Thursday, December 01, 2005

Speak Softly

The next day, Georgette woke to the ringing of her telephone. At first she thought it was the alarm clock. She pressed the snooze button but still it rang on. Muffling the sound with a pillow, she groaned, “Will you stop ringing? My head kills.” Then she realized it was the phone. She answered it with “Speak softly.”

A dry feminine voice spoke. “I’m not surprised that you’ve got a hangover. You were hitting the Peach Schnapps pretty heavy.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Jennifer Swann, Goddess-partner-in-crime. I almost forgot. Mother Moon says hello, star shine.”

“Mother moon? Mother moon…oh my God, I kissed Rod Hutchins.” As memory of her antics of the night before came back to Georgette in a flood, she sat up abruptly causing her head to spin. “Oh my head.”

Jennifer said, “You need coffee and some food. What’s your address?”

Georgette wasn’t listening. She was trying to recall the events of last night, mainly those after dinner. She remember drinking a lot of wine, watching Trip dance with that Theresa Champagne woman and then being outside with the woman in red—the one that had been in the bathroom with Dale Larkin. What was her name?

“Jennifer, right? Oh dear, I can’t remember your last name. I’m sorry,” said Georgette.

“Jennifer Swann. I’m surprised you remember any of the evening.”

“I’m having vivid flashbacks. I wonder if this is how it was in the 70’s after the LSD years.”

“According to the telephone directory this is your address? 1314 Willow drive.”

“Yes, that’s my address. Why?
Patiently Jennifer explained, “We’re going to have a light lunch. Once you get some food into our system, you’ll feel better. I’m treating you to lunch. Will I be looking for a house?”

“Gosh, thanks. Hmm, no house. An apartment. The Willow Street Apartments. I’m in Building B, apartment 3. You’ll see a green jeep in front of the entry way. Building B is on the left after you enter the gates.”

“I’ll find it. Shall I be there in 45 minutes?”

“Sounds perfect. I need a long hot shower. But first, some aspirin.”
The hot shower cleared Georgette’s mind. She remembered more of the evening and was angry at herself for letting her emotions over Trip run wildly amuck and cause her to do some things that were completely out of character for her. How could she face Rod Hutchins after kissing him so passionately? An immediate apology was the proper thing to do to set things write.

She found his business card in her handbag. It didn’t have a home phone number listed, so she called his office. Thinking she would get the answering service, she mentally rehearsed a message. But instead of a machine picking up the call, he answered it himself. “Rod Hutchins, how can I help you?”

Georgette’s prepared speech evaporated. “What are you doing at work on a Sunday? Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic?”

“Mother? Why you sound thirty years younger!”

She had been thrown off balance by his voice and attempted to regain her footing. “No Rod, it’s Georgette. Not your mother.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that. I didn’t peg you to be a nag, though. You sound like my mother.”

“Everyone needs at least one day to relax.” The call wasn’t going as planned and Georgette began to wish she hadn’t of dialed his number on impulse.

“I usually stay home and watch ESPN in my underwear on Sundays, but today I had an idea for a future project and came in to sketch it out before I lost it. So Miss Witt, what can I do for you today?”

She cleared her throat and rushed out the words. “I called to apologize for my behavior last night. I wasn’t myself.”

“You revealed your weakness. Peach Schnapps.”

Georgette should have known that he wouldn’t make this easy for her. “I don’t usually drink that stuff. It was out of character for me. I feel as if I took advantage of you and I’m sorry.”

Rod released a laugh that started at the tips of his toes, growing in volume until it sprang into the telephone receiver with such force that Georgette removed the phone from her ear. She said, “Er, I’ll leave you to your work. Have a nice Sunday.” She hung up. What a mistake that had been!

The phone rang again while she dressed. It was Martin. “Hello, Flower Child. How are you feeling today? Hangover?” He spoke softly as if he knew her head was killing her.

“Horrible. But I’ve been worse. Sorry if I caused you any trouble last night, Martin. My memory’s a bit fuzzy.”

“You didn’t. It’s an every day occurrence for me. Every woman I escort to one of Susan Ritter’s parties always gets drunk, bares her breasts and kisses other men.”

She gasped. He spoke cautiously and she wondered how far she had gone the night before. “I exposed myself? Oh I’ll never face another living soul ever again.”

Martin laughed, “Hold on, Flower Child. I’m teasing you about the bare breasts part. A man can hope, can’t he?”

I should run you over with my jeep, Martin.”

“You have to catch me first. Have you had lunch? You should eat something.”

“I’m having lunch in fifteen minutes with Jennifer Swann. I met her last night at the party. She called and invited me out.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. I get the impression, she’s a loner. You would be good for her.”

Georgette was puzzled. “Do you know her?”

“Not really. I know of her,” was all he offered. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll call later tonight.”

“I’ll be around. Bye.”

“And Georgette. I’m the one who owes you an apology.” With that ominous remark, he rang off.

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Zapped Again

Georgette was sitting on the curbing beside her jeep, braiding her hair when Jennifer arrived. She looked like a young girl in jeans with a rip in one knee and a black sweatshirt that read, “Hug Some Bunny Today!”

She climbed into Jennifer’s car. “I’m too casually dressed to ride in your expensive car. We could drive my jeep but you’re over dressed.” Jennifer wore a pink sweater and black wool slacks. Georgette glanced at Jennifer’s shoes and said, “Don’t your feet get tired of wearing heels? Mine are crying for them.”

Jennifer parried, “You should wear heels. They would lend you height. Then you could look people eye to eye and not eye to belly button. And that braid! It’s so outdated. If you cut your hair to a manageable length, you would save fifteen minutes of your daily grooming route.”

“My mother would roll over in her grave if I did.”

Jennifer paused for a traffic light. She stared straight ahead. Hearing that Georgette’s mother was deceased awakened the feeling of kinship she experienced the night before. “My mother’s dead, too. She died when I was seventeen from an aneurysm. It was sudden.”

“I can relate. Both my parents were killed in an auto crash eight years ago. They hit a pothole and lost control of the car. Both were killed instantly.”

“Any siblings?” asked Jennifer.

Georgette sighed, “I’m all alone now. My older brother died twenty-four years ago. Do you have any?”

Jennifer’s voice hardened a little. “A brother but we’re estranged. It’s a long story. And today isn’t the day for it.”

“Where are we going? I don’t think my stomach can handle a four star restaurant serving escargot.”

Jennifer laughed. “You would have to eat in the kitchen if we did go to one. Have you ever been to Zapped? It’s a coffee house on Reynolds Drive. They serve the best chicken salad I’ve ever eaten.”

“Never heard of it. We won’t be forced to endure hours of poetry read by tortured souls, will we?” Privately Georgette thought that she could recite plenty of torturous poems of lost love.

“If we do, you can rain down upon them the fury of the Moon Goddess.” Jennifer laughed at Georgette’s expression. “You could get plenty of recruits for the cult, if you did.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from the humiliation.” Georgette rubbed her temples, wondering when the hangover would head off to other pastures.

Once they were seated inside Zapped, Jennifer humorously watched Georgette’s reaction to the place full of neon lights and tattooed women. She wondered if Georgette’s face was always so easy to read. First, she registered shock by dropping her jaw. Then awe replaced the shocked look, as tattooed Zoë swayed over to take their drink orders.

“Hello, Toots. Good to see you again. You brought a new friend along.”

“Yes, I’m back. This is Georgette.” To Georgette, she said, “And this is Zoë.”

Zoë smiled at Georgette, then turned to Jennifer and asked, “Will you have tea again today?”

She was pleased that Zoë remembered. “Yes and the chicken salad. Make that two chicken salads. Georgette, what do you want to drink?” asked Jennifer.

Zoë interrupted, “She’ll have regular coffee with lots of cream and sugar.”

Georgette’s eyes grew as large as the neon saucers on the wall. “How did you know I wanted coffee with cream and sugar?”

Zoë smiled. “I know many things, Flower Child.” She left to place their orders.

“Now I’m totally freaked out, Jennifer. Martin calls me that—Flower Child. Is this payback for pulling your hair out last night? Hire a freaky lady to drive me further over the edge?”

“She did that to me on my first visit. Knew exactly what I wanted to drink. Susan said Zoë is psychic. I’m starting to believe her.”

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Freud’s Slip

“Are you and Susan Ritter very good friends? She’s been a customer of mine for a few years.” Georgette wanted to know more about Jennifer, but mainly was curious of her take on Susan.

“We were until the admirable Congressman Redden forced a kiss on me last night.”

“He did? That man’s a snake. Come to think of it, we danced once. He had the wandering hand syndrome. I stepped on his feet a few times and he didn’t ask for a second dance.”

Jennifer laughed. “I didn’t get the chance to maim him. I followed you and Martin Schmidt to the car. He asked me to carry your handbag. Once I saw you off, I went back to the rock garden get my cigarette case. I saw your hair clips on the ground, so I retrieved them. My back was to the door and I didn’t hear him. When I turned around, he grabbed me. His lips felt like wax. It was awful. Susan walked in on the embrace. She assumed the worst—that I was trying to entice him into a sordid affair—and insisted I get off her property. I’m on her black list, Sister Moon.”

Georgette laughed at the nickname. Then she said in earnest empathy, “That’s so wrong. She could be jealous. Definitely blind to his womanizing habits. I’m always amazed at how some people are drawn to the glamour of a political title.”

“What gets me the most is that no one saw him kiss me except her and she brands me a harlot! Yet her husband was falling down drunk before dinner was even served. He caused quite a ruckus in the entry way in front of a large number of dinner guests and she ignores it.”

“Poor Elijah. He hates being thrust into the lime light. She banished him to the lower class dining room along with Martin and me. I don’t think he minded.” Georgette shot Jennifer a furtive glance and said, “Martin and I were trying to sober him up. Martin sent me to that bathroom for towels and that’s why I barged in on you and Dale. He told me Chip wasn’t there, so I assumed the bathroom was empty. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Actually, you timed it perfectly. A moment sooner and I would be too humiliated to face you.”

The drinks arrived. Zoë beamed at Georgette. “You should come to our monthly Goddess awareness meetings. Remind me to give you my phone number.” She smiled at both ladies and said, “Your food will be ready shortly.”

They stared at Zoë’s retreating back. Jennifer turned to Georgette and said, “That woman’s very uncanny. I believe she knows all our secrets.”

The chicken salads arrived moments later. The women were silent as they ate. At first Georgette didn’t think she would be able to eat much, but after the first few tentative forkfuls, her stomach settled and she ate with a ravenous appeal that won a smile from Zoë, when she stopped to check on them. “Slow down, Flower Child. The chicken’s not going to get away.”

As they ate, Georgette had a flashback of the night before. She tortured herself over it, as she finished her meal. When Zoë came to refill their cups, she patted Georgette on the arm. “Don’t beat yourself up, honey. There are consequences that come with unrequited love. Things would be different now if he hadn’t of used sheer willpower to leave you last night. Above all else, there is friendship. Both of you know that. Ladies need anything else? Some dessert?”

The women declined and Zoë left. Jennifer waited for an explanation from Georgette, but she sat staring in shock at Zoë’s retreating figured. “What did she mean by that?” asked Jennifer.

“Her mind reading abilities are unnerving.” Georgette sighed. “Much of last night is still foggy. While we were eating, I thought of Martin’s phone call. He called before you arrived. At first he sounded strained, as if testing the waters. He made a few jokes and we laughed like normal. But at the end of the conversation he told me he owed me an apology. I’ve just remembered why he would say that…I made a pass at him last night after he got me home. After seeing Trip with that woman, I didn’t want to be alone. Martin was so kind and tender with me. He’s always there for me. I thought, ‘Why not?’ So I kissed him and asked him to spend the night. We began kissing and—this is the worse part—I called him Rod by mistake. He pulled away and coldly told me to get some sleep. I feel so bad, Jennifer. He’s been in love with me for three years. Trip used to tease me about Martin, saying he would sweep me away if I gave him a sign.”

Jennifer said, “Sometimes we do crazy things during an alcohol haze. I’m sure he realizes you didn’t mean any harm.”

“It breaks my heart to think I hurt him. He’s my best friend. Susan introduced us at one of her parties and pushed us together every time she got the chance. I knew he was interested immediately. I told him about Trip and Martin said he preferred having me as a friend, than nothing at all.”

“I’m finding it amazing that you’ve overlooked one aspect of incident with Martin—you said Rod’s name instead of his. That’s a Freudian slip if I ever heard of one,” said Jennifer.

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Chapter 5

The View

One of the hardest things Georgette had ever done in her life was keeping her appointment with Rod to view pre-renovated downtown. She hadn’t been there in a very long time because it was in a part of town she rarely went to. One aspect that kept her away was the high volume of criminal acts. The city had almost abandoned the maintenance of the park by the lake and alleys of the stores in favor of developing businesses on lands closer to the interstate, hoping to lure tourism to the shops, restaurants and motels.

Sadly, the downtown portion of the city had fallen into a decrepit state with building abandoned and boarded up with unsightly plywood panels. The park was overgrown with weeds and the litter of many nights of partying by persons unknown. The alleys and parking lots had little or no light, to discourage the unnatural shadows of drug addicts and other unfavorable people. The once glorious downtown was now a den of debauchery.

Georgette arrived late due to procrastination and a traffic jam. Rod was talking to a few men who were removing wood that had been nailed across a building that was beside the parking lot they had agreed to meet at. He waved her over to them once she had parked her jeep. She tried to look like her normal self with her braid wrapped around her head. Everything she wore was made of denim except her under garments, shoes, socks and the scarf she had woven around her neck to keep the chill off it. She hoped that any resemblance of the wild woman who had kissed him as if he were her boy toy would be lost in the neutrality of denim.

Rod greeted her with his usual warmth. She detected no smirking or taunting in his eyes. She let out a long silence sigh of relief and returned his greeting. He said goodbye to the men and took Georgette by the elbow, steering her as they walked around the area. He discussed the plans that the committee had finally agreed upon, pointing out the areas that would need Georgette’s landscaping expertise. She made notes on a small pad. Before the really hard freezes came and froze up the ground, she would have to come back and take soil samples. That would be a great project for her and Heather when they needed a break from the holiday rush. Thanksgiving was days away and once it arrived; the garden center and nursery would be swamped with shoppers.

She could envision the images Rod painted as he described the nature trails that were going to be developed around the lake, the gazebos in the park and the new fountain that was going in the heart of downtown. New historic signs were commissioned to be printed and also, a monument honoring veterans of all the wars that the US had ever been a part of was going to be placed close to the fountain.

When he was finished with his renovation tour, Rod took Georgette to see some of the renovations of the old buildings. The city wanted to lure specialty shops to downtown. The theory was that once the whole area was renovated, then business owners would want a part of it. She was impressed until she glanced down one of the streets and saw in the distance, the new townhouses that were being built. There was a rumor that the cheapest was estimated to cost half a million dollars. Suddenly it was clear why the renovation project was the town’s priority. The rich couldn’t bear the thought of glancing out their window and seeing a shamble of rotting old wood—the decaying corpse of a once lively quarter. Downtown was their eye sore and they were going to spend a lot of money to heal it.

Once the tour of the buildings was complete, Rod took Georgette over to the park to show her where the fountain, monument and other historic signs were to be placed. He was especially proud of the designs for the Veterans’ Monument.

They were standing by a picnic area. Rod was giving her a detailed description of the fountain, when a gruff voice asked, “Got a quarter, Miss?”

A vagrant had appeared out of the thicket close to where they were standing. Georgette couldn’t determine his age. She knew time could add years to a face. This man’s face carried wrinkles of time. He had a thick crop of salt and pepper hair, which was tangled and had twigs in it. His face sported a full beard, which was sparse in places. When her eyes met his, she felt as if he looked into her soul and left graffiti on the walls. She felt a touch of pity for him, because it was freezing and all he wore was a thin jacket.

Rod pulled Georgette away from the man, as if he were a wild beast ready to rip her throat. “Mister, you’ve been told not to loiter around here,” said Rod.

“Sonny, where should I go? To the Hilton? Or maybe over to my buddy, The Mayor’s house?” The man ended his questions with a long phlegm-filled cough, which broke Georgette’s heart.

She said, “No sir, I don’t have a quarter but I do have this.” Stepping forward, she removed her scarf and put it around his neck. Her regret of the moment was that she had left her gloves in the jeep. “It’s cold, sir. You shouldn’t be out in this weather with that cough.”

“Thank you, Miss. You’re an angel. God bless you.” The man’s eyes sparkled with tears of gratitude. Georgette wanted to hug him, but she wasn’t sure about vagrant etiquette. Rod cleared his throat and the man said, “I’m moving on.” Then he disappeared into the shrubbery.

Full of impatience and contempt, Rod took Georgette firmly by the arm and marched her in the opposite direction. Anger shook his voice. “Why did you do that? You’re only encouraging him. He’ll probably sell your scarf for a 30 ounce bottle of beer.”

Georgette retorted, “Rod, not everyone is as fortunate as you and I are. One of the problems of the world is the way we turn a blind eye on the poor and homeless. Do you really think he would be out in on a cold day like this, wearing only a thin coat? He didn’t have on socks either. Just shoes with holes.”

Rod stared at her for a moment, and then said, “You can’t help a person who refuses to accept aid. There are places that offer help and he knows that.” Georgette kept trying to interrupt him, but he firmly shut her down by saying, “And this conversation is going to go no where. Let’s change the subject. Like…why weren’t you seated with the committee members at Susan Ritter’s party?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She asked that Martin and I dine with Elijah in the study with some of the other guests. He wasn’t himself and she felt her duties belonged elsewhere.”

Rod said dryly, “I had to endure a rather boring dinner, watching Redden flirt with the hostess. Next time, I’ll make sure you’re seated at the proper table. Even if I have to seat you myself.”

“Where is Redden? Wasn’t he supposed to be here?” Georgette was privately happy that he wasn’t around. If she were the last woman on earth, and it was up to her to restock the world with humans, and she had to choose which man to mate with—the homeless man or Redden, the homeless man would win.

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Threatening Skies

Jennifer was irate over the handling of the closing of her townhouse. She called Dale’s office at least twenty times over a three day period. No one knew what was going on and he refused to return her calls. According to her attorney, Dale’s office kept coming up with excuses, as to why they were late with the finalizing of the sale.

She decided to take matters into her own hands. When Celeste was out for lunch, Jennifer Xeroxed copies of her cell phone statement from the last 2 or so months and emailed them to Dale with a demand. “If this deal isn’t closed in 2 days and I’m not in my new townhouse by January 1, I’m sending your wife copies of the sexy email that you’ve sent to me daily. And to reinforce them, I’ll send copies of my cell phone statement. Check out October 27. You called me 23 times. How sweet! You might be able to explain the day time calls but what about the ones you made at 1 am from the bathroom, where you masturbated while I listened? Tsk, those will be tricky.”

Ten minutes after sending the email, Jennifer’s attorney called with the news that Dale Larkin was sending over the bill of sales and other legal papers for her to sign. She cleared her afternoon, so she could drop by his office and sign them, once they’ve perused all the fine details. Jennifer had a bargaining tool and she planned to gain as much from it as she possibly could within reason.

Celeste returned to her desk from lunch, humming under her breath. She looked happy about something, but Jennifer didn’t bother to find out. It was probably over the flavor-of-the-week. She told Celeste that she was going to be gone the rest of the day and gave her instructions on what she wanted her to do.

When Jennifer cleared the bank building, she reached inside her handbag for her cell phone. She knew Georgette would find much humor in her email to Dale. One of Georgette’s favorite topics of conversation was about methods of revenge on Trip and Dale. Before she could place the call, Martin Schmidt appeared out of the blue beside her.

“Hello Jennifer? How are you today?” His head was as brilliant as a small sun.

“I’m very well, thank you. How are you?” She showered him with one of her rare smiles, the ones that look like sunlight peeping from behind clouds and for a moment, he was speechless.

“I was about to call Georgette. She speaks highly of you, by the way. And the funny stories she tells. I think some are embellished, especially the one where the circus elephant went wild and chased both of you around the parking lot. Not one vehicle was damaged.” Jennifer laughed.

“Oh I know that one. We were at the circus but it wasn’t an elephant that escaped. It was a monkey and he terrorized an old man with a bushy moustache, before the trainers got him under control. We got back a few years. She’s a good person. But watch out. She’s a bit mischievous at times. If she says, ‘Hey I’ve got the greatest idea…’ I suggest you run for the hills.”

She laughed, “I’ve figured that out.” Her smile faltered when she noticed the indecision on his face, as he struggled inwardly over something unpleasant. “What brings you here today? If you’re here to see me, I am on my way out.”

“Your brother, Jennifer. He wants a meeting. To reconcile. He asked that I arrange it. He said he would meet you on your terms. No matter what they were.”

She snapped the phone shut and said as tersely as possible, “No, I won’t meet him. I told you a few weeks ago that I will not be drawn back into the family. To me, he’s dead. End of story.”

To her receding back, he said, “Ask Georgette about her brother. He’s dead too you know. But first make sure she’s had a little wine. A rainy night would be perfect. And also turn out the lights. But be prepared to hold her hand as she sobs herself to sleep.”

When he spoke, she stopped but didn’t turn around. After he finished speaking, she walked away as briskly as she could. Jennifer hated a manipulative lawyer.

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Caveman Mentality

“To answer your question, Redden’s somewhere bugging women, though I did leave a message for him regarding the change in our plans,” said Rod. They were by Georgette’s jeep. She had the keys in her hand ready to say goodbye and get back to work. But his comment sent a wave of indignation over her.

She verbalized her indignation, “He’s a slimy snake. I’m shocked at what he gets by with. I danced with him at the party and his hands kept sliding down. He blamed it on the slippery fabric of my dress, but we both know that wasn’t the real reason.”

“You stopped him, didn’t you?” He almost roared the question at her.

“Yes, by promptly stepping on his feet a few times. My feet are still sore but I’m thankful I wore those stiletto heel shoes.”

Rod laughed. “I am, too. That man needs to learn to harness his caveman instincts, like the rest of us civilized manly men. Women today don’t like the idea of a man dragging them into a cave by their hair.”

Georgette teased him. “Yours are harnessed?”

“Yes. I’ve got them tightly reined in. But Miss Witt, your Amazon side isn’t. Not that I’m complaining.” He laughed.

She didn’t. A flush of red covered her face. She mumbled a goodbye and jumped into her jeep, grinding gears as she tried to escape his laugh. Glancing back at him in her rear-view mirror, she saw that he was bent over laughing so hard that he held his sides. Georgette waited a few blocks before she allowed herself the privilege of laughter.

When she arrived back at Buckets of Daisies, she went into the show room to check on the workers. She was alarmed to hear that Redden was milling around somewhere in the building. According to one of the service desk girls, he told her that he was supposed to meet her and Rod. Georgette went in search of him. She spent thirty minutes walking over the warehouse and showrooms. When she was in a hurry, it seems as if the building grew extra rooms. He wasn’t found in any of the public nurseries.

Georgette was about to give up the search when it struck her that he might be in one of the off limit greenhouses—the ones where she germinated seeds and carefully nurtured saplings until they were large enough to sell. To her displeasure, he was in the A-framed greenhouse, talking to Heather who had the expression of a mouse cornered by a cat.

She hailed him. “Mr. Redden, I heard you were looking for me.”

He reluctantly allowed Heather to escape. She rushed by, mumbling something about being late for her break. Georgette rounded on Redden. “Sir, no one’s allowed in the greenhouses, except for personnel.” She pointed to a sign posted on the door.

“I didn’t notice the sign. Your employee, Heather is a very sweet girl. You’re lucky to have her working for you. I’m jealous. These days it is very difficult to find quality employees.”

Georgette’s radar went off, but she managed to remain polite. “Yes, she’s a good worker. I don’t know what I would do without her. In fact, she’s like a daughter to me. I would protect her with my life if need be.” She hoped he read between the lines and realized Heather was off limits.

If he got Georgette’s veiled warning, it didn’t register on his features or in his tone. “Where’s Hutchins? He’s late for our downtown tour.”

“We’ve already had it. Rod told me he left word with your secretary that the time was changed to the morning. Didn’t you get it?’ asked Georgette.

He frowned. “No. I’ll have a word with her when I get back to my office.” His usual painted smile returned when he said, “You were a lovely vision at Susan and Elijah Ritter’s party. I could have danced with you all night long.”

“Your feet would be ruined. I’m a terrible dancer, don’t you remember?’

He forged a laugh. “Yes, now that I think about it, I do remember. The Ritters are having another party in December. I’ll remind Susan that you are on the committee and deserve a prime spot at the head table. I didn’t realize you were left out until Rod mentioned it to me.” He clasped her hand within his and said, “I guarantee a spot beside me at the next one.” Then he kissed it.

“Oh, don’t go to a lot of trouble over me. The table can only seat so many. Well, Mr. Redden I must get back to work. Rod should be in his office shortly. You can contact him there if you need to.” She forced herself to gently remove her hand from his clammy ones, though she wanted to snatch it away.

After he left, she sought out Heather in the employee lounge. The poor girl looked wan. “Heather, are you all right?” asked Georgette.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Miss Witt, but that man is sinister. He gives off bad vibes.”

“He didn’t act inappropriately did he? You can be honest. I’ll believe anything you say.” Georgette’s bile rose at the thought of Redden trying to force himself on Heather.

“He asked weird questions, like did I have a lot of male friends and was I a social butterfly? Did I like to party and if I was in a sorority. I wasn’t sure what I should tell him. Then you arrived and I ran for it. I wonder why he asked those questions.”

“Probably trying to figure out if you would have vengeful males chasing his ass down if he made a pass at you. Listen, if he ever shows up in the greenhouses, you leave immediately. Make up whatever excuse you need to.”

“Is he a pervert?” asked Heather. “Or just a dirty old man?”

“He’s a dirty old man, Heather. And to some people, they’re the same.

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Stones And Gin

Jennifer hoped she wasn’t overdressed for the sports bar. Georgette had rung her earlier and asked her to meet her there for dinner. On the drive over, Jennifer wondered what kind of man would name a bar “Stones and Bones.” When she walked into the bar, she saw why. There were altars of stones at every turn.

A small crowd gathered at the bar. There were shouts of “Kick his ass, Georgette.” Jennifer smiled. Upon first impression, Georgette emitted a shy fragile daisy essence, but once you got to know her, you realized she was anything but fragile, except where Trip Trevor was concerned. Hopefully time would change that.

Jennifer pushed her way through the crowd and was amused to find Georgette thumb wrestling with the brawny bartender, who looked like he could break her arm off if he so much as leaned forward a bit. After a brief struggle, he let Georgette win. The crowd went wild. He yelled, “No fair. Your hair’s made of spinach. That’s why I can’t win.”

Georgette laughed, “Britt, don’t bull me. You’ve got pirates living in your dimples, if you really wanted to win, you would have them kick my butt.” She noticed Jennifer and her amused smile. “Britt, meet Jennifer Swann. She’s my new friend. Jennifer, this is Britt Sims, the owner of Stones and Bones.”

He shook Jennifer’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. A friend of Georgette’s is a friend of mine too. What can I get you? Tonight your drinks are on me.”

“Surprise me with something light and fruity.”

Georgette placed her hand on Jennifer’s arm and said, “Look out Jennifer. He’s a savvy buccaneer type and will sail off into the moonlight with you, if you aren’t careful.”

Britt’s response was a hearty “Argh.” Then he went off to create a perfect light and fruity drink for Jennifer.

The ladies moved to the corner of the bar that faced the entry, this way they could see who arrived. They discussed their day as Britt pried them with his new house drink he named “Gin-nifer.” Both women asked him to go light on the gin, when he made their drinks. Neither needed a hangover the next day.

When the crowd grew larger, Britt became to busy to flirt with Jennifer, which gave the girls an opportunity to talk privately.

“I saw your friend Martin this afternoon, as I was leaving the bank. We chatted for a moment,” said Jennifer.

“I haven’t seen him since the party. We’ve talked on the phone. I just realized we haven’t had our regular weeknight dinner date I talked to him before I left the office. Funny he didn’t mention you, when I called to invite him along.”

“Is he joining us?”

“No, he said he had other plans.”

“It’s for the best. We ended our conversation on a sour note. He represents my brother, who is trying to reconcile our sibling rivalry. I really don’t understand why he’s so interested in reconciliation. So much time has passed on and he’s bought out my share of the inheritance.”

“If it’s none of my business, say so, but I have to ask…why are you estranged from your family?”

“After mother died, I married a man that my father despised. He disowned me. My brother turned his back on me, because my father insisted he do so. I was young and foolish. When the marriage fell apart, all my father could say was ‘I told you so’ and turn his back on me. He’s dead now and with his death my brother grew backbone. But it’s too late.”

“He may want to offer an apology.”

“It’s too late, Georgette. Too much time has gone by. The scars from my wounds run deep,” said Jennifer.

Georgette sat in silence. In the silence there was sorrow, bitterness and a tad of regret. “I’m sorry, Jennifer. Families deal with stress the best way they know how. Some make life seem so easy and others make it difficult, especially for the ones they love. I would give anything to talk to my brother just once.”

“Martin said I should get you to tell me about your brother. I know he said it to manipulate me into talking with my brother. Lawyers are like that,” said Jennifer.

“No. If he told you to ask me about my brother’s misfortune, then he has good reason. Martin knows the whole story. He could have told you himself and save me from having to relive it.” Georgette couldn’t tell her tonight. She needed to prepare herself first. “To quote you, ‘it’s a long story. And today isn’t the day for it.’”

Jennifer nudged Georgette in the side. Susan Ritter and Theresa Champagne had just entered the bar. They were greeted by various people, most exclaiming to Theresa that her show was the best on the airwaves.

“Susan has a new best friend,” said Jennifer. “Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you fantasize about a pink Cadillac.”

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Battle One

Susan and Theresa settled into a booth close to the ladies room. They weren’t alone for long, mainly because Theresa was a semi-celebrity. Jennifer and Georgette watched their antics for a while, until they grew bored. Susan was in competition with Theresa over the attention of anyone who wandered over to their booth.

One of Jennifer’s colleagues from the bank stopped by to say hello and they ended up in a long discussion over the loan department of the bank. Georgette listened politely at first but she grew bored with that conversation quickly.

She excused herself and sought the ladies room. When she walked past the booth where Susan and Theresa sat entertaining, she noticed that Theresa stared at her and then whispered something into Susan’s ear, causing her to look at Georgette, who beat a hasty retreat to the restroom.

She was washing her hands and checking her appearance in the mirror, when the door opened and in walked Theresa Champagne. She smiled at Georgette. “You’re the person I’ve been dying to talk to alone.” She didn’t wait for Georgette to reply. “I think the way you are so devoted to Trip is inspiring. I wish I had someone who wouldn’t mind being a virtual slave.”

Georgette didn’t like the way the conversation was heading or the familiar way Theresa talked to her, as if she was there during the years Georgette devoted herself to Trip. It occurred to her that Trip must have confided to Theresa, about her. All the years of drilling into Georgette’s skull that he valued privacy above air were null now that he had told Theresa—a hungry talk show host, looking for her next story—about their past relationship.

She managed to fake a smile as big as Theresa’s fake boobs. “Trip? You are talking about Walter Gordon Stubbs, also known as Trip Trevor, aren’t you?”

“Walter Gordon Stubbs!! That’s his real name?” Theresa laughed. “I would change my name too if it were as bad as that?”

“You already have. I don’t believe for one moment that Theresa Champagne is your real name.” Georgette had nothing to lose and she didn’t worry about whatever damage Theresa Champagne might try to impose upon her, Georgette had dealt with sharper and hungrier cutthroats. She knew the best way to deal with one like Ms. Champagne was to grab her by the throat and shake her to death.

Georgette said, “I don’t know what Trip told you about me. Since you know that I was his virtual slave that must mean he broke his vow of silence regarding us. Since he’s done that, well, I’m at liberty to retaliate. You see Ms Champagne I’ve been with Trip Trevor’s secret lover for eight years. I know everything there is to know about the man—all the dirty little secrets he keeps locked up in his mental cabinet. I know his fears and his weird little habits. There isn’t anything I don’t know about that man. If you had of come to me with a little more humility and a little less arrogance, I might have shared them with you. But you didn’t. You chose to swipe at me without listening to my side. Is that great journalism? Do you go blind on your radio show, refusing to see all sides of an issue?”

Georgette didn’t allow her an answer, she continued, “Let me give you a warning, Ms. Champagne. Trip’s ego is very large and needs constant stroking. In the long run, he’ll ask you to choose between your career and him. If I were you, I would start weighing them. Maybe even make a pros and cons list. One last thing…Trip’s a very private person. If he hears his name connected to mine via your show or something you told someone, namely Susan Ritter, then it will be over for you and him. He will sever the ties quicker than you can say ‘Pink Cadillac.’” Georgette turned and walked away, before Theresa could regain her composure.

When she returned to the bar, Jennifer asked, “What just happened? You look like you’re going to call down the Wrath of the Goddess at any second now.”

“Theresa Champagne ambushed me in the restroom. She knows something abut me and Trip. I’m not sure what she knows, maybe just enough to whet her appetite. Regardless of what she knows, she went about it the wrong way if she was trying to get more information out of me. That woman is infuriating. Trip has his hands full.”
Smoke and Schnapps

The dinner party ended when a trumpet blasted from the patio. Everyone left their seats to investigate the source of the music. In the center of a spotlight sat an orchestra on a stage. The all-male band members were wearing old fashion raccoon-skin coats from the roaring twenties. With another trumpet blast, they started playing swing music. People partnered off and the dancing began.

In the rush to the patio, Jennifer lost her dinner partner. She regretted that she didn’t get his phone number or slip him her card. A diversion was in order to get rid of the bitter taste of Dale. It was a mild night, cool but not freezing. Since she wasn’t dancing, the cool air was uncomfortable to her sleeveless arms, so she went back inside. There were a few people mingling in various rooms. All were enjoying the generous stock of liquor.

In Elijah’s study, Jennifer sat in one of the chairs close to the fireplace and was about to light up a cigarette when one of the waiters happened by and said, “There’s no smoking in the house, Miss. You’ll have to go to the smoking area.” He pointed to a double door hidden by white curtains. “I’ll open the door for you.”

Jennifer smoked. It was a bad habit that she hid from most people. Normally, she would wait until the drive home, but this evening had unraveled her a bit. She needed the reassuring habit of a cigarette to settle her spirits.

For the evening, Elijah’s rock garden had been transformed into a smoker’s haven. There were plenty of ash trays around and even some coasters for glasses. Jennifer was alone. She set staring at the moon, trying to read the fine print of the encounter with Dale, seeking anything she might have missed during those tense moments following the discovery of their tryst.

The double doors burst open with a force that shook the glass in the neighboring windows. A woman wearing a disco ball walked into the rock garden, holding the skirt of her dress up to her thighs and muttering out loud. “You evil shoes, why are your cursing my feet? What have they done to you?” She kicked them off. One went left. One went right.

Jennifer observed the woman with pity. She was obviously drunk. The woman had on a sequined gown. Light from the study reflecting on the sequins had given it the mistaken glow of a disco ball. From the depth of her cleavage, the woman retrieved a bottle of liquor and took a swallow from it. Jennifer decided to reveal her presence. “How did you swipe a whole bottle of liquor? I thought Susan Ritter had an army guarding it.”

The woman slowly looked over at Jennifer. “Are you the Peach Schnapps Police?”

“No, I’m Jennifer Swann.” The braid wrapped around her head was familiar. “I can’t place you but for some reason you seem familiar to me.”

“Georgette Witt. Hater of stilettos and lover of Peach Schnapps. Nice to meet you.” Georgette stood and offered her hand. Jennifer shook it. “Hey, you’re the lady in the bathroom,” Georgette said. A second later she covered her mouth. “Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She glared at the bottle. “Bad schnapps…bad.”

“So you’re the one who opened the door without knocking.” Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. She snuffed out her cigarette, placed her cigarette case back into her evening bad and started inside, when Georgette spoke in a mourning voice that echoed an answering chord in Jennifer’s heart.

“Mother Moon, why do we love men we can’t have? Why do you shine on others and not us?” She began to cry with ease, while Jennifer stood staring at her, wishing she had such freedom.
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Kindred Souls

Taking pity on Georgette, Jennifer said, “You’ve had enough to drink.” She took the bottle away. “Come inside. It’s cold. I’ll give you a ride home if you need one.”

“But don’t you wonder, what makes us love men we can’t have?” Georgette asked again.

“What makes you think I love a man I can’t have?”

“Why else would you be half-dressed in a bathroom with a married man?”

Jennifer let out her first real laugh of the evening. “Sex! A person can have sex without love, you know. It happens all the time.”

Georgette fastened her unflinching green eyes on Jennifer and said, “You can’t fool a kindred soul.” She might have been slightly intoxicated but she remained in full control of her faculties.

“All right. I admit it. I’m in love with Dale Larkin, but he’s not in love with me. I know I can’t have him. Besides, we’re over. He ended it tonight after you discovered us. And I don’t intend to pursue him.”

“I love someone who doesn’t love me. I hate the power he has over me. And he’s here tonight with another woman. If I see him again, I’ll go insane.” Georgette stared at the moon, feeling its magnetic pull towards lunacy.

“Rod Hutchins,” Jennifer said, remembering how he brought Georgette Witt’s name up.

“Rod? You know him? He’s a talented architect,” Georgette said.

“He sat beside me at dinner tonight.”

“I wonder if he liked the fig sauce,” said Georgette.

Jennifer gave her an incredulous look. “He’s the guy you’re talking about, isn’t he? The one you’re so desperately in love with.”

“Rod? I barely know him. I’m in love with Trip Trevor.” Georgette whispered his name.

“The reporter? The guy who is with the blonde girl…oh dear, what is her name?” Jennifer heard it several times during the course of dinner but it slipped her mind now.

“Theresa Champagne. She’s a shock jock at the talk radio station. He must have just met her and fell in love at first sight. They’re going to the Bahamas for New Years.” Georgette wailed, “She’s beautiful and I’m not. And she drives a pink Cadillac. I heard her bragging about it to Susan.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s paid dearly for that beauty. I would kill to get my hands on a before photo.” A light came on in Jennifer’s memory attic. “I remember you now. A few weeks ago I saw you walking down the street to Trip Trevor’s house. He lives on Cedar Drive, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he lives on Cedar. He didn’t like for me to park in his drive. The neighbors gossiped and he was afraid that word would get out that he had a lover and it could cause him to be passed over for morally righteous work.”

“Morally righteous? Well, sweetheart I’ve got some bad news for you. The day I saw you…oh it was almost two weeks ago…on that day, a pink Cadillac pulled out of his drive and almost crashed into me. Theresa Champagne was driving. I remember her hair. She was at his house an hour before you arrived.”

“You’re mistaken. Trip swore he was faithful.” Georgette felt the first stab of betrayal in all the years she had been with Trip, she never knew of other women. Now, there was doubt being added to the Trip potion brewing in her heart.

She put her hands over her face, crying once again. Jennifer wasn’t around weepy women often and didn’t know how to comfort her. “I wish I knew what to day. I always thought it was better not to know about the other woman, but now I’m not so sure.”

“How can you be the other woman? How do you live with yourself?” Georgette’s tear-streaked face issued a guilty feeling within Jennifer.

“I never thought beyond my own needs. I’m sure along the line. I’ll pay for my mistakes. You don’t have to beat me with accusations.” Jennifer knelt beside Georgette, talking her hand and said, “I’ve had my share of pain. I was married once and it ended with heartache and deception. Maybe I’ve been punishing myself by seeking out men who couldn’t love me in return.”

“We really shouldn’t do this…take crap from men who use us.” Georgette looked up at the moon. “See the moon? It’s full tonight. An eye in the sky staring down at us.”

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Blood Vow

Jennifer stared up at the moon. If she wanted, she could reach up and touch it. But she knew its proximity was an illusion. “The man on the moon is watching.”

Georgette didn’t laugh. “No, I think it’s a woman. Yes, it’s the moon Goddess who is watching us. She wants a vow, a promise that we’ll stop being welcome mats.”

With a flurry of fingers, she removed the clips that held her braid in place, letting them fall at will. Next she unbraided her hair. Jennifer was astounded at its length. Georgette pulled a few strands from her head.

“That must have hurt,” said Jennifer. Without a word, Georgette reached for some of Jennifer’s hair and pulled a few strands from her scalp.

“It did, but the sting is temporary.” As Jennifer protested, Georgette rubbed their hair between her fingers until it formed a little ball and placed it in an ashtray. “I need a pin. Something to prick our fingers with. We need blood. If this is to work.”
”You’ve gone mad. What are you doing?” Jennifer backed away from Georgette.

“Your broach. The one at your cleavage. Let me have it and give me your lighter.” Jennifer obeyed, fascinated by Georgette’s sudden animation.

Georgette heated the sharp tip of the broach. She gave Jennifer the lighter and then pricked her finger hard enough to draw a bead of blood onto the tip. She held the broach out for Jennifer. “Take it, sterilize it with the lighter and then prick you finger. Hurry. We need to mix the blood over our hair and burn it as an offering to the Moon Goddess.”

“You’ve lost your mind. I’m not a Satanist.” Jennifer gave a horrified shiver.

“I’m not either but in a way, we’ve been giving our souls to the devil. Do it. Let’s cleanse ourselves by becoming… goddesses.” She pleaded with Jennifer, afraid that if they lost this moment, their souls would be doomed forever.

Jennifer heated the broach tip and pricked her finger. In the moonlight the blood looked black. She and Georgette pressed their fingertips until blood drops fell over the hair. Georgette found a dried leaf in the rocks on the ground. She lit it with the lighter and dropped it into the ashtray. A small yellowish puff of light and a popping sound occurred as the leaf and hair burned. Georgette jumped up onto a large rock by the door.

Raising her hands to the sky she said, “Dear Mother Moon, please accept this offering and grant us light, so that we may follow the path of the Goddess. Guide us so that we are true to ourselves. Give us strength to be better people.” With her hair wild and falling in unruly rings around her, Georgette personified the pagan worshipers of old. Jennifer humbled by the sight, silently prayed along with her.

Georgette continued her vow—their vow to the higher powers of the moon. “If you want me to forget the devotion and years I’ve spent loving Trip, send me a sign oh Great Mother Moon. If you want Jennifer to give up the madness of being the other woman, send her a sign, oh Great Moon Mother.”

They remained silent, staring up at the moon. The double doors opened cautiously and out stepped Rod Hutchins. Georgette stared down at him from her perch on the rock. She reached down and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him towards her. Caught up in the pagan effects of her moon ritual, she kissed him long and deep, in effect sealing her deal with the moon.

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Chapter 4

The Duel

Jennifer had never met anyone like Georgette Witt; a woman with a wild brazen side that once revealed went through boundaries, and not around them. Watching her throw herself into a ritual of offering and bartering with a power that frightened Jennifer a little, she realized that as they made their pact with the moon, they were also making one with each other.

When the doors slowly opened, as if by the power of the moon and Rod Hutchins stepped out, Jennifer’s heart stopped. She gaped at Georgette wondering if she was a high priestess in some cult for scorned women. Rod was struck immobile by Georgette’s wanton presentation of wild curly hair and brilliant lighting from the sequins on her dress, which reflecting a halo of light all around her. Neither predicted Georgette’s bold kiss. He looked small under her authoritative stature from her stance on the rock. The kiss may never have broken if the double doors hadn’t of banged open with a force that startled Jennifer. She was surprised once again. Before her stood her brother’s attorney, his baldhead as round as the full moon.

He saw Jennifer and said, “Good evening, Ms. Swann. I…” His sentence ended abruptly, as he saw the entwined couple. Martin Schmidt was thunder struck by the ardent kissing of Georgette and Rod. “What the hell?” He exclaimed.

Jennifer felt protective of their vow and wondered if she should seal her end of the bargain by kissing Martin Schmidt. But the moment was lost once he saw Georgette and Rod kissing. Instead of explaining that Georgette has sold her sold to the moon goddess, Jennifer made light of the situation by saying, “I think she’s possessed by Peach Schnapps.”

“Georgette, unhand that man.” Martin physically pulled them apart. Without Rod’s support, Georgette almost fell of the rock. Martin swung her into his arms. “You’re freezing. Where are your shoes?” He glared at Rod. “I’ll deal with you later. Taking advantage of a drunken woman is morally wrong, man.” Jennifer found Georgette’s shoes and put them on her feet as the two men squared off.

“She kissed me. I came out to get some fresh air and she grabbed me by my shirt collar. I didn’t realize it was Georgette at first. Her hair’s loose. She always has it up.”

Jennifer went to Rod’s aid. “He’s right. She did grab him first. Here are her things. You might want to dispose of the Schnapps though. Someone needs to drive her home.”

Martin said, “She came with me. I’ll get her home; if you’ll get her coat for me I would appreciate it, Ms. Swann.” He gave Rod a glare. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Jennifer touched Rod’s arm. “I’ll speak to him.” Then she followed Martin inside. Georgette was abruptly silent during the confrontation between the men. Jennifer thought it was due to the emotional strain of the evening and the Schnapps didn’t help much, either.

They found Georgette’s coat and got it on her. Martin insisted on carrying Georgette to the car. Jennifer carried Georgette’s handbag to the car for her. “Mr. Schmidt, it wasn’t Rod’s fault. She kissed him first. Don’t be too hard on him. He was taken by surprise.”

Martin pretended not to hear her. He put Georgette into the passenger’s seat. “I’m damn well glad that pink Cadillac is gone. Stupid woman parking that damn car sideways like a fool.”

Jennifer knew whom he meant. “I believe that’s another reason for Georgette’s behavior. She’s gone through a lot of heartache tonight.”

Martin stood before Jennifer. Her soft voice and tenderness over Georgette was in total contrast with his first impression of her. “I didn’t realize you and Georgette were good friends.”

“Actually, we just met.” She offered no other explanation. “I’ll check on her tomorrow. I assume she’s listed in the phone book?”

“Yes. It’s listed under G. Witt.”

She offered her hand to him. “Good night, Mr. Schmidt. Drive safely and don’t be too hard on her.”

“Let’s drop the formalities, Jennifer. Please call me Martin.” She smiled and nodded. As he sped off, she ran to the house to get her things, so she could go home too.

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Hair Clips

Jennifer was almost to her car, when she remembered that she had left her cigarette case in the rock garden. Instead of going back inside, she walked around the house and entered it from the opposite direction. She was a bit surprised to see Rod sitting on the rock Georgette had stood on earlier. He sat staring at the ground with a few of his fingers touching his lips.

“Did she rip them off?” Jennifer asked. Her voice brought him back to planet Earth.

“I didn’t hear you come up. Brr, it’s cold.” He said. “I should get home. It’s late.” He spoke in clipped sentences.

She heard herself ask, “Would you like to go someplace for a cup of coffee?”

“I’m tired. But thanks for asking.” Rod said. “Goodnight.” He was departure was as quiet as his arrival.

A spark of light in the shadows caught Jennifer’s attention. She went to investigate and saw that it was one of Georgette’s hair clips. Once she found one, the others sparkled, gaining her attention. She retrieved all that she could find and paused to put them in her handbag. She gave the ground a final sweep with her eyes, but found nothing. So intent on her search Jennifer didn’t hear Redden walk up behind her, successfully cornering her.

His breath touched the nape of her neck as he spoke, “I’ve got you now, Lady in Red.” His lips felt waxy, as they pressed against Jennifer’s soft ones. She kept them pressed tight. Pushing against his chest with her hands, she made it clear she wanted him to stop. As her foot went back to swing into his shin, Susan’s voice broke the kiss. “What an interesting picture!”

Redden stopped kissing Jennifer, but didn’t break the embrace. Jennifer did, gasping and stammering, “How…dare…you…”

“You’re too tempting.” He said. Jennifer was so angry she couldn’t find a way to express it without using words stolen from a sailor’s vocabulary.

“You’re wife if looking for you, sir.” Susan kept her eye on Jennifer. Her expression voiced disapproval. Redden winked at Jennifer and made a hasty exit. “Why Jennifer, I didn’t realize you were so…close…to Congressman Redden. I would have seated you beside him instead of forcing you to endure Rod’s attention. I just passed him, by the way. He seemed upset over something. Now I know why!”

Angrily, Jennifer replied, “It’s not what it seems, Susan. Redden kissed me and wouldn’t let go. I came out here to retrieve my cigarette case and he came up behind me. I can’t stand that man. He’s slimy and creepy.”

“It would make me happy, if you took your shenanigans elsewhere next time. I don’t want a scandal with my name attached to it, appearing in gossip around dinner tables and especially not at the Junior League tea on Tuesdays.” Jennifer tried to interrupt but Susan overrode her with a sharp tone. “In fact, if you can’t contain your urges, I would prefer that you didn’t attend my parties.”

Susan’s disapproval fueled Jennifer’s anger. “If you feel that must bar me from your parties, Susan. That’s your prerogative, but let me remind you that you were the only to one witness Redden forcing himself on me. There were at least sixty people who witnessed your husband’s drunken butler act. His riddle topped it, though.” Jennifer mimicked Elijah’s voice perfectly. “What has one mouth that speaks for one million? Right ole chap, the correct answer is my wife.”

Outraged Susan screamed, “Get off my property, you…you...harlot.”

Even though she was filled with anger so violet that her glance could strike a blow, Jennifer curtsied, blew Susan a kiss and then left. Standing close to her car were Dale and his wife talking to another couple. He glanced at Jennifer as she walked by. He pulled his wife into his arms and she melted to his form in an intimacy that reminded Jennifer of the way he held her after sex, smelling her hair and singing softly in her ear. Witnessing the endearment between them cut Jennifer, just like Dale hoped it would. But she would never let him know it. Though her heart wept, her eyes remained dry.

On her drive home, the full moon followed her. Jennifer thought of Georgette and her wild heathen blood oath. Maybe the woman was right, maybe Jennifer deserved better than the Dales of the world.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Swan Dance

Dale wasted no time in finding Jennifer, once his wife was stolen from him by Susan Ritter with the excuse that she had to introduce her to some important people. He found Jennifer standing on the outskirts of a circle of people, like a red glowing star watching the planets rotate. He pretended to accidentally bump into her, causing her to spill a little of her wine on her hand.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I hope no wine spilled on your dress. It would be a crime if it was damaged in any way.”

At first, she was angry at the near disaster, but when she realized that Dale was the culprit, her angry changed into anticipation. “No, the dress is safe. But my hand isn’t.”

“You should wash the wine off. I’ve been told by our dear hostess that there is a bathroom upstairs in their oldest son’s room. The last door on the right. It’s private. Very few of the party guests are aware of its existence.”

“Thank you. I’ll go now. I don’t want to smell like wine all evening.” Jennifer walked to the doorway, pausing a moment to look over her shoulder at Dale. He didn’t hide his desire and lucky for him that a noise in the entry way of the house diverted attention from Jennifer, as she ran up the stairs.

Elijah Ritter’s voiced boomed as he greeted guests. Many people were in the hall, watching his antics and whispering to each other. Dale was three steps behind Jennifer and not one person noticed them escaping upstairs. He made a mental note to send Elijah a box of Cuban Corona cigars sometime next week.

The bathroom was small, but size didn’t matter to them. Dale knew how to work around small spaces. He embraced Jennifer, speaking guttural between kisses. “Damn, I’ve missed you. It’s been a crazy week. Susan Ritter’s taken every free moment with her excessive demands regarding their new house.”

“Forget her and kiss me.” Jennifer said. Their kisses led to intimate touching, which led to skin exposed, mainly on Jennifer.

“You’re driving me crazy in this red dress. Red is for wanton women. What’s underneath this dress, wanton woman?” Not waiting for a reply, he pushed the hem up to the tops of her thighs. “Oh my god, garters and stockings.”

“That’s all you’ll find. Nothing else but…me. Now, let’s see what you’ve got on under those finely tailor trousers.” A sound caused them to pause in mating ritual.

Elijah’s drunken voice raged, but they couldn’t make out the words. A masculine voiced answered in quieter tones. Dale put his finger against Jennifer’s lips. He whispered, “They’re in the master bedroom. We’ll still need to be quiet.”

“Then kiss me,” Jennifer commanded. They continued their clandestine carnal activity. The possibility of exposure fueled the intensity of their sex. The air was heavy with breathy moans and skin hitting skin. A moment before their mutual climax, Jennifer cried out “I love you.” Dale silenced her with a kiss, as they ended their reached mutual goal of satisfaction.

When Dale pulled away from her in unusual abruptness, Jennifer realized she had made a mistake in losing herself in the heat of passion and verbally exposing her heart. “Dale, I don’t know why I said that. I don’t love you. I...I love us together…like we just were.” She couldn’t think straight and felt like a fool for stumbling over words.

He didn’t say anything, as he stared in the mirror, looking to see if her lipstick was smeared anywhere. She wished she could take back her words. Jennifer read his body language and she didn’t like what it said.

“Dale, I…” She was interrupted by the bathroom door being rudely opened without so much as a knock, and then suddenly closed in a muffle of “so, sorry.”


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Pink Champagne

Waiters with trays of hors d'oeuvres were everywhere. Georgette reported the stained carpet by the front door and asked that a cup of black coffee be sent upstairs. She went in search of Susan. The crowd was very thick. She wondered how Susan would be able to seat everyone for dinner. In the room that was once Elijah’s study, Georgette found Susan talking to a tall blonde woman dressed in pale pink.

“Georgette, you’re the one who bought the mermaid dress! I wanted it. But look at you. Why it’s perfect on you.” Susan made Georgette turn slowly in a circle. “Oh, it looks like a second skin. You could pass for a mermaid. I read somewhere that there really are mermaids in Scotland. The Loc Ness Monster breeds with lone women swimming in the loc.”

The pink lady laughed, “Susan, you’ve got to stop reading tabloids and listen to my show instead.”

“You’re right. Elijah loses patience with me. Oh, pardon my rudeness. Georgette do you know Theresa Champagne? She has her own show on the talk radio station. ‘Complain with Champagne.’”

“I don’t listen to talk radio very often. Sorry.” Georgette hated talk radio. It put her to sleep.

“You should listen. My show is the Oprah of radio.” Theresa Champagne flipped her long hair, like a mare tossing her mane.

Susan said, “Oh, Georgette is a busy lady. She owns the Bucket of Daisies—the garden center and nursery. Georgette, Congressman Redden told me that you were a part of the downtown renovation effort. How exciting! Isn’t he the greatest man you’ve ever met? He’s my new neighbor, by the way.”

“I thought I was the greatest man you’ve ever met?” Georgette’s mouth became dry and her heart beat rapidly. Trip put his arm around Theresa and said, “You ladies aren’t sharing secrets, are you?” He joked.

Susan said, “Not yet. Trip, do you know Georgette Wit? I got all the floral arrangements for the party from her. She has the best green thumb in the county.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Witt,” he said, mortally wounding her with is pretense and then his dismissal of her from the conversation as he formed a semi-circle with Susan and Theresa Champagne. “Susan, has Theresa told you about our vacation get-away plans for New Year? We’re going to the Bahamas.”

The mermaid skirt hampered Georgette from bolting away like a tearful creature from one of Jane Austen’s books. She stood in the hallway, trying to sort out her thoughts. The echoing sound of Elijah’s drunken voice drifted from upstairs. She followed it slowly, composing herself with each step she took up the stairs. If she didn’t get herself under control, Martin would be enraged and confront Trip. She didn’t want that.

Martin was one of the few people who knew that she and Trip were once in a secret relationship. To expose it to the eyes of Susan Ritter would be devastating to all parties. Georgette was used to bad gossip and finger-pointing. Trip wasn’t. Though they were no longer together, that didn’t mean she wanted bad things to happen to him.

She entered the master bedroom with fingers over her eyes. “Is he decent?” she asked.

“He’s clothed if that’s what you mean. He’ll be decent after two or more cups of coffee,” Martin said. Elijah sat on the only furniture in the room—a straight back chair.

“Where’s the furniture?” Georgette asked. The closet was barren, too.

“Probably at the new mansion. Georgette, can you find a large towel or something? Elijah’s spilling coffee and I don’t’ want him to get burned.”

She watched Elijah, sipping the coffee and saying, “Good stuff, Marty ole chap.”

“He’s calming down,” she said. She thought about how compliant he was to Martin’s stern demands. No one could refuse Martin when he was in court room mode. She looked in the adjourning bath and found one hand towel.

“That one’s too small. Go look in the bath in Chip’s room. The last one on the right.” Martin instructed. “Don’t worry about knocking. He’s away at college.”

Georgette was surprised to see the boy’s room was still intact with its bed, desk and beer posters that covered the walls. She didn’t bother to knock on the bathroom door and was shocked to find a man and woman in various stages of nudity. With her face as red as the woman’s dress, she shut the door and ran out of the room.

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Locked Door

Dale’s face flushed red as he accused Jennifer of forgetting to lock the door. “I have everything to lose, if word of this little fiasco reaches my wife.”

“Fiasco? Let me point out that you followed me in and you shut the door. I assumed you locked it.” They spoke in terse whispers, so forceful they formed a mist over their heads.

“On this is certain. We’re done. No more meetings. I’ll have one of my agents finishing closing the deal on your townhouse. We can’t ever meet again, Jennifer. It’s too dangerous, now.” He smoothed down the ruffled edges of his hair.

“But, I don’t think the person saw much. You’re being paranoid.” Jennifer’s heart refused to go down without a fight.

“Ms. Swann, you’re not exactly invisible in your flaming red dress,” he said in his new voice of ice. Dale put up his hand as she began to reply. “Listen, I think they’re leaving.” They could hear voices, drifting away. “Let’s give them a minute to get lost in that mob downstairs. I’ll leave first and you can count to one hundred and then follow. Good-bye Jennifer.” He stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Jennifer wouldn’t let the tears fall. She had sworn years ago that she wouldn’t cry over another man. Dale Larkin wasn’t worth the breaking of her oath. Staring at her reflecting, she thought how the shade of her dress changed to a darker red under the bathroom lighting. Instead of being the hue of temptation, it was now a dramatic saturation of anger.

She wanted to run down the stairs behind Dale and slap him. Instead she walked quickly down the hall and stairs. It was easy to fall into the crowd gathering in the hallway downstairs, as Susan tried to assemble order. Dinner was ready and she wanted to make sure that her favorite dinner guests were in the main dining room. Jennifer was one of the lucky ones who dined there, so was Dale.

The table was long with about fifty settings. Jennifer breathed relief, when Dale was placed at a higher spot down the table with his wife on one side and the blonde lady with the annoying habit of flipping her hair over her shoulder. Congressman Redden was seated on Susan’s left and the handsome reporter from WXRZ.

Jennifer was seated beside a dark handsome man, Rod Hutchins. Susan confided to Jennifer, before she was seated. “I’m seating you beside the architect for the downtown renovation project. His name is Rod Hutchins. I think you’ll have a lot in common, darling. He draws house plans. You draw up home loans.” Susan’s laughter at her bad joke annoyed Jennifer, but she smiled politely and shook Mr. Hutchins hand when introduced.

She half-listened to the conversation around her. Jennifer could hear scraps of the topics from the head of the table, like the reporter asking Dale if he had sold the house across from his house on Cedar Drive and the sales pitch from the blonde girl around a radio station. If Jennifer could have come up with a reason to excuse herself without Susan’s boisterous concern, she would have left the dinner party promptly.

Rod cleared his throat in an effort to draw Jennifer’s attention. But she was staring at the centerpiece as she mindlessly forked food into her mouth. “What do you think of the flowers? I’m a big fan of chrysanthemums.”

She pulled herself back into the role of a dinner guest. “They’re nice. The cattails remind me of the lake downtown. I hear you’re on the renovation committee with Mr. Redden.” She decided to stop addressing Redden with a title he no longer possessed.

“Yes I am. We’re hoping the new look will draw business back to the heart of town,” said Rod. He pulled a card out of the flower arrangement. Jennifer watched his face, as he read it and smiled in a knowing way. In a voice that could part the town lake, he interrupted the general conversation. “Excuse me, Mrs. Ritter. Did you know that ‘Buckets and Daisies’ was the nursery chosen to perform the landscaping for our downtown project? I can’t help but admire the floral centerpieces that came from there, as well.”

“Oh yes. I’m aware of that. Georgette designed the centerpieces for me. She’s the green thumb of the county.” Susan turned to talk to Redden in a low voice, dismissing Rod.

He snorted and said quietly to Jennifer. “Yet she’s not important enough to join our little cozy group. It’s a shame.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jennifer asked, amazed that he would have nerve to boldly, yet indirectly point out the omission.

“No. It just caught my attention that Mr. Ritter isn’t here either.”

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Dinner Spoon

Georgette told Martin that she couldn’t find a towel. She didn’t mention the couple in the bathroom. It wasn’t her business and she preferred to keep it that way. Georgette suggested that they wet a cloth with cold and sponge Elijah’s forehead with it, in an attempt to break through his drunken stupor. After a few cold pats on the nape of his neck and his forehead, Elijah appeared more like himself. But word of his earlier behavior had gotten to Susan who sent a waiter upstairs with a message that Elijah was to dine in his study with the guests scheduled to eat in there and not to drink anything that contained a drop of alcohol in it—not even a glass of wine.

Elijah lost the last of his alcohol induced confidence when he heard the message Susan had sent to him. Martin, taking pity on him told Georgette that he would go down with Elijah, if she would see to the smoking jacket in the sink of the bathroom. She took the wet cloth and tried to blot off the stain but it was no use, only professional cleaning would get the stain out. She hung it on a clothes hanger in the closet and made a mental note to tell Susan about it later.

A tall man walked by the room. His long strides carried him away fast. It was Dale Larkin, whose wife tested Georgette’s patient often. She had the habit of returning dead house plants that were alive when purchased from the nursery. Once she brought back a fern she had purchased six months earlier. She failed to water it and tried to blame the nursery, saying the plant was diseased.

Next a striking blonde in a flutter by dress followed him down the stairs. She definitely wasn’t Mrs. Larkin. But that was none of her business. Georgette went down, too. Susan saw her and motioned her over. “Georgette, thanks for taking care of Elijah. He and Martin are in the study. Could you keep an eye on Elijah? Make sure he doesn’t drink anything else. I’m very upset with him.”

Georgette agreed and sat at the table beside Elijah. Martin and a girl named Celeste were seated a few chairs down and getting along splendidly. She didn’t experience jealousy, another proof that she wasn’t in love with Martin. But watching him with Elijah made her proud to call him a friend.

“This is a dinner spoon,” Elijah said, interrupting her thoughts. He stared at a silver spoon with gold roses embossed on the handle. “’He hath need of a long spoon that eateth with the devil.’”

“I haven’t heard that proverb in a long time. Makes me long for Shakespeare.” Georgette said, trying to keep the atmosphere frothy. She glanced down at the half eaten Cornish hen covered with a candied fig sauce on her plate and said, “’I love long life better than figs.’”

Elijah turned his stare on Georgette, “Anthony and Cleopatra.”

“I read too, Elijah, though I haven’t read any Shakespeare in years. My older brother used to act out some of the plays when he studied them in school. He made me watch.”

Elijah said, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a son until tonight.” She didn’t like to talk about her family, so Georgette turned the conversation to the Ritter son.

“Charles. We call him Chip. He’s in his sophomore year at UNC. He’ll be home over the holidays. My wife is planning a Christmas party at the new house. I’ll make sure you’re invited. You can meet him. He’s a talented artist.”

“I admire artist, even the starving stereotypes.” Now that it was clear that Elijah didn’t need a babysitter, Georgette helped herself to the wine. Maybe she could drown out the thoughts of Trip with his arms around another woman.
Mermaid Skirt

The image in the mirror stared sadly back at Georgette, as she tried to gauge what in her physical appearance kept her from being the heart of perfection. Could it be that her hair was too deep a shade of raven black? Or that it was too unruly and curly, swaying down to the small of her back? It was so long she could faultlessly re-enact the famous ride of Lady Godiva, wearing not one stitch of clothing, using her long hair to cover the delicate areas whose exposure society frowned upon. Her frame was petite and almost delicate like a calla lily, but she possessed the strength and determination of a mighty oak.

She knew she could stare at herself for hours and never find the perfection she so desperately sought. A swift shimmer of light flashing in the mirror reminded her that she needed to finish dressing, because Martin would be arriving soon. She had begged off, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He thought that the quicker she got out and mingled in the social world, the sooner the pain would ease. Like he was fond to point out—Trip wasn’t going to sit around and pine for her, so why should she give him that honor.

On her bed, spread out like funeral attire was the source of the shimmer of light that reflected briefly in the mirror. Staring down at it with regret, Georgette wished she hadn’t of been so easily persuaded by the vivacious saleslady at the dress boutique to purchase such a flamboyant gown. The source of the shimmering was a multitude of sequins in iridescent shades of blue and green covering the boned bodice of the gown. Even the thin spaghetti straps were encased in sequins. The skirt was made of black satin and embellished with deep green and blue sequins. But what made the dress so unique was the shape of the skirt. The hem was cut in a pointed shape at each side of the dress, giving it a fish tail—the illusion that it was tailored for a mermaid. A pair of black fishnet sleeves decorated with black pearls and sequins completed the dress. They were to be worn like gloves with a braided loop at the end for the middle finger to slip through.

After she dressed, Georgette had to admit that the saleslady was correct—the dress was a perfect fit. It looked spun directly onto her body by little sea horses. If she became overly bored at the party, she could slip into the pool and sing like a siren, luring men to their doom. She laughed at that thought. The one man she wanted was immune to her charms.

Georgette stared for a long time at her reflection, hypnotized by the glamour and wishing Trip could see her now with her hair loose and falling everywhere, reflecting the sparkle of the sequins. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would be able to feel his hands caressing her hair, wrapping strands of it around his fingers, and whispering how he adored the softness of it. With effort, she fought the urge to drift down memory lane, because time was ticking and Martin would be there soon to whisk her away to the ball.

The thought of letting her hair loose and free was too much painful to consider. Though she was determined to be free of Trip’s influence, she knew that baby steps were needed, so she braided her hair like usual and wound it around her head, pinning it up with rhinestone clips. A few curls escaped but on an impulse, she let them enjoy freedom. Georgette sprayed a cloud of perfume into the air and walked through it, just as the doorbell rang announcing Martin’s arrival. As she walked to the door to let him in, she prayed that she wouldn’t feel like a fish out of water at the party.

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The Swan

“Ms. Swann, you are far from an ugly duckling tonight, my lovely lady. What a vision you are in tempting red,” said the Susan Ritter proclaimed man of the hour, Congressman Redden, “I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”

“If you forget, I’ll remind you,” said Jennifer, giving him a pretentious smile. He was the first person she saw when she walked into Susan’s almost vacant home—vacant of furniture not people, which turned out to work for the best because there were so many guests.

She quickly untangled herself from Redden, who protested that if she left him alone the crowd would swallow him and he would never see her again. Jennifer pretended not to hear him. She went in search of Susan and found her talking to a platinum blonde with blondish white highlights in her long hair. Familiarity flushed over Jennifer, as she watched the blonde flip her hair over her shoulders, but she couldn’t place why the gesture seemed so familiar. She politely waited for the two ladies to part, before securing Susan’s attention.

“Lovely party, Susan but you are much lovelier,” said Jennifer. “You were born to wear blue.”

“Your curls are darling,” Susan said, touching Jennifer’s hair. “Please excuse the absence of furniture. Elijah moved most of the furniture to our new home to accommodate all our dinner guests. I never know when to stop inviting people. We’ve got tables and chairs set up in different rooms. Once dinner’s over, we’ll move them out to make room for dancing and mingling. Darling, wait until you taste the food. I found the most exquisite cater. Remind me to give you their number.” Susan linked her arm in the bend of Jennifer’s elbow, continuing to praise the catering company, as they walked through the rooms, but a tall man with graying hair at his temples stole Jennifer’s attention.

Dale raised his glass in salutation to Jennifer. His smile curled over the rim, before he took a long drink. She smiled, tipping her head slightly in an acknowledgement of his silent greeting. But the smile froze when a redheaded woman possessively removed invisible lint from his coat sleeve, the phantom Mrs. Dale Larkin, no doubt. Dale never talked about his wife, so it was easy to imagine she didn’t exist. Watching them together, it felt like a fist of ice hit Jennifer square in the abdomen, stealing her breath and leaving her cold.

With her senses running amok in circles, Jennifer barely heard Susan excuse herself so she could attend to other guests. Jennifer found a group of people with whom she was acquainted with and lost herself in their numbers. From her safe hollow, she studied Dale’s wife without being detected.

Much to her chagrin, Jennifer couldn’t find fault with her. She was of average height, fair of face with deep red hair that ended with a flip at her shoulders. A curvaceous woman dressed in hunter green, Mrs. Larkin wore boredom with gold and pretentious smiles. But for all her beauty, there was also an air of contempt inside the glances she gave every woman who passed by her.

His wife might have him penned against the wall, but Dale’s eyes roamed the room, seeking for means of escape. Jennifer in her temptation red dress had the key and she vowed she would use it, when the perfect change of opportunity arrived. In the meantime, she bided her time and joined in the surrounding conversation.

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The Riddle

Georgette’s beauty astounded Martin. He was speechless for a moment. His eyes swept her form and he slowly let out a low-pitched whistle. He said, “Excuse me, Miss, but what have you done with the flower child?”
She held up her sequined handbag. “I stuffed her in here. If you don’t get me to that party soon, I’ll let her out.”

“That won’t do.” He escorted her to his sports car and they sped off.

Martin believed in two things: speedy trials and speeding cars. Georgette was too nervous to chastise him for speeding. She hated parties where she felt like a flower out of a pot. She envied Martin’s calm.

“You look handsome in your black suit, Martin. Most men look like funeral home directors when they wear them, but not you.”

“It’s the bald head. Keeps the focus off the suit. You should try it sometime.” Martin’s jocular reply soothed her spirit a little. Everything would be fine. He would make sure of it. But she had something else on her mind. Knowing that he drove past Trip’s home on his way to her house, made her wonder if he was home. She feared he would be at the party and she didn’t know if she could handle it.

As if reading her mind, he said “Trip’s at home. So don’t get yourself worked up over the possibility that he’ll be there. He won’t. Susan and Elijah don’t know him.” His tone became very dry and extremely serious. “Promise me that you’ll have a good time and forget about Mr. Supercilious for a few hours or I’ll turn this car around and take you back home.”

“Martin, let’s not argue. I’ll do my best to enjoy the evening.” She knew she couldn’t make a promise.

“You’re in luck. We’re here. And what the hell is that?” Martin stopped his car, braking sharp enough to throw Georgette forward towards the dashboard and then back against the car seat. They gawked at an obscenely pink tinted Cadillac, which was parked at an angle in the drive, in an unveiled attempt to discourage other cars from parking beside it.

“Martin, I haven’t seen that shade of pink since the day glow days of the mid-eighties. Hey, the car could belong to the entertainment. Maybe a shock jock.”

“Or Bruce Springsteen,” laughed Martin.

“You may be right if it has plush velvet seats.”

Martin managed to squeeze his sports car into a space close to the Cadillac. As he helped Georgette out of the vehicle, she said, “I can’t believe you got into this small spot, Martin. For a moment, I thought we would have to stuff your car into my hand bag.”

“No way,” he countered. “Remember, we’re not letting the flower child out just yet.”

Elijah Ritter greeted them at the door, wearing a royal blue smoking jacket and holding a brandy glass. Georgette and Martin exchanged quick glances. Elijah was drunk, signifying a long evening ahead of them. His wife Susan didn’t need alcohol to give her courage to face a crowd, for she lived for the moment she could entertain, dominate or woo a crowd. Elijah was the opposite. He enjoyed being a quiet man who loved books and lived for the challenge that the daily newspaper cross-word puzzle offered.

“Martin! Georgia! Welcome to our most extravagant party ever!” Elijah clung to the doorknob for support, swaying a little with it. “Before you can enter, you must first guess the answer to this riddle: What has one mouth that speaks for one million?” He barred the entry way, forcing an answer out of them.

“Your wife,” Martin said in his abrupt way, “Elijah, you fool, you’re drunk. And it’s Georgette, not Georgia. Let us in. It’s cold out here.”

“You’re right Marty, ole chap. The answer is my wife.” Elijah swung the door open, losing his balance and falling against the wall. He splashed the contents of his brandy glass on his elegant royal blue smoking jacket, staining it with an ugly black mark. “Sorry, Georgette. Come inside. Oh dear, I’ve made a mess. Off with my head.”

Martin steadied him. Turning to Georgette, he said, “I’m going to help Elijah upstairs to change. Could you secure a cup of black coffee in the meantime?” She nodded and watched the two men stagger away, bouncing off walls and people.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Rose Red

A recent television commercial said that green signified the color of envy and red symbolized the color of defiance. Jennifer opposed that notion. To her the color of red embodied temptation and that’s what she planned to achieve tonight.

At their luncheon a few days ago, Susan Ritter, full of vim, talked excessively about her dinner party. When she mentioned Dale Larkin along with his miraculous house finding abilities and how her family was indebted to him, Susan procured Jennifer’s undivided attention. With Susan’s constant talking in circles, Jennifer was easily distracted by the wild tattoos displayed on the exposed flesh of the waitresses, especially the tattoo on the small of Zoë’s back of a huge green eye. Its unblinking stare was eerie, as if it could see into Jennifer’s soul.

Realizing that Dale would be at the party, too made Jennifer ache with anticipation. Their social circles never crossed, until now. She was interested in how he performed in a group setting, non-sexually of course. Would he be able to keep his eyes off her? She would make sure he couldn’t. Nothing speaks longer than a carefully tailored dress and the right amount of flesh exposed.

On cue, Zoë brought the check over to the table. “I’ll get this one, Susan. My treat,” said Jennifer smiling.

“Thank you. But only if you’re definitely coming to the party,” said Susan. Jennifer smiled and nodded, as she gave Zoë one of her credit cards. But Zoë’s attention was diverted to Jennifer’s empty teacup. She picked it up and said, “I must read your dregs. Something is compelling me to do this, Toots. I’ve learned not to ignore these warnings.”

Since it had been a day of surprises, Jennifer felt that she could withstand one more. “Dregs? Not my palm?” Jennifer was new to the art of divination.

“I’ve developed an alternative to tea leaf reading. Your dreg pattern is interesting. See the closed bud at the dip where the bottom of the teacup connects with the cup itself? I feel that it suggests that you handled something new with care, maybe a new life. The rest of your dreg pattern is in chaos. Look at this shape.” She pointed to a circle in the center of the cup’s bottom. The moon. It will bring deception but also new beginnings. There will be much change in all aspects of your life very soon, Toots. Prepare yourself.” Zoë’s cryptic forecast sent the women into a bevy of laughter.

Jennifer didn’t hide her disbelief and said to Zoë, “Of course there will be chaos. I’m moving soon.”

Zoë, tolerant as ever said, “Prepare yourself. These changes that are coming will be unavoidable.”

As Jennifer stood, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she smiled and said out loud, “Oh there will be changes tonight! I’ll have Dale Larkin on his knees begging me to be his forever.”

Her halter dress was deep ruby chiffon, the color of lust during a red moon. The cleavage dipped low and was adorned by a rhinestone broach pinned at the valley of her bosom. The skirl was pleated and stayed close to her body, until she turned suddenly, watching it swing around her legs and revealing black stockings. The matching shawl finished the outfit with a subtle touch of vogue.
Jennifer’s blonde hair, which was naturally straight, now exhibited curls and her lips were dewy red, like rose petals in rain. She demonstrated softness, a look she refused to let her professional world see. But tonight was the perfect time to expose it with deadly intent aimed full force at Dale Larkin. She knew that change was going, because she had “red” it somewhere.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sparrows Fly

As predicted by Georgette, Trip pouted for three days. But once Georgette sprinkled him with enough compliments, he blossomed back to his old self. A few days before the Ritter party, she asked him if he wanted to be her guest. They were at his house, watching television and eating popcorn. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. They hadn’t been out publicly in a long time.

Trip hemmed around the answer. “Well, that could be a problem. See. Hmmm…I’ve sort of committed myself to …er…a company related …hmm…date. All for the television station, only. I don’t want to go, but the head cheese is insisting I take one for the team.” The more he rambled and stuttered over his words, the more she realized he wasn’t telling the whole truth. But instead of calling him on it, she decided to let it go.

“I understand, Trip,” she said. It hurt her that he never wanted to take her out, but she tried not to complain too often. She knew from hearing stories from friends that once a girl starts complaining too much, there’s a chance she’ll be replaced permanently. But then a devil at her ear whispered and she heard herself say, “I guess I’ll accept Martin’s invitation. He’ll be ecstatic, you know. His dream will come finally true. Me on his arm at the social event of the month.” She shoved popcorn into her mouth, observing Trip’s reaction out of the corner of her eye.

“Martin! No. I forbid it. You’ll have to miss the party. That’s all there is, Georgette. Call the Ritter’s and tell them you’re catching a cold or something.” Trip’s nostrils flared, like a stallion catching another stud’s scent.

“No, Trip. I’m not canceling. I’ve already bought a dress. Just because you can’t take me doesn’t mean I have to stay home. Besides, you always say that we know the real deal and it doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks.”

Caught up in his anger at the mere thought of another man with Georgette, Trip stood up, causing the popcorn bowl to spill over onto the floor. “Georgette, I’m not joking. You are not to go to this party.”

She reacted to his anger with a rare flash of her own. “But you can go on a company date and I’m suppose to understand. Trip, either we’re a couple in public as well as in private or we aren’t one at all.” She may have sat frozen, but her eyes were moving with fire, studying his reaction, knowing she had went too far.

“So this is where we’ve come? At an impasse? I can’t proclaim to the world that you’re my girl, Georgette. You know this. You’ve always known it. I’m low-key. It helps my image to be mysterious.” He raked his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Trip, I can’t do this anymore. Sneaking in and out of your house, as if I’m a dirty secret. I need more. I deserve more. Have you forgotten that I’ve been there since the beginning? I’m the one who encouraged you to follow your dream. I love you. Isn’t that worth something?” Tears fell down her cheeks.

He began a nervous pace. “Yes, it’s worth everything. I appreciate all these years that you’ve been here. But Georgette, you run a garden center. That’s not the type of career I want the future Mrs. Trevor to be involved in. She has to be breathtaking in all aspects of her life, if she’s to be my equal. You’re not her. I’m sorry Georgette.”

She stood up to face in, finally reaching a point of indignation that she needed to complete the severing of ties. “I knew you were ashamed of me, but my god Trip why have you led me on all these years? Has it failed to escape your attention that I own my business? I’m not going to sell it because you’re ashamed of it I can only be who I am. Imperfect Georgette with the wild curly hair and soiled fingers. A woman who has loved you for so long, she doesn’t know how to stop.” Georgette was so enraged that she couldn’t speak. She kicked the popcorn bowl, trying to let off steam instead of tears.

Georgette watched the bowl spin wildly as it flew into the wall, the remaining popcorn flying like sparrows from a tree in the park, startled into action. Both of them had said more than they meant too say, but words once spoken, no matter if they are for good or bad, couldn’t be taken back. She sniffed back tears and walked out the door, wanting to slam it but closing it quietly behind her instead. All the anger extinguished, as the pain ignited.

last section of Chapter 2 (finally)

Tattoo Priestess

Jennifer hated coffee houses, but a few days ago, she had made a luncheon date with Susan Ritter, one of her few female friends and couldn’t figure a way to get out of it. This was her first visit to Zapped. The aroma of sweet gourmet coffee thickly festered in the air. Jennifer wished she could smoke a cigarette, so the fumes of tobacco burning to ash could form a bubble around her head, protecting her from the caffeine infested environment. She mulled over the menu as Susan babbled on and on about her new house and her wonderful new neighbor, the infamous ex-congressman Redden, who made Jennifer’s skin crawl whenever he so much as glanced at her shadow.

According to the patrons, Zapped was appropriately named, due to the strength of the secretly formulated coffee beans, which embodies the essence of super hero volume caffeine. The atmosphere of the coffee house emitted a coziness that even Jennifer couldn’t deny. Burgundy walls held an array of neon lights, some shaped like steaming coffee mugs and some shaped like faces in various states of emotion with hair resembling the stream from the neon mugs. The wrought iron tables were black with glass tops, contrasting with white porcelain vases, each cradling a single daisy with its head bowing over with shyness.

But what really classified Zapped as a unique or off the wall place to hangout was the wait staff—all girls brandishing multitudes of tattoos all over their bodies. Zoë, the waitress who served Jennifer and Susan’s table looked like a big city alley plastered with graffiti spray painted with expertise by members of gangs, marking their territory. Her black hair was streaked blue around her face, a framework, which drew attention to the numerous piercing on her eyebrows, lips and ears.

She smiled tolerantly at Jennifer’s condemning stare. She was immune to disapproval. “Are you ladies ready to place your orders?” she asked, pen in poised over pad.

“Would you by chance serve hot tea?” Jennifer inquired.

“Sure, Toots.” Zoë studied her for a moment. “You look like a green tea lady sweetened with a dollop of honey and a twist of lemon on the side.”

Jennifer was visibly startled by Zoë’s accuracy. “You’re correct.”

“I think you’ll like our chicken salad,” Zoë said, efficiently ordering for Jennifer as if she could read her mind. She turned to Susan and said, “And you, Mrs. Ritter?”

Susan smiled and said, “You know me, Zoë. I come to a coffee house for one thing—the double chocolate latte. Hold the whipped cream. I’m on a diet. I’ll have the chicken salad, too.”

Once Zoë was out of hearing range, Susan said, “She’s psychic. I think all of the waitresses are. Something about tattoo ink opening a portal into another realm of consciousness. I read that somewhere.”

Jennifer bit back a guffaw. “If that’s true, then we won’t have to ask for refills.”

The rattle of cups on saucers announced Zoë’s quick return with their drink orders. “Green tea with honey and lemon for you. And a double chocolate latte minus the whipped cream for you.” After she set the cups and saucers on the table she asked with a smile, “Shouldn’t you ladies be celebrating with champagne? New homes should be honored or the house fairies won’t inhabit them.”

Susan gasped, “My husband and I just bought a new house. How did you know that?” Jennifer couldn’t say anything. How in the world did this woman know about her recent housing investment?
“Maybe a birdie told me, Mrs. Ritter. Your order will be up in a moment.” Zoë smiled and floated away, as if on air.

“I tell you, Jennifer that woman is psychic? This isn’t the first time she’s known things about me.” Susan exclaimed, as she attacked her latte.

“She could have ever heard you talking earlier. But that doesn’t explain how she knew about my recent investment. She did say homes. Plural.” Jennifer was taken aback by the woman’s statement.

“You bought a house?” She asked, staring over her glasses at Jennifer.

“Yes, I did. Closing the deal next week. Actually, it’s a townhouse at the Floral Clovers.”

“Wonderful. At my party Saturday, we’ll celebrate your new beginning, too. I read somewhere that it’s important to keep house fairies happy.”
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