Chapter Eleven
Alisha
I've never felt as beautiful as I do right now.
Sitting beside Charles in his car as we make our way to the party, I quickly realize we're not headed toward someone's home. My heart sinks in my chest and an overwhelming discomfort comes over me as I realize we're headed toward Club Red.
My only other experience at this club was a very, very good one but ended bittersweet.
“Is everything okay?” Charles glances my direction, and I realize my discomfort must be obvious.
I nod my head, not trusting my mouth to form words properly. Instead, I reach for the necklace gem he’d bought me and gently slide the pendant back and forth along the chain.
“You're absolutely beautiful and you have nothing to be nervous about.” As he says the words, he reaches out and gently pats my knee and I stare at the spot he touched, stunned by the warmth blossoming there and working its way up my thigh toward my core.
I appreciate his kind words, but he has absolutely no idea. I have every reason to be nervous and uncomfortable about heading back to Club Red and as he parks his car in a spot in front of the club, I stare at the front of the building, thinking about the last time I'd been here.
But there's no way I'd run into the same people I ran into back then, right? I hadn’t been here in years and years. And why exactly - and how - is Charles affiliated with this place?
As my unease with the whole situation rises like a tsunami, I resist the urge to slide down in my seat and hide.
Charles kills the engine and turns to me. “Are you ready to go?”
I want to shake my head and ask him to take me home. Of course, I can't do that, I won't do that; not now. I told him I’d come here with him and I’m going to stick to my word. Besides, there's no easy way to tell him that if I had known that the party was going to be here at Club Red, I would have gracefully bowed out.
So I flash him what I hope is a convincing, winning smile and nod my head. He smiles, looking so thrilled I almost feel bad as he opens his door and gets out while I continue staring at the front of Club Red. I just need to convince myself that I can get through this because I can. I will.
Charles walks around the front of his car toward my side of the car and before I know it, my door is open and he’s offering me his hand. I slip my fingers across his palm and he helps me to my feet.
He pushes the door closed behind me and the car locks with a chime. Linking his arm through mine, he guides me toward the front door of the club, and I try to slow my rapid pulse with a few deep breaths. Of course, that method doesn't work, and I find myself feeling more keyed up than before.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He glances down at me, the concern obvious in his eyes.
All I can do is nod my head in response. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert and my body begins to tremble as I think about entering the club. Surely no one will remember me after all these years...
I’m not ashamed of my last visit to the club, but I’m nervous who else might be there. I know what happens in this place all too well. We make our way inside and for the first time I take control, tugging him toward the bar, perhaps too eagerly.
“Long island iced tea?” I say and the bartender nods.
Charles leans in beside me. “Bourbon.” Arching an eyebrow he glances at me. “I've only ever known someone to order a long island if they want to get drunk.” I can hear the amusement in his voice, but I'm not feeling too humorous at the moment.
“I like tea. Doesn't everyone like tea?” I can tell I'm not fooling him one bit as I lean back against the bar and scan the room. So far, so good. There are only a few people in the room, and I wonder if we’re early.
A man I don't recognize approaches Charles, spreading his arms wide. The pair share a masculine, around-the-shoulders hug before backing off.
“I'm glad you made it.” The man turns to me, his kind, light hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “Alisha, I’ve heard so many wonderful things.” He takes my hand and lightly pats my knuckles with his palm while studying my face.
“This is the proud father, Arson,” Charles says to me in a low voice.
I smile. “Congratulations! How is Laurel doing?”
Arson leans in like he's imparting a secret. “She's not feeling too well and snuck off to the lady’s room, but she'll be back soon.”
I glance at Charles. “Maybe I should go see if she's doing okay,” I say.
He nods and I make my way to the women’s room. As I walk I notice they've made quite a few changes to the club. I’d been here before the stages and poles were put in. I imagine it's a good touch and good for business. Seems a little tacky to me though. Although I guess I shouldn't say that it's tacky, given the kind of club it is - the whole concept might be tacky.
I hurry to the little girl’s room and push inside, catching sight of Laurel as she wipes her lips with a wet wipe. She smiles at me. “I wasn’t sure if he’d bring you or not! I was going to send you an invitation, but I wanted Charles to bring you as his plus one, and Arson told me that he would.” She lowers her voice. “We may have bet on if he would or not.”
“I hope you didn’t lose too much money,” I joke, not at all offended by their little competition. Life is far too short to take anything personally.
She shakes her head. “Fortunately, I’m smart enough to minimize losses when things are not a sure bet. I am glad you’re here, though.”
“How are you feeling?” My words feel like a silly question given I know that she was obviously in here throwing up.
She pats her lips one more time, nodding her head while looking like she's about to gag. “Oh, I feel fantastic. Did you know that the smell of onions can be a trigger in pregnancy?”
I nod my head, well aware of that phenomenon; I’d suffered from the same one while I was pregnant with Evie.
“So someone orders a Gibson Martini and it’s all over.” She says the words on a sigh, and I’m surprised.
“I didn't even think about that.” The thought that those little sweet onions would trigger the nausea both surprises me and makes sense. “But I imagine most women don't spend much time at bars while they’re pregnant.”
“Which is true, I think, for women whose husbands don’t own a place with a bar.” She lets out a laugh and I join her.
“I imagine that does make it tougher to avoid.”
She angles her body in my direction. “The worst part is that I’m craving the scent of dark red wines. I don’t drink them, but I want to just sniff them all day long.”
I lift both shoulders. “So do it. There’s no harm in that.” It’s not like she’s drinking, and even if she did, I’ve heard that drinks in moderation are safe.
She laughs. “Can you imagine how crazy people would think I am if I just sat sniffing wine all night?”
“I don't think you should care what other people think or say.” I mean, other people’s opinions shouldn’t have any bearing on how we live our lives. “Imagine how many good things you'd miss in life if you let other people’s opinions dictate what you can or can’t do?”
Her face lights up and I see her resolve harden. “You know what? You're right. I don't care what other people think. What do you say we get out of here?” She tilts her head toward the door, and I nod.
Together we walk back out into the main room of the club and my heart nearly stops as I come toe to toe with a familiar face.
“Are you okay?” Laurel sounds worried and I nod my head, my mouth so dry I'm not even sure I could speak. But I have to try because I doubt she's going to accept my offer, and I don't want her to draw any more attention to us than I already have with my freeze response.
Still locked on his bright green eyes I speak to Laurel. “I’ll, uh, catch up with you in just a minute.”
“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.” I feel her gaze shift from him to me and back again before she walks away.
The moment no one is paying attention anymore, he places his hands on my hips and ushers me backward toward the wall. I move with him, feeling the support of the wall as I stare up into his eyes, unsure what he’s doing... or why. His fingers wrap around my wrists before sliding up my hands and his palms press flat to mine, pinning me to the wall as he speaks into my ear in a low voice.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Hi, Methew! How's your wife doing?” The only way I can think of to get this whole interaction back on track is by drawing attention back to the fact that he’s married and whatever he's doing with me right now is inappropriate.
He takes a step back, looking at me as if I've slapped him. “That's what you have to say to me right now?” he asks, his tone incredulous.
“I just don't think you should be being so intimate with me. Your wife would probably not approve and neither do I.” I can only hope that laying a firm boundary will help me to avoid mistakes of the past. Of course, back when I met Methew, he wasn't married. And that's not the only reason. “Besides, I came here with somebody and it's extremely disrespectful for you to be touching me like this when I'm here with someone else.” My gaze slides to the side toward Charles.
He’s watching us both closely while standing shoulder to shoulder with Arson.
“I don't give a fuck that you came here with someone else. You should leave with me.”
I'm absolutely floored by his words and stare at him, my gaze darting back and forth across his, wondering if he really just said those words.
“I’m going to go now and pretend you didn’t just say that.” With that, I step around him and make my way to Charles.
I offer both men a wobbly smile as Laurel touches my shoulder. I turn to face her and notice that she has a glass of wine tucked against her chest, just under her nose. “Thank you for the good advice.” As she says the cheerful, upbeat words, I see that she's studying my face, as if searching for some sign that I need to be saved.
“You’re welcome. Has anybody said anything?” This is her party; I can't imagine anyone could say anything anyway, but I've been surprised by people before... like just a few minutes ago with Methew.
She shakes her head as the men continue talking in low tones. I can't make out what they're saying, but it almost sounds like they're talking about some kind of business deal. Not that it's any of my business, and I'm not trying to eavesdrop or overhear them. I'm just curious if they're talking about something other than my run in with Methew.
I can't shake the uncomfortable feeling that everyone's talking about me and Methew. Of course, that's probably just paranoia, and I’m sure nobody actually noticed anything.
Determined to put him out of my mind, I smile at Laurel. “I've never been to a party like this; I’m so used to baby showers. Showing up without a gift feels wrong.”
She seems touched by my words. “Honestly, we just wanted the support of the friends and family in one place to tell everyone, which just makes life easier, you know?”
I can imagine. I'd hate to have to send out ten thousand messages to everyone and answer all of the questions that come back, plus tell the story over and over again. “I think it's actually smarter to do it this way. And you can always do both, have an announcement party now and a baby shower later.”
She pulls me into a quick hug, speaking into my ear in a low voice. “I love that idea!”
I realize that I enjoy the feeling of giving her ideas and just talking to her in general. She seems to echo the sentiment.
“We should get together sometime. I like you.” She pulls back, looking into my face with an earnest expression that leaves no room for doubting her words.
“I'd like that.” As I say the words, I feel her attention shift to someone behind me and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Arson, Laurel, I hear congratulations are in order.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
I turn to face Methew, this time also seeing his pretty wife on his arm. She's so beautiful it hurts, and it makes me wonder why he'd risk messing around with me when he has her. She stares at me, her eyes wide and surprised as she speaks to Arson and Laurel in a low, seductive tone. “Congratulations.” She stays locked on my face and this time she speaks directly to me. “You are absolutely beautiful.”
For some reason, the compliment makes me really uncomfortable, and I shift my weight leaning into Charles. “Thank you. You are too.” The words feel wooden as they leave my lips and her eyes narrow as if she's not quite convinced.
All the while, Methew stares at us both, a slight smile lifting the corners of his lips. “You’ve met my wife, Cassandra?” he asks me as this moment takes on the nightmarish quality of focusing just on the three of us.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra.” My stomach twists up uncomfortably and I want to throw up.
Cassandra inclines her head in response, lifting her chin before taking Laurel 's arm, leading her off. Now the group is just down to Arson, Charles, me and Methew.
“Come to dinner at my place this Saturday.”
I meet Methew’s stare, realizing he’s talking to me with shock. “Me?” My brain wants to say that he's asking the guys to his place, but I know that's not the case.
He nods his head, completely ignoring Arson and Charles, as if they're not there.
It occurs to me this might actually be a good thing. Going to dinner at his place would give me the chance to tell him the truth. The truth that I've been hiding from him all these years. The truth that started the last time I was here at this club - and the main reason I wanted to avoid this place.
As if in a trance, I nod my head. “Sure, that sounds fine. Saturday.”
A cruel smile crosses his lips. “Excellent. Let's dance on it.” With that, he takes my hand and pulls me out onto the dance floor, and I suddenly realize there's music playing and other people dancing. At some point when I wasn't paying attention, the room had filled up with people, and now we're lost in the crowd.
“I never forgot that night.” He whispers the words into my ear, and I shiver, feeling so very uncomfortable. All of this is icky, now that I know he's married, and I thank my lucky stars that he wasn't married the night we were together.
“You probably should.” The words sound very facetious, but I'm not joking. Over his shoulder I catch sight of Charles and see that he is tense and his gaze is guarded as he watches us. I haven't drunk enough of my Long Island iced tea to be comfortable with any of this.
At least now I have an opportunity to tell Methew the truth - that he has a daughter.
Back when I found out I was pregnant, I hadn't had the opportunity to tell him, and he had gotten married not long after. I didn't want to complicate his marriage by telling him, but I probably should have. It's an issue that's kept me torn and going back and forth between should I tell him or shouldn’t I for years.
After lasting what feels like decades, the song finally comes to an end, and I pull away from Methew.
“Stay with me,” he whispers, but I shake my head and make my escape. I don't want to stay with him or even be around him any more than just to tell him that he has a daughter.
I make my way back over to Charles and notice that he's very tense and guarded as he hands me my drink.
“Thank you,” I say with exasperation, before downing almost half of the liquid in the cup in one deep drink. I hate the discomfort of the situation. I want to tell him that I'm not interested in Methew, but I also know that I can't explain why I agreed to dinner on Saturday with Methew without telling Charles more than I’m willing to say. Charles still doesn't know I have a daughter, and I worry that’ll put my job in jeopardy. I didn't tell him the truth from the start and now too much time has passed.
“Is everything okay?”
I meet his gaze over the rim of my glass and give my head a quick nod. “It will be.”
I'm not at all convinced by my own words, and something tells me he's not either.