Femme Noir (23 page)

“Okay, sure. Maybe another tonic?” I looked at Reese, who was unruffled and politely rose to refill my glass.

“Well, sadly, I must go,” Reese said, rattling ice.

“No!” Lila exclaimed.

“Relax, sweetheart, I can stay thirty minutes or so. Hopefully long enough to show Nora some more of my work and then, regrettably, I have an engagement.”

“Reese, I swear. You knew we had this planned with Nora.” Lila’s chest was starting to pinken.

“Excuse us a moment.” Reese handed me the glass, cupped Lila’s elbow, and propelled her gracefully into another room, closing the door. I heard Lila’s shouts and Reese’s calm, measured voice.

I wanted to leave, but felt I was integral to this game, whatever it was, and I was a prisoner of this dinner. Lila had wanted me here, I had come, tried to leave once, it hadn’t worked, so I must stay and see this through. It would be over faster if I didn’t resist. All would unfold in due time. But I was uneasy and would rather just be at Max’s…

The door opened and Reese and Lila emerged. Reese looked sheepish and apologetic; Lila dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“How’s that drink working for you?” Reese asked.

“It leaves me remarkably clearheaded.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Reese grinned. I got a chill up my spine.

“Listen, if you two have some personal problem—”

“It isn’t ‘we’ who have the problem, it’s Lila,” Reese answered firmly. Lila sat limply on the couch, blowing her nose.

“Okay, whatever. Please, let’s do this another time. This seems too complicated.” I felt obliged to try to leave again so they could insist I stay.

Lila’s head snapped up. “Absolutely not. I worked all day on dinner and I’m not going to have that ruined because of some”—Lila’s voice rose with each epithet—“self-centered, inconsiderate, rude, insensitive, good-for-nothing, freeloading, worthless
jerk
!”

“Simmer down, Lila. You’re making a fool of yourself. Have another drink.” Reese handed Lila a fresh glass.

“Thank you, darling.” Lila switched moods suddenly. Then she curled her body around mine. “Go ahead and go, Reese. Nora promised to take care of me.”

“That right, Nora?” Reese looked at me with a steely glint in her eyes.

“I’m not going to be in the middle of this.” I extricated myself. “I better just go.”

“Well, it’s eat dinner here now or never because you’re never setting foot in my house again,” Reese said coolly.

I stood and stared her down, willing myself to become even bigger and blacker. “Let it be never, then,” I whispered.

Reese smiled sweetly, changing tactics. “I’m sorry, Nora. Please accept my apology. It is rare that I get to inflict my pride on someone new, so please stay and let me show you my paintings. Please.” Reese held out her hand for a make-up shake.

“Please stay, Nora. Don’t leave me alone to have a lonely dinner all by myself while Reese is away. Please,” Lila entreated softly.

I looked from one to the other doubtfully. Finally, I shook Reese’s outstretched hand and again won the macho butch-off. Reese had remarkably small, soft hands.

“Come, my studio is this way.”

“I’ll set the table. Don’t you two be long,” Lila sang, her bubbles and trumpets restored.

Reese unlocked a door and pulled me inside. I was puzzled that Reese would lock a door in her own home.

It was a magnificent studio. Very large with floor-to-ceiling windows to let in all available natural light. There was a panoramic view of both downtown and the river. The room had a deliberate clutter about it, as if Reese had studied magazines about how a true artist’s studio should look and copied it. There’s linseed oil
just there,
and crumpled rags
just there,
and dollops of paint
there
and a stack of palettes
there
and easels and canvases propped
there
and
there.

“It’s nice,” I grudgingly admitted.

“Can’t have skylights, obviously.” Reese indicated the twenty-foot ceilings with the sumptuous crown moldings done in gold leaf separating theirs from the condo above.

“Here’s one I’m working on now.” Reese dramatically tore the sheet off a canvas. “Not quite finished, but coming along.”

I locked my jaw. It was Max. Max nude. Max naked and sleepy on her stomach, drowsing in a ray of light, her hair tumbled over her back and shoulders, her immense back porch of rosy buttock, and could I be mistaken? Her ass had a
satisfied
look about it. The painting of Max was crackling with eroticism like electricity. Reese’s paintings of Lila had not. They had been sweet and sentimental, but a bit dowdy and frumpy compared to this. The portrait of Max was unfinished, yes, but only in the background. Each stroke was loving and sexual, even the pink soles of her feet. In that second it took to register my hurt and outrage, I knew everything about Reese. Reese brought me in here to tell me this.

Reese wasn’t just a painter; she was a practiced predator. She fucked everyone she painted and only Lila did not know. She needed Lila for the house and the money and the exposure and the social status, but this room was saturated in sex. Only as I began to contain my pain did I notice the other details in the room: a bathroom and shower, a chaise lounge, a stereo, a basket of toys such as a body brush, feathers, blindfold, body paint and powder, oils, and a
bed,
for Christ’s sake.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Reese watching me with a smirk on her face. She wanted me to know this secret, but why? Was she boasting or confessing? And right in Lila’s own house? Lord God, that was sick and cruel. My stomach dropped when I considered it. Maybe Reese wanted to claim Max. Or to show me how crazy and reckless she really was?

With purpose born of certainty, I strode to a door in another wall, flung it open, and found it led to the hallway. “Just as I suspected. How perfect for you, Reese, you pro.”

For the first time, Reese grinned happily. “Let me show you more of my favorites.”

Reese drew the sheet off a stack of a dozen or more paintings leaning against the wall. All of Max.

Max on her back, Max with her legs open, Max brushing her hair, Max curled into a comma, Max draped off the bed, Max washing herself in a metal tub.

“Pretty great, huh? I’ve had huge offers for these, but I won’t sell.”

My tongue was a withered root. Apparently I had not won the macho butch-off. “These are okay, but I prefer the ones of Lila,” I said after finding my voice. “They are more spatially interesting. They have a wonderful contradiction of language and are leaner. They have more depth and complexity.” I congratulated myself on my pompous lies. “They are better. These are simply…boring. Nudes of this lewd style have been done to
death.
But perhaps you could get Hallmark interested in them.” I surreptitiously wiped my brow as Reese frowned, studying the paintings. Her face was both sickly and mottled red. “It’s a bit stuffy in here; can we go out on the balcony?” I pressed. I couldn’t stay in this room another moment without beating Reese senseless and rocketing over to Max’s and strangling her too.

“Certainly.” Reese recovered her poise, covered the paintings, and opened the balcony door.

Reese and I stood in the breeze in silence, watching the sun set. The multicolored carpet of lawns far below was all different shades of brown. Tan, gold, beige, not a blade of green grass to be seen. Piles of dried yellow leaves from dusty, tired trees followed the wet wind. I thought my skin might boil right off my face, but I felt clearer on the balcony. I ran a hand over my slick bald head. “Naïve women are convenient, aren’t they?”

Reese looked at me with another happy wolfish grin. “Women are like a box of chocolates. I want to stick my finger in each one and eat what’s inside.”

“And Lila?”

“Lila is my rock. Lila is my home base. Lila is my partner. Lila is my
wife.
I need Lila like I need my breath.”

“Why tell me all this?”

Reese moved closer. “I thought maybe we had a kinship in kind. I thought perhaps we were alike. And if we were, we could be friends. And friends don’t rat on each other. You know what I’d do if any stupid, meddling fuck ever betrayed me to Lila?”

I watched Reese carefully.

“Why, I might just pitch someone like that right off this balcony.”

I looked down. It was all dead grass below, but too high to be survivable. “Reese, what you do is your business. You’re a shameless dirty dog, but it’s not my fight. I’ll tell you, though, one kindred spirit to another—you’ll be found out. If not sooner, then later.”

Reese kept grinning. “No, I won’t.” Her certainty and bravado were both appalling and disquieting.

“Lila probably has dinner ready,” I said.

“Max tells me that you’re quite a lover,” Reese said.

I was instantly hooked and took a breath to protest when I realized that Reese was fishing. “What else do you know?” I said, staring at the water, watching tiny joggers and cyclists move up and down the river path.

“She says you have a certain…prowess that she’s never experienced before.”

I decided to play along when I realized what a liar and cunning manipulator Reese was. Reese counted on everyone around her telling her the truth so she had shields of knowledge as power and protection.

“Yeah.” I sniffed my two right fingers. “Max is very special herself. It is interesting that she would confide in you. I’m flattered.” I turned to Reese and faced her, each of us attempting to make the other blink.

Lila knocked on the locked door of the studio. “It’s all ready,” she called.

We ate our salads by candlelight. Lila tried to make conversation above the jazz background music by chattering like a caged monkey.

“Well, I told Becky that that was simply unacceptable. Dug 9 cannot be hired without me. We are a package deal. It is Lila James
and
Dug 9. Not Lila James
or
Dug 9. Not Dug 9 with or without Lila James. They need a singer to give the group focus and some zing and pep. Who would want to book a group without a singer anyway? That’s simply unheard of. It’s silly. I don’t do every number.” Lila downed another vodka rocks.

I chewed, ignoring Reese and concentrating dreamily on Lila’s charming overbite.

“The client will have some instrumentals in between. The clients can even have some input on our play list. But split us up and hire only the pieces you want? No. I told her no, we’re a team.” Lila waggled her cocktail glass at Reese, who obediently rose, made a refill, and returned it to Lila, who sipped it, frowned, and gave it back. Reese took the drink to the bar a second time, remixed, and gave the glass back to Lila, who tasted, nodded, and smiled. She continued, “Then she asked me if I was the manager and did I speak for everyone. I just about choked. Of course I do, I told her. She said she would have to get back to me. Apparently, her client hates vocalists no matter who they are. Even the mighty Barbra herself. So she will call me back as soon as she can. Huh. Party planners. What horrid creatures. People are crazy; don’t you think so, Reese darling? How’s the salad, Nora?”

“It’s fine, but not the most delicious dish in the room.”

Lila shrieked in delight. “I want you to live in my bra. Could she, Reese? Oh, you are so scrumptious you have to be fattening! Reese, did you both enjoy the breadsticks with the salad? I do love playing wifey.”

Both Reese and I nodded in response. Reese wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood. “Well, I am so sorry, but I have an important appointment. I do regret having to go. The food is wonderful, as usual, my princess, and the company is marvelous. But a client beckons, or is that a karate class?” Reese met my eyes. I knew Reese wanted to break me. And that she wanted me to believe that she and Max were having a torrid affair. I hated to admit that I believed it. Those paintings! My appetite fell away. Again, I wanted to leave, this time to spy on Reese.

“Let me walk you out, darling.” Lila stood. “It’s the most I’ve seen you all week.”

“Remember, my pet, leave the kitchen a mess. I’ll tend it when I return. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’ll clear the table.” I gathered plates.

“Lovely to meet you. Take good care of my Lila, but not too good.”

“See you, Reese.” I went into the kitchen where I looked for something to subdue my mounting desire for a cigarette. If I could just suck a finger… I stacked the plates in the sink and dropped my half-eaten breadstick in the trash where I saw all the garbage from Lila’s hard day of slaving in the kitchen. An empty bag for the prepared salad, an empty bottle of dressing, a sack from the breadsticks, a box each for the frozen lasagna and the frozen chocolate cake and a crumpled paper sack for the garlic bread. I shook my head in disgusted amazement. I found a carrot in the refrigerator and washed it. I planned to gum it into submission unless I could get Lila to find some cigarettes.

Chapter Twenty-Two

There you are, poppet.” Lila sashayed into the kitchen. “You ready for the main course?”

In a split second, I knew what I would do. I took Lila in my arms and growled, “I sure am.”

“Oh.” Lila was caught off balance trying to arch away just a little. As I held her up, Lila stroked my shoulders. “You are so big and strong. My, my, you make a girl woozy.”