Bad Blood (13 page)

Chapter 24

Rachel

I
REMAINED IN BED, LYING ON MY BACK, LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING.
A lot of thoughts were on my mind, and my personal life was at the front. I was ready to be in a serious relationship now, but it seemed like every time I thought I'd met the right man, I was wrong. Last month, when I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles to renew my driver's license, I thought I'd met the “right” man again.

“I knew I should have made an appointment.” He had a deep, sexy voice.

I turned around to see who was talking to me. I was stunned to see such a tall, dark, and handsome stranger in a navy blue suit behind me. He appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His dark brown hair was short and wavy, and his smile was so radiant that just looking at him brightened my mood.

“Me, too,” I muttered, turning back around. He tapped me on the shoulder, and I whirled around to face him again.

“I'm Matthew,” he said. “Matthew Lawrence Bruner, to be exact.”

“I'm Rachel McNeal.”

“I noticed you as soon as I walked in,” he continued.

“I didn't notice you,” I said firmly. I didn't like strange men getting too friendly with me in public. Especially a handsome man in a suit who was probably involved with several other women already.

“Well, from the way this line is moving, it looks like we're going to be here for a while. This is what I get for not renewing my car registration by mail.” Matthew laughed.

There were at least twenty people ahead of me, and I'd been in line for half an hour already. I hadn't brought anything to read with me, so having a conversation with the handsome stranger seemed like a good way to kill time.

“Do you work around here?” I asked.

Matthew shook his head and cleared his throat. “I'm a parole officer, and my office is downtown.”

“Oh? That must be an interesting job. I'm a bookkeeper at a private school.”

“That must be an interesting job, as well. Sometimes I wish I had chosen a different profession. I used to drive my wife crazy sharing stories with her about some of my more, uh, challenging parolees.”

“Does your wife work?”

“My wife died in a house fire two years ago. She was two months pregnant with our first child.”

“I'm sorry.” The line moved forward, and I turned back around and moved with it. To this day, I didn't know what made me turn back to the man and resume our conversation. “Where was the fire?”

“She was visiting relatives in Long Beach. It was an old house, and the wiring was faulty. It happened in the middle of the night, and everybody inside died—my wife, her sister and her husband and their three kids.” Matthew let out a loud breath, and he suddenly looked unbearably sad. “I was supposed to be with them, but I had to cancel and stay behind to appear in court because one of my high-profile parolees had been arrested again.”

“How are you doing now?”

“I have my good days and my bad days.” He smiled, but I could still see sadness in his eyes. “Today is a good day.”

I smiled back. “I'm glad to hear that.”

Matthew glanced at his watch. “Would you like to go for a cup of coffee when we get out of this place?”

“I'd like to, but I have to get back to work. If you give me your telephone number, maybe I can call you sometime.”

Matthew gave me his business card, and I called him at his office the next morning, when I got to work. He sounded glad to hear from me, and we chatted for several minutes. I was pleased to hear that we shared some interests, such as old black-and-white movies, mystery novels, jazz, and eating out. That Saturday he took me to dinner, but I didn't feel comfortable enough to get more intimate with him until three weeks later. We had been having so much fun together that when he invited me to spend the weekend in Lake Tahoe with him, I eagerly accepted.

I had packed that Thursday night, and when Friday evening rolled around, I rushed home from work to wait for Matthew to pick me up. Somebody knocked on my door a few minutes before seven, and I assumed it was him, even though I didn't expect to see him for another half hour. I looked through the peephole and saw Skirt standing there in jeans and a leather vest, with a stupid grin on his face. I should have ignored him, but I didn't.

“What in the world are you doing here?” I asked with a scowl. “I told you not to come over here without calling me first.”

“I was thinking about you, and since we hadn't seen one another in a while and you hadn't called me, I was worried about you,” he said, trying to look over my shoulder. “I didn't want you to think I was slacking up on my job.”

“Your job?” I guffawed. “That's real funny, Skirt.”

A hurt look crossed his face. “You told me yourself I was your maintenance man, sweet thang.”

“Well, I no longer need your services, so you can go visit somebody else tonight,” I snapped.

“Lord, have mercy! You ain't going to invite me in? I wouldn't mind having a cool glass of something . . . orange juice, Gatorade . . . beer.”

“Skirt, please leave.”

A puppy dog expression popped up on his face. “You trying to tell me something?”

“Look, Skirt. We had a good thing going for a while, but it's time for us to end it. Uh, I've met somebody, and it's serious.”

I was surprised to see a smile on his face now. “Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted. I won't bother you no more.” He paused and glanced toward the street; then he looked back at me and opened his arms. “Just one last kiss and I'll be gone.”

“All right.” I reluctantly went into his arms. We embraced, and his lips came crashing down on mine. It was a long kiss, and it would have been longer had I not pulled away from him. “Now will you please leave?”

“It was nice knowing you, Rachel. Have a nice life,” he said with a heavy sigh.

I quickly shut the door and returned to the couch. After seven thirty came and went, I began pacing the floor. An hour later I called Matthew's home telephone number, and it went straight to voice mail.

He didn't show up that night, and he didn't call.

I finally undressed and went to bed a few minutes after eleven. When I got up Saturday morning, I was so angry, I removed Matthew's telephone number from my address book. I couldn't wait to hear his excuse when he called.

A whole week went by, and Matthew still had not called. That night, around ten o'clock, I reluctantly dialed Skirt's number.

“It's Rachel. Uh, you busy tonight?” I said as soon as he picked up the phone.

“What's it to you? I thought you met somebody,” he snarled.

“I did, but it didn't work out,” I said. I was already mad at myself for showing how weak I was by calling Skirt. “Can you come over for a little while?”

As much as I tried not to think about Matthew, he crossed my mind a lot, even when I was in bed with Skirt. I wanted to get over Matthew as soon as possible, and since my “relationship” with Skirt was a dead end and I was eventually going to “end” it permanently, there was no way I was going to miss out on meeting Seth Garrett.

Chapter 25

Rachel

I
ROLLED OUT OF BED, STUMBLED INTO THE BATHROOM, AND TOOK
a quick shower. When I returned to my bedroom, I turned on the clock radio on my nightstand to check the weather report so I could decide what to wear. But the first thing I heard was a recap of a report that Princess Diana had died in a car crash in Paris a few hours earlier.

“Damn!” I mouthed, sitting down on the side of my unmade bed, staring in disbelief at the radio. This tragedy made me remind myself how short life was. Death could happen in the blink of an eye, and so I wanted to enjoy my life as much as I could, and for as long as I could. I had always worked and played hard, because I wanted to make sure I didn't miss out on too much. I was always eager to have a good time, and last night had been one of the best times. And as a backup plan, I needed to keep Skirt happy in case a love connection didn't develop between Seth Garrett and me.

After I had drunk two cups of coffee and had swallowed a few aspirin, my hangover had almost disappeared. I got dressed and sat waiting by the door for Lucy. She arrived right on time, but because of an accident on the freeway, we got to church twenty minutes after service started.

“That's Seth sitting with his parents in the second pew from the front,” Lucy whispered as we eased down the aisle toward the front, to one of the few remaining empty pews.

Second Baptist was one of the most ornate and prestigious black churches in the Bay Area. An enormous mural of a black Jesus covered the wall behind the pulpit. The maroon carpeting, the gold and red drapes, and everything else looked new and expensive. The ushers wore crisp white uniforms and white gloves.

“Don't stare at Seth like he's something good to eat. I don't want him to think you're too anxious to meet him,” Lucy hissed.

“I won't! This was your idea,” I reminded, already wondering if I had made another mistake by letting Lucy hook me up with another man. “I can see only the back of his head, anyway,” I whispered as we sat down on the end of a pew near the front.

Even though we were whispering, an old sister on the same pew gave us a dirty look. We remained silent until Reverend Mays finished his sermon.

Seth was one of the first people to rise. Other people got up and began to greet other members of the congregation with hugs and handshakes.

“Don't look now, but Seth just turned around,” Lucy told me. “He's looking right at you. Come on.” She literally took me by the hand and led me down the aisle to one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen. “And don't act too friendly. I don't want him to know you're desperate.”

“Desperate?” I gasped. “What makes you think I'm desperate?” I had never before been desperate for a man in my life, and I couldn't understand why a woman who had known me as long as Lucy had would think that. Her divorce had become finalized six months ago, and she had not been in a serious relationship since. She spent more time in the clubs and visiting singles chat rooms on her computer than any other woman I knew. She was a lot closer to being desperate than I was. “What all have you told him about me?”

“Don't worry. I've said only good things about you.”

Seth smiled and his eyes lit up as we approached him. I was disappointed to see that he was not as handsome as Matthew Bruner, nor did he have an impressive, stable job. Lucy had told me that Seth worked in a cannery. Right after she introduced me to him, he shook my hand and gave me a big hug.

Seth held on to my hand as he gazed into my eyes. In the back of my mind, I wondered if there was something Lucy hadn't told me about this man. When he began to squeeze and caress my hand, I really got suspicious. But I kept a smile on my face. “I'm glad we finally met,” he told me, releasing my hand.

“So am I,” said the stout, bronze-colored woman in the wide-brimmed black hat and the pink dress who was standing next to him. “Seth is my baby.” She immediately shook my hand as she looked me up and down with a smile on her face. Her smile faded when she saw the length of my black leather skirt. It was about two inches above my knees. “I didn't know women wore leather to church,” she commented. I thought that it was inappropriate for the mother of a man I'd just met to make such a comment so soon.

She went on. “You have nice legs for them to be slightly bowed, but I see you like to show them off, anyway. I'm surprised that they are still making some skirts so short these days.” The smile returned to Mrs. Garrett's face, but it was the sneer of a woman who didn't even try to hide her catty nature.

“Shorter skirts are in style again. Especially in leather, Sister Garrett,” Lucy blurted, moving closer to me. Her skirt was even shorter than mine.

“I guess so. I see a lot of
teenagers
running around, showing their business,” Mrs. Garrett pointed out, still displaying her annoying smile. “But I guess if you've got nice legs, you can still get away with it at any age.” She tapped her nose with the tip of her finger and sniffed, with her eyes looking directly into mine. “How old are you?” she asked next. “I can't decide if it's all that make-up you got on your face, that long hair on your head and whatnot, but you look kind of young to me.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I'm twenty-three.”

The tall man in the black suit who was standing next to Mrs. Garrett cleared his throat. “It's nice to meet you, Rachel. I'm Seth's father. You can call me Conrad.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard, he made me flinch. He held my gaze even longer than Seth had.

I know this man is not leering at me up in a church!
I told myself. But when he turned his head to the side and winked at me and slid his tongue across his lip in a suggestive manner, I realized that was exactly what he was doing.

“Nice to meet you, Conrad,” I said. I smiled and pulled my hand out of his, but I noticed he was still staring at me.

Seth's mother must have noticed her husband's strange behavior, because she cleared her throat and gently pushed him aside. “You can call me Mrs. Garrett. Not because I'm a snob, but because I'm old school. I don't believe young people should refer to an elder by his or her first name until they get better acquainted,” she said with an annoying cackle. I didn't know what to make of that. Seth seemed nice enough, but I had a feeling his parents were two odd pieces of work. Then Mrs. Garrett said something that took me completely by surprise. “You sure are a pretty little thing! Look at those big brown eyes and those high cheekbones. I bet you take after your mama.”

“Not really. Everybody says I look more like my daddy,” I said shyly.

“He sure must be a handsome man. What does your daddy do for a living?” Mrs. Garrett said, with her head tilted to the side and one eyebrow raised.

“Uh, my daddy passed when I was a little girl. But he had worked for the city and had supervised several employees for about ten years.” I didn't see any need to tell these people that my daddy had been the head janitor at the courthouse and that he'd died when the husband of one of his lovers shot and killed him. I had not shared that information with any of my new friends in California.

“It's so nice to finally meet you. I hope you can join us for dinner this evening. You being a country girl, I'm sure you'd enjoy some home-cooked red beans and rice and fried chicken,” Mrs. Garrett gushed. “Our cook is from Georgia, so she knows her stuff in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yes, I would love to join you all for dinner,” I gushed back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Seth looking at the side of my head. From everything he'd done and said so far, I assumed he liked what he saw. I liked what I saw. He wasn't as tall as I'd hoped, but that didn't really matter. I was only five feet four, and I usually wore low-heeled shoes, if I wore heels at all. Seth was the same shade of bronze as his mother, and he had her sparkling brown eyes. His father was a reasonably good-looking light-skinned man his late fifties or early sixties who looked like he had not missed any meals. He had a potbelly and thin salt-and-pepper hair with a little too much pomade on it for me. I was glad to see that Seth wore his wavy black hair short and combed back the way Billy Dee Williams wore his in
Lady Sings the Blues.

“What time should we get there?” Lucy asked. Seth and his parents looked at her at the same time.

I could tell from the surprised look on Mrs. Garrett's face that the dinner invitation didn't include Lucy. But Mrs. Garrett handled it well. “Oh! Uh, I'm glad you're coming, too, Lucy. I'm dying to hear about that singles' cruise you took to Alaska last month,” she said, looking embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

“The Martins will be having dinner with us,” Seth's father said quickly, clearing his throat again. He furrowed his brows and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Isn't that right, dear?” he asked with a nervous look on his face. From that, I decided Mrs. Garrett was the one who ran the show.

“Yes, the Martins will be joining us for dinner,” Mrs. Garrett announced. I couldn't believe how gruff her voice sounded now.

“Oh. They will? Well, in that case, maybe I'll take a rain check,” Lucy said, looking disappointed. She had dated the Martins' divorced son, Ronald, for three months before their bitter breakup two months ago because she couldn't get along with his parents. That was the main reason that Lucy had gone on that singles' cruise to Alaska last month and had slept with two different men in seven days. Lucy looked at me and shrugged. “Rachel's car is in the shop for a tune-up, and I've been hauling her around for the past few days. I don't mind dropping her off for dinner.” There was a petulant tone in Lucy's voice. But she was the kind of woman who bounced back from disappointment real fast. I already knew that she would probably head straight to a bar or go on a shopping spree on her way home from church.

“Rachel, I can pick you up this evening,” Seth said quickly.

“I don't want you to go to any trouble on my account. I can take a cab—”

“You'll do no such thing,” Seth interrupted. “You live in the Dover Circle apartment complex on College Avenue, right?”

“My doctor's eldest son lives in that neighborhood. He's already a very successful pediatrician. That's an expensive residence for a girl your age. What do you do for a living?” Mrs. Garrett asked with a guarded look on her face.

“I'm the assistant bookkeeper at Steele-Royce Middle School, a private school,” I said proudly.

All three of the Garretts gasped and looked at me in awe.

“That's one of the most exclusive and expensive middle schools in Berkeley! My two older boys went there. They wouldn't allow Seth to enroll, because his grades were not up to their standards. They pay the staff very well at that place,” Mr. Garrett said. “Hmmm. Your family must be real proud of you.”

“With your looks and shape and everything else you have going for you, how come you're not married yet, Rachel?” Mrs. Garrett asked. “I got married when I was nineteen.”

“Mother! That's kind of personal,” Seth scolded. Then he turned to me. “Give me your address, Rachel. I'll pick you up around six, if that's all right with you.”

“That'll be just fine, Seth.” At the same time I asked myself,
What am I getting myself into this time?