by Lexie Ray
I clinked glasses with him. “Your designers did all the work,” I protested. “All I had were ideas.”
“You know what kind of people have ideas?” Dan asked. “Art directors. Editors. Curators. Artists. Ideas are just as important as execution, Blue, and execution is something you can learn. I know you can do it.”
I flushed with pleasure, almost glad for the conversation to halt when a waiter came to take our order. Everything was going so well, but I wasn’t used to such high praise. Dan believed in me—that much was certain. But I wasn’t sure whether I believed in myself.
Our orders placed, Dan folded his hands and looked at me seriously. “What can I do to convince you to become a graphic designer full time?” he asked. “You wouldn’t have to work at my firm right away, if you just wanted to get a taste of it. You can continue with the freelancing.”
“Master said I should stick with the freelancing,” I said coyly. “Seemed to think there’d be more money in it.”
“He was correct,” Dan said. “Plus, it’s a good way to try something out without committing to anything.”
“I think that could be a good possibility for me,” I said. “And it’s away from the nightclub, which would be good for everyone involved.” I rested my hand on my growing belly just in case Dan wasn’t sure who I was talking about.
“I can’t say it enough, Blue,” Dan said. “Everything happens for a reason, and this is all happening at the opportune time. Is there anything I can do to help with the transition?”
“I’ll need to find an apartment,” I said. “Someplace a little closer to your firm, but someplace I can still afford.” I wouldn’t be able to live at Mama’s boarding house if I wasn’t going to be bartending at the nightclub.
“That’s easy,” Dan said. “You can stay with me.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re being too nice,” I said. “I have money saved up. I can afford to rent—especially with my fat freelancer fee.”
“It’d really be no trouble,” Dan persisted. “I have an extra room in my condo, and it’s just a couple of blocks from the firm. I walk every day. Good exercise.”
“I couldn’t ask you to open your home to me,” I said. “It wouldn’t be right—especially if you were my boss.”
Dan wagged his finger at me. “You’re your own boss as a freelancer.”
I started to wonder if that had been the reason Dan had pushed me to freelance before accepting a permanent position with the firm—so I could stay with him. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Close to work, and it helped that I would be living with someone I genuinely liked. Dan was a great guy.
“I’m only going to take up more and more space,” I warned, pointing at my belly. “And when I stop growing, I’m going to pop out a baby. Then you’ll have two roommates.”
“That’s an inevitability I’ve accepted,” Dan said, smiling warmly. “I have to ask—is the father still in the picture?”
My smile dropped a few notches. Jake again. It seemed like I couldn’t go a whole day without thinking of him. Since it was exactly half of his genetic material growing inside me, I guessed it was acceptable that I didn’t.
“No,” I said. “I tried to contact him, but he’s indicated—through his silence—that he wants nothing to do with this.”
Dan looked troubled. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “If he were to get in contact with you, would you want him in the picture?”
That was something that had been plaguing my thoughts. Every child deserved to have both parents around, but I just couldn’t make a decision about Jake. Did I want him to be a father to the unborn baby inside me? Yes. Did I want to be Jake again, even after he ignored me all this time?
“The jury’s still out on that one,” I said, forcing myself to smile and then clapping my hands eagerly as our plates arrived. “I’m starving!”
“Then starve no more,” Dan said, and we fell into lunch. I was relieved that we didn’t talk anymore about the father of my baby. Jake was just too painful of a subject right now. Instead, we chatted about the rent I insisted on paying Dan, which he set probably vastly lower than it should be, as well as the logistics of moving.
“I don’t have any furniture, but that’s something I can buy,” I said.
“No need to,” Dan said. “The room is furnished. Once you see it, you can decide if there’s anything you want to add or take out, and we can go from there.”
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” I exclaimed, my hands flying up to my cheeks. “I don’t think you understand, Dan. You’re giving me my future back.”
He didn’t understand where I’d come from, or what I’d given up throughout my life, but he smiled and took my hand all the same.
“You’re making your future, as we speak,” he said. “We just found each other at the right time.”
I threw my arms around him in an impromptu hug and kissed his cheek. The day’s stubble tickled my lips in a pleasant way, and both of us flushed at my forwardness.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just really excited.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Dan said. “I’m excited, too.”
We parted ways and I took a cab back across town to the nightclub. As thrilled as I was with the new opportunity—and new life—I wasn’t looking forward to leaving all of my friends at the nightclub. I’d become their protector, keeping them away from Mama’s instability. What would they do without me?
I gasped, making the cab driver look at me in the rearview mirror, and covered my mouth with my hand.
This was exactly what had happened in Tennessee. I’d wanted to protect my brothers and sisters from my parents, so I hadn’t gone to college. I’d regretted that decision so thoroughly that it made me miserable.
I had to choose my own path. I had to, for once in my life, put myself first. I had to leave Mama’s nightclub. Shimmy—or Pumpkin, perhaps—would take on Mama and her mercurial moods.
Even as I made this decision, I knew that it wasn’t just for my benefit. I was thinking now for the baby inside of me. My child wouldn’t be able to survive at Mama’s nightclub. Dan, on the other hand, was offering a stable home. This was what we needed.
The nightclub was still quiet when I stepped in through the alley-side door. Girls remained cautious about coming downstairs to the kitchen. I missed the days when it had been a place to hang out and enjoy meals together.
“Look at you!” Shimmy hooted as I opened the door to the hallway. “Where did you go that you had to look so pretty?” There were several girls milling around in the hallway, and they all turned to smile at me.
“Job interview,” I said. “As a graphic designer.”
Pumpkin poked her head out of her door. “A graphic designer?” she repeated. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that stuff!”
“It’s more like a learning experience,” I explained. “The guy who hired me said that I could do training while on the job.”
“Who hired you?” Shimmy asked. “So you got the job!”
“I got the job!” I screamed, jumping up and down and not caring who knew how happy I was. All of the girls caught on, the enthusiasm infectious, and we all hopped around, hugging.
“But will you still be working here?” Cream asked.
I shook my head. “I’m going to pack up today and leave tonight,” I said. “It’s for the best. I don’t want to linger after telling Mama I’m not going to be working here anymore.”
Cocoa had tried to linger to say goodbye to everyone, and that’s how Mama had nearly killed her.
“How are you gonna tell Mama?” Shimmy asked. “You know how she gets.”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s not like she can keep me here against my will, right?”
The girls’ uncertain laughter told me that they weren’t sure, either.
“Well, I guess there’s no point in putting it off,” I said. “If I don’t come upstairs in half an h
our, don’t send anybody. Run.”
It wasn’t the best thing to joke about, given Mama’s terrible temper and recent history, but I couldn’t help making light of it. It was all I could do to mask my own fear.
“We’ll go with you,” Pumpkin said suddenly.
“I don’t need bodyguards,” I protested.
“We’ll go downstairs and wait,” Cream put in. “We’ll wait for you at the bottom of the stairs while you talk to Mama. She’s been drinking in her office since we went down to grab breakfast. It’s one of her dark days.”
One of Mama’s dark days? Fantastic. None of them were particularly bright, but she drank the hardest on the dark days. They seemed to cycle through every now and then, but no one could pinpoint what caused them. It was just my luck to be telling her that I was leaving on one of the dark days.
“Okay,” I said, sighing heavily. “Let’s go, then.”
Like an honor guard, the girls filled in around me and followed me downstairs. I girded my loins for a fight, knocking firmly on the door to the office, but there wasn’t an answer.
“Mama?” I called. “It’s Blue. You in there?”
But I didn’t hear anything from inside. When I opened the door, she was stone cold passed out, an open bottle of whiskey drunk down to the halfway mark on her desk. The safe was open, and my eyes widened at the stacks of money it contained. It would be so easy to just clean it out, distribute it among the rest of the girls, and get the hell out of there, but there was no easier way to incite her murderous rage than to take cash from her.
Instead, I scribbled a note on a piece of paper on the desk.
“Mama,” it read. “Please accept my resignation, effective immediately. I have an opportunity elsewhere that I can’t pass up. Thank you for taking me in all those years ago. Blue.”
I rolled up the piece of paper and shoved it in the neck of the whiskey bottle, where I was sure she wouldn’t miss it. She snored on, oblivious to my presence, but I left all the same. I wanted to try to leave on good terms, not in a hail of bullets.
All of the girls at the bottom of the stairs visibly relaxed when I emerged.
“That went quietly,” Pumpkin observed as we climbed the stairs. “We expected shouting.”
“She was passed out,” I said. “I left a note.”
“Well played,” Shimmy said, clapping me on the shoulder.
The girls helped me pack, several even donating bags and suitcases so I could fit all of the clothes and things I’d accumulated. I felt lucky, even if I was sad to be leaving all of them. Cocoa hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to any of them, so I was taking the time to give each a heartfelt goodbye. There were as many tears as there were laughs.
“Now, you all have my number,” I said, holding up the phone that Cocoa had sent me. “Call me if you ever need anything—and I mean anything.”
“Of course we will,” Shimmy said. “You call us, too.” She pointed at the landline that hung from the wall at the end of the hallway.
“I’m going to miss you all,” I said, trying not to cry as I looked at all my suitcases.
“Good luck with everything,” Pumpkin said, emphasizing the “everything” as she put her hand against my middle and hugged me.
“Thank you, Pumpkin,” I said, crushing her to me.
My honor guard of Mama’s girls carried my things downstairs and hailed me a cab. The driver ogled the bevy of beautiful girls, all of them in pajamas and robes except for me. I was still wearing my dress.
“Goodbye, Blue!” they cried.
“You all better get inside and start getting ready for work,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Mama will have my hide whether I’m there or not if you’re late in opening the nightclub.”
We loaded my bags into the trunk of the cab and I gave the driver Dan’s address. There was one more round of hugs before they loaded me into the cab.
One more ending to my life, and one more beginning. I’d never looked forward to another beginning as I did going to Dan’s condo.
Chapter Seven
Dan was waiting outside his building when the cab pulled up, which I thought was sweet. I’d texted him when I was on my way and had gotten a smiley face in response. Dan the successful marketing partner. Texting smiley faces. It made me laugh. His loopy excitement was lifting my mood by the second.
Together with the doorman to the building, we carried my things upstairs to Dan’s condo. The place was breathtaking—I could definitely tell there was a designer living here. The floors were concrete, but they’d been treated with some kind of chemicals to induce random splotches and blemishes across the surface. It was a very interesting pattern throughout the space, and all of the walls were brick.
“Did it come like this?” I asked, enchanted as I touched the rough surface.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Dan said ruefully, “but I actually laid each and every brick myself. I’d always wanted to live in a place with exposed brick walls, so one day I stopped wanting and started doing.”
“I like that,” I said, smiling at him.
The kitchen was an exercise in modernity, stuffed with every appliance imaginable.
“You’re going to have to teach me how to use some of these things,” I said, raising my eyebrows as I eyed the gadgets and gizmos tucked away beneath the open cabinetry.
“They’re designed to make life easier, not harder,” he said, laughing at me. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
My room still had the exposed brick and concrete floor of the rest of the condo, but the thing that I saw first was the bassinette at the foot of the bed. My breath caught, and I gasped at a sudden stirring inside my stomach.
“Are you okay?” Dan asked, dropping my bags on the floor and turning me to face him.
Unable to help myself, I burst into tears.
“You’re so nice,” I blubbered. “This is everything I could ever have hoped for. You didn’t have to do all of this, but you’re doing it all the same, and I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Dan took me in his arms, and I’d never felt so safe as I did in his embrace. He absorbed my irrational tears and smoothed one of his warm hands down my back.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, when I’d calmed down. I didn’t back out of his hug, and I liked that he didn’t let me go. “I think it’s my pregnant hormones. I’ve been doing research, and volatile mood swings come with the territory, apparently. Last chance to back out on the roommate thing.”
Even though I was joking, my last sentence made my heart skip a beat. The stirring inside my stomach hadn’t stopped since I’d seen the bassinette.
“I’d never back out,” Dan said, resting his chin on the top of my head. “You’re too special, Blue.”
“My name’s Sandra Webber,” I said, feeling like it was important that he knew.
“Is that what you want to be called?”
I shook my head. “Blue is who I am, now. That’s who I’ll be.”
“Then Blue it is,” Dan said, releasing me from the hug.
“This room is really beautiful,” I said, taking in a richly patterned rug that covered much of the concrete. “The bassinette—thank you. It means a lot.”
I suddenly realized that the stirring I felt inside of me—like kernels of popcorn popping, really—was the baby kicking. The revelation made me cover my mouth with my hand.
“What is it?” Dan asked, looking concerned.
I grabbed his hand and shoved it against my stomach.
“It’s the first time this has happened,” I said, staring at him wonderingly. “That’s my baby, Dan. My baby started dancing when it realized we were home.”
Dan’s eyes were so soft that I was afraid I’d start crying again, but I held it together. Damn hormones.
“What can I do to make you comfortable?” Dan asked once we’d gotten the rest of my bags in the room and everything unpacked. “Are you tired? Bored? Hungry? A
nything?”
“Hungry and tired, I think,” I admitted. “It was hard to say goodbye to all of the girls.” While we’d been moving me in, I’d regaled Dan with stories about living in Mama’s nightclub. Now that I wasn’t going to be living there anymore, it had almost taken on a legendary status in my mind. It was easier to talk about all of the girls and all of our issues—good and bad—while Dan quietly absorbed it all, asking a few questions here and there. It was very much cathartic to spill everything to him.
Overall, I wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into with me. I wanted him to know everything—and make his own decisions or judgments, especially since he’d opened his home to me. Dan opened his doors. It was the least I could do to respond in kind.
“I’m pretty sure hungry and tired means ordering pizza,” he said.
We both gasped as the baby kicked again.
“I think that means that the baby would really, really like some pizza,” Dan said, grinning.
“I think you’re right.”
We spent a comfortable evening together, Dan doing a little work on his laptop and me sketching a little, cozy in the sitting room of the condo. The couches contributed to the deconstructed look of the place, as they were overstuffed and threadbare in places.
“These were the first pieces of furniture that I ever bought for myself,” Dan explained. “I’ve never come across anything more comfortable. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the sentimental value.”
“These are pretty comfortable couches,” I said, bouncing around on one.
After a glorious meal of pizza and soda—“Dinner of champions,” Dan joked—I decided to call it a night.
The bed in my room was comfortable, and after all the emotional turmoil of today, I found myself dozing off before I was even fully under the covers. I liked the sound of Dan moving around outside my room. And when it got quiet, I liked the feeling of both of us going to bed together—in separate rooms, maybe, but under the same roof.
