What Mother Never Told Me (17 page)

“I’ll be ready.”

Parris hung up with a smile on her face and so did Celeste.

Leslie sat bent over her drafting table as she put the finishing touches to the preliminary sketches of the entryway and the front seating area of the club. She was relatively pleased with what she’d come up with so far, but she had yet to hit on the thing that wowed her. And if it didn’t wow her, it wouldn’t wow her clients. She wanted a signature look that could be repeated throughout the entire space, used on their promotional materials and the menus. Basically she needed to create a brand that was unique to Nick and Sam and the atmosphere they wanted to create within Rhythms. She took a long critical look at her sketch.
Almost there but not quite.

She leaned back in her chair and rotated her neck. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the clock. It was almost noon. Mother would want lunch in a little while. She was surprised she hadn’t been disturbed a dozen times with that bell. She pushed off her stool and walked toward her mother’s bedroom when the ringing phone pulled her in the opposite direction. She picked up the one in the living room.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Les, it’s Cee.”

“Hey.” She leaned against the wall. “What’s up? I was just going to check on my mother and see if she was ready for lunch.”

“Oh.”

“You can’t be any more disappointed than me,” she said, hearing the octave drop in Celeste’s voice.

“Not like that,” she insisted. “Well, sort of. Parris called a little while ago and wanted to get together. I thought we could do a girls’ afternoon.”

Leslie sighed heavily. “I wish I could, but today is Gracie’s day off. There’s no one here to stay with my mother.”

“Hmm. Well, how about this, what if I sprung for lunch from somewhere fun and brought it over. Would that be okay?”

Leslie glanced in the direction of her mother’s bedroom. “Sure. Let me get her lunch and her up and around for a little while.”

“I’ll aim for two, is that good?”

“Perfect. See you then.” Leslie hung up, and mentally began going through her checklist of what needed to be done before her guests arrived.

Parris had just put on her pullover sweater when her cell phone rang.

“Hi, it’s Celeste. There’s been a slight change in plans. Since Leslie doesn’t have someone to look after her mom today, I thought we could pick up a bunch of great stuff to eat and bring it over there. She said it was fine. Is that all right with you?”

“Uh, sure. No problem with me.”

“Good. I’ll see you in about a half hour.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“You did what?” Nick sputtered, his eyes wide in genuine shock.

“Would you keep your voice down?” Sam said in a hard whisper. He paced away from Nick, shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t even know her,” he insisted.

Sam turned to Nick, stared him in the eye. “Look, it happened. And I can’t say that I regret it.”

“Whoa.” Nick dropped down onto the love seat. “Coming from you, that’s kinda serious.”

“What’s kinda serious?” Parris asked, popping into the room. “Hey, Sam. What have you gone and done now?” She crossed the room and kissed his cheek then used her thumb to wipe away the lipstick smudge. She glanced from one face to the other. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, babe. Everything’s fine. Just some music stuff. That’s all.” Then he really zeroed in on her. “You’re going out?”

“Oh, yeah, I finally got around to calling Celeste and we’re going over to Leslie’s for a ladies’ brunch.”

“You need the car?”

“No. Celeste is going to stop by and pick me up.”

Nick and Sam stole a quick glance that Parris didn’t miss. “What’s going on?” Her question was focused on Sam. He looked away. “Sam…you and…nooo…” Her brows rose.

“Look, it’s not what you think.”

“What am I thinking?” she taunted, trying not to laugh at his stricken expression.

“Whatever it is, it’s not. Okay?” His tone held a definitive note of finality.

“Fine.” She shot Nick a look and he shrugged a helpless shoulder. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Is it going to be a problem if she comes upstairs?”

No from Nick, yes from Sam.

“Perfect.” She walked out to leave them to their mess.

Celeste pulled up in front of Nick’s building, contemplating what she should do. If Sam was already up there, she didn’t
know how either of them would react. She opted for the coward’s way out and called Parris from her cell phone and asked her to come down.

Moments later Parris appeared in the doorway and came down the stairs, her wild spiral curls haloing her face, her slender figure clad in straight-legged jeans, slouch leather boots and a waist-length down jacket, giving her the appearance of a college coed heading off to class. She came toward the car and got in.

“Hi. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Not a problem. Good to see you.” She checked her mirrors and waited for Parris to buckle up, then slowly pulled out. “Do you like Thai food?”

“Haven’t tried it, but I’m game.”

“Great, I took the liberty of ordering. I know this fabulous restaurant on the east side.” They drove several blocks and came to a light. “So, uh, did the band get back together again?” she joked, making reference to
The Blues Brothers
.

Parris caught the quip and laughed. “Yes, the last of the quartet arrived just before you did.” She took a quick glance at Celeste’s sharp profile, wondering if she’d take her query a step further and ask about Sam, but she didn’t. “They’re all thrilled about getting started on the club.”

“Leslie said she has some sketches to show us.”

“I can’t wait to see what she came up with.”

Celeste cast a quick glance in Parris’s direction. “She’s good,” she said sincerely. “And I’m not tooting her horn because she’s my friend. She’s really as good as I say she is,” she added with a smirk.

Parris tossed her hand back and laughed. “I’m sold, I’m sold.”

Celeste smiled as they made the turn onto Lexington Avenue.

The Thai restaurant was on Lexington and Fifty-Second Street in the heart of New York affluence. Parris felt suddenly underdressed as she walked among the strollers, casually garbed in their minks, short, long and in-between. Even Celeste flounced down the avenue with her ink-black mink that caressed her ankles as nonchalantly as if it were a tattered denim jacket. Perhaps she’d treat herself one of these days, she mused as Celeste pushed through the revolving door of the restaurant, which brought the still unsigned contract to mind. She’d put her own pursuits on the back burner with all that had transpired in her life recently, and if she didn’t get back on track that may be taken away from her as well.

“I placed an order for Shaw,” Celeste announced to the hostess at the front desk.

“One moment, please.”

Parris took in the sensually lit, posh interior, with its deep wood and bloodred leather furnishings and gold trim. The waiters and waitresses moved between the tables in a hushed silence that underscored the low murmur of voices. She inhaled the tantalizing aromas and hoped it tasted as good as it smelled. She was about to ask Celeste how often she came here when said she would be right back, and suddenly began walking toward a table in the rear. Parris narrowed her gaze and followed Celeste’s departure until she came to a stop. The couple was talking with their heads close to each other. She reached out and stroked his cheek. He clasped her hand and held it there. The man’s back was turned to Parris but they both looked up simultaneously at Celeste. The woman stared wide-eyed at Celeste, obviously stunned by her appearance. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could tell by Celeste’s usual free-flowing movements that had become stiff and threatening, that it was serious.

The hostess returned with two large bags of food and placed them in front of Parris. “Enjoy,” she said. “The bill is taken care of.”

“Th-thank you.” Her attention was aimed at Celeste, who was coming her way.

Celeste was walking back, head up, fury in her eyes, her face a hot pink. She didn’t even stop at the desk but walked straight out the door. Parris came out behind her.

“Celeste, what happened? Are you all right?” She doubled her step to keep up.

Celeste aimed her alarm at the car and it beeped in response. She walked around to the driver’s side and got in, tugging her coat around her as she jammed the seat belt in place. She gripped the steering wheel as if her life depended on it.

Parris tentatively reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, not bothering to speak, knowing well enough that people talked when they were ready.

The comforting gesture calmed Celeste in a way that words couldn’t. She drew in a long breath and slowly released it. She turned toward Parris. “Let’s get the hell out of here so that I don’t have to tell this story more than once.”

Leslie had spent the past hour and a half tending to her mother, preparing her lunch, helping her to the bathroom, stripping the bed and getting her settled back in it.

“I’m expecting company in a little while, Mama, so I’ll be right up front if you need anything.” She tried to catch her mother’s attention, but Theresa refused to look at her, instead focusing her sights on the afternoon judge show.

Leslie sighed, adjusted the pillows behind Theresa’s head, raised the guardrail and walked out, thankful to be free of the
oppression that hung in her room like the humidity in summer, sticky and cloying.

As she stood over the sink washing and stacking the lunch dishes she tried to remember a time of laughter and joy shared between her and her mother, but the images and memories of the ill will between them obliterated anything else. She couldn’t remember a good feeling, a hug, a smile, an ‘I love you.’ The lack of affection, like an insidious disease nibbled away at her sense of self, her ability to love herself, leaving her unable to love anyone else. She had no point of reference.

She believed that was the tie that bound her and Celeste. Their common ground. The thing that drew the two most unlikely people together, almost as if their dysfunction was a pheromone that couldn’t be resisted. Their unified ambivalence for their mothers, their silent understanding that their mothers molded the women they’d become, fueled their friendship.

Leslie turned off the water and dried her hands on the green-and-white-striped dish towel that perfectly matched the wallpaper that took her nearly two months to locate. Unlike most people, it was not her bedroom that was her haven, it was her kitchen. From end to end, it was magazine perfect, from the matching washer/dryer, garbage disposal, dishwasher, range oven and double-door refrigerator—all in sparkling stainless steel. The granite floor brought to mind the plazas of Europe and its deep murky green with flecks of silver was the perfect complement to the décor. The six-foot island counter was equipped with four jets, a built-in wok, hand-washing sink and cutting board. She’d even had a small flat screen television hooked up so that she could watch her cooking and decorating shows whenever she was in the kitchen, which was often.

She took a slow turn around her beloved space, determined
that it was spotless, then hurried off to her bedroom to get out of her tattered nightgown and put on some clothes. When she thought about it, she was a little excited to have Parris in her home. She may not be a household name now, but she would be one day soon, and Leslie would always be able to say that Parris McKay had eaten brunch at her house. She slid her feet into her open-backed baby blue scuffs just as the doorbell rang.

Leslie stuck her head in her mother’s room. The scent of illness, medication and age clung to the air, enveloping the once robust woman on the bed and all who came through the door. For an instant a rush of heartbreaking sadness bloomed within her and lodged in her throat. One day she would be gone, Leslie thought, blinking away the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. The battle would be over and neither side would have won. Then what? She watched the near imperceptible rise and fall of Theresa’s chest and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was asleep before going down the hallway to answer the door.

“You are kidding me,” Leslie said, handing out dishes at the kitchen counter. “He was actually out in public with Allison?” She tossed Parris a look. “That was Clinton’s ex before Celeste swept him off his feet…or not, which is apparently the case.” To Celeste she asked, “And being all cozy? See, that’s why I know you could never be a sista, ’cause if you were, you would have been on the news!”

Parris had to laugh because she knew exactly what Leslie meant.

“I had no intention of messing up my mink coat,” Celeste said, tongue in cheek of her defense.

Leslie looked at her and shook her head in feigned sadness.
“I am disappointed. I did not teach you well. You don’t wear a mink to a street fight.”

They all broke up laughing.

Celeste talked over her chuckles. “I should be hurt. It will be the scandal of the spring. But at least now I don’t feel so bad for having—” her voice dropped to a notch above silent “—slept with Sam.” Her gaze dived into the depths of her Thai iced tea.

“Excuse me? You did what?”

Parris waited for the punch line.

Celeste cut her eyes from one to the other, then nervously tucked her honey-blond hair behind her ears. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re serious,” Leslie said, taking a seat.

Parris thought about the look of want in Sam’s eyes the day they were all together, and the conversation that Nick had with her about the vibe he’d felt between Sam and Celeste. Maybe there really was something there. “If you care about him then it shouldn’t be a problem. You’re both adults.”

“You don’t know her family,” Leslie said.

“And to be truthful I don’t know what I feel about him. Part of it was definitely chemistry, another curiosity and a slap in the face to the Shaw tradition,” she said, the rancor seeping through her words.

“Look, Sammy is my friend,” Parris said. “And he’s been like a brother to Nick since they were kids. He has his flaws, but he’s a decent guy and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a science project. Hurt because of some white girl’s fantasy and twisted version of sticking it to her bourgeois parents.”