Together, they stared out at the horizon.
Chapter Sixty-one
La Costa emerged from the hotel cabana, where she had been poring over the second edits for the trilogy. Henry and Louis had been gone since early morning “sloping waves” at Kihei Cove. She had been doing her best to ignore the string of emails from Tess that had been dinging on her phone since they had arrived. “I know you are relaxing, but can you take a look at this proposal?” And “Can you do a signing at B&N in Palm Desert on the fourteenth, when you get back?” Tess was relentless. Didn’t she know that La Costa had deadlines to meet in addition to planning a wedding and a move to New York City?
When her phone vibrated from the pocket of her beach bag, La Costa figured it was Tess, once again, checking in. She answered it with a bit of curt humor. “Sorry, girl, La Costa is not here. She’s thrown her phone to the sharks. Leave your message at the beep!”
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line was definitely not Tess’s. It was Pastor Parks, from the non-denominational church that La Costa belonged to. He was her one and only choice of officiate for her and Henry’s nuptials. He was a bit of a rock star in the valley, and La Costa had her fingers crossed to get on his calendar.
“Oh, Pastor Parks! Thank you for getting back to me. Yes, it’s La Costa Reed. I am hoping that the request is not too last minute. We were hoping to move up the ceremony prior to my leaving for New York.” She didn’t see any reason to explain about an unplanned pregnancy factoring in just a smidge. “Can you accommodate us within the next few months?”
“Ms. Reed, I would be more than happy to re-work the booking for you, but I am afraid that I have but one date available before I and the missus take off for our mission trip to Ghana.”
“I see. What date is that, Pastor? I am sure that we can make it work.”
“August twenty-first.”
La Costa’s stomach lurched. It was the day of the Global Network signing. But what could she do? It would be a small, but manageable glitch. The proverbial gods of fate had now caused the unfortunate reality of scheduling two momentous occasions on the same day. The story of her own life was turning out to be stranger than fiction, for certain.
“That will work just fine, Pastor,” she said in an effort to convince herself more than him. “We will take the date.”
“Very good, dear. I’ll email you the paperwork.”
“Oh, and Pastor?”
“Yes, dear?”
“How do you feel about doing the ceremony in New York City?”
* * *
AJ had rolled into Los Angeles in the late morning. He had sped out of Nevada early, making the four-hour drive in three and some change. He had only stopped once to piss, get gas, and to load up on pork rinds and Mountain Dew.
He pulled up to the social welfare center in the downtown district and parked by a patch of scorched grass near a quiet curb. The address matched the one that his buddy, Crank, had given him. It was an ordinary day, and the locals were out in force, claiming their spots on the street corners and park benches. A few street walkers were trolling near the park. The sun was climbing high in the sky. He turned off the engine and slouched down in the bucket seat, tipped his hat over his shades, and waited.
He had nothing but time. He would sit there forever if he had to.
Chapter Sixty-two
(Two weeks later)
La Costa arrived home to a stack of mail and the daunting task of doing more loads of laundry than she had ever found herself on the folding end of. Henry had returned to his townhome and the bistro in La Jolla, and Louis was busying himself with last-minute college applications and essays, which admittedly made her heart soar. If she and her brood were nothing else, they were doers, and keeping busy these days seemed to be La Costa’s best defense from worrying herself sick, or drowning in a deep abyss of depression.
Much to her relief, Tess had decided to fly into LA for a few days and meet with her favorite client face-to-face. As far as Tess was concerned, all business was better when conducted over a couple of refreshing drinks on a pier at the marina or at an upscale trendy haunt in Newport Beach. La Costa was pleased to hear that Tess was planning a visit. It was time to come clean about the news of the baby that would soon be progressively harder for her to keep from her trusted agent. And more importantly, she needed to know if it would be a deal-breaker for the folks at Global Network. It would be unfair not to let Tess in on the new development. At least, this one. The news about Panther would be kept in the vault that was La Costa’s soul. No one would need to know her most guarded secret. Not even Tess.
La Costa was already seated at the table when Tess arrived, all smiles and loaded down with shopping bags from boutiques and shops from the local mall. “I see that you did a little retail therapy,” La Costa said, giving Tess an earnest hug. It felt good to feel the embrace of the woman she owed so much of her livelihood to.
“Can I just say, that you look amazing, Bubbi. I think that trip to the islands did you a world of good!”
“It did. I was able to finish all of the edits for the trilogy, and I’m ready to start discussions about the new series,” La Costa said brightly.
“That’s just what I wanted to hear. Oh, by the way, I think I found someone to take a hard look at Henry’s debut thriller. Well, he’s more of a mentor than an agent, but I think he can definitely help him get the manuscript ready to shop around, or to self-publish, if he chooses to go that route. I hear it’s a viable alternative, but don’t you get any ideas.”
La Costa smiled. “That’s a deal.”
The waiter arrived, and Tess was quick to order. “I’ll have a Mojito, please.” Then, turning to La Costa. “I’m feeling a little ‘Miami vibes’ today, what do you say?”
“Just an iced tea for me, please.”
The waiter headed to the bar.
Tess eyed La Costa suspiciously. The silence said it all. “Wait a minute. You’re not drinking? Your skin is glowing, you’ve been weepy—and dare I say—an emotional mess, for weeks. Wait! You’re not—?”
La Costa nodded, letting a tear slip from her eye onto her mahogany cheek. “Yep. Just about four months now.”
“What!” Tess nearly made a scene. She quickly lowered her voice, leaned forward across the table, and took La Costa’s hand. “Mazel tov! Girlfriend, this is amazing. Oh my God, what do Henry and Louis think? I mean, it is great news, right?”
“Yes, they are over the moon. And so am I, frankly. But I just want to be sure that this is not going to throw a wrench in the deal with Global and the talk show. How are they going to feel about hiring on a co-host who is nearly six months pregnant?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I can tell you that this is some of the best news I have heard in a very long time. I will speak with Bumpy Friedman’s people right after lunch, and we’ll exercise full disclosure. If they are on board with it, we can have our lawyer draw something up that will put in some additional provisions for you once the baby is born. I can’t believe this is happening!”
“Thank you, Tess. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It’s all still so much of a shock. We’re not telling anyone else right now. Not even my personal assistant knows. I’ve gotten quite adept at keeping the doctor’s appointments off of my digital calendar. I only just recently told Florian about the show deal in New York and he’s lobbying to be my virtual assistant bi-coastally. I’m just so worried that news of the baby might change their minds.”
“Don’t you worry. I am certain that it will not change a thing with Global. I understand completely that you want to keep this news under wraps, though, for now.”
La Costa looked relieved.
“As far as your public appearances go,” Tess said, “everything can remain relatively the same, as long as you feel up to it, of course. Do you think that you can continue with your tour schedule?”
“Yes, I would like to,” La Costa said.
“Great, then.”
Tess’s eyes sparkled. “Here’s to the future—and rapidly growing—Paige and Jackson family!”
La Costa raised her glass of tea and smiled. She hated that she wasn’t being fully honest with Tess about Panther and the truth about Louis, but playing her cards close to her chest was sort of her go-to move.
And right now, it felt in many ways, that she was definitely in survival mode.
Chapter Sixty-three
By mid-summer, and at five months pregnant, La Costa was feeling more agitated and exhausted than ever. This caused her to eat incessantly in order to assuage the anxiety. She was certain that the added pounds to her already curvaceous frame and the wondrous emergence of the distinctive baby bump front and center was beginning to be apparent. None of her clothes fit, and her chronic swollen ankles often caused her to trade her stilettos for low mules whenever she made a public appearance.
In Henry’s eyes, however, she could not have been more beautiful. All the pieces were falling into place, and he would not allow any outside force to rip the happiness from their lives. He worked at the beach house on weekends, flying out to Hilton Head to secure the remaining details, while continuing to work remotely to keep things running smoothly at the bistro. The bright new venue at Splendor Bay would soon be ready for its first booking—an educational kids’ camp residency with a deadline looming just weeks away. He had interviewed and hired the entire staff, secured the permits, and arranged all the marketing. It was a joyful distraction for him too. He was committed at all costs, to keep fires out and the wolves at bay; to keep La Costa as far away from the stress and chaos of planning the all-consuming launch venture.
“Everything is on track,” he assured La Costa, across a crackling cell line, even as the national news back in California was squawking about the potential for hurricane-strength gale winds heading toward the coastline that could “go either way.”
“Are you sure we are going to be ready? What if the storm hits and causes damage?” La Costa was relentless with the questions.
“Babe, we’ve got everything tightened down, and nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. This storm will be long gone by the camp opening. Splendor Bay is stronger than any of these tinderbox hotels on the island. She’s a fortress, just like you.”
This caused La Costa to laugh. Leave it to Henry to downplay a hurricane. “When are you coming back?” she asked.
“I will be home on Monday. In the meantime, kiss your tummy for me.”
“Yeah, like that is even possible.” La Costa chuckled.
The call-waiting tone sounded, and La Costa could see that it was Hugo Maldonado. “Listen, sweetie. I have to jump off. I will call you back.”
She clicked off the line and left Henry standing on the balcony of the second floor, overlooking the agitated ocean waves beginning to lap in long, taunting strikes against the jagged rocks. The sky was growing dark, and ominous clouds were descending. He had spent a good part of the morning and afternoon boarding up the back bay windows, checking the generators, and storing away loose items in the shed. He hoped that he was right about the old house’s mettle. Why not? It had been through a thousand storms, and much like life, one never knows whether the rafters are going to give or to hold. There were no guarantees, but if he knew anything, he knew this: Nothing was going to come in the way of La Costa and Louis’s happiness. He wasn’t quite sure how or why he knew this. He just did.
Off in the distance, a tumultuous thunder was rolling toward him overhead, and the waves were beginning to crest close to the shore. He checked his phone and could see that he did not have a cell signal. He stood a moment more in the wind, and then went back inside, poured himself a drink, and braced for the worst.
By morning, the storm was over. The tempest had passed overnight, and Splendor Bay was still intact. A quick examination of the property revealed that they lost a few shingles, but nothing that could not be patched.
Henry smiled widely when he saw La Costa’s little boat at the end of the dock, gleaming in the sunlight, unscathed. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “It takes more than a hurricane to knock us down.”
Chapter Sixty-four
August 19th – Los Angeles, CA
The courtroom of the Honorable Percival Rutherford was quiet and nearly empty. A contrast to the throngs of people outside the double wooden doors in the lobby, who were bustling about with leather briefcases, stacks of files, and stern faces. Well-suited men and women, all checking their wristwatches, cell phones, and resolve, disappearing into cloistered rooms at the top of the hour.
La Costa and Henry stared ahead at the judge’s bench, which was empty. Someone cleared their throat, and La Costa swung her head around to look for Panther to walk through the door for the twentieth time. She was not there—yet.
Panther’s attorney, a plain a woman with large hips, sat across from La Costa, Henry, and their lawyer, Hugo Maldonado. She was shuffling through some paperwork, and more than once, checked her phone. A younger woman was with her, looking fidgety. The hearing was scheduled to begin at precisely nine a.m.
La Costa leaned into Hugo’s ear. “Isn’t it time?”
He merely patted her hand and motioned for her to relax. He was prepared, was he not? He had a stack of files of his own, and hours of La Costa’s deposed statements, proving in more ways than one that on all accounts, she was singularly Louis’s one and only loving mother.
From where she and Henry sat, the room looked cavernous and cold. A large clock above the bench ticked soundlessly, marking the top of the hour, and a second clock, a digital version, was positioned near the witness stand.
“All rise.” The bailiff announced Judge Rutherford, and everyone stood, and then folded into their seats. It was stunningly obvious that Panther was not present. This made La Costa thrill with mounting hope. Every few minutes she checked the door for the inevitable entrance of the stunning and elusive Panther St. James, who had come to reclaim her son, whereby ripping him from La Costa’s life, and with the single act—destroying her very soul.
Panther’s lawyer was at the ready for battle. La Costa could see it in her cold, unfeeling eyes. The woman continued to watch the door at every moment’s turn for any sign of her tardy client. “We ask, Your Honor, for a few minutes more for Ms. St. James to appear. Perhaps the elevators—”
The judge looked irritated, seated atop the towering pulpit, staring through tiny, horn-rimmed spectacles chopped off at the tops, forming two perfect half-moons, resting on either side of the largest nose La Costa had ever seen before. Judge Rutherford sighed heavily, finally removing his glasses in order to reveal compassionate yet weary eyes that had little tolerance for plaintiffs who wasted the court’s time.
“Fifteen minutes,” he growled.
La Costa’s attorneys from the firm of Guzman and Maldonado had brought along with them a cadre of stern-faced paralegals heaving heavy files of depositions and witness testimonies, painstakingly collected from medical, church, and school district personnel to further plea the case for La Costa’s competence and compliance. But now, with Panther’s blatant absence in the courtroom, Hugo contended with rising aplomb that little else needed to be done, but to wait.
Henry squeezed La Costa’s hand. They watched as the clock ticked toward the quarter hour mark, ever closer. Soon it would be over, and they would all be able to reclaim their lives.
At the quarter hour mark, the gavel put an end to La Costa’s suffering and angst. The case was dismissed. Louis was still, and would always be, hers.
* * *
Halfway across town, Panther had awoken that morning feeling more fully alive than she had in several years—maybe ever. She did some light yoga on a mat that she had rolled out in the middle of the living room floor, pushing aside the tiny thrift shop coffee table up against the well-worn couch. Then, she prepared herself a poached egg, wheat toast, and black coffee. She retrieved a small journal from her tote bag and turned it to the next blank page. She wrote the date at the top, a
nd then began to pour her thoughts and feelings into words, as she had been doing faithfully for many months now. She wanted to record all of her hopes and dreams for Louis to see. To hear her side of the story. He would, she hoped, be able to forgive her.
The day was finally here. She had made it. Seventeen years and thousands of miles to find her way back. She smiled when she had finished the lengthy entry that had taken twenty minutes to write. Then, she signed it with a “P” and closed the cover.
She placed the journal on the counter and took a deep breath. Who would ever think that change like hers was possible? She would prove to them all that it was—and that she deserved to make amends for her mistakes.
She was ready.
Grabbing her keys, she opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. A force greater than one hundred demons pushed her forcefully back into the apartment. A violent slap rendered her stunned, and then a punishing thrust slammed her hard against the wall. A violent heave pulled her to her feet, and then dragged her by the hair into the bathroom. There, she was kicked, punched, and beaten, until all she could see thorough the blood and the tears was AJ, towering above her, grinning, with a gun pointed at her face.
She tried to speak, cry, scream. Nothing came from her throat but a garbled moan.
She could hear his heavy breaths and taste the tinny blood as he lifted her into the tub and jammed the drain shut. Finding her voice, she shrieked, “No! Please!”
A single blow to the head instantly silenced her.
Everything went black.
He turned the water jets on full-force and stood still and silent. He smiled perversely as the bloody water spilled over the edges, onto the tile, as the water enveloped her, taking her light.
Chapter Sixty-five
August 21st – New York City
Sexy Ink! Page 23
