In the Night of the Heat by Blair Underwood Read Free Book Online

number of unusual sights could have fit that description, so I followed her gaze: She was staring toward the flock around T.D. Jackson and his entourage at the other end of the room.
    The woman was petite and smooth-skinned, dressed in an efficient gray pantsuit that told me she had come to the event straight from a job she probably didn’t like. I didn’t know her, but when she looked at me, I was sure I knew her eyes.
    â€œMarilyn…Johnson?” I said. Her name came first.
    She smiled. “That’s impressive. I look…” Beat. “…different.”
    The long, embarrassed pause helped me remember her: She’d been the only other sister in my first college drama class. She’d had unfortunate acne and overprocessed hair, and I remember thinking that she would need to lose about sixty pounds if she wanted acting work. Apparently, she had. The weight was gone, shrunken to a healthy athletic frame that bespoke serious workouts. The acne hadn’t left so much as a scar, and her hair had a raven sheen. Marilyn Johnson had gotten herself together.
    I’m not the school-reunion type, but I was happy to see someone looking better instead of worse after twenty years, so I stood up to hug her. My hug surprised her, and I felt her body stiffen, so I pulled back sooner than I would have. I’d been careful to issue my Friendly hug—more upper body than lower—but Marilyn was skittish about contact.
    Marilyn never met my eyes for more than a hot second, roilingwith shyness that seemed misplaced. Despite her effective dusting of makeup to bring out her cheeks and large, almond-shaped eyes, in her mind’s eye she was hideous.
    â€œHey, darlin’,” I said. “You look terrific.”
    â€œRight back at ya,” she said. “I’ve marked my calendar for your first episodes on Homeland. Love that show! I’ve been keeping up with you on the internet. I’ll never forget turning on my TV and seeing you on Malibu High back in the day.”
    â€œ Way back,” I said, downplaying it. My entrée into television had been a minor part as a basketball coach on a Beverly Hills 90210 knockoff.
    Marilyn swatted my hand, just like April might. “Stop. Everyone didn’t get triumphs like that to celebrate, Tennyson. Embrace your achievements.”
    It was the nicest thing anyone fully dressed had said to me all day.
    The photographer had long since drifted away, but Marilyn waved him over. Then she opened her purse to find her twenty dollar photo fee. “You don’t have to,” I said.
    She smiled. “I want to. A picture with you will wash away how the Taus just ruined my night.” Her jaw could have cracked a walnut. Marilyn wasn’t looking at T.D. Jackson anymore, but I realized she could see no one else.
    â€œNot in the fan club?”
    â€œHe’s guilty as hell,” she said quietly. “And he knows it.”
    As the camera flashed, Marilyn posed by giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek. The kiss lingered, sweet and sad, as if she wanted to absorb some luck, or goodness, from me. I wished I had some to give. I expected the Let’s-have-lunch riff, but none came. I could tell that she had abandoned her acting dreams long ago. Most people do.
    â€œI’m disappointed with the Taus. They should know better,”Marilyn said with the My-people-My-people shake of her head. “But it was good to see you, Ten.”
    Her expression was so fragile that I wanted to retrieve a memory to delight her. I tried to remember a single conversation with her from class, a friend or relative to inquire about, but I couldn’t. Back in school, she had been invisible to me, and probably to almost everyone else. Watching her walk away beneath a veil of sadness, I wanted to reach back through time and invite her out for coffee after class. But all that was too little, twenty years too late.
    I was ready to leave the Taus,