Page 4 of Cherry's Jubilee

That’s why I’m here today. If my grandmother weren’t on her deathbed, he’d be here instead. Since he can’t, he ordered me to because the bride’s grandfather was my father’s personal driver for decades. In that time, they formed a friendship, which my dad still honors even though Mr. Turner has passed away.

When I approach, I notice there are two bartenders. They are both female and dressed in black. There’s one that immediately catches my eye because of her nice backside. Her waist is narrow, and her ass looks plump and firm. She’s a tall woman, and I’ve always preferred tall women. I’m six-feet-six-inches, and a woman her size suits my height so much more. I look up, and she has a long, graceful neck. Her hair is piled high on top of her head and appears to be styled in tight curls.

She giggles at something the other bartender says, and I like the sound of it. It’s carefree.

“Shut up, Ginger,” she says in a soft, sultry voice. It sounds like liquid honey. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve heard in a long time, if ever. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll lure him away and pretend I’m going to fuck him. I’ll record all the dirty talk and play it over the speakers. That will liven up this boring ass party,” Ginger says, and the other woman’s shoulders shake in amusement. “And you know I can talk dirty. Listen to this.”

“Stop it right now,” she says through her laughter.

“I’m going to swirl my tongue on the tip of your big—”

“Please, don’t make me vomit. And big is generous. I bet it’s tiny. I bet having to screw Ashley makes it shrink each time.”

“Go ahead and vomit all over these ridiculous ass flowers they have here.” Ginger starts making retching sounds, and the tall, sexy one laughs uncontrollably at her friend.

I clear my throat loudly to get their attention. The one with the foul mouth freezes before she turns to face me. When she does, her eyeswiden. I don’t know if that look is horror or recognition, but she runs to the other side of the bar, giggling the entire way.

I guess Ginger is going to leave her friend to deal with me. Not that I mind because as good as her backside looks, her front is even better. She has big, brown eyes, which also look at me in either panic or embarrassment. She has the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen and a straight nose. Her brown skin glistens under her faux tuxedo shirt.

I lean against the bar and wait for her to approach. She does, and when she gets there, I notice she’s holding a pink piece of paper. I look down and realize it’s the itinerary of the party.

“Can I help you?” she asks. She clears her throat, stands tall, and looks at me directly in the eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was daring me to speak about what I overheard.

“A whiskey neat, please,” I say, and she nods. She looks at her friend, who is busy mixing a drink for another guest. A few seconds later, she puts my drink in front of me. I take it before she can move her hand, ensuring that my fingers slowly rub against hers.

She steps back but not before I feel a shift go through my body.

“Not a fan of the hosts?” I ask, hoping that will prompt her to open up. Nothing makes someone talk more than when they can speak against their enemies. At least that’s what my dad says.

She tilts her head to the side and looks at her friend, who is busy with someone else. Ginger is very expressive. Each time she shakes the drink mixer, her entire body shakes. Then the beauty before me looks at me, and her brown eyes clash with mine. I hear her clear her throat, but everything else goes silent as I look into the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re dark as midnight, and in them, there’s a depth I know I need to delve into.

“Not really,” is all she says, but one of her hands flies to her throat while I hold her stare. “Enjoy your drink.” She looks away and gives me her back. While I like the view, I’d rather she turn around and talk to me. If I have to be here, at least I can talk to the temptress before me.

She picks up the piece of paper again, looks at it, and does a rather loud, unladylike snort.

On arrival, everyone was handed that flyer. It included a list of the wedding party members and the wedding itinerary.

“Is there something funny about this that I don’t get?” I ask to see if I can bait her into talking to me again. I wave the flyer around in one hand and sip my drink with the other.

She puts the paper down and faces me; I can tell she’s deciding whether to answer. Her issues with the people throwing this party are strong enough for her to unload on a stranger.

“I’m Lee,” I tell her, hoping that will put her at ease. I offer her my hand. She looks into my eyes and at my hand again, then slowly walks back to the bar to put her hand in mine.

It’s soft, and I feel something surge through my body when we touch. Instead of breaking our hold, I turn it over and rub the top of it.

“I’m Cherry,” she says, but I swear I see a shiver run through her.

“That so happens to be my favorite fruit,” I respond with my best smile. If my brother were here, he’d laugh and say I look like a spider trying to lure a fly into my web. He would not be wrong in this case. She finally pulls her hand away but blushes.

“And how do you know the bride and groom?” she asks. She’s clearly vetting me to see if I’m safe to talk to. As I think of what to say, she whispers, “Do you work for the Jubilee people? You must,” she says.

“What makes you assume that?” I ask to give myself more time to think of an answer to her question. I have the feeling I should be very careful with how I respond. She looks into my eyes and gestures at me. “What? I don’t speak gesture,” I add with a light chuckle, but I think I know where she’s going with this.

“Well, you look like the Jubilee people floating around here.”

“You mean white?” There are only a few of us, and I recognize most of them.

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