Once Upon a Project (19 page)

Chapter 31

 

P
at, still in her bathing suit, plopped on the bed. She never believed she'd be staying at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, just steps away from the three-block shopping district of Rodeo Drive. This was a big thing for a girl from the Theodore Dreiser Projects. How considerate of Andy to choose a hotel where she could have something to do without venturing too far while he went to the office. She'd hate to know how much it was costing him.

She quickly remembered that this wasn't a personal expense for him, other than the cost of her airplane ticket and her meals. His firm was picking up the cost of this trip.

Her first look at the hotel came as somewhat of a disappointment. The lobby, although elegant with tiled floors and white marble, was awfully small. It looked so spacious in movies like
Pretty Woman.
But their room was lovely, all tan and olive green, with overstuffed chairs everywhere and plenty of light, overlooking the Mediterranean-style pool. She'd gone down for a dip and was pleased when a waiter offered her bottled water and a smoothie served in a shot glass.

“I hope that swimsuit is dry,” Andy commented now.

“Just about.” Pat quickly changed her mind. “I guess I ought to take it off.” With deliberately slow movements, she crisscrossed her arms to the opposite shoulders and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then peeled off the one-piece suit. Damn it, she hated the way her breasts rolled off to the sides when she lay down, but from the gleam in his eye, it was clear he didn't mind.

She raised her hips and, sucking in her stomach, pulled the suit over her hips then tossed it carelessly on the tan carpet. Completely naked, she stretched tantalizingly on the bed. She knew Andy enjoyed looking at her, and why not? She didn't look bad for a woman almost fifty years old. Her boobs might be lacking horizontal gravity, but at least when she sat up they did, too, even if not quite as high as they used to. Her butt had no vertical challenges, either. But her thighs were starting to get a little soft, and even when she held in her stomach she looked thick around the middle. She'd have to start walking Saturday mornings with Grace. And maybe she could do a few bends to tighten up her abs.

“What kind of vacation plans do you have for this year?” he asked.

“My friend Grace and I, plus two other women, are going to cruise the Mediterranean this summer. I've been looking forward to it for a long time.”

“The Riviera, huh? Sounds almost too romantic a trip to take with a couple of girlfriends.”

“Probably, but it was a part of the world we all wanted to see.” Pat shrugged. “If you'd come back to Chicago last year, you and I might have planned to go together.”

“It shouldn't be too late to plan something together, something a little lengthier than a weekend in Galena. Maybe five days in Cancun or Jamaica.”

She looked at him curiously. She'd thought he was just making conversation, but he really sounded like he wanted to go away with her.

“Something wrong?”

“Uh . . . no. I'm just a little surprised. It's only May. Do you suppose it's safe to plan anything for two or three months out?”

“Why not? You plan on dumping me?”

She didn't know what to say. Most of the affairs she embarked on petered out after a month or two. It had been years since she'd spent more time than that in a relationship. It wasn't unusual to meet families when you'd been seeing someone for six months or more.

God forbid.

“Pat? Your silence seems ominous. Do you know something I don't?”

She made a quick recovery. “No, of course not. I just find it rather flattering that you'd like to take a trip with me.” At least that was the truth.

But she couldn't help thinking how her parents would react if they knew she was dating a white man.

Andy sat beside her and ran a hand over her body. “No man in his right mind would turn down a trip with you.” His gaze lingered on her from her breasts to her thighs. “In the meantime, you're naked.”

She grinned. “I thought you'd never notice.”

“We have to do something about that.”

“Give me a chance to rinse off this chlorine.”

Andy was already taking off his shirt. “Do it later. Chlorine turns me on.”

“
Everything
turns you on,” she said playfully.

“If it's anything about you, consider me guilty.”

 

 

Andy went in to his office Friday morning. Pat wandered down Rodeo Drive, browsing in the store windows, knowing she could never afford the clothing on display. She felt a little silly putting on capri pants and a knit sweater, plus heeled sandals, to go shopping, but she could hardly wear jeans and gym shoes. The only ones who could get away with that were celebrities.

 

 

Andy returned at six-thirty. “I'm sorry it took me so long,” he said.

“The Friday before Memorial Day—I just knew you'd be back early.”

“I thought so, too. It took longer than I expected. But I'm all yours for the rest of the weekend. What'd you do all day?”

“I went shopping on Rodeo, and then I took the trolley tour of Beverly Hills, and then I came back for lunch, read out by the pool, and took a nap.”

He took her in his arms. “You are one easygoing woman. No wonder I'm crazy about you.”

She kissed him. “And don't you forget what a prize you have in me.”

“No, seriously. My daughters can learn a lot from you. I'm afraid their mother is raising them to be on the high-maintenance side.”

She couldn't bring herself to make a response. Was he saying what she
thought
he was saying?

His next words confirmed it. “You'll have to meet my kids one of these days.”

She instantly relaxed. “One of these days” didn't exactly have an air of immediacy to it. Her curiosity got the better of her. “Do they know about me?”

“They know I'm seeing someone, yes. But I'm not in the habit of sharing details of my social life with my kids, but they asked me, and I saw no reason to lie.” He shrugged, looking a bit like a bashful little boy. “Apparently they think I've been pretty cheery these days.”

“As opposed to what, an ogre?”

Andy laughed. “I wouldn't say
that.
I'm an easygoing guy. But I moved back here in February, in the dead of winter. I did a lot of muttering about the windchills, about all the damn snow we had this year. I'm not complaining anymore.”

“Andy. Do they know I'm black?”

“They don't even know that you used to be blonde,” he joked, patting her recently restored dark hair.

“Seriously.”

“No, they don't know. I saw no reason to mention it.”

“Oh, you didn't? Andy, the world isn't color-blind, and neither are your daughters.”

“I know that. I just don't happen to believe it'll be a big deal.” He looked at her curiously. “You don't seem convinced.”

“Sometimes people can fool you. I know that from my own experience.”

“I'd love to hear about it.”

She took a deep breath. Maybe she should just tell him now and get it over with. If she got it off her chest maybe she wouldn't feel so antsy any time the subject of family came up. “There was this boy I grew up with. His family lived down the hall from us. We played together when we were kids, but by the time we got to high school something changed.”

“Sounds very sweet.”

She spoke quietly. “I hope you're not being facetious, Andy.”

“No, not at all. That whole high school sweetheart thing, I think it's sweet. Hell, my girlfriend from high school broke up with me the minute she got to Ohio State and took up with their star quarterback.”

Pat laughed. Andy could be so funny sometimes. “Well, ours was different. My father broke it up when we were in our first year of college. He didn't like me dating Ricky because he was Latino.”

Andy nodded. “Mexican? So your father doesn't like Latinos. How does he feel about German-Americans?”

“He doesn't like them, either.”

Andy searched her face, his expression changing when he realized she wasn't kidding. “You're serious.”

“Yes. My father grew up in a little town in Arkansas and had a little brother, Jacob. Jacob was . . . He was killed one night when the town slut, a white girl, identified him as the father of her baby. A group of punks lynched him.”

“When did this happen?”

“The same year as the Brown ruling.”

He nodded. “That was 1954. You and I weren't even born yet.”

“Yes. Anyway, my uncle's body was found the next morning, hanging from a tree. He'd been beaten to a pulp before he was hanged. He was seventeen years old. My parents got married right after that and moved up here.”

“Have they ever been back?”

“Never. My father swore he'd never set foot in Arkansas again. He did, of course, when my grandparents passed away.”

“I think I might already know the answer to this, but what happened to the people who murdered your uncle?”

“They weren't even charged.”

“Damn.” Andy was silent for a moment. “Pat, I think that stinks, but it happened over fifty years ago. Does your father still subscribe to the all-white-people-are-devils theory after all this time? Hell, even Malcolm X softened his stance before he was killed.”

He must have seen Spike Lee's movie,
she thought. “I wouldn't say my father is
that
extreme. But he still doesn't like the idea of interracial dating. In a way I can't blame him. The mere implication of it cost his brother his life. And to this day no one knows who that girl's baby's daddy really was.”

Andy's eyes glinted. “Listening to this, I can understand why your father feels the way he does. But in your first year of college . . . You must have been at least eighteen. That's legally an adult. I'm curious, why didn't you stand up to him?”

Tears pooled in her lower lids. “Because my younger brother had just been killed. He was the one we all had such high hopes for. He was going to be a scientist. We expected him to win the Nobel for chemistry.”

Andy nodded. “The one who got hit by a stray bullet in a gang hit.”

“Yes. Melvin was only sixteen. My parents were devastated. By then Clarence had already started his drug habit, and I knew they looked to me as the only one with potential to make it out of the ghetto. They said they couldn't bear it if I married my boyfriend. That I'd only end up dropping out of school because he couldn't afford to support me, and that would mean that none of their children made it in life. They were heartbroken over my brothers. I knew I could have stood up to them, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was afraid they'd never recover if I did. Of course, that was foolish.”

“That's a heavy load to bear, the weight of your parents' expectations, but I do believe they would have gotten over it. The way I see it they would have had no choice.”

She nodded. “After a few years it occurred to me that I'd made a terrible mistake. People learn to adapt. I believe my parents would have not only accepted my boyfriend, but loved him as well. It's not like he was a stranger to them to begin with; they'd known him most of his life.” The daydreams she used to entertain regularly flashed before her: her father, who'd worked as a short-order cook, among other things, to support his family, sitting at the table with Ricky going over plans for the first restaurant Ricky opened, while her mother played with her first grandchild. “But I still didn't have the backbone to go after him and tell him,” she said sadly. “Eventually he married someone else.”

“His loss is my gain.”

She smiled. “You really are sweet, Andy.”

“So you're saying your father wouldn't approve of me, and your mother, neither.”

“I'm afraid not.”

He held her gaze. “And how do you feel about going against them now? You're not eighteen anymore.”

“It would bother me to know I'd made them unhappy, sure, but I can't let them dictate to me any longer, Andy. It was a mistake to do it the first time.”

“I guess I can't ask you for more than that.”

Pat smacked her palms together, as if she could change the mood instantly. “So much for the story of my love life. Let's move on to something less boring.”

“I didn't find it at all boring, Pat. I'm truly interested in the story of your life. Plus, I'm a little jealous.”

“No need for that. It all ended a long, long time ago.”

Chapter 32

 

E
lyse found it difficult to stop looking at Kevin, even more at this lunch today than she had the last time. He looked so handsome, with his thick, arched brows; neat mustache and goatee; and smooth, dark skin. Handsome . . . and healthy.

She immediately felt a stab of guilt. Franklin couldn't help what had happened to him. It was her damn hormones acting overtime. She and Franklin hadn't made love in weeks, in the time between his surgical recovery and beginning his treatment regimen, which had rendered him impotent. They'd always had a healthy sex life, making love right up until she went into labor with both Todd and Brontë, despite her obstetrician's instructions not to after her seventh month. She needed to get hold of herself and be more dignified and concentrate on the menu before her . . . and remember that Kevin
wasn't
one of the selections.

“It was so good of you to suggest lunch again, Kevin,” she said pleasantly.

“I didn't intend for last month to be a one-time thing. You're having a difficult time. I'd like to help if I can. I know you're about to get real busy, taking care of Franklin and with your parents visiting and all.” Kevin had never met Franklin, of course, but he knew his name from their conversations.

“Yes. I'm sure my parents are going to be a huge help, and that Franklin will enjoy having them around.”

“How is he, anyway?”

“Getting stronger every day,” she said happily. “He's planning to go back to work after the Fourth, when his treatments are completed.”

The news from the doctor hadn't been as good as she'd hoped, but nor was it as bad as it could have been. She wanted to hear that no traces of cancer remained after the removal of the tumor. The actual word was that the cancer had spread to blood vessels and lymph nodes, but not to other organs. Stage III, they called it. Dr. LeBlond, the oncologist Dr. Obi had referred Franklin to, told him he'd probably feel reasonably well for a while yet and urged him to try to live as normally as possible, although he cautioned that he didn't want him returning to work until he gave a green light. Shortly afterward, Franklin began a regimen of chemo and then radiation treatments that Elyse prayed would halt the spread of the disease. He struggled with the side effects, and it pained Elyse to see him so listless and so nauseated. She knew that people receiving chemotherapeutic agents often lost their hair, but she didn't realize the hair loss wasn't limited to their head. Franklin's legs, chest, underarms, and genital area were practically bare. It looked so odd.

Fortunately, the kids were on their summer break, so they were around more. Brontë had a temp assignment that lasted through the end of August; and Todd, who was working at the local hospital pulling and replacing patient files, asked to be put on second shift, which they did. His schedule gave him the flexibility to stay home with Franklin in the mornings, and to drive him to and from his treatments. It worked well for Franklin to accept assistance from one of his sons, more readily than he would have from one of his daughters, or even from Elyse herself. She supposed that if she was ill she would feel the same, preferring Brontë to Todd.

“Hey, that's good news,” Kevin said.

“I'll say it is.” She beamed, forgetting about her raging hormones at the thought of Franklin getting better. They'd just celebrated their twenty-sixth anniversary. Hopefully in another month or so, everything would be back to normal.

Franklin even joked that he was saving a fortune, both in gas—because his Navigator was parked in the garage and hardly being driven, while gas prices soared—and in shampoo, because he had no hair to wash. “And you can bet that I'm going to make every day count,” Franklin had said.

It made Elyse happy to talk about Franklin's recovery, but she knew it would be wrong to show no interest in what was happening with Kevin. “So tell me,” she said, “how're the plans for the Laundromat going?”

He shrugged. “It's creeping along. It's difficult to raise the funds needed to get started.”

“Have you thought about the Small Business Administration? You seem to be offering a service that's needed in the community.”

“Yeah, but it's practically impossible to get anything out of them. My partner and I are trying to raise the money ourselves.”

Elyse found herself regretting bringing up the subject. When Kevin first told her about his plans, she'd gotten the impression that he was about to roll with them. Now he sounded uncertain that he'd be able to pull it off, which told her that he'd merely been trying to appear like he had an agenda rather than just a middle-aged exterminator. Had he done it because he felt he needed to be more than he was? Had he felt intimidated when she told him she was a physical therapist? Now Elyse understood how Grace and Pat felt when chatting with men who had less education than they and held everyday jobs—jobs which no doubt made the world go round, like delivering the mail, driving a truck, or, as in Kevin's case, providing pest control.

Worst of all, Kevin's matter-of-fact statements about being short on capital made her feel conscious of the differences between her financial situation and his. How much could start-up costs be for a consumer laundry, maybe twenty thousand dollars? Writing a check for that amount would hardly bankrupt her . . . and worst of all, Kevin had probably guessed as much. She suddenly felt guilty for being a “have” while he was a “have-not.”

But the last thing she wanted to do was invest in a Laundromat miles away from where she lived. She sought to steer the conversation elsewhere before he got the idea to ask her for financial backing, if he hadn't already.

“Well, I'm sure you'll get to where you need to be eventually,” she said with a smile. “Hmm . . . Those ribs really look good, don't you think?”

She felt a lot safer talking about something other than his difficulty raising money to go into business.

 

 

When the waitress discreetly brought the check Elyse took it. Kevin protested, “You paid the check last time. Let me get it this time.”

She merely winked at him and said, “It's not a problem. If you want to open that business before you're sixty, you've got to watch your spending.”

He walked her to her car. “I'm glad to hear that everything's going so well for you, Elyse, I really am,” he said softly.

Again, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was thinking of his own dismal situation. “I'm sure things will work out for you, too, Kevin.” She gave him her sunniest smile to punctuate her words.

“Thanks for your optimism. Keep in touch, okay?”

“I'll do that. See you later.” She reached out to open the car door, then gasped as he suddenly leaned forward, pinning her against the side of the vehicle. Holding her captive, he kissed her, gently at first, then suddenly thrusting his tongue inside her mouth.

Elyse stretched her back to its limit as she leaned backward, trying to get away from him. Kevin ended the kiss as abruptly as it began, and she merely stared at him, the bewilderment she felt showing on her face.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “That was an impulse. I guess I should have controlled it.”

“I think you should have,” she said sternly. “I have to go now.” She opened the door and slipped behind the wheel. Kevin still stood alongside the car, and she fumbled out of nervousness as she tried to insert the key into the ignition.

She drove off without looking at him, hoping he got the point. Inside, she couldn't wait to get home and wash her mouth.

Not because his kiss repelled her, but because she'd responded to it.