by Savannah May
Not even Cole had pushed me this hard. In fact he'd studiously avoided talking about the night he'd rescued me from our father's torture chamber. The makeshift one he'd set up in the basement of my mother's house.
The same house where I grew up and had played dungeons and princesses down there, pretending I was in a magical cave and that the strong handsome prince, the one featured in all my fairy tale books so he had to be real, the one who'd love me eternally, was about to arrive and whisk me off for everlasting happiness. I had been captured and rescued but the Prince was forbidden to me so really the evil troll in the dungeon had won. He'd separated us both, his so-called children, from our desires.
“Cole has a complicated relationship with his father that has nothing to do with you. The conflict was in place long before he ever met you. Father son battle for power and control” Rowan was saying. I missed most of her harangue, every word aside from the outcasting you came from a great distance, as though I were underwater and she was shouting down from above the surface.
Down there in the depths, I was lost in the dungeon of my own mind. I wondered whether she knew that Cole had met me six years ago rather than last month, or the deeper level that relationship had plundered. Had he told her? I couldn't bear the image of him confiding in her, telling her his feelings for me, whatever they were, or the secret intimacies we'd shared. The knowledge that she knew more abut my gorgeous stepbrother, perhaps more than I would ever discover, ripped me apart inside. Rowan was still talking, obviously assuming than whenever she spoke, attention was automatically paid.
“Once you emerge from the cocoon of judgment that Illicit is for kinky sex addicts and understand what the club is truly about, I know Cole will gladly find a job for you. Until you find your proper niche, that is.”
“Thanks, I'll think about it. Right now I'm going to get my Paris Hilton on and go shopping. This girl got nothing to wear.”
I put on my smuggest smile and went to load my dishes into the dishwasher, that sweet little Fatou was having none of. She grabbed them from me and took them to the sink for careful hand-washing. Every possession belonging to her master had to be lovingly looked after. Open-hearted little Fatou, you could read her feelings blatant as celeb gossip. Her face glowed with adoration when Cole was in the room and collapsed into a much less reverent gaze whenever it alighted on Rowan.
Chapter FOUR
Cole
I told Harley I'd take her to visit Africa one day. It stopped the endless questions about what I'd done out there in the desert. How I ended up in Mali when we were at war in Iraq. Temporarily at least. Harlow's curious about the women in my life too. I could tell she wanted to know if there was someone in Africa and seeing that spark of jealousy fire in her, ignited another in me.
Perhaps she wasn't so set on this step-bro shit after all, because no little sis is going to be envious of other women, not unless he’s got a thing going on for him. I'm keeping her close to me, living in my apartment even though no woman has ever stayed more than one night in my space. And Rowan came up with the obvious idea to get her working with us at the club. It made me irrationally glad to think I can see her all day and maybe all night. I just don't feel comfortable ever letting her out of my sight.
“Tell me a story,” she said, as fluffy adorable as a little girl.
“I don't know any girly stories,” I said, grimacing to cover up the one filthy story I had running around my mind with Harlow lying soft and vulnerable n my arms.
“So tell me a Boy's Own story.”
I remember how she'd been wild for reading adventure romances when I met her. I'd always show up late to meet her, no matter how hard I tried to get there on time and she'd be waiting, patient and happy to see me, almost relieved and tuck the book she'd been lost in, distracting herself from the fear I wasn’t gonna show back into her bag.
“Tell me the story about Fatou. How did you come to find her? She's obviously madly in love with you.”
I laughed, my heart gave another little trill that she was digging around about other women.
“Do you think we had a thing?” I teased.
“Maybe you're secretly married. How else does she come to be here?” I hugged her close to disguise my Boy's Own glee at her attempt to be nonchalant that was a complete fail at disguising her jealousy.
“Fatou is the only woman I ever lived with,” I said with mock seriousness, watching her face get self-control over her surprise. “Until you of course.”
“Yeah, but that's different we're family,” she said with an emphasis in her voice meant to remind me. Way to go to ruin the moment. As though I can ever forget this stupid situation.
“Fatou's like family. She's almost a sister to me.” More than you'll ever be. “I lived with her in Africa for almost four months.”
“Oh.” I loved watching those beautiful swollen lips get round in surprise.
I let it hang there a while, savoring the proof of her attachment before I'd go ahead and let her know that Fatou was the only woman I'd ever spent time with and hadn't fucked. That girl had been through enough already and there was something in her sweet smile despite all the pain and loss she had to bear that reminded me of Harley. The girl I never forgot. Who still rose up in my thoughts halfway round the world in a fucking hut in the desert controlled by evil.
Harley's eyes were scouring my face, two purple heat-seeking missiles searching out the trace of my feelings. There'd be and instant detonation if she'd been able to uncover a single remnant.
“I lost Strike out there, we were separated and I came down with malaria. Not a soul in thousands of miles to care for me. Fatou found me wandering around half delirious half dead and took me home.”
“Wow, that's really amazing she took a stranger in, cant imagine many people doing that here.”
“Even more amazing when you consider the fatwa went out on her when she was discovered harboring a man. They took her at the marketplace for not wearing socks and she was sentenced to stoning.”
“Ohmigod, really for not wearing socks?”
It would have been naive except it was such a curative balm for my cynic's soul- this belief in the world's goodness that Harlow was able to maintain through all the shit she'd experienced first hand. I left out the part of how Fatou spent twelve days in an underground bunker, waiting for their justice while they used her like an animal.
“Women are not permitted to go out in public with their hands or feet uncovered by thick socks and gloves. I busted her out and we drove across the border into Algeria where I got a message to Strike waiting for me in France.”
“You two are saviors like the Musketeers, or Bruce Willis cloned,” she said and I felt slightly guilty for portraying myself as the hero although it was good to finally see her eyes look at me again with something other than distrust.
“And then you got her refugee status to come to the States?”
Fuck, why did she have to ask so many awkward questions. There was no status for women life Fatou. How would it appear for me-a man so far outside the law I was on a different planet, to put on a clean shirt and haul some young girl sporting more burn marks and stretched slack holes than a gang of crack whores, into the embassy to ask for asylum.
“Harl, not everything is as clean as we're led to believe when it comes to official shit. Paperwork, channels, yadda-yadda.”
“I get it,” she said. “You like to take the law into your own hands, yadda-yadda.”
“Only when it's the right thing to do.”
And there it was- the light of mistrust clouding over those beautiful ultra-violet eyes. Did she see him mirrored in my face every time she looked at me?
Harlow
I finally called my mom and agreed to meet her for lunch at a neighborhood place. Somewhere far enough away that I wouldn't be overcome with memories. I'd never again get close to my childhood home, not even in the neighborhood.
“It's great to see you, Mom.”
I could
tell from the way she avoided looking into my eyes, the slightly aggrieved aura that hung around us that she wasn't feeling the love. That I'd gone ages without calling her, putting her in the down position, as she would see it, of having to call me. I wondered how much her husband told her that had turned her away without so much as a word from me.
“I've been calling everyone I could think of, which wasn't a long list. I've been worried half to death. Where have you been? You aren't into drugs are you? Oh god, you aren't on the streets?”
“Mom, relax please. I'm fine. I'm trying to sort my life out.”
“That's what I thought you were doing at home.”
Home. That hideous house was the furthest thing from a home and I was stunned she couldn't see any change in the aura hanging over it now. So her husband hadn't said a word about the reason for my disappearance.
“It's easier to do it while living in the City.”
“But how are you affording it? Your friend Lily said she hasn't seen you in weeks. Where are you living now?” she continued with the barrage of questions so I wanted to run for cover. But my mom was worried about her only child and at least deserved some sort of explanation to put her mind at ease. “Please don't tell me you're turning tricks for a pimp.”
“Mom please, stop watching so much CSI. I'm in- I'm staying with Cole,” I said, avoiding naming the area of the city.
Cole wouldn't want his father knowing where he lived and stalking him again and I certainly had no inclination for him to discover where I was, in case his vitriolic need for revenge fired up again.
“My Cole? Your step-brother? Oh dear,” she uttered in a tone that should have been accompanied with a genuflection against the devil.
“Oh dear what?” I said.
Did she have any idea what the man had done for me? Rescuing me from the torture of her 'oh, dear'? Of course not, how could she? He'd said nothing and from the way he talked about his as though he was a savior of the masses that walked on water, there was no way she knew who she was living with.
“Well, Harlow, he doesn't have a good relationship with his father, zero respect and I wouldn't want you to listen to lies against the man who took you in.”
Took me in? Like a stray? What had he ever done for me that wasn't harmful? I had to swallow back the remark that it was she who'd been taken in.
“Trust me to manage my own opinions, okay Mom?”
“I do, of course I do, dear. It's just that Cole ha a very manipulative streak that he covers up with great charm you might not be aware of.”
Much like your husband, but without the charm, I thought but I didn't have the heart to burst my mom's tiny bubble of romantic attachment. Cole and I would do fine without daddy, and mom too if it came to it, now we had each other.
“Your father would very much like for you to come back, or at least come for a visit.”
I shuddered with the contraction in my stomach walls as though gathering force to hurl. Every time she called him my father I wanted to growl and howl.
“I don't think so, Mom. Sorry.”
“Why not? Why have you suddenly taken against him, is he right that you're jealous that my attention was split?”
“No, I'm glad you have someone but are you sure you know your husband the way you think you do?”
“I suppose you think you know him better. You have been totally turned against him, I knew it and now I see why.”
“Nobody told me anything I hadn't already seen for myself, I promise. I wish you could see the real man you're living with. I could tell you-”
“Nonsense. Don't try to mess up my marriage like you did with your daddy. This man is all I've got left now. Without him I'll live out my life and die all alone.”
“Okay Mom, don't get upset, I'm sorry.”
Why did I always have to apologize to her for something I hadn't done?
“Please Harlow, he would like you to come back. It's very important to him to have family now.”
“Did he send you to tell me this?” I asked, the swirling and quicksand tug in my stomach returning.
“He wanted you to know that you're welcome and that you should not trust that boy of his with a single hair on your head.”
“I'm happy where I am right now and all this moving around isn't helping me focus on finding a job and everything. I don't plan to stay with Cole for long but he's offered to help me get established and as I said it's easier in the city.” I was desperate to tell her the truth of what happened but the story wouldn't come out of my mouth.
How could I tell my mother that her own husband had attacked me at his son's club and groped me in all the places he shouldn't. How could I describe being tied up and stripped by him in my own childhood home? I had no idea where to begin, terrified of seeing the crumple of my mother's face. Or worse, having her blame me for what happened in the basement with her husband as always seemed to happen from as far back as I can remember.
Chapter FIVE
As soon as I left my mom and her invocations to come 'home' any time, I went right over to Lily's place, just needing a complete break from family drama.
“Holycow Harlow where have you been? I've been going nutso wondering what happened to you. So has your mom. And who was that drop-straight-to-your-knees- gorgeous hunk that came here demanding to know where you were. Thank the holycows Ram was with me or I could have done sinful things to that devil man all before breakfast. Who is he? Tell me everything and stop holding out on your best BF.”
“Whoa, one question at a time and what's with the Holy Cows?”
“Oh it's a joke thing between Ram and I. Cows are totally sacred in his culture. They sit on the beach in India, reclining like Teen Idols at the Standard Pool and people bring them pina coladas.”
“They serve cocktails to cows?”
“Okay I made that up about the pinas, but they bring them food and stuff so they never have to get off their backsides. Never mind silly cows, tell me about the hot guy right now?”
I laughed at how Lily had started using funny British words like backside and silly cow since she'd been dating Ram, the Indian banker with a full-on English accent just like Prince Harry's. It was so good to be hanging with her again, relaxed, giggling at silly cows sipping cocktails on the beach and not stressing about my step-family. Ugh.
The image rushed back onto my mind and when Lil pressed me harder, about what had been going on and why the Man-God had been so desperate to find me, I caved in, tears pressing their vicious prickles at my eyelids.
“He's the one I've been dreaming of,” I stuttered, clenching my fists to stop the overflow from my lids.
“Hey, what's up?” Lily noticed the high tide flood my eyeballs, my trembling lower lip threatening to lose it. “That's it, I'm cracking a carton of wine and you're going to tell me everything.”
In the tiny open kitchen, she was still only a few feet away from me and kept a watchful eye as she pulled a juice box from the refrigerator, plainly labeled “Vin de California”. I laughed through the tears welling, remembering how we used to treat ourselves to a four dollar carton of wine. She flipped the plastic nub back and poured two slugs of dark red liquid into tumblers.
Had I already become so accustomed to sipping Spanish Rioja reserva from crystal glasses? Cole had even introduced me to real French champagne which was yummy but gave me hiccups when I swallowed it down like pop. He'd promised he was going to show me Paris sometime soon, as well as Africa, which I was not so sure about. He spent time in France but omitted to say doing what other than something to do with combat in Africa.
“Hallo, Planet box wine to Harlow, your time is up,” Lily called through my imaginings.
“Sorry, I was thinking about Paris.”
“Miles away as usual. If only you could make a career out of dreaming, you'd be rich as those bankers you avoid. So- tell me about doctor Dreamy and why does he make you cry, the bastard?”
“I don't know where to begin,” I said.
“So the typical a-hole. Why are you stressing about him after he split on you?”
“There's some reason he ran out.”
“Isn't there always?”
“I'm sure with this one. I just haven't gotten around to asking him about it. It's been such a wild ride since I met him again.”
And the queasiness that kept hurling at my stomach whenever I though about Cole as my brother returned and I couldn't tell Lily about that, nor about the night with his father, my mother's husband.
I still did not remember the details but every time the sense of that dark basement welled in my chest, the memory of being vulnerable to evil, shackled and used, overwhelmed and threatened to reduce me to rubble. Much as I wanted to tell her about the nightmare, it remained locked up and I switched to a simpler tale.
“He's got this girl who lives with him-no don't look like that- a housekeeper I mean. But she's really young, probably younger than me, I don't know because she doesn’t speak a word of English. Well, one word- ee-nema- enema. Yeah, I know, if you could see your face right now, you'd wet yourself.”
“I'm confused,” Lily said, wiping the shocked laughter tears with the backs of her hands.
“Right. So what am I supposed to make of a young African tribe girl living in my-Cole's- penthouse, cleaning like there's no tomorrow, whose only word is enema?”
“It's just that when he was here, looking for you, Ram recognized him.”
“What? How? From that bar?”
“No from the cover of a business magazine. Ram was really impressed with meeting him here and Ram's not an impressed by fame and fortune kinda guy. It was because of all the work Cole does and he gave him a huge check as donation.”
