Rotten Peaches

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “Later. Right now your mission is to make me forget about everything.”

  He laughs and holds me tight. “Come here, you.”

  Afterwards, we lie back and JayRay turns to me. “So?” he asks. “What do I do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  “We don’t have much time,” JayRay is worried. “We’re only here for four days.”

  “We’ll start first thing tomorrow. For now, get your beauty sleep. You’re going to need it.”

  The next morning, I nudge JayRay awake. Usually I ride him hard and wear his cum on me all day but there’s work to be done. I’ve decided that if it takes my buy-in on the Iris gig to keep him with me, then so be it.

  “Come on babe, get up and get pretty. Let’s head down and see what the old gal is up to.”

  I pause. “You need to be her friend. Don’t hit on her. Talk to her, but mostly listen to her. Ask her about her life. Find out if she is happy or lonely. If she’s lonely, you’re in. If she’s happy, look for her vulnerabilities, make her feel weak and lonely and afraid, and then make her feel better. Make sure she knows that she feels better because of you. Make her feel attractive but be respectful. Don’t touch her too much or too soon. Take your cues from her.”

  “Good thinking. But I’m not sure how to do it in practical terms.”

  “You’ll figure it out as you go.” I’m confident. “Rule of thumb: less is more.”

  “I’ve never understood what that means.”

  “It means less is best. Shut the fuck up unless you are sure what you are saying is the right thing. Watch her body language. If her shoulders stiffen even slightly, you’re on the wrong path. If she tightens her lips, purses her mouth, it’s a bad sign. If she frowns, if she crosses her arms, if she touches her purse, fiddles with her jewelry, if she doesn’t make eye contact—”

  “Fuck me,” JayRay says and he stretches out. “This is too intense.”

  “You cannot use your usual methods,” I insist. “You will drive her away. Let’s review what we know about her. She’s about sixty—”

  JayRay gives a muffled shriek. “She’s not sixty! She’s fifty-two. I found that out. I don’t want to marry my granny, thank you very much.”

  “And you are twenty-nine. Twenty-three years difference. Hmm, it might be too much for her to buy into.”

  “I can’t make myself older,” JayRay says. “Everything’s on the net! You can’t lie about that shit these days.” He pulls out his laptop. “There must be some celebs with that age difference, we have to find them. Look, Cher, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Geena Davis, JLo, and Cameron Diaz. We’re golden. What else do you know about her?”

  “She’s been the Executive Director of the Canadian Trade Show Association for the past ten years.”

  “She’s been around us the whole time. She can’t know about you and me, can she?”

  “I doubt it. We’ve been super careful. Don’t worry about it. And if she asks, tell her we are friends, and that we look out for each other, that’s all. She’s a widow, I know that for sure.”

  “Yeah I know that too. I would be stupid to be going after her if she was married.”

  “She still wears her wedding rings, she’s old-fashioned, traditional. She lives in Mississauga—”

  “Yeah, I know that, Comanche Drive, in one of those mega houses where hopefully I will be installed one day, pulling up in my new Mustang, and strolling into my man castle.”

  “Getting a bit ahead of yourself here. I can’t think of anything else. She may have kids, who knows? These shows mean the world to her, we know that too, and she’s extremely particular about how everything is set up, so she’s a perfectionist. And JayRay, don’t pretend to know anything you don’t, like if she asks you to order a bottle of good red wine, tell her you don’t know about wines, and ask for her advice. Let her teach you, be guided by her. Let her talk, and let her show you her life. Don’t compete. Don’t be afraid to be inferior and admiring, but not too admiring. Never admire her possessions. Material possessions aren’t important to you. Relationships are. You’ve watched her work, you admire her work ethic, you worry that she works too hard, but you don’t want to express that worry too much or too soon.”

  “You are stressing me like crazy,” JayRay said and he jumped out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower, then let’s get this show on the road. I am fucking freaked by all this talking. Usually my smile is all it takes to get me what I want.”

  “I know but this is a different animal we are after, and we have to adjust our game plan accordingly.”

  We get dressed, him in his security uniform and me in my white lab coat, white blouse and white trousers, and we walk down to the conference centre, discussing what to do.

  “Oh my god,” I say and I point. “Look, there she is and she’s carrying boxes, go and help her. Don’t ask her if you can help, just do it! Go, go, go!”

  JayRay rushes through the crowded lobby and intercepts Iris. I watch him say something to her and before she can reply, he takes the boxes from her. Iris looks annoyed and I wonder if she’ll grab the boxes back, but she nods sourly at JayRay and marches off with him following at a trot.

  I swing behind them as they round a corner and go into an empty conference room. I pretend to be looking through the stash on the freebie table, all the while keeping an eye on what’s going on. Iris has thawed slightly and she’s letting JayRay help her unpack the boxes. She even manages a reserved smile at something he says. JayRay gives Iris a mock salute and a mile-wide grin and he turns to leave, but he grabs a piece of hotel stationary pad and scribbles something. He grins at Iris and holds out the piece of paper.

  Iris doesn’t take it and eventually JayRay puts it down on the table. Iris says something and JayRay looks boyish and earnest and he nods. He leaves and I watch Iris pick up the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. I rush to catch up with JayRay.

  “What happened? What did you write on the paper?”

  JayRay jumps. “Shit, what are you doing, Leo? Fucking gave me a fright. I gave her my number and said I would be happy to lug any boxes or shit that she wants, she just needs to phone me. I also wrote down my stall number and said if she wants any home security equipment, she should stop by, it’ll be my pleasure to help her out.”

  “And?”

  “And she thanked me. That’s all. She wouldn’t even take the note.”

  “She picked it up after you left,” I tell him and he beams.

  “We’ll have to see what happens,” I say. “We can’t rush this. Things like this take time. Speaking of time, we must assume our positions at our stalls. Let the games begin. See you later, ’gater.”

  I open up my stand and see JayRay across the way, getting his table ready. I look around. The quiet before the storm. The opening the previous night was a huge success and we are ready for a bumper day.

  The exhibition hall is the same as all the others, an expansive hangar, sectioned into narrow, partitioned-off rows. Standard wire-bristle blue carpeting covers the floor, and the perimeter of the hall is circled by stand-alone partitions divided by black curtains. Warehouse spotlights hang from high steel beams and the world has an unnatural pallor to it. Sometimes I imagine we’re on a different planet, or we could be on a space ship, speeding away from our complicated lives on Earth.

  I marvel at the expense and detail that some of the vendors go to, to create a stage set. SuperBeauty is designed to resemble a high-class dermatologist’s office, pristine to the point of sterile but with a good dose of pretty thrown in for good measure. I got Ralph to shell out a few hundred dollars to an artist to do a stunning watercolour illustration of a beautiful woman walking down a Parisian-styled street carrying a bag of RealBeauty cosmetics. The poster is enormous and after grumbling for weeks about the unnecessary expense, Ralph soon changed his
mind when, in his terms, “it elevated the brand and knocked one out of the park.” The booth’s fixtures are silver and white; I ditched Ralphie’s motifs of daisies and organic herbal health, that sad, tired, old, hippie oatmeal made-in-your-kitchen look. “We want them to know we’re serious about skin care and aging,” I told Ralphie. “None of that fuzzy save-the-planet shit. We’re here to help you reverse the signs of aging. If you don’t see a change in an hour, you get your money back. Hard-hitting, tough-love, serious scientific approach. People love shit like that. It tells them they can trust us. We need to take a deep dive with this, no more swimming in the shallow end.”

  I know Ralphie had his doubts in the beginning but now he loves it. I’m also lucky because Ralphie has booth staffers in all the cities. They bring the exhibit up from the shipping dock to the warehouse and get it all set up for me. They rig the lights, hang the signs, and create my stage. When the show’s done, they dismantle the set and ship it to the next location. Sure, I have to unlock the booth and get my daily display organized, but I don’t have to do any heavy lifting.

  The doors to the hall open and the crowd swarms inside, filling the aisles like a human tsunami and in seconds the noise level rises from quiet to deafening.

  I have no shortage of visitors and I’m kept busy, explaining ingredients and skin care routines, and the day flies by. As the evening crowd dwindles, I look up and there’s Iris, looking tired and earnest.

  “Hey, Iris! How are you?” I’m careful to sound like I always do, cordial but not overly happy to see her.

  “I’m fine, Leonie, fine. I do need some more of your creams though. I have to say, they really do make a visible difference. I used Lancôme for years but your line is so much more effective. Any chance of adding more of your secret magic?”

  “Sure,” I say, thinking I should cut down on the amount of people I tell about the secret ingredient. “But you don’t need it, you look great, Iris. How do you manage it all? You run all these shows, you work so hard.”

  A slight frown crosses Iris’s face and I wonder why. “I must be more in need of your cream than I thought,” she says with a wry smile. “That young man over there in security told me the same thing today, that I work so hard. I must look tired.”

  I look up. “You mean JayRay?”

  “Yes, James. I prefer to call him James. JayRay sounds like a hip-hop artist and I hate hip-hop.” She sits down on a stool next to the table. “My feet are tired today,” she admits. “I shouldn’t have worn new shoes.”

  “Can I offer you a mini-facial?” I ask and Iris looks around. “It won’t help your feet,” I say, “but it will relax you.”

  “But I don’t want to take any business away from you.”

  “The day is done, people are leaving,” I wave around the emptying hall to make my point. “Don’t worry. Anyway, it looks good if I’m busy, it will attract more people.”

  I put a clean towel around her shoulders and apply a facial cleanser, gently massaging her face and Iris relaxes. Her shoulders, usually coat hangers up near her ears, ease, and I know best to remain silent.

  I apply toner and moisturizer and Iris inhales deeply. “It smells divine,” she sighs, “Like lilacs in the springtime. I love it because it does a great job but it also smells heavenly.”

  I smile. I’d had a hard time convincing Ralph that he needed to add a subtle fragrance. He naysayed the idea until I got him to test a couple of focus groups and the results were overwhelming. We kept a fragrance-free range as an option but the scented creams were the winners by far. Between that, the new look, and the upward trajectory of the sales, he never questioned me again.

  “We have a new line of makeup too,” I say. “Can I try some on you?”

  “You’re spoiling me rotten!” Iris gives a high-pitched nasal girly giggle and I grin, thinking how much JayRay will love that.

  “Hot date tonight?” I ask as I brush mascara onto Iris’ lashes.

  “No, nothing like that. Early to bed, I am worn out.”

  “You want to get something to eat? I’m going to close up after you, we could have a snack in the hotel bar if you like. I hate eating alone.”

  A lie but Iris seems to believe me.

  “Sure, why not? That would be lovely, thank you, Leonie. Most people give me a wide berth. They worry I’ll find fault with their displays.”

  “I don’t know why we haven’t had a meal together before,” I reply. “I guess we get into a zone and do what we do. We don’t think of each other as real people, we’re in business mode.”

  “Very true.” Iris admires her reflection in a mirror that I hand her. “Very nice. I’ll take a mascara, eyeliner, blush, and foundation. And the day cream, night cream, toner, and cleanser. I’ll take one of everything, and all of them with more of the special ingredient, if you don’t mind.”

  “Thank you Iris!” I infuse my voice with delight and I mix up the night cream, adding more octinoxate and mercurous chloride with a tiny plastic spatula. My secret ingredients. I pause for a moment, uncap a tiny vial, and add a micro amount of potassium cyanide. A secret ingredient just for Iris.

  I’ve had the potassium cyanide for years. It has been lying dormant and quiet on a shelf, but I found myself veering off on my way to the airport and stopping at the locker. I rushed in, grabbed the tiny container, and shoved it into a side pocket in my check-in bag. Yes, I’m ready for Iris. I just hope the cyanide hasn’t lost its efficacy.

  I put the products into a glossy white SuperBeauty bag and tie the top with a silver and white ribbon. I can see JayRay eyeing me, waiting, but I avoid looking in his direction.

  I’m worried that my invitation to dinner is too much. All of a sudden me and JayRay are paying particular attention to Iris? Will it seem weirdly coincidental?

  I hand the bag over to Iris and close up my stand while Iris waits patiently.

  I bend down to straighten a few boxes under the table and when I stand up, JayRay is standing there.

  “I was wondering if you ladies would care to join me for a bite to eat?” he asks and I want to laugh. We need to synchronize our plans.

  I look at Iris. “Iris and I were going to the pub for a quick bite. Iris, what do you think? Shall we add some security to our party?”

  Iris finds this hilarious. “Yes, let’s! Hello James, thank you for helping me earlier. Look at this lovely bag of goodies Leonie gave me, I’m going to look ten years younger by tomorrow!”

  “You don’t need to look a day younger,” JayRay insists and Iris gives her high-pitched girly giggle. I’m dismayed to hear her flirting with JayRay already, but I remind myself that it’s part of the plan and that I should be happy that things are going well.

  I tag along behind them, feeling like an unwanted kid in the playground. We walk through the lobby and Iris suddenly lunges towards me and grabs hold of my arm. “Quickly! That man over there, Mr. Reid, Dips and Delights from Nova Scotia, he loves to talk! He’ll have us here for hours! Whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with him. Look at me, that’s right, we’re cannot be disturbed!” She giggles again and I sigh. It’s going to be a long night.

  The hotel bar is packed but JayRay finds us a booth.

  “If I’m honest,” Iris confides in us both, “a lot of vendors try to wine and dine me, but I prefer to keep to myself. One doesn’t want to become overly familiar. I’m not sure what they hope to achieve, it’s not as if I can sway sales or give them better locations in the main hall. That’s up to them. And most of them hate my interfering in their displays and what-have-you, but we do have standards to uphold. And it’s vitally important that we—”

  “A drink, Iris?” JayRay interrupts.

  “Yes, thank you, James, I would love a glass of champagne. Did you know that Winston Churchill loved champagne? It was one of his favourite beverages, along with sherry and scotch.”

&n
bsp; “Champagne for the lady,” JayRay tells the waiter and he pauses. “Make it a bottle,” he says grandly and Iris giggles.

  “Now, now, James, we have a long day tomorrow.” But JayRay and I notice that her objections are mild at best.

  I give an inward grin, thinking how much both JayRay and I hate champagne.

  “I love champagne too,” JayRay says earnestly. “It makes me happy. The bubbles, you know.”

  “Exactly!” Iris was delighted. “The bubbles! So, tell me about both of you. Leonie, tell me about you.”

  “Not much to tell. I have a degree in chemistry and I help mix the cosmetics—”

  “And she does such a stellar job of it. I tell you, James, I used Lancôme for years and it never had any effect on my skin. But after just a week of using SuperBeauty, I saw a real difference! All my friends noticed too but I didn’t want to tell them what it was, because I didn’t want them looking better than me.” She giggles again.

  The champagne arrives and we raise a glass in a toast.

  “To the best show ever,” JayRay says and Iris nods.

  “B.C. is one of my favourites. I love coming here. The mood is different to Toronto. I love the people here. I mean I love the crowds back home too, but this is lovely for a change. I also love the Halifax crowd. You both work the American circuit too?”

  “We do,” JayRay nods and looks serious. “We’re at a show pretty much twice a month, except for December when there’s only one and there are none in April. For some reason, April is awfully quiet.”

  “What’s your favourite American one?” Iris asks as she lays her hand on JayRay’s arm and I chug half my champagne.

  “Vegas,” JayRay replies instantly. “The neon. Bright lights, big city. I love it there. It’s wild and free and fun. Do you want something to eat, Iris?” He pours another round of champagne although I notice that he has hardly touched his. I’m unpleasantly reminded of how I got toasted the first night we got together while he hardly touched a drop. Was he playing me then? But to what end?