I knew I had chosen well when Claire’s eyes went wide and her smile was almost too big for her cheeks. “Is this just for us?” Her hands clapped in front of her, excitement bubbling in her voice.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered as I extended my arm toward the carriage. I grasped her hand as she climbed in, greeted the driver and let him know she was pleased to meet him. Thankfully, he was an older gentleman, so I allowed his flirtation to be part of his charm.
There wasn’t an inch of this path we were taking that I hadn’t seen before. Yet watching Claire point at the buildings and ask the driver questions, had given me a new perspective. She was inquisitive about the people who once lived here, the clothes they wore, and the things they enjoyed. When the driver told of the legends of the Pineapples, her brow furrowed and she remained silent.
Her silence didn’t last long, but it was enough to make me want to know the story behind it, watching her expressions go from bliss and awe, to sorrowful.
“You know, when I was a kid, Momma would bring us down here every spring and summer, just to see the city come to life. One of the things we always did while we were here was buy her a rose made out of grass.”
Our driver had pulled off to the side of the road, with a backdrop of one of the older churches behind her. I motioned for the driver to hand me the item he was keeping out of Claire’s eyesight.
“When I decided I was ready to start a relationship with a lady…you, specifically, I came across a couple of young men who were selling these.” I took the grass roses from his hand. I had stopped by the florist my family has used for years. Miss Bonnie took the two dozen grass roses and made a bouquet of complementing flowers to go with them.
She’d tied the entire thing up with something she called raffia; it looked like straw to me, but it did make it pretty. Claire took one look at it and the same look my momma had each time my dad handed her a gift, graced her face.
“Thank you.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time in my life, I finally understood what all the fuss was about. Making a girl happy, while still having her clothes on, was the best feeling ever.
I pulled back to the parking garage, the ride along the water having gone better than I could have ever hope for. Claire thanked the driver as he offered to take her flowers back to the store, where she could pick them up later. She declined and said she would rather run them up to my car.
I handed him a crisp hundred dollar bill as a tip, concealing the money from Claire’s sight.
“Ladies shouldn’t worry about money, it gives them wrinkles. Make sure they think the world is their oyster.”
Even with the modern times of credit cards and electronic money transfers, my momma still signed her name to any accounts my dad created for her in all the stores she frequented. He would even have his secretary call her hair salon to pay the balance while she got her hair styled.
Claire placed her flowers on the front seat with the same care a momma would place a newborn baby. She thanked me several more times as we walked the five blocks to the restaurant I’d planned to take her to for dinner. This time, Claire grabbed my hand as we strolled along the busy sidewalk.
Charleston Crab House sat on the corner of Market Street, ironically directly across the street from the Market where her roses came from. Momma agreed I couldn’t go wrong with taking her there for our first date. It was casual, yet modern. The food was out of this world, with seafood caught fresh daily.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to eat here.” Claire beamed as I stopped at the hostess booth, which was just outside the door. Given the time of year and the hour at which we were eating, we could have had to wait upwards to an hour. However, Dad made a call and saved us a table on the veranda.
Our young hostess advised us to watch our step as we began to climb the dark stairs, which led to the rooftop dining. Claire paced herself as she took each step carefully. The lighting along the stairway was quite poor, so I placed my arm around her to give her more stability.
I loved this particular rooftop; it was set with metal chairs and cafe lighting. The ledge was high enough you could hear the sounds from the street, but could only see the stars and lights from adjoining buildings.
I pulled out Claire’s chair, as I would for Nana and Momma. Tall wine glasses and silverware waited for us on our table. Claire took a long look around at the lights, which wrapped around the entire area.
“It’s so pretty.” She beamed, flashing me the happy smile she managed to find after I gave her the flowers.
“I’m partial to the view, as well.” I looked directly at her, but her wonderment caused her to completely miss the compliment, which was directed at her and not the lights and stars.
“Good evening, my name is Clayton, and I will be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a beverage?”
Clayton was not from around here. His accent suggested something much farther north, where snow and polar bears lived.
“Well, hello, Mr. Clayton. May I please have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a glass of water?”
Clayton hadn’t had enough time in the South to become immune to the dialect displayed by the beautiful women we had in abundance. With their perfect white teeth, polished manners, and ability to charm most anything they wanted for us. Or maybe, that was just Claire.
Poor Clayton never stood a chance as he fumbled to ask her to repeat what she wanted three times. Finally, as my last nerve was being jumped up and down on, I placed my hand over Claire’s; clarifying for him she was with me and what she wanted to drink.
“I wish it was later in the year,” she admitted. “I would’ve loved to have some raw oysters.” Her voice sounded longing. It was barely June, a far cry from the months safe to eat the legendary aphrodisiac.
“Well, as soon as September gets here we’ll have to have a low country boil and have some.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about them, but never attended one.” She was giving me so many opportunities to spoil the shit out of her. My heart was singing in my chest as the thoughts whirled around.
“My parents have at least one every fall. They invite the entire firm out to their house. Dad has these huge vats he uses to cook what seems like every ounce of shrimp on the coast.” I laughed, but it was the truth. Dad’s firm employed close to a thousand people statewide. He knew every one of his employees by name and could tell you at least one thing about them.
“Wow, sounds like a lot of work,” she commented as Clayton set her drinks beside her.
“Momma has a lot of help, plans it for a few months.” I took a drink of my beer, nodding my head as I spoke. Clayton took our supper order, doing a much better job of listening this time. “Oh, and Clayton, please bring out an order of the house hushpuppies.”
Claire listened to the story of how the hushpuppy allegedly came about. I promised her I would let her try one made by the locals.
“So, I’d like to ask you something, get this out of the way so we can enjoy our supper.” I leaned over my empty plate, wanting to hold her hand as I asked the question, but since they were resting in her lap, it wasn’t an option. “Earlier, when the subject of all the pineapples around the city came up, you became very sad.” I looked into her eyes, watching her raise her wine glass to her lips. “What happened?”
Claire glanced down to the table, then back to me. “It’s stupid, really.” She shook her head. “Growing up, my father was away a lot. When he would go, my mom would seek attention from other men.” Taking another drink of her wine, she leaned back so Clayton could place the plate of hushpuppies on the table. “When Mr. Isaac told us how the pineapple was a sign from returning husbands to the wife, and any other man who may have been sniffing around, that he was back from his journey…well, it bugged me.”
I didn’t try to kiss Claire when we reached her apartment door after our evening was over. She assured me she had a great time and wouldn’t mind doing it again. I waited until I heard the sound of a clicking lock echoing in the hal
lway.
Spending time with Claire, with no expectation of sex, wasn’t something I was familiar with, but as I had escorted her out of the restaurant, with my hand on the small of her back, I found I preferred this more.
Claire was with me to simply have a good time, not see what she could get out of me. It was refreshing and, dare I say…amazing. In the end, I knew I wanted so much more.
With a new spring in my step, I phoned my brother to make sure he was settled in. He let me know he was still at his office, but would like to meet for a beer if I was able. With things having gone so well, I had let my cop instincts drop, completely missing the shadow standing across the street smoking a cigarette.
Revenge is the act of passion; vengeance is an act of justice.
~Samuel Johnson
“Wait, you didn’t hear the best part!” Hope shouted in a high-pitched, make you completely deaf voice, as she bounced up and down in her chair. Her tits were nearly escaping from her tank top with her movements.
Hope Bates, a friend and coworker of Lainie’s, was a tad chunky, but blessed with a pretty face. She was easily excited, complimentary, and in love with the idea of being in love.
She had broken up with her last boyfriend six months ago, when he explained in a no-nonsense manner that he wasn’t interested in marriage or children. He was, however, interested in having a threesome with her and her twin sister, Autumn.
Their older brother, Lance, took great pleasure in explaining to the ex how this fantasy of his would never offer; and the fact he had three seconds to leave before fists would be flying.
Today was Lainie’s birthday; her idea of celebrating began with mani-pedis at her favorite salon. From the moment I met her, I knew she was a girl who took care of herself. However, I had no idea she frequented one of the most exclusive shops in the city.
She had reserved one of the private rooms, telling me I would just love her friend, Miss Hope. She and Lainie shared a common love; they loved to talk ill of their coworkers. Several times this morning, I’d found myself feeling terrible for several of the poor women they spoke of.
“Enough of all this!” Lainie exclaimed after telling a story involving a trip to the bathroom and a skirt trapped in the back of underwear. “I want to hear about a certain nurse and her taming of the world renowned playboy.” She popped a grape into her mouth, a mischievous smirk on her face and swirling her finger in my direction.
“Yes, I want to hear more about this, as well.” Kitty joined in; giggling from the three glasses of champagne she had guzzled. She was such a gentle spirit, granted Dr. Gillman was gradually guiding her toward new adventures. Although, I was still fairly certain she was a card carrying virgin.
“I would hardly consider a handful of lunches and a single date as taming anyone,” I contradicted, making light of the subject. In truth, Dylan and I had met every day for the past two weeks for lunch. If he were working, I would bring him his favorite Reuben sandwich from the deli by my apartment. He would indulge me in my weakness for frozen cheesecake balls, stealing one every chance he got. I was still having an issue separating the two sides of him, hoping with everything in me the dick side of him never surfaced again.
Lainie threw a grape in my direction, hitting me in the center of my forehead. I picked up the rogue piece of fruit and placed it on my empty plate. This was a classy establishment, not one of those places on every street corner where everyone would find her funny.
“I heard he has a huge dick.” Kitty spoke this as if it was a matter-of-fact, then quickly covered her mouth. “Oh God, Claire! I’m so sorry.” Her eyes grew wide, but her giggles gave away her inebriated state.
I had no clue how big his dick was or how his lips tasted. Dylan had limited our contact to handholding and occasional brushes of his hand on my shoulders. At our one and only date, he alluded to wanting more with me, but the conversation had never presented itself again.
“Kitty, I think you may want to switch to water for a little while.”
No one rehashed the dick question, a blessing I was glad for. But when it was time to leave, Lainie and I found someone had taken care of the bill.
“Yes, Ma’am,” the attendant answered. “Mr. Morgan called and took care of everything. And, may I say, what a pleasant young man he is.”
I swallowed hard, somewhat embarrassed, that a man, specifically one such as Dylan, would have paid for me to have my toenails painted.
“Oh, and these arrived a moment ago.” Sitting beside the older lady were a dozen pale, pink roses, nestled in a crystal vase. Lainie’s name was printed in elegant script on the card.
“Who in the…?” I slapped my hand over her mouth; worrying what vulgar words she would let slip in her excitement.
“Good God, Claire. These people see me all the time, they know I am prone to letting a word or two go.”
It was a matter of pride for me. When I told Dylan of my plans today and how I would be with my friends until late this evening, he asked me where I was going. He informed me, he knew the place well, as his mother was also a regular. The last thing I wanted was for word to get back to Priscilla Morgan of the possibility her son was spending time with classless, trailer trash.
Hell, I had skirted around the truth when I spoke of my father not being home often. Dylan most likely thought he was some businessman who created million dollar deals. I, for one, was not going to contradict him. I had no plans of ever seeing my family again, so the issue was moot.
“Happy Birthday, Miss Lainie. May your day be filled with laughter and joy. Sincerely, The Morgans.”
Lainie pressed the card to her chest, her eyes full of happy tears. “Did you tell him you would be here?” She sobbed. Her bottom lip quivering as she waited for my answer.
“I’m sorry, Lainie, he asked me.”
There was no time to prepare for her one hundred pounds, as she collided with me. “Don’t you dare fuck this up.” She sobbed into my neck, her hair covering my face, but I didn’t dare try to move it. She’d come so far and worked so hard to get back to where she was before the attack. If getting a vase of flowers from my…whatever he was, made her day, then so be it.
“Okay, enough with the heavy.” Lainie pulled back, wiped her eyes, and then went back into birthday diva mode. “We need to get our cute asses over to the winery.” She looked pointedly at Kitty. “You’re riding with me and you better not blow chunks in my car.” Poor Kitty nodded her head, clearly scared to death, yet not willing to back out.
I wrapped my arm around her and handed her a bottle of cold water. “You can ride with me. Just warn me if you need me to pull over.”
I turned back to bid the attendant goodbye, promising to see them again soon. We finally head to the elevator to a chorus of happy birthdays from the staff.
Magnolia Winery, a hidden gem in the low country, was situated just west of the city. Greeting us as we pulled onto the winding gravel road was a massive iron gate. A large ‘M’ was situated in the center of a plank of wood, which looked to have been there for a hundred years.
As we neared the main house, a man dressed in slacks and a sports coat was waiting to welcome us. He was younger, maybe mid-twenties, which surprised me. His hair was blonde, mid-length and wavy. He waved and directed us to park near an old oak tree.
“Welcome to Magnolia Winery. I understand someone is having a birthday.” Lainie was already out of her car and climbing the steps to stand beside the gentleman.
“That would be me.” She raised her hand in the air, as if the big assed sash she had across her chest wasn’t a big enough answer.
“Well, then.” He bowed to her. “You get to wear this.” He pulled a tiara from behind his back. You could tell it was one like they gave the little girls who competed in those pageants, but for Lainie, it was like the bitch had won Miss America. I was glad Lainie was not planning on driving as it was evident she was close to being more than tipsy.
Darren Magnolia, as he formally introduced
himself to queen Lainie, explained to us we would first take a tour of the plant where they actually made the wine.
“Do we get to take off our shoes and stomp them, like in that movie?” Lainie questioned excitedly, stomping her feet as she laughed, wrinkling her nose.
“Lainie, honey, you just had your toes done, you don’t want to turn your feet purple.” I sounded more like her mother than her close friend, but I suspected we might be on the short list for guests not invited back.
Darren agreed there would be no smashing of any grapes with bare feet. However, he did assure her there would be plenty of tasting.
I understood all too well the concept of fermentation. My experience being vastly different from the clean and organized facility I stood inside. I recalled the last time I saw Daddy in the process of making hooch. He had been just like Lainie, three sheets to the wind from sampling.
Darren did an excellent job of deflecting Lainie’s attention from wanting to climb one of the ladders. Although, when he reached his hand out to touch her, she flinched and I instantly felt bad for her. Even with copious amounts of alcohol giving her liquid courage, her demons still plagued her.
Mrs. Magnolia, no formal first name and no room for argument, introduced herself as one of the owners. Although she was pleasant enough, you could tell she was disappointed with the lushes who snickered through most of her lecture on cheese and proper wine selections.
Toward the end of our tour, we were directed to a beautiful deck area, which overlooked the vast rows of grapevines. I leaned over the railing, watching as the final rays of light disappeared into the horizon. What was Dylan doing? Did he finish changing the oil on the bike he took in yesterday?
Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 Page 22