Got Your Number (13 page)

"Roxann, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"

At the eerily serious note in her cousin's voice, warning bells chimed in her head. "Everyone has moments of extreme anger," she said carefully.

"No," Angora said, her gaze locked on Roxann's, her pupils dilated. "I mean really kill someone." In her lap, her hands convulsed. "I think I could kill Trenton and not feel a bit guilty."

A chill tickled the back of Roxann's neck as she recalled moments in college when she'd questioned Angora's stability. "Passion is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it can feel like hate instead of love."

But Angora seemed to be somewhere else. "All I know is that I put my life on hold too many times because of promises men made to me." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. "What makes the beasts think they can use a woman and then toss her aside when she becomes inconvenient?"

Roxann used her most soothing tone. "You're hurting right now, but you'll feel better by the time we get to South Bend."

Angora's eyes welled up, and her mouth tightened. "I swear on my crown, the next man who jerks me around is going to wish he hadn't."

Her cousin wouldn't be the first repressed woman to snap and retaliate, ergo all those news interviews with wide-eyed neighbors in their robes saying, "She seemed like such a
nice
woman."

Then as quickly as it came, the glimmer in her cousin's eyes vanished, replaced by a contrite expression. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up yesterday, Roxann. Or if you hadn't let me come with you on this trip. Seems like you're always saving me."

Unexpectedly moved, Roxann couldn't respond.

"I know, I know—it seems like I always need saving."

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it." Angora inhaled, then exhaled musically. "But that's okay, because from now on, I'm going to take charge of my life."

Roxann bit her tongue—the only thing Angora had ever taken charge of was Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.

Angora lifted her chin. "I don't need Trenton—I can get a man any time I want one."

With her golden good looks, her cousin never had a problem attracting men, but inevitably, her insecurities manifested in some way to have them running in the opposite direction: too prim, too needy, too snobby, too virginal. "Getting" a man was not Angora's problem, nor any other woman's for that matter. Keeping him—now there was the rub.

"In fact," Angora continued. "I can find someone better looking, someone who's great in bed."

"And you would know?" Roxann asked gently.

"Yes." Angora twirled her hair around her index finger—a dead giveaway that she was lying. Then she sighed. "No."

"Don't sound so forlorn."

"Roxann, how many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?"

Roxann swerved, then corrected. "You're still a virgin?"

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no... I'm surprised, that's all, since you're so pretty and since you've been engaged."

"And since I'm so old?"

"We're the same age."

"You didn't answer my question. How many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?"

"Well... I don't have many close female friends, but I'm sure... " She trailed off helplessly. "Okay, I don't know any thirty-two-year-old virgins."

She pulled a small pink packet from her purse. "A wedding-night gift from Mother—condoms."

"Not ready to be a grandmother just yet, is she?"

"No." She pulled one out and read the label. "These things are made of lambskin."

"Sheep intestines."

"Huh?"

"They're made of sheep intestines. But 'lambskin' is more marketable."

"Oh, that's gross."

She shrugged. "They're the best, as far as sensation is concerned. My hat's off to Dee."

"For knowing?"

"For letting you know that she knows."

"Ah. Well, the only thing that Mother harped on more than my laugh lines and my waistline is sex—she said she'd cut me out of her will if she found out I didn't wait until my wedding night." She stuffed the condom grab bag back into her purse.

"How would she know?"

"My gynecologist."

"What?"

"I've been going to the same gynecologist since I was fifteen, and she told me he would tell her if ever... you know."

Roxann ground her teeth. "Angora, that's not only immoral, it's illegal. Your physician can't reveal your...
status
to anyone, not even to Dee. Surely you know that."

"Mother's laws supersede all others."

How could she rationalize with a woman whose world had been skewed by a selfish, overbearing mother? "Angora, there's nothing wrong with being a virgin at your age, but it should be because of your own convictions, not your mother's."

Angora angled her chin. "You're so right. I think it's high time I change gynecologists. And broaden my sexual horizons."

"You're entitled," Roxann agreed, simply because Angora couldn't carry off the label of "promiscuous" if she wore it on a sash.

"Maybe I'll sleep with someone scandalous," she murmured. "Maybe... a bad boy. Or an older man." Angora produced a foxy smile. "Maybe I'll sleep with Dr. Seger. Cross another item off my life list."

Roxann's stomach jumped, but she attributed it to last night's unfortunate choice of drink. "That's an interesting possibility."

"Are you going to bid on him at the bachelor auction?"

"I hadn't thought about it." Liar, liar.

"Let's go and buy ourselves a man."

"On my budget, the man would have to be made out of rubber."

But Angora was warming to her plan. "How long will it take for us to get to campus?"

"Driving straight through, I figure around fifteen hours."

She bounced up and down in the seat, dislodging her crown. "Let's take our time and cross off a few items on our life lists along the way!"

Roxann tried to conjure up some enthusiasm, but failed. "Angora, we don't have to abide by some silly list we made when we were little more than children." Besides, it was too disconcerting to see how many of the things that had once been important to her had been left undone.

"Oh, come on—it'll be fun," Angora coaxed. "Just like old times."

Except as she recalled, the "old times" weren't that fun for either of them. She squinted. "What did you have in mind?"

Angora lifted the collar of the faded flannel shirt. "The first order of the day is to go shopping, of course."

Of course.

Her cousin waved vaguely toward the map lying on the seat between them. "So find a route that will take us by a mall, preferably one with a Saks."

She groaned.

"Hey, you could use a few new duds yourself, kiddo. You look exactly the same as you did in college."

Roxann craned to critically study her reflection in the rearview mirror. "I don't look exactly the same." Those little creases around her eyes, for instance. And five gray hairs that congregated in her side part.

"Are you kidding? You're frozen in time." Angora tsk-tsked at Roxann's faded jeans. "And that's not always a good thing."

Shopping—a grueling experience. Despite her stint in the dress shop in high school, she didn't have Angora's eye for color or style. "We should be in Jackson by noon, maybe we can find a Wal-Mart."

"This is serious." Angora was gaining momentum. "You could have your eyebrows waxed."

"I prefer having them singed by a roaring gas flame."

"And have you ever thought about letting your hair grow out?"

She rolled her eyes up to stare at the fringe of bangs tickling her brow. "No. In fact, it's time for a trim."

"Long straight hair is back in. You'd be absolutely exotic." She snapped her fingers. "I've got it—hair extensions!"

"You always were determined to make me over."

"And you always were determined to shop at the campus Goodwill."

It was what she could afford. Plus the vintage, boyish clothes boosted her image of rebellious coed. Indeed, she'd stuck out when most young women were going over the top with big, feminine hair and look-at-me clothing. Carl had admired her individuality, but maybe she was getting too old for jeans and T-shirts. Besides, since almost everyone was going out of the way to dress down these days, she was in danger of falling into a trend—
argh
.

Angora yawned and laid her head back. "So, cuz, do you have a boyfriend?"

Roxann watched the road signs in the dark and headed toward the interstate. "No. I don't date much." Even she and Richard hadn't really dated when she lived in Birmingham. If she was lonely, she'd drop by the bar or coffeehouse where he happened to be playing, and he'd go home with her. If he was lonely, he'd show up on her doorstep with Thai food.

"What are the men like in Biloxi?"

Capistrano's face came to her. "Like the weather—thick and predictable." He probably hated Thai food.

"Don't you get lonely?"

"I stay pretty busy." A definite meat-and-potatoes man.

"Have you ever come close to getting married?"

"Not that I know of." In fact, he probably wrestled his meat to the ground and killed it with his bare hands.

Angora groaned. "Men are such pigs—why do we want one?"

She scowled. "Who says I do?"

"You don't want a family of your own?"

"Maybe. Someday." The last two items on her life list came to mind, but that little part about the sperm contribution posed a bit of a problem.

"Someday? Roxann, do you realize that at our age we're already considered high-risk for pregnancy?"

Her own gynecologist had said the same thing on her last annual visit. Blah, blah, blah.

"The way I see it, we have another good year left to find a husband, then one year of decent sex before getting pregnant. If we
can
get pregnant at our age. Our eggs are getting old, you know. With every month that passes, we're becoming more barren."

"Stop."

Angora sniffled. "Maybe it's not important to you, but I always pictured myself with a little boy and a little girl. I'd never want an only child because it's just too much... "

"Pressure," Roxann supplied.

"Right. But Uncle Walt never pressured you."

"No." That would've required being attentive. "But I think most only children realize that the expectations of the family ride on their shoulders." If she didn't make her life matter for something, the Beadleman name would be remembered as a flirtatious mother who'd met an untimely end and a drunkard father who would probably meet his Maker while stretched out in his recliner.

Angora sighed. "That kind of pressure can make you do crazy things, all right."

"Like marrying a man just to make your mother happy?"

She hadn't meant to hurt her, but Angora closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. "Or turning your back on men to become a martyr for abused women?"

Roxann was so astounded at how closely Angora's assessment had matched her own, that she had no choice but to lie. "That's ridiculous."

"Really? So you're open to having a man in your life? To getting married?"

Suddenly she was reminded of the upside of traveling alone—you didn't have to answer irrelevant questions. "I, uh... suppose. I really don't think about it much. If it happens, it happens."

"Oh, now see—that's a myth. Nothing 'just happens.' You have to help things along."

"To what end?"

"Well... to happily-ever-after, of course."

"You were jilted at the altar yesterday, and you still believe in happily-ever-after?"

"Well, sure. What else is there?"

"How about 'contentedly-ever-after'?"

"Can you be content without a man?"

Roxann nodded. "I
am
content without a man." Eighty-four percent true.

Angora sighed. "Then you're a stronger woman than I am. I couldn't stand it, working with scared women all the time, moving around, changing jobs, having no money, being alone." Another sigh. "You're so brave."

She frowned. "Thanks."

"I mean it. It takes guts to chuck your education and go out on a limb for people you don't know and might never see again."

She frowned harder.

"To sacrifice your own happiness so that—"

"Okay, Angora. You're making me blush."

She sighed again, with more drama. "I thought by now I would have done something with my life, and now I'm starting over."

"Have you been working for the museum all these years?"

"Yes, and it's dreadful. They treat me like I'm an idiot."

"So why do you work there?"

"Well, Ms. Valedictorian, after graduation, I didn't have as many options as you did. Not much I could do with a degree in art history—even Daddy couldn't find a place for me in the hotel business—so the museum job seemed promising. By the time I realized it was a dead end, I had met Trenton and wanted to be near him and his family." Her laugh was hollow. "I guess I am an idiot. I was never smart, like you. Of course you know that."

Except a high IQ did not a smart person make. If she was so smart, for instance, why had she brought Angora with her on the lam? Right now the woman was sitting there waiting for a nugget of brilliant advice.

"You can't make someone love you," Roxann said slowly. "You're only responsible for your own feelings and actions." She'd counseled hundreds of women with those same lines.

Angora lifted her head. "You know, you're absolutely right."

Encouraged, she continued. "Isn't there some small part of you that's relieved you didn't marry Trenton?"

"No, I was really looking forward to marrying a rich man and living hundreds of miles from my parents."

So much for magic words.

"I'm not like you, Roxann. I want it all—a husband, a home, kids. I can't be happy helping other people live their lives."

It was a good thing that Angora withdrew a foot-long emery board from her purse and began sawing on her nails, because Roxann was speechless over the backhanded compliment. Everything Angora had said was true—she did chuck her education, work with scared women, move around, change jobs, live frugally, and was, for the most part, alone. And she did help other people live their lives. So why did a lifestyle that had once seemed noble and romantic sound downright bleak when someone else described it?