Patrice Wilton

DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSIE

CHAPTER ONE

"Testing, testing." The mike made one of those horrible screeching noises, and Candy playfully covered her ears. "Oops, sorry folks." She smiled at the people gathered around her and nodded to a few familiar faces. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Candy Bar."

Candy, dressed in a skimpy animal print dress and cowboy boots and a straw hat, was scanning the crowd, ready to introduce me.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. I had a champagne glass in one hand and an appetizer in the other. Knowing I would be expected to shake hands, I popped the bite-size quiche into my mouth.

Size does count. Trust me. Like so many good things in life, it was bigger than I’d expected. Bigger than the Hope diamond, bigger than my last guy’s. . .whatever.

I tried to swallow but it made me gag. For most women that is a common enough complaint, but this was a more serious problem. I couldn’t breathe.

Candy was smiling at me and my mouth was stuffed, causing my cheeks to pop out like a happy little chipmunk’s. Still, I nodded and wriggled my fingers at her as though I was having the time of my life.

"Thank you for coming here tonight to pay tribute to one of our local artists. As you can see by the wonderful paintings on the wall, she is a very talented young lady. And gorgeous to boot. Susie Levine, come on up here."

Oh, my God. I couldn’t swallow the damn thing, and everybody was craning their necks to see me. I took a hesitant step toward the stage, and my mother decided right then to give me an encouraging nudge.

The nudge was just enough to lodge the miniature spinach quiche in the back of my throat. I began to choke, terrified at any second I might hurl. I pictured these elegant, somewhat snooty people, dressed in everything from Versace to J.Lo, ducking from the small green chunks as they floated through space in slow motion.

"Susie, go on up there." My mother took my arm to move me along. "Everybody’s waiting for you."

I pulled away, giving her a wild-eyed look.

"Not now, Susie," she said sternly. "You are not going to do one of your disappearing acts. Not tonight."

The thing is--given a chance it’s my nature to screw things up. So why had I expected tonight to be different? Especially considering I’d been a head-case all day, running around like some kind of battery operated bunny.

Panicking, I clamped my hand over my mouth and attempted to swallow the green lump that was determined to cut off my air supply. Unable to speak I tried to convey with my eyes that I was in the midst of a full blown quiche crisis.

"What is the matter, Susie? Have you got something in your eye?" Mom leaned closer. "Can’t see anything."

Finally I gave up sending her covert messages and spun around on my heels. I collided with someone and didn’t notice I’d sloshed his red wine because. . .well, because, quite honestly, my eyes were glued to the man behind him. Brett Hamilton, my first school-girl crush.

I had been friends with his sister Kara and spent a lot of time hanging around their home, partly to be with her, mostly to moon over him. He’d been a senior in high school while I was a flat-chested, pre-puberty kid in sixth grade, but that hadn’t stopped me from dreaming that one day he’d say, ‘Susie, you’re the only woman for me.’

Didn’t happen. He gave his football jersey to the home-coming Queen and they were married a few years later.

But now he was smiling at me, and my heart did a little pitter-patter. He stepped toward me, and in my excitement I sucked in a deep breath that made me choke, freeing the obstruction in my throat. My mouth dropped open, and out flew the piece of green mush.

A well dressed elegant man with fine features and slicked back silver hair was standing between my dream and me, and he got quiched. A waiter cruised by carrying a silver tray loaded with drinks, and I grabbed several napkins to swipe the guck from the man’s Armani tux and murmured my apologies.

"Are you all right, young lady?" the man asked, as I cleaned his tux and he gazed down my cleavage. A fair exchange, in my opinion.

I shook my head. I knew that at any second I might crumble and dissolve into humiliating tears.

"Susie?" Candy still had the mike in her hand and was calling me. "Don’t be shy. Get up here."

I didn’t dare look at Brett. Frantically, I pushed past people but they were everywhere, closing in. I was losing it--not necessarily a rare occurrence for me--but I fought the wave of humanity between me and the ladies room and plowed through.

By this time I was hyper-ventilating and needed to chill. I sat on a toilet seat and blew into some rolled toilet paper in lieu of a paper bag. In--out. Slow, measured breaths. In--out.

My mother came in. "Susie, are you in here?"

I raised my feet so she wouldn’t see them below the door and kept silent, waiting for her to leave. Finally the door slammed behind her, and I was alone.

As I sat on the hard, cold seat, I thought about Brett and wondered what he was doing here. This was a by-invitation-only event, and he didn’t have one. Not that I minded seeing him, but why tonight of all nights? And where was the lucky beauty queen? Sipping champagne and snickering at the spectacle I’d made of myself, more than likely.

Shit, shit, shit!

I was the frickin’ star attraction. Those were my paintings that people came to see. They might be mediocre at best, but that didn’t alter the fact that everybody in the bar tonight, maybe with the exception of the two of them, came to celebrate me. I didn’t need to hide in a bathroom stall. Wonderful things were waiting for me just behind that door. I only needed the courage to open it.

Aha! But that was the crux of the matter. I lacked courage.