Jane propped herself up on her elbow and breathed loudly through her nose. “If Danny catches us knitting we are dead. If Danny catches us like this, he’ll probably jump us.” She shuddered and shook her head, “Anyway I sent Danny to Joburg this morning. He’s not coming back until Monday,” she scrunched up her nose at me, “and don’t you have to be old to knit? Or senile?”
I bent my back over the armrest of the couch in an attempt to crack it, my hair brushing the lavender scented carpet (yes it really is lavender scented – the maid sprays it with some sort of lavender spritzer thing every morning after she vacuums it) then lifted my leg slightly to observe my stiletto-clad foot. Certainly since taking this job I’ve begun to dress better. Both of us have. Danny pays us enough to be able to afford it, and sadly his approval is welcome. That fact irks me a bit, but I can’t seem to get it to go away. Bastard!
Like every girl, I have a typical shoe fetish. I have four pairs of what I call dancing shoes in black, brown, satin red and silver. When I wear the red ones Danny does a weird shiver and grabs my ass. He seems to like it when I elbow him for it. Twice I’ve hit him hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and both times he couldn’t seem to decide whether to try breathing or laughing first.
They aren’t really dancing shoes, but they remind me of the tango, because of the closed toe and heel, the buckled ankle straps, and the T-bar that travels down the length of the foot. I find the tango to be a complete turn on, though I doubt that my five foot eight frame would ever allow me to look anything but gawky and giraffe-like were I to attempt it. So I settle for the shoes, and even though the effect is lost when I wear pants, I still wear them in the wintertime anyway.
“Does it bother you that Danny hired you because you’re pretty?”
Jane sighed, giving up on her fake nap, and pulled herself up onto her elbows so that she could eye me with and annoyed glare. “The fact that I can afford payments on an Audi TT does not bother me. Why should I be bothered for being hired because of someone else’s shallowness? Does it bother you?” Actually I hate that car, but she loves it so I pretend that I do too.
“He didn’t hire me because he thought I was hot. He hired me because I bust his balls for trying to hit on me during my interview. Danny thinks he’s starring in his own movie. He hired me for calling him on his faux charm, a very movie-cliché hiring technique. God I’m bored to death. Rich people really need to learn to shop in the winter. Do you think they’ve all gone to Florida or something? Or probably somewhere glamorous like Spain. That’s what I’d do if I was rich. I’d follow the summer.”
Jane shifted again into a sitting position and looked at me like she was deciding what to say, a wry smile playing on her mouth. “I slept with him.”
“Ha! What?” I couldn’t help but snort as I looked at her, disbelief and then amusement surely sparkling in my eyes, giving it away that all I wanted to do was collapse into a fit of out-of-character giggles. Why the hell didn’t I already know this? Probably because I would have ragged the hell out of her had she told me at the time. And then not taken the job out of principal.
She leaned forward, putting her head in her hands and shaking it slowly.
“Was he any good?” My curious whisper was barely audible as I put on a fake sexy tone, but Jane nodded then pulled her hands away from her face, mouthing oh yes before turning a light shade of pink. It was all I could do not to let out a distasteful “euw” at this particular revelation.
I stared incredulously for a moment before starting to laugh. “God Jane, you’re more screwed up than I am! I can’t believe you’re only telling me this now! Ugh! He’s good in bed. That sucks. I’ve always wondered, and now I know. I was hoping this would be the one thing that he was bad at. Or at least I always imagined so. Why is a question for a very patient therapist. Perhaps I should start seeing one.” Jane just raised an eyebrow at my rambling.
“Oh shut up, I have a nice car.” Jane crashed back into the couch smiling, more proudly than guiltily as she waited for some sort of mini-lecture from me; but I had none. Instead I laughed softly through my nose for a few seconds longer and then smiled at her again.
“Here I thought it was my charm and influence that got you hired. You want some more coffee?” Jane nodded, trying to hide the slightly self-satisfied smirk tickling the corner of her mouth. She does that all the time because she wants me to realize that she’s remembering the details and liking the picture. Remember what great sex was like, her eyes tell me constantly, don’t you miss that?
And it was just then that the call came. As I was getting up and heading towards the kitchen, my cellphone began to vibrate annoyingly against the glass of the coffee table before bursting into slightly stripped version of Highway to Hell, a ringtone that I switch to during working hours as a reminder of superficial life we are leading.
“Maxine Douglas’ phone” Jane sang out, the smile from her revelation still playing in her voice. I gave her a mock growl for answering my cell.
“She’s in a very important meeting with the kitchen staff at the moment-”
I had to quickly snatch the phone away as she breathed something about taking a message.
“It’s for you,” she said, shrugging with her palms facing upwards, as if she was surprised that people actually do call me. On my cellphone. How absurd!
“Hello?” I heard the person on the other end of the line hesitate before speaking.
“Max? Um…Max,”
Immediately I knew it was Kay and although I had no reason at that particular moment to expect bad news, a chill rushed over my body, disappearing almost as quickly as it came, but leaving behind a faint tingling in its wake. Kaitlyn? Suddenly, my background had encroached on my foreground, leaving me feeling odd and disjointed. I turned my back on Jane who was curiously trying to watch my expression, and I felt ridiculous because two seconds after getting off the phone I knew I’d tell her exactly who was calling and what she had to say anyway. But I still turned my back, feeling like I had to block Jane off from this funny little life so far removed from the suede couch and the fourteen to twenty grand paintings displayed on the walls surrounding us.
“Uh, Kay. Wow. I…um…how are you?” How long had it been? Four years? Five or six maybe? More than that?
Again there was deep breathing on the other end of the line and my unease gave way to mild obligatory concern.
“Katie?” Silence. “Katie what’s wrong?”
I waited patiently for Kaitlyn to explain herself, and saw Jane disappear into the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.
“Max,” Kaitlyn breathed in deeply, “Philip…um…Phil died in a hit and run this morning. I um,” she paused to take a deep breath, “I need you to come home.”
Dull shock seemed to travel through my body from the toes up, slowly numbing my muscles as it climbed, leaving my head in a fog as it reached the roots of my hair.
Philip. No that couldn’t be right. I tried to grasp the reality, but the surrealism of it would only allow a slight flicker somewhere in the back of my mind.
“Max?” Kaitlyn was still there.
“Um, yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll be there tomorrow if I can.”
“Ok. Thanks. Bye Max.”
“Bye…”
I lowered the cellphone to eye level, searching absently for the red hang up button and not finding it.
“Max? Are you ok?” Jane stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand, her head cocked to one side as she studied the blankness of my eyes. She walked towards me and after putting the coffees down on the table, took my hand and tried to lead me towards the couch, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead I shook my head, trying to shake thoughts back into my head because I simply felt like I was trying to understand a math problem that I knew was way beyond my capabilities. And that was all. I just felt confused. And there was nothing confusing. Philip was dead. People get that way sometimes. Plain and simple. So really, thinking shouldn’t have been a problem.
“Janie? Um Jane could you see if um, you could get me a flight to East London early tomorrow morning? I uh, I have a funeral to go to.”