by Dara Girard
“A makeover?”
“Yes. Important people will be there.”
Her voice fell flat. “Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
He tweaked her chin. “Mind that temper.”
“Why are you asking me anyway?”
“Because it will stop this ridiculous show of bribery.”
So she hadn’t exactly charmed him, at least he preferred her to the others.
“I hate when women fight over me like I’m the door prize at a raffle,” he continued. “It’s a relief you’re not like that.”
She smiled weakly.
“So it’s all set.”
“You don’t need to pay for my makeover. I’m not going to show up in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I like to think of it as insurance.” Kenneth lifted the chain off her neck and said in a soft voice. “Just think of me as your fairy godfather.”
* * *
“I can’t believe he asked me,” Jessie said, pounding her head against the wall in Michelle’s office. “Just when I had set myself up for failure, he asks me. It makes everything worse.”
“Will you cut that out?” Michelle demanded. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Have a heart, Mich. She is obviously upset,” Teresa said.
“She’s acting like a twit. Why wouldn’t he ask you? He thinks you’re his friend.”
Jessie fell down into a chair. “I am his friend.”
“So just tell him the truth.”
“I can’t,” she said miserably. She couldn’t take him being disappointed with her. Plus she was too close to reclaiming the pendant.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’d prefer that you suffer in silence. I am sick of hearing about him. First you were worried that he wasn’t paying you any attention. Now that he’s paying attention to you, you fall to pieces.”
Jessie stared up at the ceiling.“Oh how I love coming to you for sympathy.”
Michelle pointed at her. “It’s either Kenneth or the pendant. The choice is yours.”
* * *
A calm summer wind blew over the park as Syrah played with Dion, during Jessie’s tennis game. She loved Dion. He was her best friend. She threw a ball and watched him run after it with his funny walk. Sure she had Denise as a friend, but she was too nice, too good. It made her nervous. Real people weren’t that good.
“That’s the dumbest looking dog I’ve ever seen,” a boy said as Dion dropped a squeaky ball in front of her, his tail wagging in anticipation.
Syrah glanced up at the boy. He wore a black T-shirt with ‘Big Jake’ written in large red letters. His long brown legs and arms reminded her of a spider. “No, he’s not.”
“Why does he walk so funny?”
She patted Dion on the head. “’Cause his leg is crooked.”
“So he’s dumb and he’s crippled.”
Syrah rushed to her feet. “Take that back.”
“Make me.”
She punched him in the face. His head snapped back; blood seeped from his nose. He stared at her stunned then lunged at her. They fell to the ground, clawing and punching each other. A small crowd of kids surrounded them chanting: Fight! Fight! Fight!
A boy shoved his way through the crowd. He picked Syrah’s tormentor off of her and tossed him on the ground. The other kids walked away disappointed that the fight was over.
“Only cowards beat up girls,” her rescuer said.
Big Jake scrambled to his feet. “She punched me first, Daniel.”
“He was making fun of my dog,” Syrah said, rising as well.
“’Cause he’s dumb.”
“Not as dumb as you are.”
“Watch what you—”
Daniel pushed Jake back before he could lunge at Syrah again. “Cut it out,” he said. “Why don’t you go away and leave people alone?”
“Why don’t you stuff your face with a pie and leave me alone, fatso?”
“Don’t call him fatso,” Syrah said, outraged on Daniel’s behalf. She clenched her fists ready to fight again.
Daniel grabbed her hand and bent to scoop up Dion. “Come on. Let’s go find your mom.”
Big Jake pushed him. Daniel fell forward, the impact knocking off his glasses. Big Jake laughed. “Fat and clumsy.”
Dion began to growl low in his throat. Syrah gritted her teeth. “You’re going to pay for that.”
Daniel grabbed her leg before she could go after him. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
Daniel calmly stood, wiping the dirt from his clothes. He adjusted his glasses. “I said let’s go. Get your dog.”
“Coward,” Big Jake said as Daniel took Syrah’s arm. “Just like your dad.”
Daniel stood still for a moment then spun around so fast Syrah screamed. Jake started. Daniel jumped on him and another fight began.
Syrah ran to the tennis courts. “Aunt Jessie, come quick!”
By the time Jessie and Syrah returned, a small crowd had formed. The group now included Big Jake’s mother.
Jessie jumped between the boys and separated them. Jake’s mother raced to him, hugging him close. She glared at Daniel.
“How dare you!”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Syrah said.
“I don’t care whose fault it is. You have no right going around beating up little kids.”
Daniel kept his voice low. “He’s the same age as me, Mrs. Sims.”
“Yes, but you’re twice his size. Since your dad ran off you’ve been a menace. Didn’t your mother—”
“You leave my mother out of this.”
“If his nose is broken, I’m sending her the bill.”
Syrah smiled maliciously. “But that wouldn’t be fair ‘cause I broke it.” Her voice hardened. “And I’m glad too.”
Mrs. Sims glanced at Jessie. “Is she legal?”
Jessie folded her arms. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I know how you like to smuggle them in. I realize your countries are poverty-stricken wastelands, but when you bring them here you should teach them American manners. I’m sure your parents taught you.”
“Our country is America. We were born here.”
“America is your country when it’s convenient,” Mrs. Sims said. “Otherwise your councils, clubs, and stores wouldn’t exist, right?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize this was a societal argument. I thought this was about the children.”
“It is. You need to raise them right. Your island girls are too fast and too wild and they should be tamed.”
Jessie grinned. “Don’t worry. We take out their fangs by thirteen.”
Mrs. Sims glared at them then quickly ushered her son away.
“Bitch,” Wendy said.
Jessie slapped her in the arm. “Not in front of the children.”
“She’s right,” Syrah said.
Wendy shook her head. “She’s just angry because her husband was having an affair with a woman from the Bahamas.”
“He’s sleeping with Mr. Han’s daughter now.”
The adults looked at her stunned. “How do you know?” Wendy asked.
“Denise told me.”
Jessie looked at Daniel who was delicately wiping blood from his lips. “Let me take you home.”
He turned. “Nah, that’s all right.”
She grabbed his shoulder. “I know, because I’m not asking.”
On the drive to Daniel’s place, the kids took turns explaining what had happened. Jessie silently cheered them, remembering her own childhood fights, but gave them a stern lecture.
“The elevators aren’t working,” Daniel said, as he opened the door to the stairwell.
They climbed the concrete staircase, the lights buzzed and blinked overhead like defunct lighting bugs. Jessie nearly collapsed with gratitude when they reached the tenth floor.
“Here we are.” Daniel opened the door and ushered them inside. The room was the perfect stage setting for an urban drama. A large m
attress covered by a dull blue spread took up most of the space, a small metal table and two folding chairs sat in the corner, facing a tiny TV on top of a crate. A small kitchen made up the far wall. A petite woman with childish eyes came out from the shadow of the corner. She held a pair of knitting needles. The damage she had done with those objects was evident throughout the room. Not a window, table, chair or pillow had escaped her.
“Oh, good. Company,” she said in a soft, high voice.
“These are my friends Mom. Ms. Jasmine and Syrah.”
“I’m Lydia.” She gestured to the bed. “Please sit down, Jasmine.”
Jessie found it disconcerting that Lydia didn’t even notice the bruises on her son’s face. She began to say something, but as she gazed into the innocent eyes she thought better of it. She sat down on the lumpy mattress, trying to appear comfortable though a spring was pinching into her thigh.
Lydia put down her knitting and rubbed her hands. “Would you like something to drink?”
Jessie saw a cockroach scurry to safety. She wanted to say no, but knew that would be an insult. “Of course, thank you.”
“And we’ll fix you a nice snack. Daniel, see what we have.”
He hesitated. “But—”
She waved him away. “Go on, hon. I’ll stay with our guests.”
Syrah noticed the mild look of panic on his face and recognized the problem. It wasn’t uncommon for her father not to have enough food in the house either. She took his arm and headed for the kitchen. She opened the fridge and frowned.
“As you can see, we don’t have much,” Daniel said.
“You have enough.” She took out some eggs.
“What are you going to make?” He watched her with keen interest as she took down different ingredients from the sparse shelves.
“You’ll see.” Syrah put some water in a pot and put it on the stove to boil the eggs.
“I bet you’re wondering how I could be fat with no food around.”
She gave him a quick glance. “No, I’m not.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Fifteen.”
“I’m twelve.”
Her eyes widened. “No way.”
“Yeah, my dad’s side of the family is tall.”
“You’re gonna be like huge when you’re grown up.”
He shrugged.
“It will be awesome. Nobody can hurt you.”
He flexed his fingers. “Nobody hurts me now.”
“Where’s your dad? Did he really run off?”
“No. He’s somewhere trying to find work.”
“How long has he been gone?”
Daniel avoided her gaze. “Couple years.”
Syrah took the eggs off the stove and emptied out the water. “He’s not coming back.”
“Yes, he is.”
She opened a can of tuna. “Grow up. People leave and they don’t come back. That’s the way it is. My mother left and for all I know she could be dead.”
He leaned against the counter. “My father’s not dead and he’s coming back for me. You’ll see.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
His voice hardened. “He will.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” she pressed.
“He will.” He pushed up his glasses in a quick angry gesture. He suddenly frowned. “Why did you flinch like that?”
“I didn’t.” She made the tuna mix and then arranged the crackers on the plates.
Daniel took a cracker and dipped it in the tuna. “It’s good.”
She nodded, not wanting to say anything that would make him angry again.
He took off his glasses and swung them from side to side. “There’s nothing wrong in hoping is there?” He smiled wistful. “There’s nothing wrong with hoping that one day he’ll come through that door and say, ‘Daniel I’ve missed you and I’ve come to take you and your mom out of this place.’”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with that,” she said quietly.
He tugged on her cap, his smile turning from wistful to friendly. “Exactly.”
Syrah smiled back. He had pretty eyes for a boy. And he wasn’t fat; he was chubby like a teddy bear. She felt a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach and looked away. Annoyed, she shoved a plate of crackers at him.
“Take this food over to your mom,” she said gruffly.
“Yes ma’am,” he teased then turned and walked away.
They all thanked Syrah for her wonderful meal of deviled eggs and tuna mix with crackers. They ate while Lydia chatted, acting the role of hostess as if she were in a grand palace instead of a gloomy apartment. Jessie shifted uncomfortably in her seat; Syrah tried not to yawn. Daniel saved her by showing her a crossword he was working on and his pen collection.
When the visit was over, Daniel insisted on walking with them downstairs, in spite of their protests.
“Thanks for everything,” he said, once they reached the exit. He shook Jasmine’s hand and surprised Syrah by giving her a brief hug. He then returned to the stairwell.
“I liked them,” Syrah said, as they walked to the car. She shoved her hands in her pocket. Her hands curled over a long thin object. She pulled it out and saw that it was one of Daniel’s pens: a heavy silver one with ridges. For a terrible moment she thought she had stolen it without thinking, but then she remembered his clumsy hug and smiled. The boy could be slick. “Yeah, I liked them a lot.”
* * *
When Kenneth came home that night, Dion rushed up to him and jumped around his ankles. The puppy’s tail wagged so much his whole body shook like a toy rocket getting ready for flight. Kenneth picked him up and was rewarded with a bunch of grateful licks. “What have you been up to?” he asked, setting the puppy back down.
The answer was evident. He found Ms. Rose cleaning a stain on the living room carpet, Syrah wiping up paw prints in the hallway and Jessie mopping up a puddle in the kitchen.
He rested his briefcase on the counter. “Looks like Dion’s been busy.”
“Give him time,” Jessie said.
“As long as he doesn’t start chewing things, he’s fine.”
She grimaced. “Well...”
“Well, what?”
She put the mop away and began biting her nails. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’d probably find out anyway so...”
He waited.
She went under the sink and pulled out a chewed up pair of expensive Italian shoes.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“I’ll buy you another pair,” Jessie offered, hiding the shoes behind her.
“You obviously don’t know how much they cost.”
“A hundred?” she guessed.
“Try three.”
She raised the shoes to her face, trying to figure out what special feature warranted such a price.“You spent three hundred dollars on a pair of shoes?”
“They’ll last forever. Or they would have.”
“Perhaps they can be mended.”
Kenneth took the shoes and frowned. “Right, the scratches and teeth marks can just be polished over.”
Jessie took the shoes away from him. “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
He patted her on the head. “Yes. I know you will. Your makeover starts tomorrow.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to.” He took her hand. “I want you to start using that magic word that will make any man yours.”
She looked at him suspicious. “What is it?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” she repeated.
He grinned like a proud professor. “Very good,” he said then left the kitchen.
Later that evening Freda approached him as he wrote bills at his desk. “Mr. Preston, I’d like to speak to you,” she said.
Surprised, he turned to her and gestured to the couch. “Of course. I always have time for you.”
She clasped her hands together in h
er lap. “I’ve never interfered in your life before, but this time I must speak my mind. I know you’re taking Ms. Clifton to the ball and I know why, but revenge never healed a broken heart.”
His eyes darkened, but his friendly mask remained. “My heart is not broken, Ms. Rose.”
“She told me about the pendant, its power, history, and what it means to her family.”
“How is that of any importance to me?”
“You feel betrayed.”
“I was betrayed.”
“She betrayed her father first and wants to atone.”
Kenneth folded his arms and nodded. “I suppose we should congratulate her for giving such loyalty to a dead man.”
“She cares for you.”
He let his arms fall and glanced towards the window. His voice was soft. “I see you’ve been blinded by her lies as well.”
“She didn’t know whether to forsake the pendant or you. I told her to choose the pendant.”
He looked at her stunned. “Why?”
“Her father loved her.”
He gripped the armrest. “And I don’t?”
She raised her brows. “Is that a question or statement?”
He loosened his grip and kept his voice neutral. “She was my friend or at least pretended to be and she betrayed me. Those are the facts. You know me Ms. Rose. You know I rarely let people close. You see how my family is, how the women in my life are. You know how everyone in my life has a hidden agenda. Why should I forgive Jasmine when she is no different than the rest?”
“Forgive her for your sake not hers. Hatred can destroy a man.” She hesitated. “You don’t recognize your power.”
Kenneth flashed an arrogant grin. “Of course I do. I’m a powerful man. I’m rich, I know the right people—”
She shook her head. “I don’t mean that kind of power. Something far more dangerous.
You have the ability to destroy her, but you would destroy part of yourself as well.” She spoke slowly. “I don’t deny that she needs to be taught a lesson. I just don’t think it’s the lesson you want to give her.” She stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Preston. That’s all I need to say.”
* * *
Jessie hated the feeling of anticipation as Kenneth drove Syrah and her to go shopping. She wasn’t supposed to care about such frivolous things, but she did.
“Wait! You just passed the mall,” she said, watching White Crest Mall whiz by.
