Nothing But Trouble (22 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: Nothing But Trouble
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“Sounds perfect.” Right now Dana was too full to think about romance.
They sat on the couch in the sitting room, Dana all too aware of the king-size bed just beyond the double doors a few yards behind them. Gil found an interesting movie on cable about a wealthy man whose wife and her lover left him stranded in the desert, with a broken leg, yet. They quickly became engrossed in the film, and as they watched they shifted positions. Originally they sat next to each other, but by the time it started to look like the unfortunate but resourceful man would survive his ordeal, Dana was reclining between Gil's legs, her back against his chest. His arms went around her waist and rested comfortably before one hand eventually wandered to her breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of her halter dress, then boldly slipping a hand inside. Dana moaned as he rubbed her hardened nipple between two of his fingers.
“You feel good,” he murmured. She felt his lips on her jaw, then on her throat, and his other hand fumbled with the full skirt of her dress until he found her underwear beneath. Dana gasped with pleasure when he reached inside her already-damp panties. She forgot all about the problems of the man on screen, concentrating instead on her own pleasure.
Gil brought her to orgasm with his fingertips. Hands on her shoulders, he pushed her up. “Let's get in bed. We can be more comfortable.”
They walked to the bed. When they stood before it Gil reached out and untied the sash of her halter. As the straps fell, exposing her upper body, he smiled gently. “You don't know how badly I ached to do that, from the time you came out of the bedroom in that dress.”
“And now you've done it.”
“Yes,” he said, “now I have.” With those words he proceeded to make love to her until her entire body shook with satisfaction and she moaned uncontrollably.
And, when she regained her strength, she did the same for him.
Chapter 28
O
n Tuesday afternoon Dana drove down to the Orlando airport to meet Brittany's return flight. It delighted her that Brittany was as happy to see her as she was to see Brittany.
“Mom, you look really good,” Brittany said as they waited at the luggage carousel for her bags to appear. “Things must be going well with the company.”
“Not really,” Dana admitted. CDN was faced with a difficult situation. One of the local medical centers had approached them about doing overflow work. She hadn't wanted to accept the contract because she feared they wouldn't be able to keep up, but both Cécile and Norell voted against her, not wanting the growth opportunity to go to one of their competitors. It was the most heated argument the three partners had had yet, and Dana still felt very apprehensive about how they would manage the workload.
“But I do have some good news,” she said. “We have a new tenant. She'll be moving in next month. A junior at UNF. She—or I guess her parents—are paying for the whole semester up front. Isn't that great?”
“That's good, Mom. I figured you'd get another tenant when college classes started.”
Brittany had all the latest news about Kenny's cousins and childhood friends, and she chattered all the way home from the airport.
“So what've you been doing while I was away?” she finally asked as they entered the house with her suitcase.
Dana took a deep breath. “Brittany, there's something I have to tell you.”
“What is it, Mom?”
“While you were away I started seeing someone.”
“I thought you were through with stuff like that. You went out a couple of times with some guy back in May, and then you stopped all of a sudden.”
Dana suppressed a smile. When she was Brittany's age she, too, would have thought people her parents' age too old for “stuff like that.” “This is different, Britt. That other time was just a couple of dates. This one has already lasted longer. There's no such thing as a standard relationship. Each one is different.”
“So do I get to meet the guy this time?”
“You already know him. It's Mr. Albacete.”
“Vanessa's daddy?”
Dana smiled. “You know another man named Albacete?”
“Wow, Mom. You and Mr. Gil? I can't picture it. It's been a long time since he was with Miss Irene, but I still remember. It seems weird that he's with you now.”
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Albacete were married, so the term ‘with' has a different context altogether,” Dana said dryly. “He and I are just dating. We're having a lot of fun together. But we didn't plan for it to happen. We realize that the situation has a high degree of sensitivity, and that there are other people involved.”
“Miss Irene might not like it, but I think it's okay.”
“Oh Britt, do you really?”
“Sure, Mom. It'll be hard to see you go out with somebody other than Daddy... .”
Guilt stabbed at Dana.
“... but at least I know Mr. Gil. I think it was harder when you were going out with some strange man. I used to imagine you with a real big, ugly dude, like Brutus from Popeye.”
Dana laughed.
“So,” Brittany said with wide-eyed curiosity, “do you think you two will get married?”
“No, Brittany, I don't. Like I said before, we're just having a lot of fun together. Marriage is something that comes after you've known a person for a long time. You don't go out on a few dates and then decide to get married.”
“Okay. I was just thinking that if you and Mr. Gil got married, me and Vanessa would be sisters.” Brittany flashed a slightly crooked grin. “Wouldn't
that
be neat!”
 
 
Gil called before she'd been home an hour. “I just wanted to make sure Brittany got in all right.”
“Oh, yes. She's fine. It's good to have her home again. I, uh, told her about us.”
“You did?”
“I hadn't planned to, but she gave me an opening, and I stepped into it. She took it surprisingly well.”
“That gives me hope that Vanessa will do the same. Listen, I know you're tired after that long drive to Orlando and back, but I hope I can see you tomorrow. We could have an early dinner after work, and you'll be home well before dark.”
“I'd love to. Where shall we meet?”
The line went silent. “Meet? I thought that since Brittany knows about us—”
“That you would come to the house and pick me up,” Dana finished. “I understand, but I'm not quite ready to do that yet. I don't mind telling Brittany that I'll be out with you, but just because she says it's okay with her for us to be dating doesn't mean she's ready to actually see it.”
“I don't get it, Dana.”
She hesitated. “She said something about it being hard to imagine me with anyone but her daddy. I want to go slow, Gil. Brittany has accepted the finality of death, but I'd like to prevent her from having any delayed grief reaction from seeing you and me together as a couple.”
“You say that like you know a little about it.”
“I've accepted that Kenny is gone, Gil.” Dana thought it best not to say how she still got the blues, the if-Kenny-were-still-here-everything-would-be-all-right lament, especially when money ran tight. Gil wouldn't understand that it stemmed from the struggle to make it on her own. He would see it as her still being in love with her deceased husband. Well, part of her would always belong to Kenny, but she'd been touched by death enough times in her life to know it was permanent. “But I grieved off and on for years when my mother and sister were killed. I was younger then, and when you're younger it's harder. Besides, I'd lost my
mother.
I didn't get to have her around for the important events in my life. Getting married, having Brittany, things like that. As happy as Kenny and I were together, there's always been a hole in my life because she wasn't with me.”
“I think I understand. I'm forty-two and know I'm lucky to still have both my parents. All right. Why don't we meet down in San Marco? That's convenient for you, isn't it?”
“Yes. How about La Nopalera?”
“La Nopalera it is.”
Dana hung up with a satisfied sigh. Things were looking up. Not only did Brittany accept her relationship with Gil, but Gil understood her reasons for not wanting to flaunt their affair in front of her. His stubbornness on the same subject had almost prevented their relationship from ever getting off the ground.
But she knew that the key to her continued happiness rested with a thirteen-year-old child, for if Vanessa Albacete wasn't happy with Dana's involvement with Gil, things were about to get very unpleasant.
Chapter 29
A
t six o' clock Norell poured herself a vodka and grapefruit juice, her second drink of the day. She'd poured herself one at four o'clock just to reward herself for getting so much done. Now she took a second break after marinating two ribeye steaks, preparing a tossed salad, and scrubbing two Idaho baking potatoes in preparation for microwaving. Vic usually called just before he left the office, and that advance notice allowed her to have dinner practically ready when he walked in.
This drink was to congratulate herself on staying on top of it all.
She managed to get another half dozen documents proofed before Vic called to announce he was on his way home.
By the time he arrived Norell had just removed the steaks from the broiler, the potatoes had another three minutes to go in the microwave, the salad sat in a glass bowl on the table, and she sipped her third drink.
After dinner, Vic said, “That was great, Norell. I like that marinade.”
“Caribbean jerk, I think it was. I'll have to look at the bottle. Hey, did we have anything planned for Friday night?”
“Not that I know of. What were you thinking of doing?”
“Would you mind if I invited Dana and Cécile and Lynn over Friday night?”
“Who's Lynn?”
“Lynn Phillips, my old friend from when we were kids. Remember, her father died a couple of weeks ago and you went to the wake with me?”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember. No, I don't mind. What's the occasion? Is it somebody's birthday?”
“There isn't one, other than I haven't gotten together with my friends in ages. When I said good-bye to Lynn I promised I'd call her soon. It's been three weeks, and I haven't done it yet. I think it would be nice to invite her over. And since I'm having her over, I figure, why not invite Dana and Cécile as well. Our relationship has changed since we started CDN. We've become less friends and more business partners. I think we need to spend some social time together, like we used to.”
“Are you sure you want to be around Cécile?”
She bristled. “Why wouldn't I?”
Vic sighed. “Don't give me that BS, Norell. I know it's hard for you to be around Cécile because she's having a baby and you can't.”
She flinched at his blunt assessment. Now she wished she'd gone along with the program instead of pretending she didn't know what he meant. They'd already been over it during a recent argument, in which Vic pointed out that her drinking had accelerated since she'd learned about Cécile's pregnancy, and she couldn't bear hearing that again. “I'm fine with it,” she said. “We had a nice talk the other week at Dana's. We kind of called a truce. Cécile and I have been friends for a long time, Vic. I was there when her first marriage broke up. She was there when my mother died. Yes, it's hard for me to see her having another baby when I can't even have one. But I have to learn to live with it.”
“I agree. Go ahead and have your friends over. I'll probably go out and play cards with the guys or something so I don't have to listen to a bunch of women cackling.”
She pretended to be insulted. “We don't cackle. We laugh like ordinary people. But I'll understand if you'd prefer not to be around us.”
“I hope you're finished for the day,” he said as she brought their plates to the dishwasher.
“I thought I'd go back up and work for another hour or so. The new hires are helping a lot, but we really need more staff.” She noticed his frown. “I know you don't like it when I work after dinner, Vic. It can't be helped, at least not right now. We've got to stay on top of our work so we can accommodate the new hospital account.”
“I don't see you all day, Norell. I don't think I'm asking too much for you to spend your evenings with me.”
“I'm trying to be more of a morning person, wake up before dawn like Dana and Cécile do, but I've never been an early bird.”
“You might find getting up earlier easier if you laid off the Smirnoff.”
Her lower lip set determinedly. “You make it sound like I'm a lush or something. I resent that, Vic.”
He rose from the table and stood on the other side of the counter so he could face her. “Norell, I know you're drinking more these days. Three months ago you worked a lot and drank a little. Now you work a lot and drink a lot. Like I said before, it started getting real bad when you found out about Cécile's pregnancy.”
“This is only my second drink today.” Norell stated the lie boldly, but she didn't know what else to say in her defense. Damn it, Vic just wouldn't let up on her. Couldn't he see how hard she was trying to cope with Cécile's coming baby? Why did he try all the time to get her to admit how much it hurt that Cécile, who already had more kids than she knew what to do with, was having yet another while she had none, nada, zilch? Didn't he know how much it pained her?
“Maybe,” he said. “But by the time you go to bed tonight a third of the bottle will be gone. I'll come to bed feeling amorous and you're ... Well, I can't say you're out of it, but it would be nice to know that you realize it's me who's making you feel so good. Two complete strangers can fuck each other and feel like a million, Norell. It's the intimacy between them, their bond, that makes it special. With you lately there's been none.”
She tossed a crumpled napkin into the trash. “I'm glad you let us enjoy our dinner before you started in on me.”
He slapped the countertop with his palm. “Damn it, Norell, why don't you get that I'm not your enemy?”
“I've got work to do,” she said coldly. “I'll clean up here later.” She headed for the stairs on slightly wobbly legs.
When she returned an hour and a half later he was gone. She had a pretty good idea of where he'd gone. The Beaches area had no shortage of bars. It was just a question of which one. Not that she was about to go running after him.
Norell knew she'd driven him away. She hated it when she acted like this. She felt so useless. Sure, CDN was thriving, but it would never be anything more than a regional transcription service, providing her with a moderate income. But even if she were to become wildly successful, like the industry giant MedQuist, it wouldn't be enough to fill the hole in her heart. And Vic would never understand.
Norell loaded the dishwasher and did a quick wipedown of the counters and microwave. Before starting the dishwasher she tossed in the kitchen sponge. The dishwasher hummed, and the kitchen smelled lemony clean. But she was all alone, for Vic hadn't returned.
She took a fresh highball glass from the cabinet and poured herself another drink.
A double.

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