Crusader (12 page)

"What? I talk about him the same way when he's there. I tell him, 'Carlos, you got two chances with me: no way and no how.'"

"So why do you go out with him?"

"Because he begs me to. And because he takes me to nice places."

"Isn't he in love with you?"

Nina hesitated, like she had never thought about that. Then she said, "Yeah, of course he's in love with me." She thought about it a minute more. "It's like, he's in love with me, but he knows he shouldn't be. Like, he knows he's out of his league and he's never gonna get loved in return, but that's okay. He's happy just to be where he is."

Kristin held up her thumb at a right angle to her index finger, forming the letter
L.
She and Nina said in unison, "Loser."

We finally slowed down for a red light at Seventy-second Street. I took the opportunity to lean forward and ask, "If you think he's such a loser, why do you go out with him?"

Nina looked surprised to see someone in the backseat. But she answered me seriously, "There was one moment in time when he had potential. When I first met him, he was sitting in the parking lot at Xavier in this blue Jaguar XKE convertible. Beautiful car. He asked me out to the Marlins game that night, and I was real excited to go. I was even standing out in the driveway with my sister, like, waiting for him, so she could see the car. And what does he do? He pulls up in some little pickup truck. Like a Toyota or something. My sister started laughing so hard she had to run inside.

"He gets out and says to me, 'So you ready to go?'

"I said, 'Not in that thing. What do you think I'm gonna do, go pick sugarcane? Where's the XKE?'

"He says, 'Oh, that's my dad's car. He's using it tonight.'

"I said, 'Well, you can go get your dad's car, or you can go to that baseball game by yourself.'"

Kristin interjected, "So what did he do?"

"I don't know what he did. But he came back, like, two
hours later, with the Jag. We made it to the game around the seventh inning."

I said to her, "So what if he had refused to go get that car? What if he had said, 'Take it or leave it'?"

Nina thought for a long time. "I guess I'd have had a little more respect for him. But he didn't say that. He went and got the Jag."

The light changed and we roared off, but we soon got caught in the eastbound traffic. I leaned forward again. "How about you, Kristin? Who are you going to this dance with?"

Kristin curled up her lip. "Greg Vandervelt."

"Who's that?"

"Just some guy who asked me."

Nina scoffed. "Oh yeah, just some guy." She yelled back to me, "He's, like, the king of the Anglos. He's a captain on the baseball team, president of the student council, straight-A honor roll. He's, like, perfect."

It was Kristin's turn to scoff. "He's not perfect. He's boring. He's a stuffed shirt. All he can talk about is himself and how great he is."

Nina disagreed. "Well, he sure looks good." She yelled back to me, "All the little blond girls want Greggie for their own. But he has chosen Kristin. Together they shall be king and queen of the Anglos."

Kristin said, "He's Dutch and I'm German. How's that make us king and queen of the Anglos?"

"Because you're all Anglos to us."

I said to Nina, "It sounds like you don't approve of Greg."

"Hey, I don't care about him one way or the other. As long as he treats my girl here good, he's okay with me."

We drove straight east, toward the Atlantic Ocean. After we crossed the Intracoastal Waterway, Kristin turned and pointed.
"That's the Gold Coast Mall, Roberta. You've never been there, have you?"

"No." I looked ahead, on the right. It was enormous, at least four times the size of the West End Mall. It took up most of the land between the Intracoastal and A1A, the beach road. Each corner of the mall had a spiral parking ramp attached to it. One was pink; one was orange; one was pale green; one was pale blue.

Nina turned right and drove around to the back. There weren't any trash trailers back there. The back of this mall was as immaculate as the front, and as luxurious. Nina said, "Let's park in Avocado. I have avocado eyeliner on tonight."

We took a glass elevator to the ground level. Nina knew right where to go. She said to me, "Roberta, are you watching my every move for the newsletter?"

I said, "Yeah, I guess."

Nina led us to four chiseled glass doors with brass frames and handles. She pushed them open, and I quickly found myself inside the Gold Coast Mall.

It was a beautiful, beautiful place. Nina and Kristin had to wait for me because I was stuck in one spot, staring. The floor was made of pink-and-white marble. The storefronts had wooden planters attached above them, with lush plants hanging down. The music and the lighting were both very soft and elegant. There was an oasis in front of us, with mahogany benches and a babbling brook. I felt like I had stepped into a rich person's mansion, not a mall.

Kristin said to me, "It's hard to believe the same guy owns our mall."

"Who? Ray Lyons?"

"Yep. If I were him, I'd be ashamed to admit it."

Nina tugged on Kristin's arm. "You tell me, girlfriend. Tell me what guys we're gonna see tonight." Then she turned to me.
"I should say, 'What guys are going to have the privilege of seeing us tonight?'"

I asked Nina, "Are a lot of guys from Xavier going to be here?"

"For sure. This is a big Xavier hangout. Xavier and Lourdes. We'll check out Bloomie's first. There'll be some girls in there getting their colors done. There always are."

I asked her, "What's that?"

"Makeup? Finding out the best color of makeup to use? What, you never did that?"

"I never heard of it."

"
Madre de Dios.
" She shot a disbelieving look over at Kristin. Then she said, "Roberta, you need a makeover. You need one in the worst way."

I wasn't interested. "I don't want a makeover."

"I didn't say you want one. I said you need one. Bad."

We turned into the golden-framed entrance of Bloomingdale's. It looked fantastic. It smelled fantastic. There were high stools and counters all around us, showcasing different brands of makeup. Nina stopped next to a girl on a white stool who was staring hard into a round mirror. She was drawing a purple line under her eyelid with a pencil. Nina winked at me and then said, "Oh! That color looks so good on you, Lisette."

The girl looked further into the mirror until she spotted who was speaking. She said, "Ninaaaa," in a drawn-out way. Then she went back to her purple line.

We continued on. Nina turned to Kristin and said, "She stuffs."

Kristin nodded in agreement. "Most definitely."

I asked Nina, "Stuffs what?"

"She stuffs her bra. You can see it." She turned to Kristin, disgusted. "God! You know, if you're gonna stuff it, have a little class. Use some shoulder pads or something. This girl, you can see wadded-up Kleenex sticking out of her blouse."

We went to another counter, which said
CLINIQUE
. This time Nina and Kristin made me sit on the stool. They started moving bands of color on a color chart, like a slide rule, trying to figure out my colors. Kristin said, "I think she's earth tones."

Nina said, "I think she's hopeless."

"Cut it out, Nina."

"I'm joking. Lighten up. I'd go with pale greens and yellows. She's more like forest tones."

They went on like that for about ten minutes, with me sitting there silently, like I was in the dentist's chair. Then Nina bought a couple of bottles and tubes and said to me, "Okay, Roberta. We're all ready for your makeover. We'll do it tomorrow morning."

Kristin asked, "Where do you want to do it?"

Nina started to answer, but Kristin interrupted her. "I was asking Roberta!"

I said, "I don't know. My house, I guess."

"What time?"

"We have to be at the mall office at eleven. Is ten o'clock enough time?"

Nina said, "Girl, there is not enough time in all of—"

Kristin interrupted her again. "What she means is that we'll be there at ten."

Nina frowned, but she said, "Sure, whatever," and led us off in a new direction. We stopped at a set of red-and-gold doors that said
BLOOMINGDALE'S BOUTIQUE
. She said to Kristin, "Here it is, girlfriend. The dress you want is right through that door."

Kristin didn't seem so sure. She said, "No, I want to look out here, in the petites."

Nina shook her head. "Whatever. To each her own and all that. Roberta, who you hanging with?"

I said, "I don't know."

Nina decided. "You'd better come with me, then."

I looked at the red doors. "Am I allowed in there?"

Nina laughed out loud. She shouted, "Allowed? You come with me. And you take notes."

We burst though the red doors and entered a circular room with dresses displayed around its perimeter. Two ladies in what looked like French maids' outfits approached us. They looked like they were going to ask me what I was doing there, but Nina jumped all over them. She started to order them around like they were her personal maids, and they took it from her! It was a little nasty, and a little embarrassing. But it didn't last long. When the maids found what she was asking for, Nina announced, "I'll take it," without even trying it on. We were back outside the red doors, purchase in hand, in ten minutes.

Nina said, "What did you think of that, huh? That has to be a new record."

I said, "That was really fast. How much did you pay for that dress?"

Nina shook her head for a few seconds, like she wasn't going to answer. Then she said, "I'll tell you, but don't you put it in the article. Okay? My dad would go nuts."

"Okay."

"It was eight hundred and fifty dollars."

I laughed. "You're kidding. Right?"

"No, I'm not kidding. That's how much a dress like this costs."

"No dress I've ever heard of costs that much. I bet that's more than I've spent on clothes in my entire life."

"Yeah, well, where do you shop, at Kmart?"

"Yeah. Or Wal-Mart. Or Target."

"I believe it. Did you know that all those clothes are made by child slaves?"

"Not all of them."

"Do you know which ones aren't?"

"No."

"There you go. If you want clothes made by grown-ups, and by people who understand fashion, you have to pay for them."

We both spotted Kristin up ahead of us. She was near where we had left her, standing by those high white stools, and she was talking to three guys. Nina told me, "Look, that's Greg. Do you see what I mean? He's, like, the super-Anglo. And he's always prepped out like that."

Greg and the two guys with him were all dressed basically the same, in tan slacks with polo shirts. When we got closer, I heard Greg ask Kristin, "So you really know karate?"

Kristin answered matter-of-factly, "I really know karate."

"Do you think you could take me?"

"I could take all three of you losers." She turned and saw us. Right away she said, "I'd like you to meet my cousin, Roberta."

Greg turned, but he looked right past me until he focused on Nina. He said, "I should have known your partner wouldn't be far away."

Nina smiled brightly. She said to the three of them, in a perky voice, "Hey, you guys need to come to the West End Mall tomorrow at noon. Kristin is going to be modeling."

Greg said, "Swimsuits?"

Kristin elbowed him in the side, which I think hurt more than he let on. He looked at Nina. "You know, she never mentioned that to us."

Kristin told the three guys, "Nina will be modeling tomorrow, too. And Roberta."

Greg took a deep breath. "Okay. Maybe we'll check it out." He looked at Kristin. "Noon, right?"

But it was Nina who answered him. "That's right. You tell all the guys you know to be there."

Greg looked at his friends, who were already drifting away. He said, "Yeah, okay. Maybe we'll see you there."

Kristin lifted the wrapping from around Nina's dress. "This is spectacular."

Nina took her by the arm. "Come on. There's one for you in there, too."

Kristin resisted. "No. That's super-expensive. I can't go that way."

"You
can
go that way. Believe me." Nina took Kristin's arm and pulled her back toward the Boutique. They went quickly through the red doors, without me. I hung back for a few minutes, not wanting to walk through by myself. But I didn't want to stand in the aisle by myself, either. I finally opened the door, cautiously, and peeked in.

Nina and Kristin were already at the cash register. I hurried over to join them before one of the French maids could see me. Kristin was saying, "I don't know. Maybe I ought to try it on."

Nina was adamant. "If you're truly a size seven, then you're a size seven. Trying things on is for people who don't know what size they are. Or who are always changing sizes. Bingeing and purging people."

Kristin stared at the dress doubtfully. She finally said, "Well, at least it's on sale. Right?"

Nina assured her, "That's right." She snapped at a French maid who was passing by. "Hey, come here and take her money. This girl is a supermodel."

The woman did as Nina said. She even answered, "Yes, ma'am," meekly and politely. Like she didn't really mind the way Nina was speaking to her. Like she was only acting in a play. She took the black dress, and Kristin's credit card, and began to ring it up.

Kristin asked, "How much is it?"

The woman punched some keys on a little credit card machine. She never looked up. "Four hundred and ten dollars."

Kristin bent backward about six inches. She shot a glance
at me. Nina, of course, thought nothing of it. Unless she thought it was a great bargain. I couldn't tell either way.

Kristin was struggling to say something, but she never got the chance. The French maid came back from around the register. She wasn't meek anymore. She said, "The cardserver refused payment. Do you have another card?"

Kristin looked sick. She shook her head and said, "No."

The French maid smiled slightly, and coldly. She asked, "Will you be paying cash, then? Or will you be writing a check?"