Part 27 (1/2)

”And maybe then you'll get it in your thick man head that I picked you because you're black and that's a b.u.t.ton I can push. I mean, a girl doesn't go home for ten years, you have to guess she has some issues with her family. But that's not why at all. I picked you because you're you, and you're perfect for me, and because I'm so in love with you.”

Burr said, ”I love you, too, Lena. But I'm done being played.”

I said, ”What does that mean? You're giving me an ultimatum? 'f.u.c.k me or lose me'? Because that sucks, Burr.”

”Don't misunderstand me,” he said, his voice rising. ”Don't make this about me trying to get over on you. I've never pressured you that way. And yeah, obviously I want to have s.e.x with you, but that's not what I'm saying here. I'm asking you to introduce me to your family. That's all. I'm asking for a commitment, Lena. We've been together two years now.”

”On and off,” I said.

”Mostly on.”

He reached for the doork.n.o.b again, and I said, ”Don't you dare walk out on me in the middle of a fight.” I was so angry, I was practically screaming. ”I mean it, don't you do it.” He paused for a second, but then he flipped the dead bolt.

The door seemed to catch in the frame, so he gave it an angry shove. It swung open, knocking back a girl who was standing on the other side. She was so close she must have had her ear pressed up against the wood, and the force of Burr's exit spilled her all the way backwards onto her bottom.

”What the-” said Burr, and he stepped over the threshold towards her, already reaching down to help her up. She went scuttling backwards like a panicked crab. He stopped moving, and she bounced back to her feet, scrabbling frantically in her huge macrame purse. She was dressed like one of my students, in tight jeans and a peasant blouse, but I didn't recognize her. Her hand came out of her purse and up, holding a tiny spray can aimed at Burr's face.

”I heard you yelling,” she said to me. She was breathing hard, but once on her feet, she seemed more exhilarated than frightened, taking a theatrical Charlie's Angels Charlie's Angels pose with the spray can. pose with the spray can.

”Whoa,” Burr said. He put his hands up. ”Calm down.”

She didn't take her eyes off him, but she was talking to me. ”You go for the soft parts,” she said. ”And then we run while he's down.”

I realized I had put my hands up, too, instinctively. I dropped them and walked over beside Burr. ”Are you all right?” I said to her. ”It was an accident. We didn't know you were there. What on earth were you doing?”

”Lena, is this one of your students?” said Burr. He angled himself, trying to stay between me and the Mace, which was easy since she had it pointed aggressively at his face. She had her legs apart in a fighter's stance, and both her arms were fully extended, aiming the can like a gun.

”I don't think she's after me, Burr,” I said, and because I was so angry, I couldn't help but be amused, watching this tiny girl hold him at bay. ”Her problem's with you, looks like.”

”I was just leaving,” said Burr.

”Bet your a.s.s you are,” the girl said.

”He was only trying to help you up,” I said to her, but she ignored me and kept the can trained on Burr.

Burr dropped his hands slowly and walked past her, and she turned in a circle, keeping him covered.

”We're not done with this conversation,” I called after him.

”I am,” he said and went on down the stairs.

I started after him, but the girl turned sideways and then stepped to block me. She whipped her head back and forth, trying to keep an eye on both of us.

”Excuse me,” I said, but she ignored me. Burr turned the corner, and the moment he was out of sight, she faced me and dropped her arms, grinning triumphantly. ”They're almost all sonsab.i.t.c.hes.”

At second glance, she was too old to be one of my students. I put her at about thirty. She was my size or maybe even a little shorter. I doubted she could claim five-one in bare feet. Her thick dark hair was cut in an aggressive bob, shorter in the back and angling down into two razor-sharp points on either side of her fiercely pretty face.

”We were only arguing,” I said. ”Excuse me, I need to catch him.” I started after Burr, but she moved into my path, blocking me again. She still clutched the spray can.

She said, ”If I had a dime for every time I said those words!”

”Put the Mace away,” I said.

”Oh, right.” She dropped it into her bag. ”What timing, huh? I heard you yelling in there, and I was about to bust this door down and come in after you.”

She said the word ”you” as if it had a W on the end. It was pure Alabama. I forgot about going after Burr and stared at her, taking in her pointy face and the huge violet-blue eyes gazing out from between the sharp wings of her hair.

”Rose?” I said, but it simply couldn't be. The last time I'd seen Rose Mae Lolley, she'd had waist-length hair and had moved with the slow grace of an underwater ballerina on opium. The Rose Mae I knew and loathed years ago, back in Alabama, would never go leaping around wielding Mace in a Yankee stairwell. And she certainly wouldn't lower herself to speak to me.

But she was nodding and saying, ”Can you believe it? I look different, huh? You don't. Not much, anyway. I mean, older, sure. But I knew in a glance I'd found Arlene Fleet. May I come in?”

”I don't think so,” I said. I thought for one absurd moment that she had to be here on a mission from Aunt Flo, a tactical maneuver in the perpetual war to bring me home. Before I could stop myself, I found myself asking, ”Who sent you? Was it Florence?”

Rose looked puzzled and said, ”Florence? Oh! Mrs. Lukey? Clarice's mom? Lord, no, I haven't seen her in a dog's age. How is she doing?”

I boggled at her. ”This isn't some sort of old-home week, Rose. I haven't seen you in ten years. I didn't even know if you were alive or dead, and quite frankly, I didn't much care. And now you are standing out in my stairwell, apparently eavesdropping on me and my boyfriend? It's none of your business how my family is. If Aunt Florence didn't send you as some form of torture, then how the h.e.l.l did you even find me? What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”