Zenith Rising (36 page)

“So, Spencer, you’re dating Erica,” Morgan
said as she tucked herself right up next to him. God help him, but
her bra-less, barely covered nipple just then grazed his arm,
pebbling against him. He edged away from her as far as the porn
couch would allow him.

Reeking of heavy perfume, that made him want
to sneeze, her long strands of hair trailed across his arm, urging
him to scratch it.

“Yes. Erica. I’m dating Erica. Your
sister.”

“I can’t believe she’d date someone like you.
You’re younger than her, aren’t you? Usually, she dates
forty-year-old corpses. You know, like Dr. Bennett, or rich, but
useless pricks. You’re not though, are you? How old are you,
Spencer?”

“Twenty-six,” he said barely aware of his
replies, and more worried about the long, red painted nails he
found resting on his inner thigh and inching upwards. He pushed her
hand off his legs.

“Hmm… I’m twenty-three. I think our ages are
much closer, don’t you?”

Okay, he wasn’t mistaken: Erica’s sister was
more than hitting on him. She was nearly grabbing his crotch right
there in the living room, while her barely covered breast rubbed
against his arm. This couldn’t be real. Erica was in the kitchen,
talking to her father, and Spencer wasn’t sure where everyone else
had gone. And here, Erica’s little, horny sister was nearly humping
on him.

Spencer jumped up, spilling part of his drink
on the marble floor. He couldn’t have cared less in his haste to
get away from her. He glanced at Morgan just in time to see her
black skirt hike up and give him a Sharon Stone,
Basic
Instinct
kind of peek at her. Spencer had been around a lot of
women in his life, but never had a girl do that to him. And now,
Erica’s little sister? In the living room of their mansion? With
her parents not more than fifty feet away? Spencer turned and
walked across the room. Trying to avoid the total disaster Morgan
would and could be for him.

Should he tell Erica? No. He couldn’t. Not
after watching Erica return to the living room, and sit before
talking sweetly to her little sister. And Morgan was sweet right
back at her. Except for the times Morgan inconspicuously looked
right and left, before opening her legs, and directing her naked
beaver right at him. And for the first time in Spencer’s life, the
sight of a woman’s pussy made him feel nauseous and incestuous.
What was wrong with that girl?

Thankfully, the rest of the family came back
in, and sat around. Spencer refused to allow even another glance
towards Morgan. He turned when he heard Cam speaking to him.

“So, wanna hear me play something?” Cam
asked.

“Uh, sure,” Spencer said. For the first time,
Spencer noticed the piano, which was stuck behind the red velvet
furniture. He was totally unaware it was there and he walked over,
checking it out, and nearly salivating over the beauty of the
instrument.

Cam quickly played a song of middle
school-level difficulty, after which his family clapped and praised
him, even though he really played like shit.

Spencer looked up and found Erica’s gaze
focused on him. “Why don’t you play something for us, Spencer?”

He read the challenge in her eyes. Felt the
pressure. The
why the hell don’t you play
music for
me
, in her tone. And the insistence. She wanted him to play for
her all along, and he never would.

“Please? For me?” she asked softly, tilting
her head. Yeah, like he could resist that.

Spencer sat down at the bench and gingerly
touched the ivory keys as gently as he would a woman’s neck. He
felt rusty, but it felt right. Right at home. He felt a strange
spurt of confidence rushing through him. The rightness of being
where he belonged. He hadn’t felt that feeling in years. Too many
years.

There was no sheet music, but he didn’t need
any. He could play most anything from memory. It was a kind of
sixth sense. Or like some crazy ass, autistic/savant kind of freaky
thing possessed him, and although he couldn’t read or write well,
he could play any tune he ever heard. He never understood it, but
just accepted that it was.

His fingers touched the keys and he began to
play the music he hadn’t played in months. He played as if he were
alone on a stage before thousands. He played because Erica was
listening and he wanted her to see him doing what he did best.
Making it something important. Doing something besides sweeping her
sidewalks. Proving that what she believed he could do, and what he
refused to believe he could do for years, suddenly was right. He
could
play. There was nothing stopping him, not a single
sound he couldn’t replicate, note for note. Nothing mattered then.
But that. Peace. Joy. Confidence. Life. Erica. And all because of
Erica.

When he finally stopped, the room was in
silent shock. With one glance at Erica, he saw it in her eyes.
Everything she felt for him was shining with sincerity from her
eyes.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

“Your family is crazy.”

It was over an hour later, after Erica’s
family gave them a long, drawn-out, goodbye while they were driving
to her condo.

“I know. I told you a long time ago I wasn’t
anything like you thought. I had a good idea of how you thought
they’d be. And we’re not like that at all.”

“You’re not crazy though, and I think they
might be.”

“Well, lounge around all day long with no
real goals or ambition, and more money than sense, and see how
normal you are.”

“You
could
do that, but you
don’t.”

She tilted her head to smile at him. “I
prefer not to be crazy. What you said about me to them… did you
mean it?”

He glanced at her, for a heavy moment before
answering, “Yeah, I meant it.”

“You liked playing tonight, didn’t you?”

“The piano? Who wouldn’t have? It was like
driving your car, the best. Just don’t go on about it.”

“No, we wouldn’t want to give you any
compliments, or allow you to think anything positive about
yourself.”

He flashed her a smile. “I know what I’m good
at, Doc.”

She smiled back sweetly. “Do you? Or is there
a learning curve in that area too?”

He laughed out loud, something he never did,
and it made Erica feel as proud as if she just successfully
performed major surgery. She said something that made Spencer
Mattox laugh out loud! Their easy banter felt good. Nice.
Especially in contrast to the silence surrounding them on the way
to her family’s house. She should have just relied on her family’s
crazy ways, knowing they would work their magic. They really were
so weird, there was no way she could have described them to Spencer
beforehand. He had to meet them to believe such people actually
existed. There was no explaining their strange, eccentric, selfish,
but always loving ways.

“Well, I guess you could show me a thing or
two there, couldn’t you?”

Erica groaned. “I knew it would come back to
bite me in the ass. I almost deserve it for pointing it out to
you.”

“I never really had a professional to consult
with. It might be helpful.”

“Somehow, I think you’ve met a professional
or two in your time.”

“That was cold, Doc, real cold. Just so you
know, I’ve never once had to pay for it.”

“No, your boyish charm works wonders, doesn’t
it? And you don’t have to say it… I admit it worked on me too.”

Spencer pulled the car into her parking lot,
and she slipped her hand into his as they walked towards the
elevator. He looked down at their joined hands, frowning, but kept
walking with her hand clasped in his. She heaved a sigh of relief
over something so minor, like hand holding, because it meant so
much more with Spencer. Anything beyond having sex meant something
significant with Spencer. Just going to dinner with her family, and
remaining with her afterwards, and getting into a good mood, was a
huge step forward. Wonderful, magnificent progress!

The time they spent at her condo seemed to
make Spencer slightly uncomfortable. It was as if he didn’t know
quite what to do with his body, or how to behave or converse with
her. That particular setting was different somehow to him than her
office or his house. Setting their things down and turning lights
on, Erica suddenly felt so glad he was there with her, she had to
press her lips together tightly to keep from telling him.
Slow.
She had to proceed slowly and easily with Spencer.

“Come on,” she said finally, when she found
him in middle of her living room, looking around. So tall, so dark,
and so handsome, he took her breath away. Had any man ever taken
her breath away? Or made her heart race so wildly? Or made her
happy just knowing he was next to her?

Following her to the bedroom, she flipped the
light on, and he looked around, taking it all in. It was definitely
a woman’s room, featuring delicate, country French furniture with
gold scrolling on the wood. Soft colors of peach and yellow on the
bedspread could be glimpsed through the matching drapes. Her
favorite knick-knacks occupied the table, and her vanity was full
of creams, perfumes, makeup, and jewelry, all haphazardly strewn in
her haste to get ready that morning. She realized it was the first
time Spencer ventured this far into her home. Why was that? Why
didn’t they come in here before?

She knew the answer. It emphasized too
clearly the difference in their financial statuses. And lifestyles.
Her furnishings were so much more elegant and settled, reflecting
the fact that she owned so much more than he. At his house, the
concept was less in his face. Here, however, it was once again,
front and center. She passed through her room, kicking her shoes
off, and going into the bathroom. Over her shoulder, she said, “Get
comfortable, Spencer. I hope you’ll be spending a lot more time
here.”

With that, she shut the bathroom door before
he could respond. There, she said it. No, declared it. No way,
however, did she want to see his reaction.

When she finished, and her makeup was all
washed off, jewelry put away, hair brushed, and wearing a silk
nightgown, she opened the door, and turned the light off behind
her. Spencer sat on her bed, his shoes off and shirt untucked. He
looked up at her and his eyes ran over the length of her body. As
usual, to Erica, it felt like it was the first time he ever laid
eyes on her. How did he manage to do that? To make her feel
gorgeous and excited from just a glance? As if every part of her
turned him on. Seeing his eyes so riveted on her: so dark, hot,
intense, and focused, it made her feel like the world and all its
sensory details were invisible to him. Everything was nonexistent,
but she.

For a man who professed not to want any
intimacy or connection, his unique manner of staring at her as if
she were the first beautiful object he’d ever beheld in this world,
was quite an intoxicating attribute for any woman. What woman
wouldn’t want to feel like she was the sun and moon for a man from
just one mesmerized look? Yet that was how he looked at her. Erica
decided that was also why, despite his attitude, lack of finesse,
and iciness, he so easily had women falling for him. She
included.

“Do you hate my room?”

“Hate your room? No. Why would I?”

“Too feminine? Perhaps too materialistic? Too
everything you don’t like?”

“No. It’s you. It reflects you like a
mirror.”

“Which is something you don’t hate?”

He pressed his lips tightly together,
restraining the ghost of a smile. “No, you are definitely something
I don’t hate.”

Close. It was as close to a declaration of
love as she could get. Erica knew that. His reluctance to admit any
of his feelings was deeply ingrained. Admitting any small emotion
that he experienced exposed him, showing his weakness, and
rendering him out of control. So hearing him say he didn’t hate her
meant more to Erica than if another man had said he loved her.

Finally, Spencer stood up, and she came over
to him. He put his arms around her. This is what she was missing
her entire adult life: being held by the man she was in love with.
It was different and felt better than any other relationship could
offer her. The emotion of love, like what she felt with Spencer,
gave new meaning to everything. It made the simple acts of touching
him or looking at him, almost an obsession. It enhanced all the
other areas of her life, improving it in every aspect. Being with
Spencer made the rest of her life seem lighter, freer, and more
fulfilling.

His hands slid over her silk-clad back, down
to her waist. She sighed at his warm touch. Falling together onto
her bed, she knew this was so much more, and so much deeper than
any other relationship she ever had. With no experience like it
before, she was as new and virginal to this kind of love as Spencer
was. She hoped they could manage not to screw it all up with their
mutual ineptitude.

****

Spencer walked into the brightly lit kitchen
while Erica slept. How had his life brought him to this place?
Lounging on a Sunday morning at Dr. Erica Heathersby’s condo? Her
condo had a weekly cleaning service, but between cleanings, she
actually lived in the place. There were magazines strewn all over
the coffee table, a forgotten jacket hanging on the chair, and old
newspapers all over her bar. The dishes were done, but everything
looked cluttered, far more than what Spencer was used to. He liked
nothing. Emptiness. Things put out only if they needed to be. He
had to often refrain from automatically tidying up behind her and
putting her things away.

He poured some coffee, and picked up an old
newspaper off the counter, browsing through the piles of crap he
found spread around it.