Imperative Fate (3 page)

“You gonna go out there with me, Anny? It looks like such a lovely day,” I said. “Don’t wanna go by myself.”

“Don’t I always make time for ya, sweetheart?”

“Don’t ya always tell me that and do the opposite?” I yanked, eyebrows vexed.

He pored over me, swallowing, wearing pants but no shirt or tie. Obviously, last night went very well and we had to celebrate.

I smirked over my cupped palm, thinking about all that Ellie had said; the stories of red suits and lipstick-stained collars. “You’re an interesting liar,” I observed. “You’re going to make a great Representative and a suspicious spouse one day.”

“You’re a scream, Rhea,” Anthony sighed deeply before getting up. He strode over and kissed me on the cheeks, for a minute, making me forget about the sunburn dotting them.

I reciprocated the smooch and soon his hands were part of my unsheathed hips and we were running the motions again.

~
***
~

Fresh, or not so much, from making love with “my father,” I roamed the ocean’s edge alone until my acquaintance (too new and exquisite to be called friend by mistake) joined me.

Ellie Anne walked the mossy planks barefoot in this really fancy one-piece with dangling ruffles and intricate cut-outs. Liking to stay modest, she took kindly to face-eating sunglasses and sarongs, but she could come to the sandbar naked and artists would get on their knees to get perspective to sculpt her, she’s that beautiful.

It gave me another reason to isolate her from Anthony.

She said her father would’ve come (and I woulda liked to see that Fabio meets Johnny Depp in the salty breeze), but he had a conference to conduct.

“That’s too bad. He woulda liked this. Anyone would.”

She nodded real slightly, flipping over a sea shell with her toes, none too talkative.

I leaned over a pile of seaweed, turning to see through her shades, if she was sad. The blonde didn’t seem to get to see her dad as much as he kept her in the area. “I’m sure he wants to be here and would if he could,” I tried to cheer.

“You’ll see how promises go if Anthony wins” is all she muttered and it scared me. It scared me to think lavish living has to take hits to afford, to balance, and that I could end up one of them.

I changed the subject straightaway: “So . . . what
grade’ll you be in after summer?”

“School?
I’m sixteen, Dahlia; I’m done with that, graduated early. It’s not hard. It’s high school, no matter where you go.”

The sun’s bite hid my blush. It’s so easy to feel insecure around her experience and perfection.

Eyebrows squinted, Ellie muttered something about “secondary” and a “shadow” but wouldn’t tell me what.

What a strange world you come from
, I thought, gripping my elbows battered by the sand and wind.

The heat dictated when we were done treading the bumpy beach and dipping our feet in the foamy water, but it was Ellie who decided we visit her vacant room with minimal conversation. I think she just liked having somebody by her side. Maybe she wasn’t around enough teenagers to know what to say.

On several occasions I tried to strike up talk of fashion, movies and TV shows, to which she’d respond: “I just like what I like and try not to question it.”

I was a dollop discouraged with her vague answers and general disinterest but didn’t want to lose her. The things she knows are too valuable and the things she “tries not to” are too mysterious, and I want to uncloak them all.

While she took a quick shower, I explored her room, seeking nude mementos of her past and observing the clothes she left on her bed. Nothing she owned was anything short of stunning; nothing she owned was terribly revealing. Her suitcase probably had some better stuff but I wasn’t gonna find out without a sure-fire plan or her consent.

I wasn’t bold enough when Arthur rung me.

Leaving greetings and kindness at his girlfriend, Stacey’s, he started: “Rhea? Rhea, have you lost it, girl? I just seen your friend, Brittany, in town; you better have a darn-good excuse as to why she’s not with you, why I shouldn’t tell Mom.”

The New World told me to be immune to threats.

“No, I have a nice head on top of my neck,” I antagonized. “What? Brittany can’t have a li’l time to herself? She just went out for a stroke of fresh air before w—”

“You may have a pretty head, but it’s a dull one, Rhea. You’ve got room to improve on your lies. She wasn’t dressed for a trip to the panhandle or where you could be loitering somewhere behind; she was in Lowe’s with her family. Nice try.”

I turned red. “You busybody, it’s none of your business!” I shouted. “All you’ve got to do is checkup on my alibis all day? Some fun that must be! You shouldn’t be telling Mama nothin’ because I still have all that dirt on you from Carla and—”

“Where
are
you, Ree?” he pressed.

The lump of fury in my throat kept me quiet.

“Where? Who are you with? . . . Anthony, I bet,” Arthur laughed confidently to himself. “Stop tramping around; you’re gonna get yourself hurt. No one that age is gonna want anything to do with a vain little girl. Remember, you’ve got Mama by t—”

“Enough about Mama!”
I returned, more heated. “Everything is about her. Stop falling for it! She’s as helpless as a baby. Cuz you’re her baby, she’s gonna wanna keep you to take care of her for eternity. That’s what U.J. is. That’s what we’ll be if we let her. Thankless fallbacks. Why aren’t you smart enough to see that, Ar? Why aren’t you cool enough to disregard me? I havta go, but you havta say nothin’.”

I hung up before Ellie Anne walked in, drying her honey hair, asking, “
What’re ya doin’?”

“Nothing, waiting for you,” I alleged, that
moral
boy’s voice crawling—burning—under my skin.

Comforted by cartoons and jokes by nightfall, Ellie Anne confided in me that she’s a “stalwart loner by nature and circumstance” and quite apologetic for it. Easily, I forgave her, snuggling closer on the bed, noticing the curious collection of stuffed sheep she idly pet. Instantly, the ease of understanding vanquished when I questioned them. Ellie’s glossy lips shuddered and she quickly advised we leave for dinner. With so many hang-ups, I still wasn’t sure how stable of friends we’d be.

Over seafood, she dispelled these worries with a more amicable approach to her problems.

Twisting shrimp pasta round her fork like a cyclone, the livelier blonde refused to let me pay when the ticket came. “Your father needs every dime accounted for to win,” she chuckled before taking a swig of her water.

My disagreement made her shrug.

“Money’s not an issue in my family. Wait ’til yours is that way to reject gifts. I mean, who doesn’t like a free lunch—or dinner? Everyone, well, every
Neo-Con
loves my father.”

Mr. Moss, as striking verbally as he is physically, left no place for question.

“His position is secure,” she went on. “Anthony . . . We’ll see. Some people really rally around a fresh face. Some settle for the RINO who already won. Experience is a two-sided knife, you know.”

I thrive on these moments of insight, adore Ellie’s composed concession. Her subtle condescension was sweeter than rock candy to me and I know her jargon will slip through my teeth if I follow close enough.

              “Daddy’s doesn’t want me bored on these trips, so he gives me a healthy allowance to keep me placated; it’s no problem . . . So will you be coming to the House-Senate Dinner too?” she sprung on me, causing me to choke on my Coke without a story.

“Um . . . I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t really discussed it with my—”

“Daddy’s got PACs to pay and press to do all around the city. Yours probably does too. I’d love it if you’d come. We can go catch a film or shop while they do all that. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dahlia?” she reeled, reminding me who I’m supposed to be. “Those boys from Vermont will be there too. Their fathers are Democrats but they like to weasel into the red affairs. ‘Amateur spies,’ Papa calls them.” The blonde laughed in her memories, inviting me to join new ones.

At once, I was touched and flustered by consideration.

“You might like them, Dahlia; Cris anyway, he’s cute in a brotherly kinda way, real genuine. Gilbert, well, he’s a whole other story. Very flirtatious and inappropriate, but if you get him on the right day or subject, he’s a true intellectual. Plus, he’s older. He can drive us around more discreetly than a chauffeur. And, in the evening, we can hang around all that Congressional glitz. It’ll be exciting, a night to remember. It’s a ball! And it’ll do Anthony some great good too, rubbing elbows with all those rich men. You’ll need a dress, of course, a really long one.”

“I just don’t know if—”

Ellie’s teeth waved me in with a sly grin, knowing she already had me sold. “I saw you eyeing up that one on display in Monti’s. C’mon, Dahlia, let’s just get you it! I bet ya look swell in midnight green.”

Even if I wasn’t able to go, there’s no way I’d skip out on a fashion detour with Houston’s resident princess.

~
***
~

“But why
not
?” I whined to my unfazed lover. “It could get you serious acclaim and connection chances. Skylar Moss, the freakin’ legendary Senator, will invite you.”

The DA eyed me like he really was my father. “Rhea, this childish color on you really isn’t flattering.” He put down his book with emphasis. “Stop making a spectacle of yourself, honey. I know what’s good for my career. Don’t ya worry your pretty, little head over it; I got it all figured out. I g—”

“Then why are your funds thin as spider legs? You’ve had the same five suits since I’ve known you’ve and—”

He took his eyes from the book cover this time. “Who said any of that?” he
rasped, gaze as hard as U.J.’s usually is.

Mouth dry, I stiffened. Angering him wasn’t a good first step towards any kind of wringing. I never saw Anthony upset
and, frankly, it was rather chilling. I thumbed the counter behind me and swung my eyes left.

He grew more defensive. “You don’t believe me, baby doll? Don’t think I can win? Heck, that’s a blow to the ego; own girl doesn’t think I got a shot to
win. You know something, I—”

“Never said that,” I excused, stepping backward as he neared, not quite gathering the depth of his power before. He sounded so raw and wired.

His voice only got nastier: “Well, what the hell are you sayin’, Rhea? I didn’t bring you here to belittle me. I thought you were different. Didn’t think you were so childish and material. That you were gonna be so stereotypical of someone your—”

“Stop it, Anny! I’m not trying to be any of those things! Some friend I made at the fundraiser last night seemed to think you’re more precarious than you let on. That’s all. Damn it, I’m trying to help you is all! She simply stated that—”

“This friend, how much does she know?” he interrogated. “What’d you say to her? You played your part, right, agree with her? Goddamn it! How credible is she anyway? Only a pipsqueak.”

“Why don’t you ask former Speaker Moss?!”
I countered. “It’s his daughter, his
real
one.” Fingers squirming nervously, I took in a large breath, holding it until he backed off.

As I leant against the backsplash in anticipation, Anthony threw his hands beside his head and growled, “Get lost, Rhea.
Can’t deal with you right now. Trouble, I knew this’d be.”

Nowhere else to go but the obvious, knowing Ellie probably had more exciting things to deal with, I circled the
hotel five or six times to build up the courage to shadow her doorstep.

When I finally shamefully knocked on her door, she took her time in answering and, when she did, she looked like she was suffering from a mild allergic reaction: cheeks burgundy, eyes puffy, nose runny, and speech nasally.

“Whoa, averse to that shrimp, huh?” I greeted.

Ellie Anne laughed, blew her nose, and had me in at once. “Gosh, I hate being alone!” she bellowed with an echo and contrasting emotion. “Don’t you? I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? Your dad’s probably as busy as mine now.”

I nodded solemnly, following her to the den. She moved as gracefully as a ballerina, offering me a glass of punch and spot next to her on the sofa. I gratefully accepted her hospitality.

“So what’s wrong, Dahlia?” she besought sweetly.

I bit my lip, shaking the ice in my cup. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

“I’m an expert!” she returned too enthusiastically, the color in her face gradually returning to normalcy. Her left arm rested an inch behind me as she contorted her legs like a pretzel.

She had the sheep out again, the smallest pressed against the front of her bright pink tank top. Their loveless eyes creeped me out a bit; they weren’t so cuddly-looking, but she treated them as if they were. Again, I wanted to ask, but I knew it’d deter her.

“So, tell me, Dahlia, who is it, hmmm? Mum, Dad, boyfriend, girlfriend? They’re all so ordinary sometimes, aren’t they?
So frustrating and formidable.”