Can't Get Enough (4 page)

ON WEDNESDAY, BARBARA returned home from the coun-try club as usual and tossed her sports bag on the bed. Thank goodness Jolene had not showed her face again. Jolene’s showing up at the club on Monday had practically ruined Barbara’s entire day. This morning, Barbara felt refreshed and ready to get out and sell some real estate.

She sat in an armchair near the bedroom fireplace and bent down to untie her tennis shoes as she pushed that unpleasant encounter with Jolene to the back of her mind. The woman was an insane, greedy, immoral social climber. That’s all she was. Barbara had run across more than her share of that kind of woman in dealing with Bradford’s mistresses, and she had become a pro at shoving all thoughts of them aside.

She noticed that the bed still had not been made up even though she had called the agency and gotten a new temporary cleaning woman after that sordid incident with Ayisha. Were any of them capable of doing anything right? Thank goodness Phyllis would return that afternoon.

Barbara pulled the top to her workout clothes over her head as she entered her walk-in closet and strolled down the suit section. She picked out a midnight blue, chalk-stripe pantsuit and a wine-colored jacquard suit and held them up at arm’s length. The pantsuit was classic Armani, sophisticated but understated. The jacquard by Albert Nipon was more feminine. Neither was what she really wanted, she thought as her eyes roamed the closet. She had a closing that afternoon, and then she and Noah were meeting with a client for dinner that evening. She wanted to feel young, fresh, hip.

How ridiculous, she thought, as she rifled through one cedar hanger after another. She had a closet that was bigger than the average person’s bedroom and it was full of designer clothes, yet she couldn’t find anything suitable to wear to the office. She supposed the size of one’s closet had little to do with that, since she could distinctly remember having this very same problem before Bradford had started making millions, back when she could count the number of suits she owned on one hand.

She finally settled on the Armani, and after a quick shower she applied her makeup, then selected the Mikimoto pearl earrings from her jewelry box and skipped down the stairs. That was when she noticed the scent of tobacco coming from Bradford’s study.

Her pumps clacked on the marble floor as she crossed the foyer and entered the wood-paneled library. Bradford was sitting at his mahogany desk puffing on a cigar and reading several newspapers all at once—the
Wall Street Journal
, the
Washington Post
, the
New York
Times
, and one or two others.

“Working at home today?” she asked as she inserted her earrings.

“Just for a while,” he said without looking up from his newspapers. “I have a meeting with a client late this afternoon.”

“And I have that closing today,” she said. “Then I’m having dinner with Noah and another client. So I’ll be late getting home.”

He glanced up, and she knew what he was about to ask before he opened his mouth. “Phyllis will be here by noon,” she said. “I left instructions for her to get your dinner before she goes home for the day.”

“That sounds fine.” He went back to his papers.

“Bradford, did you hear what I just said? I’m closing on a house today. I may not run a multimillion-dollar technology firm, but this
is
my first sale and it’s important to me. The least you could do is pretend to show some interest.”

Bradford looked up again. “Sorry, Barb. It’s just that I have a long day and I was trying to get through the financial pages.” He put his cigar in the ashtray then stood, walked around his desk, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Congratulations. Sounds like you done good.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling with pride.

“Is the house nearby?”

Barbara shook her head. “No, it’s a town house on the southern side of Silver Lake, over there near where Pearl lives.”

Bradford sat down, leaned back in his black leather chair, and puffed on his cigar. “Who’s the buyer?”

“A young black woman named Sharon. She’s single, in her late thirties. She’s an up-and-coming lawyer but she couldn’t afford to move to this side of Silver Lake. At least not yet.”

Bradford nodded. “What was the sale price?”

“Two-sixty.”

Bradford made a clucking sound. “Is that all those town houses are going for? I don’t see why you bother with a two-bit deal like that, Barb. Your commission will be what? Around fifteen thousand?”

She shrugged. “Less since I have to split it with the buyer’s agent.”

He shook his head. “You should be going after clients like the Wrights. They were in the market for something just over a million, weren’t they? Did you ever clean up that mess with them?”

Barbara winced. She thought about telling him that Bernice Wright was the client she was having dinner with that evening, but Bradford blamed her for a recent real estate fiasco with the Wrights and she was reluctant.

Bernard Wright was one of Bradford’s business subcontractors, and Bradford had introduced her to the Wrights when he learned that they were hunting for a new house. Barbara preferred clients who had not been referred by her husband, because she wanted to make it as a Realtor on her own. But the real estate business was tough, and she could only afford to work part-time with all the committees and boards she sat on. So she had learned to swallow her pride every once in a while and take any help she could get.

After weeks of house hunting with Bernice Wright, the couple had finally settled on a gorgeous contemporary-style $1.2-million-dollar house just up the block. They were three days away from closing when Bernice Wright called Barbara late on a Sunday night to say that the deal was off. Barbara was half asleep when she picked up the phone and heard Bernice screaming that she and Bernard were getting a divorce and wouldn’t need a new house.

Barbara was appalled. She tried to get Bernice to calm down and not act so rashly. Couldn’t she move into the house alone with alimony? Or could they live in separate wings? It was a big house and it was going to be difficult to back out when they were this far along. But Bernice had just caught Bernard in bed with his secretary a few hours earlier, and she had kicked him out. She wanted nothing to do with him.

A few weeks later, Barbara heard that the Wrights were back together. Then she heard that they were separated again.

Barbara put her hands on Bradford’s desk and leaned forward. “Honestly, Bradford. There wasn’t anything I could do about that.”

“Not about them separating, but it seems to me that . . .” His voice trailed off as he puffed on his cigar.

“That what?”

“Forget it,” Bradford said with a wave of his hand. “It’s not important. I’ll see you when you get back this evening.” He flipped a page of the
Wall Street Journal
.

“Dammit, Bradford.” She banged on his desk. “Those silly papers can wait. Look at
me
.” She snatched one of the newspapers and threw it on the floor.

He stood up so quickly that his leather chair smashed into the wall behind him. He glared at her. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“Then how would you suggest I get you to pay attention to me?”

“Not like that,” he blurted as he picked up his newspaper.

“I can’t control it if my clients decide to get a divorce and they change their minds about buying a house together.”

“No, you can’t,” Bradford said tersely as he sat down and put his newspaper back together. “But you could persuade one of them to start looking for something on their own. If they’re getting a divorce, someone has to move out.”

“Oh, please, Bradford. Don’t you think I’m trying that?”

“Maybe you need to try harder. I can only judge by the results.”

She couldn’t take his condescending attitude a minute more. “Well, for your information, Bernice is the client I’m having dinner with tonight.”

Bradford cocked his head to the side in question.

“They’ve separated again,” Barbara continued. “She’s looking for something for herself, but she wants to be in Northern Virginia to get away from Bernard. I’m not licensed in Virginia, but Noah is, and he’s going to show her around. If she finds something, we’ll split the commission. I’m going to introduce them to each other tonight.”

“Excellent. Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

She shrugged. “Bernice just called me last night. And you gave me such a hard time when the deal fell through before. I was going to wait until I was sure I could work something out.”

“I don’t mean to be hard on you, Barb, you know that.”

“Hmm,” she said doubtfully.

“And who is Noah? You two share an office or something?”

She shook her head. “I share an office with Marilyn. But since Noah and I are both part-time, we look out for each other. He teaches elementary school during the day.”

Bradford nodded with understanding. “Well, good luck with Bernice.”

“Thank you.”

“Now do you mind if I get back to my papers? I have to make a phone call in about thirty minutes and . . .”

Barbara smiled thinly and waved her hand. “Yes, Bradford, go back to your papers. Oh, there is one other thing. Don’t forget the party at our new mystery neighbor’s house this Saturday night.”

“How could I? You’ve been reminding me every day since we got the invitation.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t make other plans. I’m really excited about it.”

Bradford nodded. “You and everyone else around here.”

Barbara closed the door softly behind her and paused. Somehow, much of the excitement she had felt just moments ago about closing on the house and meeting with Bernice had all but vanished. It was tough getting Bradford to pay attention to her, and when he did he was so patronizing.

He had an uncanny knack for deflating any moment of joy or pride for her unless he had contributed to it, as when he lavished gifts on her. No doubt, if she closed the deal with Bernice, Bradford would be genuinely happy for her because he could claim she owed it to him in some small way. But the deal with Sharon had been all her own doing, and he had barely reacted to the news.

That was why working with Noah was so refreshing. He never belittled her accomplishments. When she got the news that Sharon had been approved for the mortgage loan, Noah seemed more excited than she was. In contrast, her husband had forgotten all about the deal even though she had been talking about it for weeks. Barbara shook her head. Bradford was one in a million.

She looked down at her chalk-stripe suit. She hated this thing. It looked like something Bradford would have picked out for her. Dark and dull. She needed something fresh and bold, splashy even.

She skipped up the staircase and strolled briskly down the hallway toward her eldest daughter Robin’s bedroom. The house was so quiet these days, in contrast to when she had two teenage daughters living here, she thought as her Burberry tweed pumps glided along the oriental runner. Robin had moved into a condo a few weeks earlier, after finishing graduate school and landing a new job as a policy analyst, and her youngest daughter, Rebecca, had gotten married almost two years ago. This big house with no children around sometimes made Barbara feel lonely, and it was going to take some time getting used to it.

At least Robin had left some of her things behind until she could find the time to get back with a moving van. Barbara searched through dresser drawers until she found a silk Hermès scarf filled with soft shades of pink, coral, and blue. She pulled the scarf out and looked in Robin’s full-length mirror as she draped it around her suit jacket.

She smiled. It was just the accessory to liven up her look for her dinner meeting with Bernice and Noah.

PEARL GLANCED AROUND at all the solemn faces at the dinner table. These meals with Patrick and his daughters were always either quiet or boisterous, depending on whether the girls got into one of their frequent arguments. Juliette sat on her side of the table looking glum as she picked at her mashed potatoes and gravy. And Lee, seated on the other side, was shoving her pot roast down so fast that Pearl was afraid she would choke.

“Not hungry, baby?” Pearl asked Juliette.

Juliette twisted her lips. “The stuff you fix is always so fattening,” she said, her nose wrinkled with disgust as she picked at her food. “It’s full of carbohydrates. My mother said all they do is put pounds on your hips. I don’t want to get big as a pig and not even be able to get into my designer jeans.” She gave Pearl a sly, pointed look.

Pearl glanced away and kept her mouth shut. If she said what she was thinking to the smart-mouthed little tart, Patrick would probably throw her out of his house. The child was getting more like her materialistic, trash-talking mama every day.

Pearl glanced across the table at Patrick. He smiled reassuringly at her, then turned to Juliette. “I don’t think you have to worry about gaining too much weight, sweetheart. Pearl went to a lot of trouble to fix this meal. Try to eat some of it.”

“I didn’t put any fat in the greens,” Pearl said. “I haven’t cooked with fat in years. The greens just have a little olive oil and chicken bouillon cubes in them.”

“The greens are delicious,” Patrick said. “Try some.”

Juliette frowned. “I’ve had greens before,” she said, pouting as she shoved her food around on her plate.

“Well, have them again,” Patrick said firmly.

Juliette put a tiny forkful of greens into her mouth.

“Aren’t they good?” Patrick said.

Juliette rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“You don’t have to eat all of your food,” Patrick said. “Try to eat at least half.”

Pearl picked up her glass and tapped her foot. Patrick should insist that Juliette eat every morsel of food on her plate. Look at the child. She was no bigger than a bean pole. Shoot, he needed to make her eat seconds. So what if she had to buy her designer jeans in a junior size 5 instead of a 3.

Pearl turned her attention to Lee. “And what’s the rush with you?”

Lee paused, put her fork on her plate, and licked her fingers. “Phillip is coming over. We’re going to check out a movie.”

“It’s Wednesday night,” Patrick said. “Don’t you have homework?”

“I already finished it.”

“Well, who is this Phillip?” Patrick asked.

“A dude in my class. A friend.”

“As in
boy
friend?” Juliette stared at Lee from across the table with obvious surprise. “Don’t tell me
you
have a boyfriend.”

“I won’t tell you,” Lee said curtly. “ ’Cause it ain’t none of your damn business, no how.”

“Watch that mouth, Lee,” Patrick said.

“He’s probably her pimp from the hood,” Juliette said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lee jumped up out of her seat and jabbed her finger at Juliette. “Why don’t you just shut your fat mouth, bitch? ’Fore I shut it up for you.”

Juliette cut her eyes at Lee. “Maybe if you kept
your
mouth shut, people wouldn’t know how dumb you are.”

“Girls,” Patrick said, holding up a hand.

“At least I don’t sound like some lame-ass white bitch,” Lee retorted, interrupting her father.

Pearl blinked. She couldn’t believe these two girls. Patrick was a dear man, but he didn’t have a clue when it came to raising his daughters. He was much too lenient with both of them as far as Pearl was concerned. Maybe it was out of guilt for leaving Juliette’s mom and for not being around during Lee’s early years.

Whatever the reason, Pearl wished he would crack the whip more often. If her son had talked like this around her when he was a teenager, she would have served him his head on a plate and he knew it. She wanted to step in and give both of them a firm talking-to, but she didn’t feel it was her place with Patrick sitting right there at the table.

“Whoa,” Patrick said, holding up his arms. “That’s enough, both of you. We don’t curse like that in this house, Lee. You know that.”

“She started it,” Lee protested, folding her arms defiantly. “People always messin’ with me.”

“What do you expect,” Juliette said. “Look at you. Look at your hair. Cornrows are so ghetto.”

“My hair looks better than that rag sitting on top your head.”

Juliette tossed her hair off her shoulders. “I wear my hair long like this, ’cause my mother says we have European ancestors not that far back. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

Lee fake-coughed. “Please, girl. You got that rag at the salon, and a cheap one at that.”

“At least I don’t walk around wearing funky sneakers and those baggy jeans. I have taste and . . .”

Lee lunged at Juliette from across the table and knocked her glass of water over. Patrick jumped up and held Lee back. “Sit down,” he said firmly as he picked up Lee’s glass. “You’re acting like this is the Jerry Springer show.”

Lee sat down and stubbornly turned to face away from Juliette.

“Now, I don’t care who started it,” Patrick said. “I want you both to stop.”

Juliette shot Lee a vile look and turned her body away from the table. Pearl thought it was way past time for the belt to come out. They could both use a good licking, and she didn’t care how old they were. But she kept silent.

“Can I be excused?” Lee asked bitterly.

Patrick nodded, and Lee stood up and stormed off.

“May I be excused, too?” Juliette asked. “I promised Monica I would text her when I was done eating.”

Patrick frowned. “You promised her you would do
what
?”

“Text her. Send her a message on her cell.”

“No,” Patrick said firmly. “You haven’t finished eating.”

Juliette reluctantly turned to face the table. “I can’t believe you let Lee go like that,” she complained as she took a bite.

“She finished most of her food,” Patrick said, beginning to sound weary from all of this. “Unlike you.”

“But I don’t like this stuff.”

Patrick sighed, “You can go after you eat your greens.” He turned to Pearl. “Excuse me. I’m going up to talk to Lee, try to calm her down.”

Pearl nodded as he stood and walked to the stairs. Juliette shoved her greens down her throat, jumped up, and pushed her chair back.

“Put your plate in the sink,” Pearl said as she stood and gathered her own plate and Patrick’s. “And take Lee’s, too.”

“Excuse me?” Juliette said, jerking her head back with indignation. She put one hand on her hip. “No way.” She wagged a finger in Pearl’s face. “I’m not cleaning up that girl’s mess.”

Pearl glared at her. She couldn’t take any more of this insolent behavior. “I don’t remember asking you to comment, young lady. Just do as you were told, and do it now.”

Juliette stared as if she couldn’t believe that Pearl was talking to her like that. She turned to look for her daddy, but he was gone. She looked back at Pearl, who by now had a vicious scowl on her face. Juliette blinked, picked up both plates, and dragged her feet into the kitchen.

The doorbell rang, and Juliette placed her dishes on the sink and ran out of the kitchen. It was funny how ringing doorbells and telephones seemed to light a blaze under a teenage girl’s rear end, Pearl thought.

By the time Pearl entered the small foyer, Juliette had opened the door for a handsome young man with a mocha complexion who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old. He was fairly tall, with curly brown hair in a short Afro and was dressed in baggy blue jeans, a letterman jacket, and a new pair of K-Swiss tennis shoes.

At least the jeans weren’t hanging off his butt, and he wasn’t wearing a do-rag on his head, Pearl thought. He looked like the kind of boy a mother would want her daughter to bring home—a little hip-hop but not too.

Juliette obviously agreed, given the way she was hanging all over the poor guy. Pearl thought this must be Phillip, Lee’s date for the evening, but judging from the way Juliette was touching his arm as she whispered into his ear, Pearl considered she might be wrong about that.

Or maybe not. Lee suddenly flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and raced across the foyer. She nearly knocked Juliette over as she planted herself firmly between Juliette and the young man.

“You can go now,” Lee said, fixing Juliette with a hard glare.

Juliette flipped her weave, batted her eyelashes coyly, and stepped away. “I was only trying to be nice to your date while he waited for you. Don’t you have to get dressed?”

“I
am
dressed,” Lee responded curtly.

“Oh,” Juliette said, looking at Lee’s baggy jeans and tennis shoes with disapproval. “You’re wearing
that
?”

Lee cut her eyes at Juliette and shoved her hands into her pockets. Pearl noticed that Lee had changed but only into a fresh pair of jeans.

Phillip gave Lee a sideways glance. He was obviously uncomfortable being wedged between the two warriors, and Pearl felt sorry for the guy. What an introduction to the household, she thought.

Pearl extended her hand and smiled in an attempt to break the ice. “Hi. I’m Pearl, a friend of Lee’s father. You must be Phillip.”

He smiled and nodded as he shook Pearl’s hand.

“Lee obviously has good taste,” Pearl said, winking at Lee. “You seem like a very pleasant young man.”

Lee glanced down, looking so embarrassed that Pearl thought she would melt into the floor. “Well, he is, girl,” Pearl said. “No harm in saying it.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Phillip said.

“Got manners, too,” Pearl said, smiling. “I like that.” She nudged Lee playfully, and Lee smiled reluctantly.

As Patrick came down the stairs and greeted Phillip with a hearty handshake, Pearl noticed that Juliette was still lurking at the bottom of the stairs.

“So what movie are you going to see?” Patrick asked.

Phillip shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced at Lee. “I don’t know. What would you like to see?”

Juliette moved closer. “If you like comedies, I heard that . . .”

“Later, y’all,” Lee said as she steered Phillip toward the door. Pearl didn’t blame Lee. She would have gotten her man out of there quickly, too. The way Juliette was carrying on, in no time she would have been inviting herself on the date. Pearl supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at Juliette’s behavior. Her mama was the biggest flirt in Silver Lake.

“I want you to help me with the dishes,” Pearl said to Juliette as soon as Lee had taken off with her date.

“Not now. I gotta go text Monica.”

“She can wait a few minutes,” Pearl said.

“No,
you
can wait,” Juliette said smartly.

Pearl was so stunned to hear a child speaking to her like that, she lost her voice for a second.

“Don’t be so rude,” Patrick said. “Apologize.”

“But Monica’s my best friend,” Juliette protested. “And Lee didn’t have to wash the dishes.”

“Apologize,” Patrick said firmly.

“Sorry.” Juliette muttered the word so softly that Pearl could barely hear her. Pearl expected Patrick to tell the girl to speak up, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand and Juliette flew up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you let her go,” Pearl said. “I wanted her to help me with the dishes.”

“I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“That’s not the point, Patrick. That’s what’s wrong with her. You and her mama let her get away with murder.”

“She’s been dying to call Monica or text her or whatever all evening.”

“Pfft. I don’t care if she’s been dying to call Monica all her life. She can’t talk to me like that when I ask her to do something.”

“She gets that from her mother. They both like to have their way.”

Pearl shook her head. “That’s no excuse,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen.

“I know, Pearl, and I’ll talk to her later. But I don’t want to get into a big argument with her now. I rented a video and I want us to enjoy a nice quiet evening together.”

He danced around her to try and cheer her up as he followed her into the kitchen. He looked so cute dancing like that, Pearl thought, and she was tempted to smile. Sometimes when she looked at him, she felt so lucky that a kind, attractive man like Patrick was interested in her. But she was still upset that he had let his daughter get away with being disrespectful to her. She tightened her lips.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, doing a little Latin step. “We can make some margaritas, pop some popcorn, and go downstairs and watch the movie on the big-screen TV.”

She began stacking dishes in the sink, and when she still didn’t smile, he stopped dancing and stood close to her. “Well, say
something
.”

Pearl could feel herself calming down as she picked up the dishrag and a handful of utensils. Watching a video and cuddling with Patrick certainly sounded a lot more appealing to her than steaming about that ornery child. She smiled a little. “Hmm. If you put it like that, how can I resist?”