It’s a nice space, to be sure. It’s well landscaped and decorated. The gardens are empty, but the lawn is well taken care of. The tasteful patio furniture matches the shimmering pool. Looking at the water is enough to make Claire blush these days, with the memory of that night at the window. Today is no different.
It doesn’t help that Jackie is sitting in one of the lounge chairs in a pristine white bathing suit, with a drink in her hand.
It stops Claire in her tracks. Jackie is wearing a floor-length flowing sarong over her bottom half, but it’s still theleast amount of clothes Claire has ever seen her in. The suit is somewhere between a one-piece and a bikini, with cut-outs along the sides to show off the waist. It seems to glow in the bright summer sunshine, perfectly complimenting her dark olive skin.
It takes a mammoth effort for Claire to pull her eyes away from the shapely curve of Jackie’s hips to pay attention to the person sitting beside her.
The man to Jackie’s left is darker-skinned even than Jackie—in fact, Claire is sure that he’s Black. He’s well-groomed, with tight dark curls and eyes such a lovely shade of hazel that they almost look golden. He’s wearing tiny red swimming trunks, and his shaved chest shines with baby oil. They’re laughing together about something.
Claire is overcome by the bewildering and sudden urge to turn around and go home. Jackie is so joyful in his presence. So easy. Who is she to interrupt?
Jackie spots her before she can bolt.
“Claire! Come here—I’d like you to meet Theo,” Jackie says, waving Claire over. “One of my oldest friends.”
Theo offers his hand. When Claire takes it, he pulls it to his mouth to give her knuckles a dramatic kiss. His full lips are soft and completely whiskerless.
“Charmed,” Theo says, with a wink. His voice is deep and rich. “Care to join us for an aperitif?”
“I’m not much for French food,” Claire says.
Theo laughs as he lets go of Claire’s hand. His head tips back, as if he’s never heard something so funny in his life. “It’s adrink. I told you there was no culture here, Jacks.” His accent is different from Jackie’s—slightly southern, maybe?
“I know it’s a drink,” Claire says. Her frustration must be obvious, because Jackie speaks up right away.
“She was making a joke, you ditz,” Jackie says, smacking Theo on the arm.
Theo sips at his drink. Based on the jug sitting between them on the side table, it looks like a dark red sangria, and they’ve almost finished it. “Oh. Well, you can’t blame me for assuming. Look at this place. It’s where blandness goes to die.”
“Be nice,” Jackie says. She moves the sangria jug away when he goes to refill, raising a pointed eyebrow. “She’s a friend.”
“I am being nice!”
“Be nicer,” Jackie says.
Theo rolls his eyes. “When you invited me down to your slice of suburban hell, you didn’t stipulate that I needed to charm the locals.”
“Don’t listen to him. I really would love for you to join us, Claire,” Jackie says firmly.
Claire sits gingerly on a lounge.
Like Jackie, Theo is unlike anyone else Claire has ever met. He’s fascinating to listen to. He commands a conversation easily. Claire can see him easily tripping up someone like Pete, but at the same time there’s something about him that’s sodifferent. Claire’s interest is swiftly joined by a sort of irritation at the way Jackie seems so in-tune with him. She tops up his drink without asking, and laughs at all his jokes and stories. He has a kind of sharp wit that Claire can’t help but envy.
Theo has no wedding ring, so it’s doubtful that he’s the married man Jackie has talked about. But he’s charming. He’s suave, and clever, and extremely handsome. He’s affectionate with Jackie, touching her on the arm or even the thigh as he gesticulates with his hands, and Jackie doesn’t seem bothered at all. She seems to expect it.
They have an easy intimacy that makes something hot twist in Claire’s belly.
Perhaps it’s that he takes Jackie’s attention so easily? Claire is sure she’d feel this way with anyone else Jackie decided to spend her time with, man or woman. Maybe it’s just bitter jealousy, no different than Martha’s hatred of Jackie. Maybe Claire is just being petty for no reason at all.
It can’t be because of Theo’s race, can it? She’s never thought of herself as one of those people who gets in a tizzy over inter-race relations, even if Pete has always voiced a vague disapproval. If Jackie wants to see a Black man, that’s her business. It’s perfectly legal nowadays. She can see anyone she likes. She can marry him, even.
Claire swallows past a sudden bout of anxiety.
“And then he made a move. Right in front of his wife,” Theo is saying, and it’s enough to bring Claire back to the present. “So I told him, if you want to kiss me, have a cigarette first. His breath smelled like cheap booze, and I had no interest in experiencing it through his mouth.”
Claire’s brain skips like a scratched record.
“He?” Claire blurts.
