by Linda Hill
“Remind me never to piss you off,” she said under her breath, for Heather’s ears only. She exŹpected to hear Heather’s laughter, but quickly turned to look at the other woman when she received no reply.
Heather had gone white, and Jen could see that her hands were shaking.
“Are you okay?” Concern enveloped her, and she reached out a hand to steady her.
Heather ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Yeah. I’m just a little shaky.” The blue eyes that lifted to Jen’s were wide with something close to remorse. “I was mean, wasn’t I?” She was shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“You were perfect.” Jen rushed to reassure her. “He deserved it.”
“He’s probably a really nice guy. All that old shit was years ago.” Her voice was heavy with uncerŹtainty.
“Hey.” Jen turned so that she faced her fully, not caring what the others around them might be thinkŹing. “You’re right. He might very well be a nice guy now. But he wasn’t then. And if he is such a great guy today, then he’ll recognize why you said what you did.” She searched Heather’s eyes, feeling inadeŹquate. “I’m proud of you. Closure. Remember?”
Heather blinked several times before a small laugh fell from her lips. “Did you see the way his face dropped?”
“I sure did.” Jen gave her a quick hug. “I can’t wait to get to know you better,” she smiled. “I think I’m going to enjoy it immensely.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, her lips curving in a knowing smile. “I’m enjoying it already.”
Jennifer felt a sharp pang of arousal as she stared into Heather’s eyes. The effect was delicious. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” she whispered.
“Me, either.” She glanced across the room to where Lucy and Diane were holding court. “I’m still a little shaky, though. Do you mind if I go sit down for a bit?”
“Go ahead. I’ll get their drinks and be right over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Jen assured her. She watched as Heather walked away, feeling her absence immeŹdiately.
The line was moving too slowly, and Jennifer grew impatient. Her mind wandered to Dan Johnson, then somehow to Sheila.
Unreasonable panic seized her. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to have any opportunity to run into Sheila. A sense of foreboding came over her as she looked around. Just as she’d guessed, Sheila wasn’t far away.
Yikes. Jen wasn’t sure if Sheila had spotted her or not, but she wasn’t willing to take any chances. She knew Sheila would find her. The last thing she wanted was a moment alone with Sheila. With or without an audience. Jen was sure that it would only lead to another confrontation, and she wasn’t ready to test her newfound freedom face-to-face.
It seemed like a good time to make a detour to the ladies room, and she tried making herself as inconspicuous as possible as she threaded her way through the bar crowd.
The door loomed before her, and she grabbed for it, breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped inside the lounge area apparently unnoticed. She stood there for a moment, collecting her thoughts and glancing around. The lounge area was small, with one couch and a large makeup area before a wall-size mirror. A separate doorway led to the lavatory.
Jen took a deep breath and realized that her hands were shaking. She was angry with herself for running. Running. Anxiety crushed the air from her lungs as she berated herself.
The door to the hallway opened slowly. Jennifer held her breath as Sheila made her entrance.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Sheila purred, her smile lazy as the door closed behind her and she stepped to within arm’s length of Jennifer.
Funny, Jen thought. Up until about five minutes ago, I hadn’t given Sheila a second thought in hours. “No. I haven’t,” she said honestly.
Sheila brushed the comment aside. “No matter. I’ve got you now.” She stepped forward, far too close as far as Jen was concerned. “Here, I brought you something.” She held out a fisted hand and waited for Jen to raise hers.
Reluctantly, Jen lifted her hand. Two seconds later, a large brass key rested in her palm.
“What time can you meet me?” Sheila asked sweetly.
“I can’t.” Jen said the words as firmly as she could muster while trying to return the key to Sheila’s hand.
“Don’t tease me, Jenny. I won’t beg.” Sheila’s voice sounded slurred as she reached up to trace Jen’s chin with one finger. “Unless, of course, it makes you hot. Is that what you want, Jenny baby?” She was so close now that Jen could smell the alcohol on her breath.
Jennifer kept her arms carefully at her sides, reŹfusing to react as she felt the tension building along her spine.
Sheila’s fingers dropped down, tracing the collar of Jen’s blouse before brushing across one breast.
“Let’s play doctor, Jenny. Or do you have a better game in mind?” Her breath was hot on Jen’s cheek. Jennifer clenched her jaw as she struggled with the conflicting emotions that kept her immobilized. RepulŹsion, anger, and frustration clashed with quick, hot arousal as Sheila’s hand dropped to Jen’s crotch.
“Stop it, Sheila,” she croaked. She could tell by her smile that Sheila thought she’d won. And Jen wasn’t so sure that she hadn’t. Sheila pressed the length of her body against Jen’s, her large breasts pushing against Jen’s chest as her hand continued to play between Jen’s legs.
“Let me fuck you, baby. Please.” Her voice was gruff, somewhere between a demand and a plea.
Jennifer’s head spun as her senses collided. The voice in her head screamed for Sheila to stop while the ache between her legs begged Sheila to fuck her fast and hard.
She lifted her leaden arms, palms finding her shoulders.
“Sheila. I said no.” Jen shook her head, forcing arousal aside as she pushed Sheila just beyond reach.
Sheila’s brown eyes were wide and wounded, staring back at Jen as if she’d just been hit.
“You’ve never said no to me,” she said quietly, curiously. She seemed dazed, and Jen seized the moment to catch her breath and steady herself.
“What did you say to Bobby, Sheila? Why did he come after me today?”
Sheila wasn’t hearing Jen’s words. She seemed to be talking to herself, her lips moving soundlessly. The puzzled look remained on her features.
“You’ve never said no to me,” she repeated aloud. Jen grew uneasy. As if a light went off somewhere in her mind, Sheila’s head snapped back and her eyes glared into Jen’s.
“It’s that woman. Tracks.” She threw back her head and laughed.
Anger exploded behind Jen’s eyes.
“It is, isn’t it? That slut,” she spat.
Jennifer felt her hands clenching as she fought to control the seething in her belly.
“You’re pushing me too far, Sheila.” Jennifer said the words slowly, succinctly. “Heather has nothing to do with this.”
Again Sheila seemed not to hear as her bitter laughter echoed in the small room. “That’s good. That’s rich, Jenny.” She stepped forward again, her voice dropping to a menacing octave. “Did you tell her that you fucked me this morning? Did you tell her how good it felt to have me in your arms again?”
Jen hated her. She wanted to slap her. She wanted to reach inside of her own body and rip Sheila’s memory from her heart and throw it to the ground.
A toilet flushed.
Oh christ. Someone was hearing their conversaŹtion, had heard every word.
An evil smirk settled on Sheila’s face, and triumŹphant laughter gurgled in her throat.
“Caught red-handed, lover.” She dangled the last word sarcastically before raising her voice. “I’ll be waiting for you, darlin’. You’ve got the key,” she called, before spinning away to pull open the door and step out into the hallway.
The sudden quiet was deafening as panic seized Jen. Should she make a quick exit herself? Or should she stay and
find out who had witnessed the little scene.
She glanced down, and her fist uncurled to expose the brass key that had impressed the palm of her hand. She dropped the key to the carpeted floor and watched it bounce once before she reached for the door.
She was chicken. And she’d had enough of this class reunion shit.
Chapter 15
“Where’s Heather?” Jennifer made a beeline straight to Diane Miller. She was milling about with some others beside the fireside lounge.
“I thought she was with you,” she smiled. “We were all thinking about taking off. Wanna join us?”
Jennifer was already scoping the crowd, searching for Heather’s familiar features. “Maybe. I need to find Heather.” Jen turned to walk away, but Diane’s hand on her arm stopped her cold.
“Whoa.” She squinted her eyes, raking them over Jen’s features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah. A ghost named Sheila.” Her eyes searched nervously. Where is Heather? “I want to get out of here.”
“Had enough?” Lucy approached, smiling as alŹways.
“I’m afraid so,” Jen grimaced. “I want to find Heather before I leave.”
“Here she is.” Diane was looking over Jen’s shoulder, and Jen turned to see Heather coming their way, a glass of wine in one hand. Relief washed over her.
“Are you ready to go?” Jen called when Heather was barely within shouting distance. Her voice was anxious.
She was nodding, and Jen grew impatient as she took her time saying good-bye to everyone. Finally they were leaving, making their way through the ballŹroom, and down the long corridor toward the hotel lobby.
Heather seemed strangely quiet, and Jen’s thoughts raced with paranoia. “Where are you parked?”
“Across the street. In the garage.” Was she imagining the coolness in Heather’s voice?
“Would you like to go somewhere for coffee?” While Jen was eager for the reunion to be over, she wasn’t ready to say good night to Heather. Too many things were happening. She wanted suddenly to tell Heather about Sheila. Everything. About the scene just now in the rest room, about that morning, about everything that had happened years ago.
“I think I should probably be getting back. It’s getting late, and my flight leaves early tomorrow.”
They had reached the lobby, and Heather stopped so that they faced each other. Heather’s features were closed, her lips unsmiling.
Desperation welled up inside of Jen.
“I know it sounds silly” she forced a laugh she didn’t feel “but I don’t think I’m ready to let you go.
One fine brow raised ever so slightly as one side of Heather’s mouth lifted. “And I don’t think you’re ready to let anybody go.” Her words, although spoken without a hint of sarcasm, sent tremors through Jennifer’s body.
Dumbstruck, Jen stared at her stupidly, waiting for her to continue.
“Haven’t dated anyone in two years, huh?” Sarcasm was finally sneaking into her voice. “I guess you weren’t counting one-night stands. Or should I say one-morning stands?”
Jen’s mind tumbled. Caught so completely off-guard, she struggled to understand. She continued to stare at Heather, watching as she reached out and dropped something into Jen’s hand.
The brass key to Sheila’s room.
“I think you dropped this in the rest room.” Now her voice was quiet and controlled.
Jen’s heart dropped to her stomach. A groan started deep in her throat. “Heather. Let me explain.” Jennifer reached for her arm, and Heather stiffened.
“You don’t have to, Jenny.” She sounded tired. “Like I said before some things never change.”
“But they do.” Jen knew she was whining when she felt the stares of the desk clerk and the bellhop on her neck. She dropped her voice. “Please. Let’s go somewhere to talk.”
Heather shook her head, looking suddenly-exhausted.
“Jenny!” Diane Miller’s insistent voice was behind them. “Jenny!”
Jen pulled her eyes from Heather’s just as Diane reached them. She was huffing and puffing, clearly out of breath.
“I’m sorry. But you’ve got to come back in ”
“We’re leaving.”
“No.” Diane’s hand clamped down on Jen’s wrist. “I’m sorry. But you have to. Sheila’s flipping out. She’s ranting and raving at the top of her lungs.”
Jen knew her face went white. “Why me?”
Diane was tugging on my wrist now. “Because it’s your name she’s yelling.”
Heather’s lips were a tight, straight line.
“Come on, Jenny,” Diane was saying. “You know I wouldn’t drag you back in to that woman for anyŹthing less than an emergency.”
Jen knew she was right. Heather was raising both hands, palms out. “Just like old times.”
The words stung Jennifer. “Please don’t go,” she implored. “I’ll be right back.” Jen’s feet were already tripping over themselves as Diane dragged her away.
Expecting that a thundering noise would greet them when they reached the ballroom, Jen was surprised by the silence that hung over the faces that turned their way. A large group had congregated behind the bar, their necks craning to get a better view of what was happening on the-balcony beyond the French doors.
Jen followed Diane as she pushed each one aside until they were standing on the threshold of the balcony. It took several moments for Jen’s eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. Her lungs sucked in the cold air as she took in the scene before them.
Lucy was there, tugging unsuccessfully on the arm of a man, trying to pull him back to the door.
“She’s my wife,” Bobby was saying. He shrugged Lucy off and moved forward, reaching down as he went.
Jen’s eyes followed Bobby’s outstretched arm, her stomach lurching as she spotted Sheila. She was huddled in the corner of the balcony, hair strewn wildly and makeup smeared across her face. Her already short skirt fell back around her thighs as she kicked outward, striking Bobby’s hand.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her fists flailing as Bobby bent over her. “Stay away from me!” She was screeching and howling obscenities repeatedly, causing each of the others to cringe in response.
Jen glanced to Gina, Lucy, and then Diane before turning back to Sheila and Bobby.
“Bobby.” Diane called his name in a controlled voice before stepping out into the fray. She reached for his shoulder. “Bobby.”
He turned to face her, his wounded face contorted in pain. As Diane spoke to him quietly, Jen’s eyes fell back to Sheila, who continued to wail at the top of her lungs.
Bobby was eyeing Jennifer now, and for the first time in Jen’s life, she actually felt sympathy for the man. She nodded quietly before taking a deep breath and gingerly stepping outside.
Sheila was sobbing quietly now, so that all Jen could hear was Bobby’s deep breaths as she inched past him. Gauging herself to be at least an arm’s length away, Jen crouched down to observe Sheila more closely.
“Sheila?” Jen said her name quietly. When no response came, she repeated the name again. Swollen eyes fluttered open.
“Jenny?” Tears sprang again, sending even more makeup streaming down her cheeks. “You came back.”
Jennifer smiled gently, her heart constricting. “Of course I did.”
“But I saw you leaving with her.” She was wiping her nose on the sleeve of her blouse, trying without success to straighten her hair.
“I’m right here, Sheila.” She felt guilty, hating the sound of her own voice, hating the lie that she was implying.
“You didn’t leave me.” Fresh tears sprang in her eyes and she rubbed them furiously.
Jennifer could smell the alcohol, even from that distance. Sheila was stinking drunk.
Jen glanced back over her shoulder, nodding curtly at Diane and Bobby, whose eyes she couldn’t meet. When she turned back to Sheila, she knew that Diane was convincing Bobby to b
ack off.
“Come hold me, Jenny.” Sheila patted the concrete slab beside her. “Please?”
Jen hesitated. “Sheila,” she said quietly, her voice caressing the name. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
Sheila giggled.
“How about some coffee? Would you like that?” “Will you drink with me?” She sounded like a child.
“Of course. Right out here on the balcony.” She threw a glance back over her shoulder and knew that Lucy was scampering to find some coffee.
“Hold me?” Sheila’s arms were outstretched, her streaked face that of a scared, pathetic child as she begged the question again. “Please?”
The image of Sheila shook Jen. With a heavy heart, she nodded, then knelt to take Sheila in her arms.
They held each other tightly, rocking slowly, obŹlivious to onlookers. They huddled together, arms wrapped tightly as they sat in silence.
Lucy came with a large pot of coffee and left after pouring two cups. Gina appeared with a large blanket, which Jennifer accepted and tucked around the two of them. Wordlessly, she held Sheila while she watched Diane shooing everyone away from the doors. Finally, only two pairs of eyes were peeking through the curtains at the two women, and Jen knew they belonged to Bobby and Diane.
Well over an hour and a full pot of coffee had passed before Sheila lifted her head from Jen’s shoulder and sighed loudly.
“I really made a mess tonight, Jenny.” She soundŹed tired and resigned. Traces of her earlier drunkenŹness had evaporated.
Cautiously, Jen searched for a reply. “Let’s just say you were the hit of the party,” she said softly.
Sheila chuckled, appreciating Jen’s humor, before growing somber once again. “My life just seems to be one fuckup after another.”
Jennifer remained quiet, letting Sheila continue.
“I never meant to hurt you when we were kids, Jenny. I loved you more than anything.” She was shaking her head. “I just didn’t have the strength. Bobby asked me to marry him, and I thought it was what I was supposed to do. It was a mistake. One mistake on top of another.”
Jennifer searched for optimistic words. “But I’m sure he loves you, Sheila.”