated, picking up a Collins glass and shoving ice into it. “One part tequila, one part vodka, one part light rum, one part gin, one part Chambord and raspberry liqueur.”

  “Very good,” Gina beamed stopping the watch, allowing me time to empty the contents of the drink into the sink and prepare for the next concoction. “I’m ready for Sex on the Beach,” she purred.

  “Sex on the Beach: two parts vodka, one-half part peach schnapps, top it off with equal amounts of cranberry and orange juice.”

  “Great,” Gina said, smiling. “Now, gimme a Kiss on the Lips," she ordered.

  “Huh?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Oh, for Chrissake, Tylar—it’s a damn drink.”

  I had to pause for a moment, trying to recall that particular drink from the book she'd ordered me to memorize two days ago.

  “Hint,” she hollered, “it has frozen mango mix in it.”

  “Oh, yes, Kiss on the Lips: one-and-a-half parts peach schnapps, one part frozen mango mix and one tablespoon grenadine.”

  “Excellent,” Gina cheered.

  I beamed happily at her praise. I'd managed to remember that particular drink from her hint. It sounded a helluva lot better than that Grateful Dead. “Make me an Adios Mother Fucker," she ordered.

  “Adios Mother Fucker,” I repeated, “One part gin, one part light rum, one part tequila, one part vodka, one part blue Curacao liqueur and one ounce of Sprite.”

  “Ty,” she said grinning, “I'm so fucking impressed with how well you absorbed the recipes for those drinks in such a small window of time. I think you may just be a natural at this!”

  We went over a few other popular drinks like Cosmopolitans, the various Martini families like apple-tini, skini-tini, and fuckin-tini. It was the best I'd felt in a couple of days. The distance between Trey and I had left me feeling empty and lonely. I hadn’t shared the extent of it with Gina. I didn’t want to bum her out because she was clearly happier than I'd seen her since all this shit had gone down with Ian.

  “Okay, girlfriend,” she continued, as if mentally confirming her checklist, “you have your uniform and your name tag; you know to be at the club by five-thirty, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Because I need to show you how to work the computerized register at the upstairs bar.”

  “I know, Gina.”

  “Well, I just want to make sure that all bases are covered. It's our first night as partners, you know?”

  “I know, Gina,” I reiterated.

  “How are you going to wear your hair?” she asked me.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. Is there any certain requirement for hair?”

  “I'd prefer you wear it either up in a ponytail or tied back or even in a French braid. We're going for a classy look here.”

  “I can handle it, Gina. Please calm down. It’s all good,” I reassured her.

  “I hope so, Ty,” she said, looking unusually vulnerable.

  I got it. This was Gina’s big opportunity to shine and to do it all by herself. She needed to know that she could do it without Ian. I'd be with her every step of the way. She gave me a hug and told me she'd see me at five-thirty. She kissed Preston, who had been playing in her playpen the whole time like the good baby that she was, good-bye. “It just dawned on me,” Gina said. “Who will watch Preston for you?”

  “Not to worry,” I replied, “Jean will be here by five.”

  “I’m so glad,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I know Trey isn't on board with this, and well, I just hoped you had a Plan B, which it sounds as if you do.”

  She hugged me and was gone in a flurry. I knew she was nervous. I knew she was anxious. This was going to be Gina’s solo flight tonight and I was going to be there to spin the props.

  I got myself ready as Preston napped. I put my make-up on very carefully, so that my eyes stood out. Having light brown or amber eyes made it difficult to find a good color pallet with black. I opted to put my hair back in a French braid. The short, tight skirt fit fine. I supposed the idea of the outfit was to give a professional, but form-fitting look. I put my dark thigh-high stockings on along with my heels.

  As I passed Preston’s room, I heard her jabbering baby talk in her crib. She must've awakened as I was getting ready. A pang of guilt hit me for having to leave her tonight and in the nights to come. Had I really thought this out thoroughly or was my decision based on Trey’s dismissive attitude towards my idea of investing?

  She was all smiles as I went into her room. She held her arms up for me to pick her up. I changed her diaper and then carried her out to the living room to wait for Jean to arrive. Preston remembered Jean from all of those months ago. She'd taken to her immediately over the past few days. She didn’t fuss a bit when Jean took her from my arms.

  I gave Jean the information about where I'd be and how I could be reached. I explained that, once Preston was down for the night, she could go since Trey would be here. Jean had gotten a funny look on her face. I considered that she might have a clue that Trey wasn't pleased about my going back to work.

  As I walked to the parking garage, I saw headlights coming around the curve near our spaces. It was Trey’s Mercedes. I was at a loss as to whether I should wait around until after he parked his car and got out, in case he wanted to talk to me before I left. My instincts told me that nothing had changed. Once he'd parked his car on the other side of mine, I backed out and h
eaded out of the garage without looking back.

  A tear threatened to spill as I pulled into traffic. I could understand his initial anger that I'd done this without discussing it with him. I just couldn’t understand him taking his anger to these limits. The silent treatment was worse than arguing. It seemed emotionally abusive to me.

  I filed that away for future reference. I'd never give him the silent treatment again.

  Once at the club, I busied myself with learning how to enter the drink tabs into the computerized register. I was working with a bartender named Eddie. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, totally cute and totally gay. He assured me that if I got stuck on a drink I hadn’t made before to let him know, he knew them all. I asked him how long he'd been working at the Sanctuary.

  “Six months,” he replied, “but honey, I started mixing drinks for my mommy at the ripe age of seven. She was all about the latest trendy drinks, you know? Let’s see, there were the Fuzzy Navel, Sloe Gin Fizz, and Tequila Sunrise. She’d reward me by letting me make myself a Kamikaze or two.”

  “Really? At seven years old?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he giggled, “I was a full blown alcoholic at twelve. My father finally grew a pair and got custody of me. I spent two months in rehab. I haven’t had a drink since. Oh, I smoke the occasional blunt, you know, but that’s the extent of it.”

  “So, it doesn’t bother you working around all of this?”

  “Not a bit, honey. Great way to meet guys too,” he winked.

  Chapter 22

  Gina would be managing the downstairs bars. There were three of them. The entertainment for tonight was going to be another ‘80’s knock-off band that Ian had already booked called, “Parachute Pants.” They were setting up and practicing when I arrived.

  By nine-thirty, the upstairs was getting crowded. The band had started playing and the club was filling up. Gina phoned up and asked if Eddie and I were doing okay; she acted as a floater if one of the bars got slammed for a period of time. She also covered breaks for the bartenders. I told her that we were holding our own, for the time being. Suddenly, she started laughing.