“Well? Frank asked.
“We worked it out,” Shauna said.
Miles arrived and plopped down on the couch. His hair was wetted/combed, and he looked slightly dazed.
Shauna sat in Miles" lap, canted sideways so they could see each others" faces. They exchanged a look of adoration.
“You must be comfortable,” Frank told Shauna, finishing his beer. “I remember when you wouldn"t hardly give him the time of day when I was around.”
Miles" arms encircled her waist and he gave her a squeeze. “I got her almost trained, man.”
Shauna flashed a mockshock look, then, indignantly, asked, “Who"s getting who trained, here?”
Celeste gulped down her remaining lemonade and said, “Let"s get your boxes unpacked, girlfriend.”
Later, while Celeste helped Shauna arrange Katina"s room, and Miles was putting Shauna"s computer desk together in the office, Shauna flagged Frank down as he passed in the hall. When he stepped inside Katina"s room, puzzled at Shauna"s finger to lips, she shut the door behind him.
“Here"s the deal,” Shauna told them in a hushed tone. “I"m inviting you two and some others to the living room painting party. But really, it"s a surprise birthday party for Miles.”
Celeste squinted at her.
“He"s turning thirty,” Shauna explained, “and he"s dreading it. I want to do something really nice to make it all pleasant for him.”
Frank patted her back, looking impressed. “Shauna, you"re a genius. That"s what you are.”
“What?” Celeste asked.
“This way she doesn"t have to hide it,” Frank explained. “She"s even calling it a party. She can put it all together right under his nose. He won"t even be tipped off when he sees a bunch of cars in the driveway, because he"ll be expecting people here for the painting project.”
“He"s working on his birthday?” Celeste asked.
Shauna frowned, nodding.“He"s determined to forget about it. He told me it"s just another day, and we"re gonna treat it like one.”
“I see you took that to heart,” Frank quipped.
“It"s got him depressed,” Shauna said. “What I need from you, Frank, is to make this like one of those movie parties you throw over at your place, only bigger and better…but none of those half-dressed sluts you always have over. I"ve got the guest list covered.”
“That means bringing over my projector and screen, then,” Frank said.
“Don"t worry about stereo and video equipment though. Believe me: Miles has all that covered.” Shauna rolled her eyes as she said this. “I want it set up on the back patio, okay?”
Frank pursed his lips and stroked his chin.
Shauna turned to Celeste. “Can you fix my hair that day, then help me with the food and cake?”
Celeste had no desire to attend the party, but it was one of those sacrifices she"d cheerfully make for her friend. She nodded.
“I protest the term „half-dressed sluts",” Frank said, with that crooked smile. “For all you know, they could be PHD-holding CEOs of multinational charities dedicated to world peace. And by the time we normally all adjourn to the pool, they"re only one third-dressed. If that.”
Celeste laughed, despite herself, but quickly looked away and forced a sober expression. “These are your famous film parties I"ve heard about?”
Shauna nodded. “They look more like orgies as the night goes on.”
“You should come to one, some time,” Frank told Celeste.
Celeste couldn"t decide if her refusal should be polite, condescending, or somewhere in between. Before she made up her mind, Frank said, “I suppose, if you want to be a stick in the mud, you could skip the party and just come to the orgy.”
Shauna elbowed him.
“Ow,” Frank said, grinning broadly now. “Hey, you"re the one that called it that.”
“I"m seeing someone,” Celeste blurted.
She ignored the glance Shauna shot at her, and watched Frank.
His mouth maintained the grin, but his eyes didn"t. “Bring him, too. Both of you can have a good time—if you like movies.”
“I"m more of a book person,” Celeste said.
Damn! She clued him in again. Frank"s eyes narrowed as his memory no doubt flashed back to her sitting in the student lounge late at night with a paperback.
A severe glint still in her eye as she stared at Celeste, Shauna said, “Well, no orgies at this party, okay? I want good, clean fun for everybody.”
“I"ll see what I can do,” Frank said.
Miles" voice reached them from the office. “Shauna! Where did you pack all the cables?”
“Uh-oh,” Shauna said, quietly, her eyes roaming around as she bit her lip in thought.
Celeste used this distraction as cover to escape and find something else to do, away from Frank.
7
When the majority of the work was done, Celeste said her goodbyes. Shauna broke off her hug and said, “Girl, you still got Katina"s TV in your trunk.”
“Oops, that"s right,” Celeste said. “Come help me with it.”
Shauna waved dismissively. “Girlfriend, we"ve got two men over here.”
“I"ll get it,” Frank said.
He walked beside her as she went to her car.
“It was nice to meet you, Celeste,” Frank said.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she said, purely out of reflex.
“Do you like any other classic rock, or just the Beatles?”
Celeste shrugged. “I"m pretty eclectic.”
He nodded, looking thoughtful. “You listen to the radio mostly, or CDs?”
“CDs.”
What CD you got in your player right now?” Frank asked. She grimaced at him. “Some Reggae. Are you always this nosey?”
“Sorry,” he said. “It"s just…all kidding and razzing aside…your taste and knowledge of music intrigues me. Music happens to be very important to me, so I get kinda" excited when I find somebody who can hold up their end of a conversation about it.”
“The Rolling Stones are over-rated,” Celeste declared, popping open her trunk.
“Oooh,” he intoned, shaking his head. “I extend the olive branch, and you set it on fire.”
“There"s the TV,” she said.
“Okay. Good night, then.” He hoisted up the TV and she tried not to notice how his huge bicep hardened as he did.
“Good night,” she said, and got out of there as fast as she could.
Celeste didn"t really believe the Rolling Stones were over-rated. They were an incredibly talented band that stood the test of time. But she wasn"t about to admit that to Frank. Nor would she admit that she was starved for meaningful conversation about music, among other things, with somebody who could understand her opinions and observations.
Why did it have to be him?
*** The next morning, after she had got her students quieted down, and working on assignments, Celeste checked her email and noticed a message from an Avcom address. Shauna had an Avcom address, but this wasn"t the user name she normally sent from. The icon identified the message as having an attachment.
It must be something about Miles" surprise party, and Shauna was using an email address Celestedidn"t know about to keep it a secret. She opened it.
Her email program scanned it for viruses and pronounced it safe.
Jessica on the front row raised her hand.
“What is it?” Celeste asked, absently clicking “open” on the pop-up window.
Jessica opened her mouth, but before any sound came out, Celeste"s PC speakers blasted a familiar riff.
“Try to see it my way…”
Celeste jumped in her seat, causing the whole class to giggle. Then she recognized the song as “We Can Work it Out.” She examined the email, which said,
A message from John, Paul, George and Ringo. P.S: The Stones rule! She took a closer look at the email address from which the message came: [email protected]. Coz. Frank Cozzalino.
How had
he gotten her email address?
The Beatles played on, and she considered muting or stopping the song. Instead, she paused it.
“Alright, time out,” she told her class. “You remember the discussion we had last week about popular music?”
A few of her students nodded.
“Does anyone recognize who this group playing is?”
Twenty inner-city sixth graders showed clueless faces to her.
“This group here was a very popular band once,” Celeste said. “Way back before I was born.”
Hectorwhistled. “That"s a long time, Miss Turcotte.”
All the boys in the class laughed, and some of the girls.
Ignoring this, Celeste said, “I"m going to play the rest of this song. Listen to the lyrics, and the way the music is arranged. I think you"ll find it very unusual. You might even think of some situation you"ve faced…where you might have wanted to say something like what the Beatles are saying.”
She played the rest of the song. Besides Hector and a couple of his tagalongs, they seemed to really pay attention.
She sent Shauna a text to call her on her very first break. When the call came, Celeste urged the class to be quiet and continue their assignment, excused herself, went outside, and let Shauna have it.
“Did you give Frank my email address?”
“Well, yes,” Shauna replied, already defensive.
“How dare you! What were you thinking?”
After a pause, Shauna said, “I"m sorry. I didn"t think it was a big deal. It"s your work email—not your private one. He said he just wanted to send you an mp3.”
Well, that was what he did. And it was both witty and innocent, she had to admit. From anyone else, it would have tickled her. She was overreacting.
“I"m sorry to bite your head off, Shauna. I just wish you had asked me first.”
“I"m sorry, Celeste.”
“This isn"t about your idea to fix us up, is it?”
“Not really,” Shauna said. Then her tone changed from apologetic to accusatory. “But what was that about you seeing someone? I thought you were taking yourself off the market indefinitely.”
“Exactly. That"s why I wanted to stop him before he got started.” Now it was her turn to sound accusatory. “May I ask how you convinced Miles to allow this supposed „paint party"?”
“You may not.”
“That whole time you guys were back there, you were discussing the matter, right?”
“Yeah.”
Something about the pitch of Shauna"s voice in that one-syllable reply made Celeste even more suspicious. “Your discussion was verbal?”
“Partly.”
Celeste gasped. “I can"t believe you! My shy, prudish wallflower friend resorted to sexual blackmail while guests were right down the hall?”
“I wouldn"t call it blackmail,” Shauna said. “I just found a way to communicate effectively.”
“You little ho! No you didn"t!”
“We both got what we wanted,” Shauna said, a shrug in her tone. “We both came out of it satisfied.”
“Shame on you, sister-girl.”
“No shame in my game.”
“You shouldn"t have to get him a nut every time you need to resolve a disagreement.”
“I don"t, every time,” Shauna said.
“You"re spoiling him.”
“We spoil each other.”
Celeste wanted good things for her friend, but the contentment in Shauna"s voice made her a little jealous. “You used to hate sex. Now you"re a damn freak.”
“Girl, I"m in love,” Shauna said. “He brings out the freak in me. And I never hated sex, I just needed the right man. I love sex. Sometimes I think he"s gonna" wear me out, but a few hours later I want to be with him again.”
Now Celeste was a lot jealous. She had been the uninhibited one all those years when Shauna was an uptight prude. Now it felt like the tables had turned. Worse, Shauna was in love. It was evident in the way she glowed, the way she moved…there was even some kind of subliminal music coming through in her voice over the telephone that sang: I"m in love with a good man who is in love with me and all is right in my world.
“I can"t believe you got him off with guests right down the hall,” was all Celeste could say.”
“That was just the preview, girlfriend.” Shauna giggled. “The main event was after you and Frank left our house.”
Our house. Another reminder that the world around Celeste was rapidly changing.
“Why do you try to make it sound dirty?” Shauna asked.
“I"m not trying to make it sound dirty,” Celeste replied, with an unintended childish grumble to her voice.
“You even called me a ho.”
“You know I didn"t mean that. I was just joking.”
“Well you talk about the whole thing like I"m a prostitute or something. „Get him a nut. Get him off." We make love, OK? We"re in love.”
“I get that,” Celeste said.
“Yeah, there"s times when I do him a favor. A completely selfless favor. But he puts me first. He always wants to make me happy when we"re intimate. And he"s pretty damn good at it, truth be told.”
Celeste was sorry she ever asked about it. But they were into the subject now. “Again, I"m sorry, Shauna. It just surprises me, I guess. I never imagined you could do something like that.”
Shauna sighed. “Me neither. I"ve been surprising myself a lot, lately. We"re like a couple kids sometimes.”
Celeste glanced at her watch, then her surroundings to see if anyone was in earshot. “So tell me: what are white boys like?”
“I only know what mine is like,” Shauna said.
“Is he…built different?”
Shauna had told her about Miles" hands before—about the strength and the hard callouses and yet how gently they touched her. But that"s not what Celeste was talking about, now.
“Not really,” Shauna replied. “I mean, he"s circumcised, and I like that a lot better.But I haven"t been with that many men.”
“Hmm.” Celeste hadn"t been with “that many” men either, but she"d had both cut and uncut—and also liked circumcised better.
“It"s about so much more than what goes on in the bedroom, though,” Shauna said.
Who was she telling? What was she—a relationship guru all of the sudden?
“Miles sounds insatiable,” Celeste said, trying to be happy for her friend.
“He gives as good as he gets, girlfriend. Of course, during my period, I get a little creative, but make sure he knows I"m all he"s ever gonna need.”
Celeste needed to change the subject. “You"re on the pill, aren"t you?”
Shauna burst out laughing. “Girl, both our jobs together couldn"t pay for all the rubbers we would go through. Of course I"m on the pill.”
This conversation was really bringing her down. Now the subject of pregnancy came up in her mind. Celeste was content with being alone, finally, but every time she saw or thought about Shauna"s daughter Katina, it was like some switch flipped on inside her, making her crave a child of her own.
When Celeste returned to her class, she found a riot in progress, led by the usual ringleader. Hector had begun by throwing rolls of toilet paper, trailing streamers, across the room…and it had gone downhill from there.
She sent Hector to the principal"s office, cussing her as he went. Then she organized the class into a clean-up crew, and gave them a tongue-lashing as they worked.
Within an hour, Principal Patel had escorted Hector back to her class, then pulled Celeste aside to give her the same old tired lecture about teachers resolving behavior issues in the classroom.
Still irritable after her conversation with Shauna, Celeste wasn"t going to kiss Patel"s ass today. She was tenured, and decided to say something all the teachers had been too timid to say before.
“Let me beat his disrespectful little behind and I will resolve it.”
Mrs. Patel was an angular, olive-skinned woman in her late
forties or early fifties. She wore a lot of makeup and jewelry, and had the bearing of a drill sergeant. Wrinkles were etched into the skin around her eyes and mouth from the severe expression of disapproval perpetually planted there. “Miss Turcotte,” she said, her English still heavily accented despite living in the US for at least thirty years, “you know very well that corporal punishment is not allowed.”
“Yes, I know. You tie my hands in regard to disciplinary matters, but still expect me to do your job on top of mine.”
Patel stared silently at her for a moment. This was equivalent to a flinch and step backwards for anyone else. She wasn"t used to anyone questioning her policies in any way. “A good teacher must find a way to correct these incidents in a nonphysical way,” she finally said. “But the students must be in class. They are not learning when they sit outside my office.”
Celeste had heard different versions of this so-called logic phrased a dozen different ways, and was sick of it. “When they act a fool in my class, not only are they not learning anything, but they"re keeping other students from learning anything, too. And you"re not fooling anybody, Mrs. Patel: you don"t want these junior gangsters sent to you because you don"t know how to „resolve" their behavior in a „non-physical way," either.”
“Perhaps the problem is that you think of your students as „junior gangsters",” Patel replied, robotic.
“Nice try,” Celeste said, scoffing. “Most of my students are teachable. But I call a spade a spade, and some of these kids need their butts beat. Some of them belong in juvee.”
“Perhaps you and I should meet with the superintendent to discuss this in detail,” Patel threatened, drily.
Threats and bluffs weren"t going to work on Celeste this time. “Let"s do that. I"d like to talk to somebody in authority who might actually listen to what teachers have to say.”
Still as stone-faced as ever, Mrs. Patel turned and walked away without another word.
Celeste watched her go, thinking either she was on her way to call the superintendent, or, more likely, she had just backed down.
Back inside her classroom, Hector was already acting out again, encouraged by Patel"s inaction. He was pinching girls" breasts. One of them was crying.
“Hector!” Celeste shouted. Get back to your desk and sit down right now!”
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