Smiling sadly, her eyes moist, she nodded as he sat down again too. “And maybe not even then,” she said.
Later they took their drinks out onto the deck and watched the last streaks of sunset following the sun into the sea. Charley commented that the place smelled even better now than it had earlier, and Eve explained that as the breeze lessened, the bushes and trees around the house—hibiscus and jacaranda and bougainvillea—got their chance to show off.
“It doesn’t sound much like Flossmoor,” Charley said.
“What do you grow there?”
“Oak trees mostly,” he said, which made her laugh.
“The truth is, though, it’s very beautiful. In fact, that’s one of the things I miss out here, the great old trees, the oak forests. Flossmoor seems more, I don’t know, more like America.”
Eve pretended to be offended. “It wouldn’t if Norman Rockwell had lived here.”
Charley laughed. “You’ve got a point.”
She went over and turned off the hot tub, which had been filling since they’d come outside.
“The tub’s ready,” she announced. “Now, if we only had some swimsuits.”
“We don’t?”
“No, I checked Aunt Maureen’s room. No guest suits, just her own, which could serve as a tent. So I guess we’ll just have to go with our underwear.”
“Boxer shorts?” Charley said. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
She laughed. “Indeed I am!”
Charley had already brought out glasses and a pitcher of martinis, and Eve now placed three candles around the tub and lit them, candles that she said were guaranteed to keep the mosquitoes away. Charley turned away from her as he got out of his clothes, all except his shorts, and he pretended no great interest in Eve as she slipped out of her dress now and edged down into the tub, her taut, lovely body naked except for a lacy white bra and panties.
The two of them slipped all the way down into the water, with only their heads visible, facing each other about six feet apart, both smiling as the hot, churning water caressed their flesh.
“It’s kind of like that beer commercial,” Charley said. “It just doesn’t get any better than this.”
Eve laughed. “I’ll second that.”
Pushing back and upwards, Charley poured their drinks and reached out to give one to Eve.
“Not yet,” she said, her head still the only part of her above water. “There’s one thing I want to say first, while I’m still sober. You know what you said inside, about knowing that I loved Brian?”
Charley nodded.
“Well, I just wanted you to know I’m not sure about that anymore. Lately it seems that my feelings for him are more sadness and anger, you know? I mean, it hurts me to see the state he’s in. And I get angry too, at the things he’s doing. But love? I just don’t know anymore, Charley. Okay?”
Charley wasn’t sure what to say to that. Setting her drink close to her, he nodded sympathetically. “Of course, Eve. And being his brother, I think I know where you’re coming from.”
“I’m sure you do.” Suddenly then she smiled, happily, beautifully. “There! That’s over. Now we can soak.”
“Right.”
She took a sip of her martini and set it back down. In the position the two of them were in, half reclining, their bodies tended to rise in the water, and as a result, their legs kept touching.
“There is one other fly in the ointment,” she said now. “Underwear. Clothes! In a hot tub, they just don’t feel right, at least not to me. So I was wondering, if I were to suggest we dispense with them, would it be possible for you not to think I was coming on to you?”
“Of course.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“I don’t know. Because of Brian, for one thing.”
“What else?”
“Because if that’s what you said, so be it. I believe you.”
Eve shook her head, almost in wonderment. “Charley, you’re something special, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever known a man like you before.”
“You poor kid.”
“No, honest.”
“It’s my shorts, right?”
She laughed. “No, I mean the fact that you can be such a straight-arrow one minute—such an innocent—and the next, funny and sophisticated. And you’re so easygoing on the outside…”
“And on the inside, what? Paranoid schizophrenic?”
“No, easygoing.”
“You found me out.”
“Well, what about it? Au naturel?”
“Why not?” Putting down his drink, Charley slipped out of his shorts and tossed them onto the deck just as Eve began to remove her bra and briefs, all done underwater. In her case, though, she didn’t toss them onto the deck so much as set them there, which caused her to come up out of the water for a second or two, exposing her breasts in the process.
Naked now, unencumbered, she and Charley settled back, content to loll there in the burbling water, with the candles burning about them and the sky beyond the lemon trees slowly darkening, becoming almost the inky color of the sea, where a scattering of oil-drilling platforms winked on and off, red and green. Their legs continued to touch every now and then, and Charley helplessly felt his cock swelling. Afraid she might see him through the water, he sat back farther and took his drink in hand, wanting to drain it almost as much as he wanted her not to notice his tension. So he sipped at it slowly, saying nothing, unable to take his eyes off hers, unable to read what he saw there.
Oddly, Eve suddenly was looking almost grave, as if she had remembered something unpleasant or pressing. And she too seemed to have nothing to say. It was as if, in becoming nude, they had rendered themselves mute. Occasionally she seemed to forget about the natural buoyancy of her body, and her breasts would rise briefly out of the water, two perfect little islands, pink at the crest. And Charley continued to wonder if she could see his erection through the water. Rattled, he poured himself another martini and gestured to freshen hers, but again she declined.
“No, I’m fine,” she said.
Charley settled back then, somewhat puzzled by the intensity of her gaze. As he watched her, the corners of her mouth curled upwards in the hint of a smile, one of irony or reflection.
“It’s funny,” she said, “being here like this. Doesn’t it make you kind of regret that we’re not more like Brian? I mean, him and his meaningless one-night stands.”
Not quite knowing what to say to that, Charley heard himself going off on a tangent, practically babbling. “I’ve got this weird phobia about phrases like that—I mean, one-night stand. I mean, it might have been hip at one time, but now it’s just a cliche. Like ‘on the rocks’. I sometimes order Scotch and ice, and the waiter invariably looks dumbfounded for a moment, then says, ‘Oh, you mean on the rocks.’ I’m tempted to bring in a real rock one day and drop it on his foot and say, ‘Now, that is a rock. What I want is ice.’”
By then, Eve was smiling at him as if he were a child. “Charley, I think you’re evading my question,” she said.
Nodding in defeat, he set his drink down. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I guess I just didn’t want to admit that I lied to you in Colorado about my faithfulness. The fact is, over the last ten years or so I’ve done my share of cheating too—away from home, at conventions and the like, one-night affairs every bit as meaningless as Brian’s. And worse in a way, because I don’t like to admit to them.”
“You’re ashamed of them?”
Charley started to say ‘Of course,’ another lie, but caught himself in time. “No, not really. I can’t truly say I think it’s wrong or evil. I mean, all our married lives, men fight against the desire for other women. We look at all the beautiful girls—all the beautiful women—and we eat our hearts out, while our wives seem to have pretty much what they want—the home and the kids and, on occasion, us. So I guess I rationalize. I tell myself that an occasional dalliance far from home—what does it hurt? When I re
turn home, things don’t change. Everything’s still pretty much just like it was before, not bliss maybe, but not misery either.”
Eve shook her head. “That’s a pretty sad story, Charley.”
“Is it? Yes, I suppose so. But I wanted you to hear the truth, Eve. And please don’t think I’m telling you this in order to make things happen between us here tonight. I’m glad you’re true to Brian. But even if you weren’t, nothing would happen between us.”
“Why? Because of Brian?”
“That too.”
“What else?”
Charley didn’t answer immediately. He knew he had been backed into some some sort of ultimate corner where there could be no more facile twists and turns, no more evasions. And he regretted it, because he knew the truth would put an end to the whole lovely evening as well as to his own stupid, hopeless dreams and send her running for the nearest exit. When he spoke finally, his voice was matter-of-fact, even cold.
“I think you know the reason, Eve. I’d never want it to be a one-time thing. I’d never want it to end.”
As before, her head seemed disembodied, floating on the roiling water, the beautiful face and abundant hair, the large green eyes looking almost orange in the candlelight. But suddenly the eyes were glistening and the head was moving toward him and rising, followed by her shoulders and breasts and arms coming up out of the water, the arms reaching for him.
“That’s just how I feel, Charley,” she said.
After making love in the hot tub—actually more out of the tub than in it, as passionate as they both were—the two of them went upstairs to Aunt Maureen’s bedroom and continued to make love off and on through much of the night. Charley was amazed that he still had it in him, this sudden surge of youthful virility, but he had no doubt as to its source: the lovely, wondrous creature beside him, and under him, and on him.
The California night played its part too, warm but dry, with a light breeze moving the gossamer curtains and a half-moon dimly lighting the room as well as the lovers’ bodies. Charley was not sure when he fell asleep, but he suspected that it was three o’clock or later, for he slept till almost eleven the next morning. Eve was already out of bed, showered and bathrobed, preparing just the sort of breakfast they both needed, or at least wanted: pancakes, bacon, eggs, the works.
Later she found a cache of champagne, a half-dozen bottles of Mumm’s her aunt must have been saving for a special occasion.
“One just like this,” Eve said. “She must have known you were coming.”
They laughed at the double entendre, unintentional though it had been. And they did tap into the champagne, but lightly, the two of them not needing much in the way of stimulation. They spent most of that day in bed or in the hot tub, with occasional forays into the kitchen for sustenance. And when they weren’t dozing or making love, they talked. They talked about their lives, but only partially, at Eve’s insistence omitting any mention of Brian.
“Just for now,” she said. “I know he’s your brother, and he’s been my life for three years, but I don’t want him intruding now, okay?”
Charley frowned. “Aw, gee, I was hoping we could just lie up here and talk about him full time.”
Eve gave him a push, as if she were trying to knock him out of bed. “Smartass,” she said.
“I know.”
“Charley, I’m serious about this.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course I agree. I don’t want to talk about or even think about anyone who ever touched you before.”
She smiled at that. “The possessive type, uh?”
“You bet. You’re mine now. I own you. I can do with you as I choose. And right now I choose this.” He lightly bit her below the navel and moved upwards, still biting and kissing, going from one breast to the other.
She laughed contentedly and pulled him higher, bringing his mouth to hers. And then they grew quiet, as it all began to build again, their own private phoenix rising from the ashes of its last immolation.
Late that afternoon they drove down to Carpenteria to buy fresh fruit and vegetables, along with other food items that Aunt Maureen kept in her huge freezer but which Eve wanted fresh. Afraid that someone might recognize her, she had put on dark glasses and covered her head with a scarf, and even then she didn’t go into the store herself but sent Charley, with a list. Inside, checking it as he filled the cart, he felt like a little boy. A very happy little boy.
The next day the two of them ventured down the coast to Santa Barbara and not unexpectedly found it heavily infested with tourists, its exotic tree-lined streets and handsome Spanish buildings overflowing with Northerners and Easterners, many standing in line just to get a table at a sidewalk cafe or to enter one of the city’s picturesque shopping courtyards. Eve again had covered her hair and put on the darkest glasses she could find. Still, she did go along with Charley into a couple of shops, where he bought some needed clothes: underwear, shirts, slacks, a jacket, and tennis shoes, deck shoes actually, since he wouldn’t have been found dead in a good modern sports shoe, the Nike and Reebok stuff, with all their stripes and whorls and glitz. Later, he and Eve went walking barefoot along one of the city’s splendid beaches, though it too was overrun with visiting humanity.
That night, after a steak dinner and more hot-tubbing and lovemaking, Charley lay awake while Eve slept beside him. It was a warm night again and the moon had finally made its appearance, a little lower and slimmer, but still bright enough to fill the room with a soft blue light. Eve was lying on her side, facing away from Charley, with a sheet covering her almost to her shoulders.
For a time, resting on his elbow, he lay there looking at her, at the dark hair carelessly spread across the white pillow and at the line running from her shoulder down to her slim waist before rising again, steeply, into the thrilling swell of her hip, which in turn flowed down into her plump, yet hard, buttocks. And it occurred to him that if he had handed God a work order for a mate, she would have been a twin of Eve, this new friend of his, this woman, this beautiful creature he now loved.
He was so lost in the moment, so lost in her, that he suddenly found himself reaching over and gently peeling the sheet off her, so he could look at her without anything in between. He knew he should have been thinking of other things, such as Donna, his home, his life in Flossmoor. How on earth could he square all that with this? With Eve? And then there was Brian. Given all that, he had no illusions that what lay ahead for him and Eve would be anything like sweetness and light. For that matter, he had no way of knowing how deep Eve’s feelings for him were. Possibly all this was merely a matter of opportunity, of time and place, of lemon trees and the sea.
But none of that made any difference. In truth, he was happy and even grateful to be in the predicament he was in. For the first time in years, he felt alive.
In time, embarrassed by what he had done, he carefully pulled the sheet up over her again. But even then he compensated for his loss by moving in tightly against her, putting his arm around her waist and gently cupping her breast in his hand. And he whispered, too softly for her to hear.
“Sleep, my love.”
Late the next afternoon the telephone rang, signaling the end of their idyll together. At first, the two of them just stood there and looked at each other, Charley to see if she was going to pick up the phone and Eve evidently to see if he thought she should.
“It could be about my father,” she said. “He’s not in the best of health.”
“Then you better answer.”
She did so, softly saying “Hello,” then listening for a few moments, during which she mouthed the caller’s name to Charley: “Brian.” Then she went on.
“How’d you know I’d be here? … What’s wrong with her? … Brian, she’s eighteen. If she doesn’t want to go home, what could we do? … ‘We’ is Charley. He’s here with me.” She turned to Charley then. “He wants to talk with you.”
Charley took the phone. “It’s me,” he said.
> “Taking care of my girl, huh?”
Charley ignored that. “Where are you?”
“Seattle. That’s all I can say on the phone. But I do need to see you and Eve A.S.A.P. I’ve got to figure out what to do—I mean, like how to turn myself in. Where and when. Stuff like that.”
“You’re a big boy now, Brian.”
“Not that big, Charley. I just don’t know all the ramifications, you know? It couldn’t hurt to talk it over with my big brother and my girl, could it? She still is my girl, isn’t she, Charley?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“I will, don’t worry. And listen, man, I’ve still got your money, haven’t I? I mean, it’s not like you would’ve given it to me if you’d known I was going to jump bail, right? So I figure it’s still yours. I want to give it back.”
That almost took Charley’s breath away. “I’m all for that,” he said.
“Then you guys will come up here?”
“I will, yes. As for Eve, you’ll have to ask her.”
“Don’t worry. And listen, Charley, fly up as soon as you can, okay? I mean, like today.”
“As soon as I can, right.”
Brian then asked him to put Eve back on, and Charley gave her the phone. She spoke a little more about the girl, evidently Stephanie’s Terry, then reluctantly agreed to fly up with Charley.
“Yes, as soon as we can,” she told him, digging a pencil and paper out of the phone-stand drawer. “All right, go ahead … But why not just give us the address?… All right, noon and six, yes.” She wrote down his directions and said good-bye.
After hanging up, she shook her head in disgust. “We have to meet him in some goddamn park. Noon or six. Isn’t that cute? He must figure we’ll arrive with the FBI.”
“Me, probably, not you.”
“I wonder.”
“So we’ll meet him in the park.”
Eve’s eyes were heavy with concern, even dread. “I really don’t like this,” she said. “It’s like I’ve finally reached shore, and now I’m being told to turn around and swim out into the deep again.”
Eve's Men Page 19
