Too Good to Be True(76)

Julian blushed. “Fairly wonderful,” he admitted shyly. “We’ve had two dates. I think we might kiss soon.”

I patted my friend’s arm. “I’m glad, honey,” I told him.

“You’re not feeling…neglected?”

“No! I’m happy for you. It’s been a long time coming.”

“I know. And, Grace, you’ll—” He looked up suddenly, his expression changed to one of horror. “Oh, no, Grace.

Your mother’s here.”

“What?” I said, instantly imagining the worst. Mémé had died. Dad had a heart attack. Mom was tracking me down to break the news. Please, not Nat or Margs, I prayed.

“She’s dancing,” Julian said, craning his neck. “With one of Cambry’s friends. Tom, I think.”

“Dancing? Is my father here?” I stood behind Julian, peeping over his shoulder.

“I don’t see him. Maybe she just…felt like dancing,” he said. “Oh, she’s coming our way. Hide, Grace! You’re supposed to be in New York!”

I slipped into Julian’s office before my mother could see me. Mature? No. But why ruin a happy night when good old hiding would do the trick? I pressed my ear against the door so I could hear.

“Hello, Nancy!” Julian’s voice, purposefully loud, came to me easily. “How nice to see you!”

“Hello, Julian dear,” Mom said. “Oh, isn’t this fun! Now, I know I’m not single, but I just felt like dancing! Is that all right?”

“Of course!” Julian said heartily. “You’ll leave a few broken hearts behind, but of course! Stay a while! Have fun!

Shall we dance?”

“Actually, sweetheart, could I use your phone for one second?”

“My phone? In my office?” Julian practically yelled.

“Yes, dear. Is that all right?”

“Um, well, sure! Of course you can use the phone in my office!”

With that, I leaped away from the door, jerked open the closet door and popped in, closing the door behind me.

Just in the nick of time.

“Thanks, Julian dear. Now you go! Shoo! Don’t let me keep you from your guests.”

“Sure, Nancy. Um, take your time.” I heard the door close, smelled the leather from Julian’s jacket. Heard the beeping of the phone as my mother called someone. Waited with thudding heart.

“The coast is clear,” she murmured, then replaced the receiver.

The coast is clear? Clear for what? For whom? I was tempted to crack the closet door, but didn’t want to give myself away. After all, not only was I not in New York City with my doctor boyfriend, but I was hiding in a closet, spying on my mother. The coast was clear. That did not sound good.

Crap. I knew things weren’t great with my parents, but then again, that was the norm. Did Mom have someone on the side? Was she cheating on Dad? My poor father! Did he know?

Indecision kept me standing where I was, my throat tight, heart galloping. I realized I was gripping the sleeve of Julian’s coat. Calm down, Grace, I urged myself. Maybe the coast is clear didn’t sound quite as clandestine as I thought. Maybe Mom was talking about something else… But, no. The office door opened again, then closed.

“I saw you dancing out there,” came a man’s gruff voice. “You’re that sculptor, aren’t you? Every man was watching you. Wanting you.”

Okay, well, that statement wasn’t true. I frowned. Every man out there, save about two, was g*y. If they were watching my mother, it was for fashion tips.

“Lock the door.” Mom’s voice was low.

My eyes widened in the dark closet. God’s nightgown! I clenched the sleeve more tightly, my fingernails digging into the soft leather.

“You’re so beautiful.” The voice was hoarse…but familiar.

“Shut up and kiss me, big boy,” Mom ordered. There was silence.

Cold with dread, I cracked the door the smallest fraction and took a peek. And just about peed my pants.

My parents were making out in Julian’s office.

“What’s your name?” my father asked, breaking off from the kiss and looking at Mom with smoky eyes.

“Does it matter?” Mom said. “Kiss me again. Make me feel like a woman should.”

My astonishment turned to horror as dear old Dad grabbed my mother and kissed her sloppily…oh, God, there was tongue. I jerked back, shuddering, and closed the door as quietly as I could…not that it mattered, they were moaning rather loudly…and stuffed the jacket sleeve into my mouth to keep from screaming, a massive case of the heebie-jeebies rolling through me from head to toe. My parents. My parents were role-playing. And I was stuck in a closet.

“Oh, yes. More. Yes,” my mother groaned.

“I want you. Since the moment I walked into this seedy little joint, I wanted you.”

I jammed my fingers in my ears hard. Dear God, I prayed. Please strike me deaf right now. Please? Pretty please? I could, of course, just open the closet door and bust them. But then I’d have to explain what I was doing in there in the first place. Why I was hiding. Why I hadn’t revealed myself sooner. And then I’d have to hear my parents explain what they were up to.

“Oh, yes, right there!” my mother crooned. My fingers weren’t working, so I tried the heels of my hands. Alas, I could still hear a few words. “Lower…higher…”