card. Either she was contemplating calling the brotha or tossing the card like she normally did.
“Soooo.” Melanie picked up her fork and stabbed a few vegetables in her salad. “Are you going to call him?”
“Yes,” Zora decided, but then countered. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“See?” Melanie dropped her fork and shook her head. “Why do you do that? You always shut the door on opportunity.”
“Please don’t lecture. I didn’t bring my bottle of Excedrin.”
Melanie kept charging ahead. “A career is great, Zora. But it won’t warm your bed at night.”
Zora laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk.” She reached across the table and grabbed Melanie’s right hand. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Ms. Millionaire Matchmaker. Don’t you think you’re being just a little hypocritical?”
“We’re not talking about me,” Melanie said, a bit more testily than she liked.
“Maybe we should talk about you.” Zora wasn’t going to relent now that she had an opening to get her dear, but nosy and pushy, friend off her back. “I mean…shouldn’t you lead by example?”
“Hold up. That’s not fair. I’m a widow,” Melanie countered. “Or have you forgotten that?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” Zora released her hand, but then chose her next words carefully and softly. “But Steven has been gone for quite a while.”
Melanie reached for her wine. “It doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Zora said contritely. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Melanie drew a deep breath and tried to force the memories back where they belonged—in the past. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and that was pulling off the miracle of getting Zora Campbell and Jaxon Landon together. For now she would have to chalk this day up as a loss. She had lost control of the conversation and she would have to approach the subject another time and in another way. But no worries. Melanie wasn’t the type to give up so easily.
“So I hear you’re getting married,” Dale Forrester yelled above the Velvet Rope’s pulsing hip-hop bass before he invited himself to plop down at Jaxon’s private booth with his usual double Scotch sloshing in his left hand. “When I heard, I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it so I figured that I would come and get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Relaxed and dressed head to toe in casual, black Valentino, Jaxon favored his old friend and mentor with a lopsided grin. “Do you come bearing gifts?”
“Hell, no,” he half slurred. “I came to beat some sense into you.” Lately Dale’s face seemed to be permanently flushed a deep burgundy. Either it was way too much booze or rising cholesterol. Jaxon didn’t know which, so he constantly hounded his friend about both.
Each time, Dale just waved off any and all health concerns. He didn’t like being preached to and only mildly tolerated it from Jaxon.
“Please tell me that it’s nothing but a nasty rumor and then maybe I can get back to living my life vicariously through you—such as it was.” He turned up his drink and drained the contents in one long gulp.
Amused, Jaxon took a swig of his own whiskey sour and cast a lazy glance toward the exotic dancer working the pole. She wore a bit too much makeup, but he could tell that she at least had some formal dance training.
“So what’s the story?” Dale asked, pulling Jaxon’s attention back from the stage. “Are you walking the single’s man plank or what?”
Jaxon considered toying with the man, but there was such a desperate hope twinkling in his eyes that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Chill, old man. I’m not engaged.”
A broad, goofy grin broke across Dale’s face. “Sweetheart,” he yelled out to a passing waitress and held up his empty glass. “Another round. Happy days are here again.”
Jaxon laughed. It was what he did whenever he and Dale partied together. For all the man’s talk of idolizing Jaxon and his Midas touch when it came to business, Jaxon knew it was more because Dale remembered a time when he was hailed as the Prince of Wall Street. Unfortunately, his reign was shorter than he’d liked and it all ended with him serving some jail time. For the most part, the friends avoided both subjects. However, Jaxon was determined to learn from his friend’s mistakes and he made sure that all his dealings were aboveboard.
Given all the temptations of Wall Street, it was harder than it sounded.
“I shoulda known to have more faith in you.” Dale winked, plopping a fat ice cube into his mouth and then chomping away as if he was munching on a handful of M&M’s. “Take it from me, marriage is highly overrated and expensive to boot.”
“Better not let Mrs. Forrester hear you talking like that.”
“Trust me. I’m not telling you nothing she doesn’t know or hear from me on a regular basis. Destiny married me for my money and she’ll divorce me for my money one of these days. That or she’ll kill me for it.”
“You poor, miserable soul.” Jaxon chuckled, and then cast another fleeting glance toward the stage in time to see Gemini do a classic V swing, stand, drop it real low and back her luscious behind toward the crowd of panting customers. Benjamins rained down onto the stage and Gemini continued working her hips like the rent was due in the morning.
“God bless her,” Dale muttered under his breath and then wiped the side of his mouth for a drool check. “I swear that girl makes me want to put her momma on my Christmas list.”
Jaxon suppressed a grin with another gulp of whiskey. He smiled when he finally felt his afternoon buzz kick in. In fact, all that was missing was a fat Cuban cigar and busty temptress to end another trying day.
“Your drinks, gentlemen.” Honey flashed them each a radiant smile and then set their new drinks on the table before them.
Jaxon and Dale took the opportunity to appreciate their favorite waitress’s large glitter-dusted breasts and caramel-capped nipples.
“Can I get you two anything else?” she asked, centering her twinkling gaze on Jaxon. “Anything at all?”
The corners of Jaxon’s lips curved upward. “I think we’re good.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dale countered gruffly and then smacked a crisp hundred-dollar bill on top of the table. “Junior and I are in the mood for a lap dance.”
Jaxon didn’t correct him because everyone—or rather all the regulars—knew Dale referred to his small dick as Junior. There was never any shame to his game, either. He laughed at small dick jokes and would crack a few himself. If there was any time that Jaxon grew uncomfortable with his friend’s self-deprecating humor, it was when Dale kept talking about his dick as if it was a separate entity. Dale was always going with, “Junior was looking for a nice warm place to sleep for the night” or “Junior was just standing up to say hello” or “Junior and I was talking last night.”
Jaxon used to find Dale and Junior’s stories hilarious. Now, since a night didn’t pass without Junior being mentioned, Jaxon worried whether Dale and Junior were getting a little too close. (If that made any sense.)
Despite the fact that Honey was supposed to be waitressing, she set her small tray down and instantly started rocking and swinging her hips in perfect time to Beyoncé’s latest jam. One of Dale’s silly grins slid into place as he watched the up close and personal action prance in front of him, tempting and seducing him to reach for his wallet again.
Jaxon split his attention between Gemini and Honey and realized that he held their attention, as well. Gemini took a deep bend at the waist, wiggled her gorgeous brown behind and tossed Jaxon a smile. To his right, Honey shimmied her gravity-defying