A TIME BEFORE US
by
Michael Holloway Perronne
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Other books by Michael Holloway Perronne
A Time Before Me
Falling Into Me
Starstruck: A Hollywood Saga
Embrace the Rain
Quickie Gay Guide to Cape Town, South Africa
www.michaelhperronne.com
ISBN: 9780981718651
Copyright 2011 by Michael Holloway Perronne
Published by Chances Press, LLC on Smashwords
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphics, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
This book is dedicated to the PFLAG Chapter of the Greater New Orleans area for giving our GLBT brothers, sisters, and their families hope and adding some much needed love and tolerance to this world.
For more information on PFLAG New Orleans, please visit www.pflagno.org.
Chapter 1
Mason
Ever notice how, just when you think you really know someone, you see a completely unexpected side to them? I have just decided that weddings prove to be the perfect time for this to happen.
“No! Not today!” my friend Katie shrieked, as she practically flung herself against the window in a bedroom of my New Orleans French Quarter townhome.
“What?” I asked, as I double-checked my bow tie in the bathroom mirror. “What's happening now Lesbibridezilla?”
“Rain, Mason! Rain!”
As “best person”, it was my duty to get Katie prepared and dressed for her wedding to her long-time girlfriend, Caroline. If someone had told me just a couple of years before that Katie would be dating anyone, not to mention marrying, I would have laughed in their face. Katie had always been a player, sort of a girl-on-girl Casanova. When she moved from San Francisco to New Orleans to be closer to her family and shake things up, I had wondered if she'd slow down a little with going through every girl like the latest upgrade to an iPod. The non-stop partying in the Quarter appeared to send her into overdrive, and I swear to God, she must have known, in the Biblical sense, practically every lesbian in a ten-mile radius. She'd refer to me and my boyfriend, Joey, as the “old marrieds” since we tended to be happier with a DVD and bottle of wine instead of the clubs on our off nights. But then one day, she met Caroline, a girl who was so amazing, I would have snapped her up if I had been a lesbian. With a little poking and prodding from Joey and me, she realized what a catch she had found.
“You're going to look back and think that you're the world's biggest idiot if you don't snap this girl up,” I had lovingly advised her.
I don't know exactly what had really convinced her to give things with Caroline a shot, but something changed. I saw Katie fall in love for the first time right before my eyes, and I couldn't have been happier for her. After a couple of years of dating, including one year of living together, they announced they would have a wedding.
Katie, who had always been critical of those who worried themselves with any sort of tradition, suddenly became obsessed with planning the perfect wedding like a bad reality TV star. Things such as cakes, venues, food, invitations, and seating arrangements became her obsession. Caroline appeared quite happy to let her handle all of the arrangements. Katie had even dyed her shockingly pink streaks of hair a dark red for the wedding and the photos to present a more classical look.
“It's not supposed to rain,” I noted, walking back into the bedroom.
“Well, it is!” she said, practically on the verge of tears. “How can we have an outdoor wedding if it's raining? Oh my God, everything is ruined!”
I ran up to her and grabbed her by the arms.
“Okay, breathe,” I told her.
“But...”
“Breathe!” I repeated. “We'll work it out.”
“Caroline asked me what we would do if it rained and do you know what I said?”
I shook my head.
“I told her it wouldn't dare rain on our wedding day. How stupid and naïve was that?”
“Okay, honey, look,” I started, keeping my voice soft, “we'll come up with something. We'll have it inside if we need to.”
“But that's not what I planned!” she cried, gripping the sides of her cream white pantsuit.
“Sweetie, it's just life, and besides, everything with your marriage won't go as planned. You have to learn to just take what you're dealt and run with it.”
She looked back out the window and shook her head, not looking convinced at all.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” I suggested.
She looked back at me with a look clearly suggesting I should check myself into the nearest psychiatric hospital immediately after the ceremony.
“How in the hell can this be good?” she asked in a challenging tone.
“Well...” I said, struggling to come up with an answer to this one. I should think more before opening my mouth. “You know how rain cleanses things. It represents birth and life and...”
Her eyes looked blank. I wasn't sure if she was buying any of this.
“Maybe an outdoor wedding in the rain with all of your guests getting soaking ass wet...well... it's you in a way. You've always wanted to add your own touches to things to be memorable. The guests certainly won't forget it, and I'd be willing to bet that Caroline would marry you in the middle of a hurricane. She loves you that much.”
With that last line, her face softened. She smiled and a few tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.
“You really think so, babe?” she asked hopefully.
“I know so,” I replied, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Now let's go get you married.”
At that moment, a stream of bright sunshine shone through the window, and just as fast as the rain had started, it had stopped.
“Look at that,” I told her.
Katie
took a deep breath. “It's going to be okay.”
“More than
okay.” I took her hand, squeezed it slightly, and added, “Come
on. Your bride is waiting.”
She relaxed, smiling as I led her
out of the room and into the courtyard.
The courtyard outside my home in the French Quarter had been decorated beautifully for an evening wedding. Tea lights in white paper bags illuminated the area around a koi pond while a few more floated in the water. Centerpieces of beautiful bouquets of white roses, Caroline's favorite flower, adorned every table. The effect was simple yet elegant.
During the ceremony, I stood next to Katie with her ring in my pocket, waiting for just the right time as the lesbian minister from a local MCC church started the ceremony. I had never seen Katie look so happy and peaceful. Caroline, smiling, stood next to her.
The two of them fit the cliché of opposites attract in almost every sense. Where Katie was loud and boisterous, Caroline was humble and laid back. Katie had her psychedelic streaks of color in the middle of her jet-black Asian hair, which she spiked as high as industrial strength gel allowed. Caroline always had her light brown hair pulled back neatly into a ponytail. Katie planned events for clubs and parties and Caroline taught fourth grade. Yet they worked somehow. The whole yin and yang thing with them just fit perfectly.
The guests had been seated in a semi-circle around the koi pond to face the wedding party. I noticed Katie's parents had made it to the wedding from Lafayette and were sat in the front row. Her mother wore a tasteful pink suit with a white rose pinned to the lapel, and her father wore the standard navy suit, white shirt, and red tie. Katie hadn't been convinced they'd show up. She lamented constantly that her Southern belle mother and good old boy father never had a clue what to do with the wild child they adopted from China as a baby. I knew they loved her even if they didn't always understand her. I knew, whether she would admit it or not, how happy she was to have them here.
As the minister spoke of the importance of all types of commitments in life to ourselves and others, I caught Joey's eye. It was a miracle I could see him at all since he sat directly behind everyone's favorite drag queen, Miss Althea, who wore the world's largest pink hat adorned in red roses.
Joey smiled at me, and I swear to God, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Dressed up in a simple dark suit and red tie, he looked just as handsome as ever. His mixed black and white heritage had given him a café au lait complexion that never appeared to age. His body had filled out a little with age, but in all the right ways. Add his green eyes and the man still took my breath away.
I guess for a guy firmly in his mid-thirties, I still looked fairly fit. However, my suit pants were just a little tighter than the last time I wore them. And, okay, I admit it, I’d begun coloring a few gray hairs. Every now and then I felt just the slightest self-conscious around Joey, but then he’d put his arms around me. All those fears would soon wash away.
It amazed me that I still felt that way after being together for over five years now. I was more in love with him every passing day. No one had ever been as kind, warm, and considerate with me as he had been, but I was petrified of disappointing him. It was this fact that had led me to be not quite one hundred percent honest with him lately, and that would end up being one of my greatest regrets in our relationship.
The girls exchanged their vows, and Katie had to elbow me and say under her breath, “The ring, Mason.” I had gotten so caught up in my thoughts about how I would tell Joey some very disappointing news that I hated to admit I wasn't paying very close attention.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” I noted, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the ring.
Katie looked like she was fighting back a giggle, which made me feel better knowing she was more amused by my lack of concentration than anything else.
“I now pronounce you...” the minister announced, pausing for obvious dramatic effect, “partners in life.”
All the attendees clapped and cheered as the two newlyweds kissed. I couldn't help it when I a few tears welled up in my eyes. Katie and I had been through so much together since we first met years ago in San Francisco. If she felt just a fraction of the happiness with Caroline that I felt with Joey, then I knew exactly how filled with love her heart was at this point.
The reception tuned into a party to remember as the joy of the newlyweds proved to be infectious. Everyone laughed, danced, drank in New Orleans style, and ate heart-clogging food provided by one of our favorite local restaurants, Belinda's. it was owned by Miss Belinda, one of my Aunt Savannah's oldest friends. How I wished Savannah was still with us. She always loved a good party!
“Everything tastes just delicious, as always!” I told Belinda, a full-figured African-American woman in her sixties who always appeared to be in a good mood even when times weren’t the easiest. I gave her a big bear hug.
“Thank you, honey,” she replied. “I wanted everything to be perfect for tonight.”
“And I heard you’ve been busier than ever. Good food doesn’t go out of style even in a recession.”
“I’ve been blessed, that’s true! I may be even looking for an area to expand into,” she enthused.
Even Katie's parents looked like they had loosened up being surrounded by so many gay people, although I'm sure the extra-potent “hurricanes” they drank played a role in that. When her father jumped up to dance to Play That Funky Music White Boy and came dangerously close to falling into the koi pond, I realized just how special this party was.
I walked up to Joey, who was talking to Pete and Alex, two cute young guys who worked for us at our drag queen cabaret in the Quarter.
“May I have this dance, sir?” I asked, extending my hand.
“Come on, Alex,” Pete said, smiling. “Let's let the old married couple have some time together. We'll go get more drinks.”
We watched the two of them head off to the bar. They reminded me a little of Joey and me from years before, although I don't think they'd gotten around to admitting to each other they could possibly be more than friends. Sometimes, I just wanted to shake the both of them and encourage them to grab life and run with it. Time just goes by way too quickly.
“They're cute, aren't they?” Joey said, taking my hand and leading us out to the dance floor. “Do you think they'll ever admit they have a crush on each other?”
“We'll see. I certainly hope so,” I replied. I pulled him closer to me, and we began to sway to the eighties ballad the DJ had started playing.
“You certainly looked handsome standing up there in your suit,” he told me, placing a small kiss on my cheek.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I answered, giving him a spin. “You always clean up very well yourself.”
“I'm so happy for both of them.”
“Me too.”
“Maybe...” Joey began before pausing and taking a deep breath, “…we should think about planning our own ceremony.”
“Really?” I asked. I could swear I felt my heart skip a beat.
“It has been five years. Maybe it's about time you made an honest man out of me,” Joey suggested, pulling me tighter.
“I can't think of anything I would love better,” I said. But thoughts of what I soon had to tell him plagued me.
We kissed passionately right there on the dance floor surrounded by our loved ones under the most brilliant moonlight. It was perhaps one of the most romantic moments of my life until...
“Mason! Mason!” I heard a frantic familiar voice shriek.
“What the hell?” I said, turning around to find my sister, Cherie, standing at the entrance of the courtyard with two suitcases by her side.
Joey and I both stopped in shock on seeing her. As a former beauty queen, my sister had always prided herself on keeping up her appearance. I had never seen her look so disheveled as she did tonight. She wore an orange skirt mismatched with some sort of green peasant blouse. Her hair, her crowning glory, looked stringy, slightly greasy, parted in the middle and almost proudly showing off two inches of gray-brown roots under her blond tresses. And to top it off, she looked completely out of it. When she began to sway slightly, I realized she had been drinking.
I grabbed Joey's hand and we headed over to her. I noticed that some of the other guests had begun to stare, wondering who had just crashed the wedding.
“Cherie, this is a surprise,” I told her, trying not to let my shock show through my tone. “What are you doing here?”
“I didddd it, Mason,” she slurred.
“Did
what?”
“Oh, hi, Joey,” she said, realizing he was standing
right in front of her.
“Hey, sweetie,” he replied. “Are you okay?”
I gently took her by the arm and Joey picked up her suitcases. We guided her over to the side in the hope she wouldn't cause too much more of a spectacle.
I overheard Miss Althea say in the background, “That gal looks a mess!”
“Thanks for inviting me to the party,” Cherie pouted, annoyed.
“Actually,
I did invite you when I spoke to you a few weeks ago. Remember? My
friend Katie's wedding?”
“Oh, yes, that's right. You did,”
she replied, raising a hand and stroking my cheek. “You're such a
sweet brother.”
“You want to tell us what's going on?” I asked. I glanced down at her luggage. This could not be good.
“I
left that son of a bitch!” she declared, raising her voice and
causing Joey and I to shudder. “I left Houston.”
“What do
you mean, left him?”
I asked.
She chuckled. “What the hell do you think I meant? Left. Gone. Filing for divorce. Telling that sorry-take-me-for-granted-piece-of-shit that he can kiss my ass!”
“You and Houston have been married forever,” Joey said.
“I'm sure it's just a big misunderstanding,” I told her reassuringly. “You guys just had a fight and...”
“Misunderstanding?” She laughed. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“Where's Lily?” I asked, referring to my teenage niece.
“She's there with him! Both of them are always complaining about me. Nag, nag, nag. We'll see just how well they do without me!”
“How did you get here? I hope you didn't drive.”
“Nope! I took the bus. Just packed up my bags, called a taxi, and took the bus here.” She giggled like a little girl at the thought. “Can you believe I did that? And then I walked over here from the station. I did stop and have a couple of drinks along the way, though.”
She let out a small burp.
“We would have never guessed,” Joey observed.
“Anyway, I was hoping you guys could put me up for a little bit. You know. Just until…” She paused as if searching for the right words. “I get on my feet with starting my new life.”
She suddenly realized a few of the wedding guests were looking over at her.
“Hi, everybody! I left my husband!” she proudly proclaimed, before adding an afterthought. “Oh and congratulations, Katie. I'm sure y’all be real happy.”
On the dance floor, Katie and Caroline just responded with a perplexed smile.
“Why don't we take you inside?” Joey suggested, picking up her bags. “You can clean up a bit and rest. I'll make you some coffee.”
She looked at him lovingly and told him, “Y’all gays can be so sweet.”
As discreetly as we could, we guided her around the edges of the crowd and inside the house. I plopped her on the couch, and Joey took her bags to the guest room.
I sat next to her and loosened my tie.
“Cherie, honey, what happened?”
She sighed loudly and said, “It's a real long story, Mason. I just can't talk about it now.”
“Okay. You don't have to talk about it now. I'm just glad you made it here safe.”
“I can stay here tonight, right?” she asked, suddenly sounding desperate.
“Of course, honey,” I reassured her, putting an arm around her. I was convinced that once she sobered up and we talked about everything, she'd be heading back home to her husband and daughter in a few days at most.
That's what I thought!
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her blouse and digging in her bra.
“What are you doing?”
“Someone
left a newspaper on the bus. And I saw this article. I thought to
myself...” she started, triumphantly pulling out a folded piece of
newsprint, “Mason ain't gonna believe this one. Who would have
thunk it?”
She proudly thrust the paper to me, and I unfolded
it.
“Wow!” I immediately recognized the picture of the man next to the article. I would never forget that smile no matter how many times it had broken my heart. There was a picture of my childhood friend and old crush, Billy Harris. He stood next to an easel that held some sort of modern art painting, the kind that just looked like random splashes of paint to me. The headline read: “Andrew Springs Local Billy Harris Takes the Art World By Storm.” The article went on to say that Billy had become quite a successful artist. He had recently sold a series of paintings reportedly for six figures at an art show in Los Angeles.
“Ain't that the shit?” Cherie asked, before letting out another burp.
“It is,” I said. Billy was someone I had become convinced would only drift through life, barely making it unless he had a sugar daddy. Just when I thought I had figured him out, Billy Harris had once again managed to surprise me.
Chapter 2
Joey
We never managed to get Mason's sister into the guest room. Instead, she just passed out on the couch and we decided it would be best to just leave her there. We then went back outside and stayed with all the wedding guests until the reception ended in the wee hours of the morning. Mason, who had volunteered to be the wedding photographer, snapped away with shots of the party. We had hired a limo to whisk Katie and Caroline off to the hotel where they would spend the night before leaving for their honeymoon the next day.
When we came back into the house, Cherie was snoring softly on the couch.
“Just leave her be for the night,” Mason said.
“Do you really think she and Houston will split up?” I asked.
“I don't think so,” he said, before adding, “Hell, I don't know. She's never really talked to me about their marriage anyway.”
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Let's go crash.”
The next morning I woke up to the sound of pots and pans banging around in the kitchen. I admit to having a slight hangover. Each pounding and slamming of kitchenware was magnified by ten.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was only 7:30. I couldn't imagine what possessed Mason to get up so early and start cooking.
When I rolled over, I discovered Mason was still in bed. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. After he realized I was awake, he mumbled, “What is she doing?”
“I don't know,“ I replied. “She's your sister, though. Make her stop.”
I gave him a gentle shove.
“All right.” Mason sighed. “I'll go see what's up.”
He stumbled out of bed, and despite my hangover, I couldn't help think he looked cute in those Superman boxers I gave him. If only Cherie hadn't been there that morning!
I pulled myself out of bed and headed to the shower. I might as well head over to the cabaret early. Today I had scheduled for us to start an inventory on the liquor.
“Savannah's Cabaret” had been a French Quarter institution for decades now. Started by Mason's Aunt Savannah, the cabaret was the premiere showplace for drag queen performers in New Orleans. It was known for its comical and elaborate performances most nights, except for Mondays. Even drag queens needed a night off! The place had always been popular with both locals and tourists.
Savannah. Wow. If you never got to meet her, you missed out on what a treat and genuinely sweet person she had been. She had lived life on her own terms and on her own time, even when the world was not the kindest to independent females in the business world. She was a huge success. Not only was she Mason's aunt, she had also been sort of a second mother to me after my own mom died when I was a teen. My mom had worked for her for years, and Savannah had promised my mom before she died that she would always look out for me. Thinking back on it, she had been many people's second mother, including many of the performers at the cabaret.
When she passed away unexpectedly, many people speculated on what would happen to the cabaret. To my and Mason's surprise, she left the place to us jointly; this also helped reunite Mason and I years after a brief summer teen romance years before. Somehow, I knew that had been Savannah's hope and plan all along when she deeded the business to us. She always had a knack for knowing what would be good for you even before you realized it yourself.
Neither one of us was sure we could pull it off so the place could continue on just as it had, but we both felt we owed it to Savannah and her family of performers to give it a shot. So, Mason handled much of the financial part of things while I focused mostly on more of the supervision of employees and creative direction. Things had gone along fine for a bit, and then that bitch Katrina paid a visit. You can imagine what that did to business and our souls for quite a while. Finally, we saw a little upswing, and then the economy tanked. However, with a few creative additions, such as the “spiked coffee bar café” we opened one winter, we managed to float along.
Once I finished my shower, I went into the kitchen and found Cherie serving up homemade biscuits and frying bacon. At least I knew the source of all the noise now. Mason sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee.
“How can you boys not have chicory coffee in the kitchen?” Cherie asked as if it were a mortal sin. “I mean really.”
“We're not really big on chicory,” I told her.
Cherie
just sighed and shook her head at this great travesty. She handed me
a cup of coffee and asked, “Bacon?”
“Sure,” I replied.
I shot a look at Mason, who just shrugged his shoulders. How she could be up and raring to go this morning after the previous night was beyond me. You'd never know that she had just left her husband, traveled a few hundred miles by bus, and crashed a wedding reception while three sheets to the wind.
“So... what are your plans now?” Mason asked gingerly. “Are you going to call back home today?”
Cherie looked startled. “Why would I do that?” she asked.
“Just thought you might want to touch base with Lily and...”
“I think,” Cherie said, cutting him off. “I think
I'll...”
She paused as if just now pondering what to do. The bacon in the pan next to her popped and crackled, providing the only sound as we waited to find out what her plans could be.
“I
think...” she repeated, “I should spend today trying to get to
know my new home.”
She began to scoop the bacon out of the pan,
and Mason and I shot each other another look. Home?
Mason's assumption that she would be headed back to Mississippi by
sun up wasn’t quite coming to fruition.
I stayed silent on this one.
“So, you're thinking of staying here for a bit?” Mason asked.
Cherie dropped a platter of bacon in front of us, just a little too forcefully if you ask me, but she had a smile on her face the whole time.
“Well, of course!” she answered. “It's time for me to shake things up. You think I could have a job helping you guys out at the cabaret?”
Oh, shit!
Mason chewed on a piece of bacon methodically. I knew that look in his eyes. He was trying to form his next words carefully.
“Well, things have been a little slow lately with the economy, but I'll see what we can do. I’ll put some feelers out for you with people I know.”
Cherie looked at him with piercing eyes while she slurped her coffee.
“I have a feeling after a few days you're going to miss home,” Mason added, straining to smile.
Cherie rocked back and forth on her heels, looking to be contemplating this thought. But then her face filled with anger.
“I told y’all! I'm done with that place. Done!” she announced.
She picked up the frying pan and dropped it into the sink with a loud clang before stomping out of the room.
After a few moments, I looked up at Mason, smiled, and said, “I think she's done.”
He sighed loudly.
“What are we going to do?” he asked. “She's my sister, and I'll help her as best I can. But...”
“But
what?”
Mason hesitated, and I saw that look of carefully
choosing his words again. I'd been noticing it a lot more lately. It
felt like he rarely said anything without giving every single word he
would utter some major thought.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
His tone alarmed me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Mason! Where's the shampoo?” we heard Cherie scream from the bathroom.
“Just
a minute!” he called back to her. He then turned back to me and
said, “Let's talk at the office, okay?”
“Okay. I'm heading
there in a few minutes anyway.”
“I'll
meet you there in thirty minutes,” he concluded before standing up.
“Let me go take care of her and get myself together.”
He left
the kitchen, and I sat there for a few moments finishing my coffee. I
had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't quite
place what this talk might be about.
I loved walking to work each morning, passing all of our friends in the Quarter on my way, exchanging hellos and tidbits of gossip. Before returning home, I had lived in New York for a number of years working in social services, primarily HIV prevention. The city had seemed exciting at first, full of energy and possibilities. I never felt the same sense of community I often felt when I lived in New Orleans. New York just never felt quite like home. The only thing I really missed was the work I did there. I worked briefly for an AIDS prevention organization in New Orleans, but the demands of running the cabaret commanded most of my attention. I still tried to volunteer when I had time, and I had been toying with the idea of starting up a new project with a local organization focusing on HIV education within the African-American community, but with all of our responsibilities, I could never find the time to really work on launching it.
I was already sweating heavily when I made it to the cabaret on Orleans Avenue. The red neon sign “Savannah's” hung outside the door. Summer had arrived early and the humidity hung in the air. I felt like I needed another shower already.
When the economy started to downturn, Mason and I developed the idea of selling spiked coffee to go through one of the windows of the cabaret facing our street in the Quarter, sort of like you see the vendors selling daiquiris. To our surprise, combining the country's craze for coffee with the New Orleans craze for cocktails proved to be an outstanding idea that winter month. Sure, we offered plain coffee, not that I remember anybody ordering any. We even had people stopping by to purchase what we called, “Morning coffee with a kick.” Not sure that it really helped people with their workplace productivity, but it helped our bottom line. The idea soon caught on and other places in the Quarter were now selling the same thing. Sales slowly began to trickle away and the heat wave certainly didn't help.
I poked my head inside the window and saw Pete sitting on a stool reading one of those trashy tabloids.
“How was business this morning?” I asked.
He looked up and gave me a thumbs down. “It's the heat. Maybe we should switch to iced coffee.”
“That's a good idea,” I noted. “We should try testing it out tomorrow.”
Pete jumped up, excited that his idea was being considered. Despite being only twenty, he already had a good head for business.
“I'll work on some test samples and flavors right now.”
“Go for it. If you need anything, I'll be in the office,” I told him.
I unlocked the front door and walked into the lobby of the cabaret. We had kept much of the plush, bright red interior intact after Savannah's passing. We had added a few new touches, such as the 11 X 17 portraits that Mason had taken of all of our “girls,” putting the talents he had developed as a photojournalist during his years in San Francisco to use. I had asked him on more than one occasion if he missed doing photography for a living. He always just blew the idea off each time and said he was happy keeping busy. But I had my doubts sometimes.
I hadn't been in the office for more than ten minutes when Mason appeared in the doorway. I set down the inventory reports, not that I could focus on work. I was preparing and braced myself.
“That was fast. I didn't expect you for another few minutes.”
“Cherie started blasting some music from the eighties, and I just had to get out of there.” He chuckled, but I saw the seriousness in his eyes.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to me.
“So what's up?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and announced, “I've been scared to tell you something.”
Chapter 3
Katie
Both Caroline and I were caught off-guard at our reception when my parents invited us to stop by for lunch on our way out of town for our honeymoon at the Grand Canyon. Stopping at my folks’ place for lunch on the first day of our honeymoon was not my idea of a romantic start to things, but before I could respond, I heard Caroline say, “Of course, we'd love to!”
Later that night, when we made it to our hotel room at the Bourbon Orleans, I asked her, “Stopping by my parents’ tomorrow on the first day of our honeymoon... I don't know. Are you sure? I can cancel for us, you know.”
Caroline wrapped me in her arms and held me in a tight embrace before placing sweet soft kisses all over my face.
“It
was an olive branch they were extending. We should go. Stopping for a
couple of hours isn't going to be a big deal.”
“A couple of
hours?” I shrieked. A couple of hours at my parents’ house
sounded like an eternity. Sure, I was happy that they came to the
wedding, but spending time back in my hometown had never, ever been
my idea of a party.
Caroline pulled away from me, stepped back, tossed her hair, and slowly started unbuttoning the top of her blouse. She gave me a sly smile. “Are you sure this is what you want to be talking about now?”
“You're right,” I agreed, pulling her down on the bed. “We can figure it all out tomorrow.”