Darlene Graham - The Pull Of The Moon

“You earn it.” Danni waved a palm, dismissing her own generosity. What good was money if you couldn’t have fun with it? Then she frowned. “But when I came in at four, you still weren’t home.”

Jackie looked sheepish. “After class I had a hot date. Hope that’s okay. That’s why I’m double-timing it today.”

Jackie, a billowy size fourteen, always had dates coming out of her ears. Danni sighed, rose from the couch, pulled her robe up under her chin and padded into the kitchen. She poured herself a mug of coffee, swallowed a bit of her pride with the first gulp, and said, “Jackie, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Not at all—” Jackie was busy cracking eggs “—unless it’s one o’ them gynecological ones.” Jackie cast her employer a knowing glance. “Don’t worry about me. I’m careful.” Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Oh, it’s not that kind of personal. It’s hmm, well...” Danni jammed her hands into the pockets of her robe as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Jackie stopped whisking the omelet she’d poured. “Why, Doc, what’s eating you?” She eyed her boss suspiciously.

Damn! The exact same question Carol had asked last night. Was it engraved on her forehead: Something is Eating Me! Danni screwed up her face. “Nothing is eating me,” she protested. “I’m just sick and tired of working constantly, followed by lonely evenings in this big, empty house. How the heck do you do it?”

Jackie looked genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Get all those dates, for crying out loud!”

“Ah,” Jackie breathed and nodded, making her gigantic hoop earrings wobble. Then she pursed her thick brick-red lips and squinted at Danni. “Naw. You wouldn’t listen even if I told you. You’re above all that stuff!”

“Above all what stuff?”

“You know. Bein’ a man-trap.”

“A man-trap!” Danni’s mouth quirked in a smile. Jackie was such a case.

“Told you.” Jackie aimed her face back toward the stove and emptied the steaming omelet onto a plate, then held it under Danni’s nose.

Danni took the plate and set it down on the granite counter with an irritated clunk. She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m serious. Tell me what you do to attract all those men who are constantly swirling around you. Just give it to me straight. I’m a doctor, after all.”

Jackie hesitated, still holding the omelet pan, and gave Danni a long, frowning assessment.

“You’re a doctor, all right,” she finally answered. “Maybe that’s why you think you’re above the dating game. You know—too good to use a little perfume, a little color, a little pretty.” She shook her shiny earrings for emphasis.

Danni’s mouth popped open to speak, but Jackie was on a roll. “You think a man should look at you and see your brains and your character. Well, listen, honey, a man don’t want to screw Einstein—he’s lookin’ to screw a woman. A little advertising never hurt. A little something that says—” Jackie arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow “—‘I am a female.’ That straight enough for you?” She turned, mercifully, to rinse the omelet pan in the sink.

Danni’s mouth was still ajar. And she knew her cheeks were redder than the devil. But she had to do something. Even if it meant pumping a high-school dropout for information. Because the reality was, Jackie had men delivering roses to this very house.

“Are you telling me I’m unattractive?” Danni looked down at herself.

Jackie turned from spraying the pan and in one squinty-eyed sweep took in the faded pink robe, the disheveled hair drooping from a center part in no discernible style, the skin devoid of makeup. “Now, don’t take this wrong—”

“Go on,” Danni urged, looking into her coffee cup, then she took a long sip.

Now it was Jackie’s turn to plant her hands on her hips. “I been working for you two years, and I’ll tell you something, Doctor. You know a lot about human sexuality, as you call it, but not much about the human male.”

“I...” Danni’s mouth popped open, again to protest, but she clamped it shut. “I’m listening,” she said softly.

“Okay. You’re a smart lady, you tell me.” Jackie turned to the sink and pulled on a pair of household gloves. “Say you’re a man. What’s more attractive? Those combat boots you wear, or my purple spike heels? Those industrial-strength bras and saggy cotton underpants—” she jerked her thumb toward the laundry room where she’d apparently washed a load this morning “—or my pretty little teddies? My Obsession—” she waved her wrist “—or your surgical soap? I ask you? Which?”

Purple spike heels? Teddies? Danni’s mind rebelled. If she had to dress like a tramp to attract a man, forget it. First of all, she was too busty for a stringy, lacy anything. And what doctor in her right mind spent the day in heels? “You know perfectly well that I do not wear perfume because it nauseates some patients,” she replied haughtily.

“That’s fine for work—” Jackie plunged her hands into the sudsy water “—but what about the rest of your life? I have never even seen so much as a bottle o’ toilet water around here. And you with money to burn. Girl, you can afford the best.”

Danni was thoughtful as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try a little perfume....”

“Yeah. And speakin’ of money. Why’re you so attached to those geeky glasses? I know you can afford contacts.”

Before Danni could answer that one, Jackie whirled around and lifted Danni’s hair away from one ear with a soapy glove. “You don’t even have your ears pierced. It’s like you’re afraid of acting like a girl.” Jackie stared at her for a moment, then turned back to the sink.

Danni sank down on the barstool. Well. She’d asked for this, hadn’t she? “You really think I should try those manipulative feminine tricks?” she said to Jackie’s broad back.

Without looking up from the dishes, Jackie nodded. “I ain’t talkin’ to these pans, sister. And these things ain’t tricks.”

“But I don’t think I’d be comfortable.... I don’t even know where to start.” Danni threw up her hands. “I don’t have the slightest idea how to... how to be...sexy.”

Jackie shrugged. “You asked me how I get dates. That’s how.”

Danni shook her head. “I’d probably make a fool of myself.”

Jackie looked up from the sink. Over her shoulder she gave Danni a thoughtful, sympathetic frown, then her best bad-girl grin. “I know! What you need is a sexy fairy godmother. And honey—” she cocked her hip, planted one sudsy fist there “—you lookin’ at the sexiest.”

The doorbell chimed. Danni and Jackie glanced at each other, puzzled. No one was expected. Then Danni groaned and ran a hand through her messy hair. “Oh, no. It’s Mother and Aunt Hetra and Aunt Dottie. I forgot they were going to drop by.”

“I’ll go and stall them with some coffee.” Jackie started to strip off her gloves.

“No, you finish your dishes. I’ll let them in.” Danni tightened the belt of her robe and headed down the hall, then called over her shoulder, “Actually, some coffee and rolls would be nice.”

Hetra, Dottie and Olivia fluttered through the door and into Danni’s foyer like a flock of colorful little birds. The three Bartlet sisters had grown up among the privileged of Terwilleger Heights in the shadow of the elegant Philbrook Museum of Art, which had been dedicated when they were children. The hours they had spent exploring the museum with their mother, a docent, had imbued the sisters with impeccable taste. Now all three were wealthy widows in their late sixties, still active and productive in the community, still beautiful and stylish.