Chapter 22
Jasmine slung her
little bag over her shoulder and marched across the street. It was convenient living just a few blocks from
the
They left the front door open most of the time because there was usually
someone in the house and she had forgotten to close it when she left that
morning for classes. She was surprised
to see a tanned, blond woman standing on the porch looking into the living
room. The woman was dressed conventionally but stylishly.
She wore a mini skirt that showed her slim, bare, tanned thighs and
a silk blouse with a flower pattern that she had bought at I Magnin’s in
“Does Bill Bradford live here?” She asked, somewhat apprehensively. She eyed Jasmine with a mixture of distrust and disdain. She noticed that Jasmine’s wardrobe was a parody of the style of a few years ago. Jasmine wore a blue jacket covered with little white circles and a rumpled, gray mini skirt. Her sandals had been popular when she was in junior high school and her mini skirt showed off thighs that were very white and a little fat. Jasmine knew immediately that this stranger was not like the people she had gone to school with, simply from her manner of speaking and she decided that she didn’t like her.
She waked past Joyce and said, “Come in. Sit down.” Jasmine flopped down on the couch that faced the used television set that Brad had purchased for five dollars. She dropped her books on the coffee table and said again, “Come on in.”
Joyce experienced a mild but distinct feeling of revulsion for Jasmine. She felt her body move slightly backwards towards the street where her Mercedes convertible was parked. She wasn’t a hypocrite and she had never pretended that she was a hippie, even though it was becoming fashionable to do so. She suppressed her feelings and walked through the threshold into the living room. She asked, “Do you expect Brad back soon?”
“Brad’s working at the airport. He won’t be back until tonight.”
Joyce said, almost to herself, “I didn’t know that Bill was working at the airport. I’m surprised.”
Jasmine’s mouth twisted into a smirk and then a pout. She didn’t know what to say. It took a moment for her to remember that Brad’s first name was, in fact, William or Bill. She felt as if the woman looked down on her and thought, therefore, that she must be from a higher class. The thought amused her. She wondered why she called him Bill and if she had an official relationship with him.
Jasmine said, “Bill is kind of serious sometimes. He reads a lot.” She looked into Joyce’s blue eyes. Her forehead was calm and her blond hair was thick and streaked with dark blond. It was natural, but Jasmine suspected that it might be a very expensive dye job.
Joyce said, “Yes. He’s a very intelligent man. I don’t know what job the airport could offer him that would tempt him.”
Jasmine suppressed a giggle. She looked at the slim arms and legs of this confident woman who seemed to be about Brad’s age and wondered if she should tell her that Brad was working as a baggage man. She thought it best to find out more about her, first. She didn’t know what to ask. She was silent for awhile, thinking. Jasmine’s silence and even coquetry irritated Joyce and she saw a sudden, ugly image of Brad in bed with her. Joyce was all too familiar with Brad’s past.
Jasmine asked, “Can I make you a cup of tea?”
Joyce reasoned that she hadn’t driven all the way to Kentfield just to turn around, get into her car and leave. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
In the kitchen, Jasmine tried to think of a way of finding out more about this elegant woman. She suddenly realized that she didn’t even know her name. She yelled, from the kitchen in her friendliest voice, “I’m Jasmine. Everyone calls me Jas. What’s your name?”
“My name’s Joyce.”
“How do you know Brad?”
“I met Brad a long time ago. We’re friends from childhood.”
Jasmine put tea bags into the cups and set the teapot boiling. Without realizing it consciously, her estimation of Brad had gone up. When she returned to the living room, she was ashamed of the couch and afraid Joyce might dirty her dress by sitting on it. She had an urge to get a clean dishtowel for her to sit on. She giggled. She said, “Brad is so intelligent I’m afraid to talk to him sometimes. He said he would help me with my algebra homework but I’m ashamed to show him how bad I am at math.”
She thought, “Don’t worry sweetie, if he tutors you, he’ll find some way to get compensation,” but said instead, a little hypocritically, “He can be a little shy sometimes but he comes out of himself with a little encouragement.”
Jasmine didn’t think of Brad as shy, she thought of him as self-centered. In fact, it seemed to her that he felt superior to everyone. She felt the urge again to tell Joyce that Brad worked as a baggage man, but she thought it would be better not to. She began to feel very uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say.
Joyce said, “Are you a college student?”
“Yes.”
“What are you majoring in?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking of English Literature.”
“Who’s your favorite novelist?”
“My father. But he hasn’t published anything yet. He ended up selling real estate for a living.” She laughed, as if she had told a joke. “But he made a lot of money. He could have made more but he hated it.” She looked up at Joyce. Joyce crossed her legs, uncomfortably. “He bought the house for cash and as soon as he made enough money to retire he stopped selling.” Jasmine felt self-conscious and changed the subject of conversation back to Brad. She said, “Brad wants to write a novel about the commune.”
“Is he going to put you in it?”
She giggled, “I don’t know.” The teapot began to whistle. She was glad to have an excuse to go into the kitchen. Joyce was sure that she had learned enough about Jasmine and decided to leave before finishing her tea.
In the kitchen, Jasmine had taken off her jacket and her large bra-less breasts flopped loosely under her tank top. Joyce asked, “Do you know Anne?”
“Yes. She’s very nice. She sings in a Country and Western band with Brad’s brother. But I never met his brother. He’s married.” She colored slightly, remembering that Joyce was a friend from childhood.
Joyce said, “Rich tells me that she’s very pretty.”
“She is.” Jasmine looked at Joyce with fawning, seventeen-year-old eyes. Joyce became uncomfortable. She felt as if Jasmine were trying to seduce her in a very clumsy way. She pretended not to notice, blew on her tea and took a tiny sip. She said, “Brad has a weakness for pretty women.”
Jasmine batted her eyes coquettishly but said nothing. Joyce thought that she wouldn’t be able to stay in the same room with her for more than a few more minutes. She began to formulate an excuse in her mind to leave.
After
a silence Jasmine said, “Brad keeps to himself.
He has a girlfriend who works at the
“The
“I mean I don’t think they go out or anything. She is engaged sort of.” She waved her hand. “You know.” She made the same gesture Lucille Ball makes when she’s in a difficult situation.
Joyce frowned slightly. She thought, “That’s never stopped him.” She said, “Brad hasn’t been really serious about a woman since high school. He’s had many women friends but I wouldn’t call any of them girlfriends. With one possible exception.” She didn’t want to reveal anything to this silly woman and so she had made up a white lie to lead her away from the scent.
“Do I know her?” Jasmine asked, with false naiveté.
“No, you don’t,” she said firmly.
Jasmine wished that Cheryl would show up. She had disappeared again for a few days and no one knew where she was.
Joyce said, “Well, I wanted to take Brad to a rehearsal at the symphony and I’ve got to rush if I’m going to make it. I’m sorry about the tea but I guess I’ll have to take a rain check.” She got up and placed the teacup on a magazine on the coffee table. She knew that Jasmine didn’t know that rehearsals were in the morning and they would never have got there in time.
“It’s been very nice to meet you Joyce.” Jasmine stretched out her hand, relieved that she was going. “I’ll tell Brad that you were here.”
“Thank you.” They shook hands. “Bye.” Joyce turned and walked through the doorway. Jasmine watched her get into her Mercedes convertible and when she drove away she said out loud, “Ou wee. What a chick. Damn. Miss Got Rocks. Wait till I tell Derrin. A rehearsal at the symphony!! Ouuu weee.” She thought to herself, “Now I know what they mean when they say Brad is a ladies’ man. If he can get a woman like that, he doesn’t belong here. Not with the likes of little ol’ me, anyway.”
She went up to her room with her books, intending to study algebra but she was soon on her bed rubbing her breasts under her tank top and finally doing what she liked far more than studying. The only difference now was that she fantasized a threesome consisting of Brad, Joyce and she doing everything she had ever imagined that she wanted to do but wasn’t supposed to.