The Main Attraction

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The Main Attraction Page 2

by Dara Girard


  Corinne’s father had the same traits so it was no surprise he’d easily won over her mother’s heart.

  Her two sisters had also found their happy matches. One enjoyed traveling to various countries with her longtime boyfriend and the other lived with her family in Illinois.

  But not her.

  Her life wasn’t supposed to look like this.

  She’d been given every privilege. Private schooling, travel, exposure to important social networks. But she hadn’t gotten over the teasing in school. While her sisters hadn’t minded being one of a few black kids in the elite school they’d attended, Corinne hadn’t managed as well. The other kids found her an easy target.

  Unlike many of the other girls, she was solidly built with muscular legs. The other kids called her ‘thunder thighs.’ After school, Corinne hated to be caught by the band members when they were practicing, especially in the hall or on the football field. The percussion section would pound the drum to mimic her steps as if a herd of elephants were walking down the corridor. If they didn’t have instruments they would just say in deep voices Boom! Boom! Boom!.

  She dropped out of track, where her sister was a star, because she wasn’t very good and everybody knew it. When she lost her third race in a row, one girl had whispered wickedly, “I thought all blacks could run.”

  So she focused on her studies, that’s where she could soar and she also worked on helping others. Her popularity soared in high school when she helped set up one of the best homecoming events in years. She was then asked to help with a festival and a winter dance. She knew she’d found her calling and a way to belong.

  She earned a degree in hospitality management and quickly secured a position as an events associate at an exclusive agency. Going to an elite school had its privileges and one of her teachers had secured a meeting for her with the founder.

  She worked hard and quickly rose up the ranks.

  She’d met Harrison at one of the hosted events the company held for his law firm and had instantly fallen for his easy smile and compliments. He liked her laugh. He made her feel important. Desirable.

  But that had been years ago.

  Corinne gripped the strap of her handbag as she stared down at the metro tracks. She heard the rush of people going back and forth behind her, inhaled the scent of metal and wet coats. She walked towards the edge of the platform.

  Should she try to convince Jason to stay? She had the right to say ‘no’, but then he’d be miserable and she didn't want that. She didn’t want him to resent her.

  She knew that he didn’t, but then why...why wouldn’t he stay with her?

  She wasn’t important to anyone anymore. Not like she used to be. She looked at the tunnel’s black hole, it called to her in a quiet whisper. Darkness could be so peaceful. It hid so many things, covered what one didn’t want to see or know about. If she took a few more steps she wouldn’t have to answer Jason’s question. It would be answered for him. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he didn’t need her. No one needed her. He had a stepmother.

  Her.

  The gorgeous brilliant one.

  The confident one.

  No one would miss her.

  But if Corinne didn’t come home. If she…

  “That’s not a good idea,” a low voice of warning said.

  A voice so sharp it caused Corinne to take a hasty step back, as if the voice had taken human form and had reached out and grabbed her. She spun around and saw a black man staring at her. No, glaring. His biting dark gaze pinned her to the spot. She felt suddenly exposed. As if he’d reached into her mind and knew what she’d been thinking. But why should she care what a stranger thought? Who was he to judge her?

  “I have an appointment I don’t want delayed,” he said in the same voice. A voice that could be used for cutting through glass.

  A cold, heartless voice.

  “You could take a taxi or hire a driver or take the bus,” she shot back, irritated by his meddling.

  He nodded. “You could slit your wrists, take poison.”

  “What?”

  “If you want to check out of life there are many ways to do it without inconveniencing others.”

  Corinne stared at him stunned before she stuttered, “In-in-inconveniencing?”

  “Yes. Walking in front of a train would not only be a mess but others could get hurt as well. Not to mention traumatized.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. “So, I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it then opened it again and said, “You are—” She stopped not knowing the right cutting words to insult him.

  He blinked, bored. “I’m what?”

  She looked him up and down. He was—in a word—beautiful. A striking, tall man with close cropped black hair, skin the color of the richest maple syrup, a handsome face that held a certain sensual reserve. The fact that he was so attractive didn’t make him any less a horrible person, which he clearly was, but calling him ‘horrible’ or comparing him to a donkey’s behind wouldn’t faze him at all.

  He looked like the kind of man who’d laugh instead and find her amusing. The kind of man who’d never been teased in his life. But while he might be good looking there was a cruel elegance to him and the sound of his voice reminded her of dark alleys and bloody knife blades. He probably carried three cell phones and juggled two women who didn’t know about each other. He looked as if he should be dressed in torn jeans and a too tight T-shirt instead of dark trousers and an expensive black overcoat that would protect him from the fierce March wind.

  She heard the sound of the train approaching, felt the breeze as the train passed by her and settled to a stop. She stared at the rude man as he walked through the open doors, got on the train and took a seat. It was when the doors closed and she saw her horrified face reflected in the glass that she realized she’d missed her train.

  Chapter Three

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Corinne said relieved to have been able to tell someone about Jason’s request (but not about the bastard she’d met at the metro station).

  She sat with one of her closest friends in a fast-casual restaurant among the scent and sizzle of spicy chicken and mozzarella cheese sticks, staring at her untouched Cesar salad while her friend was on her fifth appetizer— baked flatbread covered in pesto. All Bonnie ever ordered were appetizers, convincing herself that she’d eat less, thus losing the extra fifteen pounds that had bothered her for years. But her strategy never worked and Corinne never had the heart to tell her. She found her friendship with Bonnie to be long-lasting but delicate.

  Bonnie Divine was anything but. She was neither bonnie in nature and the only thing divine about her was the success of her family’s cheap and cheerful furniture stores whose motto was ‘Why settle for less when you can be Divine?’

  In school, Bonnie had also been the victim of teasing. However, she did not get teased because of her name, although her name was unfortunately similar to a popular porn star at the time. She didn’t get teased for her limp, stringy brown hair, which she refused to style, finding no reason to fall prey to the patriarchal idea of beauty (she’d written a paper about it). She didn’t get teased for her large green eyes and pinched mouth which she colored with purple lipstick. Dark purple.

  What caused devilish amusement for others at their high school was her large, jutted chin and dour personality. She was nicknamed ‘The Bonfire’ because she could kill any good mood with a word or a glance and could find the one stray cloud on a bright, sunny day. But Corinne overlooked that personality trait because Bonnie had been one of the few to talk to her and invite her to her house. Bonnie had helped her through her hellish years in high school and when she wasn’t predicting the end of planet Earth, and possibly other planets and galaxies beyond, she had good traits.

  Unfortunately, she also had the amazing ability to make anything she wore look cheap. Corinne looked at Bonnie’s yellow fiv
e hundred dollar cashmere blouse and wondered why it looked as if it had come off a pile in a bargain clothes shop. But Bonnie had the money and connections enough not to care or be bothered about how people thought of her. That’s what most attracted Corinne to her. She wanted to gain that kind of confidence. Bonnie had made a good life for herself. True, she hadn’t had to work very hard for the managerial position in her family’s business, but she was great at what she did and she had a husband who adored her.

  “You know it was bound to happen,” Bonnie said. She finished one flatbread then reached for another.

  Corinne stared at her surprised. “What?”

  “Sons are never loyal. He was going to choose his dad.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

  “I do. Women like us can’t expect much from men.”

  “Women like us? What do you—”

  “It’s the truth.” Bonnie shrugged. “I told you that marrying Harrison was a bad idea. That’s why I set you up with that acquaintance of Greg’s.”

  Corinne inwardly groaned. Greg was Bonnie’s husband, a sweet man. Almost an antidote to Bonnie's more sour temperament. The acquaintance Bonnie was referring to was a guy from France with parents from Mali. A lovely man she’d gone out with a few times who 1) took delight in teasing Corinne about her deplorable French and 2) had been as exciting as dishwater.

  Which had been no surprise because that’s the kind of man Bonnie liked. Men like Greg who toed the line, didn’t argue, kept their head down and were as sturdy as wet cardboard. Corinne, on the other hand, liked her men with a little more backbone. But, then again, Bonnie was still married, which was a win. Perhaps if she’d listened she would have been too. Bonnie had never liked Harrison.

  She’d told Corinne so in no uncertain terms. She’d predicted that men like Harrison would get bored of the novelty of her (Corinne never quite understood what that ‘novelty’ was) before he’d trade her in for a newer model within fifteen years.

  It had taken seven, but to be fair, Harrison waited a couple months before he found Lily: A woman with thin thighs and perky breasts.

  At least he hadn’t cheated on her. Their marriage fell apart and within two months he was looking for someone new, because men like Harrison didn’t like to stay single for long and (through a happy accident?) he met a health instructor at his gym.

  Naturally, Lily’s job at the gym was just something she did on the side while she grew her consulting business. So Lily had beauty, brains and no baggage. Corinne couldn’t blame Harrison for falling for her.

  At times Corinne still wondered how she could have made things different. Maybe if she’d been smarter or something. Not sexier, she’d never be that. But she didn't like the idea that she was doomed. Although that’s how Bonnie saw the world and sometimes Corinne found it comforting to share her sorrows with someone who truly understood that life could toss lemons at you and all the lemonade in the world wouldn’t change things. That sometimes you had to swallow lemonade without the sugar.

  Her parents didn’t understand. Especially her mother who’d had a charmed life as a popular volunteer worker and stay-at-home mom. Most times Corinne felt as if she were constantly living under a raincloud.

  “You won’t listen to me,” Bonnie said, now munching on a cheese bite, “but I’ll say it anyway, let him go. If he wants to live with his father, that’s it. Fighting for the affections of a seven year old is the height of masochism.”

  Bonnie was right, Corinne wouldn’t listen. So several hours later when she met with her second closest friend, Vivian Luce, for dinner at an Italian restaurant surrounded by the scent of warm garlic bread and oregano, she was shocked when Vivian said the same.

  She always ate out as much as she could when Jason was with his father, but this time she wondered if she should have stayed home.

  She looked across the table stunned. “I can’t believe you agree with her.” She’d shared her story about Jason’s request eager for a second opinion. Vivian and Bonnie never agreed on anything, which was why she kept them apart. Their one and only meeting had been disastrous.

  Corinne had met Vivian only six years ago when she still worked at her old event planning agency, before striking out on her own. Vivian had been a business consultant who’d encouraged a client to use their services. Quick witted, sharp and kind, Corinne had been a little shocked when Vivian asked her out to lunch and their friendship blossomed easily.

  Vivian was Bonnie’s opposite in many ways. A wave of dark curls fell to her shoulders and her suits always complemented her deep honey toned skin—a mix of her Bahamian father and Italian mother. She gestured wildly and passionately in amazement when she said, “I can’t believe it myself, but it’s true. I know how much this must hurt, but it might also be an opportunity.”

  “To lose my son?”

  Vivian kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “That’s how it feels.”

  “Maybe...” Vivian bit her lip.

  “What?” Corinne pressed; it wasn’t like Vivian to keep her thoughts to herself.

  “It has been hard for you and remember how you worried about the cost of summer camp?”

  “I can make it work. I already made the reservation. I’ll slowly pay it off. Things are tight but—”

  “Maybe you both need this. Don’t make it permanent. Maybe just a few months. Get your life together.”

  “My life is together.” But even as she said the words they felt like a lie. But she didn’t know what else to do. She had a place to stay, a business she was slowly building. She didn’t want to feel like a complete failure. “I need to work harder to get more clients.”

  “You mean you need higher paying ones so that you’re not working yourself into the ground.”

  “It’s the nature of the business.”

  “You wouldn’t have to worry about a babysitter.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours. I know that after your divorce, the stress of maintaining your event planning business has been a struggle now that you’re a single parent. Before, when you were married, you could afford to hire babysitters and housecleaners, but not anymore.”

  Corinne gritted her teeth, briefly thinking about Jason’s terrible breakfast and the stack of dishes near the sink. “I know that. My parents help out when they can—”

  “But they have their own lives. You told me you’ve started to feel guilty and your sister in Chicago thinks you’re taking advantage of them.”

  Her sister’s criticism burned because sometimes she wondered if her sister was right. “And I clean when I get a chance.”

  “Which, with your schedule, is not often.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You wanted honesty, right?”

  “Not this honest,” Corinne grumbled.

  “And you’re not exactly inspiring confidence in people.”

  “What do you mean?” Corinne said, amazed that her friend was on such a roll.

  “Well you...” Vivian bit her lip.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Hesitating. That’s not like you. You’re the one who told me that my marriage was over before I even knew it. You’re the one who told me to ask my parents about the mother-in-law house when I was thinking of getting that dinky apartment. You’ve never had a problem telling me what you think before.”

  “I know, but this time it’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “About me? Really?”

  “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

  “I had lunch with Bonnie only a few hours ago.”

  “But did you eat anything? You go out to eat all the time but barely touch your plate. Like now.” She looked at Corinne’s barely touched pasta.

  Corinne poked the pasta with her fork. “I like leftovers.”

  “You’ve lost weight,” she sai
d in a soft voice. “You’re not exactly thin, but you look… fragile.”

  “I’ve been working on two big events.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t help your image. Plus...”

  “What,” she pressed when Vivian looked at something outside the window where streetlights shone bright in the night sky.

  She turned to her, leaned forward and said in an urgent voice, “You’re not you anymore. You don’t work the way you used to when you were at the other firm. You sell yourself short. You accept clients that no one else wants, which does nothing to help build your reputation, and your business is stuck because...you’ve lost your passion.”

  Tears threatened but Corinne held them back. She wanted to say it wasn’t true, but part of her knew it was. She’d take any job in order to keep her and Jason going. She wanted to pretend that she could give Jason what his father could, to not change their way of life too much.

  But she’d had to. There was no cook, no housekeeper, no standby babysitter. Sometimes the cupboards were barer than she’d like them to be. That’s why she’d lost weight.

  She felt a warm hand on hers and looked up through tears to see Vivian’s worried face. “I love you. I want what’s best for you.”

  She pulled her hand away, ashamed. She didn’t want her friend’s pity. “I know.”

  “I think you need to think bigger.”

  Corinne shook her head. Both she and Bonnie wanted her to let Jason go. They were both telling her that she was a terrible mother. That he was better off without her and now she wanted her to think bigger? Think bigger about what? She felt as small as a beetle and just as valuable. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Of course you can.” Vivian pressed her hands together as if in prayer. “I say this because I care.”

  “I know,” Corinne said releasing a long breath. As much as it hurt, she needed to hear it. “At least it feels as if someone cares.” She sniffed in disgust. “The only reason he didn’t think I should kill myself was because he’d miss an appointment.”

  Vivian’s voice sharpened. “He who?”

 

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