Kayla Perrin - Obsession

That’s what made his cheating even harder to accept. That he wasn’t the type of man I expected would betray me before talking to me about a problem.

“Do you think he isn’t attracted to me anymore?” I suddenly asked.

Marnie glanced at me as if I were crazy. “What?”

“You know. Maybe he wanted me decked out in miniskirts and tank tops all the time or something.”

“Now this is what bugs me. Women always end up blaming themselves when their man cheats. Trust me, I know.” Marnie stopped at a light, then made a right turn. “You’re beautiful, sexy, and if Andrew cheated, he’s the one with the problem—not you. That’s my whole point about seeing what else is out there. Another man—the kind who’d never betray you—might just sweep you off your feet.”

“And I thought you were such a cynic,” I teased.

“How many people are on the planet? Five billion? At least a few of those guys have to be decent and trustworthy. Oh—and hot as hell.” Marnie grinned devilishly, as though that last qualification was the most important.

“Of course,” Marnie continued, “if you decide just to look, that’s perfectly fine. A little eye candy never hurt nobody.”

“If nothing else, I’m going to have a good time tonight. You always make me laugh.”

We decided on BB King’s Blues Club, since we could kill two birds with one stone there—enjoy authentic Southern cuisine while listening to a live band.

I was dressed to the nines, in a short black skirt and low-cut red top that had heads turning as I stepped into the club. Marnie was wearing a leopard print dress that showed off her voluptuous curves. I’d been determined to head out and find a little action, but I halted, suddenly unsure.

“Hey,” Marnie said in a low voice. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Knowing me as well as she did, she’d clearly picked up on my hesitation. “And there’s no guilt if you do choose to go for what you want. If you meet someone you like, think of it as a freebie.”

A freebie…it was an odd way to look at having an affair. And yet, Andrew had given me not only his blessing but his encouragement to go out and even the score.

“Right.” I rolled my shoulders backward to work out some of the tension, then smiled when the hostess appeared and asked if we wanted a table or to sit at the bar.

“A table,” Marnie said. “Close to the stage, if possible.”

At seven-thirty, we were seated at a table near the stage. At eight, the band began to play. Flip Side, a group of three men in their thirties and one woman with long dreads of about the same age, started their set off with “The Thrill is Gone,” B.B. King’s duet with Tracy Chapman, which warmed the crowd. Then they played some classic B.B. King numbers, some Ray Charles, Ida Cox and other blues artists from the early twentieth century. By the time they rocked the house with some Jimi Hendrix rock ’n’ roll blues, everyone was either dancing, clapping or toe tapping.

When the female singer announced that there would be an intermission before the next set, Marnie touched my hand. I looked her way. “Have you noticed a certain someone checking you out?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, and began looking around. I caught the eye of an older gentleman, who winked at me. I returned my gaze to Marnie. “Who are you talking about?”

“You really have been out of the game too long,” she said. “The drummer,” she went on, in a tone that said the answer was obvious.

“The drummer?” I quickly looked toward the stage.

“Isn’t he cute?”

I checked him out. He was thin, tall, and sported short dreadlocks. “Yes, he’s definitely cute. But not really my type.”

Marnie gaped at me. “What are you talking about? He’s hot.”

“Yeah…just not my type.”

“I don’t think he’d agree,” Marnie said in a singsong voice.

“You’re seeing things,” I told Marnie. “He didn’t check me out once.”

“He totally was,” Marnie insisted. “You should go talk to him. I think he’d make a good booty call.”

I glanced toward the stage. There was a flock of women swarming the band. I shook my head at the pitiable sight. All those women hoping to bed a musician, or maybe even find a sugar daddy.

That wasn’t for me.

“Marnie, stop worrying about my sex life. I’m out having a good time. That’s all that matters.”

“Oh, no-no-no.” She wagged a finger at me. “You’re gonna meet someone.”

Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

My gaze wandered around the bar. There were some attractive men here, but most of them were with dates. I wasn’t against the idea of meeting someone, if a guy here got me excited.

And maybe Marnie was right. I had married Andrew young. Until a few days ago, I’d never questioned that decision. But what if Andrew’s affair was a sign that we’d drifted apart, that we weren’t meant to live happily ever after?

What if there was someone else out there for me—the kind of man who would always appreciate me and never screw around?

I’d had friends in the past who’d been cheated on, and I always encouraged them to move on and find someone worthy of them. And yet, the thought of being without Andrew was very hard to contemplate.

But it was equally hard to think that I would simply accept what he’d done, forgive him and resume our life as it had been. Especially now. Would I be setting myself up for future heartache from him if I decided I wanted to save my marriage? Would he feel that if I’d forgiven him once, I would do so again…and again?

“I’m ready for another drink,” Marnie announced, her words pulling me from my thoughts. “Want another margarita?”

“Definitely,” I answered quickly. I’d certainly had enough already, but I didn’t want to think about Andrew anymore. Booze would help me forget.

As Marnie glanced around in search of our waitress, I spotted the older gentleman I’d seen eyeing me before. This time, I noticed that he was with a friend.

Both he and his friend were grinning at me now. A wink from the shorter man, and they started walking our way.

“Warning,” I said. “Creep alert.”

“Where?”

“Don’t look!” I said in an urgent whisper as Marnie started to turn her head. She abruptly halted. “Two guys who have to be in their sixties. Now they’re heading this way. Shit.”

“Just what I like,” Marnie muttered. “Old men with hard-ons.”

“They’re definitely interested in us.” I could see them getting closer through my peripheral vision. As they reached our table, I whispered, “Showtime.”

“Hello, ladies,” the shorter man said. He was probably five foot nine, with a medium brown complexion and a beer gut. He also seemed to have eyes only for me. “How about a dance?”

“Sorry,” Marnie said sweetly. “We were just about to order dessert.”

“We don’t mind waiting,” the other man said. He was darker skinned, taller, and quite handsome—but about thirty years too old for either of us. “We can show you a thing or two on the dance floor.”

“I’m married,” I pointed out. “Sorry.”

“Thanks for the offer, though,” Marnie said. She barely suppressed a smile as she added, “We’re flattered.”

“All right,” the taller man conceded. “But if you change your mind…”

“We won’t,” Marnie told him.

The two men wandered off. Marnie made a face, then burst out laughing.

“In their defense, they did seem nice,” I said. I’d assumed they’d be creeps because so often creeps approached me.

“Yeah, but you know they’ve got to be back at the nursing home by nine.”