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YOUR CHEATIN’ HEART
CLARICE TUTHILL IS STARING BLANKLY at a television screen in a bar in Montreal's Trudeau International Airport. Her French isn't all that great but she's certain that the blonde girl dancing in the skimpy maid's outfit in front of a line of dancers in penguin costumes is singing Kool & the Gang's "Celebration" in French.
Il y a une partie, arrivant ici celebration au bout pour toujours
ainsi apportez les bonnes périodes et rire nous allons celebrer votre partie avec toi, venons sur la celebration. Celebrons maintenant ...
Hmmmm. Must be that catchy chorus that makes it so recognizable.
Clarice glances down at her watch. It's 8 p.m. The snow's still coming down and it doesn’t look like there’s a chance of getting a flight out tonight.
Guess it's time to get a hotel room.
She ambles out in the Trudeau concourse, bag in tow, and heads for the American Airlines counter. A thin, fair-skinned man with dark hair is standing behind the counter. He glances up at her immediately with a friendly smile.
"Bonjour!" He says enthusiastically.
Clarice's response is somewhat less ecstatic. "Bonjour."
"Comment est-ce que je peux aider?"
"Oooh. Hold on. I'm not that advanced yet," Clarice laughs. "Parlez-vous anglais?"
"Oui. Yes, of course. How can I help you?"
"So there are no more flights out tonight, right?"
"No — probably not until later in the day tomorrow.
"Then I'm gonna' need a hotel."
"The easiest is going to be the Montreal Hyatt Regency. I can book you a room from here and there should be a shuttle waiting outside to take you right away."
"That sounds perfect."
"What kind of room do you want?"
"A king-size bed, a Jacuzzi, a bar and a view!" Clarice chuckles. "I need to unwind."
The attendant presses a button on the console and speaks in French for a few seconds, then looks up at Clarice.
"It's confirmed. A shuttle is waiting outside."
"Merci."
Clarice heaves a sigh of relief as she makes her way to the front entranceway.
The snow outside is coming down in fat, heavy flakes and she blows a long cloud of warm breath into the night air.
“I love this weather,” she tells the shuttle driver. “Just not when it strands me somewhere.”
“It can be very beautiful, yes?” he says in a pleasant French accent. “But also dangerous for flying and driving in.”
“How far is the hotel?”
“Just a few minutes away,” he replies.
Clarice’s cell phone begins to ring as the driver closes the door behind her.
She digs through her shoulder bag, trying to find it before the ringing stops.
Finally she extricates it from the darkened depths of the overfilled bag and quickly flips it open.
“Allo?”
“Hello? I’m trying to reach Clarice Tuthill. This is Marsh …”
“It’s me Marshall. What are you doing?”
“Not speaking with a French accent, for starters. Where are you?”
“I didn’t even realize I was doing that,” Clarice laughs. “This always happens to me. Whenever I go anywhere for even a couple of weeks I subconsciously pick up the regional accent. I’ve been listening to so many people speak English with a French accent over the past two weeks it’s eked its way in to my speech pattern. Don’t worry. It’ll go away after I’m back for a few days.”
“Where are you, France?
The shuttle fishtails slightly as it slides into the snow-covered parking lot of the Hyatt Regency.
“No. I’m in Montreal and I’m snowed in.”
“Really?” Marshall replies excitedly. “I love snow.”
“Yeah, I know. I do too, but not so much right now. I wanna’ come home!”
“What are you doing up there?”
“Meeting with a few gallery owners.”
“Any bites?”
“Yeah, actually. A few. What’s going on back in Charlotte? I’ve been outta’ the loop for a couple of weeks. You doin’ okay?”
“I’m good.”
The shuttle slides to a precarious stop in front of the hotel and the driver trundles around to Clarice’s door.
“Here we are, madame. Do you need any help with the bags?”
“No I’m good, thanks. Marshall can I call you back when I get to my room?”
“Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll talk to you in a little while then.”
MARSHALL CLOSES HIS CELL PHONE AND SLIDES IT ONTO THE BAR.
Niesha glances in his direction.
“Where is she?”
“Canada. Montreal. Snowed in.”
“I don’t think you should tell her until she gets back. She’ll just sit there and stew about it, miles away, unable to do anything.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Do we really know what kind of a relationship she has with Saul? Maybe it’s one of those open-when-
you’re-out-of-town kinda’ deals.”
“Uh-uh,” Marshall shakes his head. “At least I don’t think so. Not the Clarice I know.”
“There you are. Leave it until she comes back.”
The crowd at Cosmos has thickened somewhat since Niesha and Marshall initially set foot in the club an hour or so earlier. The mixture has changed from bank employees to executives dining with their wives and other executives with the occasional younger girlfriend on the side.
“The climate has changed since we’ve been talking, you notice?” Marshall asks.
“Yeah,” Niesha replies. “It’s like that. You stay here long enough and it goes from young to older and back to young again. The later it is, the younger it gets. We’re on the middle-aged crowd right now.”
Marshall peers around the room and spots a distinguished-looking man, probably mid-forties, and turns to Niesha.
“You see that guy over there — in the gray suit?”
“There’s a million gray suits in here. Which one?”
“At the table with the woman in the power suit with the dyed blond bob.”
“Oh yeah. I spotted them when they came in. You can tell they’re loaded.”
Zoran appears at the bar suddenly, smiling broadly.
“You guys want another round?”
Marshall and Niesha eye each other cautiously before they both break into laughter.
“Yeah,” they respond simultaneously.
“Another one for both of us,” says Marshall.
“What’s so funny?” Says Zoran.
Marshall looks into the deep brown eyes of the Cosmos bartender he met only an hour earlier.
“Nothing, really. We’ve had too much to drink already, we were recently held captive by a madman, and we just discovered a friend is being cheated on by her boyfriend. I think we need more alcohol.”
Zoran looks befuddled, but agrees, with a laugh.
“So that’s where you’ve been, Niesha? Alright — another round coming up.”
Zoran darts away to prepare their order while they continue to talk.
“So the man in the gray suit?” Niesha asks.
“He’s a vice-president at a bank. She’s an art director at a museum. They’re married.”
“So?”
“He’s gay. She’s a lesbian.”
Niesha rubs her forehead. “Huh?”
“You heard me.”
“But why…”
“It’s a different generation, I suppose. They want the wealth and convenience and social acceptance. They have other relationships on the side.”
“I could never…”
“Me neither. But who’s to question?”
“I suppose. But I would want to be with who I want to be with, right? How do you know this, anyway?”
“Long story. I’ve just run into him at a few parties I’ve been to. After a few drinks … you know … people talk.”
THE WIND OUTSIDE COSMOS HAS PICKED UP and Saul struggles to open the door. He makes his way back to the corner of the bar, where he spots Clarice’s friend Marshall and a woman he recognizes, but can’t quite place.
“Marshall! How you doin’?”
Marshall turns abruptly.
“Saul? Hey … I’m good. You?”
“Fine. Missing Clarice.”
“Oh yeah? Just talked to her earlier.”
Saul shrugs uncomfortably.
“How’s she doing?”
“You haven’t talked to her?”
“No … not in a few days.”
Saul turns his attention to Niesha.
“Who’s your pretty friend, Marshall?”
“We’ve met before,” says Niesha. “Just briefly, at Clarice’s art exhibit.”
Saul looks at Niesha blankly.
“You know … the one about southern political figures.”
“Oh yeah. That was when I first met Clarice. Good to see you again.”
Zoran returns with drinks in hand, sliding them — wrapped in napkins — onto the bar.
Niesha giggles. “ That’s so funny when you do that. Looks like a drink with a diaper.”
“Keeps the bar dry,” Zoran replies. “And your hands warm.”
She reaches for the drink and takes a long gulp, turning her head in Saul’s direction.
“You have a good time in the library?”
“Huh?” Saul sputters.
“We saw you in the window … in the bookshelves,” says Marshall.
Marshall’s cell phone suddenly plays the recognizable tune he’s programmed in to identify Clarice, Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.”
“Look who’s calling. It’s Clarice.”
Marshall grabs the phone from the bar and flips it open.
“Clarice! You’ll never believe who I’m here with.”
“Heya Marshall … I’m in a Jacuzzi with a bottle of Chardonnay. The snow’s comin’ down hard here … but this room is great. Where are you and who’s with you?”
“We’re at Cosmos. Niesha, Saul and me.”
Saul’s face is suddenly awash with panic. He waves his hand back and forth under his neck, attempting to catch Marshall’s attention, while silently mouthing “please” in his direction.
“Oh yeah?” Clarice asks excitedly.
“Yup. There’s a buncha’ people here,” he says, as he eyes Saul accusingly. “You wanna’ talk to your boyfriend?”
“Yeah … I do. It’s been a few days.”
“Hang on.” Marshall hands the phone off to Saul.
“Hey baby. I miss you. When you coming home?”
Marshall and Niesha look at each other, rolling their eyes — an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Saul.
“Tomorrow, if the snow lightens up,” Clarice purrs. “I wish you were here right now. The snow’s beautiful and this room is fantastic. I’ve got a bottle of wine and a Jacuzzi. Only thing that’s missing is you.”
“I wish I was there, too, baby.”
“You have fun with those guys. I’ll probably be home tomorrow, okay? I’ll call you. Tell Marshall good night and I’ll call you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“Bye baby.”
Saul closes the phone and hands it back to Marshall. He looks at Niesha first, then at Marshall.
“Are you gonna’ tell her?” he asks.
“I was,” says Marshall. “But I think it’s your place. Everybody makes mistakes. But if you don’t tell her … we will … eventually.”
~ David Moore |
