Carla Neggers - Betrayals

“No problem,” Jared said quickly, not wanting to leave. “By the way, what were you doing there? I won’t flatter myself you came because you knew I’d be around.”

She laughed. “No, I was taking pictures for a noncredit photography class I’m taking, but I really came because of the design studio your father hired. I was hoping to scarf up a press kit.”

“That can be arranged. You’re an art major?”

“Political science and history.”

“A true Blackburn.”

She shook her head. “I’m on the ‘wrong’ side of the Charles River.”

“I just thought of something,” he said suddenly, half-lying. In truth, he’d been toying with this idea since he’d realized R.J. wasn’t going to tell him to go to hell and be done with him. “There’s a party of sorts tonight to celebrate today’s groundbreaking on the new building. I didn’t think to invite anyone. Would you care to go?”

Sitting back, Rebecca eyed him with that vaunted Blackburn incisiveness. “As your date, you mean?”

Jared coughed. “Well, yes.”

“If you’d told me you’d be asking me on a date when I was eight years old, I’d have…I don’t know, kicked you in the shins or something.” She peeled a snarled rubber band off the end of her braid and shook loose her hair, and Jared shifted on his bench, properly dazzled. She added, “I’d love to go. Is this thing a hotsy-totsy party?”

He laughed. “As hotsy-totsy as they come.”

“Then I’d better start tracking down a dress.”

She started out of the booth, but Jared put a hand on her wrist. “R.J.-I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

The smile she gave him was surprisingly gentle and filled with memories. “How could I?”

Rebecca didn’t own a party dress. A short denim skirt, yes. Jeans, sweatshirts, turtlenecks, sneakers and knee socks, yes. But no party dress. Sofi, however, had a solution, and it arrived an hour before Jared was to pick her up in the form of Alex, a theater arts major who, Sofi announced, would dress her. Before Rebecca could make a decent protest, Alex was at her closet.

He didn’t stay there long. “Your farm-girl look’s a no-go. It’s a wonder there’s not a pitchfork in there.”

“You didn’t dig back far enough,” Rebecca told him.

“Funny, funny.”

He tried Sofi’s closet. Rebecca warned him that nothing would fit her wildly different frame, but Alex was undeterred. He hauled out hangers dripping with skirts, blouses and dresses-and rejected everything.

Sofi was insulted. “What’s wrong with my clothes? I bought half that stuff at Bloomingdale’s!”

“Too New York. We want Boston. Something elegant and understated. Something that says old money.”

Rebecca laughed. If it was one thing Blackburn money was, it was old. It was also scarce. She said, “Then all I need to do is head up to Beacon Hill and borrow some dumpy old dress stuffed up in my grandfather’s attic-”

Alex suddenly clapped his hands together. “Of course!”

“I will not-I was only kidding. Look, thanks, but I’ll figure something out.”

“Rebecca, hush, will you please? I don’t care about the frumpy clothes in your grandfather’s attic. I have our answer.”

Rebecca was dubious. “What?”

“Not what-who. Lenny.”

“Lenny?”

Alex would say no more. He grabbed Sofi and disappeared. When they weren’t back in twenty minutes, Rebecca was contemplating her denim skirt and her roommate’s silver sequined top, but then they burst in, with Lenny, a senior theater major. Lenny wasn’t short for Eleanor or Leonora, as Rebecca had anticipated, but for Leonard. He was five-ten, had a wiry runner’s body and wore a short ponytail. He, Sofi and Alex all carried an assortment of evening clothes.

“Lenny finds playing women’s roles both fun and instructive,” Sofi said, obviously quoting him. “He thinks his openness toward new experiences ultimately will help him become a better actor and director.”

Lenny made a clinical examination of Rebecca, in her ratty chenille robe and bare feet, and immediately dismissed three of the dresses he’d brought along. Rebecca made a none-too-subtle remark about the time. Sighing, Lenny posted Alex outside the door. When Jared arrived, Alex would knock three times.

Finally, Lenny said, “The white.”

He withdrew his choice from the masses of dry cleaner bags, unwrapped it and held a white linen dress up to Rebecca. It had tiny white lace edging and a high collar. He said, “Perfect.”

“I’ll look like a virgin!”

“Of course you will.”

“But…”

“You are a virgin,” Sofi pointed out, quite unnecessarily, in Rebecca’s opinion.

Lenny was all business. “You don’t have shoes, I suppose?”

“Sneakers and L.L. Bean boots.”

“My God. Sofi?”

“I wear a size six. Rebecca wouldn’t fit in my shoes.”

“I’m a size ten,” Lenny said.

Rebecca couldn’t believe they were having this discussion, but surrendered. “Size eight.”

“Must be somebody around here who wears an eight,” Sofi said. “I think Edie might.”

“They must be white,” Lenny instructed, “and as delicate as possible.”

“Virginal,” Sofi added, with a wicked grin at her roommate, and shot out the door.

The decision made, Lenny called Alex in, and together they played valet for Rebecca as though she were the star in one of their student theater productions. By now she was getting too big a kick out of the whole thing to protest. They helped her off with her bathrobe, assuring her their interest in her slip-clad body was purely professional, although Alex did make a point of telling her that Lenny might be gay, but he wasn’t.

“Don’t worry,” Lenny reassured her, amused, “if the cretin tries anything, I’ll punch him out.”

“I have five brothers. If he tries anything, I’ll punch him out.”

They had her raise her arms and slipped the dress on. Lenny was bigger in the bust when he played a woman than Rebecca was, but otherwise the dress was a remarkably good fit. The lace hem came to midcalf. Ignoring Lenny’s pained expression, Rebecca added her only pair of pantyhose.

“You don’t have makeup, I presume?” he asked.

“I use a little Vaseline on my lips…”

“Horrors. Luckily I brought along my own palette. Sit.”

She sat. He draped a towel over her shoulders and, with Alex assisting, began on her face, explaining he used only natural cosmetics and would go for a light, unpainted look. He remarked on her creamy skin, but suggested genetics and youth were responsible since he assumed she didn’t bother with a proper skin-care regime.

“You know,” Rebecca said, “I don’t care about makeup. My ride will be here any minute-”

“We’re practically home free now. And your ride will be delighted to wait. I’m assuming it’s a man? Another woman might not let you out the door.”

Rebecca suddenly felt self-conscious. “I could just forget all this and go in my denim skirt.”

Lenny shook his head. “Relax, sweetheart. Although a little nervousness adds color to your cheeks and spark to your eyes. What do you think, Alex?”

“I think I’m going to toss her date down the elevator shaft and take her to dinner myself.” He grinned. “You like dorm food, Rebecca?”

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You guys are impossible, but thanks. I look okay?”

“You look smashing,” Lenny said. “Where are your shoes?” He whisked off the towel and took Rebecca by the hand, guiding her to the mirror. “Your hair’s still a near-disaster, but rather innocent-looking-and the color’s magnificent.”

She had to admit that in a few quick minutes, Lenny had transformed her from looking like an impoverished student to a woman who could hold her own at any party the Sloans and Winstons decided to throw. On her own, though, she still wouldn’t have picked white lace.