by Chloe Cox
“Now get the fuck out of my club,” Ford said. “Your goddamned movie can figure it out, or not, I don’t care. But you are out on your ass.”
Adra would be pissed he got violent, but at least he could tell her he pulled his punch. And then he would tell her that she had her club back, because Ford was done with this nonsense.
Now he just had to figure out what to do about Adra.
Twenty-Two
A lot of things happened then, all at once.
Adra found herself thinking seriously about her feelings for Ford, and, most importantly, somehow not having an anxiety attack about the whole thing. He let her skirt around it, so they were spending time together, sleeping in the same bed, but not saying the words. The words were still too much.
But they were getting closer, those words. They were definitely getting closer.
And she didn’t even have too much time to freak out about that, because the movie was in the final, whirlwind stages of production. And that was because Ford had laid down the freaking law. He’d banned Derrick from Volare and told Santos the director to just figure it out, and that if he had any complaints he could bitch about it in his deposition for the lawsuit Volare would file for multiple breaches of contract.
The end result was that the film crews were leaving. They’d frantically gotten in all the shots they could in the meantime, but today was the last day, and the relief from everyone was palpable. Adra would miss Olivia, and much of the crew, but she was happy to have her club back.
Everyone was happy to have their club back.
So happy, in fact, that they were going to throw a giant, informal wrap party just to show there were no hard feelings—with the one obvious exception—and to welcome all the members back to the club they loved. Adra figured this was also an excuse to introduce some new people to the real Volare life, but hey, that was a good thing. She liked Olivia. It would be good to see her stick around and figure out what submission meant to her.
The world was mostly right again.
She sighed.
So why did she feel so ill at ease?
“Adra, honey, where’s your head?”
Adra looked at Lola, who was busy going over a caterer’s menu. The wrap party would be last minute, by their standards, but Lola wasn’t about to scrimp on the food.
“Never mind,” Lola said lightly. “I’m pretty sure I know where your head was.”
“You’re wrong, for once,” Adra said. “My thoughts were perfectly innocent.”
“Then Ford’s not doing his job.”
Adra threw a napkin at her.
“Ford is excellent at his job,” she said, which only made Lola burst out laughing.
“Oh, please, tell me you’ve figured it out,” Lola said. “Does he actually have a job title yet?”
“No,” Adra said, sitting back in…well…confusion. “I don’t know. It’s still too...”
“Unsettled?”
“Unsettled.”
Really, though, the word she was thinking of was “disoriented.” Disoriented, and nauseous.
Adra had never been a roller coaster person. Her brother, Charlie, though? Loved roller coasters. Had been on every roller coaster in California, even the old, rickety wooden ones that looked like they were particularly effective methods of tempting fate. To Adra, they just looked like overly elaborate nausea machines.
And Ford was a freaking roller coaster. The man had no idea what he did to her brain. Since he’d made her realize that submission was the only way she felt comfortable letting another person take care of her, the only time she felt ok needing anybody, the whole notion of needing him in particular had…crept into the rest of her life.
Oh, who was she kidding? She already needed him. She couldn’t begin to imagine her life without him, or the world without him in it. She was a mess. But the weird part was that she hadn’t lost her mind over it yet. For the first time in recent memory, there was a part of her that wanted this. That wanted to be able to open up outside of a scene, to…
No, not just to “open up” in general, indiscriminately, to whoever would have her. It was to Ford. It was always just Ford.
“Oh God, I can’t think about this,” Adra said.
“Then don’t,” Lola said. “It’ll come. In the meantime, help me plan a party.”
“Easy for you to say,” Adra said.
Because the flip side of reveling in the wonder of sort of, sometimes, letting Ford take care of her was feeling like she wanted to take care of him, too. In her defense, that was her natural state. She was a nurturer. She couldn’t help it; it was who she was. But with Ford, it was different. She wanted Ford to be hers. She wanted to know he was ok, she wanted him to be happy.
And she didn’t know what was bothering him.
“Adra, your head went missing again,” Lola said.
Adra looked up.
Fuck it.
“Give me a time line of what happened with his ex-wife,” she said.
Lola put down her menu.
“Why aren’t you asking Ford that question?”
Oh, damn.
“Can we just pretend I have a good answer to that and move on to the part where you tell me everything you know?” Adra asked.
Lola raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, let me ask you something,” Adra said, knowing she was doing something crappy, and not being able to stop herself. “If you thought something was bothering Roman, or hurting him, or whatever, but for some reason he hadn’t told you…”
“Adra.”
“You’d do whatever you had to in order to help him, wouldn’t you?”
Lola picked her menu back up and looked at Adra over the edge. The woman had a flair for drama.
“That doesn’t mean it would be a good idea,” Lola said. “In fact, prying might be a freaking terrible idea. Think about how upset you’d be.”
“I know, I just…” Adra sat back, defeated. If Lola hadn’t convinced her, her own conscience would have. “I just hate feeling so powerless.”
“You sure about that?” Lola asked. “You sure you’re just not freaked out by being on the other side of that whole taking-care-of arrangement?”
Adra looked for another napkin and realized she was all out of ammo. Besides, throwing things at Lola never seemed to work—she’d tried it with a number of things.
It did usually indicate that Lola had a point, though.
Adra hated the idea.
It hurt to think about Ford being hurt. To think she might have already lost her chance to be there for him.
“I just want to help him,” Adra said.
“Assuming there’s anything actually wrong with him,” Lola said, putting down her menu, “I’m pretty sure the only thing that will make Ford feel better is you.”
“Now you get your mind out of the gutter,” Adra said ruefully.
“I don’t mean it like that,” Lola said. Then she smiled. “Though that can’t hurt.”
Adra laughed it off, but she couldn’t shake the self-doubt that had wormed its way into her head, ever since she’d confided in Ford and seen that he couldn’t trust her back. It wasn’t a big thing, not to normal people. But Adra couldn’t help but notice it.
And she decided not to care. Because even if Ford didn’t trust her because she’d already proven herself to be a screw up, or because he was trying to protect her, or even if it was because he wasn’t really over his ex-wife, it didn’t matter. She wanted to help him however she could.
And she was about to get the chance.
The wrap party was magnificent.
It wasn’t even the planning, which was bare bones, or the preparation, which was scatterbrained, but just the sheer enthusiasm. People were so, so happy to have Volare back, to be able to unwind and relax without the pressure of a film shoot, to just be able to enjoy each other’s company. You could see it in the faces of the movie people who were there for the first time as guests, and you could definitely see it in the
faces of the members who were just happy to have their playrooms back.
It was a happy place.
Adra, of course, was wandering around with her head in the clouds. She was pretty sure she didn’t used to do this, pre-Ford situation. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t this angsty pre-Ford.
She wished she could hold that against him, but nope. Overall she felt stronger. Angsty, but only because she was actually dealing with…
Feelings.
So she was wandering around the Volare gardens, lost in thought about what came next, when she heard the voice.
“Adra!”
She spun around, trying to figure out where Olivia was hiding. And why. Why would Olivia Cress, famous actress, be hiding?
“Adra, over here!”
Adra had been walking along the perimeter of the garden, away from most of the revelry, and now she saw that Olivia had been taking a breather by one of the catering tables, abandoned by the catering staff for the moment. Just a few feet away, there was a gaggle of laughing guests, but the tables provided a barrier that made it seem like another world.
“What are you doing out here?” Adra asked, smiling. “I’m pretty sure you’re meant to be meeting a whole bunch of people.”
Olivia blushed almost immediately.
“Wait, you already have met someone?” Adra asked.
“Yes,” Olivia said. “I mean, no. Not that. Later. Right now, look under there.”
She pointed frantically at one of the tables.
Adra was dubious. No, not dubious: she was apprehensive. What on earth could possibly be hiding under a table?
Well, there could be a small boy. That could happen. A beautiful, brown-haired little boy of about three or four, hiding under the table and sticking his tongue out at Adra.
“Oh my God,” Adra said.
“Yeah, exactly,” Olivia said. “I think he’s playing hide and seek.”
“I mean, just, oh my God,” Adra muttered again and then smiled at the child. He smiled back.
He was so sweet.
“Go get Ford,” Adra said without looking up.
And then, when she heard Olivia walk away, Adra took off her shoes, hiked up her dress, and sat on the ground.
“What’s your name?” she whispered.
The little boy just smiled again and covered his mouth with his hands, which were full of grass he’d pulled up from the ground.
Adra laughed.
“I’m Adra,” she whispered again. She pulled out her own handful of grass and pretended to eat it.
The little boy laughed, delighted. He tried to pull on the table cloth to hide himself away from Adra, and nearly brought down a row of champagne flutes.
Then he crawled out from under the table and tried to put a handful of grass in Adra’s mouth.
Adra fell half over, laughing, while the boy climbed into her lap and tried to feed her more grass. She knew enough that she should be stressed out by the fact that there was a child running around unsupervised at Club Volare, with all the champagne and leather everywhere, and she knew Ford would know how to handle the club’s liability…but in the moment, she just let herself feel the joy of hanging out with a child. She’d forgotten how different it was when they were small, how much more innocent and unguarded. Her nephews were all starting to become little tough guys, but this little angel—she missed this. She wrapped her arms around the sweet little boy, blew a raspberry on his cheek, and tried to figure out how she was going to find his parents without causing a panic and scaring the poor kid. Or, for that matter, why his parents weren’t panicking.
Which was why she didn’t notice when Ford arrived until he was practically standing over them, and the little boy threw a handful of grass at Ford’s shoes.
Adra looked up, unable to contain her smile. And then she saw Ford’s face.
She’d always thought the expression “like he’d seen a ghost” was an exaggeration. Nope. Ford was dumbstruck. He was staring at the little boy in her lap, and he was…
He was a statue. Rigidly still, he was a statue with an expression, this slow moving drama playing out across his face. He was like a monument to loss and grief, the only time she’d ever seen anything like that in his eyes.
Adra could feel it all in the pit of her stomach.
She scooped up the little boy and stood up, her eyes searching Ford’s.
“He won’t tell me his name,” she said, while the boy toyed with her hair.
Why wouldn’t Ford say anything? He was staring at the boy.
“I know his name,” Ford said. “It’s Andrew.”
And then he looked at Adra, standing there with Andrew in her arms, and he touched his fingers to Adra’s face. So softly, so gently, but the impact was enough to take her breath away.
What was happening here?
“Do you want to take him?” Adra asked.
Ford flinched. Barely perceptible, but he did. He shook his head, and said, “No, he seems to like you. Let’s get him back to his parents, though.”
“Yeah, about that…”
“I’ll deal with it,” Ford said. He walked Adra over to a chair by one of the catering tables. “Can you wait here for a second?”
“Of course, Andrew and I are buddies,” Adra said. She held up her hand and Andrew slapped it. “We’ll be fine.”
Ford really was gone only a moment.
In retrospect, Adra realized he must have seen the parents right away, in that group of people chatting just a few feet beyond the catering tables. Andrew had never been too far from his parents, thank God, but that wasn’t really the point.
But it was only when Ford brought them over that she started to put the pieces together.
“Adra, this is Claudia and Jesse Gifford,” Ford said. He was even more distant than he had been before. “They are Andrew’s parents.”
Holy shit.
His ex-wife, and her new husband. Ford’s old friend.
It was their kid.
Adra instinctively hugged Andrew in some futile, protective gesture, just as a response to the sudden tension. Then she realized she was hugging someone else’s child, in front of them, and handed Andrew over to his mother.
That didn’t make things less awkward.
“I thought you were watching him,” Claudia said to her husband. Her tone was sharp. She looked tired.
Jesus.
“Um, this might not be the best place for Andrew right now,” Adra said as gently as she could.
Adra felt like crap as soon as she spoke up, but she still wasn’t gentle enough.
“Do you have children?” Claudia snapped.
“No,” Adra said, taking a half-step back. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, when you do, then we’ll talk,” Claudia said, holding her son in one hand and rubbing grass stains off his face with the other. “Sometimes sitters cancel at the last minute. It happens. You do what you have to do.”
Damn it. That wasn’t what Adra had meant at all. The problem was the club’s licenses, not Andrew. Roman had made that very clear at dinner not too long ago, but Claudia thought Adra had just gone after her for being a bad mom.
Adra cringed. She had somehow managed to fit both feet in her mouth.
Ford moved slightly, and all attention went to him. Adra could never figure out how he did that, just commanded a room or a group. But then he put a hand on her arm and drew her to him in that protective way, his eyes on Claudia and Jesse, his face calm, and she stopped caring. She just wanted to melt into him. She wanted to hug him and be held by him at the same time.
She had no idea what else was going on between these three, but this was obviously a mess.
“She’s right, Claudia,” Ford said in that low rumble. “This is a sex club, not a restaurant. It’s no different from the New York rules you already know. Our licenses are very restrictive, this place isn’t childproofed, and there’s unsecured equipment and alcohol everywhere. And more importantly, the club isn’t legally permitte
d to admit minors under any circumstances. This could get us permanently shut down.”
“Don’t lecture me, Ford,” Claudia said.
“I’m not,” Ford said. “I’m telling you the club’s limits. I’m sorry.”
“This is petty,” Claudia said. She was modulating her voice so she wouldn’t upset her son, but her expression was—it was emotional. She had bags under her eyes, and she was looking at Ford with something approaching desperation. “You don’t want us—”
“You know that’s not fair, Claudia,” Ford said. “If I were being petty, your application never would have been accepted in the first place.”
“He’s right, honey,” Jesse said.
Adra looked at the other man, startled, and it occurred to her that he seemed afraid to speak in front of Ford.
This was all kinds of screwed up. She looked at Andrew anxiously, but the little boy seemed to have no idea. Thank God.
Claudia pressed her son’s head to her chest and covered his exposed ear with her hand and said, to no one in particular, “Shit.”
Then she sighed, hefted Andrew up, smiled at her son and rubbed his nose with hers.
“C’mon, little man,” Claudia whispered.
And then she walked off toward the garage.
Adra was…well, confused was one way to put it.
“What the hell?” she said aloud.
“She hasn’t slept in about a week,” Jesse said, looking at them both with this sort of imploring eagerness. “Andrew’s been…well, it doesn’t matter. This was our one night off, and then the sitter canceled, and we were going to leave in a few minutes. She’s just…you have to understand what it’s like…”
He looked at Ford, his former best friend, and trailed off.
Oh God.
Adra recognized the expression on Jesse’s face. It was the same expression her nephews had when they got caught doing something really, really bad, something they knew would be met with disappointment instead of anger—something that bad. It was like Jesse Gifford was asking for forgiveness. Not just for bringing a kid to the club without asking first, but for everything. That was what Claudia’s desperation had been about, that was why Jesse was still here, talking to them, trying to explain the kind of easily avoidable, not-calling-ahead mistake people only made when they were trying to operate on no sleep and no breaks.
