Nick of Time [Davis Hollow, Davis Ranch 4] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by JQ Jones

  The plane dipped one final time before it set down with a bump on the tarmac. After a leisurely walk through the airport to the checked baggage area, he stood back watching the usual jostle and crowding to get to bags that would be there after all the pushing and shoving. The hotel car would be outside waiting so there was no rush to get to his few bags. CJ had given him a key for a room at the DD.

  This morning, Barbara had thrown an absolute screaming fit as he packed for Houston. She was upset (more like a crazy person) when he’d told her that he did not intend on setting their wedding date. The look on her face reflected all disappointment of an unrealized goal. Barbara had pursued that one goal for all of her thirty-one years. Or to be honest, by the time she was ten so it was only twenty-one years.

  These past four years of living together had changed the relationship to one of fait accompli. But the thought of living the rest of his life with her made his blood cold. They had the same friends, knew the same people in the City, worked in the same industry, ate at the same places and had the same forgettable sex every other week. Barbara claimed that she was slightly asexual which meant that she didn’t like having sex with him. She was known to bop the random female assistant but for him it was, “This is an inconvenient time, David.”

  This weekend he needed space in a new environment to look at his life as critically as possible. He knew that if he and Barbara married then they both would have a series of affairs, two children properly raised by a nanny and a life of quiet misery. His parents seemed resolved with just such an arrangement but still. Affairs they conducted were discreet. David had no knowledge of any. There were the odd trips abroad separately but that was all.

  He pulled out of his reverie at the baggage claim to find the rest of the passengers already gone with their luggage. Only his remained. Doing another turn on the belt, he grabbed the two cases swinging them wide and bumping right into someone standing behind him.

  A slight woman stumbled back a few steps before she caught his arm that he had shot out to stop her from falling all the way to the floor. She shook long, dark brown hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t watching were I was going,” she said.

  “Oh no, madam, it was all my fault. My mind was ten thousand miles away. I apologize. Are you hurt?” David said.

  She just reached his shoulders, as she straightened up and readjusted her small canvas bag. “I’m fine. Sorry to be so clumsy,” she said. They held eye contact until she smiled and shook her head.

  David tried to think of something to say to keep her talking. She had a soft voice that purred at the end. There was a tinge of a southwestern accent but it had an underlying something that he couldn’t identify. Her smile spread across her face as she turned around and walked out of the airport.

  He continued staring as she walked away, looking at the sway of her hips in snug jeans. Her walk invited without being a come-on. The blue canvas shoes didn’t make a sound as she disappeared into a waiting town car.

  David walked into the searing heat. His driver took his bags to stow them in the boot. David watched the car with the smiling woman pull out into traffic. For a wild moment he considered asking the driver to follow them. He shook his head. He had to get himself together. He would spend the next few days watching the telly, swimming in the pool, attending one meeting with the set designer at the Houston opera and thinking about what to do for the rest of his life.

  * * * *

  The DD Hotel was tucked away in a quiet residential neighborhood in River Oaks. The bright yellow stucco and the red tiled roof promised a different experience than the sweeping mansions situated behind tall gates that flanked the hotel. Manuela hadn’t been here for several years so the new open leather-trimmed lobby came as a pleasant surprise. The young man at the desk was new too.

  She laid her bag at her feet and smiled at the slight look of surprise on the young man’s face. She wasn’t dressed like she could afford the DD, it was exclusive and never advertised.

  “I’m Manuela Menendez. I have the Timbuktu for the next few days,” she said. She didn’t offer ID or credit card because it was Okey’s hotel and Okey’s personal suite.

  “Let me just check that for you, ma’am.” The young man, Chris Martin by his nametag, punched a few digits on the computer, looked up at her shyly and punched some more. “Excuse me just a minute, ma’am, I need to call my manager.”

  Manny knew that he was calling either Saul or Sylvester so she waited until one of the men appeared. Before either arrived a blast of hot air wafted to her as the front doors soundlessly slide open to admit a man talking to the bellhop. Manny felt a pang of interest. It was the man from the airport. He smiled when he saw her standing at the tall leather-covered desk.

  “What a coincidence. Are you staying here too?” he said.

  “I thought I was but there seems to be a problem with my reservation,” she said.

  Chris was speaking urgently on the phone with his back turned to them.

  “I hope that it’s cleared up. But no matter. I’d love to have dinner with you. That is, if you’re not meeting anyone.”

  “Just came for a little R&R but doesn’t look like that’s going be happening as smoothly as I expected.”

  “Have you stayed here before?” David said.

  “I come at least once every few years but I usually don’t have this kind of a problem. Chris? Chris?” Manny said. She smiled as the young man finally turned around. “Tell either Saul or Sylvester that I’ll be in the salon if they need to talk to me. Can you put this behind the desk until I get back?” She handed over her tiny bag.

  “I’ll see you later, if I’m still here,” she said. She walked down the corridor and out of sight. David found himself looking at her butt again as she disappeared.

  “Do you know that lady’s name?” David said. Chris shook his head slightly.

  “I’m afraid I’m unable to give out the names of our guest, sir. May I have your name?” Chris said.

  David checked and was handed a key card to what they called the Zen suite. He rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. The bellboy ushered him into a suite decorated to resemble someone’s idea of a Japanese garden. A large rock garden with a huge boulder strategically placed dominated the sitting room. Rakes for grooming the pebbles that surrounded it leaned against the subtle light blue walls. A huge platform bed was hidden behind a bamboo and rice paper screen while four black leather chairs faced one another across a glass coffee table that doubled as a tank for five koi fish. The bathroom had a huge walk-in shower and a Jacuzzi tub big enough for four people.

  He took a quick shower and fell into his bed waiting for sleep while he thought of the woman in the lobby.

  * * * *

  Manuela spent four hours in the salon and spa. She had her hair trimmed to allow the soft curls to fall just below her shoulder. She had everything she could stand waxed down to the baby skin and her hands and feet painted to reflect her mood, hot pink and nicely trimmed. She retired to the suite. Saul was on duty and came into the salon to apologize for the confusion. Now she was ready to eat and start her vacation fresh tomorrow.

  “Chris saw that it was double booked and didn’t know how to handle it. Seems like somebody canceled the previous reservation but he’s a smart boy, he put the other guest in the Nairobi and left the Timbuktu for you,” Saul said.

  “Figured out I wasn’t a street lady, did he?” Manny said. Her sentence ended in a yelp as her left eyebrow was waxed within an inch of baldness.

  “You hairy like a man,” the waxer said.

  “I’ll be as bald as a man if you keep jerking all my hair out with reckless abandon,” Manny said.

  “You should get a Brazilian while you’re here. Han is the best in Houston,” Saul said.

  “I don’t need my hoo-haw naked. Nobody sees it,” Manny said.

  “Maybe they would want to see it if you get it waxed,” Han said.

  She and Saul laughed to
gether while Manny shook her head and smiled. “No. Thank you anyway.”

  “Mel and I are going to a play tonight. You want to come with?” Saul said.

  “Not tonight. I’ll have dinner at the restaurant and early night. Ask me to do something tomorrow,” Manny said.

  “You’re lucky, there’s a cocktail party tomorrow right down the street. You’ll meet all the people who control Houston. You’ll love it.”

  “What time?”

  “Thank God you’re coming, I usually only have Mel to talk to. I swear, girl, I drown in a sea of old blue hair, Chanel No. 5 and bourbon. At least I’ll have you to talk to.”

  “I think I’ll change my mind. It sounds like I’ll be the darkest person there who isn’t serving the drinks.”

  “You will be. And I’m usually the only one there who is out, proud, and loud, but it won’t kill you to meet people. Maybe Mr. Right will be there to sweep you off to his ranch.”

  “I think I’ve had enough of ranches. I need to talk to you later. I’m in the market for a new job. Right now I’m trying to decide if I can go back to being a head chef or assistant. I’ve been out of the business so long, I think that I’ll have to do a lot of begging but I’m finally ready to get back in the game.”

  Saul actually clapped his hands. “It’s about time you figured out you’re too talented to waste your time cooking at somebody’s ranch.”

  “I’ll tell CJ you don’t approve.”

  “Oh, girl, he already knows. I read him to filth as soon as I knew he had Manuela Mendez acting like Mrs. Danvers for him. He laughed and said that you’d leave when you got ready. I’m just glad to see that you’re ready,” Saul said.

  “I think I am.” She paused to yelp again as Han took out the other eyebrow. The little man quickly moved to Manny’s upper lip and jerked it before she could complain.

  “I might not be able to come after Han finishes me off,” Manny said.

  “I wait for you in Room A. You need a bikini wax even if you too chicken to do a Brazilian.” Hans collected his equipment and entered a room along a small corridor.

  “I’ve still need to get some clothes for tonight and tomorrow and it’s getting late. I hope the boutique doesn’t close.”

  “I’ll pick out your outfit for tomorrow and I’ll have a selection sent to the suite.”

  “Nothing too slutty.”

  “Why would you say something like that to me?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “There is that. I was the best drag queen in Houston for fifteen years. I know how to serve real fish,” Saul said as he left the room with her sizes written down on a piece of paper.

  “But I’ve never really been real fish,” Manny said. She trudged her way to the torture chamber that was Room A.

  * * * *

  Saul sent up a variety of clothes to the Timbuktu. For tonight Manuela chose a simple gold cloth tank top with wide straps paired with blue jeans and her gold sandals made a statement without trying too hard. She took the elevator down to the lobby and entered the bar.

  Sitting alone in a corner was the man from this morning. She took the time to look at him closer and saw that he was late thirties, fit without having that gym rat look and obviously British from his accent. She crossed the room and took the stool beside him. He looked pleased to see her there.

  “Is everything fixed up for you then?” he said.

  “Yes, indeed. It’s just that I come here so seldom and Chris is new,” she answered. The man was drinking a scotch or bourbon.

  “Claude, can you get me two apple moonshines, please?”

  “Sure can, Ma…”

  “For tonight, Claude, call me Magdalena. My friend—” She paused to give the man time to fill in the blank.

  “Hansel,” David said without any prompting.

  “Hansel and I are going to be friends for the weekend then disappear from each other’s lives. Isn’t that right, Hansel?”

  “Of course it is, Maggie.”

  “Magdalena is never a Maggie, Hansel.”

  “My apologies, Magdalena.”

  Claude grinned as his expansive brown face showed that this wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever witnessed. He produced two apple moonshines with a flourish and retreated to the other side of the bar to serve what looked like a convention of doctors since they all had stethoscopes around their necks.

  “Is this like the moonshine that I’ve seen on movies and such?” David said. He picked up the small shot glass and turned it to the ambient light of the room. The clear liquid sparkled and glistened as he scrunched up his face.

  “This is the same although I have friends from West Virginia who say that this is a lot smoother than the old days. You drink it straight in a shot. This doesn’t have an aftertaste but if you got the original, so I’m told, it could or could not taste like either apples, cedar, or kerosene depending on how it’s made. Skul.” She threw the liquor back without a grimace.

  David started to sip but he stopped after the condescending smile from his companion. The jolt of the 149-proof alcohol froze his system for at least five seconds. By the time he came back to earth after collecting the top of his head off the ceiling, Claude had refilled their glasses.

  “This stuff should be illegal,” he said after he regained his voice.

  “It is in most states. This is one of the few distillers that’s legal. My friends say that there will be more in the future. They think that it’s the liquor of the future,” Manny said. She was comfortable with him. He was younger than she was but still so very mature. He was interesting and knew how to laugh. “Are you busy? Can you have dinner with me?” Manny surprised herself, she’d never asked a man to do anything. She could hear her grandmother, Magdalena scream all the way from Monterrey.

  “I’d love to have dinner with you. I was just going to ask.” They clinked glasses, downed their drinks and walked across the lobby to the restaurant.

  The Down Ship was full of weekend diners. Once the maître d’ had kissed both of Manny’s cheeks he escorted them to a booth by the window overlooking the pool shimmering with underwater lights. The last rays from the setting sun shone off the water.

  Manny allowed her guest to order wine before she took over.

  “For starters, may we have the camembert with truffle cream. Follow that with the filet mignon with the wine sauce. Don’t worry about the sides except leave off the asparagus. And finally, if Michael is here, ask him if he minds doing the dulce de leche mousse. Thanks, Frank.” Manny smiled at Frank. He was one of the best waiters in Houston and had come to the Down Ship after the hotel had almost doubled his salary.

  “You are something of a foodie, aren’t you?”

  “I cook for a living. Actually, I came here this weekend to decide where I want to live. I’ve been out of the mainstream for too long so it’s going to be a bit of a struggle to get back into the swing. I’m a little older than the up and comers and I don’t want to be the flavor of the month.”

  “How old are you?” He sipped his wine, thinking that she couldn’t be much younger than he was.

  “I’m forty-two, I’ll be forty-three in about three months. I’ve had a few restaurants but left it ten years ago because I didn’t know what I wanted to do, be, or become. Can you understand that?” She tore apart a piece of bread that Frank had placed on the table.

  “I understand that. I’m thirty-five and my parents and girlfriend have decided that it’s time for me to marry. I should marry a girl I’ve known all my life but have never been friends with just because it makes their lives easy. She is set on us marrying but since we’ve been living together our sex life has dwindled to nothing. She says she doesn’t really like sex. Well, she doesn’t like sex with me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without sex. I could have a mistress, it’s accepted in our circle, but I like being exclusive. I’m sorry if that’s too intimate a detail but I think I need to talk about it. And for some reason I feel like I can tal
k to you.” He smiled at her. The waiter filled their glasses and placed the camembert on the table with small wedges of bread.

  They talked all the way to the dessert which made Manny stop talking to just appreciate the flavor of the dulce de leche mousse. She closed her eyes allowing the flavors to trickle down her throat.

  “Michael uses 151 rum for his mousse. It’s strong but the flavor just explodes in your mouth,” she said. Her eyes were half-closed and David wondered if she looked like that when she had an orgasm.

  He wanted to pretend that he liked her only for her conversation and advice but he was aware of her breast, lightly brushing against the silk of her blouse. The flash of her eyes as she laughed and talked and the curve of her cheeks when she laughed at his dilemma made him want her.

  “You don’t owe anybody anything. It’s your life and if you don’t like your woman then stop stringing this out. Your parents are old school but you’re not. You’re an artist, act like one. Disappoint them and get it over with. You can have land in Essex and still design stuff for the theatre in London. You can multi-task. It’s the twenty-first century,” she said as she finished off her dessert.

  “What about you? Are you going back to your old life? You’re a vibrant woman, I haven’t tasted you…your food but you should do what you want to do right now. You are forty-three, do what you want.”

  “I want to spend some intimate time with you,” she said.

  “I agree. Let’s go upstairs and finish this evening off with some fruit and wine.”

  “My room or yours.”

  “I’m on the seventh floor.”

  “Let’s do your room, then.” She thanked Frank and signed for the meal.

  Chapter Two:

  I’ve Woken

  The Zen Room was unusually cool and pleasant. Manny had only stayed in Timbuktu, thought it was calming if a little over the top with the indoor koi pond but that was the way things were at the DD. Instead of a couch, there was a long low bamboo futon situated across from the huge ceiling to floor windows. The sound of water permeated the room, from the gentle rhythmic splash of the bamboo fountain to the natural sound of falling water that came from the rain chimes placed over a forest of bonsai trees.