Sins of the Flesh (23 page)

Champagne, of course, for either plan, in a silver ice bucket. She'd brought the Baccarat glasses from home, the kind Teddie adored, saying it was elegant and decadent at the same time when you drank from crystal with a name.

She lifted the silky nightgown from its nest of tissue and smoothed it out on the bed. Thin straps made of lace and ribbon, the bodice shirred in black organza, so sheer the nipples of her breasts would show through. The Empire waist was cinched under the bodice with clusters of tiny satin rosettes set with pin-tip pearls. The skirt was a double layer of organza, the scalloped hem heavy with two rows of rosettes. It was positively wicked-looking. Rajean glowed when she remembered the way she'd looked in it. Of course, she'd paid far too much for it, but she wouldn't worry about money now. Now she had to calm herself, freshen her makeup, and decide how much she was willing to spend for Teddie's gift.

Two hours later she walked out of Tiffany's with an exquisite statue of Aphrodite fashioned from Belgian crystal. It had cost her seventeen hundred dollars, far more than she'd wanted to spend, but there hadn't been a thing in Tiffany's aside from the statue that Teddie would like. When another customer—a rather shabbily dressed man—also expressed interest in it, Rajean decided she had to have it.

Now, should she walk or take a taxi? She glanced down at her fashionable high heels and decided to walk. That way her entrance to Teddie's decorator shop would be breathless, more natural. Of course, she'd have to do some other shopping on the way. Perhaps a new purse and scarf, something to give her a few other parcels to carry.

Rajean made a second stop at a specialty store on Madison and bought a box of assorted candles of different colors and shapes, a beaded evening bag for twenty-five dollars, and a scarf for three. Her purchases were gift-wrapped, and she was given a small colorful satchel to carry them in. On her way up Madison, she found a florist and ordered two hundred dollars' worth of flowers, demanding the tired clerk agree to deliver them by six o'clock.

“Sign them L. E.,” she said briskly. L. E. for love everlasting. She knew it was a silly thing to do, but she didn't care.

By this time her feet were aching and she felt hungry, so hungry she knew she'd shortly be cranky and irritable. Maybe that was good: this way she wouldn't take any nonsense from Teddie. She'd show some spirit, some guts, and not allow herself to be walked over. Thus resolved, she hailed a taxi and asked to be let out at the corner of Fiftieth and Second Avenue.

She'd never been to Teddie's shop before; it was off limits. Teddie didn't mix business with pleasure. But this was an exception, she told herself. Ten minutes later she thrust open the door emblazoned with gilt lettering that read
INTERIOR DESIGNS BY TEDDIE
—and gasped. This shabby, dusty, moldy shop was so unlike what Teddie had described, she could scarcely believe it was the right place. A wizened old man with gravy stains on his tie crept out from behind two rolls of purple carpeting. Rajean stood statue-still, not wanting to touch anything. “Is Teddie here?”

“No,” the man said curtly. “This ain't Teddie's day to come in. Try tomorrow afternoon.” He turned to retreat behind the purple carpeting.”

“Wait a moment. Where can I find—”

“I ain't no one's keeper. Teddie pays me to keep the name on the door and that's all I know. I got a good Oriental I can let you have for three hundred dollars. You interested?”

“No,” Rajean said, and retraced her steps out the door to the rusty sound of the bell clanging overhead. Back on the street, she felt disoriented. Should she go left or right? Not that it mattered now. Teddie had lied to her; Interior Designs by Teddie was anything but famous and certainly not international. She was so engrossed in her unhappy thoughts that she collided with another pedestrian.

It was the shabbily dressed man she'd seen in Tiffany's.

“Well, this is a real coincidence!” he boomed happily. “I was just going to go into that shop to see if I could pick up a good Oriental carpet. The purple kind. I just bet you beat me out like you did at Tiffany's.”

“No, I didn't buy anything. Look, if you really want this statue, I'll sell it to you,” Rajean said desperately.

“Well, little lady, you're too late. I bought another one. Don't tell me yours has a flaw in it.”

How bright his eyes were, how inquisitive. God, maybe he was a lecher or a thief who followed women around waiting to snatch their purses. Fingers clutching her bag, she stepped away from him and out to the curb where she flagged a taxi. “East Seventy-fourth between Second and Third,” she told the driver.

When she rang the bell, Rajean knew Teddie wouldn't be home, but she'd had to come, she didn't know why. To beg, to plead, to pretend she hadn't been to the shop, hadn't seen the dirty old man with the stained tie, pretend that things were all right. She would slide a note through the brass mail slot. “Darling,” she wrote.

She'd given herself an extra day, which was stupid. What was she going to do, sit around a hotel and suck her thumb, hoping Teddie would give her some precious time?

 

Rajean opened the door to her hotel suite forty-five minutes later and gasped. She'd had no idea two hundred dollars would buy so many flowers! They were everywhere—on the bureau, on the night tables, on the tables next to the sofa and chairs, on the floor, in the corners. Even the bathroom held two baskets of yellow-and-white pompons. The smell was so sickeningly sweet that she felt dizzy. And somehow the sight was depressing, not exhilarating, as she'd hoped; it made her want to cry.

For no matter how the cards were signed, the reality was inescapable—she had sent the flowers to herself. There was no secret lover, and even Teddie was beginning to tire of her.

Well, she hadn't burned
all
her bridges. There was still Daniel. She could get Daniel back with a crook of her finger if she wanted to. Nellie would help her. She would call them in California, ask them about their trip, and tell them she missed them. That's exactly what she would do. If things
really
didn't work out with Teddie, she would join her husband and daughter in California whether they liked it or not.

Rajean picked up the phone and had the long-distance operator try the Tarz home in Laurel Canyon. There was no answer. When she called the studio, she was cut off in midsentence. Finally she called person-to-person and asked for either Reuben Tarz or Philippe Bouchet. When the boy came on the line, she identified herself and asked for Daniel. A moment later she was stunned when Nellie took the phone from Philippe, sounding faint and far away.

Rajean forced herself to sound motherly and concerned. “I'm trying to locate Daniel, Nellie, do you know where he is?”

“I sure do, Mother. He's having lunch with one of the prettiest, smartest women here at the studio,” Nellie teased. “They went to the Lily Garden. If it's important, I can have him call you.”

“No, it isn't earth-shaking that I talk to him this minute, but I would like you to have him call back if he has time. No, no, better not have him do that!” Rajean said, remembering where she was. “I'll catch up with him tomorrow or the next day. Enjoy yourself, honey….”

Rajean stared at the phone as though it were a coiled snake ready to spring—at her throat. The prettiest, smartest lady at the studio. That could mean only Jane Perkins. They were the same age, and she was as career-oriented as Daniel. They would have much in common…And where did that leave her? Holding a Tiffany shopping bag worth seventeen hundred dollars. She wondered if the prestigious store had a return policy.

Angrily, Rajean connected with the operator and asked for room service. She ordered a cheese sandwich and a bottle of gin that she didn't really want, then removed her makeup and ran a hot tub. The hell with all of them. First thing in the morning she'd return to Washington. Somehow she'd find a way to regain Daniel's interest.

An hour later Rajean realized her skin was starting to pucker. Quick as a flash she hopped out of the tub and kicked at the bathroom door with her bare foot; she had to get away from the nauseating smell of the flowers. Naked, she made her way to the bedroom of the suite.

The long evening stretched before her. She remembered her intention of taking a sleeping pill. Instead of one she took two, swallowing them without the aid of water. The cheese sandwich stared up at her, the bread dry and curling around the edges, the cheese darker on the sides. She ate the sandwich because there was nothing else to do. It would take a while for the pills to work, at least an hour. The gin might help speed up the sleep process. She poured a tumbler full and added a single ice cube. While she gulped the fiery liquid she placed a call to Teddie. When Teddie's voice came over the wire, she sat the glass down with a thump, the gin splashing over the sides.

“Hello,” she said throatily.

“Rajean, is that you? I just got in and found your note. It was sweet of you to stop by. I was out on a business call. How are you, sweetie?”

Sure you were. Sweet of me to stop by. Sweetie.
God, she was a mess, no makeup and about to pass out from the pills. “I'm just fine and looking forward to California. I can't remember, have you been there?”

“Several times. Did you get much shopping done?” Teddie purred.

“Quite a bit, as a matter of fact. I picked up a little something for you, that's why I stopped by.”
Fool, fool, fool!
her mind screamed.

“Rajean, you are just the kindest person. Always thinking of me. What are your plans for this evening?”

Already the pills and the gin were starting to fog her brain. She sighed. “I was going to turn in early. Shopping simply wore me out.” Damn, she sounded as though she were in a tunnel. By God, she would not ask Teddie to stop by, she simply would not. “I know you must be busy if you just got in, so I won't hold you up. It was nice talking to you, Teddie.” Rajean said from her tunnel.

“Darling, is that rejection I hear in your voice? After all these years. I know, you found someone else, is that it? And now you don't have time for me. I thought more of you, Rajean. If I'm not mistaken, we had an agreement, you and I, that we'd tell each other if we found someone new.”

“I don't remember that agreement,” Rajean said thickly.

“Listen, sweetie, I have to run now, I'm meeting a client for a drink. I'll stop by, oh, let's say nineish, and you can give me that little gift you picked up for me. I have one for you, too. I've been saving it for just the right time. I'll call before I come over, is that okay? In case you have…other company,” Teddie said slyly.

Rajean didn't bother to respond; she couldn't, her tongue was too thick and glued to the roof of her mouth. She lurched her way to the hotel dresser, where she'd placed her watch. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to decipher the time. Seven-thirty. That meant she had an hour and a half to shower, fix her face, and dress in the scandalous black nightie.

She couldn't do it, Rajean decided when she climbed from the stinging shower, gripping the shower curtain so she wouldn't fall. Her hair felt sticky and stringy, and her face was stiff from the effort it cost to keep her eyes open. She slapped haphazardly at the steam-coated mirror with her sodden washcloth which came back to slap her in the face. A hag stared at her from the streaky mirror. She had to do something; Teddie would be here soon.

Frustrated, she kicked at one of the baskets of flowers she'd moved out of the bathtub. Purple shasta daisies spewed onto the tile floor, little pieces of greenery scattering about. “Goddamn flowers!” she muttered as she opened her purse for the vial of Benzedrine Teddie had given her a long time before. She reached for the gin bottle, knocking over a second flower arrangement. The pill bottle dropped from her hands, and the sodden towel slipped as she bent to search for the tiny pills among the flowers. “Goddamn stupid flowers,” she muttered as she dropped the pills back into the bottle. She had to get herself together before Teddie arrived! She cried as she struggled to reach for the pills and the gin bottle.

The moment she swallowed the three pills she knew she'd made a mistake: she'd taken the sleeping pills instead of the Benzedrine. God, she'd sleep for a week if she didn't…

She staggered to the bathroom and stuck her finger down her throat. Nothing happened. “Damn, damn, damn!” She sat back on her haunches at the edge of the bathtub and picked up one of the wilting daisies. “Teddie loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not.” When the last purple petal fell she blubbered, “Teddie doesn't love me.”

Her hands on the edge of the bathtub, Rajean used it for leverage to get to her feet. She laughed then, a sickly sound, as her toes squished the flowers on the floor. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered. She had to get dressed, Teddie would be here soon…. Teddie, Teddie, Teddie. Why weren't the damn pills working? Then she remembered that she'd taken the wrong ones. To sleep. To sleep in bed.

The black nightgown was a gossamer web threatening to choke her. Squealing, Rajean yanked it away from her face. The damn thing just didn't feel right on her skin. She staggered to the closet door and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. No damn wonder, she had it on backward! Her left breast was spilling from the tight band on the back reinforced to keep the straps intact.

God, she was so tired; she had so many things to do yet before Teddie arrived, but her brain wouldn't function. Clumsily she yanked at the black gown, hiking the fullness of the back up over her breasts. Teddie would like the rosettes. The hell with it, she'd lie on her stomach for Teddie to admire them. The hell with everything. “Daniel, where are you?” she moaned.