by Bell, Kris
RICHIE
I hadn't heard from Isabel all week. Not since the one time she called and hung up the evening I confronted Chloe about messing up my car. I didn't know how to feel about that.
Part of me was happy my friend was spending time with her man. I knew Isabel's limited communication with Kyle bothered her immensely. Sometimes he'd call or text her in my presence and Isabel's whole face would light up like a Christmas tree. I knew she loved him, and I would never begrudge her happiness about spending time with him.
On the other hand, though, I could not for the life of me deal with the streak of jealousy that grew within me each day she was gone. The time she spent with Kyle could have been just as easily spent at home with me. I constantly wondered if she was enjoying herself with him. I wondered if he was taking good care of her, if they were being intimate on the regular.
The idea of another man touching Isabel made my flesh boil, which, of course, was stupid since I've never touched her myself. That didn't change the fact that a part of me craved this woman. I was happy for her happiness and miserable that her happiness didn't come from me.
Three beeps on my cell phone snapped me out of my thoughts and brought me back to reality. I snatched it from my pocket and swiped my finger across the screen as though the message would disappear if I didn't view it fast enough. It had to be Isabel.
I couldn't help but sigh in slight disappointment when I realized it was Tara Taliaferro, Isabel's best friend. Her text read: Dinner? Chinese? Now?
It took all of three seconds for me to respond back: Sure. P.F. Chang's? 30 minutes?
Moments later, my cell phone beeped again. It was Tara telling me she would meet me at the restaurant. Great. Now instead of sitting at home wondering what Isabel was doing with her time, I had someone to occupy my time.
God bless you, Tara.
By the time I found my exit on Virginia Beach Boulevard and pulled into the parking lot in front of P. F. Chang's, I had already received another message from Tara. This one stated she beat me to the restaurant and already had a table for us.
I walked into the building and surveyed the crowded room. The ambience of P. F. Chang's had always struck me as one of the more upscale food chains you could hope to find in Virginia Beach. With the rich earth tones dominating the decor of dim lighting and the many gleaming surfaces, it was easy to see how people flocked to this establishment. Never mind how good the food was; it was definitely one of the better Chinese joints I’d ever eaten in.
The young hostess with short, spiky hair and a thin smile quickly met me at the entrance to the restaurant, but as soon as she approached me, I spotted Tara. She sat at a small table near the rear of the building. She caught my eye and waved me over. I politely excused myself from the hostess, and strode over to Tara.
She stood and greeted me with a quick hug. Tara looked strangely conservative in a blue pencil skirt and modest yellow blouse...until I looked at her shoes. Her opened toe spiked heels had to be a good six inches high, which made her legs look strong, shapely and extra-long. I chuckled softly underneath my breath. I should have known Tara would never turn completely modest. But she looked lovely.
"It took your ass long enough to get here," Tara said as she sat down. "I was about to order and leave you with a doggy bag."
"It's not my fault you teleported here. Some people have to drive through traffic, you know."
A waiter came over and delivered menus. Tara and I didn't bother with them. I stuck to my usual beef lo mein and hot and sour soup, and Tara ordered orange chicken with fried rice. White zinfandel was our drink of choice; we ordered a bottle. Neither of us spoke until the waiter departed.
"Thanks for coming out with me, Richie. I didn't have anyone to hang with tonight. I'm glad you were free."
"Well, I have to admit, I'm surprised you hit me up."
Tara took a sip of water from the glass before her. "How so? We talk all the time."
I nodded. "Yeah, but we never hung out alone.""Oh, now that's true! I'm glad we have the opportunity, though. As a relatively new friend of yours, I know there are some things I shouldn't discuss, but this is me and you know I don't give a good damn."
Hmm! The plot thickens. Tara invited me out with a purpose. I was equally intrigued and nervous. I seriously hoped she wasn't interested in me. As cool a person as I thought she was, Tara never held my attention the same way her best friend did. I braced myself for the impending uncomfortable confession. I waved my hand for her to continue speaking. May as well get this over with.
"Okay," Tara began, "what I want to know is this. What's your fucking problem?"
O...kay. That was unexpected. My mouth was practically on the table. Tara, ignoring my confusion, continued speaking.
"Look, Richie, I'm sorry if I came off a little blunt-"
"It's not that you're blunt," I interrupted. "I'm used to that. I just don't know what you're talking about."
"Richie, c'mon."
I threw my hands up in protest. "I'm serious! I don't know what you're talking about!"
Tara put her elbows on the table and leaned toward me. I followed suit.
"I'm talking about you and Chloe."
Oh. I took a deep breath and shrugged. "Chloe is a nonfactor. Why would you even bring her up?"
Tara opened her mouth to speak, but the waiter returned with our wine. Without a word, he poured us a glass and left the table. Tara didn't resume her point until he was out of earshot.
"Izzy told me about how that girl messed up your car."
I blew out a deep breath and grabbed my wine glass. Sipping the chilled wine gave me a few seconds to get my thoughts together. Of all the things I expected Tara to talk about...
"Apparently, Tiffany was the one who damaged my car," I replied lamely.
Tara frowned up her pretty face as though I farted at the table. "I know you didn't believe that shit! Brainless Tiffany? Rhys' wife? You know that girl is playing you, right?"
I didn't want to admit that the same thought had crossed my mind. When I saw how upset Chloe became when I confronted her about vandalizing my car, I was more inclined to believe her when she said Tiffany was the one who pulled it off. However, after hearing the indignation in Tara's voice, my original suspicions crept back into my mind.
Tara didn't wait for me to respond. She kept firing off. "Richie, you are a really nice guy. Actually, you're too nice. I have literally given myself headaches trying to figure out how someone like you could hook up with someone like Chloe. Between you, Rhys, and Izzy, I know some of the stories behind the shit she's done to you. Why do you let it get this far? What is it about this woman that keeps you bound to her? Please, help me out because I don't know about anyone else, but I'm struggling to understand."
"Tara, I don't know how to explain it."
"I suggest you try."
Well, shit! How could I tell this woman that Chloe Childs was equally a thorn in my side and a weak spot in my heart? She was the only woman who I knew would constantly stab me in the back, yet I still yearned for her. How could I explain how Chloe could make me feel loved and miserable all at the same time? I had no clue.
After a moment's hesitation, I shrugged my shoulders, shook my head, and said the only thing that came to mind. "Chloe was the first woman, the only woman, who I was able to give my heart to. At first, she was everything I thought I wanted in a woman. It's hard to turn that off."
Tara nodded in understanding. "You just said the exact same thing I had been thinking. She's what you wanted. Honey, I'm here to tell you that you need to add some amendments to that little list of 'wants' you have because your judgment concerning her has been terrible." We both laughed. I shrugged again and took a large swig of my wine. Tara took a small sip from her own glass.
"I hear you, Tara, and you're right. I have been reevaluating some things and Chloe is definitely a factor that needs to go away. Sometimes I wish I had a 'Bitch-Be-Gone' spray I could squirt and keep her out of my life f
or good. That would make things a hell of a lot easier."
"True. But if you keep opening the door, that same bitch will keep walking right on in."
Well, Tara had me there. I didn't even bother arguing with her on that one.
"Can I share a little theory with you, Richie? Friend to friend?" Tara set her glass down and leaned in close across the table.
"Sure."
"I don't think you're stuck on Chloe, per se. I think you're stuck on the idea of Chloe."
I furrowed my brow, confused. "How do you mean?"
"What I mean is what I said. You’ve admitted yourself that Chloe matched all the qualifications you had for your ideal woman; she was everything you asked for. The reason why you're so stuck on her is because of that. She's the first woman you've been with who fits the bill, but the fucked up thing is that you sold yourself short, and now you can't move on to someone better because of that."
I went to take another sip of wine, but my glass was empty. I refilled it and took a long swig. This was undoubtedly the most straightforward dinner conversation I've ever had. And the food hadn't even arrived yet.
"Tara, I hear you, but-"
"Richie, all I'm saying is that you're going about things the wrong way," she interrupted. "And if you don't wise up soon, you're going to ruin the best thing that could happen to you before you even get it. As a friend caught between a rock and a hard place, I'm concerned. That's all I'm saying."
Okay, now I was definitely lost. I sighed and gestured to the half empty wine bottle. "Will you stop talking in riddles and make it plain for me, please? You can keep talking in circles if you want to, but I promise this wine bottle will be empty before you finish."
Tara slid the bottle closer to her and looked me square in the eyes. "I'm talking about Izzy. You're in love with her, aren't you? And that makes you nervous because she is the exact opposite of Chloe, the woman of your dreams."
Shit!
The last thing I expected when I agreed to come to dinner was for Tara to read me through and through. I had no idea my feelings for Isabel were clear. But there it was. She called it out: I was in love and confused.
ISABEL
Finally, back to work. Never thought I'd see the day when I would be happy to end my vacation and resume work, but I was. My last couple of days in Texas with Kyle may as well have been spent alone in my bedroom with made-for-television movies and bad takeout. Not overly terrible, but definitely not great.
After our discussion about Richie and my insecurities, Kyle and I went back to brainless chitchat. Nothing more serious than dinner reservations was discussed, not even the wedding. I only smiled when it was required at the end of a lame joke. Sex on my last night with him was more obligatory than anything. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't help think it would have been best if I had just stayed home. I didn't wait all that time for this.
Now back home, instead of dwelling on my relationship with Kyle, I threw myself into work. My shift was half over when I got an unexpected surprise. I stood in the front of my store folding sweaters on a three tiered display table when my district supervisor walked in: Mrs. Danielle Bolton. Nothing was ever good enough for this woman, especially if you were not one of her favorite managers. Of course, by that, I meant me.
“Isabel,” Danielle called in her rough smoker’s voice. She sounded like a person who spent the better part of life sucking on Marlboros the way children suck on lollipops. Cringing on the inside, I put on my best professional smile and turned to face her.
“Hey, Danielle! What are you doing here? I thought our monthly visit wasn’t until next Monday,” I asked in the most pleasant voice I could muster.
Rolling her eyes and walking briskly past me, she shot out, “I can visit my stores when I damn well please, Isabel. If you don’t have anything to hide, then it shouldn’t bother you that I’m here.”
I did my best to suppress a smart reply. “Oh, of course you can! I’m just surprised to see you. How have you-”
“Angela! Come from out the back!”
My district supervisor was ghetto as hell yelling through the store like that. Turning around, I saw Danielle pass a customer who was looking at some jeans. The customer shook her head as she watched Danielle walk toward our break room to find Angie. I couldn’t say I blamed her.
After that little interlude with my boss’s boss, the morning proved to be sluggish and taxing. For the remainder of my shift, I spent a good deal of time flipping displays from one side of the store to the other because Danielle was unhappy with our presentation of the fall merchandise. When I wasn't moving displays, I was heat from Danielle. I was held accountable for everything, even things I had nothing to do with. I should’ve been used to it. The lowest ranking assistant managers in Angels Unlimited always became scapegoats. It never failed.
“Isabel, why haven’t you shipped this month’s credit slips to the home office?” Danielle asked, holding a half-full folder with credit slips.
“Um, because the month isn’t over yet?” I answered.
“Ms. Maldonado, why do you have so much damaged merchandise in your stock room?”
“I don’t know. I guess because you don’t clear out all of the damages from the system when you visit. It keeps piling up.” I did my best not to roll my eyes.
“Well, you're not doing a good job keeping these clothes in check. You seriously need to get written up for this.” Danielle gestured to our large inventory of damaged goods that, technically, she was responsible for disposing of. She glared at me with so much irritation, I had to avert my eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Well, let me get Angela. She could probably explain why we have so much back here. I honestly don’t know. I’m just guessing.”
The old hag had the nerve to narrow her eyes into slits. She crossed her arms over her chest and said tightly, “Your store manager is busy helping customers. I’m asking you.”
Lord, have mercy! It was a never ending barrage of criticism that should never had been directed at me in the first place. Angela tried to take some of the heat when she wasn’t busy with customers, but she wasn’t about to step too hard on Danielle’s toes either. She enjoyed being one of Danielle’s favorite managers entirely too much to get on her bad side.
With only a few minutes left to my shift, I looked for any way to make something positive out of the remainder of my workday. While pouring all of my energy into helping customers find outfits and avoiding my district supervisor altogether, I noticed a small group of women enter my store. Leading the charge was Tiffany.
She led her small group toward me in the middle of the store by the jewelry fixtures. I almost didn’t recognize her. Her short, curly hair was now long and curly with blond streaks. Her typical casual clothing had been replaced by a dress that was so tight and short, she had to take baby steps to keep her tiny dress from rolling up and showing all her glory.
I didn’t recognize the two women behind Tiff, but the third girl threw me for a loop.
“Hey, Isabel!” Chloe said. She walked past the two girls and Tiffany—who had yet to part her lips and say anything to me—and gave me a sisterly hug. Too stunned to hug her back, I just stood there wondering if this is when she was going to try to stab me or rip my hair from my head. I put nothing past this woman.
“You don’t look too happy to see me,” Chloe said with a grin.
“Why should I be happy to see you, Chloe? We’re not cool.”
“Oh, see now there you go! I’m trying to be nice and you start hurting my feelings.”
I rolled my eyes and glanced toward the back room. The customer I had been helping had walked out of the store empty handed and Angela and Danielle were still talking in the back room. For the moment, I was alone in the store with Chloe and her three stooges.
I tried to act unaffected. “I’m hurting your feelings? Spare me. You weren’t thinking about my feelings when you popped up at Toriello’s a while back and insulted me. You weren’t thinking a
bout my feelings when you came to my apartment and busted out my friend’s car windows and scratched up the hood.”
Chloe shook her head and smirked. “Oh, Richie didn’t tell you? I didn’t vandalize his car. Tiffany did.”
I turned to Tiffany, my mouth agape. Richie hadn’t told me anything about her being the one who messed up his car. The scratch said, “Chloe’s dick.” It made absolutely no sense for Tiffany to have written that.
“Tiffany, why would you do that to Richie’s car?” I asked before I could stop my mouth from moving. Sometimes, I was just too damn curious for my own good.
“She was just being a good friend, doing what she could do to make me feel better at the time,” Chloe Childs answered before Tiff could say anything. I saw Tiffany cut her eyes at her, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there with the other two girls, silently glaring at Chloe.
“I didn’t ask you a question, Chloe. I asked Tiffany.”
“Well, I’m telling you. Speaking of which—”
Chloe took an opportunity to survey the store. I suppose she was looking to see if anyone was observing her. Satisfied that no one was, she took a closer step toward me and put her beautiful face directly in front of mine. I wanted to step back and get some breathing room, but I wasn’t about to let her think she could intimidate me. I stayed glued to the spot and gave her the same “don’t mess with me” stare she threw my way. I lifted my chin and kept my arms loose at my sides, matching her stance.
“Speaking of which,” she repeated in a low voice, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand how you could be so interested in Richie. He is an amazing man. Definitely better than any sorry piece of shit you could ever snag looking the way you do.”
“Excuse me?”
No, this sorry excuse for a woman did not try to put me on blast. I felt myself getting angrier by the second, but I refused to get of character and act on my anger. I relaxed my shoulders and forced myself to keep a bored expression.
