Playing the Hand You're Dealt (14 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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When I walked through the back door and into the kitchen, I found Gerti standing by the sink, taking food out of the refrigerator.
“I hope you don't feel as bad as you look,” she said as she inspected me.
“Worse.” I nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
“Here, eat this.” Gerti sat a small salad loaded with veggies and topped with chicken in front of me.
I hadn't eaten much today because Bradley's presence had stolen my appetite. But now it was back with a vengeance. I ate my delicious salad while Gerti went about gathering spices out of the cabinet and more food from the refrigerator. She was preparing a meal for tomorrow. I had nearly cleaned my plate when she turned to me and said, “You need to take a long soak in the tub to ease those bones.”
“That's exactly what I intend to do, if I can make it up the stairs,” I half joked.
“Lord have mercy. The ego of men. This is what you get for doing all that bending and lifting, trying to act like you're twenty-one,” she said, shaking her head. “I'll run and get you some Epsom salt for your bath.”
I had to smile because she was right. “Thanks, Gerti.”
A minute after she left, Sam walked through the door and came into the kitchen wearing a big smile. She told me that she and Tyler were going to give their relationship another try. I was happy for my daughter because Tyler was forthright, principled, and above all, he had a good heart. I was enjoying our conversation until she told me that Bradley was going over to Emily's house tomorrow to help her finish settling in. It was news that I definitely didn't want to hear.
Sam went on to say there was a chance that Emily and Bradley might get back together. I felt a stab in my stomach, and she could see that there was something wrong with me, something that went beyond tired, achy muscles. She was about to ask, when Gerti returned with the salt for my bath, saving me from having to lie to my daughter. I made my exit so I could be alone to think.
I went to my study and took only a quick sip of brandy before heading upstairs for a long soak in the tub. I submerged myself in the deluxe Jacuzzi and turned on the power jets. The pressure felt good and was just what my tired body needed. After I managed to pull myself up out of the water, which had turned lukewarm, I toweled off and literally crawled over to my bed. Every inch of my body ached. Even my toenails hurt. My grandmother used to say that everybody wants to live a long time, but nobody wants to get old. She knew what she was talking about. Getting old was a bitch. I was in damn good shape for a fifty-four-year-old man, but no matter how many hours of cardio and strength training I did, Mother Nature had her own set of rules.
It dawned on me as I lay in my king-sized bed that I didn't miss Brenda's presence in it. But I also didn't want to be alone. What I wanted at the moment was to lie beside Emily. And I meant that—literally. I just wanted to
lie
beside her because God knows I couldn't do anything else. Then a heavy thought crossed my mind. I had fantasized about making love to Emily a million times, but the pain in my body suddenly made me aware that I might not be up to the challenge.
I crawled out of bed with the speed equivalent to a turtle and limped over to the full-length mirror in my walk-in closet. I pulled off my T-shirt and boxers and examined my naked body. I looked good, and I had plenty of equipment to get the job done. But the reality was that I didn't have much of a sex life. The only time I even got an erection anymore was when I thought about Emily. Brenda and I had sex once a quarter. It had been that way for years, and it was always routine.Vanilla sex was what I called it. I had resigned myself to the situation and let my career fill the void.
Damn, even if I did get the chance to make love to Emily, I wasn't sure that I could keep up with her. I remembered the way she whipped around today—bending, lunging, lifting; she was in great shape.
This was the first time in my life that I had ever felt inadequate about anything. I felt like an old fool. I shook my head as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was tired as hell, and I was getting more tired by the minute just thinking about the energy it would require to have sex. I had barely made it out of the bathtub, so what in the hell made me think that I could handle a night of lovemaking with a young, active woman like Emily?
I put my boxers and T-shirt back on, trudged over to the medicine cabinet, and swallowed two ibuprofen.When I finally reached the bed again I sank down onto the pillow-top mattress and it felt like heaven. I lay flat on my back, closed my eyes, and allowed visions of Emily to enter my head. I could see myself kissing her inviting lips, rubbing her soft skin, caressing her smooth thighs, and making passionate love to her. I got hard just thinking about her, and relieved myself with a hand job. After that, my worries went away.
The mind's a powerful thing. I had made the mistake of letting my current state of exhaustion tackle me with unfounded fear. I had always been a good lover, and I knew how to take care of a woman. I was completely confident that when the time came, I would please Emily in every way. I was going to make sure she felt the pleasure I'd been waiting to give her for the past eleven years.
Chapter 10
Brenda . . .
 
 
 
 
You Could Be a Girl's Best Friend
 
“W
hat's taking so long!” Brenda huffed into the phone. She was on the line with the Four Seasons Hotel's room service manager, giving him a piece of her mind. “I placed my order an hour ago and I'm still waiting to be served. I expect better from a five-star hotel.”
Brenda stood at the window with the phone to her ear, looking down at the people walking forty stories below. “This is completely unacceptable and far below the standards I'm used to. Maybe I should check out and take my business to the Waldorf-Astoria or the Ritz-Carlton,” she threatened. She hated to be inconvenienced, and far worse, she detested substandard service.
“Mrs. Baldwin, you're a valued guest and we appreciate you staying with us. I apologize for the mix-up and I'll personally make sure that your meal arrives at your door within the next ten minutes,” the deep-voiced manager assured her.
“I'll be counting,” Brenda snapped before hanging up the phone. She stomped over to the high-back chair in the corner and kicked off her designer heels.
She'd elected to have dinner in her room rather than dine in the company of Juanita Presley. When she and her sister Dorothy arrived at the hotel that morning, to Brenda's shock and surprise, Juanita was standing at the registration desk, checking in. Dorothy and Juanita hugged while Brenda forced a reluctant smile through pursed lips.
“What a surprise to see you here, Juanita,” Brenda said with suspicion as she looked around the richly decorated lobby. She couldn't help but notice that her archenemy was dressed to kill so early in the morning, wearing a sleek designer chemise. It was an outfit one would wear if she wanted to look good for someone special. Brenda wondered if they'd caught Juanita in a compromising situation; having an out of town secret rendezvous. “What brings you here, to this hotel?” she asked.
Juanita cleared her throat and gave Brenda a semi-cordial smile. “Actually, I'm here with Pamela. She's receiving an award today from the Association of Black Women Professionals.”
“That's right!” Dorothy said. “I completely forgot that the ceremony was this weekend.”
“Well, I know you've been very busy,” Juanita said.
“You must be so proud,” Dorothy praised.
The air fluttered from Brenda's sails as the two women chatted. Not only had Juanita's party last month been a grand hit in their social circle, now she had an award-winning daughter to brag about.
“Here's Pamela now.” Juanita smiled.
Pamela strolled up to the group with the grace of a ballerina. Her gently relaxed pageboy highlighted the sparkle of her large, hazel eyes. The petite beauty was fashionably dressed in a power suit that managed to throw off an air of unmistakable femininity. Only a true diva could pull that off, and a true diva Pamela was. She greeted Dorothy and Brenda with delicate air-kisses, careful not to disturb her flawless makeup in the process. She was picture perfect and it made Brenda seethe with envy.
“Mrs. Baldwin, I'll be in town next week on business and I'd love to stop by Samantha's party to wish her happy birthday,” Pamela said.
“Yes, dear. Please do,” Brenda said. “It's going to be
the
event of the summer.” She smiled in Juanita's direction. “The party planner I hired is amazing.”
It was apparent that Brenda was trying to compete with Juanita, so apparent that her rival decided it was time to bury the hatchet. So in the spirit of conciliatory gestures, she invited Brenda and Dorothy to dinner that evening to help celebrate Pamela's prestigious award. Dorothy was delighted, but Brenda was less than enthused. In her mind she determined that Juanita had only extended the invitation as a means to gloat. Brenda had no intention of breaking bread with them, but she also didn't want to look like a poor sport. She knew she had to bow out gracefully, so an hour before dinner she came down with a migraine and said she needed to rest.
Now, sitting alone in her room, Brenda longed for her room service order to arrive, especially her bottle of chardonnay. She'd had a long, frustrating day of shopping and now she was ready to unwind. She was thinking about the boutiques she planned to visit the next morning, when a knock at the door drew her from her thoughts. “It's about time,” she muttered aloud. She slipped her heels back on and walked to the door.
“Room service,” the voice called out on the other end.
Brenda looked through the peephole and saw two men standing on the other side, one in a uniform and one behind him at an obstructed view. She opened the door and allowed the young man in the uniform to push the linen-draped cart into her room as the other man followed. She looked at the cart full of covered dishes and let out an exasperated huff. “I can already see that you brought the wrong order. This isn't the meal I requested. I need to speak to the room service manager immediately!”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Baldwin,” the man standing next to the server spoke.
Brenda turned her attention to the deep voice that she remembered from the phone. The man was immaculately dressed in a tailored navy suit. His dazzling smile and smooth ebony-hued skin made her lose her train of thought. He extended his large hand, shaking hers with a gentle grip.
“My name is Harry Winston, and I'm the room service manager. This is the meal you ordered,” the handsome man offered. “I took the liberty of enhancing your dining experience to amend for the inconvenience we may have caused with the initial mix-up.” He motioned with his right hand, directing the server to remove the lids of the covered dishes for Brenda's inspection.
In addition to the salmon Dijon, wild rice, asparagus with hollandaise, and the bottle of chardonnay that Brenda had ordered, there was a platter of fresh fruit and imported cheeses, chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and a small vase of beautifully arranged flowers.
“I hope this is to your liking,” the manager said.
It took Brenda a second to respond. “Um, yes.This looks fine.”
“We're glad you're pleased,” the manager said. “This meal is on me.”
After Brenda inspected the food, she escorted the two men to the door. As they were on their way out, the manager stopped and turned toward her, letting the server float out into the hallway. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience and I hope you enjoy your dinner.”
Brenda smiled. “Thank you, I'm sure I will.” She didn't know what possessed her to say what came out of her mouth next, but before she could stop herself she purred in a playful tone, “With a name like Harry Winston, you could be a girl's best friend.”
She shocked herself, and couldn't believe she had said something so flirtatious, and to the help of all people! She wondered if he had even caught the meaning behind her tease.
The manager nodded and smiled. “Yes, but even the rarest of jewels can't compare to the gift of meeting a new friend, especially one as beautiful as you,” he said in a smooth, even tone.
His remark startled Brenda, but then she reminded herself that she should've known he would understand. Working in a luxury hotel, he was bound to know a little something about
Harry Winston,
one of the most exclusive jewelers of rare gemstones in the world. It was every hotel manager's job, regardless of their department, to understand the needs of their discriminating guests. “Thank you.” Brenda blushed.
Harry looked deep into her eyes and gave Brenda a smile that made her body tingle. “Again, I hope you enjoy your meal, and please make sure to call and let me know if everything meets with your satisfaction.” He bowed his head slightly before walking away.
After Brenda closed the door, she stood in place for a moment, feeling light and free. She wasn't sure what had come over her. She pulled the desk chair up to the cart and began to eat her meal. In no time she devoured her entire entrée and side dishes along with half the chocolate-covered strawberries. Brenda shook her head when she realized she'd just broken a rule that she'd adhered to for over thirty years—to never clean her plate. It was one of the practices that helped her maintain her slim figure. She always left food on her plate regardless of how tasty the dish, but tonight she'd eaten until the last drop of hollandaise sauce disappeared. She wondered where her ferocious appetite had come from.
Brenda walked over to the chair in the corner and sipped her chardonnay as she thought about Harry Winston. She hadn't been this excited about anything or anyone since she could remember, not even one of her parties.
She'd done her share of flirting over the years and had come close to taking it to the next level on a few occasions. But she ran in small circles and knew those trails could easily lead back to her doorstep. So she was always careful to stop things before they grew out of control, limiting her escapades to heavy fondling, and in exceptional cases, a quick romp of oral sex. In her book, that didn't qualify as
real
sex; even Bill Clinton had said so. Her discipline was one of the many qualities upon which she prided herself. Unlike her husband, who'd been weak to the flesh of others, actually committing full-fledged adultery, she had remained true to the vow of fidelity she'd taken thirty-two years ago—at least in her mind.
Brenda remembered the first time she learned of one of Ed's affairs. She was furious and couldn't believe that with her good looks, charm, and sophistication, Ed had been stupid enough to risk their marriage over a hot-to-trot tennis instructor. But her anger soon calmed because after seeing the woman, she realized that the only draw for Ed had been the easy convenience and well-toned body that the woman possessed. She was no real threat, so Brenda let it go, as she did one or two others she'd discovered. They may have had their fun with him, but she had his last name and his money.
But Brenda also knew she had to teach Ed a lesson. She forgave him, but he needed to pay for his infidelity, so they began counseling—her way of punishing him.They attended therapy sessions for three weeks before Brenda realized it had been a big mistake on her part.The therapist wasn't helpful at all, and had actually inflicted more damage on their marriage.
During one particular visit, the therapist asked them to trace their relationship back to the reasons why they had married in the first place. Brenda nearly had a stroke when the woman made pointed suggestions, alluding to the possibility that she'd gotten pregnant on purpose to coerce Ed into marrying her. After the session ended, Brenda stormed out of the office, never to return. She knew the homely, bifocaled therapist could never understand that sometimes a woman had to do what she had to do. It had nothing to do with entrapment, but everything to do with executing a strategy.
Satisfied from her full stomach and delicious meal, Brenda let out a small sigh, followed by a devilish grin as she thought about a new strategy formulating in her mind. She had a growing desire to see Harry Winston again.

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