Pink is a Four-Letter Word (Toronto Series #11)

Book Description

Nothing ever comes easily for Larissa, a makeup artist who both loves and fears pink and all things feminine. She longs to start her own business as her late dad had wanted but never quite gets there, her attempt to host her best friend's son's christening is a disaster, and the only dates she can get are dreadful.

When she's offered a job teaching English in Kuwait, at first she says no because her life is bad enough at home without throwing sand and camels into the mix. But when everything goes wrong at once, she can't stay in Toronto another second so accepts the job in the hopes that she will be a new and better person there.

But can she really leave her psychological baggage behind, or is it true that 'wherever you go, there you are'?

The sequel to Good to Myself!

Author's Note

Pink is a Four-Letter Word is the eleventh novel in my Toronto Collection. It is a direct sequel to Good to Myself, so if you haven't read that one yet you might want to as this one contains definite spoilers. Pink is a Four-Letter Word also includes references to characters and situations from Go Small or Go Home and Stir Until Thoroughly Confused, so if you haven't read those ones yet you might want to pick them up first as well!

If you'd like to read all of the Toronto books in order, starting with my free novel Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo, the Also By Heather Wardell link in the Table of Contents will give you the information you need.

Whether you've read all of my books or are just finding me now, thank you so much!

Heather

PINK IS A FOUR-LETTER WORD

Chapter One

I stood in the hotel lobby between my best friend and her husband, refusing to let myself notice how hot he looked in his perfectly fitted black suit. I'd always thought Ian was great for Candice but not my type, but for the last year or two I'd been fighting a crush on him and I hated it.

He smiled at me, nothing but his usual friendliness in his green eyes, then turned to Candice. This thorn's all set, but are you roses ready to go in?

Candice laughed. I'll call you Spike. Oh, wait, I already know a Spike.

We chuckled, remembering the name of the ripped-leather-clad sweetheart who'd done all four of her tattoos and one for Ian, and Ian said, That guy's too huge. I won't fight him for the name. Anyhow, shall we?

Ian and Candice, holding hands, walked into the ballroom, and I followed and tried not to feel like the third banana I so clearly was. Technically Ian was the third banana since it wasn't his elementary school reunion, but the bond between Candice and Ian was so strong that he'd never be pushed out of the way.

I felt disappointed realizing yet again that I'd never have a chance with him, and that disgusted me. I didn't want to want a chance. Going after my best friend's husband? I'd never thought I could sink that low.

I caught Candice's arm before she reached our assigned table. I'll grab us some drinks. Any preference?

She laughed. Anything with booze in it. No kids all weekend!

I smiled back, since I knew how much she'd been looking forward to a little time away from Libby and Erik, but I hurt inside. I had no kids ever. Also no husband, no house, and no hope.

But other than that, I was doing just fine.

While I waited for the overworked bartender to make two cocktails and open Ian's beer, someone laid a hand on my shoulder. I turned and found myself facing a tall sexy blond man with brown eyes and an appealingly scruffy beard.

Hey there, he said, his voice full of innuendo and slurred by alcohol. I think I know you. Did we go to school together?

I gave him a look that said, Gee, ya think? and he grinned. Sorry, I know, it's a pathetic line. I've been wanting to say it to someone since I got here, though, and you're the prettiest one I've seen so far.

The 'so far' took some of the charm from his statement, but not all of it. I doubted he'd find another one prettier, since I'd used all my makeup-artist skills on myself tonight. At thirty-six years old keeping my appearance up to snuff wasn't as easy as it used to be. I had no choice, though, since all I really had were my looks.

My dad had always said, Beauty's in the eye of the butt-holder, and though I'd joined my mom and sister in rolling our eyes at his mangled proverb I'd also taken the point: if nobody wanted you, you weren't good enough.

As an adult I'd come to recognize the flaws in Dad's logic, and of course I knew I was just fine without a man, but the fact remained that nobody had held my butt or any other part of me for far too long and I wanted that validation so much it hurt.

It's a little pathetic, I said, smiling at him, but I forgive you. And yes, we probably did. I'm Larissa Collins.

Oh, I know. And it's still Collins? He moved a little closer. No husband, or boyfriend even, waiting to beat me up?

I shook my head, happy he remembered me but not wanting to show it. Not a one.

His eyes scanned my face, and I saw them dip down over my push-up-bra-clad chest beneath my sleek fitted black dress then come up again so he could look me in the eye as he said, Men are such idiots.

No argument here. I gave him an extra-sweet smile.

He laughed. Present company included, right?

I'm not sure yet, I said, my smile widening since I'd indeed meant to hint at including him and liked that he'd picked it up but hadn't become indignant over it. I reached out and turned his nametag toward me. I knew who he was but I didn't want to admit it. Brent Deming. I remember you.

You do? Because I was so gorgeous?

Actually, yes. I'd had a huge crush on him. He'd been my first-ever dance partner, at our grade eight graduation party a few months after my dad died, and I often remembered how I'd looked around at the girls on the sidelines who were watching me with envy and known we all thought I was something special because Brent had chosen me. He'd gone to a different high school so I hadn't seen him since, and he'd grown up to be even hotter than I'd have expected.

I couldn't say any of that, though, so I shook my head and said, Because you were still eating glue the last day of grade eight.

We burst out laughing and he said, Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. Tasty stuff.

The bartender handed me my drinks, and Brent graciously offered to help me carry them to my table. When we got there, Candice and Ian were gone, but I was able to spot her pretty flowing pink dress in the crowd. She and Ian were across the room, deep in conversation with several other couples.

Couples every-damn-where I looked. I hadn't seen anyone but me and Brent who seemed to be alone.

He must have thought the same thing, because he set down Ian's beer then snaked his arm around my shoulders and said, Looks like it's just you and me, Larissa. Everyone else is busy showing off their kids' pictures and bragging about their white picket fences.

Though he couldn't have known it, those words gave me a sick feeling inside. I'd gone to the hospital to visit Candice two months ago after the birth of her Erik, and the sight of her now-complete family, her brand new boy and beautiful little girl and devoted husband, had made me think that the white picket fence should have sprung up all by itself around their house given how perfect Candice's family and life were. I'd felt awful thinking that and I did again now remembering it. I didn't want to be such a bitch.

I took a long swallow of my drink then cleared my throat. Well, if they've got them, I can see why they brag about them.

He pulled me closer and murmured into my ear, I'd brag about you, not some fence. If I had you, of course.

His breath against my skin sent shivers through me and woke up body parts I hadn't expected would be active tonight. Long time no boyfriend, though, and his nearness and the smoky darkness of his cologne were doing interesting things to me.

He turned himself more toward me so his cheek was against mine, and whispered, What say we go up to my room and get to know each other again?

So tempting, on so many levels. I hadn't wanted to come to the reunion at all since I'd known it would be a 'mommy' bragging session, but when I'd hinted that I might not be able to make it Candice had been so disappointed I hadn't been able to follow through. We'd met in elementary school, after all, and when she said, But it's kind of a celebration of us, I was so touched that before I knew it I'd bought my ticket. But now she was busy with the other guests and didn't seem to notice I wasn't around. Though I knew it shouldn't, it hurt.

Plus, after the week from hell I'd had at work, the idea of losing myself in a little (although hopefully not too little) sex had immense appeal. Next week promised to be even worse and being relaxed could only help.

And though I knew it was ridiculous, I couldn't help wondering whether Brent and I could end up with our own white picket fence. I didn't want to be single any more. I'd never wanted it. I felt better, solid and safe and appropriate, when I was in a relationship, but it had been so long and I missed that feeling of security, of rightness, so much.

But I couldn't imagine any of that would start with a furtive trip up to his room. So I slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to say I was a little offended but not so hard that he'd think I hated the idea, and said, But I just got here. And I haven't talked to anyone. I couldn't leave yet.

We wouldn't have to be gone all that long.

Charming. I made myself laugh. I wouldn't brag about that, if I were you.

He winked at me. I didn't mean it. His eyes fixed on my mouth and he added, I'd take my time, trust me.

Another shiver rippled through me but I wouldn't give in this easily. After dinner, we can talk. I can't do anything on an empty stomach. And now I need to go see Candice.

You win. This time. He winked again. But the second I finish my dessert, I'm coming over to see you. Do you drink coffee?

I shook my head. Not at night. I had more than enough trouble sleeping already.

His eyes full of promise, he said, Good. That'll save us some time. See you later, beautiful.

And he headed off back to the bar without looking back.

I stood for a second, fighting the urge to call him back and rush upstairs with him before he changed his mind, then slammed back the rest of my drink and took the others over to Candice and Ian. I'd seen a pretty dress like hers at the mall but hadn't even tried it on, choosing instead to go for my basic black sheath. I didn't do girly, but she did it so well. I envied her. Yet again.

At my arrival everyone in the group turned to me, and Elena, my least-favorite classmate of all time, formed her lipstick-free mouth into a huge fake smile. Larissa! Show me your kids' pictures and then I can show you mine.

My stomach sank but I tossed my hair back, noting as I did how much nicer my carefully maintained blonde looked than her half-grey-half-brown mop, and said, Don't have any. Kids or pictures.

Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, she said, her voice oozing superiority like pus from a pimple.

I'm not, I made myself say brightly. I'm a makeup artist for celebrities and fashion models, and I wouldn't able to do the job I love if I had kids at home.

Eva, Elena's sidekick and my second-least-favorite classmate, ran her eyes over my face like she was inspecting me for flaws. I held still, knowing my evening makeup of shimmery silver eyeshadow and rich red lipstick was perfectly applied and she wouldn't find anything wrong, and a flash of triumph shot through me when I saw disappointment on her face. She raised her chin, though, and said, Well, I'm so glad for you that you enjoy your career. I guess not everyone's cut out for kids.

Trying to channel the 'I'm so much better than you' attitude of Angel Dove, the dubious singer who'd been my last client of the day, I said, I guess not. Just like not everyone's cut out for fashion or running their own business or... I faltered slightly but pictured Angel again and made myself roll on like the baby-blonde perfectly-groomed steamroller she was. Or wearing clean clothes, I finished in the same 'aw, you poor thing' tone she'd used on me, tapping the sleeve of her shapeless tan dress next to a smear of what I hoped was chocolate.

She rolled up her sleeve, flushing. Nevaeh and Maverick were eating sundaes in the room before the babysitter arrived.

Since when had spelling words backward made them into names? I'd always planned to name my kids Colin Christian or Maria Jessica. Not that it looked like I'd be getting the chance.

I gave her a small smile, trying to convey, "Don't feel too bad that you're a mess," and she flushed more.

So you have your own business then? Elena said. Doing makeup? There couldn't have been more disdain in her voice if she'd said, Doing porn.

I ignored her tone and lied through my teeth. Sure do. I wanted to, desperately. From childhood I'd longed to run my own business, like my dad did with his carpentry. I kept almost managing to go out on my own, but somehow it always fell apart at the last minute. I knew Candice and Ian wouldn't call me out that I was still slave to an idiot boss, though, and I couldn't face admitting to Elena that I hadn't reached even one of my life goals.

And what do you do? Candice said to Elena. We didn't quite get to that yet.

Before I interrupted, I said, so grateful to my friend.

No time for anything but my kids. Elena ignored me. You know how it is, with two of them. Her eyes flicked to me but she didn't say, "Well, you don't know, of course." She didn't need to: her look said it for her.

I do, Candice said, and I mentally begged her to tell Elena that she worked full-time and still managed to be a great mother.

She didn't get the chance, though, because we were joined by a woman so hugely pregnant I was afraid the baby would drop at our feet.

Elizabeth! Elena and Eva squealed in unison and hugged the newcomer, and Candice and I exchanged a quick 'Here it comes' look.

Sure enough, the three of them said together, All hail the three E's! and burst out laughing.

I managed not to roll my eyes but it was tough. I'd hated that in elementary school, and apparently it still grated on me.

Elena and Eva fawned over Elizabeth's huge belly, and so did Candice though I didn't like seeing it, then Elizabeth said to me, And what about your kids?

I don't have any, I said, and I saw the light go out of her eyes as if someone had flipped a switch. She didn't even acknowledge my answer, just turned to her friends and Candice and began talking about motherhood. Apparently if you had no kids you didn't matter in her world.

The husbands, who also didn't seem to matter, and I stood awkwardly listening and smiling at the right times, and I made my smile even brighter so nobody would know I was crying inside. I wanted to take off but I didn't have anywhere to go. All the other groups chatting looked the same as ours: mothers and outsiders.

Though I glanced around a few times, I couldn't see Brent anywhere. Now I wished I'd taken him up on his offer to go upstairs and get a little action.

At least then I'd have something. Right now, I had nothing at all.

*****

Dinner wasn't so bad, since every few minutes the DJ gave us a new topic to discuss. As our conversation ranged as instructed from our favorite memory of elementary school through what we now thought of the music we'd loved then to what careers we'd thought we'd have, I almost began to feel like I wasn't a freak. The three Es and their husbands sat with another couple at the table next to ours and their brays of laughter were annoying, but we were with two of our good friends from school and their husbands and we laughed plenty too. Only seven people at our table, though, and whenever my eyes fell on the empty place beside me where my husband would have been if I'd had one self-loathing squirmed through me.

If I'd known, five years ago, that after Greg I wouldn't find another man even close to as good as I'd thought he was, I might not have dumped him for cheating on me. I hated myself for such weakness, but I couldn't help it. I wanted him sitting next to me now. I hated being alone.

Our last assigned topic of conversation, as dessert was served, was to discuss how our own kids were doing at elementary school and how different it was from when we'd been. The DJ did add, And if you don't have kids, then maybe just talk about how the kids you know are doing or something, but it was clearly an afterthought for the few pathetic ones who hadn't gotten their lives together.

Candice's kids were too young for school, but she listened intently as the other two women at our table discussed their kids' school experiences. I pretended to listen, but I was busy thinking about Brent. I would be leaving with him, no question. Even if we wouldn't be together in twenty-five years for the next reunion, even if not in twenty-five hours, I needed to lose myself in his arms tonight. I didn't want to be me at the moment, even more than usual.

Unfortunately, as I scooped up my last bite of tiramisu and began discreetly looking around for Brent our old gym teacher Miss McLeod dropped like a meteor into the empty chair beside me.

And who are you all? She peered at us, her smile somehow evil and so big it pushed her flabby cheeks up until they nearly obscured her eyes. She'd been a large woman when she taught us, and now she seemed almost too heavy for her leg bones to handle the strain.

The four of us who'd been her students introduced ourselves, and the other three introduced their husbands too, and Miss McLeod said, Now, let's see what I remember of you.

Nothing good, as it turned out. Candice's fall in front of the school on the second day of grade four, which had put her on crutches for six weeks, was the only thing that came to Miss McLeod's mind about her, and the glee with which she described how Candice had cried was indecent. For the other two, she remembered one throwing up on herself after eating too many popsicles at a sports day and the other breaking her nose during a game of dodgeball.

And you, she said, turning to me. What about you?

A movement caught my attention and I saw Brent at the door giving me a wave. Even from across the room I could see seduction in his eyes. Nothing much to tell, I said, eager to get away. And I think I see someone I--

Oh, of course. She patted my hand, and for a split second I thought she was understanding that I needed to leave. But then she said, With you it was your period.

Candice gave a gasp of surprise and I felt my face growing hot.

Oh, my, yes. She gave Ian a devilish smile, which he didn't return. That didn't stop her, though. First time, poor dear, and it was everywhere. And of course she was wearing white that day.

I had begged my mom for that white skirt for weeks after seeing it at the mall, because its lacy trim and the way it swirled around my legs had made me feel so pretty. She hadn't wanted to get it because she'd been afraid I'd get it dirty, but I'd promised I'd be careful and eventually she'd relented. I'd worn it for the first time that day. I hadn't worn white pants or skirts since, and every time I got my period, even now, I felt a shudder of disgust and hatred for myself.

I'd felt that something was going on down there, but I'd been busy working on a project with Candice and hadn't wanted to be bothered going to check. It had been a fiercely hot day so I'd just assumed I was sweaty. But when I got up to fetch more supplies for our project everyone around me screamed, and then the rest of the class pointed and screamed too as the horror of what their young eyes were being forced to witness rippled through the room.

I'd pulled the back of my skirt to the front to see what they'd seen, then burst into tears. My young male teacher had clearly been embarrassed but he'd been kind to me, wrapping my gym shirt around me and sending me with Candice as an escort off to the office where an overly solicitous secretary had congratulated me on becoming a woman then called home so my mom could come get me and clean me up.

It was Dad who came, though, since he ran his carpentry business from our house, and I'd almost have preferred staying in the classroom to how awkward he was with me. He'd always wanted a son, and he clearly hated having to deal with such definitive proof that I wasn't one.

He wasn't mean to me. He never was. He just couldn't meet my eyes, and didn't comfort me when I dissolved into tears of humiliation in the car on the way home. Mom had taken me out for ice cream that night but it was too late to put a good face on the whole thing. If this was womanhood I wanted no part of it.

I don't think I've ever heard kids yell like that, Miss McLeod mused.

You weren't even there, Candice said, her voice sharper than I'd ever heard it. I appreciated her standing up for me but it didn't erase the awful memory.

I was in the hall, dear. And of course we all talked about it in the staff room. Oh, my, yes.

I heard a soft calm voice say, Talked about what? and we all looked up to see Mr. Simmonds, the much-loved guidance counselor and science teacher, standing behind me.

When poor Larissa got her first period, Miss McLeod said. You remember, don't you, Gary? That awful mess? And how she cried?

He shook his head. Not at all. But then I prefer to remember only the happiest times at school.

I felt sure that my nightmare had been one of Miss McLeod's happiest times.

Of course you remember, she said. She was in class and then she got up and--

Matilda, I think Marcus wanted to speak with you before he left. Perhaps you should go find him?

She muttered something but wandered off. Mr. Simmonds took her chair and gave us all a consoling smile, letting it linger longest on me. Oh, Matilda. She's gotten worse, obviously, but she was a nightmare even back then. She could clear the staff room in two seconds flat. Of course, the principal could do it in one so I don't feel bad inflicting her on him.

The others laughed, and I forced a smile.

Now, I don't know what she was on about, he said, and something in his tone told me he absolutely did know and that made me feel worse even as he added, But I'd love to know what all of you are up to now.

The other three explained their lives, then he turned to me and said, And you?

Before I could answer he said, You were such a clever little thing, Larissa. Still are, I'm sure, although not as little. He gave me a sweet smile. But you were... He flicked his eyes over the others and said apologetically, I liked all of you, but I must confess I sometimes liked Larissa just a tiny bit more. You're not offended, are you?

They smiled and shook their heads, and I said, Why? I couldn't imagine what he meant. I'd never thought of myself as particularly likeable.

He tipped his head to one side. Don't you remember? You had to know how everything worked. I had that old record player in my office and you spent ages taking it apart and then even longer putting it back together. For a science teacher, you were a dream student. I always thought you'd be a scientist. Was I right?

I shook my head. Makeup artist.

And you were also great at art, he said, smoothly covering over what I was sure was his disappointment, so that's not a surprise either.

What was a surprise was that I'd forgotten all about how much I'd enjoyed scientifically analyzing things. Knowing my dad hated me doing anything girly, I'd joined Mr. Simmonds' after-school science club. I'd thought Dad would approve, but he'd just muttered something about, Too smart for her own good. I'd felt