Read Online Every Wickedness by Cathy Vasas-Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Cathy Vasas-Brown
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with a fatter wallet, would reveal himself and the significance of the gifts, soon.
14
M ondays were sacred. On her day off, Beth usually allowed herself an extra half hour in bed, but this morning she was up and dressed by six. She power walked up to Chestnut Street, constantly alert to cars parked curbside, but there were no bogeymen waiting to jump out at her. In her favourite coffee haunt, she perched on a stool facing the street and tried to read the morning paper, but her concentration constantly jostled between scanning the café for suspicious-looking strangers and reliving her last conversation with Ginny. Beth still found herself stewing over her friend’s insensitive remark about Jordan. Every time Ginny experienced a dating drought, she would take it upon herself to ruin everyone else’s fun. Criticizing Beth’s male friends was part of her surly face-saving, and occasionally, Ginny’s assessments had been accurate. But Ginny’s implication that Jordan might be the one behind Beth’s hate mail was eroding what remained of Beth’s compassion and patience.
Beth understood Ginny’s insecurity and used every technique she knew to bolster her friend’s self-image. It couldn’t have been easy for Ginny, growing up as the youngest of five Rizzuto children. Ginny’s four brothers were members of a dance band that played all thelocal European weddings. It wasn’t enough for Ginny to be lumped in with “those Rizzutos,” so she sought to outshine them and by her twentieth birthday, she thought she had, by securing a first-violinist position with the San Francisco Symphony. But Beth knew that Mr. and Mrs. Rizzuto saw Ginny’s music as a hobby, something Ginny could occupy herself with until she found a husband. When her own musical gift still brought no recognition, Ginny took pains to stand out in other areas, not the least of which was the development of a personality that would intimidate Don Rickles. She became a self-professed expert on everything, especially men.
“He sounds too good to be true,” Ginny had said when Beth first told her about Jordan. “A pilot? You’ll never get him to settle down. Those guys want their freedom.”
I’ll find out for myself, if it’s all the same to you, Gin
.
She was seeing Jordan tonight and tried desperately to think more positively, but she knew she would have to take a stand with Ginny, and soon. If Ginny wanted to compete with her brothers, fine, but Beth wasn’t going to be part of any contest that involved allowing Ginny to insult her. Maybe if she said exactly that to Ginny, she would back off.
And Sondra Devereaux would bake Jim Kearns a carrot cake.
Beth’s coffee was coated with a filmy skin. She shoved the mug aside and returned her attention to the newspaper.
_________
At home, Beth’s foul mood was reinforced by a call from her bank manager telling her that Rex McKenna’s rent cheque had bounced. She slammed the receiver onto its cradle and swore. She tried to phone Rex at his office, but there was no answer. He had been limping when Beth last saw him. Maybe he was at home, recuperating with a box of cigars and some girlie magazines. It was worth a try.
“What the hell?” Ida McKenna hollered into the phone. “You mean that dumb-ass isn’t at work? I’ll broil his balls for dinner!” Ida couldn’t have stood more than four foot nine. Where was she storing that operatic shriek?
“He’s probably out on a call, Mrs. McKenna,” Beth said gently.
“My ass,” Ida replied, then hung up.
By six o’clock, Beth had housecleaned and exercised away her anger. She indulged in a bubbly soak, styled her hair, and applied the finishing touches to her makeup. She wriggled into sheer black hose. She slipped her red crêpe suit on, fastened the row of buttons, added a gold bracelet and earrings, then stepped into suede pumps.
“What do you think, Samson? Do I look businesslike but sexy? I’m shooting for both.”
Samson, who had been
14
M ondays were sacred. On her day off, Beth usually allowed herself an extra half hour in bed, but this morning she was up and dressed by six. She power walked up to Chestnut Street, constantly alert to cars parked curbside, but there were no bogeymen waiting to jump out at her. In her favourite coffee haunt, she perched on a stool facing the street and tried to read the morning paper, but her concentration constantly jostled between scanning the café for suspicious-looking strangers and reliving her last conversation with Ginny. Beth still found herself stewing over her friend’s insensitive remark about Jordan. Every time Ginny experienced a dating drought, she would take it upon herself to ruin everyone else’s fun. Criticizing Beth’s male friends was part of her surly face-saving, and occasionally, Ginny’s assessments had been accurate. But Ginny’s implication that Jordan might be the one behind Beth’s hate mail was eroding what remained of Beth’s compassion and patience.
Beth understood Ginny’s insecurity and used every technique she knew to bolster her friend’s self-image. It couldn’t have been easy for Ginny, growing up as the youngest of five Rizzuto children. Ginny’s four brothers were members of a dance band that played all thelocal European weddings. It wasn’t enough for Ginny to be lumped in with “those Rizzutos,” so she sought to outshine them and by her twentieth birthday, she thought she had, by securing a first-violinist position with the San Francisco Symphony. But Beth knew that Mr. and Mrs. Rizzuto saw Ginny’s music as a hobby, something Ginny could occupy herself with until she found a husband. When her own musical gift still brought no recognition, Ginny took pains to stand out in other areas, not the least of which was the development of a personality that would intimidate Don Rickles. She became a self-professed expert on everything, especially men.
“He sounds too good to be true,” Ginny had said when Beth first told her about Jordan. “A pilot? You’ll never get him to settle down. Those guys want their freedom.”
I’ll find out for myself, if it’s all the same to you, Gin
.
She was seeing Jordan tonight and tried desperately to think more positively, but she knew she would have to take a stand with Ginny, and soon. If Ginny wanted to compete with her brothers, fine, but Beth wasn’t going to be part of any contest that involved allowing Ginny to insult her. Maybe if she said exactly that to Ginny, she would back off.
And Sondra Devereaux would bake Jim Kearns a carrot cake.
Beth’s coffee was coated with a filmy skin. She shoved the mug aside and returned her attention to the newspaper.
_________
At home, Beth’s foul mood was reinforced by a call from her bank manager telling her that Rex McKenna’s rent cheque had bounced. She slammed the receiver onto its cradle and swore. She tried to phone Rex at his office, but there was no answer. He had been limping when Beth last saw him. Maybe he was at home, recuperating with a box of cigars and some girlie magazines. It was worth a try.
“What the hell?” Ida McKenna hollered into the phone. “You mean that dumb-ass isn’t at work? I’ll broil his balls for dinner!” Ida couldn’t have stood more than four foot nine. Where was she storing that operatic shriek?
“He’s probably out on a call, Mrs. McKenna,” Beth said gently.
“My ass,” Ida replied, then hung up.
By six o’clock, Beth had housecleaned and exercised away her anger. She indulged in a bubbly soak, styled her hair, and applied the finishing touches to her makeup. She wriggled into sheer black hose. She slipped her red crêpe suit on, fastened the row of buttons, added a gold bracelet and earrings, then stepped into suede pumps.
“What do you think, Samson? Do I look businesslike but sexy? I’m shooting for both.”
Samson, who had been
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