Queen of Diamonds

Kind of a silly, spur of the moment idea; but it was better than trying to find a flower to wear in my lapel. Plus it had the benefit of being simple and foolproof.

"Jake, one other thing." She was almost whispering now. "Can you get there at least twenty minutes early? I don't want to be sitting in the bar alone."

"Sure, no problem." Seemed like a reasonable request. "So, Kelly ... 7:00 o'clock at the Eastlake Grill. I'll be there early. Look for the guy with the queen of diamonds."

"Thanks, you are so nice to ask me to dinner tonight," she said in the louder, happy voice she had used before. Then she hung up.

I sat there in a daze. I felt helpless, but she had turned down my request to come pick her up, wherever that was. I finally snapped out of it and called the restaurant.

"We really don't have anything at 7:00."

I pressed them—they said I could come by and give my name when I got there, but they couldn't guarantee anything. Almost as an afterthought I pulled the queen of diamonds out of the deck and started thinking about what I was going to wear.

* * *

A few hours later I walked into the Eastlake Grill. I was surprised at how full the place was already. I let the hostess know that I was hoping for a table at 7:00. She barely looked up.

"I wouldn't count on it. We're really busy tonight."

I had her write my name down anyway and said I would be waiting at the bar for my dinner companion to arrive.

I walked into the lounge; it had quite a few tables, most of them full. The bar had stools along two sides. I picked one on the shorter side so I could see people as they came in. I ordered a beer and took out the queen and set it down.

Eastlake was still a happening scene, although not the crazy place it was the year before. The hipsters had moved on to other newer spots, but the restaurant was still very popular—and the bar was always packed. I would occasionally see celebrities there, mostly TV actors.

It was a very typical Los Angeles place, meaning almost every woman in there looked young and attractive. I liked the way L.A. women dressed: fashionable, eye-catching, but not too flashy. They had a comfortable, confident sexiness—which meant long hair (mostly blonde), tanned skin, and tasteful décolletage. Several times I was distracted from my mission of watching out for Kelly when these local ladies walked by.

The bartender looked at the playing card in front of me and made some crack about it. I ignored him and tried to keep my eyes on the entrance. I didn't know how long I was going to be waiting there—at least thirty minutes, maybe more. Who knows, she might not even show up. I'd give her an hour before getting something to eat at the bar.

To stave off my boredom, I played a little game with myself. As each woman came back from the restroom, I tried to guess whom she would be there with: a nervous first date ... or her parents? Maybe her loving husband, or a bunch of gal pals out on the town, or an older sugar daddy? I was right most of the time. When I saw an attractive young woman come in and sit down next to a middle-aged man (father? boss? lover?), I realized uncomfortably that's what Kelly and I would look like.

The next woman who came in caught my eye mainly due to her dress and her hair, both of which were very 1940's. Now, there was still a robust swing dance scene in L.A. started by the movieSwingers a few years earlier, so it wasn't that unusual to see men and women dressed in WW II-era fashions headed out for a night of dancing. I expected to see more big band dance fans when she got to her table. In fact, the club where the scenes were filmed for the movie was only a few minutes away—and still packing them in.

Her dress was an eye-catching dark emerald green with a crossover v-neck front, like a wrap dress. The waist was nipped in by a self-fabric sash that fastened on one side. That style of dress certainly accentuated the figure of a woman who had the right body for it—which she did. There was no exposed cleavage, but the dress displayed the curve of her bosom nicely.

I checked her out as she headed toward the tables just behind me, her shapely legs visible with each step. Her dress had a narrow black velvet trim accenting the lapels and the cuffs of her sleeves. The hem hung a few inches higher than the proper mid-calf length for that dress, but the fashion police were nowhere in sight.

I caught a glimpse of her shoes: Mary Jane pumps with short heels—ready for the dance floor. Her abundant dark auburn hair reminded me of the movie stars of that era.

I panicked for a moment. I had been ogling this woman for way too long and had taken my eyes off the entrance where I should have been watching for Kelly. I quickly looked over and scanned the area. Had I missed her? Was she out in the lobby where I couldn't see her?

As I nervously took another sip of my beer, I was startled to see a hand reach in and pick up the queen of diamonds. I turned and saw the woman in the green dress as she held up the card.

"Looks like I should be the one with this."

My jaw was slack with disbelief. I struggled to reconcile the face of the woman in front of me with the sullen, Goth misfit from five years earlier. Yes, it was Kelly, but I never would have recognized her. She dropped the card into the breast pocket of my jacket.

"I saw you sitting here as soon as I walked in."

"Kelly, it's you," I said stupidly as I held out my hand. She had a haggard, weary expression on her face.

"A handshake is not going to do it for me right now. I need a hug." She put her arms around me.

I felt her breasts press into my chest as we embraced. She felt just like her mother when we had slow danced over twenty-five years ago. Crazy flashbacks went off in my head: shuffling across the dance floor with Trudy, responding to her closeness as the music played.

Kelly held the hugmuch longer than I expected. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room staring at us. Her hair reeked of cigarette smoke, and the smell of stale sweat surprised me. An unexpected erection began to stir.

"So, Kelly, can I get you a drink?"

"Maybe later. Can we check on our table now?"

"Sure, let's go."

Then Kelly grasped my upper arm with both hands. It seemed like an odd gesture—she didn't seem tipsy, and her heels weren't that high. And it wasn't a lovey-dovey thing. Maybe she needed emotional support? We walked slowly toward the front as everyone else tried to figure out what our relationship was. There were probably some father-daughter guesses as we headed out.

I hadn't noticed when I first met Kelly that she was fairly tall, like Trudy. And the same blue eyes. The auburn hair was different, but it certainly suited her.

"Is there a table for Jake Hayward yet?"

Again the hostess barely looked at me. "I don't think so."

But when she glanced at Kelly, holding my arm with both hands, her expression changed. She quickly scanned the seating chart and flipped through the pages of her reservation book.

"Actually there is something. Follow me."

She briskly led us to a nicely situated table and pulled out a chair for Kelly before I could. As Kelly sat down, she fumbled with her purse, dropping it on the floor. When she leaned over to pick it up, I got a look at her cleavage when the dress opened up a bit. I felt guilty, but it gave me a sexual jolt.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly."

The hostess set down two menus and bustled away. I sat down across from Kelly.

"Jake, can you sit in one of these other chairs closer to me?"

I moved over to a seat next to her, and she put her hand on my forearm. Her face was drawn and anxious.

"Jake, I really appreciate your dealing with this tonight." She didn't let go.

Our waiter glided up a moment later.

"Can I get either of you a drink before you order?"

Kelly answered immediately. "Can your bartender make a Sazerac cocktail?"

"I should hope so. He lived in New Orleans for years. But he may not have some of the special ingredients in stock, particularly the absinthe."

Kelly said she'd go with the bartender's professional judgment as far as using alternate ingredients, if necessary.

"However, if he feels he can't make a credible Sazerac with what he's got, I'll take the rye whiskey by itself—on the rocks."

I got a shot of Gentleman Jack Daniels instead of another beer—couldn't let the lady be the only whiskey drinker at the table. Just by ordering a real cocktail Kelly seemed much more grown up than before.

"I know I owe you a lot of explanation, but let's wait until later. I promise I'll tell you everything."

"That's fine, take your time. Do it when it feels right."

Kelly glanced around the room. "There sure are a lot of beautiful women here. I feel outclassed."

"Well, this is the city that attracts all the pretty ones from everywhere else."

She seemed overwhelmed by her female competition. I had seen out-of-town women react this way before.

"Kelly, you're very attractive yourself. They don't have anything on you. Keep in mind that most of them have had some kind of help: nose jobs, boob jobs, Botox, spray-on tans ... you name it."

She didn't seem entirely reassured hearing that.

"Well, at least I'm all natural—just the way Mother made me," giving her bosom a little heft with her free hand.

I blushed profusely when she said that. I instantly regretted mentioning anything about boob jobs. She definitely was busty—just like Trudy. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort.

"Oh, I stand corrected—my hair color came from the salon. I've got the same dark hair as Mother. I wanted something a little more mysterious."

Mysterious indeed. The color looked very natural to me. Our waiter arrived with the drinks.

"Here's your Sazerac—made with Herbsaint. Absinthe is still illegal."

"That's fine. It's that way everywhere. I didn't expect this to be a speakeasy."

"You must be from New Orleans then."

"No, born in Texas, but I go to school in The Big Easy now." She took a sip. "Perfect. And thank the bartender for being prepared for an unusual request like this. It's much appreciated."

"Are you both ready to order?"

I started to say no—we hadn't even opened our menus, but Kelly flipped hers open and ordered almost without looking. I became flustered and ended up getting the same thing I had the last time I was there. The waiter whisked away the menus.

"Kelly, that is a most impressive dress. It looks stunning on you."

"Thank you. It belonged to my grandmother. You must have met her when you were dating Mother."

I really didn't remember; it had been too long.

"I helped Mother clean out Nana's closet after she died. I was excited seeing all the 40's clothes, but it turned out that most of them had been worn to death. I took two tea dresses that were still in good shape. Then we saw a zipper bag in the back of the closet. This dress was in it. Mother had never seen it before—it was pristine. She guessed that Nana must have bought it right after the war, expecting to have lots of parties to wear it to. Then three pregnancies, one right after the other, likely put an end to those plans.

As I listened to her, I marveled at the beaded detailing gracing the velvet in several key areas. I hadn't noticed it before.

"I'm taller than Nana was, so I know I'm wearing the hem too high, but that can't be fixed easily."

"You'll get no complaints from me, Kelly. You've got the legs to wear it at any length you want."

"You think so?"

She seemed doubtful. I guess she was still comparing herself to all the other women in the room.

I watched her face—I wondered what the story was behind all this. I couldn't read her expression. She was still holding onto my arm. Then she delved into the topic I knew was inevitable.

"Tell me about when you were dating Mother."

"Kelly, it was over twenty-five years ago. We were both very young. I don't remember much other than going to dances with her—and being driven to some of our earlier dates by one of my parents. The shame!"

For this one time only, I was glad I hadn't slept with Trudy. I could answer everything truthfully. Even so, I tried to downplay things.

"We never did much other than slow dancing and kissing. And it was mostly goodnight kissing. Remember, Kelly, this was small-town Texas. Things were a lot stricter back then. Teenagers were pretty chaste."

"Obviously not all the time."

I was a beat slow in getting the joke—the punch line was sitting right next to me at the table. She smiled at my embarrassment.

"You got me on that, Kelly. Good one."

I continued my story.

"In that era pregnant girls quietly dropped out of school and had their babies out of town somewhere. Toward the end of our senior year I realized I hadn't seen Trudy for awhile. She wasn't in any of my classes that semester. I never knew who your father was."

"That makes two of us. Mother said he was a student from a high school in the next town who she met on a church retreat. He refused to take any responsibility once he found out she was pregnant. She went to a place near San Antonio to have me. All the family urged her to give me up for adoption. It was very tough for Mother raising a baby with no high school diploma and no husband, but once she made her decision, the family was 100% behind her.

"I was six when Bob came into the picture. He turned out to be a really good stepfather. He made our family whole and gave us the financial and emotional stability we had been missing. But I don't know why he and Mother never had any other children together. I became 'daddy's little girl' by default—I had no competition.

"Sadly, Bob got sick and died just before I finished high school. That explains a lot of my rebelling and acting out—like when I was at the reunion."

"So now your mother's remarried?"

"It was a very small wedding. Less than ten guests."

"I really wasn't expecting an invitation, but thanks for giving me the heads-up."

"I'm glad Mother found another man to make her happy." Kelly sipped her drink and smiled. "If you're still holding a torch for her, you'd better snuff it out now."

When the food arrived, Kelly apologized for being so hungry.

"I need to eat right away. Sorry if I can't keep up a conversation."

She seemed relaxed enough to let go of my arm for the first time since she got there. I usually eat really fast, but she kept pace with me. Even so, her table manners were impeccable. We didn't say much other than to make a few comments about how good the food was.

When she finished, Kelly said, "That was delicious. I haven't eaten much today." She set down her utensils on her empty plate and drank down the rest of her cocktail. Kelly rested her hand on mine, but more gently this time, and started to tell her story.

* * *

"René was a roommate I had at North Texas when I started there as a sophomore. I rented a room off campus with her and two other gals. I think Mother was willing to pay for this because she wanted some privacy at home now that she was back in the dating pool.

"Ren and I became fast friends. She was cute, athletic, smart. But she also liked to party. All four of us did. She graduated a year ahead of me and moved out here to L.A. We've kept in touch off and on. She's been saying I should come out and visit. So I took her up on it and planned my trip for this weekend.

"I arrived yesterday afternoon, and the cab took me to this apartment complex near the airport. It looked shabby, and the neighborhood was run down. When Ren opened the door I hardly recognized her. She was really thin and looked like she had aged ten years.

"I was told I could sleep on the living room couch. It was fun getting to catch up with Ren and talk about the old days at North Texas, but I could tell there had been some major changes in her health and lifestyle.

"Her roommate, Annie, was this emaciated, jittery thing who talked a lot. Ren and Annie claimed they had telemarketing jobs but were very vague on the details. They both smoked non-stop.

"So later we started talking about where to go that night. I mentioned the first restaurant on the list you gave me, the one that was the latest 'in' place. Ren and Annie were both on board for that, even when I warned them about it being expensive. They brushed off your suggestions for live music, though, saying those places were for old people. They wanted to go to this club called Trackers. Ever heard of it?"

I shook my head.

"Anyway, everything you said about the restaurant was true: it was packed, we had a long wait, and I couldn't believe the prices! You were right—the portions were tiny and the bill was huge. Even after blowing my food budget for the whole weekend, I was still hungry when we left.

"Then we headed over to Trackers. I thought we'd be going to Hollywood or the Westside, but it was in this odd industrial area past downtown. As soon as we walked in I knew it wasn't my kind of place."

I watched Kelly as she told the story. Her voice became a low monotone, and her hand tightened on my forearm. Her eyes were sad, even fearful.

"We got a booth and two guys came over. Ren and Annie definitely knew them. They were good looking, sort of, but the way they talked and acted creeped me out. One of them left and came back with a buddy—one for me, I guess."

Kelly told how the evening went from bad to worse. About having to constantly fend off "Bachelor #3," as she called him.

"The guys ordered round after round of drinks. Then they pulled out drugs, a white powder—coke, I assumed. They asked me if I wanted some 'Tina.' It finally clicked—they were snorting meth. Right at the table! I was trapped in the booth. They kept asking me if I wanted a 'bump.' No thank you!

"Jake, I'm no drug virgin. I smoke weed. I've even used uppers to study for finals or to catch up on schoolwork I should have started sooner, but I was completely turned off by their recklessness. And after seeing what Ren looked like now. And those people she was hanging out with! I wanted someone to throw me a life preserver and yank me out of there."

Kelly said #3 kept trying to grope her. When the others went out on the dance floor she had to go too, otherwise #3 would keep pawing her in the booth. Her jet lag was starting to set in as everyone else was rushing.

"The bill eventually came, and the guys refused to chip in. They said they provided the drugs. It wasn't their fault I didn't partake. That wiped me out almost to my last dollar. Finally we decided to leave. I was so relieved. But then Ren asks them over to the apartment!"

Kelly looked like she was recounting some catastrophe. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what came next.

"After we got to the apartment, all of them became loud and argumentative. It was harder to push away #3. Annie eventually disappeared into her room. I tried to hide in Ren's bathroom, but #2 was in there. Lying in the tub mumbling to himself. Ren and #1 were arguing on the couch—right where I was supposed to sleep.

"Jake, the thing that shocked me the most was Ren saying I should be nice to #3, just give him what he wants and he'll stop bothering you. I was speechless! How could my 'friend' take the side of this would-be date rapist?

"I went back to Ren's bathroom and locked myself in, even with #2 in there. Soon #3 realized I was in there and asked me to let him in. He was pleading at first. Then he became more agitated. Finally he started pounding on the door and throwing his weight against it. Fortunately #2 was starting to nod out.

"I slumped down to the floor with my back against the door and braced my feet against the toilet. I thought he would break down the door at any moment. He kept up an angry, incoherent rant for hours.