The Way U Look Tonight

by Dianne Castell

  “There,” she said in an uncontrolled breath against his mouth. “I can’t wait.” She eyed the newel post, the swirled top the size of a small stool. He set her there, her legs embracing his middle as he stood on the second stair, took a condom from his wallet and branded her with his own kiss. He dropped his jeans, she gripped his shoulders, her legs wide and welcoming, and he held her tight and thrust into her sweet flesh so ready and wet for him.

  Her body convulsed in climax, meeting him thrust for thrust, consumed with making love to him. His own climax more intense than he’d ever experienced, his connection to Callie filling him with a total sense of completeness.

  She rested against him, her body still quivering ... or maybe that was his. Neither of them moved, the grandfather clock ticking off the seconds of euphoria, then minutes, neither of them wanting to break the moment, the spell.

  She kissed his neck, sending more aftershocks through him. “You are the master of the bedroom,” she said in a smoky voice. “And the hallway and the attic. Making love to you is a fantasy come true.”

  Chapter 13

  Georgette walked out of the bank and put the money in her new purse. She couldn’t believe she’d actually lost her purse. How could she do such a thing with that phone of Bob’s in there? What if someone found it? Turned it on? That’s why she couldn’t make a big deal out of looking for it and had faked the headache. If it showed up on its own, fine. If the robber took the cash and ditched the purse, so much the better.

  She’d cancelled her credit cards right away so no one could use them. Her driver’s license was in her other purse, so she didn’t have to replace that. Since neither her purse nor someone wondering why she’d recorded Keefe and the others had surfaced in the last two days she was probably in the clear, her purse gone wherever stolen purses go.

  Thank heavens for wire transfer of funds. First thing was to repay Digger. She’d borrowed money from him so she could eat, saying her bank had messed up her ATM card. He’d lent her the cash without blinking an eye, and she knew for a fact he didn’t have any to lend. He was a fine man, not the man for her, of course, but very fine all the same ... and she’d used him shamelessly to get to Keefe.

  She didn’t feel good about that, but he’d probably never know, so what was the harm. She headed for Slim’s to get an iced tea to chase off the blistering afternoon heat and saw Rachel coming her way, looking totally bewildered. What could it be this time, the printers sent matchbooks with her name printed in gold instead of silver? Oh, the tragedy of it all. And why was she at the Landing with only two weeks till the wedding? Georgette stopped under the shade of the huge elm by the hardware store.

  “Oh, Georgette, I’m so glad I found you.”

  “The town’s not that big, Rachel, and don’t look so frantic. I said I’ll be at the wedding, and I will. You didn’t have to come down here. I won’t gripe about wearing yellow chiffon or the tiara or the—”

  “There isn’t any wedding,” she wailed, tears streaming down her perfect face. “Rex has been fucking around on me with everything in Savannah that wears a skirt, and we both know that’s not exclusive to the female population.”

  She sobbed and threw her arms around Georgette. “I don’t know what to do. Mother wants me to forgive and forget and go on with the wedding. It’s going to be the social event of the year. I’ve already received my entire silver service in gifts and my china.” She looked at Georgette through her tears. “I have such a lovely china pattern, Chantilly. I love Chantilly, have since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d actually get it.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Rachel, you can’t get married because you have great china and silver.”

  “Rex’s father promised a house on Hilton Head Island and a Porsche if I came back. He even threw in a credit card at Saks; you know how I love Saks. Rex’s political career is finished if this comes out.”

  “What’s out is Rex. I have to say I never saw that one coming.” She patted Rachel’s back. “You can’t sell out for a house, a car and status.”

  “And Saks. People have sold out for a lot less, you know. I’m not all that into sex, and maybe if I could convince Rex not to be, this will blow over. His father threatened to have him neutered; that might help.”

  “I think he was kidding ... or maybe not, knowing the Prescotts and their desire to get into the political scene.” Georgette hugged Rachel, something they hadn’t done in years.

  “Can I stay here with you for a while and hide out? I’ll call Mother and tell her I’m okay, but I have to figure out what to do, and no one will think to look for me here. I mean, us together is rare.”

  “It wasn’t always, you know. Remember fishing the Savannah River off the front porch?”

  “Oh, my God, I actually held a worm, didn’t I?” She made a face, then it softened. “I caught a striped bass once. We let it go and threw it back.”

  “Yeah, I remember that, too.” Better times, closer times. Georgette took Rachel’s hand. “Let’s get some iced tea, and then I’ll take you over to Hastings House. It’s a nice bed and breakfast, though I have to tell you I think the place is truly haunted all to hell and back. There’s so much ruckus going on at night.”

  They entered Slim’s and found a table easily enough in the middle of the afternoon. A good-looking guy she’d seen around plucked out a soul tune on a guitar, and Sally came over to their table. Georgette said, “This is my sister, Rachel, and we’d like two iced teas, please.”

  Rachel sighed, “Make mine a Long Island iced tea with refills. It’s been that kind of day.”

  Sally patted Rachel’s shoulder. “We all have that kind of day from time to time, honey.”

  Sally left, and Digger came over. He looked tired to the bone, but when their eyes met he brightened up and smiled at her. The man had the best smile ever. “Digger, this is my sister, Rachel. She’s here for a visit.”

  Sally brought the teas and handed Digger a beer. Rachel slurped down half the liquid in one long gulp as Digger and Georgette looked on in total wonder. Seven shots of booze was a lot of booze. Rachel swiped her mouth with the back of her hand, belched, eyes not focusing, and said to Digger, “My fiance is a transvestite, or bisexual or something and I’m trying to decide if I should marry the rat or not. I’m not all that into sex, so that’s not a deal breaker but.. .”

  To his immense credit Digger didn’t look shocked or appalled. He looked sincere and took Rachel’s hand. Leave it to Digger to know the right thing to do. “You’re a beautiful, classy, uniquely wonderful lady like your sister, and you don’t have to settle for anything that’s not perfect for you or anyone who doesn’t treat you with respect. This man is not for you, and you’re lucky to find out now before he hurts you any more. If you and Georgette would like to come to dinner on the Lee tonight, I’d be honored to have you as my guests.”

  “Thanks.” Rachel belched again. “I’ll remember that.” She polished off the rest of the Long Island, and Georgette seriously doubted she’d remember anything since half her brain cells were now inebriated.

  Sally put another Long Island in front of Rachel and a bag beside Digger and said to him, “Here’s the food you ordered for the acting company. Tell Joe I gave him two extra pickles like always.” She patted Digger on the back. “Acting company sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? The Landing sure is getting snooty these days.”

  Digger stood. “I best be getting back to work. Pleasure meeting you, Rachel. Better times are ahead, I’m sure.” He touched Georgette’s cheek, his blue eyes a little smoky, a soft smile on his lips and a slight blush in his cheeks. “I hope to see you tonight. And you’re looking lovely today as always. You . . . You make my day.”

  Then he left, and Georgette realized she wished he’d stayed, not just because he complimented her, but because she liked being with him. Rachel killed off the second half of her tea, looking a little woozy . . . Make that a lot woozy. She slurred, “I’d give my eyeteeth to have a man look at me
like that.”

  “Like what?”

  Rachel giggled. “Digger is so completely in love with you that he can’t see straight.”

  “It’s you who can’t see straight because of the quantity of alcohol you’re consuming.”

  Rachel pried her eyelids open enough to see out. “Digger is crazy for you, the kind of crazy that puts cars and houses and shopping sprees to shame. You can’t buy love like that. Believe me, I know that now. Complete love happens, like . . . magic.”

  She let out a deep sigh and propped her chin in her palm. “It’s how I always wanted Rex to look at me, and he never did and truth be told, I probably never looked at him like that either. I was marrying status; he was marrying respectability and a political future. Did you know that Daddy being a self-made man guaranteed Rex the blue-collar vote?” She patted the glass in front of her. “I think I have reached a state of clarity.”

  “You’ve reached the state of zonked.”

  She started in on the second Long Island. “I was nothing but a political contribution. All you are is loved. I like your way better.”

  “Digger has nothing but a broken-down boat. He’s a loser, Rachel.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “If you think that, then you’re the one who’s the loser, Georgette, even worse than me. When you had your great makeover you should have made over what was inside while you were doing the stuff on the outside. The money ruined us, you know that? All of us. Mother was too busy with the Savannah social scene, I followed her and you never knew where you fit in.” She poked Georgette’s chest. “You got to be true to yourself, not anyone else, or your life is nothing but a big old sham. I wanted to please Mother by marrying Rex. I wanted to ride on Rex’s coattails and be the Washington princess because he’d certainly be the prince. Then I found out he was more of a queen.”

  She finished the second drink, stood, righted her shoulders and smiled. “Now I’m going to play that piano over there and forget about men and my disastrous life thus far.”

  “You hate playing the piano. You took lessons only because Mother bribed you with a new spring wardrobe each year and playing got your name in the society section of the newspaper when you gave your recital in Ms. Hillar’s piano room.”

  Rachel hiccupped. “Actually, I love playing the piano, but pretending like I didn’t is how I got the clothes.” She massaged her forehead. “I think I’m tired of playing games. I think I’ve had my fill. I think I want to find someone like Digger. And if you have one ounce of sense in your head, you’ll realize I’m right.”

  Rachel weaved her way to the old upright and sat down on the little round stool so well worn by others who’d sat there before. The guy on the guitar stopped playing and gave her the once-over and smiled as Rachel played something Beethoven. He strummed his guitar, then kicked up the tempo. Rachel looked at him and did the same as if meeting his challenge. Then she did some fancy improvising that stunned Georgette as guitar man followed and added to it. Beethoven goes jazz. Georgette didn’t know her sister had it in her. Surprise, surprise.

  But what really surprised Georgette even more was that Rachel was right on with her comment about Digger and about Georgette. Digger did love her, and she’d used him without a second thought, and that was the worst part of all. She felt sick. What was she doing? How could she do something like that? She wasn’t always so horrid, was she?

  Rachel stood, shoved back the stool with her foot and launched into hypermode piano playing, matching the guitar player note for note. She danced as she played, her behind gyrating to the music, the guitarist doing the same in perfect sync.

  Rachel always knew what she was about—superficial or otherwise—and what she wanted. Georgette’s approach was a poor-me, ugly-duckling attitude because she didn’t know what she wanted and blamed everyone else for not getting it. Then she’d drowned her sorrows and lack of self-respect in a Snickers and half gallon of chocolate chip ice cream. But the fact that she was willing to use Digger to write some stupid article to get her parents to notice her constituted a new low in her life.

  She felt numb, and it wasn’t from alcohol. Rachel’s words were like getting smacked upside the head. Rachel seeing Rex for what he was and coping gave Georgette the courage to face who she was. No wonder she wasn’t the favorite daughter; right now she didn’t like herself much.

  Thank God she’d lost her purse. She would have written that article for Bob. She would have told everyone about Keefe coming home to take care of Bonnie and hoping to find the missing Mimi. That could have gotten people looking for Mimi, driving her more into hiding than ever, and could have exposed Bonnie to danger by bringing around reporters and curiosity seekers. For sure it would have exposed Keefe’s private life and Rory’s. They deserved better from her; they were her friends.

  Rachel’s breakup with Rex was the best thing that ever happened to Georgette Cooper and from the looks of Rachel-unplugged, the best thing that ever happened to her. Thank you, Rex.

  Georgette went to the bar and ordered a Long Island iced tea for herself, came back and Bob was sitting at her table. She slowed her steps and took in his shaggy mustache and beady eyes. A chill ran up her spine, and she sat, then leaned across the table, glad the music muffled her words from anyone passing by. “Look, before you start, I’m not doing the article. I quit.”

  He sneered. “I don’t think so.”

  She felt icy fingers grip her insides. How could she get mixed up with such a sleaze? “I lost your phone. I have no idea where it is. But I won’t do the article no matter what, and no amount of publicity or money will make me change my mind.”

  His eyes went from nondescript gray to black dots. “Stupid bitch. How do I know you didn’t sell the information to someone else?”

  “Keefe and his friends are my friends. What are you going to do to me?”

  “Forget I ever saw you, and I suggest you do the same.” His face pulled into an ugly frown. “And I really mean that.” Bob got up and sauntered toward the door. She’d never been so happy to see a man leave in her life. At least that was over with. She prayed she’d never find her purse and that whoever had it spent the money and had fun.

  “Hey,” said Rachel as she came back to the table. “I’m taking a rain check on Digger’s for dinner. Clyde on guitar asked me to join him.”

  “Rachel,” Georgette stage whispered. “You can’t just go off with a man you don’t know.”

  “Heck, look what happened when I went off with a man I did know. That didn’t work out too good, did it?” She patted Georgette’s head. “But don’t you worry, Clyde builds stuff, said he was going to help Slim put in that outdoor eating area, some decks and maybe an arbor. Sounds cute. Seems everyone in town knows this guy. Kind of a handyman. Just one of the good-old-boys around here. Who was that guy you were talking to?”

  “No one important.” Georgette prayed that was true. She stood. “Have a good time tonight. Try not to do anything on the rebound, huh.”

  Rachel went back to the piano and started in on some tune, and Clyde joined in. Georgette suddenly wanted to find Digger, be reassured everything was okay and make up to him for using him and being a snob.

  How could he still like her when she acted like that? If she ran to the market, she could get some fresh fish. It wasn’t like catching it herself, but if she asked the person at the market, they could refresh her cooking memory. And hadn’t her mama fixed hush puppies with fish? That might be good, too.

  She wanted to please Digger, let him know he was important to her. If he liked her before, she planned on making him like her a lot more. She glanced around. She could live in this town, maybe set up an accounting, investing office. She was happier here than she’d ever been in Savannah. Tonight she’d be nice to Digger . . . except in the bedroom. She had other plans for there. Naughty plans. She wondered if they sold that whipped cream in a can that came out in swirls.

  ———

  Digger hammered another board in place, then sto
od back and admired the stage as Keefe said, “That’s not a bad job, not bad at all. The height isn’t as good as I’d like, but if we have the staircase reach onto the main floor and have Teddy Roosevelt—”

  “That’s Uncle Brewster, and Nick’s doing the part, right?”

  “Right. He can yell charge, running through the audience then onto the stairs. That would work and give us enough room for the balcony.”

  Digger said, “With the play being all in one room the use of audience space adds to the interest. Nick brought over some props. They’re upstairs lying on top of that big cedar chest we need for the body. He found an old-time radio that we need for the news flash, a fedora for Mortimer, that’s Barry, and a vintage police uniform with all the trappings that should work well.”

  Keefe turned to Digger and laughed. “You know this play as well as I do. Would you mind doing lights and sound effects? The actors won’t have to do double duty with acting and behind-the-scene stuff if you manage it.”

  Digger grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.” He nodded at the stage. “Thanks for doing this, Keefe.”

  “Hell, man, thanks for letting us use your boat. We’ll get Georgette to start selling tickets and come up with a promotion budget.”

  “Did I just hear my name mentioned,” Georgette said as she sashayed around the corner. Digger felt the air run right out of his lungs as he took her in. Not the usual sophisticated clothes this time but better. Skimpy white denim shorts tied with a pink sash and a matching bow in her hair. A flowered halter top that showed off her lovely breasts and tempting cleavage. Only a bit of makeup—none of the usual heavy stuff—and pale pink lips, not the dark red. He felt dizzy, intoxicated, and he hadn’t even had one beer since he went to Slim’s to pick up food for the crew. Heck, he hadn’t even drank that beer he was so absorbed with Georgette. “H-hi,” he finally managed.