Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [39]
“I see someone over there that I need to speak with,” I said, turning around in a bid to make my exit.
“Donald, have you met Peter and his wife, Kathleen?”
I tried my best to hold on to the apple martini, even though I wanted to ball my hand up into a fist. I had only met Peter once as he was leaving the office. He was a much taller man than I remembered.
He stared at me strangely. “You look familiar.”
Malcolm chuckled. “He should, Peter. Donald was one of the main engineers who redesigned your building.”
I stretched my hand out to shake Peter’s and Kathleen’s hands. “Nice to meet both of you.”
The smile etched on Kathleen’s face did not change; she appeared neither nervous nor uncomfortable. She was so at peace in the arms of her husband. They were indeed a wonderful couple. They reminded me of so many of those pay-per-view movies with the strikingly handsome white man and the extremely beautiful woman getting together after going through some terrible times. They didn’t merely get together; they were born to be together.
“I have to pay more attention to the people who come and work in my building,” Peter said.
“Don’t worry about that, Peter. The security system we’ve installed would need the CIA and the FBI combined to take it down,” Malcolm boasted.
“And we all know that that’ll never happen,” Peter added.
I laughed at their dry humor. “Sorry, someone is waiting over there for me. It was a pleasure meeting both of you.”
I walked over to the bar and started a conversation with a man that I had never seen before. He was an associate of one of Malcolm’s business partners. His specialty was foreign imports. After conversing on our employment, he left because he saw someone that he recognized.
I motioned to the bartender. “Let me have some Grey on the rocks.”
“Coming right up.” He turned to prepare the drink.
“Can I have a Socialite?” my wife, who had walked up to the bar, said to the bartender once he returned with my drink.
“One Socialite coming up,” the bartender said.
I glanced at Lauren, then got back to my drink.
“My father said we have to mingle together,” Lauren said as the bartender sat her drink in front of her.
“We do?” I emptied the drink in my mouth and motioned for the bartender to refill.
My wife followed suit with her drink.
The bartender looked at both of us and went to refill our glasses. We had two more refills before my wife slid her hand in mine and we headed back out to mingle. It was going to be a long night. It was painful enough driving there with her, but the return trip was destined to be even worse.
Later on that evening, we joined Dora and Malcolm and took a picture as one happy family. Time and faith prevented me from throwing up. My stomach rattled like a pinball machine as the picture was being snapped. My only recourse for the evening was knowing that, soon, I would be able to tell all of them to kiss my black ass.
“Bye, Mom.” Lauren waved to Dora before getting into my car.
I nodded my head to Malcolm and Dora and reversed out of the driveway.
“You have to give me another child. My mother insists that we should try for a girl. They’re so in love with Emerald,” Lauren said, leaning back into the car seat.
If looks could kill, there would have been one dead lesbian in the passenger seat next to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Donald, why are you acting so surprised?” Lauren asked.
“Because, Motherfucking Bitch, you are crazy. I’m not having any more kids with you. I’d rather go and have my shit surgically removed right this second.” I dreaded the thought of such extreme but possibly necessary measures.
“Mom wants us to try for a girl and you know Daddy won’t stop until we do it. He said he’ll talk to you and I know what that means.” Lauren looked away. “Donald, I don’t hate you like you do me. With all your