Idol Urges (10 page)

****

She used the new pattern to knock on the door. The now familiar enormous form of Jack the bouncer appeared when the door opened.

“Hey, Wendy. Back again?”

“Yeah, you know.” She shrugged.
What’s it to him how many times I come here?

She clomped down the stairs and into the main room. Scenes depicting the Wild West decorated the walls. A swinging saloon door hung in the entryway. Some women wore corsets and dancing girl skirts. Men wore chaps and nothing else.

“Howdy, partner,” Jim said as Wendy approached. “Want to try the sarsaparilla beer?”

“Uh, no thanks. I’m looking for Nick. Have you seen him?”

“I think he’s over there.” Jim pointed to a large group of people. They were laughing and sitting close together, touching one another lightly and occasionally caressing each other. Wendy advanced on the group. Nick looked up.

“Hey, Wendy. Join us.” He indicated a vacant chair.

“Thanks, but I was wondering who wants to join me in a room?” Wendy scanned the faces all avoiding her gaze.

“Well, we’re hanging out for a few minutes,” Nick explained.

“Yeah, but I’ve got to get some studying done tonight. I was—”

“Let’s talk.” Nick got up and took her by the hand, but instead of leading her into one of the rooms, he brought her to a quiet corner and guided her into a chair.

“Wendy, I think you’re missing the point of this place.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one who said there were no strings attached. I don’t even know your last name. Hell, I don’t even know some of those people’s first names.”

“I’m not saying you need to form relationships. But you do need to take time to listen, and talk, and share pleasure.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She held her palms out.

“Really? Because the last few times you stormed in and out if here in under an hour. It seems like you’re just going through the motions.”

“So? I thought the motions were what it’s all about.”

Nick took a deep breath. “I think it would be good if you took a break.”

“Are you kicking me out? Can you do that?” The words strangled out of her throat.

“No. I can’t. But if enough people complain, then yeah, you can be asked to leave. I don’t want you to leave. I think you’re a lot of fun. You’re sensual, and when you take the time, you give as much pleasure as you get. But these past few weeks, you’re treating the rest of us as if we’re a chore.” He searched her eyes for understanding.

Wendy’s head throbbed. Tears spilled onto her cheeks with no warning they were coming.

“I don’t need you or this place.” She stood abruptly and knocked the small café table off balance. “There’s no need to complain about me and get me kicked out, because I quit.”

Her voice rose above the sound of the old-time player piano and banjo music. Most of the heads turned to look at her. She ran from the room, pushing past the swinging doors. She paused to wipe her face with her sleeve and the saloon doors flew shut and whacked her butt. She dashed up the steps, still blinded from her tears, bumped into Jack, and bolted down the block, wiping tears from her face.

She eventually slowed as she approached a club—a regular club, where people met causally over a drink, danced to music, and maybe exchanged numbers at the end of the evening. She laughed, peering in through the open door behind a velvet rope.

No back rooms in there. People were more than happy to go through the ritual of meeting and dating and forming relationships. Was she missing the point of that, too?

A group of young women were getting out of a taxi and Wendy hopped in before they could shut the door. She gave the driver her address and rested her head against the seat. She didn’t want any thoughts to come. She wanted her mind to be clear, but of course it wasn’t.

She hauled herself out of the cab and through her front door.

“Wendy, are you home?” her mother called from the bedroom.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mom.”

Wendy kicked her shoes across the room. She went through to the back of the house and leaned in the doorway of her mother’s room. Samantha had a plate of grapes on her bedside table and was propped in bed, reading.

“What happened, sweetie?”

Her mother’s kind intuition sent Wendy into a fit of tears again.

“Oh, come here.” Samantha patted a spot on the bed next to her.

Wendy curled up next to her mother. “I don’t want to be a failure. I don’t want to let you down like Dad did. I want to make something of myself.”

Her mother laughed gently. “Of course you will. What makes you think you won’t? You’ve done such a wonderful job of creating the life you want. You’ll never let me down. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“You wouldn’t be proud of me if…”

“Come on now. Did you hurt anyone? Steal anything?”

Wendy shook her head.

“Then whatever you’ve done, you had a reason.”

“Gloria’s angry with me.” Wendy stared at her hands, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“Can’t you apologize? She’s a reasonable person, and your friendship can withstand a little anger.”

“Did Dad love you?”

“I know he did. He loved me with all his heart for as long as he could. Your dad loved everything and everyone. That’s why I loved him. I knew who your father was before I married him. I wasn’t blind. Silly me, I thought my love would be enough to change him, enough to keep him in one place.” Samantha smiled. “I don’t regret marrying him. I had a blast while we were together and, most important, I had you.”

“But he left. And then you had no one.”

“I had you. And I haven’t done too bad for myself. I’ve had my share of boyfriends and lovers over the years. You’ve met a few of them.”

“But why didn’t you get married to any of them?”

“Didn’t want to. I had that adventure. Plus as poor as we are, I like taking care of ourselves and not depending on anyone again.”

“I think I’m becoming Dad.” Wendy’s face flushed.

“Oh sweetie, you’ll never be your father.”

“But I think I was seeking pleasure at the expense of my responsibilities.”

“I don’t believe that. I bet it was the opposite. I bet you were neglecting your real pleasure for the sake of your work.” Samantha smoothed Wendy’s hair down.

“Why do you think that?” She looked up at her mother’s face.

“Because you’re so miserable. Now what about Franco? He sure seems pleasurable.” Samantha nudged Wendy with her elbow.

Wendy chuckled through her tears. “He is handsome.” Wendy laid her head on the pillow. Perhaps she had it all backwards.

Chapter Nine

Hunched over the course catalogue, Wendy didn’t hear Susan come into the break room.

“Wendy, I’m talking to you,” Susan said.

“Oh, sorry. I was reading.”

“Yeah, anyway, did you see the schedule for next week? There’s some kind of convention and they want all of us to pull double shifts. My feet are killing me as it is. I’ll be old before I even have kids to wear me out.”

“It won’t matter to me. I won’t be taking any classes next semester.” Wendy tossed the booklet on the table.

“How come?”

“All the classes I need for Pre-Law are in the daytime. I can’t take daytime classes. I need to work.” Wendy had aced her finals, with the help of the club. Now she could put the required courses behind her and focus on the ones that interested her, the ones that would lead her to the career she wanted. If she could work them into her schedule.

“Can’t you get a night job?”

“Not one that pays as steady as this one.”

“I hear Franco’s looking for waitresses at his new restaurant.”

Wendy blushed. She hadn’t crossed paths with Franco in weeks. He had quit dishwashing to get the restaurant up and running. That didn’t mean she didn’t think about him. Even while having her adventures at the club, his gorgeous face, beautiful skin and hard body would flash through her mind.

“I can’t work for him. He’s asked me out too many times. Besides, I don’t want to rely on tips. It’s too risky.”

Susan grabbed Wendy’s hand and looked directly into her eyes.

“Wendy, do you want to know what’s risky? Only being qualified to be a hotel maid. If you don’t finish college, what will you have?”

“Susan, don’t be so dramatic.” Wendy pulled back.

“I made a choice. Billy and I rushed into marriage and we’ll probably be living in that same house forever. Soon I’ll have a brood of kids. I don’t mind, it’s what I want. But you want something else.”

Wendy gaped back at her friend. “I should talk to my mom.”

Susan relaxed her grip and sat back. “Sure, talk to your mom, think about it. Mull it over until registration for classes closes or the Pre-Law classes fill up.”

Defensive words formed on Wendy’s tongue, but she bit them back. Susan was right. A person needed to take a certain amount of risk. If she could strut into that sex club and ask someone to have an orgy with her, then she could probably quit her job as a hotel maid and go work for a friend as a waitress.

Maybe the club cleared her mind for more than just Chemistry.

“Maybe you’re right,” Wendy said at last.

“I’m always right. Wasn’t I right about Robert?”

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“Didn’t you call him? He said he liked you and I bet he’s a good kisser.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Wendy avoided looking at Susan.

“Of course, you wouldn’t. You’ve got to let go once in a while. Would it kill you to allow a man to kiss you, or at least hold your hand?”

Wendy couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re right. I should be more involved with men.”

And not just any man. It all clicked into place. She had balanced her work and school for so long, she was expert at it. With the amount of time she had spent at the club clearing her mind, she could have been working at night.

Wendy gathered her belongings and headed for the locker room.

“Your shift isn’t over,” Susan said.

“I know. I’ve got to see Franco about a job.”

Wendy flung open the locker room door.

“You mean you’re quitting?” Susan stumbled in behind her.

“I have to Susan. I have to get my priorities in order.” Wendy dumped the contents of her locker into her bag. “I’ve always taken the safe route, never gone after what I really wanted.”

“But if you walk out, they won’t give you a reference. How do you know Franco will give you a job?”

Wendy nearly ripped the polyester uniform as she tore if from her body. “I don’t know. That’s the point. I’m taking a risk. But that’s who I want to be, a woman who goes after what she wants. Not someone who waits around. Franco won’t wait for me. I shouldn’t have to wait for him.” She held out the uniform to Susan. “Please let them know. Thanks.” Wendy gave her friend a peck on the cheek and sprang from the room.

She walked out into the employee parking lot for the last time. The sun might have been behind some clouds, but Wendy looked through new eyes seeing vibrant fresh colors. Every distinct thought made sense to her.

The old woman sat under the palm tree next to the display of macadamias.

Wendy strode to her. “Hi.” She hunted for the right words, an apology for what she had said before.

“Hello, dear. How is your mind?” The woman’s keen eyes looked right through her, but were friendly at the same time.

Wendy laughed. “Oh, just fine, thanks. I’m sorry I lost your tiki idol.”

“No, you didn’t.” The woman shook her head. “You just didn’t need it anymore.”

“Thanks. I don’t need it now, either. I think I’ve got it all figured out.”

“I’m sure you do.” She smiled and nodded.

“I’m not sure how to thank you.”

She shrugged, causing her bright orange muumuu to fall off one shoulder.

Just then the bus pulled up. Wendy abandoned any further talk but continued to look behind her as she boarded the bus. The old woman cocked her head to the side and kept her wide smile in place as the bus pulled away.

It would be a long ride to the restaurant, past campus. Impatience to act on her plan would stretch the ride even longer. She tried to make sense of what had happened with the tiki idol, but no amount of logical thinking could sort it out.

She tumbled off the bus at the stop a few blocks from the restaurant. Her bag weighed her down and she perspired with the effort to lug it while she jogged. She hadn’t considered how disheveled she looked until she came closer to where Franco would be.

When the restaurant came into sight, she slowed her pace. The building sat on the edge of a cliff. Blue water crashed on the rocks below. Workmen hammered nails on the roof and sanded the boards of the patio. She scanned them but didn’t spot Franco.

As she got closer, someone asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Franco.” Her voice cracked on his name.

“He’s inside.”

She opened the door and the sound of power tools drowned out the bang of the door shutting behind her. Among the workers, Franco, shirtless, bent over a table, sanding off the old finish. His muscles rippled with each pass of his hand over the plane. Sweat gleamed on his back.

She stood in front of him, waiting. Once he looked up, he held her gaze. She wanted to pour out an apology, but this wasn’t the place.

“Can I talk to you?” She yelled to be heard over the noise.

He only nodded and wiped his hands on his jeans. She followed him out the door, and around the back of the building. A path led to a small clearing with a few plastic beach chairs set up around a cooler—a break spot for the workers.

He didn’t sit but looked at her, his arms crossed over his bare chest, daring her to start.

“Franco, I need a job. I know I treated you unfairly, and if you no longer want me working for you, then I understand.” She held her breath, praying.

“You came to ask me for a job?” His eyebrows went up in disbelief.

“Yes.” Words of desire almost escaped her mouth. Her sweaty palms clenched in fists, keeping herself in check.

“I thought you said tips were unpredictable.”

“I think I need a little unpredictable. Besides, I need to take day classes.”

He looked out over the ocean. “Okay, sure, why not. I know you’re a hard worker and a great person. I’d be stupid to let my personal feelings get in the way of hiring a good waitress.”