“You don’t really want to be the assistant news scriptwriter at Channel 7,” Danielle said. She turned and nodded toward Vance. “You just want what Vance can give you—love, happiness, a home, and babies.”
“Danielle!” Boston scolded. She’d been through enough emotional drama in the past few minutes with what Danielle had revealed! She didn’t want to have hope well up in her only to be crushed by cruel, cruel reality.
“Will you do it?” Danielle asked. “Will you let go of all the trash Steph injected into your brain and mind and soul? Will you let go of it and make my brother happy? Save him?”
“Danielle,” Boston whispered. “He’ll break my heart! He’ll rip it out of my chest, take a bite, grimace, and throw it down the garbage disposal. I don’t know…I don’t know if I could ever recover from that!”
“He’s not a cannibal, Boston,” Danielle said. “He’s just a man with a lot to offer…to the woman he was meant to offer it to.”
Boston shook her head and brushed the tears from her cheeks as Danielle brushed the tears from her own. She smiled then.
“I know he’s not a cannibal,” she giggled.
Danielle giggled too. “No…he’s a lot of things, but a cannibal isn’t one of them.”
Boston’s fear returned then. She bit her trembling lip and said, “It’s way scary, Danielle.”
“I know,” Danielle said. “But think how great it will be when the scary part is over.” She grinned. “You can spend all the time you want locked in the pantry with Vance. According to poor Trisha Coleman, that would be worth any risk. Wouldn’t it?”
Boston looked at her friend. Danielle was right. Too much time spent in Steph’s company had not only poisoned Boston’s confidence but had also dulled her senses—the senses that led her to helping others, to reading them, to staying on the path she knew she was meant to be on.
“Here,” Danielle said. “Close your eyes for a minute, Bost. Close your eyes, and put aside all that poison Steph pumped into you.”
Boston closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Now keep them closed,” Danielle whispered. She felt Danielle’s hands on her shoulders. “Keep them closed…and turn around.” Boston let Danielle turn her around. “Breathe…breathe…that’s it. Now…Boston Rhodes…open your eyes.”
Boston did as Danielle said.
“Tell me what you see,” Danielle whispered.
Naturally, Boston’s gaze fell to Vance. He was still surrounded by women, still talking with them, being his charming, enchanting self. He glanced up, smiled, and winked at her. Instantly, her heart soared. Vance Nathaniel was everything she’d always dreamed of finding in a friend, a boyfriend, a lover—and more. Everything! Even down to his imperfections, he fit the bill—Boston’s bill. She could see it then—see her chance, perhaps her only chance, to find true happiness. She could see something else too; she glimpsed Vance Nathaniel’s very soul. For only a breath, for a mere instant, Boston saw the goodness in him, saw the promise of faithfulness and heroism. She saw too that he did indeed yet endure some secret torture—some malicious, haunting thing. In that moment, she meant to vanquish it—to conquer whatever thing it was holding him so tormented. She meant to conquer it, free him, liberate his soul the way he had liberated hers by protecting her from further damage at Steph’s hand.
Boston’s confidence—her self-assurance—was short-lived. Yet the moment had offered her a glimpse of her past self—of who she really was. Boston Rhodes wasn’t meant to be a pushover. She wasn’t too nice either. She’d simply been poisoned and lost a measure of her strength. Yet it was returning—she was returning.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, Danielle…I’ll seduce your brother,” she said. She turned to her friend, and they embraced. She heard Danielle sniffle and knew more tears had escaped Danielle’s eyes just as they had her own.
Danielle giggled, even for her tears. “I knew you would. I knew he had his hooks that deeply in you already. They didn’t call him Vance Romance for nothing!”
Boston giggled too. “And you promise me, Danielle? You promise he’s not a cannibal?”
The heavy roller coaster of emotions both Boston and Danielle had been riding over the past few minutes finally reached its peak. Boston and Danielle embraced, laughing and weeping simultaneously.
“Like I said, he’s a lot of things, Bost…but a cannibal ain’t one of them!” Danielle laughed.
“Who’s not a cannibal?”
Boston gasped, looking up to see Vance standing behind her.
“What’s so funny?” Dempsey asked, arriving at the snack table and dunking a stale tortilla chip in the bowl containing Boston’s bean salsa.
“I don’t know,” Vance said as Boston and Danielle continued to snicker and wipe residual tears from their eyes. “Something about a cannibal…though I suspect we’ve just intruded on an estrogen surge.”
“Ooo, dude! Scary!” Dempsey exclaimed.
Boston sighed and wiped a tear—a tear of laughter and mirth—from the corner of one eye. Danielle giggled too.
“Shut up, you guys,” Danielle scolded. “We were just having a tender moment.”
Vance’s handsome brow puckered into a puzzled frown. “About cannibals?” he asked.
Instantly, Boston and Danielle burst into giggles.
“No, you idiot,” Danielle said once she’d managed to control her giggles. “About…the past…and the future.”
Boston smiled at her friend. What would she do without Danielle? Who would she be? In that moment, she realized just how much influence Danielle had on her—on who Boston Rhodes had been and was. Danielle had enriched her life immeasurably—still did—always would. Silently she prayed—offered thanks for such a wonderful friend and teacher.
“Definitely an estrogen spill,” Dempsey said. “Call the coast guard!”
“Be nice,” Danielle teased, slapping Dempsey playfully on the arm.
“I’m always nice,” Dempsey said. He took her hand and held it for a long time.
Boston smiled as she watched the blush rise to Danielle’s cheeks. Danielle was a great one for matchmaking, that was obvious. Still, Boston decided it was time Danielle stopped worrying about everybody else’s future and started worrying about her own—and Boston determined she’d find a way to make that happen.
“While you girls were over here brewing estrogen, the party started breaking up,” Dempsey said. “Everyone’s leaving, and Vance—weenie that he is—says he’s tired,” Dempsey whined dramatically. “So, I was wondering if you would mind staying and helping me clean up a bit, Danielle. Boston can go, and I’ll run you home afterward. Would that be okay?”
Boston felt her own eyebrows arch in astonishment. She glanced up at Vance to see him fighting a knowing grin.
Danielle looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh…um…” she stammered.
“That would be fine,” Boston answered for her. “In fact, I’m tired too. So why don’t you just bring my salsa bowl home with you when you come, okay, Danielle?”
“Um…sure,” Danielle managed.
“Great!” Boston exclaimed. She reached out and quickly embraced Dempsey. “Fabulous party, Dempsey,” she said. “As usual! Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thank you, Boston,” Dempsey said.
“Yeah, man,” Vance said, offering a hand to Dempsey. “It was awesome.”
Dempsey shook Vance’s hand and nodded.
“Well, good night,” Vance said. Boston smiled as he placed his hand at the small of her back and began pushing her toward the door. “I’ll see you later, Danny.”
“Good night,” Boston called over her shoulder as Vance hurried her out the front door.
Vance closed the door behind them, smiling at Boston. “I think your pal Dempsey is finally manning up,” he whispered.
Boston giggled. “Me too!”
Vance exhaled a heavy breath—as if he’d been holding it in for a long time. He shook his head and said
, “I just want her to be happy, you know? Really happy.”
“Me too,” Boston whispered. She studied Vance for a moment, astounded at the realization only just beginning to wash over her. Vance and Danielle were each amazing! Not only in the obvious ways of Danielle’s being beautiful and Vance’s being gorgeous, but also that they both valued the other’s happiness more than their own. It was a rare and admirable quality—perhaps especially in siblings.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s a little cooler than I expected,” Boston said, rubbing her arms with her hands.
“Yeah,” Vance mumbled as he looked up into the clear night sky. “There must be a little cold front moving in or something.”
Boston shivered, and he said, “Hey! I’ve got all my laundry in my pickup…including a nice, clean, very warm sweatshirt. Let me get it for you.”
“Oh, no! I’m fine,” Boston assured him.
“No…let me get it,” he insisted, pausing next to his pickup.
Boston watched as he took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the passenger’s side door of the old pickup truck. He rummaged around through a couple of duffle bags for a moment, finally producing a pristine white sweatshirt.
“Here,” he said, unzipping it and holding it out for her to put on. “We don’t want you catching cold, now do we?”
Boston giggled at his parental tone, delighted as he proceeded to zip the front of the sweatshirt for her. She frowned, however, glancing past him to the duffle bags full of laundry sitting in the front seat of his pickup.
“Why are you dragging your clean laundry around?” she asked. “Don’t you have a washer and dryer at your house? You can use the one in our apartment next time if you want.”
“Um…uh…um…I just haven’t had a chance to hook them up yet,” he stammered. “I’ll get to it this week. I just went to the laundry place today…’cause it was just easier. I knew you guys were getting stuff ready for Dempsey’s party…so I just went to the laundry thing.”
Boston’s eyes narrowed. She studied him for a moment, noting the way he seemed to be having a hard time looking her in the eye. He was babbling, sort of like she babbled when she was wound up about something. The thought quickly passed through her mind that he was lying about his laundry, the Laundromat, and not having his appliances hooked up. Yet why would he lie about something like that?
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm and fairly dragging her toward her car. “I want you to get home and get warmed up.” They reached her car quickly, and he held a strong hand out to her, saying, “Keys?”
Boston reached into her pocket and retrieved her keys, handing them to him.
Vance opened her door and shoved the keys in the ignition.
“Thanks,” Boston said.
“No, thank you, Boston Rhodes,” Vance replied.
“For what?” she asked, entirely bewildered.
He grinned—the handsome, naughty grin Boston had begun to recognize as the precursor to mischief.
“Well, let’s just say…I’ll never think anyone’s pantry is a boring waste of space again.”
“Good night, Vance Nathaniel!” Boston giggled as he closed her car door.
He chuckled, and she started the car.
She heard Vance’s pickup roar to life and glanced in her rearview mirror to see him pull out of Dempsey’s driveway.
Suspicion rose in her bosom again. He’d been lying about his laundry situation—she was sure he’d been lying. But why?
Carefully, Boston backed her car around so that she could drive out of Dempsey’s roundabout driveway the same way Vance had. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to see him safely home—needed to see that he was tucked in his new house all nice and cozy.
Yet as she followed quite a distance behind him, she was surprised when he passed Gem Lane. Gem Lane had been the delivery address on the furniture receipt she’d found in his wallet. Why wasn’t he going home?
Boston became more and more unsettled as Vance’s pickup meandered down into the south section of town—a very undesirable section indeed.
“What the heck?” she asked aloud as his pickup turned into the parking lot of a seedy motel.
Boston drove past the first entrance into the parking lot. She didn’t want Vance to see her—to figure out she was spying on him like some psycho ex-girlfriend. Slowly she pulled into the second entrance to the motel’s parking lot and parked out a ways away from the nearest parking lot light.
Boston watched as Vance pulled into a parking spot in front of a room. He turned off his pickup, pulled the two duffle bags out of the front seat, locked the vehicle, and headed for the motel room door.
Boston shook her head. Surely Vance hadn’t lied about more than his laundry? Surely he wasn’t staying in this roach motel?
Then, as realization began to seep into her mind, Boston’s stomach smoldered with a sick nausea. Surely Vance hadn’t moved out of Danielle’s nice, comfortable apartment and into this dive simply so Boston could escape from Steph. It couldn’t possibly be the reason—he hardly knew her! Well, they spent a great deal of time talking whenever Boston was at Danielle’s and Vance was home, and they had shared an intimate, delicious kiss the week before. But that had been after he’d already moved out. Certainly he hadn’t known her—still didn’t know her—well enough to make this sort of a sacrifice. And no guy left on earth was that chivalrous anymore.
Boston felt her eyes widen as something else occurred to her then. Perhaps Vance hadn’t even bought the house! Perhaps he’d just told Danielle he had—hoped he’d be able to buy it in a month’s time. Something had gone wrong with the sale. That was it—that had to be it!
Still, a tiny, nagging voice in Boston’s head maintained Vance had indeed moved into this motel so that Boston could move in with Danielle. She had to know! She had to confront him and find out why he’d moved out, why he was living in a motel.
As Boston stepped out of her car, locked it, and looked around, half expecting to be mugged, she hoped there was some other logical reason for finding Vance at the shabby place. Her heart twisted with guilt as she again wondered if Vance was here because of her.
It was so dark in the parking lot. Only a handful of the streetlights had bulbs in them. As Boston passed Vance’s pickup, she couldn’t help but pause to peer in through the driver’s side windshield. She grinned at the mess inside—Juicy Fruit wrappers strewn hither and yon, three empty sports drink bottles tossed on the passenger’s side floor. A parking pass for the zoo hung from the rearview mirror, and the ashtray under the center panel radio and temperature controls was pulled open and heaping with discarded change.
The fleeting thought that she would love to ride in the old pickup breezed through Boston’s mind, and she turned her attention to the door of Vance’s motel room.
“Number fourteen,” she mumbled out loud as she approached.
Reaching out, she tentatively rapped on the door.
“Hang on,” Vance called from beyond the door with the number fourteen on it.
Boston’s heart was pounding so violently within her chest she wondered if the entire motel complex could hear it. Naturally, the thought had never occurred to her—until that very moment—that Vance might be pretty ticked off when he found out she’d been spying on him, that she’d followed him home.
“Oh my heck!” Boston breathed. “I really have turned into Steph—a psycho, stalker type!”
She thought of turning, running, and hiding behind the nearby shrubbery and pretending that someone had only been ding-dong ditching. But it was too late—Vance opened the door.
He stood before her wearing only his jeans, having already stripped off his shirt in obvious preparation for retiring. He wore one other thing besides his jeans—an expression not so unlike that of a child having just been caught stealing cookies out of his mother’s cookie jar.
“Boston? What are you doing here?” he greeted, guilty as s
in.
Boston studied him quickly—as usual, entirely impressed by the well-defined muscles of his upper body—as usual, entirely bashful because of them.
“What are you doing here? I mean…I followed you,” she flatly confessed. “I thought there was something fishy about the way you were acting at Dempsey’s…so I followed you.”
A purely mortifying thought drove its way into her tender brain then—a lewd, horrid, sickening thought that Boston hadn’t considered before. Perhaps—perhaps Vance didn’t live at the cheap motel. Perhaps he was only meeting someone there for one night! Though Boston’s heart didn’t want to even imagine that Vance Nathaniel was the kind of guy to meet a woman at a motel, her world-worn, Steph-poisoned mind began concocting all sorts of scenarios, including visions of exactly what kind of woman a man would meet at such a place and such a time.
Boston’s stomach churned and threatened to heave out its contents.
“My…uh…my house wasn’t quite ready…so I’m…I’m staying here until it is. Just…just for the next two weeks or so,” he answered, drawing her thoughts from streetwalkers and a Law and Order episode she remembered and back to reality.
“So you lied,” she said. “You lied to Danielle…and me. Please tell me you just couldn’t stand the estrogen level at the apartment. Don’t tell me you did this because you felt sorry for me.”
He grinned a little, his eyes sort of twinkling with mischief. “I couldn’t stand the estrogen level at the apartment,” he said.
“I had no idea you were such a big, fat liar!” Boston exclaimed, relieved to know Vance wasn’t meeting some tramp—yet guilt-ridden too, for she knew the truth now.
Kiss in the Dark Page 17
