Reyona’s Revenge

“A club?” Marissa pronounced out loud what he had said, just to be sure that she had not heard him wrong.

“Yeah, is there any issue with that?” Bernard replied over the phone; Marissa could sense the hint of a smile in his voice, and she rolled her eyes.

“As in the wriggling bodies, fast drinks, neon lights, and head-pumping fast music kind of club?” she asked again.

“Is there any other fun type? I sure wasn’t referring to country clubs or the kind that my father joined these days, which has been driving my mother crazy. A golf club,” he replied, laughing outright this time.

Marissa pictured herself in one of those spaces, twisting around packed people just to get to the bar, colorful lights flashing in her eyes, and banging deafening music all around. The only time she had ever been in that kind of atmosphere was when she went to pick Evelyn up one day when she and her colleagues had gone out to celebrate the engagement of one of them. Evie had drank too much that day, and her colleague, who had known Marissa with her, had called her to come take her home.

Marissa could remember that it had been as if she had entered an alien world that night when she had entered the club, annoyed from being distracted from the work she had brought home from the office that day due to Mrs. Martins’ inherent laziness. She had stood just inside the door that day, taking a moment to adjust herself to the alien intrusion on her senses. The bouncer’s askance look, coupled with the fact that Evie was there vulnerable, was what had propelled her feet forward to delve into the cacophony of voice, wild laughter, music, and wriggling bodies, as she would have been more than happy to turn right back and go back home, pretending she just had a weird dream.

She was amazed by the throngs of ladies with heavily painted faces, slinky dresses, mile-high heels, and tart attitudes mingling around. Some danced seductively by themselves, with their partners, and on the laps of their significant others, who were showing all signs of enjoying the display. Marissa could still remember that she had gawked that day at the amount of exposed flesh she had seen; some ladies had even been dancing on poles with guys hooting and egging them on. Encouraging them and making promises to give great tips if the ladies’ legs could go wider or if they could bend lower.

Marissa could still remember how much Evie had laughed at her the following day while recovering from her hangover.

“How exactly did you go through your university days without stepping foot in a club?” Evie laughed while holding her head after Marissa explained it to her.

Marissa had narrowed her eyes at the latter even as a reluctant smile curled her lips.

Evie hooted with laughter, then sobered, “I am sorry. I am sorry. I know I shouldn’t be laughing right now, especially since I was the apparent reason you went into a space you wouldn’t normally be in, but really? A whole four years without going to the most common center of entertainment for college kids? No, no, something is wrong with this image. Your friends need to be questioned.” Evie laughed again, then groaned as her headache came back.

“I didn’t have much of those anyway. There is no time for outings with friends or classmates. I was too busy trying to support myself and study,” Marissa had mused.

Awwn, poor you.” Evie had said it in all seriousness.”We need to rectify this situation. A woman cannot be called well-rounded if she has not been to the club and gotten drunk at least once.”

“Thank you. If going to places like that is what would qualify me as a worldly sophisticated woman, biko, I am fine with this unrounded me,” she had said as she picked up her bag to go to work.

“No, not all places are that… well, that extra. Samantha just has crazy taste, and it suits some of us. Thank you. Not all of us are as unrounded as you are after all,” Evie said, laughing as Marissa picked up a throw pillow and hauled it at her. She ducked and said, “Really, Marissa there are other more classy clubs out there you can go to, you know, just to mingle and all.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Marissa had said as she opened the door. “Close my door when you leave or I would kill you when I come back.”

“No, you wouldn’t! You love me too much to hurt a strand on my head! Ouch my head!” she had heard Evie shout after her as she smiled in her hurry to get to work before the bitchy Mrs. Martins.

True to her word, Evie had tried so many times to get Marissa to go to a club with her, all to no avail. Marissa had dug in her heels and refused to budge until Evie finally gave up, calling her a hopeless case.

“Now he thinks that the best place for an outing is…”

“Babe? Why had you spaced out like that? I really wouldn’t mind listening to the sound of your breathing over the phone; believe me, it is more erotic than phone sex, but would you…

“Benard, have you been drinking?” she asked abruptly.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because… well,” she wasn’t going to tell him that she had never been a patron of a club before; of course, she wouldn’t put it past him to laugh at her outrightly.

“Babe?”

She wanted to snap at him, but then she remembered her current discussion with her grandmother. She swallowed her retort.

“Maybe I should put what Mama said into…”

“Are you afraid that you would fall for me so hard in that kind of hyper environment that you wouldn’t want to let me go?” he taunted her.

Marissa forgot her resolve as she snapped at him “Yeah, right! In your dreams. Where is the place?”

What had Mama called him again? Loving and responsible boy? Pfft, more like an infuriating man that would make her head explode one day!” She thought in exasperation.

Bernard chuckled. “Why would I allow my beautiful wife to arrive at such a place alone? That would be stupid of me, don’t you think? I am coming over to pick you up.”

Marissa agreed with him. The stupid part, that is. If he were so wise, he would simply cancel the ridiculous outing and let them go to a normal place or not go at all, but she knew that he would simply accuse her of chickening out now if she said that or even infuriate her more into agreeing with something else.

So she nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see her. He could use her apparent silence for whatever he wanted.Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“See you at eight, babe.”

“Right”

“Rissa?”

“What?”

“Wear something sexy for Daddy.”

“For da…” she started, but he had already disconnected the call.

Marissa blew out her breath slowly as she wondered how on earth he always managed to rile her so much. She was considered a sensible, reasonable, and levelheaded person by most, after all, but when it came to him, he always managed to make her act like a raving lunatic. Her actions sometimes surprise her.

He challenges her like no one else she has ever known.

He encourages her without saying a word most of the time.

He has the uncanny ability to show up just when she needs him the most.

He is sweet with her child.

He is wonderful with her grandma.

His employees speak highly of him, and even his domestic workers adore him.

Yet he infuriates her more than anyone she has ever known, and half of the time she has no idea if she wants to give him a swift kick in the shin or strangle him. What with his ready tongue that was always giving her back whatever she said to him in folds? His naughty nature and his cheerful, unpredictable mood could change when she least expected it. Especially these days when she had no idea what to think of him.

Henrietta had once told her that only Bernard could match her vigor; any other man would be steamrolled.

“Pfft, steamrolled indeed,” Marissa thought as she booted her laptop.

“Let’s not forget the fact that he also makes you come like no one else could,” her subconscious added.

Marissa rolled her eyes “And how do I know that? It is not as if I have ever been with someone else, have I?” She muttered to herself and shook her head as she tried to imagine herself being attracted to someone else, but all she could see was Bernard in her head. She gave up with a self-deprecating smile.

“Dress up for Daddy, my foot. In his dreams,” she muttered as she opened her browser and typed:

WHAT TO WEAR TO A NIGHTCLUB