Me Tarzan, You Jane

by Camelia Miron Skiba

  “What.” Raven sighs. “What you want?”

  “I said we should try to make it to the party afterwards.”

  “I can’t, remember?” Raven points at her abdomen, rolling her eyes. I freeze when she sweeps her eyes over Molly and me then adds, “Tomorrow’s the big day. Afterward we can party as much as we want. But not tonight.”

  For a split second I thought she’d recognize me. I can’t imagine her not seeing the photos of Lucas and me in the magazines. True, I was never photographed without wearing sunglasses and covering my face. A fleeting glance in the mirror reminds me I cut my hair and colored it. Maybe the way I look now makes it impossible to be recognized, not that I want to be recognized to begin with. It’d be quite a scene if she realizes who I am.

  The true test comes forty-five minutes later when Raven switches chairs with Sam. She looks at me and says, “Those are some cool frames. Where did you get them?”

  “My eye doctor,” I pray for my voice not to shake. “She sells them in her office.”

  “Huh,” Raven says. “Can I try them?”

  I hand her my glasses and she puts them on, checking herself in the mirror. “What you think, Sam?” She turns toward the blond model. “Do I look cool?”

  “Yeah. It gives you a serious air, like you’re some hotshot business woman.”

  Raven laughs. It’s the first time I see the small gap between her front teeth. Puckering her full lips she turns her face to model the frames, holding onto them with two fingers, “I should’ve thought about it earlier. It would’ve been cool to have them for tomorrow’s meeting.” She turns her head from side to side then hands me my glasses.

  I put them back on and motion her to close her eyes. They are an interesting shade of light brown with green specks, and I can focus on her makeup if she keeps them closed. As much as I hate her guts she’s one of those beauties that people must be blind not to observe her. Under different circumstances I’d probably have liked her, maybe befriended her. Some of the models who heard I write offered to be models for my covers.

  Not that I’d consider Raven for such a job. I wouldn’t for the simple reason that my heroines don’t use their beauty to get what they want but rather their brains. Raven doesn’t fit any of them.

  As soon as Molly is done with their hair and I with their makeup, Sam and Raven walk out in the mall for the filming. I’m curious to see how that goes but Theresa sends me word that Jude, the guy model needs some concealer and bronze blush. When I’m done with him I prepare my tools for the second round of shots, which requires only wardrobe change and touchups. Everything goes according to plan with nothing worth noticing.

  Except when Raven leaves, she forgets her cell phone on my makeup table. Its cover—made of colorful rhinestones sparkles among the makeup items. A gold rhinestone replaces the start button. The screen lighting up catches my attention and I read the message flashing on the screen:

  Don’t forget the prosthetic belly

  C u in the morning!

  Chapter 28

  It takes me a few seconds until the message sinks in. Prosthetic belly. Prosthetic belly.

  Wait. What? Why would Raven wear a prosthetic belly? What’s wrong with— Is she pretending she’s pregnant? Did she frame Lucas all along? Did she lie about the beating or only about the baby? Who is the person behind the message? A new lover? An accomplice? Maybe her lawyer?

  I remember Lucas telling me he last saw her sometime in May. It’s mid October now, which means she should be about eighteen weeks along. A pregnancy that far is visible especially for a woman as skinny as Raven. I spent the last few hours more or less in her presence, but I didn’t see her abdomen. When she sat in my makeup chair she wore a white robe over her clothing, which is standard procedure for any makeup session.

  I could run to where they film and look at her. But I’ve something better to do. Voices down the hall warn me someone is coming. It’s only a matter of seconds until whoever comes will walk in. I pull my cell out of my jeans, and take a few snapshots of Raven’s phone, the message still bright on its screen. My hands tremble but I hold my breath and the shaking goes away. When she comes in along with Sam, I pretend to rummage in my purse.

  Strong and really sweet perfume clouds around the two models, and soon a headache resides between my eyes. They must’ve used the perfume during the filming, which makes sense since that’s exactly why we’re here—a commercial for a perfume. This one will never make it on my shelf, too sweet and spicy for my taste.

  Molly walks in and texts at the same time, her head bowed. “Are we done?” She pushes her phone and hands in her blue and white hoody.

  “Theresa wants you to pin my hair up,” Raven yawns and drops in Molly’s chair. She pulls at the robe’s lapels and ties the belt tighter. Unless I’m blind there’s no baby belly there.

  “I need more lipstick,” Sam yawns too as she takes a seat in my makeup chair.

  “Did she say how pinned up?” Molly sorts through pins while I clean Sam’s lips before adding a dab of concealer on her lips. It’s one of the first tricks I learned in cosmetic school. It keeps the lipstick in place rather than smear around the corners.

  “Ask her,” Raven shrugs, a bored look on her face which switches to being alert within seconds. “My phone, where’s my phone?” She searches her pockets, brown eyes wide in surprise.

  “Is this your phone?” I take it from my table and hand it to her.

  “Yes, thanks,” she lets out a loud exhale. She checks messages and once again her face is easy to read: aggravated. With thick brows drawn together and clenched jaw, she types fast.

  I’d die to see what she responds to whoever sent her that message. Maybe she’ll forget her cell phone again? Would my lucky star shine once again and I’d be able to see the exchange?

  Theresa marches in. She bites her lips looking at Raven first then at Sam. Squinting her eyes she says, “Pin Raven’s hair in tight curls, no loose strands. For Sam I want volume but only a few large curls really loose.” She takes chunks of Sam’s hair and shows Molly what she means.

  “You’re the boss,” Molly says, starting to work on Raven’s hair.

  “You okay?” Theresa elbows me. “Just one more try. It should go quickly.”

  As Theresa leaves the room we get the models ready. Headache still pesters me but tiredness no longer weighs on my eyelids, my mind too alert, putting together the information I stumbled upon. Okay, not stumbled, stole it, but to my excuse I’ve a good reason why I did it—finding out the truth and saving Lucas.

  Raven shifts in her chair as Molly works on her hair. She extends her right arm toward Sam and yawns again before saying, “Mark my words, Sam. This is my last job. I’m so done working. Luckily starting tomorrow my life will change forever.”

  “I envy you,” Sam quips, slapping casually Raven’s arm. She pushes her chin up as I brush some bronzer over her cheeks. “As evil as it is, your plan I mean, it’s brilliant. I kind of feel bad for Lu-err, but that will teach him to play with fire. Listen up morons, no one upsets Raven.” Why she laughs next, I don’t really understand; what’s there to laugh about destroying someone’s life? Part of me wants to flicker Sam’s forehead for her superficiality but I control myself. She’s not only superficial, she’s ignorant as well.

  Anger makes my hands shaky and somehow the blush box slips from my hand. Maybe I am tired after all and I drop to my knees to save what I can. A brilliant idea pops in my head and while I’m still down I pull my phone out, press on this app I use when I record my stories and slip it back in my pocket. If the girls continue chitchatting at least I’ll have parts of their conversation. Who knows how that can be used in Lucas’s defense?

  “How long do you think it would take for the money transfer?” Raven talks again as I get back on my feet.

  “Hmm,” Sam pushes her sandy brows together. “A few days maybe?”

  “I wish it were instant. Boom,” Raven snaps her fingers a few times, “li
ke the minute we sign the papers. Like in the movies when they press a button and you see how the money loads.”

  Sam snorts, “Girl, you’ve watched one too many movies. I doubt it’s the same way in real life.”

  “Movies or not,” Raven throws both arms in the air, “I’m about to become rich, people. And that’s because I’m a genius.”

  “Are we ready?” A pitched voice yells from the doorway and I turn to see a guy with a black with blue ends Mohawk down the middle of his otherwise shaved head. He pushes thick white frames up his nose, “Two minutes!” Without waiting for an answer he leaves.

  Only if Molly were to use magic would she be done in two minutes. We switch places and I check Raven’s makeup, adding more red lipstick. Molly hurries with Sam’s curls. She divides the hair, teasing each strand with quick and vigorous moves then teasing some more. It’s really comical how the strands stick up and away from Sam’s head but soon they are rolled and pinned to form oversized curls. Layers of hairspray and the models hurry out of the room.

  Molly leaves too but returns soon saying, “I’m out of here. Theresa said we’re done.” She begins packing her stuff into a large black luggage.

  I too pack eager to get home and rest. I’m more and more convinced Raven’s accusations are nothing but a lie. In fact my gut instinct tells me everything she concocted was all along a mischievous plan to destroy Lucas. Not sure how she planned to continue the charade with the pregnancy. She can’t be that stupid to believe he won’t ask for a paternity test. What is she going to say when there’s no baby?

  Too bad they didn’t talk more about her plans, but I hope the snapshots of the message about the prosthetic belly and the little conversation I recorded will constitute evidence enough to stop whatever agreement Lucas is supposed to sign tomorrow.

  The models are back and changing into their clothes. My phone is on recording just in case, my back to them as I put my stuff away.

  “Argh, this stupid shit,” I hear Raven grumbling from behind the screen. “I can’t wait not to have to wear it.”

  “Let me help you,” Sam offers. “It’s a small price to pay considering it’ll bring you a small fortune, don’t you think?”

  Through the triple mirrors on my makeup table I only see their feet, a pair of jeans still on the floor. I hear fabric rustling but don’t see anything else until they come out minutes later, Sam in faded jeans and a pale pink see-through blouse and Raven in skinny white jeans and a red silk poncho falling halfway to her thighs. They both carry large leather designer bags. Raven holds hers so that it covers her belly and unless I want to make her suspicious I can’t do or say anything to better see it.

  “Bye, Jane,” Sam calls as she walks toward the door.

  “Bye,” I say, waving.

  “Bye,” Raven mutters, but doesn’t lift her eyes off of her phone nor does she stop texting.

  I wait for a few minutes before I too leave, walking fast to my car. The night’s air prickles my skin. Before I pull out of the parking I dial Cameron’s number then I realize it’s after midnight and hang up. I decide to text him instead but he calls almost instantly.

  “Jane, what’s up?” He speaks in a perky voice.

  “Sorry I bother you so late.”

  “No biggie, we just left the theater,” Cameron says.

  “I wanted to ask you, do you know where Lucas is meeting Raven? Is it at her lawyer or Max’s office?” The pounding in my head is killing me.

  “At her lawyer’s office.”

  “Can you find out where this office is? Please?” When Cameron doesn’t answer right away, I add, “I know, I know, I should be a big girl and call Lucas myself but . . . It’s after midnight; he’ll have a heart attack if I call now . . .” I swallow hard before continuing, “I’ve good reasons to believe Raven is lying.”

  I’m not sure Cameron realizes how nervous I am, but he says, “Are you sure? I mean that’s huge. I’ll text you the address.”

  “I owe you, Cameron. Thanks.”

  By the time I get home it’s 1:30 A.M. I enlarge the photos I took of the message on Raven’s phone and print them. Not knowing how many people will be in the room I make ten copies. A horrible migraine resides in my head. I dread giving myself the prescribed shot which usually knocks me out but if I want to function in the morning I must do it.

  In a few hours it’s all or nothing.

  * * *

  The weather sure matches my mood. Gray clouds hang low and at one point lightning flashes across the sky. Migraine still drills in my right temple not to mention I’m nervous flying when it rains and, unless the weatherman was wrong that’s the forecast for the next two days. I look forward to the sun in Phoenix.

  For the past hour I called Max, Lucas’s lawyer a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. I texted her and asked her to delay the meeting until I get there. Hopefully she sees the text before they start. I called Lucas as well but to no avail. It took every bit of courage to call him, my pulse echoing in my ears the entire time, not to mention my hands shaking while dialing his number. At least no one was there to see the effect Lucas still has on me. Just calling him makes me react this way; what would happen when I’ll see him?

  By the time I woke up I had two messages: one with a 30 second clip of the filming last night, courtesy of Theresa, the producer. I told her I was curious how my art looked on camera and she didn’t question it. Raven looks anything but pregnant in the clip and I’m so ready to take this girl down.

  The second message was from Cameron with the lawyer’s address. Packed for my trip, coffee in one hand, I jump on the freeway. If the traffic maintains its flow I’ve every chance to arrive at the lawyer’s office before Lucas signs the agreement.

  The closer I get the more nervous I become. Soon, not only must I confront Raven, but I’ll see Lucas. I don’t do well with confrontation; if anything it upsets my stomach and the more I stress about it the harder it affects me. As much as I miss Lucas, I dread seeing him. The way we broke up wasn’t the nicest. Not that breakups are ever nice, but I should’ve thought it through before reacting. I used his confession as an excuse out. Sure I was scared for Ella’s safety. But if truth were told, I’m not always the best driver myself. I too speed even with my daughter in the car, but that doesn’t mean I put her life in danger, does it?

  Either way, even if I forgave him for speeding and endangering our lives, I could’ve never forgiven him for sleeping with Raven. Drunk or not, he had no excuse for jumping into bed with her. No excuse. I guess he and I weren’t meant to be together forever.

  I’m not sure what scares me most—the thunder blasting the sky or the impending confrontation but my hands shake, clammy fingers tight on the envelope with evidence of Raven’s lies. When the elevator opens its doors on the fourth floor I fear I’m going to throw up. My jeans jacket feels too tight, and I fumble with its metallic buttons then unwrap the pale blue scarf from around my neck. Much better.

  Nervous and struggling not to throw up I focus on my surroundings. The waiting room is empty, and I wonder if I came to the right place or if I’m too late. On the coffee table several magazines bring a patch of color to the austere room.

  “I brought documents needed for the meeting with Mr. Oliver,” I tell the Asian receptionist.

  “They began five minutes ago,” she says in a strong accent. She blinks hairless eyelids and glances at me before returning to her typing. “No one said they’d expect more people.”

  “Well, I’m sure there was a mistake,” I wave the envelope in front of her. “Mr. Oliver’s lawyer forgot this in the office; I was asked to bring it.”

  Dressed in a black pencil skirt and white shirt, the receptionist stands and walks around her desk. I wonder if she dresses from the kids department because there’s no way she finds clothes even in the petite section. When she reaches for the envelope, I refuse to let it go.

  “I was told not to give it to anyone,” I say. “I must deliver it straight to m
y boss. Can’t lose my job, you know?”

  I hear the elevator’s doors behind me and glance to see a guy coming our way. Pushing a colorless baseball cap back and forth on his head he stops in front of the reception and, slamming a hand on it says, “Ma’am, I’m looking for a lawyer. My neighbor refuses to cut the tree he planted near the fence and that damn thing destroys my pool. The roots are now in my yard, lifting the deck—”

  “Sir,” the Asian receptionist lifts a hand in the air. “Let me take care of this lady then—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” I walk backward, “I’ll find my way.”

  The receptionist is clearly torn between stopping me from advancing and the guy who keeps talking about the tree and his neighbor, his tirade fading as I make my way down a narrow corridor. I pass by offices, all but one door close. Nameplates make no sense whatsoever, the letters too blurry for my freaked out brain to form real words. All doors are made of wood except for the one to the suite 429, which is frosted glass. Light comes through it but other than silhouettes I can’t see anything.

  I stop in front of the room, taking a few deep breaths. Straightening my shoulders I mutter, “I can do this.”

  With more force than necessary I open the door. Propping it with my shoe, it stops from swinging. Ahead of me there’s a long dark wood desk. People dressed as if they all went to the same tailor sit on both sides, four on each team. Raven, seated on the right side of the room is the only one breaking the black suit-white shirt-pattern, her light coral maternity dress loose around her protruding belly.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say in a voice that surprises even myself: steady, clear and loud enough to interrupt one man on the right side and closest to the door. I ignore him and I ignore Raven’s black brows drawn together as if confused why I am there.

  But I can’t ignore Lucas who jumps to his feet, his green eyes wide in surprise. “Jane?”

  My pulse speeds. The headache intensifies, lights flickering behind my right eye. The way my body prickles with recognition, the way I ache to run into his arms come to reinforce the power this man has over me. Too bad I wasn’t enough for him.