Promiscuous Promiscuous
Marshall enlisted Deandra’s help as hostess for a small dinner party he wanted to throw to celebrate the huge development deal he’d recently secured. She was thrilled by the prospect and had looked forward with eager anticipation to the party.
The night of the party arrived and everything was going very well. Deandra had purchased a new dress for the evening. She’d selected something which she felt was elegant as well as sophisticated. Attired in a shimmering silk, short sleeve chemise with a rounded neckline with ties, she’d added a detachable crystal rhinestone brooch and looked every bit the part of the graceful hostess. She’d complimented the dress with strappy evening sandals in silver metallic Spanish leather, with a rhinestone ornament at the arch. The dinner party was a completely catered affair and only required Deandra to greet the guests and make sure everything was flowing smoothly. The bulk of the responsibility fell to the event organizer Marshall always used. Deandra had enjoyed being consulted on the menu and theme choice for the evening. Deandra was beginning to revel in her role, when Viola showed up. Although she knew she’d been invited, she’d never actually met Viola face to face. She was a bit intimated by the prospect.
Viola arrived escorted by a very handsome older gentleman. This evening she wore a black taffeta shirtdress. Her winged-collar silk dress had a slightly gathered bodice falling into a full waist skirt. A satin tie had been added to give the dress a romantic look. She was a stunningly beautiful older woman with a figure to match. Viola commanded a room with ease the moment she entered it.
Marshall greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek and then guided her across the room to meet Deandra. Deandra watched Viola’s eyes as they approached and steeled herself not to wither under the caustic stare. Deandra was surprised when Viola extended her hand warmly in greeting.
“Deandra, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have been hearing so much about you,” Viola said and smiled brightly as she clasped Deandra’s hand in hers lightly.
Caught off guard, Deandra gushed in response, “Why thank you, Mrs. Marshall. I have been looking forward to meeting you as well.”
Viola’s smile never faded, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Have you, my dear?” she asked. She studied the attire of her son’s lover and found it wanting. From Deandra’s French painted toenails to the garish silver sandals, Viola was singularly unimpressed. “Nice frock, dear,” she said and turned her attention to Marshall.
Deandra did not miss the fact that she had just been assessed and dismissed. The ‘nice frock’ comment hit its intended target. Deandra had spent a lot of time selecting this outfit and had nearly depleted her small stash with the five hundred dollar dress and two hundred dollar shoes. She hadn’t wanted to ask Marshall for the money since he’d been so generous already. She wanted to exert a little financial independence, hopeful she would recoup it later on. Viola’s comment was cordial enough so her son wouldn’t get upset, but noncommittal enough so she would get her subtle message. Deandra recognized that her prospective mother-in-law had suddenly morphed into Joan Crawford as Mildred Pierce, and she was just as dark and calculating. Every warning she’d received about Viola James was apparently true. She would have to watch her step.
“Marshall, are Tina and Emmett here?” Viola asked as she glanced around the room through the assembled guests.
“No, unfortunately, they had a prior commitment,” he responded.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to chat with a few old friends,” she said and started across the room without a backward glance.
“She doesn’t like me,” Deandra stated flatly.
“She doesn’t know you yet, Dee,” Marshall countered and then continued, “Can I get you something to drink?” He said hoping to distract her attention.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you can,” she smiled defiantly and looped her arm through his.
“That’s my girl,” he laughed and escorted her to the bar.
Viola spent a considerable portion of the evening watching the interplay between her son and his unsuitable new girlfriend. It would be over her dead body that this two-bit whore secured a permanent position in Marshall’s life. Viola had always accepted that he could date and bed whomever he chose, but she’d heard stories of this Deandra person and behaviors that were totally outrageous. Marshall usually displayed much better judgment and he was more discreet. She almost wondered if his parading this trash around their friends was a result of her own outburst. It would not be above Marshall to champion this woman, simply because she did not like her. She decided she might have to intervene and stop this ridiculous charade.
Deandra was acutely aware of being under Viola’s microscope all evening. She was weary from second guessing every thing she said and did. She’d never been so uncomfortable in her own skin. An escape to the bathroom in one of the guest bedrooms brought her face to face with her nemesis. Deandra had bent over a footstool next to the bed to adjust the strap on her shoe when Viola emerged from the bathroom. Both were momentarily surprised to find someone else in the room and stopped what they were doing. Deandra, on edge and weary from a long evening, made a serious misstep with a woman she should have been trying to impress. She allowed her emotions to get the best of her. In her agitated state, she confronted Viola.
“Well, spit it out. I can see you’ve been itching to say something all night,” Deandra said.
Viola looked a bit taken aback at first, but then a sly smile slowly started at the corners of her lips. The smile never reached her eyes as she replied, “I noticed you seemed to be getting a little comfortable acting as hostess this evening.”
Deandra removed her foot from the stool and straightened up to her full height. She towered over Viola as she pushed her dress back down over her knee. Refusing to be intimidated, she looked Viola straight in the eye and replied, “And your point is?”
“Don’t get used to the lifestyle, my dear. You may be good at,” she looked Deandra up and down so her intent would be clear before she continued, “what you do, but you’re only a temporary distraction.”
Angered by the implication that she wasn’t fit to be Marshall’s wife, she snidely countered, “Don’t be so sure of that, grandma, Marshall loves me.”
“Ha!” Viola scoffed and ignored the age insult. “You, my dear, need to stop dreaming. You will never bear my grandchildren.”
“Who said I want children?”
“And that, my dear, is exactly my point. You don’t know my son as well as you may think you do,” Viola stated, and then opened her purse and began rummaging around inside looking for something. She found what she was looking for and continued, “When I was a young girl, my father gave me a dime to take along on my first date. His instructions were that I was to keep that dime between my knees at all times. I understood clearly what he expected of me.” She paused and curled her lips into a wicked sneer before continuing, “I imagine if your father had given you that symbolic dime on your very first date, you probably lost it on the way to the car. And when that dime dropped, that’s when you lost the potential of ever becoming a member of my family.” She tucked her purse under her arm and watched the simmering rage in Deandra’s eyes. Undaunted, Viola smiled and held out her hand palm up. Nestled in the palm of her hand was a shiny new dime. Slowly, she turned her hand over and the dime fell to the floor with a tiny clinking sound and rolled away.
She looked at Deandra and whispered vehemently, “Never!” and walked out of the room.
Deandra stood transfixed to her spot as anger and hurt suffused her body. Her breathing was labored as tears filled her eyes and rolled soundlessly down her cheeks. She was instantly transported back to her childhood where she never quite fit in with the affluent crowd. They either ignored her totally or whispered behind her back. She saw the same distaste in Viola’s eyes as she had seen in Arlene Jefferson’s so many years ago. She hadn’t been this humiliated in a very, very long time. She decided then and there, Viola would pay for this moment. She wasn’t sure how, but she would pay.
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