by Shelly Ellis
Despite her offer to sit down, Cris stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looking as if he wasn’t sure where exactly he was supposed to sit.
It was a tiny efficiency apartment with a quaint kitchen on one side of the room that had a basic four-burner stove, refrigerator, and microwave. The other side was currently occupied by a small armchair, coffee table, and large pull-out sofa, which also doubled as Lauren’s bed. The only dresser in the room was of the simple particle board variety with a veneer made to look like it was made of birchwood. It contained less than a fourth of her clothes. The rest of her wardrobe from her old life was shoved into her coat closet and in one of the many closets at her mother’s mansion. Perched on top of the dresser was an old television and VCR she had purchased as a set for thirty dollars at a yard sale. Her apartment walls were unadorned, with the exception of two small canvases her sister Dawn had painted.
Lauren knew her surroundings were humble, but she didn’t realize quite how humble they were until she watched Cris gaze around him, a picture of bafflement. She saw her apartment for the first time through his eyes and felt a little embarrassed, maybe even defensive.
“I know it doesn’t look the greatest, but I swear, the couch won’t bite. No fleas or bedbugs here.”
“No, I wasn’t . . .” He paused, looking around him again. “I’m just . . . surprised . . . that’s all.”
“Surprised by what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said that.” Lauren was starting to feel the same way she had felt before he had arrived for their date: uneasy and nervous. She decided to push those thoughts aside, though. The evening had gone well, after all.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She walked to the kitchen. “Some water or tea, maybe? Sorry I don’t have any coffee. I’m out right now.”
“Tea is fine.” He finally sat down on the couch.
Lauren busied herself in the kitchen, rummaging around the cabinets for an old box of Earl Grey tea while he continued to look around her apartment. Minutes later she set two cups and saucers on the coffee table and took a seat beside him.
“I feel like I’ve done most of the talking tonight,” she said. “I hope I didn’t monopolize the conversation.”
“No, not at all. You know so much about me. I wanted to learn more about you. After all”—he paused and gazed at her intently—“there’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”
“But you don’t have to learn it all in one night, right? We have time.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I guess.” He took his hand out of her grasp and reached for his teacup.
Disappointed, Lauren moved her hand back to her lap. She watched silently as he drank.
“You know, I can’t say enough how much of a good time I had tonight, Cris. I haven’t enjoyed myself that much in years. I thought the date was very . . . original.”
He lowered his cup back to the table. “Original?” “Yeah, I never would have guessed you’d do something like that. I thought it was . . . sweet.”
“Sweet?”
She laughed nervously. “You’re looking at me like I still have ketchup on my face.” She paused, confused by his facial expression. He seemed angry. “Did I say something wrong?”
When he didn’t answer her, her smile faded. “Cris, are you OK?”
“Lauren, are you being honest with me?”
“Honest about what?”
“About everything! I can’t figure you out.”
“Cris, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What exactly are you trying to figure out about me?”
“If I lay all my cards on the table, will you lay out yours?”
What the hell does that mean? Why is he behaving like this?
“I’m serious now, Lauren. I don’t want any lies.”
That pricked her anger. “What lies? Cris, I suggest you tell me quickly what you’re talking about because I—”
“The date we went on tonight wasn’t the date I had planned, not the one I had planned a week ago anyway. I wasn’t going to take you to the carnival and some greasy burger joint. I was going to take you on a hot-air balloon and we were going to have champagne and caviar and chocolate-covered strawberries. I even set up a fireworks display.”
He continued to stare at her, waiting for her reaction.
“Well,” Lauren said, now even more befuddled, “I . . . I guess that date would have been nice, too, but what does that have to—”
“My car isn’t in the shop, either. I left it at home today and rented the car I used tonight.”
“It’s not in the shop?” She held up her hand. “Wait, I’m really confused now. Why would you ask for that car if you already had—”
“I asked them to send over the worst rental they had on the lot, one that would make anyone embarrassed to be seen riding in it. And I didn’t lose my wallet, either.” He tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. “It was in my pocket the whole time. I just told you that so you’d pay for dinner.”
Her mouth fell open in shock.
“I did all those things, Lauren, because I was testing you. I had to see if you were being honest with me or just pretending.”
“Testing me? Why the hell were you testing me? You thought I was pretending to be what?”
“Pretending to be . . . well, pretending not to be . . . a gold digger. I wanted to see if you were really a gold digger.”
Her eyes narrowed with fury.
“Look, when I first heard gossip about you, I didn’t believe it. I said you didn’t seem that way.”
“You heard gossip about me?” She leaped from the couch. “What gossip? From whom?” She stomped her foot on the worn carpet. “Damn it, I wish the people in this town would get a life and mind their own goddamn business! I haven’t done anything to anyone around here! Why would they—”
“I heard it from a friend who only meant well,” Cris insisted, making her suck her teeth and angrily cross her arms over her chest. She started to pace around the small apartment. “I didn’t believe him . . . until I met your sister Cynthia.”
Lauren stopped at the mention of her sister’s name. “You . . . you met Cynthia?”
“Yeah. She literally ran into me at the farmer’s market this morning. You should tell her she’s not very subtle. It’s good to let a man know you’re interested, but maybe she should tone it down a little.”
Lauren uncrossed her arms.
He’s right. When it comes to men, my sister has the subtlety of a Category 7 hurricane.
“She mentioned you. Before she walked away, she said ‘Lauren knows the rules’ or ‘Lauren broke the rules’ by talking to me. I can’t remember exactly what she said, but I remember the rules part.” He glared at her. “What did she mean by that?”
Lauren flopped back on the couch beside him, sending her skirt flying around her hips. She looked up, stared at her basement apartment ceiling, and closed her eyes.
Damn you, Cynthia! The one man in this town who doesn’t know about all our family drama, and you had to ruin it! The one chance I had at starting fresh with someone!
“What rules was she talking about, Lauren?” he persisted.
I guess I’ve got to tell him now.
Lauren slowly opened her eyes. “The rules . . .” she began, pausing to clear her throat. “They’re . . . they’re what we play by to make sure no one steps on anyone’s toes. It keeps us from fighting among ourselves.” She hesitated. “For us, family always comes first, no matter what. It’s also what you follow to maintain control and keep from getting . . . too attached.”
“Too attached to what?”
“To men.”
Cris gaped at her words, but quickly closed his mouth.
“OK, so tell me about them. What are the rules?”
“Why do you want to know this, Cris? I don’t use them! It doesn’t matter!”
“I said I would lay out my cards if you
promised to lay out yours. So just . . . just tell me. What are the rules?”
Lauren lowered her eyes from the ceiling to look at him, feeling beyond embarrassed. In some way, she also felt like she was betraying her family. Cris would be the first man who had ever been told any of the Gibbons family’s rules.
Grandma Althea definitely would roll over in her grave for this one.
“Well, some of them are . . . pretty basic,” she began cautiously. “Don’t go after a man that your sister has already called dibs on unless she throws him back. Then it’s OK. There’s another one about if you’re going to live with a man who hasn’t married you, make sure that you live with him long enough that it qualifies as a common-law marriage in the state where you live. When you do that, if he does leave you or if you leave him, you can still sue him for alimony according to state law.
“Then there’s the one about always making sure that all leases for cars and apartments are in both of your names. If you chose the right guy, he won’t default on anything that will damage his credit, so you know that your rent and your car payments will always be taken care of.”
Cris was gaping again.
“Mama has a few rules about divorce. She’s done it five times, so I guess she would know,” Lauren muttered with a shrug. “She said you should only start working on your second stringer—”
“Second stringer? What the hell is that?”
“The next man you plan to marry,” Lauren explained.
“You should only start working on your second stringer the day after the divorce is finalized. If you do it too soon, it could compromise your settlement. Your ex could claim infidelity to the judge. But if you wait too long, the guy you had your eye on could get swept up by someone else.”
Cris now looked shell-shocked.
“The rules change a little if you have children. If you have a girl, her training has to start early, usually when she’s thirteen or fourteen. You try to—”
“Stop! Just stop!” Cris shouted as he held up his hands and stood from the couch. “I don’t want to hear any more of this shit! Training? Are you serious? I mean . . . goddamn!” he exclaimed, now at a loss for words. “Jay was right! You guys are the Jedi Knights of gold digging!”
She gazed up at him, hurt by his reaction. “But you said . . . you said you wanted the truth. That’s all I was—”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered with a nod and a cold laugh. “And you gave it to me! Uncensored! So is that all I am to you, huh? A potential alimony payment or a divorce settlement? Did you use all your years of training to work on me? Is that why you went out with me tonight?”
“No, Cris!” She shot up from the couch and walked around the coffee table to stand in front of him. “Those are the rules, but that doesn’t mean I have to live by them! Yes, my mother and my sisters do things that I’m not proud of, but I swear that’s not who I am!” She grabbed his hand. “I mean . . . not . . . not anymore. I’ve changed!”
“Not anymore? And when did you see the light, Lauren? Fifteen minutes ago when we started this conversation?”
She pursed her lips. He was mocking her. Even though she had been honest with him and told him everything, he was mocking her.
Lauren let go of his hand and took a step back.
“Or was it three minutes ago when I called you on it?”
She turned away from him.
“Is that when you decided to change your ways? Is that when you had your epiphany?”
“No,” she snapped, “it was eight months ago when my last boyfriend left me with a black eye, bloody nose, and busted lip.”
Lauren walked back to the couch and sat down. She glowered down at her carpet, refusing to look up at Cris again.
“A black eye? No one would give you a black eye.”
“I told you that I don’t lie, Cris.”
“But you’re so . . . little,” Cris said with disbelief. “You’re barely a . . . Who . . . I mean . . . what man would hit you?”
“James Sayers,” she sniffed. “He owns a law firm in town.”
Cris’s face clouded over. He nodded with recognition. “I’ve heard of him.”
“Everybody’s heard of him! He’s Mr. Popular around here.”
“And Mr. Popular hit you?”
“I told him he was too controlling,” she mumbled, still staring at the carpet. “I told him that he acted like he owned me. I said I was leaving him and he beat me,” she said before glaring up at Cris. Her eyes went glacial. “But he only did it once. I’m not that type of woman, Cris. I wouldn’t let him beat me again. No one owns me, but me! And no amount of cash can buy me! I’m my own woman! Nobody can . . .” Her voice drifted off when she realized that she was shaking. She tightly linked her hands together and took a calming breath.
“Please tell me that you didn’t let him get away with that. Did you call the police?”
“Of course I did! I drove straight to the sheriff’s office and tried to file a report that night. I told some detective what had happened and the next thing I knew Sheriff McKinney himself shows up in the interview room. He asked me if I correctly remembered all the facts of that night. I told him yes. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. I told him yes. He asked the detective to leave the room.
“That’s when I knew something was up. It didn’t feel right. When we were alone, the sheriff told me ‘confidentially’ that because there were no witnesses, it would be my word against James’s. James could just as easily argue that I assaulted him. And lots of people in town aren’t exactly fond of me or my family, as you well know. We’re gold diggers . . . manipulators . . . schemers. No one would believe one of us, and even if they did, they’d probably say I was a whore who deserved what I got.
“But that didn’t stop me either. I still wanted to press charges. So what if it was James’s word against mine. I knew I was telling the truth! I knew I didn’t deserve that! But then”—she closed her eyes—“But then the sheriff told me if I pressed charges, I’d better understand what was really at stake.”
She glanced up at Cris. He looked appalled.
“He said someone powerful like James could make it hard for me and my family in Chesterton. We’ve been here longer, but a man like him—with his money and connections—pulls a lot more weight in town. That stopped me.” She threw up her hands. “Look, I didn’t give a damn about what James could do to me! What more could he do? I’m sitting there with a bloody nose and mouth! I’m in my nightgown and in a wool blanket the detective gave me. But my sisters and my mother and my niece still live here, Cris, and, well . . . I got the point. Lesson learned! Sheriff McKinney suggested I go, spend the night at my mother’s, and sleep on it. I didn’t come back the next day and I didn’t press charges. So far it’s worked out OK. James has left me and my family alone . . . most of the time.”
“Most of the time?”
“We had one little incident a couple of weeks ago,” she mumbled, remembering their last exchange in the grocery store parking lot. “But besides that, I haven’t had any problems.”
Cris shook his head. “I had no idea, Lauren.”
“Of course not. That’s one of the few stories the gossips around town don’t know. But like I said, lesson learned. I changed my ways after that. So from now on, so that there’s no confusion, so that no one misunderstands what they can and what they can’t do to me, I don’t accept money or gifts from men. The last check I’ve gotten from any man is the one you wrote me for catering your dinner party, and I didn’t even want to accept that.”
“I noticed.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
“And you didn’t have to hide your wallet tonight. I would have insisted we go Dutch anyway.”
He gazed at the floor, now looking shamefaced.
She slapped her hands on her thighs and hoisted herself to her feet. “Well, that’s everything: My big, fat sob story. I laid all my cards on the table like you laid yours,” she said with a false casualness, walki
ng to her apartment door. “I’m a reformed gold digger from a family of gold diggers. I’m no virgin, but I haven’t been around the block as much as you might have heard. The last relationship I had was an abusive one and tonight was the first real date I’ve been on since then. Now you know everything about me, about how screwed up my life is.” She undid the chain and the lock on her door. “So I guess you’ll be leaving now.”
She didn’t look at him as she swung the door open. Instead she stared down at the brass doorknob. It hurt to be rejected like this, as she had expected it would. And she was being rejected because of what? Town gossip? Mistakes she had made in the past?
But it’s better that it happened now, before I got too attached to him, she lied to herself. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid; better to do it quickly rather than slowly and painfully. Besides, I didn’t want to fall in love anyway.
Lauren was telling herself this, but it still didn’t end the aching in her chest.
When Cris stood in the opened doorway, not saying a word, she sighed.
Why is he drawing this out? Why doesn’t he just leave? She stole a glance up at him just as he gently tugged her hand away from the brass knob and closed the door. He held her hand in his own, making her frown.
“You’re not . . . you’re not leaving?”
He shook his head and raised his other hand to gently caress her chin. Her frown deepened.
“But I thought . . . I thought you . . . you were . . .”
“I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for testing you like that. I didn’t have the right to do that to you. I’m sorry for not trusting you, either.”
Lauren had prepared herself for rejection, but she wasn’t prepared for this. She was at a loss for words. Then suddenly, he did what she had been waiting all night for him to do. He leaned down and kissed her.
Cris pulled her toward him and she instantly relaxed in his strong arms, standing on the tips of her toes in her canvas sandals to meet his kiss. He was much, much bigger than she was, but he held her with a tenderness that made her forget his overwhelming size. He held her like she was a delicate figurine that had to be handled with care.