Authors: Calinda B
The next day was Thursday, two days before that dreaded fundraiser. I decided to go out shopping with Zuri after she got off work and finished doing errands in Northern Seattle. I needed to pick up a pair of climbing shorts. Plus, I wanted to buy something to wear…MY choice…to the fundraiser. Zuri churned up the dirt driveway in her silver convertible BMW. She worked as an office manager, the Queen Bee, really, at a downtown financial firm so she made good money. She also inherited some money when her father had died. I always teased her about having a convertible in Seattle, as we had loads of rain. Even when it was not raining it could be what we called “soft” – meaning wet with mist. But on the few days when the weather was “convertible ready,” we loved riding around with the top down. Our hair would blow into a tangled fury in the wind, and we would revel in the stunning beauty of the lakes, the Puget Sound, the mountains, the trees – it was all a gorgeous kaleidoscope of color.
I ran out of the house in my favorite jeans and t-shirt, flip flops on my feet. The weather was unusually warm for Seattle, in the 80s, and felt great on my skin. I threw back my arms, turned my face towards the sky, and twirled in a circle. Zuri leaned over from the driver’s side and opened my door. Before climbing in, I noticed some papers caught on a dead branch in the driveway. Reaching down, I picked up the pictures from Mother Clarice’s envelope. There was that picture of those strange, unknown relatives. They must’ve fallen out of the trash when Cam emptied it this morning. I crammed them into my bag and tossed it in the back seat.
Zuri sped down the driveway, spun into the street, and we were on our way. We planned on stopping at the flagship REI for climbing pants, and then heading downtown to scope out some of the offbeat, boutique clothing stores.
As we rode along, Zuri filled me in on her latest conquest, Peter. “What happened to Alec?” I inquired.
“Came and went,” Z replied. “We had some fun for a bit, and then grew tired of each other.” There was that fun word again.
“You mean you had fun being together or fun in bed?”
“Both. I like to have fun, you know that. When the fun’s gone, so is the boy-toy.”
That seemed a bit shallow to me, but I still liked the idea of fun. Today had not been fun. It had been an exercise in suppressing my thoughts about the dreams, as well as attempts to quell my headache from the slammed down beer. That had put me to sleep alright, but I awoke with a massive headache and an upset stomach.
“So, what’s Peter like?”
She considered for a moment. “Well, he’s tall, dark, and handsome.”
I sat up with a start. “How dark? How handsome?”
She laughed. “Relax, he’s not your dark haired fling from the club. What’s the matter? Are you and Cam okay?”
“No,” I replied, a little too quickly. “That man wasn’t a fling. I told you he was just some guy who bumped into me by mistake. I just…well, I just wondered what your new boyfriend was like, that’s all.”
“O-o-o-o-o-KAY,” she said, emphasizing the “K” and drawing out the “O.” “If you say so…”
“So, tell me.”
“I just did – he’s tall, dark hair, rides a motorcycle…he’s great in bed…has loads of money. What more could I ask for?”
“Good conversation, a loving heart?” I said.
“Oh, hearts are for sissies. They get broken too easily. And when would we find the time to have a conversation? We’re either out on his bike or in bed. Better to just keep it light and easy.”
“If YOU say so,” I said.
“I do.”
At REI, I tried on a few pairs of loose fitting, Prana climbing pants, popping out of the dressing room with each pair to show Z.
“Oh, THOSE are perfect,” she stated on my last attempt. “You are such a tiny little thing; those really show off your athletic legs.”
“What are you talking, ‘tiny’? I’m nearly 5’ 4.”
“Small BONED, Chér, small BONED.”
Thinking of bones made me shiver. I thought of my dream from a few weeks back. Then, I thought of last night’s freaky dreams. I grabbed my thigh and pinched myself to bring me back to the moment.
“What are you doing?” Z arched an eyebrow.
“I had an itch.”
Zuri gave me a bemused glance. “Well! That’s one way to take care of an itch. Another way is to scratch it. You sure can be strange sometimes.”
Tell me about it
, I thought, enigmatically.
We left REI and headed downtown. At one of our favorite clothing stores, a trendy store over in Pioneer Square, we spotted Riva behind the counter. Riva was the owner of Fierce Looks, a combination consignment store of interesting attire hand-picked by Riva, and new stuff, also hand-picked by the proprietor. Riva always looked fantastically outrageous. A slinky 5’ 9”with short, shimmery brown hair and smoky blue-grey eyes, she’d wear fishnet stockings, Prada high-heels, and a miniskirt just skimming her behind on one day, a slouch-neck sweater and long pencil skirt paired with Durango Flirt cowboy boots the next. She had a body that looked good in anything, and a face
that morphed into any look she desired. Sensual, sultry, cute, fresh, sophisticated– Riva was a beautiful chameleon.
She smiled when we wandered in and waved us over to the counter. “Ladies, I just got these in,” she gushed in her smoky voice, pulling a couple of boxes from behind the cash register. She reached into one of the boxes and brought out a bright red Vivienne Westwood Priestess dress with an asymmetrical neckline and ruched detailing.
“Nice!” I said. “It’s just what I like.”
“I thought so.” She handed the dress to me. “Go try this on.” To Z, she offered a mid-thigh length Lumiani sleeveless dress, sure to emphasize Zuri’s voluptuousness.
We both flounced out of the dressing rooms at the same time. “God, Z, you look fantastic!”
“And you, you’re smokin’ hot!”
Z was just being polite, no doubt, I thought. I didn’t believe I ever looked smokin’ anything. After chatting with Riva a bit, we paid for our new clothes and made our way to Pike Place Market to grab a bite to eat. As we sat nibbling on turkey burgers, I told Z about my dread of the upcoming auction and working with Mr. Dallas.
Z commiserated. “Geez, he sounds like a creep. That sounds awful. Will Cam be there?”
“No, in order to get his schedule rearranged for our rock climbing trip, he had to agree to work that night.”
“That’s too bad. Tell you what: I’ve got a late date Saturday night, as in booty call late. Why don’t I stop by the community center earlier in the evening so I can make sure Mr. Dallas behaves himself?”
“Oh, would you? I’d feel so much better knowing that you were out there somewhere. That would be great.” I felt so relieved at the thought of having a friend somewhere in the audience I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“No problem,
girlfriend
, I’ve got your back. You know that.”
When the bill came, I reached in my purse to pull out my wallet. As I drew it out, the pictures I had shoved into the bag fell out onto the table.
“Who are THOSE people?” Z grabbed one of the images out of my hand. She studied the one with me and my so-called uncle and aunt. “That’s you, isn’t it? You were such a cute little girl. I wonder what you were unhappy about, though.”
“That’s the bizarre part – I don’t remember ever seeing that photo or those people. Mother told me they are relatives of mine, but I’ve never seen them before.”
“Never seen them? You probably just don’t remember.”
“Maybe…but doesn’t it seem odd that I don’t remember them at ALL?”
“A bit,” Zuri said. We both looked at the pictures a minute longer. Finally, I thrust them into my purse and we left.
Cam pulled his Range Rover into the parking lot of Whole Foods. He had agreed to do the grocery shopping for the week, since Chérie had to prepare for that damn god-awful event. He was starting to worry about Chér. She had been acting strange lately. Sure, she always talked to the cats as if they were having an actual conversation, but that’s one of the things he liked about her – her imagination. But there was something else going on. That conversation they had last night was an example.
Was she actually jealous of him? Worried he was interested in someone else? Why did she ask him if he was attracted to someone else? He made it clear, whenever he thought about it, that she was the one for him. No one else.
And all that talk about sex as fun. Michael, he was a nice enough guy, but to take anything he said about sex as gospel, well, that was just nuts. The guy was a sex machine. A dog when it came to the ladies.
It was true that he wished she would let go more in bed. He was lying when he told her that he wasn’t bothered by her tension in bed. It bothered him – a lot. But not for the reasons she probably thought. He just knew they would both enjoy it more if she would relax a little. Well, he could be patient. He cared for her and that was that. You didn’t give up on someone you cared for.
And she’d not been sleeping well, he could tell. Last night she had burst out of bed like a fucking firecracker. What the fuck was that about? And she came back to bed reeking of beer. That was not like her. She was a moderate drinker, if she was anything. He pushed the cart around the aisles, tossing in bread, veggies, cheese, pasta, and wine. Maybe he’d make her a nice dinner after this whole event was over with, like Sunday.
As he rolled the cart around the end-cap of the aisle, he ran into one of the guys from the group – Martin. The group maintained a strict code on anonymity out in the world, but Martin said hello and reached out to shake Cam’s hand.
“Cam, I want to thank you, man.”
“What for?”
“For putting up with my bullshit...I know I haven’t been very cooperative in the sessions, but I’ve been listening. And get this – last week a freaking homeless nut job held me up at gunpoint…at GUN POINT, bro. It scared the shit out of me, I swear to God. I gave him my wallet, and he bolted. But afterwards…afterwards it hit me – that must be how my wife feels, every damn day when I come in the door.”
Cam looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “Sounds like you had a revelation.”
“Yeah, like a visit from the Man Himself, and I don’t even believe. I went home and held my wife and wept like a baby…like a fucking baby. I told her how sorry I was to have hurt her and that I’m willing to work hard to change. I dunno, though. It might be too late.”
“Why is that?”
“I found divorce papers in her drawer the other day when I was looking for something.”
Cam interrupted him. “Looking for something or spying on her?”
“Okay, Okay.” Martin said sheepishly. “I was going through her things to spy on her. I wanted to know if she was having an affair.”
“Trust is the basis of any good relationship, Martin, you know that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been too much of an asshole to trust anyone. Anyway…I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to try really hard to change in those groups, man. I’ve got to give it one last shot.”
“I’m glad for you…glad for your wife,” Cam replied. “Maybe you two can have a better relationship after all.”
“I hope so, bro, I hope so. She’s all I got.” With that, he hurried away.
Cam strode over to the checkout stand with new warmth in his heart. He had worked with the groups for a couple months now. Never had anybody shared any thought of changing or having done anything wrong for that matter. This was encouraging. Who was he kidding - this was fucking GREAT! Maybe he did make a difference in there. Then, he thought about Chérie. Maybe he could make a difference in his own life, with her. After hearing from Martin, he was inspired to change…for her, for him….even for those goddamned cats. With a smile, he dashed out of the store.
When I opened my eyes Saturday morning, I groaned. It was the day of the Northwest Auction Gala fundraiser. I pulled the pillow over my head. Cam plucked the pillow off of my face and rolled on top of me.
“What’s the matter sleepyhead?” he said, smiling. His body was warm from sleep and had a faint odor of perspiration and musk. Usually the smell turned me on, but this morning I was super jumpy. He lowered his mouth on mine and sucked my lower lip. His tongue reached out to lick the corner of my mouth, then, probed deeper, urging mine to come out and play.
“Cam, wait,” I protested, twisting my head to the side.
“Wait for?” he said in a soft, low voice, nuzzling his nose up and down my cheek.
“Just a minute…really, wait.” I squirmed. I could feel his hardness stirring down below.
“Are you sure?” he said.
“I don’t know…maybe…I don’t know...”
“I could help you decide.”
Obviously, he was not interested in stopping his advances. I quit protesting and just lay there. He continued for a few more moments, and then rolled to the side of me when I failed to respond.
“Got it,” he said, “not interested.” He pushed the covers back and got out of bed, grabbing his pants off the floor. “Why don’t I go fix you some breakfast?”
I screwed my face into a grimace. Was he kidding? We always argued when I wasn’t interested…argued or got cold and distant, one or the other…sometimes both. “Wait, I’m sorry, come back.”
“You made it quite clear that you are not in the mood. I got it. I’m not about to force myself on you.”
“Yeah, but I was just being silly…come back.”
“No. You are not…in…the...mood. I am going to go make you breakfast. Now just relax, and let me do something for you that you might enjoy.”
I was suspicious of his kindness but agreed. “Okay. What are you going to make?”
“What would you like me to make?” he said, with a heartfelt smile.
This was kinda freaking me out, but I said, “um, pancakes…with blueberries….and Mountain…”
“…Mountain Tea Song tea,” he finished. “I KNOW you.”
Gosh, he was being nice. What was the matter with him? What was the matter with me for being distrustful?
As Cam traipsed down the hall, whistling, I got out of bed and started the shower. The water was brutally hot and sprayed out like little needles on my skin. I let it pummel me until my back was beet red. Then I washed my face, armpits, crotch, belly, and legs with minty shower gel, washed and conditioned my hair, and turned the water off. Toweling off my hair and tugging my robe around me, I bounced down into the kitchen.
“This smells wonderful,” I exclaimed. He strode over with a steaming hot cup of tea and commanded me to sit. He placed a napkin in my lap and a plate on the placemat in front of me. Then, he came back from the stove with a stack of blueberry pancakes and set it down in front of me. The butter dish and syrup were placed just within reach. There was a single strawberry, juicy red and glistening, perched to the side as a garnish.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice infused with genuine appreciation. “Why are you being so nice?”
“Are you implying that I am NOT nice?” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“No...I am not saying that. But usually when I am not in the mood…well, we usually fight or something.”
“People can change, babe.” He grabbed a plate and piled it with pancakes for himself. Sitting next to me, he let his knee fall to touch mine. This all felt so intimate, I was at a loss for words. My leg started to work up and down like a sewing machine needle. I forked a bite of pancake and chewed, letting the sweet, sticky syrup ooze down my throat. We ate in silence until our plates were clear. Then, Cam said, “Are you nervous about tonight, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” I said with a snap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so sharp. I really, really, really don’t want to go. I have thought up all sorts of excuses to get out of it.”
“You’ll be fine. Z will be there, and I will be here when you get home. Don’t worry, babe.”
“I sure don’t trust Mr. Dallas – or Jill – for that matter.”
“You’ll be fine, Chér,” he said again. “What could possibly happen with all those people around? Look for Zuri in the audience if you get scared and remember that I will be home waiting for you.”
“If you say so…”
“Trust me – you’ll be fine. Nothing’s going to happen with all those people in attendance. You’ll be great.”
Cam was being so darn nice to me, so supportive, that I began to melt inside.
“Cam…” I said; my voice all timid and shy. I pushed my empty plate away from me.
“Yes?” His face lit up with that same tender smile he had been using all morning.
“We could…I mean, I could…I mean, if you wanted to, we could go back into the bedroom.”
“And what would we do there?” Clearly, he was not going to make this easy for me.
“We could…you know…what we started to do earlier. I guess I wasn’t ready.”
His languorous reply rolled off his lips. “Hmmm… what, exactly, did we start earlier? Refresh my memory.”
“Cam…you know what I am talking about.” I was getting uncomfortable trying to voice the words.
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Let’s see…was it when I got up and pulled my pants on?” he said, tracing the inside of my thigh with his warm hand.
“No…n-n-no, not that.”
“Was it when I asked you what you wanted for breakfast?” he said, brushing his fingers softly along the inside of my knee.
“Not that, either.”
“Hmmm, I need more clues,” he said thoughtfully, leaning in and circling the very tip of his tongue around my parted lips. “Maybe it was when I did this.” He again nuzzled my cheek with his nose. “Or maybe it was this,” he said, probing my mouth with his tongue. “Or maybe it was when I thought of doing this,” he said, pulling my robe open and circling my small breasts with his fingers.
“I think you are getting close,” I whispered, as he pulled me over to the couch.
“Am I? Well, then, I think I would like to get even closer,” he quietly replied.
“Okay…where would you like to go to get closer?”
“Hmmm…table’s too hard…let’s go over to the couch.”
Cam took my hand in his, and we headed over to a morning of pleasurable satisfaction.