Dancing With Velvet (12 page)

“Don’t, Kent.”

“I better get you home.”

“We’ll work things out. The war won’t last forever.”

He gave her a hand up and buttoned her coat under her chin. “It hasn’t even gotten started,” he said. “We’re in for a long haul.”

****

Celeste tried to sleep, but at four o’clock she was still awake. No matter what Kent said about his feelings toward Claudia, the girl felt otherwise.
It’s not Kent’s fault, but she’s here, and she’s going to be a problem.
Celeste turned over and scrunched the pillow under her face.
We’ve already had one problem. If he got so…so serious with me, what did he do with a girl who let boys do that sort of thing?

She sat up and switched on the lamp beside her bed. “What did you let someone do, Mamma? Or a whole lot of someones?”

Her mother’s face, forever young, smiled from the frame on the dressing table.

What was it like to be married when you were only fifteen? And to a man twice your age? Did you love him, or did you just want something from him? What did you want—a home? Babies? Or something else?

At six-thirty, still sleepless and knowing everyone on the ranch would be awake, she managed to stretch the phone cord inside her room and shut the door.

“Cece, what in the world…” Coralee’s voice, tinged with panic, didn’t even make Celeste feel guilty.

“Tell me about Mamma, Sister.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did she marry Daddy when she was fifteen? Did she have to?”

Static crackled along the line, but it didn’t mask Coralee’s silence.

“She did, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Did she love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he love her?”

“Yes.”

“Did she love us?”

“Yes.”

“And Daddy loved her so much that he took me just to get her back.”

“She was a good mother, Cece. She took good care of us.”

“You’re not like her, and neither am I.”

Coralee’s voice seemed purposefully muffled. “Ben and I were never together until we married.”

“And I’m going to be the same way. He’s not going to…I’d never let him…”

“Did Kent try something?”

“Things just got a little out of hand last week.”

“But you still want to be with him.”

“I think so. No, I’m sure I do.”

“Be careful, sweetie.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you want me to come down this afternoon?”

“No, I’m all right. I just had to know about Mamma.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Cece. She did the best she could. And I can’t imagine not having you.”

“I love you, too, Sister.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay?”

“Sure, okay.”

After sneaking the phone back to the stand in the hall, Celeste locked herself in her room again and crawled back into bed. At eight-thirty, mostly out of habit, but also galvanized by the fact that Kent would be waiting for her, she got up again and began to dress for church.

Chapter Nine

On Sunday night, lulled by the memories of a Sunday afternoon spent at the Royal in the circle of Kent’s arm, Celeste slept better. The next morning, since she didn’t hear her father stirring, she left breakfast in the warming oven and caught the bus at the corner.

The piece of toast she’d eaten turned to a boulder in her stomach when she saw Claudia Peters waiting outside the employee entrance. “Good morning, Claudia.” Celeste tried to step past the other girl, who blocked her way.

“I’m only going to tell you this one time—stay away from my boyfriend. Stay away from Kenny.”

Celeste could almost taste the garish red lipstick on the mouth that spoke scarcely an inch from her face. Her knees went weak, but she straightened her back. “We’re going to be late clocking in,” she said.

“You only get one warning,
Miss
Riley. You better pay attention, or you’ll be sorry.”

Celeste sidestepped the slight body that seemed larger and more menacing as it quivered with rage, and slipped through the door. She shied away as the door opened behind her, but it was Veda. “I heard what she said. What was she talking about?”

Celeste took her time card from the rack and inserted it into the machine before she said, “She and Kent went to high school together in Brownwood. She has the idea he’s her boyfriend.”

“So that’s why she’s here. Does Kent know?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And he says he’s not her boyfriend. Never was. I’ve got to go, Veda.” Celeste’s new pumps clicked on the bare wooden risers of the stairs as she fled to the safety of the office.

Half way up, Veda caught her arm. “Listen, Cece, you don’t know him, not really. You don’t know what he did before you met him.”

“He’s nice to me. I like him.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

“I’ve got to go, Veda. If you brought your lunch, come upstairs and eat with me.”

****

“I hear you had a little problem this morning,” Mr. Thomas said as Celeste returned the ledgers to the safe at four o’clock.

Thinking about going downstairs and running into Claudia again on her way out, Celeste had only picked at the raw vegetables and cheese and crackers she’d packed for lunch, and now her stomach rumbled embarrassingly. When she bent over the safe, she felt dizzy, and the necessity of answering Mr. Thomas’s question didn’t help.

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“No, sir.” Celeste straightened and began to clear her desk.

“Well, you don’t have to, because Miss Sawyer did.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I disagree. I’m responsible for the profitability of this store, and if my employees don’t work to capacity, losing money is inevitable. Everyone has to get along in order to do his or her job.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t appear that you have anything to be sorry about, Miss Riley. Threats are unacceptable anywhere and especially in the workplace. I’m going to let Miss Peters go.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Jobs still aren’t that easy to find. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone losing one.”

“She’s not doing hers here very well. Perhaps something else would be a better fit.”

“I’ll come in early so we won’t run into each other.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair arrangement for you.”

“Please, Mr. Thomas, let me try to work things out.”

The chair protested as he leaned back and looked at her over his rimless glasses. “If you’re determined, I’ll give things a while. But you understand I won’t give them forever.”

“No, sir.”

He glanced at his watch. “Then go on, now, before the girls on the floor start closing out their registers.”

Celeste gathered up her coat and purse and left without another word.

****

She knew it was only a matter of time before Claudia figured out she was coming in early to avoid her. By Friday, the girl was waiting at the back door again. “Trying to get me fired is a pretty lowdown trick,” she hissed, her penciled brows coming together over her nose.

“I didn’t…”

“And so is telling the other girls how awful I am. I have to work with them.”

“Veda heard you threatening me on Monday.”

“Oh, I know, but you put her up to spreading the word.”

A feeling of weariness started in Celeste’s toes and crept to her knees and shoulders. “I don’t want to fight with you, Claudia.”

“I told you to leave Kenny alone, and I meant it. You better listen.”

Celeste tried to move past her, but Claudia’s fingers closed around her upper arm, her long painted nails digging sharply into Celeste’s flesh even through her thick red coat. “Leave him alone. We were all right until you came along.”

“Please take your hand off my arm.”

“Please take your hand off my arm,”
Claudia mimicked in a high, sing-song voice. “Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou.” But she dropped her hand.

Upstairs in the empty office, Celeste sank into her chair and buried her face in her hands.
I don’t need this, any of it. I’m not even sure Kent is worth it. I wish I’d never bought that dress or gone to the dance. I’m going to get out of here. Get another job in another town. Leave Daddy and his bottle, and Kent and Claudia and…

“Miss Riley.”

Her head came up with a jerk that made her neck twinge. “Good morning, Mr. Thomas,” she said, hating the unsteadiness in her voice.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sir.” Celeste rose and took off her coat. “Everything is just fine.”

****

By noon on Saturday, while she waited for her bus, she had almost made up her mind not to go to the Canteen that night. But by the time she stepped off the bus a block from her house, she knew she couldn’t stay away.

Thinking of Kent and hoping that her father had already drunk himself into a stupor, she unlocked the kitchen door and stepped inside. The unexpected blow that landed across her shoulders sent her reeling into the sharp edge of the cupboard. She tasted blood.

“Whore! Slut!” August Riley’s open hand slashed Celeste’s bleeding cheek.

She threw up her hands to shield her face. “Daddy, don’t!”

He advanced, backing her against the sink. This time his fist connected with her jaw. The sound as much as the force triggered nausea. She turned, retching into the sink. “Get out of my house! Get out, and don’t come back!” He raised his fist to strike her again, then whirled and stumbled away.

Celeste heaved again before falling into a chair at the kitchen table. As she reached for a paper napkin to stanch the blood on her cheek, her eyes fixed on the single sheet of torn notepaper imprinted with Claudia’s bright red lipstick.

Just thought you’d want to know your daughter is sleeping with my boyfriend.

****

Behind the locked bathroom door, Celeste bathed her face in cold water and inspected it in the mirror over the sink. The gash above her right eyebrow wasn’t deep, but it would most certainly leave a scar. She dabbed it with peroxide and noticed the beginnings of a bruise around her eye. A cut could be easily explained away, but not a black eye.
Why did you do it, Claudia? Is this what you wanted?

She locked her bedroom door and slid the dresser across it before collapsing onto the bed. Pulling the quilt over her face, she listened to her father screaming her mother’s name, over and over and over again. Somewhere a door slammed, and then there was only empty silence.

When she woke later, the room was dark. She switched on the lamp to see the time. Six o’clock. She was due at the Canteen in half an hour. She tried to remember whether she was making sandwiches or arranging tables. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t go.

When she moved the dresser, the muscles in her shoulders screamed. At least nothing was broken, but she knew she could count on being sore, probably for several days. She maneuvered the phone into her room and dialed Mrs. Lowe’s number.

“It must have been something I ate,” she said. “I’ve been throwing up all afternoon.”

“I understand, dear. Just take care of yourself, and I’ll see you at church tomorrow if you’re able to come.”

Celeste crept around the house in the dark, listening for her father. The single bulb left burning in the open, empty garage explained the lack of sound or movement in the house. Even so, she locked the bathroom door before lowering her aching body into a tub of water as hot as she could stand. While she dried herself, she checked her face in the mirror again and gasped. She could stay home from church on Sunday, but she had to go to work the following day. Wishing wouldn’t heal her face by then.

****

She slept late on Sunday morning and woke to a gnawing hunger. Wrestling the dresser aside one more time, she tiptoed into the kitchen. From the window above the sink, she saw the garage still sat empty. Relieved, she put on the coffeepot and scrambled some eggs. Back in her room, she locked but didn’t barricade the door and sat down by the window to eat her breakfast.

The afternoon wore on in an odd, lonely-but-comforting way. She treated herself to another hot bath, which eased the stiffness and pain in her shoulders, if only temporarily, but she took only a cursory glance at her face, knowing it looked the same. She had just finished her library book when she heard the doorbell.

The look that spread over Kent’s face when she opened the door changed from anticipation to horror. “My God, Velvet!”

She turned her face away. “You shouldn’t be here, Kent.”

The latch came loose from the door facing as he jerked open the screen door and grabbed her.

“Kent, you can’t stay.” She twisted to free herself from his hands wrapping her upper arms.

“Where’s your father?”

“I don’t know.”

“He did this, didn’t he?”

She shook her head.

With one hand, he cupped her face and turned her toward him. Pushing back the collar of her blouse, he saw part of the bruise on her shoulder. When she winced at his touch, his hands flew up as if they’d been burned. “That bastard beat you up!”

She cringed at the word. “Just leave, Kent. You’ll only make it worse.”

“Fine, I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t. Where would I go?”

“Anywhere. Get the key to the store and lock yourself in the lounge.” He pulled her against him and stroked her hair. “When you didn’t show up last night, I asked Mrs. Lowe about you, and she said you were sick.”

“That’s what I told her.”

“And then when you didn’t come to church, I got worried.” He held her away from him again, this time with more care. “Why did he do this?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know?”

She shook her head again.

“You’re lying, Velvet. I talked to Veda, and she told me about your run-in with Claudia. Did she have anything to do with this?”

Celeste tried to pull away.

“She did, didn’t she? By God, I’ll…”

“It’s done. You’re going to graduate and leave in a couple of weeks, and then she’ll probably leave, too.”