He’s silent.
“Then I have nothing to say to you until you two sit down and settle things.”
“And if we do not?”
“Then … maybe I’m not coming back in two weeks,” I find myself saying. “Goodbye, Oliver. Call me when you’ve grown up.” I shut the phone off.
And now I have a headache. I hate tough love. I’m so not good at it, but it’s all he responds to.
That man! Ugh! He drives me up a wall. He knows all my buttons and can’t help himself, not a good combination. No wonder I’m his only friend. Enemies he’s got in spades but friends … Heck, I think I’m the first in decades. One would think he’d treat me better. Okay, most of the times he does. Anyplace I want to go, he’ll accompany me without complaint. Movies, book readings, even shopping. Metrosexuals take their cues from him. Half the new stuff I’ve bought he picked out, and boy do I look good. Clothes aren’t his only forte. The man’s a millionaire, as are most vamps. Something about being alive for so long the trends become predictable. I’ve almost doubled my investments.
There are some obvious perks to being buddies, but the drawbacks are wearing me down. Besides the ostracization by my fellow agents, there’s also the constant flirting, jealousy, conceitedness, and the fact that at least once a day I have the strongest desire to jump his bones. The guy is sex on a stick and boy do I want a lick. But he’s a walking dead man with serious commitment issues and the relationship would have the longevity of a ruler. No, friends is good. Friends I can handle. If he takes what I’ve said to his barely beating heart. Because as much as I value him, I value my sanity more. But honestly … I can’t imagine my life without him.
And that scares the hell out of me.
FOUR
THE BELLE OF THE BARBECUE
“NANA, I’M HOME!”
I haven’t said that in awhile. She and Mrs. Ramirez stand in the kitchen talking and mixing something in a big bowl as “All Alone on Christmas” by Darlene Love plays on the radio. Both women grin as I walk in with my shopping bags. God, I love vacation. I slept until one, had Nana take me to get a rental car, then spent most of the day shopping before visiting April at the salon, gossiping with everyone while being pampered. I feel like a new woman.
“We’re making potato salad for the party,” Nana says, adding the mayo.
“Your hair looks nice,” Mrs. Ramirez says.
“I just got a trim and blow-out for the party,” I say, running my hair through it. “Are you coming with us, Mrs. R?”
“Of course she is,” Nana says. “She even made guacamole.”
“I do love a good party.”
“I thought about making gingerbread men, but I didn’t know if there was a Christmas theme or not,” Nana says.
“I have no idea,” I answer, kicking off my espadrilles.
“I love Christmas,” Mrs. R says. “What do you want, bonita?”
“Peace on earth and goodwill toward men. That or a pony.” I smile at them, then start toward my room.
“We’ll leave in half an hour!” Nana calls.
I shut my bedroom door. With the ex-boyfriend factor thrown in, a quick costume change is required. Yes, I dumped him, but it would be against the girl code if, given the chance, I didn’t make him rue the day he ever lost me. The five-hundred-dollar Carolina Herrera sleeveless blue and white polka dot halter dress with V back and matching patent leather heels should do it. Still. I am a tad nervous about seeing Steven again.
Officer Steven Weir of the Chula Vista Police Department, my only true-blue boyfriend. (The man I lost my virginity to doesn’t count unless therapy sessions constitute dates.) Steven and I met on a double blind date with Javi and April. Steven and Javi met at their gun club and became friends over their mutual love of killing paper men. He’d go over to April’s house, drink beer, and hang out. Why she thought these would be selling points when pitching the date is beyond me. But it was Friday night, and as usual, I had nothing better to do. There might also have been the promise of free French fries. I am a weak woman.
My first thought when I saw him was, Hawaiian shirts are so two decades ago. It was bright red with tiny martini glasses on it. Besides that he was pretty cute. Short sandy brown hair spiked up, medium height and build, small brown eyes, and rounded baby cheeks he never grew out of. His smile was his best feature. Mischievous. That elevated him a tad in my book. Dinner was pleasant enough. We talked about work, politics, the usual first date stuff. He called the requisite three days later and asked me out again. Couldn’t think of a reason to decline, so I went.
For two years we got together three times a week just like clockwork. We’d go to a sporting event, barbecues, or occasionally a movie. And once a week, usually Friday night, we’d have bland sex. It was okay. If we had fun beforehand, it could be a good night, but nothing to write home about. Twenty minutes from start to finish. My fault though. If I felt even the slightest hint of an orgasm, I’d fake one and end it, though this only happened once or twice.
All in all we had a decent relationship. He told cool cop stories, gave good foot massages, and unless he was working, I always had something to do Friday night besides laundry. Then the idiot went and spoiled it all by asking me to move in with him. I said no. He said say yes or we’re over. I said goodbye. Thus ended Steven and Beatrice.
April tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t relent. No one knew why I had done it. On paper we were a great couple: mature, responsible, friendly. We didn’t get on each other’s nerves. He’d make a good husband and father. But every time I imagined our lives together, I’d never get past the wedding. We had little chemistry. We had nothing in common. He was … boring. I knew we weren’t right together early on but kept going because, heck, no one else was lining up to ask me out. Normal women had boyfriends, and I’d be darned if I wasn’t one of them.
He handled the split well, rebounding with another officer on the force within weeks. We were cordial if we ran into each other. He even sent flowers when I was in the hospital. Like I said, nice guy, just not for me.
As I spray my now gorgeous hair with gloss, my cell phone buzzes. It’s the mansion. Ugh.
“Beatrice Alexander,” I say in my professional voice.
“It is I,” Oliver says.
“Have you apologized to Will?” I ask without missing a beat.
“No, but—”
“Then bye.” I snap the phone shut and start on my mascara.
“Beatrice!” Nana calls. “We’re already late for your party!”
The phone buzzes again, but I ignore it. I could simply turn it off, but this will torture him more. He’ll keep calling and calling all night this way. One thing about vamps, they have eternity, so patience and tenacity come naturally.
I fluff my hair again and walk out feeling pretty darn good. I look spectacular and there’s a gorgeous man going nuts because I won’t pay attention to him. I couldn’t ask for more when going to meet my ex. Except if I arrived with Oliver on my arm.
Well, there’s always my next high school reunion.
When I first met April, a week after I moved to San Diego, she lived two streets over until she was kicked out the day her parents discovered she was pregnant. She lived with us for a month until Javi rented a house five minutes away, where they still live today.
The cramped street is bumper to bumper with cars, as usual. I recognize Steven’s red Jeep with the NRA bumper sticker on it right in front of the house. We park two blocks away, and I instantly regret the heels. Price of beauty, Bea.
April’s house is a lot like ours: a one-story ranch with an attached garage, though toys and bikes litter her lawn. All the lights shine inside and music booms in the back yard. Christmas lights hang from the roof with a huge wreath right above the garage. We walk in without knocking, the privilege of a best friend. Various stains from juice, blood, and food are visible on the beige carpet. There are
people around, about a dozen in the living room, some I
know. Yolanda from the salon smiles at me. April’s cousin Luis and a woman sit on the red and black plaid couch with a quilt on the back. He holds up his beer and nods as we come in. Action figures, Matchbox cars, and the odd Barbie doll lie in piles around the room. Just as I remember it. April’s never had much patience for cleaning or decorating.
I say hello to those I know before making my way to the kitchen, April’s domain. Instead I find April’s husband, Javi, with their son Carlos sitting on the counter as his father rolls a Band-Aid on his knee. Javi looks descended from Mayan gods with square jaw, broad nose and forehead, and straight black hair pulled into a ponytail. Carlos is a tiny version of his father, though the boy was lucky to inherit April’s lips.
“Aunt Bea!” the boy cries. He leaps off the counter and scurries over to me, squeezing me tight with his tiny arms.
“Hi, big guy,” I say hugging him back.
“We made you a poster for you coming home!” he says, releasing me.
“Did you? I can’t wait to see it.”
Javi hugs me too. “April was right. You do look damn good, chica.”
“Gracias. Y tu. And look at this guy! He’s grown so big!”
“Did you miss me?” Carlos asks.
“So much.”
“Mommy says I’m a’posed to make you feel bad for going away so you’ll move back.”
Javi pulls the boy closer by the shoulders. “Mijo, you weren’t supposed to tell her that.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“And where is Her Royal Sneakiness?” I ask Javi.
“In the back yard. She did tell you Steven’s here, right?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.” I look down at Carlos. “Can you take me to your mom, please?”
I extend my hand, and Carlos takes it. He all but drags me through the sliding glass doors. About a dozen more people mill around in the back yard, talking and eating as “Make Me Lose Control” by Eric Carmen plays on the stereo. They went all out for my homecoming. White Christmas lights dangle from the awning with Tiki torches flaming every few feet. The picnic table is covered with food, everything from salad to flan. Javi’s brother, Edgar, stands behind the grill flipping burgers and chatting with Steven. Both men, along with every single person but Nana, has a Corona in their hands. A huge white banner about eight feet across hangs on the fence with “WE MISS YOU AUNT BEA!” written in multi-colored letters. Mrs. Ramirez stands at it with a marker in her hand, writing on it. There are a lot of scribbles on it and even a few hand prints from the kids. That is so thoughtful I could cry.
“Mommy!” Carlos shouts as we walk out.
All eyes find me as I scan my crowd. Most seem pleased, but Steven’s reaction is priceless. His eyes all but bug out of his head. Thank you, Carolina Herrera. He hasn’t changed much at all. His hair is still spiky, and he wears an ugly black and white Hawaiian shirt with brown cargo pants and loafers. I tried for two years to get him out of those shirts. If we’d ever gotten married, I’d bet he and all his best men would wear them at the wedding. Reason number eleven I dumped him.
April has Flora, her two-year-old daughter, over by the picnic table. Flora insists on wearing only dresses, the pinker the better. Tonight is no exception. This one even has butterflies on it. She’s so easy to shop for. Carlos leads me to them, and Flora’s face lights up when she spots me.
“Tia Bea!” she says.
“Hello, lovely!” I say as I take the girl from her mother, hugging her tight. “Oh! You’ve all gotten so big I can hardly believe it!”
“I’m a big girl now,” Flora says.
“You really are.”
The little girl releases me and wiggles out of my grip.
“Did Daddy fix you up?” April asks Carlos, her attention diverted.
“He gave me a Spiderman,” Carlos answers.
“A Spiderman!” she says. “Good. Now go take your sister inside with the other kids and you can play with the Wii. Take turns!”
Carlos takes Flora’s hand, and they go back inside. April hands me a beer. “You look fancy.”
I pop the top and chug the beer. “Yeah, I’m a regular debutante,” I say with a smile.
“Steven hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” she says in sing-song.
“That was kind of the point of the dress,” I reply in sing-song.
“How diabolical of you.”
“I’ve been taking lessons.” I take another swig before Kenny saddles up to us, red Solo cup in his hand. Kenny works with April at the salon and is the definition of fabulous, or so he insists. Skinny, tall, nearly black skin, platinum hair. He spent an hour grilling me about Oliver and Will today. The bad thing about gossip is it goes both ways, and I’ve been the topic du jour for months. “If it isn’t Cinderella. You look faboo. Is that Chanel?”
“Carolina Herrera.”
“Spin for me, girl!” Kenny says.
I set my beer down on the table and twirl, catching a glimpse of a still-staring Steven. “There. I have performed my monkey trick of the night.”
“Can you believe this is the same girl who used to think Target was high end?” Kenny asks.
“Hey, don’t diss Tar-jay,” I warn.
April peeks over my shoulder. “Oops. Looks like Nana Liz cornered Steven.”
I turn around and sure enough Nana is chatting with my ex like two old friends. They did always like each other. She’d bake him banana bread, and he’d fix her shower. Yet he never fixed my shower, or toilet, or that picture frame he broke. “That’s what landlords are for,” he’d say. Ugh. Steven glances at me, and I turn back around.
“I always thought he was kind of cute,” Kenny says.
“He is,” I say after another swig. “He’s also inconsiderate, boorish, and just plain boring.”
“He was so in love with you,” April says, gazing over at them.
“And yet he never said it or showed it in two years.”
“Oh who cares?” Kenny asks. “She’s got two hot tamales fighting over her now.”
“They are not fighting over me,” I say. “They’re fighting between themselves. Not about me.”
“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,” April says.
“Can we please stop talking about this already?” I ask. “I came home specifically so I wouldn’t have to think about this stuff.”
“Right now you’re the interesting one,” Kenny says. “That’s never happened before.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
“She was always interesting,” says April. “Just in a muted sort of way.”
“So why did Steven and Allison break up?” I ask, seriously wanting to steer the conversation away from me.
“He told Javi they ended things because she wanted to get married and he didn’t,” April says. “Looks like you ruined him for other girls.”
“Did not!”
“Well, I heard a different tale,” Kenny says. “I heard from Lola over at Misty Salon where Allison gets her hair done that she broke up with him.”
“Really?” April asks.
“Yeah. She thought he was cheating on her.”
“Steven would never do that,” I say.
“He’s a man,” Kenny says.
“He doesn’t have the imagination or initiative to juggle two wo-men,” I say.
“He’s. A. Man,” says Kenny. “No, Allison told Lola that he’d say he was going out with friends, but he wouldn’t invite her or tell her where. She even tried to follow him but lost him.”
“Sounds like a wonderful, trusting girlfriend,” I mutter.
“He wasn’t cheating on her,” April clarifies. “He just joined this bowling team and didn’t want her to tag along. That’s what he told Javi anyway.”
“Told ya,” I say to Kenny. “That man loves his bowling.” I feel his eyes on my back and on instinct my head swivels around. Sure enough those brown eyes are on me. Caught, he shyly smiles and looks away
. I do the same. My ears are burning. I sigh. “I’m gonna have to go over there, aren’t I?”
“Eventually,” April says. “Let him stew a little bit more.”
“Wiggle your ass,” suggests Kenny. “Drive him nuts.”
“Shut up,” April says. “She’s not that mean.”
Kenny and I look at each other, smirk, and I shake my booty in time to the music. Kenny does the same, but April rolls her eyes. I’ve gotten in touch with my evil side in the past months. Mind you, torturing my ex doesn’t come close to some of the other stuff I’ve done, but this gives me a sick little thrill those other times didn’t. Oliver would be so proud.
“You’re going to hell,” April says, shaking her head.
“Yes, but she’ll be the belle of the ball there,” Kenny says. “Lucifer himself will ask her to dance.”
I stop dancing. “Enough playing.” I take another sip and sigh. “Time to get this over with.”
“It won’t be that bad,” April says.
“I have no idea what to say to him.”
“ ‘Ha ha, look what you let get away’?” Kenny suggests.
“Go get it over with, and I’ll reward you with a cherry margarita,” April says.
“With a sugar rim?”
“Of course. What are we? Heathens?”
“I want two. And flan.”
“Done. Now get over there. And be nice.”
“But not too nice,” Kenny says.
“Well, duh,” April says.
I roll my tongue over my teeth for any residual lipstick and smooth my dress. “I look okay?”
“Smashing,” Kenny says.
I’ll take it. I spin on my heels, toss my hair back like I’m in a shampoo commercial, and sashay myself across the lawn. When I reach Nana and Steven, Heidi Klum has nothing on me. I watch him watching me as I approach. Steven’s fake surprised smile takes ten years off his already boyish face. With those chipmunk cheeks, they’ll still card him when he’s forty.
“You looked like you were having fun,” Nana says.
“You know me,” I chuckle. “When the music’s right, I gotta dance.” My smile widens like I’m at the orthodontist. “Hello, Steven.”
Death Takes a Holiday Page 6
