Risqué 3

by Perri Forrest

She tilted her head back, and smiled up at me. “I love it.”

  “And I love you,” I told her.

  “I love you too, Trevor.”

  “Perfect. Let’s get to this party, and then get back home to consummate.”

  “You are crazy!” she giggled, burying her head into my chest.

  I had told Skai that if there was ever a time for us to be more than friends, we’d know it. I already knew it. But I was happy as hell that she finally realized it. I couldn’t wait to spoil her, and treat her like she deserved to be treated.

  From friends… to lovers… to a unit.

  The year couldn’t have ended any better.

  EPILOGUE

  “Zane! Son, it’s so good to see you! Let me look at you. How is Las Vegas treating you? How’s the baby? How’s that lovely Giselle? I can’t tell you how excited I am that you came to see me for Thanksgiving. How are things?”

  My mother shot a barrage of questions at me all at once. I knew from past experience to just let her go until she lost steam. If I didn’t, she’d hear nothing, because she would be waiting for me to be quiet, so she could continue. Preparing responses and rebuttals was always her thing. As former president of IBEW union, she was something like a shark. So, she was used to shooting down anything others had to say.

  “Mom, that was a lot of questions out the barrel.”

  “Aww,” she swatted her hand, while continuing to prep her pumpkin pie. “You can handle it.”

  “When we were kids and you did that, it was to test memory and to see how much of what you said, we retained.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “It’s still that. So, go ahead and let me see what you got.”

  “Okay, I’ll humor you. Giselle is good. The baby is great. We’re going into the second trimester. And Vegas is good.”

  “Speaking of Vegas being ‘good’,” my mother said, with animated air quotes. “That cop that’s been all over the news. Holding that poor woman hostage in his home. That’s sick. And you want to know what was so weird to me? When they showed his face on the screen, the first person that came to mind was the young man that took over for Tom Bergeron on America’s Funniest Home Videos. You don’t know any of those people do you, Zane?”

  I wasn’t going to bother telling my mother that I’d met both of them. That it was during intense situations, indirectly involving both Giselle and I. That news would send her over the edge.

  “I heard about it, but not too familiar with the story.”

  I lied to her, but it was necessary. Because the visit would be on an entirely different path if I hadn’t.

  “Well, this man… this so-called upstanding officer of the law, held this woman hostage. Beautiful girl. She’s been missing for a while. He threatened her with death, and basically kept her as a sex slave…” My mother waved her hand in the air, her face twisted up. “…and a whole bunch of other sick stuff. I just don’t understand the world we live in. She’ll never be the same. I hope she sues the entire police department for his actions. They should be performing more due diligence, with all these police officers abusing their power. You walk around with the face of a major celebrity, and you’re doing things so vile. Oh, my goodness—”

  “Mom…” I called out to reel her back in.

  My visit was for a purpose; I needed to get to that.

  “Okay. I’m sorry. You know me and my Investigation Discovery obsession.”

  I chuckled. “Yep, sure do.”

  “So, back to the things that matter. Outside of that mayhem, are you absolutely loving Las Vegas as your new home?”

  “Wherever Giselle is, I’m good.”

  My mother’s face cracked into the brightest smile. “You really love her, don’t you?”

  “More than I ever thought I could love a woman.”

  “Hmm… a woman other than your mother.”

  “Why did you even need to add that, Mom? You’re both my favorite girls.”

  “Hmph.” She rolled her eyes, before returning to her pumpkin pie creation. “I guess coming second to my son’s woman isn’t exactly a position I always planned for myself. But I’ll live.”

  “Of course, you will.”

  Minutes had passed. I now stood across the marble island, observing my mother pour the contents of her mixture into three pie shells, lined up next to each other.

  As I watched her in silence, I went back and forth with myself about how I was going to approach what I needed to say. I was never the one to be at a loss for words. But when it was your own mother—the woman you held the most respect for—it became a different type of situation. How she would react to what I had to say, was yet to be seen. I dreaded it. I also dreaded the after effects.

  “Son, you’re silent. What’s that about?” My mother asked the question without lifting her eyes off of her project. “Because I feel you. Your energy is… different. What’s on your mind?”

  I turned away from the counter, then folded my arms over my chest. I paced across the floor of my mother’s large kitchen. All I could think about was how dark it was about to get, once I began speaking on the real reason I had come on this solo visit—without the rest of the family in tow.

  “Son?” I turned around to see my mother standing nearby, wiping her hands down both sides of her multicolored apron. “Come on over here and have a seat with me.”

  Soon we were seated in the large kitchen nook. It faced a small man-made pond that had been installed a few years back.

  “Mom. What happened with you and Dad’s divorce?”

  “Oh Zane.” My mother shook her head and turned her lips up at the corners. She probably regretted taking me to a more comfortable spot. Because although, she and my father had always been cordial over the years, there was no love lost there. “Why are we even speaking on something so archaic. I’ve moved on. He’s moved on.” She tilted her head to the side, her green eyes bearing down on me. “Why do you ask? Ohhh, I know.” She suddenly smiled, and seemed to relax her stance. “Are you thinking of proposing to Giselle?” She smiled proudly, then reached over to put her hand on mine. “Just do it, son. You two love each other. You’re months away from welcoming a beautiful baby into the Cabot world. No need for you to be nervous. I’m sure you’ll be a much better husband than your father ever was.”

  “Is that why you left, Ma? Back when all of us were away at college?” Her expression turned serious, and a small cough attack ensued. “You need water?”

  “No… thank you, though.” Gone was the softness from moments earlier. She pulled back her hands and locked them together on top of the table.

  “So, you left be—”

  “Things weren’t good. But… I… I-I ultimately came back.”

  “Right. But you guys still didn’t last. Why?”

  “Zane, leave this alone. It’s old. Dead and buried. The shovels have long-been put away and everything. Let it rest, son. Okay?” she said, stoically, with a nod of her head and a thin smile. “That’s old news, that has no place in the present. You should worry about living your own fairytale. Making your woman happy. Ensuring that you let no man—or woman—come in between what you have. It’s sacred. So is your baby.”

  “And what about your baby, mother?”

  My mother’s short, raspy gasp hit the air. “What?” she whispered.

  It was like a punch to my chest when I saw that look of admission on her face. I’d caught her off guard, and as much as I didn’t want to, that was the intent. And doing it in person, where I could see her face, the expression in her eyes… that’s how I needed it to be done.

  Her lids lowered; her head and shoulders followed.

  I watched intently, unable to take my eyes off of the woman that had given birth to me. The woman I always held in the highest regard. The woman that I felt could never do any wrong. Soon, she lifted her head, and started to fidget with her hands. She didn’t bother looking at me; instead she fixated on an area outside the bay window.

  “I knew abo
ut you and Clive Rossi.”

  “You… you knew?”

  “Yeah, I did. I just didn’t know that the affair resulted in a child.”

  Her trembling hands flew to her mouth. “Ohhh…” she whispered. “…My God.”

  “How could you do something like that, Mom? How could you give birth to a child… and hand him over? Because that’s what you did, right mother? You gave up your child. Trevor Michael Rossi. You gave him up, but left a piece of you with him—the middle name. The middle name that me and Kenny both have.”

  “How was giving him to his father… giving him up?” she shot.

  “You’re his mother… Mother!”

  “Zane…” she whispered, the color draining from her beautiful face.

  “It must’ve been really convenient for you with us being gone. I remember Thanksgiving, when we came home for break. You moved around really slowly and claimed that you had just gotten over the flu.”

  “It’s not what you think, Zane.”

  “It’s not? What is it then? Because I knew something back then! I felt it! I felt it because I was always the closest to you! And whenever I mentioned it to Ken and Jess, they laughed it off. Said I was being paranoid!”

  “Zane… please…”

  “Please what, mother? You gave your child away?! I don’t know how to feel about you! How could you do that to Dad? To us! To… him!”

  She shot a semi-daggered gaze over at me. She resented the invasion. “You want the truth?!”

  “If that’s what you’re really going to give, yeah… I do.”

  My mother tilted her head skyward. Her posture stiffened, as she took several deep breaths. Whether I imagined it or not, she seemed to shrink. My mother seemed frail in that moment. Like she had shrunk from the humiliation of her deep, dark secret. Her shoulders relaxed, as she allowed herself to sink back into the seat’s padding. She finally looked over at me, all the while, her head shaking slowly left to right.

  “It was the baby, or your father!” she blurted out, with tears streaming at the same time from her hardened eyes. “With his many affairs, he had the gall to give me an ultimatum! It was either him or be left to raise a bastard child! The only solution was to give him up! That was the only option I had!”

  A complete stranger sat before me. Shit seemed like some kind of alternate universe. Disappointment didn’t even begin to describe what I felt.

  “Wow,” I managed to say.

  Her cries seemed far in the distance, as my mind clung to a foreign reality. Life was a lie in a lot of ways—for me and my siblings. I found myself focusing on the sobs that came from my mother. The conclusion I arrived at was that she wasn’t remorseful. Maybe, after almost thirty years, she wasn’t impacted. Maybe she felt nothing because she had no attachment. I didn’t know. I just knew it didn’t sit well with me. Not now, and probably never would. She was wrong, and so was my father. How was I to feel about either one of them, from this day on?

  “How is it that you even know about… this?” she asked, in a low voice.

  “This? You refer to a living being as a this? What difference does it make, how I know? I just do.”

  “It makes a difference, Zane. That look in your eyes…”

  “It’s disappointment. That’s the look you see.” I pushed back on my chair so that I could stand up to move around freely, as I spoke the rest of my thoughts. When I had moved several feet away from her, I attempted to pose a question. “How could a mother—”

  “Zane…” she interrupted. “Please just tell me how you know.”

  I stopped swaying on the balls of my feet, and tucked my hands deep into the front pockets of my jeans. Her eyes were pleading for an answer to her question. I shook my head and stepped forward, yards still separating us.

  “He looks just like you. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth. He almost looks more like you than the three of us do. When I found out his last name was Rossi… I was afraid to deep dive for fear of what I’d find. But as luck would have it, Ma… I didn’t have to. You just told me all on your own…”

  ~*~*~

  Shit.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with any of this information? Is it my story to divulge? My mother begged me to keep this information. “Why disrupt his life?” she had said.

  But knowing what I knew about the relationship Trevor had with his parents… parents… shit. Knowing what I knew about his relationship with his father and whoever the woman was, there wasn’t one. So, this was a person who grew up with no real emotional ties. Fuck! She said over and over for me to leave it alone. But how was I supposed to do that? I had my own child coming into the world and as in love as I already was, walking away, would never be an option—for Giselle either.

  I had a lot of thinking to do. A whole lot…

  The End

  At least for now…

  “Thank you!”

  You know, this morning I was thinking about a question that was asked. It was in an article that I read when I first started writing. I deep dove. I wanted to know everything I needed to know about this writing game. The article asked: “What story are you trying to tell?”

  I was so stuck. This just wasn’t a question that I had ever thought of. I thought telling the story—whatever story that was—was telling the story. You know? Just seemed odd. Just seemed like it was rhetorical, and not really expected to have an answer. Yet and still, it’s stuck with me all this time. So much so, that on occasion, when my mind isn’t as wrapped around the pen, I revisit it. Like, what story am I, Perri Forrest, trying to tell?

  And guess what? I still don’t damn know! Sex, Suspense… more sex. I’on know. LMAO!

  Sorry about that, y’all. Thought I was about to come with something profound, huh? I tried. I was gonna actually see if I could pull it off. I couldn’t. So moving along.

  The intent of this passage here was to say that I fucking adore you guys. You show up for the story… whatever the hell that story is! I’m beyond grateful. I mean, some of you I know and some of you I don’t. But the fact that I’m here. That my books have reviews. That I’m able to make sales… speaks to your presence in my life! Speaks to your belief in me! I could never thank you enough, but please know that I appreciate it all.

  I was just a girl with a dream, and had no idea that it could turn to anything. Y’all changed that for me. And change it for yourself. If you’re somebody who is afraid to take a leap of faith in a foreign direction… don’t be. Do it. If it is tugging at your heart, respond. Because we were all put here to make an impact; don’t miss the chance to make yours.

  Oh yeah… please, pretty please, don’t forget to leave a review.

  Thanks a million times over.

  I love you forever.

  Perri