The Last Good Paradise (26 page)

Dex gave a fake bark of a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Women.”

Ann felt awkward staying but feared leaving him alone. Undecided, she sat on the sand. There was a bit of Girl Scout and do-gooderism in her that mirrored Richard’s.

After a long period of silence, Dex asked, “What do you think?”

“Wende? Gone.”

“I can’t live without her.”

Ann didn’t know for sure how to take this, but he seemed sincere enough to worry. It was like reasoning with a child’s outsize emotions.

“Go after her then.”

He shook his head.

Pride, she thought. Men. “Start by rewriting the damn song at least. Wende is a muse, and you’ve insulted her.”

She studied Dex. Fame had the effect of making one self-conscious of observing its object, but they had been living in close proximity for more than two weeks. Now it was hard to equate this guy with that fame. One on one, it disappeared. Dex’s face was aged and craggy—he looked like a cowboy in a cigarette ad, except instead of a hat, there was spiky, dyed-black hair and an ear bolt. It was hard to explain, but somehow Dex added up to more than the sum of his parts. He oozed sexuality; he was like a human USB port, appealing to a great variety of women. Ann was disappointed to find herself ever so slightly preening.

“If things work out with Wende, do yourself a favor and get a prenup. I’ll draw it up for you.”

She would omit the fact that his potential fiancée was a would-be terrorist, not to mention reckless in jumping out of a boat and almost getting Cooked and him drowned.

“Never,” he said.

“Why not? You’ve been married five times before.” She knew because one night in Loren’s office she had googled him and read the gossip columns. Was she stalking him?

“Six times. That would be like starting the game betting you were going to lose.”

“You’ve never had a prenup?”

“It’s glorious supporting a village.”

“We better head back.”

Dex nodded and helped her up. They walked along in silence.

“Richard lied to you. He didn’t mean to, but he did. There is no restaurant. It’s a long story … I took some money. We’re in hiding.”

“Cool, so you guys are outlaws!”

“White-collar, corporate kind of ones.”

“Those are the most deadly kind. My dad was a CEO.”

“So Wende was telling the truth?”

“A hell of a pedigree.”

“Can’t be that bad. What did his company do?”

“They made deals. Sold banned pharmaceuticals to third-world countries for record profits. Backed a supplier of depleted uranium-ammo for the Gulf War, then denied its side-effects. Were involved with financial institutions and hired a PR firm that manufactured public opinion to go to war in the Gulf. Possibly masterminded the story about Saddam’s men pulling babies from incubators in Kuwait. The usual stuff.”

“That couldn’t be
your
father?”

“It gets better. Not only did he buy his own bullshit, he sent his oldest son to Kuwait to fight. Even after Harry’s death, he never admitted he was wrong … I miss Harry every day of my life … I’ll never forgive him for that.”

They stood watching the waves.

“I
like
you,” Ann said. “I mean
you
. Not DEX COOPER. You’re nothing like I thought you were.”

Dex bowed his head, flushed with pleasure.

“I lied, too,” Ann said. “We did meet.”

“I knew it! I never forget a pretty face.”

“At the Troubadour with my best friend, Lorna. You bought us drinks. Whiskey sours? Whenever I order one, I remember that night.”

“What else happened?”

“You had us drive you home. Your license had been revoked … You suggested things.”

“Sure I did.”

“You kissed Lorna, and we went home. Sometimes, over the years, I regretted it wasn’t me.”

Dex shook his head, smiling. “I was bad news back then.”

“You’re right.”

“Man!” he said. “We two are seriously messed up.”

“I don’t feel messed up. Not right now.”

Close up, Ann noticed the details of Dex’s tattoos: a long twisting dragon around his arm, and a bitten apple on his shoulder (Wende’s doing?). She did a double take. “What’s that?” she said, using the tattoo as an excuse to touch his skin with her fingertips. A shiver went through her. The only other man to affect her that way had been Javi.

“That was a joke my first wife, Jamie, played on me,” Dex said, grabbing her hand and clamping it under his armpit so Ann had to walk sideways, like her arm was being swallowed by a cuddly alligator. “Eve and the apple? Temptation. She did it in the mid-’80s when the computer company was about to disappear. How did we know that they would turn things around, that the logo would become the most recognized one in the world?”

“Funny.”

“Kids think I’m pushing Apple products. Like I’d turn my body into a corporate billboard.”

“Get it lasered off.”

“Then I’d be cowing to the pressure of their imaging. Do they own the apple fruit? I think not.”

He had extraordinarily big hands, elegantly shaped, with long tapered fingers. In another life, he could have been a concert pianist; the span of his fingers easily could cover the interval of a thirteenth on a keyboard. What would those hands feel like on her hips?

Silence dropped between them, and again there was that electricity thing from their touching, and she needed to change the mood fast.

“Is Dex short for Dexter?”

“Dex is made up. Dex is nothing. Dex is reinvention. Couldn’t go by Adam Knowlton and be associated with the old guy, right?”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then he held her arm as he started to trudge into the surf.

“Hey, no, I don’t want to go swimming.”

He had her in knee-high when he let go. Before she could turn away, he splashed a wave of water with his big paddlelike hand.

“No fair.” She splashed back.

“Oh, Ann, don’t you know by now nothing in this world is fair?” He grabbed her from behind around the waist to drag her in deeper. “I’m the big bad shark.”

If he kissed her now, she would let him. If he kissed her, she would kiss him back. She would gloss the past, undo regret, and when she was a grandmother someday, she would not be sorry that she had not kissed DEX COOPER.

She doubled over, laughing, trying and not trying to get out of his grip, when she heard a voice calling.

“Dex, honey, I’m sorry.”

Wende, puffy-eyed and repentant, waded into the water with shuffling, babyish steps, totally unfazed that her boyfriend had his big pianist’s hands all over another woman’s semibared body. Ann was sure that a jealous girlfriend wouldn’t last very long in Dex’s world, what with women flinging themselves at him and making themselves available. Still, it irked her that Wende considered her beneath the possibility of jealousy. Or maybe she considered Ann too much of a friend to have any doubts of her loyalty?

“Oh, lovebug,” Dex said, releasing Ann. The water frothed in his hurry to get to tear-smeared Wende. They hugged. Wende mouthed, “
I’ll tell you later
,” over his shoulder. Dex picked her up, and she wrapped her golden legs around his waist. They didn’t stop kissing long enough to notice Ann’s hurried departure down the beach.

*   *   *

The somnolent morning passed. The main resort didn’t have a boat to spare, so they were effectively stranded until one could be procured from Papeete. No supply runs, no snorkeling trips, no sightseeing. Worried about the cost of new repairs necessitated by the storm, Loren insisted the replacement be a used one, so the wait could stretch out even longer.

“What if someone gets sick?” Richard whispered to Ann.

“We’re all healthy. Except for Loren.”

When they showed up a few hours later for lunch, Dex and Wende had big smiles on their faces. Wende yawned and said she was going for a nap.

“You promised we’d talk,” Ann insisted.

“Give me an hour,” Wende begged off.

*   *   *

Revved after the friction of Wende, still tingling from his two near-deaths in the boat, chastened by the burning of his last song, Dex took a notebook and some pens and went into one of the back, uninhabited bungalows. It was still soggy from the storm and smelled of mildew, but he was glad for that. He deserved hardship. He had promised Wende he was going to rewrite “One-Eyed Lady,” but before he did, there was something else he needed to do, a sort of testimonial. He was deeply committed to the idea of marrying Wende, just as he had been to each of his wives in his last six marriages; he needed to figure out how he could make her the sixth and last Mrs. Dex Cooper. He paused and took a sip from the bottle of rum he’d swiped from the bar.

The 5 Women I Married (Before Wende, Who I Love the Most)

In Reverse Chronological Order Because It’s Easier That Way

Giselle: I called her my Gazelle. Marriage length: 2 years. Only lasted that long because I was on tour and couldn’t get to my attorney. Age difference: 21 years. Children: 1 daughter. Giselle was a model, a beautiful girl, but she had a German accent so thick I couldn’t understand her most of the time. Liked schnauzer dogs. She was as tall as me and had big feet. Seriously gorgeous body. Always smelled of expensive perfume. When I open a bottle of Must de Cartier even now I get an erection thinking of her. Terrible in bed. Hated to be touched, went rigid as a board. Don’t think she liked me so much either. Definitely not as much as the schnauzers. Hated the music and the band. Loved opera, polka, shopping. Turned shopping into a competitive sport.

Micaela: Alan’s (the ex-drummer’s) ex-girlfriend. Marriage length: 5 years. Only that long I think so she could irritate Alan. Age difference: 15 years. Children: 3 boys. Household: 5 dogs, 3 cats, a string of polo ponies (hers). Hot and fiery Argentinean. Never didn’t want to have sex, especially when we were fighting. Left many, many scratches and bites, so many that people asked if I had been in bar fights, but (see above) who’s complaining? The makeup people did complain at the extra work. Had to go to the hospital one night from an infected bite and have an antibiotic shot. Much drinking and much drugging. Rehab. In, out, in, out. Hated the band (especially Alan), jealous of the music, always smashing my guitars when she sensed I’d been with other women. An effective deterrent when you are talking about Fenders, Gibsons, and Rickenbackers.

Lori: Business manager of the band. Marriage length: 6 months. Age difference: she was one year older. Helped me out of my depression after the first three marriages (see below). Both of us overwhelmed by the many problems created by the unforeseen success of the band. Motherly figure. Weren’t really attracted to each other, but got fucked up together one night in Vegas, and decided, why not? Never imagined marrying someone who I liked as a friend. After we moved to the Malibu house, we rescued two Aussie shepherds and walked them every day on the beach. Question: Was Lori trying to rescue me, too? Loved the music. Diagnosed with cancer after amicable divorce. Took care of her till she was better. Still take care of her and her new husband, who’s now our accountant. Still friends. Have dinner at their house every Thursday when I’m in town. Made me godfather to their son. Still my business manager. Handles the complicated alimony payments. Longest functioning relationship w/a woman.

Jamie: See below. Second time around was NOT a charm. Marriage length: 4 months. She tried, but I was already wrecked.

Kelli: South African actress. Her father was a Boer and a bore. Marriage length: 2 years. Again only because we were both too busy to get the divorce started. Time we were together, monogamous: 3 weeks. Age difference: 5 years. Children: twin boys. Kelli was in love with DEX COOPER, not Dex Cooper, if you know what I mean. Had no interest in me as a human being separate from being her ROCK STAR husband. Only was affectionate in public, preferably with paparazzi around. Slept with rottweiler in the bed—crowded (what is it with me and women with dogs?). Arch conservative in politics, listened to Rush Limbaugh (how in the world did we meet?), ate huge quantities of red meat, especially barbecue, so she and her dad had the grill out back fired up day and night like some outer circle of hell. Liked to go hunting with my dad (only one of my wives he approved of), liked to walk around the house in the nude in front of staff, band members, whoever (best part of the relationship!). Slept with each member of the band behind my back. Nasty divorce. Swore not to marry again after her—broke that promise. Haha! Hope springs eternal.

Here Dex quaffed down the remaining half bottle of rum. He gently stroked his apple tattoo.

Jamie: Robby’s sister. We were both sixteen. Love of my life. How could I have known that and then made all those mistakes (see above)? Broke, we lived in our car, in friends’ apartments. We didn’t care. We lived for the music. Marriage length: 3 years. Age difference: one month apart. She said we were twins, born in different wombs. The success scared her, like it should’ve scared me. The band became a hungry beast we lived to feed. I betrayed her brother, but also betrayed her—not only with alcohol, drugs, and women, but with the music, mostly with the fame. I lost myself when I lost her.

When Dex wrote the last words, he felt like he’d stripped himself as naked as he could without a guitar in his hands. He looked over the pages and thought they described someone else’s life, not his, although he had certainly lived through all these indignities. Could this jumble be the sum of his life? It seemed to describe some asshole’s life. Before he chickened out, he gathered up the sheets of paper, staggered out of the bungalow, and made his way to the sixth Mrs. Dex-Cooper-to-be.

Wende was still sleeping, so he put the sheath of papers next to her to be read on waking. He looked down at that angelic face—did he truly love her? He was wild about her, but looking over those pages—was he the best man to judge? Was his love fickle? Was his love a kind of reverse Midas touch that turned gold into shit? Whatever he felt for this sweet girl, who was most certainly way smarter than himself, was enough to last his lifetime. He would dedicate himself to faithfulness if she decided to have him. But first she had to know the truth of his unlucky amorous history. At least the married part.