C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (10 page)

He passed up the aperitifs in favor of imported water, thinking he’d better have a head as crystal clear as whatever he was quaffing. He fiddled with the screen in front of him, took out the airline magazine and studied the Dallas to LA route. He’d left Abby a brief message on her cell phone as the plane was taxiing out. What if she was already engaged for the evening? What if she was even now between the sheets and the pillows, letting some low-life screw her?

He ordered a single malt scotch.

By New Mexico, his meal of steak and Cabernet firmly lodged in his body, he was feeling a bit more charitable. After all, what if she
was
otherwise engaged for the evening? He had been the one to call off their affair. He could hardly expect Abby Sander, former MTV vee-jay now independent purveyor of gossip to and from the rock and rap music world, to pine away for him for more than a few hours. They’d been on-again, off-again so many times this last year, she probably just had him in the rotary file anyway. Just like he did her.

He reclined his seat and slept. He’d deal with it when he got to LA.

He had traveled light, just the duffels stowed in the overhead, so there was no luggage to wait for. He walked down the jet way silently, stewing on Abby’s whereabouts, only to have her practically mug him as he cleared the gate.

Of course, she had a microphone and a camera crew with her. What exactly had he expected? A tongue-tango and sex in the backseat of the limo? Well, he thought as he smiled into the camera and let his hair loose, he’d done that before.

“C, back early? The rest of the crew coming in tonight?” The lights were in his eyes and the microphone shoved in his face faster than if he were a political candidate caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Glad to be back, Abby! Thanks for the welcome.” She was standing so close he could smell her perfume and it happened to be what Jemma was wearing the first time he’d met her. Damn! He had to get that woman out of his mind! “Got bored in Texas. Missed you, came home.” He doubted she’d miss the innuendo. Nor would it make the final cut of this impromptu interview. “As to everyone else, I think they’re all due in Sunday, including T who’ll be bringing the corporate jet on its first flight with BCA.”

“Yes, I heard about that. Big doings.” She didn’t seem entirely upset with him. Maybe there was hope. “So will all the band be hosting, or are you all just there as moral support for T and because you’re up for Song of the Year?”

“Not sure who all gets to share the podium with T, but I do know who all gets the award.” He winked at her.

“Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to Abby Sander.” She smiled at him, then turned and gave her sign-off. As soon as the lights were cut, she turned on him.

“What exactly is going on?” Her blue eyes blazed and the temper reached all the way to her dark roots under the pseudo-blonde hair.

“Eaten yet?” He reached down and picked up the duffels. “You must have gotten my voice mail or you’d not be here.”

She dismissed the crew with a wave of her hand. The crowd that had milled around them dispersed slowly. “I happen to have plans for the evening.”

He put on his best disinterested face. “Well, drop me off at my condo first.” He started walking to the terminal doors. “I know you, Abby, you got a limo.”

She hurried to keep up with his stride. “C, you simply cannot fall back into my life—”

“What makes you think I want anything more than dinner?”

“Because they fed you on the plane, that’s what.” They reached the limo area and the driver quickly took C’s bags and opened the rear door for them. C disappeared into the backseat, leaving Abby to give directions to his condo. He opened the refrigerator and got out a bottled water.

“Reach your limit on the plane?” She sat on the facing seat, as far from him as possible, but then he’d scooted into the far corner of the leather seats when he’d entered. If she wanted him, she’d have to come to him. At the moment, that looked like a faint and faraway possibility. First Jemma, now this. Maybe he was just losing his touch.

“Thought I’d cool down. You’re letting off enough steam for both of us.”

“Figured maybe you’d joined T on the wagon. He still is, isn’t he? Nary a drop to his lips nor needle to his arm?”

“Now you’re wanting to gossip. But let me assure you that not only is ol’ T still on the wagon, he’s driving the tractor to pull it. There is absolutely nothing like a reformed drunk.” He paused. “He is so lucky-ducky-fu—”

“I gather he’s no fun any more?” She let her lower lip drop just the tiniest bit, then folded her arms across her ample chest and crossed her legs. The too-short skirt definitely got his interest and C rethought sex in the limo.

“T’s not been fun for a long time.” He let his eyes wander up her leg as far as the fabric would go, then let them drift lazily up her torso, licked his lips rather impolitely as his eyes finally met hers. “So, I’ve been gone from the Hollywood scene for almost a week. Who you doing now?” Might as well make her as mad as he could. It would make the rest of the evening all the more interesting, and he had no doubt they’d spend the rest of the evening together, no matter whether they were fighting or making love. Or both.

“You know, one does not always have to be ‘doing’ someone.”

“Could have fooled me.” He finished off the water and flipped the empty onto the floor.

“Why
are
you back early? I know it’s not because you missed me.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She smiled a Cheshire cat smile. “My personality, I’m sure.”

“The whole package.”

“Not find anybody to bed at your brother’s?”

“Brother would not have looked kindly on that.” He stretched his legs toward her, crossed them at the ankles. “I’ve been celibate since you, Ab-baby.”

“Wrong season for April Fool.”

“Always the right season for fools.” Now he reached over to her, let his hand rest on her knee. “Come on, Abs, level with me. Seeing someone?”

“I have plans for the evening.”

“Already canceled them?” He let his hand drift up her thigh, feel the ultra-smoothness of her skin. Touching Abby was like touching the most expensive silk.

“You are a day late and a dollar short.” She took his hand and placed it in his lap, crossing her legs in the opposite direction.

“What if I told you I was really, really sorry for all those things I said and that two weeks away from you has made me a new man?”

“All that jerking off reform your mind or just your body?”

“Abby.” She was weakening, he could tell. He switched sides to sit beside her, let his arm rest on the back of the seat, let his hand dangle toward her breast.

“You’ve never been sorry a day in your life.” She lifted his hand and put it back in his lap.

He grabbed her hand, held it, turned her toward him. “I’m sorry and I’m serious, Abby.” Something in his tone caused her to raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and it all included you.” He cupped her face in his hands, kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m a reformed man. Must be Texas. Look what it did for T. Let me show you what it did for me.”

She didn’t resist him as he kissed her. Unlike this afternoon, there were no protests from a closed throat, no rag doll limp when he searched her mouth with his tongue. Instead she circled his neck with her arms and pulled herself into his lap. Abby had missed him as much as he had her.

Then why, when the kiss ended and she opened her eyes, was he disappointed they weren’t hazel?

***

She made him take her to dinner first, but what did he expect? They stopped at his condo, but she stayed in the limo while he went up to change. She had her cell phone to her ear even before the door was closed all the way. He knew how that scheming little mind worked, had in fact appreciated its rather straightforward simplicity for years. But, knowing that, did he really want to marry her?

She smiled appreciatively at him when he got back in the limo wearing tight leather pants, silk shirt, a suitable amount of jewelry to make payment on a small country. He found himself pushed in the chest when he tried to follow her up to her place four blocks later. So he availed himself of the time and set up some appointments for the next day, checked on the whereabouts of BCA, and pushed down the urge to call T and tell him where he was. Like T kept him informed about anything.

Abby’s reappearance thirty minutes later was enough to reassure C that all could be right in his world. She truly looked like a million bucks in the skintight dress, and he figured he could make her literally worth about that with a not-so-simple engagement ring. Her lips and fingernails shone, she was wearing the diamond earrings he’d gifted her with sometime in the spring when their affair had been at its height, and her bare legs practically begged him to get between them. Somehow he didn’t think she’d settle for a drink at the bar and an appetizer.

Hell, she was the appetizer, she knew it, and he was paying for his current set of misdeeds. He laughed to himself as they pulled up in front of the current hot spot.

The crowd parted for them and calls of “Eddie C” rang in his ears. He smiled and waved, shook a few hands, heard a swoon or two. Tourists. This was more like it—being recognized, being honored, being sought. Going to the head of the line at ten on a Friday evening and getting the prime table. Having the owner sit with you briefly, bring you a bottle of the house best, knowing the maître d’ would keep the crowd away from you and you could eat in peace, make love with your eyes to the woman you were going to marry—

C’s thoughts hit a brick wall. A wall with the word Jinks on it. For the past week the town had acted like he hadn’t existed. The house best was whatever the deliveryman had just brought, and he could eat in peace any time he wished. There were no prime tables, although he had to admit the end stool at the Quik-Lee counter was the sought-after seat. No honor among thieves, T had chided him, when he’d complained about it.
Damn T, damn the situation, just damn!

Abby ordered the most expensive things on the menu. He ordered the briefest of meals and then picked at hers. The Friday night band got wound up and they danced away the dessert. It wasn’t until the lead singer bowed to him and offered him the microphone that C’s ego finally began to heal. The first song didn’t satisfy the audience and it only whetted his appetite. He’d needed to perform and he pushed the little band as hard as he dared. They proved themselves competent to most of his demands, but eventually he took over the lead guitar.

An hour later, he looked toward his table and found it empty. Abby had deserted her sinking ship.

***

C had not ridden in a cab in years, but Abby had absconded with the limo so he had little choice. He was torn between her place or his and even thought she might not be at either. He overpaid the cabby and told him to give him fifteen minutes. If he wasn’t back by then, go on.

The doorman at Abby’s acknowledged that she’d come in a half-hour earlier and buzzed him on up. The man was laughing as the elevator doors closed behind C.

It took her a full five minutes to answer her door.

“Finally finish playing with yourself?” She said no more as she disappeared down the hall into her living room. He closed the door and followed. She’d changed into silk boxers and a barely-there tee. His leather pants were way too confining for the thoughts he was having.

“Abby, baby, let’s not do this.” She sat on one end of her white leather couch in her black-and-white living room and slowly put her bare feet up on the center cushion. He took the opposite end and lifted her feet into his lap. He massaged her toes.

“Well, you’re quite right there, mister. I don’t want to have a thing to do with you.” She pulled her feet away from him and tucked them under herself.

He crawled down the couch towards her, pinned her in as she stuck out her lower lip. “Abby, if you don’t want to do it with me, who do you want to do it with?” He kissed her lower lip, edging it with his tongue.

“C, you are the most infuriating man I have ever met!” She pushed at him, but he only laughed and moved away at the same time.

“Okay, baby, if the answer’s no, it’s no. I can, believe it or not, do without you!”
She had him out of his pants before the taxi driver pulled away.

***

Once with Abby was not enough. Not enough for either of them as it turned out.

C adjusted the tie on the robe he’d left at her place six months before and stole a quick glance toward her sleeping form on the bed. He pulled the covers up to her chin to keep her warm. He didn’t want her waking and looking for him before he’d had time to sort himself out.

He searched the kitchen cabinets for all the makings of coffee, set it going, grabbed the newspaper from in front of her door. He found the fruit bowl full, the bagel-slicer in the dish drainer, the cream cheese of the non-fat variety. He took his breakfast out on the terrace and set up shop at the round glass-topped table. LA sprawled before him, but he chose to ignore it. What needed his attention this Saturday noon had nothing to do with LA and everything to do with Jinks.

It had been sex the first time. Abby knew it; he knew it. There, on the couch, the first rush of rediscovery had overcome good sense. By the time their breathing was back to normal, he’d carried her into the bedroom only to find the lights turned low and the sheets heavily dosed with her favorite perfume. And what would she have done had he not come after her, he’d chided her? “The laundry” had been her quick response before she wasn’t given to talking at all.

A brief sleep and he’d awakened and his need had overcome him again. He’d begun to make love to her even as she slept. She woke up and made a believer in him all over again that there was a lot to be said for familiarity.

So why was he sitting by himself on the terrace of an expensive condo, eating a breakfast he despised, thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with Abby?

He’d told Jemma that if Abby would have him, he’d have her. That he’d not be back, that he was going to be in it for the long haul with a woman he’d finally realized he loved. But as warm and willing as Abby was, there was something missing, something hollow about the sex they’d had and pseudo-love they’d made this morning.