by Nicole Dykes
After my meeting with Jackson, I arrive back at my house.
I unlock my front door and go to punch in the code for the alarm when I see that Nicholas is already home and in the living room.
That’s strange its barely five in the evening, he’s never home this early.
He approaches me and he looks furious. “Charlotte, where have you been?”
I’m stunned by his anger. Why is he so upset with me? “I was at Tricked, going over some things for the Mustang. I picked out the engine today.”
“Where is my dry cleaning?”
“Your dry cleaning?”
He groans while rubbing his temples, like he is trying to calm himself, “Yes, Charlotte, my dry cleaning. I asked you this morning before I left for work to pick up my tuxedo at the dry cleaners. Remember?”
I totally forgot. I was so excited to go into Jackson’s shop today that I spaced. “I’m so sorry, I must have forgot.”
“You forgot? We have a black tie event tonight, Charlotte. The charity to raise money for premature babies. What am I supposed to wear, jeans?”
He doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
I pick up the purse I had put on the stand by the door and my coat, “It’s okay, it doesn’t start until eight, I will go and pick up your tuxedo and will be back swiftly. I promise.”
“And what are you going to wear? Did you remember to go shopping for a gown?”
I didn’t. I feel sick with worry, he’s so angry with me. “I didn’t, but it’s okay. I have a closet full of gowns. I can wear one of them.”
He shakes his head, “No, Charlotte, you cannot wear a used gown. The thought of that is just humiliating.”
I slip my coat on, “Okay, don’t worry I will pick up a new gown, there is a dress shop near the cleaners.”
“We are supposed to be at Gloria and David’s at seven for drinks before the event.”
I nod my head, frantically, “Okay, we will make it. Just go upstairs and shower and I’ll be right back.”
His face is still full of fury and disappointment when I race out of the house and get behind the wheel of my BMW. I put my car in drive and start across town to pick up Nicholas’s tux.
I use the voice search on my phone to call the dress boutique in that area, when I find the right one I dial and a woman answers the phone.
“Hello, this is Charlotte Warner.”
“Oh, Mrs. Warner. Hello, how may I help you this evening?”
“Well I have an event tonight and I flaked. I need an elegant gown for this evening.”
“Of course, Mrs. Warner. I’m sure Mr. Warner is not very pleased.”
That’s an understatement if I have ever heard one, but I try to laugh it off, “No he’s not very happy with me at the moment.”
“I will pull some dresses in your size and have them waiting for you.”
“Perfect, thank you very much.”
We hang up and then I call my salon that is conveniently on the way home, filling them in on my debacle.
Luckily they are just as willing to please and are waiting for me as well.
I make a mad dash to the cleaners and pick up the tux before driving down the one block to the dress store and parking my car in front.
When I walk in I’m greeted by, Sadie, the sales representative that usually helps me when I’m here, “Okay, Mrs. Warner. I have picked out several selections for you.”
I quickly go through the dresses she has picked out. They are all my usual style and very fitting for this particular event. I should just grab any one of them and put it on. But then a stunning, shimmering black dress catches my eye on a mannequin across the room.
It’s so beautiful. It’s a floor length gown, but it has a long slit on the side and is slinky at the top. It would definitely show more cleavage than I usually do. Nicholas would probably hate it.
Sadie notices me looking, “That dress would look spectacular on you. There is no way Mr. Warner could be upset with you wearing that.”
It wouldn’t hurt to try it on.
I look at the clock on my phone, it’s nearly 6:00. “I’d like to try it on.”
She quickly walks over to fetch one in my size and brings it back to me.
I go into the dressing room and quickly slip it on, sans bra because there is no way I could wear one in this. I stare at myself in the mirror, it fits me like a glove and I’ve never felt sexier. For once I actually feel my own age.
I walk out of the small dressing room and where Sadie and another sales associate are waiting. Sadie glides over to me, “Wow, Mrs. Warner! You have to get this one. You look incredible.”
I don’t really have time to try on another dress anyway, right? I nod to her, “I’ll take it, please charge it to my account.”
She nods and I gather my things, slip on my coat and run out of the shop and to my car.
I can’t be late.
I make a stop at the salon where they ooh and aah over my gown; and then one woman does my make up while another styles my hair into a beautiful French-braided up do.
After thanking them profusely I leave the salon at 6:30 and make it back to my house around 6:40. Twenty minutes for Nicholas to change into his tux and to make the five-minute trip to Gloria and David’s house.
I may have actually pulled this off.
I walk into my house, being careful not to let my gown get caught on anything or get dirty, holding the dry cleaning bag that contains his tuxedo.
Nicholas rushes to the door and examines my face and hair. “They went a little heavy on the eye make-up.”
He doesn’t say anything to me after that, just takes the bag from my hand and retreats up the stairs.
He’s still not pleased. How is that possible?
A few moments later he walks down the stairs. He looks really handsome in his tuxedo with his hair slicked back.
He puts his coat on and is still barely looking at me, “Let’s go.”
I don’t say a word and just follow.
I can’t believe he is so angry.
He opens the passenger side door for me and I climb in. He quickly closes my door and gets into his side, driving like a maniac all the way to Gloria and David’s.
He turns the engine off and then turns his head toward me, “Just please, don’t embarrass me any further tonight.”
I nod silently and then he gets out of the car, walking to my side to help me out of the car. He takes my arm and we walk up to the front door of the massive home together.
On paper, my husband is a true gentleman.
David answers the door and we walk in. I see that Karen and William have already arrived. David takes our coats and then all eyes in the room are on me.
Nicholas swoops in front of me, leaning in close to me, keeping his voice constrained, “Charlotte, what the hell are you wearing?”
I look down at my beautiful gown, “It’s an evening gown.”
He stares down at my chest, “My God, that slit goes up to your hip bone and I can practically see your breasts.”
I promise it’s nowhere near as bad as he is stating. It’s tasteful in my opinion, although maybe a little different from my usual attire, but I’m not in my forties. “The slit barely goes above my knee and it’s not like my nipples are out.”
His eyes bug out of his head and he looks around as to see if anyone heard me say the word, “nipple”. “Charlotte Ann Warner. What has gotten into you lately?” He says reprimanding me like I am a child.
My God, he sounds like my father. I think I’m going to be sick.
I keep my voice hushed, “It’s not that bad, Nicholas. I think I look nice.”
He turns to Gloria, “Gloria, do you have a shawl that Charlotte can borrow.”
She nods at my husband knowingly, like I’m some sort of problem child and quickly leaves the room.
A short time later she walks back into the room with a silk, black shawl that she then drapes over my bare shoulders, “There you go sweetheart,
that’s a little more elegant. Don’t you think?”
No, I think it makes me look your age.
I give her a fake, kind smile although I’m screaming inside.
Maybe I shouldn’t argue and make things worse than they already are.
The men move into the den and I’m stuck with Gloria and Karen in the kitchen, sipping wine and listening to the usual gossip.
Did you know that Cheryl Taylor’s fifth grader has been diagnosed with ADHD and has been getting into fights? I do now.
Before long, our husbands join us and then wrangle us into the limousine that is waiting outside of the house.
Nicholas won’t even make eye contact with me on the ride to the country club.
We arrive there in twenty minutes and all of us check our coats and bags, me of course keeping the shawl to cover a little bit of the skin I dared to show.
After finding a table, I’m left alone while everyone else goes to mingle.
Why can’t tonight just be over? There is absolutely nothing at all that could make this night any better.
As I glance around the room at same boring people I see at every event, when I’m suddenly proven wrong.
I boldly stand from the table and walk in the direction of the covered in tattoos, foul mouthed, ‘dirty’ man, also known as Jackson Garrett.
He’s in his tuxedo, dressed the exact same way as he was the night I met him, only a few weeks ago.
He’s already spotted me, and hasn’t looked away since I started walking over to him.
Maybe this awful night can be saved after all?
Chapter 13
Jax
Holy fucking shit. I don’t think there is anything more beautiful on this planet, than Charlotte Warner.
As she glides over to where I’m standing, I swear she’s walking in slow motion. And I’m more than okay with that. It gives me time to fully take in her appearance.
She still looks classy, but her look tonight is a little racier and it’s downright sexy.
In a dress that is low cut, showing off her perfect tits, high and proud. Without even showing that much skin. She’s wearing a silk shawl draped over her shoulders, but it’s twisted and folded in a way that really doesn’t do much to hide her assets. There is a slit on the right side of the dress, showing off a sliver of her tan, toned thigh, teasing.
Her make-up is still flawless as usual, but her eyeshadow is a little darker, really playing up her green eyes and her long eye lashes.
Fuck my life. She’s insanely gorgeous.
And I made a promise to my best friend earlier today that I wouldn’t lay a hand on her.
She stops right in front of me, “Jackson, what are you doing here?”
I shrug my shoulders and feel the tuxedo jacket strain. Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate dressing up? But at least it’s for charity this time, “You know, giving back to the community.” I point toward the stage where a lame, jazz band is playing, “And listening to this killer group.”
She doesn’t miss the sarcasm, “Oh yeah, you should come here on Sunday. There will be a string quartet.”
I grin at her. I knew she had to have a sense of humor, “Well, Dylan and I made an agreement a long time ago that we would try to make it to at least one charity event a month.”
“Is he here with you?”
“Nah, I’m flyin’ solo tonight.” Brooke and Dylan are stretched pretty thin these days so I offered to go alone, “You didn’t mention this event today when you were at my office.”
She sheepishly says, “I actually forgot all about it until I got home this evening.”
“Well it happens, I’m sure you go to a lot of these. One is bound to fall through the cracks.”
She gives me a weak smile, “I shouldn’t have forgotten.”
Why is she so fucking hard on herself? “Charlotte, you okay?”
She just nods silently, letting me know that she is definitely not alright. I’m about to insist that she tell me what’s up, when I see Alex’s ex across the room talking
Shit! What the fuck is his name again? Nerd Boy is the only thing I can think of right now.
Why is he here?
Charlotte sees me looking in his direction and asks, “Who is that?”
“An asshat that used to date my friend, Alex.”
“Is Alex a man or a woman?”
“Woman, it’s short for Alexandra, I think.”
Shit, I should ask her that someday.
Right now, he’s is making his way through the crowd and over to where I’m standing with Charlotte.
He walks over to me, fairly confidently for a pencil pushing pipsqueak like himself, “Good evening, Jackson.”
Stephen, that’s his fucking name. It’s boring, and he was repeatedly told to call me Jax by Alex.
“Stephen, what are you doing here?”
His eyes drift slowly over to Charlotte and nods politely.
She smiles back, “Hi, I’m Charlotte Warner.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’m Stephen Cowen.” His eyes meet mine now to answer my previous question, “My firm sent me, they like to participate in charities and this is a great cause.”
I don’t miss the slight panic in Charlotte’s voice when she says, “Oh, my husband is gesturing for me.”
She turns to Stephen, “It was lovely meeting you. Jackson, I’ll see you later, hopefully.” She looks like a young child who has been repeatedly scolded. I want to explore that further, but she’s already running over to meet his command.
I then focus on Stephen, who is fiddling with his jacket, nervously, “Why don’t you just ask me, man.”
A long sigh escapes his mouth, “How is she?”
She misses you, asshole, “Alex, is doing great. Got right back up on that horse with no problem.”
He nods his head, sadly, “I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Are you?”
He looks surprised by my question. I’ll state it again, I hate bullshit and I don’t beat around the fucking bush, “Of course I am, I really cared for her.”
“Then why the fuck did you dump her?”
“I didn’t. She rejected me.”
“No, she turned down your proposal to make her your property for the rest of her life. She would have been more than happy to continue dating you.”
He looks a little pissed. Too bad for him, it’s not his feelings I care about, “I wanted to share my life with her. I had a plan to make her my wife and give her anything and everything she ever could want.”
“Except that you don’t know what the fuck she wants. Startin’ with the fact that Alex is no boring soccer mom. She likes her apartment in the city and has no intentions of moving to the ‘burbs.”
“I just wanted to make her happy. I would live in a cardboard box with Alex if she would let me. She just shut down and wouldn’t talk to me.”
Kinda sounds like Alex. “Well, you didn’t have to break up with her.”
This fucking guy looks worn and broken. Dammit I don’t want to feel sorry for him, “I tried everything.”
I stay silent.
“It was good to see you again, Jackson. Please give Alex my best.”
I nod and shake his hand and then he walks back to the group of people he was talking to before.
Maybe I misjudged that entire situation. He really seems to love her.
I guess I should be social. I’ve never been to one of these things by myself, and the stuffiness in here will kill your spirit.
I scan the room quickly to see where Charlotte was called off to and see her standing with her husband. It looks like they are in a middle of heated argument, she shrinks back as he’s pointing his fucking finger in her face.
Fuck this.
I start to walk in their direction. But before I can reach them, I see my friend Adam Shriller in a cocky stride, headed my way.
He holds his fist out and we bump our tattooed knuckles together, “Well fuckin’ A, if it isn’t Jax.
In a country club wearing a fucking tuxedo!”
I shake my head, “They let your ass in here?”
“Well yeah, they want my money.”
I take a drink from my weak, Jack and Coke from the open bar and see that another couple has joined Charlotte and her dickhead husband. She seems to be okay for the time being, “Yeah, mine too.”
I walk with him over to the bar so he can get a drink and then Shriller grips my tuxedo jacket with his right hand, his eyes trained on something behind me, “Holy shit, there is a fucking real life goddess approaching us. I call fucking dibs. Literally.”
I roll my eyes and remove his hands from my tux, turning around to see this “goddess” and scoff when I see that it’s Charlotte.
Of fucking course, its Charlotte.
I lean over to Shriller, “Someone already called dibs a long time ago.”
He looks crushed by that and then Charlotte is standing before us in all her smokin’ hot glory.
She looks at Shriller and then me and squeaks out, “I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Of course you aren’t.” I point to Shriller, “This is Adam Shriller. Shriller this is Charlotte Warner. She’s married to Senator Nicholas Warner.”
He takes her hand gently in his, still fucking her with his eyes. He has no fucking shame, “It’s really nice to meet you, Charlotte.”
She smiles, shaking his hand, “Adam Shriller.” She looks over to me, “The client who is also your friend that you mentioned earlier?”
I nod. Okay asshole, drop her hand. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Shriller finally releases Charlotte from his tight grip, “I think we were friends before I was a client.”
I chuckle, “Hell, I don’t know how it all worked out, but we are stuck with your ass now.”
“Yep.”
“How long are you in town, by the way?”
“Not long, just a few days.”
I look over to Charlotte who has gone into “quietly standing there and listening to men talk” mode, “Shriller lives in California these days.”
She nods, “Oh, wow. It would be nice to not be in the cold weather right now.”
“Well you should come visit me sometime. I have a house right on the beach.”
Cool it dickhead.
Charlotte laughs, “I don’t travel much, unless you count D.C.”
