Dream Girl Awakened by Stacy Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

wind. As she hastened to pick up the papers, a polished, shiny pair of Stacy Adams approached her hands, startling her. She stifled a gasp as Mr. Cadillac stooped next to her, hands held out, with a sheath of papers.
    â€œI believe these belong to you, Miss,” he said.
    Roberta could not contain the grin spreading across her face. Flustered, she tried to say thank you, but was silent.
    â€œI’m Shirley Gipson. What’s your name?”
    â€œA man named Shirley?” was the best response she could muster. Embarrassed, she extended her hand to him. “Roberta. Roberta Lawrence.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Roberta. Yes, my mother wanted a girl so badly she named me Shirley. I get a lot of attention and mistaken identity with it.”
    She spied the book Business Policies, Text, and Cases in his hand. “Are you a student here?”
    â€œI’ve been discharged from the Marines, I’m a part-time student, and next fall I’ll be full-time. This is required reading for September. Never too early to start, right?” Not wanting the moment to end, he added, “Would you like to join me for ice cream?”
    Damn, a fine brother, driving a Caddy, enrolled in school, and reading to prepare himself for the days ahead? Why wouldn’t I say yes?
    â€œI’m there! Just let me get the rest of my things.”
    They sped away to Farrell’s for vanilla sundaes with chocolate syrup and strawberries. As they swapped stories—his about serving in Vietnam, hers about owning a business—Denise Williams and Johnny Mathis chided them both with the words, “Too Much, Too Little, Too Late.” Roberta would appreciate that omen later.
    Theirs was a whirlwind relationship. Shortly after finishing her finals and graduating, Roberta took time off before starting the job search. They traveled up and down the scenic California coast: San Pedro, Marina, Monterey, Yosemite, Big Sur, and Lake Tahoe. They picnicked at the Presidio; they made love at Half Moon Bay; they visited the wine groves of Napa Valley, and went sailing in the Berkeley Marine. September had come and gone, no job search, no job, no mention of school on Shirley’s part, and the undeniable ache of Roberta’s breasts and two months of missed periods. This couldn’t be happening to her. However, unlike the women in her family who’d gotten pregnant, deferred dreams, and abandoned them, she knew Shirley would right this wrong and marry her. As she dressed to go to Shirley’s apartment to share the news, a knock at the door halted her.
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œCarol Gipson.”
    Roberta scanned her memory for Shirley’s relatives she had heard him speak of during their time together. A Carol didn’t register. Roberta would postpone chit-chatting with her because she was on her way to see the Gipson she knew. Shirley.
    Keeping the chain secure, she opened the door. “May I help you, ma’am?”
    â€œYou’ve been seeing my husband, Shirley, and we need to talk.”
    Roberta paused. Her fingers trembled as she unhooked the chain and stepped aside. Carol waltzed into her apartment, the smell of Opium permeating the room as she took a seat in Roberta’s favorite tawny La-Z-Boy. Even in casual attire, Roberta knew Carol was a classy, sophisticated lady. Her hair, swept in a dramatic updo with curls cascading her delicate face, was as perfect as the red crinkled frock she donned. She leaned back in the chair, opened her purse, and pulled out a pack of Viceroys. She smoothed out the full-shape cotton dress, her silver and red bangles jingling as a rhinestone-crusted lighter emerged from her purse. This woman could have easily been headed to a Con Funk Shun concert or a supper club. Carol was someone she would have loved meeting under different circumstances. Instead, she sat in her own apartment, wondering whether to run, call the police, or pray like her grandmother in North