She twisted a ponytail holder around the end of her braid, then flicked off the bathroom light. Will told her he wanted friendship, nothing else, no pressure. So today would be what? A friendship date?
Aunt Jane had arranged the one and only date Laura had gone on. It'd been in high school. Her aunt chaperoned. Timmy was his name. He had red hair and acne and was the son of Jane's prayer partner. He'd been pressured into the date, too, and felt as awkward as Laura. They went to a restaurant and saw a G-rated movie, both picked out by her aunt. It'd been a belittling and embarrassing experience.
Unzipping her backpack, Laura found her sunglasses. Those, paired with a hat, would disguise her from the cameras.
A knock sounded on her door. She walked across the room and opened it. Will stood in the threshold, handsome, freshly showered, and shaved. The smell of soap wafted in on a stream of air conditioning. With his bronze skin, khaki shorts, and white collared shirt, he looked dressed for an African Safari.
She swallowed. “Hi."
The pure, female appreciation Will saw in Laura's eyes did wonders for his ego. “Hi.” About time she showed a little awareness of him.
"Give me one minute.” She grabbed her shoes from beside the dresser and sat down on her bed.
Will stepped inside and closed the door. Laura's eyes snapped to his. Apparently, she hadn't expected him to come in. She looked ready to bolt. He stayed rooted to his spot and decided talking would relax her. “I called the lobby and found out one of the hotel employees took that picture, not a tabloid, in case that's what worried you.” He'd been more than curious about her reaction, but knew better than to pursue it.
Relief softened her apprehensive expression. “Thanks.” She bent down and loosened the laces on her shoes.
She'd gone head to head with him in the stairwell. No other woman had ever done that. Women usually fell all over each other to catch his attention. The fact that Laura seemed to be running in the opposite direction intrigued him. Frankly, it turned him on.
Will glanced over at her dresser. Neatly folded piles of T-shirts, jeans, bras, and underwear lined the top. He lingered on the underwear. Athletic, white, cotton. Nothing impractical like lace or silk for Laura.
He peered into the bathroom. Again, she'd lined her toiletries in a perfect little row: a brush, a comb, a bottle of lotion, a box of tampons, a toothbrush, a small travel-sized tube of toothpaste. No hair gels, mousses, or makeup, only the bare necessities.
Will looked back at Laura. “When you said twenty minutes, I thought you were kidding. Most women take an hour to get ready."
"I don't fuss a lot.” She double-knotted her laces, then clipped a fanny pack around her waist. Inside she stuffed a wallet, camera, room key, and Chapstick. Now that made sense. He'd never grasped the concept of a bottomless purse.
Laura pushed up off the bed. “Ready?"
Her emerald colored tank top revealed slender, well-defined arms. Its color turned her eyes brilliant green. Tan shorts rode high on her thighs.
Will forced himself to look at her face and not those long legs. “You look very nice."
Her cheeks pinkened, and she quickly busied herself with the zipper on her fanny pack. He hadn't made a woman blush since ... well, since ever. He wanted to fold her in his arms and rock her and jibber sweet nothings to her. “The hotel's surrounded by fans. So I've arranged for someone to pick us up and drop us off a few blocks away. I figured it'd be more fun to explore on foot and use the subway."
Laura nodded, but didn't look up at him. She checked the contents of her fanny pack, probably trying to hide her still flushed cheeks.
"I've got my handy dandy disguise, so we shouldn't have any problems.” Will donned his dark glasses and Australian hat. “Do you recognize me?"
She glanced up. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “I think you'll be fine."
Will turned to open the door and stopped when he saw the black tape covering the peephole. He reached up to tear it off.
"Don't,” Laura snapped.
Snatching his hand back, he spun to meet her panicked face. Why would she put tape on a peephole? She'd erect an emotionless barrier if he asked.
Instead, he calmly opened the door as if nothing had happened. “Let's get a move on. We have a lot to see today.” He stepped into the hallway and heard her exhale a relieved breath.
* * * *
"Young lady, you have sinned!"
Laura almost came off the bed at the sound of her aunt's fierce voice. She looked up to find Jane hovering in the bedroom doorway, a magazine curled in her fist, her nostrils flaring with each angry exhalation.
"Where did you get this?"
Fourteen-year-old Laura pushed up from her lying position to stand beside her bed. Her eyes darted from her aunt's face, to the magazine, then back to her aunt. Frantically, Laura searched through the details of her day. What had she done wrong now?
Aunt Jane stomped across the wood floor, arcing the magazine high in the air. Automatically, Laura hunched her shoulders for the expectant blow. Her aunt swatted the balled up pages across Laura's cheek sending her head reeling to the right. She recovered from the blow and immediately focused on the floor. Making eye contact would only fuel the fire.
"You answer me this minute,” Jane hissed and jabbed a pointed fingernail into Laura's chest.
Hesitantly, she lifted her head. Aunt Jane unrolled the magazine and shoved it under Laura's nose. She blinked and focused on the front cover, on the half-naked man sprawled across a couch. The girls in her class had been looking at it over the past week, giggling at the naked men. Laura had sneaked a peek too, curious what a penis looked like. How had it wound up in her backpack?
"I-I-I'm not sure how I got it."
Aunt Jane's eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You may be a little slow, but you're not stupid. Now how did you get it?"
"Some girls at school were looking at it. I'm telling the truth. I don't know how it got in my book bag."
Jane rerolled the magazine and smacked Laura's legs with it. “Lies! Filthy, little liar! That's all you are."
She pinched Laura's ear between thumb and forefinger and led her out the bedroom and down the hall. Laura stumbled after her, clinching her jaw, knowing what was about to transpire.
Jane swung the bathroom door open and shoved her niece inside, then snatched a bar of soap off the sink. Laura backed up against the counter and gripped its edge. Aunt Jane slammed the door closed and came toward her.
"Open up,” her aunt snarled, digging her nails into the back of Laura's neck. “You need your mouth cleaned from your lies."
Laura squeezed her eyes closed and opened her mouth. She tensed when the thick, waxy bar ground against her gums and teeth.
"Laura?” Will gently shook her shoulder.
With a jerk, Laura glanced right, then left, orienting herself. They were on the ferry, and The Statue of Liberty stood across the water in front of them.
"Hey.” Will spoke softly, rubbing her lower back. “You okay?"
Laura stepped out of his reach, her heart pounding, and leaned against the ferry's railing. She slipped her hand inside her pocket and gripped her rabbit's foot. Closing her eyes, she took a couple of deep breaths. A few seconds. In just a few seconds she'd be okay again.
"Why do you do that? Why do you act like nothing happened?"
She fished her camera from her fanny pack and snapped off a few pictures. Something. She had to say something to get his attention redirected. “I need to get a picture of the Statue."
"You whimpered."
She whipped her gaze to his. I whimpered? They both wore sunglasses that hid their eyes, but Laura felt the unnerving sensation that he could read her thoughts, her mind. They faced each other for long, silent seconds, then Laura turned away first, busying herself with the camera again.
Please don't let him ask me any more questions. Please. It's too hard.
Will stepped toward her and placed his hand on her forearm. �
��Where do you go when you tune out everything around you?"
The warmth from his fingers permeated her bare skin. She studied the camera in her hand, wanting to share with him, trust him. The idea was too foreign, too strange, and scary as hell.
He rubbed his thumb across her skin. “When you're ready, I want you to tell me about it."
Laura nodded. Will released her arm and propped his elbows on the railing next to hers. They stayed that way for the remaining ride, side-by-side on the upper deck, their shoulders and hips touching, watching the scenery. The air between them took on an affectionate, cozy, friendly feeling, and as time ticked by, Laura actually relaxed.
* * * *
After the ferry ride, they rode the subway to Soho, where they wove in and out of tattoo parlors, piercing booths, tobacco shops, and tiny eccentric stores. Content to let Laura lead the way, Will found that his pleasure came from watching her explore and experience new things.
In Bob's ‘Bacco Shop she picked up a foot tall pipe blown from blue glass and shaped like a mermaid.
A skinny man whom Will assumed must be Bob meandered over. “It's for the wacky tobakky."
Laura glanced up at him. “The wacky? Oh.” She put the mermaid back down. “I see."
Will cleared his throat to keep from laughing, and when she turned around, saw that she was holding back her own smile.
"Ready to see Chinatown?"
He nodded and followed her from the store. When they stepped outside, they both shared a chuckle.
By nature she was a quiet woman, speaking when something truly fascinated her, which made him even more attentive and waiting expectantly for her sporadic comments.
In Chinatown they wandered the streets. On the corner while browsing a jewelry display, a police siren pierced the air. Not an odd sound for New York, but still people looked around, wondering where the action was.
An old Chinese lady rounded the corner, running, pushing a cart. Before he had time to register what was happening, the elderly lady ran right over Laura's foot.
"Hey,” Will tried to stop the lady, but she was quick and the crowd was thick.
"It's okay,” Laura said, half-laughing, obviously amused at the incident. “I'm not hurt. You suppose the police are after her?"
"Yep. Probably an illegal alien or pedaling stolen goods. You sure you're okay?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
Will knew a lot of women who would get offended or upset over such a thing. Or milked it for sympathy from him. Goes to show him what kind of stuffy women he'd been hanging out with.
"So what do you think of Chinatown?"
Laura shrugged her cute little shoulder. “Seems like a bunch of jewelry stores and restaurants to me. Oh, and crazy Chinese ladies, too."
Will laughed at that. “Ready for lunch?"
"Definitely."
By the time they found Little Italy, not an easy thing to do when given wrong directions, they were starving. They walked into the first restaurant they saw, she ordered a Jack and Coke, he a beer, and both veal piccata.
He picked up his mug. “Here's to more sightseeing in the Big Apple.” They clinked glasses and took a sip. “So what do you think of your new job?"
"So far it's everything I'd imagined."
"Good."
She took another sip of her drink. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Will nodded. “I do. I have a younger sister, Veronica."
"Really? I-I was an only child. I've always wondered what'd it be like to have a sibling."
An only child. Whether she realized it or not, she just opened up to him a little.
"Tell me about her."
And so he did. Conversation during their lunch became one-sided as Will spoke of his childhood shenanigans. He tried to get Laura to talk, but she seemed content to sit, a pleasant smile curving her lips, listening to his stories. He loved her smile, but couldn't wait to hear her laugh. One that boiled up from the depths of her belly and bubbled over. It would be a beautiful sight.
As they finished their lunch, she insisted she pay for her own. It threw him for a loop. When he went out with a woman, he always paid. Not only because the woman expected it, but also because his father had taught him to.
"Laura, please let me pay for this. It doesn't feel right."
"Thank you, but no.” She pulled cash from her fanny pack, counted it, and set it on the table.
It wasn't like he couldn't afford it. But she seemed determined. Then it hit him, “How ‘bout you get this tab, and I'll get the next one?” That way it'd be a sure bet she'd go out with him again.
Laura scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, as if she knew he was up to something. He gave her his best, innocent look.
"Alright,” she finally agreed and dug out some more cash.
They spent the rest of their day sightseeing, strolling along Broadway, seeing Times Square, visiting Ground Zero. She snapped pictures of the Empire State Building and Grand Central Station. The only complaint she made, which Will actually made first, was that her feet hurt.
Cheap date.
At ten that night he saw her to her room, then made his way to his own. Got a quick shower, slipped on a pair of Tweety Bird boxers, and flopped onto his bed. He stacked his hands beneath his head and studied the pattern on the ceiling, replaying the details of his day.
The ferry ride. Out of his whole day he treasured the ferry ride above all else. He would have been content to ride all day just for the opportunity to be so close to Laura. They'd shared an emotionally bonding moment, one full of comfort and warmth. And although she hadn't shared any of her secrets with him, he felt she took a step closer to trusting him.
He'd been attracted to Laura since the first day he met her, yet on the ferry the attraction hadn't existed. It had felt more like camaraderie, contentment. He'd never experienced that with a woman before now, or gone as slow. He'd never truly wanted to build a strong, lasting foundation.
Strange, the women he'd been around had always been hot, sexy, quick, no strings.
Strings!
Will bolted to an upright position. Getting involved with Laura would definitely involve strings. How did he feel about that? A little scared. But ready. The challenge would be convincing her she was ready.
* * * *
"Tourist! Tourist! Tourist!"
In her wildest dreams Laura never imagined she'd sound mix for Tourist at Madison Square Garden. Exhilarated by the crowd's deafening roar, she looked out across the sea of bodies.
"Cue smoke and lasers,” she heard in her headset.
Colored smoke shot up from hidden chutes, lasers beamed down from the ceiling, spotlights crisscrossed the crowd. Excited screams filled the air as the fans jumped to their feet, craning their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the stars.
"Cue sound."
With her fingers already balanced on the sliding channel bars, Laura slowly slid them into place. Into her headset she answered, “Sound cued."
Hidden behind the smoke, the band began to play the opening number, then in unison, the six members of Tourist stepped through the smoke.
People jumped up and down screaming and flailing their arms. A woman in the first row fainted. Some eager fans pushed toward the stage, only to be stopped by security. Hand-made signs popped up all over the crowd proclaiming undying love for their favorite band member.
Good, raw music. No fancy dance moves. Just the six of them jamming out to songs the whole world loved.
Reaching over to the EQ rack, Laura adjusted the mid-range and cocked her head to listen for reverberation. Satisfied with the mix, she took a step back, folded her arms, and surveyed the stage.
Large television screens sat perched on either side showing close ups of the guys. Dressed in leather, silk, cotton, jeans, T-shirts, vests, boots, or sneakers, each had their own unique style. Only the drummer wore his hair long, and in Laura's opinion, he needed a pair of scissors.
Will's image flashed onto
the screens. Her stomach did a slow roll. His eyes were closed as his head swayed from side to side, and he strummed the chords. Dark strands curled in spiky disarray all over his head. The top four buttons on his white, linen shirt hung open, offering a peek of chest hair. A silver necklace hung around his neck with an emblem on the end. Laura squinted her eyes but couldn't make out the design. She'd have to ask him about it later.
A group of women to the right of Laura stood with their arms linked, staring dreamy-eyed toward the stage, singing the words to the song. One woman had tears running down her cheeks. Laura studied them, puzzling their emotion. She couldn't recall the last time she'd cried. Nothing affected her that much.
"Laura, what the hell is going on?” a voice hissed through the headset.
She placed her finger on the earpiece. “What's wrong?"
"Damn, woman. Haven't you noticed? Larry's mike's out."
"What?” Laura jerked her attention to the stage.
The lead singer stood a few feet away from his mike playing his guitar. To the audience nothing appeared wrong. He was jamming out instead of singing. But he had lyrics during this part of the song.
"There's a mike box stage left,” she delivered in a calm, controlled voice. “Have a roadie grab cordless number two and make the switch."
She'd practiced making equipment swaps with her sound crew in case something like this happened.
Someone signaled the lead singer from off stage. He grabbed the bad mike and shoved it in his back pocket. While continuing to play, he strolled toward Will. Their heads came together as they sang into Will's mike, then the lead singer casually disappeared off stage.
Will continued with the lyrics while the mike swap took place. The lead singer stepped back onto stage and strolled to the center. He slid the new cordless mike into its stand and joined Will in finishing off the song.
That mike had worked earlier when she tested it. A perfectly good mike didn't go bad. Had somebody tampered with it? Why? Why would somebody purposefully screw up the equipment? It didn't make sense. She had to have made a mistake.
Laura's Secrets Page 4
