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“How come there’s five Dans?” Mel asked.
“Because you’re drunk,” Adrienne screamed.
She went to hit him, but Dan grabbed her. “Don’t do that. Let him lie down on the sofa and sleep it off.”
Mel waved his arms about in the air and then fell onto his side. The shrimp fell out of the bag and slithered in several directions across Dan’s freshly shampooed carpet. Adrienne picked up the shrimp and took them to the kitchen.
“Mel,” said Charlene, “you knew that Adrienne’s boss would be here tonight. How could you humiliate her like this?”
Mel’s voice rumbled up from the sofa. “Damn this shit! Adrienne! Are you gonna let this woman talk about me like that? Can’t a man get some respect from his own wife?”
He sat up with difficulty.
Dan spoke to him quietly. “Mel, you’ve got to earn respect. Something is obviously bothering you, which is why you got drunk in the first place. Maybe you could share your real troubles with Adrienne and everything could turn out all right.”
Mel turned his drunken, coke-filled gaze on Dan. “Oh, so you one of those new sensitive black men I been hearing about, huh? One of those brothers who cook, clean, and talk all day long about your fuckin’ feelings. Am I right? Huh?”
Charlene jumped up. “Don’t start picking on Dan.”
“I can handle him,” Dan replied.
Mel stood and leaned forward so that he was nose to nose with Dan. “Well . . . handle me . . . go on . . . take your best shot.”
Dan stepped forward to hit Mel but Charlene pushed him back. Charlene turned on Adrienne, who was watching the scene in frozen horror. “Mel cannot stay here tonight!” she shrieked. “And after this, if you don’t see that you two need professional help, I don’t know what else to say to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was bad enough that Mel had embarrassed the hell out of her last night at Dan’s house. But then, before she could stop him, he had stumbled out of her brother’s house and stayed out for the rest of the night!
The next day, when Adrienne left the house to go shopping, it was way past noon and she’d still had no word from Mel. Now she hoped fervently that her period would come on time. Something was terribly wrong with Mel, and it was time for her to face that. He’d stayed out all night, and she didn’t know where he’d been. He could have been laid up with some woman, for all I know, Adrienne thought, maybe that Lillian bitch, but the idea made her cringe. The last thing they needed was a baby. In fact, maybe it was time to start thinking about divorce.
Waiting for the elevator in Macy’s department store, Adrienne massaged her hands, which were chilly from an unseasonably blustery wind outside. Last year, New York City had had its hottest spring in seventy-five years, according to the news reports. Obviously, Mother Nature was not going to be so kind this year. Nearly everyone on the street was still wearing a jacket. An elevator opened, and Adrienne waited patiently for the stream of passengers to get off. As she rode up to the women’s dresses department, her body shook with anger.
Adrienne stalked the aisles like a demon. Ever since the fire, when all her belongings had vanished, shopping was the only activity that could quiet her nerves when she got upset.
After looking at every single skirt in her size, she settled on a Scotch plaid mini. Then she saw a gray ankle-length knit with a slit up the left thigh, which came with a belt that had a big silver buckle. Next it was on to dresses. After trying on ten different dresses, she chose an uncomplicated black Norma Kamali. But you hardly ever wear black, a little voice whispered in her ear. She shrugged the voice away and draped the garment over her arm. She fell in love with a silk blue-and-burgundy dress and didn’t even blink at the price, which was $385. She paid for the purchases and went on to another floor.
Her rage lurked right beneath the pretty smile and courteous words that she gave the salespeople who helped her. Adrienne knew that they would have been astounded to know how desperately sad and angry she felt inside.
She chose a black tank top with mesh insets and a bikini bottom: $74. Then a young salesclerk dangled a silk twill scarf in gold in front of her eyes. She simply had to have it: $195. For a fleeting second, she thought about stabbing Mel as soon as he walked through the door and making her getaway before the cops could catch her. For that, she grabbed a classic leather backpack in brown: $95.
At this point her arms were aching, but today her shopping fetish had reached its peak. A sales clerk offered to hold all of the items behind the cash register. Adrienne flashed her a smile and was off and running once more. A French purse in black, shiny calfskin with a multicolored interior was next: $170. Then a faux pearl collar with pendant and a whopping price tag attached to it: $1,050.
Adrienne thought of how angry Mel would be if he knew that she was spending so much money. The mere thought of it made her feet do a light skip of glee, and her hands latched on to a V-neck poorboy ribbed cotton sweater for $68. It came in navy, natural, gray, white, burgundy, and brown. Adrienne couldn’t decide which color was best, so she snatched up one of each.
She thanked the salesclerk at the register who had held the other items and now started ringing everything up.
“Will that be cash or credit card?” she asked.
“MasterCard,” Adrienne replied confidently.
The cosmetics counter fell under attack: foundation, lipstick, blush, eyeliner, eye shadow, perfume, lotion, face cream, lip gloss, mascara. The total was $600.
The jewelry section was a virtual wonderland. Adrienne indulged in a pair of sterling silver hoops for $65 and a tennis bracelet that cost $500.
“Visa.” Adrienne answered the clerk’s question quite smoothly.
Adrienne strolled casually around the rows of electronics on yet another floor. In front of a cellular phone display, a salesman waved to get her attention. Adrienne shifted the heavy shopping bags to a more comfortable position and stepped up to see what the handsome white man had to offer. His hair was a dirty blond, and he had bright blue eyes that twinkled as he made his sales pitch.
