Tall Poppies (3 page)

and fancy cars. It was American Express cards and

‘ respect. It was a house on the North Slope and your own business, versus a walk-up on the South Slope and a rundown deli. Jeff’s folks versus her parents. Hope versus despair.

People who said ‘Money isn’t everything’ had one thing in common.

‘None of them was poor.

Nina Roth had known since she was a baby that the worst thing in life would be to turn out like Mom or Dad, sitting around, waiting for rescue, waiting for something to happen. She was filled with contempt when she thought about it. There was no White Knight. You made things happen yourself. When Duane Reed advertised for a junior clerk, Nina marched off to the interview, lied about her age, and was hired on the spot. First week, she’d taken her paycheque and opened an account at Wells Fargo. Each month, she checked her balance, watching the tiny green glowing numbers with intense satisfaction. She spent only what she had to, and those numbers were creeping up. They were small, but they were growing.

Money was independence, power, freedom.

Nina’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her teacher. No way was she giving up her job.

‘I work at a drugstore part-time,’ Nina said. She sat up in the chair, determined. ‘I need the money, Mr David.’

‘Well, we all need money,’ the older man replied, surprising her, ‘but you’ll be giving up a lot more money if you go on this way.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Nina said, but she was listening. She respected Mr David; he took an interest in her when other staff hadn’t bothered, just dished out good grades and no feedback. Early on, Peter David graded one of her projects a ‘C’ when any other student would have gotten an ‘A’. When Nina complained, he told her she was smarter than the rest of the class, and therefore he wanted better results. She’d get graded by her own standard, s, and she’d only get an ‘A’ for outstanding

work. If she didn’t like it, she could drop his class. Nina never got a ‘C’ since.

‘You have your SATs coming up, assessments, reports. You’ll need all that for college. Now, we both know that you’re good for an academic scholarship to NYU, Mount Holyoke, Brandeis, maybe Vassar, but you can do better than that, Nina.’

‘Better than Vassar?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Sure. Sure.’ Peter David nodded impatiently. ‘I’m talking Harvard or Yale. Maybe MIT if you planned to specialise.’

She shook her head, glossy raven hair gleaming in the light from the office window. ‘I’d.need a full scholarship for that, and they only give out a handful each year.’

‘That’s right. You could easily take one of them, Nina, but not the way you’re performing now.’ Her teacher brushed aside her protests with an impatient wave. ‘No, stop giving me excuses. You are a student gifted with outstanding mathematical ability. Your economics ate

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fluid and perceptive. You’re strong in physics, chemistry

and business studies, but you’re letting yourself down.’ He leaned forward.

‘It amazes me that someone like. you would sacrifice longterm profit for pocket money. Look, Nina, the graduate market is a market. Maybe it doesn’t matter to some of your fellow pupils, but when you come out of college, do you want a rsum from somewhere OK, or do you want to be the best?’

Nina sat there, taken aback.

‘Something’s got to give,’ Peter David said.

She pushed back her chair, stood up straight, and offered him her hand. She’s so dignified, David thought,

his dry academic’s heart touched by this tall, awkward

‘ teenager, standing there so seriously.

He shook it warmly.

‘I hear you, sir,’ Nina told him. ‘I’ll work something out.’

From now on, she thought grimly, Morn and Dad are on their own.

‘Starting that day, Nina cut back on her hours in the deli. She told Dad he’d have to check the books himself; she told Mom she’d need to spend more time behind the counters. But they didn’t like it, and every day they let her know.

‘You’re workin’ for them when we need you here,’ her dad grunted. Nina looked behind her to see him slumped in his easy chair, eyes fixed on .Wheel of Fortune.

‘You don’t need me, Daddy, you could do the books,’ Nina said. ‘You’re just as smart as me.’

‘I know that, miss. Don’t you sass me,’ her father said. He fancied himself a great brain, always quoting from Shakespeare and Whitman. Nina despised him all the more because he was intelligent: an intellectual, real proud of his education and never doing anything with it. ‘I’m busy enough with deliveries …’

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‘They only deliver once a week,’ Nina tried. ‘And I gotta stack the shelves. That’s real work.’

Nina waited for Mom to wade in shrieking, but there was only silence. They were united for once. Against her.

‘You spend way too much time with that fancy jock you’re seem’,’ her mother snapped.

‘He’s not a jock, he’s just athletic,’ Nina said, her buttermilk complexion lighting up. She couldn’t help it. Just the mention of Jeff was like the sun bursting through the thick clouds all round her. She’d be going round to the park to meet up with him tonight …

Her stomach felt squirmy with excitement, hungry for his touch. Sometimes she was ashamed to find how hot he could get her. Lying in her cramped bedroom at night, Nina would stare at the damp cracks in the ceiling and think about Jeff, about his smooth strong chest and the flat of his stomach with its smattering of wiry hair, trailing down to his cock, and she’d feel weird, hot and edgy, and her hand would slip between her legs, rubbing herself frantically for some release. Somehow it was better when she was imagining it than when it happened. In her dreams, Jeff’s tongue was gentle over her aching nipples, his hands would stroke her butt and her back and tease her the way she teased herself … Nina’s hands would start to move of their own accord under the languorous heat of her. body, her mouth slightly open, panting softly as she thought about Jeff inside her, kissing her and saying soft things but somehow fucking her harder and harder all the time, until she’d lose control and her stomach would contract and expand in an exquisite, savage flash of white fire …

Actual lovemaking with Jeff wasn’t quite that way and sometimes Nina thought about it guiltily when she began to pleasure herself. But it was thinking about Jeff that got her that way, after all, and she loved him so much, it just couldn’t be wrong.

‘He’s not interested in you, girl. He’s playin’ with you,’ her dad grumbled.

‘Jeff’s in love with me,’ Nina said fiercely.

‘Oh yeah?’ Her father’s pudgy face creased in scorn. ‘He take you back to meet his folks yet? White trash, that’s what we are. You reckon he thinks any different? Don’t kid yourself.’

‘You’re wrong!’ Nina shouted. She grabbed her coat from the back of the door.

‘Where d’you think you’re going, Nina Roth? You got work to do here!’ her mother yelled.

‘Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is, to have a thankless child,’ Matthew pronounced. , ‘I’m going to meet Jeff,’ Nina told them. She nodded back at the ragged pile of papers stacked on the couch.

‘You should deal with those, Mom. I don’t have time.’ The door slammed on its hinges behind her.

Ellen Roth stared at it. ‘Little bitch thinks she’s too good for us,’ she said bitterly.

“You got that right,’ grunted her husband.

A fresh fall wind whipped around Prospect Park, sending golden leaves dancing across the paths as Nina hurried towards the Long Meadow. She drew deep breaths, elated to be out of the claustrophobic apartment. Tantalised by the thought of seeing Jeff. A pair of joggers huffed past her and Nina flashed them a beaming smile. No

matter what, when she was with Jeff, life was good. ‘Hey!’

She spun round, the wind lifting her coal-black hair, and saw her boyfriend lounging under an elm tree. She felt her heart jump. God, he was so gorgeous, all those muscles huge and hard under his navy sweatsuit, picking out his cornflower-blue eyes. He was wearing the latest black Nike runners and a steel Rolex. Nina pulled her

threadbare duffel tight against the chill and told herself clothes didn’t matter.

‘Hey,’ Jeff repeated, when she caught up to him. He smiled, his eyes trawling lazily over her wrapped-up body. ‘Where you been?’

‘Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble back home,’ Nina apologised. She knew he hated to be kept waiting. ‘I got out as soon as I could.’

‘No problem,’ Jeff said graciously. He turned and started walking west out of the park, heading for the cheap hotel on Eighth Street they always used. Nina used to think that was so cool of him, the way he’d casually spring for a whole night although they only took a couple of hours - ‘So we don’t need to sneak around at my place,’ he’d explain, kissing the nape of her neck. Often he’d order up room service, too, and that made her feel spoiled affd exotic; waited on hand and foot, even if it was only cheeseburgers and beer. The sex was usually just OK; she always felt hot and weird when he started, but after Jeff collapsed across her with that strangled groan, bathed in sweat and looking drained, she felt … unsure. Left out. Maybe the flashes of excitement and tenseness she felt sometimes were an orgasm. Maybe that was what they felt like when you weren’t doing it to yourself … She wasn’t sure, and something told her there was no way she could ask Jeff. It was being alone with him, being kissed, stroked, told how beautiful she was that was what Nina loved. In bed with Jeff she was accepted. Desired. That made up for everything else.

But today Nina could still hear her mother’s carping voice. Suddenly the hotel didn’t seem so magical … it seemed a little cheap, a little seedy.

‘Hey, Jeff ?’ She caught up with him, putting a hand on

his arm. ‘Could we maybe do something else tonight?’ He stopped short, frowning.

‘You don’t like the Payne? Where d’you want to go?”

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‘I was thinking maybe we wouldn’t go anyu, here.’ Nina paused nervously at the shadow that crossed over his face. ‘I’d like to go to your house and meet your mom and dad.’

‘Oh yeah? XFhat for?’ Jeff demanded, irritated. Nina Roth looked pretty sharp, despite the cheap clothes and lack of grooming: her creamy skin, perfect without makeup, was flushed and glowing from the fresh air; her heavy-lidded eyes glittered like polished slate and her ebony hair cut down across her cheekbones in a gleaming cap. But he could imagine the reaction if he took her home! His mother would go ballistic! She was always nagging at him to find a ‘nice girl’, but to the Glazers, that meant someone like Melissa or Josie … someone like themselves. Not a Jewish checkout girl from South Slope, a scholarship kid with a lush for a mother.

‘It’s a dumb idea. Te can’t just drop in on them like that.’

‘Why not?’ Nina asked stubbornly. ‘Are you ashamed of me? That’s what my morn said.’

“‘She’s nuts,’ Glazer said warily. He didn’t like that mutinous look she was giving him, though. Nina’s body had nearly given him a heart attack once he finally coaxed her into bed, and there was no way he was letting her go now. ‘Look, we can’t go tonight, because, uh, we’re having some people over for dinner. Let me talk to Morn and you can maybe come for tea, or something. OK?’

‘Sure.’ Nina smiled up at him, bursting with happiness. He does love me, she thought triumphantly. He does, he does, he does!

Murmurs rose from the crowd as Elizabeth descended the stairs, floating on a glorious cloud of pale gold silk. The apricot satin shoes, topaz earrings and coral necklace were perfect with her glowing skin and tawny mane.

Monica’s first frown of disapproval at Elizabeth’s rejecting the Laura Ashley melted into a warm smile. Her one aim in life was to get rid of Elizabeth as quickly as possible. Her husband’s discreet nudge pointed out the young Drake of Fairfax, at the door to the Great Hall, gasping like a dying trout. The countess heard wedding bells.

‘Happy birthday, darling. I must say you look splendid,’ Tony boomed, moving to grip her elbow firmly as Elizabeth started shaking hands. He felt taken aback. His tomboy daughter looked enchantingly feminine. David Fairfax was interested, and if Love was that blind - well, Elizabeth might bring something besides trouble to the family. He thrust her. forward briskly through the glittering crowd.

‘Evening, David. Glad you could make it,’ the earl said genially.

Elizabeth blushed scarlet. How could he be so obvious! She wanted to pick up her cascading skirts and scamper away. Anything rather than listen to Father suck up to David Fairfax while he showed her off like a prize heifer.

‘Good of you to ask me, Lord Caerhaven,’ Fairfax replied. His gaze swept approvingly across Elizabeth’s figure-hugging bodice and lingered on the freckled swell’

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of her breasts. ‘Hullo, ‘Lizbeth. Happy birthday. Smashing dress,’ he added with more spirit.

Elizabeth looked at him wearily. David had had a crush on her for years. He was ordinary looking, with sandy hair and a strong jaw, graduated from poly with a spurious degree in estate management. In real life, if you were David Fairfax, that consisted of hiring a manager to run your estates. They’d met often at parties and later hunt balls and Tory fundraisers Dad wouldn’t let her duck. He was OK, but pretty boring, and he was twenty four, while she was sixteen today. She secretly thought he was a bit of a perv, chasing after a girl eight years younger.

Dad had made himself crystal clear. To him, no duke could ever be boring, but David was a young fogey: he actually wore tweeds and he listened to Cole Porter instead of Bowie or T-Rex.

Granny’s spirit bubbled up mischievously inside her.

‘Hiya, Dave. How’s it hangitig?’ Elizabeth asked, grinning.

Her father stiffened, but when Fairfax laughed he just glared at her and moved off.

Elizabeth chatted briefly to David and then tried to get away. Her heart sank as she saw Monica swooping down on her.

‘What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see the way David’s looking at you?’ Monica hissed.

Elizabeth sighed and glanced back to the fireplace. Mother was right, His Grace was gazing after her with a particularly annoying sort of moony-calf expression. Like a spaniel after you refused to give it a bit Of your cheese: all helpless misery and silent pleading.