Authors: Terry Lee
“He’s a very well-known plastic surgeon down in the Medical Center. He’s worked on all sorts of celeb….” Suzanne’s large brown eyes surveyed the group. Only Regina seemed in the least bit interested. She stopped and switched subjects. “We’ve got two girls at St. John’s, and I….” She stopped again. “I’ve got a lot of responsibilities, you know, with Stephen in his position.”
“Isn’t St. John’s that really exclusive private school? The one off Westheimer?” Janie had heard the school only took a certain number of kids each year, and annual school rates were comparable with college tuitions. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the gardener, or that Junior League stuff, were you?”
Suzanne’s less than enthusiastic smile slipped by no one.
Allison gathered up plates and headed to the kitchen. “Are you happy, Suzanne? I mean, all that’s great and everything, but you’ve kinda lost your smile.”
“I am, I really am.” Suzanne answered way too fast to convince anyone in the room. “It’s just so…time-consuming. Last year our home was selected for the Azalea Trail, and my goodness, was that an ordeal. Having people roaming through your house. It’s an honor and everything, but I was exhausted. And Stephen…well, he wasn’t happy about strangers being in his…our home.”
Janie, Frannie, and Dena exchanged raised eyebrows. Suzanne’s family was part of the very elite class of hob-knobs in Houston. Allison obviously knew all this since she’d periodically kept in touch with Suzanne. Regina remained unmoved, examining one of her manicured nails. Piper raised her head, only to keep it up by propping an arm under her chin. “So you live in freakin’ River Oaks? Man, what are you, a gazillionaire or something?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I mean we…well, we do have money, but not a gazillion or anything.”
“Man, whatever. That’s still a freakin’ load of money.” Piper, like Dena, had not lost her special use of the English language.
Chapter 22
Saturday Afternoon, North Padre Island - 1992
After changing into clothes equally as comfortable as her Batman T-shirt and pajama bottoms, Janie grabbed her purse. “I’m heading across the bridge to pick up a few things. Anyone want to come?” Dena and Frannie were on their feet.
“Hey, could you pick me up some milk?” Piper dug into the pocket of the torn jeans she still wore from yesterday and pulled out a five dollar bill.
“For…more White Russians?” Janie mentally winced and made a note to make sure the milk mixture disappeared before Piper hit the road back to Houston tomorrow.
“Yeah, I’ve still got plenty of the hard stuff.” Piper stood and walked to the framed mirror on the wall, studying the face reflected back as if she’d never met the woman before. “Damn, why didn’t anyone tell me I had raccoon eyes?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but grabbed a small pouch from her duffle bag and scooted off to the bathroom.
“Well, what can I say but, bless her heart. At least she remembered how to get there this time.” Allison shook her head. “That girl is something else.”
Janie grabbed her keys and purse. “Need anything? Anyone?”
Suzanne, realizing she was the only person at the table except Regina, hopped to her feet and bolted over to Janie. “Could you get me some Contac ND…you know, the allergy medication? I forgot to bring mine and my allergies are acting up.”
“Sure, no problem.” Janie accepted the twenty from Suzanne.
“And not the regular Contac…that never works. Has to be Contac ND…has to.” Suzanne peered into Janie’s eyes. “Maybe I should go with you.”
“C’mon, girlfriend.” Allison took Suzanne by the elbow and led her away. “I think Janie can figure it out.” She turned back to Janie and mouthed the words “hurry back.” “We’ll just stay here and…hang out.”
The ride across the bridge filled the SUV with non-stop gab between Janie and Frannie.
“Can you believe Suzanne lives in River Oaks?”
“And Regina is just as charming as ever.” Frannie’s words dripped sarcasm.
“And Piper. Holy shit! She scared the crap out of me yesterday.”
“Did you see those tattoos?”
“Can’t believe she made it. Should we let her drive home tomorrow?”
“Do you think they’re talking about us?”
“The four left behind? I doubt they’re talking at all.”
Dena unbuckled her seatbelt from the back seat and grabbed Janie and Frannie around the nape of the neck. “Are you fucking kidding me? Listen to you two. We can’t get together and talk like this. What are we? Fifteen?” She sat back in her seat. “Damn!”
The front seat volume quickly dropped to zero. A long moment passed.
“You’re right.” Frannie turned in her seat to face Dena. “We should be supportive and more interested in each other’s lives, right?”
“Yeah, I agree. I even had a real conversation with Regina this morning.” Janie pushed her sunglasses up higher on her nose and exited off South Padre Island Drive.
“Really? What about?” Frannie asked, obviously trying to sound less teenager-ish.
Scrunching her nose, Janie dodged the real answer about their “inner” friends and muttered something about the weather or some other benign subject. She adjusted the rearview mirror to be able to catch Dena’s face. “You gotta admit though, Piper’s tattoos are—”
“Fucking hard to miss,” Dena said.
The two in the front seat smiled.
~~~
The rest of the day was spent lounging around, mostly on the deck except during the warmest part of the day. Food, of course, was plentiful, as was drink. Suzanne stayed with the non-alcoholic beverages, rotating between water and Diet Coke for the most part, while the others, with the exception of Piper and her White Russians, went through several batches of Janie’s famous limeade frozen margaritas.
After Suzanne and her update about life in the society lane, Dena took a turn at filling the others in about what had gone on in her world over the last ten years. She had done more than well for herself, although those words would never come from her. The outcome, however, spoke for itself. Transferring to Texas A&M her junior year, she’d received a master’s degree in horticulture. She moved back to Houston and married a guy she’d been with for several years. Starting her own business, she specialized in creative event designs. The business took off, but her first marriage didn’t. A couple of years later she married Jim Stacey, a guy she’d met at one of the floral conventions. He was older than her, but not too old to agree to have kids. They now had two, Alex and Andrea, ages ten and eight.
Since their marriage, the design company had become even more lucrative…hence the diamond tennis bracelet and the rock on her left hand. Two highly-talented design artists who worked well together made a winning combination. They landed contracts with The Houstonian, and both the Royal Oaks and Braeburn Country Clubs, to name a few. Each facility had contracts with several event coordinators, who sent the majority of their clients Dena’s way. Dena and Jim mutually decided they needed to hire someone from the outside to sit and discuss details with their clients. Jim was more of a hands-on type of guy, and Dena’s prolific use of the F-bomb, which could be dropped at any time, caused her to back away from the position. She was one classy lady…perfect hair, nails, and a wardrobe to die for, but her trash mouth…well, some things were just fucking hard to change.
“
You’re
The Main Event?
The
Main Event?” Suzanne looked like she’d just learned Dena and Mother Teresa were first cousins. “All those arrangements? At the club each week? That’s
your
business?”
“Royal Oaks? If that’s what you’re referring to, then yep, that’s me.” Dena seemed to be taken aback by Suzanne’s gushy enthusiasm.
“
And
The Houstonian?” Suzanne appeared incapable of controlling her shock factor. “Oh, and the Junior League.” Light-hearted mischief danced around Dena’s eyes.
That one almost knocked Suzanne off the deck recliner she’d stretched out on. “I…I don’t believe it!” In total shock, she eyed her friends. “Have you seen the work this woman does? It’s phenomenal! I mean, everyone is always raving about the floral designs. And to think they all came from you!”
“You look so shocked,” Dena teased.
Suzanne stood and moved to give Dena a hug. “Oh no, no, no! I’m ecstatic...you’re…you’re incredible!”
Dena accepted Suzanne’s embrace and looked a bit embarrassed; obviously not something she handled well. “Okay, okay. You’re making me blush. Red is my favorite color, but not this much. I can’t take all the credit. I do have a team, and Jim is the real artist here. I couldn’t have done it without him.”
“But the Junior League?” Suzanne acted like an energizer bunny who needed to have her batteries pulled.
“Oh, yeah.” Dena used her nails to click the arm of the Adirondack chair where she sat sipping her frozen drink. “The Junior League. Now those are some serious bitches.”
The last remark succeeded in pushing the kill switch on the motor mouth bunny. “Oh, we’re not really….” Suzanne gazed at the lazy floating clouds overhead, like the rest of her thought could be pulled out of the sky. She rolled her neck. “Yeah, we are.” She aimed a warning finger at the other BAGs. “No one heard me say that, okay?”
“Got it.” Janie nodded her head, happy to see Suzanne so animated after last night’s scene.
“Totally got it.” Dena stood to refill drinks and exchanged smiles with Janie.
“Hold up.” Janie hauled herself out of the deck chair. “I’ll go with you.”
Back in the kitchen, the two women pulled two chicken casseroles from the refrigerator. Dena unwrapped loaves of French bread, sliced them horizontally, and slathered a butter-garlic mixture on each half. “Any more parsley, or do I have to sprinkle on parsley tea?”
“I’ve got more.” Janie plunged her head back in the refrigerator to dig around for the spare green leafy bundle. She straightened up, her face flushed from cold, plus the bent over position. “I know my turn is coming up, but I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about my asshole husband.” Her smile resembled an inverted happy face.
Dena wiped off her hands and gave Janie a hug. “We’re all friends here…well, most of us.”
Janie had always admired so many things about Dena. Not only her beautiful smile, but her tenacity towards life and that dang personality. When her first marriage ended, she’d handled it far better than Janie would have. Her matter of fact “that’s life, let’s get on with it” attribute was and always had been one of her most admirable traits. Kinda negated the foul language issue. However, the more people got to know Dena, the less important the whole profanity thing became. It was simply part of her nature.
“We all ready for tonight?” Dena rewrapped the loaves of French bread and lined them up alongside the casseroles.
“Yeah. My buddy across the street…nice high school kid…hauled the wood down to the beach. I’ve got some blankets, and we’ll need the ice chest.”
“Ya think?” Dena shot a show-stopping smile to Janie and headed back out to the deck, a full pitcher of frozen beverage in her hand.
~~~
Chicken a la Dena had been a hit, as usual. During dinner Suzanne prompted Regina to tell the group about the assignment she’d be facing next week.
“Wait till you hear this.” Suzanne helped herself to another piece of garlic bread. “Go on, tell ‘em.”
Never one to shy away from being the center of attention, Regina now seemed more than hesitant. Very un-Regina-like. Her eyes met Allison’s, who gave her a nod. One of her facial muscles twitched, obviously one not permanently Botoxed. Regina started slowly, also unusual for the give-me-a-camera-anytime woman, but gained momentum.
“So, I’ll be interviewing the woman after the presentation.” Regina dabbed her lips, a totally unnecessary maneuver since they were permanently tinted.
“And she’s your apartment manager?” Janie had reached her limit for garlic bread, which mentally translated into room for more. “That is
so
cool.” She felt the beginning of a change in their friendship. Or maybe after all these years, a friendship was exactly what was developing.
“Yeah, far out,” said Piper, the woman of few words, but with the biggest presence.
Regina conveniently deleted the debacle about the relationship with Viola Middleton. Allison and Suzanne exchanged looks of agreement to keep their silence.
“You never mentioned.” Frannie stood to take her plate and silverware to the sink. “Are you married?”
Flipping her shoulder length hair, Regina cleared her throat. “Ah, yeah. Well, no. Not at the moment.”
Her words brought everyone’s attention front and center. Although highly uncomfortable, noted by her foot wildly shaking under the table, she took a deep breath and found her on-camera smile. “Marriage doesn’t suit me. Tried it twice though. Men just seem so…insecure with a wife in the spotlight.”
“Any…kids?” Dena tapped a red fingernail against red lips.
Silence moved around the room, although exchanged eye contacts flew. Somehow the group sensed Regina had just jumped—or had she been pushed?—into the deep end of a pool that had no bottom.
“Ah…no.” Her usual rigid posture sunk back into the kitchen chair. “Raising a child with my kind of career just wouldn’t be feasible.”
More silence zipped around the room, pinging off the walls.
“Okay!” Dena rose and grabbed the empty casserole dishes. “Let’s get this cleaned up so we can head to the beach.”