Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  The pounding in Claire’s head demanded her attention; she wasn’t thinking as she answered. Looking into the car’s refrigerator for something to drink and eat, Claire casually replied, “Emily, I don’t want you to worry about it. Tony will pay for the dresses. I can talk to him about flying you to Iowa and a place to stay too.”

  She didn’t mean to, but she’d offended Emily. “Thank you, Claire, but my husband and I can afford to pay for ourselves.”

  “Oh, please, Emily, I’m not trying to upset you. I know you can, but we’re springing this on you without warning. You can do whatever you want regarding the flight and stay, but please let Tony take care of the dress. He said he wants me to have my dream wedding—so please let him take care of the dress”—then she added with her smiling mask secured—“And, as I remember, you and John paid for my beautiful green dress some years ago.”

  Emily grinned. “You’re right, we did. Of course, it was about a hundred and fifty dollars. You tipped almost ten times that today”—she exhaled—“I’m just not used to this new Claire—Give me a little time.”

  Claire handed Emily a bottle of water and offered her some blueberries as she silently prayed, Please, let some food and water help my head. The water tasted cool and refreshing. Her mind drifted to coffee. She fantasized about the amazing fragrance and knew immediately it would make her feel better. She decided she would ask Jan for some coffee when she got back to the apartment.

  The traffic flowed much better than it had early in the morning. Before they reached the Hyatt, Emily received a call from John. He asked Emily when she’d be back. She told him they were close, and it had been a long day. John reminded her they were supposed to have dinner with Claire and Anthony, and asked if she knew any of the details? Emily said she didn’t, but Claire promised to call them as soon as she got back to the apartment.

  Emily gave Claire her cell number as she got out of the limousine and told Claire it was a great day, and she looked forward to their dinner tonight. They hugged and Emily went into the hotel. As Eric pulled away, Claire laid her head against the seat and tears leaked from her eyes as they closed. Her head throbbed and she felt utterly spent. Somewhere between the Hyatt and Tony’s apartment building Claire fell into a sound sleep.

  “Ms. Claire, we have reached Mr. Rawlings’ apartment.” She heard Eric’s voice. Claire opened her eyes but was immediately disoriented. Trying to familiarize herself with her surroundings, she soon realized she was in the limousine, outside Tony’s apartment building. The cool November air from the open door helped Claire focus. She entered the building and went up to the seventy-sixth floor. As the elevator opened, Claire’s face suddenly flushed and her heart rate increased. Standing at the open door to his apartment was Tony.

  I think I’ve discovered the secret of life—you just hang around until you get used to it.

  —Charles M. Shulz

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

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  Seeing your fiancé across the room should make your heart race. Seeing her fiancé standing in the doorway did that to Claire; however, instead of accelerated by love though—she presumed it was anxiety. Upon entering the building, her watch read 5:30 PM. Her thoughts churned slowly through her aching head. Obviously, he finished his work. She wanted to get home first—she had Eric. How did he get home?

  “Good evening, Claire.” His expression indifferent, she couldn’t read him.

  Her mask was secure. The nap had helped her headache, no longer did it pound—now it only gently ached. “Good evening, Tony.” She reached up to kiss him and he bent down to accommodate her.

  “You look beat. Did you find a gown?” He led her into the apartment. Claire exhaled and tried to explain the complexity of the day. The boutique was wonderful—too wonderful—with a selection that was too large. He helped her with her coat, gave it to Jan, and escorted her up the stairs to the bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, Claire remembered coffee.

  “Oh, just a minute”—she said to Tony. Then she called down the stairs—“Jan?” Claire stopped and went back down the stairs. Again she called, “Jan?”

  The housekeeper returned to the foyer. “Yes, Ms. Claire?”

  “I need something from my coat pocket, please.” Still holding her coat, Jan handed it back. Claire removed a small piece of paper from one of the pockets. “Thank you, could you please bring coffee upstairs?”

  Jan replied affirmatively and disappeared with Claire’s coat.

  Claire proceeded up the stairs to Tony where he waited patiently—silently watching her. She handed him the piece of paper. He took it, unfolded it, and asked, “What’s this?”

  “It’s Emily’s cell number. She gave it to me so I could call her with details of tonight’s plans.” Tony’s expression didn’t change as he wadded the paper, put it in the pocket of his slacks, and continued to escort Claire up the stairs. She wasn’t sure what his actions meant; however, his lack of response probably meant the end of that conversation. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had no idea this would be such a long day.”

  Tony said that it was all worth it if she found her wedding gown. She told him she had it narrowed to two. The boutique had her measurements, and all they needed was a call to let them know her decision; however, Ms. Springhill emphasized she must do it soon. Claire told Tony she would appreciate his opinion. He told her he trusted her judgment.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, exhaled, and lay back. The coolness of the room combined with the firmness of the bed helped Claire relax. She closed her eyes and hoped the coffee would help her head.

  “Eric told me you fell asleep after Emily left the car.” He sat next to her on the bed, stroking her hair.

  Claire breathed a sigh of relief—he didn’t seem upset. The tension in her head began to subside. “I’m sorry if that was wrong, but my head hurt so badly, I could hardly focus on Emily.”

  “Of course, it’s fine. You’re alone and exhausted. I told you, I don’t want you overdoing. You aren’t 100 percent yet”—he kissed her head—“I spoke to your brother-in-law and moved our reservations back to 8:00 PM. Maybe you should continue your nap for a little while. We don’t need to leave until 7:30 PM.”

  Claire thought about it. Dinner wasn’t for another two hours, but she decided a shower would be more beneficial; she’d already had a nap. They talked as Jan knocked on their door and entered with a coffee carafe, cream, and two mugs. She sat them on a table near the windows and inquired if they needed anything else. Learning they didn’t, Jan left.

  The open drapes exposed a spectacular view filled with darkness, even though it wasn’t even 6:00 PM. The New York City lights glittered below, evidence of inhabitants racing from place to place. Claire held her mug of coffee, inhaled the rich aroma, and fell silent, mesmerized by the sight. This time of year, with shorter dreary days, had always been a difficult time for her. She loved sunshine; it made her joyful. This year she’d missed most of the autumn sun and now the bleakness of winter was rapidly descending.

  To her, dark was contrary to light. Therefore, instead of joy, it brought sorrow. That’s why she liked Atlanta. Standing at the window, looking at a magnificent skyline, and sipping her warm mug of coffee, Claire thought about being sad. Immediately, she began to chastise herself. She should be happy about her wedding and her reunion with Emily; however, what she really wanted was to be back in Iowa. She didn’t want the pressure of choosing a dress and dealing with Emily’s constant questions. She no longer yearned for the warmth of Atlanta, but she longed for the warmth of her fireplace and lack of pretense.

  In the reflection of the tall window, Claire saw Tony approaching. He stood close behind her and put his arms around her waist; she rested her head against his sturdy chest. Tony’s voice sounded soft and affectionate, “What are you thinking about? You seem far away.”

  “I don’t want to say. You’ll think I’m ungrateful.” She put her mug down on the table and turned to face him. Tony lifted her eyes to his. “I app
reciate honesty above all.” He wasn’t being authoritative—only candid. Looking into her tired eyes he lightly kissed her lips. “And let me decide what I think.”

  She continued to hold his gaze. The brown of his eyes that matched the color of her coffee—lightened by cream—gave her strength to be honest. “I want to go home.” His expression changed slightly. She knew he was contemplating her definition of home. “Tony, I want to go back to your home—I want to be back in Iowa.”

  He smiled and hugged her. “Why would that make you ungrateful?”

  “I loved your surprise—seeing Emily and John has been great, but, things have changed. Emily asks so many questions and seems so dismayed by my life—it feels as though we’re no longer connected. She said I’ve changed—I don’t know—I just know I’d rather be home.”

  Tony had released her chin and Claire’s face rested—buried in his chest. The thumping of his heart filled her with security. As she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat, she couldn’t see his face or his satisfied smile.

  She continued, “If we could, I’d cancel our dinner plans for tonight.”

  He lifted her chin again and said, “You know that isn’t an option. We’ve made a commitment and we’ll honor it, but, I’m happy to know you want to be home with me—to our home. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Claire nodded her head and said that yes—she knew. After a few moments, she picked up her mug of coffee and went to the bathroom for a shower.

  Once there, she noticed the large garden tub. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen it before—it had been there all along—but it looked very inviting. Starting the warm water she decided to find out where they are going. When she opened the door to ask, Tony was sitting on the bed with his back to her. He had her purse open, the contents strewn on the bed, searching for something—perhaps something Claire had that she shouldn’t have had—maybe evidence of her being somewhere with Emily, instead of the bridal boutique. There was nothing—she’d followed his rules. Claire considered saying something—confronting him about privacy—instead she quietly closed the door and thanked God she’d given him the paper with the telephone number.

  Eric pulled up to the restaurant on the Upper East Side at approximately 7:45 PM. Claire was very pleased with Tony’s plans for the evening. First, the quaint, casual seafood restaurant was away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets, and second, it wasn’t as elegant as their normal dining establishments. Claire also approved of Tony’s choice of attire, they both wore jeans. When they left the bedroom, Claire told Tony again how much she liked him in jeans. He reminded her how much he liked her out of them. Their eyes sparkled.

  Although their reservation had been moved to 8:00 PM, and although the Hyatt wasn’t far, Emily and John weren’t there yet. Since their table wasn’t ready, Tony and Claire went to the bar to wait. Tony directed Claire to one unoccupied stool at the end of the bar. She sat while he stood beside her, ordered himself a designer beer and Claire a glass of Zinfandel.

  Sitting at the bar reminded Claire of the Red Wing. Compartmentalize. Truly, she felt much better than she had earlier; perhaps it was the nap, the bath, the coffee, Tony’s understanding—regarding her long day, or just some time to relax away from questions. Whatever the cause, her spirit felt revived and ready for the evening. They chatted about the different bottles of liquor lining the bar. While Claire recalled some of her bartending knowledge, she talked about most of the liquors from the first-person. She commented on drinks she liked, ones she didn’t, and why. Tony seemed amused that she’d tried so many. After all, he said, “You’ve only been legally drinking for six years.”

  Claire smiled and repeated the word legally. They were chatting and laughing when John and Emily approached.

  Proceeding with the customary round of hellos and handshakes, Emily and John ordered drinks, stood conversing about nothing in particular, and before long their table was ready. John, Emily, and Claire went to the table while Tony stayed back to pay the bar tab.

  Once the hostess took them to their table, Claire excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. As she exited the bathroom—which was located down a narrow hall—she was surprised to find John waiting for her. “Well, hi—did you think I was lost?” Claire started to pass him, thinking they were going back to the table, when John reached for her arm and stopped her.

  “Claire, I really need to talk to you without Anthony present.”

  Her stomach twisted. “No, John, you don’t.”

  He spoke soft and fast. “Yes, I do. Tell me you haven’t yet signed a prenuptial agreement.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Good, I want to review it first. Emily said you don’t think it’s necessary, and I should drop it, but I’m your brother. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. Let someone who has your best interests at heart make sure you’re represented.”

  “Thank you, John. I believe Tony has my best interests at heart. I don’t care about his money, I trust him, and I—” Claire saw the change in John’s expression. Oh God! She knew by the increased twisting in her stomach Tony was behind her. When she turned, she looked directly at his chest—he was right behind her.

  Continuing Claire’s sentence, Tony said, “And I believe this conversation would be better held in a private setting.” His voice exuded displeasure; however, they were standing in the hallway of a public restaurant. Claire knew that in this setting he wouldn’t be loud, rude, or aggressive.

  She looked up to see his face and watched the brown disappear behind the expanding blackness. “Tony—” Claire started to speak—saw his warning expression—and immediately stopped.

  Tony continued, “Shall we all go to our table? I believe our waitress would like to introduce herself. John, you and Emily are welcome to join us in our car. We’ll be glad to drive you back to your hotel following dinner. At that time, if you choose, you may continue your legal counsel.”

  Claire prayed he would not choose to continue. She knew from experience, there were some things not worth pursuing.

  John looked from Tony—to Claire—and back to Tony. Sounding strong and defiant, he replied, “That would be fine, Anthony. I appreciate the offer. We’ll be glad to join you.” He then lightened his tone. “Emily told me you have a very nice car.” They all walked toward the table.

  “Thank you, it isn’t mine. I lease cars in the city. Too many accidents with all the traffic…” And the conversation continued benignly to the table and throughout dinner.

  Claire knew Tony, and she knew he was angry. To the casual onlooker, he appeared fine. He excelled at the art of maintaining appearances. He chatted, listened, laughed, and watched. Every now and then, his and Claire’s eyes would connect. She wanted to tell him she was sorry—she hadn’t asked for the counsel—but of course, she maintained her mask and didn’t approach the subject. Emily didn’t know about the hallway conversation and innocently conversed.

  By the end of dinner Emily and Claire decided Claire would wear the Vera Wang dress. She liked the lace sleeves, and they agreed it would be best for a winter wedding. They also decided on the dress for Emily. Tony had printed off all the contact information for the boutique, and Claire gave it to Emily. She explained that unfortunately Emily would need to return to the city one or two more times for fittings. Emily said it would be all right.

  John asked what time in the morning their flight was back to Iowa. Claire looked at Tony. She didn’t want to say, “Oh, we can go anytime. It’s Tony’s jet.” He answered, “We plan to leave early. This wedding is coming together very fast. Our wedding planner will be at the house tomorrow at 2:00 PM. Luckily, we gain an hour on our way back.” Claire sighed—he was good. She also decided he either genuinely started to relax or he could fool her too; regardless, he appeared very accommodating.

  After their appetizers, salads, and main entrée, they all had coffee. Surprisingly, after the uncomfortable hallway confrontation, the dinner went well. Earlier, b
ack at the apartment, Claire had shared Emily’s comments regarding the cost of the wedding with Tony. He hadn’t said much other than to acknowledge her concerns, but apparently he’d developed a plan. “John and Emily, I want to thank you for joining us this Thanksgiving. It means so much to Claire. She’s told me about the loss of your family—the two of you are important to her”—Claire listened intently, as did the two of them—“I can be impulsive. I must admit after so many years of bachelorhood, I’m delighted to have met the one woman I want to spend my life beside”—he looked at Claire and smiled. She smiled in return—“That’s why Claire agreed to such a fast wedding. That can be difficult on those people closest to us. You may have had plans for that weekend, and I doubt you were planning a trip to Iowa”—he had everyone’s attention—“Therefore, I would be honored if you’d allow me to take care of your travel plans to and from Iowa. I’m speaking for Claire, but I believe she’d like you to be there a few days before the ceremony. Our home isn’t near hotels. Please know you’re invited to stay with us. We have room.” He sounded gallant and magnanimous.

  Claire reached for his hand under the table and squeezed. He squeezed back and held her hand. She didn’t know how John would respond, but she was exceedingly pleased with her fiancé. Tony added, “And while I have your attention, I want to give Claire her dream wedding. Please allow me to take care of any wedding apparel and accessories.”

  At first, Emily and John said nothing. Claire knew it was killing John. He was a successful attorney, but they had education loans they were still paying. They had a mortgage, car loans, probably credit cards. Tony had more money than he could spend in a lifetime. She prayed they would accept.

  Finally, John spoke, “Anthony, thank you very much. It’s difficult for me to accept your generosity.”