Charles glared at her. "They
fired
you, Jeanine, because you couldn't manage to get to work on time. You were so pissed off because you had to support yourself that you lay awake nights plotting your revenge and then over-slept. You couldn't even be bothered to buy an alarm clock."
"But that was a long time ago, Charles," Jeanine whined. "This time I'll pay you back, I promise."
"No you won't," Charles said harshly. "Your car will break down or your A/C will go on the fritz or some other emergency will come along and you'll use the money for
that
and then where will you be? You've never saved a dime in your life!"
"Well, I can't
save
anything when I only make $9.50 a fricking hour," Jeanine yelled. "That's why I need the money, so I can get this training and get a
better
job."
"What happened to the grand you borrowed from your cousin? You were gonna be a court reporter that time, I think. I seem to remember you took three lessons before you dropped that scheme. You never paid him back, either."
"I couldn't help it if I had to have surgery. That scar's never been right, either, still gives me trouble. But this is
different
, this is a great opportunity and I'll be able to make
plenty
of money. I can't pass it up!" Jeanine was beginning to wheedle.
"Tough shit, Jeanine," Charles said in a harsh voice. "It's always 'different', except that it isn't. Get the money someplace else, I won't give it to you."
"But there
isn't
anyplace else," she said desperately. "I really need you to help me."
"You're in my will," Charles said sneeringly. "You can get it when I kick the bucket." Charles walked off before Jeanine could say more. Jeanine hobbled to the table and loaded up another plate, then went back to the corner to sulk and eat.
Gracie and Bill looked at each other and shook their heads. They both knew that Charles wouldn't loan money unless he were sure of making a big profit. And no one in their right mind would give Jeanine a loan, why had she even bothered to ask?
"Looks like we're going to eat soon," Bill said nodding at Charles standing at the grill. "I'm gonna go get another soda, you want anything? Here, I'll toss your plate." Bill walked to the patio, dropped the plate in the trash and rummaged through the cooler. Jim came up and they struck up a conversation.
Gracie watched as Justin and Zack ran across the lawn to the table. They were yelling insults at each other, clearly making it a race. They zipped by on either side of Cindy, nearly knocking her glass from her hand. Zack paused to turn around and say, "Sorry!" before running on. Justin made it to the food first.
Justin was the middle child, eighteen years old. He got his looks from his mother, slim and dark-haired. He wore his hair long, mostly because it bothered his dad. He was still wearing swim trunks, though he usually dressed in ragged jeans and black T-shirts advertising some underground band Gracie hadn't heard of.
Zack looked pretty much like Justin, except his hair was a Nordic blond - or would be if it was clean. They'd been friends since grade school. Zack had always been a little brighter, but he was a follower. If Justin said they should do something, that was good enough for Zack.
The boys were arguing noisily over the food, joking about what it might be made of, and making graphically sexual comments about the cocktail sausages. They started shoving each other and knocked the bowl of Jell-O salad off the table.
"'Zoo Time', indeed,"
Gracie thought.
"They're stoned and they've got the munchies."
At the grill Charles had heard the commotion. He turned toward them and yelled, "Steaks'll be ready in ten minutes Justin, can't you wait 'til then?"
Justin and Zack both pointedly ignored him and took their food around to the front of the house, not wanting to socialize with anyone.
Gracie sat at the table by herself, people-watching. It was interesting how groups formed then broke up, and people moved on to another group. Her mother was gossiping with Susan, while Clay had joined Bill and Jim. Jennifer was standing next to the grill, waving away the smoke as Charles cooked the steaks.
The sun was warm and she was content for the moment. She began nodding her head in time with the music, and found herself singing along. "I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm…" She stopped because she hadn't quite got the pace of the words. She tried again. "So I'm never gonna dance again, the way I danced with you. Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend."
She sat up a little straighter, she'd figured it out. "That's not
Seether
," she said aloud. "Not enough bass. Wow, I guess someone else did it first. Wonder who?" Gracie got up and went to ask her dad about the tune. Maybe his music didn't suck so bad after all.
As she walked up behind her father she could hear him talking to his wife. Not wanting to interrupt, she just stood there waiting.
"But how do you know?" Jennifer was saying.
"Because I can
count
, Jennifer," Charles said. They were keeping their voices down. "I know how much cash I keep in that drawer, and some of it disappears every week. It's either Justin or that little weasel Zack. They buy pot with it I'm sure, although I can't figure out where he keeps it."
"It must be Zack," Jennifer said, quite sure of herself. "Justin wouldn't, you know, steal from his own father. Zack's probably the one who got Justin into the pot, I wouldn't trust him. I'd throw him out the next time he shows up, but, I mean, Justin would just give me the 'evil step-mother' routine."
"No, don't say a word," Charles said shaking his head. "I've laid a trap for him and I want it sprung."
"A trap?" asked Jennifer. "What
kind
of trap?"
"A very simple trap," Charles replied. "I put the cash in a different drawer, and positioned a paper-clip very carefully on top. To the casual eye it looks like it just got dropped in there, but I know exactly where it was so I'll know if it's been moved. Pretty clever, huh?"
Gracie was embarrassed at having overheard this much, so she turned and went into the house to refill her glass.
The steaks were done, everyone had filled their plates and were sitting at the tables eating. Gracie might care deeply about the environment, but she wasn't one of those new-age vegans who refused to eat meat. She liked the way Bill had put it once: "We humans didn't claw our way to the top of the food-chain so we could sit around eating bean sprouts and brown rice!"
Charles of course had fixed his plate last after he'd made sure his guests were served. Instead of sitting down he stood at his table to make an announcement.
"Listen up, everybody!" he said in a voice that carried without being especially loud. "I've got good news! There's a
reason
I'm the top salesman at the Wilkins Agency. I sell
more
insurance - and make
bigger
sales - than anyone else there."
"And this time I've outdone even my
usual
achievements." Charles paused and looked around to make sure everyone was listening before importantly proclaiming, "I've landed the Bixby contract." There was a polite smattering of applause, though from the slightly blank looks on most people's faces it seemed clear that this name meant little to them.
Charles realized he was losing his audience so he explained. "Old Man Bixby not only owns the big fertilizer plant outside of town, he also owns that humongous mansion out by the lake." Heads began to nod in understanding.
"I've put together a proposal that insures not only the entire plant and all the equipment and cars that are part of the business - but
also
the house and all personal vehicles associated with it!
And
the employee life insurance to boot. No one's ever managed to package the whole shebang before, I'm tellin' you, I'm
good
." This engendered more applause, and Jim raised his glass in Charles' direction.
"Not that I didn't have to
work
for it!" Charles continued. "Yes siree, I've worked
hard
on this one."
"You're a lazy bugger! You just sit back and collect your commissions, you haven't had to work in
years
!" Jim shouted good-naturedly.
"Well now neighbor…" Charles winked obviously. "I admit that I haven't exactly had to hustle these last few years. I've lived - and
well
- off the fat of the hard work I did in my youth." He rubbed his belly to signify the pun, and drew some laughs from the crowd.
"But I
have
worked on this one, whether you believe it or not! It took me months to put this thing together - research, meetings, massaging the figures. And that wimp Dunbar can kiss my ass if he thinks he's gonna get any part of this commission. I asked him if he wanted to help, but the lazy slob's too busy with his junk food to do any real work."
Charles gave his audience a serious look. "I spent all morning in my home office slaving over the final presentation, and I'll finish it up tomorrow. It's all over but the shoutin' and Bixby will be so wowed by my presentation that he'll be begging me to let him sign on the dotted line."
"Yes, friends and neighbors," he was beginning to sound like a revival preacher. "I'm going to meet with
the
Mr. Bixby himself - and
at
his private mansion." He smiled self-importantly. "Not many people can say that, but I'm one of them! Tuesday afternoon at 2:00 P.M. I'll get to see the place for myself. I'll make the deal of a
lifetime
, and then I can retire on those commissions! I wanted you all to be the first to hear the good news."
Charles was beaming as he sat down to yet more applause. People returned to their meal and the hum of conversations returned. Over the next thirty minutes everyone stopped by to congratulate him on his big coup. The party seemed to be in full swing now.
* * * *
George Thompson strode through the gate and around the corner of the house into the yard, looking like steam should be coming out of his ears. George was a realtor who lived next door on the east. He looked around for a second, spotted Charles, and headed straight for him
"You can hear the noise clear down to the end of the block!" George exclaimed. "And your
guests
have parked their cars in front of my driveway again. Could you
please
turn the volume down a little?" It was clear he was trying hard to be polite.
"Simmer down, George," Charles said cheerfully. "Fix yourself a drink and join us. We're just having a little fun, and it's too nice to stay inside. I think there's some steaks left over if you want one."
"What I
want
is some peace and quiet," George responded tersely. "I just got home from an open house and I'm tired."
"Well, Hell man, you
need
a drink about now. It'll help you chill out."
"I'm tired of noise and I'm tired of
idiots
," George said meaningfully. "I want to have a nice glass of iced-tea and read a book
quietly
. I don't want to join your party, and I don't want to
hear
it! Turn the volume down, or I'm calling the cops."
"It's
my
house and I'll do what I want in my own back yard!" Charles retorted. George stomped off back to his house, but the cops never showed up.
Gracie was a little bored since there wasn't anyone her age to talk to. She got caught up on Clarke's life and had a nice (if short) chat with Cindy. She spent some time talking to Susan about getting one of Susan's charities involved in recycling. She even made a stab at talking to Justin and Zack, but that lasted about three seconds before they made it clear they weren't interested in anything she could possibly have to say.
So she changed into her swim-suit and went for a dip in the pool. She swam a few laps, then stretched out on a lounger to catch some sun. She was glad her mom had suggested the iPod, she could relax with her own music.
After awhile she needed to answer the call of nature and walked across the lawn and patio to the changing room which had a toilet so guests didn't have to go into the house and track water on the carpet. The door was closed and Justin answered her knock with, "Go away! Occupado."
Gracie banged on the door again, a little harder. "It's
me
, Justin. Hurry up in there!"
"We're going swimming again, we need to change. We'll be out when we're good and ready, so lump it," Justin responded.
"There goes the neighborhood," Gracie muttered. "Well, then give me my clothes," she yelled. "I'll get dressed and leave the pool to you guys. I don't wanna get splashed!"
"How'm I supposed to do that?" Justin asked. "You just want a peek at Zack's buns - or is it
mine
?" He laughed suggestively.
Gracie opened her mouth to respond, and then shut it again. It just wasn't worth the effort. "I'll stand by the wall and hold my hand out, you can open the door just enough to hand them to me. C'mon Justin,
please
."
"Ooh, beg some more, Sis," Justin giggled.
Zack said, "I'll do it, Gracie. You ready?"
The transfer was made and Gracie carried her bundle of clothes into the house. She went to the downstairs bathroom, dried off and changed, and combed out her hair. On her way back outside she heard voices from her father's office. She recognized his voice and Bill's.
"That girl
sure
was
pretty
," her father said tauntingly.
"So you slept with her," Bill said. His voice was angry and accusatory. "She was
young
, a college student, and you seduced her."
"I've slept with a lot of pretty girls," Charles responded smugly. "I don't remember all their names."
Gracie walked on, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. "What was that all about?" she asked herself. She knew her father played around and preferred younger women. Was his latest conquest one of Bill's students? It would be like Bill to take him to task for it. She shook her head sadly, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Outside on the patio she decided she was hungry and went to the big table to see what was left. Over by the cooler Aunt Jeanine was talking to Jennifer.
"But you're his
wife
," Jeanine was saying. "You could get him to change his mind."
"I think his mind's, like, made up," Jennifer said shortly.
"You've gotta tell him how important this is to me. We're
family
now, Jennifer, you gotta help me." In spite of the fact that she was demanding instead of asking, Jeanine's voice had a definite whining quality.
"There's nothing I can do," was Jennifer's rather cold reply.
"I'm desperate," Jeanine sounded like it. "I've gotta get the money somehow so I can quit this crap job."
"Well, I can't help you," Jennifer responded icily. She turned on her heel and walked over to Gracie. "Gracie dear," she said with patently false friendship. "Have you gotten enough to eat?"
"Well, I thought maybe a couple more of those meatballs," Gracie said.
Jeanine turned to yell at Jennifer. "He's gettin' all this money, and he won't even help his sister. He'll regret this!" Jeanine gathered up what little dignity she could, and waddled off to her car.
Gracie carried her food to the table where her mother was talking to Susan and joined their conversation.
"You could take vacation, Clarissa," Susan said. "Even half a day, the tournament doesn't start until one. We'd love to have you. And of course it's for a good cause."
"What tournament?" Gracie asked.
"Oh, one of Susan's charities," her mother replied. "It's a golf tournament benefiting underprivileged children. I'd like to, Susan, but isn't it too late to sign up?"
They discussed the possibilities for awhile, Gracie subtly pushing her mother to agree. She hadn't had a chance to play for several months, and Gracie thought it would be good for her. As the three talked Gracie noticed Bill emerge from the house, an unhappy look on his face as he strode briskly around the corner to his car.
In the end Clarissa decided to play in the tournament after all, and happily made plans for her afternoon out with friends. The party went on for a couple more hours, and Gracie was more than ready to leave when her mother suggested it.