Scandalous

by Murray, Victoria Christopher

  “I have a suggestion.” His arms were still wrapped around me, his lips were still close to my ear. I prayed that he wasn't going to say anything about making love right now because he wasn't getting any. He could believe that!

  He said, “Although all I wanted to do was spend the next seven days in bed with my wife, let's go out for a while, hang out, maybe get something to eat.”

  I didn't think it was possible, but his words took me into further depression. What were we going to do? Where were we going to eat? Maybe he planned to take me to Yee's, the around-the-way Chinese restaurant where we (and everyone else) always got our take-out. Or were we going to venture to M&M's, which is where we ate when we were in a soul-food state of mind.

  This was ridiculous.

  But maybe going out was the best thing. It wasn't like I really wanted to stay in this room and sit and stare into the face of the new husband who had disappointed me. I grabbed the purple top and mini-skirt. With a scowl on my face, I looked the outfit over, as if I wasn't pleased. This was gonna look so cute on me.

  Without a word to Kenny, I tossed the two pieces over my arm, grabbed a pair of panties and marched right back into the bathroom because like I said before, Kenny didn't deserve to see me naked.

  I heard his deep sigh right before I slammed the bathroom door and locked it behind me.

  ***

  I was bored. No. “Bored” was too nice a word, too soft for what I was feeling. The word for my emotion hadn't been invented yet. They also hadn't invented the word for what I wanted to do to my new husband, because “killing,” “murder”--again, too soft, too nice.

  We had spent the afternoon riding through Los Angeles as if we were tourists. The only thing missing were those big ole cameras hanging from our necks as Kenny dragged me from the LaBrea Tar Pits and then onto the Hollywood Walk of Fame. My husband did this with the excitement of a first time visitor to the city, rather than the natives we both were.

  With each new destination, my disgust grew.

  “Come on, Jasmine. We never had a chance to do any of these things before.”

  “There was a reason for that.”

  “My thought was that we could do this together, have fun without any other relatives around, see all of these sights without the pressure of having to be somewhere else in an hour.”

  “Whooohooo!”

  The look on Kenny's face was one of pure pain as if his feelings were so deeply hurt. But there was nothing I could do about that, no way I could help him because while his feelings were hurt, my heart was broken.

  As the minutes moved into hours, my depression deepened.

  Which was why I was sitting now in our car with my head back and my eyes closed. I figured as long as my eyes stayed shut, my mouth would too. And me staying silent was a major benefit to my husband--he just didn't know that.

  I felt the car come to a stop, but I didn't even bother to open my eyes. Based on what we'd already been through, I figured why waste my time trying to see nothing?

  Kenny said, “I thought we'd get something to eat down here.”

  With a sigh, I slowly opened my eyes and my heart started thumping. No, again, I was using the wrong word. Because, thumping was clearly too soft for a heart that was trying to escape from one's chest.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, taking in the horizon over the Pacific Ocean.

  “I wanted to go someplace we've never gone before.”

  “Venice Beach? We've been here a million times.”

  “But we've never been to that restaurant, the one of the edge of the boardwalk where we can just sit and people watch.”

  “Oh…kay,” was all I said, though I wanted to grumble some more. I wanted to fuss and pick a fight so that Kenny would want to leave this place and take me back to the Ritz.

  “Come on, Jasmine. I'm trying to do something right here. How many times have we passed that place, but it was always so crowded? I thought you would've love to have lunch on the beach.”

  “I'll just sit in the car.”

  Kenny looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. “You're that mad at me? That you'd rather not eat.”

  “It's not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I'd already been to that restaurant--with the man I slept with the night before our wedding.

  But of course I didn't say that aloud. So when he looked at me with eyes full of sorrow, I released a big sigh so that he would know how much of a chore this was for me. I opened the door, slid out of the car and as Kenny came around to the passenger side, I tried to imagine all the scenarios that could possibly happen and come up with a ready solution for each one.

  When Kenny reached for my hand, I held onto him this time. Not because my attitude had changed, but because I needed to hold him to maneuver us through the masses more easily--and to pull him quickly past the cage of Muscle Beach.

  My greatest hope was that Roman wasn't at the beach at all. I mean, today was Sunday; most likely he had the day off. And even if he was working, the boardwalk was thick with the typical Sunday-in-August crowd. With any luck, he wouldn't see us if he was here.

  With each step we took, I kept my eyes straight ahead, my focus on our destination…or at least my destination, which was to get through this and get past Roman. On our left were the paddle tennis courts with, as always, bikini and Speedo-clad players. To the right were the T-shirt shops and tattoo parlors.

  Our pace was slow enough for Kenny not to feel like we were in some kind of race, but brisk enough for me to feel like I was making progress. Not that getting by the cage was going to be good enough; it was clear that Roman frequented that beach-side restaurant often, so he could show up there too. But I kept my focus on what could happen first. I'd worry about the restaurant once we got there.

  As we edged closer to Muscle Beach, I kept my head down and stayed to the right. Covered by the crowd, I felt like a Bond girl trying to escape from a gang of international killers.

  And then through the summer sounds of Venice Beach--the chatter of the pedestrians, the music from the boom boxes, the cries of victory from the paddle tennis players--I heard, “Jasmine!”

  I tucked my chin down into my chest even further and picked up the pace as if I heard nothing.

  “Jasmine!”

  My prayer was that all that Kenny heard was the chatter, and the music, and the competitive shouts. But then he added his own call.

  “Jasmine,” Kenny said, “I think someone is calling you.”

  I stopped and did a half-turn, not daring to look behind me. “I didn't hear anything.” I tried to keep it moving, but then the shout came again.

  “Jasmine!”

  This time, Kenny stopped completely. “Okay, you can't tell me that you didn't hear that.” He looked behind us. “Yeah, it's that guy. The one waving his arms. He's calling you.”

  It was only because I didn't have any choice that my glance followed where my husband pointed. And two seconds later, my indiscretion was standing right in front of me.

  “Hey,” Roman said. Sweat poured off his bald head, though he wasn't out of breath. “I thought that was you.”

  “Hey,” was all I said, hoping that would be enough for him and that he'd have the good sense to turn around and leave me alone.

  “So,” Roman looked from me to Kenny and then back again, “what's up?”

  I couldn't believe this. I couldn't believe that Roman would run up on me like this, like we were friends. And now, he wanted to stay and chat like we were old friends. Was he kidding me? Was this cat that crazy?

  Kenny looked from me to Roman, back to me, then to Roman before he frowned and held out his hand. “Hey, bro. I'm Kenny, Jasmine's husband.”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Right. Nice to meet you, man.” Turning to me, he said, “I heard you got married.”

  Kenny answered for me. “Yes, we did. Just yesterday, in fact.”

  “Well, congratulations,” Roman said.

  Kenny thank
ed him, but I just stood there, numb and dumb.

  “So, what are you guys up to? Not going on a honeymoon?”

  “Oh yeah, you know it, bro.” And the two men laughed like they were really brothers. Kenny wrapped his arms all around me. “We just decided to hang here in L.A. You know, kinda do all the things you never get to do when you're home.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  I couldn't tell if Roman's grin was for me or for Kenny.

  Roman said, “That is really cool. Just hanging out at home?”

  “Nah, we're in the marina. We got married over there, and it's a beautiful place to spend a week.”

  Now, I wanted to slap Kenny upside his head. Why was he acting like a girl? Telling all of our business to this nutcase!

  But then, Kenny turned the tables. “So,” he looked at me, “how do you two know each other?”

  I may have been acting dumb, but I couldn't stay mute--especially since I didn't know what crazy Roman would say. So I found my voice right away. “Kyla introduced us,” I said. Now, that wasn't totally a lie. If Kyla hadn't dragged me to a bachelorette party that I didn't want to go to, I wouldn't be standing here next to a man I didn't want to be around. It was her fault that I even knew Roman.

  “Oh, really?” Kenny said as if he found that hard to believe.

  “Yeah,” Roman said, joining in my lie. “I've known Kyla for a while now.”

  “Yeah,” Kenny said, looking at Roman a little closer. “You do look familiar. Did we meet at one of their parties or something?”

  I was gonna die for sure now. His recognition of Roman had to be from yesterday, when he saw him standing in the back row after we'd exchanged our vows. I prayed that he wouldn't put it together.

  “Nah, we've never met; I just got one of those faces.” Roman laughed. “If we'd met, I would've remembered you, trust that.” He laughed again while Kenny and I just frowned.

  “Well, we'd better get going.”

  Can I tell you how grateful I was that my husband was finally ready to put an end to this little encounter?

  “Yeah, okay. You kids have fun on your honeymoon. Nice meeting you, Kenny, and I'll see you around, Jasmine.”

  Roman looked at me when he said that and my hope was that it was just one of those generic goodbyes. But the way he chuckled as he walked away, I knew that he meant exactly what he said--he planned to see me around. Well he would never see me again, if I could help it.

  “He seems like a nice guy,” Kenny said..

  “He's all right, I guess. He's Kyla's friend,” I emphasized.

  “Well, Kyla needs to keep him away from Jefferson.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “'Cause,” Kenny lowered his voice. “I think the guy is gay.”

  There was nothing in my mouth, but I felt like I was choking. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on, where's your gaydar? Didn't you see the way he looked at me? The way he said he would've remembered me if we had met?” Kenny chuckled. “Trust me. Men know gay men.”

  Men didn't know jack! But what was I supposed to say? Could I tell him that he needed to trust me--that that man was far from being gay?

  Of course, I couldn't say that. And it was cool with me, actually. Let Kenny have those thoughts. This way, he'd never get close to the truth of me and Roman.

  Kenny would never have any questions about Roman now. All of the questions about that man would be left up to me.

  Chapter 9

  From the moment Kenny and I left Venice Beach until we finally returned to the Ritz last night, I tried my best to get back into a honeymoon state of mind. And Kenny made a gargantuan effort too.

  We walked back into the room. Kenny had worked things out with the hotel staff to have it decorated with rose petals that met us at the front door and led straight into the bedroom. Inside the bathroom, the Jacuzzi tub was already bubbling and waiting for us.

  But even though I could see every bit of Kenny's effort, there was nothing I could do to change my heart.

  “Jasmine, what do you want from me?” Kenny asked as I moped over the dinner that he had arranged for us to have out on the balcony. This wasn't just any dinner. Kenny had filled the table with all of my favorites: a surf and turf feast that would've rivaled any five star restaurant and a chocolate lover's dessert tray with everything from Godiva mousse to a four-layer German chocolate cake.

  Still, none of that could erase the fact that when I looked out the window, the gorgeous view of the marina was a scene I could see from my window at work every day. Nothing would take away the fact that I was honeymooning at home.

  “So you don't think you can enjoy any part of this?” Kenny asked.

  “I don't know.”

  “Just because we're in Los Angeles?” he asked, as if that concept was completely unbelievable to him.

  I waited a moment to gather my thoughts. To find the right words. Because I felt that I owed Kenny an explanation, at least.

  I said, “This dream began for me when I was just a little girl, Kenny. Kyla and I would play together all the time--‘Wedding Day’ is what we called the game.” I paused as I thought about the way Kyla and I would take big white towels from the linen closet in Kyla's house and tie them around our waists. Instant wedding gowns. “Part of our game, our dream, was where our husbands would take us on our honeymoon. Kyla had heard of a place called Tahiti, and she never let go of that dream.” I had to shake my head a bit as I thought about how, almost twenty years later, Kyla's dream had come true when Jefferson had taken her to Tahiti for their honeymoon. “I didn't have a place in mind,” I said. “I just dreamed of beaches, and mansions and palaces.” I paused again and looked straight into my new husband's eyes. “Maybe that's why I'm here. I'm home because my dream wasn't big enough.” Turning away, I peered over the balcony and took in the nighttime view. The marina glimmered with lights from the yachts and the restaurants that sprinkled the peninsula.

  Kenny reached across the table and wrapped my hand in his. I didn't look at him. I didn't pull back either.

  We sat together, in the silence of the Sunday night, for what felt like hours, but was just a few passing minutes. I knew Kenny was pondering my words and there was a part of me that hoped what I'd said would make him scoop me up into his arms, carry me to the airport, and jet me off to some faraway place.

  He broke the silence. “Do you want to just go home?”

  So much for my dreams. I needed to just accept the fact that this was the best that Kenny had to offer me.

  “No.” I shook my head. “That would be worse.” Tossing my napkin onto the table, I pushed my chair back. “Give me a little time to work this out. I hope I'll be fine…really. I'm going to try my best. I'll feel better about this in the morning.”

  As I tried to slip past Kenny, he grabbed my hand. “I love you, Jasmine.”

  “I know,” I said, looking down at him.

  “I want to make you happy.”

  I nodded, but I still left him on the balcony alone. Inside the bedroom, I laid down on the bed, exhausted from this first full day of being married. Was it always going to be like this? A part of me felt a bit like a brat, felt like I shouldn't give Kenny a hard time about this because this was the best he could do.

  Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Kenny's best would never be enough for me. I knew for sure he did love me, and it was clear that he'd tried. But for him to think that I would be excited about being home for my honeymoon just showed that the man I'd exchanged vows with didn't know me at all.

  But I couldn't blame him for that because maybe I didn't know myself.

  How could I not realize that Kenny and I were a long ways away from the college couple that we used to be? While he had been in college handling issues that college boys had to deal with, I'd been dealing with men--men with money and power. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why I couldn't go back to the ordinary. Because this--being in this hotel--was nothing more than ordinary. And “ordinary” was not a
n adjective I ever wanted in my life.

  I closed my eyes, glad that Kenny hadn't followed me inside and praying that he would stay out of the bedroom until I’d fallen asleep. Sleep was all I wanted right now. To sleep and dream about what might have been.

  The next time I opened my eyes, daylight was beginning to peek through the window. That was a bit of a shocker; in my head, it didn't feel like more than thirty minutes had passed. I stayed in place for a moment, not wanting to disturb Kenny. His arm was around my waist and I was pressed up against him, my back to his front. At least we slept like a happily married couple.

  Except for the fact that I was still fully dressed in the outfit I'd worn yesterday.

  Gently, I peeled myself away from Kenny's arm and once freed, I rolled over to face him. Like me, he was still fully dressed. I guessed he'd come in to lie down with me and had fallen asleep, too.

  I didn't want to wake him; there was no reason to make him get up now. After all, what could he possibly have planned for today? A trip to Disneyland?

  I shuddered and pushed myself from the bed.

  Inside the bathroom, I doused my face with water, brushed my teeth, then tiptoed out of the bathroom and bedroom, grabbing my purse from the living room. When I closed the door to the suite behind me, I wasn't sure where I was going--a walk along the marina, maybe. I just needed something that would clear my head, that would help me settle down and realize that Kenny was a good man, and a good man was going to have to be good enough for me.

  The hotel's lobby was even grander in the early morning without the hustle and bustle of the guests. With just one suit-clad guy behind the front desk, it was hard not to appreciate the hotel's grandeur. Elegance was in every space of this place, from the sparkling marble that adorned the floors and the walls to the oversized crystal chandeliers that glittered as the early morning sun shone through the stained glass dome ceiling. For a moment, I thought about just settling in the lobby, soaking up this exquisiteness. Maybe in the center of this splendor, I could find a way to appreciate the fact that this was where my husband wanted to spend our first week of life together.