“So, where’s Jenna?”
Before taking a gulp of my beer, I returned, “Out of the country.”
“Oh, yeah? Where?”
I had to pause to think. “Southern Europe somewhere.”
“Okay. For work?”
“Nah. Her birthday.” I offered as I waved at someone in passing.
“And you’re not with her?”
I shook my head. “She wanted to go. I wrote the damn check.” I shrugged.
“Southern Europe as in Greece?”
Again, I paused, trying to recount the names of places on her tour from one of the dozens of times she told me.
“Nah…at least I don’t recall that. I would, because I sent Zo out there some time ago.”
“But you don’t recall where you sent your lady…in South Europe?
“I remember her mentioning the skirts of Bosnia and Serbia. Some shit.”
“Where there’s known duress…?” Q’s face dropped as he eyed me suspiciously.
I swallowed and matched his expression. “And your fucking point?”
“My point is a vacation like that is not only potentially dangerous, but it requires at least three weeks away from home.”
I nodded at someone across the room at the bar before answering.
“Jenna’s a grown woman. She cleared the time with her job, I cleared the check. Win/win for her is how I see it.”
Quincy snickered with a strained expression. I knew he was busting my chops about this, but incongruently, I didn’t give a damn. I’d been appreciating the break. Things were getting too…progressive with Jenna; far more than I intended. Our conversations had begun to change from individual interests to talks of a future. The requests to spend time with Jordan had increased, too. And the sex…
Since the first time Jenna and I finally indulged, she’d been a different creature. A damn fiend. Don’t get me wrong, a hypersexual woman is a man’s dream, even Zoey turned greedy once we started, but this was different. I couldn’t explain the lack of connection with her. The disinterest in stretching her boundaries. My being satisfied with mediocrity in intimacy. I could however, feel reprieve from the rope she was tightening around my neck. That wasn’t the plan for this.
“Let’s turn the spotlight onto you, Q,” I attempted to change the course of the conversation.
With another tense expression, Quincy stretched his arms wide. “I’m an open book.”
I shifted over the table for discretion. “You’ve been married to Joyce for decades and still out here acting like a single man. What’s up with that, Q? Why not just divorce her?”
Quincy relaxed in his seat, exhaling. “It ain’t that simple, man. Joyce and I have been together since we were kids…right out of college. In retrospect, that was too early to be getting married, man, but she was pregnant with Jackson and that was the only option for us back then…so I thought.”
Far more intrigued than he knew, I asked, “So, what would you have done differently? Aborted the baby?”
“Hell no! I was in love with my son at the knowledge of his conception, man. He is one of my greatest accomplishments, if not the greatest. What I would have done is let her grow up a little.” His face hardened, but in a different manner than earlier. “Could be why she turned to drinking. Me upstarting the firm, leaving her to raise a kid while so young was probably a bad idea.”
“But you’ve been a good dad. Jackson…” I tossed my chin in the area where he was drinking and laughing with his boys. “…has been tucked at your side since I’ve known you. You weren’t negligent.”
“To him I wasn’t. To her I have been. Having a child together doesn’t guarantee spousal chemistry. It only gives the opportunity for parental partnering. Even that hasn’t been the best with Candice. Having her seemed to add to our troubles. I’ve been a shitty father to that girl. I…”
His face turned morose…actually stricken.
“You okay, Q?”
He grabbed his chest again, grunting.