by Dianne Emley
“Done.” She smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Iris finally arrived home. She took off her clothes, peeled off her pantyhose and started a new pile on the closet floor, put on her bathrobe, scrubbed off her makeup, and brushed the mousse and hairspray out of her hair before she could face the messages on the phone machine. There were two.
“What happened at the meeting, Iris?” Billy Drye said with a sneer in his voice. “I know what happened. A big nothing. Zero. Nada. So, one for me and zip for you.” He hung up.
“Asshole.” Iris scowled at the machine as she unlocked the terrace door. She walked outside. The street man’s bundles were neatly organized but he was not around. She went back inside.
“Hi, darlin!” Barbie’s voice was cheerful.
“Oh, great. Miss Congeniality. I guess you’re still my big client.”
“I want ya to come on out with me and Arturo tonight.”
“What?” Iris whined at the disembodied voice.
“I don’t know if he told you but we’re going down to the Club Estra-yell-do to meet with his Uncle George…”
“Sorry, I’m in for the night.” She grabbed a handful of crackers.
“…and I got an old friend of mine in town and I’d like you meet her.”
Iris stood in the middle of the living room floor, facing the phone machine and eating a cracker. “You have old friends?” she asked the machine.
“She just came into town on a whim yesterday.”
“I’d like to meet one of your old friends.”
“Her and me were waitresses at Hal’s. I’m pleased as all get-out to see her and I’d like to show her a good time.”
“Yeah. Sure. Let’s show her a good time.”
The message ended and the tape rewound. Iris dialed Barbie’s number.
“Hi, Barbie. Sounds great. When are you coming by? Why? But I’m right on the way. Okay, okay. I’ll drive over. See you in a bit.”
Barbie’s doorbell discharged a tinny ding when Iris pressed it and a tinny dong when she released it. She’d dressed in black jeans, black cowboy boots, and the purple silk blouse that Barbie had given her on Sunday, the day before. It fit perfectly. Iris heard voices on the other side of the door. She couldn’t make out the words but the tone sounded angry. She was moving her head closer to hear better when Barbie swung the door open.
“Well hi, sugar.” Barbie threw her arms around Iris and gave her a big hug. Iris hugged her back, immune to any fake warmth from Barbie and appreciating the extent of her girth instead.
Barbie was dressed in a full floral print skirt whose hem extended past her knees, a purple linen unstructured jacket, and a soft blouse in petal pink that didn’t reveal a hint of cleavage. Her shoes were simple navy blue pumps without a bow, buckle, or faux jewel.
“You’re dressed conservatively,” Iris remarked.
“This is my business look, honey. This is a side of me you don’t know.”
“The multifaceted Barbie.” Iris glanced behind her and saw a woman standing by the couch with her arms folded across her chest, one foot in front of the other and one hip jutting out rakishly. She was as tall as Iris and very thin. She eyed Iris haughtily.
“Ain’t it the truth?” Barbie put her hand on Iris’s back and guided her into the small apartment. “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Lorraine. Honey, this is Iris Thorne, the gal who’s been managing my money for me.”
Lorraine unfolded her arms and limply extended her hand palm down to Iris. Iris had extended her hand straight out and was caught off guard by Lorraine’s gesture. Lorraine impatiently dropped her eyelids. Iris finally clasped the tips of Lorraine’s fingers, feeling like one of Scarlet O’Hara’s beaus coming to call.
“Pleased to meet you,” Iris said.
Lorraine wore a tight black, leather miniskirt, a black mock turtleneck sweater, black stockings, and strappy high-heeled sandals. Her hair had been cut short and painted with blond highlights, her face dramatically made up, and her long acrylic nails polished candy-apple-red. Her lipstick was the same color as her nail polish.
“I feel like I already know you.” Lorraine refolded her hands across her chest.
“Really? Why?” Iris asked.
“From the Susie Santé show.”
“I’m surprised at the number of people who saw that show.”
“You’d be surprised to know the effect you had on some people.”
“Really? How?”
Barbie rushed between the two women, fluttering her hands. “I’ve just been telling Lorraine how we met and all and how much you’ve helped me since I’ve been in town, you know, and how close we are now.”
“Just exactly how close?” Lorraine asked.
“Close enough to share secrets,” Iris said.
“Rainey, Iris and I are just good gal friends.” She put her hand on Lorraine’s arm. “I told y’all about that.”
Iris noticed Barbie’s hand. “You get a new ring?”
Barbie twisted the diamond and sapphire ring that was snug on the little finger of her left hand. “Yes! I…uh…”
Lorraine took Barbie’s hand in hers and rotated the ring back and forth so that the stones reflected the light. “I gave it to her.”
“It’s beautiful,” Iris said. “Is it an antique?”
“It is.” Lorraine released Barbie’s hand. “It’s a family heirloom. Barbie tried to give it back to me. But I made her keep it. She’d always admired it.”
“So!” Barbie clapped her hands. “Can I get y’all a soda or a glass of wine while we wait for Art?”
“Nothing stronger than diet soda is going to cross my lips for awhile,” Iris said.
“Okay,” Barbie said. “And a diet soda for you, too, Lorraine.”
Lorraine sat on the couch and crossed her long legs. She picked at the acrylic nails, scraping at one hand with the thumb of the other, then reversing hands. “I’ll have a glass of wine, myself.”
“Lorraine, I think you’d be better off with a soda.” Barbie noticed Iris’s quizzical look. “Lorraine has a…she’s allergic to alcohol.”
“But I’ve been feeling so much better. One li’l ol’ glass of wine’s not going to hurt nothin’.” Lorraine mocked Barbie’s accent.
Barbie gave her a long look. “Careful you don’t ruin your fresh manicure, darlin’.” She went into the kitchen.
Iris sat on a bulky chair that was upholstered in the same drab, brown plaid as the sofa and crossed her legs. She smiled at Lorraine, who had crossed her arms and tucked her hands beneath each forearm. Her hands now quieted, she began to waggle her top leg. She gave Iris the same icily appraising look as when she had first come in the door.
“You just arrived yesterday?” Iris asked conversationally.
“Yes.”
“Are you staying through the weekend, through Easter?”
“Yes. I’m staying for a long time.”
“Have you done any sight-seeing?”
“Barbie and I went shopping in Beverly Hills today.”
Iris laughed. “Barbie’s favorite place.”
Barbie shouted from the kitchen. “We did it up. Hair, nails, facials, new outfits. The whole shebang.”
Lorraine uncrossed her arms and began scratching the nails of one hand with the thumb of her other hand. “Barbie made me have these nails put on. They feel gross.” She put a finger in her mouth and clicked the nail between her teeth.
“Honey, stop pickin’ at ‘em,” Barbie said from the kitchen without seeing what Lorraine was doing. “You’ll get used to them. They make your hands look sexy. You ought to get some, Iris.”
“That’s exactly what I need, one more appointment every week,” Iris said.
“Barbie’s taken you shopping, huh?” Lorraine folded her hands in her lap.
“A couple of times.”
“I wondered about that blouse.”
Iris put her hand on her middle, touching the purple silk. “Bar
bie bought it to cheer me up when I was having a bad day.”
Lorraine began twiddling her thumbs. “That was nice of her. She bought me one that was almost the same when we lived together.”
“I didn’t know you were roommates.”
Barbie shouted from the kitchen. “We lived together for a while when we both worked at Hal’s.”
“We were room-mates.” Lorraine tilted her head and gazed up at Iris meaningfully.
“That’s…nice. Are you originally from Atlanta, Lorraine?”
“Salt Lake City. That’s where I live now.” She looked toward the kitchen, raised her voice, and spoke as if she were reciting something. “I was only in Atlanta for a few years. That’s where I met Barbie. We were both waitresses at Hal’s.”
Barbie walked into the living room, carrying glass tumblers of ice and cola.
Lorraine pointed a long fingernail at the glasses. “What’s that?”
Barbie threw paper napkins onto the rickety, stained coffee table, then sat the sweating glasses on top of them. “Diet soda, darlin’. You know that bottle of wine I had? I just opened it and it’s vinegary. Just ruined. I’m takin’ it back tomorrow.”
Lorraine stood and started walking toward the kitchen. “Let’s just have a look. How bad could it be?”
Barbie grabbed Lorraine’s arm. “Don’t you believe me, sugar?”
Lorraine looked at Barbie and slowly blinked. “Why wouldn’t I believe you? I just want to taste it for myself.”
Barbie followed Lorraine into the kitchen. Barbie’s voice was too low to be heard. Lorraine’s tone was sarcastic: “Whatever you want, darlin’.”
The doorbell clanged. Barbie pranced from the kitchen and swung open the door. Lorraine returned to the living room. She smiled stiffly at Iris.
“Hey,” Art said. He put his arm around Barbie’s waist and started to kiss her on the mouth.
Barbie quickly turned her head so that the kiss landed on her cheek, then danced away from his grasp. She held her arm out in a grand gesture, and Lorraine walked toward her as if on command. Barbie put her arm around Lorraine’s waist.
“This is my good ol’ friend Lorraine. Honey, this is my potential business partner, Arturo Silva.”
Lorraine held out her hand limply, palm down.
“Nice to meet you, Lorraine,” Art said, taking her fingers. “Welcome to L.A. Hey, Iris.”
“Artie.” Iris got out of the chair and stood near Lorraine.
Art looked from Iris to Lorraine. “Hey, you know you guys look alike? You could be sisters.”
Iris and Lorraine looked at each other.
“I guess we do at that,” Iris said.
“I noticed it right off,” Lorraine said.
“You know, you’re right. Isn’t that a coincidence?” Barbie took her purse from the bar, draped the strap over her shoulder, picked up a leather portfolio, and tucked it under her arm. “Shall we go, kids?”
“Aren’t we going to finish our drinks?” Iris asked.
“I don’t want to make Uncle George wait,” Barbie said.
“He’s at the club anyway,” Art said.
Barbie stood in the doorway. “Iris, I know you and Arturo have to get to bed early for work tomorrow, so let’s go.”
“Who’s driving?” Iris asked.
“I’m the only one with a car that’s big enough,” Art said. “Big enough for all kinds of activities.” He leered at Barbie.
Barbie clutched the portfolio tighter. “Let’s go, kids.”
“At least someone’s having sex,” Iris said.
“Who’s having sex?” Lorraine asked.
“Iris and Art,” Barbie answered.
Iris and Art gaped at Barbie.
Barbie started walking quickly down the corridor. “Will one of y’all pull the door closed and lock it?”
Art shrugged and looked at Iris and Lorraine. “I guess we’re going.”
“Madame does not desire her coat?” Iris asked stuffily.
Lorraine sniggered. “That damn coat.”
Art gestured for the two women to walk through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was early Monday night and the Club Estrellado was slow. The band was setting up. A few couples were seated at the red vinyl booths, having dinner and margaritas. The singles would start arriving after ten o’clock, operating on a more bohemian schedule. Even on a Monday night, the Club Estrellado drew a crowd.
Coco, the waitress, latched onto Art as soon as he walked in the door. The collar of her white blouse was pulled up at a jaunty angle. The blouse was so tight there were little holes in the side seams where the thread entered the fabric. She held onto his arm for balance as she stood on tiptoes to reach his ear, as if it were loud in the club, which it wasn’t, and whispered animatedly to him.
Iris slid in one side of the semicircular booth, Lorraine in the other. Barbie sat next to Iris.
Coco slapped Art on the arm, giggled, and wheeled away with a shower of long hair flying over her shoulder, bouncing her tray on her hip as she walked. Art started to slide in next to Barbie, when Barbie suddenly leaped out of the booth.
“Art, sit in the middle so we can share you.” She gestured with her thumb for Iris and Lorraine to get up. “C’mon, girls.”
Iris and Lorraine crawled from the booth. Barbie nudged Art toward the now vacant vinyl. He dutifully climbed in.
“Now, Lorraine, you sit on Art’s left and Iris on the right, and I’ll sit next to Iris. There. Isn’t that better?”
“I guess,” Art said.
Barbie anxiously twisted the face of her watch. “I thought you said your uncle was already here.”
“Coco told me he had to go out. He’ll be back soon.”
A busboy began to set the table.
Barbie put her hands out to stop him. “That’s not necessary, sugar.”
The busboy stopped his work and looked uncomprehendingly at Barbie. Art asked him to continue, in Spanish. Barbie persisted, making a brushing motion with the back of her hand. He quickly finished laying out the place settings and left.
“Why didn’t you want him to set the table?” Art asked.
“Aren’t we eating?” Iris asked. “I’m starved.”
“We’re here for a business meeting, not to eat,” Barbie said.
“Iris and Lorraine can eat,” Art said. “They’re not coming upstairs with us.”
“Sure they are.”
Lorraine was nibbling the tip of one of her nails, clicking it against her bottom teeth.
Art leaned toward Barbie. “Isn’t that why you asked Iris to come? To keep Lorraine company?”
“Yeah,” Lorraine said. “Then Iris and I can get to know each other.”
Barbie pouted. “I just thought it’d be interestin’ for Lorraine and Iris to observe the meetin’. This is a big step in our lives.”
“No offense,” Iris said, “but I’d rather observe a big plate of enchiladas.”
“I can do that,” Lorraine said.
Art looked at Barbie and shook his head. “You’re acting weird tonight.”
“I’m just a little nervous, honey.”
“Barbie nervous?” Iris said. “This is a first.”
“Iris, this is an important meeting. Of course I’m a little nervous. Anyone would be.” Barbie plucked at the front of her blouse.
“It is an important meeting.” Lorraine slid her hands under her thighs to quiet her fingers. “You need to know whether you’re getting the dough for that important Phoenix trip.”
“That’s the spirit,” Art said. “Let’s get some food and drink over here.”
He gestured for Coco to come over. Iris, Lorraine, and Art ordered food. Art ordered a pitcher of margaritas.
“Margaritas,” Lorraine said. “Yummy.”
“I’m sticking with ice water,” Iris said.
“I can’t eat or drink a thing.” Barbie pointed at Lorraine. “You�
��d better watch your drinkin’, missy. She’s allergic to the stuff,” she explained before anyone asked. Demonstrating, she ran her hands over her arms as if they itched. “Breaks out all over. Terrible.”
“Bullshit.” Lorraine leaned toward the table as if she were preparing to share a confidence. “The truth is”—she looked at them conspiratorially—“the truth is, I’m on medication. But one drink’s not going to do anything. I’ve done it before.”
“Medication for what?” Art asked impulsively.
“So that I don’t see little green aliens,” Lorraine replied.
Iris, Art, and Barbie looked soberly at Lorraine.
Lorraine reflected their serious expressions, then suddenly clapped her hands and laughed gleefully. “You should see your faces!”
Art and Iris laughed nervously along with her.
“As long as it’s just one, darlin’,” Barbie said through a tense smile.
Lorraine snapped back, “Charlotte, mind your own fucking business.”
Both Iris and Art looked at Barbie, whose smile drooped like yesterday’s daisies.
Lorraine gave her head a shake. “Barbie, I mean.”
Art winced with confusion. “Charlotte? Who’s Charlotte?”
Barbie found her smile and pressed a hand to her ample chest. “Charlotte’s my middle name. Lots of my old friends know me as Charlotte. It’s a bit of the Old South flavor.” She wrinkled her nose playfully. “That’s all.”
“Barbie Charlotte?” Art asked.
“Barbara Charlotte,” Barbie confirmed.
“What’s your maiden name?” Iris asked.
“Maiden name? Why it’s…” Barbie looked in the direction of the bartender across the room. “It’s Beer.”
“Barbie Beer?” Art laughed. “Like drinking beer?”
“My family’s from the country. You have to understand that they’re not real sophisticated.”
“So, Lorraine,” Iris began. “What do you do for a living in Salt Lake?”
“I’m a medical claims analyst at an insurance company.”
“So you must have known Hal when you were in Atlanta.”
“Hal?”
Barbie looked at Lorraine with a hesitant smile.