Dead to Her(51)
“Since when are you a mechanic?” Marcie said.
“I’m pretty good with cars, actually.” Jason flashed her a disgruntled look before smiling once again at Keisha. “Don’t worry, I’ll get under your hood, Keisha, and get it running again. Can’t have you overheating.”
“I think we’re out,” Marcie muttered, staring down at the menu as her husband overplayed his crude innuendos. Her fingers felt sticky and her stomach turned. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore.
32.
The skin on Marcie’s thighs prickled and itched with sweat under her skirt from where she’d been sitting, so bored, for the best part of an hour, and it was a relief when the sermon was finally over. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and the pastor had been embarrassed and apologetic about the broken AC, which apparently engineers were working on, but Marcie had seen no sign of them as she’d sat and politely perspired alongside the great and the good of Savannah society. Sunday before the Fourth of July; everyone went to church, she’d noticed over the years—even Jason insisted they show up. As if God were one of them and Jesus wore a cap that said Make America Great Again instead of a crown of thorns.
The doors had been left open, but the air was so stagnant they would have been better closed. Keisha had gone outside, looking slightly off-color, ten minutes before the end, and as they all rose to file out, Marcie noted William didn’t look at all pleased about that. Virginia, tanned and glowing from her trip away, happy to be back in the bosom of her church, had whispered, “Maybe she’s pregnant,” into Marcie’s ear, and half-asleep as she’d been in the stifling heat while the pastor droned on, Marcie hadn’t missed the snickering tone. She knew why too. William Radford was a blue blood of society. He may have married a black woman, but would he want his only surviving child and heir to be mixed race? She doubted it. Old prejudices ran deep in the subconscious.
She pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and followed Virginia into the bright light, where she murmured her thank-you to the pastor and then scanned the parking lot and sprinklered lawns for Jason. Virginia droned on about how much she’d relaxed in Grand Cayman, how attentive the staff at each of the resorts had been, and how Marcie would absolutely love it there and should persuade Jason to take her. It was so smug. The sticky heat was irritating Marcie’s mood as much as her skin, and it didn’t help that her sleep had been punctured over and over by anxiety dreams of the past. How wonderful life must be for someone like Virginia. All that money of her own. Never having to ask permission to do anything. No nightmares. No memories crammed into small locked boxes.
Perhaps it was simply the heat, but Virginia seemed to be the only one in their group in good spirits, Marcie mused, as her eyes drifted across to where William had found Keisha, leaning against a tree over in the leafy grove that disguised the busy road beyond. Whatever he was saying to her, it didn’t look too comforting, even though Keisha did look a little unwell. Maybe he’d rather she’d passed out or puked in the pews instead of embarrassing him by leaving before the collection plate had even come around. Keisha, Keisha. Marcie’s nerves twitched in irrepressible sexual excitement. It was dangerous, she knew it, but that was a turn-on in itself.
She half-expected to see Jason over with Keisha too—offering comfort or water or a good hard fuck—but instead he was by the far wall, beyond the cars, talking to Emmett. It was rare for Emmett to even show up at church, despite his wife’s passion for it, and Marcie was pretty sure he’d dozed off at one point, but if he’d been sleeping then, he was wide awake now as Jason leaned in close, gesticulating while they talked in the shimmering air. Marcie frowned, unable to make out any words from this distance. Jason looked very intense, even as Emmett shrugged and smiled with all his natural ease and foppish charm.
“How about brunch at mine?”
Marcie jumped slightly, startled, as William’s question broke her musing. “Sure,” she murmured. She glanced back at her husband. Whatever he and Emmett had been talking about, it was done now and they were strolling back to their wives as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
“Jason’s going to top up Keisha’s coolant,” William continued. “I told him Elizabeth would take it into the shop, but he says he can do it.”
“Oh yes!” Virginia piped up. “He used to have a little old racing car, didn’t he? Put it together himself. Back when he was first with Jacquie. My.” She sighed. “Where does the time go?”
Virginia, ever the bitch, all misty-eyed for Jason’s first marriage.
“Jacquie’s back in town,” Marcie said. “If you hadn’t heard already.” It was always better to own information that could be used against you, that was Marcie’s policy.
Virginia’s eyes widened and there was a hint of glee in the sparkle. Her mouth opened, no doubt to say something spiteful couched in concern, but Marcie didn’t give her the chance, turning and heading to the car.
Only William Radford would have air-conditioning in his garage, but thank God for it, Marcie thought, as she leaned back against the passenger door of their own car while Jason pulled the Prestone from the trunk.
“You should go inside with the others, honey,” Jason said. “No point in all of us being out here. Can’t exactly see you as the type who likes to get covered in motor grease.”