Baby Love Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  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. “As soon as I finish nursing her,” 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 acknowledging my presence for all intents and purposes. 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 that 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.

  Shit! 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. They 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 10:00 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 that required memorizing the recipe.

  “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'd 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, your name tag; you know to be at the club by 5:30 p.m., 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 5:30 p.m. She kissed Preston good-bye who had been playing in her playpen the whole time like the good baby that she was. “It just dawned on me,” Gina said. “Who will watch Preston for you?”

  “Not to worry,” I replied, “Jean will be here by 5:00 p.m.”

  “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 had 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 as to 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 headed 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, Slow 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'd arrived.

  By 9:30 p.m., 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.

  “OMG, girlfriend, guess who just walked in the door down here?”

  Of course she didn’t give me the opportunity to respond.

  “The Hot Nazi with his hot brother and some chick with long, blond hair draped between them.”

  Shit! Trey, Tristan and Libby - great!

  “Don’t worry; they’re taking a table down here. I guess I’ll go over and greet them properly. Call down here if you guys get slammed up there and I’ll come up to help. Cha-Ching!!”

  Why the hell was Trey here after he'd been so furious with me for investing?

  “You okay, honey?” Eddie asked as he filled one of the waitress’s trays with draft beers for a table of college guys sitting nearby.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Gina called to say that if we get slammed to be sure and call down for help.”

  “You're doing excellent Tylar, for an amateur, by the way.”

  “Thanks, Eddie.”

  Just then a couple of guys sat down at the bar and made no secret of perusing me from head to toe. They were nice looking; well dressed in business suits. They appeared to have gone out after work for happy hour and then decided to make a night of it.

  “So, what’s your specialty drink tonight, sweets?” the one with the raven black hair and dark brown eyes asked. He was smiling at me showing straight, white teeth and a rakish look. I greeted both of them placing cocktail napkins in front of them and handing out our drink menus.

  “It’s all good here,” I replied smiling. “Do either of you want to start a tab?”

  “Here let me, Ryan,” the other guy said, pulling a credit card from his wallet for me to keep.

  It was club policy. Ryan’s friend was probably about the same age with very blond hair and pale blue eyes. Ryan looked up from the drink menu and ordered a Captain Morgan and water; his buddy, whose name turned out to be Andy, ordered a bourbon and coke. I noticed they both wore expensive watches, like Trey’s.

  By 10:30 p.m. the bar was full and most of the tables on the mezzanine were as well. The band had been playing for an hour and took their first break of the evening. I was handling the bar; Eddie handled the drink orders from the floor waiters and waitresses. If there was a lull, he helped me with the bar patrons.

  By this time, Ryan and Andy had consumed about three rounds. Ryan was now waving me over with a silly grin on his face. “Tylar,” he said having read my name off of my nametag, “over here.”

  I went over to where both of them where wearing shit-eating grins.

  “Andy and I think that we're ready for something a bit more interesting and fun to drink,” he clarified. “Tell us a bit about this drink here called Adios Mother Fucker.”

  “I don’t think that I'd recommend that one for either of you,” I laughed.

  “Why not?” Ryan asked, encouraged. “Is it because you aren’t ready to say ‘Adios’ to us, Tylar?”

  “Well, guys, it’s more along the lines of I don’t think my conscious could stand giving you a drink like that considering what you’ve already consumed here, not to mention what you probably consumed before you got here.”

  Ryan laughed good-naturedly. “You’re beautiful and caring at the same time. I’m impressed, Tylar.”

  “Well, then,” Andy chimed in, “we need something for the road, Ryan. Something a bit tamer I'd guess.” Andy had a slight British accent as if he was either born in England and had spent most recent years here in the states, or perhaps was from here but spent a lot of time in the U.K.

  Ryan leaned forward as if he wanted to share a secret with me. I was getting restless knowing that with the crowded bar there were other patrons I needed to serve. I really had hoped they were ready to cash out and be on their way.

  “Yes, Ryan?” I inquired politely.

  “I’ve decided that I'd like you to give me a Kiss on the Lips.”

  “Me, too,” Andy piped in, “only I want you to double mine.”

  “Excuse me?” I heard a very familiar smooth and silky voice say from behind them.

  Oh shit!

  “Mrs. Sinclair will not be giving either of you a kiss on the lips. That's unless you're willing to part with your teeth should you try.”

  “Trey, stop,” I cautioned quietly. “They just want a drink.”

  “A drink is one thing, Tylar; I believe they wanted more than that.”

  “Nooo, Trey, they didn’t. The drink they were requesting is called Kiss on the Lips.” I recited the ingredients for him as Ryan and Andy snickered in the background. Andy was the first one to get lippy. It was evident he was British.

  “Shove off, knob head,” he said, his accent more pronounced. “We’ve got it covered here. Who are you to care anyway as to what the lass says or does?”

  “She's my wife,” he hissed towering over Andy with a glint of murder in his blue eyes.

  “Don’t see a wedding ring on her finger,” Ryan cut in smirking.

  Trey lowered his eyes to my left hand.

  Holy shit! I didn't put it back on after braiding my hair.

  My ring had snagged my hair a couple of times as I was French braiding it, so I'd taken it off while I finished. Apparently, I'd forgott
en to put it back on. Trey was livid. Thankfully, Eddie sensed that something was amiss and quickly came to my side.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “No, it isn’t,” Andy chimed in. “This chap here is poaching on what Ryan and I've staked our claim on for this evening.”

  Oh, Holy Shit!

  The next thing I knew, both Ryan and Andy were picking themselves off the floor while Trey ordered me out from behind the bar threatening to drag me over the top if I wasn’t front and center within ten seconds.

  “Call Gina up here, now,” I whispered to Eddie as I made my way past him around to the front of the bar. All of the patrons at the bar were watching the drama unfold.

  Once I was out from behind the bar area, Trey took my hand leading me as he wove us through the crowd on the mezzanine dragging me behind him. As soon as we got to an area that was somewhat cleared, I yanked my hand from his grasp. He spun around looking at me as if I'd somehow lost my mind.

  “What in the hell do you think you're doing, Trey? How dare you come up here and make a scene like that,” I snapped.

  “What the hell? You come here not wearing your wedding ring, leaning over the bar flirting with those two idiots, who by the way, were enjoying the view down your unbuttoned blouse. So I’m thinking that should be my question. What the hell do you think you are doing?”

  “I’m working; I’m a partner in this, remember?”

  He stood there in a partial slouch, hands resting on his hips looking totally gorgeous and extremely pissed.

  “You don’t have the right to come into my place of employment and conduct yourself like some overbearing, hormonal crazed jerk!”

  Just then Gina and Tristan were at our side. “What happened?” Gina asked.

  “Trey assaulted two of our patrons,” I replied, crossing my arms and glaring right back at him. I saw a flicker of amusement cross Tristan’s face. Trey wasn't amused.

  “The fuckers were telling her they wanted her to kiss them on the lips,” he snarled.