She shrugged and chocolate crumbs cascaded to the white plastic table.
“Man,” the woman giggled. “Is it ever hot today.” She tossed a couple of parcels onto the bench beside Dolores’s pack and threw her cotton jacket on top.
“Looks like you could use another coffee.” The woman was still standing, the smell of perfume wafting about her, “can I get you anything else?”
Dolores shrugged again without looking up and the woman strode away leaving her jacket and parcels behind. Dolores sneaked a peek at the top one. Neiman Marcus, it said. Well, well. All right for some, she thought, resentment pinching her lips together.
“Here you go. I picked up a couple more donuts as well.” She giggled again. “I’m Jennifer, by the way. What’s your name?”
Dolores pulled the new bag of chocolate glazed toward her and counted four. They would have cost a fortune, she thought toting up the total in her head. “Dolores.”
“Well, bon appetit, Dolores!” Jennifer smiled brightly while she dusted the bench and perched gingerly on the edge. She stacked a pile of napkins onto the table and placed a carrot raisin muffin in the exact center. She turned the napkin pile around a couple of times before breaking off a tiny portion from the top and popping it into her mouth. A couple of miniscule crumbs dropped onto the table. “Mm mm,” she said, and giggled again while she touched the corners of her mouth with the longest, pinkest, nails Dolores had ever seen. She pushed her own hands with their gnawed nails into her lap while she examined the woman across from her. Jennifer had one of those smiles that made her nose scrunch up, the kind the girls in highschool used to try on in front of the restroom mirror until they caught her watching and made her leave. It was definitely the kind of smile for girls who giggled a lot.
“So,” Jennifer studied her largely undamaged muffin and then looked up. “Where are you from?”
Dolores hesitated wondering if this was a trap. “Why? What makes you think I’m not from here?”
“Oh I don’t know. Nobody you meet around here is actually from Las Vegas. Most people are tourists.” Jennifer leaned toward her conspiratorially. “I’ll bet you flew here, right?”
Oh sure. On her budget. “Huh uh. Bus from Chicago.”
Jennifer flapped her hand with its pink nails in front of her mouth indicating it was full, but the muffin sitting on the tidy pile of napkins appeared almost whole. “Chicago?” she said after she swallowed. “I love Chicago!”
“Um…” Dolores looked into the donut bag and selected another chocolate glazed. She didn’t want to talk about Chicago. It made her think of Dr. Bradford and the little roof-shaped frown.
“What did your mother call you, Doris?” he’d asked at their last session.
“I told you, I don’t have a mother.”
“Grandmother, then. What did she call you?”
“You know,” she’d mumbled. She wished she’d never told him about the Doris Doolittle rhyme.
“Huh?” she looked up at Jennifer, realizing she’d missed a question.
“I asked if you had a place to stay.”
Dolores shrugged.
“I could help you find a nice motel room and give you a lift, if you’d like.”
Dolores scanned the seats in the donut shop again. “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone.”
“Oh!” Jennifer beamed at her. “A boyfriend, I’ll bet.” She looked around herself at the mostly empty tables. “Is it a boyfriend, Doris?”
“My name’s Dolores.” The familiar anger bubbled up, pricking her eyes with tears.
“Oops. Sorry.” Jennifer grinned. “I’ll bet he’s gorgeous. Is he gorgeous?”
Dolores shrugged. “He’s not all that young any more.”
“A sophisticated older man. They’re the best kind. I’ll bet he’s nice. Is he nice?”
Dolores thought about the last time she saw him. She remembered the restraining orders and the policeman who’d yanked her arms behind her back and bent her over the hood of the squad car. “I dunno. Not nice exactly.”
“Men, huh?” Her frown looked a lot like Dr. Bradford’s. “Well, he should be here to meet you. That’s for sure.” She rummaged in her purse and produced a cell phone. “Why don’t we call him and tell him to get on over here.” The long pink nails hovered over the keypad like butterflies waiting to land. “What’s the number?”
“I… I don’t know the number. It’s probably unlisted.” Dolores could feel her breathing getting fast again. She wanted to hum but thought she’d better not. “Anyway, he’s probably just busy.” She wanted to tell Jennifer about Bryce’s act at the Three Crowns and that he couldn’t just drop everything at a moment’s notice but she was afraid, afraid she’d get that look on her face like Dr. Bradford’s. She was afraid Jennifer would talk about obsessions and stalking and all those things people said when they didn’t understand about Bryce and her.
But Jennifer wasn’t even looking at her. She seemed to be looking at something inside her own head and her eyes had gone all glittery, like Leonard’s did when he had his scary thoughts. “Men need to be taken down a peg, don’t you agree? Think they can walk all over us.” Her laugh was a little bit like Leonard’s too. “My own so-called boyfriend tells me the other day he’s going to marry someone else. Didn’t want me to see it first on TV, can you believe it?” The pink fingernails were drumming the table so hard the tip of the middle one snapped off, but Jennifer didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been his secretary, his lover, even his laundress.” She made a disgusted snort. “I’ve answered thousands of letters from his retarded fans. And now he tells me he’s knocked up some blond bimbo and he’s going to marry her. Can you believe it?”
“Um…” Dolores wanted to tell her about the fingernail but Jennifer suddenly sniffed and then giggled again. “Well enough about me. I’m just a teensy bit angry.” She crumbled a corner off her muffin, popped it into her mouth and bit down hard onit. Suddenly her eyes widened and she grabbed her jaw. “Oh shit.” She fished around inside her mouth with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, withdrawing something white.
Dolores was alarmed. It looked like a tooth. She’d had enough teeth yanked out of her head to know how painful it was, but when she looked at Jennifer’s face the woman seemed more furious than wounded. She sucked the thing once and then dropped it into the ashtray and got to her feet. Dolores stared at it.
“Is that your tooth?”
“That piece of shit is a temporary crown. I’m not getting the real thing installed until tomorrow.” She rolled her tongue around inside her mouth and then turned away. “I’m going to the washroom to rinse out my mouth.”
Dolores stared at the thing, tipping it this way and that in the ashtray, amazed at the contours, trying to imagine where it had come from and if this one was temporary what the real crown would look like.
Jennifer reappeared and gathered up her parcels from the bench. The muffin lay abandoned on the table. “Okay. I think we need to take you to your boyfriend’s place.”
“Um. That’s okay. I’ll wait here a while.”
“He’s never going to come.” The giggle and the scrunched-up smile had vanished but the eyes were still glittering. “You need to have it out with him, Doris. Once and for all.” She grabbed her parcels and the duffle bag and headed for the door. Dolores sat for a moment, humming softly and when she looked over and saw the woman and her bag disappearing out the door she scooped the temporary crown into a napkin and shoved it in her pants pocket. The tip of the pink nail was harder to find. It had slipped under the pile of napkins holding the scarcely touched muffin. Dolores gathered the whole thing together and put it in the pocket of her shirt.