The Convent Rose (The Roses) (23 page)

In the water, Bodey struggled, the robe wrapping around his legs. Spending every summer doing rodeo, he hadn’t made good use of Big Ben’s pool and now lived to regret it. His arms were plenty strong enough, but his swimming skills lacked a great deal. He turned to float on his back, but the garment still dragged him down. He ripped off the headdress and freed his head to ride a little higher in the water. One desperate blue eye watched Rusty shuck off his sandals and do a pretty decent dive into the surf. He moved toward Bodey with an even stroke. That was Rusty, steady, dependable. He didn’t deserve his friendship anymore than he did a woman like Eve, strange thoughts as he swallowed a gulp of seawater and realized he was going under.

A hand jerked him to the surface again and towed him with an arm wrapped around his bearded chin toward the combers that raked a sandy beach. They rode the waves in and emerged from the water to sprawl just above the waterline. Rusty pressed his back frantically to bring up the saltwater. What was a little more barfing after what he’d just experienced?

“Enough! I didn’t swallow that much. You got to me real quick. Besides, I’m mostly empty from all that hurling.” Bodey rolled over and sat up beside his best friend. “Sorry I got you into this, sorry I lost Eve, sorry I didn’t put out money for the izaar.”

“The what?”

“The thing you wear under your throbe to cover your ass. You sure covered mine just now, but can we
not
tell Noreen?”

“She won’t hear it from me, or I’ll never get out of the house alone again.”

“Still got your passport and credit card? The danged pouch almost strangled me in the waves.” Bodey fished out a zippered plastic bag on a long string from the neck of his sodden robe and Rusty did the same. People who’d seen them struggle from the sea gathered, forming a ring around them, offering to call for aid.

“We’re fine. Just point us in the direction of a place where we can buy some dry clothes. And no, we didn’t have a great time in the Cayman Islands if anyone wants to know,” Bodey said, his voice raw from seawater and vomit.

The rain began to patter and pockmark the sand. Well-meaning arms helped them up, mouths offered them water and a ride into town.

“Come on, Rusty. Let’s go home.”

****

At the house, Eve sat on one of the lounges watching the rain pour from the eaves as it did fairly often this time of day. She’d been thinking about Bodey, about going home, but did not share her thoughts with her father who would only find reasons for her to stay.

“How was the fishing?” she asked to show interest in his life.

“No marlin. Two nice yellowfins we can cut into steaks for dinner.”

“Where are your guests?”

“Turned out that Arab had no stomach for the sea. He puked his guts out and begged me to put him ashore on Grand Cayman so he could go back to his oil rich desert. What a wuss, but I get to keep his money.”

One of the crewmen walked by with the prince’s luxurious leather suitcase. Eve raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you fret, honey, we’ll get it back to the man tomorrow. Glad you came out of hiding to have dinner with me.”

“I love having dinner with you, Daddy, making up for all those lost years. Sorry I hid out at lunchtime, but I simply couldn’t stomach another sheik leering at me throughout a meal. I saw the man dressed in a throbe get off the boat and headed for the hills to do some sketches, but I did intend to meet you at dinner. I know it helps your business to have a hostess.”

“That’s why I’d like you to stay here. You are good for business, good for me, too. Like I said, this Bodey character must have moved on or he’d have tried to reach you by how.”

“Regardless, I have to go back to Rainbow soon and close up my studio, let the Academy know my plans if I don’t intend to teach art and riding this fall. I might do a short retreat and sort out my feelings.”

“Your daddy understands. You do that, then hurry back to me. I’ll keep my eye out for a rich man who deserves you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Yep, the time had come for the whiskey cure after the disguise debacle. Maybe he’d pick up some honky-tonk gal to fill the hole Eve had left, but hell, it would take a hundred loose women just to cover the bottom of that pit, let alone top it off. Still, he wasn’t ready for the nice ladies the nuns were pushing his way. He wanted to settle down, and maybe once Eve was out of his system, he’d try again.

The Rainbow Express boiled on an August Saturday night. The rickety air conditioning system couldn’t cope with the ninety-three degree evening outside or the crush of bodies inside. Sweat ran down the necks of women and tantalized by disappearing into their cleavage like warm streams flowing over boulders.

A good zydeco band played and between drinks, Bodey danced with girls who had so many piercings he knew they were too young for him and older gals smelling of cigarettes and gin, who looked like they’d given up on every other pleasure in life. He hadn’t bothered to shave since returning to Rainbow. The women told him the pointed beard made him look devilish and they hoped he’d live up to it, but he didn’t favor any one of them.

About the time he started tripping over his own feet, he gave his truck keys to a bartender who couldn’t be much past twenty-one, and pointing out his vehicle, asked the kid to see he got home to Three B’s Ranch just down the road. He’d promised his daddy he would be careful if he drank. It was good to have someone who cared about him.

The bartender slung the keys beneath the counter and rolling his eyes said, “I guess, whatever.” When Bodey pulled out three hundred dollars to pay his tab, the remainder to serve as a tip, the answer changed to, “Yessir.”

By the time last call came and the crowd had thinned down to the die-hards and the drunks, Bodey sat with his head resting on the bar. He wasn’t sleeping or passed out, only trying to figure out how to get to his truck without puking. A hot body took possession of the stool next to him and slid the seat closer so their elbows touched. Bodey raised his head enough to see over his arms. He focused. “Renee?”

“You need a ride home, cowboy?”

“Soon,” said Bodey, swallowing hard.

“Looks like both of us were screwed over by artists. You know that snake, Evan, must have painted me fifty times, mostly in the nude, had a big showing and wouldn’t cut me in on the profits. Said I’d signed the modeling contract and been given cash plus room and board in San Francisco—and then he mocked my art.”

“Mocking’s bad,” Bodey agreed.

“So, did Eve take the check Hardy gave her for her mural and any other services she might have rendered him and skip to the islands, or did she hit you for the cash to set up elsewhere?”

“Daddy came,” Bodey explained as best as he could.

“She got herself another sugar daddy? Pure, pious Eve? Where does she find people like that in Rainbow? Wish I knew. There’s one thing I do know. Revenge is sweet. How about we take some revenge on artists, Bodey?”

“Swheet revenge,” he parroted.

“Where are your keys?” Renee began searching his pants pockets as well as exploring other possibilities along the way.

“Here they are, ma’am,” the boy bartender offered. The drunk wouldn’t remember who drove him home come morning.

Renee wrinkled her nose at being called ma’am, but took the keys. “Thanks—sonny.”

She maneuvered Bodey across the gravel lot to the passenger door of his truck. “You can drive schtick?” he asked.

“All my life.”

Bodey motioned her to go around to the driver’s seat. Renee started the engine. The noise drowned the retching sound of Bodey puking his guts out behind the right front tire. Finally, wiping his lips on his sleeve, he crawled in beside her.

The last of the evening didn’t go much smoother back at the ranch. By the time Renee got Bodey to his bed—thank heaven the master suite was on the first floor—and pulled off his boots and jeans, the cowboy king started snoring. Oh well, no problem. She’d get naked and slip in beside him. In the morning, he’d believe anything and Eve Burns would be just a bitter memory to both of them.

Renee shimmied out of her red spandex dress and let it puddle at the foot of the bed. She hung her crimson lace thong over Evan’s painting of
Venus Rising from her Bath
. Renee snorted. Evan had done one of her in a similar pose and given it the same title. She was definitely the better Venus, far more voluptuous. She pitched her ice pick heels to opposite corners of the room and snuggled up to Bodey like a rattlesnake against a hot rock on a cold evening.

****

The sun had been up for hours by the time Renee opened her eyes and pushed away from Bodey who still snored with a sound like the evening freight train. She stretched, admiring her body in the bedroom mirror. Taking a closer look, Renee smoothed out the make-up that had sunken into the fine lines around her eyes with her fingertips. She should shower, but she had left all of her cosmetics at home.

A brief skinny dip, head above water, should do the trick. Afterward, she could work on a full body tan. Seeing her completely naked out by the pool would give old Bodey a jolt when he finally came to. Renee snatched a thick, over-sized towel from Bodey’s bathroom and, admiring the artistic strewing of her clothing from last night, started across the room. She had a second thought.

She checked both night tables and found what she wanted in the one closest to Bodey’s side of the bed. Tearing the packet open and tossing it aside, she inserted her two longest fingers in the condom and stretched it. Then, pulling it off, she spit into the opening, rubbed the contents around, and draped the forged evidence over one of the small turquoise-colored pots the decorator had used to bring the room together. Something glittered in the bottom of the little container.

Renee drew out a ring with a stone of gorgeous purple amethyst in its center. The setting definitely had the sheen of platinum and the look of hand wrought art. It went well with her current shade of auburn hair. She slipped the ring over her knuckle. Loose, made for a bigger hand, but definitely not something Bodey would wear. Maybe, another woman had left it here. Or the ring had been intended for another woman. Perhaps, Bodey would take the hint and give it to her once he saw her wearing nothing but the ring. Smiling a big, toothy grin, Renee went for her swim.

In San Francisco, she had been cold all the time, partly because she posed in the nude for a great deal of her sojourn, but also because the evening fogs rolled in chilling her bones and the winds whipped off the cold waters of the bay. Here, in August the pool water fairly steamed, and the sun gave off brutal rays at eleven a.m. Renee took a short dip to get rid of the bar smell, then greasing herself with a found tube of lotion, she spread the thick towel over the lounger and did some full frontal sunbathing with only her face covered by a corner of the bath sheet. Must watch out for future wrinkles, but men did so love seeing her tanned all over. The thought of how she got that way turned them on, especially when she revealed no sprays or machines were involved, simply spreading herself in the great outdoors.

About the time Renee felt she should turn over or burn, the doorbell rang. She could wrap up and get that for Bodey, but truly, she’d rather have the man to herself today. He owed her at least one favor, and she intended to collect. She rolled over onto her stomach and stretched out like a lazy cat. Indoors, she could hear Bodey blundering around, then stomping across his great room toward the door.

“Dammit, who’s layin’ on that bell? Jesus, who opened those drapes? I haven’t done anything this damned stupid since I turned twenty-four.”

Pausing at the door, Bodey seized a battered, black cowboy hat from a rack and pulled it low over his eyes to protect himself from the onslaught of sunshine. He tugged at the zipper of his half-closed jeans, but it remained jammed.

“What the hell do you want!” he shouted as he flung open the heavy door and flinched from the light and the sight of Eve Burns with her finger on the bell.

“Oh, God help me.”

“I’m back. I tried to call you last night from the Dallas terminal. It doesn’t matter. Noreen brought my car to the airport in Lafayette. I came here as soon as I dropped her off. I need to know why you never answered my letters,” she said quietly.

“Letters?” Bodey answered, rubbing his furry chin.

Judging by the way it felt, he had puke caught in the hairs, and since the light hurt his eyes and made him squint, he must look awful. Yep, his breath did smell like vomit and whiskey. What a fine way to greet the woman he loved.

Then, something even worse happened. A feminine arm snaked across his shoulder and draped over his bicep. The hand wore Eve’s engagement ring. He turned his head and looked into the predatory green eyes of Renee Hayes. She wore nothing but the ring and a bath towel casually knotted over one full breast.

“Shit,” he said.

“Never mind. I have my answer. You chose Renee again.” Eve backed up a step.

“Don’t go, Eve. I want you to see the beautiful ring Bodey gave me last night.” Renee held out her hand. Eve backed up another step as if trying to escape a rattler ready to strike.

Bodey seized Renee’s wrist and jerked the ring from her finger. “I might have been drunker than a Baptist on a binge last night, but I never gave you this ring. It’s Eve’s ring.”

He held it out in his palm. The bright light shot off the metal and went right to the back of his brain. “The ring that wasn’t good enough for Princess Eve from the man who wasn’t good enough for her either.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Bodey turned tail and ran for the bathroom. Eve followed him. Renee strolled along after them. She’d let Eve get a good look at the bedroom first, the covers tossed on both sides of the bed, the thong draped across Eve’s picture, the used condom. Eve was an artist. She’d take in all the details.

Renee waited until the barfing stopped, the toilet flushed, and the water stopped running. When she slunk into the bedroom, Bodey was stretched out on the covers, his head propped up with pillows and cold, wet washcloths plastered across his eyes and throat.