So now here she was, waiting for someone about whom she knew almost nothing. Her mother’s description had been brief. “C.J. is in real estate and I think you’ll have a lot in common.”
Zennie sat in the parking lot, telling herself it wasn’t going to be that bad. What was one more blind date? She picked up her phone and texted her mother.
I never asked what he looks like. How will I recognize him?
The answer came back almost instantly. I showed off your picture. C.J. will find you. Have fun.
Not exactly comforting, Zennie thought, getting out of her car and locking it. Meeting Clark had been much easier. No blind date, no expectation. She’d been at the zoo for a fun run and he’d been a volunteer. When she’d finished the run, she’d gone on one of the tours to learn more about the animals. Clark had led the tour. He’d been funny and interesting and they’d ended up talking after everyone else had gone. Before she’d left, he’d asked for her number, then had contacted her right away.
She’d liked Clark, she admitted reluctantly. He was a good guy and she was a little sorry things had ended the way they had. Maybe if he’d given her more time, she thought, then shook her head. No. Better that they’d broken up and gone their separate ways. She wasn’t the one for him and she was more convinced than ever that she didn’t actually have a one.
She walked into the restaurant and stood in the foyer, not sure what to do. Ask for a table? Wait?
“Zennie?”
She turned and saw a tall, slender Hispanic woman approaching. She was pretty, with long, wavy brown hair and large brown eyes. The woman wore a snug deep-orange dress that outlined every impressive curve. Zennie immediately felt like a plain glass of club soda next to a piña colada in her go-to black capris and loose top.
The woman smiled. “Hi, I’m C.J.”
Zennie had to admit she hadn’t seen that coming. Her mother had set her up with a woman, and not just any woman. Had Zennie been willing to play for the girls’ team, she had to admit she would have been tempted. As it was, well, she had absolutely no idea what to say.
“Um, hi.”
C.J. stared at her for a second, then started to laugh. “Oh, God, you’re not gay.”
“I’m more cheerful than gay.”
C.J. laughed. “I like that. I’m cheerful, too. So hey, awkward. Why did your mom do this?”
“I have no idea. Where did you meet her?”
“In her store.”
Zennie looked over the gorgeous, brightly colored dress that screamed upscale designer. Her mother’s boutique in the Sherman Oaks Galleria leaned more toward stylish but affordable work clothes. Dark suits, plain dresses and the like. “Not buying that.”
“In my work life, I’m in real estate,” C.J. told her. “I wear a lot of black pants and jackets. When I’m not working, I like to take things up a notch. After seeing your picture, I was dressing to impress.”
“I am impressed and I’m seriously wishing I was more than cheerful.”
C.J. grinned. “You know what? I like you. Let’s have dinner anyway. I’ll even buy.”
“You’re on, but I’m paying for my own dinner. I’m just that kind of girl.”
“Perfect.”
They went up to the hostess and were quickly seated. C.J. ordered a margarita with a tequila shooter on the side while Zennie got herbal iced tea.
When their server had left, C.J. leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So, why does Mom think you’re gay?”
“There are a thousand reasons. I don’t have a man in my life. I refuse to settle down.” Zennie smiled. “I was athletic in high school.”
C.J. threw up her hands. “Naturally. I mean everyone knows male athletes are sexy hunks while female athletes have to be lesbos. What is this, the seventies?”
“You asked.”
“I did. So no guy?”
“Wow, we are getting right to it, huh?” Zennie thought for a second, then decided she didn’t mind answering the question. “I’m not a two-by-two person. I don’t need that. I’m not looking to settle down. I have a great life with great friends. As for the sex thing, which is the next question...”
C.J.’s eyes widened. “Absolutely. I mean at this point, we have to talk about sex.”
Zennie laughed. “I don’t love it. I just don’t. It’s nice and yes, I’ve had an orgasm. It’s not a big deal for me. I’ve decided I’m wired differently than most people. I’m not wrong, I’m simply living my own life.”
“Good for you.” C.J. shifted in her seat. “I am one of four daughters in a very Catholic household. The whole traditional Hispanic thing. Catholic school, uniforms.”
“You looked cute in yours.”
C.J. flashed her a smile. “I did. I wasn’t supposed to see a boy naked until my wedding night.”
“How old were you when you saw your first boy naked?” Because Zennie knew C.J. had to have tried it out at least once.
“Sixteen. It was gross. He was sweet and he tried to do it right, but he was only seventeen and it was over in like six seconds. I just couldn’t stand the thought of doing that again. I told myself it was because I was going to live my life in service of God but the truth is I had such a crush on the head cheerleader at the local high school. She was so much more my type.”
“So when did you figure it all out?”
“My first year of college. I met this older girl.”
Zennie leaned forward. “She was what? Twenty?”
“Nineteen and very worldly. She’d been to France.”
“Oh la la.”
“I know. It was amazing. The first time she kissed me, I just knew. When we made love, it was perfection. She broke my heart and I was devastated, but at least I knew where I belonged.”
“Does your family know?”
“Yes, and while they’re not happy, they’re supportive, if that makes sense.”
Their server delivered their drinks. They toasted each other. C.J. drank her shot of tequila, then picked up her margarita.
“So, Mom says you’re a nurse.”
“I am. I work in the OR, mostly with cardiologists. It’s intense, but I love it. No two days are the same. We save lives—nothing beats that.”
C.J. looked crushed. “You’re right. I mean all I do is sell real estate.” She set down her drink. “What am I saying? I find people their homes. That’s important, too. Okay, you get to be the most special, but I’m right there, one rung down.”
“Half a rung,” Zennie told her. “Where’s your territory?”
“East Valley, mostly. I flirt with Burbank but you know that market is pretty specialized. Do you own your own place?”
“I wish, but no. I have a little studio close to the hospital.”
“You should buy something. It’s good to build equity. The rest of the country’s real estate market goes up and down but this is LA. We’re always going to be growing.” One eyebrow rose. “Unless you’re secretly waiting for a man to tell you it’s okay.”
“Ouch. Not that.” Zennie paused. “Okay, maybe that, but only because I wasn’t paying attention and wow is that stupid. What have I been waiting for?”
“I have no idea. Maybe you love your place.”
Zennie thought about her small apartment. It was where she lived but it wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned for herself. At first she’d liked the convenience, but she supposed that in the back of her mind, she’d always assumed she would...
“I’ve been waiting for a man,” she said, shocking herself with the truth. “I didn’t even know. I’ve been brainwashed by societal pressures.”
“It happens to all of us. Awareness isn’t easy. So what other dreams have you put on hold?”
“Are you judging me?”
C.J. held up her hands again. “Not me, sister. Career-wise, I
kick ass, but in my personal life, I jump into relationships way too fast. If someone wants a second date, I’m immediately planning our lives together. It’s awful. I hate being alone. It’s like a death sentence. So I’m a mess.” She flashed a smile. “But I look good.”
“You do. Okay, other dreams put on hold. I want to learn Italian and go to Italy. Not just for a week, but like for a month. I want to experience the rhythm of life there.”
“Excellent goal. So start today. Get one of those language apps and learn Italian. You could be ready to go by the fall.”
Zennie shook her head. “Not this fall.”
“Giving in to fear?”
“I’m hoping to be pregnant.”
C.J.’s brown eyes widened. She gulped her margarita, then waved over the server. “I’m so going to need another one of these, then I want to hear the story. You’re going to have a baby?”
“Not for me. For a friend.”
“That is way more than house-sitting a cat.”
Zennie laughed, then told her about Bernie and the surrogacy. “I haven’t told my mom yet, so please don’t say anything.”
“I won’t and for the record, I don’t hang out with your mom. Not that she isn’t lovely, but I have my own mother to guilt me into things. A baby. I don’t know that I would do that for a friend. You dazzle me.”
“Thanks. I get it’s a big deal, but Bernie’s been through so much and I know she’ll be a great mom. She teaches kindergarten, so she’s all prepared.”
“Amazing.” C.J. looked at her. “All right, I say let’s be friends.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. I’m going to the restroom. When I get back, we’ll order dinner, then talk trash about our exes. How’s that?”
“Sounds perfect.”
C.J. got up and walked toward the back of the restaurant. Zennie pulled out her phone and texted her mother.
Not a lesbian, Mom. I thought we’d talked about this before.
Just checking. You might have changed your mind.
I haven’t, although C.J. is nice. We’re going to be friends, so the odds of grandchildren with her are slim.
You’re killing me, Zennie. Right now, I’m lying here dead.
Night, Mom.
Dead people can’t text.
Zennie was still chuckling when she put her phone away.
Chapter Twelve
Finola arrived home from the studio to find Nigel’s bleached and ruined clothes pulled from the pool and neatly folded on the back deck. She had no idea what the pool guy had thought when he’d seen them, but doubted he’d more than blinked. After all, this was Los Angeles and crazy things happened here, even in the valley.
She walked out of the kitchen, formulating her plan for the evening. She would start with a hot shower, then she would redo her makeup, get changed and leave. Traffic would be a mess, but if she got there early, then it was only a win for her.
She’d barely started up the stairs when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw it was her stepfather and answered the call as she sank down onto a stair.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, yourself. Your mother told me what happened. I wanted to find out how you were doing.”
Finola sighed, ready for a little parental comforting. “It’s been awful, as you can imagine. What was Nigel thinking? I mean cheating is one thing, but with her? And telling me the way he did. I can’t even describe how hard that was.”
She felt her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Dad, he was mean and she was a bitch and everyone’s going to know and it’s all ruined.”
She drew in a breath and waited for him to say something. There was only silence.
“Dad? Aren’t you going to say something?”
“I’m sorry you’re in pain.”
That was it? “I was looking for more sympathy.”
“I’m sure you were, but you have plenty of people to give you that. I want to make sure you’re asking the right questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why.”
“Why what?”
“Why it happened, Finola.” He spoke slowly, as if to a child.
“What do you mean, why it happened? Why did Nigel cheat? I have no idea. Why did he choose that bimbo child? Because he could. Because she’s young and beautiful. Did he think about me even once? Did he think about us or our marriage or what’s going to happen when it all hits the fan? I doubt it. I had nothing to do with what happened. I’m his wife. I have loved him and taken care of him.” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “I wanted us to get pregnant while we were in Hawaii. Now that’s never going to happen.”
Her stepfather sighed. “You need to ask why. Why did he do this? Why now? Why with her? And how much of it is your fault?”
“What?” She glared at the phone. “My fault? Mine? Are you insane? It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been right here, living our life, while he’s been off fucking who knows who. He told me right before the show. Did Mom mention that? He told me five goddamn minutes before I was going to face his mistress on live television. I don’t care why he did it. I just want him punished.”
And back, a voice in her head whispered. Despite everything, she also wanted him back.
“No breakup is just one person’s fault,” Bill said quietly. “Very few are even eighty-twenty. There’s always shared blame.”
She felt fury rise up inside of her. “How nice. When did you get this insight? What is your blame in your failed marriage?”
“I knew from the start Mary Jo didn’t love me the way I loved her. I knew she thought she was trading her dreams for someone safe. I could never make your mother’s dreams come true, but I married her anyway. The real problems started when I stopped trying to make them come true. The work was too hard and I checked out emotionally a long time before we split up. That’s on me.”
She hadn’t expected her stepfather to be so honest. “Mom doesn’t make it easy all the time.”
“No, she doesn’t, but then neither do I. I don’t regret marrying her and I’m not saying we should have stayed together. But I will accept my share of the responsibility.”
“Neither of you cheated. You can’t know what that’s like.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But I do know that cheating is only part of it. The big question is still why, and until you can answer that, you’ll never be able to move on.” He coughed. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, I truly am. But how I feel isn’t important. Your feelings are the ones that matter. As long as you’re a victim, you’re losing.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not, Finola, but it’s true. You think about what I said. I’ll check in with you in a couple of weeks.”
Before she could agree or scream or tell him he was wrong, he’d hung up on her.
Finola stood, her phone clutched in her hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she screamed into the empty room. “You’re wrong about all of it.”
She raced up to the second floor. Fury gave her energy. Instead of showering, she simply scrubbed off her studio makeup and put on normal makeup, then fluffed and sprayed her hair. She went into her closet and changed into a cobalt blue suit with a patterned silk shell. She hesitated over her shoes before choosing a pair of nude high heels. One killer bag and simple jewelry later, she was ready to leave.
As she drove to Pacoima, Finola did her best to not think about her stepfather. Screw him, she thought bitterly. It was easy to give advice when you didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d never cared about her, anyway. He’d been all about Zennie. She was his favorite. The tomboy to replace the son he never had. Zennie, Zennie, Zennie.
She made her way through the valley, heading northeast. This time of day there was no point in eve
n attempting the freeway. Besides, surface streets were more direct.
The monthly meetings were held at the recreation center and the group helped fourteen-to-eighteen-year-old girls stay focused to achieve their dreams. Finola had been offered a position on the board more than once, but she’d always refused. She hadn’t wanted the commitment. What she did instead was visit a few times a year and spend time with the girls. She talked about the business and how to succeed. She also gave practical advice on how to act in an interview, whether for a job or an internship. She talked about the importance of communication skills, and how you should look people in the eye when you spoke.
Finola pulled into the recreation center parking lot. She was a little early, but knew several of the girls would already be there. They were eager for the information, determined to better themselves. They looked up to Finola, used her as a role model. Last June she’d done a whole segment about the organization on her show and how they were helping local girls.
Finola turned off her car engine and took several deep breaths. She was fine, she told herself. She was going to march in there and share her knowledge. She would be helpful and funny and show the girls that someone believed in them.
Not enough to be on the board, a vile voice whispered in her ear. Oooh, you did a segment on your show. That’s amazing. You go, girl. You’re really giving back now. Better be careful or you’ll burn yourself out.
“No,” Finola whispered. “It’s not like that. I’m a good person. I am.”
She was, she repeated silently, then wondered if she was. Or if the rest of her life was exactly like her marriage—a complete and total fraud.
* * *
Ali sat on her sofa—the one piece of furniture she was keeping, no matter what—and took stock of her most pressing life issues. She supposed the biggest problem was she had nowhere to live and, thanks to what was still owed on various items for the wedding, she was dealing with crushing credit card debt. She was also feeling oddly uncomfortable about her sister.
Finola had been surprisingly difficult the other night. Ali tried to tell herself it was because her sister had her own pain with Nigel and the affair and all that, but jeez, did she have to accuse Ali of falling for Daniel? That was ridiculous. The man had been a saint and she was grateful, nothing more.
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