The Story of Lansing Lotte (23 page)

The baby.

What was I going to do about that? Marry Elaine? I couldn’t do it. It would never work.  I’d already killed one girl; I didn’t need to kill another by not loving her enough. I would support her and any decisions she made. She would not be alone, but it would not be me by her side day…and night. 

Thinking of night, my mind became awash with images of that fatal night of Halloween. The three fates and one ghost. Arturo. Had it been him or not didn’t matter. I had conjured him in a manner that was so lifelike; I couldn’t shake the sensation that he had been real. He had been standing there, in his yard, upstate. I just wish I knew if he was living there or not. I still hadn’t mentioned anything to the guys, for fear they’d think I was crazy, or more so, because I feared I was. If it wasn’t him, I would only set up hopes for further heartbreak, and I was already bone tired of loss. Arturo. Layne. And I was certain, Guinevere.

Her coldness was apparent before Layne’s body was found. I was surrounded by the revelation of Layne’s attempted suicide, as a young girl, because of me. At the funeral, I couldn’t remember if Guinevere had been present or not, although I’m sure the chills I felt were caused by her presence, as well as, my own bad feelings. Guinie’s heart was ice to me, if it had ever thawed a little. I had impregnated one of her oldest friends and killed the other. She was as good as dead to me.

I had a strange sensation of smelling Lila. Something floral lingered on my pillow. I must have dozed off while I was holding it, because I heard a scraping sound and a muffled cry from the living room. I rolled on my bed and ran my hands through my hair as I sat up. I had lain down when it was wet, so it went every which way. I grabbed a cap off the top of my dresser to force everything down. The scrapping noise happened again and the loud wail of a child began as I exited my room in haste, thinking that Fleur was hurt.

“Fleur, honey, please. Stop it,” Lila was saying as she pulled a duffle bag on wheels behind her and reached for Fleur, who had scooted under the kitchen bar counter. She had barricaded herself between two tall chairs. 

“Fleur, I mean it. I don’t have time for this, today,” Lila’s voice was rising. She bent at the waist and reached through the chairs to tug Fleur out of her enclosure. Fleur leaned her head back at the momentum of Lila’s pull forward and she hit her head under the bar, causing her to cry out further.

“What’s going on?” I said, gaining Lila’s attention.

She ignored me at first, as she dropped her hold on the wheeled duffle bag and wrapped both arms around Fleur.

“I’m sorry, Fleur. You’re alright,” she soothed, kissing the back of Fleur’s head. I shook my head at the strange memory of such words coming into my ears. I was embarrassed by what Lila had told me the night before. That I had cornered her and tried to kiss her, and all she had done was try to comfort me in return.

“Can I help in some way?” I asked stepping closer. I suddenly realized the duffle bag was the same one that Lila and Fleur had arrived with and it was bulging full.

“What’s going on here?” I said firmly.

“Fleur wants to go to the park today, but I have to work and I need to pick up a camera from a friend for the shoot, because I still haven’t replaced my own. She’s up a bit earlier than normal. We didn’t sleep well last night. I just don’t have time for this, right now.”

She was still avoiding my gaze as she stood after kissing Fleur, one more time. She reached for the collapsible handle to straighten the bag. Fleur was hiccupping from her crying, and Lila had taken her hand, ready to storm out the door if need be.

“I mean, what’s going on with the bag?” I demanded.

“We’re leaving,” Lila said softly.

“Why?”

“I think it’s best after last night. You have a lot going on and you don’t need us in your way,” Lila said. She stepped to her right, but I body blocked her. Her eyes slowly scanned up my body and opened wide as she took in my bare chest. I had on jeans with my hands in the front pockets to conceal what her look had done to me. When she reached my face, she looked away.

“I need to go,” she whispered and stepped to her left.

I followed her motion with my body and stopped her again. We were close enough that her eyes on my abs were evident. I could see her breasts rising and falling with exaggerated breaths. I swallowed the moisture in my mouth.

“I don’t want you to leave,” I voiced low.

She met my stare and we held each other in a comforting swirl of brown and blue. Fleur started to cry again and whatever was building between us had just crashed to the shore. 

“I gotta go,” Lila repeated. She tried to just bulldoze through me, but my hands came up to her shoulders. I forced her gently back against the narrow wall next to the bar.

“Don’t leave. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re right. I’m stressed out, but…I like having you here. It’s a good distraction for me.”

Lila looked away and I questioned if I hurt her feelings. She recovered quickly and I decided I had imagined it. I slid my hand down her one arm and covered her hand with mine, over the handle of the duffle bag.

“Stay,” I said softly. Lila’s breathing was still ragged. Her shoulder shrugged slightly forcing my eyes to fall to the exposed breasts above a bra that peeked out her open shirt. I swallowed again and felt my body reacting.

“I gotta go. I mean I really need to go.  I have to get the camera and get to the shoot.”

“What about Fleur?”

“I need to get her to Clare.”

“No, I mean, what about if I take her. I’ll take her to the park. You go get the camera and go to your shoot.”

Lila stared at me for a long moment. Her face scrunched and she pinched her eyebrows together.

“Really?” she averted her eyes.

I placed my fingers gently under her chin and forced her to look at me. I didn’t realize how far forward I had leaned until she faced me. We were mere inches away from one another, and I could feel her soft breath exhale. I was suddenly overcome with a desire to kiss her, and not just kiss her for comfort, but kiss her like she owned me and I owned her. She licked her lips and I swallowed again, leaning forward. Holding her gaze with mine, I was almost connected with her, when she turned her head away.

“If you’re sure, Fleur would love to be with you for the day.” She wasn’t looking at me.  As a matter of fact, she was holding her eyes purposefully away from me. I pulled back from her face.
What was I doing?
For the second time, I had tried to take advantage of the girl who wasn’t asking anything of me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. She nodded once, slipping out from between the wall and me. She bent to scoop Fleur into an embrace and then held her away for a moment.

“Mr. Lansing is going to take you to the park while I go to work, okay? Is that better?  But you have to be good for him and listen to what he says, Fleur. No more tears today and a nap for sure.”

“No nap,” Fleur said on a pout.

“We’ll see about that,” Lila said standing.

“I should be back around one-ish. Her coat’s in this bag. She already had some breakfast and…” Lila was digging in her own bag and pulled out a rumbled twenty, “and here’s some money for McDonald’s or something.”

“I don’t need your money,” I laughed in disgust, slipping my hands back into my pockets to refuse it. Lila surprised me by reaching around me, pressing into my chest with her heaving breasts and slipping the twenty into my back pocket. She patted my ass once and stepped back.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “I’m sure that’s not the first time a woman’s slipped something into your pocket.”

I was still blinking in my physically excited state of disbelief.

“Speaking of distraction, put a shirt on, already,” she laughed with a sigh, and passed me the final time without a struggle.

I took Fleur to Central Park. We walked slowly as her little legs wandered and skipped. She was a beautiful child, who looked nothing like her mother, and I wondered again about Fleur’s father.
Who he was? Where he was?
Lila had told me she had nowhere to go and I didn’t question her further. She hadn’t mentioned any family and I hadn’t asked. I’d met Clare, who babysat for Lila at times, and she had another girl for later shifts. I realized that I didn’t know much about Lila or Fleur, but I meant what I said. I liked having them around. They were a good distraction. The day at the park was a perfect example as I walked Fleur to a playground and helped her on the swings.

After pushing her several times, she slid off and headed for a large contraption of bridges and climbing pieces. I stood nearby, worried that she would fall and feeling protective of her.  Feeling protective of something for once in my life. I heard her sweet giggle as she raced up and down the jiggling structure, and then she would return to me, as if constantly checking that I was still there for her. I helped her climb the structure, and assisted her to swing from one bar to the next on the monkey bars, as her little arms couldn’t reach. Finally, she ran over to the slide and I waited at the bottom while she climbed. I caught her at the end and she squealed in delight. I lifted her in the air and jostled her while she laughed further. 

“Again,” she said, as I placed her on the ground and she ran for the ladder.

I had the strangest sensation of being watched, for a brief moment, and looked around the playground: mothers with children, nannies in small groups talking while kids played nearby, a couple sitting off to the side on a bench. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and I refocused on Fleur.

An hour or so had passed, and I asked Fleur if she wanted to get something to eat. I’d already had us stop at the coffee shop down the street to get myself a coffee. The same one I had been in when the fire started. I planned to take her to a small deli near there for lunch. I wasn’t sure what Fleur ate exactly, but I knew the deli offered a mix of things.

Fleur and I began the slow walk back through the park. It was quiet for an early November day, and the wind was mild, despite a slight chill. Fleur didn’t seem cold, but I asked her all the same and reached to hold her hand, which was so small in mine. I was thinking of Lila and her eyes skimming my body. Not the most appropriate thought while I held the hand of her child, but I was recalling it all the same. My body had betrayed me. It wasn’t like the spark I’d felt for Layne or the desire I had for Guinevere, it was more overtaking. It rose from my toes and consumed me like a flame would a scarecrow. I burned from that look, in a way I had never felt before. Engulfed. It was like the dream I had of the fire lady. I was surrounded in warmth that was a comfort. It hit me then, the glowing lady of my dream was Lila. She had embraced me and I felt safe with her. I recalled the faint smell of Lila in my room. Had Lila slept with me in my bed? Did she hold me while I cried in my sleep? My thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“Lansing?”

I looked up to meet the blue eyes of another woman. Guinevere.

I’d been almost late for the photo shoot. My friend, Kevin, was letting me borrow an older Nikon for the day. I had been borrowing cameras from everyone while I waited for the insurance check. The beauty of the digital age was I could copy the images into my computer, which I also needed to replace. In my current duress, I was copying photos onto a memory card or directly to my online backup, if the card didn’t fit a camera. I always remembered to wipe the camera clean of my material afterward. It was becoming a habit.

I was frazzled. Fleur’s morning tantrum was the last thing I needed after I hadn’t slept. She kept tossing and turning, as was I. It was getting tiresome to share a bed with a four year old. I was getting antsy to move back to my own place, if for no other reason than I had to get away from Lansing. When he came into the room without a shirt, it was almost my undoing. I wanted to rip off my own shirt and tackle him. He looked too delicious with his low hanging jeans and his cap. His abs were tight and his skin was clean. He didn’t have a single tattoo. He was a pretty specimen.

He was also a mess.

When he tried to kiss me the other night, I was almost glad he was drunk. He was so off in his attempts, but if he had been on, I wouldn’t have been able to resist. I hadn’t seen him upset about Layne Ascolat’s death, but I knew he was. He’d been drinking since the funeral and he seemed hell bent on burying his sorrow. When he mentioned he couldn’t be a father, I was worried that he meant Layne had been pregnant, and when I mentioned it he laughed.

“She’s dead.” 

That’s when he started crying.

I didn’t know what else to do, other than to hold him. I slipped my arms around him and he had me pressed against the refrigerator. I was afraid to move as he clung to me, silently sobbing into my neck. Then, he kissed me. Softly, slowly, his lips burned a trail around the side of my collarbone, and I felt his excitement instantly. I didn’t know how he could go from sobbing to sexual in seconds, but he did. He moaned my name into my skin, and I bit back my own sigh. I gave him a moment, but when he went for my lips again, I had to pull back. It would have been too much. I did, however, guide him back to his bed, where he collapsed and passed out, almost instantly. I took advantage of the moment and climbed in after him, holding him tightly and he clung to me in his drunken sleep.