PJ GOT A CALL from June, who wanted to meet at a new coffeehouse on Grand named Dean’s Beans. PJ arrived early and claimed a corner seating arrangement, two well-cushioned chairs with a low table between them, by plopping her jacket across the table. The scent of fine coffee wrapped itself around PJ like a welcome comforter. She sighed with enjoyment. She couldn’t drag Schultz to a place like this. If it wasn’t on the menu at Millie’s Diner, he wasn’t interested.
She didn’t know what June wanted to talk about, but there was one big question on PJ’s mind. Did June know her husband was having an affair with his business partner?
Dean, the owner, who looked only a few years older than her son Thomas, recommended a medium roast espresso. PJ hadn’t had one in a while, so she took him up on it. She carried her cup and saucer back to the table, admiring the rich, golden cream on top. The aroma wafted up to her nose as she wondered what to expect when June arrived. The woman sounded so odd on the phone that PJ was beginning to wonder if grief—or guilt—had driven June over the edge.
June showed up carrying a brown envelope, and PJ hoped it wasn’t more sex pictures. Not in Dean’s Beans. Dean was probably underage.
June, indifferent about the menu selections, asked for a cup of coffee, then added six packs of sugar to the house blend she was given.
She and Dave ought to get together. Between the two of them, they could run this place out of cream and sugar.
Without preamble, June drew an eight by ten photograph from her brown envelope. PJ looked at it and blinked. It showed nothing but a hand, a woman’s left hand.
I knew it. I shouldn’t have met her anywhere in public. The next picture out of that envelope is going to be someone’s genitals.
“This was my ring,” June said. “A real rock, a glacier, a four carat diamond in a platinum solitaire setting. A symbol of undying love. I used to love waving it under May’s nose. After all, she’d been dumped.”
Giving the photograph a closer look, PJ did think the ring looked impressive. “When was this, June?”
“About ten years ago. May was about to become the fiancée of a son of Boston old money. Then the family matriarch had a meeting with her, and after that, poof. No engagement. I never found out why. No one did, except May, and she wasn’t saying anything.”
She seemed to want to pour it all out, so PJ put on her psychologist’s face, inhaled her espresso, and let the woman talk.
“I met my fiancé at a conference at UCLA,” June said. “He had this idea about a technology incubator in the Midwest. He wanted to bring together all these top people, pay them scads of money, and let them research their little hearts out. I was happy to be coming back to St. Louis under those circumstances, sort of triumphant. May and I didn’t always get along when we were growing up, you see.”
I think that’s been made perfectly clear. “Sisters often have rough periods in their early lives,” PJ said. “Then they settle in and become good friends as adults.”
June held her cup up to her face, then left it suspended there beneath her nose, as though she’d forgotten about it. Her mind was elsewhere. Finally she sipped from it and put it on the table.
“Frankie and I come home for the holidays. It’s the first time he’s meeting Mom and Dad.” June continued as if there’d been no break in the conversation, and PJ noticed she was relating events in present tense again.
“The big moment arrives and he carries it off. May’s so jealous even the whites of her eyes are green, and she can’t keep her eyes off my ring. May sits across from us at the dinner table. Somewhere between the main course and dessert, I notice that she’s not looking at my ring anymore. She’s looking at my man.”
A little color came into June’s cheeks, and her voice edged louder.
Wind her up and let her talk. Actually, she’s self-winding.
“I run my hand up Frankie’s thigh to remind him who’s wearing his ring. He kisses my ear, but I can see the gears spinning behind her eyes. She leans low to talk to him across the table, giving him a view of her two mountains and Paradise Valley. Really. She’s so obvious, I figure Frankie and I are going to have a good laugh about it later that night.”
There was silence for a time. “And did you?” PJ said. “Laugh about it later?”
“What? Oh, yes, of course we did. But during the next two days she’s all over him, touching him on the shoulder, letting her hair fall in front of her face.” June demonstrated, nearly landing her hair in her coffee cup.
“I almost think my parents are cheering her on, making a game of giving her opportunities to be with Frankie without me. It’s a good thing we’re staying at a hotel. At least I get him alone all night. After all, I’ve got breasts, too.”
PJ hoped June wasn’t going to demonstrate that, as she’d done with her hair. By now, PJ had a good idea where this was going. It was painful to listen to, especially with June reliving the experience.
“I’m busy packing away some Christmas gifts, and it occurs to me I haven’t seen Frankie in a while. I go down to the pool, check the bar, finally check the hotel restaurant. The waiter points out their table, but the chairs are empty. I decide to check the little girl’s room to see if May is putting on makeup.”
Coffee forgotten, June reached out. She put her hand on top of PJ’s, which was resting on the arm of the chair, as if using PJ for an anchor. She went on breathlessly with her story, rushing to the end.
“Inside I hear her. I hear them both. They’re in the last stall. May’s panties are on the floor and her legs are wrapped around Frankie. Her blouse is open and his head is buried in Paradise Valley. She looks at me and winks. Winks! I scream, and he keeps thrusting. The motherfucker keeps thrusting! I stand there until he finishes and pulls out. He sees me but he doesn’t really see me, like I’m invisible or something. It’s May he wants. I yank the ring from my finger and reach past May’s ass. I drop the ring in the toilet and flush.”
June had become the center of attention due to the volume of her voice and her subject matter, but in moments peoples’ eyes flitted away. Other conversations resumed, and loners studied the newspapers or books they’d brought.
“So your Frankie didn’t marry you,” PJ said. Every now and then she had to prime the pump.
“He’s May’s husband, Frank Simmons. He was mine first. I just wanted you to know how her marriage got its start. That’s why she’s so jealous of the true love that Arlan and I have. Now do you believe me when I tell you that Frank and May are out to get us? First Arlan and then me.”
June stuffed the picture of the diamond ring back into the envelope. Her face looked drawn, suddenly ten years older. She must have paid a high price emotionally revealing Frankie’s betrayal of her and May’s active part in it. Deep down, she probably still loved her sister, but there was a lot of static between that buried emotion and the surface.
PJ wanted to clear up something she’d been curious about. “Do you remember when we first met that you said you were sure that Arlan had hidden an anniversary gift for you in the house?”
June nodded. “I found it, too. It was lingerie, a sexy black lace teddy. True love, you know.” She frowned. “He got it in the wrong size. He hasn’t made that mistake in years. It was too small, and I had to exchange it.”
Too small, huh? Bet I know who that gift was really intended for.
Looking at June, PJ was reluctant to question her about infidelity, but it had to be done.
“June, were you aware that Arlan and Fredericka were having an affair?”
June’s eyes widened, but she said nothing for a long time.
PJ’s espresso was lukewarm. She drank it anyway, four quick swallows, and settled the cup back into the saucer. “June?”
“I can’t believe May would stoop to spreading lies like that,” June said. “That’s contemptible, even for her.”
“There’s another foreplay album, just like the one you and Arlan had. Only this one is for Arlan and Fredericka. I’ve seen it.”
“I can’t accept that. No. Arlan and I have true love. He only has eyes for me,” she said.
Clearly distressed, June looked like she was about to flee both the idea of the affair and the table.
“So your husband never gave you any reason to think he was involved with Fredericka?”
“Having sex with the little nympho?” She sneered. “That’s what he calls her, you know. He tells me everything. He resists when she flirts with him. If there are pictures of her, then May’s behind it. She has to be. And the pictures are fake.”
Before PJ could respond, June headed for the door, clutching her past in a brown envelope, her future in tatters.