The Reunion Trap Ch. 04

Draining the last of our wine, we finished packing and left for our flight. One of her model friends, a cute Irish blonde named Leslie, used her jet-black Camaro to give us a ride to the airport. There was no way I was going to leave my Challenger or my wife's Tesla there overnight. My wife and her friend chatted while I used my cell phone to answer a few project questions and set up a couple of meetings.

When we arrived at the airport, we thanked her for the ride and reminded her that she was picking us up the following day. Instead of driving off, she put her car in park, got out, and walked around the black beauty to give Celia a big hug. They whispered something and she came over and spread her arms for me. I laughed and gave her a hug too. Then she whispered in my ear as her hand dropped down and squeezed my ass.

"I have a feeling your night will be just dandy," she said in her lilting way, a bit of the old country accent coming through. "Have no worries."

"Uh, thanks," I replied, my face turning red as I looked at my wife. Celia looked like she was about to burst out laughing, she seemed so amused. We said our goodbyes and Leslie drove off.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Oh, I may have told her a bit about tonight, that's all," she answered. "She just wanted to put you at ease."

"And what about her grabbing my ass?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.

Again, she laughed. "Oh, I think she may have ad-libbed that bit. I have a feeling that she may be a bit smitten with you."

"She's barely eighteen, right?" I asked.

"And..." she replied.

"Good point," I sighed.

We went through security and my wife got asked to sign an autograph. We didn't go out in public a whole lot, so we were unaccustomed to those kind of requests. We weren't exactly A-list or household names or anything, so it was a treat. The flight was nice, and we even got to talk a bit to an actual A-list actress, but I won't name names. First class did have some perks and flights from LAX to DIA often had such people.

We picked up our rental car, a Challenger like mine. This one turned out to be black while mine was a dark metallic red cleverly called 'octane' for marketing purposes. It had all the bells and whistles but was a cheaper model than my own. I liked renting the same kind of vehicle that I normally drive since I already know how it handles. It puts me at ease while driving through unknown parts of the country.

I put the Inn's address in the GPS and let the navigation's sexy female voice direct me there. Celia just rolled her eyes whenever the nav system spoke. By the time we had arrived, we were both imitating the voice to each other and laughing hysterically. We had arrived a few hours early, so we checked in and quickly headed to our room. Putting our luggage down, we unpacked and took a few minutes to chill out and relax.

"I'm bored," complained my wife after about half an hour.

I looked over at her and she looked back at me. We knew each other too well. I was on her in a heartbeat and we spent the next hour breaking in the bed. I was impressed. It was sturdy. I could have gone another couple of rounds, but Celia cautioned me to pace myself. It was going to be a long night, one way or another. I took comfort in that and happily joined her in the shower to prepare for our dinner before the reunion officially started.

Once we were finished washing each other, we both got dried off and she put her make-up on. It surprisingly didn't take her long. My wife, being a model, knew that when it came to make-up, less was more. Besides, she was beautiful without it. We both dressed nice but didn't dress up. This was billed as a casual event, and I wasn't there to impress anyone. I had other goals in mind. We were finally ready and left the room, heading down to our reservation at the restaurant.

When we arrived, they had a nice table for two waiting off the main drag so we could enjoy a modicum of privacy. I ordered a nice steak and my wife had the house special, salmon. My wife and I chatted while waiting for our meals to arrive, and I casually glanced around the room. It was large and dimly lit, filled with about twenty rustic table and chair sets. About half were currently occupied. I noticed a big guy a couple of tables over, and immediately recognized him as one of the football players who had attacked me that awful night of the party. He was sharing a meal with a fair-looking brunette who looked to be a few years older than him.

My blood ran cold, but what happened next turned my mouth to ash. No, there wasn't a confrontation. He didn't even notice me. He simply got up and went to the restroom on the other side of the dining area. As he walked, I noticed he had a significant limp. I had done that to him that awful fateful night. I had kicked him in the side of the knee and watched him crumple to the ground. I wanted to apologize but thought better of it. I had been fighting for my life that night and all was fair in love and war. He had made his decision and now had to live with the consequences.

At least that's what I tried telling myself. The truth was that I felt like crap over it. As far as he knew, he was helping a friend with some guy who was trying to steal his friend's girlfriend. I could understand that. I regretted that I had ended his football career oner it, and had apparently maimed him for life, but even so, I knew that I would do it all over again in the same circumstances. If I hadn't done what I did to him, I might not be alive today. I simply had to make peace with that, and I was sure that talking with the guy wasn't going to resolve anything.

Our meals arrived before he got back, and I took the opportunity to split my focus between my lovely wife and delicious meal, completely ignoring him once he came back. Whether he noticed me or not, he said nothing. That was just fine by me. Maybe someday I would apologize for what had happened, but I really didn't think so. It wasn't long before Celia noticed me keeping my head down, so to speak.

"What's the matter, hon?" she asked.

"Oh, just someone I recognized and really don't want to talk to," I told her.

She nodded in understanding, and the waiter stopped by at that time to see if we needed anything. We ordered a bottle of wine and enjoyed it while chatting away with each other. We had a great conversation about her acting career and some opportunities coming up to work together, so I managed to forget about the evening and the maimed former football player for a time. It was rather nice, but not long enough for my taste. We finished the wine, paid the bill, and headed to the main event.