Free Julie and Romeo by Jeanne Ray Page A

of my naked backside, I will never know. I pulled the door behind me tight and cursed the safety precautions that did not allow me to lock it from inside. Our clothes were all over the place, strung over dahlias, crushing down the baby’s breath. I untangled them, his from mine, andinserted myself as quickly as any human being has ever put on clothing. As for my beating passion, my heart’s desire, forget about it. All I wanted now was to exit.
    There was a knock on the door. Romeo was calling my name, wanting to know if I was all right.
    “Sure,” I said. “Absolutely.”
    I was pretty much put together when he came in wearing a ratty plaid bathrobe. “That’s my son, Raymond. He was working late. He fell asleep.”
    “Well, he’s up now.”
    Romeo found his underwear and stepped into them while keeping on his robe. He dressed as quickly as possible, but he had nothing on me. “We have to go out there now.”
    “I’d rather not,” I said. “I’m good with coolers. I’m going to be fine in here.”
    “I have to take you home.”
    “I don’t see how,” I said, but I knew he was right. I knew we were leaving. He opened the door and took my hand and together we came out of the cooler.
    Raymond was standing there in his boxer shorts and T-shirt, his arms folded across his chest. He was bigger than his father, softer in the face and with less hair, but still a nice enough looking guy. He had a big grin on, like this was a very funny moment, until he saw who I was.
    “Raymond,” Romeo said. “This is Julie Roseman.”
    “I know who that is,” he said. “And she can get the hell out of this store.”
    “Raymond!” Romeo said. It was his parental voice. I had onemyself. Even though the son was clearly in his late thirties, the tone had some effect on him.
    “How could you bring, bring—” He was struggling to find a properly awful word. He did not succeed, thank God. “Her here.”
    “Mrs. Roseman and I are friends,” Romeo said. I didn’t blame him. There was no right thing to say.
    “How you could bring her into Mama’s shop. How you could bring her here. What is Grandma going to say, you bringing a Roseman here to fuck?”
    “Raymond, stop it, I swear to God.”
    “I won’t stop it,” he said, his own voice raised now. “Not a Roseman. Not a Roseman in this store. Not a Roseman with my father.”
    I must confess this outburst had very little effect on me, except to increase my wonderment at what, exactly, had gone so wrong between us. This Raymond was not so different from my own girls. We could line our children up on either side of the room and they could scream at us until our ears bled.
    “I’ll take you home, Julie.”
    “She can walk,” Raymond said.
    At that point Romeo turned and went at him, I think went at him to strike, but Raymond held up his palms and stepped aside. “Forget it,” he said, and turned to walk out of the room. But before he left, he did the most remarkable thing of all: He said my name, and then he spit.

chapter seven
    “WE ARE COOKED,” I SAID ON THE DRIVE HOME . We had both been quiet for a while, both of us stunned as if by a sharp blow.
    “Raymond,” Romeo said, shaking his head. “If it had been Joe, all hell would have broken loose. If it had been Nicky or Alan, even Tony, I might have believed it. But Raymond is so easygoing. Of all my boys, I would have guessed that he would be the one who wouldn’t care.”
    “We have such good luck,” I said glumly. “Do you think he’s going to tell?”
    Romeo sighed. “I guess I better get back there and try and talk him out of it. Raymond I can deal with, but if they all get into this, it’s going to be impossible.” He pulled up in front of my house. Too much had happened for us to try to play it safe.
    “Not to sound too much like a teenager, but do you think I’m going to see you again?” I asked.
    “You’re going to see me. You’re going to see me everywhere you go. I’m crazy about