Chapter 6 Crystal
Crystal
I looked at my watch again; just a quick glance, but Shaw caught the move. “Ooooh, Crystal, am I going to have to take that little ol’ Casio right off your wrist?” She laughed and gave my wrist a light tap.
“It’s not a Casio, Shaw, it’s a—”
“Oh, pooh! Stop being so sensitive,” she said, then took a moment to straighten the diamond-encrusted Rolex on her wrist…for the eighth time. “You’ve lost your sense of humor, Crystal.”
I was fuming. Fuming! Where was Geneva? Where was Chevy?
I’d been sitting there listening to Shaw go on and on about her fabulous California life, her wonderful rich doctor husband, her Range Rover, her Mercedes sedan, and her new granite kitchen countertops!
Her fucking Pekinese dogs and Siamese cats and her vacation homes in Mustique and Sri Lanka!
Really, how much more could I take?
“Now, what about you Crystal? Tell me all about your little life,” Shaw said as she folded her hands beneath her chin and batted her eyelids before leaning in, like she was really interested in my little life .
Oh, is it my turn to talk now?
“Well—” I began just as Shaw’s cell phone rang.
“Oh, pooh!” she yelped, and dug into her Louis Vuitton purse for her eight-hundred-dollar cell. “Hello?” she said, and then, “Oh, Pookie Bear, how are you?…”
***
Pookie Bear is Shaw’s pet name for her husband. I looked at my glass of wine and said to myself, What the hell? I picked it up, drained it, and then raised the empty glass high enough for the waiter to see. “Another,” I mouthed.
If I have to be here alone with Shaw, I might as well be drunk, I thought.
The song “Boogie Nights” was suddenly chiming all around us and I bopped my head absently to the tune. A look of horror spread across Shaw’s face, and she covered the receiver of her phone to ask, “Is that coming from your pocketbook, Crystal?”
I jumped a bit when I realized that, yes, it was coming from my pocketbook. “Shoot, I forgot I had Eric download that song for my new ring tone.” I laughed as I hurriedly pulled my Nokia from my purse.
Shaw shook her head in dismay before returning to her conversation.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Crystal.” Geneva’s voice was pensive.
“Hey,” I responded. “Where are you?”
“Home. Um, listen, girl, I don’t think I’m going to make it—”
“What!” I screeched, and Shaw as well as a few other diners turned disdainful eyes on me. “Hold on,” I said to Geneva, and then to Shaw, “I’ve got to take this outside, the reception in here is terrible.”
Once outside, I pressed the phone back to my ear. “What the hell do you mean, you don’t think you’re going to make it?”
“I can’t find—”
“Oh, you’re coming all right. You agreed to this two weeks ago, and you’re coming!”
“But I—”
“No buts, Geneva. If it’s the money, I told you not to worry about that. I got you.”
“That’s not it. I just can’t—”
“Let me tell you something, Geneva. I refuse to sit here and suffer through hours of conversation with Ms.Perfection—”
“That’s not it. I—”
“Miss Know-It-All, Kiss-Face, I’ve-Been-All-Around-the-World-and-Other-Places!”
“But you see—”
“I mean, really, what other places can you actually go? I mean, does she expect me to think she’s been to the frigging moon too?”
“Crystal!” Geneva screamed. “I don’t have anything to wear!”
I yanked the phone away from my ear and then pressed it back. “Geneva, you have plenty of things to wear.”
“Sure, I would have plenty if they fit.”
“Nothing fits?”
I knew she’d put on more weight, but now wasn’t the time to start needling her about it.
“Nothing.”
I snatched a glance over my shoulder and caught sight of myself in the large pane of glass in the restaurant window. “Look,” I said in a sedate voice as I removed the smart silk scarf from around my neck and then slid the chunky gold bracelet from my wrist, “come casual. I’m casual.”
“But, Crystal—”
“No, really,” I continued as I undid the pearl teardrop earrings from my lobes and dropped them, along with the rest of my bounty, into my leather sack purse, “just throw something on and come on down.”
“Oh, okay,” Geneva breathed before she hung up.
***
Shaw looked up when I approached, and, after offering me a mock smile, she ended her conversation with a round of annoying kisses and the ever-sickening “I love you, honey bunny.”
Flipping the phone closed, Shaw batted her Bambi eyes, smiled brightly, and asked, “So who was that?”
“Geneva,” I mumbled, and daintily placed my napkin back onto my lap. “She’s running a little late.”
Shaw looked at her Rolex. “What about Chevanese?”
“I haven’t heard from her yet.” The heffa was probably going to blow me off.
“Oh, well, I get to have you all to myself for a few more minutes!”
Oh, goody.
“I still can’t believe that Geneva had another baby, especially at her age,” Shaw began as she lifted her glass of champagne and sipped.
“Yeah, well,” I grumbled as I picked up my own glass of wine.
“I mean, um, she had it hard with the first one. A boy, right?”
Now Shaw knew good and well Geneva had a son. Had she had her memory removed right along with the cellulite in her thighs?
I nodded my head.
“I mean, living in the projects and all. She still lives in the projects, right?”
“Yes.”
Shaw shuddered.
“Wow,” she murmured in disbelief. “And she had what—another boy?”
“A girl.”
“Ah, yes,” Shaw breathed, and then ran her fingers slowly down her perfect neck. “What was her name again? Chamomile? Corona? Condoleezza? Camry—”
“Chartreuse,” I barked, then played it off with a cough. “Chartreuse,” I said again sweetly.
“Oh, I knew it was some ghetto—” Shaw began, then stopped short and changed gears. “I mean, I knew it was something different .”
“We call her Charlie for short,” I added before I threw my hand into the air to get the attention of a waiter again.
“Cute,” Shaw said, taking another sip of her champagne. “Same father?”
I looked at Shaw and the expression she wore was one of an innocent child, but I knew her question was far from innocent.
It made Shaw feel good to see other people not do well.
I knew she wanted me to tell her that Geneva’s baby was from a different man and that she was not only still living in the projects but on welfare too.
That information would have just made her day.
“Yes, it’s from the same man, Shaw.”
“Hmm, that’s nice. But I thought they broke up.” Shaw’s eyes narrowed, and I could see fangs growing out of her mouth. She wanted blood.
“Well, they got back together for a while.” Why was I even answering her questions? That was Geneva’s personal business.
“Now”—Shaw leaned in closer and grabbed a breadstick from the basket that sat between us—“she’s working at your company, right?” Then she snapped the breadstick in two. I found myself jumping at the sound.
I drained my glass of wine. The wine wasn’t going to be enough; I was going to need a gin and tonic to deal with this beast.
“Yes, she was, but not anymore.” I didn’t want to tell her that Geneva was waiting tables at a diner.
“So she’s on the state?” Shaw said with a triumphant smile.
“No, she’s in food services,” I quickly retorted. “And she’s in school.” Albeit, it was some no-name online university—but a school just the same.
Shaw’s smile faltered and then recovered. I waited for the next question, the final one that would leave Geneva’s sordid life gutted and skinned on the table before us.
“Charlie. Hmm, that’s a cute little nickname for a girl,” Shaw chimed before she looked down at her watch again.
Thank God, the inquisition was over.
“Waiter!” I called.
“Would you like to order an appetizer?” the waiter inquired after I gave him my drink order.
“Yes, let’s,” Shaw chirped as she snapped open the menu.
I was on my second gin and tonic and not hearing a word Shaw was saying when I looked up and saw Geneva peering uncertainly through the glass door of the restaurant.
“Oh, there she is,” I said with a heavy sigh of relief.
“Where? Where?” Shaw twisted her head this way and that.
“Right there,” I said, pointing toward the door. “That’s her in the flowered miniskirt.”
“No, it’s not,” Shaw squeaked in disbelief. “She got so fat!”
Geneva lumbered toward us, the hem of the skirt inching up her thighs with each step she took.
I gulped down my drink and forced a smile.
The white blouse was nice; I remembered when she’d picked it up on sale at Macy’s. But that skirt, Conway for sure.
Her Payless white slingbacks were scuffed at the toes, and I could see, by the horrific smile plastered across Shaw’s face, that she’d seen that too.
“She’s gained a few pounds, yes,” I eked out of the corner of my mouth, “but she just had a baby.”
“Yeah, three years ago,” Shaw whispered as Geneva made her final approach.
“Sorry I’m late, girls,” Geneva huffed as she tugged the bottom of her skirt before looking down at Shaw and smiling. “Long time, girl!”
Shaw must have temporarily misplaced her tongue because although her mouth sat wide open, not a word came out. She just sat there gawking, her eyes rolling up and down Geneva’s body.
So I jumped up and said, “Hey, girl, you look fabulous!” and came around the table and embraced her. “And you smell good too.”
“Jean Naté, girl, you know how I do.” Geneva chuckled and then turned back to Shaw. “Show me some love, Karen, I mean Shaw,” Geneva said, and spread her fat arms wide open.
“Um, um, okay.” Shaw rose on stiff legs and kind of fell into Geneva.
“It’s been a long time, a long time,” Geneva gushed as she squeezed Shaw’s size-four frame against her. “You look good, girl. California really works for you.”
“Yeah, yeah it does,” Shaw muttered into Geneva’s bosom. “You—you…look good too,” she stammered after Geneva released her.
“Thank you.”
Geneva smiled, sat down, picked up the menu, and said, “I’m starving, let’s eat!”