LaClaire Touch

by Dori Lavelle

  I step into my apartment, slamming the door, leaning against it before sinking to the floor, my head in my hands. Derrick’s driver is waiting downstairs. We don’t have much time but I need a moment alone.

  How could Derrick pretend he didn’t know about Eric, after all the letters I sent, after his response? He’s the one playing games and he thinks I’m the one at fault.

  Still trembling on the floor, I pull out my phone and call Allison. In a few words, I explain what had happened.

  She doesn’t respond immediately. In the silence Leon’s tiny voice asks if mommy is sad. “Brooke, what if he’s telling the truth? What if he really doesn’t?”

  “What if he really doesn’t what?”

  “What if he doesn’t know about Eric?”

  “That’s impossible. You know I’m not lying. I mean, you saw the letter he wrote.” A ball of frustration builds inside my chest. “He’s the one who’s lying.”

  “Honey, from what you’re telling me, he sounds really pissed off. If he’s that angry, maybe there’s some other explanation.”

  I massage my forehead with my fingertips. “I don’t see what other explanation there could be. He made it clear he didn’t want Eric.” My teeth sink into my lip so hard it starts to throb like my pulse.

  “Calm down, sweetheart.” Allison pauses. “What does he want you to do now?”

  “Apparently his brother is in a hospital in Mexico. He wants me to fly with him there.”

  “What for?”

  “Apparently to finish our conversation. The phone call came while we were talking.”

  “So he wants you to accompany him?” She clears her throat. “For how long?”

  I raise my shoulders and let them drop. “He didn’t say. He said if I decide I don’t want to stay in Mexico, as soon as we land, he’ll get off the jet and his pilot will bring me back to Boston.”

  “You might not want to hear this, but I think you should go.”

  “But I promised to look after Leon.”

  “You don’t need to. I’ve decided to take the rest of the week off. I already called the school.”

  “How is he feeling?”

  “He says he feels a little better. At least the fever is gone for now.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I chew my knuckle. “I’m still not sure about this Mexico thing though. You really think I should go?”

  “I think you should go. Do as he says, at least until he pays off your debts. And don’t feel guilty about taking his money. He owes you big time. With your debts paid off, you’ll be able to save more for your education.”

  “Fine, I’ll go. But I won’t stay in Cabo with him.”

  “Do whatever your heart tells you. Let’s talk when you get back.”

  I get my documents together and I’m about to leave the room when I spot one of my bras for work, hanging on the back of my desk chair. I remove my phone from my purse and call Hector.

  “Hi there, Brooke. You’re not sick, are you? You don’t sound well.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.”

  “Fantastic. So why are you calling? You’re supposed to be getting your beauty sleep so you can be refreshed by tonight.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Hector. But I’m calling to let you know that I’m not coming back. I quit.”

  “What do you mean you quit? You can’t just quit.”

  “Yes, I can. And I just did. I’m sorry, but you know the only reason I wanted to work for you was because I was desperate.”

  “Yes, what changed?”

  “My financial situation has changed.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You can’t do this to me. I have you booked in the white room several times tonight.”

  “Get one of the other ladies to take my place.” I sigh. “I have to go. I’ll call you in a few hours to explain. I’m really sorry about this.”

  The doorbell rings and I run out of the apartment, rehearsing how I would explain Eric’s absence to Derrick.

  “Sorry I took so long,” I say as I slide into the passenger’s seat. “I needed to take care of a few things.”

  “That’s fine.” The driver’s eyes glance at my hands. “You’re not taking a bag?”

  “No.” I glance out the window. “I don’t intend to stay in Mexico.”

  “Very well. Let’s get going.” He turns the key in the ignition.

  The airfield is only ten minutes from my apartment.

  The jet is white and sleek, with the LaClaire logo on its tail.

  A rush of dizziness sweeps through me as I climb up the steps. My life is about to change. If he keeps his promise, by the end of the day, I’ll be debt-free. The idea of being financially free makes my head spin. I’d be able to focus entirely on saving up for my studies without the debts swallowing up most of my income.

  The interior of the jet resembles a luxury, spacious living room and it’s much bigger than my little apartment.

  “I’m glad you decided to come.” Derrick’s tone is flat, dry. He points to one of the leather seats. “Have a seat.” He glances at my hands, the way his driver did. “You’re not staying in Mexico, are you?” A dark cloud flits across his features. “Where’s my son?”

  “He’s not coming. And yes, I’m not staying in Mexico. I’m only here to tell you whatever you want to hear. I want your pilot to bring me back.”

  “When I get back from Mexico, I want to see him.” His phone rings and he picks up.

  I ease myself into the leather chair with a sigh of relief.

  We don’t speak again as the jet lifts into the sky. Derrick is on the phone with one of his brothers for quite a while. When he’s done, he offers me a glass of lemonade. I take the glass from him, searching his face for signs of guilt. I see only sadness.

  “You should have brought him.” He runs a hand down one side of his face. “I wanted to see him. Don’t you think you’ve kept him from me long enough?”

  “First, explain to me why you didn’t want anything to do with him in the first place.”

  “Like I said before, I had no idea you were pregnant.”

  “The proof that I’m telling the truth is in the bag I left you.” On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have ripped up the letter.

  He digs into his pocket and pulls out the bag filled with pieces of his letter. “This here tells me nothing. You tell me the truth. I want to hear it from you.”

  “When I found out about the pregnancy I tried to talk to you at school, but you were clearly no longer interested in me, after getting what you wanted. So, I left you alone. I had to drop out of school a year before graduation because my life had changed.” I blow out a short breath to gain control. “A few days after I left, I felt bad for not trying harder to speak to you. I thought you might want to know. So, I found the address of one of your family businesses on the internet and sent you a letter.”

  “And you say I responded to the letter?”

  I nod. “You did. And you made it clear that it was my problem.”

  “Why the hell would I do that? Do you think I am some kind of monster or something?” His entire face is tight with rage.

  “That’s what I thought at the time. I was hurt and angry, but I had to suck it up and pull myself together for the sake of the child I was bringing into the world.”

  “Let’s be clear about one thing, Brooke.” He plants his hands on the armrests of his seat. “I never got a letter from you.”

  “Then what’s that?” I point at the bag next to him. “Why don’t you go ahead and piece that letter together, read it. After that, tell me if I’m a liar.”

  “Answer me one question first.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell is my son? Why isn’t he here?”

  “Because he can’t be.” I reach into my handbag and pull out a picture frame, stare at it for a moment, and hand it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  His question feels like a knife to my heart. “It’s his sonogram p
icture.”

  He looks up at me, his lips set in a thin line. “Please tell me you didn’t give him up for adoption.”

  I shut my eyes tight. “No, Derrick. I didn’t. Eric is dead. He was stillborn.” I lower my gaze to the picture frame. “That’s all I have left of him. That, and memories of how he felt inside me.”

  “No.” Derrick’s eyes widen. “He’s dead?”

  21

  Derrick

  In heartbreaking silence I watch as Brooke slumps forward, hands around her stomach as she breaks down. I should go to her, do something to make her feel better. She lost a child. I lost a child. We lost a child.

  How is it possible that in one moment I discover that I’m a father, and in the next I find out my son is dead? Here I was thinking being a dad wouldn’t be too bad. On the way to the airfield I’d imagined how it would be to meet my boy for the first time. I’d been calm about it, excited even. Now it’s over. If I feel this much pain about a baby I never got to meet, how must she be feeling? She carried him for nine months.

  Feeling as though I’m wading through water, I rise from my seat and go to stand next to her. I hesitate for a split second before placing a hand on her head. She lifts her head a fraction, then drops it again. I bend down in front of her, the sudden need to see her eyes burning through me.

  “Please, please look at me.”

  Her eyes are tinted red as her gaze meets mine. “You really didn’t know about—”

  I place a hand under her chin. Her tears trickle into my palm. “I swear to God, Brooke. I had no idea.”

  “But—the letter.” Her lips tremble.

  I glance at the little bag. “I don’t know who wrote it, but it wasn’t me.” I make a mental note to get to the bottom of it later.

  “You really didn’t know?” The dark cloud of resentment that had tainted her eyes since she found me waiting on her doorstep, lifts. Of all the girls I met, she has the most beautiful eyes. Even though I never meant for memories of her to stay with me beyond the moment we spent together, the image of the warm, coppery tint of her eyes remained with me.

  She must have been wearing contact lenses at The Mirage because the eyes looking back at me had been china blue. If she had shown me her real eyes, I would have recognized her instantly. I would have remembered. As she looks at me now, the beauty of her eyes drowns in pain.

  She’s no longer the strong woman who told me to back off. She’s back to being the girl I knew back then. My heart clenches at the thought of how I treated her. I may not have turned my back on her concerning the baby, but I used her. I took what I wanted and moved on, without thinking of her feelings.

  I place both hands on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” My voice is low and tortured. “I was a stupid kid in high school. I treated girls like shit. I only saw them as a piece of ass.” Disgust rolls through me. Disgust for sleeping with prostitutes, most of whom have gone through shit and turned to prostitution out of desperation. I always paid them well, but still I saw them as objects, there only to satisfy my needs.

  “Please forgive me.” I smooth back her hair. “I’m sorry for everything.” Lance was right. Brooke is my weakness, the one forcing me to stop and put myself under a magnifying glass, finding nothing I like there. “Please promise me you won’t return to The Mirage.”

  She gives me a watery smile. “I don’t need to. If you’re still paying off my debts.”

  “I keep my promises.” Feeling heavier than I’d ever felt before, I sit next to her on the couch. I’m no longer touching her but I still sense a connection between us, one that trumps physical contact. Our son may be dead, but he left something behind. He bound us together.

  I don’t dare think about where we’ll go from here but I’m starting to see that the desires my conscious and subconscious mind have aren’t aligned. I place my hands on my knees, tip my head back and close my eyes.

  “Please, tell me everything.” My voice is a croak inside my throat.

  She shifts beside me and doesn’t answer immediately. When she does, her words come out in splinters. ”What . . . what do you want to know?”

  “Start with the day he was born.”

  “He was born in a women’s shelter.”

  “A shelter?” My eyes fly open. I twist to face her. Before thoughts take over, I reach for her hand. It’s cool and small in mine. “I’m so sorry.”

  She drops her head. A strand of her hair hangs in front of her face, swaying as she breathes in and out. “When my stepfather found out I was pregnant, he threw me out. I had nowhere to go. I stayed for a while in a homeless shelter. While there, I met a woman who took me to a shelter for pregnant women. She took me under her wing.”

  Her words, her pain hit me so hard I curl my hands into fists. I normally pride myself on being fearless and strong, but I’ve never felt as weak as I feel now. Weak and furious that I wasn’t given the chance to lighten her load, a load she had to carry because of what I’d done to her. “How long did you stay at the shelter?”

  “Until Eric was born. I mean when he . . .” She blinks several times. “After the stillbirth, I lost it. I was in a dark hole. I wanted the pain to go away.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I took pain medication. I thought . . . I thought I’d feel better. I only got worse and I became addicted—”

  “Jesus.” Clenching my teeth, I slam a fist into my thigh. I reach for her, hold her tight to my body. My eyes heat up again. “Stop. If it hurts too much, you can stop.”

  “I don’t.—I don’t want to stop.” She draws her feet onto the couch, hugging her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “It helps a little.” She pauses before speaking again. “It got so bad that I was forced out of the shelter. On the streets, I was completely alone, and my depression made it hard for me to hold down a job. Each time I thought of my baby, my world plunged into darkness.”

  I’m holding my breath as I take the framed photo from the couch and grip it hard. Fire burns in my eyes as I walk away without a word.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I don’t answer because a rock inside my throat is blocking the words from coming out. I keep walking until I find myself locked inside the bathroom, surrounded by expensive wood, marble, and fabrics, feeling like shit. Still holding the sonogram photo, I close my eyes and press my forehead into the wall. I give myself permission to cry.

  I allow myself ten minutes alone, imagining the pain Brooke had to endure. The torture I feel doesn’t even come close to how she must have felt. That’s why I pull myself together and exit the bathroom. She needs me now. I wasn’t there when she needed me most, but I’m here now.

  I find her gazing out of the small window of the plane. For a few seconds, I stop to stare. In spite of what she has gone through, she’s even more beautiful than she was in school. I imagine her sitting there with a baby in her arms. An invisible knife rams into my gut and twists.

  I don’t think as I cross the space between us, pull her to her feet. My mouth searches for hers. She tastes of tears and heartache. The only thought that slips through my mind as I lower her onto the comfortable couch and peel her clothes off, is that I want more than anything to erase her pain, even for a moment, to make her feel better the only way I’m able to right now.

  I don’t remember much of what happens between the removal of our clothes and me burying myself into her. But as I slide into her, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths heating up each other’s faces, my hands around her firm ass, holding her together, one thought drops into my mind. I’ve never been one to put down roots, but she feels like home. And for the first time in my life, I’m making love, not just screwing.

  In our moment of shared pain, I’ve found something I didn’t know I was searching for. A need that used to send me to all corners of the world, forced me to walk into all kinds of dangers. Something that made me jump off planes, walk on coals, surf on dormant volcanoes, and run from bulls. It’s not something after all. It’s
someone. It’s Brooke.

  The way I feel now, is the same way I feel when up on a roller coaster. In her arms, I feel the thrill of soaring and the fear of falling. In her arms, my thirst for adventure is finally quenched.

  22

  Brooke

  Funny how emotions change just like that. I’ve spent years running, trying not to get lost, only to lose myself in the man I’ve hated for a long time, the man I never wanted to see again, the man who sliced my heart into two. Now, as I spread my legs wide open, all I want is him, every inch of him. I want him to go deep, to fill the empty spaces within me, to drown in me as I’m drowning in him.

  I move my body against him, grinding, arching my back, screaming out his name as I had done at The Mirage. This time I don’t have to hold back. Opening myself wide is both thrilling and terrifying.

  My impatience growing to explosive proportions, I wrap my arms tighter around him, my breasts crushing against his hard chest. My lips find the crook of his neck. Nothing has ever tasted better than his sweat. His heart thuds against mine, his breath heats my skin. His dick feels like it was made for my body. As it moves in and out, I’m desperate to give in to the orgasm that begs to be released but I don’t want it to end. But my orgasm wins, spreading like fire inside my belly, roaring and raging before it explodes mere seconds before Derrick also gives in to ecstasy.

  His face is pressed into my shoulder as he whispers my name. Something inside me shifts, sliding back into place. The pain becomes a memory, a blur in the distance.

  He moves his lips to my ear as we pant in each other’s arms. “Stay.” His voice is muffled against my skin. “Stay with me in Cabo.”

  “Okay.” Like emotions, plans have a way of changing out of the blue. I suddenly want to be where he is. If it’s Mexico, so be it.

  “You were amazing.” His fingers trace the length of my spine. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear. Woman, you’ve got skills. You’re hands down the best sex I’ve ever had.”