Chapter 15
It was after three when Gage drove through the gates to DuPont House. They had spent more than five hours going from club to club, lingering to listen to jazz, R & B, blues, and Zydeco. Strolling through the French Quarter reminded Tonya of Times Square, with crowds of locals and tourists all jostling for space in the streets and on sidewalks. She knew it would take a while for her to get used to people carrying plastic go-cups and open containers—something that was illegal in New York City.
“I’m going to impose on you and ask you to make me a cup of coffee before I head home.”
Tonya had noticed Gage yawning when he drove the others back to Jazzes’ parking lot for Karla to pick up her vehicle to drive Cleveland and Bobby home before going back to her condo. “Why don’t you stay over and sleep in the other bedroom? You look as if you can’t keep your eyes open.”
Gage yawned again. “Your offer sounds very tempting.”
“It’s not an offer but an order. I’m not going to be responsible for you wrapping your car around a pole. You can sleep in as long as you want, and when you get up, I’ll serve you breakfast in bed.”
He flashed a lopsided grin. “Are you going to join me in bed?”
Tonya patted his shoulder. “Nah. Maybe next time.”
“Will there be a next time?” he asked, then covered his mouth to smother another yawn.
“Turn off the car and come inside with me before you fall on your face.” Tonya didn’t want to remind Gage that he shouldn’t have joined Bobby and Cleveland when they decided to participate in sampling new concoctions during a raucous bartender challenge. Although the samples were poured into shot glasses, the cumulative effect was evident after three rounds. “And don’t move. I’ll come around and help you out.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay, Gage. You may not be legally drunk, but you certainly are under the influence. Now, please don’t argue with me because you’re going to lose.”
He punched the stop-engine button. “Dammit. You have to be so bossy?”
“Yes, I do.” Tonya had punctuated each word.
* * *
Gage emitted an audible groan as he threw an arm over his face. He knew he should have dropped out of the challenge after the second shot, but his machismo overruled his so-called common sense. And he remembered his mother telling him that common sense wasn’t that common.
Tonya gave him what he needed to brush his teeth, shave, and shower and showed him where he would sleep. The mattress was extra firm, the way he liked it, but he would have preferred that she share the bed with him. Making love with her was out of the question. He didn’t have protection, and he doubted whether he could achieve an erection while it felt as if someone was playing congas in his head.
“Never again,” he whispered in the darkened room. Gage recalled telling Tonya that if he hadn’t downed shots at sixteen, then it wasn’t going to happen at forty-six. He didn’t know at the time that weeks later he would do exactly that.
Karla, Cleveland, and Bobby showing up at Jazzes had been a pleasant surprise, but even more surprising was Bobby’s revelation that he was dating Karla, though Gage had suspected something was going on between her and the choral director. Bobby told him they had decided not to go public with their relationship because it would just generate too much gossip at the school. Bobby and single father Cleveland had become good friends when Bobby coached Cleveland’s son’s little league baseball team.
Gage had noticed when he came to the high school as an artist-in-residence that many of the teachers and staff had formed in-groups based on the subjects they taught. He was now acting head of the music department, and in socializing with those on the concert committee, they had formed their own in-group.
Lowering his arm, he stared at the shuttered windows, wondering if Tonya had gone to bed. She had refused to join him when he sat at the dining area table sipping from a cup steaming black coffee, with the excuse that she didn’t need it because she was feeling just fine. Her veiled reprimand had become a signal that she hadn’t approved of his overindulging. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Now, in retrospect, Gage experienced a modicum of shame that he had talked about his son driving drunk, while he himself was also guilty of imbibing more than he normally would.
“I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her,” he said aloud. Not when he had just found a woman who made him believe that he could share whatever he had with her. Gage had lived long enough to realize that when something or someone good came his way, if he didn’t grasp it, he couldn’t bitch and moan after it was gone.
When he met Tonya for the first time last year, he had known immediately that he liked everything about her. It wasn’t only her natural beauty but her confidence, candor, and that she was able to make him laugh—something he hadn’t done often enough. He enjoyed preparing meals with her, dancing, and kissing her. He hadn’t planned to kiss her, and what shocked him more than his impulsiveness was her kissing him back. And if he hadn’t stopped himself, he knew he would have asked whether he could make love to her.
There hadn’t been a time since he brought her to his home that he hadn’t imagined her living with him. He had fantasized about them going to bed together, making love, falling asleep, and then waking up to make love again before they prepared to go to work. And more than anything he wanted to come home and find her waiting for him. It was something he had wanted when he married Winifred, because as a boy he saw the love between his parents. His father kissed his mother every morning before leaving to go to the restaurant, and kissed her again when he returned home.
André Toussaint wasn’t ashamed to announce to the world that he loved his wife and that he had the best sons a man could ever have. Perhaps it had been Gage’s naïveté or he had been in denial when he stayed in a marriage that had been doomed from the start. Even when he heard the whispers that his wife was sleeping with other men, Gage refused to believe it. And even when he convinced himself to stay with her because of their son, he knew it was detrimental to his own emotional stability. Then Winifred told him that Wesley was not his son.
He walked out that night and stayed with Eustace; he did not want to admit to his mother that she had been right when she warned him not to marry Winifred, even if she was pregnant with his baby. Desirée had wanted him to wait until after the baby was born and then get a paternity test. And it never dawned on him that he hadn’t fathered Wesley when Winifred always referred to the baby as hers and never as his son. In the end she was right, because he wasn’t the father.
Wesley may not be his biological son, yet Gage did not plan to give up on the boy. He would give him as many chances as he needed to straighten out his life. He owed him that because legally he stillwashis son.
Turning over, he buried his face in the pillows under his head and closed his eyes. Minutes later he succumbed to deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Tonya’s head popped when she saw Gage walk into the dining area. “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. You’re looking well.” He had shaved, showered, and dressed.
