by Girard, Dara
He turned her around to face him. "You have more than that."
"Such as?"
"You have a home."
She sniffed. "A home is the smell of baked cookies, ironed clothes, clean carpets. My mother could do it all."
His eyes fell, his voice grew soft. "After our parents died, Drake found a place in an old drafty building, with rodents, old boards, broken windows, and trash outside. Winter was settling in and the cold slipped in through every crevice." He looked up at her. "But we called it home."
She looked at him, wishing she knew the right thing to say. She didn't know much about his past. Cassie had glossed over how Drake had taken care of his younger brother and sister when their parents had died, but in the face of their current success, she'd forgotten about the struggle they'd gone through.
"How old were you?"
There was a ghost of a smile. "In years or experience?"
"Years."
"Thirteen."
"Must have been awful."
"I survived."
For a moment she saw the man behind the shield, saw a glimpse of the young boy whose faith in the goodness of the universe was shattered. She knew he didn't share much, making his story a gift. "Why did you call it home?"
"Because a home is where the people you love live."
A simple concept, but she wasn't sure it was true. She loved her family, but could never call their grand English Tudor home. She thought about the rooms she could never enter, the dining table that was always set. Her mother happily cooking in the kitchen while her brothers studied or played football in the backyard. Her father's heavy footsteps and his scowl when he saw her dismal report card. She watched her mother fawn over her father and brothers while working part-time as a nurse. Always cheerful and happy with the many roles she played. Adriana watched her privately, knowing she could never be like that.
He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Stop worrying about how you think the relationship should be and let it be what it is." He kissed her briefly, tenderly. "I'd like to say the same about us. Are you willing to take the risk?"
Adriana shook her head.
Eric pulled away, his voice deepened. "Why not?"
"Because I can't figure you out."
He held his arms out. "There's nothing to figure out. You date guys who could bend steel with their pinkies. What's so threatening about me?"
She shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into words.
"Let's not talk about this anymore."
"Yes."
At least she would have said yes, if his mouth hadn't reached hers first. His kiss was more persuasive than words. He was a definite threat, making her feel things he had no right to.
"I can't handle this," she admitted when he pulled away.
"You don't have to handle me." He headed for the closet. "Trust me." He opened it and glanced down.
Adriana softly swore.
He lifted a shopping bag. "What's this?"
She shrugged, feigning innocence.
He dug to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the receipt. He read the date, then looked at her. "Did you write down these purchases?"
"No. At least not yet."
He scanned the items and then dropped the receipt in the bag. "Take them back."
"What?"
"You don't need them. They haven't been worn and you haven't missed the return date."
"I can't return them."
"Why not?"
She held up her hands. "Listen, I know I ruined your birthday, but your constant humiliations have more than made up for it."
He looked at her, amazed. "Humiliations?"
"You made me look stupid at the Hirshhorn."
"How?"
"You said Hofmann was Rothko. You could have at least pretended not to know."
"I didn't know. I read the label."
"And you embarrassed me in front of Nina at the restaurant. Now you want me to add to my disgrace by returning these clothes."
"How can that be humiliating?"
"It will look like I can't afford them."
Eric sighed, exasperated. "But you can't. Do you have the money to cover these charges?"
"That's not the point."
He shut the closet. "We'll return them tomorrow."
Adriana narrowed her eyes. "I'm not returning them."
He only smiled.
* * *
She hated him. With every ring on the register she hated him more. Each deduction echoing in the air added to her shame. Nina watched in the background. She'd probably never seen such a thing before. Each deduction said: Your mother's pathetic. She has no money. She has no willpower. And this latest humiliation was all his fault. She stared at the culprit.
Eric leaned against the counter studying the screen. She hated his face, his eyes, his voice. She hoped he fell through a manhole. She resisted the urge to stab him with the pen the clerk handed her. She signed the receipt and left the store, ignoring his presence for several blocks.
"Adriana," he said.
She sidestepped a wino.
"I'm proud of you."
She stopped and glared at him. "No, you're only proud of yourself. Congratulations, you made a complete fool out of me."
"Impossible."
She walked again. "You don't understand how it feels, the snickers, the whispers. The clerk sent me a knowing look. She knew."
"I know how you feel," he said quietly.
"How?" she asked, doubtful.
"I used to take a brown bag to lunch."
"So?"
"There was nothing in it. Everybody knew there was nothing in it, but I still carried the bag."
"Why?"
"Image. I didn't want people to know I didn't have lunch. I soon learned to stop pretending."
It wasn't the same. He had been a little boy. She was a grown woman, which made it that much worse. She was still pretending to be something she wasn't and her daughter had been there to witness it. The rush of an October wind stung her eyes.
"Why don't we all go to the movies?" Eric suggested.
"Yeah," Nina said.
Adriana wanted to go home. "You two have fun. I have things to do."
If Eric or Nina was disappointed, neither showed it.
"Next time," he said.
"Bye, Mom."
She watched them leave. It wasn't the first time in her life she'd felt the odd one out.
She didn't go home. She went to the mall. A shopaholic's ultimate high. She bought a brown, suede jacket and a red, silk blouse. Eric wanted to tame her. He lectured her as if she were a little girl, but she would remain free. From him and any man that tried to control her. She wrote down her purchases in large red ink.
Once home the euphoria wore off. She looked at her bag in disgust. No wonder Eric treated her like a child since she acted like one, hurting herself just to spite him. She wouldn't return the items though. She'd figure out a way to pay for them. She always did. She took off the tags and hung the things in her bedroom closet.
She was reading the Style section when they returned home. Nina told her about the movie like a trailer announcer, then went to her room. Adriana expected Eric to leave also, but he hung up his jacket and sat on the couch.
"So what did you buy?" he asked.
Heat stained her cheeks. She turned the page.
"I don't know why you act like I'm the enemy. It's your habit that's gotten you into trouble."
"I know that," she said in a tight voice. If he began to lecture her, she would hurt him.
"Then stop acting like a child and face it. Admit you have a problem and we can fix it."
She fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm in complete denial. Perhaps you could schedule an intervention."
He drummed his fingers on his knee, then said, "Open your palm."
"Why?"
"Just open it."
She did.
He placed a five-dollar bill in it. "This is called money."
&nbs
p; She tore it in half. "And now it's called paper."
He stared at her, stunned. "You ripped it up."
"I know."
He fell on his knees and gazed down at the ruined dollar. "I can't believe you ripped it up."
"Just tape it. Sorry, but I've never felt the need to worship money."
He took the two halves of the bill and tried to align them on the coffee table. "I don't worship money. I respect it." He shook his head. "I can't believe she ripped it up," he mumbled to no one in particular.
She grabbed her purse and handed him five dollars. "There. Does that make you feel better?"
"No. Do you use fifty-dollar bills as confetti?"
"Eric. Stop making this a tragedy. It's no big deal." She fetched tape from her office and quickly repaired the damage. She held up the bill. "See? Good as new. Do you wish to bow or just salute?"
He didn't reply; she didn't expect him to. She returned to her paper.
He watched her. She could feel his eyes. After a few moments, her patience snapped. She threw her paper at him. "Stop studying me like a scientist! I'm not some mathematical equation that needs to be solved or a system that needs to be fixed. Your impenetrable dark eyes are irritating!"
He pushed up his glasses. "I'm trying to think of something to say."
"How about good-bye?"
He glanced away and muttered something under his breath. "Nina and I had a great time," he said finally. "We—"
Adriana grabbed a magazine, determined to ignore him. "I'm not interested."
"Stop being afraid."
"Listen here, Mr. Courage. If you go out on my balcony and touch the railing, then I'll have an affair."
His jaw twitched. "I don't do ultimatums."
"Then you know where the door is."
Eric stretched out his legs. Calm, he reminded himself. He had to be calm. He wasn't upset. If he wasn't careful he was going to lose her. He didn't plan to do that. He made his voice casual. "You want me to go onto the balcony?"
"Yes."
"You think I'm a coward?"
"Yes."
He relaxed his grip on the couch. "You're right," he agreed smoothly. "It's ridiculous for a grown man to have such a fear, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Yes."
"Free Friday?"
"Yes."
He stood.
She blinked as he opened the door. "Wait a minute!" He placed a finger over her lips. "I'm saying good-bye. Happy now?"
* * *
"Cassie told me," Drake said as Eric entered the Blue Mango's back office. The gray, drizzly day seeped into the austere finish of the room.
Eric hung up his jacket. "Told you what?"
Drake stood against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "About Nina."
Eric took a seat and opened a drawer.
"Quite a complication."
Eric pulled out a folder and shut the drawer. "She's not a complication."
"It's hard to have a relationship with a kid involved."
He glanced up. "You speak from experience?"
"Common knowledge."
"Nina will not be a problem."
"You're determined to make this work, aren't you?" Drake sat, crossing his legs at the ankles. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say this was serious."
"Fortunately, you do know me."
"Sometimes I wonder."
Eric began reviewing the expenses. He knew his brother couldn't figure him out. He preferred it that way. He had maintained a distance from people all his life. He knew a psychologist would say that his parents' deaths had traumatized him so much he was fearful to get close to anyone. It ran much deeper than that. There was a dark part of him no one would understand. At times it even scared him. He made sure to keep it well hidden.
"I still think this is a bad idea," Drake said.
"Since when is having fun a bad idea?"
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. "Adriana is not like you. She can't cut off from people like you do."
Eric pushed up his glasses. "Do you honestly see her getting attached to me? One thing I'm not is a heart-breaker."
"You deserve more than this. You can't keep on having affairs."
"I take what I can get."
"You can get better than this."
Eric tapped his pen against the desk. "Want to place some odds on that?"
Drake lit a cigarette; Eric tightened his grip on the pen.
His brother only smoked when he was worried or upset. He hated to see him do it. Hated to know he was the cause.
"I thought you were quitting," he said, watching the smoke drift to the ceiling.
Drake smiled without humor. "I'm always quitting."
"If it's an oral fixation, why don't you just suck your thumb? You'll look just as ridiculous."
Drake exhaled and studied him through the haze.
Eric sighed. "I like my freedom. I like trying new things, meeting new people. No one will get hurt."
"Jackie found an engagement ring in your room."
Nosy brat. He would have to get his spare key back from her. "I needed something to pawn." He hated lying to his brother, but it wouldn't be the first time.
Drake shook his head, not willing to probe further. "What about Nina?"
"She's not part of this equation."
Drake took a long drag and exhaled. "She will be. Don't be reckless."
"I'm never reckless."
Drake sent him a look.
"That was a long time ago."
Drake tapped his cigarette ashes in a tray, maintaining his gaze.
"I made money for us. Are you going to hold it against me?"
Drake took another long drag. "Are you?"
Chapter 8
Adriana watched Rita Detano walk into the ballroom of the Montgomery Hotel. She had the energy of a caffeine addict and a smoker's deep voice.
She ran her fingers through her short reddish brown hair as she sat. "Thank you for coming, Adriana." She set a small Coach bag on the table.
"I couldn't help it. You said it was an emergency."
"My life is an emergency, honey. I need help. You like the room?"
Adriana surveyed the space around her. The large gilt mirrors, chandeliers, wooden floor, and round tables would be transformed in a few months. "Of course."
"Good. Let's eat."
They went to the hotel restaurant. Adriana looked at the prices and silently swore. Eric would kill her.
"Don't worry, I'm paying," Rita said.
"I'll kiss your feet later."
"No need. I just had a pedicure."
They ordered and then talked about the fashion show.
Rita said, "I got the Timmons modeling agency to provide six girls and four men."
"You mean women, not girls."
"It wasn't a slip of the tongue, honey. They specialize in twelve-year-olds that look twenty-five. I requested girls at least sixteen. You know how the industry is."
"Well, that's good."
"Mazur will handle the flowers and Praxton is handling the publicity."
"Will they be tasteful this time?"
Rita lit a cigarette and blew out the match. "People came."
"Yes, and were disappointed. Silhouette nudes give the wrong impression."
"They'll be tasteful this time." They paused when the food arrived. "So I hear you're going to show some of Divine Notions' new line."
"Yes."
"I'm sure it will be fabulous. Not like Vinton, who everyone talked about. He went to New York and fell flat on his face. There was nothing special about his work anyway." She tucked into her salmon. "So when can I see them?"
"Soon."
"You can't keep them hidden. You know I have to give a description to the announcer."
"I know."
Rita tapped a finger on the table, displaying her bright pink manicure. "You have until December, early January the latest, and then I have to see them."<
br />
Adriana smiled wearily and lifted her drink.
* * *
The thought of Rita reviewing her work was paralyzing. She couldn't work, her mind was blank, and her last date with Eric didn't help. They had gone to the National Air and Space Museum. She sighed. Would every date be an educational adventure? She bought Nina a necklace; she'd politely thanked her. Eric had offered to buy Adriana a small chain at the museum shop; she chose something else, offering to pay the difference. Adriana was glad to use him as a buffer with Nina but she needed stimulation—excitement.
She invited her friends over that week. She needed to bring back a semblance of what her life used to be before Nina and Eric. Nina politely introduced herself, then went to her room, whispering that they looked scary.
"So how's your friend doing?" Hinton asked, popping a beer can.
Adriana frowned. "Who?"
"The old man," Randan said.
"Oh, Eric, yes." She curled up her legs, grabbing a handful of pretzels from the coffee table. "My little mathematical nerd is becoming a nuisance."
"He seemed sweet to me," Tanya said.
"Then you try dating him. He actually schedules dates where we can take Nina along. Not exactly a hot, passionate affair. You'd think he'd have passed the meaning of the word in the dictionary."
"You should be grateful he still wants to see you," Emily said. "Many men back off when a woman has a kid."
Tanya smiled. "I think men who like kids are sexy."
"I like kids," Randan said.
"Delinquents usually."
Hinton set his beer can down. "I don't think you're giving him a chance."
Adriana sighed. "But he's not like us."
"So what? We like him."
She made a face. "I don't know why."
He sent her a knowing glance. "For the same reasons you do."
* * *
She wasn't sure she liked him after he took them to a reading of funny poems and short stories. She fought to keep her eyes open. He was the bore she had suspected. He didn't even flirt with her or hint at sex. She might as well be going out with her brother.
"It's not going to work," Adriana told Cassie over the phone. She lay stretched out on the couch.
Cassie didn't argue. "Then tell him."
"Nina likes him."
"That's not a good reason to stay with someone who bores you."
