Tap Dance (21 page)

Shit.

I sent Cait a mini-glare for setting me up, while I tried to think of how best to answer.

"I'll say this once and only once.  Paul's a nice guy, a gorgeous guy.  But he's a player."

I looked at the circle of faces all listening to me intently.

Shit.

"Every girl should date a player at least once in their lives," I finished.

"Ooooh…" they all chorused before the laughter started.

Whew!  Got out of that one.

But as we moved en masse back to the kitchen to grab some more nibbles, which Frank called 'grazing', I turned to Cait and whispered, "…and the horse you rode in on."

"You're too pretty to be a bitch, Marianne," she whispered back.

"Oh!  Turn this up!" Crys yelled and grabbed Frank's arm.

Leila moved to her iPod and hit the volume button.

"Line Dance!" Crys and Frank shouted in unison, grabbing the rest of us and pulling us into the space behind Leila's couch. 

And, with very little instruction from Crys and Frank, the five of us did the Electric Slide to Paula Cole's, 'Where Have All The Cowboy's Gone'.  It only took three different songs for us all to get it right and we were all laughing our butts off when we collapsed in the chairs around the dining room table.

Cait and Leila moved the remaining food all onto one tray and sat it in the middle along with the remaining wine.

I was just coming back from Leila's cute half bath that was tucked in the space underneath the stairs, when I caught the tail end of Frank mock arguing with Caitlin about the difference in tips given by age groups.  He was arguing that the over-thirties tipped better than the under-thirties and Cait was trying to point out it was probably due to a lack of funds.  The conversation slid into belly laughs when Frank told Cait to, "talk to the hand, 'cause the face ain't listening!"

"What do you do, Frank, that you know about tipping?" I asked.  I saw three outta four jaws drop at my question.

"Ohmigod, you don't know you're in the presence of greatness?" Crys asked in mock horror.

"Can it, cutie," Frank advised Crys with a weak swipe to her arm.  "I own Tangles."

"He's the one that did my hair," Leila explained with a smile and a shake of her gorgeous layers.

"And mine," Crys said placing a hand on the back of her head, posing like a 50's model.

"I worked at Alberta's for years and then, this year, I opened my own salon," Frank explained with a smile.

Good on him, I thought.

"So who does your taxes?" I asked and everyone about fell out of their chairs laughing again.  What?  Every business needs a good accountant and, since I
was
one, it never hurt to ask.

"Crys?  Dex said you did his piercing," Leila said and there wasn't an eyebrow that didn't raise by us other three.  "What kind of piercings do you actually do?"

"Are you gonna ask?" Frankie mock whispered to Cait.

"Not me.  That might venture into the 'too much info' category," she mocked whispered back.

Leila leveled the two of them with a look.  "His nipple, okay?  Just his nipple.  Geesh, get a life, would you?"

It took a couple of seconds for Crys to get it.

"Ewww," she drawled, her nose crinkling.  "He's like my dad, okay?  You people are
sick
!"

Again, the room rocked with laughter.

"To answer your wonderful question, Leila," she said leveling Cait and Frank with just a look.  "Right now I'm trained to do all the piercings currently available.  Facial, nipple plus female and male genitalia, both vertical and horizontal.  I have a seminar scheduled over the summer so I can learn how to do silicone beads and other under skin implants."

You could've heard a pin drop as we processed
this
interesting bit of info.

"Okay, I'll bite," I said.  "What's a Prince Albert?"

I had read the term in one of my contemporary women's fiction novels, which is just a fancy-schamancy term for bodice-rippers set in the here and now.  In the book, the heroine was somewhat put off by the piercing until she felt what it did when it was…uhm…working in her…ah. 

You get the idea.

So, Crys described it and did a verbal comparison to a PA (saying that Prince Albert and Personal Assistant were interchangeable words in the Piercing Community.  They have a community?) to the Apadravya  using her fingers to illustrate.

We were all glued to her explanation.

There were more than a few blinks as we all tried to process this new bit of information.

Cait broke the silence by telling of her and Jake running into Leila and Dex in, of all places, Smithville.

For those not in the know, Smithville was a tiny, tiny town that wasn't even shown on certain maps of Colorado.  It was probably about an hour and a half north of Grantham and consisted of a huge log cabin that housed a gas station, the post office and a restaurant all in one very large room.

Seems the four of them had a great time. At one point, Cait had deliberately teased Jake about her and twenty friends that wanted to use his gym for girl classes just so Leila could hear him get all grumbley and rumbley when he said no.

Then Caitlin relayed she had overheard Jake teasing Dex that it sure sounded like he was in love and he better, and I quote, 'put his fucking ring on her fucking finger so he wouldn't fuck this up.'

The room rang again with our combined laughter.

Well, at least, until we all heard Crys utter, "Uh-oh."

 The laughs died out as we looked at her.

She, however, was looking at Leila.

Who wasn't looking at anyone except her hands which were palm down, fingers spread, on the dining room table.

"Dex and Leila broke up after Smithville," Crys said softly reaching for one of Leila's hands.

Oh, dear God.

I saw it. 

There, from my place directly across from Leila, I saw the exact moment when my beautiful friend had her heart broken.

Cait got up from her chair and moved quickly, encircling Leila's head in her arms.  Cait's look was stricken. 

"I'm so sorry.  So, so sorry," Cait kept repeating.

I think Frank got it, too, because he was up and out of his chair fast.  He didn't say anything but he put his hand on Leila's shoulder.

I watched as Leila rearranged her face quickly, not responding to the efforts of condolence, of sympathy.   And, in that moment, that very rare and special moment, I got her.

I understood how this was going to play out to the rest of us.  The 'no big deal', it was an 'interlude', etc.

I tried to nip that crap in the bud and let her know that we had her back.  That we, the four of us, had gone through heartbreak before and would help her through it.

So I tried to cut that crap off at the pass and said, "Wait a second."

And there was silence all around.

"Leila, honey?  Did you know that you were no longer a couple?" I asked quietly.

She dragged her eyes from her fingers on the tabletop to me.  Her beautiful brown eyes opened very wide.

I saw her swallow and pull herself together before answering.  And I knew this is where the lying started.

"I didn't even know we were a couple to begin with," she said softly.  Lie number one.

It remained quiet.

"We only hung out a couple of days," she continued.  Lie number two.

I saw her glance at Cait and Frank that stood beside her before her gaze made it to me and Crys.

"He really said that?" she asked Crys and I watched Crys nod. 

But Crys' chin was quivering and I knew we had a situation on our hands. 

We had one friend that was trying to lie her ass off so other people didn't know she was hurting and another that was beating herself up for voicing the words that had caused the hurt.

Aw, shit.

I glanced at Frank and nodded at Leila.  He nodded back. 

Crys was on her feet and moving fast into the living room and I saw her whip into the bathroom underneath the stairs.  I was close on her heels, not giving her a chance to close the bathroom door fully.

As I pushed my way in, my sweet girl reached for me, sobbing.  I closed the door behind us and held her there. 

In that tiny bathroom, I held our Crys. 

Crys with the big personality, our tuff-guy that didn't care what anyone thought.

But who was cut, was hurting, when she realized that she might have caused a friend pain.

I admit it. 

I cried right along with her.

When we were done and wiping the black streaks off our faces, I just had to ask.

"You are so pretty, honey.  Why the heck do you wear so much make up?"

She smiled her lop-side smile as she tried to wash away the black tracks on her face.

"Just lucky, I guess," she said softly.

And, I smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 

Chapter Twenty Four

It was Saturday.

'Date Night' according to my smoking, hot boyfriend. 

I didn't have a clue where we were going, so I made a point of running to the mall in the morning.

Our Rocky Mountain Spring was just on the cusp of summer and I wanted to grab some more clothes since my damn wardrobe was a bust.

Speaking of which, I had left a voicemail for Ms. Francine Morgan's boss regarding how she had not responded to my questions nor my challenge according to my understanding of the rental insurance.  Her superior, a Mrs. Grave, gave extremely detailed and lengthy instructions on the who, what and why of your call in her outgoing voicemail and, basically, referred you back to your Insurance Agent.

Hmm.  Note to self, never consider insurance as a field of endeavor.

While at the mall, I found both casual and business pieces that would complement the bits and pieces I'd already gotten.  I looked at the handbags and, will admit to it, I lusted.

Couldn't afford them yet. 

But, I lusted after them nonetheless.

I got the pieces I thought I needed and thankfully left the busy shopping arena.

I gave myself and Aunt Estella facials in the afternoon from a recipe I found on the internet that involved oatmeal, egg white and corn meal which both of us really enjoyed. Although we both looked ridiculous with the 'goo' on our faces, as Auntie called it.

I received a text from Ram saying I could come by at seven and we would go from there.

I took my time getting ready that afternoon.  After Ram's 'Street Fighter' sex act, I didn't want to be caught unaware, undressed or in any way lacking in whatever it was we'd be doing.

But I admit I was hopeful that we, at some point, would be naked and writhing.  Moaning and groaning.  Wet and…

Well.

Okay.

You get my drift.

*.*.*.*.*

I went to pull up to Ram's driveway and found there wasn't any place to park. 

None.   

It was filled with cars. 

Cars I didn't recognize.

I called him on his cell but it went to voicemail.

Strange.

I parked on the street and teetered my way up to the front door.  I was trying to remember when I had actually had to ring the doorbell to gain access and I don't think I ever had. 

Ram always met me outside first.

"Yes?" An older gentleman had answered the door.  He looked vaguely familiar but I don't believe I'd ever met him.

"Ah, is Ram home?" I had a very sudden, sharp urge to giggle.  This was just too much like grade school, 'can Ram come out and play?'.  I remembered the large studio picture on Ram's wall and decided this must be Ram's father.

"He is busy with his family at the moment.  I will tell him that you stopped by," his father said making a shooing gesture my way.

"Mr. Patel?  I'm Marianne Gibson and I believe Ram is expecting me," I said with a slight smile.  But I don't believe he was used to being challenged by the look on his face.

"Baba?  Who's at the door?" A very good looking, younger man joined Mr. Patel.  "Who is she?"

When Mr. Patel didn't bother to answer the younger man asked me, "Who are you?"

"Hello, my name is Marianne and I believe Ram is expecting me," I said again.  This was getting to be almost comedic in my attempts to stay civil while asking to be let into my boyfriend's house.

"I don't think so.  I've told her, Turan, Ramjet is busy with his family and that she must leave immediately."

For the record, he never told me to leave.  Unless that was what the shooing motion was to signify.

"Yes.  Hmm.  Please let Ram know I came by.  Enjoy your evening," I said, pulling my dignity out.  No need to stay where I'm not wanted.