Chapter 15
It was after three when Gage drove through the gates to DuPont House. They had spent more than five hours going from club to club, lingering to listen to jazz, R & B, blues, and Zydeco. Strolling through the French Quarter reminded Tonya of Times Square, with crowds of locals and tourists all jostling for space in the streets and on sidewalks. She knew it would take a while for her to get used to people carrying plastic go-cups and open containers—something that was illegal in New York City.
“I’m going to impose on you and ask you to make me a cup of coffee before I head home.”
Tonya had noticed Gage yawning when he drove the others back to Jazzes’ parking lot for Karla to pick up her vehicle to drive Cleveland and Bobby home before going back to her condo. “Why don’t you stay over and sleep in the other bedroom? You look as if you can’t keep your eyes open.”
Gage yawned again. “Your offer sounds very tempting.”
“It’s not an offer but an order. I’m not going to be responsible for you wrapping your car around a pole. You can sleep in as long as you want, and when you get up, I’ll serve you breakfast in bed.”
He flashed a lopsided grin. “Are you going to join me in bed?”
Tonya patted his shoulder. “Nah. Maybe next time.”
“Will there be a next time?” he asked, then covered his mouth to smother another yawn.
“Turn off the car and come inside with me before you fall on your face.” Tonya didn’t want to remind Gage that he shouldn’t have joined Bobby and Cleveland when they decided to participate in sampling new concoctions during a raucous bartender challenge. Although the samples were poured into shot glasses, the cumulative effect was evident after three rounds. “And don’t move. I’ll come around and help you out.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay, Gage. You may not be legally drunk, but you certainly are under the influence. Now, please don’t argue with me because you’re going to lose.”
He punched the stop-engine button. “Dammit. You have to be so bossy?”
“Yes, I do.” Tonya had punctuated each word.
* * *
Gage emitted an audible groan as he threw an arm over his face. He knew he should have dropped out of the challenge after the second shot, but his machismo overruled his so-called common sense. And he remembered his mother telling him that common sense wasn’t that common.
Tonya gave him what he needed to brush his teeth, shave, and shower and showed him where he would sleep. The mattress was extra firm, the way he liked it, but he would have preferred that she share the bed with him. Making love with her was out of the question. He didn’t have protection, and he doubted whether he could achieve an erection while it felt as if someone was playing congas in his head.
“Never again,” he whispered in the darkened room. Gage recalled telling Tonya that if he hadn’t downed shots at sixteen, then it wasn’t going to happen at forty-six. He didn’t know at the time that weeks later he would do exactly that.
Karla, Cleveland, and Bobby showing up at Jazzes had been a pleasant surprise, but even more surprising was Bobby’s revelation that he was dating Karla, though Gage had suspected something was going on between her and the choral director. Bobby told him they had decided not to go public with their relationship because it would just generate too much gossip at the school. Bobby and single father Cleveland had become good friends when Bobby coached Cleveland’s son’s little league baseball team.
Gage had noticed when he came to the high school as an artist-in-residence that many of the teachers and staff had formed in-groups based on the subjects they taught. He was now acting head of the music department, and in socializing with those on the concert committee, they had formed their own in-group.
Lowering his arm, he stared at the shuttered windows, wondering if Tonya had gone to bed. She had refused to join him when he sat at the dining area table sipping from a cup steaming black coffee, with the excuse that she didn’t need it because she was feeling just fine. Her veiled reprimand had become a signal that she hadn’t approved of his overindulging. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Now, in retrospect, Gage experienced a modicum of shame that he had talked about his son driving drunk, while he himself was also guilty of imbibing more than he normally would.
“I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her,” he said aloud. Not when he had just found a woman who made him believe that he could share whatever he had with her. Gage had lived long enough to realize that when something or someone good came his way, if he didn’t grasp it, he couldn’t bitch and moan after it was gone.
When he met Tonya for the first time last year, he had known immediately that he liked everything about her. It wasn’t only her natural beauty but her confidence, candor, and that she was able to make him laugh—something he hadn’t done often enough. He enjoyed preparing meals with her, dancing, and kissing her. He hadn’t planned to kiss her, and what shocked him more than his impulsiveness was her kissing him back. And if he hadn’t stopped himself, he knew he would have asked whether he could make love to her.
There hadn’t been a time since he brought her to his home that he hadn’t imagined her living with him. He had fantasized about them going to bed together, making love, falling asleep, and then waking up to make love again before they prepared to go to work. And more than anything he wanted to come home and find her waiting for him. It was something he had wanted when he married Winifred, because as a boy he saw the love between his parents. His father kissed his mother every morning before leaving to go to the restaurant, and kissed her again when he returned home.
André Toussaint wasn’t ashamed to announce to the world that he loved his wife and that he had the best sons a man could ever have. Perhaps it had been Gage’s naïveté or he had been in denial when he stayed in a marriage that had been doomed from the start. Even when he heard the whispers that his wife was sleeping with other men, Gage refused to believe it. And even when he convinced himself to stay with her because of their son, he knew it was detrimental to his own emotional stability. Then Winifred told him that Wesley was not his son.
He walked out that night and stayed with Eustace; he did not want to admit to his mother that she had been right when she warned him not to marry Winifred, even if she was pregnant with his baby. Desirée had wanted him to wait until after the baby was born and then get a paternity test. And it never dawned on him that he hadn’t fathered Wesley when Winifred always referred to the baby as hers and never as his son. In the end she was right, because he wasn’t the father.
Wesley may not be his biological son, yet Gage did not plan to give up on the boy. He would give him as many chances as he needed to straighten out his life. He owed him that because legally he still was his son.
Turning over, he buried his face in the pillows under his head and closed his eyes. Minutes later he succumbed to deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Tonya’s head popped when she saw Gage walk into the dining area. “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. You’re looking well.” He had shaved, showered, and dressed.
He ran a hand over his damp hair. “Thanks to you, I feel like a new man. I can’t believe you washed my socks and briefs.”
She saved what she had typed on the laptop and shut it down. “I figured you wouldn’t want to put on dirty socks and drawers after your shower. I had to put in a load of dark clothes, so it was no trouble.”
Gage leaned over and kissed her. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
She scrunched up her pert nose. “No problem. Maybe one of these days you’ll return the favor.”
“I doubt that, because you know your limits.”
Tonya stared into his eyes when he sat next to her, marveling how strangely beautiful they were. Now they appeared more green than gray. “I’m not going to lecture you about drinking, because you’re a grown man and you’re more than aware that your actions have consequences. But if we go out again and you want to get into a drinking contest, then I want you to give me the fob to your car, because there’s no way I’m going to let you get behind the wheel.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever done something like that.”
“Don’t apologize, Gage, because there were a few occasions when I had too much to drink and I had to stay over at a hotel because I couldn’t make it home.”
The lashes that touched his cheeks came up. “When?”
“At prom. Even though I wasn’t old enough to drink, someone managed to sneak bottles into the suite. It was the first time that I had alcohol, and after a couple of glasses I was pissy-eyed drunk. My date called my parents to tell them I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me, so we were going to stay at the hotel until the next day.”
“What did your parents say when you showed up the next day?”
“Apparently I didn’t look well, so I assumed they believed me. It wasn’t until years later that my mother told me she knew I’d been drinking because all she could smell was mouthwash.”
Gage dropped an arm over Tonya’s shoulders. “Why is it parents always know?”
She smiled. “I suppose they know what tricks they played at that age. I usually spend Christmas and New Year’s with my daughter, but she said she had prior commitments for the holidays. This is the first time since she was born that we didn’t celebrate those holidays together, and intuition tells me that she’s involved with a man.”
“Does that bother you, Tonya? That your little girl is now a woman.”
“No. She’s twenty-one, and when she graduates in May she will become totally emancipated. I told her I’ll help her out financially to get an apartment and a car, but it’s up to her to find gainful employment. She’ll graduate with honors with a degree in economics.”
Gage whistled softly. “That’s heavy. Does she have any jobs lined up?”
“She said a professor at Georgia State wants to hire her as his assistant, but she has to have at least ten graduate credits.”
“Is she willing to take his advice?”
Tonya nodded. “She’s already applied to their graduate program, and based on her current grades they should accept her.” She rested her head on Gage’s shoulder. “Are you ready to eat?”
Cupping the back of her head, he pressed a kiss to her ear. “I’m ready for breakfast in bed.”
She laughed softly. “Sorry, darling, but it’s too late for breakfast. The best I can do is offer brunch.”
“Brunch in bed?” he whispered in her ear.
“What if we have brunch in bed at your place and breakfast in bed here?”
He flashed a wide grin. “I like the sound of that. The next time we go out you can stay over at my place. Just make certain to bring an overnight bag, because I’m not adept when it comes to washing lingerie.”
“What if I make it easy for you and don’t wear panties?”
Gage covered his mouth, smothering a groan. “Don’t, Tonya, because I’m very visual.”
Tonya laughed when seeing his strained expression. “I’m sorry about that.”
He dropped his hand. “No, you’re not. Now if I have to resort to masturbating I’m going to curse the hell out of you when I ejaculate in the shower or sock and not you.”
Tonya’s mouth dropped open, completely stunned by his bluntness. “No, you didn’t just say that,” she whispered.
“Yes, I did. Please don’t tell me I shocked Miss I Have No Filter.”
She closed her eyes for several seconds, and when she opened them she noticed Gage was smirking. It was apparent he was enjoying her uneasiness. “Only for the moment,” she said, unwilling to let him know he had bested her. “After all, I am a grown-ass woman.”
“You forgot to say sexy. You’re a grown-ass sexy woman who’s gotten under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch.”
Tonya wanted to tell Gage that although she was physically attracted to him, she feared if they did sleep together, he would want more than she would be willing to give him.
Removing his arm from around her shoulders, Tonya pushed back her chair. “I don’t know about you, but I need to eat.”
Gage held her arm, not permitting her to stand. “What’s the matter, Tonya? Does it bother you that I want to sleep with you?”
She stared at his hand until he dropped it. “No. We’re not kids trying to figure out should we or shouldn’t we. And if you want to know the truth, then it’s yes, I’m looking forward to sharing your bed. But for me sharing your bed doesn’t necessarily translate into sharing your life. And as long as we sleep together you will never have to concern yourself with me sleeping with another man, because I’m not emotionally able to carry on two relationships simultaneously.”
Gage’s expression was a mask of stone. “You said all of that to say what?”
“That I’m looking for being friends with benefits.”
“Is that really what you want?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He gave her a long, penetrating stare. “Okay. Friends with benefits.”
“Do you want to shake on it?”
“No, babe. I’d rather kiss on it.”
He angled his head and brushed a light kiss over her mouth. The joining was so tender Tonya thought she had imagined it. Something deep inside her said Gage didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the rancor she still carried because of her ex. She knew she hadn’t been kind or receptive to Darius when he wanted to see her, and because of that he had accused her of sleeping with other men. If he had blamed her for being indifferent to him she wouldn’t have been so angry. But if she was truly honest with herself, then she had to accept the responsibility for their relationship systematically going downhill.
Shifting slightly, she cradled his face and deepened the kiss. “I’m afraid,” she whispered against his lips.
Gage’s hands covered hers. “Afraid of what?”
“Although I feel more relaxed with you than I have with any other man in my life, I still believe we’re moving much too quickly. And I know I say things that may shock you because. . .”
“That’s because you feel comfortable enough to say it,” he said when her words trailed off. He smiled. “What we have isn’t that one-sided, Tonya. Most people, other than my family, don’t know that I have a son who has a substance abuse problem, and there’s no doubt if he lived here instead of Baton Rouge there would be a lot of gossip about me. Some of these sanctimonious parents would probably say there’s no way I could be a role model for their children when my own kid is strung out on drugs.”
“But you can’t live your son’s life.”
“I know that and you know that, but people tend to be very judgmental. Now back to you speaking your mind. I wouldn’t have it any other way, because my pet peeve is a woman into playing head games. I’d rather know what you’re thinking than not. So can we now drop this subject?”
Tonya felt as if a weight she had been carrying for far too long had suddenly been lifted. “Yes.”
Gage kissed her again. “Let’s get in the kitchen and fix something to eat before it’s time for dinner.”
* * *
Tonya glanced around the sunroom. Seating groupings were arranged to provide an unobstructed view of the large flat-screen. The TV was tuned to pregame festivities, but muted, so as not to drown out softly playing jazz coming from wireless speakers.
The room was spacious enough to accommodate the twenty friends and family members Hannah and St. John had invited to join them to watch the Super Bowl. Earlier in the week Tonya had emailed Hannah a shopping list of what she needed to prepare for the McNairs’ get-together, and given her training and experience she knew she had outdone herself. It was only after she finalized the menu that she felt confident in offering something different for her friend’s guests. She had chosen to create a charcuterie and cheese platter on wooden boards spanning the length of a six-foot table that had been hewn from a single tree trunk.
She came to Marigny earlier that morning to slice prosciutto, salami, and Spanish ham, and a variety of cheeses and veggies. Cherry tomatoes and heirloom tomatoes sliced in big chunks were covered with olive oil and sea salt, and marinated artichoke and pickles were presented in martini glasses. She had added sweetness to the platter with fresh figs, sliced pears, and red, black, and green grapes, and crunch with some nuts. Jars of pepper jelly and honey and sliced baguettes and bread and crackers rounded out the well-balanced cheese plate that was pleasing not only to the eye but also the palate.
“What do you think?” Tonya asked Hannah when she joined her in the sunroom.
“It’s an incredible gastronomical work of art.”
“What’s a work of art?” asked St. John as he entered the sunroom. He’d exchanged his walking shorts and t-shirt for pair of khakis. “Sweet heaven,” he said softly when he stared at the table. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
Tonya smiled at the tall, slender college professor who, though nearing sixty, was still able to turn a woman’s head regardless of her age. His cropped silver hair and goatee were the perfect complement to his tawny-brown complexion. Hannah looped her arm with her husband’s. “I’ve been telling Tonya that she’s going to become a much sought-after caterer once folks eat what she’s prepared tonight.”
Crossing her arms under her breasts, Tonya shook her head. “I’m not accepting any orders until I open my restaurant. Right now I’m committed to working at Chez Toussaints until that time comes.”
St. John smiled, and attractive lines fanned out around his light-brown eyes. “You sound like a Toussaint.”
A slight frown appeared between Tonya’s eyes. “What does a Toussaint sound like?”
“We Toussaints have a rule that we won’t work at another restaurant unless it’s owned by a family member.”
Tonya wanted to tell St. John that she wasn’t a Toussaint, although Eustace had come to regard her as family. He also told her St. John’s paternal grandmother had been a Toussaint.
“I’m not going to bake the Thai and General Tso’s chicken until your guests arrive because they should be served immediately,” she announced, deftly directing the topic of conversation away from the Toussaints.
She had decided to make three Asian chicken dishes: baked General Tso, Thai sweet chili, and spicy Korean wings. Thanks to Eustace she now felt confident enough to prepare grilled honey Cajun shrimp. Her extensive menu also included bourbon whiskey meatballs and a spicy green salsa. She rounded out the menu with tabbouleh, a basil pesto hummus, and a vegetable platter for vegetarians.
Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, St. John removed a folded check. “Hannah told me you won’t give her a bill for catering the food, but I’m not my wife, so I want you to have this.”
Tonya held up both hands. “I can’t, St. John.”
“Yes, you can.” He took her hand, placed the check on her palm, and closed her fingers over it, glaring and daring her to refuse it. Nodding, she slipped it into the pocket of her black pinstriped pants. “That’s better.” The doorbell rang, and he reached for Hannah’s hand and kissed the back of it. “That must be our first guest.”
Hannah nodded, smiling. “Let’s get this party started.”
They left to answer the door, and a minute later LeAnn walked into the sunroom. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered under her breath. “I’ve never seen a charcuterie and cheese spread like this one.”
Tonya laughed at her stunned expression. “I decided to go with a different theme from the usual buffalo wings, guacamole, and chips.”
“Honey, you really outdid yourself with this banquet. Like Emeril says, you really kicked it up a notch. It’s funny that I never thought of you as a chef until now. Maybe it’s because you’re wearing your outfit.”
Tonya glanced down at the white three-quarter-sleeve chef’s coat and black pinstriped chef’s pants. Tonight she had covered her hair with a pinstriped black skullcap instead of her usual bandana, and black leather clogs added several inches to her five-five height. She wanted to tell LeAnn that she hadn’t worn her chef attire since last May when she was downsized from Wakefield Hamilton.
She heard a familiar baritone, and then she saw Gage with Hannah. Her eyes met his, as a slow smile parted her lips when he set down a plastic crate near a portable bar. Not seeing him for a week made her senses spin so that suddenly she felt like a breathless girl meeting her idol for the first time. It took all of her self-control not to launch herself at him and kiss him with all the desire coursing through her body. There were times when she wanted Gage so much that she had to bite her tongue not to blurt out to him to make love to her. Then her mind played tricks on her in which she would dredge up old fears that made her a prisoner of her own emotional fear: the trepidation that she’d fall in love and it would result in her letting her heart overrule her head. Tonya found it ironic that she could tell Jasmine and Nydia how to deal with the men in their lives, and now she needed someone to tell her how to deal with hers.
“Tonya, are you okay?”
She blinked as if coming out of a trance and she turned to look at Hannah. “I think so. Why?”
“Because you look like a deer caught in the headlights.”
“I’m going to need your opinion about something.”
Hannah rested a hand on Tonya’s back. “Is that something named Gage Toussaint?”
Tonya went completely still, wondering whether Hannah was that perceptive or she was that transparent. “You know?”
Hannah smiled. “I only know because of the way he’s staring at you. And I must confess that my cousins mentioned they saw him bring you back to the house.”
“That’s the day he took me to his house for Sunday dinner.”
“So, you’re seeing each other?”
“Yes. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“I think I know what’s bothering you, because I went through the same thing when I got involved with St. John. Come over tomorrow after you leave the restaurant and we’ll talk.”
* * *
Gage picked up a bottle of water, opened it, and took a long swallow before making his way over to Tonya. A single glance at the table with the meat, cheese, and fruit epitomized her training and extraordinary creativity. It was the perfect blueprint for a still life.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he kissed her forehead. “You are amazing. Everything looks incredible and much too pretty to eat.”
She smiled up at him through her lashes. “I did not get up at dawn to put all this together for folks not to eat. What time did you and Eustace begin cooking?”
“Not until nine. My brother cussed the entire time he had to fry more than fifty pounds of wings for two parties. We dropped off the last order an hour ago. Eustace went home to shower and change, so he’s probably right behind me.” Gage glanced over her head. “Are you finished with everything?”
“No. I still have to grill the shrimp, fry the Thai sweet chili chicken, and bake the General Tso’s chicken.”
He leaned in closer, and the clean masculine scent of his cologne wafted to her nostrils. “I’ll wait until everyone gets here, then I’ll grill the shrimp for you.”
“Thank you.” Tonya exhaled an audible sigh. “I’m going to wait for the halftime festivities, then I’m going home to take a bath and relax.”
“Do you want company later?”
She gave him a tired smile. “As tempting as that may sound, I’m going to say no.”
Gage chided himself for being selfish. It was apparent Tonya had been on her feet since dawn cooking and preparing for Hannah and St. John’s guests, while he’d shared cooking for two parties with his brother. “I’m sorry—”
“There’s no need to apologize,” she said, interrupting him. “We can always see each other over the weekend.”
“I’ve made plans not to work next weekend. And because I did promise to take you around the city, maybe you can clear your calendar and pencil me in.”
She laughed softly. “I’ll jot you down for Saturday morning through Sunday night.”
Gage resisted the urge to pump his fist. He didn’t want to believe he would have Tonya all to himself for more than forty-eight hours. “Thank you, babe.”
Eustace joined them, putting an arm around Gage’s neck in a mock chokehold. “I need you to help me, brother.”
“With what?”
“We have to figure out how we can steal Tonya away from Hannah, so we can increase our catering business.”
Reaching up, Gage forcibly removed Eustace’s arm. “You’re wrong and that’s cold, brother.”
Eustace gave Tonya a bear hug. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
“No harm, no foul, boss,” she mumbled against his broad chest.
He released her. “I can’t believe you put all of this together by yourself.”
“Hannah and St. John did help slicing the veggies.”
Eustace angled his head. “Don’t be so modest, Tonya. Your presentations are works of art.”
“That’s where we agree,” Gage said to Eustace. He took Tonya’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Come, babe, and show me what else you need to do so you can get off your feet.”