“Gaaa, Mama,” Maya said with a huge, wet smile, all gums and tiny front teeth, as they waited for the elevator. Her pudgy cheeks sparkled pink with cold. Melanie nibbled her daughter’s ear where it poked out from a fleecy hat, eliciting giggles.
“You keep me going, you know that?” she whispered.
Upstairs, Linda opened the door, telephone pressed to her head, and motioned them inside. The bracelets on her manicured hand jingled like chimes. The foyer smelled of sandalwood perfume and scented candles.
“I know, but you owe me, Fab D,” Linda was whining into the phone. “Okay, okay, fine.”
Melanie studied her sister’s outfit with dismay as she struggled after her. Linda had eventually agreed to baby-sit while Melanie went to Screen to supervise the buy. Granted, Linda was a fashion and entertainment reporter on a local cable channel. Given her position, she hardly stinted on the Puerto Rican glam. But even she wouldn’t wear skintight gold lamé pants, a one-shouldered white top, and gold stilettos for dinner with baby. Would she?
“Lin, why are you dressed like that? You said you’d give me the location and then baby-sit!”
Linda waved her hand in annoyance.
“Fab D? I lost you for a minute, hon… What, again? You attention ho! How many times can I plug your damn demo? All right, but only because I love your swishy black patootie to death. Okay, baby. Ciao.”
Linda put down the phone.
“Would you take Maya before I drop her, please?” Melanie said.
“Is she clean?”
“Of course she’s clean! You think I don’t wash my daughter?”
Linda took Maya from Melanie’s arms gingerly. “Don’t get so offended. She got strawberry jam all over my white Michael Kors sweater last week, you know. Thank God I suck up to the guy at the dry cleaners.”
“What were you doing wearing white to baby-sit anyway? And why are you so dressed up now? You said you’d watch her so I could check out this nightclub. I told you, it’s work.”
Melanie stuck the stroller in a corner and dropped her shopping bag on the dramatic chaise longue that was the only place to sit in Linda’s apartment. Linda’s loft had once been separated into living and sleeping spaces, but she’d recently converted the sleeping area to a huge closet. The living area was now dominated by a canopy bed draped with fringed mosquito netting courtesy of one of Linda’s decorator friends. The walls were painted in exotic stripes of lipstick red and gold. The once sleeping alcove, now closet, was divided off with elaborate gold draperies tied back with silk cords, continuing what Melanie thought of privately as the bordello theme.
“My friend Fabulous Deon, he deejays for Expo sometimes. I know he can get us into Screen, but he won’t go unless I go,” Linda said.
“This is law-enforcement business. You can’t just tag along, and neither can he. All I need is the location of the club and the password.”
“Are you arresting somebody?”
“No, nothing like that. Just poking around. But still, I’d rather keep you and your friend out of it. You never know. It could get dangerous.”
“They know us at Screen. Nobody’s gonna bother us there. Besides, there is no password. It’s a velvet-rope-type thing, and you won’t get in without me and Fab D by your side to say you’re fly.”
“So what am I supposed to do with Maya? It’s way past her bedtime, and I can’t take a one-year-old to a nightclub.”
“Relax, chica, I took care of it. Mom’s on her way over here right now. She’ll take Maya back to your place and sit with her as long as we need,” Linda said.
“How’d you arrange that?” Melanie’s mother was even less interested in baby-sitting than her sister was.
“I’m telling you, ever since she started dating that widowed minister, she’s very familia-oriented. She’s trying to convince him she’s marriage material. Unlike the rest of us.”
“Speak for yourself. I was good at being married. It was my husband who fell down on the job,” Melanie said wistfully.
“Oh, my God, that reminds me! I saw Steve in a club this weekend. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. He was with-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Melanie said, shaking her head decisively.
“No, really, it was definitely him. You know, back when you first kicked him out, I was like, Hey c’mon, one little lapse, Mel, give the guy a break. I mean, people cheat, right? It’s not the end of the world. But he’s been on a rampage in the clubs since you two split. I told you about that time my friend Teresa saw him-”
“Lin, stop! Enough already. I don’t need to hear every time he picks up some bimbo in a bar.”
Melanie grabbed Maya from Linda’s arms. She hugged her daughter close for a moment, then put her down and peeled off her pink snowsuit and fleecy hat. A stubby little ponytail on top of Maya’s head sprang straight up. Melanie tweaked it playfully. Maya squealed and waddled away, toddling a few bowlegged steps before plopping down on the floor.
“Why not?” Linda asked.
“Because. It’s not healthy. I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself, okay? Steve and I are legally separated, which was my choice. He’s entitled to see other women, but still, I can deal with him better if it’s not shoved in my face constantly.”
“Deal with him? You mean, over the settlement negotiations?”
“That. Everything. He wants to spend Christmas with me and la chiquita here.”
“You’re not going to let him, are you?”
“He’s her father. I couldn’t stand it if he just disappeared out of her life, the way Papi did with us,” Melanie said, a catch in her voice.
“You still obsessing about that ancient history? You know, ever since I wrote Papi and told him he was a rat bastard and I never wanted to hear from him again, I feel so much better. You should try it. It’s very liberating.”
“It’s kind of an empty gesture to kick someone out of my life who’s not even in it, don’t you think? I just got a Christmas card from him from a totally new address. He signs it ‘Feliz Navidad, Papi y familia.’ That’s it. No note saying he moved, no pictures of his kids, nothing. You believe that?”
“So tell him not to write to you. Then you won’t feel bad when he sends you that impersonal bullshit.”
Melanie thrust the shopping bag at her sister. “Here, help me figure out what to wear. I don’t want to talk about this stuff anymore. Too depressing.”
Linda rummaged through the shopping bag, her dark brows knitting into a frown. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I told you, mostly I own suits for work, and jeans. What about that red sweater? It’s pretty sexy on. Or the black dress from when Steve and I were dating? It had a little tear, but I sewed it.”
“Not if you plan to be seen in public with me! Get your butt in here,” Linda said, flouncing through the gold curtains into her closet. Melanie picked up Maya and followed.
Inside the closet, mirrors covered one wall, reflecting hundreds of specialized shoe cubbies Linda had installed opposite. Four massive department-store-style metal clothing racks bearing extravagant garments in every color of the rainbow filled the rest of the space.
“Quítate la ropa,” Linda ordered, and disappeared into the racks.
Melanie stripped off the jeans and turtleneck she’d worn over to her sister’s. She’d showered and blow-dried her hair when she went home to get Maya, and for reasons she couldn’t explain-or didn’t want to admit-donned her sexiest lingerie, a lacy black push-up bra and thong set trimmed in candy pink ribbon. Steve had given them to her for Valentine’s Day last year, right around the time she began to suspect he was fooling around with that executive assistant. You wish, she’d thought, and stuck them in the back of a drawer. But tonight she’d pulled them out, and now she twirled around, checking herself in the mirror, fantasizing about how Dan’s face would look if he saw her in them. How he’d come up to her, whisper to her in that incredible voice, back her up against the wall, put his hands all over her body-