Disenchanted

by L. D. Davis

  I wasn’t exactly bitter about it, but the plain truth was that our socioeconomic differences would always be between us. People like me worked for people like them, and rarely were people like me even noticed by people like them in the real world.

  Again, it made me think about Marco and me. We were so different, but he wasn’t so different from these people. These people were his friends, and if not his friends, his peers. They were his equals in ways I never would be. Had this just been a charity event, I would have felt better about it, but he had made a conscious decision to spend time with these people, to eat, drink, and socialize with them. It wasn’t something that happened by default. I didn’t fit in, even with my fancy designer dress and the emeralds in my ears. It made me wonder how I could possibly truly fit in anywhere in his life.

  When my leg began to ache. I wanted to find a corner to sit in, or at least somewhere out of the way to stand still for a little while. I didn’t know where Marco and Celeste were, which bugged me, but I would have to look for them later. First, I needed to rest. My limp tended to worsen as the pain grew, and I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself.

  I weaved through the people and tables that surrounded the dancefloor in the ballroom as I recalled a sitting room I had seen when we checked our coats in the main entrance. Unless someone told me not to, I was going to park my ass in that room on their antique couch. As I neared the door that led to the hallway the suit of armor was in, I glanced over at the dance floor. The band was on a break, or gone for the night, I didn’t know. There was a man dressed in a tux playing recorded music instead. I recognized the opening of “Santa Maria,” a very popular Tango song.

  I’d always found that dance in particular to be beautifully erotic and extremely intimate. It was like fighting and making love with your whole body, and with your clothes on, to music. I’d seen people who were horrible at it. They either didn’t know what they were doing, or had no real connection, but then I’d seen those couples who had danced together so perfectly that I’d felt like I had been watching a sensual secret in motion. The Tango was so…carnal. So hot.

  I hadn’t expected to see carnal and hot at this party, though. Only the professionals knew how to do that, and that was clear by the awkward fumbling or plain silliness that I saw on the dancefloor. I was just starting to turn away when I realized that, although most had not stopped dancing, they had edged farther from the center of the floor, and most of their gazes were fixed on the same thing.

  Curious, I stopped and looked, too. What I saw made my heart stop. They stood very close, bodies touching, heads tilted together, as if they were about to kiss. He had one arm around her waist. His hand moved slowly up her side, nearly touching the curve of her breast as it continued up to her arm. It traveled the length of her arm until her hand was in his, and they moved slowly for a moment, legs kicked back, faces still too close, and then…then the erotic dance had them moving across the floor.

  They were perfectly synced, not one missed step, not one hesitation, even when he lifted her for a move I could barely comprehend. The pair were as familiar to each other as lovers. Their faces were intense, and their eyes did not stray from one another. When he dipped her back, her spine arched gracefully as the lower parts of their bodies molded together. As she slowly straightened, his hand caressed her bare shoulder, and then her hand slid too slowly down his cheek, his neck, and chest as their gazes locked again. Then she was spinning away and back into his arms, and they were moving across the floor again. Fluidly. Seductively. Like sex on the dance floor.

  That would never be me. I could never be like Celeste. I would never be able to dance with my boyfriend the way she did. I would never be able to dance with him period, not even a little slow dance like the high school kids did, because I would never dare even try after I just watched what he was capable of. I wouldn’t humiliate myself like that. I wouldn’t humiliate him like that.

  I turned away from Marco and Celeste and almost ran into Cyan in my haste to escape the room. She stood with her arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched the spectacle on the dance floor with a small smirk. At first, I didn’t think she’d noticed me, but before I could go around her, her gaze settled directly on me. She looked down at my legs and snorted softly.

  I didn’t wait to see if she’d say anything, because I was sure if she did, I would’ve taken one of the pins out of my hair to gouge out her eyes. As it was, my hands were fisted at my sides as I brushed by her and out the door. I didn’t pay the same attention to the details of the house as I had when I’d come in. No one stopped me as I walked past one of the staircases and made my way to the room. The door was closed, but I paused for only a couple seconds before I slowly pushed it open.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised when I walked in and found one of the guests already in there. It was Adam.

  He was on a couch, head back, arm thrown across his eyes as if the day had just been too long for him. I started to back out, not wanting to infringe on his privacy, but he sat up and uncovered his eyes.

  “Oh, it’s just you. Come in.”

  My brow arched. “Just me, yes. I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You can’t possibly be any more disturbing than those vapid egotists out there.”

  Both of my brows went up at that. “You’re not one of those vapid egotists?”

  Adam waved me in and gestured for me to sit. I was very aware that he watched me as I walked, but not with the same piteous curiosity most others had.

  “The only reason I’m here is because Brodie is my friend and happens to be married to my sister.”

  “Oh, so you’re only a vapid egotist by marriage.”

  He laughed but shook his head. “Brodie isn’t like that, not really. He built his company with a lot of hands-on hard work, but my sister has always been spoiled and desirous of a life of luxury. Since he has doted on her from the first time they met six years ago, she tends to get whatever it is she wants, even these silly dinner parties.”

  “Maybe I’m not one to judge. The kind of parties I used to go to usually ended with a fight of some kind, and the presence of police officers.”

  Adam grinned. “I went to a few like that back in college. Maybe more than a few. You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about a big juicy cheeseburger since our conversation at dinner. Mmm. Beef. Real beef and not fungus.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees as he gave me a hopeful look. “Think your date will mind if we sneak out for some heart-clogging, belly-filling food and drink?”

  “It sounds very tempting, but I did just eat, like, half the dessert table. I thought doctors were all about healthy eating and all that anyway.”

  He winked as he sat back again. “What can I say? I’m a rebel. I don’t exercise, either.”

  I gasped dramatically. “Scandalous!”

  “I know. I’m awful.”

  His manner was warm and pleasant. Some of the pressure in my chest eased, and I felt like I could relax for the first time all night. Also, for the first time, I noticed how handsome Adam was. He had the dark silky hair and olive skin as most Japanese do, but there was only a subtle slant to his eyes, which happened to be a startling gray. Aiko’s face was similar, except her eyes were darker, which made me wonder if the siblings were mixed race. Despite his shortfalls in exercise and cravings for fatty, high-caloric foods, he had a nice, lean body. At most, he was in his mid-thirties. It would’ve been no surprise to me to know women and men fawned over him.

  “Why are you hiding out in here?” I asked.

  “I’m allergic to vapid egotists. You?”

  “My boyfriend was doing the tango with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

  Adam winced. “Celeste?”

  “Oh, you think she’s ridiculously attractive, too?”

  He laughed softly, maybe a little uneasily, as he swiped a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. Don’t take it personally, thoug
h. It’s just a dance, and they’ve been friends long enough to perfect it.”

  “Kind of hard not to take it personally, considering my own limitations,” I muttered grumpily as my gaze dropped to my lap.

  I felt Adam’s eyes on my face “Can I ask you something?”

  I shrugged. “Go for it.”

  “What happened to your leg?”

  I looked up at him, surprised that he’d asked outright. Most people didn’t ask, though they couldn’t help but watch when I walked.

  “I’m asking from a professional standpoint,” Adam hurried to add, palms up. “I swear to you, I’m not trying to pry.”

  I folded my hands and bit my bottom lip. “Car accident. Almost a year and a half ago.”

  “Femoral fracture?”

  I nodded once. “It was a compound fracture, close to the knee joint.”

  He leaned forward as his face became more serious, more doctor-like, I supposed. “Do you have hardware?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was your recovery? Did you wait the appropriate amount of time before weight bearing and activity? Did you follow any exercise regimen? What about physical therapy? How long did you do that for? Did you have any complications?”

  I felt uneasy, as I always did, discussing my injury. Sure, I’d made flippant remarks in the past to make others uncomfortable so they wouldn’t ask me about it, but in the few cases I’d had to talk about it, I’d always quickly ended the conversation. It was a personal and touchy topic for me. I usually responded venomously, or with snark.

  “I’d say the death of my husband that left me with three small children, a mortgage, and bills, and only about four-thousand in savings was a pretty major complication,” I answered dryly.

  Adam remained quiet and polite, but his sympathy and tolerance for my bullshit was nil. “That is a remarkably tragic and sad story, but I asked about your leg. Not about your ABC Network TGIT drama series.”

  My mouth popped open. I quickly closed it, but it opened again before I mashed my lips together to keep it from opening once more.

  He grinned. “You may easily deflect others with all that, but not me. You would have better luck distracting me with a bacon cheeseburger or a ribeye.”

  I eyed him with wariness. “You have a very unhealthy and weird obsession with cow meat.”

  “But I am a brilliant orthopedic surgeon with an unhealthy and weird obsession with cow meat. Now answer my questions.”

  I glowered at him. “I’m not your patient.”

  He only stared at me and waited patiently for me to answer his litany of questions. After a couple minutes of stone silence, it became clear that Doctor Adam had an infinite amount of patience. The only way I would escape the conversation was if I got up and left, and we both knew I wasn’t going to do that.

  I sighed irritably. “Am I at least protected by doctor-patient confidentiality?”

  “Of course. I will not repeat anything you tell me to anyone you don’t want me to.”

  After another sigh, I told him the truth. “I started to bear weight on my leg long before I was technically allowed to. As I mentioned, I had three small kids to take care of, and sitting idly on the couch all day was literally driving me crazy. I didn’t follow the exercises most of the time because it hurt too much, and I know that’s probably because I was already doing too much. I didn’t have the time for physical therapy and I missed a lot of appointments with my doctor because I was just trying to be there for my kids. I put them before myself in all things. Then my mom had a heart attack and I put her before myself as well. To be honest, I might have the time now, but I don’t have the resources.”

  Adam drank in my words for several minutes. He didn’t say anything as he stared at my leg with unfocused eyes and rubbed his chin with two fingers. His silence made me nervous. I began to believe he wasn’t going to hold up his end of the bargain, and he was going to go tell Marco everything I’d just said. I was about to get up and leave when he finally snapped out of his musings and nodded, slowly at first, and then more vigorously.

  “Okay.”

  I stared at him, unsure of what that meant. “Okay?”

  He nodded again. “Yes. Okay. So, I don’t have a license to practice in Ohio, but I do have a license to practice in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, as well as New York. You can either have Marco bring you to my office in Manhattan, or we can set something up in one of the hospitals I’m affiliated with. If you don’t want him involved, I can always get in touch with another ortho in Ohio and discuss your case. I won’t be able to personally treat you, but I can still play a part.”

  My mouth fell open again. “Wait. What? I just told you I don’t have the money. I especially don’t have the money for some fancy Manhattan surgeon.”

  “That’s funny,” he said slowly. “I don’t recall asking you about your financial status.”

  “You’re a doctor,” I said pointedly.

  Adam nodded. “Very astute observation.”

  “You make a living by charging people to be all doctory.”

  “I…I’m not sure if doctory is the correct medical term.”

  “And I don’t have money.”

  He rubbed his chin again. “The thing is, I thought you were somewhat intelligent when we first started talking tonight.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’m not sure that will be ethical considering I am now your doctor.”

  “I don’t have the money,” I said slowly and obnoxiously as I leaned toward him.

  “I don’t want your money. Just your body, or at least, your leg. Your femur in particular. Sidebar, do you like Ben and Jerry’s ice cream?”

  I was thrown by the sudden change of topic but stuttered out an answer. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Depends on the flavor.”

  “And do you happen to like eighties sitcoms?”

  “Uh…yeah?”

  Adam grinned and got to his feet. He extended a hand to me, but I was confused and only stared at it for a few beats before I looked up to his face.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “I hardly trust anyone.”

  He grabbed my hand from my lap and pulled me to my feet. “Well, you should trust me. I am your doctor.”

  I pointed a finger at him. “That is still open for debate.”

  Adam grinned, undeterred. He gave me a tug and began to lead me toward a door at the back of the room. “Come on, woman. I’m going to show you a good time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Marco

  Celeste and I exited the dancefloor, out of breath and grinning like idiots. She was an exceptional dance partner. My mother had insisted I learn to dance as a boy, and years later when I met Celeste, we had taken a series of dance classes together as a way to relax after a hard day’s work. It had been relaxing, but also very fun. Every now and again, some club in the city had a Swing Dancing night, or Salsa, or Ballroom dancing, and we would go to blow off some steam and have a good time, but we hadn’t gone together in a couple years now. It was nice to dance with her again, but I feared I’d spent a little too much time on the dance floor after several songs and wanted to go find my redheaded beauty.

  “We need to go dancing again,” Celeste said with a satisfied sigh.

  “Does Adam like to dance?” I waggled an eyebrow at her.

  Her amusement abruptly went away. She lifted her chin and attempted an air of indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I chuckled and scanned the guests for Lydia. I thought I had caught a glimpse of her when Celeste and I were on our first dance, but when I looked again, she hadn’t been there.

  “Do you see Lydia?”

  Celeste gave a cursory glance around and shook her head. “No.”

  I stopped and studied my best friend. “Why don’t you like her?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like her.”

  I gave her what Lily called a side-eye, clearly showing my doubt. She was purposely being obtuse.
“You do not have to say it. You have made it rather clear in other ways.”

  At least she had the decency to appear apologetic. “I don’t dislike her. I have only just met her, but I’ve learned over the years not to form any attachments to your lovers.”

  “Celeste, she is more than my lover. She is my girlfriend—the first true girlfriend I’ve had since you and I met.” Quietly, I made an admission. “I love her.”

  Her lips parted in surprise, but she quickly recovered, never wanting to show any signs of discomposure. “Well, that’s news. Does she deserve your love?”

  “Celeste,” I growled in warning.

  “I’m not suggesting she doesn’t, but you’ve never loved any of them. I just want you to be sure you are giving your heart to someone who deserves it.”

  I nodded once. “She does.”

  She let out a long breath and gave me a one-armed, indifferent shrug. “Fine. I will endeavor to be more copacetic.”

  We walked on again, nodding and giving brief greetings to those we knew, and accepting compliments about our dancing.

  “I will say this,” Celeste said after several minutes, “your girlfriend does have a little le toupet I can appreciate.”

  I chuckled. “Lydia has more than a little nerve and sass. If you only knew.”

  We went room to room in search of Lydia. Often, we were stopped by more friends and acquaintances, but after nearly an hour of searching, I began to worry. Knowing Lydia, she probably slunk off to some corner where she would mostly go unnoticed, but I spent another fifteen minutes checking in those places without any result.

  “Where could she be?”