“But it’s Monday, Nona. Who goes out on a Monday?” The lunchroom was jamming. Subsequent to the weekends, evasive scandal flared through school like a forest fire. I shifted my butt on the hard chair, experiencing every pang and cramp due to my stumble down the Lucien staircase.
“We do, hun.” She seemed lost in space, playing with a short strand of hair around her finger. “Its girl’s night out.”
“Where are we going?” I concentrated on winding spaghetti noodles on my fork tines. “Not that I’m agreeing to this.”
“Marcy wants to go to that new club on Dumont Street.”
“What kind of club?” I forked saucy noodles into my mouth and spoke with a mouthful. “Don’t you have to be eighteen to get into those places?”
Nona picked at her food. “Why would she ask us to go there if you have to be eighteen?”
“Because, Marcy’s eighteen and we’re not.” Snatching my paper napkin, I blotted my mouth. It came away with red sauce. “She’d love to make us look ridiculous.”
“You’re probably right.” Nona’s lips ruffled to the side. “But I need to go, and I want my best friend with me.”
“What’s going on?” I knew her well enough to know that something was bothering her. “Why is it so important that you go out tonight?”
“Reggie’s getting too comfortable in our relationship.” She appeared harsh with a lined forehead, and ringed her hair behind her ear. “He’s taking me for granted.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I usually don’t walk down by the art rooms, but Mr. Cleaver asked me to drop a message to room 110, and I saw Reggie talking to Missy Charles.”
“So, what’s the big deal? You flirt with all the boys too.”
She dramatically shook her head. “My flirting is not serious, it’s funny, good-natured.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“You can read body language can’t you?”
I shrugged.
“Missy had her back to the locker looking up at Reggie, and he leaned over her with his arm on the locker next to her head. You know, close talking.” Adding an eyebrow tweak, her mouth compressed. “Sounds bad, doesn’t it?”
Not a dating guru, I said, “It’s probably nothing. Reggie loves you.”
“I thought he did, but now—”
“I guess we’re going out.”
After rendering a poignant smile, she managed a brusque chuckle. “Yeah, Baby, we’re going dancing tonight.”
***
I fussed with my hair and makeup before rummaging through my closet. Nona insisted we dress hotter than hot, and my clothes were moderate and tempered at mild. I chose a vintage dress that hugged my paltry curves and wedged my feet into a pair of red spiked heels. Scrutinizing at my reflection in the mirror, I felt amply outfitted.
Nona and I were meeting Marcy, Blair, and Grace at Club Seven, and for once Dad let me borrow the car. Whether after Mom’s death he thought I’d drive myself off a cliff or smash into a building, he had guarded his immaculate Ford against my grubby little fingers. “You can use the car tonight,” he punctuated with caution. “But I have to work late for the rest of the week. No hanky-panky. I want to trust you.”
“I’ll be fine. You can trust me.” I steamed after his trite postscript, knowing it was in relation to my short-lived drug abuse. “You haven’t had to work late in a while.” Dad wasn’t comatose yet, probably nursing a hangover from yesterday’s all dayer.
“Always gets crazy the closer we get to the holidays. People moving their money around.” Envelopes spread over the kitchen table in random order where he sat writing checks, paying bills. “I just paid the car insurance. No fender benders, okay?”
“Got it.” I strode to the hall closet to search for my raincoat. “See you later.” I pinched the keys from the peg.
“What—no kiss goodbye for your old man?” He tapped his cheek with his finger.
I pecked his cheek and headed out the door.
Nona must’ve been waiting for me, as soon as I pulled into her driveway she strutted out. Her chin held high, polished ebony hair, poker straight riding an inch off her shoulders, and her multihued dress dazzled her voluptuousness. Slipping into the car, her demeanor seemed slightly off-kilter.
“Is everything cool?” I asked.
“I just had a blow out with Reggie.”
“Oh, not cool.” I steered for Club Seven on Dumont Street. “What’d he say?”
“He’s mad because I’m going out with the girls.”
“Really? The guy doesn’t own you.” I noticed her glossy eyes. “It only goes to prove he loves you.”
“I used to think so, but now I’m wondering if he thinks of me as his personal property.”
Deflecting the sore subject I said, “You look hot, girl! I love that dress. Let’s have fun.”
“Absolutely.” She offered a preoccupied smile.
We were admitted into Club Seven regardless of age. The bouncer sighted us from head to toe. “Gimme your hand sweet thing.” He printed an X on my hand with a magic marker, and then Nona. “That X means no alcohol, girls.”
“We figured that out,” Nona rejoined with a sharp edge. The clickety-clack of our heels vibrated in the long entrance into the club. “Have you heard anything from Becket?”
“Not since yesterday morning,” I said. “I saw him in the hallway after sixth period talking to Marcy. Kind of in the same way you saw Reggie talking to Missy.”
She harrumphed.
We straight-armed the dual doors into a surfeit of bodies grinding to a definitive beat of music. A kaleidoscope of neon blasted the room and smoke whorled over the floor. “Freakin’ gnarly,” I chirped. “There’s the girls.” We wended through the diverse crowd touting a guise of pure hotness.
“Hey. Glad you could make it,” Marcy said, like she really meant it. “Here have a drink.”
“Ah…” I dithered and showed my hand. “I thought this stylish X marked us like the plague.”
“There’s a couple of guys that buy our drinks,” Blair said. “We give them a little tip.”
“Sounds good to me.” In a provocative motion, Nona glided her hands down the side of her hips. “Keep ‘em coming.”
I felt like Nona and I switched roles. I hope there’d be no regrets in the morning.
The night was a nice diversion, whittling away my deep-rooted anxiety. My chest pumped with the rhythmic beat as we united our bodies to the dancing throng. Moving and grooving until my arms and neck felt clammy, I didn’t want to stop even when nature called. I said, “I’ll be right back.” The girls nodded in unison. Since I was the designated driver, it was time to sober up.
While in the restroom, I learned what the name Club Seven insinuated. As depicted on an elaborate lithograph on the wall, it stood for the seven deadly sins: Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy, and Gluttony. The devils den and having a helluva good time.
Using a paper towel, I swabbed my beaded face and neck and tended to my makeup before heading into the club. Though, I stalled and gazed at the obnoxious representation of lust. Marcy burst through the door just at that moment.
“That’s a real eye-catcher, isn’t it?” she said.
She seemed to be searching the room, making sure the stalls were unoccupied. “I wanted to speak to you in private. Do you mind?”—and gestured me back toward the sinks. While passing the mirrors, she stopped to admire herself. She licked her fingertip and slathered it over her eyebrow. “I wanted to let you know before you found out the hard way.”
I abhorred her uppity tone and expected the worse.
“Becket and I are going to the Homecoming dance together. I just thought you ought to know before getting your hopes up.”
Chapter 22
Intercepting her admission was like a wallop to the gut. It hurt like hell and I wrestled with a mulish grin masking the sting. “Why did you feel it was necessary to tell me this in private?”—faking it well.
Her flighty eyebrows winged upward. “Because you’ve been out with him a few times, and I could tell you were falling. But that’s how Becket is.” Sounding sure of herself, she looked into the mirror and dabbed her pinkie at the border of her mouth fixing her lipstick. “He’s not the type to stick with one girl for too long. So I’m taking him off your hands, you should be thankful.”
I fancied smearing the pretentious grin off her red lips. “All righty then, thanks for the heads up,” I retaliated, just to be snide. “I’m going with Henry James anyway, but thanks for taking Becket off my hands. Mighty big of you.”
My rolled fist thrust open the door and my heels stomped toward our table. A hand clipped my arm. “Wanna dance?” Not a boy but an experienced man looked me over. Possibly in his twenties, he wore a goatee and a head full of black wavy hair.
“Sure,” I replied.
Like he’d won a prize, he cupped his hands on my shoulders and guided us to the dance floor. Due to the horde of people, our bodies sandwiched together undulating in sync to the tune. His proclivity to flatten his hands along my hipbone drew my ire, the guy’s fingers roamed rather freely. After two songs, I mouthed thanks for the dance, and waved—‘See-ya.’
Music segued into a melodious song, and he linked an arm over my retreating body. Winching me into his chest, his head leered over my shoulder and his beard chafed my cheek. Undeniably rubbing me the wrong way, he had the audacity to suck my neck. I whirled about and he smirked, thinking I was interested.
Then the man’s eyes peered over my head, and I heard, “I’m cutting in.” I smiled, hearing my savior’s voice, totally rescued. The man bowed out gracefully and I tucked myself into the secure embrace of Becket.
“That was uncomfortable,” I admitted.
“So you don’t mind that I took you away from him?”
“Hardly, I owe you.”
“I’ll take you up on that someday.” He offered me a devilishly handsome smile. “So the girls are having a night out at Club Seven?”
“Yes, the girls. Then why are you here?”
“Reggie’s spying on Nona,” he related. “Can’t keep the girl out of his sight for long. He’s hooked and tied.”
“You think?”
“Yes. He’s applying to a local college just to be near her. He received an offer from Syracuse to play ball and he turned it down.”
“How sweet.” I peeked through clutching bodies and saw Reggie and Nona dancing.
“That’s ludicrous,” he remarked. “A free ride to a great college is a dream.”
“C’est la vie—” I quipped. He applied extra pressure, hugging me into him. My eyes drifted closed as I laid my head on his chest and whiffed his intoxicating aftershave.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the Homecoming dance with Henry?” he whispered into my ear.
My clumsy foot tripped over his, he held me tight.
“Everyone knew except me,” his tone thick. “Marcy told me today in school.”
“So then—you quickly asked Marcy?”
“No.” He hesitated for a moment. “After I heard you were going with Henry, I decided not to go at all.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
His fingers kneaded the small of my back. The stimulation was more than I could bear. He swept my hair off my shoulder, exposing the column of my neck. He leaned lower, his cheek not quite touching my skin as an appealing twinge branched throughout my body. His breath spread over my neck like warm honey. “What did you hear, Leo?”
Speechless, his mouth breezed a titillating pathway across my jaw line, spurring raw emotions. The song petered to a conclusion, my knees shaky. I clung to his broad shoulders for support, feeling perfect and right in his arms.
He pressed me all the more into his hard body and said, “I wanted to take you to the dance.”
“Then next time,”—depositing my palms on his chest and adding space—“why don’t you ask me instead of waiting until the last minute?” A flush of pink beautified his cheeks and I left him standing alone.
Marcy furnished me a fatal stare as I continued to stride directly to where Nona and Reggie were tongue thrusting. “Nona,” I cut in, “I’m going home.” Pinning my hands on my hips, I clicked my heel on the floor. “Do you still want a ride or are you going home with Reggie?”
“I’m with you, girl,” she said.
That’s my Nona. She’ll play him for all it’s worth. Reggie looked heartbroken by her announcement.
“Sorry, Babe, but I came with Leo and I’m going to leave with Leo.” After a fleeting look at my petulant stance, she figured I was in a hurry. Saying goodbye with a kiss on Reggie’s pursed lips, we threaded our way through Club Seven. I never looked back, though, felt Becket’s penetrating gaze.
An icy draft ripped through the fibers of my dress and jogging in heels was absurd, but we managed to make it to the car in one piece. I cranked the heat.
“Can you believe those boys?” Her attempt at sounding irate failed radically. “Imposing on our girl’s night?”
“Give it up, Nona. You loved it.” Her stretching smile told me what I already knew.
“So-o…what happened with Becket? Did he finally ask you to Homecoming?”
“Marcy cornered me in the restroom before the boys arrived.” I swallowed hard while making a right turn on a red light. “Becket and Marcy are going to Homecoming, together.”
Nona jerked in her seat. “No—really?”
“That’s what Marcy said.” Burning up, I lowered the heat. “When I danced with Becket, he made it sound like I had planned on going with Henry all along.”
“Where did he get that notion?” She yanked on the collar of her coat, uncovering her neck. “I can guess. Bitch Marcy is at it again. Twisting words to get what she wants.”
“I don’t understand how Becket could be that naive.” Driving past a couple of neighborhoods, we made it to Nona’s house. “He denied asking Marcy to the dance.”
“Then why’d she tell you that?”
“I told her it didn’t matter because I was going with Henry,” I said, uncertain of Marcy’s motives.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Nona banged her fist on her thigh. “You didn’t?”
“I did.”
Chapter 23
The morning after, I massaged the kinks out of my feet, a night of dancing in heels was excruciating. Nonetheless, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Today was a sneaker day and climbed into my washed-out jeans and cable knit sweater.
When I strolled into the kitchen Dad looked prepped for work in his navy blue button-down shirt and trousers. “You’re looking good,” I flattered. It’d been a while since seeing him somewhat respectable. I suspected it wouldn’t be the best time to brooch the subject of Mom’s picture and fresh flowers in the Lucien attic.
“I had a decent night’s sleep. Feeling good.” He downed a glass of OJ, and then said, “Do you have cheerleading tonight?”
“Oh, shoot—I think so.” I’d forgotten, Mrs. Zweilger had broadcast the impromptu practice during Monday morning’s school announcements.
“I won’t be able to give you a ride home. I’m working late the rest of the week.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout me.”
Lifting his coat from the back of the chair, he pushed his arms into the sleeves. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
My eyes popped to meet his. “What makes you ask that?”
“You look like you have something to say.”
“Ah…no. I have to grab my cheerleading uniform from the dryer, that’s all.”
“Make sure you eat something for dinner,” he said while walking out the door. “You’re wasting away to skin and bones.”
Like a reminder, my stomach grumbled. Snatching a granola bar, I ran to the basement to unload my uniform and stashed it in my messenger bag. Then darted out the door expecting to see Henry’s car, the driveway was empty. Trudging to the sid
ewalk, his car was still parked at the curb. Just as I began to walk, Henry came loping down his driveway. Seeing me, he smiled.
“I’m running late,” he said loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Star Hallow’s temperature had dipped below freezing during the night. A hoary frost adorned the lawns, now shimmering like crystals in the rising sun. In haste I parked my butt on the sub-zero seat. Once lodged behind the wheel, the lenses of Henry’s glassed fogged.
“How was Club Seven?” he asked.
“It was fun.”
The car arrested at a red light, and Henry whipped off his glasses to clear the lenses. “I’ve been wondering if you had the courage to ask your father about your mom’s picture.”
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“It’s difficult.”
“Why?”
“Do you even know what happened to my mother?” I swerved on the seat to look fully at him. “You’ve never even asked about her since I’ve known you.”
“You never mentioned her.” His shoulders slumped, giving me a shifty sidelong glance. “I thought if you wanted to talk about her, you would’ve.”
“You really don’t know?” My brows pinched together, astounded. “Someone must’ve told you.”
“Wait.” He held up his hand, palm to my face. “She died, right? That’s why you go to the cemetery a lot.”
“You’re yanking my chain,” I grouched like my elderly grandfather. It was hard to believe that Henry hadn’t heard the sick details by now.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he said, bobbling his head. “I know, I know. I’m playing dumb so you’ll confide in me. I’ve heard all kinds of bullshit.”
“Well, I don’t feel like talking about it right now.” My lungs decompressed breathing out.
“After all that, and you’re not going to tell me?”
“Maybe later, tonight.”
His eyes brightened. “Great, you want to go out tonight?”
Oh, dear, I stepped right into that. “By the way, do you still want to take me to Homecoming?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Kind of sure of yourself.” I rearranged my messenger bag over my lap, turning frontward. “How’d you know I’d go with you?”
Don't Forget to Breathe Page 11
