too
much.
My policy has always been to
act like the help and not like a guest. I welcome them and offer to take their
coats. The sooner I can get away from this man, the better. As I attempt to
exit gracefully, Bryan and Monica approach and block my path. There are kisses
and hugs all around—all around Jackson, because he doesn’t join in. Marge
clearly knows Monica. Bryan introduces her to Jackson.
This is my chance to escape. I
wheel my way around Bryan, and come face-to-face with Kyle. I almost didn’t
recognize him with his clothes on. He presses his tray of appetizers toward the
group, cutting off my escape route.
Bryan looks at the selection.
“What are these?”
I asked the caterer if they
could add a quail appetizer at the last minute. I knew it was hopeless, but I
had to try. I picked an appetizer I thought had the best potential to pass for
quail and told the chef to lie. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Kyle’s eyes lock on me. His
expression clearly communicates that he hasn’t forgiven me for whatever
happened between him and Lois last week. “Quail, I’ve been told.”
Jackson notices the look on
Kyle’s face and takes the first one. He bites into it, chewing ever so slowly. “Quail,
huh?”
“Mmmm.” That’s a nice, non-committal
sound. It’s not a yes, and it’s not a no. It’s just an Mmmm .
I can tell Jackson isn’t
fooled. “It tastes like chicken.”
I put on my best smile. “That’s
what I’ve always heard. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on dinner.” Exit,
stage right.
. . .
Dinner is a pleasant affair. The
caterers are perfect and the presentation is delightful. Everyone enjoys
themselves. Well, everyone except the birthday boy. I can tell he’s just
waiting for it to be over. Thankfully, Monica is wonderful—taking his hand,
keeping him distracted.
I head back to the kitchen. I
missed breakfast and lunch (thanks to the quail infestation). Hopefully I can
get something to eat for dinner, but first I need to sit down for a minute. I’ve
been on my feet all day, going nonstop. I pull one of the extra banquet chairs
off the stack and collapse. I think about slipping out of my shoes when the
kitchen door swings open, and Jackson enters. There’s no rest for the wicked, so
I start to stand.
“Don’t get up. You look
tired.”
“Weary. I look weary. Never
tell a woman she looks tired.” I think he’s going to hover over me but he actually
kneels so we are at eye level.
“People don’t often correct
me.”
“That’s a pity. You’ve
probably missed a lot of valuable lessons.” My filter is off. I need to remember
that he’s the client.
“I can think of a few lessons
I’d like to give you. Lessons in being honest, being grateful, being
submissive.”
Submissive? Me? The nerve of
this man. “The best teachers learn from their students. And from my point of
view, I just got the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco down on one knee.”
Jackson gives me a smile. A
very dangerous smile. “That’s because I plan on using the other knee to bend
you over and spank that pretty little ass of yours.”
Is he serious? “As I
remember, you’re the one who said no kink.”
Before he can react, the
servers bring the dinner plates into the kitchen, and we are clearly in their
way. Jackson rises and offers me his hand. Reluctantly, I take it and stand.
“That was an excellent
dinner. I’m glad to know you didn’t spend all that money.” And at that moment,
the walls start to shake.
No matter how I try to manage
things—how many checklists, how much research, and all the disaster recovery plans
I imagine in my head—there is always something I forget. This time it was
soundproofing. The DJ’s subwoofer blasts a bass line with such force it makes
the walls vibrate.
“What is that?” Jackson
exclaims.
“That’s the rest of your
money.” I head out into the dining room and see Bryan’s eyes twinkling like