A Pinch of Ooh La La

by Renee Swindle

  “Yeah, everything went well. What’s going on?”

  “Can you turn the song back up?” Jake asked. “It’s almost over.”

  I ignored him. “What’s going on?”

  Samuel went back to his computer. He still had on his office attire, though no jacket. “I got here about an hour ago. I hate to bring work home, but it couldn’t be avoided.” He began typing again. “I’m almost finished.”

  “How can you work with all the noise?”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, continuing to type. “Keeps me alert.”

  Carmen made a show of hefting herself up from the couch. “Jake wanted to play Gnome Death Three, but we don’t have anything like that in the dorms, so we went to Dad’s. So then we were playing—”

  Jake hopped from foot to foot like a jogger waiting for a stoplight to turn green. “Have you ever played Gnome Death? It’s crazy. You get all these gnomes lined up and you just start shooting ’em and then they start to do this nasty dance.” He jumped forward and ran his hand over his groin area. “It’s so funny!”

  Carmen slapped his leg. “Don’t you know better than to interrupt when someone’s talking? So anyway, we were playing, but then Louis and Charlie came over with Leslie and I wasn’t in the mood—”

  “And I wanted pie,” Jake said. “Your pie is slammin’.”

  “I should hope so,” I said.

  I glanced at Dahlia. “And you have your own house—excuse me, my dad’s house, so . . . ?”

  “I was at the house,” she explained. “And I was bored, so I thought I’d come with them. Now that I’m single again”—she couldn’t help but glance at Samuel—“I’m by myself all the time. I don’t like going to the main house as much because of Aiko and that wailing baby.”

  “So you follow your nineteen-year-old daughter around. Makes sense.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Dahlia asked, turning toward Carmen. “I want to spend time with you. I never see you.”

  Samuel broke his attention from his work. “It’s not my business, Dahlia, but children need to separate from their parents so they can become independent.”

  “Thank you!” Carmen exclaimed. “It’s embarrassing! What parent shows up at their kid’s dorm? You’re insane.”

  Samuel looked at Dahlia. “You went to her dorm room? That would be embarrassing.”

  “Thank you!” Carmen said.

  “I’m not trying to take sides; it’s just something to think about,” Samuel said.

  Dahlia lowered her eyes as though she were shy and demure. “I’ll do that. I guess I see your point.”

  “I have my kitty, you have my kitty.” Jake had earbuds in by now and stood in front of the fireplace bopping to a beat that only he could hear, singing to himself. “Times are hard. I’m covered in lard. My soul’s in shards.”

  I thought back to the photo Carmen had shown me months before of the goofball who’d impregnated her with his drunken sperm. Was this the same guy? No. It couldn’t be. That guy had black hair and was tall and skinny. I watched this new goofball continue rocking out to the music piping into his ears. “Does he go to school with you?” I asked her. “Is he high?”

  “I can hear everything you’re saying right now, yo,” he said. He made a point of taking out his earbuds. “I don’t like to listen to my songs all loud because I don’t want to damage my hearing. You ask who I am?” he said, widening his muscular arms. “My name is Jake and I ain’t no flake. I’m on the make, for heaven’s sake.” He pointed to his vacant skull. “Carmen and I met in class, but I’m taking time off. What I really want to do in life is create music and, like, head my own company.”

  I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Then again, I thought—Why? And rolled them anyway.

  “I’m serious! Look at all the heavyweights. Jobs. Zuckerberg. Gates. None of them graduated.” He raised his hands in the air as if by listing three geniuses he’d proven his point.

  I looked at Carmen. “You’re not dating him, I hope.”

  “Hey, man, I’m right here. Yo, I can hear you!”

  “He’s not as immature as he seems,” said Carmen, returning to the couch.

  “Apparently he’s a math genius,” Dahlia added dubiously.

  Jake kicked his foot in the air. “My name is Jake and I’m no flake. Skipped two grades and now I’m in a phase. To create a label and show I’m able. I wanna wear sable. Create musical fables—about this girl here.” He pointed at Carmen. “She’s so fine. She expands my mind. Her body is an equation. A week-long vacation.” He moved in front of her and began pulling his shirt up his torso while gyrating down into her lap. A male stripper in heat.

  Carmen laughed and pushed him away. “Get off me.”

  He put his earbuds back in his ears and started dancing again. “Fuck those bitches!” He pointed at Carmen. “You my bitch and tonight all the other bitches gonna see what I’m made of. Fuck the other bitches.”

  Samuel looked up from his laptop. “Hey, man, that’s not cool.” When Jake continued to dance and rap, Samuel rose from the couch. “I said that’s not cool!”

  Jake turned and pulled his earbuds from his ears. “What’s not cool? It’s a song.”

  “I don’t care what it is. You don’t speak to Carmen or any woman like that. Show some respect.”

  “But it’s a song.”

  “It’s a song that uses foul language against women. It’s inappropriate.”

  Carmen’s eyes were wide. “I don’t think he meant anything.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Samuel replied. He kept his gaze locked on Jake, waiting. While Jake was lean bulk, Samuel was all height and his clothes and stature gave him the appearance of a father chastising a son. Jake seemed as surprised as Carmen at being reprimanded, but he took a step back. “I didn’t mean anything. Like I said, those are the lyrics.”

  “You need to apologize.”

  “Hey, man, fine. I apologize. I didn’t mean anything.”

  Samuel shook his head. “Not me.”

  Jake looked at Carmen. “Sorry, Car.” He then said to Dahlia and me, “I apologize, ladies.”

  Dahlia beamed. “You’re so thoughtful, Samuel. It’s like we have a real man looking after us. I love it!”

  I pursed my lips at her. I wasn’t so sure I agreed. Jake was doing what any kid his age did. I certainly didn’t need a formal apology, at any rate.

  “It’s fine, Jake,” I said. “It’s late and if any of you are as tired as I am, we should call it a night. Let’s forget it.”

  “Can I stay here tonight?” Carmen asked.

  “Sure.” I realized I’d spoken too soon. Since Samuel was staying, should I have checked in with him first? Before I’d met him, Carmen had stayed over regularly, but she hadn’t spent the night since then. Samuel didn’t seem to care and started collecting his things.

  I asked Carmen if she had pajamas.

  “They’re in my backpack.”

  “Why do you want to stay here when you have a perfectly good dorm room of your own?” Dahlia asked.

  “I need a break from the dorms.”

  “Too bad. Why do we pay for you to live there if you’re always somewhere else?”

  “You don’t pay anything; Daddy does.”

  Jake covered his mouth and kicked his foot. “Ahhhhh!”

  “Well, why don’t you stay with me at the house? We can keep each other company.”

  Carmen shifted her gaze. “I haven’t seen Abbey in a while.”

  Dahlia pursed her lips while looking me over. I raised my hands and shrugged in response.

  “Fine,” she said. She chucked her head toward Jake. “What about him?”

  “I have my skateboard.”

  “It’s dark out. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting killed on your way home.” She looke
d him over as if he were a dirty rag she’d have to put in her car. “Where do you live?”

  “Bezerkeley. Land of the homeless, the potheads, the rich, annoying liberals—like my mom! Ahhhhh!”

  “Well, at least Berkeley is on my way. Come on.”

  He went to Carmen and stretched out his arms and they hugged good-bye. He took my hand next. “It’s been real. Your chocolate pie sent me to the sky. I won’t lie.”

  He and Samuel shook hands. After they left, Samuel looked at Carmen for a beat. “I think you can do better.”

  She lowered her gaze. “He’s not like what he seems. Seriously. He’s super smart. No, really,” she added, seeing our faces. “He’s one of those brainiacs who doesn’t know what he wants to do with himself. He’s taking a year off from school, but he really is smart.”

  “Foolish, more like it,” Samuel said. He pointed at her. “You. Deserve. Better.” He then gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Mind if I steal the shower first? I’ll be quick.”

  “No, go ahead.”

  Another kiss and he left. “Nighty-night, ladies.”

  Carmen watched him disappear down the hall. “He’s like a grown-up.”

  I laughed.

  “I mean, like, he’s not like your other boyfriends at all. He’s respectable.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “That’s the point.”

  She followed me to the hall closet, where I took down a towel and an extra blanket. “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

  I paused, already suspicious. “You’re not . . . ?”

  “No! God, no! No!”

  I sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. What is it?”

  “I got a C on my econ test. A C. I’ve never gotten a C in my life.”

  To be honest, while I knew I should help support Carmen in her obsession with perfect grades, I never understood her fixation on seeing the letter A at every turn. The Ross children were all perfectionist in one way or another—me with baking, my sisters and brothers with art and music—but Carmen beat herself up and tended to stress. Even in junior high and high school, she worried about her grades far more than Dahlia or Dad did.

  I gave her the blanket and we went to the guest bedroom. “It’s only the beginning of the semester. You’ll pick it up,” I said.

  I turned on the light. Carmen fell on the bed, back first, and hugged the blanket to her chest. “But what if I don’t? I can’t afford bad grades if I’m trying to get into a good law school. I swear, Abbey, this past year has just been so fucked.” She tossed the blanket, then sat up and ran her hands over her face and through her thick, curly hair.

  “Maybe you need to talk to someone.” I sat beside her. “Is what happened—the miscarriage—what’s making you upset? Do you still think about it?”

  “No, not really. Except to be happy I’m not a mother.”

  “What’s going on with Jake?”

  “I don’t know. He’s funny. He’s gonna help me with econ.”

  “There you go; that’s a start.”

  I lifted a stray hair making its way down her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Did you ever have any time with Dad?”

  “We talked on the phone while he was in Austin. We were going to have breakfast, but then he had to cancel. I just hope to get some time in before he has more kids.”

  “Carmen.”

  “It’s true. Anyway, I don’t need him as much as you think I do. He was never really around for me anyway.”

  I started to argue with her, but I knew it hurt that Dad had canceled. It pained me to admit it, but maybe he’d reached the point where he was spreading himself too thin. He was sixty-five, after all, with a new wife and two new babies.

  I put my arm around her. “You’ll be okay. Just try to focus. And see your professor during office hours. Put a face to your name.”

  “Yeah.”

  I slapped her thigh lightly and stood up.

  “Thanks for letting me stay. It’s so weird that you have a boyfriend now.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that. “It’s not that weird.”

  “Yes, it is. I like him, though.”

  “I’m glad. He likes you, too.”

  We said good night and I took a quick shower while Samuel sat in bed with his laptop. He was in the same position minutes later. I stood in the doorway and took a moment to completely objectify him, strip him down to his bare sexual appeal.

  I moved from the doorway. “You know what I’m thinking? You should go to work on Monday without a shirt. It would make everyone very happy.”

  He looked up and smiled. “Stop being silly.”

  “I’m serious. You’ll win every case.”

  “No,” he said, keeping his gaze on the screen, “I’ll get fired.” He continued with whatever was on his laptop while I climbed in next to him. I saw that he was on three different Web sites at once, comparing prices on winter coats.

  I heard the water running in the guest bathroom. “I hope it was okay that I let Carmen spend the night.”

  “It’s your house. I’m a guest here myself.”

  I kissed his naked shoulder and inhaled his soapy smell. “You’re more than a guest; you know that.”

  I told him about how stressed Carmen was feeling about her grades.

  “I get that,” he said. “If she wants, I can help her get an internship at my firm, or I know a few people I can call in the East Bay. An internship will help when it comes to applications.”

  “Can you?”

  “Of course. She needs to watch who she hangs out with, though. If she wants to get ahead in life, she needs to surround herself with people who are going places. That Jake person is going nowhere. She needs to cut him off—like, yesterday.”

  “He was all right. Carmen says he’s some kind of genius.”

  Samuel huffed and clicked out of the clothing sites, then went to a political blogger he liked and began scrolling through articles. I watched him bounce from Web site to Web site while telling him about the couple I’d met earlier that afternoon—his lordship and her ladyship. “Let’s never be like that,” I said. “There was so much animosity between them. It was unreal. Why get married if you hate the person you’re with?”

  “At least you made a sale,” he replied, his attention on the article he was reading. “That’s all that matters.”

  “I guess. But I also want my clients to be happy.”

  “Some people like drama. If they choose to be miserable, that’s on them. You’re there to make a profit, not play counselor.”

  “Yeah,” I said. But, I thought, I was also there to make cupcakes and pies and cookies and to make people smile. I left it alone, though.

  He set his laptop on the nightstand and raised his arm so that I could snuggle against him. “I have a surprise for you.”

  I peered up from under the crook of his arm. “Yeah?”

  He hopped off the bed and took his duffel bag from the closet. He took out three boxes of different sizes and piled them in front of me, one on top of the other. “Open this one first.”

  “It’s like Christmas,” I said, pulling at the purple ribbon. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

  I opened the first box and pulled the tissue paper away. Inside was a pair of strappy black shoes with eight-inch heels, clear and shiny. They were shoes made for a woman who knew how to do a wide split while sliding down a pole. Stripper shoes. I glanced down at the lid on the box to check the brand name; maybe they were designer shoes and I just didn’t know the trend. I read the label: (s)HOES.

  I balanced a shoe on the palm of my hand and studied it as though I’d found it on an archaeological dig. A fine object we have here, created by the Wasubi tribe on the northern coasts of Papua New Gunner. Probably used as a torture device.

  Samuel nibbled my shoulder. “They’re for you.
Not for work, of course.” He laughed.

  I returned the shoe to the box.

  “I stole a peek and found out your shoe size.” He handed me the next box, but I was afraid to open it. What next?

  I pulled out a see-through negligée made from cheap lace the color of bing cherries. Granted, I liked to look sexy in bed now and then, but cheap lace and stripper shoes weren’t my style. I was more of a silk camisole and matching panties and bra kind of woman.

  “Baby, you’re going to look hot in that. I can feel myself getting excited already.” He took my hand and placed it directly on his—well, I doubt that I need to explain. “Last but not least.”

  He handed me the largest box. I didn’t want to open it but told myself maybe it was all a joke and the last box would be a silk lavender slip and matching robe.

  Nope. I pulled the tissue away and stared down at four strands of white rope, coiled like snakes. “Ha-ha,” I laughed, hoping he’d join in and we’d laugh and laugh at his prank. “Stripper shoes and rope! Ha-ha-ha!”

  He pressed his mouth next to my ear. “You’ve been a bad girl and it’s time Daddy taught you a lesson.”

  What the—?

  “I’m going to tie you up and give you the spanking you deserve.”

  All these months and our lovemaking had been exactly that—lovemaking, passionate yet sweet. He’d never once said anything about rope. Not that I was a prude. I just didn’t want to be tied up. What if there was a fire or a burglar? And my sister was in the other room!

  He whispered, “Say something dirty to me and then you’ll get punished.”

  “I . . . I . . .” I could feel myself blushing. Who was this person? What have you done with my respectful, courteous boyfriend? I want him back!

  “I’m gonna teach you a few lessons tonight. You’ve been a bad girl and Daddy’s gonna have to give you a spanking.” He waited for my response. “Now you say something. Say something nasty. Come on, baby, I want to hear it.” He pulled back, his eyes expectant.

  “I—I hate it when people don’t wash the dishes before they go to bed?”

  He stared at me, waiting.

  “Dirty sheets. I hate dirty sheets. They’re naaasty.”