Indulgence (147 page)

“He tried, babe, but he didn’t succeed. It’s okay, baby, try
to relax. Just relax. I’ll look at your neck in just a second.” I’m still
coughing so hard that it’s difficult to stand, so he scoops me up and carries
me to the sofa, then sits with me in his lap. But I can’t stop – I cry and
scream and wheeze and cough.

“Where is he? Where is he? He’ll hurt you! Jaz, please! He’s
crazy! He, he, oh, god, no, please!” Now it’s all coming at me in a rush and my
heartbeat is out of control. “Oh, shit! I think I’m having a heart attack! Oh,
god, Jaz . . .”

“Baby, you’re hyperventilating. Just try to calm down. Hey,
Kimmie?” A hand flattens on both my cheeks and when I manage to focus, he’s
looking straight into my eyes. “Listen to me, Kimmie. It’s all okay. He did
not
rape you. He tried, but the stupid son of a bitch was so drunk he couldn’t get
it up.”

“But I felt him . . .”

“He did violate you, baby, but not with anything below his
waist. He couldn’t, and he sure as hell can’t now.”

Oh, god, what did he do in trying to protect me? Is he going
to jail? I don’t want Jaz in jail because of me, because of my slutty ways and
how stupid I am. “No, Jaz! Oh, no, no, don’t, I don’t want them to take you
away, oh, please . . .”

“Shhhh, baby, the police and an ambulance are already on
their way. It’s okay.” Pushing hair out of my face, he calmly says, “Let me
look at your neck. Come on, sweetie, it’s okay. I need to look at it.” As he
speaks, I hear sirens in the background drawing closer, and in a few minutes I
hear an authoritative voice say, “Is this the Hendricks residence?”

“Yes, officer. I’m Jasper Givens. This is Kimberly
Hendricks. And that man forced his way into her home and sexually assaulted
her.”

I can make out someone in dark clothing squatting in front
of me, and the same voice sounds again. “Are you okay, Ms. Hendricks?”

“I-I-I-I-I think so. My neck hurts.” I close my eyes again
even though I know he’s looking at my throat.

“There’s an ambulance on its way, but I think it’ll be
needed to take the perpetrator to the hospital. Sir, can you tell me what
happened?”

“She was expecting me. When I got to the door, I noticed it
wasn’t pushed completely closed, and I could hear scuffling sounds inside. I
opened the door and that’s when I saw them. He had her pinned to the wall by
her throat, his knee between her legs, and his free hand down her pants. I’m
positive he intended to rape her, but I got here in time to stop that.”

“And what exactly happened to him, sir?”

“I picked up the first thing I found and smacked him in the
head with it.”

“And what was that, sir?”

“That carton of rocky road ice cream over there.”

With all the adrenalin coursing through my system and my
nerves raw and jangled, that strikes me as just about the funniest thing I’ve
ever heard in my life, and I start to laugh hysterically. I manage to look
across the room, and the plastic grocery bag is lying on the floor beside a
still and quiet Angus, smashed-looking and gooey. I hear Jaz say, “I think she
needs a sedative,” and I laugh even harder. I can’t stop. Now I’m having
trouble breathing because of the laughing, and I’m still coughing, and, oh god,
this is a weird-ass evening.

Two hours later, we leave the hospital, my neck already
turning black and blue. I’ve been turned upside down and wrong side out and
deemed okay but needing rest. At Jaz’s insistence, they gave me a sedative, and
I can’t walk straight, so he just picks me up and carries me. Even though I
feel okay now, he buckles me into the front seat and by the time he makes it
around to the driver’s door, I’m bawling my eyes out. “Awww, baby, it’s okay,”
he croons, stroking my cheek and pressing his forehead to mine. “Come on, let’s
go home and relax, okay?”

“Oh, no, ice cream . . . it’ll be everywhere!” I wail.

The chuckle that rolls from his chest soothes me somehow.
“It’s fine. You’ll see.” He starts the car as my head lolls back, and I stare
out the window into the dark.

I rouse when he carries me through the front door, and I
stare around to see Michael and Robyn. “What are they . . .” I manage to
stammer.

“We cleaned up everything, honey. It’s okay. Let Jaz put you
to bed. We love you,” Robyn murmurs to me, stroking my forehead. As she speaks,
Michael takes my hand and kisses it. I feel safe and loved and overwhelmed with
gratitude. I try to tell them that I love them, but my mouth won’t make words
and I’m having trouble thinking. The bed is soft and warm when Jaz settles me
into it and undresses me slowly.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I hear myself mumble.

“I’ll never hurt you, angel. Let me go and tell Robyn and
Michael thanks and goodbye and I’ll be right back to you.” His lips are
feather-soft on my forehead and I hear him leave the room.

The next thing I know, sun is streaming through the window
and Jaz’s arm is wrapped around me, protecting me. I snuggle back into his side
and rest my cheek on his hard, broad chest. A sigh escapes his lips, and he
curls his body around mine, shielding me from the world. This is my life, and
this is my love. I don’t need another thing.

*****

“So have you gotten any farther along with the packing?”
We’re cleaning up from dinner. I’ve been here every night for weeks, ever since
the mess with Angus, and moving has become kind of a joke between us. I just
keep going and getting things a little at a time, and Jaz keeps telling me to
just go ahead and pack. But I haven’t had time. Things have been busy at the
workshop. Seems everyone wants some kind of leather garment right now. I think
there’s a festival or something coming up and everyone’s going. I don’t know
and I don’t care; all I know is I’m making money. And that’s good. I need every
penny I can scrounge up right now, and if things keep going and I can sell my
house, everything will fall into place. And I can’t wait.

Jaz is busy with work too. He’ll go for a good while without
having to go out of town, and then he’ll have two or three trips back to back.
I don’t like it when he’s gone, but that’s just how it is.

Melissa came to visit and picked out things for her room.
I’m working on that a little at a time. She was planning to come in one weekend
when Jaz had to be gone and she almost cancelled, but I asked her to come
anyway. We had a good time, cooking and eating and going to movies. She’s fun
to be around, and I think she really likes me. I know I like her. It was nice
to have her here, especially since he was gone.

Jaz has been gone for two nights – he thinks he has two more
to go – when I get a phone call I couldn’t have anticipated. Phil’s sister,
Leona, calls me right after dinner that night, and she’s crying when I answer
the phone. “Kimberly?”

“Leona? What’s wrong?”

“I know you said you don’t really want to talk about Phil,
but I felt like I should call you and at least let you know.” Before I can ask
what she’s talking about, Leona says, “Phil passed away this afternoon.”

“Oh god! Oh no! Oh, Leona, I’m so sorry! Was it an accident?
Had he been sick?”

There’s a choking sound before she continues. “Abdominal
aortic aneurysm. Just dropped dead.”

“That’s horrible! I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
I really don’t know why she called me, but I guess it makes sense that she’d
want me to know.

“No, no. Nothing you can do. I just wanted you to know in
case, you know, you wanted to come for the service or something.”

She wants me to come –
that’s
why she called me. I’ll
have to think about that. “Tell you what. Give me the address and the day and
time and I’ll talk to my fiancé. If he doesn’t mind, I’ll try to come. How’s
that?”

“Oh, would you, Kimberly? Oh, I’d really, really appreciate
that. I know Mama would love to see you.” Their mother is a kind, sweet soul.
She’s the person I’d most likely do this for. I make up my mind that if Jaz
says it’s okay, I’ll go.

“I’ll talk to Jaz and ask him if it’s okay. I’m sure he
won’t mind. So when’s the service?”

“Seven tomorrow evening.”

Wow. They aren’t wasting any time getting him in the ground.
“Um, I’ll try to be there, Leona, but that doesn’t leave me much time.”

“I know. But please, if you can . . . Here’s the address.”
She rattles off an address in Los Angeles and in a few minutes, with a handful
of pleasantries behind us, we hang up. I immediately call Jaz.

“Hey, baby! What’s up?”

“I just got a call from Phil’s sister. He died.”

“Oh, god! Oh, I’m so sorry, Kimmie.”

“Don’t be. I mean, I hate it for his family, but I don’t
really care one way or another. But they’re hoping I’ll come for the funeral.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I don’t think I can be back by then . . .”

“I’ll just go by myself and come right back.”

I don’t have to see his face; I can hear the strain in his
voice. “I really don’t like the idea of you traveling alone. Where is this?”

“Los Angeles.”

“No. I don’t like that one bit. I’d rather that you didn’t.”

I sigh – loudly, I’m sure. “Babe, it would just be one
night. And I wouldn’t stay with them. But I feel like I should go and pay my
respects for his family’s sake. They were
my
family for years, and they
never did anything against me. Matter of fact, they supported me when he, well,
you know. I really feel like it would be the right thing to do.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone before he
asks, “Are you sure you want to do this? Because I really don’t like it.”

“I know. I really don’t like it either, but I do feel that I
need to go. Look, I’ll leave and be back before you get here. You won’t even
know I’m gone,” I laugh.

“Yes I will. Book your flight and let me know your flight
schedule. I mean it, Kimmie. I want to know where you are and when.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll stay in touch. I love you, Jaz.”

“I love you too, babe.”

“I feel like this will give me complete closure.”

“Well, then, by all means, do it. But please, be careful.”

“Always, babe. I’ll let you know my plans as soon as I
know.”

“Okay.” His tone has changed from indignation to worry.
“Please do.”

“You’ll know every step of the way.” As soon as we hang up,
I call around and get a flight, then start packing. While I’m packing, I grab
my planner and start calling clients I had scheduled for the next two days.
Before bedtime, I’ve got my plane tickets, my clients have been notified, and
I’m packed. I head off to bed, knowing tomorrow will be a difficult day.

*****

God, what a horrible flight. I got stuck in a seat beside a
guy who could double as an elephant for the circus, and he honked like one too.
I hope his problem is allergies or I’ll be sick before I can get back home.

I booked a cheap motel near the funeral parlor and I manage
to get checked in by six so I can fix my makeup and freshen up a bit. It’s not
the Ritz-Carlton, but it’s a place to sleep. I took a rental car with a
navigation system, so I have no trouble finding the funeral home.

The sight in front of me is beyond my imagination. There are
camera crews everywhere and TV station vans, and people are lined up out the
front door of the funeral parlor, waiting to get in. I ask one of the women in
line, “Is this the line for the Hendricks funeral?”

“Yeah. Sure is,” a little blond tells me.

I see a side door and head that way, but the man standing
beside it stops me. “Sorry. You can’t enter there.”

“But I need to see Leona.”

“Are you family?”

I think about that. Technically, I’m not. “Uh, no, I guess
not.”

He points back to the back of the line. “Then you’ll have to
go to the back of the line and wait like everybody else.” The stern look he
gives me makes me decide that I’d be best off to just do what he says.

So I go back to the back of the line. What are all of these
people doing here for Phil? He hasn’t lived in Los Angeles all that long, maybe
a couple of years, so he can’t know very many people. I stand and wait, stand
and wait, stand and wait. While I’m standing there, I hear conversations all
around me, just snippets of them anyway. I hear “hasn’t worked since she left
the show” and “met through a friend” and “what he saw in her except dollar
signs.” I really don’t know what to make of it.

It takes almost an hour before I make it far enough up the
line to get into the actual chapel where the family is gathered. There are
photographers trying to snap pictures everywhere, and a reporter with a
microphone and a notepad talks with people standing in line. There are so many
people that I can’t see up to the front to see his wife and to see if Leona is
there, so I just entertain myself watching the people I
can
see from my
little pocket of space. My eyes sweep the room when I see something that
puzzles me.

There’s a girl across the room and close to the front, and
she looks a lot like Melissa. I’m marveling at their similarities when the girl
turns, scans the room, and then looks right at me. And then I know for sure.

It
is
Melissa.

What the hell? Why is she here? It doesn’t make any sense. As
soon as her eyes land on me, she stands and makes her way across the room to
me. The first thing out of her mouth is, “Kim! What are you doing here?”

“The dead guy is my ex-husband.” A weird look passes over
her face, so I ask, “What are
you
doing here?”

“The dead guy is my stepfather.” Her eyes search my face.
Even as we speak, I’m moving forward in the line, and I finally get a glimpse
of the woman at the center of everything.

Meredith. Meredith Renzada, the soap opera star; well,
former soap opera star. Meredith Renzada is Jaz’s ex-wife. I’m still having
trouble grasping it when I choke out, “Meredith Renzada is your mother?”