CHAPTER 21
I soon learned that Trey could give as well as he got when it came to the silent treatment. He hadn't said a word to me once he had stopped yelling. He was furious when I told him that I had used my savings account money to buy out Ian's share of the club. He said that I had no business doing that without discussing it with him first. I told him that I didn't see it that way.
He left for work the following morning without so much as kissing me good-bye. Gina came by at 10 a.m. to pick Preston and I up; we headed to the bank to get the cashier's check. We drove down to Trey's office building. I was thankful that Jesse was on a different floor. Jesse had received the signed bill of sale from Ian's attorney; he had prepared the LLC partnership agreement between Gina and me. It was fairly simple. The difficult part was yet to come.
I had no clue as to how to run a business; or in the case help run a business. Gina admitted that Ian had taken care of booking the talent, advertising, payroll, hiring and firing. She said she had trained the bartenders and scheduled their shifts, filling in when one of them called off. They had an outside accountant who kept the books. An audit and full accounting had been conducted prior to the drafting of the separation agreement that would become Gina and Ian's final divorce decree in about thirty days.
Our LLC was to take possession of the club immediately upon execution of transfer of title. It was ours starting now. Gina was ecstatic; I was scared shitless. It didn't help that Trey was not speaking to me. I needed his support now more than ever.
Gina said our first order of business was to fire the "skank" which she had no reluctance in doing. She announced that I would be the upstairs bartender after terminating the skank.
Of course I knew nothing about the science of mixology. My experience entailed getting a beer from the fridge for Trey or pouring myself a glass of wine. I hadn't even operated a computerized cash register. Gina didn't see that as an obstacle.
She presented me with my work uniform, which consisted of a short black skirt, tight white blouse with the first three buttons unbuttoned, and a silky black vest. I was instructed to wear dark hose and a minimum of 3" black heels. She gave me a bartender's guide for mixed drinks and scheduled training time for me over the next two days at the club for four hours a shot.
Jean had been released from rehab. She had called me her first day home letting me know that she was ready to start back to work. The timing was perfect. She assured me that she had no physical restrictions and felt as good as she had before the accident. When I asked if she might possibly be interested in babysitting while I started back to work she was thrilled at the idea. She assured me that she was more than up to caring for "her little angel." That warmed my heart immediately. She watched her the two afternoons while I underwent Gina's "training."
Tristan was coming to Atlanta to spend a long weekend with Libby. I didn't know exactly what Trey had planned as far as entertaining or hanging out with them since this would by my inaugural weekend as half-owner of the Sanctuary.
Jean was going to be at the apartment on Friday by 5:00 to stay with Preston until Trey got home. I had conveyed that to Trey verbally receiving little more than a nod and a grunt in return.
Thursday night I bathed Preston and got her dressed in her pajamas. I sat with her in the rocking chair in her bedroom and read from her favorite book, "Goodnight Moon."
She would try to turn the pages before I was finished reading. She soon became distracted from the book and squirmed against me rooting for my breast. She hadn’t done that for a while.
"What's the matter baby?" I asked softly, lifting my shirt and unfastening my nursing bra.
She immediately leaned over and latched on to my nipple. I watched as she curled up against me sucking gently.
Trey had been working in his study and passed by the nursery where we were. He poked his head in and asked if she was ready to go to bed.
"As soon as I finish nursing her," I said, "Why?"
"I just wanted to kiss her goodnight," he replied.
"Don't let me stop you Trey."
He came over to where she was safely ensconced in my arms and leaned over, brushing her hair gently with his hand he kissed the top of her head several times.
"Good-night Preston, Daddy loves you more than anything," he said softly.
He turned and left the room without acknowledging my presence for all intents and purposes. I actually felt my heart ache from his treatment of me. I had never felt so disconnected and distant from him. A single teardrop spilled from my eye, running down my cheek and dropping onto Preston. She was watching me as if she knew and sensed that something was amiss between her father and me. Her little mouth curved downward as if she were ready to cry.
I continued to rock her, gently stroking her hair and singing softly to her until she fell asleep in my arms. I lowered her gently into her crib, tucking her in. I placed her favorite stuffed toys next to her.
I shrugged off my shirt and jeans and crawled into the bed in the nursery finding comfort in being close to the one person in this apartment that I knew loved me unconditionally.
I awoke the next morning hearing Preston chatting baby talk in her crib. She was sitting up and had arranged her stuffed toys around her in a circle. She was pulling at her diaper under her pj's.
(Shit! What time was it?)
I glanced at the clock on the dresser seeing that it was 8:27 a.m. I couldn't believe that Preston had slept this late. Trey had apparently left for work without saying good-bye. My heart was heavy once again.
"Does Preston need a fresh diaper?" I asked.
She immediately glanced over in the direction of the bed not realizing that I had been in her room all night. She broke into a wide grin, crawling over to the crib rail, trying to pull herself up.
I lifted her out of her crib, placing her on the changing table while I got a clean diaper and a baby wipe for her. I unsnapped her pj's and removed the wet diaper and cleaned her up. I fastened a fresh diaper on her.
After I fed her breakfast I dressed her for the day. Gina was over at the apartment promptly at 10:00 to quiz me on my knowledge of mixing drinks. She had turned it into a science as far as her club was concerned. She had managed to go into the database on her computer at the club and capture the most popular mixed drinks sold there aside from the usual ones such as rum and coke, gin and tonic, vodka and orange juice - the very "generic" drinks as Gina liked to refer to them. The drinks I had been studying were the most popular at the Sanctuary over the past year that required memorizing the recipe.
"Okay girlfriend," she said very seriously.
"Are you ready?"
I nodded my head nervously. I really wanted to succeed at this. I knew that there was both an art and a science to mixing drinks and tending bar in general.
Gina had a stopwatch. We had arranged various containers of colored water to represent the various liquors and liqueurs, along with an ice bucket, tongs, and various sizes of glasses. I would use an unattached hose nozzle when I had to add the various sides such as soda, tonic, Coke and Sprite.
"Okay now remember, when I call out the drink you repeat out loud the ingredients as you are making it so that I know you understand the ingredients."
"Yes Gina," I replied warily.
She had been a relentless taskmaster over the past couple of days.
'Gimme a "Grateful Dead," she ordered, clicking on her stopwatch.
I put myself in action with the array of bottles that had various levels of food-colored water in them.
"A 'Grateful Dead," I repeated, picking up a Collins glass and shoving ice into it.
"One part tequila, one part vodka, one part light rum, one part gin, one part Chamburd and raspberry liqueur."
"Very good," Gina beamed stopping the watch, allowing me time to empty the contents of the drink into the sink and prepare for the next concoction.
"I'm ready for "Sex on the Beach," she purred.
"Sex on the Beach is two parts vodka, one-half part peach schnapps, top it off with equal amounts of cranberry and orange juice."
"Great," Gina said, smiling.
"Now gimme a 'Kiss on the Lips," she ordered.
"Huh?" I asked, puzzled.
"Oh for Chrissake, Tylar - it's a damn drink."
I had to pause for a moment, trying to recall that particular drink from the book she had ordered me to memorize two days ago.
"Hint," she hollered, "It has frozen mango mix in it."
"Oh yes, 'Kiss on the Lips' - one and a half parts peach schnapps, one part frozen mango mix and one tablespoon grenadine."
"Excellent," Gina cheered.
I beamed happily at her praise. I had managed to remember that particular drink from her hint. It sounded a helluva lot better than that 'Grateful Dead.'
"Make me an "Adios Mother Fucker," she ordered.
"Adios Mother Fucker," I repeated.
"One part gin, one part light rum, one part tequila, one part vodka, one part blue Curacao liqueur and one ounce of Sprite."
"Ty," she said grinning, "I am so fucking impressed with how well you absorbed the recipes for those drinks in such a small window of time. I think you may just be a natural at this!"
We went over a few other popular drinks like Cosmopolitans, the various Martini families like apple-tini, skini-tini, and fuckin-tini. It was the best I had felt in a couple of days. The distance between Trey and I had left me feeling empty and lonely. I hadn't shared the extent of it with Gina. I didn't want to bum her out because she was clearly happier than I had seen her since all this shit had gone down with Ian.
"Okay girlfriend," she continued as if mentally confirming her checklist.
"You have your uniform, your name tag - you know to be at the club by five-thirty, right?"
I nodded.
"Because I need to show you how to work the computerized register at the upstairs bar."
"I know, Gina."
"Well I just want to make sure that all bases are covered. It is our first night as partners you know?"
"I know Gina," I reiterated.
"How are you going to wear your hair?" she asked me.
"I hadn't really thought about it. Is there any certain requirement for hair?"
"I would prefer you wear it either up in a ponytail or tied back or even in a french braid. We are going for a classy look here."
"I can handle it Gina. Please calm down. It's all good," I reassured her.
"I hope so Ty," she said, looking unusually vulnerable.
I got it. This was Gina's big opportunity to shine and to do it all by herself. She needed to know that she could do it without Ian. I would be with her every step of the way.
She gave me a hug and told me she would see me at 5:30. She went to kiss Preston good-bye who had been playing in her playpen the whole time like the good baby that she was.
"It just dawned on me," Gina said.
"Who will watch Preston for you?"
"Not to worry," I replied, "Jean will be here by 5:00."
"I'm so glad," she breathed a sigh of relief.
"I know Trey is not on board with this and well - I just hoped you had a "Plan B" which it sounds as if you do."
She hugged me and was gone in a flurry. I knew she was nervous. I knew she was anxious. This was going to be Gina's solo flight tonight and I was going to be there to spin the props.
I got myself ready as Preston napped. I put my make-up on very carefully so that my eyes stood out. Having light brown or amber eyes made it difficult to find a good color pallet with black. I opted to put my hair back in a french braid.
The short, tight skirt fit fine. I supposed the idea of the outfit was to give a professional but form-fitting look.
I put my dark thigh high stockings on along with my heels. I outlined my lips in a new shade of lipstick I had found at the drug store. It was called "Amaretto Raspberry." It was a good color for me. I looked in the full length mirror in Trey's closet one final time. 'Showtime," I thought to myself as I turned the light out and headed out to the living room.
As I passed Preston's room I heard her jabbering baby talk in her crib. She must have awakened as I was getting ready. A pang of guilt hit me for having to leave her tonight and in the nights to come. Had I really thought this out thoroughly or was my decision based on Trey's dismissive attitude towards my idea of investing?
I looked in on the baby. She had pulled herself up into a standing position along the rail of her crib. Oh my God! She was peeking over the top rail and when she spotted me she broke out into a wide grin as if to say, 'Look at me, mommy.'
"Preston," I said, smiling and heading in to her.
"Look at you big girl; you are standing up!"
She was all smiles as she listened to my praise. She held her arms up for me and I lifted my precious baby up and into my arms. I changed her diaper and then carried her out to the living room to wait for Jean to arrive.
Preston was squirming and rooting for my breast. I was surprised again but this sudden resurgence in her needing to breastfeed. I had cut way back on nursing her since she had started on the pureed foods and seemed to be doing very well with it. I was dressed and didn't really want to go through the hassle of taking my vest off, unbuttoning my blouse and unhooking my bra since I wasn't wearing a nursing bra. I was immediately flooded with guilt over my resistance to accommodate her.
I pulled my vest off, unbuttoned my white blouse and lifted my underwire bra up over my breasts so that she had full access.
She immediately latched on and started nursing. I cuddled her closely to me, running my fingers through her dark hair and talking to her.
A few minutes later the doorman buzzed that Jean was here. I would have to get her a new pass and key so that she didn't need to go through the crap with security any longer since she was back to a routine with us.
Jean had been ecstatic to see Preston again. It had almost seemed that Preston remembered Jean from all of those months ago. She had taken to her immediately over the past few days. She didn't fuss a bit when I pulled her from my breast and re-clothed myself while Jean was on her way up.
I gave Jean the information as to where I would be and how I could be reached. She was going to finish cooking Trey's dinner that I had started earlier and feed Preston some of the pureed baby food I had in the fridge. I explained that once Preston was down for the night she could go since Trey would be here. Jean had gotten a funny look on her face. I considered that she might have a clue that Trey was not pleased about my going back to work.
I put my coat on and gave Preston a kiss goodnight. As I walked to the parking garage I saw headlights coming around the curve near our spaces. It was Trey's Mercedes. I was at a loss as to whether I should wait around until after he parked his car and got out in case he wanted to talk to me before I left. My instincts told me that nothing had changed. Once he had parked his car on the other side of mine, I backed out and headed out of the garage without looking back.
A tear threatened to spill as I pulled into traffic. I could understand his initial anger that I had done this without discussing it with him even though I knew darned well he would have nixed the idea and I likely would have done it anyway.
I just couldn't understand him taking his anger to these limits. The silent treatment was worse than arguing. When we argued at least we still had the lines of communication going. The silent treatment seemed emotionally abusive to me.
I filed that away for future reference. I had given Trey the silent treatment a few times over the course of our relationship and marriage. It had never lasted more than a few hours or so. This had been going on for several days. I made a mental note that if we ever started talking again and functioning as a married couple, I would never give him the silent treatment again.
Once at the club I busied myself with learning how to enter the drink tabs into the computerized register. It was not that difficult. I was working with bar with a bartender named Eddie. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, totally cute and totally gay. He assured me that if I got stuck on a drink I hadn't made before to let him know he knew them all. I asked him how long he had been working at the Sanctuary.
"Six months," he replied, "But honey I started mixing drinks for my mommy at the ripe age of seven. She was all about the latest trendy drinks, you know? Let's see there was the 'fuzzy navel,' 'banana daiquiri,' 'tequila sunrise.' She'd reward me by letting me make myself a 'Kamikaze' or two."
"Really? At seven years old?"
"Oh yeah," he giggled, "I was a full blown alcoholic at twelve. My father finally grew a pair and got custody of me. I spent two months in rehab. I haven't had a drink since. Oh, I smoke the occasional blunt you know, but that's the extent of it."
"So it doesn't bother you working around all of this?"
"Not a bit honey. Great way to meet guys too," he winked.