“I think you have the wrong room,” Weslee said and hung up the phone quickly. She dialed room service and ordered a huge breakfast. Duncan woke up while she was on the phone.
“Who’s calling so early?” He yawned.
“Wrong number.” She leaned over to kiss him, and he pulled her back into the bed. She tried in vain to get away from him. “Wait, honey. I’m still talking to the room-service people.”
“I can’t wait,” he said as he wrestled off her short satin La Perla nightgown.
She quickly finished off the order before turning her attention to him.
Twenty minutes later, his cell phone rang. “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t even know I could get a signal out here.”
It was the office. From the look on his face, she could tell it was something serious. “Yes, I did give you the right number. Well, you must have dialed wrong.” He frowned.
Room service was at the door. She grabbed a tip from her purse, wrapped herself in her robe, and went to the door. She could hear Duncan talking to his firm.
“So, when do you need me to go there? Are you serious? This Monday? What about Cox? Fine. Fine.”
She could tell he was upset. He was sitting up in bed, rubbing his hairy chest and frowning.
“What’s wrong?” She kneeled on the bed and ran her index finger up and down his arm.
“It’s this client, Jackson. He’s probably going to be indicted for fraud and embezzlement. I’ve got to go to London on Monday to look at things.”
“Oh. For how long?”
“I don’t know. A week, maybe.”
She was disappointed, but she didn’t want to let it show. She didn’t want him to retreat into one of his moods this weekend.
“Well, that’s not too long, honey.” She burrowed her head in his chest, and he smoothed her hair.
“Yeah. Now’s just a bad time. I don’t like dealing with the London office. Everything’s just a big hassle over there.”
“Didn’t you work there before?” He had mentioned something about that once.
“Yes, for a year after law school. But that was six years ago. It’s changed.”
“But at least you have friends there.”
He sighed. Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Listen, we should probably leave early on Sunday so I can pack and get some work done before I leave Monday morning.”
Again, she tried to keep her mood bright and upbeat despite her disappointment. “Sure, I understand, honey. Let’s have some breakfast.”
She chattered on and on during breakfast although she could see him starting to slip away. She somehow managed to persuade him to go sightseeing in the snow. And as the day wore on, his mood improved.
They spent the morning trudging through the snow, visiting little shops and admiring the Williams College campus. Then they drove up to nearby Bennington, Vermont.
Weslee, despite her promise to herself to become frugal, shopped with happy abandon at a long strip of designer outlet stores. Duncan, amused, tried to slow her down; he laughed at her as the bags began to pile up. “You’re as bad as Lana.” He shook his head. “But at least you’re spending your own money and not your folks’.” This statement only gave her pause for a brief second. My own money. My retirement money. Oh well, she thought. I’m still young. I have plenty of time to rebuild my savings. It’s just money, she told herself as another store caught her eye.
They stopped in Armani and she bought herself a nondescript pair of black tuxedo pants that cost a week’s salary for her or a year’s worth of food for a family in a Third World country. But that thought only fleeted through her mind like Marion Jones doing the 100-meter dash. Duncan’s teasing only seemed to push her deeper into the frenzy. She couldn’t resist a midsize Fendi pouch that would probably go well with a dusty pink cashmere sweater by Luxe she’d recently picked up on Bluefly.com. She bought him three ties. He bought her chocolates at Godiva. Then later that night he gave her a tiny black Donna Karan dress. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out when or how he had bought it over the afternoon and managed to hide it from her. He never ceased to amaze her. She was happy as she packed her booty into the car even though the trip had been cut short. She’d spent another two hundred fifty dollars on cosmetics at Chanel, and she couldn’t wait to get home to try on all the new colors—the lipsticks, eye shadow, blushes. It would all make up for the fact that she couldn’t have Duncan with her the rest of the day.
Weslee hummed along with Jill Scott as they drove back to Boston that clear Sunday afternoon. Her choice. Duncan hated R&B music. Seal was about as much as he could stand.
Differing musical tastes aside, the weekend had been just perfect. It confirmed for Weslee everything she needed to know about this relationship. Duncan was the man for her. He had told her and shown her that he loved her and wanted to be with her. It was not all in her head.
She looked at him and fondled his right ear, her favorite. She was so happy. Even though he was preoccupied and moody now because of his trip to London, she was certain that once he came back, it would be a new start. She was officially his woman. He was her man.
She couldn’t wait for her Thanksgiving trip to Chicago the following weekend. She felt safe. It was OK to tell her parents now. Maybe she could even convince him to come home with her for Christmas. She leaned back into the soft leather of the SUV and daydreamed.
Chapter 16
Christmas was in the air, and Lana was out of control. On two consecutive days, she showed up to class drunk. Weslee could smell it on her breath, and she heard other classmates whispering and tittering about it. Over the course of the semester Lana had destroyed any credibility she had with any of the professors. They had ceased to be dazzled by her outsized personality and charm. Never mind that she was always turning in assignments late and generally making a fool of herself in class. She had alienated most of her friends by leaving them in the lurch on group projects. Weslee was the only friend she had left.
Weslee decided that she had to do something. But it was so hard to even talk to Lana. Being around Sherry had reminded her what real friendship felt like, and it was hard to go back to Lana’s cattiness, self-absorption, and selfishness.
They had both gone to visit their families at Thanksgiving, and while Weslee had come back excited and kind of sad at leaving her folks, Lana seemed preoccupied and a little depressed. Her mood was the only reason that Weslee had agreed to go with her to yet another party just one day after returning from Chicago.
It was some professional party host’s version of a post-Thanksgiving celebration; Weslee decided then that she’d never go to any of those parties again.
They had started off on the wrong foot. Lana took one look at her and decided that she had to change. Weslee had already worn her outfit before to some other event.
“Unlike you, Lana, I’m living off my savings, and I’m not about to put myself further into debt just to impress other people.” Weslee was embarrassed but angry at the same time. The few days she had spent in Chicago had meant less money coming from HealthyLife Spa. She couldn’t afford to throw away her money on Prada and Dolce & Gabbana the way Lana did.
“Fine. But everyone’s going to know you wore this before,” Lana had said, flipping her hair again as she headed for the door.
“Everyone who? I don’t know any of those people; they’re your friends.”
“Exactly, Weslee. And who I’m with says a lot about me,” Lana had hissed.
“Whatever,” Weslee had replied. “I won’t go, then.”
But Lana had apologized halfheartedly; Weslee ended up going unwillingly.
The party had been loud and raucous. It was another event thrown by Dwayne Short, the self-appointed buppie host of Boston. Weslee had met him a few times and actually liked him. He was a nice enough guy. Sometimes she looked at him while his parties were in full swing and she could just tell that he wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe somewhere quiet, where he d
idn’t have to pretend to be the life of the party to all these young, disillusioned people who were so dependent on him to provide the right situation, the right setting to meet that perfect guy or girl, get that perfect cocktail, get that perfect hookup. He was working the room, cigar in hand, being charming, handsome. Fabulous. But his eyes just looked so tired and empty when he had greeted her. She totally understood. She felt the same way.
Lana, of course, was having a great time. Every other song was her favorite song. All the men wanted to dance with her or get her phone number. She was in her element—the center of attention. Women were throwing dagger looks at her. Boyfriends stared longingly.
Weslee’s feet ached. She missed Duncan and hoped he wasn’t too busy in London to miss her, too. The music was loud, the smoke stifling, and the smell of alcohol made her nauseated.
Lana had gotten upset with her again. Had told her that she was ruining her good time. Then she left with a guy she had just met, leaving Weslee to cab it home again.
Weslee had gotten home tired and upset. Lana was turning into someone she couldn’t stand to be around anymore.
The next day Sherry gave her a pep talk as they ran together along the Charles. “Face it, Weslee. The woman is difficult to be around. You either have to suck it up and accept her for who she is, or you’re going to have to let her go. If there’s something about her that you feel that you really can’t live without, then, good, keep her around. But don’t feel that you owe it to her to be her friend. She can find other friends. I have a feeling she picked you over the other girls in your class because you’re the only one who will put up with her crap.”
As usual, Weslee defended Lana. “Not really. The other girls like to party with her. But she says they’re too phony.”
“She thought they were phony?”
A cold blast of wind had ended that conversation as they picked up the pace, trying to reach the end of the run in the wintry weather.
Weslee felt more grounded the closer she got to Sherry. She felt that she could really be herself around her. Sherry was like a sister to her. They both liked acid jazz and reggae music; they both loved to cook, to run, to read. Weslee had returned to New Covenant Church, and she really liked it there, not just because it reminded her of home, but because it made her feel so warm and happy. She had met some of Sherry’s friends, and not a single one of them had asked what her father did for a living. Weslee was finally beginning to feel at home in Boston. And Duncan was just the icing on the cake.
When she returned from Chicago, Duncan had been in a murderous mood. She had done her best to be supportive and understanding. He was still bogged down in that embezzlement case with the European client. He had gone to London twice in the last month, for Thanksgiving and then again last weekend. Apparently, the client there required a lot of his time.
But once he got back, things had started to get a little better. The day he returned, it had snowed. They went cross-country skiing at a golf course in Weston that was used as a ski trail in the winter. He brought her back a beautiful Burberry scarf. She had squealed when she opened the Harrods box that night.
She was trying not to notice that most of their time together now was late at night. He hardly ever took her out anymore. Weslee attributed this to the stress of the holidays and the case in London. Their last outing had been the trip to Williamstown. Against her better judgment she had allowed him to start sleeping over a few nights a week. His apartment was only a few minutes away from hers in the South End, but he would come over late, and then one thing would lead to another and he would end up staying. At first, she had decided she was going to hold out, but she couldn’t resist him. Once they had made love that first time on the kitchen floor in his apartment, she knew she could never say no to him again. It wasn’t that she regretted it. Not really. She knew he was the one. It was only a matter of time before he made it official. She could feel it. Yes, it had only been two months, but theirs was a different kind of relationship. They knew each other inside out, she thought. Things would change after it all settled down.
She had talked to Sherry about the situation, and her advice was to guard her heart. But that was such a typical Sherry thing to say.
When Weslee had told Lana how close she and Duncan had become, Lana had seemed shocked. Lana’s reaction had shocked Weslee. “Don’t tell me about it,” Lana had said. “I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”
Weslee had guessed that it was Lana’s old spoiled rich girl mean-spiritedness exhibiting itself. She probably thinks that I’m not good enough for him, Weslee had thought. She decided to confide solely in Sherry instead.
But now things had gotten to a breaking point with Lana and she really had to do something to fix or end the friendship. And it was going to happen tonight.
The drinking, the abusive attitude—they had to stop. Weslee had tried to talk to her many times but without success. Weslee’s constant worry was that Lana would take whatever she would say the wrong way. They had had several skirmishes lately, and Weslee could feel that they were getting ready for the big showdown.
Lana called the afternoon after the disastrous party. “Weslee, I’m getting sick and tired of your crap,” she had said. “You really embarrassed me last night. Why didn’t you dance with Craig?”
“I didn’t feel like dancing, it was one hundred degrees in there,” Weslee had said. And why would I want to dance with that drunken idiot? she thought.
“I don’t know if I can take you to anything anymore. You’re going to ruin my reputation.” Her New England–Valley Girl accent was shrill and biting.
“Fine, Lana. I don’t know if I want to go to anything anymore, myself,” Weslee had replied. Lana hung up on her.
Weslee worried that she would never hear from her again. That had been three days ago.
Now it was Friday. She was waiting for Lana to show up. They were supposed to go to a movie. It was a ruse. Weslee wanted to talk, but she thought the only way to get Lana on board was to disguise it as an outing.
So she waited in a hostile December wind at the Loews across from the Boston Common. Lana was late as usual. Weslee waited, tickets in hand. A half hour went by. Then an hour. No Lana. She went in to the ticket booth. They wouldn’t give her a refund, so she took the two free passes and headed home. She decided to walk despite the fact that she ached all over from training four clients that morning after a hard run.
But she wanted to think. The walk across the Common and up Beacon Street and then to Commonwealth would give her enough time. She needed to decide what to do about this so-called friendship. Maybe she would ask Duncan for some advice. That is, if he wasn’t busy. He was so preoccupied lately.
A half hour later she turned the key in her lock. The TV was on. Duncan had let himself in.
“Hi, babe,” she said. She really had wanted to be alone tonight. She had to study for finals. But then, she hadn’t talked to Duncan all day. He had been in meetings from morning till night.
“Back from the movies already?”
“She never showed.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know why you bother with her. I warned you about her.”
“I think I just need to clear things up between us. Or I just need to tell her we can’t be friends anymore.”
“I like the last option better.” He gestured for her to join him on the couch. “You smell great.”
She kissed him. “I can’t stay up with you tonight. I’ve got to study for my Marketing final.”
“Boring. You’ll ace that; you don’t need to study.”
“I wish. I’m not you, Mr. Harvard.”
“You’re right about that.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “So, are you spending Christmas with your folks?” This wasn’t what she really wanted to know. She was half hoping he would ask her to meet his family. Or at least she wanted to know if they were at the point where she could ask him to come home with her for the holidays. She had told her
whole family about him already, and she assumed he had told his about her.
He tensed up. “Ummm. I don’t know. Depends on Jackson, you know.”
Jackson was the client in London.
“I hate Jackson,” she whined.
He put his arm around her. “Let’s go away for New Year’s,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Anywhere you want. You’ll be back from Chicago by then, right?”
“Yes, absolutely. Oh, Duncan. I’m so excited. I’m going to start thinking of someplace. Somewhere really romantic.” She snuggled up to him, her Marketing exam way in the back of her mind.
Duncan left early as usual the next morning.
She was so happy. She so badly wanted to go to Vermont. It must be beautiful there with all the snow, she thought. They could go to Killington. She hadn’t done any real skiing in years, but she was sure she could still handle herself on the slopes. Besides, some skiing might help with her marathon training.
The phone rang as she sat at the small kitchen table eating her Honey Bunches of Oats. It was Lana, all apologetic and sweet about standing her up last night.
Weslee couldn’t take it anymore. “Lana, we need to talk. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but if you want to keep avoiding me, we’re going to have to do it this way.”
“Sweetie, I’m in your hood.” She was yelling into a cell phone. “I’m right down the street. I’ll be right over.”
Weslee wanted to study right now. Her first class wasn’t until one P.M., and she wanted to use this morning to catch up on the reading she’d slacked off on the night before. But this couldn’t wait.
Ten minutes later, Lana breezed into Weslee’s apartment. She was all excited, as if nothing had happened and she and Weslee were still the best of friends. Weslee decided to indulge her for a few minutes. It turned into another NC-17–rated conversation about her night with Mark Bronner, her other flame. Weslee tried to tell her that there was no way that playing two guys against each other could be a good thing for her. And that set off the nasty showdown.
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