P. G. County

by Connie Briscoe

  “I thought you liked my hair like this.”

  “That’s not the point,” he snapped.

  She nodded. If only he knew how right he was. She was a different woman from the one Jim thought he’d married. She was black, the great-granddaughter of a slave. But she couldn’t tell him that yet. She looked down at the floor.

  “Fine. I’m going out.” He slapped the newspaper down on a chair and stalked out.

  She dragged herself up the stairs, lay across the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sometimes she thought she would take this to her grave with her, just as George had taken it to his. It would be better that way.

  She realized that the television was on. She looked at the screen and was greeted by a cereal commercial. Happy family. Happy kids. All white. She changed the channel, and there was another family. Happy. White.

  She sat up, grabbed the remote and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell apart. Just like her life, she thought bitterly.

  Chapter 32

  Patrick strolled into Pearl’s shop on Saturday a week after that fateful Sunday looking as handsome as ever. But Pearl didn’t care how good he looked. She knew exactly what she had to do. Their little affair was over before it had even gotten started. She pulled him back into her private office.

  “Sorry to barge in on you like this,” he said, “but why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “I’ve been meaning to,” she said, as she shut the door, “but, well, I’ve been trying to think how to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I can’t see you anymore, Patrick.” There, she’d said it. It was over.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What brought this on?”

  “You’re married, Patrick. My son walking in on us like that drove the point home. I don’t do that stuff. I never have and I don’t intend to start now.”

  He nodded. “Believe it or not, it’s a first for me, too. Well, not exactly. But that happened a long time ago. I felt bad about it and broke it off. I decided that if I was going to be married, I would do my best to make it work, and that meant no fooling around. Fortunately, I’ve never been tempted since. Until now.”

  He smiled awkwardly, and she looked down at her thumbs. She was embarrassed and flattered all at once. She liked so much about this man. But she had to let it go. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”

  “I understand if it makes you uncomfortable, Pearl, and I’ll have to settle for us being friends.”

  She sighed. “No, not even that. I’m going to have to ask you to stop coming by the shop.”

  “Whoa.” He yanked his hands out of his pockets. “Damn. Can I at least call you once in a while?”

  “Patrick, please.”

  “Fine, fine. I get it. But just one question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What if I wasn’t married? Would you still refuse to see me? Or is that just a convenient excuse because you’re not interested in me?”

  “No, it’s not like that. If you were single, it would be different.”

  “That could happen any day, you know. I’ve just been putting it off because of Juliette.”

  “It’s not me you need to be talking to. Sounds like a conversation you should be having with your wife.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Sorry to be so blunt.”

  He shrugged. “You’re just being honest. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” He backed toward the door, then stopped. “Good-bye, Pearl.” He turned, opened the door and quickly walked away.

  She sat at her desk and put her head in her hands. Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?

  Jolene banged the phone down. She was absolutely thrilled. The architect she’d hired after breaking up with Terrence had just informed her that they could move into the new house in a week, no more delays this time.

  She clenched both fists. “Yes!”

  This was wonderful news. She had already contacted a mover, and all she had to do was call and confirm. She had packed most of her clothes and Juliette’s, as well as the good dishes and silverware. Patrick was taking his sweet time about packing his things. Well, he’d have to get cracking now.

  She was meeting Bradford later that afternoon at the Ritz and had just showered and slipped into a skimpy black bra and G-string for the date. She couldn’t wait to tell him the good news, but first she needed to let Patrick know. Lately he had been out so much working on David Manley’s campaign, so she’d better grab him while she had a chance. She threw on a bathrobe and slippers and ran down the stairs.

  “Patrick,” she yelled from the top of the basement stairs.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you come up? I have great news about the house.”

  “Can’t it wait until after this movie is over?”

  Jolene tapped her foot impatiently. What did she ever see in that man? He had no interest at all in the house these days, especially since getting involved in politics. You would think they were building a shed out back for all the interest he showed.

  She skipped down the stairs two at a time, ran into the media room and switched off the television set. It had a 42-inch plasma screen and took up half of the room, but not for long. In the new recreation room, they would have enough space for the TV as well as pool and Ping-Pong tables. She had wanted to install a home theater but Patrick refused.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Patrick yelled as he sat up on the leather couch. “I’m watching that.”

  She turned to face him. “Patrick, that was Sean on the phone. We can move in next weekend.”

  “What?”

  “The house, silly. We can move into the new house on Saturday.”

  “Fine. You can move in. I won’t be joining you. I’ve been meaning to tell you that.”

  She frowned and put her hand on her hip. “Excuse me? What the hell are you saying?”

  “I’m not moving into that monstrosity. We can’t afford it, and I don’t want to be there when your butt gets evicted.”

  “But … but you have to move in with us.”

  “Why? We haven’t gotten along in years, Jolene. We hardly talk to each other anymore. And you screw every man who comes along, looking for a better deal.”

  Her eyes grew big. He knew about her affairs? Impossible. She had been so careful, and he never said a word.

  “That’s right.” He smirked. “Don’t think I’m in the dark about it. You think I’m an idiot, don’t you? Well, I’ve known for a while that you can’t keep your skirt down. So has everyone else in Silver Lake.”

  Deny, deny, deny. What else could she do? “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fine. Play dumb. I kept quiet about the architect and the others before him because I really didn’t give a damn. But this latest thing with Bradford, that’s the last straw. It’s cold, tacky and thoughtless.”

  Jolene gulped. It felt like someone had stuck her head in a hot oven. She was speechless for the first time in her life.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  She licked her lips. “What … what? How … ?”

  “I just found some of the e-mail you sent to his office. Some pretty hot and heavy stuff there.”

  Jolene stomped her foot. “You had no right snooping around in my e-mail.”

  “Oh? And you have the right to screw my boss? Get some perspective here.”

  Jolene was furious, mainly with herself. How could she have been stupid enough to leave all that on the computer? Well, it didn’t matter now. She wasn’t even going to try to deny it anymore. Why should she? She was a vibrant, healthy woman, and he hadn’t lit her flame in years. “Don’t you dare scold me. Hell, you’ve never done bullshit to get us anywhere. Now you’re putting all your time into this silly politics obsession of yours.”

  “I happen to like politics. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Everything, when you’re neglecting your family. You’re never home anymo
re. You’re always running off to some political event in Annapolis or Upper Marlboro or God knows where else.”

  “Look. Don’t try to twist this all up and make it look like I’ve done something wrong. You’re the one who’s been screwing around. Are you still seeing Bradford?”

  Jolene didn’t answer. She pulled the belt to her robe tighter. Now was not the time for him to see the G-string.

  “Fine. Go right ahead and have your little affair. The sad thing is, I don’t even care anymore. I just wish you’d do it with someone besides my boss. But I realized a long time ago that I’d never be good enough for you ’cause you never got over Jonathan Parker or the lifestyle you think you would have had with him or someone like him.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.”

  “No, you don’t. But this is it for me. I’m not moving.”

  Shit, Jolene thought. She’d always known they would break up sooner or later. She just preferred later, and on her initiative. Not his. This was terrible timing. She needed him to help her get settled in the new house.

  There was one thing that might get him to change his mind. “What about Juliette?”

  He looked at her sharply. “What about her?”

  “This is going to kill her,” she said. “She adores you.”

  For the first time, his face softened. “Not if we handle it right. I’ll break it to her, but I need you to cooperate. Don’t make me look bad in front of her, and give me joint custody.”

  “Fine, if you agree to move into the new house just long enough to help us get settled. Then you can do whatever you want, and I’ll cooperate when it comes to Juliette.”

  He glanced away and thought for a moment. She was tugging on his weak spot with all this concern about Juliette, and he knew it.

  “How long do you think it will take you to get settled?” he asked.

  “Well, after the housewarming party next month might be a good time for you to move out.”

  “Housewarming party? What housewarming party?”

  “For the neighbors in Silver Lake. I’ve already hired a caterer and arranged for the decorations. And I plan to invite the governor and lieutenant governor.”

  “Wait a minute. And you didn’t even tell me?”

  “Don’t get me started. You’re just now telling me you never planned to move in with us.”

  “All right. But after the party, I’m gone.”

  Damn. How had this happened without her suspecting anything? “Is it another woman?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you doing this now? Are you seeing someone else?”

  He sneered. “I wish.”

  “Well, where will you stay after you move out?”

  “I’ll stay here.”

  “That’s impossible. We have to put this house on the market. We can’t afford to keep two mortgages if you stay here.”

  “It will only be until I can get something smaller, a town house or condo. Until then we’ll do whatever it takes to make ends meet.”

  She sighed. He had obviously been thinking about this for a while. Now she knew why he hadn’t started packing his clothes. “Fine.”

  She stormed out of the room and climbed the stairs. He had really socked her between the eyes with that one. She had always assumed that she would be the one to make the first move and that she would have another man lined up at the gate when she did.

  She flopped down on the bed. This was definitely a setback, with Patrick wanting out and Bradford not yet in. Patrick was right. If word of her affair with Bradford got out before she was his woman, she would be shunned by everyone in Silver Lake who mattered. But if she was married or even engaged to Bradford Bentley, no one would dare treat her badly. She was going to have to come up with something to get her man. And fast.

  Chapter 33

  Barbara was having trouble getting her eyeliner to go on straight. She couldn’t hold her hand steady to save herself. Darn. She grabbed a tissue and tried to rub the crooked black line off, then leaned closer to the mirror over the bathroom vanity.

  She couldn’t help giggling at what she saw. She had smeared the black stuff all over her eyelid. It looked like Bradford had socked her. Oh gosh. They were due at a black-tie charity dinner in thirty minutes, and this would never do. She searched through dozens of cosmetics bottles on the marble vanity top for her makeup remover. Where the hell had she put it? She knew she had some in here somewhere.

  “Barbara, what’s taking you so long?”

  She jumped at the sound of Bradford’s voice and knocked a bottle of astringent to the floor. Bradford, dressed in his black Armani tuxedo, was standing in the bathroom doorway tapping his foot. Barbara put her hand over her heart to steady it. “Shit, Bradford. You scared me.”

  Bradford pointed at his watch. “We should be pulling out of the driveway now, and you’re still in your bathrobe and hair rollers.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m almost ready.” She bent over to pick the bottle up off the carpet, then stood up and nearly toppled over backward. She hiccuped and covered her lips with her hand. Oops. Did that come from her mouth?

  Bradford narrowed his eyes at her. He sneered. “You’re drunk. I don’t believe this shit.”

  “I am not drunk.”

  “Yes you are. You’re stone drunk.”

  “I had one drink and that was hours ago.” She hiccuped again. “Maybe two.”

  “Dammit, Barbara. You’re in no condition to go out tonight. When did you start drinking again?”

  “What do you mean? I’m … I’m not drinking again. I just—”

  He frowned. “Can’t you do anything right? I give you the moon and the stars and you can’t even keep your ass sober.”

  She calmly picked her cigarette up from the ashtray on the vanity and took a deep drag. “Maybe if you could keep your dick in your pants I could stay sober.”

  “What did you say?”

  She smashed the cigarette out. “Nothing.”

  He stepped into the bathroom and grabbed her arm. “What did you just say?”

  She yanked herself free. “I said, Nothing.”

  “You know what? I’ll go alone. You’re too much of an embarrassment in this condition.” He turned and stormed out of the bathroom.

  “Go ahead then,” she yelled after him. “I hate going to these stupid affairs with you anyway. It’s all so damn phony. Pretending to be Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. Mr. and Mrs. Happy Couple. Put on a happy fucking face. Pfft. We’re anything but.”

  She stopped yelling when she realized that she was all alone. Fine. Go without her. He was probably running off to screw another one of his whores anyway, the one who sent the photos by e-mail. What did he take her for? A damn fool?

  She had better company in mind for tonight anyway than a no-good, lying, cheating husband. Good old Mr. Belvedere was always there for her. And on Monday she would start the real estate class. Didn’t need him. Nope. She blinked. Wait. Didn’t the class start last Monday? Or the one before that? Gosh, she had forgotten all about it. She should call Marilyn to check.

  She turned toward the door but realized that she was still holding the bottle of astringent. She set it down on the countertop, then looked up and got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Oh hell. Look at this mess. Mascara smeared all over her face, rollers in her hair. No wonder Bradford didn’t want her. His new mistress probably never looked this bad. She never wore curlers and probably had boobs that stretched to California and back. And no doubt she had a big important career.

  She sobbed, grabbed two tissues and stumbled into the bedroom. She flopped down on the bed, opened her nightstand and removed the bottle of vodka. Mr. Belvedere never cheated on her. He didn’t play golf on rainy mornings and never worked late at night. He didn’t care about her size 34A boobs and lack of talent. He was always right there when she needed him.

  She stood up to get a glass from the bedroom, then changed her mind. Why bother? No one was here but her. She lift
ed the bottle to her lips and tilted her head back.

  Chapter 34

  Coward. Liar. The way she was deceiving her own family was utterly disgusting. Why, she was no better than George himself. Candice Jones, passing for white. Candice Jones, living a fat lie.

  No, no, no. That was the wrong way to think about it. Things were better this way. Absolutely. Why destroy her daughters’ lives simply to satisfy her own need to get this secret off her chest? Her parents’ lives. Her husband’s. They were all much better off not knowing the truth, and she would be better off forgetting.

  She stared at the web page on the computer monitor in front of her. Lately that was all she’d done. Stare at it. She was weeks behind, and if she didn’t get moving on this web site design now, she was going to find herself out of a job.

  She sighed. One more bathroom break and then she would get down to business. She stood up and walked out of her office and down the hall, past the desk of her assistant, past Bradford’s suite and past Brenda’s desk with her eyes glued to the floor. She found it hard to look them in the face these days. When they saw her they saw a white woman. Ha. What a joke.

  She turned a corner, opened the door to the rest room and stepped into a room full of men, all staring at her. She froze. What the hell were a bunch of men doing standing at urinals in the ladies’ room?

  Keith, a young web developer, had a big grin on his brown face as he zipped his fly. “Wrong room, Candice.”

  Holy Toledo. A wave of heat rose through her body. She backed out of the room and looked up at the sign on the door. “Men,” it said in bold letters as big as you please. Damn. She had walked straight into the men’s room. How utterly embarrassing.

  She turned and fled into the women’s room next door, walked into a stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down on the toilet and some of the faces she’d seen in the men’s room started to come to her.

  “Wrong room, Candice.”

  She shook her head. Ha. How about “Wrong life”? It was all a lie, starting with the color of her skin.