Joss swallowed. She wasn’t used to this kind of scene. “Listen, I really think we need to put the boys first, so if I pick them up—”
“I said go!” Deena screeched. “And I mean go now or I will call the police, I swear I will.” She leveled a steely gaze on her. “Collect your things and get out of the house. I don’t want to see you again.”
“But—today?”
“Now!”
Crap. Where would she go? What was she going to do?
What difference did it make? Anywhere but here would be better.
“You have one hour,” Deena went on. “Whatever’s left then goes to charity. Or, better still, the trash.”
Only Deena Oliver would think the trash was a preferable place for the clothes than charity. It was tempting to tell her just how enormously she fell short of her husband’s needs.
But as angry as she was, Joss couldn’t form the words.
Instead, a lump formed in her throat. This was so ugly, because this woman was the mother of two boys Joss had cared for. One that she had really grown attached to. “Can I at least say good-bye to the boys? I don’t want them to think I totally abandoned them.”
“Again, it’s all about you, isn’t it?” Deena snapped.
“No, I want them to know I care about them. For their sake.” Joss looked at the ugly sneer on Deena’s face and thought if Deena’s society friends could see her now, they wouldn’t think very highly of her. “It’s important that they know the people in their lives care about them, even though I’ll be leaving.” She hated to plead for any more time in the house, but she felt strongly about it. “Please, Mrs. Oliver.”
Deena stood up, her toes wedged in hot pink foam toe separators, and hobbled over to Joss. She was shorter than Joss, but her presence was enormous. “Listen, missy. I told you to get out of the house. If you don’t do so within the hour, I’m calling the police. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Perfectly.” Joss nodded, and swallowed the lump in her throat. There was no way she was going to let Mrs. Oliver see one more shred of emotion from her.
She turned and walked from the room as calmly and coolly as she could. As soon as she was out of Mrs. Oliver’s sight, she rushed upstairs to call Sandra and see if she could pick her up and give her a place to stay for a night or two.
It took only a short while for her to collect all her things. Hoping that Deena wouldn’t get curious and come looking for her, she went to the computer room and signed on.
Working quickly, and glancing nervously over her shoulder every few words, she typed a note for the boys.
Dear Colin and Bart:
By the time you get this note, I’ll be gone, and I don’t know what your mother will have told you about why. That’s why I’m writing this note—I want you to know that just because things didn’t work out as far as my working here goes, I am not leaving because of you. You are great kids, and it’s hard for me to leave you because I care a lot about you.
Colin, I know you didn’t always like having me here, but I hope you’ll read this note to Bart and let him know how special he is to me and how much I loved spending time with him, too.
If you guys ever need anything, whether you’re in trouble or you just want to talk, please write down my cell phone number. It’s 240-555-3432. You can also e-mail me at this address: [email protected].
Take care, you guys. I’ll always remember you!
Love, Joss
She pushed the SEND button and hurried down the stairs, hoping to escape without any further attention from Deena.
She should have known better.
“Stop!” Deena yelled. She was standing a few feet from the front door, still barefoot, but she’d removed the foam pedicure pad.
“I’m finished packing.” Joss lifted her bag. “I’ll be out of your hair now.” She started toward the door, but Deena stepped in her way.
A tremor of fear crossed Joss’s chest. Scenes from bad horror movies flashed through her mind in rapid succession.
“Is it a raise you want?” Deena asked.
Considering the fact that Joss had been half-afraid that Deena was going to pull out a knife and hack her to death, it took a moment for the question to sink in. “A raise? What do you mean?”
“I mean is it more money you’re after? Is that what this game is about?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. What game?”
“This quitting game. You’re not really going, are you?”
That was it, Deena had popped her clutch. Joss looked at the bag in her hand. “Yeah, I really am.”
“I’ll raise your salary by ten percent.”
“What?”
“Okay, twenty. Plus,” Deena eyes flashed a little wildly while she thought, “I’ll throw in holiday bonuses. Big ones.”
“Well, that’s really…generous…of you.” And really weird. Really, really weird. “But I just don’t think this is going to work out.”
Deena shifted her weight from one side to the other, looking for all the world like a sullen teenager. “What, do you want me to beg or something?”
This was surreal. “No.”
“Fine. Please don’t go. There. Satisfied?”
“Mrs. Oliver, I don’t want you to beg. This just isn’t working out.”
Deena’s face went pale. It looked as if she was realizing for the first time that everything Joss had been saying was true and that she really was leaving.
Only someone like Deena would look at quitting as a viable way to request a raise.
“I can’t do this alone,” Deena said, so quietly she was practically whispering. “I can’t deal with the kids.”
Guilt shrouded Joss, and for one wild moment she thought about staying so she could protect the boys from this crackpot. But she couldn’t. There was no protecting them from Deena. Or Kurt, for that matter. “They’re good boys,” Joss said. “Especially Bart. Colin needs a little more discipline.” That was an understatement. “But they both have so much potential.”
“I can’t do it!” Deena’s voice was approaching hysteria. “Don’t leave! You’re the only person who’s ever stayed longer than three weeks! I thought we had an understanding.”
“I’m sorry,” Joss said. This was really getting uncomfortable. “It’s not working out.”
“I’ll raise your salary by fifty percent!”
“No, thanks.” She had to get out of here. This was just too weird. “I’ve got to go, Mrs. Oliver—”
“I don’t know what to do with the boys! Wait!”
There was no way she was waiting. She turned and hurried out of the house, with Deena’s voice still echoing behind her. “No! Joss, don’t go!”
“I’ve got a date tonight,” Sandra said, taking one of Joss’s suitcases out of the back of her car. “But I can cancel it if you want me to stay in with you.”
“Oh, no, don’t be silly!” Joss was so grateful to Sandra she had almost cried three times on the drive to Adams Morgan. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to call the agency and see if they have anyone else they can send me to interview with. A lot of people want you to start right away, you know.”
They hauled the bags up the steps of Sandra’s building and a guy who was coming out the front door rushed over to Sandra and took the suitcase out of her hand.
“Let me help you with that, Sandy.” He was nice-looking. Late twenties probably. A little short, brown hair parted conservatively on the side, and big blue eyes that kept his face from being ordinary. But he looked at Sandra as if she were a goddess.
“Thanks, Carl, but I’ve got it.” She gestured at Joss. “By the way, Carl, this is my friend Joss. She’s going to be staying with me for a while.”
“Oh. Nice to meet you.” He put out a hand. It was warm and soft. “Carl Abramson. I live upstairs from Sandy.”
“Very nice to meet you.” Joss looked to Sandra for some indication that she was interested in him, too, but she looked positively oblivious. �
�I hope to see you around.”
He nodded. “You gals sure you don’t need some help?”
Sandra shook her head. “We’ve got it. But thanks anyway.”
“Uh, listen. Sandy.” He moved closer to Sandra and spoke in a lower voice, looking so self-conscious, he was practically circling his toe on the ground in front of him. “I was wondering if you might be free to go to the movies some time this weekend.”
She looked surprised. “Carl, that is so nice of you. And I’d love to”—he looked hopeful for a moment—“but my boyfriend might get jealous. I’m really sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Can’t blame a guy for trying. I should have known you had a boyfriend.”
Sandra flushed as she smiled and said, “Thanks, Carl.”
He gave her one last lingering look, then went on down the sidewalk.
“Wow,” Joss whispered. “He’s got it bad for you.”
“You think?” Sandra looked after him. “It’s funny, I had a crush on him when he first moved in a few months ago, but I was never brave enough to talk to him. Now that I’m not trying to work up the nerve, he’s suddenly talking to me all the time.”
“Poor guy. He looked brokenhearted.”
Sandra snorted. “I doubt that. Come on. Let’s get going.”
When they got to the door to her apartment, Sandra turned to Joss and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Forgive me if I’m out of line, but maybe you don’t want to be a full-time nanny anymore.”
Joss laughed. “Well, I don’t! Nothing out of line about that. But it’s the only job I can think of that will give me room and board and a salary at the last minute like this.”
Sandra frowned. “I’ve got an extra room, you know. If you want to apply for something else, you can stay here as long as you need to.”
Joss was touched. “Gosh, I appreciate that, but I don’t want to impose.”
“Actually, I think I’d really like having you around. I’ve been alone in this cave for a long time.” Sandra laughed. “On top of that, I have a vested interest in keeping you around for the shoe business. We need you to be available. You’re the only one who can do any sort of Web design.”
Joss felt her face grow warm. “I would like to pursue that. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here. Maybe you’ll get some part-time work doing Web design around town, but the rest of your time is ours.” She put out her hand. “Deal?”
Joss had never felt so happy in her life. “Deal.” She shook Sandra’s hand.
“And with that,” Sandra said. “I have to go. I’m late. Wish me luck. I think tonight might be the night for Mike and me.”
The night? Oh, no. “I really am in the way,” Joss said. “I could go out, maybe to Lorna’s when she gets home from work—”
Sandra put a hand up. “Don’t worry about it. Mike’s got a place. Just wish me luck.”
Joss still worried that she was in Sandra’s way, but she wasn’t going to argue. “Good luck!”
“Debbie’s coming tonight,” Mike said, watching Sandra over drinks at the Zebra Room later that evening.
He mentioned Debbie every single time they got together. Tonight he hadn’t even waited three minutes. Was he trying to tell her something? She had to ask. The old Sandra would have been too timid, but the new Sandra was direct. To the point.
Confident. Sort of.
“Mike, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”
“About Debbie?” He looked like he knew this was coming. Like he’d been waiting for it.
“Yes. I can’t help but notice that you keep mentioning Debbie in a really pointed way. Are you trying to tell me something?”
His face fell into a puzzled expression. “I’m…not sure what you mean?”
Confident.
Bold.
Straightforward.
“Are you and Debbie involved?”
“Are we—?” He looked like he’d just missed the bottom step. “What do you mean are we involved?”
“I mean is she your girlfriend? Is that why you keep mentioning her this way?”
His face was positively closing in on itself at this point. If he wasn’t careful, it might snap right off.
“No…Debbie’s not my girlfriend.” Then—this was the worst part—he added in what he must have thought was a reassuring voice, “I thought you might hit it off with her.”
“Me?” Like a Titanic victim clawing at the last few feet of the boat before giving in to the reality of the cold water, Sandra half wondered if he meant he was just one of those guys who wanted to see his girlfriend with another woman.
But she knew he wasn’t.
He was one of those guys who didn’t want his boyfriend to be with another woman.
She was hopeful—even foolishly hopeful—but she wasn’t stupid.
Mike’s face colored. “You’re not gay.”
“And you are.”
He nodded and put his hands over his face, groaning, “Sandy, I am so sorry.”
“Why on earth did you think I was?” Her disappointment was scooting its chubby little butt over to make room for self-deprecation. “Am I that undesirable to men?”
“No, of course not! No, no, and even if you were,” he added, “that wouldn’t mean that you were automatically attractive to lesbians.”
There was something that aggravated her about him, and now she could admit it. She hated how he always had to be so politically correct about things. He could never just let a generalization go.
“But that’s not the point,” he said quickly, redeeming at least a few sensitivity points.
“No, the point is all this time I’ve thought we were dating and you were trying to set me up with some woman.” Sandra sniffed. “She’s not even that attractive.”
“Margo thinks she is.”
“Margo? Margo is her girlfriend?”
“Well…no. Margo is…Margo’s my girlfriend—”
“But I thought—”
“She used to be called Mark.”
Sandra looked at him in silence for a moment, trying to remember if she had accidentally popped a pill that said EAT ME, which then led her to this bizarre world.
Then again, even if she had found one of Alice in Wonderland’s EAT ME pills, she wouldn’t have known exactly who it was addressing or what it meant….
“Okay. I’ve got it.” She didn’t really. “You’re saying that Debbie is a lesbian—”
“Correct.”
“—and you’re gay—”
“Undeniably.”
“And Margo used to be a gay man, but now she’s a heterosexual woman, and she’s with you. Even though she’s now technically a woman and you’re a man.”
“Y-yes.” Mike nodded his assent. “I suppose you could look at it that way. Although actually, I just did that for a change, hoping it would work out so my mother would be more accepting. The truth is, I usually like my men way more butch.”
“I do, too,” Sandra said. Oh, God, she couldn’t believe this. But she didn’t want to insult Mike. After all, it wasn’t his fault she’d willfully ignored who he was. Sandra splayed her arms and shrugged. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get it all straight.”
Mike suppressed a smile. “I don’t think that’s going to happen with this group.”
Sandra tried to resist, but she couldn’t help smiling with him. “Okay, okay, but what I don’t get is how you could be so incredibly wrong about me. I mean, I thought you and I—?”
He held up a hand. “I know, I know, I feel just awful about it. What can I say? The gaydar was off. I think when you said, years ago, that you were dating women, I assumed you meant that’s what you do. I sat back on fifteen years of assumption instead of looking at what was right in front of me.”
“When I said—what?” She couldn’t believe this. Had Mike been thinking she was someone else all along? On top of not being in love with her—or even interested in her givin
g him a blow job—did he think she was LeeLee McCulsky or something?
“You said you were sick of men and you were going to try women for a while.”
She looked at him, blank. “What the hell are you talking about, Mike?”
“That time after gym class. Eleventh grade? No, maybe it was twelfth. You were hoping Drew Terragno would ask you out, and he didn’t, so you said you might as well go for Patty Reed.”
Drew Terragno she remembered. And, yes, she had had a crush on him. Like a million years ago.
She joggled the facts in her mind. “Drew was dating Patty, right?”
“Yup.”
“And I said…” She remembered all at once, though truth be told she still didn’t remember that Mike had been there. “I said I might as well go after Patty—”
“That’s right.”
“—because that was the closest I’d get to Drew.”
To his credit, Mike listened and comprehended. Then nodded. He got it. “Sarcasm,” he said.
“A little bit.”
“And I’ve spent all this time thinking we had so much in common.”
“Apparently not enough to actually date each other.”
He laughed and put his arm around her. “I had no idea that’s what you wanted. I’m really flattered.”
She scoffed.
“No, seriously,” he said, looking completely earnest. “I mean it. A guy would be lucky to have a girl like you.”
“Unless he wants a guy like Margo,” she finished, then immediately regretted her bitterness.
Fortunately, Mike got her. Just like she had thought, all this time, he got her.
He just didn’t want her.
“If I didn’t want Margo, if I didn’t want a guy like Margo, I’d want a girl like you,” Mike said kindly, putting his hand up to caress Sandra’s hair. “Honest.”
And, for some reason, that helped her. No, it didn’t make up for the entire heartache, but it made her feel a hell of a lot better. Maybe because it proved the fact that Mike’s rejection wasn’t about her, it was about him, and the fact that he wanted something that she could never give him.
Shoe Addicts Anonymous Page 27
