Between Friends

by Kitt, Sandra

  He was irrepressible. He was funny. He was very talented, both as a computer guru and as a bass guitarist on the side. It used to seem grossly unfair to Dallas that Dean had been given the best of everything, including the unconditional love of his parents. She remembered how Eleanor was always holding up her son to her as a model, as if Dallas had nothing of her own to commend her. But all things considered, Dallas thought it was somewhat of a miracle that Dean had not grown up to be insufferable as well. He was smart, and he had charm to spare. It went without saying that his success with the opposite sex was guaranteed. All his strong points were not unjustified, but Dean certainly wasn’t perfect.

  Dallas finally sat down at her desk. “I don’t get it. You’re not here asking me for money. What is it, then?”

  Dean tried unsuccessfully to look insulted. “Man. You don’t have to be so suspicious of me. You better watch it, or you’ll get wrinkles on your forehead.”

  “Dean,” she began patiently, looking pointedly at her watch.

  He put up his hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay. What are we gonna do for Mother’s Day?”

  She stared at him, then sighed and shook her head. They went through this every year. But honestly, she also knew that if Dean didn’t remind her she would probably forget each year.

  “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. Dallas automatically went into her Windows program and clicked into Eudora to check her E-mail box. More messages.

  “Dallas, don’t forget this package …” the receptionist called out again.

  “Okay,” Dallas responded. She frowned at her brother. “What did we do last year?”

  He shrugged indifferently. “Damned if I can remember. I think you, me, and Dad took her to the Water Club …”

  “The Hudson River Club,” she corrected, looking for a pad to jot down the information from her screen.

  “Right. And Dad had found that autographed copy of a book by what’s-her-name …”

  “Zora Neal Hurston. You and I got her tickets for Andre Watts at Carnegie Hall.”

  “I can’t stand Andre Watts,” Dean offered.

  “Doesn’t matter. The tickets weren’t for you.” Dallas paused, glancing at him. “What have you got against Andre Watts?”

  Dean didn’t answer directly. He fiddled with her perpetual desk calendar, shifting around the movable block of dates until it didn’t make any sense. She took it out of his hands and silently raised her brows. He stood up.

  “All right. I’m leaving. Why don’t we get her a piece of jewelry? Earrings or something.”

  “We? That sounds like, you lay out the money, Dallas, and I’ll pay you back.”

  He grinned. “I always do.”

  “You take too long. I should start charging interest,” Dallas muttered, focused on the blinking red light on her phone. She had to get going with her work. “Eleanor doesn’t need more earrings. She could give Cartier’s competition. Dean, I just can’t think about this right now. Why don’t you call me on the weekend. Maybe something will come to mind between now and then.”

  “Fine. I was going out to the Island anyway Friday night. Maybe I’ll try to scope out some ideas from Dad.”

  When her brother began to move finally in the direction of the door, Dallas got up to accompany him.

  “I’m going to be out there myself on Saturday.”

  “Oh, yeah? Mom didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  Dallas stared down at her suede boots as she walked slowly next to Dean. “I hadn’t planned on going to the house or staying out there. I’m going to visit a friend.”

  Dean shook his head. “If you’re going out there, you gotta stop by the house. Besides, I might need you to keep the folks off my back.”

  She raised her brows at him. “Why? What are you up to this time?”

  “No big thing. I’m doin’ a gig at a club in D.C. the weekend after …”

  “And you want to borrow one of the cars,” Dallas surmised.

  “Just for the weekend.”

  “So ask. When have they said no to you recently?”

  “Don’t ask,” he said dryly.

  “What else?” she wanted to know.

  “I’m taking someone with me.”

  She looked at him. He was being evasive. “Jeanette? Or is it Holly?”

  Dean looked away. “Naw … neither of them. This is someone new.”

  “So what’s the mystery? They already know you’re working your way through the entire black female population under thirty.” He laughed somewhat nervously. “Daddy thinks it’s funny. Eleanor wants you to settle down with just one. She’d like to make the choice, of course.”

  They had reached the elevator and reception area where traffic moved adroitly around them. They faced each other, and Dean smiled enigmatically at her.

  “Yeah, I know. But I’d like to make the decision by myself about who I’ll marry.”

  “Who is she?”

  Dean put his hands in his pockets. To Dallas he looked like the adolescent he used to be, keeping secrets and running harmless scams to get his own way.

  “Someone I met at a computer show a few weeks ago.”

  Dallas nearly chortled in disbelief. “You found someone at a computer show you want to date?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” he said a bit defensively. “She’s a software designer.”

  “Then she must be pretty.”

  “All that and a bag of chips …” Dallas laughed. “Owns her own business,” Dean responded, needlessly pushing on the elevator call button.

  Dallas chuckled. “I don’t think there’s going to be a problem. Your mother is going to love her. She won’t think this is a woman who’s after you for your good looks and your money. So you want me to run interference again, is that it?”

  He gave her the most charming smile. “You may need me to return the favor someday.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. You’re too full of yourself. Someone’s going to knock you down to size someday.”

  He pecked her cheek. “Long as it’s not you. That would break my heart.” Dean dramatically covered his chest as the elevator arrived and he stepped on board. He was gone with a brief wave.

  “Dallas, don’t forget …”

  She turned to the receptionist. “Where is it? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

  The young woman merely pointed to an oversized, awkwardly wrapped item sitting on the floor. It was clearly a large arrangement of flowers.

  Dallas stared at it for a moment before approaching and starting to tear away the paper. She drew in her breath when the flowers were revealed. The floral design was exquisite. Exotic and out-of-season flowers had been used to create an impressive display.

  “How pretty,” the girl behind Dallas gushed.

  Tucked into the top was a small white envelope. Dallas grimaced as she opened it and extracted the enclosure.

  The flowers were from Burke. The card said simply, “Thanks for the other night.”

  Dallas watched in amusement as Maureen Benton finally entered the restaurant, and hip-wiggled her way through the crowded space to where she sat waiting. Maureen gave vague smiles of apology to those she grazed with her oversized leather shoulder tote, but otherwise ignored the interested glances and curious stares from those around her. She could not be missed. She was not pretty, but she was very striking. Maureen was two inches taller than Dallas and, to put it in the vernacular, had a body that wouldn’t quit. Her hair was cropped short and dyed a blondish brown. She wore expensive clothing that flattered her figure rather than emphasized her attributes. She carried herself with the regal bearing of someone who had supreme self-confidence. But Dallas knew that while Maureen was not unaware of her effect on people, neither was it calculated nor staged. Her ability to draw attention was just Maureen being Maureen.

  Maureen made her way past a booth, and someone called out her name. Pleasantly surprised, she acknowledged the acquaintance, a middle-aged black man
in a dark suit, seated with several other men. They had important stamped all over them. Dallas could tell instantly from the sly movement of the man’s eyes, his casual gestures and smile, that he’d probably tried hitting on Maureen at some point in the past. But he also wore a wedding ring. Maureen was too smart to waste time on relationships with no place to go.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Maureen said in a breezy, careless tone as she took her seat.

  Dallas only smiled patiently. Maureen had never been on time in her life. “Who was that you stopped to talk to?” she asked, passing her friend one of the menus.

  Maureen sighed indifferently as she glanced over the laminated card and put it aside. “Oh … some counsel with the attorney general’s office. Federal, not state. I met him six months ago at a press conference. He’s been working overtime to get under my dress.”

  Dallas raised her brows but wasn’t shocked. She’d known Maureen too long. She pulled no punches … and took no prisoners. She had the firm intact ego of a survivor, of poverty, rape, a dysfunctional family, and social agencies that had nearly let her fall through the cracks.

  “But guess what?” she murmured, leaning her elbows on the table and clasping her hands.

  “What?” Dallas questioned, taking the bait. “You got a new position? They’re sending you to Europe? You’re starting your own firm …”

  “I’m getting married.”

  Dallas couldn’t respond. Her tongue was suddenly plastered to the roof of her mouth.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Maureen. Dallas wasn’t even all that surprised. Maureen, with her pecan-tinted features and stylish hairdo, had never been without male companionship. Not all of her choices had been wonderful, to hear her tell it, but she’d had plenty to pick and choose from.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Maureen inquired across their too small table.

  Dallas smiled belatedly. “I heard you. I’m trying to say something else besides congratulations and I’m-so-happy-for-you.”

  “How about, when? Am I sure? What made Nathan ask, and you thought I didn’t want to get married?”

  Dallas chuckled. “Okay. All of that.”

  “Last weekend …” Maureen put out her slender hand and displayed her glittering engagement ring. It was an unusual setting. A blue sapphire surrounded by small white diamonds.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  “It belonged to Nathan’s mother. I’m getting a real heirloom. Hey, if it doesn’t work out we can always split the blankets and go separate ways.”

  “You haven’t even said ‘I do’ yet, and already you’re calculating the chances of being sorry you did? Why bother?”

  “Because I’m ready. I told him if he didn’t ask me I had no more time to waste on him.”

  Dallas laughed, nodding her head. “Now, that sounds just like you.”

  Maureen looked her straight in the eye. “I wanted to get married because I want to have a baby. And I don’t want to do it the other way around. Or alone. My mother had three kids by two different men and wasn’t married to either one of them. My sister is off doing the same thing. I’m sorry, but I want the old-fashioned setup. Men can be a pain in the ass … but there’s no substitute for the real thing.”

  Dallas’s amusement died away. What replaced it shocked her. It was sorrow and envy. Deep, pure, unadulterated envy.

  “And what can I get you today?” The perky waitress stood in front of their table, pencil and receipt pad poised.

  “Chicken salad on rye. No mayo, and a Diet Pepsi,” Maureen recited.

  “Me, too,” Dallas said, returning her menu.

  “Want to share an order of fries?” Maureen asked. With Dallas’s consent it was added to the order.

  “I like Nathan. I think he’s lucky to get you,” Dallas said carefully when the waitress had walked away.

  Maureen reached across the table to grab Dallas’s arm and gently shook her. “Stop that. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. I know you, girl. That is exactly what I said to you when Hayden proposed. And when you had to leave him I also said you were doing the right thing.”

  Dallas was furious with herself. She felt as if she were going to cry. Maureen had always been able to read her, even better than Valerie. Maureen had always understood better the ambiguousness of her family and situation.

  “Maybe you two got together for all the wrong reasons. It’s over. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Maureen said airily.

  Dallas absently nodded. Easier said than done. She stared at her girlfriend, wondering where Maureen had learned to cut to the chase and not bother with the self-doubt. There was no questioning of fair or unfair or hysterics or indignation about bias and racism and being held back. Things are what they are and you simply deal. Maureen kept her eyes open, her soul guarded, and her legs closed, as she often joked.

  “You know what I’m going to ask,” Dallas warned. “Do you love Nathan?” She sat back as the waitress returned with their sodas and placed them on the table.

  Maureen shrugged. “Sure. And you know why this will work? Because Nathan loves me more than I love him. The reality is, if any man thinks you need him too much, you’ve just given him power over you.”

  Dallas was taken aback by this bluntness. “When?” she asked.

  Maureen grinned at her. “When did he ask me, or when are we getting married? Last night. And we’re planning mid June. I want you in my wedding party. We’re doing something small and intimate. I don’t want to lay out for hundreds of people,” she said without sentimentality. “We’re getting married in Hampton, Virginia.”

  “Why there?”

  “His folks are from there, and most of his close friends still live in the area.”

  “Does this mean I’ll have to buy some dress I’ll only wear once?”

  Maureen arched a brow. “You only wore your wedding dress once.” Dallas conceded the point. “Burke can be your escort. He’ll come, won’t he?”

  “Probably,” Dallas said, remembering the recent tensions between them because of his continual habit of breaking dates when he found something else better to do. Or just not showing up. The flowers were not going to let her forget that.

  “Now we have to find you a good black man. Burke, maybe?” Maureen teased.

  “I had a good black man. He apparently wasn’t very sure about me.”

  “He was a damned fool. What? Did he suddenly wake up one morning and find a white woman in his bed?”

  Dallas leaned toward her and narrowed her gaze. “Don’t forget how you treated me when we were kids. You felt the same way.”

  “I didn’t know any better. I knew someone who was passing, and it got on my nerves. I thought you were going to do the same thing.”

  “Pass for what?”

  Maureen looked closely at her. “Something exotic. Latina. Greek. I don’t know. Hayden should have known better, too.”

  “Doesn’t matter, does it?” Dallas said, sitting back.

  “So, what about Burke?”

  Dallas hid her response momentarily in the sipping of her drink. “He’s okay, I guess. For now.”

  “Doesn’t sound like love to me,” Maureen observed.

  “I don’t think we want the same thing in a relationship.”

  “What kind are you looking for?”

  Dallas raised her brows. “Honest. A good man. Someone who respects me. Loves me.”

  “Well, maybe that’s where you go wrong. Next time remember what Tina Turner said about it …”

  Dallas sat staring at the floral arrangement. The fragrance was rich and overpowering, disguising the office smells of machines and furniture, paper and dust. The presentation was impressive but reminded her of two things. Weddings and funerals. Both occasions made her anxious. In her mind, one was not much different from the other.

  At Mother Oliver’s service Dallas recalled wondering why people would send so many pretty
flowers to a dead person. She didn’t remember if there had been flowers for her own mother. It had rained, and she’d been more concerned with finding out where her mother was. Even after she’d been told her mother was dead, it hadn’t meant anything. There’d been no body.

  The arrangement from Burke was quite beautiful. But so unexpected and overwhelming as to make Dallas uncomfortable with them. They felt like a payoff.

  Thanks for the other night …

  When Burke called her at five-thirty that afternoon she understood better why she’d felt strange about the bouquet.

  “Did you get a delivery today?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did. There was no need to do that. Way too expensive.”

  “You deserve it,” he said. “I’m not taking any chances this time. I’m telling you up front I probably have to cancel tomorrow night.”

  “Is that why you sent the flowers? Getting ahead of yourself? Covering all the bases?”

  “I sent the flowers first. Then I found out about tomorrow,” he corrected.

  “Please don’t send any the next time.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate them.”

  Appreciate …

  Dallas was overanalyzing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being set up. “I would appreciate the forethought better than the apology,” she murmured.

  “Ummmm. They sure smell good. How’re you going to get them home?” Brenda asked, buttoning her coat as she prepared to leave the office an hour later.

  “I don’t know,” Dallas responded flatly.

  “Have Terry call you a cab. I can’t see you getting on the subway with that.”

  “I don’t want to take them home with me.”

  “Well, you could always leave them here. I’ll see you people tomorrow. Night,” Brenda said, leaving.

  “Night,” Dallas answered.

  She looked at the small white card again. The message still made her frown.

  “Dallas, I’m going to ask someone else to cover that Pediatric AIDS gala next month. If you don’t mind, I’d rather have you take on the lecture at NYU Film School with Cosby and Lee. I know it’s a little beyond what you normally write about, but …”