by Teisha Mott
Klao watched as her tall, handsome brother made his way across the room to chat with other friends and family members who had come out that night. She turned and walked towards her cousin, Margaux, aka, the Persaud beauty, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Yes, she was going to take Darrin’s advice and enjoy herself that evening, whether or not she was alone. After all, being single was not a crime. And she would find somebody soon. Maybe Tevin would set her up with one of his hunky engineer friends. Maybe one had been invited tonight, just for her. One with a lot of pheromones, and a butt like Baryshnikov’s, according to Marlene. One that wanted to get married as much as she did. It was possible. Anything was possible. Anything at all.
***
“Cleanse, tone, moisturise!” Klao chanted to herself, as she carefully removed her makeup.
It was twenty minutes before three on Sunday morning. She had stepped into her apartment not even five minutes before. Bianca’s party had gone on and on and on, but it had been a well-spent evening. She was tired, but too wound up to go to sleep. Besides, Grandma always told her that she should never go to sleep wearing make-up, or she would get wrinkly and ugly when she was old. She should always cleanse, tone, and moisturise; and of course, get a diamond peel on occasion. Klao was scared of many things; one of them was being old and ugly. She knew that women of Indian ancestry did not keep up well. Fortunately for her, she had some strong black genes in her as well – from her mother – that would probably give her an extra few good years.
Yes, the party had been wonderful. Bianca had been totally radiant. Being so obviously in love made her even more beautiful than she already was. Her dark skin looked rosy, her smile was blinding, and her eyes sparkled even more than the diamond on her finger. Klao was happy her cousin was so happy. When, during the evening, the engagement was finally announced, everyone was happy, but no one was stunned. A few persons even seconded Uncle Jeffrey’s opinion that it was ‘about damn time’. Uncle Jeffrey even joked that if Tevin had not ‘manned up and proposed’ after wasting the best ten years of his daughter’s life, he would have killed him.
Klao had a ball, chatting and catching up with her cousins and her aunts who had come in from New York and Connecticut. Her eldest cousin, Kamilla, Aunt Phoebe’s daughter, regaled her with fantastic stories from the glamorous world of fashion magazine publishing. She was the Editor-in-chief ofBella Magazine, a part of Persaud Publishing, NY Inc, and spent her days rubbing noses and shoulders with the who’s who of New York society. Klao was impressed to hear that Kamilla had actually had lunch with her newest heartthrob – the devilishly sexy Ed Westwick from ‘Gossip Girl’. Klao knew she was too old to be swooning over teeny bopper things, but she could not help it. She was still a sixteen-year-old girl at heart.
Klao was pleased that no one, absolutely no one, had bothered her once about her single status. They teased Christopher and Alex about their ‘girlfriends’, and nudged each other when they saw Phillip, the ‘man whore’, reduced to running and fetching like a lap dog for his date Sheree. And Grandma Sylvia once coyly pointed out to Margaux that it did not look good for her to be ‘living in sin’ with Evan, her boyfriend. But no one even hinted to Klao that she would soon be the last single Persaud girl. Best of all, Klao noted, as she smiled to herself in the mirror, her new favourite cousin-in-law-to-be had come through for her phenomenally. He invited his best friend from his days at St. John’s High School, Ricard Shalkowski, to the party. He had asked Ricard to be his best man.
Klao could not believe that she had forgotten about Ricard Shalkowski. He was the son of Anton Shalkowski, one of the attorneys for Persaud Enterprises. She had known him years ago when they were teenagers, but Ricard was not a gaunt and gangly teenager anymore. He was a single, young accountant with the prettiest amber eyes set in the cutest Hollywood leading-man face that Klao had ever clapped eyes on. More than inviting him to the party; more than asking him to be the best man (which meant he and Klao, as maid-of-honour, would be obligated to spend time together), Tevin had reintroduced him to Klao, and left them to get to know each other. God bless Tevin, Klao thought, as Ricard offered to drive home behind her after the party, so that she would not have to be on the road by herself so late. She did not let him into her apartment when they got there. It was late, and Klao, as a rule, did not entertain men in her apartment at all odd hours – another thing she had learned from Grandma Sylvia (“Never let evil of your good be told!” She encouraged her granddaughters). But, they had exchanged numbers, and he had promised to call her. She had no reason to doubt that he would. Maybe they could have drinks one night.
Klao smiled at her reflection again. Yes, it had been indeed a well-spent night.
She finished in the bathroom, and slipped into her favourite Tinkerbelle pyjamas. She gently nudged Minx, who had fallen asleep on her bed. He gave her the evil eye, as if to chastise her for disturbing his sleep, after she had the temerity to stay out until three in the morning, before getting out of the bed so she could pull the linen back. Klao snuggled under the Egyptian cotton sheets. She turned out the lights and smiled dreamily in the darkness.
She recalled slow dancing with Ricard during Bianca and Tevin’s first dance as an officially engaged couple. It was her favourite song – ‘Someone to watch over me’, and it made Klao feel warm and fuzzy inside. She had felt comfortable and at home in Ricard’s arms. He could be her one. It was a beautiful feeling to be so content. Who knew? Perhaps she would be Klao Shalkowski! Mrs Ricard Shalkowski. She would have a little amber eyed baby, and she would name her Rachel Melissa Shalkowski…
She fell asleep, softly singing Ella Fitzgerald’s song to herself, and dreaming of someone who would watch over her.
51
On Time
chapter four
The bright orange octagonal clock on the wall read 4:15. Klao sighed in frustration. She had, in her opinion, wasted her entire day. She had spent precious time – time that she could never get back – searching through the stinking Jamaica Law Review, trying to find a precedent that was comparable to the case with which she was currently assisting Mrs Reyes.
It was one of those days when Mrs Reyes was acting like a punk, Klao thought. Despite the fact that she had her own caseload, her partner, under the impression that Klao had nothing to do but sit in her office twiddling her thumbs, had dumped this matter on her desk. Klao thought, when she received the file at ten o’clock that morning, it would be an open and shut case. A wife contesting a quickie Mexican divorce that she had not been aware of. Klao had already pointed out Rudd v Rudd, and Shaw v Attorney General to Mrs Reyes as precedents that would show that the wife had every right to declare that sham divorce null and void. However, Mrs Reyes had sent her back searching, and she was cross.
She had every reason to be cross, she thought. In the first place, she did not think that as an attorney, called to the bar for over two years, she should be researching precedents for her partner. There were far more productive ways to spend her time. Moreover, in her opinion, her work was done, and those two cases should have satisfied Mrs Reyes, thus allowing her to go back to her own cases. She was further cross because it was 4:15, and she had missed lunch, because the boss wanted the information in time for a four thirty meeting. More than anything, she was cross because it was Thursday, and Tevin’s loser friend, Ricard Shalkowski, still had not called her.
She had been waiting for the call since Sunday morning. Every time her BlackBerry rang, she would have a minor panic attack, thinking it was him. It never was. She got lots of calls between Sunday and Thursday. She got a call from her mother, reiterating how pretty she looked on Saturday night. She’d also asked if Klao was eating enough, and said she looked rather skinny. Dr DeLisser obviously needed her glasses checked, Klao thought; because her scale told her she was seven pounds over her ideal weight of 118. She got a call from Bianca, who was off the following weekend, and wanted her and Klao to go to New York to buy ‘save the date’ cards. Andie had s
uccessfully sold Tevin on the idea of a New Year’s Day wedding, so they had to start planning right away. Klao had told her yes, she would go to New York, simply because she was still on a high, thinking Ricard was going to call her. She had gotten a call from The Gleaner newspaper, asking her permission to print her photograph on page A5 – the style page. Klao was the only one they called for her permission. They made sure they did, because once, they had published what Klao had considered an unflattering photograph, and she had threatened to sue. Darrin had called to say Synclaire was home, and Klao did not have to imagine how they would be spending their evening. Her neighbour, Stacy, had called to say Minx was up to something crazy inside her apartment. Apparently, a lizard had found its way inside, and Minx was afraid of it. Even her Financial Advisor from Persaud Financials had called to say that an investment he had made on her behalf had matured, and what should he do with the interest? By then, Klao had begun to realise that Ricard was not going to call, and was so despondent that she told her advisor to split it in three and send it to her charities – the Girls’ Home, Missionaries for the Poor and the University of the West Indies Endowment Fund. She did not even stop to find out how much interest she had earned.
Yes, everyone had called her. Everyone, except Ricard Shalkowski.
Klao sighed and turned her attention to Section 24 of the Matrimonial Causes Act. As far as she was aware, neither party had changed their domicile from Paddington Terrace, Kingston 6 - ironically the same neighbourhood where Bianca lived with Grandpa Ravi and Grandma Sylvia - to an address in Mexico, so there was no way Jamaican law could recognise the divorce. But try telling that to Mrs Reyes. All she would do is scream “Not enough”, and Klao would have to go back to her office and dig up more evidence.
Suddenly, the phone on her desk rang. She jumped, and checked the caller identification. It was an outside call. Her heart stopped for one beat. Could it be? Was it he? Good God, now she was rhyming!
She breathed deeply to still her trembling heart, slowly picked up the phone, and in her sultriest voice, whispered, “Klao Persaud!”
“Hey Klao! How are you?”
“Good, and yourself?” She was not sure whether it was Ricard. It was a familiar-sounding voice, but was it him?
“Great! I refuse to complain!” Returned the perky, upbeat person on the other end of her phone. “I’m alive, the sun is still shining, God is in Heaven, and all is well with the world!”
Klao did a double take. Who let the sunshine into this dude’s life? She imagined him looking like the long-legged cartoon of Barak Obama that was skipping through the fairytale forest in the ‘Time for Campaigning’ e-mail that Jeremy had passed around. That was certainly out of character for the somber accountant that she had met on Saturday night. He was nowhere so upbeat!
“I’m sorry, to whom am I speaking?” Klao asked.
“Oh. I should have identified myself – forgive me please!” The caller said with a nervous chuckle. “It’s Matt.”
“Matt?” Klao repeated. She did not know any Matt.
“Matt – from Megamart? Matthew St. James?”
A mixture of disappointment and rage shot through Klao like an electric current. Matthew St. James? Matt? Why the bloody dickens was he calling her like they were old friends? She had paid him his bloody money. What the hell more did he want? He was like a bad horror movie, like ‘Chucky’, that just kept coming back in sequels! She counted backward from ten, resisting the urge to slam down the phone on him.
“Klao? You still there?”
“What can I do for you, Mr St. James?”
“Will you please call me ‘Matt’?” He pleaded. “Mr St. James makes me sound so old, and I’m only 27.” When Klao offered no response, he added, “Or even Matthew is better than Mr St. James, although that kind of sounds grandfatherly too!” He chuckled.
Klao was not amused. “Can we wrap this up please? I’m busy.”
“Defending some poor sap who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“I do not practice Criminal Law!” Klao said pertly. “Mr St. James, I need to get back to work…”
“I was just calling to hail you up and to tell you that I saw your picture in The Gleaner today!”
Klao was not aware that the pictures from Bianca’s party would have been published so soon. She had only gotten the call from The Gleaner on Monday. “Oh?”
“Yes. You looked really pretty!”
“Thank you.”
“Your cousin got engaged? How exciting. Congratulations!”
“What are you congratulating me for?” Klao asked crossly. “It’s her engagement, not mine.”
“Well, you can pass on my congratulations!” Matt was determined not to be insulted by Klao.
“I’ll do so. Have a good afternoon, Mr St. James.”
“Matt!” Matt corrected automatically. “Your family took the entire page 5! Do you realise that you all have a ‘pretty gene’?”
Klao rolled her eyes. Of course she knew the Persauds had a ‘pretty gene’. “No, I was not aware of that. Thank you for that compliment.”
She heard a newspaper rustling, and realised that he was probably still looking at the picture.
“Yes. You are lucky. You have a very attractive family… I thought I would just call and tell you that…”
“Again, thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I really have to go…”
“Wait a minute!” Matt cut in quickly before she could hang up. “There’s something else…”
“What?”
“I was thinking… I mean, is it possible… I would like…”
“Oh God, please don’t let him ask me out!” Klao prayed mentally.
“Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?” He hurriedly asked. “I mean, if you don’t have court, or if you don’t have plans or anything…”
Klao looked to Heaven, or rather to the tiled ceiling in her office. God had a sense of humour second to none. Of all the people in the world to ask her out, it had to be Matthew St. James? She was now officially annoyed.
“No!” She snapped, being more draconian than she had intended.
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Matt asked indignantly.
“Was there any ambiguity in my response?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, did I stutter? I mean ‘no’, I am not having lunch with you.”
“Just ‘no’ like that?” Matt persisted. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t have to think about it! I know I do not want to have lunch with you tomorrow.”
An ordinary man would have given up, but Matthew St. James was not an ordinary man. He had moxie, if nothing else.
“Well, Monday then?”
“Have a nice day, Mr St. James!” Klao hung up before he could put in another word.
Two seconds after she hung up, her phone rang again. Bloody hell! She thought. This man was certainly working for her to tell him some choice words. She grabbed the phone.
“What?” She snapped.
“KoKo? You alright?”
It was Bianca.
Klao exhaled. “Sorry, Bee! I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?” Bianca asked. “Satan? If you ever heard the tone you answered with! Suppose a client had been calling?”
“I thought it was that damn man from Megamart!” Klao explained.
“The one who bailed you out? What was he calling you for?”
Klao scoffed. “You’ll never guess. He wanted to take me to lunch tomorrow. Oh – and he wanted to congratulate you on your engagement!”
“Oh, that’s sweet of him!” Bianca said. “Tell him thanks. So what time is lunch?”
“What?” Klao was in shock. She could not believe Bianca actually thought she would be entertaining the idea of a lunch date with that pesky man. “Never!”
“You told him no?”
“Of course I told him no!” Klao thought her cousin was going mad.
/> “Why?” Bianca thought Klao was going mad. “Why would you turn him down?”
“Because I don’t like him!”
“How can you not like him when you don’t know him?”
“I just don’t!”
Bianca sighed deeply. “Call him back and tell him you’ll have lunch with him.”
“Did you call me for a reason?” Klao snapped.
“Yes, but I forgot why!” Bianca snapped back. “Your idiocy gave me amnesia!”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”
“Fine!” Bianca hung up before Klao could say anything else.
Klao stared at the phone, her mouth hanging open. All of this was just too surreal. Her life had suddenly turned into a comedy of errors. She glanced at the clock. It was four thirty. It was definitely time to go home. She closed the file, shut down her computer and left the office. She was halfway up Duke Street when she realised she had not even told Mrs Reyes that she was leaving, and that she had not completed her research. She could lose her job for dereliction of duty, but at that moment, she was too tired and too frustrated to care.
***
For the third time in a row, Klao allowed the phone to ring until it went to voice mail. She did not even check the caller ID. She did not give a damn who was calling her. She pulled her throw closer up to her neck as she snuggled in the couch watching a repeat of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, and eating her mocha almond fudge ice-cream straight from the container. Minx, on the rug, was playing with one of his numerous chew toys.
Klao miserably played with the ice-cream in the tub, and stared at the images on her TV. She could not believe that the writers were actually going to turn Callie into a lesbian. Callie was her favourite character. People told her she sort of looked like Callie. It was so depressing, she thought, that Callie could not find one man to have a steady relationship with, so she had to turn to a woman, and not even a good-looking woman at that! Why didn’t they turn Izzy into a lesbian? She did not like Izzy. Izzy had stolen George from Callie.