by Clare Willis
Richard must have interpreted her touch as an invitation, because he kissed her. As soon as his soft, cold lips touched hers Sunni felt that something was very, very wrong. She pulled back as abruptly as if she’d been stung by a bee.
He sat up straight, contemplating Sunni. He didn’t look angry, just confounded and a bit disappointed, as if she was a jigsaw puzzle that he’d worked on for days, only to find one piece missing.
“You didn’t want me to kiss you?” he asked.
Sunni lurched to her feet and smoothed her hair. “No, it’s not that, well, it’s just, I feel …” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I feel.”
And she didn’t. The sensation she’d experienced when his lips touched hers was a powerful one, and it had come from deep inside her, but she couldn’t readily identify it. Was it guilt because of Isabel? Guilt because of Jacob? Or something that had to do with Richard himself?
She picked up the strawberry hulls and tossed them into the bushes. Richard folded the plaid blanket into a neat square.
“I guess I just wasn’t ready for that,” Sunni said.
“That’s all right,” he replied with a small smile. “I have all the time in the world.”
Chapter 8
Isabel gave a high-pitched wail of despair. “I don’t have anything to wear!”
Given that they were standing in the middle of Isabel’s walk-in closet, which contained what seemed like acres of clothing—folded on shelves, hanging on rods and even packed in shopping bags still wrapped in tissue paper—Sunni had to laugh.
Isabel glared at her.
“I’m sorry, Izzy. It’s just that you have so many clothes here. There must be something that you really like.”
“Nothing’s good enough. I want to look elegant, classy, and beautiful.” Isabel’s lower lip trembled. “I want to look like someone else.”
Isabel had long ago realized that people were going to stare at her, so she had decided to give them something to look at. She favored the designer Lilly Pulitzer’s Palm Beach collections, so most of her clothes looked like the hallucinations of an acid-dropping 1950s housewife. Sunni wouldn’t wear any of them unless she lived in the center of a highway, but she appreciated the bright insouciance that her friend projected. Now it appeared that Richard Lazarus was causing Isabel to question her own fashion sense.
Sunni sighed. “What do you want me to do, sweetie?”
“Find me something!”
“Well, where are you going?” Sunni stepped into the vast cavern of Isabel’s closet.
“The symphony.”
“Okay, so you need a nice dress.” After ten minutes of digging Sunni pulled out a Diane Von Furstenberg dress made of stretchy jersey. It was purple, but eggplant purple, not Barney the Dinosaur purple.
“How about this?” she asked.
“Is that sexy enough?” Isabel asked.
Sunni was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She didn’t want Isabel to look sexy for Richard Lazarus, but she’d been helping Isabel for sixteen years, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
“It’s classy, elegant, and beautiful, Izzy. Adjust the neckline a little bit and it’ll be sexy, too.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Put it on. I’ll find you some shoes.”
Sunni chose a pair of black suede pumps with sensible short heels and brought them over. “What about these?”
Isabel was standing in front of a tri-paneled mirror. Having put her arm crutches to the side, she was having difficulty maintaining her balance while wiggling into the tight sheath of stretchyjersey. She finally managed to get the dress on, but it was stuck in her panties in the back. Sunni put her hand on her friend’s shoulder as she pulled the skirt free and straightened it all around. Leaning on Sunni’s arm, Isabel slipped on the shoes Sunni had brought her.
Isabel sniffed. “Those aren’t sexy at all.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sunni admitted. “But you don’t want to trip.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m not as stable as I used to be.” Isabel looked up from her feet and caught Sunni’s eye in the mirror. She gave Sunni a big smile.
“What? “ Sunni asked.
“Remember prom night?”
Sunni would never forget it. The humiliation of prom night had cemented her friendship with Isabel forever.
They had stood in front of the same mirror for hours that night, putting on makeup and arranging their hair. Dennis had given them both five hundred dollars for dresses, but Isabel had already begun her penchant for psychedelic clothing, so she was wearing a 1960s vintage gown purchased for eighteen dollars at Buffalo Exchange on Haight Street. It displayed a swirling purple and black pattern that caused vertigo if stared at for too long. Sunni had spent her entire allotment, plus one hundred dollars of Isabel’s, on a sleeveless red silk Armani cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and fishtail hem.
Her date that night was her boyfriend of one year, Ted Inman, a devilishly sexy boy who was both a member of the Chess Club and a star on the varsity basketball team. Sunni was terribly in love with him and had decided that she was going to give up her virginity to him that night. She was feeling especially warm toward Ted because he had risked his reputation to secure a date for Isabel, who had been treated alternately as a pariah, a best friend, or a maiden aunt by the boys in the class. Ted had convinced another boy on the basketball team, an extremely good-looking and popular kid named Chase Sweeney, to invite Isabel to the prom. Chase had recently broken up with his girlfriend and was available, but according to Ted it had taken some effort to convince him that his reputation could survive taking the crippled girl to the prom.
The boys had arrived in a limousine, bearing corsages, and whisked the girls off to dinner at the Hyatt Regency hotel. Isabel and Chase seemed to get along even better than Sunni had hoped, laughing, flirting, and teasing each other by the end of the meal. They all snuck into the women’s lounge and smoked some pot before continuing upstairs to the ballroom where the prom was being held. Swirling lights and pounding hip-hop music greeted them at the door.
“Do you want to dance?” Chase asked Isabel.
Sunni bit her lip. Isabel didn’t dance. She had told Ted to inform Chase of this fact beforehand so he wouldn’t embarrass her by asking.
A flicker passed over Isabel’s face, and then she smiled at her date. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Sunni and Ted followed them onto the dance floor. Isabel bobbed around on her crutches while Chase danced in circles around her. After a few songs Isabel looked so happy that Sunni allowed herself to turn away and pay attention to Ted. He swept her up into his arms and they kissed their way through a slow song. When another fast tune started up they broke apart and started dancing again, Sunni feeling loose-limbed and limp as spaghetti from her make-out session. She looked up at her boyfriend and saw that he was laughing at something. She smiled in response and turned to see what was so funny.
Chase Sweeney was dancing behind Isabel, aping her awkward movements in a broad caricature that had caught the attention of most of their nearby classmates, who were snickering behind their hands.
Sunni grabbed Ted by the arm. “Stop him right now,” she hissed.
“What? They’re just having fun.”
“That is not fun. That’s evil. Go over there and tell him to stop.”
Ted pulled his arm out of Sunni’s grasp. A dark look passed over his face. “Let it go, Sunni.”
“Fuck you. That’s my best friend.” Sunni stalked over to Chase and pulled on the back of his tuxedo. He turned around and gave Sunni a devilish grin, which she countered with a steely stare. Isabel swung around, looking as happy as a lark, and Chase’s evil grin expanded. He started to dance, and Sunni knew exactly what he was going to do next. So she punched him, aiming high because he had a good foot of height on her.
∗ ∗ ∗
The night had ended with Sunni and Isabel sharing a twelve-scoop ice-cream sundae at the Toy Boat Dess
ert Café. Sunni had broken up with Ted the next day and never looked back. As she gazed at all the angles of her friend in the three-way mirror, and at the ugly shoes she’d chosen so that she wouldn’t look lovely for her date with Richard, Sunni felt a wave of shame that caused her cheeks to turn flaming red. Her friendship with Isabel was far more important than any man. Her competition with Isabel over Richard Lazarus was over.
While Isabel took a shower Sunni went downstairs to talk to Dennis. Although there was an elevator that had been put in when Isabel received her diagnosis, Sunni preferred the elaborate curved staircase. Walking down it, sliding her hand along the rail, always made her feel like Scarlett O’Hara. When she reached the foyer she heard music from the living room. Someone was playing the trumpet, enthusiastically and rather badly. She quietly opened the door and crossed the cavernous room to the fireplace, where Dennis LaForge was perched on a stool with a music stand in front of him and a pen behind his ear. After a few chords he stopped and made some notes. Only then did he look up at Sunni, but he gave her a generous smile.
“Sunni, how are you?” His voice boomed across the short space between them.
Dennis LaForge loved jazz: he played it, wrote it, and listened to it nonstop. He had used his money and influence to make friends with many of the top musicians in the country, and every year he hosted a free jazz festival in Golden Gate Park that was attended by thousands. The only thing his money hadn’t been able to buy him was musical ability.
“Writing a new song?” Sunni asked.
He dropped the pen on the music stand. “Just noodling, polishing up a few tunes.”
Sunni didn’t ask to hear them. She had no musical ability, but she knew bad when she heard it.
“Take a seat, I haven’t seen you in a while. We miss you around here.”
“You saw me yesterday. ”
“That was in a professional capacity. I mean you haven’t been hanging out here like you used to.”
Sunni sat in one of the upholstered wing chairs that flanked the fireplace.
“Is Isabel all ready for her date tonight?” Dennis asked. He placed the trumpet in its case.
“Getting there. You know how women are.”
He chuckled as he sat down. “I sure do. Gloria and I were late to everything. She always looked beautiful, though.”
“Yes, she did. “ Sunni straightened the arm cover on her chair. “What do you think of Richard? ”
He paused so long that she looked up to see if he had heard her. He was looking at her rose tattoo, probably thinking about when she and Isabel were teenagers. He had been very upset when Sunni got the tattoo. She was seventeen and had forged his signature on the release form. When she asked him about the incident a few years later he said that he had been concerned that having such a constant reminder of her past might be painful to her. This has been a revelation to Sunni. All that time she’d thought he was angry that she had defied him and instead he was worried about her feelings. She realized then that she had a lot to learn about being an adult.
“What do you think of him?” Dennis’s tone was sharp.
Sunni chewed her lip. “I like him,” she said honestly. “He’s very charming.”
“Hmm,” Dennis said. He seemed to be about to say more, but at that moment Isabel appeared in the doorway. A wall-washer aimed at a Renoir pen and ink drawing bathed her in soft yellow light.
“You look beautiful,” Sunni said.
It was true. The wrap dress emphasized her impressive cleavage while disguising with clever draping her ample hips and stomach. Isabel had put on a lot of makeup, but done it very artfully. A straightening iron applied to her blond curls had created a sleek curtain of hair that gave off a subtle sheen, like yellow satin. She was wearing the shoes Sunni had picked out.
“When’s he coming?” Dennis asked.
Isabel glanced at the antique crystal clock on the mantelpiece. “Any minute now.”
Sunni stood up. “Well, you’re all ready, so I guess I’ll be going now.”
Dennis shook his head. “Why don’t you stay and keep the old man company? There’s a Giants game on. We can order some Thai food.”
“I don’t want to be the third wheel when Richard gets here.”
“Nonsense,” Dennis said. “You’ll be the fourth wheel. Four is a very good number of wheels.”
Isabel gave Sunni a tiny, tight smile. “I think Sunni’s right, Daddy. It’s probably better if she leaves. I’m going to head back upstairs. Call me when Richard gets here.”
Sunni kissed Dennis on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Dennis. We’ll go sailing next week, how about that?”
Richard gazed through the taxi window at the LaForge home and silently nodded his approval. He had spent too much time in England and France to call the place a mansion, but it was a very respectable home, beaux arts in style, with a comforting repetition of windows and Corinthian columns that brought to mind the Petit Trianon in Versailles. He would have had more respect for Mr. LaForge if he lived in the strikingly modern construction of concrete and glass that occupied a nearby lot, because that would have meant that he was willing to tear down a perfectly lovely and no doubt expensive home in order to build his own vision of domestic paradise, but if the man wanted to respect tradition who was he to complain?
Richard paid the cab fare and stepped out into the cool night. Wisps of fog danced in the air, but it was clear enough to see the view the LaForge House commanded—180 degrees, from the Golden Gate Bridge to downtown San Francisco. He was aware of the astronomical real estate prices in San Francisco and could easily imagine that the house was worth upward of thirty million dollars. Exactly what one would expect for a man of Dennis LaForge’s status. He buzzed the intercom and was rewarded by the slow release of the sentry gate. A curved driveway ambled through lush foliage to arrive at a rather unprepossessing front door.
A minion escorted Richard through the marble foyer and into the living room where Isabel’s father was playing the trumpet with gauche enthusiasm. Richard straightened his tie and held his hand out to Dennis.
“Pleasure to see you again, Dennis. You’re quite the Renaissance man, aren’t you?”
“It’s a hobby I enjoy.” Dennis’s grip was powerful, for a human. “Please sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”
Richard shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have time. The symphony starts at eight.”
Dennis propped his instrument on a stand and sat across from Richard. “Okay then. Isabel will be down any minute, so I’ll get right to the point. Isabel’s fortune is very well protected in the event of a divorce. Iron-clad, actually.”
Richard laughed. “That’s rather presumptuous, isn’t it?”
Dennis leaned forward, one large hand on each knee, and stared at Richard. His eyes were very pale, but quite forceful. “I have a bad feeling about you. And I always trust my feelings.”
“Then why are you letting me go out with your daughter?”
He waved a hand. “Isabel still has that adolescent rebellious thing, where if I told her not to date you she’d find you even more compelling. So, I’m just warning you, if you’re thinking about her money you’re out of luck.”
Richard glanced at his watch, letting the firelight play on the diamonds surrounding the face. “I am quite wealthy in my own right, Dennis. ”
“I’m aware. I checked you out, of course.”
Richard felt his lip twitch with annoyance. Technology was the bane of his existence, really. He missed the days when a person could disappear as easily as walking out a door, and establish oneself in the next town over with a cock-and-bull story that no one would ever be able to verify.
“Your paper trail ends rather abruptly, about ten years back. It almost looks as if you’d changed identities at that point. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but if you stick around, I’m sure I will. Do you take my point?” He smiled at Richard.
At that point the vampire felt his patience evaporate lik
e a puff of smoke in a strong breeze. He considered draining the old curmudgeon right then and there, but decided that would be overkill. No pun intended. Instead he concentrated on Dennis’s green eyes, forcing the man’s considerable will to bow to him.
“You like me very much, Dennis,” he said calmly.
Dennis nodded slowly, his glazed eyes never leaving Richard’s face.
“You respect me, and you think I would be a wonderful husband for your daughter, should it come to that.”
“A wonderful husband,” Dennis repeated.
Richard’s concentration was broken by the sound of heels and crutches on the wooden floor. In a moment Isabel swung into view, looking lovely in a deep purple dress. Richard wondered if Sunni had picked it out for her.
“Oh, Richard, I didn’t know you were here. Daddy, why didn’t you call me? You were supposed to.” Isabel paused and gazed at her father in confusion. “Daddy?”
Dennis looked up at his daughter. At first he appeared to be asleep with his eyes open, but in a moment his consciousness was restored. He sprung out of the chair and smacked Richard heartily on the back.
“Just having a little chat with my good friend Richard, my dear!”
Richard stood up and buttoned his jacket. “Yes, just having a little chat. We should go now, Isabel. We don’t want to be late for the symphony.”
Chapter 9
It took Sunni a long time to fall asleep that night. She came back to her condo, ate a bowl of Cheerios for dinner and flipped through the TV channels with her remote. Several times she picked up her phone to call Isabel, and then thought better of it. Later she tried to get some work done, taking advantage of the time difference to talk to some clients in Japan, but she wasn’t on her game. She kept wondering if Isabel was home yet, if she was having a good time, where they had gone, what they were eating. She didn’t know why she was so obsessed. She was interested in Richard, yes, but she had been attracted to men before, and this was not the same. What she felt for Richard was more akin to the excitement she felt when she stumbled on an antique that other people didn’t know was valuable. It was the thrill of finding something unique and wanting to learn more about it.
