Fiona Love
Page 12
She went in search of the baby’s scoot chair after Flora was dried, lotioned, diapered and dressed in a t-shirt, white lace socks and a cute little pink and white cotton dress with long puffy sleeves that Netty had made for her.
“Momma gotta have a smoke before I tackle that hair.”
She set the various doo dads on the scoot chair spinning and added a big spoon because it was shiny and pretty, and she couldn’t see how Flora could hurt herself with it short of accidentally poking herself in the eye.
“We better forget about the spoon,” Fiona said, removing the implement and its newly realized danger from her daughter’s dimpled fist and replacing it with a little piece of wheat bread. At least this way when Flora put it in her mouth she’d get some fiber.
Fiona hopped up on the sink to smoke out the open kitchen window and watched as her baby examined the toys and daintily ate the bread.
“Don’t like it too much,” she told the child. “When you get ready to get on stage, bread is gonna be a thing of your past.”
As though she understood, Flora dropped the bread on the floor and turned her full attention to the toys.
The phone rang.
“Peace.”
“How’s it going?”
“Cool. We just had a bath and got dressed. Well, she’s dressed.”
“You smokin’?”
“Out the window.”
Netty laughed. “I wasn’t criticizing you! I gotta go, my sales lady just came back with this bad-ass dress I want for your – Sugar! Grab her. I’m over here!”
“Your Tete is crazy,” Fiona told Flora.
Her next call came from Daney.
“Peace.”
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey yourself.”
“I’m runnin’ behind. It’s gonna be closer to one before I can get there. Shall I bring lunch?”
“No. I’m cooking spaghetti. It’s cool; we’re moving slow. Right momma’s angel?”
“Lemme talk to Flora.”
Fiona grinned as she put the receiver to the baby’s ear.
“Talk,” she said, and heard Daney’s deep voice saying something. Flora smiled slightly, then tried to bite the phone cord.
“She’s lost interest.” She reported. “You a’ight?”
“Great. I got two fat checks in the mail today, one large enough to let me pay off the mortgage on my place in Miami, and my agent tells me I’m booked solid for LA fashion week, then it’s back to Miami.”
“Cool. But you’re always booked solid during fashion week, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Daney laughed. “But that doesn’t mean one year I won’t be. I prefer not to take anything for granted.”
“That’s my boy.”
“A few hours,” he promised.
“Peace.”
Fiona sprayed leave-in conditioning detangler in her daughters’ thick hair, massaged it in with a little olive oil hair oil then gently combed out two curly ponytails.
“You look beautiful,” she told the child. “Daney’s gonna love you.”
She checked Flora’s diaper, found it dry and realized she hadn’t given the baby anything to drink since breakfast.
“Shit!” she screamed and ran for the kitchen. “You know momma ain’t wrapped too tight. Why you didn’t tell me you were thirsty?” she teased the baby who smiled and soaked up the sippy cup of juice and water like a sponge in a puddle. “Momma ain’t got it down pat yet.”
Fiona laughed when Flora drained the cup and burped. She refilled it with water just in case Flora was still thirsty, then scooped the baby from the chair and squeezed her joyfully.
They spent the next two hours making spaghetti. Fiona let the first pot burn when she got caught up with Flora’s crawl and roll over act. They were practicing walking when Fiona smelled the pasta.
“Shit!” She clutched Flora in one hand and yanked the burned noodles off the stove with the other.
Flora pointed to the burned food as if to say, nice job, and Fiona laughed. Only the bottom noodles were burned but she didn’t like the burnt smell the other noodles had picked up so she started from scratch.
“When this pot cools we gon’ put it in a bag and put it in the trash so nobody know. Don’t tell, okay? I’ma have to sneak out and buy Boomer a new pot,” she muttered, opening the kitchen window to air the room.
The second attempt turned out perfect, and Fiona quickly cooked the ground beef, seasoned it and dumped in two kinds of jarred sauce, chopped onions and yellow peppers.
“Time got away from me,” she whispered. She still wasn’t dressed.
She couldn’t find the oven timer so she set the alarm on her cell phone to go off so she wouldn’t forget the simmering sauce. She stood in front of her closet and realized she hadn’t dressed herself in months. She still had to make the garlic bread, so she grabbed the first comfortable dress she touched, a short black cotton number she’d had for years and refused to get rid of. Netty only let her wear it around the house because it was plain and post-baby, a hair too tight. Fiona doubted this particular flaw would bother Daney excessively. She added thin, plain gold hoops, a slick of gloss and was done.
She was just starting on the salad when Daney rang the bell. She buzzed him in and quickly wiped Flora’s face and hands and straightened her dress.
“Hey, baby,” Daney kissed her a lingering hello and reached for Flora, who immediately held out her arms. He laughed and lifted her slowly into the air to make her laugh. “Look at my new baby. What a beautiful little cherub,” he crooned, kissing her cheek.
“That’s momma’s lil’ chocolate drop.” Fiona said proudly, watching as Flora explored Daney’s face with her tiny hands. She seemed particularly interested in his stubbled jaw.
“Nice to meet you, lil’ girl. I didn’t shave yet,” he said apologetically. “I’ll get rid of it before lunch.” He eyed her. “I like this house Frau Look.”
“House frau!”
Daney laughed. “Fire down. I just meant you’re simply dressed and cooking in bare feet. Very French country housewife.”
Fiona wasn’t about to admit she didn’t know where exactly in Boomer’s house Netty kept her flat shoes so she asked, “You wanna housewife, D?”
He kissed her hard. “I want you. Now, lemme get these whiskers off while you get the food on the table. Then I can get me a real kiss from my newest girl,” he wiggled his eyebrows wolfishly at Flora who giggled her sweet baby laugh.
Fiona finished the salad and decided to set the table with Boomer’s best dishes. She pushed the baby’s high chair over.
“Whatchu’ want to drink?” she yelled into the bedroom.
“Whatever you’re having.”
Fiona changed her mind and used the old-school dishes her mother had given Boomer ages ago when he went off to college. Daney was talking about being housey. The old-fashioned plates and bowls were definitely that. Plus, the cream color was a nice foil for the sauce and the meat. What was missing? Parmesan. She got a bottle of lemon Perrier from the fridge and was pouring it into glasses when Daney came out with clean-shaven cheeks. She couldn’t resist testing that softness by stealing a kiss.
“Sit down,” she urged him, pushing the platter of garlic bread toward him before dishing up the pasta.
Daney grinned as she served him.
“What?” Fiona laughed. “You laughin’ at my novice mommy skills?” She’d told him a few weeks back that Flora didn’t live with her, and he admitted he’d already guessed as much. The lack of baby clutter around the house not to mention the “almost fall” incident had given her away. “Now that I look at lunch, good as it is, I’m gonna have to make something else for Flora. The meat’s out ‘cause she only has three teeth, and the noodles are gonna be a problem.” She handed her child the soft inside of a piece of garlic bread to eat and rose. She looked around as though expecting an idea to pop up and present itself. She snapped her fingers triumphantly. “I can put the food in the blender!”
“It’ll work,” Fiona insisted, scooping up pasta, meat and a little sauce into a bowl and dumping it into the blender. She hit the puree button and grinned at him.
“You’re smart,” Daney praised, tongue firmly in cheek.
“Yeah! Just don’t tell Netty I fed the baby spaghetti soup.”
After lunch – Flora didn’t care for the spaghetti soup and ended up eating breakfast again – the three climbed into Fiona’s bed to watch television. Mostly the television watched them while they played with Flora and with each other. Toward 7 o’clock, the baby dropped off to sleep. Fiona would find out later she’d forgotten to put Flora down for her daily nap.
“I’m on my way,” Cleo said that night after Fiona and Daney were in bed.
“Don’t bother. We’re coming home. Daney’s off to LA, and I’m sick of this town.”
“You gotta go back soon to start shooting your final episode of Transplants.”
“So? I wanna come home. Besides, Momma’s callin’ about Flora.”
“You book the flight?”
“Netty got us on the first one out tomorrow night. Sugar’s leaving tonight. Says she needs to fill some orders. Don’t trip. We’ll take a cab from the airport.”
Tino met them at O’Hare.
“Peace,” he grinned, kissing her cheek and chucking Flora under her chin.
“How you know I was here?”
“Cleo. I’m out front. The skycap’s watching the ride. What up, Netty? I brought the baby seat.”
Netty grunted. “Can you take us to take Flora home?”
Tino obliged, though Fiona had to remind him not to smoke since Flora was in the car. Once they dropped her off, however, he produced a blunt that knocked all three of them sideways. Back at the house, Fiona fell into bed, half dozing before her head hit the pillow.
“You need to go home,” she told Tino when he invited himself to lay down next to her. “Daney’s coming over and I don’t want you to be here when he arrives.”
Tino nodded and yawned sleepily. “A catnap, no more.” He promised. Fiona was already sleeping.
******
“Fiona.”
Fiona snuffled into her pillow, moving away from the arm around her waist.
“Fiona.”
She opened her eyes. Daney was standing in front of the window. She immediately began to smile. Then her heart fell. There was a man’s arm around her. She turned, her eyes landed on Tino’s sleeping face. Jesus H. Christ.
“Daney,” she began, but he held up a hand and moved toward the door.
“I just wanted you to know I was here.”
Tino chose that moment to groan and roll over. He caught the door closing behind Daney, looked at Fiona, and cursed explosively.
“You planned this.”
“What? No!”
“You fuckin’ planned this,” she said again, trying to swallow the sadness threatening to cut off her breath.
“Fiona. You’re upset.”
Her face crumpled. “Yes. I’m upset, you prick. Get out of my house.”
“Fiona. I didn’t, you know I never –”
“You did! You did. How many times have I told you not to sleep in my bed? Get out of my fucking house!” she screamed, tears rolling faster than cars at Nascar. She fell out of bed with a thud and lay on the floor sobbing.
Netty and Cleo burst in. Sugar was in the basement working.
“What the fuck did you do?” Cleo asked Tino who was stuffing his legs into his jeans.
“I did nothing! I wake up and this! I gotta go.” And he left.
“What happened?” Netty asked. “What? What happened?”
“Daney,” Fiona gasped out. “Daney.” She was sobbing too hard to get anything else out.
“Daney was here?” Cleo gasped.
“While Tino was in your bed?” Netty asked.
Fiona collapsed against her friend in a fresh shower of sobs.
“Jesus,” Cleo said.
“Why did you fuck Tino?”
“Netty!”
“I didn’t!” Fiona said, voice cracking like dry tinder.
“He crawled in with her because he doesn’t like sleeping alone on the couch,” Cleo said. “Jesus. What a fucking mess.”
“Fiona.”
The crying had not abated one bit.
“Fiona!”
“Netty! Don’t fuckin’ scream at her like that. What’s wrong with you?”
“She’s gonna choke to death. You with your co-dependent bull shit. Fiona! Stop that fuckin’ cryin’ before you make yourself sick.” Her voice softened as she dragged her oldest friend up from the floor. Netty wiped watery eyes with the hem of her nightie. “He’ll come back.”
There was a noticeable reduction in the crying. Fiona sniffled pitifully. “He won’t.”
Netty shook her head and smiled. “They always do.”
Cleo laughed. “Yeah. Call him and tell him it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“No,” Fiona said, jumping up. She swiped her snotty nose on the back of her hand and headed for the bathroom. “I’m goin’ to his house.”
Netty had a short, strapless ivory mini dress with a flared hem waiting when she got out of the shower. She paired it with a pair of gold ballerina flats, a bronze bag and a shitload of gold jewelry. Fiona’s natural was gilded with a thick gold band. She wore no makeup.
“You’re trying to make a statement,” Netty said. “Gloss only.”
“And glowing skin,” Cleo added, handing her cousin a piece of cotton and a bottle of Sugar’s toner.
Fiona toned her face and prayed in the cab ride over to Daney’s spot near River North. Unlike his home near Park Avenue in New York, where he told her he had to do everything but show his teeth and balls to get in, this spacious loft belonged to a friend who often traveled.
Now she stood on Daney’s friend’s stoop, face hidden behind a huge pair of cream sunglasses and forced herself to ring his buzzer. No one answered but the door hummed quietly, and Buck opened the door.
“Hey.”
“What happened?”
Fiona shook her head and walked through the living and dining room and kitchen to Daney’s bedroom.
She knocked gently.
“I’m sleeping.”
She opened the door. He was lying bare chested over his bed. He rose angrily when he saw it was her. She closed the door behind her and locked it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Fiona, right now I’m so fucking angry, there’s no point in talking. I saw you in bed with another man. There’s nothing to say. Just leave.”
“You can’t even hear me out?”
“No! I feel like beating the shit out of you, not listening to you try to explain why that slick bastard was laying in my goddamn spot!”
Fiona sighed shakily. “I didn’t cheat on you, Daney. I’ve never even kissed Tino outside of work. He’s just a spoiled brat who’s too pampered to sleep on the couch.”
He stared. “Are you for real with this bull shit?”
“Tino is a big baby,” she repeated. “Who no one ever tells no. Think of him like the prince and the pea, the child star who managed to have a hot career into adulthood and only be mildly dysfunctional. And underneath my couch, where he loves to sit, smoke copious amounts of weed and drink beer until he passes out, there’s an invisible but very uncomfortable pea. I tell him to go home. I’ve told him repeatedly about crashing other people’s beds while they’re still in them in my house. He’s done it to Netty and Sugar too, but when someone is spoiled they usually only do what they want.”
“You’re tryna run game on me,” he laughed, the short bark of sound relaying more anger and disgust than humor. “I don’t fuckin’ believe this.”
“I am not,” her voice broke. “I’m, I’m telling you,” she began to cry a
nd sat down on the bed with her face in her hands.
“Stop it.”
Fiona cried louder.
“Fuckin’ stop it, Fiona.”
She shook her head wildly.
“I mean it. Please,” he said, sitting beside her. “This is bull shit, you know? You cheat on me and you come here to make me feel like shit? The fuck’s goin’ on?” His accent had gotten attractively thick with his anger.
“I, I” she began to hiccup. “I’m, I’m telling, you the truth!” she managed to yell out.
“All right,” he said, pulling her close. “All right.”
“We were happy,” she whispered into his neck. “Just a little while ago, we were.”
His hands fell away.
“You don’t believe me.”
He sighed.
“Daney, come on! We had all our clothes on. You don’t really believe that shit was anything, do you?”
“What the fuck does that mean,” he said, tossing her from his lap to the bed and bounding to his feet.
“It means do I ever sleep in the bed in clothes with you?”
He glared at her.
“We be in the bed butt naked even when it get chilly and I want a gown. You don’t let me keep it on, do you? Don’t you remember how we wrap up together when it’s cold out?” she asked, soft fingers stroking the side of his face until he turned way. “The way we snuggle close until your stuff touches my stuff, and we can feel each other breathe?”
Her voice grew even softer, more seductive, but for once Daney remained unmoved.
“You called my name,” she tried again. “You said Fiona, and your voice pulled me out of sleep. I moved away. I must have known that it wasn’t you. Do I ever move away from your arm?”
“This is bull shit.”
“It’s not fuckin’ bull shit,” she said flatly and rose from the bed, anger stiffening her limbs. “This was fuckin’ nothing. Nothing. What you saw? Nothing. What happened? Nothing! He’s a fucking actor! I don’t give a shit about him. I only half like him, correction. I hate his ass now! Surely you have to have some feeling for someone to have sex with them.”
He turned away from her beseeching face and an overwhelming urge to push her down on the bed and fuck her until he couldn’t see Tino snuggled up beside her like he belonged. Daney shook his head to dislodge the image. He couldn’t even stand to think about her near another man, and the answer to her statement was no, anyway. You don’t have to have feelings for someone in order to fuck them. But you had to have serious feelings to fuck with someone’s heart the way she’d done his.