by L A Pepper
* * *
“Jamesy you dog!” Bobby bellowed up the stairs in the resounding voice that he learned as the coxswain when we rowed crew together, back in our prep school days.
“Oh fuck.” I’d been busy all morning, except for a short break when Hannah brought the dogs home, and she’d taken me on my desk chair before leaving me with a hickey and a sweet ache in my chest. She flounced off through the garden, and I was stunned until I’d gathered my thoughts halfway about myself again. I’d never really gotten my head straight, anyway. Let Bobby come.
Bobby pounded up the stairs and threw open the office door. “You went right after the dog walker, didn’t you? We told you not to go, and that is exactly what you did and that’s why you haven’t been answering my texts.”
I’d turned off my phone because I didn’t really want to talk to anyone if their name wasn’t Hannah Cleary. “You’re not my mother.”
“Thank god, she was a heinous bitch.” He poured himself a glass of scotch from the bottle on the shelf and then threw himself into the leather chair across from me.
I sighed and closed my laptop, giving in. “Go ahead then, Bobby, tell me what you want to say or I’ll never get anything done.”
He tipped his head. “So how hot was she?”
“I am not telling you that.”
“What?” Bobby looked offended and let his feet drop to the floor, leaning forward. “Since when don’t you tell me about your hot girls? Has marriage really changed you so much that you no longer let me live vicariously through you?”
“Marriage didn’t change me at all.” Not like he meant. Marriage to the wrong woman started me thinking about what kind of woman I wanted to be with. Maybe what I wanted was something real now, not another hot girl, not a shallow marriage, but someone who made me feel complete. I shook my head. This was not the conversation I was having with Bobby. “No one is stopping you from getting your own girls, Bobby. You have no need to live vicariously through me, and no, I’m not telling you about Hannah.”
“Hannah. That’s her name. Is she pretty?”
“What part of not telling you do you not understand?”
“Oh, so she’s a dog.”
I clenched my teeth, nearly wanting to throttle him for even thinking it. I rolled my shoulders and brushed it off. “I thought we’d already established that I’m the dog in this scenario.”
Bobby cocked his head and stared at me. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. “You like this girl.”
“Of course, or I wouldn’t be with her.”
“BE with her? Oh you REALLY like this girl. That is amazing.” He sat back and kicked his heels up. “Wait until I tell Bette. She’s going to kill me, thank you very much.”
“Why are you telling Bette anything? Why is she going to kill you?”
“She called me this morning and reamed me out, telling me you were not allowed to screw the dog walker. And I told her I’d keep you in line. Mostly because I had a hangover, and she is such a nag. I had to agree or she wouldn’t leave me alone. But I’m going to have to back out on our agreement. I definitely think you should screw the dog walker.”
“Her name. Is Hannah.” I spoke through gritted teeth. “And she’s none of your business. Either of you.”
“Look at you!” He grinned and took a drink. “You are positively glowing!”
“I’m not pregnant Bobby. I don’t glow. I’m just free from a bad marriage. That’s what you’re seeing.”
“No! You’re reborn! After that bitch and the west coast. This is the best I’ve seen you since... since never. I’ve never seen you like this before over a girl.”
“You just walked in the door. You haven’t seen me at all.”
“I’ve seen enough. You’re…” he blinked. “You’re happy. I can’t wait to meet the dog walker,” he stopped at my dark look. “Hannah.” He smirked.
“No,” I said and stood up. Hannah would be here soon. It was almost time to walk the dogs again. She’d be here soon. And I wanted to be alone with her. I didn’t want this ass hanging over me, exposing all my flaws and foibles to Hannah. Worse than the ones she already knew. Right now she just had rumors. Bobby would without a doubt try to embarrass me because that’s what we had done all our life. Hannah did not need to know doubt what an asshole I was. “No.” I came out from the desk and hauled him up by the arm. We’d wrestled some in prep school. I could still take him, I was sure. “Get out.”
“You’re chasing me out of your house for the dog walker.”
“Stop calling her that.”
“Holy shit, James.” He stopped. “You really like her. You aren’t just getting under her to get over the movie star. Is this real?”
“Out.”
“Forget doing Bette’s bidding. I’m putting money on this. You’re going to marry this girl. Hannah. I have excellent instincts. I told you you never should have gone after the movie star. I was right. Hannah, though. This is the one. When do I meet her?”
“Never.” I chased him out of the house. My heart pounding. I was sure he could hear it, even as he laughed all the way down the street.
* * *
Two days later, I was sitting on the couch, one giant hairy dog with her head on my lap and the other one with her head on my feet. I’d spent every free moment I could with Hannah, but tonight, she’d shoved me out of her house, saying she needed some time alone. To paint, she said. She’d kissed me as she said it, leaning up against me, so I could feel her warm, lithe body. Trying to soften the blow, I knew. I was almost distracted enough not to ask her about the new bit of information.
“You paint?” I’d asked, surprised that I hadn’t known this about her. My world seemed to have stopped and started over, revolving around her, and it seemed incomprehensible I wouldn’t know this.
“I taught art in a high school, before,” she’d told me, “I thought it was the safe choice of careers, painting isn’t steady pay,” she laughed with a hard edge “But now being in a classroom gives me anxiety attacks, so I stay at home and walk dogs and paint my feelings,” and then I understood why I didn’t know. Because she avoided talking about life before her divorce, and whatever it was he did that hurt her. It was like there was a big emptiness between when I knew her as Phil and when she came back to walk dogs. As much as I had told Bette to butt out of my life, I had listened. I knew that Hannah was vulnerable, and I knew that even if I wanted to hold her and keep her safe from him, from the memory of him, I had to let her go at her own pace.
So Hannah was over at her tiny house, right through my garden, wearing some ridiculously attractive combination of tank top and shorts, dancing to her silly screechy singer-songwriters and wriggling that gorgeous ass, but this time covered with paint of all colors, while I sat on my expansive couch, with two dogs. If I leaned my head back, I could see through the French doors, out into the garden, over the foliage, to the roof of her house, just visible through the branches. I groaned, because my imagination was too good, and I imagined what I would do if I could walk that path and put my hands on her hips.
But then, I’d be taking Hannah from something she was doing for herself to take back her life from her awful, evil, despicable ex-husband who I hated and had hurt her. And then would I be any better than him? I sighed heavily and turned back to the movie I’d put on the tv.
Brigitte had forbidden me to watch this movie. She had lost the lead role to her biggest rival, another beautiful blonde, one who had a degree from Julliard. Brigitte called her a bitch and a hack, but she’d won an Oscar for this role, and she was damn good in it too. I was enjoying watching it and imagining Brigitte in it, not doing nearly as well. Petty? Perhaps. But I was quite clear that I was not a good person. So petty I would be.
The better blonde was halfway through an impassioned monologue when the dogs perked up, their pointy noises directed at the front door. The door opened. The dogs leapt, Cassiopeia right over my lap, with a dig from her heavy, clawed paw at my thigh. “Damm
it!”
“I’m home darlings!” Bette called from the front. “Did you miss mommy? Oh! Look at you, you beautiful girls.” I heard her drop her bags but I didn’t greet her. I was feeling the pressure. One woman at the door, another woman past the garden gate and one more woman, or thoughts of her anyway, in front of me on the television. I felt caught, and only one of those women was here. I was not even sure if my anger at Bette was unreasonable or not. I waited for her inevitable confrontation.
“So,” she said, as Cassiopeia and Andromeda herded her back into the living room to show her that they’d found a new friend. “You didn’t listen to a damn word I said, did you?”
“And what word would that be?” I said, pretending ignorance although I knew what she was talking about and she knew I knew. She had wanted me to stay away from Hannah. I had no intention of doing that. At all.
“I called Hannah, you know. She’s my friend. We talk.”
“Oh?” I would not ask her what Hannah had said about me. I would not.
“You couldn’t stay away from her, even though I told you she was vulnerable, I told you what her ex-husband did to her—”
“As a matter of fact, you didn’t.” I interrupted. She ignored me.
“—I told you that if you hurt her, I would kill you.”
“I’m not going to hurt her, Bette.”
“Of course you are! She’s a lonely, pretty, devastated dog walker, and you’re a billionaire playboy who everyone thinks is happily married to the most beautiful movie star in the world. You are going to chew her up and spit her out, just like her ex did.”
“I won’t! I care for her! I want to take care of her. I want to protect her. I just want to be with her. I can’t believe you're implying that you think I would be like her ex.”
She glared at me, dropped her shoulder bag at her feet and sat down next to me. “You want. You want. You want. Just like her ex. Just like a playboy. Men!” she scoffed.
“You know, I’m not too fond of women right now. Hannah’s the only one I like. Actually, Hannah might be the only person I like, period..” Andromeda claimed my lap and settled her head into it with a big sigh. “Hannah and the dogs. The rest of you can go to hell.”
Bette sat silently for a few minutes, watching the movie with me. I knew she was planning something. What she said was not what I was expecting. “You know, your wife never could have played this role. She’s a terrible actress.”
“I agree. And she’s not my wife anymore. Ex.”
“No one knows that, do they? They think you’re the perfect couple, and meanwhile you’ve left her and moved on to your dog walker.”
“You know her name.”
“Hannah deserves better, James. She deserves to be recognized. I’m hosting a party for you, a welcome back party, and you’re going to introduce Hannah to everyone who's anyone.”
“No.”
“Yes. This is what I do now. I have become a party planner since they’ve disowned me. I need a profession, and what do I know about but parties? This is perfect. I will host it here. With your cachet, Hannah’s beauty, and my taste, not to mention the delicious A-list gossip, I will be the most in demand, exclusive party planner in New York City.”
“No. It’s my house. It’s my name. And Hannah’s my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend? I don’t think Hannah knows that’s what she is.”
I took a breath to debate, but there was none. Hannah and I had not discussed it, and whenever I tried to get close, she brought up my too recent ex-wife and what a mess she was. I’d been taking it slow with her. But I hadn’t been taking it slow with myself.
She watched me in my silence, the nodded. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re not willing to give her up? I’m not willing to let her get run over by the freight train of your fame and wealth. She’s not something for you to use. Therefore, you will acknowledge her.”
“I can’t. I signed the non-disclosure agreement.”
“Brigitte’s marketing tour is over next weekend. The party is set. You’re announcing your divorce and your new girlfriend.”
“That’s a terrible idea. They’ll all come after her. The media. Brigitte.”
“I thought you wanted to protect her.”
“I do. But not by putting her in the crosshairs of the American gossip bullet.”
“She deserves to be seen as the amazing woman she is, James.”
“Are you in love with Hannah?” The sudden question welled up in my head, bigger and bigger. I could not stop the spike of jealousy and fury that cut through me at the intrusive thought. If this was what her whole resistance to my relationship with Hannah was, I would be the one who killed Bette. We’d never competed over girls before, and I wasn’t going to start with Hannah. Not my Hannah.
“No, you reprobate. But I love her like she’s my sister. Life destroyed her and dropped her into my lap, and she’s mine to care for now. So if you want her, you’re going to have to deal with me as her angry, lesbian knight in shining armor.”
“I’m her knight,” I growled.
“You can be her prince. And I will be her stabby knight. We can protect her together.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had not realized how upset I was having Bette on the opposite side of me, or god forbid, competing with me for Hannah. “Okay. Together. That’s a deal. I’ll hold you to it.”
She leaned against me and I tucked her under my arm. “And I need this, James. Ever since getting disowned, I have nothing but my reputation as a party girl and my style. Help me start my business. I can’t let my parents win.”
“No, we can’t let them win.” This sigh was heavy with dread. “Fine. Party it is.”
“Good boy,” she said and patted my head like a dog.
I should be used to it now.
Chapter Six
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said, looking at myself in the ebony framed floor to ceiling length mirror in James’ bedroom. Bette’s party would be a fabulous, extravagant, elegant event, and I was in way over my head. She planned everything to perfection, even my outfit, which, to be honest, was smart. I never would have been able to put together something this sophisticated on my own. I wore a knee-length cream-colored slip dress, slinky over my curves, with a daringly low back. Even my hair, with the wild curls contained only by a simple comb at one temple, made me look like someone who knew what I was doing. I was nervous.
James reclined on his bed, in a black dress shirt and slacks, casual and elegant against the silver quilting of his bedding. No one had to tell him what to wear. Everything he did made him look perfect. He had kept his eyes on me the entire time I got dressed, his blue eyes raked over me as I turned to him. I got goosebumps remembering what we had done on that bed before getting dressed. I wished I could climb back in with him and forget this party.
“You look delectable. If you need some more relaxing, I can help you with that.” He slid his legs off the bed and reached out to pull me to stand between them. His hands ran up my thighs, raising the hem of my dress with them.
“James!” I laughed. “Your guests will be here any minute.” I held on to his wrists so he couldn’t raise the hem any farther.
“What’s your point? I’m a notorious playboy. This can only be good for my reputation.”
Anxiety rose higher. Fear. “No you’re not. You’re half of a hot A-list couple and no one knows you’re divorced.”
“They will now. So we can be together. I thought that was the point of this party.”
I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s getting Bette some publicity for her party planning company. So we shouldn’t overshadow that by having a scandalous Other Woman doing scandalous things to the gorgeous and famous James Silver, who’s married to the even more gorgeous and more famous Brigitte LaFontaine.”
He let the hem of my dress fall, then pulled me into his lap. “This is really bothering you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It all ha
ppened so quickly, and Bette was so happy. You were acting like having Bette’s goodwill made everything better, but I’m still a dog walker with a tragic past with men, and you’ve still only been divorced for a couple of weeks. Our whole relationship is inadvisable and having the eyes of the world on us isn’t going to make it better. You just broke up with Brigitte. That doesn’t go away.”
“But our relationship fell apart a long time ago, sweetheart. We were only together in name for months. You know that.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and far from making him look unkempt, his perfect hair fell into perfect waves. “And now I know what I was missing with her all that time.” He cupped his hand around my neck and stared into my eyes. “You believe me, right? The way I feel for you? This is what should have been in my marriage, but wasn’t.”
The nerves in my stomach leapt and dove and changed shape. Bubbles of something rose through me. “What are you saying, James?”
He looked away, embarrassed. “Don’t make me say it, Hannah.” He tucked his lips into my neck. “You know.”
I pressed his hand to his chest. His heart was pounding. Hard.
I could barely breathe. “We said that this was just a thing. That we were too damaged. Pre-broken. No expectations.”
“I didn’t expect this at all.” He brushed the curls back from my neck, breathing me in. “I don’t think you did either. We didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“This?” I don’t know why I said it. I knew. I knew what he was feeling, and I felt that as long as I could pretend, we wouldn’t get as deep into it. But I was lying to myself.
He lifted his head up and caught my eyes with his, the ice blue melting into sky. He gave me a wry smile. “I never loved my wife, Hannah.”
I gasped. He caught it. Ran his forefinger down the side of my face until it tipped my chin, angling it towards him.
“I love you.” He kissed me with such searching sweetness, so gently, I was a puddle in his lap. I opened to him, wanting to deepen the kiss, wanting to take him back to his bed with its crisp sheets and I wanted to make them rumpled and wilted, I wanted to eat him alive, I wanted him to take me until there was nothing left of me. But he pulled back. “But I don’t want to hurt you, and you’re not ready to be my girlfriend.”
