“Alexis, meet the newest member of the entourage.” Paul turned to me. “He calls us an extended family but it’s really Lauren and the rest of us.” His daughter’s arrival lent him a little less hang-dog, a little more overt aggression.
“We know what you think, Dad. Now, how about a nice, large cup of coffee?”
“You’re worried about me,” Paul smiled drunkenly.
“I’m worried about Annie,” Alexis teased. “You’re too big for her to carry home.”
“Allie, you know she hates to be called Annie.”
“And I’m not too fond of Allie, but that doesn’t stop you.” Alexis walked a couple of steps toward the bartender and pointed to the giant coffee urn. “Black,” she ordered.
I considered making it two, but eyeballing Alexis’s body called for a cold one.
“Now, who are you?” Alexis asked after handing Paul his coffee.
“Sorry.” Paul lifted his nose from the Styrofoam. His hand trembled and he dribbled some of the hot liquid over his fingers. This was one unlucky guy when it came to coffee on the go. “Matt Jacob, Lou’s son-in-law. The guy who rescued Ian.”
“I didn’t know Lou had a daughter,” Alexis said.
“She’s been dead for a long time,” I answered for the second time that night, this time waiting for the inevitable loss of breath and jolt of anger. But a save by Paul pulled me off the cliff.
“He’s also the private detective who’s ’s been checking on Lauren’s spooky stalker,” Paul chuckled.
“She doesn’t quit, does she?” Alexis grimaced.
“You know your mother,” Paul said, a touch of anger in his tone.
Alexis tried to change the subject. “Why don’t we find Anne before you say something you’ll regret.”
“I’m done with regrets,” Paul boasted, suggesting the opposite.
Alexis took his arm. “Then let’s make sure you don’t create any new ones. You stay right here,” she called over her shoulder as she helped her father. “You got lost once already.”
I didn’t know what she meant, but wanted to. Enough to root me right where I was. Actually, just flexible enough to bellow to the bartender for a bourbon neat. Underneath my excitement was a hint of guilty discomfort—a hint I wanted to ignore.
I didn’t have long to wait. Alexis returned with a brisk, hip-shifting stroll, and an emphatic shake of her thick curls. “He doesn’t get drunk all that often,” she said apologetically.
“No problem.” I was relieved to discover the bourbon unlocked my tongue. “Would you like something yourself?”
“That would be great. Bombay Sapphire and tonic with an extra lime. Have you met everybody?”
The marimba was on hold which made listening to her purr a pleasure. “I don’t know who you mean by everybody. I’ve met Stephen, Heather, Vivian, and Anne. Now you.”
“And you’ve already met Ian,” Alexis said directly. “I guess you know the whole cast of characters.”
I nodded and we lapsed into silence until the bartender returned with our order.
“Fetching Ian must have been difficult,” she said after a quick swallow.
“Nah,” I smiled. “Now Vivian, that was difficult.”
A dazzling white grin split her angular features, driving her high cheekbones up another notch. “How bad was she?”
“Well, she didn’t have any trouble expressing her opinions.”
“It’s the price we pay. If Vivian’s not on her pills she’s pretty loopy. But then, everyone in our family is loopy.”
“You too?”
Alexis flashed her gleaming teeth. “Of course.”
I lit a cigarette.
“Does that make you nervous?” she asked.
“I was nervous before I got here.”
“Why?”
“My intro to your clan has been a little ‘roundabout.” As was our conversation. If it weren’t, I’d be running my fingers across her naked midriff.
“We’re not a very straightforward group of people. Certainly not straight.”
“That part’s fine,” I said, trying, but failing to push my prurient aside.
Alexis made a sour face as the marimba man returned to his instrument. “Hello south of the border, goodbye conversation. Let’s get out of here.”
“Leave?” I don’t know what hit first: understanding, desire, or reluctance.
“Sure.”
“Where do you want to go?” I stalled.
“Wherever my convertible takes us.”
I drained the last of my drink. “I have my car here.”
“We’ll come back for it.”
Alexis turned and said something to the bartender who handed her a bottle of champagne and two long stemmed plastic glasses. Without a backward glance she worked her way through the crowd toward the outside stairs while I hesitated. What the fuck was I doing sneaking off with Lauren Rowe’s daughter?
I didn’t hesitate for long. What slowed me wasn’t sneaking away, but desire. I was crawling very close to one of those cutting edges, knew it, and still followed her long legs and suede bottom.
Alexis’s low slung, open air Saab, was almost as breathtaking as she. Creamy pearl-gray exterior with white trim, wire wheels, and a plush coffee interior. No kiddy carpools for this classic, updated and restored landshark.
Alexis pressed a red button on her key-ring and the fat tire’d four wheeler flashed its eyes.
“Doesn’t seem like a town where you need that,” I said, twisting my tingling body into the lush leather bucket.
“Every town is that sort of town,” she replied. “Anyway, it’s a habit, the way I try to live my life.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Alexis smiled, opened her legs under the padded steering wheel and looked me over. “I don’t know, why don’t you?” She glanced into the rearview mirror and deftly pulled onto the street. I grabbed the crash handle anticipating multiple g force.
“No need to hold on,” she said smoothly shifting into second. “I don’t drive as fast as I look.”
“Should I be disappointed or relieved?”
Alexis laughed and aimed the car out of town. “Getting away is the relief.”
“Not big on these annual get-togethers?”
“The party was fine, better than most. Lauren actually had the place looking decent.”
“It’s the house you don’t like?”
“I love the damn house. I hate what’s happening to it.”
“You want to explain?”
“Have you seen the Hacienda in the daylight? Rotten clapboard, cracks in the brick pillars under the porches, mildew on soffits—and the foundation has serious problems. The main beam needs work and the furnace truly frightens me. It should have been replaced years ago. Also, someone is going to break their neck on the goddamn front stairs.” Alexis’s voice rose as her grip tightened on the plump steering wheel. “I haven’t even mentioned the chimney and roof. My wonderful mother won’t spend a dime on the place and by the time she finally sells, it will be worthless.”
Alexis noticed my open mouth because she burst out laughing. “Don’t look so surprised, I’m in real estate.”
“Passionate about it too.”
“About the Hacienda. It’s a very special place and I hate to see it neglected. Watch, now that Lauren and Lou are an item, she’ll manipulate you into playing handyman.”
“It must be difficult for your mother to care for the Hacienda by herself.”
“If that’s what she’s telling you, it’s bullshit. My father works his ass off on the house. He spends an enormous amount of time keeping it upright. And believe me, he puts up with an earful from ‘Little Orphan Annie’ because of it.”
We left the town behind, speeding our way through a series of curves and back loops. Alexis concentrated on the dark, winding road and I hunted the Euro dash for an ashtray. I found it, noted the empty, gleaming interior and lit up anyway. I hoped she didn’t have the sam
e low opinion of body abuse that she had about house neglect.
The longer we remained silent, the louder my anxiety. “It didn’t seem like you or your father think much of Lauren’s worry about being followed,” I said, rolling my guilt about being with her into the one concern I was willing to contemplate.
“I can’t speak for him since he won’t talk about it. For me it’s just another family drama, “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
“Your mother isn’t an idiot, Alexis.”
“My, my, a literate gumshoe.”
I was torn between watching the road and her nearly naked legs. Legs won. “The only gumshoes I know are in paperbacks. Anyhow, ‘literate’ is too fancy to describe my taste.”
“What’s the line from that Brando movie?” Alexis asked.
“I coulda been a contendah.” Wonder why I picked that one?
“I’m thinking of the one where the woman says...”
“I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers,” I said showing off.
“Well, with my mother, it doesn’t stop with strangers.”
“You do have a mad-on.”
“Not really. From the outside, Lauren’s life looks like a model of courage. The original brass-balled broad. Progressive politics, experimental lifestyles; a lot before any of it became fashionable.
“Unfortunately, living on the inside wasn’t nearly so wonderful. She did the experimenting and the rest of us paid the price. Lauren dragged us through one strange trip after another, no matter the cost. Now it’s this stalking bullshit.”
“So you’re not worried?”
“About someone stalking my mother?” Alexis kept her eyes on the road. “Are you taking her seriously,” she asked, shaking her head.
“Enough to check.”
“Did you discover anything?”
The only thing discovered had been me but I wasn’t gonna tell. “Not yet.”
“And you’re a professional.”
“Thanks.”
Alexis grazed my face with a sideways glance. “If you’re not careful my mother will run you in circles. I’d drop the whole ridiculous thing if I were you.” As if to soften her remarks Alexis added, “Tell you the truth Matt, I think my mother’s relationship with Lou has unsettled the family. He’s very different than anyone she’s ever spent time with and she’s very different when they’re together. It has everyone unhinged—including me.”
The speedometer climbed to eighty and I reached for the strap.
“Relax, I’m not going to kill us,” Alexis said unconvincingly. We have a long way to go.
Before I could ask where she was taking us Alexis said, “My mother lives in her own imaginary world.. On top of which, she hands my brothers built-in reasons for their personal failures. Look at Ian’s accident.”
Alexis used the same euphemism all of them used. Maybe anyone would. I didn’t know whether it was the sound of Ian rolling onto the Bimmer’s floor, but I couldn’t help asking, “Why does everyone call Ian’s suicide attempt an accident?”
Alexis gave no outward indication she was bothered by my question, though her accelerator toe tilted forward. “Because no one believes he ever intended to seriously hurt himself. He just fucked up. Hence, accident.”
“He didn’t cut himself shaving.”
“He’s had plenty of practice fucking up,” Alexis said in a chilly voice. “He should know better than to play with knives. Ian continually finds pathetic ways to beg for attention.” A less than amused grin rearranged her lush lips. “We’ve had some real doozies. My father had to fly down to Orlando to pick him up from Disney World. Seems my little brother ate enough acid to take center stage during a performance and tried to convince the tourists he was the reincarnation of Walt. It took seven security guards to remove him. Plus
Ian’s also Bruce Lee if kicking at yourself in a mirror earns a belt.”
“How’s he doing?” I asked mildly, hoping to throttle back her foot. And her.
Alexis’s mouth tucked into harsh, “Don’t know and don’t care. But if he weren’t okay, my mother would be bedside holding his hand.”
Ian was clearly not a topic to pursue if I wanted to pursue Alexis. And despite a continuing undercurrent of conscience, pursuit was exactly what I wanted. Bullshit, I wanted to catch. So she wasn’t a warm and tender mother, brother lover; I wasn’t sitting here for warm and tender.
“Well my friend, you got yourself mixed up with a real zoo.” Alexis tossed her head in a way that reminded me of Lauren, but I didn’t think it wise to point out the similarity.
Or wise to be where I was. Part of me wanted her to turn the car around, most just wanted to rid her of her hostility. So I kept silent and watched the Saab’s sloping hood chow down the onrushing white line.
Alexis hooked a sharp right and pulled onto a secondary highway. The engine noise rose, though the front seat stayed remarkably wind free. Alexis pushed a button and all four door windows rose simultaneously. The night sky was still our roof, but big bucks also bought quiet.
We rode in silence while Alexis chewed on our discussion. Literally. Her high cheekbones and jaw shifted until she finally said, “I dislike perpetual victims. You have a problem, I say fix it. Victims don’t think like that. It’s always someone else’s fault. Welfare is stuffed with victims and so is my family.”
“Stuffed?”
“Well, Dad’s different. He’s a loyal guy and had the lousy luck to fall head over heels for Lauren. But as soon as he stopped taking orders she dumped him. But look at the rest. Ian, Stephen, my mother—despite her various poses.”
I looked at Alexis instead. “Stephen just seemed dour.”
“Just dour? He must have been high.” She suddenly shook her head and grinned, her anger forgotten. “Let me guess, you were getting stoned with him when you disappeared from the party.”
I nodded, “Him and Heather Heywood.”
“Funny how things work. Lou seems so damn normal.”
“Lou is normal.”
“And you?”
“I usually don’t fit in, that’s all.”
She caught my eye and winked, “Maybe you fit in better than you think. Anyway, you’re doing okay with me.”
“It’s an unusual night.”
“I hope so,” Alexis grinned wickedly. “Could you believe Heather’s clothes and make-up? Black and white is all she ever wears.
“Portrait of a young woman as a dead artist.”
“Only she’s very much alive and talented. Her work is really very good.”
“You’re kidding? She seemed like an air-head.”
“Anything but. Heather is soft, but she’s not dumb.” Alexis glanced at me then shifted her eyes back to the empty highway. “If you hang around long enough you’re going to discover that people in this family are not always what they seem.”
I hoped Alexis was who she seemed to be. The cocaine was starting to ebb but it didn’t affect my flow. Alexis was a burning candle and I was a high flying moth. Wherever we were going, I hoped we got there soon.
As if she read my thoughts, Alexis opened her knees another inch. “P-Town,” she said.
“That’s really far.”
“Not anymore.”
Alexis did drive as fast as she looked. We’d covered a huge distance in a very short time. Eighty to a hundred rushes things along.
“I come down all the time. I have an office to handle summer rentals. Around here you can pawn off a doghouse for a grand a week,” she chuckled, a satisfied look crossing her face.
“I guess you’re pretty good at your job,” I said.
“You too. Very good.”
“How so?”
“The only thing we’ve talked about is my family. You haven’t said a word about yourself and Lou. Somehow, I don’t think it’s accidental.”
Well, we were off greed, though the change wasn’t exactly a relief. “Lou is a helluva guy. A real character. Wheeling and dealing before C
hicago slapped tomatoes on its hot dogs. Worked his way through the Democratic Party holding hands with Lord Mayor Daley The First. For a long time he had enormous political clout. He moved out here when his wife died. I was the closest thing to a living relative.”
Alexis reacted impatiently. “Lou isn’t the one I’m interested in.” To underscore her point Alexis added ten to the dial.
I resisted an automatic impulse to grab the strap. “I’m not sure how to begin,” I juked, worrying that fleshing out reality would undermine my heat-laden fantasies.
“How about the badge?”
Luck was running my way. Alexis picked an area that only occasionally bordered reality. It was a riff I could play, and did, emphasizing the lack of excitement and danger that defined this dick’s day-to-day.
I told her about my old mall-man gig, filling the next portion of the trip with numerous, humorous tales of human nature unleashed by consumer madness. I bypassed anything close to important to keep reality at bay and because Alexis thoroughly enjoyed stories that presented people in an absurd light. Her cynicism bothered me until I remembered who was choosing the stories. After that I relaxed and laughed as much as she.
As we pulled onto the single road leading into the arty, Portuguese fishing town, Alexis reluctantly slowed her signature machine. Unfortunately, the change in speed brought me a little closer to earth. What the hell was I doing next to this strange and beautiful woman? With no answer other than my original hard-on. But that answer was still good enough.
Alexis drove slowly down Main Street past rows of small inns and guesthouses until we came to the first of the art galleries. Garbage under glass, though in fairness, the colony contained talented artists and honest writers. Even had legitimate galleries away from the main drag.
Alexis brushed by packs of late night pedestrians still crowding the narrow sidewalk-less street. “Damnit!” she cursed.
“What’s the matter?”
Alexis shot her left thumb toward a small cedar shingled storefront. “I’d planned on the upstairs, but it’s still being used.”
I saw lights above the store and a long white Infinity in the driveway.
The Complete Matt Jacob Series Page 95
