Love Deluxe (26 page)

“My dad,” he said, “we got in an argument, it turned into a fight and his fucking temper flared up. Oh, sorry I said fucking.”

I studied his face, trying to grasp what he’d said, it didn’t make sense.

“I’m lost, John. You and your dad had a fight? Like… a fist fight?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking away from me.

I reached across the table and grabbed his hands, “Then why aren’t your hands cut? Or scraped, at least?”

“I can’t hit my dad.”

My stomach lurched, I stared at his face, swollen and bruised and sewn back together, “What do you mean?”

His voice turned hard when he said, “I can’t hit my old man. Yeah, he’s fucking mean but he’s my dad.”

I moved quickly and barely make it to the restroom and threw up in the sink.

I’d planned to go to my shop with John, to pick up the palm tree painting, show him which antique wall sconces and light fixtures I wanted hung in the carriage house. After that I wanted to go to Builders Discount Appliance and buy a SubZero and a Viking Range and have them delivered. But I just drove home.

We parked in front of the house and before I could get out he said, “Wait, you’re getting all bent out of shape over this.” His voice still had an edge to it and my poor stomach twisted as he talked. “His bark is worse than his bite, he’s just an old man from Kentucky and he came up hard in the world. Not everyone has it made from day one, Cate. You don’t understand how he’s had to struggle, he’s a good father and I never made it any easier for him.”

“Really?” I jerked down the visor, and opened the mirror. “Look at yourself. You like his handiwork? Would my father ever do that to me? Would you do that to your kid? Because you can’t tell me he hasn’t done it before, what a blessing that you never wanted children.”

He followed me into the house and up to the bedroom; I brushed my teeth, washed my face and changed into a nightgown. He watched as I filled a glass with water and took the bottles of Xanax and Ambien and set them by my side of the bed.

“Stay out of my pills,” I said, “and get out of my room.”

I held the bedroom door open and waited for him to leave.

“Cate, please.”

“Just go to another room, I’m going to sleep and I can’t be with you right now.”

“I’m begging you, I know it’s messed up, my dad is a crazy son of a bitch, he’s got my mom so brainwashed she saw what he did and looked away, she always did. I need for him to finish this house deal and then I’m done with his sorry ass forever. I swear it, Cate.”

I found a box of Epsom salts, sprinkled them in the bath tub and turned on the faucet. I helped him undress and he got in and sank down in the water. His chest and stomach especially, were bruised and badly scraped, I started with a soft wash cloth but he winced and I put it aside.

“What did he do this with?” I asked as I leaned above him with my hand moving gently over his body.

“Fists, two rings.”

I remembered the old bastard with his pimpish gold chain and large nugget rings.
He beat his son with rings on his hands,
I thought, and my tears splashed onto John’s chest.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m tough; I’m a fully grown man.” His words made me shake silently with sobs, he pulled my face to his and kissed me tenderly. “We have each other and that’s all that matters. You’re mine and I’m your man.”

I rested my face against his, catching my breath, I closed my eyes and moved my hand down his body; his erection lay full and hard against his stomach. And so it was, I reasoned, always this first, this passion for each other, even as I cried over his pain, my body moistened in anticipation.

PART THREE

Las Vegas

Chapter Nineteen

John had spoken the truth, Vegas was spectacular from above. The plane descended, prepared to land, the lights from the city glowed brighter as the sun sank fast behind the mountains in the west. It was New Year’s Eve and I was grateful to have the business of real life behind and exuberant over the clean slate ahead. The driver collected our bags from the carousel and drove to the
Bellagio
; we stepped out in front of the massive hotel while fountains of water moved in time to lights and music. In the lobby, I was mesmerized by the glass-sculpture ceiling and drawn to the hothouse smell of thousands of flowers in the massive conservatory.

John checked in and then found me in the indoor gardens. He was in his element in Las Vegas, his smile was wide and he radiated confidence.

“There you are, buddy. Cool, huh? Can you smell the tuberoses? They’re my favorite.”

I wrapped my arms around him and asked, “How do you know about tuberoses, you crazy man?”

“I know they grow wild in Hawaii and you smell like them when you come to bed and you’re exotic and wild and I’m so crazy in love with you that I’ll never recover.”

We laughed and kissed and made spectacles of ourselves and got in people’s way and didn’t give a damn if they liked it or not.

“Everyone’s watching us,” I said.

“Do you care? They want to be us, they want what we have.”

“What do we have?” I asked, loving that feeling of pure joy, giddy with knowing that I was free and could be any version of myself in a city devoted to greed and sin and walking away.

“We have each other,” he said, “and we’re in love. Not
settle for
love, but,
change your life forever
love. Come on, let’s celebrate. I’m not kissing you again until next year.”

Our suite was huge with a dazzling view of the fountains and Las Vegas Boulevard. Far below on the Strip people moved like an army of ants, it was impossible to tell where one hotel ended and another began, each more bizarre and fantastical than the ones before. I swear my blood was singing in my veins, I wanted sex and food and vodka and
Top Dollar
.

“You like?” John asked from across the room, he’d changed into black pants, black shirt, black jacket and tie.

“Whoa, it’s never good for the husband to look better than the wife,” I said, and meant it.

“Not a chance,” he said and pulled a box out of his suitcase. “Here, wear this, it’s a late Christmas present.”

I opened it and lifted out an exquisite short, red, diaphanous dress, “It’s gorgeous, is it a night gown?”

“Silly, it’s a designer, Roberto somebody or other. You’re gonna look smokin’ hot.”

“It’s fabulous but I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts, I didn’t get you anything.”

“I have exactly what I want,” he said, pulling me to him, kissing my hair, my face. “Now listen, buddy, I have to go downstairs, introduce myself to the floor bosses in the casino, you get gorgeous and meet me at that
Picasso
restaurant at ten, it’s in the hotel somewhere, just ask. We’ll have a great meal, drink all the champagne in the place and ring in the New Year. Oh, here,” he said tossing a shoe box across the bed; I looked in your closet for the sizes. There are casino chips by the bed, gamble if you have time, I’ll see you in couple of hours,” and he was out the door.

I showered and shaved my legs and under arms, dried my hair and used the flatiron so that it slid over my shoulders and down my back, it felt silky and sexy and I pictured it falling over his chest later and I had to put a stop to those thoughts. I finished my makeup with red, red lipstick, stepped back for a look; it was striking with my pale skin and dark hair. I struggled with a strapless bra, managed to fasten and straighten it and slipped into matching panties.
Pretty good
, I thought,
but tomorrow I’ll do some serious shopping
.

I slid the dress over my head and zipped it. The top was tight and low, with skinny straps, my breasts made white mounds over the top of the intricately embroidered satin. The skirt was short and delicate, falling from an empire waste in a dozen layers of tissue thin chiffon. I stepped into the red stilettos and thought,
great city to look
like a streetwalker!
But as I walked across the room to the enormous mirror, I stopped mid-step and stared. 

Only
Roberto Cavalli
could make a master piece out of a little bit of nothing. The color wasn’t garish as I thought it would be, but made my skin look like alabaster and the effect was fragile meets fierce.
Can I walk around the Bellagio looking like this at my age
? I wondered. And I heard Emily’s voice saying, “Work it, sister, you look good, let them deal with it.”

I switched from my purse to a clutch, threw in some cash, lipstick, ID and as many yellow chips as it would hold. In the elevator a group of obviously new twenty-one year olds were dressed for New Year’s and already buzzed.

Several of the girls talked in awed whispers and one of them said, “I know it’s her, I’m going to ask. Excuse me,” she said, “aren’t you that model from last month’s
In Style
magazine?”

I laughed and said, “Bless you for that, but no, I’m just a woman who could be your mother.”

“That’s not possible.” One of the young men stepped forward, he was a little older than the others and he was dressed in an
Armani
suit. He
did
look like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine, his face was shockingly handsome and his hair fell in thick, dark waves to his shoulders. He smiled and his almost-black eyes swept over me as he spoke, “There’s no way you’re a Mrs. Robinson. Come on, you should kick it with us. I have a table at XS, hottest ticket in town. I’m Drew, by the way.”

The elevator opened and the sounds of the casino called to me. I stepped into the frenzy and glanced back at the young man and said, “You kids have fun, and stay out of trouble.”

I walked through the casino; it was vast and confusing with gorgeous furnishings and scores of people shimmering with liquor and money and excitement. I wandered through the maze of slot machines and table games; scanned the craps tables for John but he was nowhere in sight. I found a cahiers cage and changed my chips to bills, the teller counted out thirty six thousand and as usual, I was shocked. I asked directions to the high limit slot area and walked to it quickly, my blood began to vibrate as I entered.

A casino host met me, handed me a glass of champagne from a tray. He wished me Happy New Year and asked if I needed anything.

“A winning machine,” I said, “
Top Dollar
, please.”

“Of course,” he said, and I followed him as he pointed out the denominations from five to five hundred dollars. He wasn’t at all forthcoming, definitely not a Nathan.

“Well, I believe I’ll start on a twenty-five, any of them lucky tonight?”

“All our slots are lucky,” he said. “Can I get you something stronger to drink and an appetizer perhaps, do you have a player’s card?”

Snob
, I thought, and asked him for the time.

“Nine twenty,” he said and walked away.

I played for half an hour, remembered to put my card in, the one from the
Beau Rivage
. It was give and take for half an hour and I cashed out with only five hundred more than I started with. I was definitely a jaded player, it took a big win to truly heat my blood.

***

John stood at the entrance to the restaurant talking to an unknown man when he saw me walking toward him. He blatantly looked me over from head to toe and I blushed, but when I caught the look in his eyes it said everything and I felt like the sexiest woman in Las Vegas.

His hands went to my arms, he leaned in, his mouth to my ear, he said, “You are the sexiest woman in Las Vegas,” and I had to laugh! He introduced me to Steve Sampson who he claimed was the most famous casino host in Las Vegas.

“Come on,” Steve said, “they have an excellent table for you.” Steve pulled out my chair, introduced us to several members of the restaurant staff and said, “Alright, happy New Year. You’ve got my number John; I’m a phone call away.” He started to leave, hesitated, and turned his attention to me. “This probably isn’t a good time but my wife loved you in that magazine, could I get you to sign a copy for her while you’re in town?”

“My wife is hot and famous?” John asked.

“So it would seem, that’s the second time tonight someone has asked me that about that magazine. When I stroll around with you we’ll most likely be mobbed.”

“’Cause you think I think I look nice tonight?” He grinned and raised the palm of my hand to his lips.

“You look incredible tonight, but I’m thinking about something Jackson said.”

“Jackson? When did you see Jackson, is he here?”

“No, no, it was a long time ago. That day at the Ski Lodge, he said you look like Dolph Lundgren.”

“Oh, yeah, I used to get that all the time in L.A. but damn, he’s old now.”

The meal was so many courses I lost track, small portions of astonishingly delicious concoctions, presented like works of art, it was
Picasso
after all. We drank bottle after bottle of rare champagne, chilled to perfection and I felt so lose and fuzzy-brained I leaned across the table, my breasts threatening to spill out and told John to meet me in the bathroom.

He removed my champagne glass and poured a Pellegrino for me, “Drink, I want you to know who you’re kissing at midnight, and later in bed.”

John was so different in Las Vegas, he was suddenly the adult, in control, his tone and actions were more serious, he was completely in charge. I took a drink of the water and felt a deep stirring as I thought of bed and John in control.

“Maybe,” I said, brushing drops of water from my lips. “Maybe I can only wait ‘til we’re in the elevator.”

“Hmmm, sounds like we might need to cut our dinner short, I live to please my wife. Let’s toast the New Year and then christen that nice bed in our suite.”

I drank water for the next half hour; my head cleared considerably and the Sommelier approached with a fresh bottle of champagne.

“Ten minutes to midnight, sir,” he said, John nodded for him to open and pour. John motioned for me to drink as everyone in the restaurant started counting down, ten, nine, eight, seven…

John stood and pulled me to my feet, when the crowd roared, “Happy New Year!” he kissed me passionately and then whispered, “Happy New Year Mrs. Foster, welcome to a whole new world.” 

We walked through the casino and I wanted to show him the high limit slot room. He took my hand as I started in that direction and dragged me back to the walkway leading to the elevators.

“I have something I want to show you,” I told him.

He drew my hand under his jacket and made sure I felt the length of his erection, “I have something I want to show you, too.”

The last bottle of champagne made me bold.

“Hmm, what could it be? I can’t imagine where I would put something that big.” I said, as he pulled me against him in the elevator.

“We’ll see about that, I like to keep my baby sore so she can’t stop thinking about me.” He ran his hands up the backs of my thighs as the doors closed and he asked, “You know there are cameras everywhere?”

“And your point is?” I asked, and we laughed and kissed.

Just before the doors closed someone stepped through them and John dropped his hands reluctantly. It was the young man in the suit from the earlier group in the elevator; he looked at me with an arresting smile, noticed John watching him but didn’t seem fazed. As we rode together to the top floor I stepped forward and asked if he’d enjoyed the club.

“It was good but it could’ve been great,” he said. “You should’ve come, you would’ve liked it.”

Bold little bastard
, I thought, John was silent and still.

“Happy New Year,” I said.

The doors opened on the top floor and as he walked away the young man turned to me and said, “Goodnight, Mrs. Robinson.”

“That arrogant kid is after you and what is this Mrs. Robinson crap?” John ranted as we walk into the suite.

He leaned against the door as soon as it closed; I crossed the room and kicked off my shoes.

I knew he was watching, of course, so I stood in front of the window with my back to him, leaned forward and slowly removed my panties.

“Come here,” he said, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot straight to my core. I walked toward him and he reached out and caught my arm, turned me around and pulled me hard against him. My back was to him as he lifted my chin and kissed the edge of my mouth, I wanted to turn to face him, wanted his mouth on mine. He held me still and his tone was icy as he said, “Is that who you want, that… young man?”

“No, I….”

“Shhh, I don’t want to hear any lies.”

He moved his hand between my legs and his fingers circled roughly as I laid my head back against his chest and moaned.