Never Happened. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ must have known she wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. Just to make sure she veered far away from unnecessary commitments; life tossed her the occasional reminder, such as this one. Some people simply shouldn’t be spouses, much less parents. Unfortunately her mother was one of those people.

      Alex ripped off her T-shirt and shimmied out of her jeans. Shower or no, she couldn’t go to Ruby’s looking like one of the guys.

      It never ceased to amaze Alex just how good a hardworking woman could look if she put her mind to it. Even if she’d spent the better part of the day scraping human remains off a wall.

      Good genes were the one reliable thing her mother had given her.

      After parking on the Washington Avenue side of the establishment, Alex walked into Ruby’s Lounge with all the confidence of a supermodel. Her dress was black and short with heels high enough to make a lesser woman acrophobic, but not Alex. She’d fashioned her long blond hair into a sexy French twist. Her lips twitched. She loved anything French, including the men. Thank God for European tourists.

      She surveyed the tables of the lounge, which was a throwback to a bygone era. Some tables were wrapped with comfy sofas for more intimate dining, while others stood tall and were surrounded by stools. Every seat was taken. Latin salsa throbbed from the sound system as waiters and waitresses wove through the maze of bodies and tables.

      “Do you have a reservation?”

      Alex smiled for the host, garnering herself an approving smile in return. “I’m afraid I can’t stay,” she said wistfully. “I’m only here to relay a message to a friend.”

      “Your friend’s name?”

      She held up a hand. “It’s all right. I see her.”

      It wasn’t as if it was difficult. Her mother’s boisterous laugh stood out in a crowd like the proverbial sore thumb. Same blond hair as her daughter’s, only shorter. Alex’s gaze narrowed as she took in the pink suit. Apparently her mother had raided her closet. They would be talking about that.

      Alex strode to the table. The new boyfriend looked up as she paused next to her mother’s chair.

      “Alex! How nice to see you.”

      The way his gaze slid down her body as he spoke told her he meant the statement literally.

      “Robert.” She gave him a plastic smile before turning her attention to her mother. “Marg, may I have a word with you in private.”

      Margie Jackson, who had refused to allow her daughter to call her mother once she became a widow, looked suspicious of her offspring’s abrupt appearance. “Alex, what a surprise.”

      Alex’s determined stare apparently provided a recognizable caveat that she wasn’t leaving until they talked, here or in private.

      Marg stood. “Excuse me, Robert.”

      Robert nodded, the glint in his eyes giving away his infinite hope that both women would return post-haste, perhaps naked and pleading with him to take them straight to his place.

      Like that was going to happen in this lifetime.

      Alex led the way to the ladies’ room. She checked the stalls to make sure they were alone, then rounded on her mother. “What the hell are you doing?”

      Marg glared at her daughter. “Stop right there. I’m not drinking, Alex. I’m done with that life. I like Robert and I want to get to know him better. You cannot expect me to live my new, clean life alone. I have needs.”

      Alex wished she could believe that. “This is your third date with dear old Robert,” she reminded. “You know what that means.”

      Her mother looked away, even had the gall to blush. “Alex, my social life is none of your business.”

      If only that were the way of things, but it wasn’t. Her hands on her hips, Alex moved in closer. “Mother, I’ve known you—”

      “Don’t call me that,” Marg chastised.

      “—my entire life.” Alex forged ahead. “You always have sex on the third date.” She held up her hands to stop Marg from protesting. “For whatever reason, after copulating the night away, the relationship ends and you turn to the bottle for solace. In twenty-five years I’ve never seen you deviate from that pattern. Three dates, sex—bam—you’re out!”

      Marg crossed her arms firmly over her Pamela-Anderson-size bosom—a Christmas present to herself last year. “Alexis Jackson, you have no right to dictate my sex life to me. I haven’t had sex in over a year! For God’s sake, I’m lonely!”

      The door opened and a woman came inside. She glanced at the two and hurried into a stall.

      “Be that as it may,” Alex replied, “I know how this will end. You and physical relationships don’t mix. There are alternatives,” she added in a whisper.

      “It’s not the same,” her mother snapped.

      Okay, this was bizarre, Alex knew. She was in a public restroom—in a lounge of all places—having the sex talk with her mother, a woman far beyond the age of consent. And she was right. The alternatives just weren’t the same. Some people had problems with gambling, others with weight or drugs. Her mother simply couldn’t have a physical relationship with a man without turning to alcohol. The combination was always, always disastrous. And Alex invariably had to clean up afterward.

      “I’m going back out there,” Marg said, her expression fierce, maybe even a little desperate, “and I don’t want to hear anything else about this. I’m way past three times seven, Alex. I don’t need you telling me what to do. And I certainly don’t need your permission.”

      Unable to allow her mother to have the last word, Alex said the one thing she knew would have the most impact, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      Alex walked out, didn’t look back, didn’t even slow until she’d hit the unlock button for her 4Runner on the opposite side of the block.

      Some women just never learned. When you recognized a weakness, you avoided it, learned from your previous mistakes.

      Alex slid behind the wheel and exhaled a heavy breath. That was the primary difference between her and her mother, besides the store-bought triple-D cups. No man would ever make Alex that vulnerable.

      Never.

      She loved men, enjoyed dating every chance she got. But she never allowed a relationship to develop beyond the physical. Most men didn’t have a problem with that. Only once in a really long time had she been forced to let a guy down and he still hadn’t given up completely. Henson, damn him. He’d almost weakened her defenses. Thank God she’d come to her senses in time. Commitment was not her gig.

      She twisted the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street. Time for that long, steamy bath she’d had to put off to come here and do her daughterly duty.

      Maybe one of these days her mother would learn that some things just weren’t meant to be.

      Thirty minutes later, hot, frothy water up to her neck, a cold bottle СКАЧАТЬ