Lana, suddenly bored that the conversation did not revolve around her, sighed. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said and walked away, no doubt to some other handsome young gullible bachelor.
“Well, it took a lot of work and sacrifice,” William said, smiling.
“No, I mean, how did you do it,” she said, and they both laughed.
“OK, we had the idea, we wrote up a plan, got a few investors, went to a lot of shindigs, including some like this, to meet people who could be clients or who could find us clients. Piece of cake,” William said.
“Of course,” she replied.
“So, what kind of work are you in?” he asked her.
“I’m a student. I left the work world and all its hassles a few months ago.”
“Oh, you and Lana are at BU?”
“Yup.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s got someone who seems to have their head straight to look after her.”
“Why is it that everyone treats her as if she’s some problem child?” Weslee asked William.
“Let’s just say that she is and leave it at that,” he said.
“OK,” she said, thinking that it was best not to push it, but at some point she’d have to try and find out just what it was that Lana had done to inspire so little trust from the people who knew her. Weslee wanted to see her new friend only as a fun-loving free spirit with a few minor flaws.
They went back to the dance floor again and stayed there for what seemed like forever. Their attempts at conversation meant shouting at each other above the music, and a couple of times he leaned in close to hear what she was saying. She almost fell over when the scent of his cologne hit her. She was too shy to ask what it was. But whatever it was, it was doing its thing with her. She just loved the fact that he was from the Islands, too. That was at least one thing they had in common—that and the fact that he had also been a miler in high school. Oh, and that royal blue was his favorite color, too. She had complimented him on his shirt.
Weslee looked at her watch.
“Wow, am I that bad?” he said, affecting a look of dismay at her gesture.
“Oh, no!” Weslee was horrified. “I really wanted to know what time it was. I’m not typically up this late unless I’m studying.”
“Me, neither.” He smiled that sun-splitting smile of his again.
“Listen, it was really nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m going to find Lana. She’s my ride home.”
He stopped dancing and looked at Weslee as if to say, You have got to be kidding me. He took her by the elbow and led her off the dance floor, away from the music.
“Number one, you’d have to be crazy to let Lana drive you home the way she’s been putting away those whiskey sours all night. And number two, Lana left ten minutes ago with Jeffrey Knight,” William said.
Weslee looked around the room anyway, hoping that he was wrong. She looked back at him, and she thought that his eyes were laughing at her apparent panic.
“No!” she said. “How am I going to get home?” She scanned the room frantically again.
She had been so attentive to William that she hadn’t noticed the party was winding down and that people were beginning to leave. Lana was nowhere to be found.
He laughed. “I would offer you a ride, but I know you’ll refuse, so I’m going to call you a cab, OK?” He took his cell phone out of his inner jacket pocket.
He was calling the number before she could say anything to him. He requested the taxi and ended the call, returning the cell phone to his jacket.
“How did you know I’d say no to your giving me a ride home?” she asked, getting a strange but good feeling about him.
“Instinct,” he said. “Men have intuition, too, you know. I also know you’re not going to give me your phone number because you think it’s tacky, so here’s my card.”
She laughed and took his card and put it in her purse. “It’s not just intuition, William. I think you’re psychic.”
It was his turn to laugh at her. “We’d better go get you in that cab,” he said.
As they pressed their way out of the restaurant, she felt his arm brush against hers, and her heart flip-flopped.
Come on, girl! she scolded herself in her head. This guy’s probably the biggest player on the planet. After all, he knows Lana.
When they finally made it out into the cool, clean night air, she felt her head and her senses clear up a bit. No more swooning over hard-bodied entrepreneurs, she told herself.
She turned to face him. And it happened again. Her heart flip-flopped. She wondered if he could tell. He looked deep into her eyes like he could tell exactly what was going on in her mind right now.
“Well, thanks again, William.” Should she shake his hand? Hug him? A peck on the cheek? Whoa, down girl.
“My pleasure,” he said.
Then he turned and walked away. She got in the cab and tried not to stare after him.
What had just happened? She didn’t know when he turned from merely interesting to I-want-you-to-take-me-home. Must be that last-call thing she’d heard people talk about. Everybody looks good when the party’s about to be over. And he looked darned good, she thought.
Chapter 5
The next day, Sunday, Weslee tried to concentrate in church. She didn’t even know why she went. She felt guilty the minute she walked in. People had their hands up, praising God. She felt like such a hypocrite; she knew where she had been the night before and the kind of thoughts that had gone through her head before she finally nodded off to sleep at three A.M.
But here she was at New Covenant Church, singing. . . though not too enthusiastically. When the pastor finally took the pulpit to give the sermon, she was relieved. Now we can all sit, she thought. And at least she wouldn’t be the only person in her row not lifting her hands and shouting God’s praises.
That relief was short lived. The title of the sermon was “Playing Church.” A term she had heard her mother use all the time to describe other members of their Pentecostal church back home. Weslee never thought that term could be used to describe her, but she was seeing herself in the preacher’s words.
True, she was very busy and came to church only out of obligation. And yes, it made her feel good. Yes, she did use to lord it over other people in her office that she went to church every Sunday. But the pastor was saying that that was worse than not coming at all. She was fooling herself. Going to church was not going to change the fact that she wasn’t fully committed to living a Christian life. It certainly didn’t change the fact that she was out drinking the night before. And having less-than-clean thoughts about a man she had just met.
She reminded herself that at least she could tell her mother when they had their usual Sunday afternoon chat that she had gone to church.
Her mother was ecstatic at the fact that her girl had found the right place to be on a Sunday morning. “That’s so good to hear. I was waiting to hear from you. I wanted to tell you about Pastor Hank’s sermon today.”
Weslee listened dutifully. Pastor Hank’s sermons had always put her to sleep. He was nothing like the man she had heard that morning. But she would never dare disparage the man her mother had revered for the last twenty or so years.
Clara Dunster had raised her two daughters in church, Trinity Pentecostal Church, three times a week, come rain, snow, or sunshine. They had had their wild years in between, but as the Bible said, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”
And it had worked. Terry had married a boy from the church, and they were happy and prospering and multiplying in Country Club Hills. Things hadn’t gone so well for Weslee, but she was still young. And Clara Dunster knew that her youngest daughter was a good girl, with solid values. The right Christian man would come along.
When Weslee got off the phone with her mother, she felt complete, happy, loved.
She missed Chicago, she realized. Not just the city itself, but what it represented: home, comfort, fam
iliarity. The excitement of embarking on a new adventure, going to a new place where she was unknown, had been a challenge she had thought long and hard about. She knew she had needed to do it. But now she longed for the predictability of home.
That evening she sat in her apartment waiting for Lana to come over. They had planned to quiz each other for the Operations Management exam the following day. It had been Lana’s idea.
“That’s so undergrad!” Weslee had protested.
“Come on,” Lana had said. “You’re no fun.” So Weslee had relented.
As she had promised Lana, Weslee cooked up a storm. Maybe it was the whole church guilt thing or the missing home, but she attacked her kitchen like a fiend. She made oven-fried chicken, potato salad—with low-fat mayo, of course—corn, rice and beans, and a salad. When she finally finished, she looked at all the food and decided that whatever was left over she’d take to the homeless shelter on Harrison Avenue.
Lana was running late as usual. Weslee decided to begin going through the pages and pages of notes she had taken over the past few weeks. She was prepared for the test. She had a feeling that Lana wasn’t and that that was the reason she wanted Weslee’s help. But Weslee didn’t mind.
An hour later, Lana arrived. She held up a bottle of champagne as Weslee let her in.
“Are we celebrating something?” Weslee asked.
“Oh, yes, we are,” Lana said, brimming with that strange brand of happiness that she always brimmed with. “Two words: last night.”
“Oh, that Jeffrey guy must have been something,” Weslee said.
“He was a monster.”
“What!” Weslee said, alarmed.
“No, in a good way,” Lana said with a sly look on her face.
“Ohhhh,” Weslee said. “It takes me a while to catch on.” Then she really caught on. “You did the do with him?”
“The do, and a whole lot of other things,” Lana said with no embarrassment at all.
Weslee felt herself blushing. “But I thought you said he thought you were evil.”
“Apparently, that’s not a huge problem for him. And speaking of huge . . .”
“OK, I get the picture,” Weslee said, holding up her hand. She wasn’t sure how much detail she wanted about Lana’s encounter. “So, are you going to see him again?”
“I’m sure I will.” Lana shrugged. “Where’s your champagne-opener thingy?”
“Did you make a date?” Weslee asked her.
Lana looked at her, puzzled. “Oh, hon, I’m sure I’ll run into him at something somewhere.”
“Oh,” Weslee said, sensing the condescension in Lana’s voice. What do I know, she thought as she walked off to the kitchen to get the opener.
“So, you know this William guy well?” Weslee asked as she sipped her champagne slowly. She really wanted to have only one glass. Alcohol made her sleepy, and there was a lot of work to cover before bedtime.
“Well,” said Lana, “he’s one of Duncan’s friends. Not real friends, but business associates. You know, my cousin Duncan, the one who was giving me a hard time last night?”
“Yeah,” Weslee said, cringing. She hoped he had forgotten about their unfortunate meeting.
“So, did you hook up with him?” Lana asked.
“No, we talked. He’s kinda nice.”
“Hmmm,” said Lana.
“Hmmm what?” Weslee asked. “Is he married, does he have a girlfriend, a baby mama?”
“A what?” Lana asked in her most Valley-girl voice. She did that sometimes. Weslee would finally feel at ease enough with her to resurrect some “sister-girl” slang and Lana would pretend as if she had no idea what Weslee was talking about.
At first Weslee was embarrassed when Lana would attempt to school her in how to be proper. After all, her family was not wealthy, but her parents made a good living and gave her and her sister a good life, so it wasn’t that she was some kid straight from the projects. But despite the resentment she felt, she had been learning to ignore Lana’s occasional class issues.
“Anyway,” Lana said, dragging out the word and giving Weslee one of her really-we-don’t-talk-like-that looks, “he’s a total workaholic. My father and my uncle helped him start his business. Duncan was his company’s attorney, I think, pro bono because they went to school together. I’ve never seen him with anyone. You two would make a good match; he’s from Jamaica, too.”
“Actually, my family is from Barbados, almost a whole world away from Jamaica. But you already know that, Lana.”
“Gee. Stop being so touchy. I just meant that you both have island backgrounds.”
“I wasn’t being touchy.” Weslee wasn’t truly offended. She was beginning to see how Lana, for no apparent reason, tried to hurt other people with her words. It was almost like a test to push you to see how much you could take before you turned your back on her. Weslee was beginning to feel sorry for her.
“OK, let’s get started,” Weslee said, hoping to move on to another subject—the exam.
“Let me finish this champagne,” Lana said. Weslee noticed that the bottle was almost empty and that Lana was draining her glass.
“Did you drink all that?”
“Can’t let good champagne go to waste. That’s what my mom always says,” Lana giggled.
Weslee shook her head. She hoped they’d be able to get some work done. She had noticed that Lana had been falling behind in some of her classes. Word was going around the cohort that her Financial Management team members were going to complain about her lack of preparation for meetings and presentations. Weslee had warned her. But it had fallen on deaf ears. “Screw them.” Lana had shrugged. “I’ll catch up. Besides, it’s only one class. My grades are great in the other four.”
Lana switched on the television, and Weslee looked at her incredulously.
“Ooooh. I love E!” she said, turning up the volume.
“Lana, I thought we were going to study,” Weslee said to her.
“In a few minutes,” Lana said, not looking at her. “Relax. Why don’t you get started?”
She didn’t have to say it twice. Weslee took her books off to the bedroom and shut the door so she wouldn’t have to hear the blaring television. The words on the pages stared back at her as she tried to concentrate. What was up with Lana? Was she just a scatterbrained, spoiled, selfish BAP, or was there more to it? She’s like the bad boyfriend you know you should kick to the curb but you keep hanging onto, hoping he’ll change, Weslee thought. Then she laughed. Yup, that was it. At least we always have a good time when we go out, she rationalized. And who else is going to introduce me to fine, smart brothers and take me to parties like the one last night? She could think of no one else who had Lana’s connections, who got Lana’s invites, who turned everyone’s head when she entered a room.
So what does she want with someone like me? Weslee wondered of Lana, who was still preoccupied with celebrity worship in the next room. Lana was nothing like Weslee’s old friends, mostly tomboys and average girls like her. Girls like Lana inhabited a rarefied world that Weslee had never even aspired to. In high school and in college she’d always been either annoyed by or slightly envious of those girls. They were always going out on dates, to parties, on shopping sprees, and always seemed to maintain some hulking football player on relationship retainer. Surely they had no idea what it was like to be so constantly seized with terror—about grades, parents’ expectations, and reputations—that clothes and a social life were distant, distant afterthoughts. They were not uptight. Uptight, like me, she thought. Weslee wanted that now—to not care, to just have fun and to say to hell with it. Screw it. All her life she’d done everything right, been a good girl, and where had it gotten her? Jilted by Michael and still unsure of what shape her future would morph into. And here was Lana, who had broken all the rules, or at least most of them, and she was as happy and carefree as a three-year-old in a sandbox. So what if she was a bit annoying? You had to be when you lived life on your own term
s. It’s the uptight people like me, Weslee grimaced, who are always worried about hurting other people’s feelings, all the while sacrificing our own.
But you can’t deny who you are, scolded a voice deep inside as her eyes dutifully tried to make sense of the lines of text in front of her. Can’t screw up business school. Don’t have the luxury to. No rich daddy’s gonna bail you out.
Fifteen minutes later she peeked out through the door and saw her worst fears realized. Lana was passed out on the couch with the TV on at full volume and the empty champagne bottle lying sideways on the table.
Weslee walked over and turned off the TV and went back to her room.
She drank the whole thing? Weslee shook her head in amazement, feeling a bit frightened by Lana’s irresponsibility. It was one thing to slack off on studying, but to pass out on someone else’s couch after downing a whole bottle of champagne . . . And on a Sunday!
She pushed away the thought that immediately entered her head—that she should end this friendship now. This woman, while she could be fun, was toxic in some ways. I could never, ever . . . What must her parents think of her? Weslee peered at the sleeping Lana again, her hair all over her face, her mouth slightly open. What a waste, she thought. If I looked like her . . . She turned away guiltily, fearing that she was invading Lana’s privacy.
The girl had been given every opportunity in life and had treated her good fortune as something to be taken for granted.
Weslee picked up her book and lay back on her pillows. It was as if Lana valued nothing. Not the expensive clothes she wore once and never wore again, not the money her parents spent on her education and her careless lifestyle, not her God-given beauty, which she squandered on undeserving men. She valued nothing, but she got everything anyway.
She sighed and got up again. There has to be more to her than that, Weslee thought. Maybe her folks are jerks. Maybe she’s one of those sad little Mommie-Dearest rich girls, acting out in a misguided attempt to be loved. She grabbed a blanket and stood over Lana thoughtfully. Everybody deserves some kindness, right? She covered Lana with the yards of blue flannel. Right.
She Who Shops Page 4