Venus Envy (23 page)

“I figure I know him better than anybody. He does.” Frazier rested her chin in her hand. “Give him a cornucopia of sexual dramas with himself as the star, and I figure if his brains don’t fry or if he doesn’t wear out his part, he’ll be yours forever.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I just this minute figured it out. He has energy but he doesn’t really have imagination. Supply the imagination, especially in bed, and he doesn’t need to sleep with other
women, does he? And as we all know, there is no right or wrong way to make love. So …”

Sarah shook her head. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“I’m not what I expected.”

As they roared with laughter Kimberly Noakes passed by the table.

“Kimberly, how are you?” Frazier called out.

Kimberly blinked. “Oh, fine. I’m so happy you’re well.”

“This is Sarah Saxe.” Frazier introduced the women to each other.

Kimberly eyed Sarah with heightened interest. “Pleased to meet you. Frazier, I’m glad I did run into you because I need to chat with you sometime soon.”

“About the Girl Scout board meeting?”

“Well, yes, and I’ll call you early tomorrow, okay?”

“Kimberly, you look pale. Why don’t I save you the trouble and resign?”

A wave of pure relief washed Kimberly’s sallow features. “I surely didn’t expect you to be so understanding but you can imagine the position we’re in and these are impressionable young girls. It’s so unfortunate and—” She inhaled as Frazier cut her off.

“As far as I know, Kimberly, young women are quite safe from older women as sexual predators. I can’t think of one example where something like that has happened. Sure happens all the time with men though. A high school teacher seduces the best-looking girl in the class.”

“You got that right, girl,” Sarah echoed.

“Now, Frazier, I knew this would upset you. I did, and I’m sorry and I don’t want you to think for one instant that any of us thought that of you. We know you better than that, but think how it would look.”

“I have. That’s why I’m resigning, Kimberly, but I ask
you to think about something. Out there right now there are girls who are in tremendous turmoil. Sexual identity isn’t easy at that age, even when you’re straight. Think of the pain the gay kid endures. Who can she talk to? Her family? You, Kimberly? Her pastor? A friend in school? Don’t you think there are girls in scouting suffering with the issue right now?”

“Well … well, to tell you the truth, I never thought of it.”

“No one ever thinks of it. That’s my point. Maybe if there were gay leaders in scouting or in the schools or the churches, at least those kids wouldn’t have to go through what I went through, and what I’m going through now. They’d have someone to talk to even if it’s only me.”

Kimberly, shaken but listening, spoke: “I am sorry. I really am.”

“So am I. I’m not mad at you though. I’m not mad at anyone and that’s what scares me. I think I’d be better off if I were.”

As Kimberly left, Sarah and Frazier sat for a moment. “Sarah, I get the feeling people would have preferred that I died. It would be better than having to face things. Or maybe saying that they want me dead is too strong. Maybe they just want me to get a pink slip, you know, so I could be excused from life.”

F
RANK BENT OVER MILDRED SAVIANO AS SHE POINTED TO
the right-hand column in the accounting books. Mildred had worked for the company for thirty years. Loyal, efficient, and fond of numbers because they always produced a right answer, she was an unadventure-some soul. But then, Frank thought, perhaps he was also. He arose each morning at seven. Drank his first cup of coffee while he shaved. Joined Libby at the breakfast table at seven-thirty, where discussion centered on the scheduling of the day. He ate half a grapefruit, two pieces of toast, drank one glass of orange juice and then his second cup of coffee.

He usually ate lunch at noon, and in the warm weather he left work at four, if possible, to play golf. Sometimes he thought that he and Mildred were a matched pair, whereas Libby craved excitement and power. His wife’s ceaseless rounds of meetings, charities,
bridge, and dress-up luncheons, her travel brochures tossed on his side of the bed, her lists of chores—all this exhausted him. In her cups she would accuse him of being boring and he couldn’t refute the charges. But he didn’t bore himself. Frank was a man who wished the trains would run on time. Mildred would have been the better choice for a mate, but when one is young one rarely considers compatibility.

Frank had looked at Libby’s full bosom, her long sleek legs, her fine features. The rest, as they say, was history.

His eyes followed Mildred’s finger as she slowly ran down the column.

“It’s these uncollected bills that are killing us,” Mildred strongly identified with the company.

“I know.”

“Frank, we write, I call, nothing happens. Okay, then I call Richardson, Fuqua and Garrick.
They
write. They write again. We’ve either got to press on and sue or turn these accounts over to a collection agency and give them a percentage—I think that’s how those things work.” She stuck her pencil in her hair alongside her ear.

“I hate to do that.” He tapped one line. “Pete Barber. Overbuilt. He’s got a house sitting in Raintree that lists for seven hundred and twenty-five thousand. In fact, he’s got houses sitting all over and he has to service the interest on those loans.”

“That was his decision. I don’t have sympathy for the developers whose eyes were bigger than their bellies.” Mildred pulled the pencil out of her hair and made checks against the names she disliked. “Lionel Jacobs. Went wild putting up office buildings. Why? This isn’t New York. And here, here’s that private asphalt driveway you put in for Fred Vanarman’s house. Well, the driveway is half a mile long. He sat his rear up there in his big chair at Strong and Simon churning everyone’s
portfolio. The market goes bust and he decides you can wait for your money.”

“I know these guys.”

“And they know you. Come on, Frank, you just can’t let people take advantage of you this way. You let go of six employees last month. If these bills had been paid you could have held back half the men. Let’s face it, Pete and Lionel think you won’t fight back. Oh, Frank Armstrong, what a nice guy. It’s not right. You’ve equipment loans, remember?”

He ran his hand through his thick silver hair. “Mildred, you’re good for me.”

“Then why don’t you listen?” came her tart reply.

“I’m listening now. What do you suggest? Our lawyers or a collection agency?”

“Our lawyers. On a per-hour basis they are more expensive but everybody knows everybody. Lionel Jacobs isn’t going to want to be golfing at the club when Ned Fuqua rolls by in a golf cart after Ned’s sent out the papers. Know what I mean? A collection agency is far away, and despite their success ratio, letters from them and subsequent proceedings lack the hometown punch.”

“You should have gone into politics.”

“Thanks, I can’t sink that low.” Mildred swiveled in her chair. A photo of her grandchildren commanded the right-hand corner of her desk.

“Do it your way then.” He sighed. “Any call-backs on the grader ad?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Let’s run it again.”

“Haven’t heard anything back from your meeting with the other contractors?”

“Uh, no, and I thought I had made a good suggestion.”

“You did, but you know what I think about meetings, especially professional meetings. What happens is a big
nothing or, worse, a giant pamphlet is issued on the new rules and regulations for blowing your nose.”

“All right, Mildred, you’re burning to tell me what you think.”

She laughed because he knew her well. “Make some calls yourself. Don’t wait to do it as a group. I bet you some of those other guys are calling. Pickens Oliguy.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“That young flash would—Larry Taylor. Probably burned up the phone wires between here and New Mexico.”

“I’ll call the guys and tell them what I’m doing first.”

“I knew you’d say that. Just do it. It’s easier to apologize than to ask for permission. Why ask? It was your idea!”

“They’re my friends.”

“So are Pete and Lionel and Fred. Frank, get tough.”

“I’ll think about it. About the calls to the West, I mean. You might be right.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That it?”

“That’s it except that the dirt about Frazier is all over town. When it reaches my hairdresser, who is the Ancient of Days, you know the gossip has made a complete cycle. Want me to tear off anyone’s face?”

“What’s wrong with people?” Frank shook his head.

“Petty envy. Frazier is beautiful, bright—always was the brightest little thing—and successful. Finally, she’s proved to be human. They all need to crow a little bit. Makes them feel bigger, or if not bigger, at least not such failures.”

Frank had not brought up the subject to Mildred. They were so close that about many things he rarely needed to speak. Mildred just knew. But he felt compelled to say something now: “Mildred, I’m a man. Men look at these things differently. Now if this were Carter
I’d be furious—my son, for God’s sake. But I don’t mind so much with Frazier.”

Mildred smiled broadly. “Sure, no other man will have her. You’ll always be number one.”

“You think that?” Frank was incredulous.

“Got any other woman in your life that makes you feel good?” Mildred hit the bull’s-eye.

“You.”

“Ha!” Mildred spun around and slapped him in the stomach.

“You do.”

“You know what I mean. Who fills your heart? Your daughter. Always did.”

This disturbed Frank. Could he be so selfish that he was happy his beloved daughter was a lesbian? “I never thought of it that way.”

“You don’t think about a lot of things and that’s why I’m sitting here pulling the hair out of my head over these damn bills. It’s a good thing to keep your nose to the grindstone but every now and then, Frank, take a look around—and a look inside.”

“The only thing that bothers me about Frazier’s choice”—he emphasized
choice
—“is that she’ll never have children.”

“Nor legal protection. I read in the papers about these galimony suits. That could happen to her. She won’t get a break on her income tax or her insurance. Seems to me she made an expensive choice. And what if she lives with someone who won’t work? A lot of women won’t work in Frazier’s social circle. Frazier’s going to pay the bills. I mean she’s got the worst of both worlds, if you ask me.”

“Well, I did ask you.”

“And she’s so beautiful she’ll be besieged by these gold diggers, you mark my words.”

“Isn’t that funny. I fear just the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” Mildred’s eyes widened, for she couldn’t imagine a scenario different from her own.

“I’m afraid she’s going to spend her life alone. She’s a good girl. I want someone to take care of her when I’m not here.”

“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.” Mildred slammed her hand on the table. “No talk about not being here. Anyway, Frank, she’s supported herself since college.”

“I know, but I’m her father. I want her to be loved. I want her to be protected. I want to know I can entrust her to someone special. I don’t know if another woman can do that.”

“Apparently not.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They don’t make as much money as men. How can they take care of one another? And men have their little groups, their cronies. They pass business around to one another. Women don’t. I mean, how can they? So Frazier’s going to carry the ball and that gets wearisome, especially if she winds up with some damned bitch who wants to live at Tiffany’s!”

“Mildred, I didn’t expect you to be so vehement.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

I
’
M NO LONGER THE GOOD GAY GIRL SCOUT.” FRAZIER FINISHED
relating her story to Mandy and Kenny Singer.

“Sucks,” Kenny responded.

Mandy paused before a perfectly shaped black urn from ancient Greece. The Virginia Museum in Richmond owned a good basic collection of art and artifacts, which was continually replenished by revolving shows.

Frazier paused to study it also. “Roberta Saunders has one of the most marvelous collections of both Attic black figure and red figure vases in this country or any other.”

Kenny asked, “Is she as sexy as everyone says?”

“Are you asking me as a woman or are you asking me as a man?” Frazier put her hand on her hip.

“For you, as a lady,” Kenny replied.

“Smoky, smoky sex. Drives men wild. All she has to do is walk into a room.”

“Works for you too,” Mandy complimented Frazier.

“Thanks, but I’m icy-looking. It’s a different hit, I think.” Frazier moved down the corridor. “Mandy, you’re pretty much a hit yourself.”

“Right.” Kenny picked up the theme. “Broad shoulders, narrow waist, uh, ample bosoms, great features, and white, white teeth.”

“All black folks have white teeth.” Mandy laughed. She changed the subject. “Now, Frazier, I didn’t study as much art history as you did. Why do so many of the men on those vases or urns or amphorae—I never do get it right—have erections?”

“Because they’re happy.”

Kenny’s rich tenor purred, “From the looks of it there must have been a lot of happy men in Athens way back in B
.C.
Too bad no one has figured out how to do time tours.”

“What—Courtney isn’t making you happy?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet and I’m out of practice. I’ll probably forget myself and tell the poor girl to bend over.” Mandy and Frazier howled at that. Kenny continued, “Then again, she won’t know until she tries and I’ll certainly attempt more conventional methods.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. The late, unlamented Sean, my ex—I mean he’s not dead, just in my heart—well, he was button-down, tortoise-rimmed glasses, straight through. A real three-speed guy.”

“Is this the one you described as resembling a Ken doll with anatomically correct parts?” Kenny wondered.

“No, that was Frazier describing Taylor Anderson.”

“That wasn’t Taylor Anderson. He may not have been greatly endowed by Nature but he was okay. That was Sam Krueger and that was a long time ago. My, how you remember.”