The Fifth Stage Part 22

140.

I step back a little. "Hey to you," I finally manage to say, wishing that kernel of good sense would mind its own business so I could drag her to the bedroom.

"That's the kind of greeting I could get used to." Rebecca's smile makes me wonder if she wants to skip the formalities of dating and head down the hall, but she says nothing else, and reaches into the pocket of her blue ski jacket. She pulls out a bag of dog treats. "Can she have these?" she asks, keeping the pouch out of Jitterbug's sight.

I nod and take her hand as we go to the kitchen. "What about me?

Don't I get a treat?"

"Gee, I don't know if you deserve one." She opens the treat bag and drops a soft dog biscuit onto the floor. With one gulp, Jitterbug scoops it up, swallows it whole, and gazes up at us with doleful brown eyes.

I unzip Rebecca's jacket and slide my arms between its fleece lining and the soft cotton of her sweatshirt. "What do I have to do to deserve a treat?" My lips find the slope of her neck, and I feel my own breath sweeping down between us. A pleasant warmth swells in my groin.

"A little more of this would be nice." She presses closer, hips against mine, b.r.e.a.s.t.s against mine.

"Talk me into it."

She pulls back and brushes her hand against my cheek. "I'm starting to like you. Is that okay?"

The warmth in my groin turns to ice, and a knot ties up my guts.

"Just don't love me. Remember, it's not our third date yet."

She chuckles as she takes her jacket off and hangs it on the back of the kitchen chair. "I won't love you, if you don't love me. Fair enough?"

"Good deal." I hope she's serious, but I'm afraid she's not. I head for the den, motioning for her to follow. "So you're ready to see this film, huh?"

Rebecca falls in step behind me. "I warn you, this stuff scares the h.e.l.l out of me."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

We sit on the sofa, and I punch a b.u.t.ton on the remote. Ten minutes into the movie, the doorbell rings. a.s.suming it's the pizza I ordered, I stop the tape and dig a bill out of my purse. But when I get to the door, it's Tonya standing on the front steps holding a pizza box. I glance toward the street, but the delivery boy is nowhere in sight.

"Already paid him," she explains as she brushes past me and heads to the kitchen. She shoots a glance toward Rebecca on the way by.

141.

When I follow Tonya into the kitchen, she says, "Why didn't you tell me she was so pretty? When you're through with her, give her my number."

"Go for it," I say, pretending to snarl.

"Maybe I will." Tonya drops the pizza on the stovetop and marches toward the den.

I follow her in time to catch her extending her hand to Rebecca.

"Tonya Knight," she says and her gaze lingers too long on my date's bosom.

Rebecca stands and shakes Tonya's hand. "I'm Rebecca Greenway.

Nice to meet you."

Tonya sits on the loveseat, blocking my direct access to the sofa.

"So, Rebecca, where're you from?"

Rebecca remains standing and shoots me a puzzled look. "I'm from here originally, but I've lived in Hickory and in Charlotte since I was about twelve."

"What brings you back to town?" Tonya leans back and crosses her legs.

"My dad owns Choppy's Restaurant, and I came back to run the place."

Tonya wets her lips, shoots her eyes toward me, and looks back at Rebecca. "So, do you go out with all of your customers?"

Rebecca is clearly offended, but recovers quickly. She circles the coffee table and kisses my cheek. "Only the ones I find interesting." She winks at Tonya and saunters to the kitchen.

Tonya scans Rebecca as she rounds the corner. "I like her," she mouths.

I stroll toward the kitchen. "Fly, you want a slice of pizza?" I call over my shoulder, tossing a too-casual glance in Tonya's direction.

"Thanks, but I've got plans."

In the kitchen, Rebecca says, "Who the h.e.l.l is that? She looked at me like she wanted to rip my clothes off."

"Don't mind her, it's her way of making sure you're on the level.

You know, not out to score and run."

Rebecca shakes her head as she flips back the lid on the pizza box. I curl my free arm around her waist and give her a peck on the cheek.

"But watch out. She's not the only one thinking about ripping your clothes off."

"Jitterbug, too? I knew there was something about that dog I liked."

She snickers as she drops a steaming slice of pizza on each of our paper plates.

142.

"Yeah, Jit made me promise not to tell, but I thought I'd better warn you." I b.u.mp my shoulder against hers. "We're going to arm wrestle for you later. Winner take all."

We laugh as we take our dinner to the den and plop back down on the sofa. Tonya is still sitting on the love seat, legs crossed. A threatening smile pushes up the corners of her lips. Her feelers are out.

She's like a hundred tiny ants, antennae probing for anything out of the ordinary, for anything signaling Rebecca is not what she seems.

I take a bite and turn to Tonya, speaking with my mouth full and trying not to spit tomato sauce on the carpet. "We're watching Night of the Living Dead. Want to stick around?"

She gags and jumps up. "h.e.l.l, no. I've seen that stupid movie a hundred times. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"How can you get tired of the cla.s.sics?"

Tonya moves toward the door, giving us plenty of opportunity to see her b.u.t.t. It's a nice view, but I'm more interested in the woman beside me. Rebecca looks away and tears a piece of crust from her pizza.

Tonya snorts as she heads for the foyer. "Casablanca, that's a cla.s.sic. The African Queen, that's a cla.s.sic. Horror movies, yuk."

"She's got a Bogart fetish," I tell Rebecca. "If an old movie doesn't star Bogey or Hepburn, she thinks it's trash."

Rebecca laughs. "I'd be inclined to add Spencer Tracy to that list, and maybe Jimmy Stewart." She looks at Tonya, her subtle peace offering dangling between them.

Tonya stops mid-step and turns around. Her face relaxes, and she flashes a rare genuine smile. "Finally, someone around here has some taste."

"Don't rush off," Rebecca calls after Tonya, who has already spun around and reached the foyer.

"Better be going. Ladies are waiting."

I follow my friend to the door and catch her elbow as she steps onto the front porch. "You could be a little more polite, you know."

"Me? Not polite?" Tonya kisses my cheek. "I'm just a mild- mannered little girl looking out for her friend."

"There's something fundamentally wrong with that statement." I slap her shoulder as she turns away. "But thanks anyway."

Tonya stops and looks back. "I think she's okay," she says, but Tonya doesn't trust Rebecca. I can tell by her final glance into the house, one last bulls.h.i.t feeler before leaving.

I go back to the den where Rebecca is playing hide-and-seek with Jitterbug. The dog is in heaven, hiding behind the loveseat and peeking 143 out. Rebecca pretends not to see her, then reaches out and pats her head.

I sit back down, and Rebecca says, "I don't think your friend likes me."

"Don't pay any attention to Fly. She's a little overprotective."

"Sure it's not jealousy?" she asks, brow c.o.c.ked.

"She might be a little jealous, but she and I could never be together.

It won't happen."

"Why? She's very pretty."

"She's too butch for me."

"Shut up! That woman's not butch at all."

"Not on the outside, but inside she's stone butch all the way."

"A body like that, and she won't let anyone touch her? Oh well, to each her own." Rebecca shakes her head.

I'd hate to think that if Rebecca and I ever do go to bed together, we won't be compatible, so I take the opportunity to do a little fishing.

"And you?"

"And me what?"

My face reddens but I try to sound casual. "Well, I guess I'm wondering"

"What I like in bed?"

Her straightforwardness startles me, and I suck in a ragged breath.

"I didn't mean to sound crude, but I guess that's what I mean."

"Don't be embarra.s.sed. I've wondered about you, too. So, if that time ever comes for us, you should know that I like to take advantage of all my options."

When my voice decides to function again, I mutter, "Me, too."

That's enough for now. Tonight, it's dinner and a horror flick, nothing more. We finish our pizza, put away the leftovers, and settle down to watch the rest of the movie. But soon, Rebecca's long week catches up with her, and she starts to yawn. I drop a throw pillow across my lap, and with little protest, she kicks off her sneakers and stretches out. She's asleep before the movie is half over, but that's okay. I turn off the TV and listen to her breathe.

My lover often visits me in my dreams, but tonight is different, as if she knows there's someone in the house, as if she's aware that the woman curled up on the sofa isn't Tonya or Elizabeth. As I lie on the love seat half asleep, feet dangling over the arm and neck bent at an awkward position, Lora smiles that lopsided grin and opens her arms.

She looks younger than the last time I saw her, almost like the 144.

cheerleader who made love to me in her parents' house. I long to feel her again. I want her inside me, around me. I want to touch her as I once did.

"I'm coming home," she whispers. "I'll never leave you again."

As I go to her, peace flows through me. It's finally over. But as I reach out, she drifts away, hovering beyond my grasp. I try again, but it's no use. She's gone.

I sit up and call her name, but the sound comes out like air trapped in a drain, burbling toward the surface, making no sense. At first, I think the arms around me are hers, but they're Rebecca's.

"You scared the s.h.i.t out of me. Are you okay?" Her kindness should be soothing, but I don't want to be comforted. I want to go back to the dream.

I plant my feet on the floor and fall back against the cushions.

"Sorry to wake you."

"It's okay." She rubs her eyes and squints toward the DVD clock.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A long time." I force the dream fog away and take her hand. "You looked so comfortable, I didn't have the heart to wake you."

She yawns and squeezes my hand. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

Rebecca holds her breath, then lets it out. "Are you still in love with her?"