Juliette had her own bedroom suite with a master bath and two rooms. One was where she did her studying, gossiped on the phone, listened to hip-hop music, and entertained her friends. The other was where she slept.
Jolene entered smiling, but as soon as she saw the outfit Juliette was wearing the smile fell off her face. Juliette’s jeans that were so tight and low-cut that Jolene could see her red thong and part of her ass. And she had on a skimpy red midriff top with the words TAKE ME written across her perky little breasts. Jolene was stunned. Whatever happened to her sweet, innocent little girl?
“Take that junk off right now,” Jolene said, trying to keep her voice steady. She was tempted to tear the trashy outfit right off.
Juliette eyed her mother defiantly. “Why?”
“Because I said so, that’s why. It’s too revealing. You look like a tramp.”
Juliette pursed her lips. “I’ve peeped you wearing a lot less,” she said smartly.
Jolene caught her breath. What had gotten into this child? She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way. I’m your mother. When you’re my age you can wear whatever you damn well want. But you’re only fifteen, so take that outfit off.”
Juliette crossed her arms stubbornly. “But all my girlfriends are gonna be dressed like this and—”
“I don’t give a damn how they’re going to be dressed. You are not going out of this house looking like that. Maybe you need a different set of friends. I can see your butt and I don’t want boys looking at it, too!”
“Aw, chill, Ma. It’s a sleepover. It’s just us girls.”
Jolene narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know boys hang out at these things.”
A sly smile crossed Juliette’s lips and she lowered her eyes.
“Uh-huh. Got nothing to say now, do you?”
“Can I just wear the top if I put on different jeans? Please?”
“No. You’re not wearing a top with that trashy slogan written on it.”
“Dammit.” Juliette yanked the top over her head and got up in her mother’s face. “You’re ruining my fucking life.”
Jolene gasped and slapped Juliette solidly across the cheek.
Juliette stuck out her bottom lip and held her face. “I don’t believe it. You just hit me.”
“And I’ll do it again if you ever talk to me like that again.” Jolene had no doubt that all this defiant behavior was the result of Juliette’s spending so much time around that thug Lee. She was going to have to talk to Patrick about this.
She looked through Juliette’s closet and found another pair of blue jeans and threw them on the bed. “Wear those,” she said firmly. “And find another top. You can throw everything you have on in the trash. And hurry up and get dressed. Your father will be here to take you to Monica’s any minute.”
Juliette ran to her dresser, yanked a drawer open, and pulled out another skimpy top, this one off-white. Jolene grabbed it and held it at arm’s length, while Juliette put her hands on her hips and tapped her bare foot impatiently. Jolene ignored her daughter’s cheeky behavior as she carefully examined the top. This one was just as bare as the other but had no dirty slogan written on it. She ought to ban this one, too, but she felt a little guilty after slapping Juliette, and she wanted to make amends.
“That’s all right,” Jolene said and handed the top back to Juliette.
“You treat me like a baby half the time,” Juliette said in a calmer voice. “You say you want me to grow up but then you won’t let me wear what I want. It’s contradictory.”
Jolene sighed. “I want you to grow up to be a strong, confident woman, not a slut. And I—”
The door bell rang and Jolene paused. “That’s your father now,” she said as she headed out the bedroom door. “And you still have your hair to do.”
Juliette flipped her hair. “It’s a weave, Mother, just like yours. There’s nothing to do.”
“Fine but I want you downstairs in ten minutes.” Jolene strolled down the staircase and opened the door to see Patrick standing there looking very handsome in a smart gray blazer and brown slacks. It wasn’t exactly Armani, but he still looked good.
“You look nice,” she said as he kissed her on the cheek.
“And you look beautiful as always.” He looked her up and down. “New suit?”
She nodded. “Sort of. Juliette’s still getting dressed,” she added before he could ask how much she had spent on the suit. She knew her ex-husband, and any outfit that cost more than a few hundred bucks was a waste of money. It wouldn’t matter to him that she was now a millionaire. “Um, why don’t you come on in for a minute and sit down while we wait for Juliette?”
Patrick blinked and glanced at his watch. “If we’re going to make the reservation at seven, we should leave now.”
“She’ll be down any minute. I have some things to talk about before we leave.”
Patrick glanced at her suspiciously as he followed her into the family room. They sat on the black couch and she turned to him.
“You know how she is these days. She takes forever to get ready. And prepare yourself. She’s dressed kind of scantily.”
He smiled knowingly. “Like mother, like daughter it’s turning out. Don’t let her go too far.”
“I made her change, but she’s a teenager. She has to be able to express herself a bit.”
He nodded. “I’m surprised you’re dressed and all ready to go before she is.”
“I wanted to talk to you about something. You see, Monica invited Juliette to a sleepover at the last minute, and she really wants to go. So she won’t be coming to dinner with us.”
Patrick’s face fell. “Damn. I was looking forward to us spending some time together before I take her to my house for the weekend.”
“Oh, I know, honey,” Jolene said as she reached out to pat his knee. “She was looking forward to it, too. But this just came up and, well . . .”
“You could have called me on my cell phone. We could have arranged to have dinner another time when she was free.”
That’s exactly why she hadn’t called, Jolene thought. She knew Patrick would want to postpone getting together until Juliette was free. “Uh, well, I started to,” she said. “But then I thought you and I could still go out and enjoy ourselves.” She touched his knee again playfully. “You know, sort of like old times.”
He frowned and clearly looked puzzled. He didn’t seem to have a clue that his ex-wife was flirting with him. Maybe she was coming on too fast. Back up, Jolene. Give him a little more time.
She cleared her throat. “I thought it would give us a chance to celebrate my winning the lottery,” she said brightly.
“That’s very exciting and I’m very happy for you, but—”
“Um, I also thought it would give us a chance to talk about some of Juliette’s behavior lately,” she said, interrupting him. She knew where this was going. He was trying to wiggle out of dinner. “I’m really getting worried. She cursed at me today. The f-word.”
Patrick sat up. He looked genuinely concerned. “That doesn’t sound like Juliette.”
“Some of it is just, you know, growing up. But she’s also bitter about our divorce. At least we can talk freely during dinner if she’s not there. And it will help if she sees us getting along.” The Juliette angle always seemed to work with Patrick. He was full of guilt for leaving his daughter behind when he left Jolene.
“You’re probably right,” he said nodding. “And since we’re both dressed and ready, we might as well go.”
“Good. I’ll go up and see what’s keeping her. We can drop her off on the way.” Jolene stood up and paused. “Um, Patrick, do me a favor, hon. Don’t say anything to her about her changing her plans. She feels bad about not going with us. She was worried it would hurt your feelings.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Jolene breathed a sigh of relief. Her little scheme to get Patrick out to dinner alone was moving along
just as planned.
BARBARA AND REBECCA walked through the bar area of B. Smith’s and entered the dining room to wait for Robin to arrive. The restaurant sat in a corner of Washington, D.C.’s Union Station, a complex of restaurants, shops, and the train station. B. Smith’s was elegantly decorated in the Beaux Arts style, and the down-home cooking was a mix of southern, Cajun, and Creole, with dishes such as jambalaya and lemon-pepper catfish. Barbara loved dining there.
“I have some news to tell you both after Robin gets here,” Rebecca said, all smiles as they sat in the waiting area.
“Oh?” Barbara said. “Good news, judging from the look on your face.”
Rebecca nodded. “But I’ll wait until Robin gets here and tell you at the same time.”
Barbara nodded just as she noticed Baroness Veronique Valentine walk through the main entrance, looking gorgeous in an elegant black silk suit that showed off her figure. The baroness spotted Barbara in the small waiting area and approached with a warm smile. Barbara stood.
“Why hello, Barbara,” Veronique said as they exchanged air kisses. “Small world.”
“It seems that way,” Barbara said. “How are you?”
“Very well, thank you, Barbara.”
Robin rushed up and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the office.”
“Veronique, I want you to meet my daughters,” Barbara said, gesturing with pride. “Robin and Rebecca. Girls, this is Baroness Veronique Valentine.”
They all shook hands.
“Your daughters are lovely, Barbara. They’re both spitting images of you. Although I see a touch of Bradford in Robin.”
“Thank you,” Barbara said.
“How is Bradford?”
“He’s fine.”
“Good. I’m told this is a very nice place to eat,” Veronique said. “And if you’re here, I’m assuming it must be true.”
Barbara nodded toward her daughters. “They brought me here to celebrate my birthday.”
“Oh, happy birthday, Barbara.”
“Thanks. Are you dining alone?” Barbara asked as the maître d’ walked up and told her their table was ready. “If so, we’d love to have you join us.”
“No, I’m meeting a friend. But thank you for the invitation.” Veronique slipped a beautifully bejeweled hand into her Louis Vuitton bag and pulled out a gold-and-diamond card case. She handed a card to Barbara. “Why don’t you call me and we’ll get together for lunch.”
“I’ll do that,” Barbara said. She glanced at the crème-colored card, with its delicately engraved black script, then slipped it into her Fendi shoulder bag.
“Enjoy your celebration, Barbara.”
“Thank you, Veronique. I’m sure we will.”
Barbara and her daughters followed the maître d’ to her favorite table in the colonnade. As Robin summoned the waiter, Rebecca leaned close to her mother.
“Is she really a baroness?” Rebecca asked eagerly.
Barbara nodded. “She’s American, but she married a European baron.”
“She seems normal enough,” Rebecca said.
“She is normal,” Robin said. “I mean, it’s only a title.”
“Well, yes, but it’s still exciting,” Rebecca said. She stood up and excused herself to go to the ladies’ room as the waiter approached.
“I’d like three glasses of sparkling water in champagne glasses, please,” Robin said to the waiter.
“Go ahead and order real champagne for yourself and Rebecca,” Barbara said.
“No,” Robin insisted. “Water is fine.”
Barbara didn’t press. It was better for her not to be tempted, as Robin was all too aware.
The waiter brought the drinks, and as soon as Rebecca returned Robin raised her glass. “To the best mother a girl could hope for and to the next fifty-one years.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Rebecca added. “If I can be half the mother you are, I’ll be happy.”
Barbara raised her glass to her lips. She was proud of these two beautiful young ladies. Robin, the fiercely independent, go-get-’em warrior, and Rebecca, a happily wed wife.
Rebecca sniffed her glass. “Is this water or wine?” she asked.
“Water,” Robin responded.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Barbara asked.
“Nothing,” Rebecca said, a small smile forming on her lips. “Just being careful. In my condition I shouldn’t have alcohol.”
Barbara gasped and held her breath. “What do you mean, ‘your condition’? Is this what you had to tell us?”
“You’re pregnant?” Robin guessed with wide eyes.
Rebecca smiled and nodded happily.
Barbara put her hand over her heart. “Oh, Rebecca! That’s the best news, honey.”
Barbara hugged Rebecca as Robin took one of her sister’s hands and squeezed it. “Congratulations, sis,” Robin said. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“What she’s wanted?” Barbara said. “I’ve waited two years to hear this. How far along are you?”
“A little over a month. So don’t go around blabbing to everyone yet, Mom. I want to get a little farther along first. Anything can happen in the first trimester.”
“That’s probably the smart thing to do,” Robin said. “Although I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Of course she’ll be fine,” Barbara insisted. “But if that’s what you want, we’ll keep it quiet. You have to let me go shopping for the baby, though. In fact, why don’t we drive over to Saks in Friendship Heights next weekend?”
“I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet.”
“So,” Robin said. “We can get white.”
“Fine. Fine,” Rebecca said. “As long as you don’t tell anybody until I’m at least three months along.”
“I promise,” Barbara said. “I won’t tell a soul except your father until you’re ready. He’s going to be thrilled. He’ll probably—”
“Speaking of Daddy,” Robin said. “He just walked in.”
Barbara nearly leaped out of her seat. “Your father? He’s here? Where?”
Barbara and Rebecca turned to look in the direction that Robin was facing. Robin nodded toward the doorway leading from the colonnade into the main dining room. “I just saw him go by to be seated.”
“He must be here with a client,” Barbara said, trying to keep her voice calm. Could it be more than a coincidence that the baroness was also here? Barbara was tempted to jump up and run into the main dining room to see who Bradford was with. But she didn’t want to start acting the part of a fool in front of her daughters.
“I’ll go tell him we’re here,” Robin said as she placed her napkin on the table and stood up.
“Ask him to stop by our table for a minute so we can tell him about the baby,” Rebecca said.
Robin nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
The waitress brought their appetizers just as Robin walked off, but Barbara had lost her appetite. She picked up a fork and fiddled with her salad.
“Keith is so excited about becoming a dad,” Rebecca said as she picked up her spoon. “Last week he bought paint and brushes. He’s going to paint the baby’s bedroom pink and blue this weekend.”
Barbara put on a smile and squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “I’m so happy for you and Keith.”
Robin came back, sat down abruptly, and grabbed her napkin off the table. She didn’t utter a word, just picked up her spoon and began shoving gumbo into her mouth.
Barbara wasn’t entirely surprised by the change in Robin’s demeanor. Bradford was up to his old tricks, she knew it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rebecca asked Robin. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s got to be something,” Rebecca prodded. “Where’s Daddy?”
Robin was tight-lipped.
“Did you see him?” Rebecca asked. “Is he here?”
Robin nodded slowly.
“Is he all right?�
��
“Yes, yes, he’s fine, Rebecca,” Robin said. “But I don’t think we should bother him. Let’s just eat.”
Not only had Robin’s behavior changed dramatically since she went to greet her father, she now avoided looking into Barbara’s eyes. Barbara placed her fork down, dropped her napkin on the table, and stood up.
Robin glanced up at her mother anxiously. “I wouldn’t go over there if I were you,” she said softly.
“Well, you’re not me.”
Robin looked down at her plate as Rebecca stood to follow her mother, but Barbara put a firm hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You stay here.”
“But I want to tell Daddy about—”
“I said stay here, Rebecca. I’ll be right back.”
Rebecca sat back down as Barbara took a deep breath and strode through the doorway into the main dining room. She hated being so abrupt with Rebecca. Of course her daughter wanted to see her father and tell him the good news about the baby. But Barbara had a sinking feeling that she needed to see Bradford for herself first.
She looked around the large dining room until she spotted Bradford sitting at a table near the back. She took one step in that direction and then froze. Seated across from Bradford was not Veronique but Sabrina, Bradford’s former office assistant and mistress from two summers ago. This was the woman who had driven onto their lawn and crashed into the tent at Rebecca’s wedding reception. This was the little bitch who had grabbed a knife from the reception buffet table and brandished it at Barbara until Bradford tackled her. And all because she was upset that she wasn’t invited to the wedding.
Barbara’s eyes flashed red. So the player was still up to his old tricks. Damn that man.
She marched toward him, dodging in and out between the tables. Bradford looked up and saw her just as she approached, and a guilty smile played around his lips. Barbara stopped at the edge of the table and glared at him without saying a word.
“Barbara,” Bradford said, trying to sound pleased to see her. He dabbed his lips with his napkin and stood. “What brings you here? I thought you were staying out in Silver Lake today.”
Can't Get Enough Page 10
