Bonus Content
Batman
Marcus
“Where’s my wife?” he asked Conchita, their
housekeeper, when she poked her head out of one of the rooms as he walked down
the hall of his home.
“Upstairs, Mr.
Sloan. Your bedroom.”
He nodded and headed
that way.
He heard the voices
before he got there because the door was open.
But he knew they
were there because of the car that was outside.
So he stopped in the
door, rested his shoulder on the jamb and just stood there, watching.
His wife was on the
bed. She had one of her marabou trim robes on, the blue one. She also had her
hair held back in a wide, white band and her face covered in something purple.
Roxie was also
there. She too was wearing one of Daisy’s robes, without marabou, and her face
was covered in something white.
Last, Annette was
there. It was no surprise she picked a marabou robe, and she had on a pair of
Daisy’s high-heeled, feathered slippers, even though they didn’t fit her feet,
so her heel was hanging over an inch. Her face was covered in something green.
All three were in a
line on their backs, their legs straight and up, heels resting on the
headboard.
Daisy was speaking.
“It drains the nodes.”
“What nodes?”
Annette asked.
“I don’t know what
nodes, sugar, I’m no doctor. I just know, you sit like this for a good ten,
twenty minutes, the swelling in your feet goes down,” Daisy shared. “And it
also feels good. Energizing-like. But in a relaxing way.”
“Though, the
swelling’s not gonna go down so much your size eights
change into Daisy’s size sixes,” Roxie warned, clearly referring to Annette’s
feet in the slippers.
“I know I should
care that probably some birds lost their lives for these feathers, but I feel
like such a girl in them,” Annette declared. “It’s phat.”
“I hear that,
sister,” Daisy said. “I got a strict rule. Feathers, but no fur. I know birds
got rights too, but a girl’s gotta draw the line
somewhere and still get her pretty things.”
A rule, one of many,
Daisy lived by.
“Don’t tell Jason I
wore this robe,” Annette ordered.
Annette’s partner
was a vegetarian.
Marcus heard his
wife’s extraordinary laugh. He also, like always, felt it in the left side of
his chest.
“Your secret’s safe
with us,” she assured.
“I can feel my face
morphing,” Annette announced. “It’s like I’m ten years younger already.”
“That’s the point,
darlin’,” Daisy told her. “Though, it ain’t the
truth, it’s the point. Doin’ nice things for yourself makes you feel like a
million bucks.”
“Amma used to be my
guru, you’re my guru now,” Annette declared.
“Let Amma keep your
spirit, sugar,” Daisy advised. “I’ll take care of your skin.”
“Deal!” Annette
exclaimed, punching the air as her exclamation point.
Again, he heard his
wife’s laughter.
Silently, Marcus
moved out of the doorway.
It was girl time for
Daisy.
All her life, she’d
wanted girls to share facials and feet-swelling remedies with.
Now she had them.
It wasn’t like he
felt he was intruding, and not just because it would upset Daisy greatly if she
knew he thought that way.
It was that, a
person like Daisy, who had the love Daisy had to give, and who deserved all the
love she could get, having that hole in her life all her life…she had some
making up to do.
It was fortunate the
Rock Chicks gave sisterhood better than any other.
They’d make that up
in no time at all.
Indeed, maybe they
already had.
He still left them
to it.
Because Daisy
deserved a lot of love.
And the Rock Chicks
did too.
They were at the breakfast table and his wife had
just slid his plate in front of him.
He’d kept in shape
before her with daily workouts.
When she entered his
life, he adjusted his eating schedule where lunches were light, or he just had
a protein drink, and he added a half an hour to his workouts. He did this
because her Southern breakfasts had also entered his life.
“Thank you,
darling,” he murmured, picking up his fork when she sat down. After he
swallowed his first bite, he asked, “What are your plans for today?”
“Got a scheduled RCG
at Fortnum’s this mornin’,” she answered, scooping up
some of her hash brown casserole.
RCG was the acronym
for Rock Chick Gathering. These were unofficially official meetings of the Rock
Chicks.
However unofficial,
attendance was mandatory.
“What’s this one
about?” Marcus asked, hiding his disappointment, something he’d become adept at
doing.
It was Saturday.
He wanted her to
have girl time, but since the Rock Chicks came into her life, it sometimes
interrupted their couple time.
“We’re headin’ off Rock-Chick-Aggedon.”
He chuckled, even
not knowing what this was about.
Sadie and Hector’s
wedding date was set now that Seth’s release date was set.
Ally had Ren’s ring
on her finger.
No one’s apartment
had exploded, or business had burned down now for months.
So he figured
“Rock-Chick-Aggedon” was not something he truly had
to worry about.
Not anymore.
When Daisy
explained, she proved him right.
“We got a situation
happening between Kitty Sue, Ally and Indy. See, Kitty Sue wants to host Ally’s
shower. But Ally doesn’t want a shower. She says Ren’s all set up and he does
the cooking and his towels are real nice, so she doesn’t need any shower type
stuff. She said he even has a champagne bucket, so, you know, that there’s
proof positive the man is set. Ally just wants a bachelorette party.
This, I think, is code for her not wantin’ her momma
to throw a shower for her that requires attendees to bring lingerie. Ally’s
weird about sex like that.”
Marcus ate,
listening and smiling.
“Now, at the same
time, we got Indy, who is down with letting Kitty Sue have shower duties, but ain’t no way she’s gonna let
Kitty Sue horn in on the bachelorette planning action. So she needs Ally to let
her mom throw a shower so she can be clear to throw the bachelorette party. ’Cause Kitty Sue decreed she’s throwin’
somethin’ for her girl. She don’t care
what it is. And she’s a momma, so what she says goes.”
“What do you think
is going to happen?” he asked while she took a sip of coffee.
Daisy put her cup
down. “Ally will cave and let her mom throw the shower, mostly ’cause Ren’s like you. He’s visual as well as tactile in
the sex department, so she needs as many sexy nighties and teddies as she can
get. That’ll free Indy to do her bachelorette mojo. Then all will be well again
in the world of the Rock Chicks.”
“So really, Ally
just needs to stop being stubborn.”
“Yeah, so that’s
probably gonna take us through about three of Tex’s
lattes, ’cause that girl’s got a chokehold on
stubborn.”
Marcus chuckled and
continued to eat.
It took him a while
to realize Daisy didn’t fill the silence.
He turned his
attention from his plate to her.
The instant he did,
she asked, “What you doin’ today, honey bunches of
love?”
He’d wanted to spend
it with her. Maybe take her to a movie. Out to lunch. Spend the day in bed like
they used to, ordering in food when they needed it, but mostly just feeding off
what they already had. Each other.
“I think I’ll go to
the club. See if I can find a foursome to play with.”
Her head tipped to
the side and so did her pretty hair.
Her eyes also
narrowed.
“You like golf,
Marcus?” she asked a good question, since he’d taken it up only recently.
And actually, he
detested it.
But he liked being
outside. It worked muscles in a way he didn’t work them in the gym. It was a
personal challenge, attempting to better his game, and Marcus liked challenges.
And he didn’t mind strolling the eighteen lanes.
“Of course,” he
semi-lied.
Her eyes stayed
narrowed.
“Meet you at the
club for a late lunch,” he suggested.
“I don’t know…” she
started slowly. “I might have plans for lunch.”
“Then we’ll go out
somewhere for dinner.”
“That sounds good,”
she said, like her thoughts were far away.
“Eat, baby,” he
urged. “You don’t want to be late for the Gathering.”
“Right,” she
mumbled.
Marcus cleaned his
plate. Daisy gave him the warning look she always gave him when he made a move
to take it to the sink.
Through his wife, he
knew no one cleaned the table of a Southern woman, except that Southern woman.
Even so, he’d never
take her for granted.
But as she wished,
he left it where it was, kissed her cheek, and also left her finishing her
coffee.
He needed to find a
golf shirt.
He clocked them first on the ninth hole.
Then again on the
tenth, eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth.
It was the
fourteenth when club personnel nabbed them.
It was on the
fifteenth when a member of staff came and apologized for interrupting his game
before asking him if he wouldn’t mind accompanying him to the clubhouse.
Marcus left his
foursome and accompanied him.
The man led him to
the membership office, stopped outside the closed door, smiled and rather
nervously said, “This is an unusual situation, Mr. Sloan. Normally, our members
know the rules and follow them. In this case, the rule that states you can’t be
on the course unless you have a tee time. Also, members need to sign in
non-members if they’re using our facilities. So Mrs. Sloan and her…er…companions’…erm…their
activities on the course are somewhat frowned upon. We were hoping you
might have a word with her.”
“I will. Thank you
for your discretion.”
“Always a pleasure,
Mr. Sloan,” the man said and scooted away.
Marcus took in a
breath before he opened the door.
Shirleen was sitting
behind the desk, her feet on top of it, her Louboutin heels on display.
Daisy, Ava and
Sadie, the skulking culprits, were sitting in the chairs in front of it, an
extra one having been brought in so Sadie could use it.
He could see they’d
either divested themselves of their camouflage, or it was confiscated.
“It wasn’t me,”
Shirleen announced. “I was havin’ a drink at the bar
while they were doin’ their silly-ass nonsense.”
“Marcus—” Daisy
started.
“Ladies,” he cut her