Kiss Me Goodnight (7 page)

I’m not proud of the one I screamed at Thomas. I know I should apologize, but I don’t see where that opportunity will arise. I’m not fond of revisiting the sites of my foibles.

After I dropped off my résumé, I took a little time to reflect. All in all, I couldn’t muster up an ounce of regret. The lie I’d told the judge had been stupid, but it got me out of a ticket. The one I’d told Mike MacMurtry had landed me a new job. But don’t think I felt good either. At best, I was intensely ambivalent. Conflicted. I named my companions Hope and Shame.

Mostly I was conflicted because I did plan to see Dylan tonight. My friends would be up for an impromptu concert. We all liked hearing local live music, and there weren’t any movies that couldn’t wait. As long as they never found out Dylan was married, I was safe. Because, while I could deal with my own personal guilt-fest, I couldn’t handle the well-meaning counsel they would heap upon me.

This is the part where I tell you about Jane and Luma. I hate describing people, so I’ll just tell you how they talk about themselves. The ad Jane took out on Yahoo! Singles describes her as five-foot-eight (in heels) with a healthy build. She does work out twice a week, but she also loves chocolate, which means I wouldn’t describe her as slender. She’s that sexy bitch men flock to when she’s wearing the right kind of clothes. In a lot of things, she looks kind of dumpy, but I don’t have to tell her that because she knows. She’s never bought anything without trying it on first, and I’ve never lied to her about my opinion of her proposed outfit.

Luma describes herself as the “hot Egyptian chick who really likes black men.” She says it’s true about not being able to go back. If I ever get the chance to find out, she assures me I should take it. Luma is lucky if she’s five feet tall, even wearing shoes. She’s the only person I know who makes me feel tall. Next to us, Jane’s longer legs and curvier figure do stand out.

I don’t often lie to either of my friends, but I did tell them many lies when we were just acquaintances. You’re thinking that lying alienates people and makes them think they can’t trust you. That’s not always true. People generally expect others to lie to them, especially if they don’t know them well—either that, or I have a knack for finding the cynics.

Jane and Luma have been around me long enough to know when I tend to lie and to whom I usually do it. They help by not putting me in situations that will lead to fabrication. We’ve had some frank discussions about my problem, and I can’t say they understand why I do it—
I
don’t understand why I do it—but they love me and are there for me when I need them.

Later that evening, I met them at Jane’s apartment. She’s in grad school at Detroit College of Law, which means she lives the closest to downtown Detroit. I like Detroit. It gets a bad rap for crime, drugs, and prostitution, some of which is deserved, but it’s a much nicer place than most people imagine. The waterfront is gorgeous, and many of the public areas have undergone a renaissance. The area where Jane lives is about halfway refurbished. It isn’t run down, but it isn’t safe to wander the streets too much at night if you’re alone.

Parking is where you really get screwed. Before all the flipping casinos went in downtown, parking was cheap and easy. Now it costs twenty dollars to park in an unsupervised lot. I wish I’d bought land way back when so I could hang out and make massive money letting people put their cars on it while I sit in a lawn chair for a few peak hours.

But back to Jane’s apartment. It’s large, nearly twice as large as mine, and her rent is about half as much. My suburban place is closer to where I worked at Pritchett Freight Services.
I wonder where Mr. Hanover’s company is located? He gave me an address in Royal Oak for training. That’s going to be a hell of a drive from Troy every day. Linear distance aside, the traffic is murder.

Jane redecorated when she moved in, something I never realized you could do with a rented space, but she reasoned that Thomas Jefferson used to do it, so why not her? She’d painted various colors on the walls, some of which I liked and some of which I didn’t comment on. Her furniture was just as colorful.

She’d covered the worn carpet with huge area rugs, which hid most of the boring beige, though a bit of bland might have helped tone down some of her decor. I wasn’t sure how she slept at night with the glare of reds, greens, yellows, and blues pulsing at her in the dark. I know she probably couldn’t see them with the lights off, but she knew they were there, and that was enough for me to never sleep over at her house.

Tonight I’d volunteered to be the designated driver. If Luma and Jane were drunk, they’d be less likely to ask questions that might lead to a discovery of Dylan’s marital status. If they were really drunk, they might not remember anything even if they did ask.

Dishonesty comes in so many exciting colors, doesn’t it?

Luma and I were checking our supplies and tucking our driver’s licenses into our bras when Jane emerged from the bathroom. She’d been fixing her makeup after a long day of work and school. Luma was currently unemployed. She’d moved back in with her parents after college, and nobody there thought it imperative she get a job. Her mother, from what I could tell, painted terra cotta flowerpots. Her father was a free spirit who smoked a lot of weed and gave gentle, positive encouragement to everybody. Luma was the youngest of her brothers and sisters, and I think her parents didn’t really want to see her fly the coop.

In the seven years I’d known Luma, I’d never heard a tale of her father losing his temper. Or getting up from whatever chair he was in. How he stayed so skinny, I have no clue. Sometimes I hate men for that reason.

We headed out to our first destination of the evening: Greektown for dinner. That meant we ordered
gyros
because we knew how to pronounce it correctly. Plus, we thought it was a fun word to say. I think we said it so much, we annoyed our waiter. No matter. We were having fun, and nobody else mattered.

Over appetizers, Jane leaned closer and nailed me with one of those sympathetic looks she likes to give when she hears bad news. She closed her hand over mine. “I heard you lost your job.”

I bit my lip. I hadn’t told anybody but my mom and John. I guessed at the culprit. “When did my mom tell you?”

“Today. She said you’d been out of sorts all week.” She squeezed my hand once more and let go. She knows when not to overdo the physical affection.

Luma’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no. Lacey, what happened?”

“Pritchett was getting ready to sell the company. I knew my days were numbered.” I haven’t been that torn up about losing my job.

Luma launched herself around the corner of the table and hugged me. She did not recognize public boundaries for affection. “I’m so sorry, Lacey. Is there anything I can do?”

There wasn’t. “I’m fine. I knew it was coming. I have money saved up that will see me through a couple of months, and I start a new job on Monday. I’m going to be a sales rep for a liquor distributor.”

Luma eased away, giving me one of those looks she gets when she thinks I’m lying. I haven’t lied to her in years, but she knows I still do it regularly. “Really?”

“Really. I happened to meet the owner this afternoon, and he was so impressed that he hired me.”

She nodded, satisfied with my answer. Like I said, if you ask, I always admit when I’m lying. She smoothed her skirt and sat back down, a dainty action after her spontaneous display. “So, did anything interesting happen when you were fired?”

The waiter arrived with our gyros. I waited until he’d set us up, then answered Luma’s question. “Well, I sort of decided to take the situation into my own hands, and now there’s a guy out there who’s questioning his father’s fidelity.”

I presented what I considered to be an accurate accounting of the details. I left out my lunch that day and any mention of Dylan. Because it had absolutely nothing to do with me being fired.

When I finished, they stared at me in silence, neither of them particularly stunned by my revelation. Finally, Jane started giggling. Luma followed suit. I watched them laugh, clutching their stomachs as delight pealed from their mouths. It took entirely too long for them to calm down. It wasn’t that funny. What I’d done had been more on the mean side.

Wiping tears from beneath her eyes, Jane faced me first. “Oh, Lacey. You’re priceless. You should be in soap operas or Lifetime movies. I can see it all playing out in my head. You were probably so dramatic. How did the son react to know he had an illegitimate sister?”

Little laughs still erupted from Luma now and again, and I hoped Jane’s question wouldn’t send her back to Laugh Land. “I would’ve loved to be there for that. How come you kept this from us for a whole week?”

It hadn’t been a whole week, but I was the last one qualified to correct other people’s exaggerations. I shrugged. “I’m not proud of what I did. I think I verbally knocked Thomas on his ass. I felt bad for him, so I ended up quitting and storming out.”

Jane snorted. “Only you would feel bad for someone who was trying to fire you.”

“Yeah, Lace. I have to agree with Jane. You have to let this one go. He kind of deserved it.” Luma winked and plunged into her first gyro. “Besides, you’ll never see him again.”

Supportive friends are wonderful for the soul.

After dinner, we wandered around, shopped a little, and bar-hopped. By the time I suggested we go listen to a new local band at The Majestic, Luma and Jane both had the giggles. I’d confessed to my worst lie this week, and I was feeling pretty good.

Mike MacMurtry caught me as I handed money to the cashier for the cover charge. His bald head still gleamed under the bright lights. He smiled as he blocked the transaction. “This one is my guest tonight.”

Behind me, I felt Jane and Luma exchange glances. They smelled a juicy story. But I refused to acknowledge anything. I gave Mike a friendly/professional grin. “How are things going tonight?”

“Better. Thanks to you.” He waved a hand toward my friends, gesturing for the three of us to follow him.

I waved away his compliment. “I didn’t do anything.” In point of fact, I’d been the one to gain the most from that conversation. To deflect anything else he might say, I introduced Jane and Luma.

Mike shook their hands. “You ladies enjoy yourselves tonight. Lacey, if you need anything, let me know.”

He left us, scurrying over to answer an employee’s call.

Jane cocked her head to the side. “Lace? Anything you want to tell us?”

I shrugged and pursed my lips. “It has to do with my new job. Mike’s club will be one of my clients.”

With that, I led them into the main room. It was packed, which made the vast chamber look much smaller. I scanned the room, automatically estimating the number of people there. It looked like Dylan was going to have a good turnout for his first performance. I hoped they took my advice about the sound mix.

Beside me, Jane and Luma followed suit, though I knew they were looking for something I wasn’t.

Luma huffed out a breath full of umbrage. “Lacey, you didn’t say it was an all-white event.”

The music pumping through the speakers changed from AFI to Silversun Pickups. I didn’t bother to look around. “An alt-rock band is performing tonight. They’re playing alternative music.”

She harrumphed. “Well, I guess I don’t need a date for tomorrow.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Luma, you do know that refusing to date white guys is just as racist as only dating white guys, right?”

We’d discussed this before, at length, and we hadn’t arrived at a consensus. Luma maintained that she couldn’t help who she was attracted to. Jane liked to argue that Luma wouldn’t know if she didn’t try. Then Luma would bring up the fact that Jane maintained a heterosexual preference without having tried to date a woman.

I was waiting for the debate to escalate to the point where they decided to make out with one another to test the theory: Luma would be kissing a white person, and Jane would be kissing a woman. I saw it as a win-win. And I didn’t care who either of them dated as long as they were happy. Though I will admit that the idea of the two of them together left me a little jealous. We’d no longer be a trio; I’d be the third wheel.

“Let it go, ladies. We’re here to have fun.” I spotted a high-top table near the dance floor that had just been vacated. “I see our table. We’d better snag it before somebody else does.”

We made it to the table a second before another group arrived. The queen bee gave us a snotty glare.

Jane smiled, rolled her shoulders back to emphasize her breasts, and said, “You can join us. I’ll even let you buy me a drink.”

Luma and I exchanged glances. Pour a few drinks into Jane and she becomes flirty with just about everyone. We both wondered when she would take the dive and explore the wonderful world of women. Snotty girl and her crew sauntered away, giving Jane, I noticed, a prime view of their rear assets.

A server came over, and I threw caution to the wind and ordered a club soda. I normally wasn’t one for bubbly or dry drinks. He returned with our order relatively quickly.

As she sipped her Sex on the Beach, Jane abandoned her perusal of the club’s patrons and focused on me. “Lacey, I think you forgot to tell us something important.”

I hadn’t forgotten. As a stalling tactic, I tried to turn the conversation around. “Jane, I think you’re the one holding out.”