We Wear The Mask (PASH)-Chap. 7
by Chrissyn
 

We Wear The Mask--Part 7
 
 
 

Whitney and Chad entered Barnes and Nobles. As usual, it was crowded with bibliophiles milling about or curled up on the sofa reading this or that page-turner.
Classical music and the aroma of coffee filled the air.
"You should see the smile on your face," Chad said to Whitney. "I can't believe somebody acting all goofy about coming to a bookstore."
"As I told you, I enjoy reading," Whitney said. "This place and libraries are my favorite place."
She went to the Young Adult Lit section, and grabbed a copy of THE WITCH OF BLACKBIRD POND.
Holding up the book, she said, "Simone loves this book. She loaned her only copy to a girl at school, and the girl never returned it to her. So I'm going to buy Simone a new copy."
"That's nice of you, Whit."
"I want to try and mend fences with her," Whitney explained. "And maybe a little gift would be a step in the right direction."
"She still pissed, huh?"
Whitney wrinkled her nose. "Chad," she admonished.
"What?" Chad asked, not knowing what was bothering Whitney.
"Could you say angry or irritate? The p word sounds so vulgar?"
"Speaking of p words, you acting right prissy," Chad teased. "But I like it. Nice change," he said, thinking about Cilla.
Without hestitation. Miss Cilla would say the p word. The f word. The s word, and a few others he'd never heard of. "So Simone is angry with you because I prefer you over her..." He sighed sheepishly. "I know I'm sounding like I'm all that...but I don't feel that way. I'm not flattered that Simone's pis--angry with you because of me."
"Well, that's just the reality of it," Whitney said. "The past couple of mornings at breakfast, she would barely speak to me."
"She'll get over it," Chad said.
"I hope so. Simone and I have had our disagreements. What sisters haven't. But I don't want to lose her."
She also picked out Eric Jerome Dickey's latest. "Chad, why don't you grab a few books. My treat. After all, you paid for lunch."
He made a face. "I'm not into readin'," Chad said. "I'd prefer to listen to music."
"Chad...don't take offense to this question. But have you ever read a book?"
"In school, I skimmed books. But that stuff didn't interest me...I remember readin' some old mess with Hester Pine. They put an A on her. Some mess like that."
It was Prynne, Whitney thought. And he was talking about THE SCARLET LETTER, but she wasn't going to correct him. "Well, books are like music," she said.
Talk about music and Chad pipes up. "What cha mean?"
"Well, there's opera, jazz, country, R&B. Soul," Whitney said.
He nodded.
"You're not into all of it, I'm sure," she said.
"I definitely can't hang with no country, but Pasty Cline's, CRAZY is nice. Leanne what's-her-face. Now she can blow. And I can't get into opera."
"Books are like that," Whitney said. "Some of the writing is serious, and ponderous, and some of its conversational and fun...Some stories are open for interpretation. And some of the plots are like something you'd see on TV." She paused. "And I don't want you to take offense to this...If you read, it'll improve your speech pattern."
"I can communicate myself just fine," Chad said, slightly defensive.
"And I like how you do so...But Chad, one day, you're going to write music. And you're going to have to negotiate contracts. And talk to executives. And you want to make yourself appear on the ball."
"You've been talking to Coach Russell, ain't you?" Chad asked.
She frowned.
"He's talked to me about getting my GED. And some of what he said sounds similar to what you've just said."
"No, daddy and I haven't discussed you," she explained. "I guess I'm just my father's daughter."
She brightened. "I have an idea. Why don't we get a book, and we both can read it? I know it sounds childish, but it'll give us something to discuss when we see each other again."
"Oh, so you want to see me again?" Chad inquired.
"Yes," Whitney replied, blushing.
"Surprised to hear that. Since you're trying to change me."
"I'm not doing that, Chad. You and I come from different worlds, and I like that. But I want you to better yourself."
"Oh, so you want me to read, so I'll better myself? You're not hoping that a new and improved Chad Harris will win over your mother?"
"Chad, I like you. My mother isn't dating you. What I feel about you is all that matters," Whitney explained.
He smiled. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse you?" It was a statement.
She wanted to pick out something that wouldn't be too challenging to read. She didn't want to start him with any Toni Morrison.
Or Oprah's choices.
She selected something by Sidney Sheldon, Janet Evanovich, Eric Jerome Dickey, Terry McMillian, and asked him to read the jackets. "See how you feel about these?"
She excused herself to the ladies room, and when she returned Chad was on the sofa, reading Eric Jerome Dickey. "I can hang with this one," he said. "This brotha got it going on."
At the checkout counter, Whitney picked up a bookmark that said, 'Shhh! I'm trying to read." She waved it at Chad. "This will help you keep your place."
Chad smiled warmly at Whitney. As she paid for the books, he thought about how much he really liked her.
She wanted to help him better himself. And she didn't come off like Dr. Russell, all snobbish, like her sh't smelled like perfume.

Cilla pulled Grace's minivan into a shopping center near the Russell's house. And began trotting to the family's subdivision. She got a few honks, and "Hey, baby. Can I get your seven digits?"
Grace needed some things from the greengrocer, and she gave Cilla directions, and the key to her van.
Jessica had gone off to her glee club practice. And Kay wasn't around. Cilla was appreciative for the use of the wheels.
While sitting in the den of the B&B, she started thinking about that pouch of gold coins, and how it wasn't too wise to have stolen goods in a business owned and operated by the wife of the Chief of Police.
She had to relocate those coins. And she decided to stash them at the Russells.
She innocently picked Rose Nylund aka Grace Bennett's brain, and got details about the Russells. The wife was a doctor. So she was at the hospital, taking care of the ailing.
And the husband, TC was a high school coach. So he was at work. Cilla wondered if he had a nice bod!
She knew that Whitney with her big forehead was on a date with Chad.
And Simone was in school. So the Russell's coast was clear.
When she reached the neighborhood, she played it cool, and went to the garage. Thankfully a tree shielded her from anybody's view. She removed the screen, and pushed up the window.
Last night, when she was sleeping on the pull out, it had gotten a bit nippy, and she lifted the window a bit, and no one ever got around to closing it.
Lucky her.
She climbed through the window. Unzipped her purse, and removed the pouch of coins. "Now where would be a good place to hide these babies?" she muttered to herself.
A drawer? Forget it. Chad would find them in a heartbeat.
She went in the bathroom to see if there were any lose tiles. Nope. Every one was intact. She blew out frustrated air. "Where can I hide these?" Her eyes went to the grating on the floor. "That'll work."
She squatted to the grating. "I need a flat head screw driver." She whipped her head around searching for a tool box. She had seen a shed in the far corner of the yard. And a shed should definitely have a screwdriver.
But she couldn't chance going out there, and coming back in.
On the end table, she spotted a jar of peanut butter, a Ritz cracker box, a pack containing a few crackers, and vo-fu'king-la, a butter knife smeared with peanut butter.
Not everything about Chad had changed, she thought.
Homeboy loved eating peanut butter crackers while watching the boob tube.
Cilla took the knife to the bathroom, and got a few sheets of toilet paper, and wiped off the peanut butter.
She slipped the tip of the knife into the flat screw, and began turning, losing hold of the cutlery a few times. "This thing won't budge," she whined to herself, trying to unscrew the grating. But she remained diligent, and finally, the screw loosened.
She got it off. And removing the second screw was much easier. She stuffed the pouch in the duct, and replaced the grating, making certain it was secure.
She made certain no was around, and exited the window. She returned to the minivan, and sped to the Farmer's Market to get some zucchini, and winesaps, and other produce items for Betty Crocker.