The host pulled her seat out and helped Venus into her chair. “I’ll be back with fresh bread and a sample of our house wine.”
Venus was already softening, the ice slipping off the edges of her shoulders. She had intended to be tough and unshakable. She came here to make him feel remorse and rub his face into the facts. Fact. On the night of her thirty-fourth birthday, he brought home a puppy instead of the engagement ring she’d purposely showed him in the window at Zaire’s a few weeks before. When the proposal didn’t materialize, she’d concluded that he’d been using her for the last four years to get through medical school and had never intended to marry her.
Fact. Yes, she had indeed kicked him out of her house, but she’d apologized for that, and they were on the narrow road of recovery when she’d found another woman’s pitiful pancake number nine in his bathroom and overheard him whispering sweet nothings into the phone. Fact. Their reconciliation was further sabotaged when he showed up with said owner of that horrible color of blush at an event he knew good and damn well Venus would be attending. Fact. That woman had been dating a married man right under Clint’s nose, and he still chose her over Venus.
Fact. Said woman was his punishment for life.
Her leg kicked up involuntarily, a reflex of memory shooting across her knee like a doctor’s gavel. Clint was lifting a glass of wine to his lips and didn’t notice the table’s quick vibrations tickling the plates and flatware. A glass filled with a sample of wine was sitting in front of her while the server stood patiently by waiting for a thumbs-up or -down. She grabbed the glass and swallowed the blood-dark liquid. Her eyes burned and her throat threatened to seize. Clint smiled, knowing she’d drunk it too fast. He pushed a glass of water toward her.
“I think we’ll look at the wine menu.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter conveniently pulled it from behind him like a magician doing his best work. “Everything on this side is available by the glass, and this side is by the bottle only.”
Clint squeezed out a thank-you and a have-a-nice-day smile. Venus was still recovering from the firewater.
“That was awful. Eeew.”
“I forgot, you like that sweet stuff,” he said over the menu. “Let’s see, no Boone’s Farm, wait, I see some Gallo. Oh no, I’m sorry, that’s Galileo.”
This time she kicked intentionally with a dead-on target.
“Ouch, I’m just playing. We’ll get anything you want. Shit, I’ll drive to the liquor store if I have to, make it back here for the second course.”
“You’re not funny,” she said through her watering eyes. “I think I’ll pass altogether on the alcohol.” She folded her napkin in her lap.
“There’s got to be something. How about the Riesling, light, citrus flavor with a touch of sweetness?” he read out loud from the menu.
She shook her head no. “My mom’s illness has put me on a quest for good health. No alcohol. Beginning now. Not even a glass of wine with dinner.”
“Well, if you’re not having any, I’ll pass, too.” Clint put the menu down. “So how’s she doing?”
“You asked me that earlier, remember?” It was the best she could do, seeing how she still had no answer.
“Okay, then, how’re you doing?”
“Fine.” She leaned back in her chair. A slow operatic tempo played through the hidden speakers. The outdoorsy sounds of crickets and frogs were starting to get on her nerves. Maybe she would give up the wine starting tomorrow. She needed something to calm her down, relax her, or she’d never make it through the rest of the night.
Clint took a deep breath. “Okay, no small talk. I think I made that rule. Tell me what we’re doing here. Is this the I-just-wanted-to-see-if-I-still-felt-anything-for-him date?” He blinked slowly, his eyes locked on to hers. Sliding his hand across the table, he beckoned her to meet him halfway, tapping, creating a beat to the music that had none. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Venus put her hand on the edge of the table, forcing him to travel the extra mile to-get to hers. “I know how I feel about you, Clint. I don’t need an evening out for that.”
“And that would be …?” He leaned forward, giving his full attention. He’d changed like Clark Kent to Superman. No longer the mild-mannered doctor he was earlier with the starched buttoned collar. Now his soft silky shirt clung to his defined chest and arms. His face and neck glistened with a fresh shave and splash of cologne.
Venus leaned her elbows on the table, pulling her hands away and using them to support her story. “You were the one who got away. I’m the one who sent you out there, young, single, and free. I take full responsibility for that. I cried a long time wondering how stupid I could be to let someone like Clint Fairchild get away from me, Dr. Clint Fairchild. For a while I actually waited for the call, the message on the machine that said, ‘I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry this other woman, you’re the one I want.’ When you didn’t call, it finally dawned on me that this wasn’t a bad dream that I was going to wake up from. This was my life, this was your life, and we truly were over. But in all that time, I never stopped thinking about you.” Venus blinked several times seeing herself then, waiting.
“I’m talking about now, V. Not yesterday, or two years ago. Now. How do you feel now?”
The room temperature went up a few notches. Her eyes darted across the room to the stone fireplace with red arched flames shooting up that felt an arm’s reach away, the heat smothering her face, no room to breathe. She picked up her glass of ice water and worked it down her throat with short careful swallows, hoping the water could wash away the vivid memories.
“Is there anything left for now?”
What was he asking her? If she still loved him? If her heart still shattered into a million tiny pieces with the mention of his name? If she was still waiting for the call?
The cool slickness of the glass she held felt like it was slipping from her hand, melting with her heat, the frustration. The anger. She gripped the glass tighter, not wanting it to slip away.
“Venus, just give me a simple answer. Have you considered—”
She felt a new strength pulsing around her fingers. She shoved the water with one thick push toward Clint’s face. It spilled around his lashes as he blinked in shock. He shot up out of his seat, grabbing the napkin and wiping at his face taking in much needed air. “What the fuck is that about, V?”
“That’s for having the nerve to ask!” Venus was on her feet too, her finger in Clint’s face. “The nerve to sit there and ask me how I feel. The same way I felt then, pissed off. Pisssssed off!” She grabbed her purse off the back of the chair and moved through the obstacle course of table and chairs with openmouthed patrons who were hoping the show wasn’t over, waiting for more crucial information. Was it another woman? It was always another woman.
“V,” Clint called after her. “Venus.”
“Stay back.” She turned around and warned him. “Don’t risk it, Clint. I swear. I don’t know what I’ll do to you. I’ve wanted to scratch your damn eyes out for two years, don’t give me the chance.” She made it outside and sucked in the night air, then let out a long slow exhale.
“V—”
She started walking, each step numb, the ground unsure beneath her feet. She already regretted throwing the water on him. She hated ignorant behavior. Especially public displays of behavior. All those people staring, watching while she made a fool of herself. She should have had the wine. At least it would have dulled her senses, made her less quick to react. “Now. He’s demanding answers, now,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
The sound of her heels clicking against the concrete came alive, as if the volume had just been turned up. The numbness wearing off, she could feel the chill around her. She stopped to see where she was, as if she really believed she could make it home in her spiked heels. She pulled out her cell phone. In the good old days, she would’ve had to find a phone booth and dig in her purse for the fifteen cents her mother had
taped inside with firm words before a date, “Always be prepared to say no, Venus. You don’t owe anybody anything.”
“I need a taxi.” She moved closer toward the corner to see where she was. “Wilshire and Melrose, could you send someone in a hurry? I’m freezing my ass off out here.” Literally, she felt the cold air gust up and surround her nearly nude bottom. She smoothed the fabric of the dress down and pulled it into a ball around her thighs.
“Nice, V.” Clint’s silver Mercedes pulled up on the wrong side of the street. “Come on, get in the car.” He waved her toward him as if that’s all it took for his will to be done.
She started walking again. He trailed slowly on the wrong side of the street.
“Go to hell, Clint. You know, instead of standing there happier than punch, congratulating you and Miss Kandi, I should have told you then, got it out of my system. You suck! She sucks. You deserve each other.”
“Oh, that’s real mature. This is good. I remember all those years feeling like the young boy, not smart enough, not good enough, for the savvy Venus Johnston with her two degrees and her corporate climbing, bungee jumping, bourgeois friends. My, my, my, how things change.” He was obviously trying to incite more violence.
Venus was feeling the urge to hurl her shoe, actually both of them, straight into his face. “I didn’t make you feel that way, those were your own insecurities.”
“I didn’t make you kick me out either,” Clint retorted dryly. “I wasn’t the one who lost her mind, coming home without a stitch of hair, talking about how you were cutting me out of your life by cutting off your hair. I didn’t do that, V. You did it.” The car stopped. She heard the door slam. He was walking up behind her, still daring to be close.
“I wasn’t the one who stopped answering the phone, stopped taking calls, then all of a sudden, you’re over it. So then everybody else is supposed to be over it, too. You’re ready to put the pieces back together … just like always, Venus-way or the highway. What the hell did you expect me to do?”
She turned around and walked back to him, slowly, each step a little more threatening. Clint hesitated, meeting her halfway. Eventually they were nose to nose. Venus stood before him. “I didn’t expect you to turn around and marry somebody else. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever. I expected you to be there, like love. Do you remember asking me if I ever loved you, really loved you? Well, I want to know your answer to that question. Did you ever really love me? ’Cause if you did, if you truly did, you wouldn’t have married her. Not like that.” She pushed his hand away when he tried to smooth her shoulders. “Answer me, Clint. Did you ever really love me?”
“As much as I knew how, V.” He tried to lean in and pull her into his embrace.
The yellow taxi pulled to the corner just in time. She took off her shoes and ran to catch it before the driver began to think he was being set up for a car jacking. She could feel Clint’s pull, the energy of his eyes watching her get into the cab, the same way he’d watched her at his wedding when she’d stepped away after wishing him love and luck. What choice did she have, then or now? She had to walk away.
QUICKSAND
VENUS wasn’t through her front door before the sound of the ringing phone sent her already overworked adrenal glands into high gear. She paced, thinking of what she’d say to Airic. She’d avoided him long enough. She picked up the receiver and carried it to her bedroom, peeking at the caller ID box. It stopped ringing but the readout remained. Unknown caller. She picked up the little plastic casing, then slammed it back down. “Identify the gah-damned caller! What good are you?”
She moved back into the living room, where the machine kicked on. She waited, holding her breath, listening.
“Hey you, just checking on my girl Sidney gave his blessing for me to fly out there, so holler if you need me. Plus, I could use the getaway. There’s some stuff going on at this end; either way, I think—”
Wendy’s voice cut off with the machine. Her tone was too low. She sounded tired. Venus wondered if her friend still cared to switch places as they often talked about. The Single life versus Married with Children. Which life was more consuming? More eternally exhausting?
The phone rang again. Venus assumed Wendy was calling back, planning to finish her message. She picked it up quickly.
“You’re there.” The warm touch of Jake’s voice.
Venus sat down on the thick sofa, pulling her feet together on the edge of the cushion. “I’m here.”
“Everything all right?” Jake sounded far away, an echo of space in his words.
“Everything?” She stared at the raggedy toe polish, wearing off at the tips.
“I must’ve caught you at a bad time. Honey sitting there beside you?”
“No.”
“Just a woman of very few words tonight, huh? Okay, I see.” The pause seemed longer with the air between them. “I was only calling to see how things went, how your mother was doing. How you’re doing.”
Finally, the sound of a crashing wave. She had a feeling he was outside, standing on his deck. The swift wind blowing, carrying his voice out to sea.
“I’m fine. My mom … she’s at home. My dad and Timothy are taking care of her. We didn’t have a good departure earlier, but I’m going to make a fresh go of it tomorrow.”
“Good, she needs you.”
“How do you know?” She managed to scratch off all the flaky polish on her big toe. She liked it better that way, natural, clear of trying to be something it wasn’t. She ran her thumbnail over the rest of them, looking for another loose chip to pry.
“I know because you’re easy to need. When you left the studio today, I found myself watching the clock.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Why do men always proclaim their need after I’m already gone?”
“I couldn’t figure it out either, why in the world I was missing someone who didn’t miss me. Thinking about someone who wasn’t thinking about me. That’s not my style at all,” Jake confessed.
“So what was your conclusion?” Venus felt the day’s events drifting off like the waves in the background. Certainly the last few hours had turned into a distant memory.
“I still have no answer. It’s all new to me.” His bewildered reply was sincere.
“Oh yeah? I thought you were a strategist, had everything all figured out.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work when it comes to you.” Jake was doing it again, his voice traveling at a snail’s pace, taking his time with each point.
She leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes, letting the lightness capture her mind, but only momentarily. She tried to pick up the tone. “You’re trying to say I’m a hard case?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. You’re just a mystery. No, I take that back. More like a perfectly wrapped present sitting under the Christmas tree. Like when you’re a kid, you know the present is yours. You know it’s something good, so perfectly wrapped, every line and corner in place. The bow situated neatly on top with ribbon streaming off the sides. What’s inside is a complete mystery, but you know it’s yours, even though it doesn’t have your name on it. The anticipation is the best part, knowing if you sneak a peek, unwrap the edges, the surprise will be ruined.” He paused long enough to make Venus remember his hands up the sides of her thighs, massaging, caressing. “So I’ll wait. Take my time. I’ll wait for Christmas.”
Venus had already turned on her side, curled up on the couch like a baby being held by loving arms. She could sit and listen to him all night, into the morning, into the day. She squeezed her knees together, trying to push down the pressure rising between her thighs. He may as well have been there beside her. She could feel her nipples pushing against the fabric of her dress, the tingling that would pull them into hard knots instead of the usual soft mounds of flesh. It wouldn’t stop there; the tingling would move to the core of her being like a balloon filling up with warm water until she couldn’t stand the pressure.
“Did you fall asleep
on me?”
Venus popped her eyes open. “No. Almost. I’m tired.” She hoped that would explain the throaty lull in her voice. The longing. “I have to get up early and take Timothy to the airport. He’s going home tomorrow.”
“What time is his flight?”
“Eight … I think.”
“Can I come?”
“What? No. That’s too early Plus tomorrow’s a Saturday; don’t you have something exciting to do in the morning?” “Waking up with you. Very exciting.”
“Good night, Mr. Parson.” Her voice was a lazy drawl into the pillow she rested on.
“I’ve been demoted, back to Mr. Parson. Okay, that’s cool. But I want to see you tomorrow.”
Venus hugged herself, burying her face in the smooth brown skin of her knees. She didn’t want the universe to hear what she was about to say. The higher powers that absorbed wishes and intentions, making them into reality. “I want to see you, too,” she whispered, feeling the chill of embarrassment.
“Do you?”
She didn’t know what to say next. Careful not to be too quick with confirmation. Careful not to scare him away. Still, careful not to let him in. She let the movement of her breathing speak for her. The quiet careful inhale, the cautious exhale, dictating her actions. Moments passed. Endless time, the distance between making a decision that could change her life, alter her path. A swell of sadness overcame her, the surety that nothing could change her path or her life. Not even Jake.
“I better go.” She waited for his response, afraid he would declare her ambivalent. A woman who doesn’t know what she wants will never have what she needs.
“Until tomorrow, then.”
She hadn’t chased him away. Venus held her breath to contain her joy. “Until tomorrow.”
Venus hung up the phone now wrung out, completely listless. Her mind was filled with thoughts, regrets, and a lifetime of choices. She didn’t need to go back that far; she could have picked from an assortment of mistakes and experiences like a buffet table of chocolates. Her thoughts landed on her first year in college, where she’d started at the ripe old age of seventeen secure with the knowledge she had a boyfriend waiting back home—Tony Jones, a power forward who played his heart out on the basketball court. But more than heart was required for a college scholarship. They were both crushed when they found out she would be going to USC alone. The endless conversations on the telephone into the wee hours of the morning promising a lifetime of teenage love. Venus meant it at the time; she was certain college wouldn’t separate them. Still in the same city, a thirty-minute drive to the central part of Los Angeles, where the University of Southern California campus clung to its heritage, forging on with its hundred-year-old brick buildings and bronze statues.
Would I Lie to You? Page 16
