by Koko Brown
There was nothing childish about Ralph Long. At one time, his lips and his hands used to turn her insides to mush. Even now, the night they’d first made love seared her memory, unleashing pent-up, well-tempered emotions and a mountain of guilt.
Did he still hate her? Had he forgiven her for hurting him?
Dozens of unanswered questions came flooding to the surface like puss to an open wound, but Celeste didn’t run or retreat. She’d done enough of that over the years. Even going so far as to run into another man’s arms because she couldn’t understand how someone could love her when her daddy refused to.
Despite having the wind suddenly knocked out of her, yet the consummate performer, Celeste acknowledged him with a smile and finger wave.
“Isn’t that what happened, Ralph?” Beatrice snapped her fingers at him, barely regaining his attention because his eyes kept darting in Celeste’s direction.
“Say that again,” Ralph mumbled.
“That gypsy’s monkey stole my wedding ring on our honeymoon. That little devil slipped it right off my finger…”
Celeste felt a cold, hard knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Swaying slightly, she couldn’t process anything beyond the fact that all this time she’d been duped.
Did the affair start here or while they were in Europe? Considering Ralph’s sheepish expression, the dalliance more than likely started before the boat left shore.
Celeste got so angry her body trembled with it. Ralph hadn’t left her at the altar over her transgressions. He’d played her false, made her wallow in guilt for years, while he played house in Paris.
Ralph started to fidget and she smiled. He might’ve settled down he hadn’t lost his marbles. He’d witnessed enough of her run-ins to know neither of them would get off on a technicality. Sure, she’d cheated on him, but he’d transgressed as well.
Celeste pushed away from the door at the same time Beatrice turned in her direction, her arms drifting to her sides.
“And all this time I thought we were old friends,” Celeste emphasized ‘old’, striking out at Beatrice’s Achilles heel. The other woman routinely lied about her age, dialing back the time like the hand on a watch even though she’d strolled around the block a time or two and was a headliner long before Celeste and Ralph were out of knee socks.
A smarter cookie than she first assumed, Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “Acquaintances at best,” she corrected.
“Yet close enough to gain my confidence and walk away with my fiancé. I will admit you were a way better actress. But we’re not on stage and I’m not going to hold any punches.”
Beatrice planted her chin in the air. “No one can walk away with what was already gone,” she muttered.
“No they can’t. So I want to thank you.”
Incredulous, the other woman blinked. “W-what for?”
“For saving me from the biggest mistake of my life. Admittedly, I’m angry as hell right now and my foot is itching to stick it up your behinds. But seeing both of you and how neither of you have changed, I feel mighty blessed. Ralph’s still a pushover and you’re still trying to be the center of the show, surrounding yourself with fake friends who stroke your shallow ego.”
Beatrice said nothing. Just opened and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Not waiting for Beatrice to gather her bearings, Celeste barreled forward.
“Neither of you are worth it. The past is better left in the past. It’s just too bad that this meeting hadn’t come sooner.” Celeste turned to Ralph and smiled. The past was melting from her shoulders like slush in eighty degree weather. “I could have devoted less time believing I wasn’t good enough for you.”
Celeste waited for a comeback, half expected one, and found herself ill prepared for the uncomfortable silence that took hold of everyone’s tongues.
Done with the lot of them and desperately needing a drink, Celeste turned around and left.
“I’ll see your fifty and raise you another fifty.”
Throwing two bills on the table, Shane eyed the man across from him. There were only three of them still in the game, the other two recently bowing out. As the third player contemplated his luck, a man whom the others had called Willie, started teasing him.
“Ah come on, Russ. Either you got it or you don’t.” Willie grinned at the bald-headed fellow deliberating over his cards. Finding the other man unmoved, Willie turned his attention to making small talk, “Any of you going to see the revival of that play Mulatto next week?
“I heard it’s been sold out for weeks,” Grissom, a number runner from the Bronx, replied.
“A play?” The man to Shane’s left snorted. “Count me out. I’m a hoofer. If it doesn’t have any music in it, it’s square and I’m not there.”
Several amens drifted around the table.
“But this isn’t any ordinary play,” Willie countered. “This one’s written and produced by Langston Hughes himself. And get this, the entire cast is colored.”
“All colored?” Russ asked, looking up from his hand.
“Keep your head on your cards.” Willie admonished the other man before turning back to his captivated audience.
“Yep, the cast is one hundred percent colored. My old lady said it’s about this colored boy whose daddy’s white and his mother’s black,” looking over to Shane, he eyed him briefly before continuing, “and he doesn’t know whether to pass or stay where he’s at.”
“I had a cousin who passed.” Russ spoke up again. “She married some college professor over on Long Island. I haven’t seen that girl in ten years. Every now and then she sends her momma, my Auntie May, a few dollars every now and then.”
Willie shot Shane a look, but he ignored him. No sad sap story was going to keep him from pursuing Celeste. Heck, not even a mobster’s warning had done the trick.
Plus, the circumstances were completely different. If one of them was going to sacrifice his or her family and friends, it would be him because Celeste’s beautiful brown skin would prevent her from being anything other than colored.
Shane frowned. When had he started thinking of Celeste on permanent terms?
“Have mercy, who’s the lark in lavender?” Grissom nodded toward the door and the entire group swung around.
Several lewd remarks swirled around the table as the men commented on the beauty of the woman hovering on the threshold. Shane grew tense, his body filling with hot jealousy.
“That there is Celeste Newsome,” the man on Shane’s left drawled, returning his attention to his cards. As he looked up, all eyes were on him. The entire table waited silently for him to divulge what he knew about the dame, including Shane.
“She’s beautiful, but that apple has worms.”
Shane slid his hands under the table to keep from slamming his fist in the other man’s jaw.
“I call bullshit, Benny!” Willie challenged. “A dame like that’s refined, cultured. And you,” he paused to look the other man up and down, “you’re far from it.”
“She used to dance the local circuit.”
“She’s a hoochie coochie dancer?” Russ whispered as if just saying it would make him burn in hell.
“No! She’s a fellow hoofer,” Benny confirmed. “One of the best. Of course, that’s when she’s sober and not chasing every trouser leg in Harlem.”
“I say it’s the other way around.” Willie glanced at Celeste again. “Showgirls always have men panting after them, buying them flowers, boxes of French chocolates and expensive bottles of parfume.”
“And jockeying to escort them to the theater or gallery openings or taking them for long walks in the park,” Russ added.
“What do you know about gallery openings?” Willie asked.
With a sheepish expression, Russ retreated to the cards in his hand. “Not much, but I’ve read about them in the Evening Post.”
Benny shrugged. “Either way, she’s trouble.”
“Aren’t they all?” Willie countered.
“You sou
nd like you’re interested.”
“Nah,” Willie shook his head. “Give me a girl who can cook pig feet, drink beer out of a bottle and doesn’t mind going to a cock fight and I’m in heaven.” Willie paused to play with his cards, moving two the left side of his hand. “Hell I don’t even want to go to this play, but my old lady’s practically twisting my arm.”
Willie’s eyes widened. “Look at that bum. Doesn’t stand a chance and doesn’t realize it.”
Shane watched as a male admirer ran a sweating glass down the length of Celeste’s arm. From his vantage point, she didn’t seem disinterested.
In fact, they exchanged words and she even smiled. She continued smiling even when her admirer grabbed a hold of her wrist. Shane dug his heels in because he wanted to go over there and ring both of their necks.
“Oh, he’s a goner!” Willie exclaimed as Shane scooted back in his chair. He’d played the silent observer long enough. “She’s about to lay into him.”
And sure enough, Celeste’s admirer stumbled away. Even though no one took his place, Shane still felt tightly wound like a spring, half wishing the guy would come back so he could punch the daylights out of him.
“Now do you believe me?” Willie jabbed his thumb in Celeste’s direction. “A gal like that you have to win over with a little woo woo and expensive dates. Not a face full of whiskey fumes.”
“I’m out,” Russ announced, laying his cards on the table, face up.
The declaration drew Willie back in the game and in turn Shane as well. The sooner he could end this, the sooner he could get to the real reason he was here. He’d arrived shortly after sunset and sat in on a few hands to pass the time.
Shane eyed his opponent. Holding four queens, his cards were in his favor. Still, there was a possibility that Willie could be holding a better hand. Yet the odds were a million to one.
Willing to take a chance, Shane threw a hundred dollar bill on top of the pile, then he waited for the other man to call his bluff.
“That’s too high for my blood,” Willie moved to throw his hand in, but Shane stayed him.
“You have something of much more value.”
“And what’s that?” Willie gulped.
“I want your tickets to the play.”
Willie jerked as if Shane hit him. “What for?”
“A certain lady I’m interested in likes the theater.”
Willie’s dark gaze flitted over the pot, which hovered around five hundred dollars. He licked his lips and Shane knew he had him on the hook.
“If you win, I’ll meet you tomorrow with the tickets.” Smiling broadly, Willie placed two kings and three fours on the table. “A full house,” he crowed, sitting back in his chair.
Not one for drama, Shane placed his queens on the table. Willie leaned forward, and the rest of the table erupted in laughter.
Shane slipped into his suit jacket. “Tomorrow. One o’clock. Big Apple Restaurant.”
“Even if I have to crawl, considering the beating my old lady’s gonna to give me.”
Shane gathered up his winnings and stuffed them inside his breast pocket. “Thank you for the game gentlemen and the conversation.”
“At least give us a chance to our money back?” Grissom protested.
While the others agreed with the number runner, Shane patted his chest where the wad of money rested. “Gotta pass, fellas. I have some winning over and a little woo wooing to do.”
chapter twelve
Celeste had only downed her second flute of champagne when she reached the mansion’s lower level. Not nearly as foxed as she’d liked to be, she entered the salon off the main ballroom. Earlier, she’d avoided the room like the plague because of the half a dozen or so tables groaning with food and booze.
Despite her earlier bravado, she’d cracked. She didn’t love Ralph. The old feelings didn’t come rushing back as she thought they would, but it didn’t lessen the sting of finding out her first love had never loved her after all.
Was it just her or were the walls really closing in? She shuffled over, relinquished one of the empty flutes, turned her nose up at a bottle of Californian Golden Sable and chose a magnum of Morlant.
Half-filled and woefully aired, the champagne’s flavor had diminished considerably. Of course, it didn’t prevent her from filling her glass. She wasn’t drinking for the taste anyway.
Unfortunately, the bubbly wasn’t strong enough to forget the past—she needed an open bar or two for that. And yet, it provided enough of a buzz to let loose. Gripping her bottled courage, Celeste followed the tide through a set of double doors, down a hallway leading to the back of the house and another room she’d refused to enter.
She’d passed the ballroom earlier in the evening and cut a clear path of it. If anyone recognized her, they’d keep her on her feet the entire night.
Plus, the scene was too wild even for her taste. Men were picking up their partners and throwing them around their hips. Arms and legs flapped as people lost themselves to the hypnotizing tunes of the jazz band trying to stay ahead of their demanding audience. Watching them had been exhausting even to a dancer like herself.
Now was a different story. She wanted to dance, get caught up in the moment where the past didn’t exist and the future remained happily in the distance.
“Celeste.”
Celeste stumbled, but remained on her feet, allowing the crowd to sweep her up and carry her along. Despite her best efforts, her past had caught up with her.
“Celeste, please stop. We need to talk.” Ralph called after her and too close for comfort.
More desperate than furious, Celeste picked up her pace. Why couldn’t he just leave it be! She could evade him in the ballroom with some eager suit, who wouldn’t take kindly to an old beau.
Celeste’s anxiety doubled. The entrance to the ballroom was clogged by people coming and going. Desperate, she elbowed a few of them aside. It didn’t help. She’d wasted too much time and unnecessary energy.
“Celeste.”
Her name rolled off his lips and pierced her where her heart should’ve been.
She should’ve ignored him, kept going. Instead, she allowed him to pull her aside.
Batting away tears of frustration, Celeste faced him.
Still boyishly handsome, the years looked good on him but he no longer had the capacity to make her heart caterwaul like when she was around Shane. One look from the boxer and her knees filled with champagne.
“Why couldn’t you just let me have the last word?” she bit out, irritated this chapter of her life wouldn’t close.
“I still love you, baby girl.” He stepped closer and Celeste stiffened. “Ever since I’ve been back, I’ve thought about coming to see you.”
“But you can’t because you’re married.”
Ralph opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, taking her hand instead. Startled by his touch, Celeste tried to quell her rising anxiety. It was one thing to talk to him at such close proximity, it was an entirely a different ball game to have him touching her.
Celeste tried to withdraw her hand from his. Unfortunately, he was just too strong for her.
“I’m sorry for what I did. You have every reason to be angry. If this makes any difference to you, I made the wrong choice.”
He grabbed her upper arms and she dropped the champagne bottle, smashing it in several pieces.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to cuss you out and you were supposed to skulk away. Not pledge your undying love.
Her gaze locked with his and she began to panic. His eyes, that rich velvet brown, so soft and disarming always did her in.
“I want to talk to you alone,” he urged, tugging her hands. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Despite their history, he still affected her. So there was no way she could trust being alone with him and still salvage what was left of her self-respect.
In search of an escape, Celeste glanced over her shoulder and her gaze collided
with Shane’s. He was leaning against the door frame, leading into the ballroom.
Celeste wondered how long he’d been standing there. Did it really matter when her current predicament was indictment enough?
Caught red handed, she expected his derision not a shit-eating grin. Or that he would straighten up from the wall and stalk toward them.
As he drew closer, her heartbeat kicked into high gear, practically pounding in her ears.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist. “Have you been a good girl?”
Jolted by his touch, Celeste could barely shake her head.
“Cat got your tongue?” His hand slid over the rise of her buttocks and another jolt ripped down her spine.
“Ah…ah…” Celeste stammered unable to think clearly. One touch and she’d turned into a blubbering idiot.
In an effort to calm her nerves, Celeste sucked in a deep breath. It helped a little, but not enough to keep her from jumbling her words. “Are you long…I mean how long…what I meant was how long have you been here?”
“Long enough,” he said. A lop-sided grin quirked his lips and Celeste bet they tasted like champagne. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Introduce you to whom?” Celeste blinked up at him.
Without waiting for her to come out of the clouds, Shane unwound his arm from around her waist. “Shane Brennan.”
Mortified, Celeste watched him offer his hand to Ralph. The handsome lout made her forget everything else, but him.
This was bad. Very, very bad.
“Ralph Long,” her ex reciprocated.
“Did I interrupt anything?”
Everything and nothing! Celeste mused, not entirely unsatisfied with the way her apology turned out.
“Well, Celeste and I were in the middle−”
Before he could continue, Celeste cut him off, “Ralph and I were catching up on old times, babe.”
To add impact to her endearment, she wrapped her arms around Shane’s waist and looked up at him with a loving expression. It was a bit much, but she needed to send Ralph a message. She’d only meant to apologize, not rekindle their relationship.