I curled my fingers to keep from jumping on her and clawing her back. To save Luc, of course. Gritting my teeth in a smile, I turned to the three guys. “Hi.”
Two of them exchanged a look and walked away. The third grinned. “Hi.”
He had a dimple in his right cheek! I relaxed and smiled, genuinely this time. “Hi.”
He laughed. “You’re cute.”
I was obviously dealing with a very intelligent man here. It was too bad his eyes were brown, but nobody was perfect. “Would you say you’re successful at your work?”
“I do well.”
“How do you feel about children?”
The laughter faded abruptly from his face. “What?”
“Children,” I shouted.
He shrugged. “I can’t see myself as a father right now.”
Great. I bit my lip, wondering how to proceed. Luc said directness was good. So I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down, and whispered in his ear, “I have a proposition for you.”
“Really.”
He looked intrigued. Emboldened, I continued. “I have to find a sperm donor and I think you might fit the bill.”
He blinked a few times. Probably the smoke in here. Behind my glasses, my eyes were watering too. Mental note: inform the proper authorities that the no-smoking ordinance was being broken.
He leaned in, snaking an arm around my waist. “Would it involve sex?”
Hmm. I took a sip of my Shirley Temple to give me a moment to think. That was a good question. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, I’d be interested,” he said against my ear.
I resisted the urge to shout in triumph. But I couldn’t help wiping away the residue of his moist breath on my skin. “Great. I just need to get your name and contact information.”
“My name is James.”
James. A very regal-sounding name. I pushed him back, set my drink on the counter behind me, and dug in my purse for a pen and pad.
Playing it cool, I watched him jot down his full name and phone numbers. At this rate, I’d be able to put together an adequate list before my three weeks were up.
I owed Luc big-time. I should take him out to dinner or something when this was over.
I had a niggling sense of being watched. I looked up to find Luc glaring from the other side of the pool table. I gave him a thumbs-up.
This was going to be easier than I thought.
Chapter Four
6:54 Sunday evening. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep for the next two months. I’d gone out again with Luc last night. Different bar, same objective, and the only thing I had to show for it was a huge blister on the heel of my left foot.
I entertained the idea of calling Rainbow to cancel our get-together, but there were two problems with that. One: I’d promised her I’d go and I didn’t think I could bear her kicked-puppy pout if I didn’t. Two: I didn’t have her phone number.
I just had to buck up and go over, I decided as I slipped my feet into the Ferragamos.
I stood up with a sigh. It wasn’t going to be that bad. Certainly not worse than a company party. (Shudder.)
I picked up my keys, which I always leave hanging on a hook by the door, and debated taking my purse. In the end I grabbed it. You never know when you might need an emergency sewing kit or clear nail polish (amazing how useful it is for any number of things).
Locking the door, I sighed again, strode to Rainbow’s, and knocked. As I waited, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other to alleviate the radiating pain of the blister.
One thousand one.
One thousand two.
One thousand three.
One thousand four.
One thousand five.
No answer.
“Hmm.” I pressed my ear to the door. Nothing. What if she wasn’t home? Did she forget?
I banged my fist on the door and held my breath. I was just starting to get my hopes up when the door swung open and there she was, dressed just like her name.
“Hey, Kath!” She beamed. Before I could say or do anything, she yanked me into her apartment and slammed the door. “Come on in.”
Setting my purse on the floor, I stepped over a pile of shoes to avoid tripping. “Um, thank you.”
“Have a seat. I’ll pop open the wine and join you in a sec.”
I stopped her before she flitted off to the kitchenette. “Rainbow, I don’t drink alcohol.”
Her face fell. But only a touch before she perked right up. “No problem. How about some tea? I got this great blend from my acupuncturist. Straight from China.”
“Sure. That’d be fine.”
“Groovy.” She gestured to the living room as she walked away. “Make yourself at home.”
She didn’t have to point the way—her apartment was the mirror image of mine. And calling it a living room was generous. It was more of a long hallway between the front door and the bedroom (a.k.a. glorified closet).
If I had any doubts about finding it, all I had to do was follow the stench.
God, what was that? Pinching my nose with two fingers, I inched forward. And stopped.
Oh my God, it was a mess. Mounds of magazines piled on the table—at least I think there was a table underneath. Scarves draped over lamps, and the bookshelf overflowed onto the floor with paperbacks. It was so different from my orderly apartment that I felt like I’d entered a foreign country.
Then I found it.
There—on the crate-slash-table by the futon-slash-couch. A thick plume of smoke languidly drifted up.
Incense.
In college, one of the girls in my dorm burned incense night and day. It hid the smell of all the pot she smoked.
But where that was light and fruity, Rainbow’s was heavy and perfumed, kind of like I’d imagine a South American prostitute would smell. It made me wonder what she was trying to cover up.
Still holding my nose, I picked up the long brass holder and burning stick and looked around for a place to relocate it. It needed to go away. Far away.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Rainbow yelled from the kitchenette.
I jumped. Guilty? Not me. “Um, yes, me too.”
“I pulled out all the stops tonight. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I needed to find a hiding place—fast. I wondered if she’d notice if I put it outside on the decrepit fire escape.
“Here we are. Oh, do you like the incense?”
I whirled around as Rainbow skipped in, carrying a small tray laden with food and mismatched china. Dark gray ash floated to the floor, but I doubted she’d notice given the state of her apartment. “Uh—”
“I
knew
you’d like it. I picked it especially for you. It goes with your aura. Here.” She snatched it out of my hand. “Let’s put it here so it’s close to you.”
I was proud that I didn’t wince when she set it back down on the crate.
She waved in my general direction. “Sit. I’ll get the tea.”
My nose twitching, I pushed aside the clothes covering the futon (
please let them be clean
) and perched on the edge, smoothing my skirt over my L’eggs nylons.
Rainbow came back promptly with two steaming mugs. She set one in front of me on top of a precarious stack of magazines before sitting Indian-style on the floor across from me.
Cupping her mug in her hand, she grinned again. “I just can’t believe you’re here. After all this time.”
Guilt pierced me. It was true—I’d been avoiding her invitations for over a year now, ever since she moved in. “It’s been a busy year.”
She nodded. “I’ve noticed you work all the time. That isn’t good for you, you know. Your chakras are probably all imbalanced.”
Because I didn’t know what to say to that, I took a sip of my tea. And choked.
Yuck! I frowned at it. What was this? It tasted like stewed grass.
“Do you like it?”
I looked at Rainbow’s eager, cherubic face and bit my lip. “It’s quite interesting.”
“My acupuncturist swears by it.”
I didn’t know whether to be impressed that she let someone poke needles into her or to think she was a freak. I decided to reserve judgment for the time being.
“You look so nice, but you didn’t have to get dressed up to come over.” She sipped her tea.
“Oh.” I looked down at my outfit. I didn’t get dressed up. “I, uh, came from work.”
“On a Sunday? You work for a big conglomerate, don’t you?” she asked accusingly.
“I don’t. Ashworth Communications is a privately held corporation.” For some reason I felt compelled to defend myself and AshComm. “We put back a lot into the community. Last Christmas season we collected enough presents for over eight hundred boys and girls.”
Rainbow shrugged. “Christmas is a capitalistic holiday.”
“What do you do?” I asked to divert her. “For work.”
She shrugged again. “I dabble in aromatherapy.”
Read: slacker.
Not that I was surprised. I doubted I could find anyone less ambitious than Rainbow. Even Luc had his own business—small, albeit enough to afford him a huge loft and a comfortable living. Rainbow lived in a dump in the Mission.
But I pasted a smile on my face. “Sounds interesting.”
“I love it.” She licked an errant drop of tea dripping down her mug. “So did you have a good time Friday night?”
I tried not to be distracted by the tiny clank the stud in her tongue made. (Did it heat up with the hot tea?) “Um, yes, Friday night was successful.”
“Successful?” She wrinkled her nose, which made the stud in her nostril wink at me. “Did you get laid?”
“Excuse me?” I knew I must have been gaping, but her question was totally invasive. I mean, I hardly knew the woman and she was asking me if I had sex.
“Did you meet someone?” She scooted closer, her eyes wide and sparkling. “Have a fling?”
“No! No way.” I shook my head. I’d never had a fling in my life.
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve had sex. Kind of. Twice. A decade ago. But never a fling. I tried not to pout.
“Oh.” She visibly drooped. “But you had fun anyway?”
“It was informative.”
Her nose wrinkled again. “Informative? What does that mean?”
“It means ‘serving to enlighten or inform.’”
Rainbow laughed. “You crack me up, Kath.”
What did that mean? I hid my frown in the so-called tea.
“So did you go out with friends?”
“Just my friend Luc.”
“Your boyfriend?”
Why was she so interested in my private life? It made me suspicious. “He’s just my best friend.”
“Is he hot?”
“No, he’s Luc.” Luc hot? In my mind, I saw the way his eyes lit with humor and felt the way his hands touched mine, and I flushed. I set my tea down. It was overheating me. “No, Luc’s definitely not hot.”
“That’s too bad. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Have an hors d’oeuvres. I made hummus, mostly from scratch, and tofu spinach dip.” She pushed the tray closer. The magazines shifted, and for a moment I thought my Ferragamos were going to be doused in yellowish chickpea paste.
I picked up a carrot chunk and nibbled on it.
“I used to have a boyfriend. For a long time, but I dumped him a couple months ago.” Rainbow sighed dramatically, drowned a cracker in the hummus, and stuck it in her mouth.
I wondered what the statistics were on breaking a tooth by biting down on a tongue piercing.
“It’s just as well that he’s gone. He was an asshole,” she said as she chewed.
She seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I did. “Oh?”
I guess it was the right thing because she continued. (And Luc said I was an abysmal conversationalist.) “Yeah, total bastard. I keep my money in a hollowed-out book by my bed”—she waved toward her bedroom—“and he used to help himself to it. When I confronted him about it, he had the nerve to deny it. Then he charmed it out of me by promising he wouldn’t do it again.”
I froze mid nibble. I knew this story. I lived it still.
“Every time he’d say it was the last time.” She snorted so loudly it startled me. “I let him take money from me. You must think I’m such an idiot for believing him.”
I bit my lip and shifted, smoothing my skirt down over my knees. If she was an idiot, what did that make me? “Um, no. You’re not.”
“Oh, I am.” Her natty hair bounced dully with each nod.
“Rainbow, I have to go.” I stood up. I needed to get out of there. I held out my hand. “Thanks for inviting me over.”
She frowned but took my hand. Instead of shaking it like I meant, she levered herself up from the floor. “Oh, well, okay.”
I blocked out the confused-bunny look in her big eyes. I just needed some space to think. “Uh, thank you. See you later.” I edged around the magazines, grabbed my purse, and hurdled over the shoes right out the door.
I fumbled with my locks. When I finally managed to open them, I slipped inside and slammed the door shut, like there was something chasing me.
Leaning against the door, I took my glasses off and pressed the bridge of my nose. I went over to Rainbow’s thinking we had nothing in common. That I was superior. I mean, here she was—dreads and piercings, living in a pig sty, doing nothing with her life. She didn’t even have a real job—she
dabbled
. I had the job, the big ambitions, the goal. But in the end, Rainbow and I were the same.
No, Rainbow was better, because at least she told her bastard boyfriend he couldn’t have any more money from her. I couldn’t even do that. Sure, I was supplying my father, not a random guy I’d met, but still.
I went to my bedroom. Without turning on the lights, I got out of my clothes and automatically hung them up. I got into one of Luc’s old massage school T-shirts, crawled under my covers, and huddled there. They were so threadbare, I could see the neon lights that slipped through the wide gaps of my blinds.
I screwed my eyes shut and tried to block it all out, but scene after scene flashed in my mind. When I was seven and my dad snuck into my room, thinking I was asleep, to raid my piggy bank. When I was ten and I opened the household purse to pay our landlord, who waited at the door, and found only three pennies and a dime inside. When I was thirteen and had to pawn my mom’s pearl necklace—the necklace she gave me eight years before when she realized her cancer wasn’t treatable—to pay the rent so we could stay in the current dump one more month.
And then there was junior year in high school when I had to hock the sleek, top-of-the-line calculator Luc gave me for Christmas. I’d loved that calculator—it practically did my precalculus homework on its own. It was a huge step up from the ancient Texas Instruments I’d been using. When Luc found out—well, let’s just say I’d never known he could get so angry. Not at me but at my dad. He bought me a replacement and made me promise that if I needed money I’d ask him for it instead. I’d promised, kept the beloved calculator, and started tutoring to earn the extra money I needed.
Sighing, I punched my pillow. Rainbow had wised up. I should have wised up by now too (according to Luc anyway), but whenever my dad came around I gave him what he wanted without a struggle. What could I do? He was my dad.