Cherry’s Jubilee (Lunchtime Chronicles: Season 7)

Chapter 3

Daniel

Why am I even here? I committed to attending the wedding, not an engagement party. Oh, right. I’m here because my father was invited and can’t come. Due to this longstanding relationship with the Turner family, he insisted I show my face instead. Since we have the same name, he thinks we’re sometimes interchangeable.

Things seem chaotic as guests mill around without direction. The warm May sun we had earlier has dipped, and the Boston temperature is now on the cool side. I check my watch and give myself thirty minutes before I leave. I’ll find the couple, give them my well wishes as well as my father’s, and leave.

I’d rather be anywhere else. Ashley Turner might be my personal assistant, but spending my free time at her party is not my idea of a good time. Needing a good stiff drink to get through the next thirty minutes leads me to the makeshift bar under an obnoxious pink awning on the other side of the yard.

On the way there, I spot a few other people that I do know, but only because they work for my family in some capacity. I wave on my way to the bar and hope none of them follow me to make small talk. That would be my father if he were here. For someone who runs a billion-dollar company, he knows the names of everyone who works for him. Especially the staff who work on the estate. He says they are the ones who make his life easy, and he’s going to treat them well or die trying.

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 eyes widen. 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 .

“You said it, not me,” she says. She raises both hands and takes a step back.

“You figured it out,” I say, lifting both hands as if in surrender. “I do work at Jubilee.” I don’t say for who because my father might be in charge, but I do not work for anyone. I work beside him.

“What do you do for them?” she asks as she looks around. Someone comes to the bar and asks for a margarita, so she leaves me alone for a few minutes to make that drink. I have a few moments to mull my next words.

“I do a little bit of everything,” I say when she’s done.

“Well, I’m sure they are lovely people.”

I sit there and wait for the but. It doesn’t come. “They are. I have no complaints.” It’s true. I don’t.

“And this is nothing against them, but my cousin and her fiancé are such phonies.” Bingo. This is what I need. “Well, I take that back. I have nothing against her fiancé, but my cousin can take a long walk off a short plank.”

“And who is your cousin?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

“Ashley Turner. Soon to be Mrs. Ashley Ortiz,” she says with an eye-roll.

That’s the last thing I wanted to hear. If Ashley is her cousin, there’s no way she’ll give me the time of day when she finds out exactly who I am.

She picks up the flyer and points. “Why do we need an itinerary for a party? Who does she think they are? Russ and Ciara Wilson? And do you see this?” She points at the name Daniel Jubilee Senior. “The bride’s father, my uncle, by the way”—she rolls her eyes—“he works for the company as a lawyer.” Another eye-roll. “You’d think being a lawyer was like being the president of the United States, the way he acts. We all know lawyers are like pond scum. He’s no better than an ambulance chaser. ”

I disagree with the last part. At least there are no ambulance chaser lawyers at Jubilee. Everyone is highly vetted, and most are Ivy League educated, but I don’t contradict her.

“Why are you tending bar at your cousin’s engagement party? Shouldn’t you be a bridesmaid or something?”

When my sister got married last year, she had all our cousins in the wedding.

She gasps as if I just offended her. “I’d rather be a bridesmaid for Lucifer himself,” she whispers. “At least with him, I know what I’m getting. I’m only here because my sister and her husband planned this thing, and they needed me to tend the bar. My cousin is a snake who has yet to shed its skin. Just like her mama, that one,” she says. “Two inland taipans. That’s the world’s most venomous snake, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh,” I whisper. “And what did they ever do to you?”

“As if they can do anything to me. Other than try to put me and my branch of the family in our place, nothing. Those bitches can’t. But they are all sneaky, two-timing fools, and I can’t stand them. If only you knew how and why she got with her fiancé.”

Something tells me the next part will be very juicy, but the other bartender comes over before she can say more. She looks into my eyes as if she’s trying to place me. She inches closer and finally nods as if she just confirmed her suspicions. I can only conclude that she must know who I am. I’m no celebrity, but I’m known in this city. I’m often in the paper, and my family’s foundation is often in the news.

“What’s going on here?” her friend asks as a throng of people appear on the other side of the bar and wait.

“I think you have some customers,” I say, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave.

“Cherry, do you know who—” She points at me, and I hold my breath, knowing she will out me. If she does that, Cherry will stop talking. Not only that, but she’ll also probably see me as an enemy instead of an ally. Someone slams their hand on the bar and whistles at her to come over. “Oh, I know he did not slam his fucking hand and whistle at me. Who the hell does he think—” She thankfully leaves without outing me.

“So, you introduced your cousin to the man she’s going to marry?” I ask, hoping to get her to start talking again. “If that’s the case, what’s wrong with that?” She should be maid of honor, not here slinging drinks.

“I didn’t introduce them so they can hook up. I wouldn’t introduce her to my worst enemy.” She leans over the bar. “She’s so damn dumb,” she says, sadly shaking her head. “I was tutoring Rob’s dumb ass. Ashley saw us together. Misunderstood the situation and thought we were on a date. She came over to us, introduced herself, and shoved her giant titties in his face, and that was it.”

“Huh,” I say. “So, you never had feelings for him?” Not that it matters now, but I need to know.

“Hell no. One thing Cherry Cross would never, ever do is date a dumb man. If I have to tutor you in basic algebra, you don’t stand a chance with me.” She sighs in defeat. “You clearly don’t get it,” she says, dismissing me. “It’s so much more than her shoving her tits in his face.” She turns away and mumbles something under her breath that I can’t hear.

“Well, explain.”

“What if I was with him?” she asks. “It’s a violation of girl code, which just proves my theory that she’s a snake. I always knew who she was, but in that moment, she revealed herself. There’s a long history there. She transferred to my college, majored in accounting like me, but had to switch because she’s dumb. Basically, whatever I have, she’s always wanted, which I don’t get because she’s always had everything. Way more than me and my sister ever had.” She stops talking and giggles. “Everything except brains. You can’t buy that. And now she thinks she’s so superior because she got a job as a personal assistant for some executive at Jubilee. That’s just a glorified gopher, if you ask me. The day I have to go get a man his coffee, I’m gonna have Ginger take me in a back alley and shoot me.”

I wonder how long I have before she finds out the executive Ashley works for is me.

“Well, forget that. Who needs it?” I ask, hoping to change the subject now that I know the facts.

“Right. I agree. And who cares about Jubilee or whatever? I bet they’re all a bunch of social climbers.”

Now that, I disagree with. My father doesn’t care about social status and neither do I. In fact, he can’t stand anyone who grew up with money, which is ironic because he made sure his kids wanted for nothing.

I finish my drink. She takes the glass and refills it without me asking.

“Forget about that, Cherry. What do you do for a living besides making drinks on a Saturday evening?”

“I’m an accountant,” she says. “The funny thing is, I applied for a position at Jubilee in their accounting department but wasn’t hired.” I sense some irritation there. “I don’t think the company is all that anyway.”

I almost want to laugh at that. The company definitely is all that and then some. Any position there is coveted.

“Why don’t you tell me all about that tomorrow over dinner? We can curse Jubilee to eternal damnation together.”

She freezes at my question. It’s almost funny. She was about to turn around to put the bottle of whiskey back, but she stops halfway before slowly turning to face me. She tilts her head to the side as if she’s deciding on whether she heard me correctly.

She walks back to me and refills my glass again. Then she smiles wide, showing off her perfect teeth.

“You don’t strike me as a man who enjoys—” She stops as she mulls her words. “The sugar of the brown variety.”

I tilt my head to the side to mirror her. “I enjoy sugar of any variety,” I say. “ I love sugar,” I add.

“You love sugar?” she asks, and I nod. “You have it often?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Not as often as I’d like,” I say back.

“You’ve sampled brown before?” she asks, and I let out a hearty laugh.

“Is that a prerequisite for having dinner with you? Do you want a list of all the sugar I’ve sampled?”

She looks down and eyes my hands. I hold both up because I’m certain she’s looking for a wedding ring. “No ring and no tan lines either,” I throw in. When all she does is stare, I say, “You do eat, don’t you?”

“A couple of times a week at least.” She smiles again and visibly relaxes.

“What a coincidence. Me too, and tomorrow happens to be one of those days.”

She leans over the counter and gives me that mischievous look. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking. I’m an expensive date.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m the type of girl who will ask for bacon on my burger. Or a side of shrimp with my steak. And yes, I’ll expect you to pay for it. I don’t go Dutch on dates, Lee. I don’t think that old guy you work for pays you enough.”

My dad would hate being described as old, but I keep that to myself. “What kind of man asks a beautiful woman to dinner and expects her to pay?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“Well, not with me, it won’t. And I promise, I make enough.”

She eyes me up and down as if she’s trying to decide whether to believe me or not.

“I bet you’re a driver. You have that look about you.”

The closest I’ve ever been to being a driver is whenever I choose to drive myself somewhere .

“Nope. Try again. And when we’re out tomorrow, you’re going to explain to me what about me makes you think I’m a driver.”

She shocks me when she takes both my hands in hers. She turns them over and inspects them.

“You don’t do manual labor. Your hands are too soft.”

“I’m offended,” I say, doing my best to sound hurt.

“And they’re well-manicured. You don’t drive. You probably don’t cook because your hands—”

“Are too soft? I’ll have you know that I do cook, but that’s not my role at Jubilee.” And I don’t remember the last time I cooked anything, but I’d love to do it for her.

“Personal assistant?” Before I can answer, she shakes her head. “Nah. You have a bossy air about you. You don’t take orders, but you do like to give them.”

“You’re getting warmer.” I lift my glass in salute.

“So, not part of the personal staff. Which means you work at corporate. How old are you?” she asks.

“Thirty-four.”

“So, mid-management. I bet you—”Her playful expression drops and she looks behind me. “Oh, fuck,” she mutters.

I reluctantly turn to see what’s made her mood change so quickly. When I do, I know my jig is up. Ashley, her parents, and her younger sister, Amira walk toward us.

“Assholes incoming,” Cherry says just as they reach us. She doesn’t whisper the words, and I wonder if they heard.

“Cherette,” the other woman says, using the same fake smile that’s on Ashley’s face. “Get me a white wine. And one for Ashley too.” She’s clearly trying to put Cherry in her place. But I did learn her full name, and I like it. It suits her. It’s bold and unique like the woman standing in front of me.

“Please, Cherry,” Whit Turner says.

“Yes. You can’t hog Daniel. He’s our special guest.” She looks at Karen, then back at me. “Ashley is honored that you could attend this party. Not every boss would take the time,” Karen says, her voice extra saccharin. I look at Cherry, who is now looking at me with a look of disbelief. “And you remember Amira.” Amira smiles shyly, and unlike her sister, it’s genuine.

“Daniel?” Cherry almost whispers.

“Yes. Daniel Jubilee Junior,” Whit says. “Your grandfather drove his father for over forty years, and Ashley is his personal assistant.” Whit extends a hand to me. “I’m so happy you could make it,” he says.

I open my mouth to answer, but his wife shoves Amira in front of me. She pushes her so hard, she bumps into me. Cherry raises an eyebrow at the scene.

I take a step back, offer Amira my hand, and she takes it. I drop it almost immediately.

“Amira will be happy to show you around,” Karen says. “No need to waste your time chatting up the help, but it’s such a Jubilee thing to do. Your family’s kindness and charity work are legendary, but tonight is about Ashley. Cherette is only here to work.”

“Well, it’s not exactly charity or hard work to speak with a beautiful woman,” I say while looking at Cherry. She’s now stoic and won’t meet my gaze, but I notice that she’s also not pouring the wine as ordered.

“Kind and blind,” Ashley says. She laughs at her own joke. Her mother joins, but no one else does.

Karen then wraps her arm around me like she’s a boa constrictor. “Come along and get something to eat. You can sit with us since you’re our special guest.” She tries to pull me away, but I don’t move. I turn to look at Cherry, but she’s already moved away and is helping another guest with their drink.