The Queen Gene (29 page)

Nervously I stood. I hoped my voice didn’t catch and the women wouldn’t see how terrified I was to speak at the meeting. “Hi,” I began. I held up a stack of orange flyers with information about the open house printed on them. “You’ve probably seen these posters around town. Anyway, my husband, son, and I are new to the community, but we fell in love with the area two years ago and decided to buy a place and fulfill our dream of starting an artist colony. We’ve got three artists who will be showing at the open house. Well, four when you include my husband.” I laughed nervously. “Maxime and his wife are visiting from France. He does ink sketches using a pinpoint pen. It’s really pretty incredible when you see them. Everything he does is in disconnected dots, but at first glance it looks like they’re all connected.” I stopped for a moment and took a sip of water. “Chantrell plays cello and will be performing live there as well as selling her CDs. Randy does glass sculptures, and I really couldn’t even begin to do him justice if I tried to describe him. I mean, I couldn’t do justice to his work. His
work
is gorgeous. Then there’s Jack. That’s my husband, and he paints. Some of you have been to my house and see how he changes the car on the front lawn. Anyway, his work is really beautiful, so I hope you’ll come by and check it out. Oh yes, and my cousin will be getting married at the open house. It’s kind of a performance art piece.” I paused, then looked out at the women. “I know this may sound bizarre, but I think I’d better tell you now rather than have you be caught off guard. My cousin is getting married naked.” The crowed murmured. They repeated what I said in the form of a question. “Well, she’ll have body paint,” I explained. “And, um, glitter.”

Cecile brightened. “Oh! Body paint is very in right now,” she said. Shockingly, the women began nodding in agreement.

A woman raised her hand. “Will there be someone there to paint the guests’ bodies, or is it only for the bride?”

Renee nudged me under the table. She could barely contain her smirk.

Robin pointed a finger in the air. “Can we set up a booth to collect canned foods for the homeless shelter?”

That’s it? Some women wanted to get painted and others wanted to collect canned food? Where was the burning at the stake?

“I’ll see if I can get a few people to do body painting,” I said.

Cecile added, “You can charge. I know I’d pay. Wouldn’t you, Deb?” Deb nodded affirmatively.

“Okay,” I said. “And yes, of course you can collect canned goods, but maybe since no one knows to bring food, you can just take up a cash collection at a booth.”

“Good point,” Cecile said. “Okay, any other announcements?”

“One last thing,” I chimed in. “As you can see, I’m wearing a stunning painted tank top and jeans with the same floral pattern.” I gave my body a Vanna-like motion. Renee looked shocked. I’ve never seen her face so completely motionless. “One of our very own members painted these for me, and is starting her own business hand-painting clothes. You can give her your favorite jeans or she can supply them for you.”

“What are you doing?” Renee whispered through gritting teeth.

“Emancipating you,” I whispered back.

“This is humiliating,” she said. “No one wants my —”

“Who would like to order a set for themselves? We’re taking orders today and they’ll be ready by Labor Day so we can all come to the open house in our painted outfits. Won’t we be adorable?” Every hand in the room shot up, not out of pity, but pure exhilaration. “Now, those of you with daughters will want to get Mommy and Me outfits, and let’s not forget that the holidays are just around the corner. What a unique gift idea, no?”

“You are out of your mind,” Renee said, now smiling.

“That’s why you love me,” I said. “Let’s not forget to call Faidra. She will kill you if she’s the only one who wasn’t offered painted jeans.”

By the end of the luncheon, Renee had collected orders and payment for 48 pairs of jeans and 64 tops. As we walked to the parking lot, Renee wondered how she would fill this colossal order. I offered, “Just do the sets that need to be done by Labor Day first and get to the gifts afterward.”

“Good idea,” she said. “Still, it’s a lot.”

“I guess you’ll be working long hours like Dan,” I said, not sure if the mention of his name would deflate the high we both felt. It did, but just a bit. “You know, Renee, we still haven’t found our third artist for the new season. If you wanted to move out, we’ve got plenty of room for you and the kids in the new guest house.”

“Mmmm, I’d be sleeping in Randy’s old bed,” Renee said, smiling. “Tempting. Remember how I told you that I’ve been going to marriage counseling without Dan? I’ve got to say, it’s working.”

“Oh good,” I replied, somewhat disappointed. How could she feel her relationship was improving when her husband was clearly still cheating on her? “So you feel like your marriage is better now?”

“No,” Renee said, opening the door to her car. She hopped in and fastened her seat belt. “But I’m getting better, so I may take you up on that offer yet.”

“Meaning what, Renee?”

“Meaning, I’m starting to get a little sick of this shit from Dan. I am a beautiful, talented woman with good friends and a suddenly successful business,” she said. “When I ask myself why I put up with this crap, I can’t think of one good reason. I mean, I used to tell myself it was for the kids, but what am I teaching them by tolerating this? I love Dan, I really do. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t lie. I still love him, but the bottom line is I love me better.”

I smiled as I watched her put the key in the ignition and start her car. “That’s an exit line if I ever heard one,” I said. “Drive safely and let me know what you want to do. We need to figure out what to do with the third bungalow by Labor Day, fair enough?”

“Lucy Klein, you’ve been more than fair,” she said and drove away.

* * *

I returned home to an empty house. Jack had left a note on the table that said his brother had an unexpected layover overnight at Logan Airport. He had taken Adam and said they would be back the following afternoon. As if on cue, there was a knock on the back door.

Freshly showered with his hair still wet, Randy was at the door in his signature plain white t-shirt and jeans. “Hey,” he said casually. “Hate to bug you, but my light burnt out down there and it’s starting to get dark out.” As he stood against a backdrop of purple streaks of cloud, I thought surely I was having another sexual fantasy. But it seemed so real.

“You mean you need —” I started but couldn’t finish.

“A light bulb,” Randy said.

“You need a light bulb?” I repeated like an idiot.

“Yeah, you got one?”

“I do,” I said, sounding far too much like a wedding vow than an affirmation of possession of a light bulb.

“You think I could get some from you?” he asked.
Wow! He was bold. Jack and Adam were out of town for all of ten minutes and he was trotting up to the house asking if he could get some.
“I really only need one. I can go to the store tomorrow and buy a pack.”

“A pack?” I asked, my body in a heightened state of arousal.

“Of light bulbs,” Randy reminded me.

“Oh yes, light bulbs, right. I can give you some. I can give you some light bulbs,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound flustered. “We’ve got plenty of light bulbs around here. We’re like light bulb central.”
Stop talking!!!

“Where are the men of the house?” Randy asked as he followed me to the kitchen pantry. He stood inches from me as I climbed up a step ladder and reached up to the top shelf for the bulbs. I could feel the heat from the front of his body warming my back like a blanket. I wanted to turn around and throw myself into his arms and slide down until we were face to face, then feel his thick lips press against mine for that irresistible sensation of a first kiss.

“They’re in Boston for the night,” I said. “Here we go, one hundred watts. Let there be light.”
Oh dear God, shut me up.

“They’ve abandoned you, huh?” Randy said lightly.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I said, stepping off the ladder and back down onto the pantry floor. “Jack’s brother is flying to Heathrow and got laid over unexpectedly.”

“Don’t you wonder why he didn’t take you along?” Randy asked.

Stepping back out into the kitchen, I turned to Randy and smiled. “Because he loves me.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Nah, his family is great, but Jack knows I don’t want to schlep out to Boston to see Dave and stay in some airport hotel overnight.” Opening the fridge, I asked, “Where are the others?”

“You mean Maxime, Jacquie, and Chantrell?” I nodded affirmatively. “They went to a movie together.”

“The three of them went to a movie together?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “What’s the deal with those three? On second thought, the less I know, the better.”

Randy laughed and closed the fridge door. “Why don’t you let me cook for you tonight?”

“Oh, well, um, I —”
Smooth.
“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Randy said. “You’ve let me stay here all this time. It’ll be my way of saying thanks.”
Again with the friggin’ gratitude.
“I cook a mean veal piccata.”

“I think anything with veal would qualify as mean,” I said.
Great. The man offers to cook a gourmet meal and you start spewing PETA talking points.
“What I meant was that we don’t have any veal around the kitchen.”

“How ’bout chicken breast?” he asked.

“It’s really not necessary,” I began, knowing I needed to extricate myself from this dangerous liaison. There was something in the air that felt a lot like a seduction. “I was just going to grab a quick —”

Randy interrupted by physically sitting me down in my chair and holding his finger over my lips. “Lu, I think you’re so used to taking care of everyone else, you’ve forgotten what it feels like to have someone do something for you.”

Huh?

“I wouldn’t say —” I began before Randy cut me off again.

“Shhhhh.” He held his finger now over his own lips. Unwrapping chicken breast and placing ingredients on my counter top, he began looking for a pan. He came to my chair and knelt before me. “I see how Jack takes you for granted. I’m going to pamper you tonight.”

After having harbored lustful feelings for this exquisite man for months, my heart should have been racing with the exhilaration of fear and joy. Instead, I grew annoyed and worried. I was annoyed because Randy knew nothing about my relationship with Jack. My husband did not take me for granted in the least. It felt as though he was reading a passage from the
Disingenuous Lothario’s Seduction Manual
. He was clearly using the routine designed for married women. Mothers in particular. The assumption that I was neglected was insulting to both me and Jack. His words also made me worry that we were out of Pampers.

“Randy, I appreciate the dinner, but I’ve got to tell you, Jack does
not
take me for granted,” I said.

“Then where is he?” Randy asked.

“I already told you. He’s in Boston.”

Randy smirked cockily and returned to the stove. He placed garlic and white wine in a buttered pan and asked if we had capers. Okay, I guess that was the end of the conversation. I suppose I set him straight, I thought.

We sat on the back deck eating chicken piccata and sipping white wine to Celia Cruz’s greatest hits. I must have been swaying to the music a bit because Randy asked if I wanted to dance with him. A bit tipsy and a bit curious, I agreed. The moment our bodies touched, I knew I’d made a mistake. It was uncomfortably comfortable. Our bodies fit like pieces of Adam’s foam floor puzzle we had done together a few days earlier. Adam. That’s who I needed to think about. Adam and Jack — the important guys in my life. I began to pull away to return to the table when Randy pulled my waist, drawing me closer to him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to give you for a long time now,” Randy said, his face now inches from mine.

Knowing he was about to kiss me, I wanted to discourage him. “I don’t want you to give me anything more than you already have, Randy.” I pulled away and finished. “Dinner was delicious and that’s more than enough.” Before I could turn away, he pulled me in to him again and began kissing me so aggressively that I actually pulled a muscle in my neck trying to free myself. I stepped back, but he persisted. “Randy!” I said, breaking loose. “Stop it!”

He looked at me as if he’d never heard such words before. He probably hadn’t. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“What I mean is that I’m a married woman. A happily married woman, so I can’t go around kissing other guys. Those are kind of the rules when you get married.”

He knit his brows with a look of confusion. “You seemed like you wanted it,” he said. “The way you’re always watching me from your window. I thought —” he trailed off.

“Who said I was watching you?!” I shot, now angry with his presumptuousness. I wish I hadn’t posed this question as it opened the door for him to reply, “Your eyes stay locked on my every move. You ducked every time I looked up to wave. You hosted a luncheon where ogling me was the entertainment.” Thankfully, Randy spared me the list of overwhelming evidence that I did, in fact, have an ever-so-tiny crush on him. But the crush had lifted. No guy is good-looking enough to support this type of arrogance. I only hoped he would drop it, so our next two weeks together wouldn’t be excruciatingly awkward.

“Gee, I’m sorry,” Randy said. “I guess I read things wrong. I always thought you were a woman I’d like to hang with, and I sort of got a vibe that the feeling was mutual, but I guess I was wrong.”

He always thought I seemed a woman he’d like to hang with?! Maintain stern look on face. Do not giggle or float dreamily off into the evening sky.

“You certainly were,” I said, with as much huffiness as I could muster. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but I think I maintained an air of righteous indignation. I didn’t want to be too uppity, though. After all, he wasn’t all that mistaken, really. “Listen, no hard feelings, okay?” I offered. “To be perfectly honest, I’m kind of flattered. You’re a great-looking guy, and if I weren’t madly in love with my husband, hanging out with you would be a mighty tempting proposition.”