Queenie motioned to a chair. “I already ordered your usual for you.”
“Perfect, thank you.” Valerie took a seat across from her. “I’m past ready for something uplifting like good food and conversation.”
Queenie’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s happened? Student problems?”
“Nothing so serious. My ex-husband called. He wants me to pick up the boxes the children left there.”
Queenie’s eyes narrowed. “He has your old house, and you mentioned once you’re in an apartment, but he’s going to make you store the boxes?”
“I might have objected, but he has”…slaves… “guests who are snoopy and destructive.” She wasn’t going to let Kahlua ruin the things her children wanted to keep.
“Ugh. No wonder you need feel-good food.” Queenie grimaced. “At least your kids are grown. Dickface and I battled constantly about custody, vacations, and child support until ours were gone.”
“Ouch. I hope my ex and I don’t come to bickering over holidays. Thankfully, at Christmas, he and my son went ocean fishing so I could spend the day with my daughter and the most adorable grandbaby in the world.”
Queenie grinned, then shook her head. “You were lucky. I predict problems for future holidays.”
A dismal thought. Because when it came to conflict, Valerie would lose. Or give in. Or run.
Change the subject.
“How are your classes going?” Valerie had mostly upper-level students in her philosophy and world religion classes. They were actually interested in the subjects.
Poor Queenie’s English composition lectures were filled with freshmen.
“I hate eighteen-year-olds.” Queenie rolled her eyes. “One of them was still drunk from the weekend, and the fumes rolling off him turned my stomach.”
Valerie grinned. “Ah, the sweet bouquet of hungover freshmen, hmm?”
Queenie laughed.
As the waiter arrived and set their food out, Valerie recognized him as one of her students. “Jamail, everything looks wonderful.”
“It is. In fact, I can personally vouch the food is excellent here.” His smile stretched across his face as he gave a small bow. “Thank you so much for helping me get this job, Dr. Winborne.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m sure they’re delighted to have you.” And they were feeding him well, she was happy to see.
As he strode away, Queenie lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “You found him this job?”
“He kept getting skinnier, so I called him in for a talk and learned his part-time jobs didn’t pay enough for food and rent. I suggested a restaurant job where he’d get free food, then told the owners here he was a hard worker. It’s a good match.”
Queenie shook her head. “Most of us think we’re doing an excellent job if we counsel students about course material and grades. You take it a step further, don’t you?”
“It’s all part of the whole.” Valerie moved her shoulders in a half-shrug. “If starving, how can a child study?”
“There is that.” Queenie turned to her food, letting the subject drop.
Valerie gazed fondly at the redhead. The two of them would never be besties—their views on the world were too different—but Queenie was a fun colleague and lunch date.
After a few minutes of contented eating, Queenie eyed Valerie speculatively. “Hmm.”
“What? Did I forget to wear makeup or something?”
“You never wear makeup. Very funny.” Queenie nibbled on a shrimp spring roll. “Remember when a group of us were talking about the Fifty Shades stuff, and you said you and your husband tried it?”
Valerie winced. Post divorce in January, she’d had too much to drink at one of Queenie’s parties. The alcohol hadn’t helped her depression and neither had oversharing. “And?”
“You see there’s this club—”
Hastily, Valerie held up her hand to stop her. “I’m not a member of any clubs.”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. So, this place, it’s not a swinger’s club where there are people watching and jerking off. This one is supposed to be classy, like, in a mansion, and all BDSM. It’s really private and exclusive, but they’re having a night when visitors can see what it’s all about. Even get a kind of sampling of what they do.”
“Like a taste test?”
“Exactly.” Queenie waggled her eyebrows. “Don’t you think visiting a BDSM club sounds interesting?”
More like avoid-at-all-costs. In a way, BDSM had destroyed her marriage. Or maybe it was merely the final blow.
“A club, hmm?” She and Barry had considered trying a club, but they were all expensive. Instead, they joined a small group who played in one guy’s house. And it’d been fun, at first. Especially when one Dom showed Barry how to spank her…
No, don’t think about that.
After Barry brought in Alisha, they’d quit the group. Probably because