His eyes glittered as he rose from the couch and prowled around the table like a black tiger. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at her. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Because I’m an idiot.”
She swiped at her face. “I just want you to love me.”
“What did you say?”
“I want you to love me, not anyone else.”
He leaped around the table to the couch and pulled her onto his lap. “I do love you.” He shook his head as his words spilled from his mouth, rapid and raspy. “You’re so sweet and clever. You listen to me like everything I say is worth hearing. The way you look at me like I’m a rock star makes me feel like I could do or be anything I want. Do you know what that feels like to a guy like me? You’re like an angel.” He paused for a split second to take in a breath. “Like a real-life angel that’s fallen to earth just for me. I’ve fallen for you. For real. Not some schoolboy crush, but a blinding adoration that leaves nothing but you. No one but you. And I’m terrified because I’m just this rough, uneducated kid from a bad neighborhood. You’re going to wake up one day and see how wrong you were. What if you get sucked into this world and never come back to me? I’ll want to die. Because losing you would wreck me.”
“I won’t get sucked in. I won’t wreck you.”
“I’ve had a thing for you since the first night I ever met you. Now I’m gone, finished. Half the world will be in love with you the minute they see that damn movie. And where does that leave me? Competing with billionaires and rock stars and those tenacious slicksters in suits.”
Tenacious slicksters in suits. A laugh escaped. “Rafael, none of them are you. No one will ever be you.” She touched the collar of his shirt. “Anyone can wear nice clothes. But when all that’s stripped away, the man under the clothes is all that matters. A man like you—who sacrificed for his country and takes care of his mama and offers to escort a shell-shocked actress to Los Angeles, and spouts out the phrase ‘tenacious slicksters in suits’—that’s the kind of guy I want.” She placed her fingers in his thick hair and kissed him.
“This world is not my world,” he said against her mouth.
“But can I be?” she asked.
His grip around her waist tightened. “What if you get sick of me? What if you suddenly look over at me at dinner and think I chew too loudly?”
“You don’t, although you could try eating a little slower.”
He rested his forehead in the crook of her neck and laughed. “I’m half-starved since I met you, but I’ll try to slow down.”
She buried her fingers in his hair. “Let me be your world.”
“Stardust, you already are.”
13
Rafael
He dreamed of the children. They played in the dusty street, shouting in Arabic. He raised his rifle and shot them one by one.
He screamed and sat up straight in the bed.
Lisa was next to him, patting his back. “Baby, it’s all right. It was just a dream.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You were yelling and thrashing all around. What was it?”
“Bad dream.” He rested against the pillow. She scooted next to him and placed her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
“Your heart’s beating so fast. What was the dream about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Rafael, can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said.
“Did you ever meet your dad?”
“No, he took off before I was born. Mama never talks about him.”
“Do you know if he’s still alive?”
“I know he’s dead.” He’d known for years that his father hadn’t lived past his twenty-fifth birthday. “He died in his twenties. Drugs.”
“Do you ever wonder about him?”
“Not much, no. The stories in my neighborhood are always the same. Gangs. Drugs. Shootings.” He told her about Mama and Ria and Paulo, how they were like a family. “Our mothers looked out for each other and us.” The story of him and Paulo unfolded in the dark room. His guilt. His promise. “He took me to the train station when I left for basic training. My girlfriend, Mama, and Ria didn’t want to come, so we’d said goodbye at the apartment. Paulo and I sat in that station waiting together, not saying much. What was there to say? He couldn’t enlist because of his eyes. I could. Both of us were facing a war zone in one way or another.” He remembered the awkward silence between them, all the words he’d wanted to say but couldn’t. Stay safe. Don’t let them draw you in. Get a job upstate. Do whatever it takes to get out. “When the train finally came, we both stood up and shook hands. We looked in each other’s eyes and I swear to God I saw the whole future unfold before me. I guess he did, too, because he said to me, ‘Look after my mama should anything happen to me.’ I promised him I would.” Rafael’s eyes filled. Hot tears slid down his cheeks. “I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. I was going off to Iraq and he was going home, yet I was the one more likely to survive.”
“He didn’t get away?”
“No. He joined a gang and two years later he was dead.” Rafael wiped his face. “I never talk about him. Every time I do, it’s like this.”
She propped herself up on her arm. He could just make out her eyes from the glow of the clock. “Why do you feel guilty about him?”
“Because I got out and he didn’t. Because I didn’t take care of Ria like I promised.”
“And that’s why you put everything you had into those apartments.”
“I can finally fulfill my promise.” He shifted to his side to get a better view of her. “You know how you described depression?”
“The absence of hope.”
“Yeah. That’s how my neighborhood was. You say you’re still that seventh-grade girl in the photo? I’m still the kid from the neighborhood where you’re lucky if you reach the age of eighteen.”
“We’re not the sum of our bank account or our childhood circumstances. When I’m with you, it’s possible to love the little girl I once was because I see her through your eyes. I think of you as a little boy in your imaginary cape and my heart breaks with how much I love him.” She placed her hand on his face. “What do you say we finally let those kids rest in peace and be who we are now?”
“Stronger together,” he said.
“With our capes flying out behind us as we conquer the world.”
They lay there in the dark for a few minutes. He had to tell her. It was time. “I lied before. I remember my dream.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“The dream doesn’t matter. It’s what causes them that I need to tell you.” He splayed his fingers in her silken hair. She was real. This was his life now. The past was the past. “There were things that happened over there that haunt my dreams. It was bad when I first got home. I didn’t want to go to sleep. During the waking hours, I could make myself forget. But at night, the demons took over my dreams. As the years pass, it gets better and better. I hardly ever have the dream anymore.”
“Is it the same one?”
“Variations, but basically the same.”
He could almost hear her waiting for him to continue.
“Something happened on my last tour. I don’t talk about it, other than with the psychiatrist they made me go to when I returned.”
She played with the fine hair on his chest.
“But I want to tell you so there are no secrets between us.”
“I’m listening.”
“During my last tour, we received information about a group of high-ranking terrorists hiding out in an area almost completely destroyed by bombing. We’d studied their profiles but couldn’t figure out exactly where they were. For weeks, we scoured the area and kept watch. One night, we saw someone go into an abandoned school with supplies. The details don’t matter, but we had enough information to believe those were our guys. We were given instructions to invade
in the middle of the night and to take no prisoners.” He paused, gathering the courage to finish his story.
“But they weren’t there?” she asked.
“No, it wasn’t them. Later, it became clear they’d learned of our plans and moved out. But they left a parting gift. They replaced themselves with two women and their four children. They were prepared for us. The moment we entered, they started shooting. All of them. The children couldn’t have been older than eight or nine. We fired back.” His words strangled him, but he continued. “I killed two of the children and one of the women. My buddies killed the others, but not before they got two of us. We lost two men. Good men. The rest of us lived, but we’ve never been the same. We killed children. No training could prepare us for that.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s the only thing I’ve never told Mama. She would be so ashamed of me,” he said.
“You were doing your job.”
“Yeah, but some things are wrong no matter how you rationalize them.”
“I’ll always be on your side, no matter what,” she said. “Whatever came before, whatever comes next, I’ll be here.”
Thank you, God, for sending my angel.
14
Lisa
Two weeks later, Lisa looked for Rafael among the people on the crowded sound stage of a morning talk show. She’d been separated from him when they took her back for hair and makeup. He’d texted that he was across the street people-watching from a coffee shop but would be back for the taping. She spotted him standing next to one of the camera operators. He waved and gave her a thumbs-up.
This was the last of her New York interviews. They’d arrived last week and had been swept up in a whirlwind of interviews, the New York premiere, and a number of parties. She was exhausted. This morning it felt like sand had scratched her eyes. Between the nonstop events and the early wake-up call, she was ready for a few lazy days and long sleeps. They’d agreed to get this interview over with and go back to the room to sleep. Tomorrow they had to go to Iowa for Marigold’s memorial. Then back to California and finally home. Home sweet home with the sea breeze and her friends and baby Lily.
This will all be over soon.
The interviewer, Penny Pierson, was looking over her notes and barely glanced up at Lisa.
Off stage, a loud crash jerked Lisa out of her chair. Her heart thumped like a hammer inside her chest. A damp, cold sweat sprang from every pore. She scanned the room. Where was he? Would he fire again?
Someone offstage shouted, “Sorry about that. We dropped a light.”
It wasn’t the sound of a gun. A light. Someone dropped a light.
One of the stagehands counted down the seconds until they went live. Penny looked up from her notes and flashed a toothy white smile.
“Lisa Perry’s the toast of Hollywood these days after the critical and box office success of Raven. Welcome to the show.”
“Thanks.” Beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. It was too late to sit back into the chair. She was stuck on the edge, probably looking like the wreck she was.
“How does it feel to be home in New York?” Penny asked.
Like a slug succumbing to a mountain of salt, her mouth had emptied of moisture. Black spots blurred her vision. She tried to get a breath in, but her lungs had shriveled. Talk. Breathe. “Sure. Yes. Great to be here.” Her voice sounded as tight as her chest.
“Raven is getting quite the buzz from critics. Can you tell us a little about the film?”
“It’s about ambition. Getting taken in by the need for power.”
“How was it to work with the great Glynnis Newman?”
“Fine. Good.”
From across the table, Penny’s gaze slashed her to bits. I’m blowing this. She knew it. But she couldn’t think. Words wouldn’t come out of her mouth.
“You’re from the Midwest. The daughter of a teacher and high school principal. What made you decide to become an actress?”
“A therapist suggested it as a way to deal with my depression.” Crap. Why had she said that? Sasha had said to keep it light and talk about the work. They were positioning her as a “serious actress.” Right now she wanted to fly away on her imaginary cape.
Penny leaned forward, her eyes set on her prey. “You’ve suffered from mental illness? What can you tell us about that?”
“Nothing. I don’t talk about it.” Lisa searched frantically for Rafael.
“The stigma of mental illness is a hot topic right now. Wouldn’t you like to be part of the conversation as a way to help others?”
Lisa stared back at Penny. “No, I wouldn’t. This interview is over now.”
“All right, well, thanks for coming by. Best of luck with Raven.”
The director yelled, “Clear.”
I blew it. I’m hopeless. Do not cry in front of these people. Rafael. I need Rafael. An image of her mother’s kitchen with the lemon wallpaper and yellow hand towels flashed before her. She was right. I’m not strong. I have no business being here.
Penny rose from her chair and muttered under her breath. “Okay, then. Worst interview ever.” She looked directly at Lisa. “What the hell? Didn’t your people prep you? For the record, you brought up your depression. Not me. You open that up and any reporter worth their salt’s going to ask follow-up questions.”
“I’m sorry.” Lisa stood and reached toward Penny as if her touch would stop her from storming off the set in her four-inch heels.
One of the producers with cropped white hair and a face like stretched canvas stepped onto the set. The producer’s eyes bulged as she stepped close enough that Lisa smelled the mint gum she chewed. “Are you high?”
Suppressed tears spilled out of Lisa’s eyes. “No, no. I don’t do drugs.” Her voice shook as hard as the rest of her. “I’m just…going through a thing.”
Rafael appeared by her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. “It’s all right.”
“I blew it,” Lisa whispered. “I heard that crash and I froze.”
“Let me give you both some advice,” the producer said. “Get her clean or she’ll be just another pretty actress who overdoses.”
“She’s not on drugs,” Rafael said. “She’s experiencing anxiety after being in the middle of a mass shooting. Maybe give her a break? And tell your crew not to drop lights right before the cameras start rolling. Come on, sweetheart. I’ll get you back to the hotel.”
“Wait a minute, what did you say?” The producer’s eyes were now the size of golf balls. “Mass shooting? Which one?”
Which one? There were so many one had to be specific.
“She was in Marion County. At the music festival.” Rafael’s voice sounded rough, like he wanted to punch the woman. “She’s struggling.”
“Why hasn’t she talked about it?”
“Look, lady, this may not make any sense to you, as your business is to exploit the truth for ratings, but Lisa hasn’t talked about it out of respect for the victims and their families. She doesn’t want to make it all about her when real people lost loved ones who will never come back.”
Lisa buried her face in Rafael’s chest. I just want to go home. Home to Cliffside Bay. Home to Maggie and Pepper. Home with Rafael.
“We’d love to hear her story.”
“I’m sure you would, but she’s not talking,” Rafael said.
Rafael steered her off the set. “You’re okay now. I called the car.”
She nodded as the black spots returned. Her legs buckled. Rafael lifted her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay now.” He held her tightly and like she weighed nothing as he trod out of the studio and into the lobby. “We’ll be back in the hotel in no time.”
She couldn’t speak. She might never speak again. Tears dampened Rafael’s collar.
They exited into the heat of the New York morning. He kept her in his arms as he walked to the ar
ea where cabs and town cars were waiting.
Their driver came running. “Is she hurt, sir?”
“She’s fine,” Rafael said. “Low blood sugar.”
“I have fruit in the car, sir.” The driver held the car door open and Rafael helped her inside, then slipped in next to her.
Rafael asked the driver to take them back to the hotel. “And crank the air, please.” He leaned over her to fasten her seat belt. The car veered left into the moving traffic. All the years she’d yearned for this, and she’d let it slip through her fingers. There were hundreds of girls waiting for their chance right at this moment. She stared out the window, numb.
Rafael placed his hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. I had no business running my mouth.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t let them say those things about you,” he said.
She rested her head against his shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m going to have to talk about it after that interview. Or everyone will think it’s drugs.”
Her phone buzzed from inside the purse at her feet. “It’ll be Sasha.”
“You want me to answer?” Rafael asked.
She nodded, too tired to waste the energy on words.
“Hey, Sasha. It’s Rafael.” He put her on speakerphone.
“What the hell was that? She looked stoned out of her mind. I swear to God, if you’ve got her hooked on something, I will personally rip your colon out with my bare hands.”
“Whoa, there. She’s not hooked on drugs.” He looked over at her with a questioning look in his eyes.
Lisa nodded. “Go ahead. Tell her,” she whispered.
“Put her on the phone,” Sasha said.
“She doesn’t feel up to talking.”
Sasha started screaming obscenities. Lisa had never heard her lose her cool. This was bad. Really bad.
“Just be quiet for a minute so I can explain,” Rafael said.
Sasha must have had to take a breath because she quieted just long enough for Rafael to start talking.
“Lisa didn’t want anyone to know, but she was at the concert in Marion County.”
Missed: Rafael and Lisa (Cliffside Bay Book 6) Page 20
