New Sensations Page 9

  “I don’t know,” her harsh tone softened, “I guess it’s maybe because you and I are best friends and we usually do everything together. Two days with this new guy and you’re already starting to ditch me. You don’t even want to sit and have a drink with me anymore.”

  “Rita, you know neither of those statements is true. I have never and will never ditch you for any guy. I made sure I took you with me when I was ready to go yesterday. I knew that you were fine entertaining your fans at the lounge last night, and I knew that you would be fine hanging out with Alberto for a few hours.”

  I went and sat next to her on the bed and placed a loose hug around her slim shoulders.

  “Rita, you are always fine and the life of the party no matter where you go. I’m not trying to steal your shine or ex you off as my closest friend. I met a man who I felt a connection with. That might happen to you every other night but you know that almost never happens to me. I have to do this. I like Jackson and he likes me, and we want to spend some time together while I’m here on our trip. Okay?”

  She stopped fussing with her hair and nodded.

  “Okay, okay, enough of this mushiness,” Rita said after we exchanged a quick hug. “So what are we doing for the rest of the night?”

  The hasty turn of the conversation had me wondering if this issue was truly resolved or only shelved for the moment. Rita’s mood had brightened somewhat and I was glad to see the change so I decided to ride with the upswing.

  “I don’t know about you but I’m ready to hit the pavement and stop at the first roadside dive that I see.”

  Considering that the Crystal Springs Lounge was the closest drinking establishment for an even twenty-mile radius, it wasn’t hard to guess the spot that I was referring to.

  Rita and I made fast work of redressing for the evening. Our morning session was scheduled to begin at 8 AM tomorrow and we needed to be back by no later than midnight if we were going to be able to make it to that workshop on time. Because it was closest to my customary casual wear, I very nearly opted to wear a pair of faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. In a moment of spontaneity that was far from lucid, I chose a peach wrap around skirt – sure to give any onlooker a generous eyeful of my smooth brown legs – with a white halter-top and white wedge-heeled sandals instead. A slender pair of white lace thongs sliding up my thighs, snuggling up against my trimmed triangle, clamping down tight over the roundness of my hips and, lastly, settling down deep into the slit in my rear was the juicy topping for my already risqué choice of clothing. I also decided on allowing my hair to flow free, an inch or two past my shoulders, rather than bunch it up again in that tight and uncomfortable bun. Rita decided to be the lady in red tonight – red spandex mini dress, red wedges, and a red rose placed in her hair over top of her left ear. She was most definitely going to be a sight for sore and lusty eyes tonight.

  As we walked to the car, my phone buzzed inside of my handbag. Once again, I had to dig for gold before I was able to find it. The number on the face wasn’t familiar but I tapped the answer button anyway. I wasn’t really the type to screen my calls and I usually always answered every call. If it were someone that I didn’t want to talk with – the guy from a horrible date, a telemarketer, sometimes it could even be my mother – I would simply, and always politely, offer an excuse to end the call.

  “Hello, this is Janay.”

  “Darling!”

  The voice was somewhat familiar but I couldn’t grab onto a name to match what I heard.

  “Who is this?”

  “Tsk, tsk. You have forgotten me so soon, even after I went through so much trouble to clear your schedule so that you could run wild with that adorable man this afternoon.”

  “Alberto! Yes, yes, of course I remember you. I didn’t recognize your number. I forgot to program it into my phone.”

  “I completely understand, dear. If it had been me in your place, I would have forgotten about the rest of the world as well,” he said in his usual chipper voice.

  “Thank you, again, for helping me out. I truly appreciate it.”

  “Anything for love, dear,” I heard the teasing in his tone. “Back to the reason why I called you. What are you chicas planning for this evening?”

  “Alberto, my friend, you have excellent timing.”

  Rita and I doubled back toward the city to pick up Alberto from the hotel. We were sure there would be almost no way he would be able to find his way to the lounge in the middle of the night. Without the light from the broken sign to serve as a guidepost, the surrounding landscape was practically pitch black for miles around.

  Unlike the first night we pulled into Crystals Springs only night spot, the lot was far from empty. In fact we had to park out on the edge of the road because so many other cars, truck, and jeeps were jammed in front of the building. I spied out Jackson’s gigantic silver pickup parked at the front space on the left side. I assumed that he had been parked in the rear yesterday when Rita and I arrived, because there was no way I would have missed that truck, not even from a distance. His four wheels were all macho machine, and I loved how I felt riding alongside Jackson when we were flying down the road in his beast.

  If the number of vehicles we were currently snaking our way around was any indication of the size of the crowd awaiting inside, there must be a full house tonight. Whoever owned this place must be raking in the dollars on a regular basis. I wondered why they had not taken the time to rejuvenate the outside and maybe given a little spring-cleaning to the inside as well.

  When my group stepped through the warped door, the energy of the crowd and the roar of the music slammed into us. The inside was packed from wall to wall and heads from all over turned in our direction. Alberto was quite the catch in his powder blue dress shirt, dark denim jeans, and black dress shoes. The three of us standing side by side together – Alberto in his blue, Rita in her red, and me in my white and peach – must have made an amusing trio. I didn’t catch on to the significance of the colorful medley we were wearing until after we had made our grand entrance. My pals and I must have looked as if we were going to be the evening’s entertainment, possibly a new patriotic singing group, as we stood at the head of the establishment. The only items we were probably lacking to complete the hilarity of this moment were some wireless mics and a fully equipped live band shuffling in behind us. When the expectant stares failed to turn away, Rita assumed the lead and cut a sharp path right through the thick of the crowd and toward the rear end of the bar counter. With Alberto and I following close behind, and none of our group uttering any sound that would indicate we were about to let loose our lungs, heads turned back to ice cubed drinks and rambling conversations. Our five seconds of fame had passed.

  When we arrived at our destination, to no surprise, all of the stools were occupied by denim-clad rear ends. It would be impossible to work our way in any other direction, the crowd was way too dense to try to search out any vacant seats elsewhere. There were probably none to be found anyhow, so we opted to stand in a small huddle until our next move became available.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Harry Blackbird’s voice boomed toward us. “Unless you have a fresh drink, less than thirty minutes old in your hand, vacate the bar.”

  When rodeo hat decked heads stared blankly in his direction, unable or unwilling to respond, he leaned over the counter and made himself eye level with the patrons and stepped up his delivery.

  “Any one sitting in these first five stools has exactly five seconds to clear the bar or else I’m coming around the counter to clear it myself. Five! Four! Three!”

  Before he reached two, seven seats had cleared, rather than the original five he had requested.

  He waved his tattooed arm toward us and we pushed our way back over to the stools and took our newly reserved seats.

  “Janay,” he croaked in that heavy accent, a half grin pulling at his bristly mustache, “how is Jack’s ladylove doin’ this evening?”

  Jackson sure didn’t waste an
ytime spreading the word that he and I were an exclusive item for this week. Somehow, that title – being referred to as his ladylove – appealed to me, more than expected. I was climbing higher and higher up a mounting hill of fantasy and leaving the reality of how temporary this arrangement was to be far below. When would I make that inevitable tumble back down out of the clouds?

  “I’m doing well, Harry. How are you?”

  “I’m a lot better now that we have you here to add some class to this place,” he said with a wink.

  “You give me too much credit,” I said as I returned his playful act.

  I made an informal introduction and reintroduction of Alberto and Rita. They both greeted Harry and he offered them each a half smile and slight dip of his head before excusing himself.

  When he returned, Harry set down a draft for Alberto and tall, slim glasses of Raspberry Twists for Rita and I. Without a second thought, I started to sip at mine eagerly.

  “Drinks are on the house for ya’ll tonight,” he yelled as the music flared up, “compliments of Jackson.”

  Rita and Alberto raised their drinks and thanked him.

  As Harry went to turn away, I touched his arm lightly to grab his attention.

  “Where is he?” I raised my voice as I high as I could without straining myself.

  Harry dipped his head lower and motioned for me to repeat my question.

  “Jackson…have you seen him around?”

  “Yeah…he came in earlier and told me to be on the lookout for you and to make sure you were taken care of. I haven’t seen him much since then…he’s probably floating around and spending some time with the customers.”

  I used my fingers to give Harry the okay sign, and he moved off to the other end of the bar near the front door.

  I made a vain attempt to stand up and try to look over the crowd to see if I could locate Jackson amongst the throng. At a spot in the back, closest to the swarmed pool table and the busy area surrounding the dartboard, I thought I caught a glimpse of Jackson talking with another man. His usually easy grin and casual cool appearance were noticeably absent. The lines of his face were sharp and tight as he exchanged heated looking words with the man he was speaking with, whose face was turned at an angle that made his features hard to see. The distance from my vantage point was too great for me to be able to interpret their words by reading their lips and the steady murmur of the evening crowd was way too loud for me to audibly hear their conversation. My pulse quickened. I didn’t like the way the two men were having a muted battle of wills. The impulse to call out to Jackson was strong, an innate feeling to bring my man back to me. I wanted to ease his tension, do away with his worries, and have him resume his calm and loving nature. I was fairly confident that the set-up of this scene, with mobs of people separating us, would cause even my most urgent exclamations to him to fail. I reluctantly turned away to join in with Rita and Alberto’s conversation, but thoughts of Jackson and the mystery man remained at the forefront of my mind.

  “Looks like someone is in love,” Alberto teased in a singsong voice.

  Was it that obvious that I was preoccupied with thoughts of Jackson, both worrying about his stressful looking conversation and wanting to be close to his manly build again? I lifted up a half smile, slightly embarrassed that I was wearing my heart on my sleeve for all to see – and comment about.

  “She is not,” Rita’s sharp tone cut through my thoughts.

  “Oh, hush, Rita darling,” Alberto sassed her back, “you’re just jealous.”

  “What? I am not!”

  “Mhm,” he returned and took a sip of his beer.

  “What do I have to be jealous of?” She cocked a high arched eyebrow up at him.

  I remained silent, contemplating whether or not I should take offense to that statement and the inflection in her tone. Why is it so hard to imagine that I may have some delight in my life that she couldn’t manage to find or hold on to in her own?

  “Stop pouting, chica…it doesn’t suit you at all. We all know you have your fabulous looks, darling, but our little Janay has something far more special and a lot less temporary.”

  I could already tell this conversation could easily take a nasty turn and I didn’t want to see it end that way, even if Alberto was presenting his case on my behalf.

  “Alberto, Rita is right,” I said in an even tone, the fingers on my right hand working absently around the stem of my glass, “Jackson and I are only hanging out. It’s really not anything serious.”

  I tried to sound as dismissive as possible at the notion that I may be falling in love with a man that I barely knew. Besides, Jackson and I lived on opposite ends of the country, there was no way a true intimate relationship between us would ever work out for the best.

  “We’ll see, dear,” Alberto smiled mischievously.

  He moved the conversation along by asking if either of us had any idea of the name of the band or the title of the song that was playing over the speakers. He thought the tune was catchy and might want to download it when he returned to his room at the Royal Pavilion. From there, our talk continued on smoothly, yet my mind remained on the possibility that the tingly and warm feeling growing in my chest and clouding my mind could actually be the first signs of love.

  Twenty minutes later and the already tight space in back of us had become more cramped as the population swelled to maximum capacity. A peak over my shoulder about five minutes ago revealed that Jackson and the other man had moved off to another location. I had given up hope of running into my charming guy any time soon, when a heavy tap on my bare shoulder caused my stomach to flutter with anticipation. I turned optimistic eyes around, hoping to meet up with Jackson again and, instead, was staring at a fat and red flushed face.

  Two glazed and dark marble-like eyes, red rimmed around the edges, stared back at me. The smell of liquor was heavy around this stubby man. The scent of alcohol was leaking through his pores.

  “You’re pretty,” the man belched a little when he spoke.

  “Thank you,” I offered as politely as I could muster.

  When I tried to angle my body back around to face the bar, the inebriated stranger grabbed my arm tight.

  I yelped and it caught my companions’ attentions.

  “I’m John Junior.”

  I could agree with the name John. It was average like this man standing unevenly before me and fit his nondescript characteristics. However, the second half of his name was far from an accurate desciption when it came down to helping someone picture this squat and pungent little man. Since his width was wider than me, Rita, and Alberto pushed together side by side and his ragged appearance pulled him up past fifty, Junior was definitely not his size or a precise estimation of his age.

  “That’s very nice for you…now let go of my arm.”

  “Let’s go have a dance,” his words came out slurred but his strength was immense.

  “I don’t think so. Please let go of me.”

  I repeated my request because I thought maybe, in his condition, he might not have caught everything I just said.

  When that didn’t work, Rita stepped off her stool.

  “Hey pal, she asked you nicely. Not get off of her and go away.”

  John Junior squinted his eyes in recognition at Rita. I didn’t hear him respond directly to her question, I did, however, hear Junior mumbling something relating to the word cocktease under his heavy and rancid breath. All the while, his grasp on my arm was tightening and starting to feel way past the point of discomfort.

  “Listen, man,” Alberto stepped over and made his best attempt at sounding threatening. “We don’t want you over here. Now let her go and there won’t be any need for any trouble.”

  The next words out of John Junior’s mouth were beyond excusable and it hurt my ears and my heart to hear someone vocalize such rude remarks about anyone’s private life.

  His profane and bumbling speech drew heads in our direction as people turned to check out what
the disturbance was about.

  “Come on, gal, I said let’s dance!”

  He yanked me hard and I fell forward off of the stool and fumbled off balance onto the wooden floor. My shaky legs wobbled in my wedges and I would have surely tumbled face first downward if a new set of strong hands hadn’t stopped my descent in midair.

  Jackson stood me up straight and commenced in plucking John Junior’s fingers from my arm, one at a time. His motions were precise and painful, if the sudden bursts of pain on John’s greasy round face were any clue.

  Once Jackson had freed me from the grubby hand, his tall body stepped in front of me as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “John Junior you’re not welcome in my bar anymore.”

  Jackson’s bar?

  “Oh, come on, Jackson, I was just wantin’ a dance with the pretty Negro girl.”

  Wow. That was an unwelcome blast from the past.

  I looked over at Rita and Alberto, who were both wide-eyed with stunned disbelief. Our fun night out had done a rapid nosedive.

  “Get. Out.” Jackson’s words were like daggers. His quick verbal jabs cut through the air like a chef’s blade.

  “Awe…she don’t mind…do you girly?”

  John Junior made an attempt to reach around Jackson and make a grab for me. Faster than a flash of lightning, Jackson took a big fistful of the front of the drunken man’s grimy shirt and forced him back against the solid wall to our right. He was like a raging bull charging the red cloak of a bullfighter. The force of John’s back banging against the wall caused several framed pictures hanging near the spot of the collision to shake loose and crash to the floor.

  The bar patrons in that area jumped clear of the scene and the music ceased playing through the speakers. The overhead lights brightened and when my vision adjusted I saw that Jackson’s wide fist was only a hair’s breadth away from John Junior’s face. I made a step to go toward the two men but Rita and Alberto simultaneously motioned to hold me back.

  “John, you have two choices. I can either crack your face and the medics can carry you out or you can leave on your own. But, I swear…on everything that I love…if you touch my lady once more, I’m gonna’ make that choice for you and I guarantee that you won’t like it one bit.”