Authors: Tara McTiernan
Seeing Molly sitting there at Cafe Luna, so close, her eyes following her, brought everything Lucie had thought buried back up. It wasn't over after all, was it? There was no way to continue to fool herself now. Involuntarily, Lucie's arms went up and she wrapped her hands around her elbows against the chill of Molly, following the others down the street, the promised salsa dance lesson's appeal gone and the earlier laughter and lightheartedness she'd enjoyed at the table with the other girls evaporating into the cooling evening air. She bid it goodbye, feeling that old hopelessness from her days at TMB return.
But she had been wrong. The night had turned again, and although Bianca regrettably had to leave due to her child's illness, the rest of them ended up having a wonderful time. Well, they did until now. Because, watching Chelsea walk toward her, Lucie could see that Chelsea had been crying, her delicate features puffed and pink.
Lucie pushed herself off of her seat, feeling a bolt of pain go through her hip but ignoring it, and went to her friend, already knowing what it was, what it always was: a man. Chelsea, who could be whip-smart and savvy about office politics, who could fix any problem with your computer within minutes and was the unofficial one-woman IT department at TMB, who possessed the impressive ability to remember minute details, phone numbers, and dates on the spot without having to rely on notes or even a calendar, could be incredibly thick when it came to a man she was interested in. When Chelsea was in love, it was as if she became blind and deaf to any inconvenient realities about him. Crossing the floor to her friend, who was attempting a wobbling smile, Lucie prayed the man in question wasn't John Rossi.
"What happened?" Lucie said.
Chelsea shrugged, her smile failing and lips turning down. "I don't want to talk about it. Please? Let's just have fun."
Lucie put her arm around Chelsea, remembering all the times it had been Chelsea who had put an arm around her after a bad day with Molly. Chelsea, her relentless cheerleader who only saw hope and possibility. Now it was Lucie's turn, and she hoped she could successfully return the favor. "Okay, no talking. Do you want a drink? I'll drive you home so you can really party it up?"
"No," Chelsea said mournfully. "I'm not in the mood to get drunk. I...I don't know what I want."
Lucie looked over and spotted Sharon and Kate still twirling on the floor, Kate's garish red lipstick only slightly less visible due to the distance. "I have an idea...what about a makeover? You love those shows."
"A makeover show? What?"
Lucie raised an eyebrow at Chelsea and then pointedly looked across at where Kate was dancing. "Our own little show, over in the bathroom. Project Save Kate from Ugly Lipstick and Scary Spider Eye Makeup. What do you think? She's too nice to look like that."
Chelsea looked up and over at Kate with surprise. "Oh, my God. You, too? But do you think we should? I mean, I hardly know her."
"Bianca put makeup on her the first night they met. Kate was cool with it then. She obviously just got carried away, doesn't know when to stop. She needs us. I mean, she
needs
us."
"You're right. She does," Chelsea said, her whole demeanor transforming, shoulders going back as she peered at Kate.
Lucie sighed with satisfaction. "Let's do it."
And it hadn't been hard; Kate had happily followed them into the bathroom even after Sharon laughed and remarked, "Uh, oh. I think the Makeup Police are here."
Kate had startled and said, "Makeup? Is that what you guys want to do? But my makeup is from Saks Fifth Avenue? It was really expensive?"
"Expensive isn't what matters," Chelsea said, putting an arm around Kate. "It's all application. See what I'm wearing? One hundred percent CVS. Well, not my lipstick. That's MAC."
"Really?" Kate said, gazing at Chelsea with open awe.
Luckily, the bathroom had paper towels rather than heat hand dryers and they were able to get Kate's makeup off almost completely before Chelsea got down to work on her, taking over and chattering away as if she didn't have a care in the world, fully in her element. Sharon listened with interest, not one for wearing much herself other than mascara, and Lucie watched the whole scene feeling victorious.
In the end Kate looked like the sweet fresh-faced girl Lucie had met and liked right away, Kate's genuineness radiating off of her like a kind of gentle heat, and Chelsea was her talkative happy self again. Observing them, Lucie wished she had some way of knowing the cause of Chelsea's earlier distress. She wanted to dismiss her nagging fears about Chelsea's poisonous ex, just know that it was another less-dangerous object of affection - then she could truly relax. But she couldn't ask Chelsea now and risk upsetting her again. Lucie would try to remember to call her this weekend and do a little digging then.
The makeup session nearly over, Lucie checked her cell. It was almost midnight and she had a busy day tomorrow with that birthday bash for twenty in Rowayton, a bigger headcount than she had ever catered for before, breaking her promise to keep all the parties at or under twelve. "I don't know about you guys, but it's late and I have to go."
"Me, too," Chelsea said, standing back to regard her work. "Good. You look really good, Kate."
"Really? Thank you so much?" Kate said, smiling hopefully at Chelsea. "Oh, I have to go home, too. Do you guys know a taxi I can call?"
"Are you kidding?" Sharon said. "You're not taking a taxi. I'm driving you."
"What?"
"You're on my way. Well, a little out of the way, but the same general direction."
"Oh? Thank you? That's so nice. You're really just like my friend, Mary. From home?"
"Cool. Tell me all about her on the way," Sharon said, holding open the bathroom door for her.
"Hey, you guys?" Lucie said, "I have to use the bathroom, so I'll see you all soon, I hope?"
"Okay, bye! See you!" Sharon and Kate chorused back, waving a little and disappearing around the corner.
Chelsea stopped half-way out the door, the last to leave. "Are you sure? I can wait."
Lucie sighed. "Actually, I just need to sit for awhile. My hip's acting up. You go. I'm parked right outside, don't worry."
"I shouldn't have made you dance?" Chelsea said, looking upset again.
To forestall her anxiety, Lucie lied, "No, it was bad before. From standing in the kitchen all day. T'en fais pas." She threw in the last as Chelsea was always distracted whenever Lucie broke into French.
"Ah... okay?" Chelsea paused for a moment and then nodded. "All right, be safe. Oh, and we'll have to plan another night out soon! This was fun!"
"It was! Really fun!"
Chelsea waved and was gone, the graffiti-marked door hushing shut behind her. Lucie went into a stall, put down several toilet seat covers to create a thick layer of protection, and sank down with a groaning sigh. She just needed to rest for a few minutes; then she'd crawl to her car and go home.
After some minutes passed, Lucie was about to force herself to her feet when the door to the bathroom opened again. Lucie waited for the usual clatter of the person entering one of the other stalls, but it was quiet. Then a very familiar voice said, "Lucie, Lucie, Lucie. Your friends are gone. Why aren't you? You really don't know when it's time to go, do you?"
It was Molly's voice. She was standing just on the other side of the stall door, waiting for her, had followed them into the club, possibly had been watching them the whole night. Lucie felt something rising in her throat and swallowed it down. Fear, that's what it was: the urge to curl up, hide. Stick her head in the sand and wait for Molly to go away. But Molly wasn't going anywhere and refused to be conveniently forgotten. Lucie stood up, wincing, and pulled the door open.
Molly obviously hadn't expected Lucie to confront her, because she stumbled back with surprise before regaining her composure. "Look at you," she sneered. "Coming out to fight, huh? It's about time."
"What do you want?"
"You. Gone," Molly said and then let out a little mirthless chuckle. "You know, I really thought you had left, run with your tail between your gimpy legs until they wouldn't carry you anymore. You practically ran out of the office; I figured you just kept running."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I hear. You've even got a new catering business. You must have thought that was a good dodge from being blackballed in corporate."
"No, it's what I always wanted to do."
"It's what I always wanted to do," Molly mimicked in a high voice. "You're pathetic. I still know everyone, and once they know a neo-Nazi is running a local catering business, your work should dry right up. Why don't you just go now, spare yourself?"
"Why?" Lucie said, suddenly enraged that this horrible woman, this creature, was threatening her. "What am I to you? A stupid assistant that was bad at her job? You cleared yourself about that email; no one one blames you. Even though they should. If only they knew."
"You wouldn't sign the document and I have to have it. Before they-" Molly said and snapped her mouth shut. After a beat, she continued, "If you sign it, I'll leave you alone. I could meet you tomorrow? Name the place."
Lucie shook her head, "You're in some kind of trouble, aren't you? And that document of yours, it wasn't what you claimed. It said more."
"Of course it did," Molly said with her familiar impatient eye-roll.
"Then, no. I'm not signing it."
Molly stood, waiting and staring her down, clearly believing that Lucie was bluffing. Her eyes were just as savage and unwavering as Lucie remembered. Icy minutes passed, Lucie resisting the rising urge to shiver, break down, give in. Fighting hard, she clenched her teeth until they ached.
Finally, Molly let out a snort and said, "You asked for it." She turned and left. When the bathroom door shut this time, instead of hushing, it hissed, promising venom.
Vodka Martini
Leaning against Bembe's bathroom counter and watching Chelsea put the final touches of a pretty rose-petal pink lipstick on Kate, Sharon reveled again in how much fun she was having. This was
fun
, hanging out in bars and not trying very hard to learn how to dance. Although she would always prefer quiet and order - the only sounds in her house that of the clock ticking, the hushing wind outside, Fred's purr - she had to admit that occasionally spicing up her life with a night out with the girls didn't hurt.
It had been so long since she'd gone out regularly, she'd forgotten the benefits. For instance: Chelsea and the opportunity for full-disclosure gossip that would be dangerous in the office. It was freeing saying exactly what she thought without concern of being overheard and seeing the look of delight and commiseration on Chelsea's face.
Also, she was starting to think of these four women as friends, particularly Lucie, whose wicked and silly sense of humor mirrored her own. Lucie could take one of Sharon's zingers and serve a sharp and agile return right back and then turn around and clown with the best of them. It was the two of them that started the others laughing on the dance floor: they were a regular comedy team and their communion of humor was what cemented Lucie as a likely fixture in Sharon's life, a best friend of the grown-up variety.
Bianca held her own in a different way. Sharon had to admit she had been on the attack this evening, the strange sensation of danger around the woman making her hackles rise, and then Bianca's comments about Dean had started. But Bianca had taken Sharon's pointed comments and suspicious questions with utter calm, turning the other cheek even. Then she'd given Kate the good news about the job she'd found for her, a truly selfless act that had no benefit for anyone but Kate. So Sharon was wrong yet again. She didn't know why she felt that way around Bianca, her instincts were usually spot-on, but she would have to attribute it going forward to Bianca's electric and enigmatic persona.