Love Deluxe (22 page)

“Awe, he’s not so bad, give him a break, he’s had it pretty hard.”

Those words made me want to grab a rusty knife and give Ben Foster a little something to remember me by, but first I’d have to find out if Lorena Bobbit had gone to jail or not. I wanted to ask John if he’d forgotten what he told me last night. How could he defend the old fucker? But I left it alone; an abused child still loves its abuser, what a tragedy. I got a Diet Coke from the minibar and told him to order some breakfast if he was hungry, I was going to shower and dress then we were hitting the road.

“No me and you in the Easter Egg Motel?” He asked and there was a wicked twist to his smile.

I finished the Diet Coke, crushed the can and threw it at him.

“Hush your ugly mouth,” I said and couldn’t help but laugh as I pictured that hideous motel in my head.

***

As we pulled in the driveway the car lights illuminated the front of the house and the new shade of blue looked nice and mellow.

“Wow, that paint color is great, don’t you think?” John said, “looks like they’re finished out here, they did a good job.”

We turned on the lights in the house and were surprised and pleased at how well the work was going. Furniture had been moved to the center of the living areas and covered with painter’s cloths. The pale blue paint was already on most of the walls and was just as I hoped it would be. In the kitchen, the thick upper shelves crafted from recycled wood were in place and stood out against the painted walls like driftwood sculpture, perfect.

“Those guys are good, huh, buddy? What a difference, this kitchen looks like an artist’s studio and this color is… like sea glass. My sweetie knows her stuff.” He put his arms around me from behind, leaned down, his mouth to my ear, “Is it what you hoped for, are you liking it?”

“I love it, you found some great craftsmen, but I never had any doubt, you’re an exceptionally good contractor.”

I nestled against him, my back to his front, he hugged me tighter, pulled my hips against him, my body responded immediately, sure of what it wanted.

“Let’s unpack later,” I said, turning to kiss him.

***

The painters and carpenter were at the house by seven in the morning and we walked through the rooms, discussed what was left to be done. The blue paint glowed in the morning light and I thought maybe I should use it in the bedrooms as well as the living areas, it was
so
right. But Maggie and Laura had sent paint chips for their bedrooms and baths and were already gathering fabrics, linens and towels so I told the men to keep doing what they were doing. I asked the carpenter if he could remove the cabinet doors on the bathroom vanities and add simple trim so they would hold storage baskets for a more unfitted look. He said yes and he could change light fixtures as well, since boxes had been delivered from a lighting company.

“I got a brother who’s a plumber if you need him,” he said, “but your faucets look pretty new.”

I told him we had all the plumbing redone a couple of years ago, so we were good there.

“I’m pleased with your work,” I said, “I need to urge you all to be finished the week before Christmas, I know that’s soon, but I have to get back to Texas.”

“Make her happy and you can count on a bonus, she gets kinda grumpy when she’s not pleased and we can’t have that,” John said as walked outside scrolling through his cell phone. He sat on the screened porch to call his dad and he didn’t look excited about it.

I climbed the stairs to the tower; the sun bounced off the Gulf so brightly that the water seemed to be made of pure light. I lay in the hammock, called Maggie and then we got Laura on a conference call. I filled them in on the remodeling, said that it was moving fast and would be worthy of the cover of
House Beautiful
when all was done. The look was so splendid and inviting, I knew they were going to love it.

We hung up and I dialed Emily, she answered with our old line, “Radar love!” Then asked, “What’s up Jenna Jameson? I was about to call you.”

“Well you know, when I get lonely and I feel I’ve had enough…
RADAR LOVE
!”

We both broke into an off key version of the hokey outdated song we loved so well and then laughed at our silliness.

“Just checking in to give you an update,” I said. “I thought you should know that life is rough, I’ve got sand in places that even God doesn’t know about. I’ve been kickin’ back, hangin’ on the beach with my main man catchin’ some rays.”

“You, catching rays? Not in this lifetime, Snow White.”

“You crack yourself up.” I said. “There’s a lot going on here, redoing the cottage, it’s going to be a knockout, you need to plan to come after the New Year sometime, let me get through Christmas and moving then my bad day is coming up, of course.”

“I know, doll, three years, wish I could take that burden from you. I feel helpless, we all do.”

We were both quiet for a minute and then she said, “So you sold your house and I had to find out through the grapevine, thanks a lot, bestie.”

“Sorry, it’s been nonstop since we got here, the work on the cottage, we just made a quick trip to Mt. Dora, picked up some cool pieces for the shop, running around like crazy people. And we met the nicest man, Em. We stopped and gambled in New Orleans on the way here, I met him in the high limit slot room and we talked and played the machines together. His name is Sam McKay and he lives in Destin, he has this eighty something foot boat and it’s out of this world gorgeous. You will never believe what happened when we were playing the slots, oh, sister, you will not believe.”

“Holy shit, and I just thought you were down there doing it in the sand with John every day. What happened with the slots, did you sneak away and screw the guy ten ways from Sunday?”

“You know, I’ll just hold the line while you make an appointment with a therapist, do you sit around and fantasize about my sex life now? Go get some help, hurry, I’ll wait.”

“Shut up, bitch,” she said, laughing, “what happened, did you win some money?”

“Em, I did. I found this one kind of slot machine that I love, it has this cool bonus feature and I was winning a few thousand here and there…”

`“A few thousand, damn girl, that’s good,” she said.

“No, listen and you can’t tell anyone not even Rob. Emily, I won the jackpot, I won a hundred thousand dollars!”

“Ahhhhhh!” She screamed so loud I held the phone away from my ear, we were laughing hysterically.

I lay back in the hammock and squealed and kicked my feet in the air, remembering that astonishing moment.

“Are you serious, what did John say, did you spend any of it? I bet you bought that
Chanel
lambskin purse you’ve been wanting
and
one just like it for your best friend in the world, I hope.”

“I haven’t told John and I have no idea why not, I put the money in a safe deposit box. Should I leave it there Em, what do you do when someone hands you more than a hundred thousand in hundred dollar bills?”

“Fuck if I know,” she sounded truly baffled. “It’s weird that you didn’t tell the new husband, I wonder what that’s all about? But trust your instincts.”

“That’s what McKay said, female intuition and all.”

“So you and boat-boy are telling each other secrets that you don’t want to share with your husband? What’s going on, is there trouble in paradise?”

“No, no, absolutely not. It’s just that John could possibly be a little bit compulsive about gambling and he was losing and pissed off and I wanted to get out of there without him betting all my winnings… so I didn’t tell him. Then when we got to the beach I couldn’t decide how to say “Look I won all this money and forgot to mention it.” Then I ran into McKay in town and I felt like I could tell him anything so I did. We went out on his boat, I mean it was a few days later and John went, too, and McKay asked me to help him find a painting for the main salon. So I did and he bought me this ridiculously expensive painting and insisted I take it, no strings attached…”

“Hold on just a damn minute! There are some strange signals going off in my head, are you leaving John or have you graduated to a ménage a trois situation?”

“Stop it,” I said, “it’s nothing like that. McKay is a true Southern gentleman, he’s newly divorced and he’s lonely. He owns those
Super Subs
sandwich shops and he’s selling out and you know how it goes, everybody wants to be his friend for all the wrong reasons. Really Em, he’s so gracious, he just needs a genuine friend. Look I gotta to go, I hear John having some kind of a fit downstairs, by the way how’s the family? Is that filthy minded husband of yours giving you any good lovin’?”

“Oh, for sure. When I walk into the bedroom at night he motions to his hard-on and says, “Get over here and take care of this!” He’s a true romantic.”

***

Downstairs, John walked out of the bedroom carrying his suitcase, a string of dirty words rolled off his tongue.

I just stopped in my tracks and stared at him.

“Will you take me to the airport?” He sounded desperate. “My dad has fucking lost his mind, please help me; I have to get to Austin fast.”

“Okay, did you make a reservation? I’m not sure which airlines fly out of Panama City and that’s the closest airport, it’s going to take about thirty or forty minutes to get there.”

He set his bag down, looked deflated, “He’s stealing from me, my money is gone and he’s maxed out my credit cards. I can’t believe he would do this and he’s lied to my mom about it. She doesn’t believe he ever had any of my money, is she that stupid? Where would he get enough cash to buy a lot and build a house? What am I going to do?” He sat down and started going through his bag, his voice was rough, “Where are those fucking Vicodin, do you have any left? I need some.”

“I’ll get you a Xanax.”

“Fuck that,” he said, and went in search of the young painter.

I heard him ask he if he had anything stronger than smoke. I felt a chill of terror, he wanted serious drugs? I wasn’t sure he should go anywhere near his dad just yet, if the money was gone it was too late anyway and who knew how bad a confrontation could get. He needed to calm down, I wished I knew all the facts but honestly I didn’t want to be involved. In my heart of hearts I knew Ben Foster was the kiss of death. John came back into the room, fuming, hands in his hair, a cigarette hanging from his lips; he went out to the porch, sat on the floor with his head in his hands. I watched huge teardrops hit the floor boards and my heart clenched in pain for him and disgust for his father. I sat beside him but didn’t move to touch him or say anything. He ground out the cigarette and sat quietly, his face in his hands for a long, long time.

Finally he lifted his head and looked at me, “I’m such a fuck up. He lives to torture me and I let him, I fall for his schemes and do his dirty work over and over, hoping it will be enough. What a fool I am, I swear to God, he won’t be happy until I’m dead.”

“Don’t say that, no parent would ever want that, how can you think such a thing?”

“You don’t want to know the shit he’s made me do,” he said and I was afraid my heart would stop. “When he was pissed off and wanted to fuck somebody over, he’d have me do it. Trash houses, slit tires, smash windshields, I got caught once and he let me sit in jail for days until they finally figured out I was only fourteen. They called and told him I was just a kid; he had to come get me. After I ran away and he brought me back home he said I had to start breaking into houses to steal credit cards. I told him to do his own dirty work so he shipped me off to the Navy. When I came back from L.A. a couple of years ago I stayed in Austin and helped him build his house with my own hands. He wanted me to steal everything he needed from lumber to appliances. Than he told me to get rid of this one big Mexican carpenter, to tell him his work sucked and refuse to pay him. Turned out the guy had done time in San Quentin, he stuck a knife in my hip and said, “Pay the fucking bill or I’ll stick it in your heart.”” He raised his shirt, pushed down the top of his jeans and showed me a long straight line, “I paid him out of my own money and my dad didn’t drive me to the hospital until I passed out from blood loss.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I’d only known the kind of loving father my dad was to me and Henry was to Brooks. I suppose for me to understand such cruelty was just as difficult as it was for him to comprehend burying a child when he’d never had one.

“What can I do for you, buddy? You want to walk on the beach, the sun’s going down?” I asked, not knowing what else to do.

The workers came out of the house; the painters got in their truck and drove off.

The carpenter said, “You might want to check those light fixtures, some might’ve got damaged in shipping, all the boxes are in the family room.”

John stood up quickly, “Boxes?” he said. “Grab a sweater and get the bikes out, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the back of the house. I waited out front, straddling my bike and he came bounding down the steps, pulling on a sweatshirt, a jubilant look on his face.

“Talk about mood swings, what’s going on?” I asked.

“An idea, I have a good idea. Come on, let’s ride to Bud and Ally’s and watch the sunset and hear the bell ring when the sun hits the water.”