her thing.” She followed him into the kitchen. “One good thing to come out of my marriage; a nicely decorated house,” he said.
Meagan was unimpressed by this comment. “Oh, it’s a joke, Mee-gan. My kids are major bonuses.” He opened his wallet, counted one-thousand rand, and handed it to her.
“Wow! Thanks,” she said taking the cash from him and shoving it in her handbag before he could change his mind. “That’s very generous of you.”
“No. Thank you.”
“I know what a ball-ache it can be to lose a wallet. Glad I could be of help,” she said. Her eyes dropped to the open Visio magazine and the picture of Jen standing in front of the newly refurbished boutique hotel. “Is this your wife?”
“Ex-wife.”
Meagan smiled.
“Are you stalking her?” she asked.
John smiled sheepishly, “I guess you’ve caught me.”
Meagan seemed to relax. “That is so sweet. You’re hurting.”
John didn’t answer. If angry equated with hurt.
“Divorce isn’t easy.”
“And you know, because?” he mocked.
“Because I went through it with my parents. But they became the best of friends because of us.”
“‘Us’ being?”
“My brother and me. They assured us we were the most important people in their lives and that they would make sure it didn’t affect us too badly.”
“Sweet,” John said. “No matter how good your intentions, it doesn’t always work out that way.”
River had placed his nose in Meagan’s crotch. She squealed.
“River!” John commanded. River slouched away and sat on his bed.
“Ridgebacks are notorious crotch sniffers,” Meagan volunteered. She had her money; he had his wallet. It was time for her to go home. Instead she was browsing through the magazine.
“Can I get you a drink?”
She ignored his question. “Your wife’s very pretty. Is that her boyfriend?”
“Ex-wife.” John corrected her for the second time. “Yes. Total asshole.”
John moved towards the bar and poured her a glass of Chenin. She hadn’t answered his question, but it seemed rude not to at least offer her a glass of something. He hoped she liked wine. She took it.
“Cheers,” she said, then noticed he didn’t have a glass. “Aren’t you drinking?”
“I don’t exactly want to creep you out by assuming we’re drinking together.”
She smiled at him. Phoenix had moseyed up to her and she scratched his head. “You’re not creeping me out. Pour yourself a glass. I can’t drink alone.”
He did as he was told, and returned to the kitchen with a scotch in hand.
Her phone had beeped a message and when he joined her she was busy texting back. It always fascinated him how millennials managed to type with two hands and so dexterously. He said as much.
“Mmmm,” she responded, only half listening. “My boyfriend wants to know where I am. I said I’m with an old man having pre-drinks. This will at least save me on a bar bill.”
John suddenly felt out of his depth. “Cheers,” he said lifting his glass to hers. She clinked hers against his then leaned over the kitchen counter. Butt sexily pushed out. He could see she had a g-string on under her white pants. She noticed him noticing her. His eyes shifted back.
“So how old are you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure I want to tell you how old I am.”
She shrugged. “Probably rude of me to ask.” She rummaged in her bag and brought out a make-up purse. She unzipped it and took out a plastic bank bag. “You want?” She shook the crystals in the bag.
“What’s that?”
“MDMA,” she said.
“Fuck no!” John said, trying to hide his shock.
She shrugged. “Oh, ok.” She was about to open the bag and help herself when John stopped her.
“Whoa!” he said. “None of that here. Jesus! You’re drinking then driving. Something can happen to you under my watch.”
“Your watch? Oh my God! Since when am I your responsibility?” She chugged down her wine. “Can you pour me another?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not. I do own the wine farm.”
Laughing, she said, “Tell me about your kids.”
“They’re not kids. I have a son and a daughter.” He spoke from the bar, loud enough for her to hear.
“I met your daughter, remember?” She was behind him now. She took the glass from his hand. “God, can we sit somewhere, please? I’ve been standing the whole night.”
John gestured for her to take a seat. She chose the armchair. Jen’s.
She glugged down her second drink.
“Calm down.” John cautioned. “It’s not a cold drink.”
“I’ve got to go soon. My boyfriend’s expecting me.” John sipped on his scotch and watched her with interest. “Shew, that second one did the trick.” She seemed to relax into the chair. “Do you have music?” she asked.
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes the way his daughter often did. He got up and changed the TV channel to the music channel. “My wife took the sound system. She was the one into music.” Meagan didn’t seem to care what was playing. “You mean ex-wife,” she teased as she got up off the couch and began to sway drunkenly from side to side in the middle of the lounge.
“Come dance with me.”
John put down his glass hesitantly. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I’ll just sit here, if you don’t mind. Sip my scotch…” John said.
“Suit yourself.” Her eyes closed. She was in her own world. Was she dancing for him? John remained seated on the couch. He carried on drinking, ice clinking away while he watched Meagan’s hips move to the rhythm of the song. She freed her hair from her pony and shook it over her face. A strand stuck to her red lipstick, but she didn’t notice. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice or care that a stranger was watching her dance.
Fuck me! thought John. For the first time ever, he didn’t know what to do.
Eight
’Im leaving for New York tonight.” Patty was on the phone to Jen.
“Lucky you!” Jen said. “You didn’t tell me you were going.”
Patty threw in her toiletries, then zipped up her bag. “It is kind of last minute. I was given the email on Sunday. Business actually.”
Jen never probed. She was good that way. Anyway, Patty knew she didn’t want to know too much about Patty’s other life.
“Lucky.” Jen said again. “When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. Three weeks tops.”
“How’re you flying?”
“First class,” Patty blurted out.
She could hear Jen smile. “Wow, Patty!” she said.