Games We Play (9 page)

She was dressed in one of his favorite styles on her, on women in general. He had a penchant for women in short, soft dresses. Celeste had beautiful legs, another feminine attribute he liked. He shook his head and turned away. He had work to do, he reminded himself.

It hadn’t been all soft sighs and sex with his ex-fiancée. It had also been manipulation and hurt, and it would be best for him not to forget that. Not that he would. He looked up as two African American men slid into two of the seats in front of him at the bar. He gave them a nod in acknowledgement.

“Be with you in a sec,” he said after they returned his nod.
Celeste is here, of all places,
he thought, still trying to wrap his mind around that fact. He reached for two glasses to pour two scotches for the Proctor brothers, regulars, who were sitting at the end of the bar. He’d been working on a new scotch; it was still in its testing stage, but he hoped it would be ready to add to the pub’s drink menu soon. In the meantime, he poured one of the old standards. His thoughts returned to Celeste.
Why is she here, and why isn’t she married?
It was the reason she’d left him, after all, to be with another man. His mind was occupied now with images of him there at the end. He’d taken her leaving hard. Those and other thoughts swirled around in his head as he went about serving those seated at the bar.

“What can I get you?” Cooper asked, standing in front of the two African American men now. One man was tall, playing-hoops kind of tall, six six or above. The other dude was more in line with Coop’s height.

“What’s good?” the shorter man asked, looking over the menu.

“Food or beer?” Coop asked.

“Both,” the shorter man said, and they listened as Coop ran over the menu items. They settled for hamburgers and some fingerlings, a fancy name for French fries.

“We’d like to try out a flight too,” the shorter dude said.

“Good choice, one or two?” Cooper asked, recognizing the ex-NBA player, Houston Black. He reached below the bar for a tray to hold the flights while he waited for their answer.

“Two,” Houston spoke this time.

“Two flights coming up,” he said, his mind back to Celeste and what she might want from him. He’d learned that the hard way that she always wanted something. He reached for the smaller glasses, which were kept under the bar, to complete the first flight. For those who were new to the pub, a sampling of the beers was a good way to go.

“You live around here?” the shorter man asked, watching as Cooper started to fill the small sample glasses with beer, cutting through his Celeste-driven mental chatter. Cooper watched as the shorter man reached over and snagged a piece of Alex’s peanut praline, the spicy and hot version of it.

“It bites back, so be careful,” Coop said, nodding his head in the direction of the praline. “It’s the famous concoction of Alex, our chef here, and it will stun you if you’re not prepared for it.”

“I’ve got it, man,” the shorter dude said, only to choke a few seconds later.

Coop leaned over and hit him on the back, and then set a glass of beer in front of him.

“Like I said, bite,” Cooper said, pouring the remaining beers. He set the first flight in front of the shorter man, and placed the other in front of Houston a few minutes later.

“I do live around here,” Cooper said, finally getting around to answering the man’s question. He could walk and chew gum at the same time, little else.

“My buddy here is looking for his ex-girlfriend, Kendall Edwards. She supposed to be living somewhere in this town, thinks someone is stealing money from her aunt,” Jordan said when he could talk and his eyes had quit their watering.

“Really,” Cooper said, keeping his voice neutral.

“I’m Jordan, and my buddy here is Houston Black. He used to play pro ball with Orlando,” he said with an expectant look.

Cooper gave Houston a nod in acknowledgement.

“What is this?” Jordan said, looking down at the display of beer that Cooper had placed before him now that he’d stopped choking.

“Let’s see. We’re known primarily for the ales we brew. This one here is our Honey Wheat Ale,” Cooper said, pointing to the first glass. “This is our white,” he said, going down the line, pointing to each glass in turn. “The Colonel’s IPA, named after one of our locals who likes his beer super-hopped, but you’ll also find it crisp, dry, and clean. This is our ESP, and our Oat’to Quarry, which is our oatmeal stout. This one we call our Blackberry Brown, an English ale loaded up with a massive amount of blackberries. Last, but not least, we have our Green Chili beer. It’s our summer addition to the menu. If you forget, the names are listed on the chalkboard behind me,” Cooper said, pointing to the blackboard hanging on the back wall above the bar.

“Thanks, man. What’s your name?” Jordan asked.

“Cooper.”

“You the manager around here or what?” Jordan asked, taking a sip from the IPA. He smelled it first, took a pull, then sat with it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. “Wicked hops,” he said at the end, smiling.
A fellow connoisseur
, Cooper mused.

“President and one of the owners,” Cooper said.

“President and one of the owners,” Jordan repeated.

“It’s a co-op, right? I read about you,” Houston said now, eyes on Cooper—and was that respect looking back at him?

“So you’re here searching for your ex?” Coop asked, going for nonchalance.

“He shouldn’t be,” Jordan said, setting his first glass down. It was empty, just that quick.

“Why’s that?” Cooper asked.

“She’s the one who broke it off with him. I tried to tell him that it was a game. Women are always running games. Hell, he knows it’s a game. But he’s thinks that he might be in love for the first time,” Jordan said, drawing out the word
love
, followed by an eye roll. He chuckled at the end.

“I bet you know a little something about women and their games, always trying out some new scheme. Right?” he said, looking at Cooper. Hell yes, he knew, and her name was Celeste. He smiled.

“He thinks I’m wrong about her,” Jordan said, nodding his head in Houston’s direction.

“I didn’t say that,” Houston said, speaking up for himself. “I said I wasn’t sure.”

“What’s to be sure of? How many women have broken up with you?” Jordan asked, looking at Houston.

“None.”

“My point exactly,” Jordan said, taking another bite of his praline, a little more circumspect now. He chewed for a few seconds. “Women are always after him for his bank. Dude here has the Midas touch when it comes to money, makes it rain like you wouldn’t believe,” Jordan said.

Donna arrived with their burger order. Both men were quiet as she placed their plates in front of them.

“Houston Black,” Donna said, all gushy and whispery, her smile as wide and as bright as the sun.

Celeste stood off to the side, and she smiled when she caught Cooper’s eye. Celeste wasn’t into African American men, if he remembered correctly, with or without money.

“What’s up?” Houston said.

“Nothing. It’s nice to meet you. I hated it when your knee was hurt, and you couldn’t play anymore,” Donna said, standing in between the two men now.

A few minutes passed and she still hadn’t moved, and they were moving quickly into that awkward stage. Cooper cleared his throat, bringing her eyes around to meet his.

“Is there anything else I can get for either of you?” Celeste asked, speaking up this time.

“No, thanks,” Houston said.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Donna said, eyes still glued to him. She tucked her tray under her arm, heading back to the kitchen, Celeste trailing behind her. She gave them—Houston, really—one final glance before heading through the door.

“See what I mean,” Jordan said, smiling as he reached for the salt and pepper shakers. “His ex is not any different from that waitress. You might understand, you are the president and an owner of this bar. Women ever bother you?”

“I’m not big-time like Houston,” Cooper said.

“You’re big enough,” Houston said, smiling at Cooper now. “I looked you up, looked up this town and its history.” He smiled at the surprise on Cooper’s face.

“I’m a businessman, it’s what I do,” Houston said, pointing his fingerling at Cooper before popping it into his mouth. “You come from money too. You still own most of the land around here, including that golf course. I checked.”

Jordan looked at Cooper with new appreciation in his eyes. “So you know exactly what I’m talking about, what I’ve been trying to tell this brother here. Maybe you should be on the lookout for her too,” Jordan said.

“It’s just money,” Cooper said, not comfortable with discussing his finances.

“Only people with money say things like that,” Jordan said. “School him, please, on the ways of women,” Jordan said.

Cooper smiled, looking over at Houston. “What do you think her angle is?” he asked.

“I have no idea, and I mean that. I had planned to give her the summer to figure it out, figure us out. But she broke it off before I could decide. She’s got a lot going for herself. She’s beautiful, or at least I thought she was, and she’s a professor over at the university. I could do worse…” he said, trailing off, and looked away—thinking, Cooper guessed. “If she wasn’t the daughter of Vivian Edwards—now there’s a shark in sheep’s clothing—I wouldn’t worry so much. You’ve heard of her?” Houston asked, looking at Cooper now.

“Who?”

“Vivian Edwards,”

“The Vivian Edwards,” Cooper said, and smiled. Yes, he’d met her too, but he didn’t tell them that.

“See?” Jordan said.

“Coming from that background, I will never be sure if it’s me she truly wants,” Houston said, looking at Cooper again. “I thought she’d come crawling back by now, but she hasn’t.”

Jordan scoffed at Houston’s comment and shook his head. “Two weeks ago she broke up with him, and here he is running back, searching for her like some bitch.”

“Fuck you, man,” Houston said, giving a glare to his buddy before he turned to face Cooper. “I liked her, though. I thought she was nice.”

“Kendall’s mother went after Houston’s father, so he more than knows the kind of woman he’s dealing with. Like mother, like daughter is what I say,” Jordan said, looking at Cooper.

“She’s different,” Houston said.

“He doesn’t really believe that,” Jordan said.

Cooper decided it was best to keep his thoughts to himself, although they ran along the same lines as Jordan’s. No, she probably wasn’t that different. She must be in town after her aunt’s money after all.
Her aunt was worried enough to ask me to check her out, and I should not have been so distracted by that fine brown ass
…He remained silent, taking in their comments, adding them to the current pile of confusion that had been left behind by his ex.

“Really?” he said, like he didn’t believe Houston either.

“Yes, I hear you, but my father could take care of himself. He did quite well with her mother, so maybe I can do the same with her daughter,” Houston said, and took a pull from the IPA. Two of the glasses sat empty on his tray, and a small amount of foam could be seen in both.

“That’s what prenuptials are designed for, right?” Jordan offered.

“Have you been over to see her yet?” Cooper asked Houston.

“No, this was our first stop after getting into town, and now that I’m here and have had a chance to think about it, I’m going to let her come to me. Driving here was impulsive,” he said.

“Finally,” Jordan said, slamming his fist on the bar top. “Finally, my man here is making some sense.” He smiled at Cooper before returning his gaze to Houston.

“You good here?” Cooper asked, his eyes skimming over Jordan and Houston and their plates and beer.

“I am, thanks, man,” Jordan said.

“I’ll check in with you two later, then.”

“Sure,” they said, and watched him as he walked away from the bar.

Women
, Cooper thought as he headed into the kitchen. Celeste had bolted just after he told her his plan to give away all of his folks’ money. No way had she signed up for a life with limited resources; hell no, she could do that on her own, she’d told him. And here he was walking into another trap, attracted to another woman who probably just had cash on the brain. When would he learn his lesson? One look at Kendall’s pretty face and delectable ass and he’d lost his mind again.

Maybe you’re wrong about her
. The thought crossed his mind with a tiny flicker like those messages on the tail end of an airplane advertisement trailing across the sky. He hoped like hell he was wrong, but having listened to Houston, it was looking like a long shot that the professor was on the up-and-up. And that sucked for him, ’cause the way she’d felt yesterday…let’s just say he wasn’t ready for it to end, and it wasn’t so easy to forget.

Saturday evening

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine on your own, not too lonely or bored this evening?” Myra asked as Kendall loaded the final box into the trunk of her car. Myra was off to visit a friend for more preparation for Memorial Day.

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m going to do a little reading, maybe watch a TV for a while, and then I’m going over to hit a few balls at the Quarry course later. I’m checking out the driving range this time,” she said.

“It’s a beautiful course, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. I’m glad I’ll be able to play as much as I want to this summer.”

“It’s practically free to residents of this town, so go as much as you’d like. Let me get you my member card, that way you’ll be charged the reduced resident rate,” Myra said, pulling it from the wallet in her purse. She handed it to Kendall.

“Thanks,” Kendall said as she pushed it into the back pocket of her shorts.

“Have fun.”

“I will, and you get someone to help you lift those boxes when you get where you’re going,” Kendall said.

“I will,” Aunt Myra said, disappearing out the front door. Kendall stood inside the house and watched as her aunt pulled away from the house a few minutes later.

Kendall went back to the kitchen, grabbed some of her aunt’s chicken salad, and parceled out six crackers, her self-imposed limit, or she’d have some serious dieting to do at summer’s end. Her aunt was one damn fine cook.