The Night Before Thirty (8 page)

Lashawnda sighed, certain that she had the volume properly adjusted, but it was Cicely's office, and Lashawnda didn't want to do anything that would be distracting to the environment.

“I asked Mrs. Bland to come in a few minutes before group. She got into it with Bernard again. Could you send her back to my office as soon as she gets here?”

“Okay,” Lashawnda said.

“I'm so excited about this trip. Let me know as soon as you get my travel arrangements made, okay? And I do want to fly first-class.” Cicely floated back into her office like she was on top of the world.

“No problem,” Lashawnda responded, but she cringed inside. She hadn't really been attracted to Cicely since she'd moved in with her. That magical mystique, or whatever it was that had caused Lashawnda to be drawn to Cicely, was gradually wearing off. Some days, Lashawnda couldn't believe they actually shared a bed. She cared about Cicely—it might even have been love at one time—but the thrill was definitely gone. Not even the memory of their first night together worked anymore.

Nonetheless, she would never forget it. Cicely had invited Lashawnda
over to her house for a working dinner, but it wasn't the meal or the sexy gown that Cicely was walking around in that enticed her. It was a mixture of the wine and the words that Cicely said to her that touched her heart and opened up her soul to Cicely. After dinner, Lashawnda joined her in the living room, where she put on contemporary jazz music as they sat around talking about relationships and people and life while sipping on good wine.

Cicely continued pouring wine into their glasses. “Lashawnda, I know you've had a tough life,” she said empathetically, “but I would like to commend you on the progress you've made over the last two years.”

“Thanks, girl,” Lashawnda replied.

“I remember when I first met you. You were rough around the edges. But look at you now. You're absolutely transformed. No one would believe that you were ever a grocery bagger.” She lit a cigarette.

Lashawnda knew that she had come a long way, but it made her uncomfortable when Cicely talked about it. It always made her feel like she owed Cicely something.

“Look at you—you're so beyond those lowlifes you used to deal with, but they never deserved you anyway.” Cicely stared at Lashawnda, who was lounging on the sofa. Cicely eyed her legs, curvaceous figure, and young, pretty-girl face. Most people thought Lashawnda looked like a teenager. She was nicely dressed in a pantsuit that Cicely had bought for her, and her hair and makeup both looked great, thanks to the pointers from her hairdresser, Leon, who Cicely hooked her up with.

“Yeah, I know, and right now I'm not in a hurry to jump into another dead-end relationship. Shit, I'm thinking about becoming celibate.”

Cicely laughed. “I don't think you need to go that far. You just need to make sure the next time you give yourself to someone, they appreciate the gift you're offering them.”

“Yeah, you have a point.” Lashawnda always talked candidly about relationships with Cicely, even though she knew her sexual preference was for women. “But I believe that the emotion or love thing only deals with the way two people feel about each other and is separate from the actual act of sex.”

Cicely blew one last puff and put out her cigarette. Then she slid closer to Lashawnda, “From what you're telling me, Lashawnda, you've never made love.”

She moved closer, put her arms around Lashawnda's shoulder and whispered, “But that's okay. One day you'll get the opportunity to experience what it feels like to exchange sensual pleasures with someone who will have your heart in mind.”

Lashawnda's first thought had been to move away, but the wine convinced her that it would be okay to stay, that there would be plenty of time to get out of Cicely's grip. In the meantime, having a caring body close, even if for a short period of time, felt good.

“Lashawnda, you are a beautiful woman and you deserve to be touched and caressed and kissed in all the right places. You deserve to have someone listen to your body and answer its every call.”

Her heart raced. Cicely was right. She did deserve those things, and she longed for them. She took another drink.

Cicely put her other arm around the front of her and rested her hand on her shoulder, allowing her elbow to drape over her breast. She whispered, “Don't you want to feel good? I mean, really good?”

Lashawnda closed her eyes. The answer was yes, but she didn't say a word. She sat there, debating the pros and cons of giving into Cicely's sensual seduction. What did she have to lose? She would give in to Cicely, get it over with, and never go there with her again. Then she would never have to wonder again what it would be like to be with a woman because she would know. It would be her little secret.

But what if she liked it? What would her life be like if she fell for Cicely?

Two glasses of wine later and Lashawnda let go of all inhibition, opening herself to experiencing what Cicely was dishing out. As she promised, Cicely was attentive and pleasing. Being intimate with her was intense, yet soft and endearing.

When Lashawnda had left for her own apartment the next morning, she couldn't get the sweet feeling of being with Cicely out of her mind. She'd never before experienced that kind of intimate closeness with any man. She wanted more of that feeling, and she kept going back to Cicely to receive it. Now she was beginning to wonder if she'd made a mistake.

One of Lashawnda's favorite songs came on over the radio, and she nudged up the volume a bit. Just then, Mrs. Bland walked into the receptionist area. She had a black eye. Lashawnda turned the radio back down.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bland. Dr. Hayes is waiting for you in her office. You can go on back.” Trying to ignore how hideous her eye looked, Lashawnda buzzed Cicely to inform her that her patient had arrived. She learned early on that it was better not to ask the patients questions.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Bland said, walking to the back.

Lashawnda nudged up the radio volume again and tried to lose herself in the world of the Morning Show. She wasn't sure if she wanted a relationship with her boss; she wasn't even sure if she would prefer to be with a man. She was lost, but Lashawnda was a survivor. She knew for sure that she was way better off than she had been three years ago, and that had to count for something, didn't it?

AT ARA EYED HER
watch as she waited for her client to open the fitting-room door. Mrs. LaRue, her last client scheduled for the day, was usually a breeze to shop for, but today she was being giddy and indecisive. She was a widow and had begun a new affair with a younger man; she wanted to update her wardrobe. Catara had several items waiting for her when she arrived, but anything that made her look five years younger scared her, and the usual clothing lines she gravitated toward were suddenly too stuffy and “just not me.”

Normally, such a fashion dilemma was a challenge Catara would have gladly met, but she'd scheduled an interview with a young, trailblazing designer, Frederick Yarborough, who was looking for an apprentice. He liked the designs Catara had sent him. Unfortunately the only meeting time he had available cut into the client schedule she'd already prepared for the day. She attempted to reschedule some of them, but none budged. If she moved Mrs. LaRue along quickly enough, then she would be able to get to her interview on time. Otherwise … she didn't want to think about “otherwise.”

“Catara, you can come in,” Mrs. LaRue said, opening the door to the spacious fitting room.

Catara crossed her fingers and walked inside. “So what do you
think?” she asked as she gazed at Mrs. LaRue, who was wearing a full-length ball gown and standing on top of a dressing square, staring at herself in the mirror with a sheepish grin plastered on her face.

“I think this is it!” Mrs. LaRue chirped.

“I knew you'd like this one,” Catara said as she sat back on the sofa both to allow Mrs. LaRue the opportunity to admire herself and also to prevent herself from showing that she was truly frantic about ending this session and moving on to her interview.

“It's a good start,” Mrs. LaRue said sternly, “but it's only the beginning. I will be attending a number of affairs with Rupert. I'm going to need everything from comfy casual to more of this elegant after-seven to intimate apparel.”

Catara gasped. She could barely believe her ears. This was going to take all evening.

“Don't worry, Catara, I know you can do this. You've always done a great job of finding the perfect items for me.”

Catara wanted to pass out on the sofa. Her limbs were weak. There was no way around it, she was going to miss her interview.

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. LaRue asked, seemingly concerned.

Although it was taboo for a shopper to cut a meeting short with a client, Catara felt that because she'd been working with Mrs. LaRue since she began at Saks, the woman would be flexible. Catara cleared her throat. “Mrs. LaRue, I hate to ask this of you, but I have a very important appointment scheduled today. How about I work with you for thirty minutes more and get a better feel for what you want. Then I'll put together some things, you can come back in a day or two, and we'll go from there.”

Mrs. LaRue came off the dressing platform. “I'm sorry, Catara. I thought I made clear that this all has to be done immediately, especially since some things might need to be altered. Rupert and I are flying to Palm Beach at the end of the week. I don't have a couple of days.” She turned back toward the mirror and smoothed the sides of her dress. “I'm sure you can reschedule your other appointment,” she said nonchalantly. Then she stepped back up on the platform. “Now, Catara, do you think this hem should be lifted a bit?”

Catara pulled herself off the sofa, walked over to Mrs. LaRue, and examined the dress. “I'll call the seamstress in and get right to finding
some more things for you to try on. In the meantime, would you like some more wine?”

“No, thank you. My head is already spinning from the first glass.”

Catara walked out of the dressing room, found the seamstress, and sent her in to Mrs. LaRue, then headed toward a telephone to make the dreaded call.

When she asked Frederick to reschedule, he didn't yell. He didn't fuss. His words were nice, even, and sharp as a sword: “I was really looking forward to meeting with you because I like your work. You were one of my top candidates. But Miss Edwards, I know you must be a very busy woman, so I wouldn't dare insult you by rescheduling.”

Catara was speechless. She knew she'd blown an opportunity of a lifetime, but she had to get back to the job that was currently paying the bills. She tried not to think about what had just happened, because if she did, she wouldn't have been able to go on. Instead, she rushed to the display floor and began to search the racks for clothes for her client. She braced herself because she knew it was going to be a long afternoon.

CATARA RUSHED UP
the stairs and out of the subway station. She was glad to be away from Saks. The dial was already set to her favorite radio station, which she faithfully listened to on her walk home. The evening DJ had a sexy voice and was witty; plus, he played short recaps of what happened on the syndicated show that aired every morning.

She tuned in just in time to catch the end of the update. Melvin Green was announcing the Morning Show's new contest for single women. “Attention all single ladies—listen up because Louisa Montero has special contest details that she'd like to share with you.”

Catara adjusted the volume. Although she never called or wrote in, she loved to be informed of the wild and varying giveaways the show always came up with.

“Ladies, this is Louisa Montero. I have a birthday fast approaching, and although we women don't like to give our ages away, I'll share mine if you share yours. I'm going to be thirty on December first! Because it's such a pivotal time in a woman's life, I'd like to share my special day with other women whose birthdays fall on December first. That's right,
five others approaching thirty will travel with me to sunny South Beach, where we're going to stay at the lovely Royal Palm Crowne Plaza Resort Hotel and be catered to with spa treatments and a mini shopping spree. Then we're going to stroll down famous Ocean Drive and take in the sights and sounds of the beach. On our special day, we're going to take a one-day cruise to the Grand Bahama Islands, where we'll spend four hours touring Freeport and Port Lucaya, and then we'll cruise back that evening while indulging in fine dining, gambling, and whatever else we can get ourselves into.”