Kick
“Whatcha doing tomorrow night?”
I jumped, almost dropping a gallon of milk. No one ever snuck up on me while I rearranged items in the cooler.
“What the—” My adrenaline still ran high after the Halloween incident, sending an overwhelming urge to strike out until my mind registered who had spoken. “Rachel… what’re you doing here in the middle of the morning?”
“My professor canceled class, and I wanted to see you. I’ll get a latte and study for a while here too.”
Right. Rachel went to a small college, so I could see where getting away to Oakville for a couple of hours could be a fun break from reminders of her recent ex-boyfriend.
I set the jug of milk in its place, then kissed my daughter on the cheek. “It’s always lovely to see you. Go ahead, make yourself a cup. You don’t need Deana or me, sweetheart.”
“Mom.” When I didn’t respond appropriately, Rachel rolled her eyes. “I asked you what you’re doing this weekend?”
“Oh.” I’d missed it thanks to my blood pressure spike. “Ah, making and freezing pies for Thanksgiving. Why? You want to spend the night? How’s the rental holding up?” Thomas had arranged a tow to the mechanic for Rachel’s Accord and rented her a car. I didn’t know what to think of that, to be honest.
“What if you and Aunt Cyn went to the eighties club with Bella and me? I have the week of Thanksgiving off. I can help with the food then.”
I crossed my arms. “Why do you want to take two old ladies to the club? Is this a trick? Because Cyndi still knows how to party. She might dance even you under the table, Miss Snow.”
Rachel nudged my shoulder. “No. Geesh. After Lee’s party, I realized I miss you. Bella and I are planning to blow off the stress of school and the Cody stuff. I thought you might want to do the same. It’s been crazy around here though.”
“No kidding.”
She leaned her head down to mine. “What do you think?”
I tapped my lip. “I’ll see what Cyn’s up to.”
“You can invite Thomas too, if you want.”
“He’s busy, but thanks. He’s my ride to and from my IV appointment on Friday. We’ll have breakfast.”
She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, an easy smile spreading. “He’s a good guy, Mama. I’m glad you’re finally moving on.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I said. It felt more like we were stuck, but it also seemed like I’d been challenged to be patient in every area of my life. It wore thin. A night out would do me some good. Since Rachel had turned twenty-one, we’d hung out at the pub to catch a live band, but I’d never considered going to a club with her. Why not? It probably helped her to use me as an excuse to not hook up. My motherly instincts told me she wanted time before taking a new direction.
I smiled up at her. “Sounds fun.”
“You two look adorable,” Rachel said, fingering the lace hem of my tunic. “Love the hippie dress.”
As if I’d ever wear this as a dress. The slightest wind and “hello cellulite.”
“When you’re forty-seven, it’s a tunic, sweetheart.”
She giggled at me, but could I blame her? Rachel didn’t have a single dimple or jiggle where it shouldn’t be. “Your girly combat boots go great with the moto leggings.” She stepped to the side to greet Cyndi and compliment her black leather ensemble, complete with platform boots. For my tiny friend, all her shoes came with platforms. The best part of her outfit, though, were the beaded earrings resembling a peacock’s tail she’d made. Cyndi fed her creativity with a successful side hustle making jewelry.
We had met Rachel and her roommate, Isabella, out front of Ducky’s, an eighties-nineties-themed nightclub in downtown Raleigh.
Cyndi squeezed both girls. “You’re so considerate for arranging this.” She grasped both girls’ hands and pulled them out of the long queue. “We’re blowing this line though.”
“But—”
She walked us to the bouncer and looked back. “Consider it an early holiday present from Aunt Cyn.” She scanned the bouncer like she was picking out a dessert. Her head tipped back, index finger pinching her bottom lip in approval. “My, my, aren’t you a prime one?”
“That’s why he’s a bouncer,” I murmured. “What are you doing?”
She shooed me away and popped her caboose. “Cynthia Sendaydiego. I reserved the Spyder.”
The bouncer skimmed his tablet. “Yes, you did. Show me those IDs, ladies, then you’re all set.”
Before it registered, the four of us were lounging in the best spot in the house, like we owned the place. A low-banked booth, it resembled the Ferrari from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It took up prime real estate on an upper level and overlooked the dance floor.
Ducky’s interior design was based on John Hughes’s films. Whoever came up with the concept possessed an eye for detail. Other half-moon booths filled out our level in a plush material the color of Molly Ringwald’s hair. They filled quickly as the same hostess who escorted us dropped off each group.
The bar on our level occupied a long wall. One bartender looked exactly like John Bender from The Breakfast Club, including the same ripped plaid shirt and fingerless gloves. His partner looked like Iona from Pretty in Pink, with a platinum wig and a fantastic cat eye. I danced in my seat, like a giddy toddler on her birthday.
I turned to Cyndi. “This place is fabulous. I hope there’s a Molly Ringwald doppelgänger around here.”
“She’s the manager,” Cyndi answered, reminding me she’d been here plenty of times. Despite having each other’s back, our lives had been very different. Sometimes we were more like siblings than friends.
A server, dressed as Ferris himself, arrived. “What can I get y’all?” He flirted shamelessly with the girls. Seeing Rachel slowly come out of herself boosted my mood more. We both knew she’d done the right thing in letting Cody go, but it was good to see her posture return to its default of dancer-perfect again.
“You’re getting crunk tonight, right? You promised. You deserve it,” Cyndi said, pulling my attention from the girls.
There was the hard part. The hard work never took a day off. The bruises still covering my arm and the time away from my business all flashed before me. I couldn’t live in fear of setbacks either. I laughed, pointing to my heart. “Crunk in here? I promise. With my liver? Two drinks max.”
“Oh, my liver!” she bellowed, bumping my shoulder.
Had I forgotten how Cyndi made the joke whenever she over-imbibed in college? Wow, it had been too long since we let loose.
I turned to Ferris. “Do you serve Herradura?” No matter the progress, I was keeping to the six-month experiment with naturally gluten-free liquor. Fortunately, there were plenty.
“Yes. Do you want a round of shots?”
“No.” I’d made good progress but not shot-drinking progress. “How about a Horseshoe Margarita? Just a splash of agave.”
“Can do.” Ferris turned to Cyndi.
“Sex on the Beach, honeybuns,” she said with a wink.
“Schnapps? Cranberry juice? I thought you were working on a low-glycemic index plan. That’s a lot of sugar,” I asked by her ear for privacy after the server moved to the girls.
She tapped my arm. “No mothering on Girl’s Night Out. You’re not supposed to bug me about a cheat day.”
I jolted, embarrassed for calling her out. Normal people had cheat days even if I couldn’t. I still wasn’t completely convinced my indulgence was a good idea. “Sorry, chica.”
Cyndi stretched out her arm and pulled me into her. “It’s all good. Promise you’ll loosen up even if you can’t get plastered, okay?”
I gave her a big smile. “Promise.”
Rachel ordered the same drink as I did, and Bella chose a local IPA. This was the first time my daughter ordered something other than beer when with me. “Branching out, Snow?” I asked after Ferris moved on.
She shrugged off the question. “I’m staying away from gluten.” Since when? I hadn’t noticed her plate at Liam’s birthday party.
I studied my daughter, hoping the low light would keep her from catching my scrutiny. Rachel seemed a little pale, more like me than her father’s golden tone that she usually had. She shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms. She wore a dancer’s shrug over a plaid, sleeveless skater dress. I didn’t like this. She’d never been easily chilled before, like me.
“Are you cold, Snow?”
“It’s fine.” She sent me a small, fading smile, which failed to reassure me. “I’ll warm up as soon as the drinks come.”
Cyndi elbowed me and pointed to one of the half-moon booths across the balcony from us. It was filled with men who looked to be in their twenties. They were put together, like new professionals. “Two of those cuties are eyeing our girls.”
Boy, was I out of practice. I didn’t know what to do. “Should we leave them alone or something?”
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked after laughing at something Bella had said. With the music pounding, it was hard to hear across our little table.
I tipped my head toward the men. “You’ve caught someone’s eye. Do you want us to go?”
Her laugh came at my expense now. “Why would I want that? It was my idea to bring you here. I thought you’d like the atmosphere.”
“I do; it’s fantastic. Won’t I cramp your style though?”
The laughter grew. “You speak appropriately for this place. No, Mama, I came here to dance and make sure you get lit. For as much as you can.” She winked at me. Even though it was a sarcastic comment, it set me at ease. “Strangers never believe you’re my mother anyway. I don’t think it’ll keep anyone from coming by.” She paused and waved her fingers at the table. A cute blond fella waved back, and it was my turn to laugh.
Our drinks arrived, and I raised my glass. “To the McKenna women and the sisters of our hearts.”
They all returned the toast, and we let ourselves sink into the booth for a bit, absorbing the vibe of the crowd and enjoying the music. We each ordered a refill during our catch-up fest while flirting continued across the balcony.
Hanging out with Rachel and Bella came naturally—a pleasant surprise. I’d never, ever have considered partying with my parents. Here, we were simply grown women of varying experiences, enjoying a luxurious night out. Admittedly, it helped to not be squished into the general population downstairs. I could lose myself in the music on the dance floor, but squishing around tall tables with a young crowd? It would have been uncomfortable, to say the least. Once again, Cyndi had my back.
Eventually the pull of my favorite songs grew too great. Slightly tipsy and ready to let loose, I stood, adjusting my blouse and shaking out my hair.
Cyndi and I made our way down the steps to the dance floor while the girls said something about the bathroom. The centerpiece of the enormous dance floor was a black-and-white mural of the namesake, Ducky from Pretty in Pink, hanging behind the DJ’s area. It was backlit, so the white areas changed colors. As we descended toward it, the music changed to a Prince tribute and Ducky glowed purple. The light shining from it bounced off a big disco ball, turning everything the singer’s signature color.
We entered the fray as “Delirious” finished, transitioning into “I Would Die 4 U.” The dance Cyndi and I did included the requisite hand gestures as we pointed at each other for “U” and dissolved into laughter. “Little Red Corvette” finished the set without Rachel or Bella joining us. I wondered out loud what kept them when Cyndi pointed up toward our level. The young men from the half-moon had left their group and sat with our girls.
“Looks like tonight was good for both of us.”
Cyndi nodded, rubbing my arm.
“Is it weird I’m glad for her?”
“Why would it be weird?”
I didn’t personally know any mothers who wanted to meddle in their children’s love lives, but I knew there were plenty who did. Not wanting to go into it, I pulled Cyndi back to the music and kept dancing.
When the tribute finished, we poured waters from the stand near the dance floor. I downed my little cup and finally said, “I’ve always felt like I had to hide my male interests from Bobby.” I chuckled. “Even after I was married.”
Cyndi shook her head. “Bobby’s never been a normal mother, Kicky. Sometimes I forget how much you’ve had to figure out on your own.” She took our cups and threw them in the trash. “Miss Thing has a brilliant head on her shoulders, thanks to you. The girls will come down when they’re ready. Let’s shake what our maker gave us.”
The floor pulsed to La Bouche’s “Be My Lover” as a black light shone from Ducky again. It made my skin glow purple, courtesy of my ghostlike quality. The beat fit the vibe of the crowd, who spent most of their time jumping up and down.
Cyndi and I managed more than that and worked up a sweat. The girls joined us then, bringing the entire group of guys with them. After swaying and rocking to the songs and briefly showing the youngsters variations on the Running Man, the music slowed to give us a break.
I recognized the live version of the song from the audience’s cheers alone. The sultry opening bars to one of my all-time favorites made my heart leap as my skin embraced the cooling sensation of mellowing out. I closed my eyes and shifted my shoulders as the lone guitar was joined by other instruments. My hips hit the two beats of the drum and the story of the “Hotel California” began for me. As I moved with the crowd, I let the song consume me as it had so many times over the years. It simultaneously haunted and healed my soul.
I spun to Cyndi, who wore a conspiratorial smirk. My gaze tracked the group, counting, wondering why it felt bigger. Or was I so in my head I didn’t notice the crowd move?
“Need a partner, darlin’?” A leg melded behind mine when I stepped forward, my body recognizing the owner and automatically following when his hips shifted back. A huge smile spread across my face as I glanced over my shoulder. “You didn’t jump.” Thomas’s Southern baritone warmed my ear.
“Nope. What do you think it means?”
“Maybe you sensed me watching.”
“You were?”
He leaned over my shoulder and purred, “Sexiest sight in the room.”
Holy hell, he smelled good. The crisp notes of a peaty Highland scotch on his breath touched my nose as his lips grazed my cheek. A hint of his sandalwood and citrus stayed with me when he pulled away.
It had only been a day, but I’d missed him. As expected, I’d passed out on the way home from the doctor’s office. Thomas had settled me in my room for a nap and left. His presence currently made my knees weak. And my sex stir. My head fell back in a giddy laugh as he took hold of my fingers and spun me, then held me tight before I recognized the direction change. He lowered his head and raised his eyebrow, seeking permission the way he’d done when we danced at my birthday dinner. Cool, navy eyes bore into mine as passing light from the disco ball flashed a speck of silver, revealing the mischief there.
Still trust me?
A thrill slowly traveled up my spine. A corner of my mouth lifted as I winked. Bring it, handsome.
He began a slow-paced Salsa, matching the sexy tempo of the song. The achingly easy pace of the dance differed from any I’d ever performed when competing. The steps committed to my muscle memory, Thomas only needed to shift a hip for me to know what came next. As he changed our hold, he had me duck and sway with him in an arm loop. It felt as if we’d been dancing together for years and like we could do this forever.
Thomas pulled me in, and his dark button-down shirt brushed where my billowy sleeve had bared my arm. The silkiness caressed my skin, sending a shiver that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. Butter-soft jeans barely shielded strong thighs, brushing against and between my legs as we moved. The surrounding space opened as our group stopped to watch, then a larger crowd paused to give us more room. Thomas refrained from adding in flashier moves, yet something about us drew attention. For me though, the crowd disappeared. His shoulder shifted, and I was seduced by another cross-body lead.
“Thomas,” I pleaded, but for what, I wasn’t sure. To be alone? To melt back into the crowd?
“Shh. Don’t think. Feel.” He rasped quick breaths across my cheek. He pulled me back in, perhaps taken by the moment as much as me.
It all became a drug unto itself while the keening guitar vibrated through my bones. Here was the part of the song which always threatened tears and a longing for what my life could’ve been, as it reminded me of the trap of chronic illness. How there was no hope for a cure, no breaking free. This, though, felt like a celebration, a desire fulfilled or one promising more.
I didn’t want the intoxication to end, and the chase of notes to the finish brought a slight panic. I wanted to dance forever. When the song concluded, we fell into each other’s arms in shock, but the sound of clapping broke us from our trance.
I threw my arms around his neck and jumped as Thomas finished the work, bending his back and planting a hard kiss to my lips. A piercing whistle burst our bubble.
“I only told you Rachel and I were hanging out. How did you know we were here?”
“By accident, really. Rachel mentioned it to Banger’s assistant when they called her with some follow-up on the cyber harassment.”
I cringed at the mention, not wanting reality to taint my beautiful reprieve.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to dampen your fire.”
Thomas pulled me off the dance floor, resting his back against a column, pulling me against his body. “You all right?”
I gave him my best smile. “I’m fantastic. You didn’t dampen anything.” I went on my tiptoe and teased him. “Well, nothing you don’t want dampened.”
Thomas growled and kissed my jaw. With the bubble gone, we were both painfully aware of the crowd. “Can we get out of here?”
My voice caught in my throat, boiling with need. “I’d love nothing more. But—”
Thomas tucked some hair behind my ear, stroking the tip. “The elf queen can’t leave her people, can she?”
I cleared my throat. “It was Rachel’s idea to come here. To cheer up both of us.” It would’ve been different if Thomas and I had made a commitment, but abandoning the group, my family? I was never the girl to ditch her friends for a quick lay, even one that could be more.
My hesitance proved how much was still unsaid between Thomas and me. We had feelings so hot they scorched, but the constant cancellations on both our parts, the dropping of everything for someone else, it showed where we really stood.
“How about a drink instead?”
“I’ve had my tequila quota for the night, but I’ll take a club soda and lime.”
“Look at you”—he grinned—“behaving while being bad at the same time.”
In a snap, our heat lowered back to friends-who-might-be-more. I bit my lip and shrugged. The boundaries were helpful when they were reasonable. They helped me have energy for a night like this. I hoped there’d be more. Many more nights out with great friends, a grown child, and a deliciously sexy man. This glimpse into how the next phase of life could work turned out to be a gift I’d never expected.
“Meet you at the bar? The ladies’ room is calling.” A minute away would also help to clear my head.