Slave to Love

by Julie A. Richman

  After the last award is given and all the President’s Club winners have been announced, a video starts running announcing next year’s President’s Club and getting the team psyched up for a stellar year so that they qualify. The trip is a week in Maui and the room erupts. As the video ends, a light show begins and a DJ sets the room on fire with dance music. Still standing by the stage, Robyn grabs my arm and pulls me onto the dance floor. My eye catches both Beverly and Monica who are witnessing the hijacking.

  “Help me,” I mouth to them. “Please help me.”

  Captured in the middle of the floor, I’m searching for the nearest escape route. Certainly my military training can help me with that. It’s under a minute before I feel Robyn start to rub on me. With Bob out of commission tonight, I’m her number two man. Like a SWAT team poised to go in, Beverly and Monica flank me before Robyn finishes her first full rub.

  Each grabbing a hand, it looks like the three of us are dancing, as we slowly snake our way through the crowd. When we get to the edge of the dance floor, I motion for them to follow me.

  Pulling out my keycard, we get into the elevator that serves the penthouse floors and I punch twenty-two. As soon as the door closes and it’s only the three of us in there, I look at them, “I owe you.”

  “She’s special, that one.” Beverly’s voice drips with sarcasm. Clearly Robyn is not her favorite person.

  “Where are we going?” asks Monica.

  “Someplace where we will not be disturbed by Robyn, Susan or anyone else. And the booze is unlimited and free.”

  Opening the door, I flip on the light to the Presidential Penthouse, and before us lays an impressive living room richly decorated with a baby grand piano, fireplace and expansive terraces overlooking both the Mississippi River and downtown New Orleans.

  “Are we putting you up here?” Beverly asks.

  Laughing, “No. I wanted this suite, so I’m putting myself up here.”

  “Is this the only one like this?” Monica has my number.

  I nod, smiling.

  “So, Bob doesn’t have the biggest suite?” She’s smiling back at me.

  “That would be correct.” Pausing, “I don’t like the way he treated Sierra.”

  “We don’t like the way you treated Sierra.” Beverly turns from her inspection of the room.

  “I’m not thrilled with myself either. I would do anything to go back and handle that whole situation differently.” Stepping behind the marble-topped bar. “What can I get you two?”

  “Vodka and orange juice.” Beverly doesn’t look up from examining books on the roll-top desk.

  Monica takes a seat on the bar stool across from me, “I’ll take a white wine.”

  “How is she?” I finally ask. I’m dying to know everything. I want even the smallest detail to help make me feel like she’s real and was part of my life, that I didn’t imagine her. My mermaid.

  “She’s good.”

  I know that I’m going to have to keep these liquor glasses full to get anything out of these two.

  “Is she working?”

  “She is.” Monica sips her wine.

  “Give me something here, I’m dying to know how she is and what is going on in her life.”

  “Why?” Beverly comes and sits on the other bar stool.

  “Because I care about Sierra. I worry about her.”

  “She can take care of herself.” Monica takes another sip.

  “I know that. She’s very self-sufficient. But that is not going to stop me from thinking about her and being concerned about her well-being.”

  “You think about her?” Beverly is looking at me through squinted eyes.

  “All the time,” I admit. I realize I need to be very candid with these two for them to share anything back. They are loyal to Sierra and very protective. “I think about her all the time.”

  “Why? Why do you think about her?” Monica takes another sip and I take the opportunity to refill her glass.

  “Why do I think about her?” I repeat. “I didn’t stop caring about her the day she walked out of my life. I never stopped caring about her.” They don’t say anything, so I continue. “I love her and I miss her and I’d do anything to make things right.”

  “So why haven’t you?” Monica comes at me like a whip, stinging.

  “She was very clear that she wanted me to stay away from her. Not contact her. So I’ve tried to respect her wishes.”

  “You sent her shoes.”

  Turning to Beverly to address that, “Yes I did. She lost the exact same pair in the flood. I know she loves her shoes, so I wanted to replace them.”

  “And you wanted to contact her.” Monica takes another sip.

  “Of course I wanted to contact her. I was hoping she’d be ready to talk to me. But that wasn’t the case.”

  I refill Beverly’s drink and place it before her. With her lips to the rim, she says, “She wore them New Year’s Eve.” Monica gives her a look for divulging the information.

  My shoes on New Year’s. I smile. There’s something very Cinderella about that. “Was she wearing the mermaid?” That slips out of my mouth without my thinking.

  They both shake their head. And we’re silent for a moment. I pour scotch into a rocks glass and announce. “I want her back. And I need your help.”

  They are shocked at my admission and I know they are thinking why should we help this guy? He hurt her.

  Cutting it off at the pass, I lay out my cards. “I love her and I’m not going to get over it, so I need her back. I want her as my girlfriend, I want her as my business partner and when we’re ready I want her to be the mother of my children.” Both their jaws have now dropped. “I handled a situation poorly and unfortunately it was at the beginning of our relationship where we really hadn’t had the time to build up that foundation of trust. So tell me, what do I need to do to get her at least to listen? I’m miserable. Maybe she’s fine and doesn’t give a shit and I’ve gone down this dark road on my own, but make no mistake, I am miserable without her.”

  After way too many weeks of feeling a depression I haven’t felt in years, experiencing loss and heartbreak, I have just opened myself fully to these two women. I have laid my heart in their hands and asked them to squeeze it just to keep me alive.

  This time it’s not their glasses I’m refilling. It’s my own.

  Beverly is the first to speak. “She’s miserable too, Hale. She’s not over you. Not by a long shot. She’s hurt and she’s heartbroken and feels how can she trust or give her heart to a man who will put her at the bottom of the list and manipulate situations to his advantage without thinking about how they affect her.”

  “I understand. But that is not who I am and I don’t need to learn a lesson twice. When I make a mistake, I learn from it and change the behavior. That’s where my success comes from. I’ve learned so much about myself in the past few months, well, actually since the day I met her. I think I’m a better man for it and I’d like her to meet that man.” I look from Monica to Beverly, “Can you help me figure out how to make that happen?”

  “Hale, we need to stay out of this,” Monica informs me, so I fill her glass again.

  “But I want her to have my babies.” I am shitfaced and they have to be too with the way I am pouring.

  “Are you drunk?” Beverly is peering at me through those slitted eyes again. She is intense. Very intense.

  Nodding my head, “I am. But I still want Sierra to have my babies.” Earnestly, I add, “Four of them.”

  “Four of them,” Monica spits out her wine as we all descend into gut-wrenching laughter. “You want Sierra to have four kids, good luck with that.” Tears are streaming down Monica’s face.

  “I can hire help. I can afford that.”

  “She’s going to need it.”

  “I just have to knock her up. Four times.” As if I’ve just delivered the funniest punchline on the planet, we are all in hysterics. “So Auntie Monica and Auntie Beverly, I nee
d your help.”

  “Knocking her up?” Beverly looks confused and I pour her more vodka and orange juice from a carafe.

  “No. I can do that myself. I can. I just need you guys to let her know I love her. Very, very much. But I’m going to tell her that myself, too.” Pausing, I smile at them, “We need to start working on the babies. She’s not getting any younger.” Monica is pounding on the bar she is laughing so hard.

  “We’ll help if you promise to keep a picture of you and pregnant Sierra on your desk for Robyn to see.”

  “Done.” I pound the bar with my fist like a gavel.

  “So what kind of babies are you going to have?” Beverly is lost in a fog world.

  “Humans and maybe a few animals, too.”

  “No, girl or boy?” she clarifies.

  “Oh. I want three boys and the last one to be a girl.” I am totally serious when I spell that out.

  A minute later we are all howling like drunk hyenas.

  I think this is the first time I’ve smiled since Sierra walked out of my office.

  They are seeing him tonight. Beverly and Monica are seeing Hale at the awards dinner and not being there makes me feel so disconnected from the last decade of my life. I’m adrift and tonight I feel like I’m drowning. Again. Only this time, I’m the only one who can save myself. And maybe a little red wine might double as a lifesaver.

  Grabbing a basket, I browse the prepared food section of Central Market. Sliced steak in a Madeira mushroom sauce, twice baked potato and wilted spinach with olive oil and garlic. Moving on to the bakery, I grab a box of scones for the morning and a small container of Miles of Chocolate for tonight. I need a great red wine for this. Mmm, mmm, mmm, alternating bites of the chocolate with sips of wine is going to be orgasmic. And tonight, I really need orgasmic. It’s cold enough for a fire, so I’m going to snuggle up in a cashmere throw with Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s book, Cocky Bastard, and lose myself in their characters’ world until Monica and Beverly call.

  Reds, reds and more reds. The market has a sommelier named Andy with an amazing palate, so if the rack by the bottle has a sticker that says, Andy’s Pick, I know it’s going to be a great bottle of wine. Reading the back label of a Tempranillo from Spain, it touts undercurrents of cherry and plum, leather and oak. That feels about right for the cozy night I’m going to have trying not to think about the awards ceremony where some dude who doesn’t even know my old staff at all will be presenting them with their plaques. And Monica and Beverly will be seeing Hale.

  “Sierra?”

  I look up and gasp. I’ve just gone from thoughts of Hale to Hale. But it’s not Hale, though their resemblance is so strong.

  “You’re Noel, right?”

  “Yes, it’s nice to see you again.” Extending his hand, I can’t help but notice how similar it is to Hale’s and for one brief second I want to thread my fingers with his.

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Do you know where Hale is?” He looks concerned.

  Odd that he’s asking me about his brother and what’s even stranger is, that after months of not knowing anything about Hale, this is the one night I actually do know where he is.

  “Yes. He’s in New Orleans.”

  Noel lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head. Something is not right. And then he starts talking and it feels like he expects me to know more of the story than I actually know.

  “We are so worried about him. Being this down isn’t something I’ve seen in years. I really thought that when he saved you that would be the tide-turning pivotal moment in his life, the thing that righted his ship, so to speak, and that there would be no more heroics to save the world to compensate for the past. I’d hoped that one act would negate the other and he’d feel some kind of redemption, you know.”

  I’m trying to catch up with what he said. So much of it is just gibberish to me. But the thing that catches my attention immediately, and retains my focus, is what he said about saving me.

  “Noel, what do you mean he saved me?”

  “When he pulled you out of the water, he saved you.” His tone is very factual.

  I’m shaking my head, not understanding specifically what he is talking about.

  “Sierra, when Hale pulled you out, you weren’t breathing.”

  Opening my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. No one told me that I had stopped breathing that day and once again, I can’t get air into my lungs.

  “You didn’t know?” Noel looks as confused as I feel.

  Shaking my head, I’m not sure how to respond. I’m not sure if I can respond.

  “You weren’t breathing, Sierra. Hale did mouth-to-mouth on you until you began to breathe on your own. I understand it was touch and go there for a while.”

  Tears spring to my eyes, burning a passage down the middle of my skull. I’m not quite sure why I’m reacting this way, but that is an overwhelming realization. I didn’t start breathing on my own. Hale breathed for me.

  “Hale saved me?” Speech finally returns.

  Noel is nodding, “Yes, he did. And I thought that act in itself would right everything in his world, liberate him from his ghosts. Finally remove all the guilt and suffering he’s carried with him almost his entire life. It was his second chance. And then to see him so depressed. He didn’t even spend the holidays with us. It just doesn’t make sense. This should have been his salvation.” The pain in Noel’s voice is making my heart constrict.

  “Salvation? Salvation from what, Noel?”

  “Maggie,” the word is little more than a whisper.

  The crack in my heart, the one that first appeared with Kemp’s phone call, just widened. I swear I heard the crunching sound as it split a little more, new fissures emanating from the main artery.

  “His girlfriend Maggie.” My voice has a tone I didn’t intend it to have, but it does. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Maggie wasn’t Hale’s girlfriend, Sierra.” He pauses and I search his eyes for answers. His voice is choked, “She was mine.”

  I never felt the bottle of Tempranillo slip from my hands. The crash itself presents as a faraway sound, yet I’m vaguely aware that my legs are wet. Looking down, the red puddle spreads like blood from a gunshot wound, my feet at the epicenter. How apropos, is my thought, it looks just like my heart.

  Sitting across from Noel in Central Market’s Café, this time the red wine is in a glass and I take a healthy gulp before we start to talk.

  “My grandparents owned a house on Nantucket that my parents now own and someday Hale and I will jointly own. Summers and all holidays were spent on the island and that is our family place.”

  I’m trying to envision these two boys, hair wild in the sea breeze as they run through the surf. Two very handsome little boys. The beaches and streets of Nantucket must’ve felt like their safe place. In my mind it’s carefree summers and lobsters.

  “Next door to us was the Myers. Their family had been there as long as ours and they were great friends of both my grandparents and my parents. Doors were never closed or locked and we just wandered from house to house. It was pretty idyllic.” Noel is lost in a memory and the look on his face makes him look like Hale and I just want to reach out.

  “Anyway, the Myers had a daughter, a granddaughter named Maggie. She was between me and Hale in age, a little closer in age to me. There wasn’t a time we didn’t know Maggie. We were all eating sand together in our diapers. It was hard to know where their family ended and ours began. As we grew older, Maggie and I became a couple, it was something we always knew would happen. So, by the time we hit our teens, Maggie and I were boyfriend and girlfriend. We were each other’s firsts. First kiss, first date, first time holding hands and eventually we lost our virginity to one another.”

  “What was her relationship with Hale?”

  “Hale adored her and the feeling was mutual. He had a crush on her, it was impossible not to. The girl was like liquid sunshine. She could light up a room on even the darke
st days. We were kind of like the Three Musketeers. Always together. But she was like a big sister to Hale. She babysat for him when he was younger and he loved her like she was family. She would spend hours playing with him on the beach, building sandcastles and walking the beach looking for starfish.”

  Swirling the wine in his glass, I wonder if Noel can almost see them in the amber liquid.

  “The summer I was seventeen, Maggie was sixteen and we were sneaking off, as teenagers do, every chance we could get. We were out of control. Sex was this forbidden high and we thought we were so mature and sophisticated. It was the end of the summer and Maggie had been in a bitchy mood for a couple of days. I had no idea what it was about and I know I made asinine comments about being on the rag and what a brat she was if she didn’t get her way. Well this one beautiful Thursday in late August she wanted to go sailing and for a picnic. There was this basketball game that day with some guys from Polpis, which is a town east of where we are on the island. We had a big fight about it and I took off with my friends to go play basketball.

  “Hale saw her sail off that day by herself. She was in her Sunfish, so he just thought she’d be staying around the bay, just tooling around the harbor. It was a gorgeous day and he said he waved to her on her way out and she waved back. About an hour later, he was on the beach and a squall blew in from the west. Hale could see Maggie’s sail out on the open water. It probably wasn’t something she planned, but the winds were too strong for her to handle it alone. He stayed out there keeping track of it as best as he could see in the rain and then tried to swim out, but the current was crazy and she was too far out for him to get to. So he swam back to the beach, which was fairly close to the Coast Guard Station and ran there all wet and covered in sand to alert them. They got a rescue boat out immediately and recovered her craft, but she wasn’t in it.”

  The tears rolling down my face are being shed for all three of the friends. One freak of nature thing and their lives would never be the same. Childhoods abruptly ended and guilt permeating everything that followed.

  “Did they find her?” I manage through my tears, clenching my wine glass with both hands.