Joelle seemed satisfied with my comment and rewarded me with an arm squeeze.
The hostess appeared, and Joelle chatted her up; she was obviously a regular at the restaurant. We were shown to a prime white cloth table outside; the restaurant had outdoor heaters but it was also a fairly balmy day for December. Joelle followed her, moving stiffly and slowly.
“What’s with the robot walk?” I said.
“Bikini Bootcamp classes,” Joelle said, slowly lowering herself into a chair.
“It’s only December.”
“Never too soon to start.”
When we were seated, she flapped a napkin over her dress. “Let’s order a bottle of Chardonnay. My treat.”
“I can’t drink. I have to go back to work after this.”
“Come on. I feel like celebrating. It’s not like they’re going to make you take a breath test when you return.”
“I’m drinking very little these days.”
“Oh yeah? What’s going on? Are you taking a round of antibiotics? Did you take home a little souvenir from one of your one-night stands? ”
“No!”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”
“Of course not.”
I explained that I’d been seeing someone for a while as well, and he’d filled up such a hole in my life, I didn’t feel the need to get sloshed on a regular basis.
“Define ‘a while,’” she said. “Three days? A week? An hour?”
“Several months.”
“Seriously? Why haven’t you told me?” Joelle was conversing with me, but her gaze tracked two smartly dressed women who were entering a clothing store called Spoiled Rotten.
“We haven’t been talking as much as we used to. We’ve both been so busy.”
“If Toni Lee Wells is sticking with one guy, he must be the second coming of Ryan Reynolds.”
“He’s more like the second coming of Eric Benet. But sexier.”
“Eric Benet?” She frowned. “Halle Berry’s ex-hubby? Are you saying your new boyfriend is black?”
“Yes.”
“So he’s a fling?”
“No. I really care about him, but unfortunately there is a problem I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Oh, honey. I’ll bet there’s a whole passel of problems,” Joelle said. Her phone chirped out the song “Uptown Girl.” Checking it, she said, “Baby’s just pulled up in the parking lot.”
“Baby’s coming?”
Poof! There went my plans to have a heart-to-heart with Joelle. Maybe it was just as well; we hadn’t gotten off to a stellar start.
“Yes, and don’t pull a face. Y’all are going to have to get along if you’re both going to be in my wedding party.”
“You want Baby to be your bridesmaid?” I accidentally upended the saltshaker with my elbow. “After the way she’s treated you over the years?”
Joelle flicked her wrist. “That history is so ancient the dinosaurs don’t even remember it. Not to mention she’s apologized over and over. Donnie will probably be Trey’s best man so it makes sense, you know.”
“Who will be your maid of honor?” I said, suddenly dreading the answer.
Since we’d been friends, Joelle had talked about her dream wedding at least a hundred times. The details were constantly being fleshed out: Chocolate fountain or champagne fountain? Horse-drawn carriage or limo? Dove release or Chihuahua release? (Joelle had a flair for the bizarre, or at least she used to before she met Trey.)
One aspect had never changed: I’d be her maid of honor. (No doubt wearing a flashy animal print dress.) Were things different now? Had Baby managed to usurp years of friendship in just a few short months?
The ground rumbled; drinking glasses shook. Baby had arrived. She gave me a cursory acknowledgement. She and Joelle immediately launched into an animated discussion of a dinner party they’d attended, where the hostess had served a cheap wine.
“Crane Lake,” Baby said, eyes round with horror. “And she didn’t even try to hide the bottle.”
I didn’t comment, thinking on the rare occasions I bought wine, Crane Lake was all I could afford.
Ten minutes passed, and the waitress had yet to honor us with a visit. I announced I had to return to school. Joelle didn’t offer a word of protest, and Baby said, “Oh, the life of a career girl. Busy, busy.” No doubt she was glad to be rid of me.
I got up from my seat, and plodded to my motorcycle, thinking Joelle might end up being an even worse snob than the people who used to dismiss her at Rose Hill Prep.
“Toni Lee!” Joelle called out. “Wait.”
When she caught up with me, she said, “I need to make something clear. If Trey and I do get married, you’ll be my maid of honor. Not Baby.”
“Are you sure?” I glanced back at the table where Baby still sat, admiring her long, white teeth in a compact mirror.
“Of course,” Joelle said, sounding like her old self. “You’re my best bud, and you always will be. I apologize I’ve been out of touch lately. This is the first time I’ve ever been in love and it’s making me a little soft in the head. Forgive me?”
“Of course.”
I doubted very much she was genuinely in love with Trey. Far as I knew, love didn’t turn a person into a jittery, walking skeleton. Somehow I was going to have to make her see that Trey might not be the best man for her.
The next day I was sitting in my empty classroom, contently nibbling on a pimento cheese sandwich, when I received an unwelcome phone call: It was Trey.
“I’m planning to ask for Joelle’s hand tomorrow night.” His voice sounded nasal over the phone. “And I’d like your blessing. I know your opinion is important to her.”
Unfortunately that was no longer true. Joelle was far too indoctrinated in the cult of Trey for my opinion to hold any weight.
“What if I refuse to give my blessing?”
Silence. Then he said, “I don’t know…Is there any way I could convince you?”
Should have guessed Trey was the literal type. I balled up my lunch bag and tossed it in the trash.
“Kidding,” I said, even though I wasn’t.
“I’ve brought home several rings on approval from the jeweler but I still haven’t chosen one,” Trey said. “Baby says a cushion cut, but I’m not sure.”
A cushion cut! Joelle would no more want a cushion cut than she’d want a burlap wedding dress and a dandelion bouquet. Since she was eighteen, she knew exactly what shape diamond she wanted: a marquise. Thought it would make her fingers look skinny.
“No cushion cut. Might as well give her a lug nut.”
“I’m glad I called. Say, would you mind coming over and taking a look at what I’ve chosen?”
He was asking me to choose the weapon for Joelle’s destruction. Still, if I went, it would give me the chance to get to know Trey a little better. I thought of the saying, “It’s best to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” Also it was a convenient night for me to go; Carl was playing poker with Doc.
Trey’s house was a boxy two-story brick Colonial surrounded by a hedge so well-manicured it looked like it had been tended with pinking shears. An American flag flapped on a pole, a brass lion head knocker graced the door, and a black Mercedes was parked in the drive.
Respectable but dull. Couldn’t he at least have a whimsical bumper sticker on his car that said, “Visualize Whirled Peas” or “What would Scooby Do?” Then maybe I wouldn’t think he was the wrong guy for Joelle.
When I rang the bell, Trey answered the door still in his work clothes, a stiff white dress shirt with monogrammed cuffs, dark slacks, and wing tips. Very natty looking. My guess was he took all his clothes to the dry cleaner, even his boxers.
I followed him into his living room, which had been decorated with a nautical motif. Pillows needlepointed with anchors. Compass rug. Liberal use of the colors red and blue. Probably made Joelle queasy every time she stepped inside. She got seasick watching re-runs of The Love Boat.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Trey said.
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
I parked myself on a striped chair and studied a shadowbox that featured various boating knots.
“You sure? I have Cristal. Joelle said you were a fan. True?”
Very true. Last Christmas I’d gotten a taste and loved it so much I told Joelle I’d name my first-born Cristal, even if it was a boy.
“I’ll have a tiny glass.”
He went into the kitchen and brought back a flute so overfilled with champagne it was sloshing over the sides. I eagerly grabbed it, reminding myself not to be swayed by grossly overpriced yet delicious champagne.
When I finished my first glass, he offered me a second, and as tempted as I was, I refused. I had to drive home.
“Maybe it’s time you showed me the rings,” I said.
He laughed. “We were having so much fun I almost forgot.”
Fun was stretching it, but my Cristal buzz softened the edges of everything, even Trey.
After a moment, he returned with a large blue velvet box from Wooten’s, the most prestigious jeweler in Rose Hill. They ran commercials that said, “When it’s a Wooten ring, the answer is always yes.”
I opened the padded box, and the brilliance of the rings’ stones practically blinded me. They were so stunning I was tempted to marry Trey myself.
My gaze scanned the row of shimmering pretties, lingering on the last one on the left. “They’re all beautiful, but this is the one she’ll love the most.” I pointed to a marquise big as a searchlight. Joelle could thank me later when she’d have to sell it after the inevitable divorce.
“I appreciate your help. I would have hated to make a mistake.”
It did seem important to him to get Joelle the right ring, but I was still convinced he was the wrong guy for her and not even the Hope diamond could change that.
“You’re welcome.” I stood to leave.
He jumped up from his seat. “By the way, I was talking to Kirk recently. He had a great time with you the other night. I know he wouldn’t mind taking you out to dinner sometime. Maybe we could double date.”
“That’s sweet, but I’m involved with someone right now…Thanks so much for the Cristal.”
I made my way across the Berber carpet to the door, and Trey followed close on my heels. “Joelle mentioned you had a boyfriend. Calvin something?”
“His name is Carl.”
“Is it getting hot and heavy?”
“Could be,” I said mysteriously, even though I thought his question was exceedingly nosy.
“Black guy, right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” He laughed. “Donnie told me a funny joke the other day. What’s the difference between a black man and a park bench?”
I held up my palm. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“A park bench can support a family of four.” He cuffed me on the arm. “Pretty funny, huh?”
“It’s not one bit funny.” Whatever points Trey had scored with the champagne were destroyed by that joke.
“Don’t you have a sense of humor?”
“Not when it comes to racist jokes.”
He waved away my comment. “I’m hardly a racist. I have plenty of black people working for me. Rosa, our housekeeper growing up, was like a second mama to me and my brothers. But let’s be realistic; it’s not like I’m going to ask her daughter out. And she probably wouldn’t want to go out with me. Blacks are more racist than whites.”
I hitched my purse on my shoulder and said, “Good night, Trey.”
“Let me pass on a little advice to you.” His jowls jiggled slightly as he spoke. “You’re a good-looking girl. Nice catch. But once it gets around that you’ve been keeping company with a black man…It’s bound to put some people off. They might think you’re…well…sullied.”
For a moment I was too stunned to come up with a reply.
“I’m leaving. Wouldn’t want to give you cooties. Better throw away my champagne flute just in case. Also get someone to fumigate the chair I was sitting in.”
“Now, Toni Lee. This has been such a nice visit. Do we have to part on an unpleasant note?”
“I don’t think we have a choice, Trey. You just marginalized someone I deeply care about.”
“Have it your way then…One more thing, though. Joelle tells me you’re going to be a member of our wedding party, which is fine by me. But your friend, unfortunately, won’t be welcome. Unless of course, you think he’d like to help out with the valet parking.”
My mouth fell open.
“That was a joke! Well…at least the part about the parking.”
I paused at the front door. “Have you discussed this with Joelle?”
He nodded. “She’s in full accord.”
Twenty-One
I marched up to Joelle’s mustard-colored stucco home and banged on the door so hard the Christmas wreath nearly fell off. I was huffing and puffing, breath streaming from my mouth like steam from an iron. Joelle appeared at the door, wearing a leopard-spotted warm-up suit. At least at home she was still true to spots and stripes.
“Did Trey call you? He said he might. What did the rings look like? Tell me everything.” She dragged me into her living room. More animal prints there: Zebra wall hanging, snakeskin lamp shades, tiger drapes.
“The rings are beautiful. I told him to get you the biggest one, of course. A marquise cut. But there’s something else—”
“How many carats? I know it’s supposed to be a surprise but I’m dying to know.”
“Three maybe?”
Joelle shrieked. “Oh my God. Wait until I tell Baby. Three? Are you sure?”
“Maybe. It’s not like I’m a jeweler. Will you listen for a minute, please?”
Joelle fanned her overheated face. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Trey told me that you and he agreed Carl shouldn’t be invited to the wedding.”
“Carl?”
“My boyfriend!”
Silence. Then a long drawn-out exhale of air.
“That Trey.” Joelle sounded like a mother whose child has been caught red-handed in the cookie jar. “I wish he wouldn’t have brought that up.”
“It’s true, then?”
“Don’t start freaking out on me, Toni Lee.”
I whirled away from her. “What do you expect? This isn’t you. You aren’t a racist. What’s happened to you?”
“Hear me out, please.”
“I just can’t believe—”
“Sit. Listen.”
I begrudgingly sat on the edge of a furry club chair; my body was vibrating like a tuning fork.
Joelle sat across from me, kneading her thighs. “You know I’d be perfectly happy to have your boyfriend at the wedding, but the truth is, some people, like Trey’s father, are offended by interracial relationships.”
“But—”
Joelle held up a hand, heavy with a new topaz ring. “This is my wedding day, and to be honest, I want people to be focusing on the bride, not you and your date. Call me selfish, but that’s how I feel. Can you try and understand?”
I couldn’t speak. Did I even know her anymore? What had Trey done to her?
“Toni Lee?” Her tone was soft, contrite. “Why are we stressing over this? I won’t be getting married for months. I bet you and Carl won’t even be together by then.”
“Yes we will.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do. I tried to explain when we had lunch. I’ve never felt like this about any guy before.”
“Try to be honest with yourself. Couldn’t your relationship with Carl possibly be a bid for attention?”
“It is not! I would never do that to Carl.”
“Really? Because, according to Trey, you were making out with Kirk after my dinner party.”
God Almighty. It seemed as if everyone knew about that.
“Okay. I backslid briefly. But at the last minute my strong feelings for Carl won out, and I did not go home with Kirk.”
“Why do this? Why go crazy over some black guy when there were so many other guys before him you could have fallen for?”
That question was easy to answer. There were countless things to admire about Carl: He knew I loved candy corn and left me small packages of it in unexpected places. Once he’d left a trail of candy corn that led to the bedroom. On several occasions he watched horror movies with me, even though he sometimes had to cover his eyes during decapitations or other gory parts. But beyond all that, he possessed one singular quality that set him apart from anyone else I’d ever gone out with.
“Carl Rutherford is one of the best people I’ve ever met in my life. The genuine article. But even more important than that, he makes me want to be a better person.”
Sappy as it sounded, it was true. From the first day I’d met him, it was as if Carl hadn’t seen the person I was, but the person I’d always secretly longed to be.
“Hate to tell ya this, but you might not feel the same when you discover how hard it’s going to be to date a black guy in this town,” Joelle said.
“Not everyone in Rose Hill is like Trey. Who incidentally is such a huge racist he makes the Klan look like little kids running around in white sheets.”
Joelle entangled her fingers in her bleached hair; I was surprised it didn’t break off in handfuls. “I realize he might not be as tolerant as some, but you have to understand, that’s the way Trey was brought up.”
Girl Meets Class Page 17
