What Looks Like Crazy (6 page)

I knew my mouth was hanging open. I had not realized I looked that awful. Bad enough that I was shaking in my heels at the thought of seeing Jay again; I didn't want him to think I'd turned into a hag. “You can really make me look ten years younger?”

“Give or take a couple of years. I'll have to call Collette in to do your makeup.” He picked up my hand, studied my nails. “Oh, hell.” He dropped my hand. “I'll have to call Paulette to do your nails.”

He looked at Mona. “You are going to
so
owe me.”

 

It was after
five by the time I left the salon with Mona at my side, my makeover complete. I didn't recognize the woman who'd stared back at me in the mirror once Frank, aka Francois, and his team of experts had finished. All I could do was gape at the incredible job they'd done. My long dark hair had been streaked with reddish-gold highlights and cut in a sassy style that barely grazed my shoulders. My makeup was flawless, and I had been given careful instructions on how to reproduce the look on my own, which accounted for the large bag of beauty products I carried.

Mona and I climbed into her Jaguar and sat there for a moment. She grinned. I grinned. “I look really good, don't I?” I said, having witnessed Francois's weeping over me—the masterpiece he'd created with his own hands.

“You rock.”

“Good. May we eat now?”

“Before or after we look for your dress?”

“Dress?”

“Honey, you have to get a dress. I recommend short, black, and sexy. You'll need high heels to go with it, too. And you'll need a thong.”

“Why do I need a thong? I don't even like thongs.”

“Not only are you going to
wear
a thong, you are going to find a way to let Jay
know
you're wearing a thong.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn't sure how I was going to work it into the conversation, but Mona had steered me right so far.

Mona turned the key in the ignition, and her Jaguar purred. “Poor Jay,” she said. “By the time we're finished with him, he's going to wish you'd just tied him to the back of your car and dragged his body through the streets.”

I was dressed
in my new size-six black dress and my new stilettos, waiting by the front window for Mona to arrive. Some people were meant to wear stilettos, but I am not one of them. I had been practicing walking in them for the past hour, but I was still an accident waiting in high heels.

I was also a nervous wreck, knowing that it wouldn't be long before I'd see Jay again. I'd never taken psychiatric drugs or tranquilizers, but I would have considered popping a Valium right about now. I probably could have asked Thad to write me a prescription, but that would have meant a trip to his hot tub, and God only knows what else. Better to risk a full-fledged nervous breakdown, I thought.

As Mona's white stretch limo pulled onto my street, I reached for my small black evening bag, which held the bare necessities: house key, lipstick, cash, and a hair pick.

I hurried out, pausing briefly to lock my front door. As I walked toward the limo, I noted Bitsy's face pressed against her window, her mouth forming a giant O. It was hard to say what shocked her more: the limo or my dress, which left little to the imagination.

Mona's chauffeur, Jimbo, met me at the door of the limo and opened it for me. From Mona, I had learned the correct way to get into and out of a limo. I sat on the edge of the seat—facing outward—and very daintily swung my legs around before Jimbo closed the door. According to Mona, presentation is everything when getting into and out of a limo.

“Da-yum,” Mona said. “I barely recognize you. I think you gave Jimbo a hard-on. If he drives into a tree, it's your fault.”

My stomach growled in response. Mona arched one brow. “I haven't eaten all day,” I said.

“You want a candy bar?” She reached for her purse.

“I can't eat. This dress is way too tight. There's not even room for me to eat a peanut. If I put anything in my mouth, my head will blow off.”

“Hey, no exploding body parts in this vehicle,” Mona said. “You save that crap for cabs. Cab drivers are used to that sort of thing. I once went out with a cab driver named Kahil. You wouldn't believe what goes on in the backseat of a cab.”

“Pretty disgusting stuff, huh?” I said.

Mona shrugged. “That's the real world.”

I just looked at her. What did Mona know about the real world? She'd lived like a princess for more than a decade. The shimmering dove gray dress she wore had probably cost twice my monthly rent. And what did she know about hunger? She could eat anything she liked and still be a size three. A normal-sized woman looked like a Wal-Mart Supercenter next to Mona.

“Guess what Liam and I did last night?” Mona said.

“You had sex?”

“No, we ate Ben & Jerry's ice cream and watched Popeye cartoons until two a.m.”

I couldn't hide my disappointment. “I thought that was
our
special thing. I can't believe you did that with some guy you barely know.”

She looked at me. “You're in a sour mood.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“You look nervous. You look like you're on the verge of a breakdown.”

“Of course I'm nervous,” I said. “I haven't seen Jay in six months. And I'm annoyed at my mother for inviting him to the grand opening and putting me in this position.” Plus my thong had slipped inside my butt crack, which I found pretty disgusting.

“Jay is going to want you back, sure as hell.”

I gave an unladylike grunt. “We're talking about a man. He probably met somebody as I was squealing out of the parking lot.” I had tried not to think along those lines because it hurt too much, but it was possible that he was already involved with someone. Not that he didn't have a right, I reminded myself.

“I'm glad Liam is different from other men,” Mona said. “He's sensitive. Did I tell you he has dimples?”

“Yes, I believe you mentioned it a few thousand times.”

Mona spent the rest of the drive discussing Liam, and it was up to me to either listen or bail out of a fast-moving car and risk death. We arrived at Little Five Points and found the neighborhood in full swing, despite its being Sunday night. No doubt the tourists hoped to catch the end-of-the-month and back-to-school sales.

Not only did tourists enjoy the area, but it also appealed to the artsy bunch, the Rasta knowledge-seekers, the tattooed, the pierced, the Goth, as well as the hip and young. It had deteriorated thirty years earlier due to racial unrest and a host of other problems. It became a haven for illegal activities, and violence had spread like a pox. But the people had fought back, and grants were approved to revitalize Little Five Points.

The limo stopped in front of my mother and aunt's building, where a sign read
JUNQUE GALLERY AND FURNISHINGS
. Mona was the first to step out. Her movie-star appearance drew stares. That she looked younger than I did, despite our being the same age, proved her Botox injections were working. I appeared right behind her, taking great care not to fall off my four-inch heels. The late August humidity was so thick, you could hang it on a clothesline. I noted the looks aimed my way, and offered up a prayer of thanks to Francois and company.

Uncle Bump met us just inside the front door. He looked me up and down. “Holy Moses, Kate, is that really you?”

Beside him, Aunt Lou took a long drag of her nonfiltered cigarette and looked equally impressed. “Work it, girl,” she said. Her smoker's voice sounded as though it had been put through a paper shredder.

“Whoa, Kate!”

I winced inwardly at the sound of Lucien's voice. I glanced in his direction and wondered how I could be related to a man with so many tattoos and pierced body parts.

“You are
hot
!” he said, his eyes bulging and his shaved head shiny with perspiration. “Too bad you're my cousin, know what I mean?” He stuck out his tongue and wagged it in front of me. I shuddered at the sight of the stud through the very tip.

Aunt Lou stepped close to him. “You do that again, and I'm going to put my cigarette out on your tongue.”

Lucien gulped and closed his mouth.

“Let's move on,” Mona said breezily, taking my arm and steering me toward one of several portable bars.

The large showroom was filled with people wearing everything from tuxedoes to caftans and jeans. An enormous sculpture made up of an assortment of clocks sat in the very center of the room, surrounded by smaller sculptures. Furniture of every imaginable design and color hugged the walls. Mona and I sipped wine and looked about.

“I don't see him,” I said, wondering how I could be immensely relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“He'll be here, don't worry,” she insisted.

“Kate!”

I heard my mother's voice and turned. She and Aunt Trixie hurried toward us. They wore matching black satin overalls with corsages of white tea roses. They stopped short and stared.

“You look absolutely stunning,” my mother said. “Doesn't she look stunning, Trixie?”

“Stunning,” Trixie said. “And look at Mona.”

“You look like celebrities,” my mother said, “except that you're so thin.”

“We have to stay thin and beautiful while we're still able to breed,” Mona said.

She smiled at Mona. “By the way, thanks for telling all your rich friends about our little store. You wouldn't believe how many of them have come in.”

“That's nice,” Mona said and slipped me a smile.

I knew that smile. I also knew that Mona, the youngest widow in her neighborhood, had, in exchange for certain favors, vowed to discourage her friends' husbands from offering her a comforting shoulder after Mr. Moneybags died.

A waiter suddenly appeared. Tall flutes of champagne filled his tray. Mona and I drained our wineglasses and exchanged them for the bubbly. We took turns toasting the Junk Sisters.

Aunt Lou hurried up and tapped my mother on the shoulder. “Some uppity-looking woman is asking about one of the sculptures. Y'all might want to talk to her.” She made stabbing motions with her cigarette toward a woman who seemed to be admiring a piece.

“We'd better get over there,” my mother said. She and Aunt Trixie promised to catch up with us later.

I had just finished my second glass of champagne and was feeling its effects when Jay stepped through the front door, his dark head several inches higher than most of the men's in the room. He was wearing a beige linen blazer, a blue shirt that matched his eyes, thigh-hugging blue jeans, and Doc Martens. The air left my lungs in one giant whoosh. Mona followed my gaze.

“Holy hell,” she whispered. “There should be a law against a man looking that good.”

My body turned hot and cold all at once. I felt light-headed. “We shouldn't have come.”

“Maybe we can talk him into taking you back,” Mona whispered.

I blinked several times. “What! That is
not
the plan.”

“I'm thinking maybe we need a new plan.”

“Oh, no, he's coming this way!” I turned and nudged her. “Stop staring!” I hissed. “Act like you don't see him.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“Katie, is that you?”

His voice hadn't changed. It still made the tiny hairs prickle on the back of my neck. I looked up and pretended to be surprised to see him. “Jay, what are
you
doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, his gaze fixed on me. “You look fabulous, Katie.” He turned to Mona. “So do you. I saw your car out front. Does that thing come with a full bath?”

“I decided to put in a pool instead,” she said.

He grinned. Mona and I smiled back. The three of us just stood there for a moment. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything,” Jay finally said.

Mona jumped. “Uh, no, I was just leaving.” She took off as though propelled from a circus cannon.

Jay chuckled and watched her go. “Was it something I said?”

I shook my head, but I couldn't think of a clever response. My spine had turned to jelly. Another waiter appeared with a tray of champagne. Jay traded my empty glass for a fresh one. “To the Junk Sisters,” he said, touching his glass to mine.

I took a tentative sip. The last thing I needed was another drink. “So, how is life treating you these days?” I asked, falling back on the oldest cliché in the world so that I wouldn't just stand there salivating like Pavlov's dog. Obviously life had been treating him very well, because he had never looked better. I'd forgotten just how blue his eyes were, or maybe they just
appeared
bluer because the summer sun had bronzed his olive complexion and left a light sheen on his hair.

“I'm good,” he said. “Looks like you're doing pretty well yourself.” He gave me a thorough perusal. “Great hair, great dress, great body. If you looked any hotter, I'd have to call for a fire hose.”

I met his gaze. “Thank you, Jay.”

“You're welcome.”

We stood there and smiled at each other. Smiled and nodded and looked about the room, and nodded some more. I didn't know what to say. What
do
you say to the love of your life once you've discovered the relationship isn't going to work out?

“I've missed you, Katie,” he said.

It was absolutely the last thing I'd expected to come out of his mouth. My stomach began to flip-flop like a fish pulled from the water. At the same time, I was slightly annoyed. I drained my glass. “That would explain the cards, letters, and phone calls.” The words leapt from my tongue before I could reach out and snatch them back.

Jay's grin, which would have made old ladies thankful for adult diapers, faded. “The last time I saw you, you threatened to sic your aunt Lou on me if I came within ten miles of you,” he said. “And when I tried to stop you from pulling out of the parking lot, you ran over my foot.”

I glared at him. “I did
not
run over your foot!”

“What? You thought I was faking? I couldn't put weight on it for a week. I could have used a little compassion after what I went through,” he added.

“After what
you
went through? What about
me
? I'm the one who got the call that my husband had fallen through the floor of a burning building and had been rushed to the ER. I'm the one who almost wrecked my car speeding to the hospital, not knowing if you were seriously injured or near death.”

“But I didn't die. I just banged up my shoulder. You could have at least hung around long enough to help me out, instead of throwing your suitcases in your car, then running over my foot!”

I would never admit that I had wanted him to realize how much he needed me so he'd leave the fire department. My plan hadn't worked. “
If
I ran over your foot, I didn't mean to.”