The girls laughed, even Amy, although she touched her cross again. Sweat soaked through the underarms of Winnie’s blouse. She’d started writing her fantasies a few months earlier in a special notebook that she kept hidden in the back of her closet, but today in study hall she’d gotten careless. “Stop it, Sugar Beth.”
“No, don’t stop!” Leeann blasted her bangs with the Aqua Net she kept in her purse, but her eyes stayed glued to Sugar Beth.
Sugar Beth propped one of her metallic flats on the bleacher in front of her. “Next, he slipped his broad, strong hand into my tiny lace panties.” The way Sugar Beth emphasized the word tiny served as a not so subtle reminder that Winnie’s panties weren’t all that small. “I moved my legs farther apart.”
Winnie could never come back to Parrish High.
“He slid his other hand up the inside of my leg…” Sugar Beth’s blue eyes widened in fake shock. “Why, Winnie Davis, this is pornography.”
“I like it.” Leeann popped a bubble.
Sugar Beth turned the page. “ ‘I love you, Winnie, with all my abid-ing passion.’ “ She paused, and her eyes raced down over the words, looking for more ammunition to destroy Winnie. It didn’t take her long to find it.
“Ohmigod, y’all listen to this. ‘I spread my legs even farther as his strong fingers started to tiddle me. I gasped out his name…‘ “
Winnie’s ears rang, and the gym began to spin. She made a soft, helpless sound.
“ ‘Oh, my darling, darling—‘ Ryan!”
Winnie’s blood froze.
“Hey, Sugar Beth. What’re you guys doin’?”
Ryan Galantine was coming toward them from the back of the gym, with Deke Jasper and Bobby Jarrow, the three of them in their letter jackets because there was a game that night. Winnie only saw Ryan—tall, blond, and golden, the object of all her fantasies. Horrified, she watched him climb the bleachers.
“Hey, Sugar, I thought you had a meeting.”
“I’m gettin’ there. I’ve been reading something Winnie wrote. It’s really good.”
“Yeah?” He kissed her, ignoring the school’s policy on P.D.A., then looked down at Winnie and gave her the leftover crumbs of his smile. “I want to hear, too.”
Winnie would have to run away from Parrish forever, but as she stepped back, her foot slipped on the bleachers and she fell in an awkward tangle, her hips wedged between the rows of seats.
“Stop it,” Amy said, but like the others, she was a little afraid of Sugar Beth, and she didn’t speak with much authority.
“No, keep reading. I want to hear more.” Leeann popped another bubble.
Sugar Beth’s eyes flicked over Winnie, then returned to the notebook page. “Should I go back to the naked nipples or the tiny panties?”
Ryan laughed and draped a proprietary arm around Sugar Beth’s shoulders. “Hey, this sounds good.”
Sugar Beth looked down at Winnie, her voice syrupy with bad intention. “Or maybe I should start where she calls out her lover’s name?”
Winnie was going to throw up.
“Yes, why don’t I start there. ‘Oh, my darling…‘ “
“That’s quite enough, Sugar Beth.” They all whirled around at the sound of a clipped British accent. Winnie struggled to her feet and watched as Mr. Byrne, her favorite teacher, walked toward the bleachers. He was wearing a gray-and-white-striped vest today over his old black turtleneck, and he had his long hair tied back in a low ponytail.
Even though he was the youngest teacher in the school, almost everybody was afraid of him because he could be so sarcastic. But the kids respected him, too. He didn’t show movies in class, and he expected everybody to work hard. Winnie adored him. He was never sarcastic with her, and he even gave her some of his own books to read because he said she needed to broaden her horizons.
Sugar Beth didn’t look worried or nervous like the other kids would have. Instead, she stared him right in the eye. “Hey, Mr. Byrne. We’re just goofin’ off. Isn’t that right, Winnie?”
Winnie couldn’t make her lips move. She couldn’t do anything.
“Both of you come with me.”
“I have a meeting right now, Mr. Byrne,” Sugar Beth said, all sweet and polite. “Homecoming court. Are you going to be in your room in about an hour?” She sounded exactly like Diddie, who was famous for scheduling the school board meetings around her favorite TV shows.
None of the other teachers ever stood up to Sugar Beth because they didn’t want to get on Diddie’s bad side, but Mr. Byrne still hadn’t figured out how important Diddie was. “I don’t really care what you have planned.”
Sugar Beth shrugged and passed the notebook to Ryan.
“I’ll take that,” Mr. Byrne said.
Winnie’s heart stuck in her throat as Ryan handed it back. First Winnie had been humiliated in front of her classmates, and now even Mr. Byrne would know what a pervert she was. As for Ryan…She could never look at him again.
Sugar Beth skipped down the bleachers with the notebook. Winnie couldn’t swallow as she watched it pass from her hand to his.
The buff-colored walls closed in on her as they made their way from the gym to Mr. Byrne’s classroom. Sugar Beth chattered away, not seeming to care that he wasn’t answering back. Winnie trailed behind, her feet dragging.
When they reached the door of his classroom, Mr. Byrne stopped. Winnie stared down at the ugly brown tile floor. He was wearing the old black loafers he always kept polished.
“I believe this is yours, Winnie.”
She looked up at him through her misery and saw the familiar haughtiness in his eyes, along with a kindness no one except her ever seemed to notice. He held out her notebook.
She couldn’t believe he was returning it, and her hand shook as she took it. “T-thank you.”
Sugar Beth gave a light little laugh. “Mr. Byrne, you should read what Winnie wrote first. Everybody knows how smart she is, but I’ll bet you didn’t know that she’s so creative.”
“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Winnie,” he said without looking at Sugar Beth. “And I’ll expect you to have something scintillating to offer about that dreary Hester Prynne.”
She gave a jerky nod and pulled the notebook to her chest. Just before she turned away, she caught a glimpse of Sugar Beth’s face. Her eyes glittered with the old familiar hatred. Winnie knew exactly why it was there. Why it would never go away. Even though Sugar Beth had everything Winnie didn’t—beauty, popularity, self-confidence, and Ryan Galantine—Winnie had the one thing Sugar Beth most desperately wanted.
Their father loved her the best.
Winnie tossed the last of the broken wine goblet in the trash. Her mind skittered toward the other memory from that year, the one that was infinitely more painful than having her sexual fantasies exposed, but even after all this time, she couldn’t think about it. Instead, she gazed at Ryan, all grown up now. He’d turned the cuffs on his light blue dress shirt. She loved his wrists, the way his bones were formed, the strength in them.
She’d been his rebound girlfriend, there to console him the summer after Sugar Beth had dumped him and married Darren Tharp. Although Winnie might not have transformed herself into a swan while he was away at school, she was no longer an ugly duckling, either, and he’d noticed.
Sex had been her plan, not his, and he’d almost seemed puzzled when he found himself in bed with her one afternoon while his parents were at work. When she’d realized she was pregnant, she’d been terrified to tell him, but he’d put on his game face and married her. He’d even said he loved her, and she’d pretended to believe him. But she’d known then, just as she knew now, that his love for her was only a pale imitation of what he’d felt for Sugar Beth. To this day, he’d never once looked at Winnie the same way.
She pulled two pottery coffee mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “Do you remember…when Sugar Beth found my notebook in the gym and tried to read it to everybody?”
Ryan s
tuck his head in the refrigerator. “Is there any more half-and-half?”
“Behind the orange juice. I’d…written a sexual fantasy about the two of us.”
“Yeah?” He straightened, the carton of half-and-half in his hand, and smiled at her. “What kind of sexual fantasy?”
“Didn’t she tell you about it?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” His smile vanished. “That was years ago. You’re way too hung up on what happened in high school.” He closed the refrigerator door just hard enough to rattle the eighteenth-century tea box sitting on top. “I don’t understand why it still bothers you so much. You ended up with everything. Frenchman’s Bride, a few million in your trust. Even the plant’s going to be yours someday. Why would you waste your time thinkin’ about what happened in high school?”
“I don’t.”
It was a lie. Her entire adult life had been shaped by those difficult years: her intellect, her painstaking attention to her appearance, even her social conscience.
The coffeemaker gave its final burp, and Ryan pulled out the carafe. As he filled the mugs, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Sugar Beth came into the store today.”
Only a wife would have noticed the tiny pulse that jumped at the corner of his jaw. He filled the mugs, then replaced the carafe and rested his hips against the edge of the counter. “What did she want?”
“Just looking around, I guess. I don’t think she knew it was my shop.”
He liked half-and-half in his coffee, but he took a sip without opening the carton. “Parrish is a small town. You were bound to run into her sooner or later.”
Winnie began rinsing the dinner plates. “Her sweater was cheap. She looked tired.” She might as well have hung out a sign advertising her own insecurities. “But she’s still beautiful. As thin as ever.”
He shrugged as if he’d lost interest, but he was still drinking his coffee black. She wanted to change the subject, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Maybe he felt the same way because he set down his mug and let his eyes drift over her. “So tell me about that sexual fantasy.”
She turned off the faucet and forced a smile. “I was only sixteen, so it was pretty tame. But I could be persuaded to make up something better after Gigi’s asleep.”
He crossed his arms, and the corner of his beautiful mouth curled. “Yeah?”
She loved his smile, but she was tired, jangled, and what she really wanted to do was take a warm bath, then curl up with a book. Instead, she closed the distance between them and slipped her hand between his legs. “Definitely.”
He nuzzled her breast. “Right now I wish we didn’t have a teenager in the house.”
She withdrew her hand and forced her voice to a sultry pitch. “Don’t let me forget where I was, y’hear?”
“Oh, I won’t. Believe me, I won’t.” He gave her a quick kiss. “In the meantime, I’d better go remind Her Highness that kitchen cleanup is her job.”
“Thanks.”
After he disappeared, she wrapped up the leftover piece of steak and stuck it in the refrigerator before Gigi could throw it out. Then she picked up her mug and carried it into the den. She had some paperwork to do for the Community Advancement Association and phone calls she needed to make about the concert, but she wandered over to the window instead.
She was only thirty-two, too young to have lost her libido. She should discuss it with her doctor, but Paul and Ryan had played football in high school.
“How long has lack of desire been a problem, Winnie?”
“A while.”
“Could you be more specific?”
She could lie and say a year. That didn’t sound as bad as three years or maybe four. Five at the outside.
“And have you discussed it with Ryan?”
How could a woman tell the man she loved that she’d been faking it? Ryan would not only be hurt, he’d also be mystified. He was a considerate lover, but they’d started out all wrong. Winnie hadn’t wanted to come in second best to Sugar Beth, so she’d done everything before she was ready. Even though he’d been the more experienced partner, she’d set herself up as the sexual aggressor, and somehow they’d never broken that pattern. She was always available, always responsive. She never pleaded a headache, never made him work for it. She was the pursuer, Ryan the pursued. And as much as she loved him, she resented him for that, too.
Not very much. Not all the time. Just every once in a while.
“Obstinate, eh? I’ll tame you,” Vidal said, and got up.
GEORGETTE HEYER, Devil’s Cub
CHAPTER FIVE
Sugar Beth switched the grocery bags she was carrying from one hand to the other, but they were equally heavy, so the change didn’t do much good. As she headed down Jefferson Street toward Mockingbird Lane, she tried to relax her shoulders. The few staples she’d bought, along with a box of doggie treats and another six-pack of Coke, had seemed a lot lighter in the store.
Ignoring her parking tickets hadn’t made them go away, and that morning she’d been forced to pull out her arsenal of charm-weapons against the beefy young tow-truck driver who’d been assigned to haul away her Volvo. Afterward, she’d taken the precaution of moving her car to the Arby’s lot half a mile away. It would have been a nice walk if she hadn’t already made it twice today and if she weren’t hauling groceries. Conjuring up a few gruesome revenge scenarios against Colin Byrne helped distract her for a while, except she’d already been there and done that, which pretty much spoiled the fun.
Her luck hadn’t improved in the week since her disastrous visit to Winnie’s antique store. She couldn’t find either a job or the painting, and she had nothing left in her wallet but moths. At least she’d succeeded in tracking down the surviving members of Tallulah’s canasta club, but only Sissy Tooms said she’d actually seen the painting. Unfortunately, she’d also told Sugar Beth that she was on her way to Vegas to have dinner with Frank Sinatra.
Her cell rang in her purse. As she set down her grocery bags by the curb, she wondered how long it would be before they cut off her service.
“It’s me!” a soft voice chirped as Sugar Beth answered.
She smiled. “Hey, baby.”
“Me!” Delilah repeated, as if Sugar Beth wouldn’t recognize the voice of Emmett’s only child.
“How’s my best girl doing?”
“Good! We painted yesterday. And Meesie said I could call you today.”
Sugar Beth had forgotten it was Wednesday, the day she and Delilah usually talked. “How’s your cold? Any better?”
“I’m taking cough syrup at night. It’s helping. And I painted a picture for you.”
Sugar Beth turned her shoulders to the sharp edge of the wind and hooked her boot heel over the curb. Yesterday had been warm, but the chill had settled in again today, and her fake leather motorcycle jacket wasn’t up to the job. “What’s it look like?”
Delilah went on to describe a painting she’d done of the ocean, then talked about the new angelfish in the aquarium. When it was finally time for her to go, Delilah said what she always did.
“I love you, my Sugar Beth. And you love me, too, don’t you?”
Sugar Beth’s eyes stung. No matter what she had to do, she was going to protect this sweet, fragile creature. “I love you bushels and heaps.”
“I thought so.”
Sugar Beth smiled at her certainty.
As she slipped her cell back into her purse, the old anger at Emmett came back. How could he have been so careless about protecting Delilah’s future?
“I made financial provisions,” he’d said when they’d talked about it. “But when things started to go south, I had to borrow. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Sugar Beth remembered her first visit with Delilah at Brookdale, the exclusive private institution where she’d lived most of her adult life. They’d fallen in love with each other on sight. Delilah’s own mother had died a few years before Sugar Beth had met Emmett, and Deli
lah had desperately missed her. Much to Sugar Beth’s surprise, Delilah had transferred her affections to her new stepmother. Delilah was sweet, funny, and so very vulnerable—a fifty-one-year-old woman with an eleven-year-old’s mind. They both liked girly stuff—clothes and makeup, Friends reruns, Pixie Stix. Sugar Beth had read her most of the Judy Blume books, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, as well as Mary-Kate and Ashley’s adventures. They gossiped about Leonardo DiCaprio, whom Delilah adored, played Clue, and held hands when they went for walks.
If it weren’t for Delilah, Sugar Beth wouldn’t have been forced to come back to Parrish, but the money for Delilah’s care had run out. Now Sugar Beth couldn’t keep her stepdaughter at Brookdale unless she found the Ash painting. Still, she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself. Unconditional love was a precious gift, and Sugar Beth knew a blessing when she met one.
As she retrieved her grocery sacks, a familiar cognac-colored Lexus sedan pulled up and stopped next to her. The driver’s side window slid down to reveal the imperious face of the Duke of Doom himself, sneer and all. “You look like a bag lady.”
She assumed he was referring to her grocery sacks instead of her jeans and motorcycle jacket. “Thanks, I hope you’re having a nice day, too.”
He regarded her through his invisible quizzing glass. “Would you like a ride?”
“You let peasants in your carriage?”
“If I’m feeling benevolent.”
“My lucky day.”
He made her wait while he took his time flicking the locks. She opened the back door and set the sacks behind the passenger seat. Then, since pride did count for something, she climbed in with them and closed the door. “Carry on.”
He draped an arm over the seat and gazed down his long nose at her.
She gave him a haughty look. “I really don’t have all day.”
“Perhaps you should walk after all.”
“Bad for the neighborhood. Having a bag lady around.”
She was pleased to note that he stepped on the accelerator just a little harder than necessary, and his tone was withering. “You’ll let me know, won’t you, if there’s anything else I can do to make you comfortable?”