Secret Shared

17 CASSIE

I HAD TO admit it was a little weird to see Angela Rejean frosting a cake in her kitchen while wearing an apron and a sundress, her now-straightened hair pulled into a low ponytail at her nape. Last time I saw her she was on the other side of one-way glass, making a meal out of Mark Drury.

Dauphine would have had her fantasy with him last night and I assumed because I hadn’t heard from her that it had gone well. At least, I hoped it had. I hated the idea of her fleeing S.E.C.R.E.T. in anger and resentment. And I liked to think I had picked well with Mark.

Angela told me to take a tour of the place, while she put last-minute touches on Tracina’s fancy baby-shower cake and Kit tied bows on little gift bags for invitees. The narrow living room in her mint-colored Creole cottage on North Roman was decorated with pink and blue paper flowers around the windows, since the sex of the baby was unknown. But the goofy decorations didn’t take away from the grown-up style of her place. Red Oriental rugs were strewn about the living room’s original pine floors, where two surprisingly comfortable antique loveseats, reupholstered in bright purple paisley, faced each other. The walls were painted a dark coral, not pink, more like the color of the lipstick she always wore. Framed photographs of Nina Simone and Billie Holiday dotted the narrow hallway to her bedroom, where an imposing four-poster bed sat draped with billowing white netting, her even more imposing tuxedo cat, Boots, sitting moored in the middle like a fat boat. On her antique dresser was a collection of Haitian dolls, and above it, a framed black-and-white aerial photo of Port-au-Prince from the ’60s, next to that a wall-mounted flat-screen TV. The whole place was feminine, not girly, cozy without feeling cramped.

“Hand me that tea towel, Cassie,” Angela said when I returned. She was wiping the extra frosting off the platter with her finger. “Would you mind putting out the little plates? They only had blue ones, but that doesn’t mean she’s having a boy. I hope people don’t think that she’s having a boy. I mean, we don’t know what it is. I should say something. Do you think? Or just leave it. I’ll just leave it.”

It was sweet seeing her flustered. She was usually so in control. She was a good friend to Tracina and clearly wanted to make her baby shower perfect. In that moment, I was truly happy that Tracina had a friend like this, since I certainly had been no friend to her. Between my unwillingness to cover for her absences and my stupid dalliances with Will, which still remained secret, thank goodness, my presence in Tracina’s life had only added complications. While placing a big yellow bow on a box of newborn diapers, I vowed to be a better friend to her and the baby, regardless of my feelings for Will, a vow made a lot easier by the presence of Jesse Turnbull in my life. That was his last name, I’d learned—Turnbull—a small fact that went a long way towards making him seem more real to me.

Since our first date, which had ended in my bedroom, we’d seen each other twice more—once for a matinee, where in the back row he had astonished me by putting his tongue in my ear and his hand down my jeans, making me quietly, oh so quietly, come. Afterwards, he kissed my forehead on the sidewalk outside and left to pick up his son. The other time we took a trip to Metarie to look at a motorcycle he was thinking of buying. He’d pulled me down a nearby alley and ravaged me against the cinder-block wall of a garage. All of our encounters were hot, brief and sweet, and each time I felt that if I never saw him again, I wouldn’t be surprised. He was like a friendly tomcat, one that’s genuinely happy to see you, to be fed and caressed by you, but that can easily survive on its own.

While I tossed a salad, Kit carted several TV trays into the living room and set them up in the corners for the finger food and candy. It was just the three of us for a spell, so we naturally launched into S.E.C.R.E.T. chatter.

“It’s a lot of money to just give away,” Kit said to me. “But the Committee voted this morning. It was unanimous.”

“Fifteen million down the drain,” Angela said, with a whistle.

Kit smacked her arm. “You voted yes.”

“How could I not, after Matilda’s impassioned stance against ‘accepting money from an inveterate misogynist.’”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it’s time we did more for women than just improve their sex lives.”

“Are you complaining?” asked Angela, holding the carrot she was peeling directly in my face.

I bit down on it and smiled. “Nope.”

“Speaking of sex,” Kit said. “Matilda said I could invite whoever I want for Dominic’s threesome.” She was going to be one of the soccer player’s trainers. “What about you, Cassie? You game?”

She knew the answer before I even opened my mouth.

“Kidding. By the way, how’s Jesse? Is it love?”

I knew they knew I had pulled Jesse out. But we hadn’t discussed it yet.

“We’re just testing the waters,” I said, shrugging like it was no big thing. “I have no expectations.”

Kit and Angela exchanged yeah right glances.

“Will you stay in S.E.C.R.E.T. while said waters are being tested?” Kit asked.

“We’re not there yet,” I said.

“I always regret not doing that ‘drive fantasy’ with Jesse after we recruited him,” Angela said, popping an icing-covered finger in her mouth. “He’s a speed freak, you know. Not speed the drug, speed as in going fast. Weren’t we lining him up to take Dauphine in a convertible somewhere through the desert? Was it Sedona? Little weekend trip? She did so well with that pilot, we thought that would be fun, but, alas … Cassie wants him all to herself.”

“Who trained Jesse?” I asked as casually as possible.

“Pauline freshened up his oral skills. I remember because I got to watch. That was hot,” said Angela, shaking her hand like it just got singed. “And then I think … Didn’t Matilda practice bondage on that boy?”

A hot wave flashed through me. Ouch. What was that? Jealousy? No, something different, deeper. Whatever that was, it stung, and I quickly camouflaged the effects the news had on me.

“Jesse’s a favorite of Matilda’s. She was even looking to change the rules to keep him longer than three turns. Until you pulled him. Sigh.”

Matilda and Jesse. Why didn’t she ever mention that to me? Maybe that’s why she was always so hesitant to discuss pulling Jesse out of S.E.C.R.E.T., even way back, when he was my Step Three fantasy and I had thoughts of stopping and getting off the ride. She convinced me not to. She convinced me to stay. As for bondage, again, why was I so surprised? Of course she’d still train male recruits. Why wouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t she? She’s still gorgeous, still sexy. God, when would that magnanimity kick in, the confidence, the kind that Angela and Kit had? I felt like such a fucking schoolgirl, with so much still to learn.

“Matilda’s got some plans to train Dominic now. Apparently, he likes to rock climb. Likes getting all trussed up.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Angela said.

“Bernice put her name in for Dominic,” said Kit. “He also likes black and curvy.”

“That’s not fair. I’m black!”

“You ain’t curvy.”

“But I wasn’t even offered—”

“Hey, girls!”

Tracina snuck in through the side door, accompanied by her fifteen-year-old brother, Trey. He was a nice kid, but because of his autism it was difficult for him to play with his peers. Still, Tracina had begun to make more of an effort to involve him in adult social activities, and sometimes Will let him help upstairs to keep him busy, when coloring books stopped working.

“Who likes curvy black girls?” she asked. “’Cause that’s all I am, just a big ol’ curve!”

“New bartender at Maison I got my eye on,” Angela said. “Did you two walk here?”

“Yup, Trey was my big helper. Baby, go play with Boots. Girls gotta talk.”

Angela patted around on top of the fridge. “Here’s the remote for the TV,” she said, tossing it to Trey. “You remember how to use it, right?”

He nodded and headed to the bedroom, then Angela launched into big-sister mode.

“You’re gonna have a baby in less than three weeks and you walked here? Will’s gonna get a kick right in the middle of his skinny white ass.”

“I told him I wanted to walk. And Trey needs more exercise too. Will knows to pick us up—and all the presents,” she said, shaking her behind in joy.

I watched the three of them, Kit, Angela and Tracina, gauging their level of intimacy. Did Tracina know about S.E.C.R.E.T., or had they kept it from her? It was impossible to tell.

Tracina offered a wan “Hey, Cassie” over her shoulder, followed by “Will’s niece Claire’s working out, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, Will lucked out with her,” I said, arranging baby carrots on a veggie tray.

“No, we lucked out. Me and you,” she added. “She’s gonna babysit for me, and work your night shifts. Let the young’uns take over is what I say. Dell should just pull up a stool at the cash register and call it a day. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lift a finger in the new place. I don’t want to wait tables ever again. All I want to do is make the schedule, sample the menu and taste the wine.”

Had Will told Tracina that he’d offered me the manager job? Did it matter? She’d find out sooner or later, and hopefully when she’d be too blissed-out over her baby to care.

The rest of the guests began to arrive, including Dell, who wore her pale yellow church hat and matching gloves. Tracina carefully navigated the small room, passing out punch, frequently coming perilously close to toppling Angela’s vases and framed photos with her belly. Angela abided by Tracina’s only request—“no stupid shower games”—but she was forced to wear the bows from every gift on a paper plate hat. Maybe because the room erupted into laughter over the last of the gifts—a set of Luna beads from Kit for “post- pregnancy fitness”— no one heard the knock at the door. Even I, sitting right next to it, didn’t hear it until it became so insistent I finally got up to answer.

Standing there was a stony-faced Will, and he was not alone. Next to him was Carruthers Johnstone himself, who’d just won re-election as the D.A. of Orleans Parish. Something told me he wasn’t here to thank his constituents. I took a step back as though whatever ire now possessing the two men was catchy.

Tracina’s face was grim—grey even. She was sitting in her silly “chair of honor,” wearing a now terribly ridiculous hat covered in festive bows, holding a set of ebony Luna beads in her hand.

“Tracina, everyone, I’m sorry to barge in on you all like this,” Carruthers said, not sounding like a politician at all, but like a broken man. “I saw you walking down the street and I’ve been circling the block for half an hour …”

“Who’s this guy?” Will muttered to Tracina, fully entering the hot crowded room.

Tracina looked from one man to the other, her mouth slack. It took her a moment to speak, and when she did, she went from zero to sixty on the emotion meter.

“Why are you here?” she wailed at Carruthers, trying to stand without assistance, nearly toppling forward. “I told you I do not need anything from you!”

“I’m here because I love you, Tracina,” Carruthers boomed. “I told you it wasn’t going to be so easy to get rid of me. And if that’s my baby, it’s going to be impossible.”

Every woman in the room drew a sharp breath at the same time, emptying it of oxygen. Maybe that’s why Will looked like he was about to faint, his hand feeling for the wall behind him. I wanted to rush to him, but there were too many people between us—real obstacles, not just metaphorical ones.

“What about your wife?” Tracina boomed, still standing, her tiny fists on her hips.

Carruthers’ head fell forward. “I told her. It’s over.”

The rest of the room took this as their cue to examine the floor as well. When I looked back up, Tracina’s eyes were full of wonder. And Will’s face held an expression of unadulterated shock. The whole time, Dell sat stock-still, her fork poised in admiration of a slice of cake in front of her as though this awful business were not happening at all.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tracina muttered.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Will demanded.

Carruthers turned to him. “I apologize for the public manner in which all of this is coming out. But I believe I am the father of this baby,” he said. Then, to Tracina he added, “And I’m sorry to ruin your lovely party, but you won’t see me and you won’t take my calls, so you left me no choice.”

“Is what he’s saying true?” Will’s voice was now devoid of all emotion.

Tracina’s eyes softened as she gazed at Will, her expression saying it all, even if her words (“I don’t know”) didn’t. As if to punctuate the drama, a sudden stream of water trickled down her legs, pooled at her feet on the pine floors. She peered down, trying to see over her belly.

“Oh my god, I’m peeing myself.”

“No, honey,” said Dell, finally bringing her fork to her mouth and chewing a bite of cake. “That’s your water breaking.”

“My what?”

Angela screamed first. Carruthers scrambled over to Tracina and eased her down into a chair. Will stood motionless watching all of this, while I ran to fetch towels. Water was still cascading down Tracina’s legs when I returned, and Carruthers’ D.A. personality was in high gear.

“We’re not waiting for an ambulance to come to Treme,” he said, pointing at Will’s phone. “My Escalade’s outside. I’ll take you now, baby,” and to me, to me, he yelled, “grab her other arm.” And that’s how I got sucked into the maternal entourage, Tracina barking orders over her shoulder for Kit and Angela to watch Trey, keep Trey, tell Trey not to worry.

As we piled into the back seat, I got a last look at an ashen-faced Will, his whole body shaking as he tried to get his truck door to open, then rushed around to the passenger side and slid across. I should be with him, I thought, helping him through this. That I ended up being the one to hold Tracina’s hand instead of Will’s was the oddest surprise of the day.

A contraction seized Tracina and she dug her fingers into my thigh.

“Am I gonna be okay?”

“Of course. Of course you are! Just breathe,” I said, as calmly as possible, smoothing her hair off her sweaty face.

“Hold on, honey. I’m gonna get you there as fast as I can,” Carruthers said as he pushed on the gas.

Tracina turned to me. “I’m an awful person,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I feel so awful.”

“Don’t worry about anything else right now except this baby, okay?” I felt her hand tighten in mine, saw her eyes squeeze shut.

I turned around and spotted Will’s truck behind us, weaving perilously, trying to keep up. Poor Will. If this proved to be true, if he really wasn’t the baby’s father, it’d gut him. Despite all the drama and uncertainty that surrounded the pregnancy, the only thing Will had ever seemed sure of was his devotion to this baby.

Carruthers was driving fast, but every once in a while he checked on Tracina via the rearview mirror. “You’re gonna be okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tracina never answered, her clammy hand gripped in mine, nothing registering on her face now except waves of pain.

We made it to the Touro Birthing Center in record time; Carruthers had called ahead on a hands-free phone so a nurse was standing by with an empty wheelchair. Once Tracina was in the chair, she reached up, looking around for me, and grabbed my hand.

“Cassie, stay with Will. He’s gonna need a friend,” she said.

What? Had I heard her right? She let go of my hand, and reached for Carruthers’ as she was wheeled into the center.

I found my way to the delivery area waiting room. A few minutes later Will came huffing in, eyes wild, a line of sweat down the middle of his T-shirt.

“Where’d they go?”

“Down there,” I said, “but I don’t think—”

He didn’t wait for me to finish. He busted through the doors and disappeared down the hall. I was so jangly already that the vibrating in my purse didn’t register at first as a phone call. I answered over the sound of a loud and braying intercom announcement, plugging my ear to hear better.

“Hey, lady. Where y’at? Sounds like the racetrack. Don’t bet your whole paycheck.”

It was Jesse, his voice mellow and grounding.

I explained the baby shower, the early labor, the dramatic drive, the empty waiting room in maternity where I was now taking over a few seats. I stopped short of saying I was sitting vigil while a delicate paternity question was about to come to a head. A nurse pointed to my phone and then to a sign behind her: CELL PHONES NOT PERMITTED IN EMERGENCY. STEP OUTSIDE TO TALK. I lifted my index finger, the universal symbol for Just one minute.

“So, I guess dinner and a movie are out of the question,” he said.

“I should stay here.”

“You’re a good friend,” he said. “Hey, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“About you and …”

Oh dear. Why did my heart clench?

“And …?”

“And me. And the fact that I’m glad you got in touch. I didn’t know it until now. But I think I might’ve been waiting for a girl like you.”

I was stunned.

“Too cheesy?” he asked.

“A little. But … I like cheese. What about our ‘no expectations’ plan?”

“You didn’t expect me to follow that plan, did you?”

I laughed. Now was not the time to get into it with him. I told him I’d call him later, and then I hung up and shut off my phone.

Just when you think you have things figured out, a stranger shows up at a stupid baby shower and threatens to change everything. And that’s only what I was feeling. I could only imagine what was going through Will’s and Tracina’s minds. Carruthers, on the other hand, seemed to have made his mind up before he knocked.

I stared at the double doors. The only certainty now was that whoever came bursting out first would tell me something that might change … well, everything. But right now, all I knew was that Jesse Turnbull was in. He was all the way in. Isn’t that what I wanted?