Chapter One
Audrey held the motor home steady on the bumpy road. She expertly steered thebig vehicle through the construction zone with no fear of hitting the concretebunkers on both sides that formed the narrowed lanes. She smiled to herself withthe thought that she was a better driver than Sam, even though he refused to lether drive him. Sam and all his macho bullshit. She was glad he wasn't with heron this trip — and glad RosaLee had agreed to come. After all that hadhappened, she felt the need to spend some time with her daughter. To try to drawcloser to her first born. Or maybe she needed to give some of the mothering shefelt she'd missed. It wasn't that she'd ignored her duty. It was just that thischild hadn't needed as much mothering. In many ways had refused it. And Audreyhadn't insisted. Wouldn't have done any good with this child anyway. RosaLee hadalways had a mind of her own. Old folks say, when a child matures fast the wayshe had, they're getting out of the way for another. But Malcolm hadn't come forthree years.
Malcolm had been different. Difficult birth, sickly baby, hyperactive kid.Although the art teacher had appreciated his talent, he was misunderstood atschool, an underachiever. And now, at age twenty, this. She forced her mind awayfrom it.
"While you're up, would you bring your ol' mama a soft drink?" Audrey called outin a teasing voice.
"Sure, Mom," RosaLee called back from the rear of the motor home.
Audrey crimped her mouth. Mom. She hated that. Too modern. Too White. What waswrong with "Mama"? When RosaLee set the two cans in the console, Audrey cast adisapproving glance her way.
"RosaLee, don't you think it's a little early?"
"Obviously, I don't. And stop calling me that."
"I mean, honey, wouldn't you rather have some juice?"
"No. Thanks anyway." She propped her feet on the dashboard, popped open the beercan, and put it to her mouth.
"RosaLee, I just don't think — "
"Get off the mother trip, okay? I'm twenty-three years old. I can decide what —and when — I drink. And please stop calling me RosaLee. I'm RL, now. Everybodycalls me RL."
"But, baby, RosaLee is so dignified. So significant. When we named you afterMrs. Parks, I never dreamed — "
"It's old-fashioned. I hate it. It's burdensome. Like I have to live up to it.Ain't even any — "
"Aren't," Audrey corrected, in her schoolteacher voice.
"There aren't any buses anymore," RosaLee said, in resentful concession to thecorrection. "It's rapid transit now. Dallas Area Rapid Transit. It's a new day.And I'm RL."
Audrey didn't want it this way. They'd had this argument a hundred times. Thistrip wasn't for arguing. It was for healing.
"Alright, RL. I'll call you what you want, but I'm Mama. That's what I want. Youhear?"
"I hear you," she said, with an indifferent shrug of one shoulder.
Just as the accord was reached, the construction zone ended and Audrey pulledonto the smooth slab of the interstate. The pine forest on both sides of theroad welcomed Audrey home. Only thirty miles to Lake Texarkana. Lake WrightPatman, these days. She couldn't get used to that. Ol' Wright may have been agreat guy, but the lake would always be Lake Texarkana to her.
"Why do you always have to drag me off to the country? I hate this. It's alwaystoo hot. Or too cold. And the mosquitoes, and the bugs. And no TV reception. Anda bunch of old white people sitting around eyeing us like we don't belong. Ihate this."
"But I thought we agreed — "
"You agreed, Mom. You agreed. I just didn't argue with you. You never listen, sowhat's the point."
Anger welled up in Audrey. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. Whine, whine, whine," shewanted to say. But she held her tongue. This was not turning out to be theidyllic mother-daughter trip she'd imagined. She didn't want to make it anyworse.
Had she really expected to mother RosaLee? Maybe it was she who neededmothering. Maybe even expected it a little from her strong-willed daughter, whonever seemed to need anything, or anybody. That's why she didn't have a husband,or even the prospect of one. Didn't need one. She made good money, even as shewaited for her bar exam results. Had bought her own condo, cosigned by herparents, of course. She traveled when she felt like it. RosaLee didn'tunderstand that men need to be needed — even if you have to pretend. And what'sso wrong with a little pretending, if you get what you want, and it makes theother person happy? This brutal honesty that her daughter subscribed to was forthe birds. In it, nobody got nothing they really wanted. Anything, Audreycorrected herself. She watched RosaLee come back with another beer and held thecensure off her face. Held it tight behind the mask that she wore so often now.
The mask was hard as stone. Piece by piece, layer by layer, it had formed overthe years. It started that night in college when she was turned away from thehospital. The botched, back-alley abortion had been the result of a dumb mistakeon her part, but it shouldn't have been in their hands to let her bleed todeath. Then, the day Sam got arrested during a protest march, she added anotherpiece. Watching him ward off the blows from the nightsticks, praying he wouldn'thit them back, knowing they'd surely kill him if he did. Holding herself stillto keep from running to block them. Not that they wouldn't have hit her, too,just not as hard. They would strike her out of duty, not out of the primevalhatred against her man that had been inherited, and nurtured, throughgenerations. She could have stood the blows. But her intervention would havelessened him as a man. So she stood still and felt the hardness forming aroundher mouth.
Then, while he went to law school and she taught school, she was the solebreadwinner. In the face of the whispers, the hardness settled in, then migratedupward to her cheeks. "Ain't she the fool, minding them bad chil'ren all daywhile he just sitting around on his butt reading. Honey, he gon' divorce her forhis first case."
When their babies came and she quit teaching to raise them, "Honey, she thankshe big shit now." Watching their savings dwindle away with Sam's "investment"schemes brought it to her eyes. It had hardened into stone by the time sheopened her front door to a howling pack of reporters, the bright lights of theTV cameras and the microphones stuck in her face.
"Mrs. Roberts, our viewers want to know how you feel about your son killing theconvenience store clerk?"
RosaLee had a mask of her own. There was a certain defiance in the way she heldthe can of beer, but Audrey refused to be drawn into it. She took a calmingbreath and slowly expelled it.
"Alright, RL. Pick a place. It's our trip, not mine. We can go anywhere you want— as long as we're back before your father comes home from Chicago on Friday.You know he and I have that Urban League dinner Friday night."
"Why couldn't Daddy come with us? I can't see why he and Paul both had to go fora deposition. It would have been cheaper to pay that witness's plane fare toDallas."
"I don't know about that. I'll bet there's a golf course nearby that he and Paulwanted to try — and you know I only bet on a sure thing."
"Golf course? Hey! Why can't we go to the condo? It's not that far."
"Our condo? In Shreveport?" Audrey asked, thoughtfully, then shrugged away hervision of the trip. "We can go there, if you want."
"That's where I want to go," RosaLee said, perking up, snapping her finger,doing a little singsong. "We can go into town. Do a little gambling. Have somereal fun."
"You gamble, I'll watch," Audrey said, laughing.
"Aw Mama. Loosen up some. Just make up your mind, you're gonna lose the firsthundred."
"Hundred!"
"Scared money can't win, Mama. I'll just give you a hundred, okay? It'll befun."
Audrey smiled, relaxed her spine against the chair back, and loosened her gripon the steering wheel.
At the gate, Audrey had to show her resident card to the security guard. He wasnew, and she hadn't been to the condo in how long? More than a year, maybe two.It would probably smell musty from being closed up for so long. She decided thatwhen she got inside, she would open all the windows so it could air out whilethey were at the casinos. It would be safe with the guard and all, she thought,as she shut the motor off in front of their unit. She walked to the back of theRV and stood over the bed where RosaLee was fast asleep, with her fist pushedunder her chin. She'd always slept that way ever since she was a baby.
"RosaLee? We're here."
No answer. Audrey'd forgotten. Wouldn't answer to that name. Audrey rolled hereyes.
"RL?" she grudgingly called to her.
Still no answer. Hard sleep, with that fist under her chin. All that beer,making her sleep hard like that, Audrey thought. Let her sleep 'til she took thefood in, then.
Audrey turned and reached a plastic bag from under the sink. She opened therefrigerator and took out the steaks she'd planned to grill under the moonlitsky. Have to do it on the broiler inside now. That's okay. Then the shrimp thatshe'd planned to sauté in a generous skillet of garlic butter. Oh, and the rice.She filled two plastic grocery bags.
Audrey pulled on the brightly colored, abstract-print jacket to her silk joggingsuit. If the designers hadn't taken so long to discover a market in queen sizes,she wouldn't despise plaids and tiny flower prints as she did now. Those wereall that were available when she was a young girl, big for her age. Later, whenshe was a teenager, the dark colors her mother had insisted would make her looksmaller made her feel matronly. Now, a confident and well-dressed woman steppedout of the RV.
Their condo sat on a cul-de-sac. Like the others, it appeared to be one story.But they were built on a slope down to the man-made lake, with the masterbedroom downstairs from the main level. Sam had handled the legal work for thedeveloper in exchange for clear title to the condo. He'd gotten a lot of usedcars from criminal cases that way, too. Cars they hadn't needed. She rememberedarguing with him about it. Then, they'd needed money more than a resort condo,but it had turned out to be a good deal. She had lots of memories of good timeswith the kids and with her friend, MaryBeth.
When she struggled the door open, she didn't hear the buzz of the securitysystem. She could have sworn she left it on. She always did. Maybe Malcolm hadbeen here since she had, she thought. Probably had brought some girl here toshow off. Some silly girl with delusions of marrying into money. Some stupidgirl, who didn't realize Malcolm had no money because Malcolm wouldn't work.Lord, now she'd have to change the linen.
The curtain was open to the sliding glass door that led to the deck and Audreycould see the big moon peeking through the tree branches. She set the bags onthe kitchen table, thinking she could grill the steaks on the deck under theshadow of the tall pines that ringed the lake. She and RL could both have whatthey wanted. This was going to work out just fine. Maybe she should listen toher daughter more. She was grown now. About to be a lawyer, just like her dad.Audrey would have been thrilled for her to take up teaching, but RosaLeewouldn't even get a teaching certificate in college. She'd said there was nomoney in it. While Audrey conceded that point logically, she knew in her heartthat RL's real motivation was to gain her father's approval.
The place didn't smell musty, as Audrey had expected. She opened the patio doorand stood breathing in the clean, fresh smell of the damp night air. Nestledamong the pines, the deck was such a romantic setting. Audrey remembered all thetimes she'd sat there alone, reading, while she waited for Sam to return fromhis golf game. When he did, he usually immersed himself in work he'd broughtfrom the office. So, she was alone. The kids were usually gone — to theswimming pool, or movies at the clubhouse, or fishing in the lake with theirnewly made friends from around the resort. This was her place. Her quiet, aloneplace. She decided to wait until morning to uncover the patio furniture andarrange it just the way she liked it. Maybe RL would join her here for coffee inthe morning. Right now she needed to wake her up.
When she started for the front door, she frowned at the pile of dirty dishes inthe sink. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint, flickering light.Downstairs. Couldn't be Malcolm — he was in jail. She walked to the top of thestairs. Could that be a candle in the bedroom below? Stupid Sam. Hardheaded Sam.She'd told him to take their condo off the rental list. She didn't like thethought of strangers in her house, sleeping on her sheets, using her dishes.They didn't need the money now — or the tax deduction. And who were these foolswho left a candle burning while they partied at the casino?
Descending the stairs, she saw a piece of cloth. At the foot of the stairs, shebent over and picked it up, then realizing it was a pair of briefs, dropped themand shook her hand. Nasty people, too, she thought. The bedroom door was ajar.When she pushed it open, she knew she should turn and leave quietly. But shecouldn't. She was mesmerized. She knew they hadn't heard her; they were tooabsorbed in their lovemaking. No, not lovemaking. Not the tender, rhythmicjoining that she longed for. Fucking. Humping. The man humping.
The stark contrast of pale legs on either side of brown ones. Hairy legs, allfour of them. Straight hair, curly hair. White toes, brown toes, white toes.Audrey had never seen anything like it. In the flickering candlelight, shecouldn't see their faces, only the backs of their heads. Short, kinky hair,surrounding a bald spot. Short, straight hair, surrounding a bald spot. Then,she heard his groaning. A familiar sound. Familiar voice.
"Ou, that's it, Paul. Baby, that's it. Right there."
Audrey stood rooted to the spot, as a wave of nausea washed over her. She knewwhat would come next. How many times had she heard it?
"I'm coming. Daddy's com-ing!"
Then the shudder. The release. Then the collapse of his weight on her.
"Sam? Paul? What's going on here?" The sound of her voice was muffled, as thoughit reflected back to her through a wall of cotton.
What a stupid question, Audrey thought. Her mind was a ball of confusion. Whatshould she do? Her first urge was to throw something at them. A biblical-likestoning. But she had no stones. Audrey watched Paul pulling the sheet aroundhimself like a cocoon, and Sam scurrying around, almost comically, trying to puton his robe — the robe RosaLee had given him for Christmas. Sam rushed towardher and grabbed her by her upper arms.
"What are you doing here?" Sam demanded.
The answer was simple. RosaLee — RV — casino. But the words balled up in hermouth like a big wad of stale gum, sticking to each other and her mouth, unableto come out. So many thoughts were crashing into each other, she thought herhead would explode. You. Paul. Partners. Chicago last month, San Francisco themonth before. Austin. Bar conventions. Golf tournaments. How many years? Howlong? How could she not have known?
"Go upstairs!" he shouted, pushing her.
Audrey stumbled backward, then regained her footing. She returned his shove,then shoved him again harder, the heels of her fists crashing into his chest.With clenched teeth and an upswing of her arm, she slapped his face. A solidconnection that felt good all the way from her hand, up her arm, to her heart.He grabbed for her arm, just as her other hand landed on the side of his head.She'd reached all the way back to East Texas — to the kids calling her "FatAudrey" — for that one. Sam was stunned by the force of it. Before he couldrecover, she tore into him like a tornado through a trailer park. Pummeling hisface, clawing at his eyes, snatching at his ears. Sam protected his face withhis forearm and blindly grabbed at her flailing arms.
"Audrey! Audrey! Calm down!"
She couldn't tell which one was calling her back from that wild place. She feltPaul pulling her from behind, his arms clamped around her waist. "Don't touchme! Don't touch me! You bastard!" she shouted, wrestling in his grasp. Shejerked her elbow backward, smashing it into his nose. Paul howled in pain as hefell back on the bed, holding his nose. In that instant, Sam uncovered his faceand reached for her arms. He got hold of one, but with the other she continuedpounding his head. He grabbed her in a bear hug, and in the jostling they fellon the bed on top of Paul. Audrey thrashed out of his grasp, mindless of Paul'spainful yells underneath them.
RosaLee! What if she awoke and walked in on this scene? How would they explainit? What would RosaLee think? No child should witness something like this.Protecting her child was a stronger urge than killing Sam. Audrey had to getout. Now.
Her final blow knocked Sam away from her. She scrambled off the bed, stumbled upthe stairs, and rushed out the door.
Continues...
Excerpted from Dangerous Dilemmasby Evelyn Palfrey Copyright © 2007 by Evelyn Palfrey. Excerpted by permission.
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