Polished Slick (Natural Beauty) Page 15

  Jerry got the ignition going, and when Dom looked over his shoulder, Jerry pointed to the chicken joint to remind him.

  Dom nodded and swatted him away, sashaying his way across the parking lot just for the hell of it.

  Jerry parked in the side alley next to the restaurant, so his Jeep was slightly out of view of the motel, but he still had a pretty clear view of the door. He slouched down a bit and pressed his binoculars against his eyes to see Dom calmly pointing to the battery, shrugging, and talking his way in.

  The large man in the doorway, dressed only in a pair of faded plaid boxer shorts and gray crew socks, looked confused. Dom kept right on talking. Eventually, as expected, a woman filled in the gap in the doorway next to the big man. She was nearly naked herself, wearing a little black negligee and strappy stilettos, and shaking her head.

  “Ha!” Jerry exchanged the binoculars for his DSLR camera. He zoomed in as tight as he could manage without losing quality, and took several shots of the duo. Mercedes had been right.

  “Holy hell, the bitch has Nikki’s nose.” Even with her dishwater blonde hair dyed dark, and the evident nose job, that woman in the doorway was absolutely Becky. He was willing to bet his trailer that the florid, blustering man beside her was Preston.

  He hadn’t seen a clear photo of him yet, but the chances seemed good it was him, unless Becky had found a new Edenton lay.

  Dom made a flicking gesture with his hand and walked away, ostensibly to the neighboring room.

  Becky and Rudy closed their door immediately. As soon as they had, Dom skittered across the street on his heels and dived into the Jeep.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hell, yeah. You know, me and Nikki went to school with Becky for a while before Becky moved west. Nikki is going to be so pissed to see what she’s done to herself. No one does Nikki like Nikki. What the hell is Becky thinking?”

  “Probably not a good thing, pissing off the pregnant lady. Hey, can we go through the drive-through? Beth never lets me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Aunt Ginger, do you…hmm.” Trinity twirled her spaghetti around the tines of her fork and chewed at the inside of her cheek as she thought. “Do you think a person should change themselves to be in a relationship?”

  Ginger dusted her pasta with a healthy shake of grated Parmesan cheese and picked up her knife and fork. “Believe it or not, sometimes relationships change you whether you intend for them to or not, so it may be a moot point.”

  “Explain.”

  “When I married your uncle, I was very shy. I hated talking to people.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re a dentist. You’re always talking to people. Even people who aren’t your patients.” Like Jerry. Thanks, Aunt Ginger.

  “Yeah, that’s true, but early on I was rather awkward. Anyhow, your great-uncle sometimes brought clients home, and I’d be stuck there in the living room with their wives making small talk. I felt so young and naïve at the time, like I didn’t know anything about anything. Those women were so mature and cultured and, well, I thought I just sounded like a dumb kid.”

  “You’re one of the most charming people I know.”

  “Thank you, but that came with a lot of practice and a lot of encouragement from my sweet husband.”

  “Hmm.” Trinity wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, but stuffed the spool of wound pasta on her fork into her mouth all the same.

  “Why do you ask?”

  Trinity shrugged.

  “Liar. Don’t you forget, I’ve known you longer than you’ve owned self-awareness, missy.” Ginger shook an index finger at Trinity in warning.

  Trinity forced a sigh through her mouthful of food, and then swallowed the lump. “It’s just that I’m interested in…” She cast her gaze toward Ginger who nodded her encouragement. “Jerry. The tall surfer with the gorgeous teeth. I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t. I’m not sure I have room in my repertoire for any new tricks.”

  Ginger snorted. “Well, what exactly does he want you to do? Sit up and beg?” Ginger laughed at her own joke and began to cackle so hard she had to press her napkin against her mouth to prevent herself from blowing chewed food onto her great-niece.

  Trinity didn’t think it was funny, and kept stabbing at her noodles. “No. He’s just…well, I thought he was a different type of man than he actually is. He’s pretty progressive and not too hung up on the working woman thing, but I still think underneath all that he leans toward traditional roles.”

  “Well, I can see where that would come across as a deal breaker, but let me ask you this. There’s a difference between being domestic and making a home. I was confused about the difference for a long time myself. Your great-uncle had to talk me down from the ledge and help me understand what was important. I tried to be everything and everywhere and failed. So tell me, are you making wild-ass assumptions based on pillow talk?”

  Trinity’s jaw dropped. “Pillow talk! I never said I…”

  Ginger looked at her with a perfectly blank face. “I never insinuated you did, but judging by the color of your cheeks, I’m guessing you have. Well, good for you! It’s about time you figured out you’re a mammal.”

  Trinity slapped her hands against her burning face and whimpered.

  Ginger kept right on talking as if what she’d said wasn’t at all scandalous. Then again, hardly anything Ginger said could be considered scandalous, because she had almost certainly said worse in the past. “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

  Trinity uncovered her face, and dragged her wine glass closer by the stem. She downed about an inch of the thick, golden stuff, shuddered at the potency, and whistled. “Yeah, let me have it.”

  “You know I’d never kick you out, Trin. I love having you here. Taking you in has probably been one of the better choices I’ve made in my life. You’ve brought me so much purpose, and made me understand what it means to care for a child. I regret taking that away from your parents, but not all that much.”

  Trinity couldn’t be sure if it was the wine, or if Ginger’s eyes really had taken on a nostalgic twinkle.

  “I hear a but.”

  “No but, my dear. More like a however.”

  “Drop it on me. The first two glasses of wine are starting to metabolize, so go ahead and do the damn thing.”

  Ginger giggled and Trinity laughed at herself. She’d obviously been spending too much time around Jerry and the boys. She’d started to take on their slang.

  “Okay, I’ll drop it on you in no-frills language. I think it’s time you lived on your own for a while.” When Trinity opened her mouth to rebut, Ginger put up her hands to still her lips. “Like I said, little girl, I’d never kick you out. Instead, I’m going to be the one moving out for a while.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hold on. I’ll show you.” Ginger pushed back from the table, hurried into the front room, then up the staircase.

  Trinity heard rustling upstairs, then a slam, and finally the sound of Ginger’s socked feet hurrying back down the steps.

  When Ginger returned to the table, she had her glasses perched on her nose and bore a folder stuffed with papers. She slid the documents across the lace tablecloth to Trinity.

  Trinity pulled the file closer, giving her great aunt a skeptical look she didn’t see because she was already too busy cutting into a meatball. “The Dentists Over There Organization?”

  “That’s right. DOTO. I’ve wanted to do some charitable work in third world countries for years, and now seems like the perfect time. I’ve already got a young substitute lined up to handle my patients while I’m on sabbatical. It’ll be a good practical interview for her since I’m thinking of bringing her on as a junior partner in the future. You’re a big girl and can take care of things here and at the beach house for a couple of months, right?”

  Months? “I suppose. Wow! I
guess this is something of a shock. You never said anything.”

  “Oh, that’s not the shocker,” Ginger said with a smile. She chewed on her meatball and made a little grunt of satisfaction. “The shocker is that I’m leaving Monday. I hope to be home before your birthday, but I can’t guarantee I won’t accept another stint while I’m out in the boonies. This may be the only shot I have to do this, you know? One day you’ll have kids, and I won’t want to leave.”

  “Wow, Aunt Ginger. I’m just…” Trinity could hardly find the words to communicate the jumble of emotions she was feeling. Was she proud? Excited? Confused? Definitely confused, but even more than that, terrified. At twenty-five, she was ashamed to say she’d never lived alone for any significant amount of time. In college she lived in a suite with three roommates, and shared an apartment with two other girls during her internship. Ginger had never been gone for longer than a week, and now she was talking months.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Trinity confessed. “I’m so used to you being my handler. You know I’m too cerebral for my own good. If I’m not working, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine. You’ve got a good brain in there, and if you’d think outside the box every now and again you might surprise yourself with all the things you can do. You don’t have to be a master at everything. That kind of mindset is what keeps people from even trying.”

  Trinity thought Jerry deserved better than her just trying, but she didn’t say that out loud.

  * * *

  “You should practice your English, Moeder, if you truly plan to do what you say.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the kitchen chair he occupied.

  Clara sighed, and pushed strands of her blonde bob behind her ears. She gave her son a hard stare, but couldn’t hold it. When she looked at him, her mind always went to the other one. The one she lost. The one she’d always sought out, but had been too afraid to contact through the easiest channel she knew. That channel had let her down before, so she was understandably hesitant to trust it again. She blew a raspberry, and took up her previous line of conversation in Dutch.

  “Why bother when you’ll be around to translate for me?” She pushed her reading glasses up her nose, and stared at the computer monitor with longing.

  Maybe it’s not him. No. Who else could it be? That’s no coincidence. “Yes. Yes. Do it.”

  “Okay, but remember—you were afraid he didn’t want to be contacted because it might be perceived as an intrusion. You want to go through with it now?”

  “Is it fine for me to suffer? It was his father’s decision before, so let it be Jeremiah’s now. If he is like you, he is a good person. He will want to know us. Send it.”

  Ben smiled, and turned the laptop around to access the keys. A few taps of his keyboard, a few clicks of his mouse, and it was done.

  They’d know soon enough what kind of person exactly this Jeremiah Rouse was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “You think this is a good idea for real, Becky?” Preston tightened his tie’s knot, and assessed his appearance in the cracked motel room mirror.

  Becky sat in the nearby corner painting her nails with the newest Rococo red. It was orangey and bright, just the way she liked it. Didn’t hurt she’d gotten it for free when she’d gone to visit the man in the suit. She’d left with a suitcase full of freebies she was carefully rationing over time.

  “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? The flyer under the windshield said the party was open to everyone in town who wanted to try out the new products. We want to try them, don’t we?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess. But don’t you think it’ll be real suspicious you showing up like that without calling first? I mean, Gabby doesn’t even know you’re in town. That might tip them off.”

  Becky ground her teeth to stop her lips from twitching. Preston was dumb as shit, but he made a good point. Still, she didn’t have that luxury. She would have loved to have a nice little conversation with her baby girl, but first things first. Rococo had promised her big money to ruin that little bitch’s reputation, and Becky was so close to completing her mission she could taste it. She closed her eyes and smiled, thinking about it. All that money. Beautiful cash that would set her and her baby girl up for a long time to come. She wouldn’t have to worry about rent, the repo man, or how she’d afford her next stage costume. Hell, once she got that check in her hands, she wouldn’t need the costumes anymore. Fuck stripping. She and Gabby and Preston could just…Preston. She didn’t want Preston. She wanted Charlie.

  Sure, he was married now. “Respectable.” But that hadn’t stopped her before.

  She sighed, and forced her heavy-lidded eyes open. “Don’t you worry about a thing. They don’t suspect shit, so they’ll just think I’m turning up again to see Gabby. I never announce it when I come, so why would I now?”

  “All right, baby. You look real good.”

  Becky flipped her hair. She’d touched up her dye job just that morning in the motel room’s sink, so it looked extra-matte and flat. She hadn’t figured out how to match Nikki’s natural brown highlights. She’d have to leave the housekeeper a big tip when they left, because the mess in the old porcelain sink and on top of the laminate countertop was phenomenal. “Thank you, Preston. I like to look special for you.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in her short, tight dress and crossed her legs in the other direction.

  Preston eyed her lasciviously.

  She was such a tease. She tapped her chin with one fingertip and screwed her lips up, thinking, Maybe I should wear panties.

  * * *

  For the nail polish party to have been slapped together so quickly, Trinity thought the barn looked absolutely fabulous. They’d set up two bars, one for manicures, one for drinks.

  Charlie and Nikki’s moms, with some help from Gramma Stacy and Gabby, were churning out food for the buffet. No one had any idea of how many guests to anticipate, but judging by the gossip the ladies were reporting on, there’d be a lot.

  The parties at Natural by Nicolette were always well attended and more often than not the press showed up. Nikki thought that was great, but wished she’d planned it all in advance instead of it being some sort of trap for that bimbo Becky. She knew she’d come. She knew Becky couldn’t resist a chance to destroy what Nikki and Charlie had built, and Trinity had been around to see the woman’s brazen attempts at destruction time and time again over the past two years. The woman had to be sick, she was so deluded.

  While Gabby and her friends clucked excitedly behind their stations at the nail polish bar, Juan poured out drinks for the staff. Judging by the red rims of his eyes, he’d already poured a couple down his own throat. Trinity could hardly blame him. Already, the volume in the barn had ratcheted up to video game levels, and no one had the benefit of earplugs. Here they were, essentially inviting chaos right through their front door, not that Trinity really knew what to expect.

  In fact, she was more or less out of the loop. She hadn’t been in on the plotting to root Becky out of her motel room, and didn’t know what exactly Nikki and Jerry had in mind. All she knew was that Jerry had figured out which of the cars in the motel lot was a rental, and made sure to plaster it with fliers.

  She wrung her hands and scanned the room, looking for her beach bum. They needed to talk. The timing was shit, but she needed to clear the air. She hated feeling like everything was in limbo. She’d had a lot of time to think, and although it sickened her to act on it, she figured a clean break was best.

  Who was this woman she’d become? She hardly recognized herself, and didn’t know if the change was good, bad, or otherwise. That morning while cleaning up for the party, she was struck by the startling revelation that she’d hardly been paying any attention to her job in the past few weeks. And worse? She didn’t even care. Her nonchalance was more disconcerting than her actual lack of enthusiasm. She didn’t give a shit about a promotion. Not anymore. If Nikki was looking
for a manager, Jerry was better for the job. People actually liked him. So, what now?

  She wanted to go ahead and be dumped outright, because it’d probably save her some heartbreak in the long run.

  She’d dropped Ginger off at the airport in Norfolk at dark o’clock that morning and returned home, unable to get back to sleep. She’d picked up her phone twice thinking she’d call Jerry, but considered the vulgarity of the hour and thought against it. So, she decided to get up and make breakfast—something other than cereal for a change. She put bacon in the oven to crisp per the instructions on the packet while she showered and came out of her bedroom to a smoke-filled kitchen, blackened pork, and a greasy oven bottom. Probably should have put the bacon on a pan instead of treating the oven racks like grill grates. Then she’d thumped her head on the kitchen table over the idiocy of what she’d done.

  A bowl of cold cereal had perked her up a bit, but she still ended up going through the drive-through on her way to work for a chicken biscuit, cursing herself for being an absolutely useless human being. She arrived at the barn with just enough time to clear the chemicals off her workbench and attend the Monday morning meeting, which Jerry had been suspiciously absent from. She couldn’t hear a damned thing Nikki was chattering about because her heart was beating so fast. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, shutting out all other noise. She didn’t understand why she felt that way—like a big hole had been scooped out of her torso. Then his absence sparked a revelation.

  She loved the damned jerk, and that was very, very bad. Intelligent, modern women weren’t supposed to fall in love with the first person they gave themselves to, no matter what Ginger said.

  “We’re throwing the doors open to let in the horde,” Gretchen announced at two o’clock on the dot.

  The noise just beyond the barn doors was almost deafening. Trinity figured it must have been teenagers—not that she’d ever behaved that way, but she’d certainly encountered enough people who had. God, I’m a boring human being. I couldn’t even do my teen years right.