Whitney put her hand on her hip. “Did you just call me midget, Bigfoot?”
I grabbed Whitney’s arm. “Whitney, let’s go.”
“Yeah, get out my face before I break you in two,” the girl yelled, taking off her earrings.
“I can take my earrings off, too!”
“Whitney, let’s go,” I said, dragging her behind me as I half ran, half walked out of the ladies’ room. My heart was pounding. I’d never been in a fight before and I didn’t want to start now. Not at my age.
“Whitney, we really need to get out of here.”
I noticed that the girl who would break Whitney in two was now talking animatedly with two other girls. One of them had to be at least two hundred pounds. Oh, Lord, help me!
“Let’s go find Pierre. He’ll protect us.” Whitney laughed out loud, looking straight at the three girls.
“I can’t believe you think this is funny. Those girls look like they’re about to kill us.”
“They can’t do anything.”
“How do you know that?”
I noticed Pierre approaching. Great, now was the perfect time for Whitney to get her flirt on. Right before we got killed.
“Hey, babe,” she said, calm as day.
I followed them back to the bar. “We’re actually just about to leave,” I said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Pierre said, signaling the bartender. Whitney rolled her eyes at me.
“So, what time do you girls want to leave tomorrow?”
Leave tomorrow?
“Oh,” Whitney said. “Pierre’s gonna give us a ride on his sailboat over to Guadeloupe. You said you wanted to go shopping, right?”
“Um…”
“How about nine-ish?”
“Good,” he said.
“Oh, sweetie,” she leaned into him. “Can you walk us out to our car? It’s so dark outside.”
He straightened up on his stool, all gallant and gentlemanly. “Yes, of course.”
And off we went. I stole a glance back and noticed the three girls glaring at us. Thank God for big, burly Pierre. Those girls would have stomped us on the sidewalk. I could see it in their eyes.
As we drove home, I kept looking in the rearview mirror.
“Chill, chica, those hoes ain’t gonna follow us.”
“I don’t know, Whitney. I’m the one who has to live here, not you.”
“Relax, Amelia. No one’s gonna touch you. Those girls know better.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right, babe.”
The farther away we edged from the capital, the more secure I felt. It didn’t even bother me that it was pitch-black outside and I was driving on those hilly roads leading up to the house. I was just so glad to be away from that situation. It was kind of funny when I replayed the scene in my head. I started to laugh.
“What would you have done if that girl had tried to do something to you?”
“Run for my life,” Whitney said without missing a beat.
“I was so sure she was gonna start something when she took off her earrings….”
“Girl, I was, like, I haven’t been in a fight since I was nine years old, but I was ready to fake it!”
We howled with laughter.
“Drew would be so mad at me if he found out,” I said as we walked into the house.
Sonny ran to the door, licking at Whitney’s knees. “Hi, baby. You missed me?” Sonny was already in love with Whitney and had forgotten all about me.
I called Drew’s hotel room while Whitney got dressed for bed.
“Hey, babe,” he said, sounding happy to hear my voice. “What are you guys up to?”
I wanted to tell him everything that had happened. Instead, I gave him the Cliff’s Notes version, telling him about the whale watch, snorkeling, and leaving out the part about the happy hour at the Fort Young, especially the part about the fight.
“I’m glad you’re having fun, but I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” I said. Whitney walked out of the guest bedroom, rolling her eyes. I miss you, she mouthed, making a face.
I heard male voices laughing in the background. I didn’t feel too guilty then. We were both getting a well-deserved break.
“Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too,” he whispered back. Oh, that’s right. His friends were right there.
“Coward,” I teased.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good night, babe.”
Whitney looked at me, hands on her hip, shaking her head. “Look at you, with that stupid goo-goo look on your face.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re so not romantic.”
“I’m plenty romantic. You’re just pathetic.”
“Whatever.” I could take Whitney’s ribbing. It was actually fun. It felt just like old times, back in high school when she teased me about having crushes on guys I never stood a chance with or in college when I agonized over what a single phone call from a guy meant. Whitney had always been the one steady thing in my life, steadier than my mother, my brother, and anybody else. I was just so glad to have her here with me.
“So we have to be up early tomorrow. We’re gonna burn some plastic in Guadeloupe!”
“Ooo weee!” I said, rubbing my hands. “I can’t wait. I haven’t spent much money this summer so I’m due for a huge spree.”
“Pierre said you can get all these European brands at a discount. I think I’m gonna get me a Hermes scarf.”
“Well, my aspirations don’t go that high. But I’d like a couple of new outfits.”
“We’re gonna burn up that sucker tomorrow,” Whitney said.
“Yeah, baby!”
Chapter 29
I was still groggy when we boarded Pierre’s boat at nine o’clock the next morning. Maybe it’s because I’d missed my usual early morning walk with Sonny, or maybe it was all the excitement from the night before. I wanted to see Guadeloupe. And I wanted to shop!
Two hours later, we disembarked Pierre’s sailboat at the Marina Bas Du Fort, which was so alive with people, shops, and activity I thought I’d just landed in some tourist overrun section of Orlando, except this place was less pristine, had tons more character, and everyone spoke French.
“Wow!” Whitney said. “Looks like there’s a lot going on here.”
Pierre nodded. “Yes, a lot of shopping…”
We needed to ditch this guy, I thought. Whitney read my mind.
“Well, thanks for the ride. Maybe we’ll catch up with you later,” she said, throwing her arms impulsively around Pierre’s neck. That seemed to make his day, judging from the huge smile on his face as he hugged her back.
We said our good-byes and almost ran off in the direction of the shops.
“Oh, how are we gonna get back to Dominica?”
“There’s a ferry. But I have Pierre’s cell just in case.”
“No, let’s take the ferry. I don’t think I want you hooking up with that guy. He looks dangerous.”
Whitney laughed. “Come on, I’m leaving in one day! I can’t get into any trouble, can I?”
“Riiiiight.”
Pointe-a-Pitre, the capital of Guadeloupe, was bustling, crowded with thousands of local people, tourists, street vendors, and tiny, toylike European cars speeding through its narrow streets. “This is so exciting!” I said again and again.
“Yeah, it’s kinda like eastern Rome,” Whitney said.
We attacked a row of shops on rue Frebault, the main shopping strip, and immediately went to work. I hadn’t spent money all summer so I felt entitled to splurge. Whitney, on the other hand, was her usual self, grabbing as much as she could. It was steaming hot outside, and I was beginning to sweat. I had three shopping bags and Whitney had twice that amount. We’d only been out about an hour.
“We should probably find a place to sit and cool off,” I said, fanning my face with my hands.
“I know,” Whitney said. “There’s a salon near the waterfront. We should go see
if they do spa stuff.”
“Are you serious? I don’t think I could afford that.”
“I can.”
We left the rue Frebault, looking back longingly at the stores, and hailed a taxi.
The waterfront was a huge terminal with a built-in mall, restaurants, movie theaters, and anything else a tourist would want.
Twice I pulled Whitney away from a clothing store. “These clothes are sooooo cute,” she said, caressing a white linen dress with red piping at its seams.
“After all that money you spent on that Dior stuff on rue Frebault, you probably shouldn’t buy anything else. Plus, you’ve been shopping in Rome all summer.”
She pouted. “I know. You’re right.”
When we got to the salon there were three or four women waiting to be served. “I don’t think they do any of that fancy stuff here,” I told Whitney.
A woman came up to us, speaking French. I smiled and tried to make sense of her words. Whitney, who knew French but was nowhere near fluent, managed to ask the right question. The woman immediately broke into English.
“You’re American? Good!”
I guess the aura of dollar signs on Whitney translated well into every language. She ushered us into a back room, where we undressed and put on big, fluffy robes. It was freezing and the robes felt warm and comforting.
Three hours later, we walked out, scrubbed and buffed, made up, and blow-dried. At least I had gotten my hair blow-dried and straightened. Whitney just pulled her dreads back into a ponytail.
“I don’t want to go back in the sun. I feel so cool and relaxed.”
“Okay, cool. Let’s go catch a French movie before we get back on the ferry.”
“But we won’t understand what they’re saying.”
“So what? Amelia, it’s all about the moment, the experience,” Whitney said, letting her hands signal whatever it was she meant. “You don’t have to understand the words to enjoy it. Just think of it as a silent movie.”
“Whatever you say, Whitney.”
So we went into a movie theater. Luckily, they were playing a blockbuster from the U.S., so I read the lips and ignored the French voice that was dubbed over. It was funny and fun.
“Wow, the day sure went by quickly,” Whitney said as we strolled toward the ferry headed back to Dominica.
“I could use a nap.” That massage had really done a number on me.
“So, no partying tonight?”
“No way. Tonight we’re going to bed early. You have an early flight, remember?”
“I hate the thought of going back to Boston after all of this. You’re lucky. I wish I was going to be living down here.”
Her being here had made a huge difference; who knows what would happen after she left? I was so disappointed in myself for not being more like her—not being able to just enjoy “the moment.”
“So what are you gonna do when you get back home?”
“Finish my project. Fly out to Redmond for about a week for some meetings, then it’s back to Boston.”
“I wonder how Ma’s doing.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. You always think of her at the weirdest times.”
“I know. I just worry much more than I should.”
“I won’t argue that,” Whitney said as we boarded the ferry.
“I’ll be home within a couple of weeks myself.”
“Ah, just stay. I’ll send you your stuff.”
“Ha! It’s not that simple. I need to work one more term before I can cash out of the working world.”
“Please, Amelia. Drew’s got money. He seems like he wants to take care of you.”
“Who said I wanted him to take care of me?”
“Isn’t that a given? You’re not going to work, are you?”
“I’m not one of those traditional Dominican women, am I?”
“You’d better keep your voice down or we’re gonna get in another fight,” Whitney said, eyeing the rest of the passengers who were not paying attention to us.
Drew’s truck was parked in its spot in front of the house. Strange. I didn’t expect him back for at least another day.
“Drew’s back,” I told Whitney. “Looks like you’ll get to meet him after all.”
She smiled halfheartedly. She was still angry that I’d told him she’d been hospitalized. But I so wanted them to meet. I had a feeling they would hit it off.
Sonny came bounding across the yard as I opened the gate.
“Hi, babe. You miss me?” I petted him, but he went straight for Whitney, almost knocking her down.
Drew walked around from the back to the front of the house. He was wearing a golf shirt that I hated (I hate all golf shirts; they are a fashion abomination) and cargo shorts.
“You’re back early,” I said. I hugged him and kissed him on the lips eagerly.
“This is Whitney,” I smiled.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Likewise,” she said. Then there was an odd silence. Even Sonny looked embarrassed.
“Let’s go inside,” I said. Oh, man. Maybe they wouldn’t like each other? Drew seemed to be in a weird mood.
“So, did it start raining or something in Barbados?”
“No,” he said.
I looked at him, trying to get a clue as to why he was being so quiet.
“Have you all eaten yet?” he asked.
“No, actually we were going to make tuna melts…”
“Mona’s expecting us at her restaurant,” he said.
“She is?” What?
“Yeah, I told her your friend was in town so she said we should come down.”
“Well, Whitney’s kinda tired…. Her flight’s really early.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Whitney said, smiling a little too brightly. She looked really uncomfortable. Could she sense that something was wrong? I could, too. But I had no idea what it was.
“Guess we could just go now…so we don’t have to be out too late,” Drew said.
“Sure.”
Sonny barked at us as we drove off.
“Did you enjoy yourself today?”
“Yeah, we went shopping on Guadeloupe. It’s so different from Dominica. I mean, you’re here and it’s so…so quaint, and then you’re in Pointe-a-Pitre, which is like a huge metropolis in some ways….” I couldn’t stop talking, else that ungodly silence would descend on the car again and it would make me just want to die. Drew sure wasn’t being his usual charming self.
The restaurant was crowded, but Mona had saved us a nice table.
“This place is really cool,” Whitney said, still in her overly polite voice.
Mona came rushing out as soon as we were seated. “Amelia, it’s so good to see you.” We kissed on the cheeks, and she did the same with Whitney as I introduced them.
“I love your hair,” she told Whitney. “How long did it take you to grow them that long?”
Whitney loved talking about her dreads so she and Mona were off into their natural hair utopia for about five minutes. I nudged Drew with my thigh, but he kept looking straight ahead.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said.
“So what can I get for you kiddies tonight?” Mona asked.
Drew wanted a giant burger and fries.
“Oh, can I have the same thing?” Whitney asked.
“Whitney, they have all these great seafood dishes you should try,” I pleaded.
“No, let her have my burgers and fries,” Mona said, smiling. “They’re the best in the world.”
“She’s confident like that,” I told Whitney.
“You know it,” Mona said, disappearing amid the tables to chat with other diners. I noticed that other people were looking at us curiously, but it really didn’t bother me much, especially since Drew was here. There was no way some crazy gi
rl could come stepping up to me with him sitting right there. Right?
“So, you work for Microsoft as a programmer?” Drew asked Whitney.
She explained that she did a lot more, and I hoped he understood because I never did. When it came to Whitney and her work, my brain had its limits. They seemed to connect on that and I was left out of the conversation. Not an entirely bad thing since I was desperately trying to figure out what I did that had made Drew so angry that he would cut short his golfing trip. Was it the trip to Guadeloupe? And how could he know about that from over there? Were people spying on me?
I ate silently as they talked about computers and programming in a polite, reserved rapport. I didn’t like it one bit; it sounded like a job interview. I knew Whitney too well to miss the fact that she thought he was too staid. Too safe. Boring. That’s exactly what she was thinking. She talked to him the way she would a preacher or an older man whom she respected. Well, that was just fine by me. I loved Drew for what he was. I was not the type to go around dating potential terrorists. Nah. I liked them safe and law-abiding. But I couldn’t figure out why he was that way with her, too. I wanted the meal to go by quickly; I had long lost my appetite. I played with my pumpkin soup.
A couple walked over to our table and Drew’s face lit up. He introduced us all around to Dr. So and So and his wife. The wife was pretty and well put together and pregnant. “I have been very eager to meet you,” she said very slowly and properly, leaning down to kiss my cheeks.
“It’s great to meet you,” I said.
“It must be strange to have all this attention on you,” she smiled.
“Yes, sometimes.” Especially when people bring it up when I’m trying not to think about it.
“We should probably have lunch sometime,” she said.
I nodded. Who in the world was this woman?
After the genuflecting and paying of homage Drew seemed in a better mood. This ego-stroking thing was like crack to him, I realized.
I yawned dramatically, hoping to send a message.
Whitney got it. “Actually, I’m a bit exhausted. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m sure it has,” Drew said.
“I like your hair like that,” he said as I climbed into the truck’s passenger seat.
Letting Loose Page 22
