“You’re familiar.”
Duncan sipped his club soda and told himself he shouldn’t be concerned about Warren, because no woman of Justine’s intelligence could tolerate him for long. “One of those faces, I guess. You live around here?” He wished Justine would hurry.
Warren shook his head. “Bethesda.”
Duncan hated making small talk, and especially with a man who wasn’t any better at it than he was. He would offer the man another drink, but he didn’t know the guy’s capacity and he didn’t want Justine out with a drunk. He stood when she walked in.
“You look beautiful, as always,” he told her and took the coat that she attempted to hand to Warren. He wasn’t going to laugh because it wasn’t funny, but he enjoyed getting the better of Warren, though he knew there’d be hell to pay when she got back home. He noticed that she didn’t thank him for the compliment.
“Nice meeting you,” Warren said and extended his hand for another limp handshake.
“Have a good evening,” Duncan replied. He was not going to lie and say he was glad he’d met Warren whatever-his-last-name-was, because it churned his gut to see Justine walk out of there with him.
“Nice fellow, Duncan,” Warren said, opening the front passenger door of his powder-blue Cadillac.
Justine got in, adjusted the butter-soft leather seat, and fastened her seat belt. “You think so?”
She hoped that didn’t sound like a sneer, but what she thought of Duncan right then was anything but complimentary. Just wait until she got back there.
Warren turned on the ignition and let the motor idle. “Seems first class, and he’s got a nice place there. How can he afford you?”
“I’ve never asked him about his financial affairs. Why are we standing here?”
He patted the dashboard as though it were a lover, turned to her, and let her see the pride that glowed on his face. “I take good care of this baby. You blew my mind when you called; it was the last thing I expected you to do, and I’m curious. What changed your mind?”
Honesty is the best policy when you can manage it, she told herself. “You want to start up something with us, and I’m curious as to why you think it’s possible or even a good idea. We weren’t sweethearts in school.”
He moved the Cadillac away from the curb, looked to his left and in his rearview mirror before heading down Primrose, and she remembered how cautious he’d seemed when they knew each other in college.
“I thought we were sweethearts, and I guess that was my problem. We went every place together, and as far as I was concerned, you were my girl.”
“Come on, Warren, you never kissed me, and you certainly didn’t ask me to go steady.”
“I didn’t think I had to. No. I was afraid you’d say no, and it made me mad as the devil if I saw you with anybody else.”
“Tell me about it! Your temper broke up our friendship. I hope you’ve tamed it.”
“After you walked off and left me on the dance floor, I was the butt of every joke in the men’s dorm, though you can bet nobody said anything to my face.”
He’d been a brother then, and after nearly a decade, she couldn’t even muster a sisterly feeling for him. Still, maybe if she got to know him, her feelings would change. “Sorry about that, but you got hostile, and I never could tolerate frostiness from a man. Makes me uneasy.”
“Can we start from here, then? I never got you out of my system, Justine, and Lord knows I’ve tried.”
She couldn’t encourage him too much knowing how she felt about Duncan, but maybe being with him occasionally might help her put her relationship with Duncan in perspective. “You deserve more than I have to give, Warren. My feelings haven’t changed, and I don’t know that they will. Friendship is all I have.”
He paid the gas attendant and rolled up the window. “Déjà vu all over again, just like old Yogi said. Duncan is a lucky man.”
“What do you mean?”
“You think I didn’t notice how possessive that guy is about you? He’d probably have taken me on if I wasn’t as big as he is.”
For the first time that evening she could laugh. “Warren, if Duncan had wanted to take you on, as you put it, he wouldn’t have cared how big you were.”
He parked in front of Ludella’s Restaurant on Georgia Avenue.
“The best soul food in the District,” he boasted. “The Willard’s fine when I want pressed duck breast.”
She suffered through his tales of Rufus Meade’s football genius and made herself attentive while he dropped other famous names. She noticed that he let his gaze sweep the room every minute or so. For a man claiming to want a woman, he had a peculiar way of showing it.
She declined his suggestion that they visit one of the Georgetown nightclubs with the excuse that, “It’s almost midnight, and I’m not one for staying up late. It’s been lovely.”
She noticed that he could barely contain his displeasure.
They spoke very little on the drive back, each silently acknowledging that the evening had been more of a trial than a pleasure. Needles attacked her feet as they started up the walk to Duncan’s front door. Maybe he’d left a light on in the living room. Surely he wouldn’t sit there and wait for them. But to her chagrin, that was what he had done. Even as Warren reached for the doorbell, the door swung open, and a wide grin on Duncan’s face greeted them.
“You two have a good time?” he asked, though he looked at Warren. “Thanks for bringing her back safely, man. This town can be rough at night.”
Realizing that he didn’t plan to give them a second of privacy, anger exploded in her head and, throwing caution aside, she reached for a startled Warren and planted a kiss on his mouth. “Good night, Warren. I had a wonderful time.”
She disregarded his quizzical expression and brushed past Duncan. The front door closed and she quickened her steps.
“You had a good time, sure enough?” he asked.
She whirled around and marched back to him. “If I were you, Duncan Banks, I wouldn’t say one word to me right now. Not one word.”
He stuck his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged. “Why? What’s the matter? What did I do?”
She took a few steps closer to him. “For one, you can wipe that look of innocence off your face. I’m twenty-nine years old, and what I do on my nights off is none of your business.”
“You mean your business is my business the other five nights of the week?”
She took another step toward him. “I’m warning you. If you ever behave again the way you did tonight, I’ll embarrass you. You’ve got Warren thinking there’s something between us.”
His eyebrows shot up so fast she almost believed she’d committed a sin. “You mean there isn’t?”
“I’m going to bed. You try something like this again and, I promise you, I won’t be so reasonable.”
“Do I get an affidavit to that effect?”
She controlled her right foot just before she stamped it. “You…you…You think I don’t know what you were doing?” She headed toward the stairs, stopped, and turned around. “I could…Duncan, I could throttle you.”
“As long as you don’t plant one of those cold, flat kisses on me like you did Warren, I won’t complain.”
She glared at him. “I like peace, Duncan, but there’s a limit to what I’m willing to pay for it. Good night.”
She didn’t want to believe that Duncan was jealous of her, but what else would have caused him to act as he had? She wasn’t entirely innocent, because she had gone for broke and dressed to the nines, and she had to admit that she didn’t much care what Warren thought of the way she looked….
Duncan watched her rush up the stairs—away from him. He knew he’d overdone it, and he owed her an apology. A couple of them. But it went against his grain to do it, because he’d lie if he said he was sorry. He climbed the stairs and knocked on her door.
“I don’t want to be disturbed, Duncan.”
“I need to talk to you.”
He waited for what seemed like long minutes until she cracked the door and peeped out. “What is it?”
“I know I owe you an apology, but I don’t feel like apologizing. I shouldn’t have interfered with your date, and I won’t do it again. Just warn me next time. Okay?”
“Why should I warn you?”
He stared at the red silk kimono hanging off the side of her shoulder and the smooth, beige-colored flesh that it exposed. Damn! Annoyance flared in him. Not at her, but at life’s nastiness. “Don’t ask the obvious, Justine,” he said, taking it out on her. “Not unless you want some bare facts, and right now, I’m in the mood to give them to you. Just warn me next time.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but headed for the basement, where he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. This night wouldn’t be the first on which he’d gone without sleep. And probably not the last.
Duncan could hardly bear the diet of coolness to which Justine treated him during the week that followed. Pleasant. She was that, but not much more. All right. Let her stew. Around seven that Sunday evening, she appeared in the living room elegantly dressed in a blue suit and told him, “I should be back by midnight. Have a good evening.”
He went to the closet for her coat and controlled his amusement when she attempted to take it from him and put it on. “Anybody picking you up?” He said it as casually as he could, because he didn’t want to give her an excuse to be angry with him.
“Is there?” he persisted when she didn’t answer. “Want me to call you a cab, or are you driving?”
He could see that her impatience was feigned. “Thank you, Duncan, but I’m fine.”
He didn’t release the coat. “How are you getting there and back? A sensible person doesn’t cut off his nose because he has a cold, Justine. I’m only concerned with your safety.”
“Oh, all right. I’m driving.”
He relaxed. Maybe he’d scared old Warren off. “If you’re going to a movie, I suppose I shouldn’t detain you.”
If his life had depended on it, he wouldn’t have been able to say why he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Her right hand flew to her left breast, she sucked in her breath and her grayish-brown eyes seemed twice their size. He had to diffuse the tension and quickly, because he couldn’t let her think he would take advantage of her, so he headed for the front door.
“I’ll let you out. Be sure you have enough gas, and take care.”
Her face still had that stunned expression when she turned to walk down the steps. He sat down at his desk and tried to work, but he couldn’t do any hard thinking, so he pitched his pencil across the room, slammed his file cabinet shut, peeped in on Tonya, and called it a night. A few hours later, he lay on his back staring at the ceiling. A quarter to twelve, and she still wasn’t there. He had a good mind to…He flipped over on his belly and gathered the pillow under his chin. “Man, you’re losing it. If she went to meet a man, you are not interested. You don’t care,” he said, and repeated it over and over like a mantra.
Twenty minutes later, he heard her footsteps on the stairs. He should go to sleep, but he couldn’t, so he slipped on a robe, opened his door and stepped out in the hall. “You okay?”
Her startled look told him that he’d surprised her, that she’d trusted him not to meet her at the door, and he was glad he hadn’t let her down. “I just wanted to know that you’re all right,” he said.
She smiled at him, warm sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. “Thanks. I’m just fine. It is a bit eerie driving up here at night, though. There’re no lights along the park portion of West Beach.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know you took that route. If West Beach had red lights, I wouldn’t even pause at one of them this time of night. Well, I just wanted to see that you’re okay. I hope you had a good time.”
“I went to see Jack Nicholson. That guarantees you a good time.”
An unfamiliar glow suffused him. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Good night.”
He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to figure out why she’d been so friendly. So warm. One of these days, he was going to conduct a survey on the subject of women, and ask them why they acted the way they did. He wasn’t stupid, and if he couldn’t figure them out, he doubted a lot of other men could. He threw off the robe, got in bed, and went to sleep.
Justine resisted checking on Tonya for fear she’d encounter Duncan again that night. Much as she adored Jack Nicholson, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on that movie, because Duncan had shattered her defenses with his kiss as she left the house. She’d been distant all week, hoping to set some rules for their relationship, but with that one gesture, he’d torpedoed the little progress that she’d made. The hole that she’d dug for herself got deeper every day. She shouldn’t stay, and she couldn’t leave. If that knowledge wasn’t sufficient to set her nerves on end, she got a genuine shock the next morning. She took Tonya to the breakfast room, put her in her highchair, fed her, and went to the kitchen for her own breakfast.
“I tell you, Justine, that child loves you so much she starting to look like you. Mr. B don’t know how lucky he was finding a good woman like you to take care of his child. Only the Lord knows how a mother could give away a beautiful child like this one. She gonna be sorry, too. You mark my word. What you want for breakfast?”
Justine couldn’t move. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound. Frantic, she rushed out of the kitchen and stopped when Tonya, laughing and shaking a rubber bird, sang, “JuJu. Juju.” She whirled around and bumped into Mattie.
“What you wanna eat, Justine? I got to get my housework done. You don’t have to watch that child every minute. I didn’t even hear her cry. You want pancakes?”
Grateful that Mattie hadn’t detected the effect of her words and that Duncan hadn’t been there to hear them, she answered in a voice strange to her ears, “Juice and toast will do, Mattie.”
The woman stared at her. “You ain’t sick, is you?”
“The suit I had on last night was tight, and no comment on that, please.”
“You ain’t heard me say a word.”
She had to get out of there, away from the stress of living a lie that threatened to encircle her like a coiling python. Maybe she’d take Tonya for a walk or a drive down to the paper. Mattie returned with orange juice, several toasted muffins, butter, and jelly. Justine wanted to push it all away, but Mattie stood at the table waiting to be treated to the sight of Justine devouring the food.
Justine drank the juice, nibbled on a raisin muffin, took Tonya, and left the dinning room. She struggled with the coming damnation that Mattie’s innocent comment foretold, as she contemplated that time when Duncan would recognize the resemblance and know at last why he thought her familiar. Indeed, Mattie’s shrewd eyes might soon conclude the truth. Well, she’d deal with that when she had to.
She dressed for the outdoors and looked around for something warm to put on Tonya. The idea that came to mind startled her. Did she dare? She went to her closet, opened the box of treasures that she stored there and took out the hand-made yellow sweater, one of two precious things she had from her mother. The other was a small bronze medallion blessed by Pope Paul VI. She gazed at the hand crocheted sweater with a large pom pom on each sleeve and smaller ones down the front. A garment for a two-year-old girl. Her eyes smiled down at the child who giggled and clapped her hands.
“Juju sing?”
She didn’t feel like singing. She had never worn the sweater, because her mother had gotten ill right after she made it, and her father had packed it with the things she’d taken to her aunt’s home. It rightfully belonged to Tonya, but a lump formed in her throat as she put Tonya’s arms in the sleeves. A perfect fit. She pulled the child into her arms and spilled tears on her head, but she heard Mattie climbing the stairs and her moment of weakness was a short one.
“Tonya sing. Juju sing?” Tonya said again.
She knew the child
wanted to slap hands and play patty cake, but she hadn’t the spirit for it, pretended she didn’t understand, and sang “Here We Go ’Round the Mulberry Bush.” Tonya yelled and jumped up and down in protest, but Justine was not moved. She finished dressing her and took her to the back garden for a walk. The telephone rang as she closed the back door, but she didn’t pause.
“Justine, some man was asking if you lived here.” Mattie yelled from an upstairs window. “He don’t sound like nobody you’d be knowing, real rough like, so I told ’em he had the wrong number.”
“I don’t know what he’d want with me,” Justine said.
“Me neither, but this ain’t the first time he done that. I got a good ear, and I know he’s called here before. Wonder if he’s the one what calls, don’t say nothing, and hangs up? I tell you whoever invented phones ought to be horsewhipped.”
He’d called before all right, and he hadn’t spoken a word. If only she knew who he was and why he called, she could protect herself. She had planned to put Tonya in the stroller and walk around the neighborhood, because the child enjoyed seeing the squirrels and chipmunks that roamed the area collecting their winter food, but who knew the whereabouts of that man? So much for her wish to spend some time out of doors, away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of her deception. She went back inside, put Tonya in her crib, and got to work on some letters that she’d procrastinated about answering.
“Dear Aunt Mariah, what do you do when your man catches you in a lie? It’s not the first, and I don’t think he’ll forgive me this time. Help. Troubled.”
Justine had thought for a long time about that letter. If she knew the answer, she’d be less worried about Duncan’s reaction to her own deception.
“Sometimes we have to pay the piper,” she wrote. “You may have to take your medicine, and try to get on with your life. If that happens, don’t let yourself become a pathological liar. Get some help. I wish you the best. Aunt Mariah.”
Fools Rush In Page 13
