She spent the rest of her evening going through the motions of work, smiling and describing the night’s specials, all the while trying to think how or where she could fit another job into her schedule.
She took a fifteen-minute break in the middle of the evening to put her feet up and look at the classified section of the City Paper.
Nothing.
Unless she could drive a bus or a truck, teach English as a second language, or create more hours from thin air and take on a secretarial job that paid less than she averaged as a waitress, she was out of luck.
She flipped idly through the rest of the paper, feeling despondent and more sore and tired than she could remember ever feeling. She was getting old, she decided miserably.
And, worse, her gorgeous new Jimmy Choos were killing her. Soon she was going to have to wear big white orthopedic nurse’s shoes to work just to save her back.
Around 11 P.M., Lorna was surprised to see Sandra coming through the door with a very attractive man. Sandra had mentioned she was going out with an old friend from high school, but this guy had leapt right off the pages of GQ.
Sandra looked every bit as surprised to see Lorna, and after an awkward reunion, she stepped back and introduced her friend. “This is Mike Lemmington, my friend from high school. I told you about him.”
“Yes!” Wow, had Sandra hit the jackpot. This guy was hot. Maybe even a little too hot. A little too…manicured. But, whatever. She’d ask Tod to check him out and use his gaydar later.
“It is so nice to meet you,” Mike said, taking Lorna’s hand in a soft greeting. “God, I just love your shoes!”
“Oh!” She looked down at her new Choos and smiled. “Hey, you’re a customer. Maybe the fact that you’ve commented on them makes them tax deductible.”
“Why not?” He laughed, and Sandra laughed. Maybe just a little too loud. She seemed nervous.
“So we’re meeting some of Mike’s friends here,” Sandra said. “Then we’re going to Stetson’s. I’d love it if you could join us. Do you get off work soon?”
“Not for another couple of hours.” It was the constant lament. Lorna loved socializing during work, but at the same time, sometimes when her friends popped by and were moving on to another bar, she felt like the kid who was stuck with a 7 P.M. bedtime in the summer while all his friends were outside riding bikes in the still-light twilight.
“Too bad,” Mike said. “We’re going to meet my friend Debbie. I’ve been trying to get this girl out to meet her for ages.” He pulled Sandra in with one arm, and she laughed. “Tonight you’re doing it.”
“We’re doing it,” Sandra agreed, and gave Lorna a small I don’t know, but I like it look.
“Mike!”
All of them turned to see a tall stunning woman in a Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress and strappy high heels Lorna couldn’t identify, walking toward them in the bar.
“Margo.” Cute Mike went over and embraced her.
Lorna noticed Sandra stiffen at the gesture. She didn’t blame her. The woman was a knockout.
“Everyone—” Mike led his friend to Lorna and Sandra. “—this is Margo St. Gerard.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Lorna said, putting out a hand.
Sandra just said, “Hi, there.” And she watched as Mike gazed perhaps a hair too affectionately at the statuesque blonde.
And, really, she must have been at least six feet tall. No more than 125 pounds, though, so she was as trim and flat-chested as a super-model. What she lacked in womanly curves, though, she made up for in facial bone structure.
She was so striking, it was, frankly, disconcerting.
Lorna was concerned that Sandra must be hating this.
“I’m so glad to meet you,” Margo said, in a smooth, modulated voice. She sounded like a broadcaster.
An awkward moment passed.
“So…Sandra has told me so much about you,” Lorna said to Mike, hoping to return his attention to the woman he’d come in with. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“You’re one of the shoe addicts, right?”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah.”
“She’s the one who started it all,” Sandra said.
Mike laughed. “What a fabulous idea! If I had a size seven and a half in ladies’, I’d be joining you myself.”
“We’ve had men inquire before,” she said, trying not to be dismissive while, at the same time, hoping to god this guy wasn’t interested in joining them. “But they didn’t have the right insole.” She glanced at his undeniably wide feet.
“Oh, the midoperation transvestite?” he asked.
Sandra obviously told him a lot.
“Better off without that sort,” he finished in a whisper. “If they’re not proud of who they are, it’s just going to result in a lot of tension. You don’t need to deal with someone else’s shit.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
They all stood around talking for a few more minutes. Mike was really cute, and Sandra was obviously really enamored of him, so Lorna pushed aside the small irritation she felt when he went off on recent political events she didn’t happen to agree with him about.
“I don’t know, Mike,” she said, trying to sound light. “If we all felt the same way about everything, this would be a pretty boring world. Division makes democracy.”
“Shouldn’t we go?” Sandra asked uncomfortably.
Lorna looked at the clock over the bar. She definitely had to go. She had to get up and work again in eight hours.
“So, Lorna,” Mike said, thankfully not holding a grudge that she disagreed with him. “We’re going to Stetson’s, do you want to join us? I’d love to continue our debate there.”
Like she had the energy to debate.
“Oh, yes!” Sandra exclaimed. “Please!”
Lorna really wanted to help her out, but she was exhausted. She had, after all, been on her feet in the restaurant since 11 A.M. She needed a break. There were theories out there that God had created the earth in seven hours, not seven days, so if that was correct, and he rested on the seventh hour and wanted us all to do the same, Lorna was currently about five and a half hours past church-endorsed relaxation. “I’m really sorry,” she said, mostly to Sandra. “I’d love to, but I’m almost too tired to drive home. There’s no way I can get into town, stay upright for another couple of hours, then drive home.”
“You could stay at my place,” Sandra said. “But I understand you’re tired.”
“Next time,” Lorna promised.
She was about to overapologize when Tod rushed by. She tried to stop him—she thought he’d like to meet Sandra and Mike at least, but it was as if he took one look at them and huffed past, nose in the air.
Lorna made a mental note to tease him about being a bratty little child later, but she didn’t think much more about it until after Sandra, Margo, and Mike had left and Tod approached Lorna in the parking lot.
“Do you know that jerk?” he asked.
Lorna looked around, half-thinking he might be talking to someone else nearby, and half-thinking he might be talking about someone else nearby. “Who?”
“Mike Lemmington. Mr. Live, love, laugh, and get laid.” Tod gave a disgusted snort. “I didn’t know he meant with different people every night.”
“Oh.” Then Lorna remembered how excited Tod had been about a date the other night. “Oh. He’s the—Oh, Tod, I’m sorry. That must have been awkward to see him.”
Tod gave a tight-lipped nod. “Especially with her.”
“Sandra?”
“Oh, is that her name? I’ve seen her at Stetson’s. She makes me sick.”
Sandra had mentioned Stetson’s, though Lorna could hardly imagine her inspiring this kind of disgust in someone as nice as Tod. Though jealousy did strange things to people.
It had to be because she was so tired, because with all this mental juggling, it occurred to Lorna only afterwards that what Tod was saying was that the guy Sandra was dating was
gay. Or at least bi. “Are you sure he’s the guy?” she asked him.
He gave her a withering look. “Gee, I don’t know, Lorna. Let me go through the mental catalog of guys I had sex with that night.” He put a finger to his chin and mocked The Thinker. “Yup. Yup, that’s him. The son of a bitch.” He bit his lip and shook his head before adding, “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“He’s hot. No doubt about it.”
“The hot ones are always like that. Always. I hate it.”
“I do, too.”
Tod looked at her then with concern. “Look at you. You’re being so nice to me about my failed love life, and I haven’t even asked what happened to that guy you were dating.”
“George? George Manning?” She shook her head. “That was over like a month and a half ago.” Lord, she had such a stockpile of failed and unmemorable relationships. The thought of it struck her suddenly and made her profoundly sad.
It must have shown on her face because Tod looked concerned.
“God, I’m such a selfish prick.” Tod was back on his self-flagellation kick, thereby proving his point. “I didn’t even know.”
“It doesn’t matter. Really, there were no high hopes there.” The truth was, she hadn’t had high hopes, or even medium-high hopes, for a long, long time. She’d gone out with George Manning for like two months and just now it had taken her a moment to remember his last name. “But back to Mike.”
Tod scoffed.
“Are you absolutely sure he’s gay?”
“Honey, I’ve known plenty of men who claimed they were straight as they zipped up after a good time. Mike isn’t one of them. He’s as homo as they get.” He sighed. “And he’s really damn good at it, too.”
“Then what’s he doing with Sandra?” Lorna asked. “And more importantly, should I tell her?”
“She knows,” Tod said with a judicious nod. “Believe me, she knows.”
“What did you think of Mike?” Sandra asked eagerly at the next meeting. She was dying to know what Lorna, who seemed to have such excellent taste all around, thought of her boyfriend.
“He was really nice,” Lorna said quickly. She sounded really definite about it.
“And isn’t he cute?”
“Very cute. Yes.” Lorna glanced at Joss and Helene. “Really.”
Normally Sandra might have found Lorna’s clipped affirmatives odd, but not tonight. She was in too good a mood. “I’ve got to say, I wish the girls in high school could see me now!”
“Don’t we all,” Helene murmured.
Joss looked uncertain.
“Jeez, not me,” Lorna said. “The girls I went to high school with are all doctors or lawyers or Forbes 400 executives, or they’re married to doctors or lawyers or Forbes 400 executives.” She shook her head and revealed a secret she’d barely acknowledged to herself. “Sometimes I wonder if I was always subpar with them or if that happened somewhere after the time we all graduated.”
“Subpar?” Helene repeated, surprised. “You? How could you say such a thing?”
Lorna smiled a sad smile. “Well, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words, but there was a time when I used to drive past those little ranch houses down River Road in Potomac, thinking I was going to do way better than that. Now they’re selling those places for one, two million, and I can barely make my rent.” Her face turned warm, but now that she’d put it out there, she didn’t know how to take it back.
She didn’t have to, though, because Sandra chirped up quickly, “God, I know what you mean. Everyone I went to high school with, even those mean bitchy girls I hoped would pay later, ended up married to great-looking guys and living in houses that were worthy of Architectural Digest.” She shook her head. “Honestly, it wasn’t that I was planning on being one of them, ever, but I was pretty sure that at least a few of them would be like me. You know, single and…” She frowned. “Struggling. Not financially so much, but just…” She shrugged. “…personally.”
“But you seem to have it all together,” Joss said, apparently amazed that Sandra didn’t.
Lorna looked at her in surprise. She had all the respect in the world for Sandra, but she was still surprised by Joss’s total shock that Sandra wanted more.
“Oh, my God, that is the best thing you could say to me,” Sandra said. “Because it’s totally not true. Well, it wasn’t true, but now it’s better. See, I went to see an acupuncturist a few weeks ago, and he put this metal bar thing in my ear.” She touched the ear that Lorna had noticed her fiddling with before. Not that it was that shocking; she only had two ears.
“Ouch!” Joss said. “They put, like, a needle in there?”
“Yeah, you can feel it. It’s like the post from an earring, only smaller, and it’s in a different place.” She let go and shrugged. “Look, I’m as skeptical as the next person but before he put it in, I was nervous about leaving the house and now I’m a lot better.”
“You were agorophobic?” Helene asked.
“Big-time.” Sandra nodded. “And I tried everything—Prozac, therapy, Xanax, hypnotherapy. Honestly, I really doubted anything could help, much less acupuncture, but I really think it has. It’s not like I was expecting it, too, you know? If anything, I went into it more cynical than most.”
“What’s agorophobic?” Joss asked. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound dumb, but—”
“It’s okay,” Sandra said quickly. “I was nervous about leaving my apartment. I’d get nervous in a crowd. Even on the street or in the grocery store.”
Joss nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she’d never heard of such a thing.
“And this guy put a needle in your ear and you’re all better now?” Lorna asked skeptically. “Really?”
Sandra shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I? Six months ago I couldn’t have done this.” Her face went pink again. “I hope that doesn’t make you guys think I’m some huge loser or anything.”
“Oh, no!” everyone objected at once, and Lorna went on to say, “I just always thought I was the only person I knew with human foibles. It’s great to hear I’m not.”
“Okay, what are yours?” Sandra challenged, looking to Helene and Joss for support. Though Helene looked away and Joss looked so innocent, it was impossible to believe she could ever have anything to fess up to.
“All right.” Lorna straightened her back. “I had one good boyfriend when I was sixteen, but I screwed it up and I haven’t been able to find anyone to replace him since then.”
Helene sucked in a long breath. “Really?”
Lorna nodded. “Chris Erickson. I know it’s easy to glorify first love, but even when I think about it objectively now, I think he really was The One. Or at least someone I could have spent my life with.”
Sandra looked teary. “What happened to him?”
Lorna swallowed an old, inappropriate lump in her throat. “Oh, I screwed it up in a stupid, fickle, teenage way and we broke up and now he’s married and has a new baby and all is wonderful in his world.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m sure he’s better off without me.”
“I bet he still thinks about you,” Joss said, looking at her with big, sincere blue eyes. “Honest. My high school boyfriend, Robbie, still wants me to marry him.”
“And—?” Sandra asked, raising her eyebrows so her glasses slipped down her nose and made her look every inch the schoolmarm she sounded like. “You’re not thinking about going back, are you?”
“No,” Joss admitted. “It would feel like a compromise.”
Helene, who had been watching this exchange in thoughtful silence said, “Do you think it’s possible to meet your soul mate in high school and then be too stupid to know it and blow your life forever?”
All eyes turned to her.
Lorna wanted to ask Did you do that? but the answer seemed so obvious that the question would have been insulting. “I think things ultimately work out the way they’re supposed to,” she said, meaning it. “Even if it’s not always the most comfort
able, cushy way.”
“I agree,” Sandra said quickly, and unlike Lorna, she didn’t have a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. “If someone’s right, they’ll come back to you eventually.” She nodded, so certain that what she was saying was true that one could almost feel her certainty as another entity in the room.
And even though Lorna privately wondered if Chris had been The One That Got Away, it was so patently wrong with Sandra and Mike that she had to believe Fate would take care of things in the end.
Chapter
15
Helene was definitely being followed.
She’d gone out for the afternoon, making a few runs to some of her charity organizations, and she’d noticed the fairly nondescript blue car following her between the second and third stops.
If Lorna hadn’t told her she thought Helene was being followed, Helene might never have noticed. Not that the guy was that slick. He was always within about three car lengths of her. But it still made her very uneasy.
She couldn’t tell for sure what he looked like. It might have been Gerald Parks. Then again, it could have been Pat Sajak. She just couldn’t get a close look at him.
It didn’t matter; she could see his car, and she’d been seeing entirely too much of it lately.
With one eye on the road and one hand on the steering wheel, she took out her cell phone and called 411 for the police nonemergency number. She didn’t want to call 911 because, here in traffic and in the safety of her locked car, it just didn’t feel like an emergency.
“Operator 4601, this line is being recorded.”
Helene glanced in the rearview mirror. The car was still there. “Hi,” she said awkwardly. “I’m calling because…well, it’s not necessarily an emergency, but…anyway, I’m on 270 heading north, and there’s a car following me.”
“Has the driver confronted you in any way?”
“No. But he’s definitely been following me for some time now.”
“Can you see the driver, ma’am? Is it someone you know?”
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