designated driver. Instead, they walked to the Black Cat, a bar and dance club two blocks away from Delia’s apartment.
“Will you get that depressed look off of your face?” Donna Lee asked after they sat down and started sipping club soda. “You look like I forced you to come here or something.”
Delia gave her sister an incredulous look. “You did force me.”
“Well, now that we’re here, at least try to pretend that you want to enjoy yourself.” Donna Lee tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder and surveyed the club, probably searching for her next prey. She did her little patented ‘sexy shoulder dance’ as she called it, which she believed was a foolproof method to get men to ask her to dance. Not two seconds later, a tall black man strutted toward their table.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Donna Lee chanted as a look of shock or horror crept over her face. Delia couldn’t decide which.
“What? Is he an ex or something?” Delia tried to get a good look at him through the crowd but he didn’t seem familiar. Of course that meant nothing. He could still be one of Donna Lee’s ex-boyfriends. She doubted she had even met half the men on her sister’s conquest list.
“No. It’s Marcus Anderson.”
“Who?”
“Marcus Anderson. The Marcus Anderson of the Washington Nationals. I met him today after practice and told him where I would be. I didn’t think he’d actually come.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who that is. I don’t watch football.”
Donna Lee glared at her sister. “It’s baseball, Dee. Marcus Anderson is the second baseman with the cute ass I’ve been talking about.”
The Marcus Anderson stopped to sign several autographs while Donna Lee stared at him like she wanted to put him on a plate and eat him.
“Oh, please don’t ditch me tonight for him. And my place is really too small if you were thinking you could just stop by for a quick rendezvous.”
Delia watched as Donna Lee’s baseball player waved at them then stopped at the bar to place an order. She was so busy trying to get a glimpse of his butt to find out what was so mesmerizing about it that she didn’t notice her sister’s demeanor change.
“How could you say that to me?”
“What?”
“You think I’m some sort of slut, don’t you?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. I just — ”
“God, Dee. You think you’re the only one that has problems.” With that, Donna Lee scooted out of the booth and stormed towards the exit. Marcus Anderson set the drinks he had just ordered back on the counter and chased after her.
What was that about, Delia thought?
Partly out of laziness, but mostly out of boredom, Delia stayed in the booth and people watched. Everyone in the club seemed so young and carefree. She envied them. How many of them had to go through a divorce and then the stigma of falling in love with a teenager while on the rebound? Granted, the teenager ordeal wasn’t her fault. The teenager had lied and misrepresented himself. The teenager had purposely trapped her. The teenager … the teenager was there … in the club … dancing. Delia nearly choked on her water.
Delia crossed her arms and slouched in her seat trying to hide from Chase’s view. The last thing she needed was for him to spot her and decide to talk to her.
She studied his movements while he was on the dance floor. How could he be so completely different? While on the cruise, he was the perfect gentleman. They danced to classic 1950s music and held hands under the moonlight and above the sea. He seemed sweet, genuine, and caring. Now, as he gyrated on the floor with two or three girls at once, he just seemed like a typical hormone crazed adolescent. How could she have been so blind? Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.
Chase must have felt Delia’s glare piercing through him. He turned in her direction
“Will you get that depressed look off of your face?” Donna Lee asked after they sat down and started sipping club soda. “You look like I forced you to come here or something.”
Delia gave her sister an incredulous look. “You did force me.”
“Well, now that we’re here, at least try to pretend that you want to enjoy yourself.” Donna Lee tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder and surveyed the club, probably searching for her next prey. She did her little patented ‘sexy shoulder dance’ as she called it, which she believed was a foolproof method to get men to ask her to dance. Not two seconds later, a tall black man strutted toward their table.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Donna Lee chanted as a look of shock or horror crept over her face. Delia couldn’t decide which.
“What? Is he an ex or something?” Delia tried to get a good look at him through the crowd but he didn’t seem familiar. Of course that meant nothing. He could still be one of Donna Lee’s ex-boyfriends. She doubted she had even met half the men on her sister’s conquest list.
“No. It’s Marcus Anderson.”
“Who?”
“Marcus Anderson. The Marcus Anderson of the Washington Nationals. I met him today after practice and told him where I would be. I didn’t think he’d actually come.”
“Yeah, I don’t know who that is. I don’t watch football.”
Donna Lee glared at her sister. “It’s baseball, Dee. Marcus Anderson is the second baseman with the cute ass I’ve been talking about.”
The Marcus Anderson stopped to sign several autographs while Donna Lee stared at him like she wanted to put him on a plate and eat him.
“Oh, please don’t ditch me tonight for him. And my place is really too small if you were thinking you could just stop by for a quick rendezvous.”
Delia watched as Donna Lee’s baseball player waved at them then stopped at the bar to place an order. She was so busy trying to get a glimpse of his butt to find out what was so mesmerizing about it that she didn’t notice her sister’s demeanor change.
“How could you say that to me?”
“What?”
“You think I’m some sort of slut, don’t you?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. I just — ”
“God, Dee. You think you’re the only one that has problems.” With that, Donna Lee scooted out of the booth and stormed towards the exit. Marcus Anderson set the drinks he had just ordered back on the counter and chased after her.
What was that about, Delia thought?
Partly out of laziness, but mostly out of boredom, Delia stayed in the booth and people watched. Everyone in the club seemed so young and carefree. She envied them. How many of them had to go through a divorce and then the stigma of falling in love with a teenager while on the rebound? Granted, the teenager ordeal wasn’t her fault. The teenager had lied and misrepresented himself. The teenager had purposely trapped her. The teenager … the teenager was there … in the club … dancing. Delia nearly choked on her water.
Delia crossed her arms and slouched in her seat trying to hide from Chase’s view. The last thing she needed was for him to spot her and decide to talk to her.
She studied his movements while he was on the dance floor. How could he be so completely different? While on the cruise, he was the perfect gentleman. They danced to classic 1950s music and held hands under the moonlight and above the sea. He seemed sweet, genuine, and caring. Now, as he gyrated on the floor with two or three girls at once, he just seemed like a typical hormone crazed adolescent. How could she have been so blind? Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.
Chase must have felt Delia’s glare piercing through him. He turned in her direction
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