The Cocktail Club

by Pat Tucker

  “You left the drinks in the car?” Ivee asked.

  “I couldn’t carry everything!” Felicia grabbed her keys. “Darby, come help me?”

  When the two of them walked out, I looked at Ivee and shook my head. “This was nothing but you, huh?”

  “No, girl. It was all of us. And don’t be acting all silly and stuff. We ain’t doing nothing you wouldn’t do for all of us if the tables were turned.”

  Once everything was put away, and I poured us all drinks, we sat and got ready to catch up.

  “What are you gonna do about Kyle?” Darby asked.

  “I can’t find him. I finally went by his house a week or so ago only to discover that he had moved! I told the AG’s office that I didn’t intend to sign the letter, but no one seems sympathetic to what I’m saying. It’s my signature, so saying I was coaxed into signing apparently sounds so ridiculous that no one believes me.”

  “Wait, you never did say what happened. How’d he get you to sign?” Felecia asked.

  “That bastard! He got me drunk. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but he brought an extra large bottle of Skyy Vodka over and we got drunk. By the time he started talking about needing my signature on something, I could barely see straight,” I admitted.

  “Oh, that was dirty,” Ivee said.

  “And he gets away with it just like that?” Darby asked.

  “He had a letter with my signature saying it was no longer necessary for him to pay. They were doing their job and cut me off. For all they knew, we had worked something out together and it was what I had requested.”

  “They didn’t need to verify anything with you first?”

  I shrugged. “I guess that’s not how they work down there. Now, I’m gonna have to hire a lawyer and take him back to court.” I shook my head. “And that, like every damn thing else, costs money.”

  “The state has money to prosecute my ass, but bastards like Kyle can get away with falsifying documents, so he could basically rob you and his own flesh and blood!” Ivee said.

  “I know things are tight, but last week, Felicia and I looked around and we were the only two at happy hour,” Darby said.

  Ivee and I looked at her.

  “We’ve always been close, and we’re all going through it right now, but if we start pulling away from each other, then who knows what will happen.”

  Her voice cracked a bit. Now, all eyes were on her.

  “What, you mean like folks might start getting arrested for DWI or something?” Ivee suggested.

  “Yeah, that, or maybe someone might meet up with a dangerous, but sexy murderer at a hotel room and do unspeakable, but pleasurable things,” Darby said dreamily.

  When she suddenly stopped talking as if she’d caught herself and realized she’d said too much, all of our faces were stunned frozen.

  Darby threw her hands up as if to say, “What the hell,” and then dropped another bombshell.

  “Oh, and if that isn’t enough, the playground moms held a telephone intervention about my bringing my mommy juice to the park. Then I had to explain to my seven-year-old why his mommy took pictures in her birthday suit and they ended up on the family iPad.”

  Ivee spat out her drink.

  Felecia nearly gagged, but all eyes were stuck on Darby.

  “Yup, let that be a lesson. Unsync your stuff before you go texting someone other than your husband!”

  “Aren’t you scared he’s going to tell his father?”

  “I bribed him with the promise of a new bike,” Darby confessed.

  We all cracked up at that. These ladies let it all hang loose.

  36

  DARBY

  “Thanks for dinner, babe. It was good,” Kevin said. He stooped down to kiss my forehead as he passed.

  “Thanks for dinner, babe,” Kevin Jr. mocked, then pursed his little lips. He was slowly but surely coming back after we had that little talk about the birthday suit pictures, and of course the new bike.

  “Yeah, it was good, babe,” his brother teased. They made smooching noises and cracked themselves up with laughter.

  “Oh, cut it out you, clowns,” I teased.

  “Okay, fellas. Finish up at the table, and then it’s time for showers and bed!”

  When Kevin took the boys off to shower, I got up and started to clean the kitchen. Once I prepared the water, I grabbed a glass and poured some wine. I swallowed it in two gulps, poured another glass, and then started to wash the dishes.

  Once alone, my mind traveled back to heaven right here on earth. No one had ever kissed the soles of my feet. Chandler had done that and then some. He had done remarkable things—things my husband had never done. Kevin was immensely cheap, responsible, straight-laced, and had been goal-oriented from day one.

  Chandler was a reckless free spirit. He was a trust-fund baby who lived a privileged life, and he never made excuses for his sense of entitlement. The very things I hated about him were what I loved most. He handled my body as if we’d been together many times before. We didn’t talk too much, but he gave me everything I needed. Most of which I never even knew I wanted.

  “Hey, where are the towels?” Kevin rushed out of the bathroom and asked.

  “In the linen closet to your right,” I said.

  “Oh, my bad!”

  He turned back toward the bathroom and opened the closet door. When he ducked back into the bathroom, I took another sip of my wine.

  Regardless of how much I tried to shake the memories from my head, they wouldn’t leave. Chandler had me hanging off the sofa in the hotel room, then on the corner of the massive four-poster, king-sized bed. We screwed like rabbits, and everything he did made me feel like I was on the edge of ecstasy.

  “We got any lotion?” Kevin peeked out from the hallway and asked a little while later.

  “Under the sink in the yellow bin,” I said.

  “Gotcha!”

  I drank more wine, then a little more, and started to wash the pots.

  I couldn’t drink enough wine to erase the memory of the very best night of sex I had ever experienced. My emotions had been at war ever since. It was hard to look at myself in the mirror, but I felt so good, I was damn near ashamed.

  Before the showers were over, I was asked about toothpaste, house shoes, and pajamas. When they finally finished, my sons ran out of the bathroom and filled the room with scents from their Cars and Spiderman body wash fragrances.

  Only then, did I force thoughts of Chandler’s sweat-drenched body slamming into me from behind out of my mind. It was all I could do to wait for our next rendezvous.

  37

  IVEE

  As I eased into the back seat of the car, I thought about the fear I felt over going to work. My time outside of the office had spoiled me. I barely wanted to go back in, but the moment those thoughts tried to get the best of me, I reminded myself of one fact—things could’ve been a whole lot worse for me if anyone at the office had gotten wind of my recent trip to the slammer. When I thought about that, it really put things into perspective and made me realize how fortunate I was.

  Inside my office, I familiarized myself with some of my files and projects. Nearly everything looked good except that one thorn in my side.

  “Nothing I can do about that now,” I said.

  I clicked out of the network files and pulled up my agenda for the day. It didn’t take long for the buzzer on my desk to go off.

  “There’s someone named Wayne Ledger here to see you,” Jessica said.

  Her tone of voice told me she wanted to know who he was and why he was here. Typically, only clients who were already on the roster came into the office. When I was wooing a new client, I usually did that over a very expensive lunch or dinner and drinks. A lot of my life revolved around alcohol, and I didn’t realize it until I was forced to go without.

  “Yes, send him in, please,” I said.

  I straightened small knick-knacks on my desk and adjusted my picture frames as I waited for Wayne. He
strolled into my office in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. All that was missing was the baseball cap turned backwards.

  The smirk across his face told me he thought he was being funny. I held in my laughter and gave him a knowing look.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I came straight here from someplace else.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “No, seriously, before you start to look down that pretty nose of yours at me, hear me out,” he said.

  His cell phone rang, and he looked at it. The friendly smile vanished from his face. “I’m so sorry. I really need to take this. Is that cool? I need about twenty minutes,” he said.

  I nodded. “You’re fine. Go ahead.”

  He stepped out of my office, and I stepped back in time. My mind focused on all of the information Ted had thrown my way.

  “There are some uncomfortable things we’re going to have to do,” he explained.

  My eyebrows went up. Since I had been arrested on the side of a road, my car was towed and impounded, and my short stint in jail had already been uncomfortable for me. To me, that had been more than enough discomfort.

  “Ivee can handle it,” Zion said with all confidence. He stabbed his fork into the lasagna.

  “A provision of your restricted license calls for you to install an ignition interlock device. You’ll be on probation for two years, and of course there are the associated court costs and fees,” he said.

  “What is an ignition lock, or whatever you called it?” I asked.

  My heart immediately began to race. I thought we had paid him to go to court, talk to the judge, and bring me back probation, maybe with a stint of community service. I didn’t want any kind of locking device on my damn car.

  “Listen. It was either that or no license. The ignition interlock device simply requires you to pass a breathalyzer test before you’re able to operate your vehicle,” he explained.

  He shrugged and behaved as if that was not a big deal. I swallowed hard and told myself not to say a word.

  “In addition to that, sometimes while you’re driving, it’ll randomly ask you to test your breath,” he added.

  My eyebrow danced upward. “You mean while I’m driving? That can’t be safe. And I thought we were going to plead not guilty,” I said.

  “Ivee, this is a part of what’s required in order to keep your license, once you pay the necessary fees,” he said.

  “Fees? What fees? Isn’t that what we’re paying you for?”

  Ted chuckled. He picked up his crystal water glass and took two healthy gulps.

  “Ivee, you need to hear him out. You got yourself into this mess, and now he’s trying to tell you what it’s gonna take to get out,” Zion tossed in.

  My head had begun to hurt. Zion had made it clear that he was more than pissed over the DWI arrest, but more and more he acted like this was more than he could handle.

  “Ivee, my legal fees, which are being incredibly discounted, are only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what you will have to pay.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  But before Ted could say another word, Zion put down his fork and spoke.

  “Hell, it’s already added up when you look at the towing and impound fees, then lawyer costs—even at a discount. There are still court and device fees and bail…” Zion exhaled, hard and long. He seemed exasperated.

  I had grown sick and tired of him and the way he had to remind me of how much I had fucked up. Yeah, I got busted and had to fight a DWI, but I didn’t need his constant commentary or his reminders about how much everything had cost and was going to cost.

  The rest of our time over dinner was spent with Ted’s detailed description of what it would cost to install the device and the monthly rental fees. Also, there would be possible costs associated with the mandatory DWI treatment program along with the increase we were sure to have to pay for our auto insurance.

  I was pulled from my reverie when Wayne suddenly stepped back into my office, and not a moment too soon. Thoughts of my problems didn’t do anything but bring me down. I welcomed the distraction.

  “Was that an entire twenty minutes?” I joked.

  He cut his eyes at me and took a seat in front of my desk. I had already drawn up the proposal for him to review. If I was able to lock him down, that would go a long way to help improve my standing with Geneva and at the firm.

  The mess with Carson was still underway, and it pissed me off every time I thought about it. A part of me wanted Geneva to return Carson’s money and tell him to hit the road. No single client was worth all of that. Still, the last thing I needed was the mess with him to blow up in my face, and word of the arrest to leak. I’d been extra careful to remain on my toes and made sure my face had been visible around the office as much as possible.

  38

  PETA

  I didn’t want to think about what my life would’ve been like had my girls not stepped in and rescued me. Bills were stacked as high as the ceiling, and I had made no progress whatsoever with the insurance company.

  As I sat at the table and waited for my daughter to come in, I had gone over my speech several times. I didn’t want to drag her into the mess with Kyle and me, but it was time for me to see if she could help.

  Over the last couple of weeks, Kyle had picked her up from school, and it became clear that he knew he’d run into me at the house sooner or later if he didn’t change his routine.

  Once I heard her at the door, I checked dinner to make sure we had time to talk.

  “M-o-o-o-m,” she called from the front door. “Oooh, it smells good in here. What are you fixing?” Kendal asked.

  “Your favorite.” I smiled.

  “You made crab cakes?” she asked.

  I frowned. “Since when did crab cakes become your favorite?”

  “Mom, Dad turned me on to seafood awhile back. We’ve been going to some really good seafood restaurants lately, and I realized what I’ve been missing all my life.”

  That burned me up. Here I was barely able to keep food on the table and Kyle was spending money like it had gone out of style. It hurt me so much to have to keep quiet about something like that. It would hurt my daughter.

  “Well, I didn’t make any seafood. I made a pasta casserole that you used to love,” I said. “You know, before you got a taste of the good life with all that seafood.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Mom! You know that’s my old favorite, too. Yummy!”

  “Good.”

  “I’m gonna go upstairs and change before dinner.” She moved toward the stairs.

  “Wait!” I patted the area next to me. “Before you go up, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Concern spread across her face. She fumbled with the chair, pulled it out, and eased down onto the seat.

  “Oh, God, Mom. What’s wrong?”

  “Hey, it’s nothing that serious, but I need to know what’s going on with your daddy. He’s been trying to avoid me, and I really need to talk to him.”

  Kendal’s entire demeanor changed. She tilted her head slightly and said, “Oh, Mom, he’s not avoiding you. Here, I’ll call him right now.”

  I watched as my daughter pulled out her cell phone, pressed a number, and pulled the phone up to her ear. A few seconds later, she smiled.

  “Hey, Daddy, are you busy?”

  She looked at me. It wasn’t a disrespectful glance, but it said, “See, he picked right up. What’s the problem?”

  “Yes, Daddy, uh-huh.”

  I sat and listened to the one-sided conversation.

  “Mom needs to talk to you,” Kendal said. “Okay. Here she is.” She passed me the phone.

  I was almost scared to take it. Kendal got up from the table, and all but skipped out of the kitchen.

  “I’m gonna go change, Mom,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Hello?” I said into the phone.

  For a moment, there was quiet and I was concerned.


  “Hey, what’s up?” Kyle said.

  He greeted me as if life was cheery. His voice held no care or concern in the world. I had been struggling and suffering for what felt like months, and he was cool as a cucumber. I swallowed back my bitterness and tried to remain focused.

  “Kyle, why haven’t you paid any child support?” I asked. “How do you think your daughter’s been eating?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” He sounded put out by what I said. It wasn’t anger. It was as if I was a mere interruption in his day. His voice held irritation that he didn’t even try to hide.

  “Kyle, you have really put me in a bind. You know what happened with the trucks. My savings are just about gone, and a couple of weeks ago, my friends had to bring food for your daughter and me,” I said.

  “Peta, I’m sorry about your business. But as a business owner, you know the sacrifices and risks involved. Besides, I don’t support your business. The money I gave you was to support our daughter. You need to get that other dude to handle your bills or whatever it is you’re struggling with.” His casual, easy-going solution stung. “That’s why men trip over child support. That money is supposed to go to take care of our daughter—not make up your shortcoming or put your business in the black.”

  “Kyle, you have not paid child support; that’s all I’m talking about. If my head’s not on straight, then I can’t give our daughter one hundred percent.”

  “Listen. You signed those papers. I tried to talk to you about it. Yeah, I asked you to free me up, so I could finish up and close on the new house, and you were cool with it,” he said.

  “Are you kidding me? You know damn well I had no idea I was signing a letter to prevent you from paying child support.”

  “Oh, so now you didn’t know, huh?” He laughed.

  I burned with fury.

  “You a trip, Peta. What’s wrong? Your man trippin’ on you? Things didn’t work out with y’all, so now you trying to backpedal on what you promised me?”