The Debutante

by Magnolia Mason

  Lovely. I did look quite slim in the dress, but that was beside the point. I didn’t care about that anymore. I didn’t care if I was skinny or thick or fat or what. I felt happy for the first time in forever. Getting this dinner with Cash out of the way was the first step toward dissolving the whole notion I’d somehow marry him.

  Laying in bed with Jack the Friday before, we’d joked about all the different ways I could scare him off.

  “Down a pint of beer and burp the alphabet after saying grace,” he’d suggested. I smacked his arm and laughed.

  “I’m supposed to be turning him off not seducing you,” I replied with a giggle. He pulled me close and tickled me until I was breathless, his rough fingers holding me in place so I couldn’t get away.

  “Smart ass,” he teased as he kissed my hair. His hand rested on my tummy, kneading the soft flesh as our laughter died.

  There was a sense of whistling past the graveyard in joking about the whole situation. We’d accepted that dinner with Cash was inevitable, that I’d have to do my due diligence and please my mother’s ambitions for me, so now it all came down to making it bearable. Jack always had my back—it was us versus the world.

  Standing in front of the mirror getting ready, I distracted myself by thinking of him at the cabin working on his truck or making the bed—our bed—while I was getting trussed up like a Christmas goose. I could see him sitting in the rocker by the front door tuning his guitar, or humming to himself as he made dinner.

  “What’re you grinning about?” asked mother.

  She probably thought I was fantasizing about all the babies Cash and I would make. Little fair-haired creatures with shining white teeth who’d say Yes Ma’am, No Ma’am, Please and Thank You.

  “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said as my smile died a natural death in the bright light of reality. “Just remembering something that makes me happy.”

  “Oh, how very cryptic, dear. You talk like one of those Gothic romances you love to read so much.”

  She fussed over the hem of my dress, tugging it down to cover the dimples on my thighs. The dimples that Jack had kissed and pressed to his cheek as rain lashed the cabin.

  “You must remember not to talk like that to a boy like Cash. He’s a straight shooter—he wants dinner on the table and a drink in his hand. That’s it.”

  She gestured as if smoothing a tablecloth, laying the truth down in front of me like an old cloth.

  “Don’t get me wrong, dear, men like him want a smart woman, of course. But you must be smart to be smart, if you know what I mean. Speak intelligently, but little. Listen more than you talk. And, above all, don’t contradict. They work so hard for us, and the least we can do is give them peace at home. Oh, listen to me rambling on. I’m sorry dear. Cash is crazy for you, so all this is moot.”

  She shook her head apologetically as she smoothed my hair and looked over my shoulder into the mirror. She was only trying to help, but her whole soliloquy left me desperately sorry for her. I’d never been less seduced by the whole idea of society lifestyle than I was at the moment. Belching the alphabet over the Wedgwood and crystal seemed like a viable option.

  “When is Cash due?” I asked as she ran the lint roller over my body for the hundredth time.

  “Six on the dot, baby doll. Oh, you two are gonna have so much fun!”

  “Oh, doubtless.” I replied with a sigh as the clock down the hall struck the quarter hour.

  “Fifteen minutes, honey child!” She beamed with excitement. “I’ll run down and fluff the flowers. Wait ten minutes after he arrives to come down, okay, baby?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I replied as she pranced off to get everything ready.

  I turned to the mirror and tried to make sense of my reflection. Mother’d pinned my hair in a high crown of waves that flowed down over my shoulders like something from Romeo and Juliet. My cheeks were perfectly flushed, my lips painted a nude-pink that forced all attention onto my eyes. A row of falsies and a wing of liner brought them out, balancing out the roundness of my face. It was scary how little I recognized myself all painted and primped like that, how fifteen minutes at the vanity could rob a person of their face.

  “Guess that’s the point,” I whispered to no one in particular as I really internalized the whole thing. Maybe it was better I didn’t recognize myself so I could play the part better.

  Downstairs, I heard the doorbell chime and the swell of voices greeting my intended. A lull followed and then a peal of laughter. Cash was charming them, making some joke that was funny only if you didn’t know he was mocking you. And, rest assured, he was mocking them to their faces. After all, he’d attacked me and I never told. They didn’t know. And they were more than willing to bring him into their home.

  Ten minutes passed. I descended the stairs with one foot in front of the other, hand lightly trailing on the polished wood bannister, posture ramrod straight. Late afternoon sun streaked in through the western windows, casting Cash’s shadow across the stairs. I passed through it and felt the coldness in place of the warm sunlight, but his shadow couldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t hurt me. Not anymore.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Cassidy Peterson. Isn’t she a sight?”

  Cash was leaning against the back of the sofa, drink in hand, watching me descend. His eyes glittered, and I saw the barest hint of smugness on his poster-boy-handsome face. I could still see where Jack’s fist had landed on the evening of the debutante ball, but it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else. Just a tiny little bruise on his jaw; a secret that swelled in the air between us.

  Mother was seated with Conrad standing beside her. I was trying to judge how many drinks he’d had by the number of half-melted ice cubes in his glass… anything to distract myself from what was happening.

  Mother smiled nervously, flicking her eyes back and forth between me and him, watching for the spark she required before adding kindling to the courtship.

  “She really is a handsome young woman, I must agree.”

  Thanks, Conrad, I thought.

  He meant well, but few girls like to be called handsome. However, under the circumstances, maybe handsome wasn’t such a bad way to be. I daresay, a boy like Cash wouldn’t want a handsome girl but a looker, a stunner, a centerfold. Someone to make his friends envious.

  “Honey, would you like a cocktail?”

  “Yes, please. A Sazerac, if you would.”

  It was the most unladylike drink I could think of, something that was outside the conventions of the evening. Plus, it sounded strong and sweet. Something to lube me up for the nightmare ahead.

  “A Sazerac. Of course, dear.”

  Mother’s lips pursed softly for a fleeting second before resuming their normal placid Mona Lisa smile.

  Cash spoke eloquently, as always, carrying the conversation along a path he blazed himself, leading the listeners in his wake.

  Conrad and mother laughed when a pause dictated, gasped when it seemed prudent and interjected very little. It was as if they’d all memorized some secret script and were reading lines I wasn’t privy to. I just sipped my drink until I felt jolly and tried not to embarrass myself too much.

  Dinner passed in a haze. The conversation—and spirits—flowed, and before long we were all chatting comfortably. If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t know that Cash was a spoiled monster, I’d swear he was a good guy. I was caught up in his charm, in his effortless social ease. That sort of charisma was something I’d never had in my life. It was no different than when he’d led me on the dance floor the night of the debutante ball, guiding me so skillfully that I was convinced I knew all the steps when I knew well and truly that I didn’t. His charm and grace reflected off everyone else, convincing the moon that it was the sun.

  “Cassy.”

  Cash’s voice brought me back to reality. I’d been off in thought, chewing the same piece of asparagus for God-knows-how-long.

  “Sorry, I wa
s miles away,” I said softly after swallowing and taking a sip of water. “What were you saying?”

  “I was just telling your mother and Mr. Peterson here how happy I am we were able to have this dinner. I wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen.”

  He laughed and took a sip off his near-empty drink. Mother swept in and filled it without missing a beat. I had to say, I was impressed by her dedication to etiquette. She was a born hostess.

  “Oh, Cassy just had a run of bad luck there for a bit. We hope you weren’t too terribly offended.”

  “Offended? No, Mrs. Peterson. I didn’t mean that.” He thanked her for the drink and lifted it up, letting the light catch the golden liquor inside. Condensation wept down the cut crystal, dripping onto the fine linen tablecloth. “I just wasn’t sure if I was barking up the wrong tree.”

  Mother and Conrad laughed uneasily and looked at each other, puzzled. My heart skipped a beat. Cash’s smile faltered and he cocked his head. It was the strangest thing, watching the room dim as he reined in his charm. Like when clouds pass over the sun. Suddenly, everyone felt a little strange. A little uncomfortable.

  “Whatever do you mean, Cash, honey?” asked my mother with a nervous little chuckle. “Cassy was sick. I’m telling you, she’s been talking about this dinner non-stop, isn’t that right, honey?”

  She nodded in my direction with a hopeful, prodding look on her delicate face. I smiled quickly and nodded as I took a sip off my drink.

  Cash studied me. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

  “Is that right, Cassy?” he asked with a slight smile curling one side of his mouth.

  Don’t make me say it, you bastard, I thought.

  He was toying with me.

  “Oh, absolutely,” I offered with a broad grin as his eyes bored into me, trying to find a chink in the armor. “I’ve had loads to say about tonight. In fact, mother and Conrad and Jack could hardly get me to shut up about it.”

  Jack.

  A tiny, near imperceptible flinch shivered through his body at the sound of his name. He knew what it was; not a threat, but a promise. Jack would end him if he ever hurt me again. The little glimpse of uncertainty vanished in the brilliant flash of his smile.

  He winked and took a sip of whiskey, then turned to regard my parents.

  “Well, that warms my heart, it really does. All those cancellations, though. Makes a guy sweat.” He laughed, and my parents followed suit, grateful the tension was dissipating. “Another cancelled dinner and I’d swear she had some secret lover tucked away in the woods somewhere.”

  Mother and Conrad laughed, but I could barely hear it. It was drowned out by the pounding of blood in my ears. Prickling heat spread all over me, raising beads of sweat on my brow. Dizziness washed over me as we locked eyes. He smirked and threw me another wink.

  Does he know?

  The rest of dinner was a blur. My mind was racing and my hands shook as I ate mother’s hummingbird cake and drank a little demitasse of chicory coffee.

  Cash filled the room with the glorious light of his charm, casting out even the deep, dark shadow of fear hanging over me. In some perverse way, I was grateful for him and how he could control the temperature of the room as reliably as any thermostat. I was useless in that regard. Without him, my mother would fixate on me, wondering what was wrong.

  “Well, look at the time.” Cash stretched and pushed back from the table. Upstairs, the grandfather clock struck half-past-eight. “I should let you folks get on with your evening. What a glorious meal, Mrs. Peterson. A triumph. You must make sure Cassy knows the recipe for your hummingbird cake. I’ve never tasted better.”

  “Oh, please don’t rush out, Cash,” said my mother, obviously beguiled by his love for her dessert. “You’re just such a joy to have. Isn’t he, Cassy?”

  “A joy,” I echoed as I rose with them.

  “Well, I appreciate your kind words, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow. We’re scouting locations for our new oil derrick.”

  “A new derrick, did you hear that, honey?” mother exclaimed with an excited glance in my direction.

  I nodded and forced a smile.

  “It’ll be state of the art, totally modern and safe. Should give us a good return on investment, not to be crass. We’re eyeing a few places on the water down past St. Anne. Maybe Cassy’d like to come with me one of these times?”

  Before I could answer, my mother and Conrad agreed on my behalf.

  It was done. I’d be going with him.

  Alone.

  To the bayou.

  We all rose in unison. Cash grabbed his jacket and draped it over his shoulder, then leaned in and planted a peck on my mother’s cheek. Conrad shook his hand heartily, smacking his arm with vigor as he guiding him toward the foyer.

  The way he looked at my parents, it was like he was courting them and not me. Well, I guess he was, in a way. They were the clerks and I was just the sack of flour they were selling.

  “Cassy, would you walk me out?” Cash asked.

  My folks watched expectantly, waiting for my response. Sweat erupted from my palms and I felt that tickling rush in my belly that told me to run, to fight, to win or die trying.

  I nodded.

  “Sure thing, Cash.”

  I wouldn’t let him see my fear.

  The soft lemony scent of magnolia flowers hung in the still-warm evening air as we walked down the front steps toward Cash’s car. It was a beauty. A fully restored 1942 Chevrolet convertible. Bright with chrome and slicked up like a new penny.

  “Nice night,” he said as he tossed his coat into the passenger seat and turned to face me.

  He leaned against the door and crossed one leg in front of the other with the ease of someone who’d never had a worry in their life. His white bucks didn’t have a scuff on them, like he’d never walked on anything rougher than a polished wood floor in all his life.

  “It is.”

  “Reminds me of the other night, after the ball. It was such a good goddamn evening until… well, no use in dwelling.”

  There was a venomous tone beneath his genteel accent; a pouty, entitled sneer in his voice that made me want to slap the brat out of him.

  “You’re right. It’s in the past now. Important thing is we don’t repeat our mistakes,” I said sweetly, my eyes meeting his. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Like walking out alone with a young man?”

  He cocked his head and smiled at me in the most vicious way imaginable, his white teeth shining in the dark.

  I won’t lie, my heart clenched as I tried to stare him down, but I couldn’t show it. I smiled back. I was safe now. With Jack looking after me, there was nothing this little toad could do that would matter.

  “We’re hardly alone, Cash. My mother and Daddy Conrad are watching us right this very minute, make no mistake.”

  His laughter startled me.

  “Oh, doubtless. They’re salivating to marry their little girl off to someone like me. Can you imagine? If I had a little girl, I’d dig a moat around her to keep someone like me away.”

  “Well, at least you’re self aware, I’ll give you that. Goodnight, Cash.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute, Cassy,” he laughed as he rocked up onto his feet and stepped toward me, his hand extended. “Don’t leave without saying a proper goodnight. Remember, they’re watching. We simply must give them what they’re looking for or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  I stepped back and held out my hand to him, letting my fingers rest against his clammy palm. His eyes locked onto mine as he bent in and kissed my fingers. If a person didn’t know better, they’d swear he was a gentleman, he played the part so well.

  “Goodnight, Cassy Peterson. Please thank your folks for a lovely evening.” He climbed into the car and took off the parking brake. I walked backward a few steps, soaking my bare ankles with dew. “Oh, and I almost forgot. I have something for you.”

  He grabbed something from the glo
vebox and held it out to me. It was a big, yellow envelope.

  “Go on, it’s not a snake,” he said as he flapped it at me.

  I took it and turned it over and over in my hands. It was just a plain manila envelope. Nothing could look less sinister.

  The engine roared to life and he put it in gear, then leaned out the open window.

  “Oh, and I’d open that later, if I were you. Night-night, sugar.”

  The car disappeared down the empty street, the tail lights swallowed up by the night.

  Open it later… no, I’d open it now.

  With shaking fingers I teased open the flap and reached inside. A stack of slick paper printed with vivid, unflinching, truthful color slid out onto my palm.

  “Oh, god…” A fist closed around my heart. “No. Oh, god, no. It can’t be.”

  My creamy, pale flesh entwined with Jack’s tanned Creole skin. His auburn hair and my heavy, pink-tipped breasts. The dimpled flesh of my thighs as Jack pushed them wide and buried himself between my legs. The cabin’s warm wood walls. The quilt. The shotgun. Everything. There was no mistaking any of it.

  It was us making love on the tabletop on that stormy night the week before while thunder and lightning crashed above us. But it was no bolt of lightning that lit us up as I came, no. It was the flash of Cash’s camera.

  He’d captured us as sure as any hunter’s snare.

  Chapter 8

  “Shh, shhh, Cassy, my love.”

  Jack whispered in my ear as he wrapped his arm around my belly. His fingers slipped down again, resting between my legs while his other hand slid down my backside.

  “Oohhh, god, it’s so…”

  I couldn’t finish my thought, it was torn away by the feel of him rubbing oil onto me, of his finger circling my tight back entrance again and again and again until I thought I’d scream.

  “Good, right?”

  Both hands worked in unison, revving up the nerves in front and back, making me shudder.