EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (17 page)

FOURTEEN

  

I snagged my suitcase and hauled it into the other room. “Poor Garrison—” I halted.

Sitting on the bed in a hunched over position, Steve cradled his head in his hands. His cell phone was beside him.

“Do you have a headache?” My make-up bag, where I kept my pain reliever, was in Garrison and Bob's room. I placed my hand on the doorknob and hoped Garrison hadn't locked it.

“I failed.” Pain filled Steve's voice.

I went to him and drew him into my arms, letting his head rest against my stomach. “What's wrong?”

“I didn't expect that answer,” Steve said.

I raised Steve's chin so I could look into his brown eyes. The hurt reflected in his gaze almost tore my heart into pieces, and made me want to strike something. Who or what caused him so much pain? “What answer?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I thought he'd help, but he won't because I'm involved. I should've given Garrison his phone number.”

The use of the pronoun “he” confused me. Why wouldn't Steve name this person? Why had it shaken him so badly? “Who won't help?”

Steve clasped my hands in his and made me sit down beside him. “My father is a defense attorney. He loves taking on discrimination cases and using the law to teach those who deny people basic rights a much needed lesson. But not in this case.”

“Because his son asked? That makes no sense.”

Steve tightened the hold on my hands. “This all has to do with the tattoo and why I spend every holiday with you and your grandmothers instead of my father and his family. It hurt my father a lot when I got it.”

“You're an adult. There's no reason your father should be mad about that.” I gripped the edge of the bed to stop my itching fingers from tugging up the sleeve of Steve's shirt. The tattoo was a minor issue, that I turned major a few months ago, and made me wonder about Steve. For some reason, he had kept its existence a secret from everyone and it made me worry about what else he hid from me. Even as I kept my own “secret” compartment in life locked up tight.

“I was nineteen when I got it, and it wasn't the act that caused a rift between me and my father but the image.”

“Why? It's beautiful.”

This time I did succumb to temptation and raised the sleeve of his shirt. With my finger, I traced the beautiful image of the anime angel. She was tastefully dressed in a long flowing gown and leggings. Long blonde hair flowed behind her and in one hand, she clutched a sword. A flowing script in a pale red went down the blade. I couldn't make out what it said.

“The likeness is my mother. I got it right after she died.”

“Your father should have understood. I know some people hate tattoos and believe it's disrespectful to God but you wanted something to memorialize your mom.” My heart broke for Steve, and roared with fury at his father. Everyone grieved differently, and sometimes in grief broke “rules” in their quest to find something to heal them. That wasn't a time to take a stand against tattoos.

“I wish that was it. I told my dad the name on the sword was his mistress's name and the red color was...” Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I can't believe I said what I did, and the fact I said it in front of her and him.”

My stomach churned a little, figuring the word Steve used was blood. I had a hard time believing the man I'd grown to love had said something so cruel. It seemed so un-Steve like. “You have to forgive yourself, just like he needs to forgive you. You were a still a teenager at the time. You were grieving over your mother.”

“And just found out my father wasn't at the hospital when my mom passed because he stopped to visit his longtime mistress.”

“That wouldn't help either. Forgive yourself.” I inspected his arm closely. “What does it say?”

“Eternal.”

I knelt down on the mattress and cupped my hands around Steve's face. “Just tell him that. It says ‘eternal' not someone's name.”

“My mom loved pink. She died of breast cancer so at the time I thought a darker pink would be better as I wanted to remember her, not just the cancer.”

“One not very nice thing said by a young hurting man shouldn't be clung to so tightly that your father allows it to damage your relationship.”

Steve gently removed my hands and fell back onto the bed.

I followed after him. The back of my head thudded on the semi-soft mattress. “You want to finish telling me everything?”

Our legs dangled over the side of the bed. Or at least mine did, Steve's touched the floor. I waited, allowing him to tell me the rest without my prodding. I knew how much it meant to do it on your own terms, rather than others forcing the truth out.

“He was willing to forgive me a few days later. Her, not so much. But he made it a condition on them getting married. So she agreed and verbally forgave me. As she said, she'd been waiting around for a proposal for twenty years.”

“Your father had an affair during your parents' whole marriage?”

“My father and this woman had been dating for two years when my father met my mom. Apparently, he cheated with my mom on her. My mom got pregnant so he did the proper thing and married her.”

“Did your mom know?” My whispered question sounded like a loud shout.

“I don't think she knew he was dating someone at the time they got together. From bits and pieces of arguments I remember, I'd guess she suspected he was having an affair but never came right out and confronted him on it. I always thought his business trips were more than business trips.”

“It must have hurt a lot for you to watch your father marry his mistress.”

“I didn't watch. I begged him not to marry her, especially not so soon after my mom died. My father's sister and her husband tried explaining why it was too soon, especially for me, and if he waited a few more months, it wouldn't seem like such a slap in the face to me and my mother. He said two months was enough of a waiting period. I felt like I'd have been betraying my mom if I attended. I couldn't do it. That turned into strike two against me. My father said it was unfair to make him choose between his wife and other son.”

“You have a brother?” That shocked me more than anything else Steve had said. I couldn't believe he'd turn his back on a kid.

“A few months younger than I am. As his mistress said when she apologized to me, if she'd had known that would've gotten her a ring, she'd have had a child out of wedlock a lot sooner.”

I thought I'd have to cover my eyes to keep them from popping out of my head. “She said that?”

“And right after that was when I made the comment about her name being on the sword.”

What a witch! Steve learned while his mom lay dying his father was playing house with another woman. I couldn't blame him for being angry and verbally erupting. People could only take so much before they exploded in one fashion or another.

“Your father still married her? She should've been out of his life.”

“Of course he did. Why would he kick her out of his life over that? Marrying my mom didn't. Having me didn't. Divorcing his wife for his mistress would hurt his work reputation and standing in the community, so he kept living two lives. Looking back through my childhood, I know which life he preferred.”

Hurt flashed across Steve's face. I curled into his side, draping my arm over him and holding on tight. Secrets had hurt him, and yet he knew I kept one and didn't push. It made me love him more. “Have you been estranged since that happened?”

“My father makes an attempt every couple of months. The older he gets the less he wants to have two separate families. He wants his whole family together. I don't know if I can ever consider that woman and her son my family.”

“She wants a relationship with you?”

“No. She wants her grandchildren to have an uncle as she never had any other children, and her son's wife is an only child also.”

“And yet when you reach out to him, he said no.”

“He said he won't be used by anyone and that included his son. I'm either in his life or out of it, and not in his life just for my convenience.”

“I'm so sorry.” Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, skimming along my ears. I didn't understand how a father could hurt his child so deeply and turn away from him. Steve needed his father's compassion and understanding. Steve deserved it.

Steve turned onto his side. Gently, he swiped the tears from my face. “Don't cry.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm sorry you have to relive this because of what's going on.”

“I needed to tell you sooner or later. A sooner forced is just as good of a time as a sooner I chose. This situation didn't create the need for the truth to come out. Our relationship made it a requirement.”

I rolled onto my side and faced Steve. “I should've asked about your family before now. I'm just not a prying type of person.”

He smoothed my hair away from my cheek. “I was glad you never asked and I always made sure conversation never steered toward the direction of my family. There's a lot I'd rather not talk about. You're a very private person and give everyone the same respect. You only pry when you think someone might be a murderer, or setting someone else up, then you get a lot nosy.”

“What can I say, I feel a drive to protect people and see justice done. Nice people help.” I draped a leg over his knees.

“No arguments from me on you being nice. But, for some reason your idea of helping is putting yourself in danger.” Steve turned toward me, inching us closer.

“No, I don't. My job is helping people find the perfect supplies and I never got myself into a jam. Well, except when I tipped over the paper racks. No injuries except to the paper.”

“Sometimes I'm afraid your tender heart will get you hurt. I don't want you to sacrifice your life because you're on some quest to prove yourself.”

“I have a backbone, and I'm not that compassionate. There are some things I wouldn't do.”

“Really? Cause I would've put helping Darlene at the top of the list and you did that a few months ago.”

I could argue or distract the man. I went with distraction. I snuggled into Steve and planted a kiss on his lips. Steve wrapped an arm around my back and drew me closer, even though I had thought it impossible for there to be any less space separating us.

  

A knocking startled me awake. I jerked to a sitting position, placing a hand near Steve's arm. Should I wake him or let him sleep? Between the hit to his head and his father's rebuff, Steve had a rough day. There was no reason to wake him up.

We had both been so physically and emotionally drained, that we didn't get much past some lovely physical displays of comfort that didn't quite reach the point we both wanted.

Not that I'd regret it if we had succumbed to our passion. But when we consummated our relationship, I wanted to be in an emotional place where the decision was one we both agreed on, not one circumstances lured us into.

I sat still and waited for the noise.

“What's going on?” Steve twined his fingers through mine.

“I thought I heard something,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Guys are supposed to check out all the weird noises.”

“I haven't heard—”

A pounding shook the door to our room. I gripped Steve's arm.

Steve tossed the covers to the side and stood up. “Stay here.”

“I'm coming with you.” I scrambled out of the bed and met Steve at the door. I placed my hand on Steve's back right above the waistband of his WVU lounge pants.

“You'd be better back-up if you had something to use as a weapon.” Steve placed his hand on the doorknob.

“If you think danger is lurking out there, wouldn't it be smarter not to open the door?” I wished I brought a robe with me and not just t-shirts and cotton shorts to sleep in. A belt would come in handy right now if we needed to subdue the pounder. Then again, it could be something as simple as a misdirected room service order.

Steve looked out the keyhole. “This isn't going to be good. It's Detective Bell.”

My stomach clenched. No. It wouldn't. Stay calm. No churning up worst case scenarios. Finding out why Detective Bell was knocking on my door was a better way to handle it than making up reasons. Well, actually Steve's door. The hotel records showed my room was next door.

Wait—why would Bell want to talk to Steve?

“What does he want?”

“One way to find out.” Steve opened the door.

“Mr. Davis, I'd like—” Bell tapped a folder against his hand. When he spotted me standing behind Steve, he frowned. “I need to speak with you alone.”

“You can say whatever you need to in front of me.” I placed a hand on Steve's arm, leaning into him, and tried getting a glimpse if there was writing on the folder. “Right?”

“Would you mind going next door?” Steve took hold of my shoulders and steered me out the door and around Bell.

“Yeah, I would.” I needed to know why Bell wanted to talk to Steve about Morgan's murder. I didn't know of any other reason Bell would come around this early in the morning. “I have a right to know what's going on.”

“This isn't something you need to know about right now.” The folder crunched in Bell's hand as he tightened his grip. “If I need to, Mr. Davis can accompany me to the station so we can speak there in private.”

“Please, Faith, listen to a detective for once,” Steve said.

I bristled at his last comment and stomped the few feet to Garrison's hotel room door. Bell already had a poor opinion of me and I didn't need my boyfriend adding to it.

“See, I'm going.” I knocked. “I'm almost gone.”

The door opened. I slipped inside the room, doing my best not to contemplate on Bell's comment...
isn't something you need to know about right now.
“I'm gone.”