WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition (36 page)

“Call Celia. Tell her…tell her the truth,
that Tara and I hooked up a few times, and then she squatted in my
apartment. Without my permission.”

“Why don’t you tell her that?”

“I did!” David rubbed his throbbing head. “It
sounds like a made up story, even though she knows Tara. I need a
little backup.”

“I feel for you, Dave, I really do, but I
don’t want to get involved.”

“You’re already involved.”

“I don’t want to talk to Celia about your sex
life.” Dave heard a beep and another dramatic sigh. “Well, it looks
like I’m going to have to talk to Celia about your sex life. She’s
on the other line.”

Seven

Celia tapped her pen on her desktop and
waited through each excruciating ring. By the third, she was
mentally drafting the message she planned to leave on Bob’s
voicemail. When he answered, she dropped the pen and sat up in her
chair. “Bob? It’s Celia Mason.”

“Hey, Celia.”

He sounded weird, not like the excitable guy
she remembered. Celia wondered if she shouldn’t have called him at
work. “Bob, this is going to sound a little strange —”

“I doubt it,” he mumbled.

“Can you tell me what happened between Tara
and David Willingham?”

“Celia, I could pretend I don’t know why
you’re asking, but I just got off the phone with David.”

“You did?” She reached out and fingered a
delicate petal of one of the white calla lilies he’d had delivered
earlier in the day. “What did he say?”

“He wanted me to call you and tell you what
happened with Tara.”

“What did happen with Tara?”

“Look, I don’t want to be in the middle of
this, but somehow I am. I’m going to tell you the truth and let the
two of you figure this out.” He took a deep breath, as if the
weight of the world were on his shoulders. “Tara and I were out in
Greenwich one night. We ran into David. He was unattached, she was
unattached. They hooked up, and just so you don’t feel too sorry
for me, so did I.”

“Oh…congratulations.”

“Anyway, as far as I know, they hooked up a
few more times, but you know Tara. It was a fling — on both sides.
The next thing I know, Mr. Uptight is calling me, screaming because
Tara’s moved some stuff into his place and he wants her out.”

Okay, she thought. That sounded like what he
said, but… “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, Bob, but are you
sure they didn’t have a relationship? I mean, I can understand a
purely sexual thing running its course, but a relationship is
different.”

“Celia, you live with Tara. I’ve known her
for probably seven or eight years. She doesn’t do relationships. As
far as David goes, I’m not really sure. I think he was in a
relationship a few years ago, but nothing lately.”

“Okay.” She should feel better. She really
should. But she didn’t.

“Celia, listen. This is all I’m going to say
about the matter. It was an entertaining couple of weeks for both
of them, and then it wasn’t. Since David called me and you called
me, I think it’s time for the two of you to talk to each
other.”

• • •

The dance studio smelled like Celia’s high
school gym. There were people milling about everywhere — on the
floor, lounging on couches and chairs haphazardly placed along the
hallway, and standing in groups. Celia looked incredibly out of
place in her belted sheath dress and platform pumps. What was she
doing there? How could she have a personal conversation with Tara
when she felt so woefully out of place? And how in the hell would
she find her roommate in the sea of dancers?

As if by magic, Tara waltzed out of a door
marked Studio C wearing a skimpy leotard and a sweaty towel around
her neck. Celia had always envied Tara’s body, but respected the
hours and discipline it took to achieve perfection. It rankled
Celia knowing David had found pleasure within the dancer’s sculpted
form. Their eyes locked.

“What in the world could be so urgent?” Tara
asked with an irritated smirk. “I’m on a tight schedule today.”

“I appreciate your time, Tara.”

“If this is about the rent, I’ll get a check
to you next week. It’s not due until the end of the month.”

“It’s not about the rent.” Celia cleared her
throat and straightened her spine. She would not be intimidated by
her gypsy roommate. “I need to talk to you about something
personal.”

Tara began walking down a hallway and entered
the women’s locker room. Celia followed, hoping for some privacy.
Tara stopped at a metal locker, opened the combination lock, and
began disrobing as if it were the most natural thing in the world
to do in a room full of strangers. A quick look around the small
space and Celia realized Tara wasn’t alone in her lack of
modesty.

“You’d better spill it or you’ll have to
follow me to the shower.”

Celia stared at a corner locker. “I wanted to
ask you about David Willingham.”

“What about him?” Tara asked.

“Did you used to date him?”

Celia glanced over when she heard Tara
snicker and instantly regretted it when she realized her roommate
was naked. “Fuck him was more like it.”

“Tara, please.” She quickly averted her eyes.
“Can you just tell me what happened between the two of you?”

“Fine. We ‘dated’ a handful of times.”

“He said you moved in with him.
Uninvited.”

She sighed. “God, he’s so uptight. That’s why
I don’t fuck — excuse me — date Republicans anymore. Look, I needed
a place to stay. I was bunking with a friend who got picked for a
traveling show. It wasn’t planning on staying forever and I didn’t
bring all my stuff. Just my cat and some clothes. He went ape-shit
crazy and threatened to call the cops.”

“So you hooked up a few times, you moved in,
he got upset, and it was over.”

“Basically.”

“Basically? Am I missing something?”

“Yeah,” Tara laughed. “Common sense, if
you’re thinking of getting involved with him. He’s a decent lay,
but what a tight-ass.” She snorted and walked out of earshot.

Celia glanced around, her cheeks on fire, and
made a hasty retreat from the studio. She didn’t need any more
corroborating stories. She didn’t need anyone else’s opinion. It
was time to make a decision.

Eight

David popped the top off a beer, leaned
against his kitchen counter, and took a long pull from the bottle.
He glanced at the clock as he swallowed. If it weren’t for bad
luck, he would have been preparing for Celia to come over. As it
stood, he hadn’t heard from her all day and he figured he might
never again.

Fuck it, he told himself. He didn’t need a
woman in his life. He just needed to get laid and spend more time
with his friends. But most of his friends had wives or girlfriends.
And the thought of hitting the bars and the endless rounds of
twenty questions had him tossing the bottle cap in the garbage with
more force than he’d intended.

When the buzzer sounded in the otherwise
quiet apartment, he jolted and jogged for the intercom.

“Mr. Willingham?” the doorman asked. “Mr. and
Mrs. Willingham, Sr. are here to see you.”

His parents? In the city? Now? “Send them up,
please, Mr. V.”

His mother breezed in wearing a shimmering
top, flared pants, and a bright red overcoat. “My boy,” she said,
and grabbed him for a quick, but hearty hug. She smelled, as
always, like Chanel.

His father, in a suit and tie, closed the
door behind him. “David.” They shook hands as they usually did in
greeting.

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked. She cocked
her head and pursed her painted lips. “You forgot we were
coming.”

“No,” he said. “I…yes. I completely
forgot.”

“I told you he wouldn’t remember,” his father
mumbled.

“Oh, well,” his mother chided. “Good thing we
didn’t expect you for dinner.”

“What are you doing here?” David asked.

“We’re seeing that new acrobatic show at
Union Square, remember? We made plans to stop by for a drink.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve had a crappy day and I
totally forgot.”

She looked at the beer he still held in his
hand. “Well, since we’re here and you’ve already started, why don’t
you offer us a drink?”

He leaned down and kissed her soft cheek. “Of
course I will. How about a nice Bordeaux?”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said as they followed
him into the kitchen. “Just the right drink for a chilly
night.”

David opened the wine, poured it through the
aerator, and passed a glass to both of his parents.

“We didn’t invite you to join us because I
assumed you’d be busy.” His mom took a small sip and approved his
choice with a smile. “You’re welcome to come if you don’t have
other plans.”

“I had other plans, but I’m pretty sure they
fell through.”

“Sounds like women trouble,” his father said
with a toast of his glass.

David shrugged. He absolutely didn’t want to
talk about Celia with his parents.

“Oohh,” his mother cooed. “Women trouble
implies there is a woman. Tell me more.”

“There was a woman, but I’m pretty sure I
screwed it up.” Which wasn’t altogether true. What had he done,
other than have the unfortunate luck to have slept with Celia’s
future roommate almost a year ago? “Or it just got screwed up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Why don’t
you join us for dinner, and you can tell us all about how you may
or may not have screwed things up with this woman?”

He scratched the back of his neck and tried
to figure out how upset his mom would get if he declined. He didn’t
want to go to dinner with his parents if they were going to pepper
him with questions. He just wanted to change his clothes, have
another beer, maybe order some Chinese, and watch hockey. Although,
hockey now reminded him of Celia. Basketball. He’d watch some
basketball.

“I don’t think —”

The buzzer rang for the second time that
evening. It couldn’t be, he wondered. Could it? “Excuse me just a
minute,” he said to his parents and walked to the intercom.

“Mr. Willingham?”

“Yes, Mr. V?”

“There’s a Celia Mason here to see you.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Send her
up.”

“You got it,” Mr. V. replied.

He stood at the door, waiting for her knock.
When he heard the gentle tapping, he opened the door. She wore her
long black parka and an anxious expression on her stunning
face.

“Look,” she said. “This is stupid.”

“Yeah.” David stood with his hand on the
doorknob, the threshold between them. “I agree.”

She pushed past him into the foyer of his
apartment and turned around without taking off her coat. David had
the insane urge to back her into his bedroom.

“I called Bob, I talked to Tara. This whole
thing was just bad luck and bad timing. But I can’t curse luck
because that’s what brought us together in the first place.”

Okay, he thought. That sounded good. “Keep
going.”

“So you had a trashy fling with my psycho
roommate. So what?”

David looked over Celia’s shoulder to see his
mother’s brows shoot up in surprise and his dad’s usually bored
expression morph into interest. Talk about bad timing.

“I don’t want to have to explain every guy
I’ve ever slept with,” Celia went on. “So I can’t expect you to
explain about Tara. But you did explain, and so did she, and so did
Bob.”

“Celia…” he tried to interrupt, but she
wasn’t finished.

“I was shocked, and then I was jealous. She’s
beautiful and exotic and she’s got that incredible dancer’s body. I
mean, if I were a guy — or a lesbian — I’d probably have sex with
her myself.”

“Celia,” he said again, this time with a lot
more force. He grabbed her arm and turned her around. “These are my
parents, Sybil and David Willingham.”

Celia whimpered. “Oh. Hi.”

The look she gave him was that of a lamb on
the way to slaughter. “I’ve got to go,” she said and pivoted,
nearly knocking him down in her effort to escape.

He held tight to her arm. No way was he
letting her go now.

His mother stepped forward, her hand extended
in greeting. “Celia, how lovely to meet you. David was just telling
us about you.”

Celia reluctantly shook his mother’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Willingham.” She spared a quick glance at
his dad. “Mr. Willingham.”

“Davey,” his mother said to her husband. “Get
my coat, would you, dear? We absolutely must leave if we want to
make our reservations.”

Faced with having to ride the elevator down
with his parents or stay put, Celia pushed herself against the
wall. She looked like she hoped she would disappear into the
plaster.

“I’ll be right back,” David said to her
before he walked his mom and dad to the elevator.

“You have a nice evening, David,” his mother
said. The doors opened with a loud ding.

His dad slapped him on the shoulder. “I’d
like to hear about that exotic dancer.”

“Some other time,” he said as the doors
closed in his face. He took a deep breath and hoped he could
salvage things with a different kind of exotic beauty.

• • •

Celia walked to the window of David’s
apartment. If she weren’t so high up, she would have taken her
chances and climbed out on the ornate ledge and tried to find an
escape route. As it was, she felt trapped by the height and the
unbelievable beauty of his view. She swung around when she heard
the door close.

“I’m an idiot,” she said. “I’m an idiot with
a big, blabbering mouth. I’m sorry.”

He walked to where she stood and slipped his
hands into his pants pockets. “You’re beautiful and I’m glad you’re
here.”

“David, your parents…”

“Are fine. They have dinner and a show to
keep them busy, along with visions of you having sex with an exotic
dancer.”