Can't Get Enough (9 page)

PEARL LOOKED UP from her client’s head and noticed a Rolls-Royce parking in front of her hair salon. She frowned. She had only one client who owned a Rolls-Royce, and she was not expected today. Pearl stared as the driver got out of the Rolls and walked around to the rear passenger door.
None
of her clients had chauffeurs. How odd, Pearl thought.

Then she gasped aloud as Baroness Veronique Valentine alighted from the car.

“Ooh,” gushed Mary from beneath the blow dryer in Pearl’s hand. “Isn’t that the baroness who just moved to Silver Lake?” Mary reached for the eyeglasses dangling from the ends of the strap around her neck and slipped them on. “Yep, that’s her.”

Pearl shut off the dryer and watched as the baroness strolled toward the door of the salon. “So it is,” she said, trying to sound calm as she wiped her hands on her white smock. Then she realized that her hands were already dry. Nerves, she thought wryly, and shook her head. Well, it wasn’t every day that royalty visited her salon.

She supposed everyone in Silver Lake knew about the baroness living in their midst. Then she remembered that Mary didn’t live in Silver Lake or Prince George’s County for that matter. She lived in the next county over. News sure traveled fast.

The chauffeur opened the door to the salon and the baroness stepped in, all smiles. She was wearing a snugly fitting crepe silk dress and matching jacket in a beautiful aquamarine that complemented her coppery complexion and womanly figure. Pearl rushed up and extended her hand. This was so exciting. She had to remind herself not to do something stupid, like curtsy.

“Good afternoon, Baroness, and welcome to my salon.”

“Thank you. You must be Pearl.”

Pearl blinked and nodded excitedly. “Yes I am.”

“I heard that you’re the best around when it comes to hair color.”

Pearl felt her cheeks go hot. She waved an arm, trying to appear nonchalant. “Oh, shoot. I don’t know about that. But thanks anyway. What can I do for you?”

“I’m in desperate need of a touch-up around my roots and a trim. Do you think you can match the color?”

Pearl walked around Veronique slowly. She might gush like a schoolgirl about royalty entering her salon, but when it came to hair she was all business. “It’s a beautiful color. Sort of an almond or honey blond, isn’t it?”

The baroness smiled. “Oui. C’est miel blond.”

Pearl nodded even though she barely understood what the baroness had just said. “I should be able to come very close.”

The baroness smiled warmly. “Wonderful. When can you get to it?”

“You’re in luck. I had a cancellation today. As soon as I’m done with Mary here I can get to yours. Do you mind waiting about fifteen minutes? There’s a nice coffee shop next door and . . .”

“That’s fine. And I’ll wait right here. It will give us a chance to talk.” She settled herself into one of Pearl’s waiting chairs, crossed her legs, and picked up a copy of
Essence
magazine as Pearl went back to Mary.

Pearl smiled as she picked up the hair dryer. The baroness might be royalty now, but Pearl had heard that she was from Atlanta, Georgia, and she was starting to think that despite all the elegance and flair, deep down inside the baroness was still just a good old southern sister at heart.

“By the way,” Pearl said. “This is Mary Rivers. And Mary this is, um . . .” Pearl hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure what I should call you, Baroness.”

“Oh, just call me Veronique.”

“Pearl’s the best,” said Mary. “And I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Veronique nodded. “Were you at my party last week, Mary? Forgive me if you were, but I invited most of Silver Lake and I didn’t get around to meeting everyone there.”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t live in Silver Lake,” she said. “But I heard about it.”

“Mary lives in Montgomery County,” Pearl explained. “That’s right next door to Prince George’s.”

“So your services are popular far and wide, Pearl. Next time I’ll have to extend an invitation to those in Montgomery County. It feels so good to be back in the States after several years living abroad.”

“Do you like living in Europe?” Mary asked.

Veronique nodded. “I love it. But I do miss some things about living here. Like southern cooking. I love to cook but rarely get a chance to these days. Not that I need to with all the help I have.”

“I was just about to say,” Mary said, “why on earth would you be cooking with all the servants you probably have?”

“Pierre and I have a very busy social life, and you’re right. It’s hard to find the time when I don’t have to do it.”

Pearl smiled. “I love to cook, too.”

“I miss it so much at times,” Veronique said. “I make a mean sweet potato pie. My husband loves my pies, but I haven’t made one for him in years.”

Pearl laughed. “Cakes are my specialty. I used to have a catering service before I opened this salon.”

“Pearl makes the best-tasting rum cake this side of the Mississippi River,” Mary said.

“You seem to be very enterprising, Pearl,” Veronique said. “I admire that. I’m glad the Silver Lake Neighborhood Association called and suggested that I add you to my invitation list for the party.”

“That was some party,” Pearl said, as she picked up a bottle of her homemade hair oil and applied a generous portion to Mary’s newly curled and styled locks.

“I met so many wonderful people there,” Veronique said.

“Did you get a chance to talk to the Bentleys?” Pearl asked. “Barbara is very well known in Silver Lake. She’s the one who called the association for me.”

Veronique nodded. “Bradford and I go way back to my days in Atlanta. He also knew my ex-husband.”

“Oh?” Mary said. “They were in business together or friends?”

“Business.”

Pearl was surprised at this news. Barbara had never mentioned anything about this to her. Maybe it was news to Barbara, too. Barbara was a very private person and didn’t talk much about personal matters. But everyone in Silver Lake knew that Bradford had a roving eye and that Barbara had an off-and-on-again drinking problem because of it. She hoped that the relationship between Bradford and Veronique had been all business. The last thing Barbara needed in her life was more bimbo drama.

“What kind of business was that?” Mary asked.

“Software,” Veronique said.

“Bradford Bentley is still in software as far as I know,” Mary said. “Does he have an office down in Atlanta?”

Pearl tugged Mary’s hair gently as she ran the oil through it. The woman was asking too darn many questions. Couldn’t she tell that the baroness seemed a little uneasy? Maybe she didn’t want to talk about her ex, and Pearl didn’t like it when her clients felt uncomfortable, especially not this client.

“Uh, have you been to the country club?” Pearl asked.

“Not yet. But Jolene Brown mentioned it. She’s been very nice to me. She invited me to her house for a luncheon next Sunday.”

Pearl didn’t say a thing. She didn’t think she would ever hear the words “Jolene” and “nice” together in the same sentence.

“I’ve heard about that Jolene Brown,” Mary said. “Didn’t she just win ten million dollars in the lottery?”

“She won the lottery,” Pearl said. “But it was more like five million.”

“I’ve never met her,” Mary said. “But from what I’m told you might want to be careful around her. Especially with your husband.”

Veronique frowned. “Why is that?”

“She can’t be trusted,” Mary said. “I know she had an affair with Bradford Bentley last summer, and it was a mess when Barbara and Jolene’s husband found out about it. That’s why Patrick left her. Isn’t that right, Pearl?”

Pearl cleared her throat. “My mama always said if you got nothing nice to say, don’t say nothing. I think I’ll keep my lips zipped on this.” Pearl smiled slyly. “But you two can carry on.”

Veronique and Mary laughed. “Hmm,” said Veronique. “I admit that there is something about Jolene that doesn’t feel quite right. I’m not sure what it is.”

“People say she’s a sneaky social climber,” Mary said. “A big wannabe.”

Veronique narrowed her eyes in thought. “Now that I think about it, when I mentioned to Jolene that I was coming here to get my hair colored, she got a strange look on her face and said that I could do better. She recommended another salon in Washington, D.C.”

Pearl tightened her lips. How dare Jolene do that. Pearl had never done a single thing to hurt that woman. Not one thing. Why was she always so mean? Pearl had planned to keep her mouth shut but she couldn’t after hearing this.

“She’s nothing but a troublemaker,” Pearl said. “She’s the most conniving woman I’ve ever . . .” Pearl paused and tried to calm herself. “I just stay as far away from her as I can.”

“Probably good advice,” Mary added. “ ’Cause that woman is bad news.”

Veronique nodded. “I hear you. I’m going back to Europe for a short visit the Monday after her luncheon, and Lord knows I’ve got enough on my plate to do to get ready. I haven’t responded to her yet so I’m not obligated. We’ll see.”

Pearl nodded.

“Pearl, if you’re not busy next Saturday, do you think you could stop by and show me how to make that famous rum cake of yours? I’d like to surprise Pierre with it when I go back to Europe.”

“I’d love to show you, but I’ll be here at the salon all day on Saturday. Only days I’m free are Sunday and Monday.”

“Hmm.” The baroness thought for a moment. “How’s Sunday, early afternoon then?”

Pearl nodded. “You’re on. I’ll be there right after church and I’ll bring everything we need to make the cake.”

Veronique shook her head. “I insist that you make out a list and I’ll have one of my guys pick up everything. You should come too, Mary. We’ll have a ball.”

“I’d love to,” Mary said, clasping her hands together.

Pearl smiled. Minute by minute, the baroness was sounding more and more like a homegrown sister.

"MA! PHONE!” JULIETTE yelled from upstairs. Jolene looked up from the dining room table, where she and Darlene Dunn, the party planner she had hired for her luncheon that coming weekend, were poring over menus and decorations as they made the final preparations. Jolene rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Teenagers, she thought. All the effort she had put in over the years to try to make Juliette a graceful young lady sometimes seemed to have had no impact whatsoever.

She stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs, where the strains of the hip-hop music blaring from Juliette’s room became unbearable. “Will you please not shout all over the house,” she yelled. “And turn that damn music down. I have company.”

“Sorry, Mother,” came Juliette’s voice from inside her bedroom.

“Who is it?” Jolene asked as soon as the music died down.

“That lady named Veronique from across the street.”

Jolene’s eyes popped wide open. Thank God, it was the baroness finally calling to RSVP. And to think she’d heard that awful music when Juliette picked up the phone. Jolene ran into the living room, her new pair of animal-print mules flapping on her feet, and picked up the antique phone sitting on the mahogany end table. “It’s the baroness,” she said in a loud whisper to Darlene as she covered the mouthpiece. “I’m sure she’s calling to accept my invitation.”

Darlene gave Jolene a thumbs-up.

“Hello,” Jolene said in as refined a voice as she could muster.

“This is Veronique Valentine from across the street. Is this Jolene?”

“Why, yes it is. And how are you, Veronique?”

“I’m good. And you?”

“Très bien,” Jolene responded, barely containing the excitement in her voice. She was speaking French to a baroness! It didn’t get much more exciting than this.

Veronique laughed lightly. “Yes, well, I got your invitation for lunch on Sunday. It’s already Wednesday, and I’m sorry to be so late calling to respond.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Better late than never I always say. And don’t bother to bring anything with you. Just come and enjoy . . .”

“Ah, excuse me, Jolene.”

Jolene paused and wrinkled her brow. Something didn’t feel quite right. “Yes?”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, and I thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend your luncheon.”

Jolene nearly dropped the receiver. She couldn’t believe it. Who the hell waited until four days before a social event to decline? Was this some European shit? “Um, but I . . . I’m so sorry to hear that.” Goddammit. How the fuck did this happen?

“So am I,” Veronique said. “I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

Jolene stomped her foot, and Darlene glanced up from the party menus on the dining room table with a startled expression on her face. “Veronique, may I ask why you can’t come? I was really counting on introducing you to some of my friends.”

Silence. Perhaps she was out of line asking the baroness such a question but Jolene thought she had a right to know why Veronique was turning down the invitation. Jolene’s whole reason for throwing this stupid luncheon was to have an excuse to invite Veronique over.

“Well, actually, Jolene, I’ve accepted another invitation the same day from Pearl.”

Jolene held the receiver in front of her face and stared at it in disbelief. She what?! It took every ounce of restraint she could muster not to throw the phone on the floor and smash it with her heel.

“Pearl Jackson?” Jolene almost choked getting the name out.

“Yes.”

Jolene bit her bottom lip. Her head felt like it would explode any second. “Very well,” she said between clenched teeth. “I’m sorry you can’t make it.”

Jolene slammed the phone down. “Fuck!” She couldn’t believe the baroness was turning her down to accept an invitation from that frumpy-assed bitch. Oh, the agony! She clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Darlene jumped up and raced into the living room, her heels clicking loudly on the wood floor. “Is everything all right, Jolene?”

“No!”

“Is there anything I can do?” Darlene asked, her café au lait complexion looking flushed as she stared at Jolene with concern.

Jolene didn’t say a word. She ran across the floor to the Henredon coffee table, grabbed the crystal flower vase, and hurled it into the fireplace.

Darlene gasped and backed slowly out of the room as the vase smashed into tiny pieces. Jolene paced up and down the Oriental carpet as Darlene stared at her with a look of total fear in her eyes. Jolene didn’t care. This was a disaster. She had been bragging to anyone who would listen that the baroness would likely be coming to her luncheon. And now this. Turned down in favor of Pearl.

“Ha!” She howled with laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Darlene slipping her petite frame into her size 6 suit jacket, then gathering her things from the table and hastily shoving them into her canvas tote bag. Still, Jolene couldn’t stop laughing. She sank down onto the couch, holding her stomach in a mad fit of giggles. This shit was so fucking unbelievable it was actually funny. She shook her head.

“Don’t bother to get up. I’ll let myself out,” Darlene said as she dashed across the living room carpet. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jolene’s eyes followed Darlene’s feet darting across the rug, and she thought of the French Aubusson carpet she had ordered to replace this antique one, so she could impress Veronique. She had paid extra to have it rush-delivered and it was due to arrive tomorrow. Now the baroness wouldn’t even see it.

“You do that,” Jolene said to Darlene without even looking up as the front door opened and shut. She couldn’t stand Darlene anyway. The tiny bitch was a snob like all the rest.

Jolene squeezed her head with her hands. Her party was ruined.
Ruined.
All because of Pearl.

She jumped up and paced the carpet again. That bitch was going to pay for this. No one did this kind of shit to her and got away with it. She didn’t know how she would get back at Pearl but she would think of something.