Some Like Them Rich

by Shirley Hailstock

  “I can handle it,” I said.

  “As you say.”

  He backed away. The bartender handed me a champagne flute. With a smile, I accepted it and drained it. Then asked for another. The man behind the bar said nothing. His expression didn’t change, but I knew he thought I was drinking too much and too fast. I ignored him. Tonight I was having fun.

  Holding the second glass—or the ninth, I’d lost count—I sashayed back to the dance floor. Instantly, a strong arm circled my waist and whirled me around.

  “Whee,” I said, smiling as the room spun around like a merry-go-round. A few drops of the liquid spilled. I leaned with the glass to save the drink, bringing it to my mouth and pouring it into the waiting vessel. The arms around my waist kept me on my feet.

  “Hey, Casey,” I sang in a high-pitched voice when I raised my head and saw the man holding me. “When did you get here?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “Really?” I asked, opening my eyes wide. “Why didn’t I see you?”

  He took the glass from my hand. Why did people keep trying to take my drinks? They acted like I was drunk or something. I was just feeling good.

  “This might be the reason.” He indicated the wine. I reached for the glass. “Why don’t we go outside and get you some air.”

  It was hot in here. I hadn’t noticed it until he brought it up. “Air would be good. I didn’t notice it before.”

  “Notice what?” he asked.

  “You know what,” I laughed. “Skin is remarkable.” I looked at my bare arms. I pulled at the tight fit of skin, pinching it between two fingers. “It’s sweltering in here. And the only thing holding me together, keeping me from melting and spilling out on the floor is my skin.”

  Casey turned me around. Directly in my line of sight stood Don. His gaze swept over me. It was as sobering as stepping in frigid water. Casey pushed me forward and I stumbled a step or two. Outside the night was clear, the stars bright and close. The moon looked like it had been stuck in the sky with kindergarten paste. It was huge and golden, hanging over the water, tumbling light on the shimmering surface. For a moment I was startled.

  “You know,” I said, thinking hard. “Tonight is a great night for a walk on the beach.”

  I reached down to take my shoes off. Dizziness rushed to my head and I swayed.

  “I don’t think so,” Casey said, stalling my hands. “You need some black coffee and a bed to sleep off some of that champagne.”

  “Bed? I don’t want to go to bed.” My words came slow in my head and didn’t seem to make sense. They sounded like a CD in a player that needed its batteries replaced. “Why don’t we walk?”

  He reached for my arm, but I stepped out of reach. “I’m going back to the party.”

  The look on his face told me he was getting frustrated. What did I care? I didn’t ask him to come with me. And I had free will. I could go to the party if I wanted. After all, it was my party.

  “I’ll take care of her, Mr. Edwards.”

  Both of us turned to look at the man who’d spoken. It was Don Randall. What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be serving shrimp or something?

  “Don,” I said, frowning at him. Then I looked at Casey. “Let’s go back to the party.”

  “She’s a little tipsy,” Casey said.

  “Tipsy?” That was such a kind word. Kind! It was a stupid word. Who talks like that? He meant I was drunk. I was not drunk. I was feeling good. I put my hands up and started to dance again. I could hear the music from the inside.

  “I’ve had this experience before,” Don told Casey.

  “Of course he has. He’s the hotel manager. You know …” I paused with a shy smile. “I’ll bet he has all kinds of stories he can tell you about—”

  “Why don’t we go find some coffee?” Don interrupted. The slight shake of his head toward the door was a signal I wasn’t supposed to see. But I did.

  “What are you two doing? Are you conspiring against me?” Conspiring didn’t come out quite right, but I didn’t try to correct it. “I’m going back to the party. I want to dance and there are guys in there who will dance with me.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Casey said. He walked through the door and into the party as if he needed to escape.

  “You scared him away,” I told Don.

  “Let’s walk.” He took my arm and pushed me down the stairs.

  I pull my arm free when we were on the ground. “I’m not going anywhere except back to the party.” I moved to go behind him, but he stepped in front of me. I stumbled into his chest. His hand steadied me, then dropped to his sides.

  “You’re in no condition to go back in there.”

  “Says who?” I challenged, hands on hips, legs apart and the neck roll that every black woman on earth knows from birth.

  “Says any of the men inside whom you want to fool into believing you’re a rich bitch from Brooklyn.”

  “New York,” I corrected. My high evaporated. Don had a point. Then it came to me. “What about them? They must be feeling as least as good as I am. In the morning, who will know how we acted?”

  “You wanna take that chance?”

  I thought about it a moment. I felt I was capable of returning without an incident, but then I supposed all drunks thought like that. “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  “Take a deep breath. It’ll help clear your head.”

  “Oh no,” I contradicted. “I’ve seen that technique in too many movies. I take a deep breath and then pass out. I fall forward, you catch me and haul me over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes.”

  He laughed, a long, deep, belly laugh. “You can’t believe what you see in the movies. They do it for the drama.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not doing it.”

  “All right, then at least take some time to walk.”

  After a moment, I nodded. Don reached for my hand, but I moved away from him.

  “Don’t even think you’re going to get me back to your place. I’m not that drunk.” At least not anymore, I added to myself.

  Music played softly on the night air. Everyone was gone. Lila had disappeared with Clay. Amber bugged out early. I didn’t see her leave, but she wasn’t really in tune with this party. She was probably on the beach or somewhere with Don, whom she adamantly refused to see.

  Shane and I sat holding hands on the back stairs. The moon was high and lighted the chairs and tables in the spacious backyard.

  “Did you have a good time?” I asked, my head falling onto his shoulder. The two of us had hardly been separated since we returned to the Vineyard.

  “I always have a good time with you.”

  I smiled and snuggled closer to him. Shane’s arm moved to my waist, making me feel warm and safe. “You always know the right thing to say.”

  “They’re not just words,” he said.

  His tone arrested my attention. I’d had a few drinks, too, and the buzz in my head had me floating on a soft plane. Part of it was due to the man with his arm around me. The other part was that echo in the back of my mind telling me everything I had could go away with the prick of a pin.

  “Is that the truth?” I finally asked, leaning back to look into his face.

  “Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. His smile was sweet and disarming. For a moment I realized how often I’d looked into those eyes and forced back a nagging thought. After a moment his smile faded. “What?” he asked.

  I pulled away, sitting up straight, my back against the porch balustrade. I reached over and took his hand again. Looking at it, I turned it over in mine and stroked his palm. His skin was warm, smooth and soft—musical. I could hear it without the notes I knew his hands could produce drifting through my head.

  “What’s on your mind, Jacynthia?”

  I looked at him for a long moment. “It’s hard to say,” I began, hesitating and clearing my throat.

  “Just say it.” He leaned toward me, not moving his hand, but curling it
in mine.

  “We haven’t known each other long.”

  He nodded.

  “The summer will end soon.”

  “That’s true,” he acknowledged.

  It was hard for me to broach this subject, but it had been bothering me since our first kiss. I needed to clear my head of the thoughts that concerned me. And Shane’s one-line comments were becoming irritating.

  “In the short time, since we met … I … I’ve become very fond of you.”

  Again he nodded.

  “I mean, I think I’m falling for you.”

  He smiled. “Is that so bad?”

  I nodded. The smile on his face turned to a frown.

  “Why?”

  “Because of Ella Francis.”

  “Ella—”

  “I don’t mean her in particular,” I interrupted him. “I mean people like her. She’s part of your industry. But so are the other women.”

  “What other women?”

  “The ones who follow you, who follow celebrities, who crowd around you like they have a right to. The ones who want to meet you and bed you. The ones who will do anything to get to you.”

  “That’s not how—”

  I was already shaking my head before he finished his comment. “That’s exactly how it is. I saw them at Jordan West’s and I saw them at the concert. I see it in the news. Even the ones with the cleanest images succumb to the pressure of women throwing themselves at them.”

  “And you think that will be me? Indiscriminately picking some woman out of the crowd and taking her to my bed, condom already in hand?”

  I said nothing, made no gesture to approve or deny his comment. I wanted him to say it wouldn’t be him, but I knew the words would only mean something today. By morning, a week from now, a month from now, things would be different.

  “I’m not like that, Jacynthia.”

  “I believe you.” It was a lie. I was smarter than to think any man would turn down a gorgeous woman with practically nothing on, giving all the signals that she wanted to go to bed with him. And those women either followed celebrities or lived in the town where they were performing. The headliner wasn’t always the person they sought. Members of the band were just as vulnerable. And with Shane looking like a screen idol, he was bound to be highly tested.

  “But you don’t trust me?” Shane asked.

  “It’s a little early to be talking trust. We really don’t know each other very well.”

  “Are you trying to break up with me?”

  “We haven’t established a relationship, so we can’t break up.” My logic was flawless even though I felt we’d become a couple.

  “You don’t think what we’ve been doing is a relationship?” he questioned.

  “Not in so many words,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level.

  “Well, let me correct that. I want you to be my woman.”

  Shane leaned forward and kissed me. It was quick and light, but long enough for me to get the point.

  Oh God, I thought. This was not going the way I wanted it to. And I didn’t know what way that was. My feelings confused me. I felt as if I wanted to go to the next step with Shane, but I was unsure what that was and more unsure if it could last for any amount of time after the summer ended.

  I hadn’t planned this conversation. However, the women I’d seen circling around Shane had been on my mind for days. Tonight it just came out, but him declaring he wanted us to be a couple hadn’t been explored in my self-questioning or my fantasies.

  “Jacynthia, I know all the things you’re concerned about. I know we can’t promise each other that nothing will happen. All we can do is take a chance—trust each other.”

  I searched his face for a long time, trying to find anything ungenuine about the way he looked at me. There was nothing. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that there was some assurance I could get. That if I crossed the line and totally opened my heart to this man, it wouldn’t be broken by some future circumstance.

  Shane broke into my thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “What?”

  “That I can only speak for this moment. That sometime in the future, even if you are my woman, I will forget that and act in the moment.”

  I stared without commenting.

  “I can’t promise you anything about the future and some unknown woman or women. In my profession, you’re right, women are always there and always looking for action. To this point I’ve been very selective.” He paused, giving me a long look. I felt everything about me warm up. “I don’t plan to change.”

  I nodded. It was all I could do. Shane was becoming very important to me, and I was at a loss for what to say or do.

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t we take it one day at a time? Anytime you want to bail out.” He put his hands up, palms out, as if surrendering to something. “I’ll back away. No questions asked.”

  This wasn’t what I wanted. I was falling for Shane. Falling hard, and I was afraid of hitting bottom, finding another Ella Francis and having my heart broken. Would it be better to get out now, before I’d reached the point of no return? Or should I cross the line and take the chance of future heartbreak?

  “Jack, you can’t read the future.” Shane rarely called me Jack. His voice was soft, but there was a pleading quality to it. I read the underlying desperation in his words.

  “I’ll accept your plan,” I said. “But only if it works both ways.”

  He stared at me. His eyes held an assurance that he knew his mind now and it would be the same in the future.

  I wasn’t as sure. I knew there was no way to guess, no way to read the future. “If for any reason, you want to walk away,” I said, “there will be no questions on my part.”

  “Agreed,” Shane said.

  Chapter 17

  The moon was full and high in the sky over the Atlantic Ocean. Clay and I danced on the sand. The breeze was cool and we both wore his dinner jacket. I had my arms inside the sleeves and he had his arms around me, holding and twirling me around while the surf played music. I hummed softly in his ear.

  “Did you enjoy the party?” I asked Clay, speaking in a singsong contented voice.

  “You were there,” he replied. His arms tightened around me. “How could I do anything else?”

  “It was fun.”

  “Yeah, Amber seemed to be having a great time,” he said.

  I wanted to laugh but kept my humor inside. Amber was a sight, but I thought I should support her.

  “I shouldn’t have let her drink that much. She usually sticks to juices and a single glass of wine.”

  “What was different tonight?”

  “Don Randall has his eyes on her.”

  “Who’s Don Randall?”

  “The manager at the St. Romaine. They seem to rub each other the wrong way, but secretly I think she’s hiding behind feelings she doesn’t want to acknowledge.”

  “Seems rather junior high schoolish to me.”

  “Maybe,” I noted. “They’ll work it out.”

  Ever since our first night on the Vineyard, Amber had been fighting her attraction to Don Randall. Jack and I could see she liked him, but he wasn’t in the right tax bracket and Amber refused to be swayed from her plan of finding a rich man whose wealth she could share. Never mind that she and Don were right for each other.

  I thought Orlando had left me overwrought and spoiled for another man, but it was obvious to Jack and me that Amber had been severely hurt by Emile. She put up roadblocks with this idea of marrying a rich man whether she loved him or not, and she refused to see past any of the dark walls she’d erected.

  I could see it clearly, but dared not let her know. She had to work it out for herself.

  “Yeah,” Clay said. “So will we.”

  “So will we what?” I’d forgotten what we were talking about.

  “We’ll work things out, too.”
<
br />   Putting his hand under my chin, he lifted my face to his. His kiss was long and tender. Our feet stopped moving and we held each other, our bodies aligned, heads bobbing side to side as the kiss deepened and lengthened and our bodies went from solid to melding.

  “The house is empty,” I whispered, coming up for air.

  “So is mine,” he crooned against my lips. “My aunt went to the mainland to visit a friend. She’ll be back on Wednesday.”

  I smiled as the implication went through me. Heat poured over me and I no longer needed his coat for warmth.

  Clay turned me around and we walked back to the house. The lights were on inside, but we didn’t go in. I didn’t want to be separated from him for a moment. We got in Clay’s car and he drove to the Bluff. As soon as he turned the ignition off, he leaned over and kissed me.

  “I feel like a teenager,” I said. “Stealing into your mom’s house after midnight. I’m sure one of your neighbors is looking out and ready to report that you had a woman here while she was out.”

  He kissed me again. “It’ll backfire on them.”

  “Why?”

  “My aunt thinks I need a woman. She’s after me to find someone and settle down.”

  I stifled the hitch in my throat. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going there. It implied marriage, and while I was falling for Clay, discussing marriage this early would surely have him running scared. If he’d ignored his aunt’s comments and not been married up to now, he might have a commitment issue. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to discuss it.

  “Let’s go in,” he said.

  It was the first time I’d been in the house. The place was beautiful, but not my style. I preferred more traditional furniture. Clay’s aunt obviously liked antiques. I couldn’t see him living here.

  “Did you make any of this furniture?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Most of this is older than I am. My aunt loves antiques. She owned an antique shop before she retired. I think it was being in her shop that made me want to make furniture.”

  “You make this style?” I wasn’t criticizing it. I’d learned that things could be different from what I wanted and still be in good taste. The antiques were lovely and didn’t make me feel as if I’d stepped into the nineteenth century.