Smoke Signals

by Catherine Gayle

  “True. One more way I’ve failed you.”

  “Stop that. You’ve never failed me.”

  “I’m teasing you.”

  “I know that.” Sarcasm ran in the family. “But she’s not you. There’re just some things about her that make me think of you.”

  “Like what? Because I’m sure not a ballerina.”

  It was now or never. “You ready for this?”

  “Now you’re making me nervous. What, is she my age? Got saggy tits like mine? She’s a minor or something? You’re scaring me, Ray.”

  “No saggy tits or underage brides,” I said, chortling.

  “Then what? It can’t be so bad you’ve gotta warn me.”

  “We met when she propositioned me.”

  Silence.

  “Mom?”

  “She wanted you to be her John?”

  “Yes.”

  “She pegged you as a trick? And you married her?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think you need to tell me more, because I don’t care what kinds of things I’ve done in the past and what you were exposed to because of my choices, this isn’t making any kind of sense. You’re talking crazy talk, Ray, and I’m going to have to come down there and knock some sense into you.”

  “I actually think it’d be a good idea for you to come down. Not to talk sense into me.”

  “I said knock, not talk.”

  “No need for that, either. I just…I need help with her.”

  “Because she’s trying to milk you for every freaking dime you’ve got! How the hell did you end up this naïve? You don’t marry a hooker. You just let her turn her trick—”

  “Mom…”

  She sighed. “Explain it. Please, for the love of God, explain it. And you’d better make it a good explanation, because my head is starting to pound.”

  “I was going to be her first trick. She’d never done it before.”

  “And why was she going to turn to that?” There wasn’t any judgment in her tone. Only curiosity. Maybe some concern.

  “She didn’t have any other options left. She’s Russian—”

  “Hold up. Tori is not a Russian name.”

  “Viktoriya. I just call her Tori.”

  “All right. Go on.”

  “Her parents got messed up with the Russian Mafia.”

  “Oh, good. It gets better.”

  “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

  “Sorry. I’m all ears.” The sounds of her pounding the keyboard of her computer reverberated through the phone. She was either working through my explanation or she was posting something to Facebook before hearing the full story. Either seemed plausible.

  “Anyway, her dad sent her to a ballet school in the US on a student visa to get her away from them. Then they killed him and kidnapped her mother, and so she didn’t have anyone else. And that was when she got into porn.”

  “Porn? Holy shit, Ray. I mean, I feel for her, but girls who get into porn…”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I know.” Girls who got into porn didn’t come out unscathed. Did I ever know. “So that went okay for a while—as okay as working in porn could go, I suppose—but it was a violation of the school’s policy. They kicked her out of the program, which meant she lost her visa—”

  “And you decided to play the hero. You know she can’t get a green card if the only reason you two got married is for that purpose, don’t you?”

  “It’s not the only reason.” And this time when I said the words, I actually believed them. Maybe I was trying so hard to convince everyone else of that fact that I was starting to think it was the truth.

  “Please, enlighten me,” she said drolly.

  The only problem was I didn’t know how to put all I felt into words. Ever since Tori had come into my life, everything was far more complex and complicated than I knew how to handle.

  “She needs me,” I finally forced out. And I knew it to be the truth.

  Tori didn’t just need someone, she needed me.

  Because I understood what she’d been through, at least better than most men. Because I could see her for who she was underneath all the layers of protection she’d built up around herself. Because I could help her find a way to come out on the other side.

  If she’d let me.

  “You’re sure she isn’t just after your money?” Mom asked after a lengthy silence, following it up with a sigh.

  “Positive.”

  “You said you need help with her? What kind of help? I mean, if she’s got an STD—”

  “She’s clean. We both got tested before we tied the knot. Actually, Tori is the one who insisted on that part.”

  “Then what? I already explained about the birds and the bees a long time ago, Ray.”

  “You did. And you did a good job of it. That’s why I know something’s not right.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “The kind of something where she’s in a lot of pain during sex.” Most guys I knew would run the other direction rather than talk about something like this with their mothers. But most guys I knew didn’t have mothers who were as open and blunt about all things sexual as my mom. It should have been weird, but between the two of us, it was normal.

  “Just because she’s been doing porn, that doesn’t mean you can just skip over foreplay. You’ve got to get her read—”

  “Mom,” I said, cutting her off. “I promise you, we spent plenty of time on foreplay. You explained all of that very well to me, and I can assure you, I’ve had a fair amount of experience to know for myself. In fact, she tried to get me to move on with it and forget about all that, but I knew better.”

  “Well, maybe she needed some more lube?”

  “She was plenty wet. But this was pain, Mom, not just discomfort. If you could’ve seen her eyes…” I still couldn’t get the look I’d found in them out of my head. That was the main reason I’d hardly done anything more than kiss her on the cheek or hold her hand since that night. I couldn’t bear to be the cause of Tori’s pain.

  “Well, that’s not good,” Mom said.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I could understand pain if she was a virgin, and there’s often some discomfort if you stick it in before she’s swollen and wet enough, but beyond that? Something’s definitely not right.”

  “That’s what I thought. So what do I do about it?”

  “I think you need to take her to a doctor. A gyno, not just a family practitioner or something like that. And not one who mainly focuses on obstetrics. Tori’s not trying to have a baby. You need a gyno who deals with things like menstrual issues. I don’t know what this is, but I doubt it has anything to do with the baby-making parts of her plumbing. Maybe one of the guys’ wives can give you a good recommendation. And you might need to go with her, because some girls who’ve worked in the business don’t really want to talk about things like that. They’ll just bite down and bear it.”

  Which was exactly what Tori had done with me. The question was, how long had she been doing that? “Okay. And then what?”

  “Make sure she does whatever the doctor tells her to do. Maybe get her into some counselling, if you can. Coming out of the business and trying to live a normal life is hard.”

  “And?”

  “And be patient with her.”

  I was already doing that to the best of my ability. If only I believed that was enough. “Any chance you can come down for a visit? I can’t bring her to Toronto. Until the immigration stuff gets sorted out, they aren’t going to let her leave the country. And even if she could, there are reasons Toronto isn’t an option.”

  “Reasons?”

  The front door opened, and Tallie’s laughter bubbled into the house. She and Tori came in, carrying at least a dozen bags.

  “Oh, sorry,” Tallie said when she saw me. “Didn’t know you were on the phone.”

  Tori looked embarrassed but maybe a bit more relaxed than she had when they’d left this morning.
That was a good sign.

  I nodded to acknowledge what Tallie said, then decided to wrap it up with Mom. “Yeah. Reasons. I’ve got to go now, though.”

  “Okay, you can fill me in later. And yes, I’ll look at the vacation calendar and see when I can come down. Maybe for the beginning of the season?”

  “That’d be great.” Even if it was months away, and I wished she would come down to help me now, instead.

  “All right. Call you soon. Love you, Ray.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.” I pressed the button to end the call and set the phone on the counter. “Looks like you two had a busy day.”

  “This ain’t even the half of it. I told Tori you would be a sweetie and do the heavy lifting for us. I’ve got to get off my feet.”

  I took the bags she handed to me and waved her into the living room. When I took the bags Tori had, I bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Everything all right?” I whispered in her ear.

  She didn’t flinch at my touch—a good sign—and she shrugged.

  But there might have been a hint of a smile pushing at the corners of her lips.

  WITH TALLIE’S HELP, I’d spent so much of Razor’s money in a single day that I couldn’t even begin to fathom how I would pay him back. Particularly since he didn’t seem inclined to take me up on the only mode of payment I knew. I’d tried on multiple occasions over the past few days to initiate sex, only to have him suggest we talk or cuddle instead. Talking was bad enough, but cuddling? I hadn’t been prepared to go there. And now, if we were going to have any hope of convincing the world that we’d married for love, I was going to have to allow that very sort of intimacy.

  After our shopping excursion, Tallie hung around with us for about an hour, resting with her feet up on the ottoman. After I took my purse to the guest room and Razor finished bringing in the rest of the bags, she regaled us with stories of the adventures she’d had at Babies “R” Us with her husband and his brother last week. They’d gone to purchase furnishings for the nursery and set up her baby registry. Apparently while they were there, Kade had tried to figure out how to use a breast pump, and Hunter had gotten lost in an aisle covered in pink and couldn’t seem to tear himself away, even though they’d settled on yellow and green for the baby’s room.

  “We want to be surprised, so we’re making everything gender neutral.”

  “Sounds like Hunter knows exactly what he wants the baby to be,” Razor said.

  Tallie laughed. “He swears he’s fine with a boy or a girl, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

  Razor eased closer to me on the sofa and draped his arm over my shoulders. I fought down the urge to slip away from him, willing my pulse to slow.

  “Hey, Tallie, you’ve lived here a long time, right?” he asked, sparking my curiosity.

  “Only my whole life.”

  “Any chance you could recommend some good doctors for Tori? A general practitioner, maybe your OB-GYN…”

  What was he trying to do? I scowled up at him. “I don’t need doctor.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t right away, but it’d be a good idea to go ahead and get set up with someone,” he insisted.

  “I love Dr. Rodriguez,” she gushed. “She’s my baby doctor. I’ve been seeing her since my teens, and she’s the best thing ever. And I see Dr. Oliver for everyday stuff. Oh, and if you ever need a good counselor, there’s a fantastic center on Harvard Avenue. We found them when I was trying to get some help for Hunter’s brother with his addiction and depression issues, and we liked them so much I started seeing a therapist there, too. You know, all my Mama issues,” she added at the end, looking at Razor and giving a wave of her hand. “It’s helped me tons. Not saying you need counseling, of course…”

  Except she really was. And maybe I did need it, but the thought of talking to some stranger about all the fucked up things in my life was somehow even worse than the thought of telling Razor.

  “Thanks,” he said. “We’ll check into them.”

  Not if I had anything to say about it.

  After that, Tallie pushed herself to her feet and said she needed to get home and make sure they hadn’t killed each other while she was gone…and to verify that her nursery was coming along the way they’d promised. Razor and I both got up to see her out.

  “Oh, but you should come to the baby shower next week,” she said to me as she gathered her purse and phone.

  I shook my head. “Baby shower?” I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about, that maybe there was a cultural issue standing between me and comprehension. It was just an act, though…one I hoped would get me out of going to any sort of party she might be putting together, particularly one involving a bunch of other women. Buying new clothes and getting a pedicure wasn’t anywhere near enough to make me into the sort of woman who belonged at something like that. There was no makeover in the world that could change the fact that I’d spent the past few years having sex on film for money.

  Tallie didn’t seem fazed by my ploy. “It’s a party. And you don’t even need to bring a gift or anything. I don’t care. I just want you to be there.” She smiled. “You could bring Razor, too. I’m sure Hunter could use some moral support, and even though I’ve begged and pleaded with Kade to be there, I don’t think it’s working.”

  Razor squinted and scratched his head. “What day?”

  “Thursday afternoon. At two. We’re having it at the house, keeping everything nice and easy.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a meeting with… Um…”

  “Mm-hmm.” Tallie rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “But you can come. It’ll be good for you. Some of my sorority sisters will be there, and a few of the other girls I used to do pageants with, and I think a handful of the other players’ wives are going to fly in even though it’s still summer. So you can make some more friends. It’ll be great.”

  Great wasn’t a word I would associate with the kind of torture it sounded like.

  But Razor nodded in encouragement, and I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to give for not going. “I’ll come,” I forced out.

  She bounced up on her toes, grinning a mile wide. “Oh, good. And I’ll come steal you from Razor again soon. We can go to the mall even if we don’t buy anything. I just need to get out of the house and walk around some, you know?”

  I nodded, and she headed out the front door, still talking a mile a minute. I waved as she climbed into her car and drove off.

  Razor closed the door, brushing his arm against mine as he slipped into the empty space behind me. I shivered. Not from cold. From the electricity surging between us, despite the simplicity of his touch. With one finger hooking mine and the slightest hint of pressure, he compelled me to turn and face him.

  I swallowed, fighting to regain control over my response to him.

  There wasn’t enough distance between us. Not nearly enough. The heat of his body wrapped around me as surely as if he’d taken me into his arms, softening my bones and churning my muscles into butter.

  “It’s nice to see you smile,” he said, lifting my hand by nothing more than my pinky finger up to his lips. He kissed my knuckles, then raised my hand higher and kissed the tender skin on the inside of my wrist.

  My belly rippled with the gnawing ache of longing.

  His eyes met mine. They held, steady and sure, trapping me. Uncovering me. I’d never felt more naked and vulnerable than I did right in that instant. Every raw, exposed nerve in my body was screaming for me to back away. To run. To find a way of breaking free from his clear blue gaze so I could protect what little remained of myself before he claimed it as his own.

  But I couldn’t move a muscle.

  And then he kissed me, and it was too late.

  His lips glided across mine, the faint trace of his tongue a velvet-soft request for entry. I opened and almost sighed when his tongue met mine, stroking and tangling in an unhurried exploration.

  The ache in my belly only grew, and the ripples turned to
supercharged jolts that shot out to my limbs in devastating surges. He was making me want things I could never have. My fingers itched to sink into his back and draw him closer, to knot in his hair and drag him down to me. I burned to feel his hands on me, molding my breasts to fit his palms or digging his big hands into my ass cheeks and grinding into me.

  If he would just take me, manhandle me, hard and fast and rough, then I could find a way to drift off. I could brace myself against the pain and, at the same time, make him think I was into it.

  But as long as he kept up this slow seduction, I couldn’t escape to a safe space in my mind. Razor intended to undo me.

  And with every day that passed, I grew more and more afraid that I would let him.

  He broke away but didn’t move back, his lips hovering millimeters over my skin but not quite touching as he moved along the curve of my jaw.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded when I could form words.

  “Kissing my wife.”

  My chest rose and fell like I’d just danced a pas de deux. “Why?” No one was around to see us. Putting on a display like this wouldn’t make any difference in whether I would be granted a green card if there weren’t witnesses. All it was doing was ripping away layer after layer of my defenses.

  Razor let out a sigh and backed away, looking at me with the sort of expression my dance teachers had given me when I failed to properly perform the same move for what must be the thousandth time. “Because if we’re ever going to be able to convince the people around us that we’re desperately in love with each other, then we’re going to have to act like it all the time. Besides, would it be the end of the world if maybe we started to believe it ourselves?”

  Yes. Because if I loved him, he could hurt me. Not just physically but deep down on the inside. If I loved him, the Tambovs could use him against me. They could take him from me, the same as they’d taken everyone and everything else from me. I couldn’t afford to love anyone, not ever again.

  And there was no one left in this world who loved me. At least no one I would ever see again. Mama might still be alive, but only a fool would hold out hope for a reunion.

  I said nothing. He didn’t want to hear the truth.