Laura's Secrets
Page 20
Will touched her arm. “Laura? I'm dying here. Say something."
She opened her eyes and stared into his desperate, pleading ones. Confused by his expression, she recalled the things he'd just said. “Don't worry about it. It's already forgotten."
"Oh ... you're not mad?"
"At you? No. At everything else? Yes."
"Want to tell me about it?"
Laura took another sip and then unloaded every miserable detail of her day.
When she finished, he blew out a quick breath. “Jeez, your day has sucked."
She felt the first smile of the day curve her lips, content and happy to have Will. Someone to talk to, someone who listened. She took another sip and studied him over the rim, thinking of the scene she'd walked in on. “Does that kind of thing happen to you often?"
"That woman? It's happened once before. Lots try, but security usually catches them."
Laura grabbed a napkin from the counter top. “Come here."
Will stepped between her legs and cradled his arms around her backside. She rubbed the right side of his neck. “You've got her lipstick smeared on you."
He leaned his head sideways to give her better access. “Ya know, you looked sexy manhandling that floozy. I got all weak in the knees watching you take control."
She tossed the napkin into the sink and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I've been thinking about this all day."
Will kissed her lips. “What?"
"Jack Daniels and Will Burns."
He nuzzled the underside of her chin. “In that order?"
"Hmmm ... maybe I thought of you first."
Will pinched her butt. “You'd better have been thinking of me first."
Laura jerked and laughed.
He unzipped her jacket. “I've got a tub full of hot bubbles waiting for you and me."
Her stomach did a slow roll. “Oh?"
Will slid the windbreaker over her shoulders. “And massage oil for afterwards."
"For you or me?"
He scooted her off the counter to straddle him and walked toward the bathroom. “You first. We'll see about me later."
She tightened her grip around his neck and pressed her body closer. “That doesn't sound fair."
"Oh, believe me,” Will growled into her neck. “It's more than fair."
* * * *
Laura awoke next to Will. Her first Valentine's Day with a sweetheart. She glanced over at him. He lay spread out in what she'd learned was his favorite sleeping position-on his back with his left hand flung above his head, his right one straight down next to his body, and his legs separated by three feet of space. She smiled and fought back the urge to touch him. She couldn't wake him, not until she returned.
Quietly she slid from the bed, grabbed her clothes, and tiptoed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged and made her way out the door and down to the hotel's lobby. She'd prearranged with the gift shop to have a basket stuffed with all his favorite things. Chocolate covered caramels, Garfield boxers, macadamia nut coffee, Heineken beer, the latest Sports Illustrated, a Laker's ball cap, and a pack of cotton candy flavored bubble gum.
Laura loved him. And she planned to tell him as soon as she returned to his suite. She'd purposefully waited until Valentine's Day to share those three special words with him. She suspected he'd be more thrilled with them than the basket.
He'd been so patient with her over the last couple of weeks, never pressuring her to say the words. But she'd seen the hopeful expectancy in his eyes, even though he'd tried to disguise it.
Smiling, she opened the door to the gift shop. The lady with whom Laura had placed the order looked up from the register. “Oh, hi. You're right on time. I've got it in the back."
Laura watched her rush down the aisle and disappear through the rear door. She wandered over to the magazine rack and idly perused, waiting...
What she saw on display, right in front, drained every ounce of life-pumping blood from her body.
Eighteen
* * * *
After one good whole-body stretch, Will slid his hand across the bed, intending to coerce Laura into some Valentine morning lovemaking. His fingers found nothing but empty sheets.
He opened his eyes and sat up. “Laura?"
No answer.
"Laura,” he called a little louder.
Silence.
Will rolled from the mattress and shuffled to the bathroom. Dark. Nothing. He walked back into the living room, his gaze sweeping the area, looking for her clothes.
Gone.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the phone and dialed her room extension. But after a half dozen rings, he clicked off and connected with the front desk. They told him they'd seen Laura walk into the gift shop an hour earlier. He thanked them and punched in that number.
"Yes, Mr. Burns, the young woman was in here an hour ago, but she disappeared. She didn't even take her basket with her."
Basket? What basket? He hung up the phone and pulled on jog pants and a T-shirt. He poured himself a glass of juice and stood in the kitchen sipping, staring at the door to his suite. She'd walk in any moment. She probably ran down the street to get something from a convenience store.
But when ten more minutes crawled by, he set his glass down and stuck his head out the door. “Roger,” he called to the bodyguard on post. “Have you seen Laura?"
Roger looked up from down the hall. “Yes, sir. She went into her room about an hour ago."
Will furrowed his brows. “Oh, is she still in there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks,” he mumbled and closed the door.
He picked up the phone and dialed her extension again. After a dozen rings, he hung up, snatched her key off his dresser, and made his way down the hall to her room.
Will knocked, which made him feel odd, he hadn't knocked on her door in weeks. But when she didn't answer, he slipped her key into the slot and let himself in.
She was sitting on the corner of the bed with her back to the door, staring out the windows. “Laura?” he ventured, stepping inside.
"Go away,” she croaked.
His heart leapt into his throat. He'd never heard her voice sound like that. He closed the door and took a couple steps toward her. “What is it?"
"I said go away."
Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. He moved around the bed to stand in front of her. In a white-knuckled clench, she gripped a rolled up magazine. No emotion registered on her stony face. She didn't even raise her eyes to meet his.
He knelt down in front of her and touched her knee. “What is it? Talk to me."
She said nothing.
Will studied her blank eyes, then lowered his attention to the magazine. Whatever was bothering her had something to do with the tabloid. He reached for it, but she tightened her grip.
"It's okay,” he reassured her softly. “Let me see."
He put his hand over her fist and pried her stiff fingers away. She stood, and in one swift abrupt motion, dropped the magazine in his lap and walked to the other side of the room.
Perplexed, Will followed her movement with his eyes. She folded her arms and stared at the wall, putting her back to him. He spread the crumpled pages out on the bed.
A knobby-kneed young girl, probably six-years-old, stood in full color on the front page. She stared back at him through huge, sad, green eyes. Her long, blond hair had been parted down the middle and brushed straight to hang behind her shoulders and down her back. She wore a short, yellow, frilly dress and white ankle socks. Her face held a stoic expression as if she'd never seen happiness in her life. The headline read, ‘Born in a gutter. Twenty-five years later the truth is revealed. Does Will Burns know?'
His heart banged against his chest wall as he turned the page. Pictures of Laura at various ages littered the four-page spread. All of them looked much like the cover depicting her in ridiculously ruffled dresses, her face void, her eyes hazed in a brainwashed gloss.
>
The tabloid wove Laura's life story. Her mother had been a schizophrenic, drug-addicted prostitute who got pregnant from one of her tricks. After unsuccessfully trying to abort with a coat hanger, she had the baby in a filthy alley behind a dumpster. She wrapped it in some paper she found in the trash and carried it to her sister's house, Laura's Aunt Jane. Jane had taken the two in with a loving heart, and two weeks later, Laura's mother committed suicide, leaving Jane to raise the little girl.
The story described Laura as an emotionally unstable child who would lock herself in her room and refuse to eat or bathe or go to school. Sometimes she would even refuse to dress and walked around naked all day. She was a social outcast. The kids in the neighborhood were scared of her. As Laura grew into a teenager, she turned into a deceitful, wild child. She skipped classes, hooked up with a different boy every week, started using drugs, became addicted to pornographic magazines, and eventually ran away from home.
Fury gathered in Will as he read on. The reporter had interviewed Aunt Jane and quoted her as saying, “I haven't seen my dear niece since she was seventeen. I heard she's working for some rock ‘n roll band now. I fear she's turned into her mother with the drugs and sex. I even heard she was a lesbian for a while. Schizophrenia is genetic. I always thought she showed signs of that disorder. I raised her in a loving, Christian home. I provided the best clothes and music lessons and church. I even refused to marry a man because he didn't want any children. My Laura was more important to me. My arms are open if she wants to come home."
Will balled up the pages and hurled it across the room. “This is bullshit,” he hissed. “Laura, I don't want you to worry about this. It's a bunch of lies. Anybody can see that. We're going to sue.” He marched over to the phone. “I'm calling my lawyer right now."
"Stop,” she ordered quietly.
He glanced up from punching in the numbers. “What?"
Laura turned around to face him. Her eyes had taken on an odd, eerie gleam. “I said stop.” Her jaw hardened into a square line. “Put the phone down."
Will did as she requested, eyeing her warily.
She turned and walked to the other end of the room, her arms still folded as she studied the floor beneath her feet. “I always wondered about my mother and father. Jane never told me the details, just that they didn't want me anymore."
"Laura, it's lies. You've got to realize that."
She stopped pacing and leveled an icy stare on him. “How do you know that?"
"Because ... because...” he couldn't tell her that he'd hired a private investigator and she might be Ed's sister. What if it weren't true? It would crush her. Until Will saw the factual report he had to keep his mouth shut. No matter what stood at stake. “Because everyone knows that magazine makes money off false stories and fabrications."
"True. You and I both know that most of that crap is a twisted lie. I believe the stuff about my parents, though."
He reached out his hand, even though the space of a room separated them. “No. Don't say that."
"Why? Don't you want to be humping the daughter of a schizophrenic prostitute?"
Will flinched. Her voice had taken on a bitter quality that unsettled him. He crossed the room to her, but didn't touch her. “You're upset right now."
Laura let out a low, sardonic chuckle. “You don't get it do you?"
He didn't recognize this Laura. She almost seemed evil. “Get what?"
"You, me, us. What was I thinking?"
Blood rushed to his extremities, making him both hot and cold at the same time.
She bent and retrieved the magazine that he'd thrown. “I want to know who I pissed off in heaven."
He wet his lips. “What are you talking about?"
Laura snapped the magazine in his face. “This. My whole sad, pathetic life. Aunt Jane.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who?” she demanded, her voice raising an octave. “Who did I piss off in heaven to have dealt me this life? What did I ever do to anybody to deserve the crap that happens to me?” She snapped the magazine again. “Who?” she shouted.
Will grabbed her upper arms. “You didn't do anything. You're the kindest, most wonderful woman I've known. I lo—"
She threw his hands off of her. “Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes I do.” He took a step toward her. “I love you, Laura. I want to spend my whole life with you. And I think you love me, too."
Laura covered her ears with her hands and turned away. “No I don't. I don't believe in love."
He took her arm and spun her to face him. “Yes you do. You feel it with me every time we're together and even when we're apart."
She tore her hands from her ears and shoved him in the chest, sending him sprawling across the bed. “You can't have a life with me,” she spat. “I have mental illness running in my blood, not just my mother, but look at Jane.” Laura jabbed a finger in his direction. “You're famous. The public loves you. Bad luck follows me everywhere.” She threw the magazine at him. “Take a good look at that, because you're going to have to answer to the media about all of that crap."
Will rolled from the bed and went to her again. “None of that matters. Please. We can be happy together. Build a life. Have a family."
"Who are you kidding?” she snapped. “My past will forever haunt us. It won't blow over. It'll keep coming up right when we least expect it. And a family? I can't have a family with you. What kind of mother do you think I'll be? I'll pass my mental problems on to our kids. I'll abuse them. I don't know how to be a mother. And our kids would have to live with that,” she pointed at the magazine. “They'll be teased by other kids, and they'll wonder about me and question my past."
Laura pressed her fingers into her eyes. “God, I wish she would have just made good on her threat to kill me."
He fought back a wave of nausea. “Don't ever say that."
"You,” she poked his chest with her finger. “My whole life was fine until I met you. Now everything I've tried to forget and put behind me is splashed across the media. I'm humiliated and embarrassed.” She pointed toward the door. “Get out."
A sob lodged in his throat. He reached for her. “What are you doing?"
She turned away from him and covered her face with her hands. “Get out,” she moaned.
With tears falling down his cheeks, he backed toward the door. He took one last look at her and slipped out. As he made his way back to his suite, a deliveryman approached him.
"Mr. Burns, this was left in the gift shop hours ago. It has your name on it."
Will mumbled his thanks and took the basket inside. He opened the envelope and read the card. “Happy Valentine's Day! Here are all your favorite goodies. Enjoy! Love, Laura."
Love, Laura.
Gripping the card in his fist, he dropped to his knees and fell onto his side. He lay there curled up, staring at the carpet for what felt like hours until a maid let herself in and found him.
* * * *
By that afternoon, Laura had arranged for Ed to take over her position. She turned in a letter of resignation to Tourist, packed everything, and left. Will didn't find out about it until late the next morning.
"You look like hell,” Eric said, stepping into Will's suite.
"What do you want?"
His best friend closed the door and made himself at home on the couch. “When was the last time you showered or shaved or slept, for that matter?"
Will walked into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Are you here for a reason or to bug the piss out of me?"
"We have a show tonight. You've got to get your act together."
Will took a sip. “The show must go on."
"I take it you heard about Laura's resignation."
"Yep."
"And that she took off and nobody knows where she went."
"Yep.” Will downed a gulp, wincing at the scalding in his throat. “Is there a reason for this conversation?"
Eric pushed off
the couch and made his way over to the kitchen. He propped his elbows on the divider island and stared at Will for a good minute. “Everybody around here knows that story's a bunch of filth. But I'm telling you, the media is swarming outside this hotel. The next week is going to be hell for you. The press will hound you until you feel you're at the end of your rope."
"I know. I've got one thing to say to them. No comment."
"You know that's not good enough."
"Well it's going to have to be.” Will tossed his coffee into the sink.
He charged out of the kitchen and into the bathroom where he stripped and stepped into the shower. Through the glass enclosure he saw Eric plop down on the toilet.
"Are you going after her?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because she doesn't want to see me."
"You believe that? Will, she's hurt. She needs time to lick her wounds."
"I realize she's hurt, but she's supposed to lean on me, team up with me, fight this with me, not push me away."
"You love each other. Everyone can see that."
Will let out a humorless chuckle. “Try telling her that."
"Give her a few days to calm down, then go after her."
"No.” Will squeezed some shampoo into his palm and lathered his head.
"I bet Bizzy knows where she is."
Will paused. Bizzy would know where Laura had gone. He could call her, ask, but Laura had probably sworn her friend to secrecy. He ducked his head under the spray. Bizzy would tell him. He'd convince her. Will shut off the shower, grabbed a towel, and stepped out.
Eric gave him a knowing smile. “I knew that'd get you to thinking."
Will quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Alright. You've got a point. Doesn't matter. I'm not going after her. Ever since I met her last summer, I've done nothing but pursue her. She's got to come to me this time."
"What are you talking about?"
Squirting some shaving cream onto his fingers, Will lathered his face. “She hurt me. I gave her my heart. She threw it back in my face. I pleaded with her, talked about life together, family. I'm humiliated. I've never begged a woman for anything in my life."
He picked up his razor and scraped it under his chin. “As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, the angrier I become. Ow!” He grabbed a tissue and held it to his bleeding neck. “Mother fu—"