Adirondack Audacity (27 page)

“You mean Vanessa Leason from the premier?” A
frown etches shallow lines into his brow.
“Yes, she was your date.” I take a deep breath. “The
two of you looked quite cozy when you came in
together.” I hold my breath, waiting.
“Okay,” he nods with a faint smile on his face. “And
if you noticed, that was the last time we were together the
entire night. I’ll admit for the sake of honesty, we had a
brief fling at the beginning of the movie shoot.”
“It was good for chemistry, but now we can’t stand
the sight of each other.” His voice gentle, soothing.
“She’s dating the director’s son.”
“Oh,” Twin spots of color rise in my cheeks. I’ve
never been good at playing the jealous shrew, even with
all the opportunities my marriage to Jack provided. But
because of Jack and his philandering ways, I’m overly
sensitive to infidelity in a relationship, trust doesn’t come
easy. Turning my back to him, I bite down on my lower
lip to prevent it from trembling.
“Ella, Ella,” he turns me in his arms, enfolding my
body into his embrace. I can’t help it. I’m trembling and
the shattering has begun. “Shhhh,
querida,
” He caresses
my cheek with the back of his hand, his fingers a soft
brush of warmth. “You have to trust me on this. I’ve
dated a lot of women, but never forgot you,” he smiles.
“When I saw you yesterday, surrounded by broken glass
and that frustrated waiter in all of your Klutz-Ellen glory,
something inside of me leapt to life, a hope that love is
still a possibility. I don’t want to lose that feeling.”
Seriously,
with all the women running around in his
life….I can’t believe he had any time to think of me. “But
Vic, I’m not beautiful like those other women.” I feel
naked and vulnerable before him in the light of day.
“I’m approaching middle age.”
“If you remember correctly, so am I.” He says dryly.
“We’re the same age.”
“But it’s different for men.” I respond, my mind
turbulent with emotion. “You don’t get wrinkles or
stretch marks and whatever.” And boy,
whatever…….
has
not happened to him. Life is not fair.
“Silly girl,” his lips curve into a compelling smile.
“Men go bald; get beer bellies, bad backs and weak knees.
And need erectile dysfunction medicine.”
Not you!
My
mind screams, at least not recently.
He continues, “Remember that stupid cocky kid in
the leather jacket who followed you around like a love
sick puppy for all his machismo. Well, he never left; you
have remained a part of his heart.”
Silently I make a wish, a plea with God, because at
some deep gut level I know he wouldn’t deliberately hurt
me…but if he does, and I lose my heart to him
again…….
…
Heading down the timber stairway to the beach,
defiantly wearing his hoodie and a pair of cut-off sweats;
I look more like his little brother than his lover. And
while I’m trying not to watch the way his butt moves
under those tight shorts……..the view causes me to miss
a step…..and fall….careening into his back, almost taking
him down the stairs with me. “Whoa, you okay back
there?” He says catching me in his arms.
“Sorry, just got momentarily distracted.” I quip trying
to cover up my clumsiness.
“It is a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” He asks, pausing to
admire the morning sun over the ocean.
“Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful sight,” I say, arching my
eyebrows at him. But I’m not looking at the ocean.
The sand feels soft and cool under our bare feet after
the rough wooden stairs. Sunlight spreads across the
rippling water; it
is
beautiful, and this time I’m looking at
the ocean. The waves whisper softly from the retreating
tide; and the breeze lifts the stray ends of hair escaping
my ponytail, teasing and tickling my neck, still tender
from the stubble of his beard.
Vic stops just above the wrack line of the beach and
arches one dark brow in my direction, “I don’t suppose
you meditate?”
Meditate?........seriously?
“For some reason,” he continues, “When I stay at the
beach, I like to get up with the sun. It’s as if I’m drawn to
the beach at dawn, and I’ve found meditation centers me.
Ike taught me.”
“You meditate? And Ike taught you?” I ask with
skepticism. My idea of Ike as some kind of Celtic warrior
crumbles in the wake of him in the down dog position.
“That is so Hollywood of you.” And with those words I
slip my hand from his grasp and assume the mountain
pose, hands folded at my heart center.
“Well, look at you, Miss Yogi.” Vic assumes the
stance of tree pose, wobbles, and falls to a sitting position
on the sand. “Why don’t you come down here and sit in
the circle of my lap and we’ll thank the higher powers for
bringing us together.” He crosses his legs into the lotus
position, holding out his arms in invitation.
“I would love to meditate with you on this glorious
morning, sir.” I slip down onto the sand and settle into
the protective cover of his body, placing my hands palms
up, on top of his knees. “Meditation is so calming,” I
wiggle to get more comfortable. “I wish I had more time
to mediate but something always seems to get in the way.
Busy here, busy there.”
“I can see why, shut up.” He says; a deep chuckle
rumbling from his chest. “Close your eyes and take a
deep breath, inhale for the count of six, hold for two and
exhale for eight counts. Let’s try together.”
“Inhale, one, two, three, four, five, six, ….” As much
as the idea of meditation appeals to me, at this particular
moment, concentrating on the minds third eye just isn’t a
priority. The hard plane of his ribs pushing in rhythm
against my back, the firm line of his jaw resting just above
my hair, the slight lingering fragrance of sandalwood,
spices and man…breathe…….okay just breathe in Vic,
glory in the feel of his arms around me, the whisper of his
breath as he exhales against my cheek and neck. One,
two, three,
Vic
, four, five, six, seven, eight,
Vic…….
exhale.
“Hey you, Diago guy.” A gravelly voice breaks into
our morning salutation.
“Hey, Jonathan,” Vic answers, barely breaking stride
in his breathing. I look up and see none other than
Jonathan Hunter standing in the halo of morning sun,
wearing a bathrobe, baseball hat and smoking a cigar. Oh,
my
God!
Biggest actor in Hollywood, winner of numerous
Academy Awards.
“Pretty girlfriend.” He says, stopping to peer at me
from under the brim of his hat.
Thank you.
“She needs
some new clothes;; those are too big for her.” He pushes
his hat back, cocking his head to the side for closer
scrutiny. “I bet she has a pretty little shape under that
sweatshirt, a little skinny for my taste, but not bad.”
“What!” I squeak in outrage by his blunt but fairly
accurate assessment.
“Told you, gorgeous.” Vic murmurs in my ear. “We’ll
get right on that, first thing this morning.” Vic answers
Jonathan in a trance like tone.
“Great, see you around Diago guy.” Jonathan knots
the bathrobe tighter around his waist and continues his
way down the beach. “And congratulations on the movie,
hear it’s a hit.”
“Was that Jonathan Hunter,
the
Jonathan Hunter?!” I
ask in awe, never having seen a real celebrity outside of a
concert or movie screen.
“Yep,” Vic says quietly. “I meditate and Jonathan
walks the beach with his cigar, we have a morning
routine.”
Really, I think to myself, you mediate and Jonathan
Hunter walks the beach, ah, yeah, no big deal.
Ten minutes later, as I start to doze in his arms, he
whispers in my ear. “I hate to say this, but I have to go or
I’ll be late for the studio appointment.” His voice muffled
as his lips brush against the collar of the sweatshirt, his
face buried in the folds of the hood.
Stay, stay, stay, my mind and body scream, but reality
forces me to say, “Sure, I’ll see if I can find us some
breakfast while you dress.”
“Will you stay until I get back?” he asks, pulling me to
my feet. “Or should I have Ike drop you off at your
daughter’s house?”
“I think it’s best if I go back to Lani’s. She may be
frantic with worry or more likely curiosity. I can shower
and find some real clothes so Jonathan won’t be upset
over my appearance.”
“I don’t want to leave you.” His mouth opens over
mine, gentle kisses, tasting my skin, I lean into him like a
ship finding a safe port in a storm.
“Viccc………..” The sonorous voice of Ike calls
from the top of the staircase. “Come on, man, you got to
get ready. Now! We’ll be late and there’ll be hell to pay.
Vamonos!”
“Shit! Told you he watches my back.”
We sprint to the top of the stairs where Ike stands
watching, an amused expression on his face. Dressed in
faded jeans with a close fitting T-shirt, he looks
showered, tan and
very
fit, his russet red hair glows in the
morning sun. The Celtic warrior rises again. With a wry
smile on his face, he tilts his head looking me up and
down, arching an eyebrow he says, teasingly, “Nice
duds.” Barely suppressing his laughter, he looks
innocently at Vic, “Nothing fit from the bootie stash?”
Vic flashes a warning look at Ike. I glare up at him,
slapping his arm. “I told you it was a bimbo sleepover
care package.” Ike erupts into laughter as he heads back
into the house, calling over his shoulder, “Breakfast is on
the island in the kitchen; car leaves in a half hour. Don’t
be late.”
A glance down at my clothes has me second guessing
my decision to refuse the bimbo kit. I’m wearing what
can only be called………
thoroughly fucked attire
….His
oversized sweatshirt, cut off shorts and that just got laid
look about my hair with cheeks reddened by his morning
stubble. I think I have a hickey……..and I’m not wearing
underwear. What happened to fastidious Ellen
O’Connor….the bad girl in me gives a whoop and
says………it’s about time!

Lingering on the sidewalk, I watch the black
limousine pull away from the curb. My lips still warm
from our parting kiss. Barely out of sight; and I miss him.

This morning he wore a well-tailored black suit
accentuating the long lean lines of his body, the top
button of his white shirt open, revealing a healthy
expanse of sun-darkened skin, and a hint of black curls
peeking through. The slim athletic build of his youth has
given promise to a taller, more rugged man. Handsome
doesn’t begin to describe him;; he is in my blood…I stand
on the sidewalk, momentarily stunned, I love him.
I’m in
love with him….again…
with the same intensity as when I
was seventeen. My world turned upside down in less than
twenty-four hours and spun backwards.
What just happened
to me?

The front door of the house whips open and Lani
explodes onto the front porch hopping up and down in
her excitement.

“Mom! Mom!”
Lani’s voice cuts through my
thoughts. I look across the lawn at her in a daze.
“Ellie Jane!” Lani calls out concern flooding her
voice. “Are you all right? Get in here before the
neighbors start talking or the paparazzi shows up, you
look weird.”
I grimace, calling out to her, “Hi, Honey, I’m fine.”
Slowly walking up the path to her house, gown in one
hand, dragging the hem of his sweatpants in the other, I
see Lani standing on the porch holding my shoe. My
Manolo dangling from her hand.
Oh boy…
She asks in a mocking voice, “Well, well, well, missy,
how did this end up on the front lawn this morning?” She
holds the door open for me, her face lit up with glee like
a Christmas tree wrapped in twinkle lights. “I think you
have some explaining to do, young lady.”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in her hall mirror
and freeze in horror. Because I still look like…….I just
got…..well, you know. The bad girl in me says, Yahoo,
that was fun! And the good girl in me has both hands
clamped over her mouth with her eyes wide open in
shock and horror. And truth be told, I’m hedging toward
the bad girl. I’ve been living by the good girl rule book
for a long time…and being with Vic has rekindled a bit of
that teenage wild girl streak but
…… oh, my God…
look at
me
.
The quick fix in the limo on the ride over did little to
repair the damage. And now in front of my daughter…...I
look like a woman who spent the night in wicked passion
with a hot man…..and
loved
every minute of it.
And
again…
I regret not taking that cute jogging suit or at least
wearing the blue gown home, would you look at this
outfit. It’s one thing to wear your boyfriend’s sweatshirt
at seventeen, but at my age wearing your lover’s oversized
sweatshirt and pants while carrying last night clothes says
only one thing……....
tramp.
Me and my high minded morality did not think this
through, in one of those jogging suits, I would look
cute……like I had just came back from a run……instead
of looking like I had a roll in the sheets with some guy
and wore his clothes home……
even
if it is the truth.
Sometimes righteous idealism is highly overrated.
I turn away from the reflection in the mirror to the
amused and delighted stares of Lani and Jason. Oh, how
the tables have turned, they’re shaking with mirth, taking
great satisfaction in shall we say, my delicate situation.
“Mom, look at you.” Lani says, pointing a finger at
me. “
What
are you wearing?”
“Ummmm, just a sweatshirt and pants.” I lay the
dress over the back of the couch, blowing a lock of errant
hair out of my face. “Stylish, aren’t I?”
“Nooooo,” my daughter barely able to conceal her
merriment. “Just whose sweatpants are you wearing? Let
me get this correct,
my
mother is wearing Esteban Diago’s
sweatpants.”
I nod mutely.
“Boy, I’ve heard he was good, but to seduce my
straight laced mother in less than twenty-four hours,
wow, he must be something.” She sits on the edge of the
couch hugging her knees, eyes agog. “So, Ellie Jane, what
exactly happened to your clothes last night? You were
properly attired when I last saw you.”
“And by the way, how did you lose your shoe?”
Jason holds up the shoe.
Someone just shoot me now.
I flop down on the couch,
propping my feet up on the coffee table and look at the
two of them with a condescending look. “Do the two of
you
really
want to know?” I ask, shaking my head
doubtfully.
“Well, actually, yes,” Lani wiggles closer to me,
hungry for any information. “Jason, honey, get us some
coffee. I want to know everything but judging from your
appearance, certain details can be omitted, use your
motherly discretion, if you still have any.” And that
statement sends her into peals of laughter.
“I’m glad the two of you are having such a good time
over this.”
“Well to be fair, Mom,” Jason tilts his head giving me
the once over. “You do have that, “I’ve-been-having-agood-time-all-night-long-look” to you.” I snort. And why
did I ever give him permission to call me, Mom.
Shaking my head in exasperation, I burst into
laughter, realizing the humor in my outrageous
appearance. “You’re absolutely right. My God, look at
me. I’m a disaster.”
“Soooo, can you tell us a little bit about your
evening?” Lani asks, her voice laced with curiosity. “Just
leave out the Xrated portions.”
“Weren’t you even a little bit worried about me?” I
reprimand. “Some strange man whisks me off into the
night?”
“Well, we would have worried except for that nice
man, Ike. He is Vic, Esteban, oh, whatever’s his name is,
bodyguard and friend.”
“Yes, I know Ike,” I nod wearily, stifling a yawn.
“He called from the beach house to say where you
were, and explained the connection between you and Vic.
He also said I could call his cell phone anytime if I
wanted to speak with you. And he gave us the address of
Vic’s house. But he did add that he didn’t think the two
of you wanted to be disturbed.”
Terrific. I
stretch out on the couch, so tired. It’s only
nine thirty, but it feels like two in the morning. Stifling a
yawn, exhaustion sets in as the excitement of the past
twenty-four hours finally catches up with me. But the
next words out of Lani’s mouth have me fully awake.
“Aunt Kat called.” She says, looking smug.
“What?” I sit up looking surprised. “Why would she
call?”
“Well,” Lani enthusiastically launches into the
account of her phone conversation with Kat.
“Apparently, she tried to call your cell-phone earlier
this morning but you didn’t answer.” Lani looks
innocently at the ceiling. “Ummm, I wonder why.
Preoccupied, were you? So she called me asking about the
premier and if you enjoyed your night out on the town.”
“And
what
did you tell her?” My voice dripping with
icicles as trepidation washes over me.
“I said you had a lovely time.” Lani answers primly.
“And?” I ask suspiciously.
“She said she wanted to speak with you.”
“And?”
“I said you were unavailable.”
“And?”
“She asked why.”
“And?”
“Well, you know how persistent she can be at times.”
“If you told her, she will tell that gossiping pack of
jackals I call my girlfriends.” I groan. “And the whole
town will know. Ohhhhh……”
“Oh, some of them were with her.”
“It just gets better and better.” I whisper, massaging
my temple where a dull pain has grown into a full-blown
headache.
“I said you were not home.”
“And?” I ask faintly, knowing fully well how the
conversation had gone.
“I said you ran into an old boyfriend and never came
home last night.”
“You didn’t tell her who it was, did you?”
“No, I know his identity needs to be kept quiet.”
“And she let it go at that?” I can’t imagine what Kat
and Emi Jo’s reaction will be when they learn the old
boyfriend is Vic. But that’s one piece of information I
want to deliver in person, just to see the expression on
their faces.
“Yes, she didn’t care who it was, she just started
howling with laughter. Emi Jo was with her. I heard her
voice in the background.” Lani pauses for effect, and
raises her voice several octaves, imitating Emi Jo’s
falsetto voice. “Did she use the boots? She wanted to
know something about if you used your boots.”
“The boots?” I ask weakly, feeling faint.
“You know the little pink ones.” She lowers her
voice. “They wanted to know if you packed them in that
pretty little evening purse you took last night? What kind
of boots were they talking about, Mom?” Lani looks
positively devilish. “And by the way Trey called,
remember your son?”
God
only
knows what she told him………
…
The repeated ringing of a doorbell wakes me from my
nap. My slumber plagued by feelings repressed in the past
and dormant, now sprung to life in the limitless
boundaries of dreams. My body alive in ways I thought
forgotten. Tossing back the restrictive sheets; I find his
sweatshirt lying on the floor next to the bed. It wasn’t a
dream. A glance at the clock on the nightstand shows it’s
early afternoon…….....he said his meeting would last
until late in the day. Can I wait that long?
Feeling like a high school girl with an adolescent
crush, I pull on a pair of jeans, jeans long grown old and
comfortable, frayed in a manner now considered chic,
jeans carelessly tossed on a chair in the haste of dressing
less than twenty four hours ago. As I rub the worn
material, I feel my life tumbling away, no longer straightforward and simple. I’ve always prided myself on being
prepared, planning for the unexpected, having goals,
knowing where my life is going. But this chance meeting
with Vic causes the world as I know it to take an abrupt
turn to a place I don’t know or understand. Ordinary
moms don’t fall in love with movie stars. The realities are
worlds apart.
Mothers warn their daughters about men like Vic;
sensual, indecently handsome, full of dark passions. My
love for him burned me once, and yet again, I’m lured to
those smoldering fires burning deep within him.
“Mom, come here!” As I walk down the staircase,
Lani swings her head around the doorsill of the outside
patio motioning impatiently for me to join her. “Look
what just came for you.”
On a table underneath a striped awning stands a huge
vase of black-eyed Susans. Next to the vase are two boxes
wrapped in exquisite buttery yellow satin paper, topped
with a cascade of ribbons in matching stripes and polkadots. The wrapping complements the flowers in the vase.
“Oh, how beautiful,” I exclaim, reaching out to touch
the yellow flower petals. “Where did these come from?”
“Duh, Mom! How long have you been out of the
dating circle?” She shakes her head in exasperation.
“Your loverrrrr!” She says in an exaggerated tone.
“Oh,” I reach for the card stuck in the profusion of
flowers. “It has been so long since I’ve received flowers
from anyone. When we were first married your father
sent them on Valentine’s Day or our anniversary, and
then as money got tight when I was home raising you
kids, I told him not to bother.”
“These are just beautiful,” I bend down to breathe in
their fragrance and come up disappointed. “I forgot
black-eyed Susans don’t have much smell. But it looks
like a mountain meadow in a vase, doesn’t it.”
“Why black-eyed Susans?” Lani asks mystified. “I
could understand if your name was Susan.”
A slow fluttering of remembrance tugs at the recesses
of my mind, opening a flood gate of memories. A
mountain meadow blanketed in black-eyed Susans.
“
Oh, my God,
he can’t possibly have remembered that,
could he?” I whisper, sliding the card from its diminutive
envelope. Written in his bold script are the words,
My
Daisy girl, Remember the meadow of black-eyed Susans on Wolf
Mountain……..to many more afternoons of loving you. Always,
Vic.
Plucking a flower from the vase, I stare into the dark
center and remember that hot August afternoon where
we made love under the late summer sky, blanketed in a
field of daisies. Drunk on love, sun, and cheap beer. It
was the last time we were together and happy. I bite my
lip at the bittersweet memory.
“Mom, are you okay?” Lani asks, “Flowers are
supposed to make you happy, not sad.”
“They do, sweetie, they do.” I say with a shaky laugh
holding the card close to my heart. “I can’t believe he
remembered that day. It was so long ago.”
“So, can you tell me or is it private?”
“It was last day of camp before we were to go home,”
I say with a faraway look in my eyes. “We took off for a
picnic on a nearby mountain. It was a beautiful sunny
August afternoon. It was the last good memory I have of
him.”
“It’s so romantic he remembered the day and sent the
exact flowers. What does the card say?” I silently hand
the card to her.
“Wow,” Lani says looking impressed. “I can’t wait to
see what the boxes hold.” She expectantly pushes a box
in my direction causing me to smile at her impatience.
I slowly ease the ribbons from the package taking
care not to destroy the pretty curls and bows. Once open,
the box reveals a pair of delicate silver shoes with the
name
Monolo Blahnik
written down the instep.
“Oh, my God,” Lani gasps. “Those are
Monolo’s
………Monolo Blahnik’s!
Worth, like a thousand dollars. I
didn’t tell you, the ones you had on last night were fake,
made up for the costume department. The real ones
never leave the department.
”
I risked my life for fake shoes
!!
I hold the exquisite shoe in my hand, and watch it
shimmer in the sunlight, and trace the delicate straps with
my finger. “These are gorgeous,” I say, my voice thick
with reverence. “It looks like the one I lost last night.
How did he find ones so closely matched?”
“Mom, there’s a note.” Lani points at the box, barely
able to contain her excitement. “I can’t wait to hear what
this one has to say.”
I slide the card out of the yellow envelope and read: