11
I was actually kind of glad to be in Atlanta, despite the fact I hated these conferences since I was of the mind that I could learn most of what the various panelists attempted to convey to me from a YouTube video or a journal article. I would make the most of my time away from home, try to pay attention to the presenters, gather as much swag as I could, and just rest. Maybe being away would ease my mind a bit and give it a vacation from the ever-present woes of a divorce my husband was bucking against, wayward parents, and a gorgeous street lit author who made my vagina purr at the mere thought of him, despite the fact I was still lawfully wed and he’d admitted to being a former drug dealer.
I obviously needed a break from my normal reality, so I planned to skip this, the first day of the conference, and head to the event center across the street for the evening mixer, which was really just a gathering that gave attendees an excuse to get shamelessly inebriated.
I’d settled into the sinfully comfortable bed in my room when my phone rang. Anxiety flooded me when I saw my lawyer’s name flash on the screen.
“Hello?” I answered pensively, afraid of whatever she might have to tell me.
“Hey, Renee? It’s Danielle. How are you today?”
I’d known Danielle Prince for years, since we both served on the board of a non-profit together for a couple of years. She was friendly, a very sweet person, and a fierce litigator, but the last thing I wanted or needed was to make small talk with her.
Nevertheless, I said, “I’m good. In Atlanta for a conference.”
“Oh? When will you be back?”
“Monday morning.”
“Good, then we won’t have to reschedule.”
My heart jumped in my chest. “Reschedule? Reschedule what?”
“Well, I heard from your husband’s attorney today. He says Robert is eager to hammer out the terms of the divorce and wants to meet with us face to face.”
I sat up on the side of the bed. “He did?”
“Yes. I’ve set up a meeting here in my office on Tuesday morning. Can you swing that?”
“Yes, sure.” I sighed and smiled. “Wow, I just can’t believe he’s not contesting it.”
“Well, let’s see what his terms are before we get too excited.”
“Okay, thanks so much, Danielle.”
“Of course.”
I hung up and fell back onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling with this huge goofy grin on my face. Maybe, just maybe, my life was taking a turn for the better. Maybe I’d be able to move on…with Lorenzo.
Lorenzo, who I barely knew.
I sighed again. Or maybe, Renee, you should just take some time to get your mind right.
Yeah, I definitely needed to do that.
*****
I got sloppy-ass drunk at the mixer, had to be escorted back to my room by a couple of fellow attendees whose names I couldn’t remember the next morning. And I don’t even drink like that, but I suppose the complexities of my life made the liquor flowing liberally around the room very appealing to my palate.
The next morning, I woke up with a throbbing headache that made the least bit of movement painful. The room spun as I reached for my purse on the floor beside the bed and dug a bottle of pain reliever capsules out.
I had to sit on the side of the bed for a couple of minutes to steady my dizzy head before I shuffled to the bathroom, filled my mouth with water directly from the faucet, and downed two of the pills. Looking in the mirror, I took in my appearance. I’d crawled into bed wearing my blouse and slacks, which were both now wrinkled to be damned, and hadn’t had the presence of mind to wrap up my head, so my freshly-permed hair gave me the appearance of a confused bird. I released a breath as I made my way back to the bed where I planned to stay until the afternoon sessions began. Maybe that would give me enough time to get myself together and possibly look marginally presentable.
And then a text came through: Hey, you okay? You sounded a little out of it last night.
It was from Lorenzo.
I popped up in the bed. Last night? Did I talk to him last night?
I went to my call log, and to my utter horror, found that I had called Lorenzo at precisely 2:26 AM that morning. I dropped the phone on the bed and clamped my hands over my mouth. I had no recollection of the call. Didn’t even have the slightest idea what time I got back to my room or…shit, what did I say to him?
I groaned, and just as I was trying to formulate a plan to disappear from the face of the earth, a call came through. It was Angie. Relief spread over me, because had it been Lorenzo, there was no way I was answering.
“Hello?” I muttered into the phone.
“Hey! What are you up to? Wanna do lunch?”
“Uh…I’m in Atlanta at a conference. Did I forget to tell you I was leaving town?”
“Girl, you probably told me. Things are so crazy with all the traveling me and Ryan have been doing. Oh! Did I tell you we’re filming another commercial next weekend?”
My eyes widened. “No, really? That’s great, Angie!”
“Yeah, it’s for Shea Heaven’s new curl custard.”
“Wow! I am so proud of you two! And I’m so happy for you. Love, success, you’ve got it all, sis.”
“Yeah…what’s going on, Nay? You don’t sound exactly right.”
“Nothing. I mean, I’m fighting a mean hangover, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“I still cannot believe all the partying you say goes on at those conferences.”
“Girl, it’s ridiculous. Last night’s party was sponsored by a company that sells birth pools. They actually had a huge birth pool full of tequila sitting in the middle of the room for a game of bobbing for pacifiers. Some sixty-year-old midwife from Idaho won.”
Angela screamed laughing into the phone. “You’re lying!”
“I wish I was.”
“Is that it? There’s nothing else going on with you?”
I hesitated.
“What is it?”
I told her about my scheduled meeting with Robert and his lawyer.
“Good!” she replied. “I mean, that is good, right? You still want the divorce?”
“Yes, of course I do! But um…have you ever drunk-dialed anyone?”
“Oh, shit! Did you drunk-dial Robert and curse him out?”
“No…”
“Okay, who’d you drunk-dial? Mama, Daddy, Nicky, Janine—”
“Lorenzo.”
“Uh, who the hell is Lorenzo?”
“The guy I told you about. The one I had lunch with.”
“You have his number?”
“Yeah, I kind of had a couple of dates with him and he—” I shook my head, too embarrassed to tell the rest.
“You screwed him?!”
“No, no, I…he went down on me.”
“Awwwww, shit! Was it good? I bet it was!”
“Does it matter? I mean, the point is it shouldn’t have happened at all since I’m still married.”
“So it was good, huh?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “Yes! It was good, terrific, excellent, whatever! But I feel horrible about it.”
“Okay, okay, I can see why you’d be upset, but shit, did you not want him to do it? I mean, did he force himself on you?”
“No, no. I wanted it. Hell, I still want it.”
“But you’re feeling all guilty about it, huh?”
“Yeah…I know I’m not perfect. I’m not all virginal or anything. Robert wasn’t my first, and I’m not even gonna pretend I’m gonna wait until I get married again before having sex, because my coochie feels like it’s going to explode every time I even look at Lorenzo Higgs, but married or not, I’m not a cheater, never have been. Robert’s the cheater.”
“Girl, your marriage was over the second Robert first cheated on you. So technically, you didn’t cheat.”
“Angie…”
“And if you really feel that bad about it, don’t let it happen again.”
“I know. I actually cut things off with him.”
“But you drunk-dialed him?”
“Yeah, and I have no idea what I said.”
“Ask him.”
“I’m too embarrassed to—wait, I got a text. Might be from him.” I checked my phone, and said, “It’s from Redbox.”
“Free code? Send it to me.”
“I will.”
“And call the man. Hell, if he gave you a good orgasm, you should have his ass on speed dial.”
“That sounds like something Nicky would say.”
Angie giggled. “Shit, it does, doesn’t it?”
I sighed. “Bye, Angie.”
“Love you, bye.”