Think Before You Speak (24 page)

We dropped hands, and I buried myself in a
shoe rack before launching into my muddled mental musings. “Okay,
so don’t get to thinking anything, but I talked to Zeke last
night.”

Green eyes brightened before she scrunched
her forehead as if checking her excitement. “How is Zeke?”

“Frustrated with me,” I admitted.

“Why is that?”

“Well, last night might’ve had something to
do with it when I hosed him down with pepper spray.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“And sent him to the ground when my knee
connected with his privates,” I finished.

Mom sucked in her cheeks with a twinge of
anguish.

I quickly continued. “It was late and dark,
and I didn’t know who it was when he surprised me outside my
garage.”

“An accident?”

“Absolutely.”

A smile spread across her face. “Well, at
least there’s some reassurance my daughter can take care of
herself.”

“Damn straight.” Mom gave me
the look
before I went on. “I cleaned him up as best I could, but then we
landed into an old argument all over again.”

“And that old argument is about?”

The only other person I’d mentioned the
humiliating circumstances that lead to the breakup breakdown was
Janine. Mom had never asked, and I’d never volunteered the
information. At the time, the demise of my relationship with Zeke
was more of an answered prayer, since she didn’t take kindly to our
cohabitation.

But opening up the old wound by talking about
it made every sphincter in my body clench. Plus, with the sperm
donor’s penchant for panty piñata, this subject had potential to
cause undue distress to more than just me.

I took a deep breath. “Before we broke up, I
caught Lorraine Padget in Zeke’s arms.”

The boutique’s canned music faded like the
radio when driving through a tunnel. A slight tick in Mom’s cheek
was the only signal she’d heard me. She sat down and slid on a pair
of shoes with surprisingly steady hands.

“What did you do?” she finally asked.

I shook my head. “You don’t want to
know.”

Silence.

“Let’s just say that by the time Lorraine was
fished from the lake, Zeke had my hand imprint across not one but
both cheeks and had to buy not only a new shirt but a new Stetson,
unless the old one floated to shore.”

“He didn’t strike you, did he?” Mom flushed
and I almost thought she was having her first hot flash.

“No,” I offered, holding up two different
colors of the same blouse. “But he wasn’t so lucky.”

“It sounds like he deserved it.”

“Maybe.”

Mom pointed her approval to the
turquoise-blue blouse on the right. “Listen, sweetheart, if you
still have feelings for Zeke, I’d advise you to put them aside. You
don’t want to attach yourself to a philanderer.”

Mom knew best – unfortunately. “But see,
here’s the thing. Every time we’ve argued since, Zeke mentions
something about me misunderstanding or misconstruing
everything…even when we’re not even talking about the circumstances
of our breakup.”

She passed off the shoes and the turquoise
blouse to the personal shopper lurking in the background. “Is he
trying to deflect responsibility?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That night…” Her voice dropped to a whisper
to avoid prying ears. “Did you see him kiss that girl?”

I thought back to the rendezvous at the
lakeside restaurant for dinner. We’d driven separate cars because
Zeke had headed in from an offsite meeting and I’d spent the
afternoon at Janine’s helping her study for an upcoming mid-term.
I’d assumed I’d arrived first when his name wasn’t on the waiting
list. After inserting us into the lineup, I’d strolled the deck
along lake’s edge until rounding the corner on Zeke and Lorraine’s
little
tête-à-tête
.

Then proceeded to lose my mind.

In the ambient lighting from the restaurant,
I’d seen them wrapped in an embrace. When I tried to picture it
now, I couldn’t remember seeing them kiss. In fact, a black streak
of mascara had marred Lorraine’s usually picture-perfect face.
After all, she was a television personality – or at least she
constantly reminded everyone of that fact.

“I…I don’t think so,” I finally admitted.
“Now that I think of it, she might’ve been crying.”

“Using the sympathy ploy for attention?”

“With Lorraine, that’s a ninety-nine percent
likelihood.”

After picking up another dress and checking
the size, Mom signaled the assistant to add it to her growing pile
without trying it on. Seemed the subject of infidelity had my mom
in mindless auto-shopping mode. At these prices, I could almost
hear her credit card crying.

She didn’t even bat an eye. Why bother when
you could buy out the entire store – including the building? Even
the entire block?

“Have you ever forgiven him?” she asked as we
strolled into the rear salon to watch a handful of paper-thin girls
strut and spin to show off the latest designer collection.

I sighed and plopped down at a table. A cup
of steaming tea appeared at my elbow before I’d even blinked. Why’d
tea always have to be hot in these snooty shops? “Every time I
think I have, it comes up again in an argument.”

When Mom leaned forward and placed her elbows
on the table, steepling her fingers beneath her chin, I almost
choked. I couldn’t remember a time when my mother put her elbows on
the table. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was one of those
cotillion lessons I’d promptly dismissed as soon as I left
home.

“Maybe it’s time, Victoria.”

We eyed the upcoming winter fashions and
admired the return of cool jewel tones before the girls escaped to
change. At least Mom put a little thought into the pieces she chose
this time.

“Have you ever talked about it without
fighting?” she asked. “Asked for his version of events?”

“No,” I admitted. “Zeke’s betrayal had seemed
so obvious…then.”

“And now?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point in discussing
it now?”

“Hearing his perspective can go a long way
toward helping you truly forgive.” Her green eyes twinkled. “Were
you not the one always championing the truth with your father?”

Truth – or some version of it. Talking about
that night over two years ago reminded me too much of Lorraine.
Which made me think of Reggie. Which made me think of my bedroom
set. That brought me around to Radioman – then Seth.

Yeah, there were a lot of truths I was
working on at the moment – and none were panning out as I’d
hoped.

***

Shopping with Mom usually left me on a high
after filling my closet with new clothes, new shoes – new whatever.
For some reason when I stared at the array of bags and boxes
littering my bedroom floor at the end of the day, I felt a twinge
of something rather foreign. Something I couldn’t quite put my
finger on.

The building notice in the mail about the
coming apartment remodeling project my mom had inspired might have
contributed to that foreign feeling. Things were about to go
haywire around the one place I felt comfortable again.

I tossed the letter aside then lifted out one
of five new pairs of shoes and stared at the pearl gray platform
pump. Mom always said gray was an essential staple for a new fall
wardrobe, and they’d be killer with several of the dresses, skirts
and blouses scattered across my bed. But with two or three pair of
varying shades of gray heels sitting in my closet already, how many
pairs did a girl need?

Holy crap – did I just think that?

Slinky tiptoed in between bags before
attacking an imagined culprit of fluff. The crinkling of plastic
got him riled up until he streaked from the bedroom and tore down
the hall like a hound was hot on his heels. I chuckled then sighed
as I sat amid the plastic clutter.

What was wrong with me? Call it
dissatisfaction, guilt, or plain old buyer’s remorse, but when I
looked around at all of the new stuff, I realized I really didn’t
need any of it. After the terrorizing my apartment had received
from Bud, Mom had spent enough money to remodel then restock my
closet ten times over – enough to feed every man, woman, and child
in two third world countries.

Okay, maybe an exaggeration, but hey, I had
more clothes and shoes post thrashing than I’d had prior – and
that’s saying a lot when my mom took me shopping every Tuesday.
Since I’d moved out of the family mansion, our weekly shopping
excursions translated into the only time we spent together. At what
point had I stepped over the line into taking advantage of my mom’s
generosity?

Whoa! Between sharing with Mom about the
issue with Zeke and now philosophizing over my relationship with
her credit card, I approached a strange and unusual conflux of
mental musings. My hands trembled. My throat felt tight. Maybe I
needed an antacid.

Before I could think too hard, I grabbed my
cell and called the only other person who might understand my
current dilemma and crisis of conscience.

“Hey, Bobby. You got a moment?”

***

On the drive to Bobby’s house, I sent a quick
text to Reggie to let him know I had some good news for him about
his
situation
whenever he had a moment. A half hour later, I
still hadn’t gotten a response from him when I pulled into Bobby’s
driveway and parked beside a dark brown Ford Explorer. Temporary
tag. Couple years old. Little more than the base model.

But it was the stretch limo parked on the
other side of the street that had me reconsidering this visit.

The moment I stepped from the Vette, next
door’s Nosey Nana garnered my attention with a loud
psst
and
a
come hither
signal that sent the skin under her arms
flapping like an albatross readying for take-off. The sharp screech
of a familiar female voice stopped me halfway in Nosey’s yard and
my heels sank in the soft earth.

She whispered loud enough for the residents
the next street over to hear. “It’s shaping up to be a kerfuffle
the size of Texas in there.”

“Sounds like it already is,” I said as the
voice from Bobby’s house screeched up to crystal shattering
proportions. Any minute now, I expected the windows along the
upstairs dormers to bow out before bursting in a tinkle of glass.
Janine would be impressed with the high pitches.

“Do you think he’s in any danger?” Nana asked
with a deceptively concerned bat of overly mascaraed lashes.

“From his mother? I think Bobby can handle
it.”

I considered running over and rescuing Bobby
from Mary Jo’s wrath until remembering how much my presence
irritated the Vernet matriarch. I contemplated driving the next
street over behind a row of boxwoods I’d once borrowed and hiding
out until the place cleared. Instead, I waved to the neighbor and
returned to lean against my car in wait.

It wasn’t long before yelling stopped and the
screen door slammed against the house with a loud thwack. The rapid
clip of heels tapped up the sidewalk before Mary Jo rounded the
corner to the driveway. Though her expression didn’t change from
the obvious recent Botox injections, the red flush inching up her
face screamed louder than overwrought vocal chords.

I offered up a wide Cheshire grin to show I
still had complete mastery over my facial muscles. “Hey, Mary
Jo.”

She pointed a long-bony finger at me. “Stay
away from my son, you…you…Jezebel!”

I resembled that remark. “Stopping by after
your clinic visitation today?”

She opened her mouth as if to rebut then
reconsidered with a sniff of derision before stomping down the
concrete drive hard enough to break a heel. I almost wished she
would.

“Good to see you too,” I called loud enough
for Nosey Nana to hear. That’d give her something to share with the
Neighborhood Watch and Gossip committee later.

The limo driver – or rather the muscle-bound
bodyguard – stepped out to open the door as Mary Jo faltered with a
twist of her ankle before falling against him. That earned me a
snort and a glare rivaling a bull in an arena, as if I’d somehow
caused the stumble by casting a spell. ‘Course I had just wished
her heel to break. Almost.

Hmm. Maybe I should take up witchcraft. Nah.
I was in enough trouble without adding that practice to my many
sins.

The look on Bobby’s face when he answered the
front door said this had been more than a rough day. Figured I’d be
safer asking about the Ford.

“Nice Explorer,” I remarked. “Did you trade
the BMW for it?”

That got me a grumble before Bobby shut the
door behind me a little too forcefully. “Why’s everyone so
interested in what I do with my own vehicle?”

Apparently I’d started in with the subject of
the day. I held up both hands in surrender. “Sorry. Just making an
observation. Didn’t know it was Tuesday’s touchy topic.”

He sighed and ran a hand across his forehead.
“No, no. Sorry, it isn’t your fault.”

“I like it. Brown’s a good color for you. And
if I remember correctly, you were always a little partial to Fords
anyway.”

His head popped up at the reminder of F-150s.
I offered a smirk. Laughter cut the tension, and I plopped down on
the sofa.

“Okay, you got me there,” Bobby admitted as
he sat in the chair opposite.

“So spill. What’s eatin’s at you, besides
Cruella De Vil?”

“I thought you came over to talk to me?” he
commented, ignoring the derogatory comparison to his mother.

Though on closer contemplation, I tended to
give the Disney character an edge.
That
woman at least had a
smidge of style, when you discounted the hair – and her fixation on
puppy fur.

I waved my hand. “That can all wait. Seems
something’s on your mind about that SUV sitting in your
driveway.”

“You might say that.”

“Did selling it make everything feel
kinda…final? You know, with Amy’s death and all.”