Pleasure Seekers

by Rochelle Alers

  Faye bit down on her lower lip to still its trembling. She wanted to hate Bart but she couldn’t. Not when she’d fought her feelings the moment she turned to face the man who’d arrogantly ordered a drink for her. Not when he’d provided her with the means to appeal her brother’s conviction. Not when he’d intervened to protect her position with BP&O. And not when his gentleness, generosity, patience, passion and humility helped her overcome her biases about his race.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? You used me, Bart. You made me fall in love with you when I didn’t want to, and you made me trust you when I swore never to trust another man.”

  Bart steered her over to the bed, sitting, and pulling her down with him. “Please don’t give up on me. Not until you hear what I have to say.”

  She heard the pain in his voice, saw it in his eyes. The seconds ticked off as they regarded each other warily. “Okay, Bart. I’ll listen.”

  Bart sucked in a lungful of breath before releasing it slowly. “It was my fault, Faye. My fault that she got pregnant so many times, my fault that I didn’t listen to her doctor when he told me that Deidre would never carry a baby to term, and it was my fault that I delayed going through with the vasectomy. I could’ve had the procedure, not told her and pretended that she couldn’t get pregnant again because she’d lost too many babies. I could’ve and would’ve lied to her if it meant saving her life.

  “I should’ve seen the signs that she was losing her grip on reality, but I was too wrapped up in my own egotistical shit to make the Dunn-Houghton Group number one. Day in and day out I told myself that one false slip and I’d be back at the trailer park, son of the mop jockey and a factory worker, the nephew of uncles who preferred three hots and a cot in a six-by-eight cell to getting a real job.

  “So if I’ve kept a woman hooked up to a machine because I’m too much of a coward to let her go, then blame me. And if I’m going against her written wishes not to resuscitate if anything ever happened to her, then blame me for that, too. Blame me, Faye! Blame me for falling in love with you, for asking you to trust me when I don’t deserve your trust.”

  Faye felt a fist of pity squeeze her heart when she saw the tears in his eyes. Collapsing against his chest, her arms went around his neck. “Bart.” His name was torn from the back of her throat.

  “Forgive me, forgive me, baby,” he chanted over and over.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing,” she whispered. “I love you, Bart. I fell in love with you when I didn’t want to. I fell in love with you even though I knew it wasn’t the best thing for me to do. I kept asking myself how could something that was so wrong feel so right?”

  “I wanted to tell you, Faye. I swear I wanted to tell you.”

  She placed her fingers over his mouth. “Don’t swear.”

  Grasping her wrist, Bart pulled her hand down. “The moment I knew I wanted to marry you I realized I had to let Deidre go. It’s time I honor her wish not to keep her alive with tubes and machines.” Tears streamed down his face.

  Faye closed her eyes, unable to watch him cry. “Where is she, Bart?”

  “I had her transferred to a small private facility not far from where I grew up. Once we get back I’ll sign the order to disconnect her feeding tube. But I’m going to need your help. I can’t do this alone.”

  Faye realized Bart would have to grieve twice—once when Deidre Houghton was declared brain dead and a second time when he disconnected the machine that had kept her heart beating.

  She buried her face against the side of his neck. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Bart nodded. He needed to hear that Faye would be there for him. He’d asked himself many times why he hadn’t given the order to take Deidre off the respirator and disconnect the feeding tube but knew it was because of guilt, guilt that he hadn’t listened to the doctor, that he hadn’t followed through on the sterilization procedure, and guilt because he knew if he hadn’t married Deidre Dunn he would’ve never become CEO of the Dunn-Houghton Group.

  “Thank you.”

  They held each other, offering comfort, understanding, then as if on cue they left their stateroom to go back up on deck.

  CHAPTER 95

  Alana waited in the doorway, watching Faye as she made her way down the hall. With her approach she had to admit that she’d never seen her friend look better. Vacationing with Bartholomew Houghton definitely had a positive effect on her friend. She wore a stylish three-quarter swing raincoat over a white blouse and dark tailored slacks. It’d been raining continuously for five days, but meteorologists were predicting the weather would be warm and sunny for the upcoming Labor Day holiday weekend.

  Faye had left a voice-mail message the day before informing her that she was back in the States and wanted to meet her for dinner. She’d offered to cook because her bouts of fatigue had increased and there were times when she’d nodded off at the most inopportune times.

  “Hey, girlfriend, welcome home,” she crooned, wrapping an arm around Faye’s neck.

  Faye kissed her cheek. “It’s good to be home.” She handed Alana a small shopping bag emblazoned with the Louis Vuitton logo. “Here’s a little something for you.” Walking into the entryway, she left her umbrella in a large wastebasket and hung her raincoat on a coat tree.

  Alana’s jaw dropped slightly. “Oh, damn! You bought me something from Louis. What is it?”

  “Open it, Lana.”

  “Let’s sit in the living room.”

  The two women navigated the maze of boxes lined up against the walls and those stacked in corners. Seeing the boxes had become a reality check for Faye. Her friend was really leaving the Big Apple for upstate New York.

  She sat down on the sofa while Alana took an armchair with a footstool. It’d only been three weeks, but her friend had changed. Her face was fuller and she was gaining weight. The overall effect was an incredible lushness that only served to enhance Alana Gardner’s exotic beauty.

  Alana removed a small mini-monogrammed canvas trunk from the bag and opened it to reveal a yellow-gold charm bracelet with a red-gold Big Apple charm. Her lashes fluttered as she attempted to blink back tears. The bracelet was designed with a gold LV padlock accompanied by two little keys.

  “Oh, Faye…” She couldn’t get the words out to thank her friend for the extravagant gift.

  “Between you and Derrick I’ve become a bling-and-Louis diva.”

  Smiling, Faye lifted her right hand and pulled a matching bracelet with an Eiffel Tower charm from under the cuff of her blouse. The charm dazzled with the light of nineteen diamonds that represented the illuminations for the new millennium.

  “Compliments of Bartholomew Houghton,” she said proudly.

  Alana noticed the sparkle of diamonds on Faye’s left hand for the first time. Moving off the chair, she sat down on her friend’s left and picked up her hand. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Faye nodded. “Yes.” Alana hugged her so tight that she found it hard to breathe. “You’re crushing my ribs, Lana.”

  “Sorry about that.” Alana angled her head, shaking it slowly. “When’s the big day?”

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  “Are you having a big wedding?”

  “No. We decided just family and close friends.”

  “Where are you getting married?”

  “Bart said he wanted the Cloisters. He’s on the board of the Met.”

  “What do you want?”

  “City hall.”

  Alana waved a hand. “You’re full of shit. You can’t marry a man like Bartholomew Houghton at city hall.”

  “Why not, Lana? When I married Norman I had the whole nine yards and it was over before I got used to signing my signature with my married name. This time I want something very simple.”

  Alana stared at Faye, unable to believe she was actually that naive. “Once you become Mrs. Bartholomew Houghton nothing in your life will ever be simple again. Doors will op
en for you sight unseen. You can’t go back to being Faye Anne Ogden from Springfield Gardens, Queens. Girls from around the way don’t give friends souvenirs that cost ten grand.”

  Faye frowned. “I hope I’m not going to have to get into it with you when I buy my godson or goddaughter a gift.”

  “No,” Alana said honestly, “because then I’d have to get into it with Derrick Warren.” She smiled as she rested her hand over her belly. “With you and Derrick as godparents, this child probably won’t want for anything.”

  “I’m sure of that.”

  “Speaking of babies,” Alana continued, “do you plan to have any with Bart?”

  “Yes. I told him I wanted at least one.”

  “You can’t have just one.”

  “Why not?”

  Alana rolled her eyes at Faye. “Get real, girlfriend. A rich only child is not the way to go. Have at least two. But on the other hand, if I were you I’d have a baseball team.”

  “Do you realize how old Bart is?”

  “If Michael Douglas and Donald Trump can father children when they’re breathing hard on senior-citizen status, Bart can. Shit, Faye, the man’s only fifty.”

  “My father’s in his fifties.”

  “And so was my dumb-ass father when he married a woman less than half his age.”

  “Speaking of babies, how are you feeling?”

  “Except for feeling tired all the time, I’m good.”

  “Good enough to be my maid of honor?”

  Alana stared, complete surprise freezing her expression. “Do you realize I’ll be about eight months pregnant in February?”

  “I know.”

  “And you want me there looking like a beached whale?”

  “You’re my girl, my sister, Lana. Of course I want you, belly and all. I’ll have a doctor in attendance in case you decide to upstage my wedding and go into labor.”

  Alana scowled. “Bite your tongue.”

  Faye glanced around the number of boxes. Alana had emptied the bookcases, packed away her computer and stereo equipment. “When are you moving?”

  “Wednesday. I couldn’t get anyone this week because of the holiday.”

  She told Faye that Derrick had paid her to leave most of the furniture because he planned to use the apartment for out-of-town clients instead of covering the cost of putting them up in hotels. So the arrangement had worked out amicably for both.

  “We’ve come a long way since the night Enid Richards slipped her business card in with our check,” Alana said reflectively. “You’re going to marry your Prince Charming, Ilene has the financial security she’s been searching for and I’m solvent enough to take care of myself, my child and my mother for many years to come and…”

  “And what?” Faye asked when Alana didn’t finish her statement.

  She ran a hand through the profusion of curls falling over her forehead. “I didn’t want to say anything until it was official, but Derrick gave my manuscript to a movie director with his own production company and he’s seriously considering optioning it for a made-for-television movie. He said it’s a cross between Danielle Steel, Sidney Sheldon and Jackie Collins. I believe it’s the Ilene-type supermodel character that did it.”

  Faye pressed her palms to her chest. “I can’t believe it! You were working on this novel even before I met you.”

  “And I thought about it for six years before I started it two years ago.”

  Reaching over, she hugged Alana, mindful of her condition. “You are truly blessed, girlfriend.”

  Alana hugged her back. “You’re right about that. Meanwhile, I thought I needed a man to make my life complete.”

  “Your Prince Charming is out there, Lana. He’s only waiting for you to make your appearance.”

  “If you don’t stop, you’re going to have me soupin’ snot.” Sniffling, she pulled back and touched her fingers to the corners of her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered in. I’m trying not to buy too much food because I don’t want to throw it away when I leave.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Speaking of food, will you come with me Sunday to my folks’ for a cookout?”

  “Girl, please. If your uncle’s cooking, then I’ll be there.” The phone in the entryway rang. “That’s dinner.” Alana pushed to her feet and went to answer the call.

  She hadn’t lied to Faye when she told her that she didn’t need a man to make her feel complete. It had taken her thirty-three years but she had come to like and accept who she’d become. And she felt sorry for the next man who decided he could take advantage of Alana Elizabeth Gardner, because he would be in for the fight of his life.

  CHAPTER 96

  Enid rose to her feet when Astrid escorted Faye Ogden into her office, taking in everything about her in one sweeping glance. From her deeply tanned face and the gold in her hair toned down to a tawny brown and the ring on her left hand. A knowing smile parted her lips. She was about to lose the last of her first trio of exotic jewels. First it was Ilene, then Alana and now Faye.

  “Hello, Faye.”

  Faye returned her smile. “Thank you for making time for me.”

  Enid gestured to a love seat. “Please sit down. Can I have Astrid bring you something to drink?”

  Shaking her head, Faye sat down. “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

  Enid stared at the young woman who had enchanted Bartholomew Houghton the moment he saw her. She claimed an understated sophistication women twenty years her senior couldn’t perfect. And there was never a time when she hadn’t met her gaze, which meant she wasn’t easily intimidated.

  “You’re resigning,” Enid stated simply.

  Faye’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You know?”

  “Yes. Bartholomew called to inform me that he would no longer be a client.”

  Faye smiled. “We’re getting married in February.”

  Enid returned her smile. “Congratulations. May I see your ring?” Faye extended her hand. “Exquisite. You’re deserving of it and so much more.”

  Pinpoints of heat stabbed Faye’s cheeks with the unexpected compliment. “Thank you. I wanted to see you instead of calling because I want to apologize.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “For being presumptuous when you asked me to work for P.S., Inc. When you told me it was an escort service I’d assumed you wanted me to become a prostitute.”

  Enid tented her fingers and the overhead caught the brilliance of the emerald and diamonds on her hand. She focused her gaze on the profusion of flowers in a crystal vase on a low table. “You weren’t that far off, Faye.” She ignored the younger woman’s gasp. “As women we all become prostitutes at different times in our lives. And despite my rule that social companions are not to sleep with their clients, there’s no way I can enforce it because everyone is a consenting adult.

  “I know what prostitution is firsthand because my grandmother ran a sporting house in Storyville. She tried to shield my mother from the life that had afforded her a grand lifestyle, but in the end she failed. My mother was fourteen when she found herself pregnant with me, and had just turned fifteen when she died in childbirth.

  “Grand-mère swore it would never happen to me and shipped me off to a convent where the nuns beat all salacious thoughts out of my head. It wasn’t until I became a woman and had my first sexual encounter that I realized as women we prostitute ourselves, not in the traditional sense, but every time we sleep with a man because he puts out money to feed us, buy us little baubles or take us away with him. We service him because he’s offered the goods.”

  She held up a hand when Faye opened her mouth to refute her. “I’m quite proud of how you, Alana and Ilene turned out because I’ve permitted you entrée into a world wherein if you do opt to sleep with a man it will be worth your time and effort. There’s no doubt you love Bartholomew as much as he loves you, but you could’ve as easily fallen in love with someone where if you decide to have a baby you’d have to take a short
maternity leave then put your child in day care because you wouldn’t be able to make ends meet on one income.

  “Too many times our women end up with the short end of the stick because whenever our men make a lot of money they seek out women outside their race. I learned this firsthand when I went to college. The brothers flocked to me because of my color not because of my brains or because I was nice. And I’m here to tell you that I’ve never been that nice, Faye.”

  Faye was caught off guard by the harshness in Enid’s voice. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I want you to be aware of who you are and the power you wield. You had Bartholomew Houghton even before he introduced himself to you. You’ve done what not one of my social companions has been able to do, and that is commit to a future together. You will marry Bartholomew and give him children,” she predicted quietly. “I’m proud of you, Faye. I couldn’t be more proud if you were my daughter.”

  Faye felt a warm glow flow through her as she and Enid shared the moment. It was the first time she felt something for the older woman other than respect.

  “Thank you, Enid. I’d be honored if you would attend my wedding.”

  “I’m afraid Bartholomew beat you to it. He asked me and I said yes. However, the two of you will receive an invitation to come to Saint Barts at the end of the year.”

  “What’s happening there?”

  “Marcus Hampton and I are tying the knot.”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” Enid confirmed as a smile light up her beautiful face and eyes.

  “I saw the ring, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous and ask,” Faye countered. “It’s magnificent.”

  An attractive blush suffused Enid’s face. “He’s magnificent.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” Rising to her feet, she extended her arms to Faye. “Be happy.”

  Faye stood up and hugged Enid. “Thank you. I’ll see you in Saint Barts at the end of the year.”

  Enid did something she’d never done before. She kissed Faye’s cheek. “Good luck until we meet again.”