Nothing But Trouble (13 page)

Read Nothing But Trouble Online

Authors: Bettye Griffin

Cécile relaxed in her chair. The unpleasant moment had passed, but she dreaded having to tell Norell she was pregnant again. She'd have to put it off as long as she could.
After they finished eating they cleared the table, amid the cheers of the fellows gathered around the television. “Let's go upstairs and watch
Mildred Pierce
,” Norell suggested.
“Hey, you don't want to watch the game with us?” Vic asked, sounding playfully insulted.
“Vic, you know basketball bores me.”
“At least it's not always the Bulls, the Bulls, the Bulls, like it was when Jordan was playing,” Rodney said.
Gregory laughed. “Yeah, back in the day, everybody pretty much knew the outcome. I know there were times I was hoping somebody would drop a barbell on his head.”
No one said a word, and all eyes other than Gregory's and Rodney's sons' turned to Dana, who found her spine had suddenly gone unnaturally stiff.
“Come on, girls. Let's go see Joan Crawford in her shoulder pads,” Norell said hastily. Then a player on one of the teams made a stunning three-point shot, and admiring shouts broke the awkward moment. As Dana passed on her way to the stairs she noticed Vic lean over and whisper something to Gregory, who winced and hung his head.
 
 
The movie had already begun when they tuned in. Because the game went into overtime, it was in its closing seconds when Dana, Cécile, and Norell came downstairs after the film ended. When Dana said good-bye to Gregory, who conveniently stood in the dining room isolated from the others, he reached out and grasped her forearm. “Dana, I said something very insensitive before. I didn't know about your husband. I'm really sorry.”
“There was no way you could know; I realize that. But thanks. I appreciate your concern.” She smiled at him and slipped away.
She sincerely meant what she said. Anyone could make a gaffe if they didn't know all the facts. It actually worked out to her advantage, for she'd been sure that Gregory would have asked her out otherwise. He seemed nice enough, and he certainly was different from anyone she'd known, both in his size and in his profession, but she simply didn't find him attractive, and that was that.
“It looks like Gregory's sweet on you,” Cécile said to Dana on the drive home.
“He'll get over it, I'm sure.”
“Did I tell you about the guy I met last week at Wild Wednesday?”
“No! What are
you
doing meeting a guy?”
“I was sitting alone while you all were dancing. He obviously thought I was available. He was fine with a capital F. Dark skinned with big brown eyes and a great build. Anyway, he said to me, ‘Hi there, I'm Casanova.'”
“Casanova!”
“My thoughts exactly, which is why I said, ‘Sure you are, and I'm Madame Pompadour.' From the stunned look on his face I realized he was telling the truth. But there was no way for me to take the words back.”
Dana sighed. “Is there a point to this story, Cécile? Besides the fact that parents should give more thought to the names they choose for their kids?”
“Of course. Try not to hold Gregory's remark against him. How could he possibly have known Kenny died lifting weights?”
“What he said has nothing to do with it. He apologized to me when we were leaving. I think Vic tipped him off. But he's not my type. Besides, I'm already seeing Sean.”
“Who's got a wife tucked away, and a car that used to belong to Kenny.”
Dana sighed. “Not you, too, Cécile. Norell has already made it clear that she's against it, too.”
“You're vulnerable, Dana. You know it, and I'm sure he knows it, too.”
“I'm not going to get attached to Sean, Cécile.”
“So you say. But the whole thing gives me the creeps. Hey, you want some gummi bears?” She put her hand in the bag on the console.
“God, no. Because of you I'm all gummied out. I can't even eat jelly beans anymore.” Dana watched as Cécile scooped up a handful of the candy. She hoped Cécile saw her dentist regularly. Those things could be murder on a person's teeth, and Cécile downed them as if they were one of the four basic food groups.
“And speaking of giving me the creeps, I'm glad Norell's leaning against having in vitro,” Cécile said after she swallowed.
“And why's that?”
“If you ask me, it's carrying science too far. I think if you can't have a baby the natural way, you should just adopt or forget about it.”
“Easy for you to say, Cécile, you've got kids.”
“Yes, bless their pain-in-the-butt hearts. But if I didn't, I wouldn't even consider having any artificial process.”
“Again, that's easy for you to say. Try to imagine how you'd feel if you and Michael decided you wanted a child together and you couldn't because you'd had your tubes tied. Would you want to have it reversed? And what if you still didn't get pregnant? You might sing a different tune then.”
Cécile paused. “It's a moot point, Dana. My tubes untied by themselves. I'm pregnant now.”
Dana drew in her breath. “You're pregnant? Even after a tubal ligation? Oh, I get it! That's why you're looking for a new place.”
“I can't very well have my baby sleep on the roof, can I?”
“How far along are you?”
“The doctor says two months, so we're looking at mid-December. I didn't want to say anything because I don't know how Norell's going to take it. Promise you won't tell her.”
“I promise. No way am I getting in the middle of that.” Dana feared that the relationship between Cécile and Norell was about to get a lot worse. Friendship alone had great value, but now they had a lot more at stake. She hoped CDN could survive the storms that were sure to come.
Chapter 15
D
ana waved good-bye to Sean as he drove off. At her request he had turned off his headlights as they approached the house, and she watched as he flicked them back on. Brittany, inside with the babysitter, hadn't yet seen his car, and if Dana had her way she would never know about it. She still felt uncomfortable in it herself—she couldn't stop thinking of it as Kenny's—and even if she told Brittany it was just a coincidence that Sean had a car just like her daddy's, it was bound to be upsetting for her.
Actually, when Dana was inside the car she didn't think about it. Seats, center arm rest, and instrument panel notwithstanding, a car was a car. Only when she approached it from the outside did memories come back, and with them that queasy feeling. Sean, for his part, dealt with the sticky situation by not mentioning it at all.
Still, they were progressing nicely. They'd met for lunch on Wednesday. Tonight at the movies he'd taken her hand during the inevitable bedroom scene, a scene she found incredibly erotic in spite of knowing that every detail had been carefully orchestrated by a multiperson movie crew, right down to each bead of sweat on the actors' faces. Good Lord, she'd gotten to the point where even staged sex got her motor running, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that Sean somehow knew she hadn't had an experience since Kenny died. It was all she could do to keep from moaning aloud when he stroked her sensitive palm with the pad of his thumb.
When he pulled up almost—but not quite—in front of the house he kissed her good night, briefly, but with such intensity Dana found herself thinking about it off and on all day. “You know, you could get to be a habit for me,” he'd whispered just before planting a last quick peck on her lips.
Inside, Dana found Brittany and Tina, the babysitter, watching Brittany's
Titanic
tape. The ship was making its final descent into the North Atlantic, a scene Brittany had seen at least a dozen times before. Dana paid Tina and walked her to her home a few doors down. When she returned home, Brittany had changed into her pajamas. “Good night, Mom,” she said, giving Dana a hug and kiss before disappearing into her bedroom.
In the privacy of her bedroom, Dana removed her clothing, intending to slip on a night shirt and go to bed. She'd put in a full day and planned to get up early in the morning to work for CDN. But when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over her dresser, she impulsively walked over to it. Then, wanting a better view, she went to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She'd never given much thought to her physique, but no one other than Kenny had known her body since she was twenty years old. Well, nineteen years had passed since then. It was time to take a good, hard look at herself.
She tried to be critical as she studied her reflection, but in truth, she saw little to find fault with. Her skin was reasonably smooth, although it didn't have that glow like the models in
Essence
or
Black Elegance
, but at least it had no more traces of the mild acne of her younger years. She was maybe ten pounds heavier than she'd been fifteen years ago, not enough to be of any real significance. Her stomach was reasonably flat, if a little soft; and her boobs were still upright, even if they tended to roll toward her armpits when she lay down, but hell, she was pushing forty. If her boobs stuck in the air like two oranges at this stage of the game, that would only mean they weren't real.
She turned around. Good, her butt didn't sag. Impetuously she spread her arms and said, “Ta-daaaaaaaah,” like she had just jumped out of a birthday cake at a men's party.
Her smile turned to a frown when she saw the thick stubble of hair on her armpits. She lowered one arm and with her fingers explored the growth under the other. Not having a man in her life meant she could cut back on the less-noticeable aspects of grooming, at least until she started wearing shorts and sleeveless tops or went swimming. All right, so she'd already gone swimming this season, but in her own pool. Brittany and her friends didn't care about the stubble on her legs. But she had to get rid of this excess hair before offering herself to Sean, including shaping up that jungle between her legs.
She still had time. She'd explained to him weeks ago that she could only go out with him on one weekend night because she wouldn't leave Brittany more than that. He understood. They would probably have lunch together at least once next week, but there would be no actual date before next weekend.
Dana didn't particularly care for going out on Friday nights. Combined with work, it made for too long a day. Last weekend when she mentioned her preference for Saturday night to Sean, he said Friday would work better for him. He didn't elaborate, and when he suggested they go out on Friday again this week she couldn't help wondering what his Saturday-night plans were.
One thing for sure: Sean's actions tonight had made it clear that the time for mere hand-holding was over.
 
 
Dana met Sean for lunch on Wednesday, and it pleased her when he invited her to dinner on Saturday for a change. She recognized the name of the restaurant right away and knew it sat inside a downtown hotel. “That'll work well,” she said casually. “Saturday is always much better for me than Friday.” She hoped this would begin a new trend for them. At last he'd finally gotten the message.
She hadn't bought herself anything new in months—just because her financial picture looked more promising these days didn't mean she could afford to indulge herself—but she detoured to the mall on her way home and bought some new underwear. Thursday she slathered her legs with baby oil and ran the razor up and down all the surfaces until they felt like satin. Friday she treated herself to a professional pedicure. The soles of her feet felt as smooth as cognac going down her throat. No wonder Norell swore by them.
By Saturday she had only one decision to make: What to wear. Dana didn't want to ask Norell or Cécile because they'd both been so vocal about their disapproval of the affair. She decided to ask the fashionable Micheline, but when she didn't see Micheline's Bug in the driveway she scribbled a note on a yellow Post-It and left it on her door.
With everything under control, Dana sat down and did some transcription for CDN. She checked her watch anxiously. Five o'clock, and no Micheline. If she didn't return soon, Dana would be on her own, and she desperately wanted a second opinion. She really didn't have anyone else she could ask. Her babysitter's family had gone off to Orlando for the weekend. Her neighbors, Judy and Peter Sidney, were home, but Dana had noticed a definite chill in Judy since Kenny's accident. The way Judy's hand visibly tightened around Peter's arm whenever Dana waved hello told her Judy believed she planned to make a play for her husband. Dana didn't understand Judy's change in attitude. She had done nothing to make her neighbor believe that widowhood had turned her into a predator. Some women were just funny that way, she supposed.
As Dana was finishing her work, the doorbell rang. She hoped it would be Micheline, but since it was the front door, in her heart she knew it was more likely to be Vanessa Albacete. Brittany was set to attend a sleepover tonight at Vanessa's. Irene had promised Vanessa a new CD and was bringing her to Coconuts to get it, and their plan included stopping on their way there to pick up Brittany. Now that Brittany's guests had arrived, naturally she was nowhere in sight. She probably couldn't hear the bell over the loud music she played behind her closed bedroom door.
Through the sheer panels covering the narrow-paned windows that flanked the front door, Dana recognized the profile of Irene Albacete. She opened the door. “Hi, there! Come on in.”
They came inside, and Dana said to Vanessa, “I think Brittany's in her room. Why don't you go on up?” Vanessa promptly disappeared, and Dana involuntarily winced at the loud clunking sound the preteen's platform shoes made on her bare living room floor and the stairs.
Irene laughed. “She's still at that awkward age. Fortunately, our place has wall-to-wall.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.” Dana was embarrassed that Irene had noticed her displeased expression. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Ice water will be fine.”
They went to the kitchen, and Dana had just reached for a glass when she heard knocking on the back door. This had to be Micheline.
“Never a dull moment,” Dana said to Irene with a smile. “Please sit down, and I'll be right back. You're sure you won't have a glass of wine instead?”
“Water's fine, thanks.” Irene glanced at her watch. “I should tell the girls to hurry. We need to get that CD and be home before the rest of the girls arrive.”
“Do you think you can stay five more minutes?” Dana asked. She felt she might as well get the opinions of two women. As Irene nodded, Dana rushed to the back door, where Micheline stood.
“You wanted to see me?” she said, a strange expression on her face. It reminded Dana of a child who knew she had done wrong and was about to be reprimanded by a parent. How odd, she thought.
“Yes. Can you come in for a minute? I've got company.”
“Sure.”
Back in the kitchen, Dana introduced Micheline to Irene, then poured filtered water from the refrigerator dispenser for both women, who sat at the small round table in a corner nook. She sat with them, her palms resting on her thighs. “I'm glad both of you are here at the same time. This way I can get two opinions.”
“Opinions about what?” Irene asked.
“Well, I've got a date tonight. It's kind of a special date, and I wasn't sure what to wear.”
Micheline took a long swig of water. When she put it down the apprehensive expression was gone, replaced by a wide grin. “Ah, a special date! Do you know where you're going? That's the first piece of information you need to be able to dress appropriately.”
“We're going to have dinner at Juliette's downtown.”
“You have to forgive me, Dana; I'm not familiar with that,” Micheline said apologetically.
“That's right, you haven't been in town very long, have you?”
“Juliette's is one of Jacksonville's nicer restaurants,” Irene said. “My husband and I went there a few times for special occasions.”
Irene's use of the term “husband” versus the correct “ex-husband” sent an immediate red flag to Dana's brain. Had her dinner with Gil on Mother's Day gone well? Irene, as usual, hadn't volunteered any information when she came to pick up Vanessa afterward. Or maybe Irene, a devout Catholic, just didn't like admitting her divorceé status. Not that Dana ever expected to learn her motives. In all the years she and Irene had known each other, they never once advanced beyond small talk.
“It's inside the Omni Hotel,” Irene added.
“Ooohhh,” Micheline added, her knowing glance lingering on Dana.
The way Micheline stretched out a single-syllable word into three syllables, paired with Irene's not-quite-suppressed sly smile, made Dana wonder if it was better not to seek their advice. She silently cursed Irene for pointing out the restaurant's location, as well as herself for saying it was a special date. She might as well have written her planned activity for the evening across her forehead with lipstick.
“I'm presuming you've narrowed down the possibilities to a few. I'd be happy to give you my opinion,” Irene offered.
“Actually, I have. Can you bear with me while I run upstairs and get them?”
“Does Brittany know about your date?”
Dana drew in her breath. Irene had a good point. Brittany didn't know she had plans for the evening. “On second thought, maybe it would be better if you guys came upstairs with me.”
Micheline drained the rest of her water. “Sure.”
Dana led the way up the two-part staircase to the master bedroom. On her bed lay two outfits, one a peach suit with above-the-knee pleated skirt paired with a draped white blouse, the other a green-and-black sleeveless cocktail dress, tea length, with a jaunty sash at the side and matching green shawl.
“They're both lovely,” Irene began, “but I think I would go with the suit. I like that blouse with it. It looks soft and feminine, not businesslike.”
“I've got beige mules to wear with it,” Dana said.
“Definitely better than pumps. You'll fit right in, whether your date wears a suit or a sports coat.”
“I agree,” Micheline said. “Besides, if you two get a hotel room, you'll be less conspicuous in the morning in the suit than you would be in that dress.”
“Whoa. Who said anything about getting a room?” Dana said.
“Well, you did say it was a special date.”
“Yes, but not special
that
way.” Dana hoped she sounded convincing, but judging by the skeptical look on Micheline's face, Dana half expected to see her waiting by the window to see what time she came home.

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