Hidden Desire

by Amy Patrick

  “Where’s your suitcase?”

  A deep blush colors Laney’s face. “I... I’m not sure. I had one when I got off the bus, but a man offered to carry it down the stairs for me... and he disappeared. I thought at first maybe he left it sitting there in the station, somewhere near the loading area, but when I described it and asked a few people, they all said there was no unattended baggage around. I guess he took it.”

  Wanker. What kind of guy would steal a suitcase from a blind girl? The kind that lurks around L.A. bus stations, that’s the kind.

  “There was nothing really valuable in it,” she says in a hurry, as if it’s all no big deal. “Just clothes and a couple pair of shoes and toothpaste and stuff. I’ll buy some more when I get a chance to go shopping. I was hoping there would be a Target or something near my new apartment—when I get one.”

  I mentally subtract the cost of a new wardrobe from the six hundred dollars Laney owns. Her housing possibilities are getting more dismal by the minute. “Thought it all through, have you?” I say. “So... how does Thai food sound?”

  “Delicious,” she answers, her hand going to her stomach. “And maybe we could put some of that cat food in a bowl for Cupcake. I felt his poor little tummy rumbling against my hand. I think he’s still hungry.”

  “Sure.”

  Going into the kitchen, I look around for a suitable cat dish and settle on a small plate, open the bag, and pour some in, chuckling in disbelief. I’m serving the same little beast I scolded this morning about looking after himself.

  As soon as the dish is on the floor, the kitten emerges from under the couch and sprints over to it, gobbling the food so fast I’m worried he’s going to choke.

  “Is he eating?” Laney asks.

  “I’m not sure if he’s eating it or inhaling it, but yes, it’s going in. And now to feed the humans.”

  I call the Thai place on my speed dial and order my favorites, hoping they’ll appeal to Laney, too. The voice on the other end of the line informs me our food will be here in forty-five minutes. Hanging up, I look at Laney standing in the middle of my living room. What am I supposed to do with her now?

  “The food will take a while to get here. Would you like to... go out on the deck? Or maybe walk on the beach or something while we wait?”

  Her whole face lights up. “Could we? That would be wonderful.”

  “Sure. Let me change shoes.”

  I go back to my room for a pair of flip flops and return to the living area moments later to see Laney standing eagerly by the back door, barefoot.

  “The sand might be a bit rocky,” I warn.

  “That’s okay. I want to feel it,” she says. “Oh—do we have to walk far on pavement before we get there? Maybe I should wear my shoes and then slip them off when we get to the beach.”

  Opening the door to the back deck, I grip her elbow lightly to guide her outside. “No. We’re right on the ocean here. Just a few steps across the deck, past the fireplace and down a set of stairs, and you’ll feel the sand. The sun’s almost down now, so it should be cool to the touch.”

  We descend the steps together, and her tiny feet sink into the sand at the bottom.

  “Wow. It feels great. Can we walk to the water?”

  “If you like.”

  With my hand lightly placed on the small of her back, I guide her toward the ocean. The breeze picks up nearer the water, and Laney’s sandy brown hair lifts and flies around her like ribbons, brushing against my arm as well. The red sundress is molded to her body in a way that makes the innocent article of clothing more revealing than she can possibly realize.

  I look away as my breath quickens and my muscles tense and grow warm. I’ve spent the past few years working with the world’s most beautiful women, and naturally found them appealing, especially after I turned eighteen and the Elven urge to bond kicked in. But something about this small human girl affects me like no one ever has.

  I glance back at her, trying to figure out what it is. She’s pretty—sure—but not remarkably so. Maybe it’s the unashamed expressiveness of her features, or the simple not-trying-so-hard naturalness of her look.

  We reach the water, and Laney gives a happy cry when the surf covers her toes. “It’s so cold!”

  She laughs out loud and drops her head back, turning her face to the sky, which is multi-colored, and now that I’m noticing it, quite stunning. I’m struck with a sudden wish that I wasn’t the only one seeing it—that Laney could see it, too.

  Before I quite realize it, I find myself describing the scene to her. “It’ll be completely dark soon, but right now there’s still a band of light on the horizon. It looks like a gold strip hovering above the water. Above that, there are streaks of orange cloud, intermixed with dark and light blue, sort of like a tie-dyed t-shirt. The shallow water directly in front of us is orange, too, reflecting the sunset. Just over our heads there are some breaks in the clouds and a few faint stars are showing.”

  I stop right there, my face heating, embarrassed at my impromptu narrative. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I must have sounded like an utter git.

  I’m about to say so when I feel Laney’s small hand take mine. She sighs—a contented, almost childlike sound.

  “I haven’t seen a sunset in so long, but I feel like I did just now. Thank you for that.”

  Something swells in my chest—a feeling like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It’s something like... pride, but not exactly. I’m not sure whether it feels good or awful.

  “Can we walk down the beach a little?” Laney asks, tugging at the hand she’s still holding.

  “Uh... sure. For a few minutes. We have to be back before the food arrives. And before Cupcake turns my furniture into a pile of rags.”

  Laney lets go of my fingers and walks without my guidance, her path staying at the meeting point between wet sand and gentle surf. There’s a bounce in her step, and her expression is so happy I can’t seem to keep my eyes away from her face for more than a minute at a time. It’s like there’s some irresistible light coming from inside of her, and I’m a moth—or another equally small-brained and self-destructive insect.

  “You must be so happy living here,” she says, completely unaware of my unbroken study of her.

  “Yes,” I say in halfhearted agreement. I glance over the incredible view then back toward the condo, taking in the size and obvious expensiveness of it. In the garage beneath is parked my LaFerrari. Inside the condo itself is God only knows how many thousands of dollars in high-end furnishings and electronics. It’s nothing new. I grew up with a similar level of luxury if not more.

  And Ava was right—none of it has made me happy. No matter where I am or how much I have, I still feel... hungry. There’s always this gnawing empty space inside of me, demanding to be filled. In spite of her lack of sight, Laney strikes me as someone who is already full. Like, if she were able to see, it would only enhance what is already a full life, while mine feels like a half-life. The thought makes me irritable. Angry even.

  She must be missing something. Why else would she have left home and come here? I suddenly remember she told Brenna she was looking for something. For some reason, I have to know what it is.

  “So are you going to tell me why you came to LA—other than your suicidal desire to volunteer at an S clinic in the city’s worst slum?” My tone is harsher than it should be, but she seems unaffected, smiling serenely.

  “I’m going to be fine working at the clinic. Nothing will happen to me. You don’t have to worry.”

  True. Because you’re not going back there. Unseen, I smirk at her innocent confidence. Doesn’t anyone comprehend how much this girl needs someone to protect her? She doesn’t belong here in this city of users and predators and drug addicts. She doesn’t belong here with me.

  If Ava is right and my father is rounding up girls for European fan pods, she could easily have been snatched up already and be on her way to a life of enslavement and sexual servitude.
Hell, I could have used her that way myself if I’d had a mind to.

  Abruptly I stop walking, struggling for breath. Without warning, an image of Laney, warm and naked beneath me, crashes into my brain. I can almost feel her silky skin, hear her panting softly against my ear. Clenching my jaw and squeezing my eyes tightly, I will the rousing vision away.

  I double my pace to catch up to her, arousal converting to anger as I do. “I’m not worried,” I snap. “You’re not my responsibility. But you must have parents somewhere. A family. Some friends. Why did they let you come out here by yourself?”

  Her stubborn little chin lifts at my demanding tone. “For one thing, I’m eighteen—I’m no one’s responsibility. No one can stop me from doing anything I want to. For another... my parents don’t exactly know where I am. I left a note telling them I’m fine and that I’ll contact them soon.”

  I’m no expert on good parenting, but even I realize they must be in a frenzy over the thought of their blind daughter out alone in the world somewhere.

  “You’ll call them when we get back to the condo. I’m sure they’re sick with worry.”

  “No!” Then in a calmer tone, she says, “No, it will only make them worry more if they do know where I am. All they do is worry about me—all the time. They don’t give me any freedom. They treat me like I’m still a child. If they find out where I am, I know exactly what they’ll do. They’ll get in the car and drive straight out here to bring me home. And I’m not going home until I’ve done what I’ve come to do.”

  “Which is?”

  Laney walks a few steps in silence, then stops. “We should go back. The food delivery will be here soon.”

  Fine. She doesn’t want to tell me. It only increases my resolve to find out. I have several bottles of wine back at the condo. I’ll open one up during dinner, make sure she has a few glasses. She’ll tell me.

  If that doesn’t work, I will use my Sway. Yes. I’ll sway her like I’ve never swayed anyone before. She’ll tell me everything I want to know, and then I’ll put her in the car and drive her home myself if that’s what it takes to get her out of this city.

  Chapter Four

  Overnight Accommodations

  Laney doesn’t drink alcohol. Not even one tongue-loosening sip.

  “Overprotective parents, remember? I’m too tired anyway.” She smiles sweetly. “It’s been a long day.”

  If only Pad Ki Mow and pineapple fried rice had the intoxicating powers of wine, I would be golden because the girl can put down some chow. I’ve watched in literal awe as she inhaled about three-quarters of the food I ordered.

  Finally full, she pushes away from the table. “That was so good. I hope you tipped the delivery guy well?”

  “Yes. I put the change back in your purse.” I smile at my cover story. What she doesn’t know is I put all her money back in her purse and paid the guy myself.

  “Good.” There’s a pause. “So, I guess it’s time for me to get going. If you take me to a hotel, I promise to spend the night there. Just... could we make it a cheap one? I really should start watching my budget.”

  Anticipating a battle, I let out a quiet sigh. “Listen, Laney... I’ve been thinking about what Brenna said. It really does make sense for you to just stay here tonight. There’s a guest room. You’ll save money... you’ll be safe.” Glancing over at the kitten sleeping on my sofa, his rounded belly turned up, I add, “Cupcake is already making himself at home here, and I doubt the hotels would take him.”

  Laney makes me wait for an answer, biting her lip and furrowing her brow, clearly debating it.

  “Well... if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble. And I promise we’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  Hopefully she will be gone tomorrow—back to her little hometown of Nowheresville. “I’m sure. It’s no trouble.”

  She smiles. “Great. So, would it be okay for me to take a shower? Like I said, long day.”

  I stand abruptly, applying a chokehold to my overactive imagination, warning it not to go back to where it went on the beach earlier. My legs inadvertently bump the table and rattle everything on top of it.

  “Of course. The guest room has a private bathroom attached. Follow me—I mean, come with me.”

  I put her hand on my arm and walk down the hallway. She is so much shorter than me that I can look down at the top of her hair, which, I have to say still looks and smells exceptionally clean. Even after walking around the city and out on the beach, Laney smells sweet like vanilla and peaches.

  We reach the door across from my bedroom. It opens to a guest suite decorated in sand tones with turquoise accents—the choices of the decorator I hired over the phone before I ever even saw the place. I wonder if Laney would approve of the way it looks.

  “Ooh, the carpet is nice in here,” she says, causing me to glance down at her small, pink-tipped toes. “And it’s so quiet. I might sleep all day.”

  I chuckle. “You’re welcome to do that. There’s nothing on the agenda tomorrow.” Other than getting you to spill the beans about where you’re from.

  “Actually, I’m a fairly early riser, though I can’t say what time I might get up with the time difference here in California. So I’ll either be sleeping all day, or I might just be wandering around your house at three a.m.”

  Guiding her through the room, I say, “Well, however long you want to stay in it, the bed is right here. There’s a table beside it. Sit here for a sec. I’ll be right back.”

  Dashing across the hall to my own room, I grab a clean t-shirt from my bureau and bring it back.

  “Here’s something for you to sleep in. I’ll leave it on the pillow. Okay, let me show you to the bathroom. Put your hand out to the side—yeah, like that—just walk straight down this short hallway here, and this is the bathroom. The sink is in front of you, the shower is to your right. Would you like me to set the water temperature or anything?”

  She gives me a pursed-lip chiding expression. “No thank you. I can do it myself.”

  “Okay then, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  I start to go but turn back when she speaks again. “Oh, would you mind giving me the address here? I need to find out where the nearest city bus stop is so I can plan transportation to the clinic tomorrow.”

  “I thought we’d already discussed this. You can’t go back there.” My frown is wasted on her, but she can probably hear it in my voice.

  “Culley, I appreciate your concern—and you letting me stay here. But I have to go. It’s why I’m here.”

  “You can volunteer at other places if you want to give back or serve mankind or whatever. There are plenty of soup kitchens and women’s shelters.”

  “No. It has to be the S clinic—this one.”

  Her expression is so serious, so determined. I see that nothing I say is going to dissuade her. Well, nothing I say without Sway, anyway. Maybe I should go ahead and use it on her. My gut squirms uncomfortably at the thought.

  Her insistence on this particular clinic does have my curiosity bursting, though. How do humans usually get each other to reveal information they’d rather not share? I have an idea. Putting one hand on the wall, I lean against it, looking down into her upturned obstinate little face.

  “Listen, if you’ll tell me why it’s so important for you to go there, I’ll drive you.”

  “Why do you have to know everything about me?” she asks with an aggravated sigh.

  I blink. Blink again. It’s a good question. I’ve never really concerned myself with the affairs of humans. In this case I chalk it up to too much forced proximity and an inquiring mind.

  “Call it the price of cab fare for a ride over to skid row tomorrow.”

  She lets out a resentful breath. “Okay. I’ll tell you. After my shower. Now go.” She presses her hands against my abdomen and gives me a small shove, making me laugh.

  “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

  “Go,” she rep
eats.

  Smiling, I make my way across the carpeted floor and out into the hallway, closing the door behind me as I hear the water turn on in the shower. My footstep sends something sliding across the hall’s wood floor. I bend over to pick it up—Laney’s red headband.

  My first impulse is to return it to her. I spin around and grab the doorknob of the guest room but freeze before turning it. She might be undressing in there.

  Down boy. Don’t think about it.

  I turn and resume my journey down the hallway toward the kitchen, rubbing the stretchy fabric band between my fingertips. I’ll give it to her later. Spinning it around one finger, I go to the kitchen to clean up our dinner plates and glasses.

  Under the bright kitchen lights I can see there’s a light pattern stitched into the headband—hearts. I smile. Did she choose this? Or maybe her parents did, picking the sweet, childlike accessory for their sweet, childlike daughter. Only she’s not a child. She might be innocent, she might be small, but Laney knows her own mind. She’s independent to a fault, and maybe with good reason—she did manage to make her way out here from... well, from wherever she’s from.

  I lift the headband to my face, rubbing it against my cheek then pressing it to my nose. It smells like her, the sweet vanilla and peach scent sending a jolt straight from my head to my lower abdomen. I fold the headband, fold it again. Then I stuff it into my pocket, a mixture of shame and satisfaction bubbling in my chest. I am, for all practical purposes, a drug pusher—but I’ve never been a common thief—not until now. I won’t be giving the hair accessory back to Laney. I want it. I’m not sure why.

  Spotting the blue bottle on the counter, I decide to do something to take my mind off that unsettling question. It’ll pass the time, not to mention preventing a flea infestation in my multi-million dollar condo.

  “Cupcake. Come here, fella.”

  The kitten pokes his face out from under my couch, but as I walk toward him, he scrambles back underneath it, almost as if he knows what’s coming. Getting down on my knees, I peer underneath the furniture, spotting the telltale gleam of two eyes deep underneath.