Spice

by Seressia Glass

  “Hi, Nadia.”

  She glanced up to see Audie standing in the doorway. Audie looked . . . healthy, and Nadia realized that it had been several weeks since she’d seen her friend. No signs of her assault remained. In fact, she looked open and relaxed, though caution shaded her green eyes as she regarded Nadia.

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or hurt you,” Nadia said, rising to her feet.

  “I think I deserve both.”

  Nadia stepped around the corner of the desk and hugged her friend, pounding Audie on the back a little harder than necessary. “Where have you been? What have you been doing? When did you get back?”

  “Slow down, chica,” Audie said, taking a seat at the small round table tucked in the corner. Their office was small by design so they could maximize the space for the kitchen and dining area. Still, they managed to pack in two computers on a modular desk and a four-top table they could use for samples, brainstorming, and eating.

  “I was at a wellness retreat in the foothills. I worked with the counselor in person and online and she’s going to do some life coaching sessions with me as well. I’m basically broke now, but I think I’ve got a handle on myself and my life, though I still have to deal with the trial.”

  “Oh, Audie, I’m so happy for you,” Nadia said, hugging her friend again. And she was. She’d been so worried about Audie after she’d disappeared. It relieved her to know that Audie had in fact gotten her life turned around. At least someone had some forward motion going in their life. The irony that Audie had gotten her life together while hers had fallen apart wasn’t lost on Nadia.

  “As for when I got back . . .” Audie gave her a sheepish smile. “I just got in. Siobhan told me what happened between you and the professor.”

  Nadia stiffened. “Of course. You wouldn’t want to give up your ringside seat to the implosion of my life, now would you?”

  Audie winced. “I deserved that,” she said softly. “I deserve a lot more. But no, I’m not here to gloat. I’m here to help.”

  “Help with what?”

  On cue, Siobhan entered the office, bearing a plate of cookies and several tall, frosty glasses of milk. Vanessa entered behind her. “You still look like crap,” Siobhan observed as she placed the tray on the table.

  “Considering that you’ve actually seen me at my worst, I guess I’m not doing as well as I could be with the whole breakup thing. What’s this?”

  “I thought it was time to stage an intervention.”

  “An intervention of what?”

  “You. To make sure you either shit or get off the pot.”

  Audie laughed. “I’ve missed your mouth, Siobhan. No one expects the mouth of a sailor is hiding behind that peaches and cream façade.”

  Nadia grabbed a macadamia nut cookie and a glass of milk before settling back behind the desk. She told herself it wasn’t a defensive move, having the desk between herself and her friends. “I appreciate you guys coming over and crowding up the office, but an intervention isn’t necessary.”

  Siobhan took the chair closest to her as Vanessa also sat. “We know this isn’t the usual intervention,” Vanessa said. “You do need to talk about the professor and your relationship, though. It’s not fair to either of you to be in limbo like this.”

  “It’s not in limbo,” Nadia admitted. “It’s over, and I’m still in detox. It’s better than denial, but painful as hell. Being without him hurts. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. And I’m irritable all the time.”

  She looked down at her cookie. “All I can think about is him, and when I’m not thinking about him, I’m thinking about the pain. I’m thinking that maybe if I took something, just a little something to help me sleep, I’d be all right. Just until I get over the breakup.”

  “You know that’s not how it works, Nadia.” Siobhan squeezed her hand. “You’re four years clean. You can’t slide now.”

  “Wrong. I substituted Kane for the drugs. I was addicted to Kaname Sullivan. I still am.”

  She should have recognized the signs. The need that caused her hands to shake, her body to tremble until she could have him inside her again. The pain that cramped her sex when she’d gone too many hours without coming around him. The sweat in her pits and the burn in her chest when she didn’t know how long it would be until she could see him, smell him, touch him. The need that consumed her, a need stronger than hunger, more vicious than thirst. And finally, finally, the bliss when he gave her what she needed, what she craved, the intensity of orgasm rolling through her blood, her synapses, overtaking her and sending her straight to nirvana.

  “Are you sure what you’re feeling is addiction? Not something else?”

  “I don’t know what else it could be.” She rubbed her arms in a half-hearted attempt to warm herself. “You don’t forget the hunger for it. The desperate craving. And then I realize this desperation is the same thing I feel—felt—with Kane. I crave him. I need him so much it hurts. I’m addicted to him, and if I’m addicted, it can’t be a good thing. Not for me. Right?”

  Siobhan squeezed her hand. “I’ve got to show you something. Grab my tablet out of the bottom drawer, will you?”

  Nadia opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out Siobhan’s tablet computer. She handed it over, waiting while the blonde thumbed through her settings.

  “You remember this, don’t you?” She slid her tablet across the tabletop. Nadia picked it up, realizing it displayed a publicity shot from Spice of Life, her old cooking and lifestyle show. Not of her in her chef’s whites, but in an amber-colored party dress for one of her on-the-town segments. The dress accentuated her curves, her dark hair falling past her shoulders in soft waves, makeup that rivalled any beauty queen’s. She’d been glamorous and outgoing and sexy, a combination that had made her show a popular one.

  She’d also been a bitch and high as hell.

  Nadia studied the publicity shot critically and with perfect hindsight. Her smile was too sharp, her eyes were dazed and bright, almost maniacal, but she could clearly see the plea for help in her gaze.

  It took her several tries to speak. “Yeah, I remember this. I don’t know how many pills I was up to then, but I was a walking narcotics lab.” She put the tablet down. “I can’t forget that, even if I wanted to.”

  Siobhan thumbed through the tablet’s gallery until she found another picture she wanted. “Take a look at this one.”

  Nadia glanced at the image. Her hands immediately began to tremble. It was a picture of her and Kane caught unawares, the people around them blurred out as they moved out of the camera’s focus. She wore a bloodred Asian-influenced corset and a short black skirt. He wore a matching red shirt beneath a black striped vest, and she suddenly remembered where they’d been. They’d attended one of Siobhan’s burlesque performances and someone had caught them smiling at each other. She couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about, but it was something that had made her laugh and flush with pleasure.

  Nadia shook her head. “You see how I’m looking at him? Like I worship the ground he walks on. Like I’m completely addicted to him.”

  “And how is he looking at you?”

  She blinked, holding the photo closer. “He looks . . .” She drew a sharp breath. “Like I’m the most important thing in the world, the only thing in the world. Like he’s addicted to me.”

  “That’s not addiction, Nadia,” Siobhan said quietly. “That’s love. You love him, and you’re in love with him. Seeing the expression on his face, I’d bet my half of the café that he feels the same way about you.”

  Nadia stared at the two pictures. The differences were startling, almost as if the woman in the photographs were two different people.

  “On the night of my assault, I told you that the professor was so into you that he couldn’t see anyone else,” Audie said. “I meant it. Any woman would want a man she’s into to l
ook at her like that, to want her like that.”

  “Remember, we’ve seen in person how he is with you,” Vanessa added. “He’s protective, not domineering. He’s concerned about you without trying to do everything for you.”

  “He’s not Gary, Nadia,” Siobhan said into the quiet. “Sullivan’s not abusive. He cares for you even when you’re not aware of it. He loves you. I know that look. I had that look directed at me on my wedding day.”

  “He told me he loves me,” Nadia confessed, her throat tight. “But every time I tried to tell him about Gary so that he’d understand why I was afraid of what I felt for him, he would brush me off. He said that my past wasn’t important to him.”

  “He didn’t understand how important it was for you. I tried to explain it to him.”

  “You did?” Nadia frowned. “When did you talk to him?”

  “The Monday after you broke up,” Siobhan answered. “He told me what happened and asked me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you’d be okay. A couple of days later he asked me for any information I had on how nonaddicts could help addicts through their recovery.”

  The room wavered as Nadia forgot how to breathe. “Kane did that?” Even after she’d hurt him with her brush-off?

  Siobhan nodded. “I think he realizes he made a mistake by dismissing your past the way he did. I believe he wants to understand what happened with you so he can help you when you need him to.”

  Nadia sat back in her chair, stunned. Kane had done all of that for her? Was he really trying to understand her better, so that he could be with her, support her? Was that the undeniable proof she needed that he loved her?

  “Do you love him, Nadia?” Audie asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  “Think about it. Think about how your fathers feel about each other, how you’d do anything for them and your brothers,” Audie said. “Compare that to how you feel about Kane.”

  Nadia knew she loved her family. She’d do anything for them to make sure they never knew a day of pain—not that she’d tell her brothers that. When she thought about Kane, her heart leapt in her chest as if redlining. The thought of him hurt because of her was an almost physical pain. Some of her happiest moments over the last few weeks were with Kane, whether it was helping him make ramen, shopping in San Francisco, attending shows, or just being snuggled up on the couch watching movie musicals from the fifties and sixties. She wanted more of those.

  She wanted him.

  “I love him,” she said, her voice clear and sure. “It doesn’t matter though, does it? Even if we decide we can’t live without each other, there’s the fact that being with me didn’t go over well with his colleagues. What if something like that happens again? Would that be fair to Kane?”

  “You know that’s not a question we can answer right?” Audie asked. “You’re going to have to go to the source for that one.”

  “The professor’s a smart man,” Siobhan told her. “He’s already taking steps to try to understand you and help you. He’s trying. I think if you go to him and ask to talk, he’ll be willing to listen. Tell him that you love him. Everything else will flow after that.”

  For the first time in days, hope sprang to life in her heart. If Kane was trying on the one subject that was most important to her, then she could meet him halfway. She would meet him more than halfway.

  She shot to her feet. “I’m going upstairs. I’ve got to get ready.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, I’ve got some cooking to do. I still have a key to Kane’s place. I think it’s time I use it.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  “Sullivan!” Simon Mayhew stepped into the room, clapping Kane on the back. “I would say good to see you, but that would be a lie. In fact, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks. Good to see you too, Simon.” He gestured to the wet bar. “Want something to drink?”

  Simon looked at him quizzically. “A little early to be hitting the sauce, don’t you think?”

  “No.” Kane knocked back his Scotch, poured another. “Trying not to think actually.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Who is who?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Sullivan.” Simon crossed to the bar, unscrewed a bottle of water, then began to fill the coffeepot. “The only reason for a man to do something completely out of character for him is when there’s a woman involved, if not to blame.”

  “I don’t know.” Kane held up his glass, allowing the amber liquid to catch the light. “I think it’s my own damn fault.”

  “So there is a woman?” Mayhew tore open a packet of coffee then started the brew.

  “There’s a woman.” Kane took a seat at the table near the window that gave him a surprisingly clear view of Los Angeles. God, he hated this city. It was too busy, too crowded, too plastic. Nothing like Crimson Bay. He was going to have to find something to like about LA, though. It was a real possibility that he was going to have to move for the sake of his career and his sanity.

  “What’s her name?” Simon asked quietly, putting a mug of black coffee in front of him.

  “Nadia.” Kane hesitated, then set the empty Scotch glass aside. Simon was his friend, had been a good friend for years. If he couldn’t talk to Mayhew, he wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone. “Nadia Spiceland.”

  Simon’s brow wrinkled. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  Kane sighed. “A few years ago she had a cooking show called Spice of Life. Now she owns a café up in Crimson Bay. We’ve been dating the last couple of months.”

  “This is the relationship you said you were playing close to the vest?” Simon whistled. “You don’t go for easy, do you?”

  “Easy is boring.”

  “True, but there’s also less chance of easy biting you in the ass.” Simon’s expression grew thoughtful. “Tragic what happened to her. It’s nice to know she’s bounced back from all her troubles, especially the scandal.”

  “Scandal? You mean the addiction to painkillers?”

  “Oh, more went on with her than a prescription drug habit.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kane asked, frowning.

  “You don’t know?” Simon scrubbed his chin. “I can understand why she wouldn’t want to tell you, but that’s a major red flag. Especially since it’s pretty common knowledge. She had to know you’d find out sooner or later.”

  “Find out what?”

  “She was in a car accident with her manager, who was also her lover. They were both high as kites, and both were ejected from the car. She survived, he didn’t.”

  “That’s awful, but that’s hardly a scandal,” Kane pointed out.

  “It is when you consider that her manager was married at the time, and allegedly left his pregnant wife for his young client. Rumor has it that she might have been driving, and they were arguing because he was going to leave her and go back to his wife. If I remember correctly, the accident reports show that the car left the road suddenly. They’re saying she may have deliberately driven off the road.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He couldn’t believe that. It sounded so unlike the Nadia that he knew it had to be completely ridiculous. “Who the hell is ‘they’ and why would anyone believe that? Just because it’s salacious and people latch on to it, doesn’t make it true.”

  “I’m just repeating what was reported at the time,” Simon said, raising his hands in surrender. “Of course there was an investigation while she was in the hospital, but it proved inconclusive and she claimed that she couldn’t remember what happened. Since it was his car, authorities decided he was driving, so Nadia wasn’t charged with anything, and went into a drug treatment facility straight out of the hospital. That didn’t stop the widow from suing her when she got out of rehab.”

  “She was s
ued?” It just didn’t end.

  “Wrongful death suit,” Simon confirmed. “You know the burden of proof is lighter in those types of circumstances than in a criminal investigation. Still, the results were the same. There was no definite proof that Nadia was liable for her manager’s death.”

  Kane sat back, floored. “I didn’t know.”

  “She didn’t tell you,” Simon pointed out. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Fuck.” Realization slapped him in the face. “She tried. She tried several times to tell me everything about her past, but I kept brushing her off. I said it didn’t matter.”

  He shoved his hands into his hair. “I told her that I didn’t see her through that lens,” he said. “I saw her as someone who came through that and lives on the other side of it. And when she kept pressing on about it, I accused her of using it as a crutch to keep us from growing closer.”

  “That’s probably a good thing,” Simon told him. “Some of those stories from back in the day make her out to be a generally unlikeable person. Where’s there’s smoke, there’s usually a fire.”

  “Everything you’re telling me is how she was, not how she is,” Kane retorted. “You of all people know the effect drugs can have, considering how you had to deal with your mean drunk of a mother.”

  “You’re right—I do know,” Simon said tersely. “I know enough that I never want to deal with it again. How do you know she won’t trip and relapse? Do you want to deal with that?”

  “I don’t know if she’ll relapse. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it if it happens, but I’ve been reading some material from Narcotics Anonymous, talking to people with firsthand knowledge. All I can tell you is what I do know. I know she’s been clean for more than four years. I know she’s helping other people in recovery, opening her café to support groups when there weren’t any gathering places in town. I know she has a huge support network of family and friends who love her and want her to succeed.”