Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jules slips a Xanax tablet onto her tongue, preparing for the lunch with Mom. She crunches it in her teeth like a baby aspirin. It works faster this way, she’s learned. She enters Di Coppoia, in the Regency area of Omaha.
The host snaps to attention when he sees Jules. She’s not famous, but she still stands out from the crowd. The guy escorts her to the table. The place is full of business types and women of leisure having salads with their wine.
Mom is deep in conversation with Clare. Jules didn’t know her baby sis was coming and is pleased.
There will be a buffer. When Mom sees her, she stands, comes around the table, and gives Jules cheek kisses, loudly so people take notice.
Whatever their differences, Jules knows her mother is proud of her.
Or proud to be seen with a successful fashion model, anyway.
Able to brag to her friends about Jules’s seemingly glamorous life. It’s why Jules dressed up today.
Clare gets up too, says, “Oh my god, Cindy Crawford is here.” Mocking their mother, she does exaggerated cheek kisses: “Muwa, muwa.”
Mom frowns.
“No school today?” Jules asks Clare.
“Suspended again,” her sister says with an impish grin. “Crack, heroin, meth—you know, the usual.”
Mom shakes her head. “I let her have the afternoon off, since we don’t get to see you very often.”
A nice gesture turned into a jab, which is so Mom.
They exchange the usual chitchat. Mom’s still working for the car dealership, Dad’s busy with his law practice. Her mother probes about Jules’s job, what’s next for her, is she moving up in the modeling world?
Jules isn’t in the mood to talk about work.
But she throws her a bone, tells her she has some shows at Fashion Week.
She doesn’t tell her that Fashion Week isn’t all that glamorous other than the five minutes you’re onstage.
Despite its name, it’s a full month, most of it rushing from casting to casting and going to parties filled with older men.
“Is there anyone special in your life?”
“Nope.”
“You’re not getting any younger…”
Alrighty then. Jules feels that recurring tightness in her chest.
“How about you, Clare? Anyone special in your life?” Jules says, only thinly veiling her impression of their mother.
“Any one? I’m making my way through the football team, then I’ll turn to the swim team. Their bodies are so hard and—”
“Clare Marie,” her mother exclaims. “I’m going to the ladies room. When I come back I expect you both to act like ladies.”
Jules watches as her mother makes her way through the restaurant. One of the businessmen checks out her ass as she walks by. She’ll give her that much, Mom still turns heads. Jules catches a glimpse of the woman who was at the diner, the FBI agent, at a table in the back.
Clare says, “I need you to come home. I can’t take it anymore.”
Jules smiles.
“Seriously, she wants to hang out with me and my friends when they come over. It’s embarrassing.
” Clare shakes her head. “And she’s like a prison warden.
Everyone’s going to a May Day Killer party tonight and I’m grounded.
” Jules tries not to reveal the flash of anger she feels that Clare and her friends are treating the murder of women so cavalierly.
But they’re just teenagers, she reminds herself, invincible like she was until May 1, 1992.
“It sounds like you brought some of this on yourself,” Jules says. She understands where Clare is coming from, but is also glad she’s not going out tonight.
“Not you too,” Clare says.
Jules decides to change the subject. “Other than the Mom stuff, how are things?”
“They’re good. I made head cheerleader.”
“No shit! That’s amazing.”
“And, if you promise not to tell Mom, I have a boyfriend.”
“Ooh, do tell.”
“His name is Adam. He’s not the smartest guy in the world, but sweet. He’s on the football team.”
Jules smiles, remembering for a moment those simpler days. When football was the center of the world in their small town. Going to games and the after-parties. Dating dumb Brad.
“You seeing Miranda while you’re back?” Clare asks, perhaps also reminded of Jules’s high school days.
Jules shakes her head. “We kind of grew apart.”
“Good, I never liked that skank. Or your dipshit boyfriend. You know he called me trying to get your phone number and address? Had some bullshit excuse about wanting to send you a Christmas card.”
“Brad?”
“Yeah. I told him to give me his number and I’d pass it on to you. He seemed pissed.”
Mom returns to the table and she orders a salad.
In an act of tiny rebellion, Jules orders the fettuccine Alfredo, which elicits a look from her mother.
Clare orders a burger, takes a big bite, and with her mouth full says one of their mother’s favorite expressions: “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”
“So, what’s this job that brings you to town?” Mom asks, purposefully ignoring Clare.
“A shoot for a new clothing brand,” Jules lies.
“We would’ve loved to have you stay at the house. Dad’s sorry he’ll miss you.”
“I know. But a hotel is easier. The client paid for it and I’m with colleagues. And I’m in for just the night. I’ll be home for a visit soon.”
That seems to placate Mom.
Jules doesn’t like to lie, but it’s better than explaining that she was beckoned back to Nebraska by the FBI. That there’s an agent tailing her as they speak. And that the May Day Killer may be coming back for her.