Luna Exposed

by Kristin Leigh

  Shit.

  “These are real?” I croak, fingering the necklace I’d carelessly worn at least once a week for a year.

  He nods once.

  I fumble behind my neck to unclasp it. I can’t keep real pearls. They’re probably worth a fortune. One of the reasons I was so sure they were fake was how pure they were, how every single one was the same size. Real pearls aren’t like that. But I should have known that he wouldn’t have fake pearls.

  Then I realize what I’ve been doing with the pearls besides wearing them for the past year and my face heats. No, it doesn’t get warm or heat up. It catches fire, imaginary, invisible flames licking upward toward the ceiling while I burn to a crisp of absolute humiliation while trying to rip off the most expensive jewelry I’ve ever worn. The stubborn clasp finally releases and I jerk them off and hold the strand out to him.

  “Here. Take them back. I would never have taken them if I knew they were real.” Oh, but I would have let him use them on me again, real or not.

  He leans back in the chair and watches me with a frown. “No. I gave them to you. They were a gift. Who cares if they’re real or fake? Their value is in the memories attached, not how they were made and where they came from. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, you know.”

  I snort. “Only a rich man would say that.” A strand of pearls is a drop in the bucket to him, financially. To me, it’s the difference between success and a crash and burn.

  “I believe Shakespeare wrote it, and he was hardly rich.” He gives me a satisfied half-smile. He thinks he won.

  I shake my head and twirl the cloth. “Well Shakespeare, a rose by any other name might smell as sweet.” I lean close and finish in a conspiratorial whisper, “But if you call it shit nobody’s going to sniff it.”

  He blinks several times before barking with laughter. “Keep the pearls,” he tells me in that dark voice again as he stands. “And take the tip. You gave something to me instead of selling it. You did it out of kindness, not obligation. That’s valuable, even if it was just a bottle of water.” He tosses the wad of cash on the counter and replaces his wallet. “You have integrity, Luna, and character. Both are rare to find.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and taps it on the counter a few times, a frown creasing his brow. “Call me,” he says softly, and places the card next to the money.

  I look down, and before I have a chance to throw his cash and the pearls at him, he’s gone, striding through the doors as though he owns the place. Pearls still dangling from my fingers, I run around the counter and lock the front door, watching as he climbs into the same little Tesla we rode in last year and peels away.

  I eye the stack of cash and business card. If he wanted me to keep the money, he shouldn’t have left a card. I’ll return it this weekend. Tomorrow’s Saturday, and Sierra can probably be persuaded to go to Mobile with me. She’s been hounding me to visit Dan for months. He’s been part of our “girl’s night out” for a solid year now, even though I’m usually absent. We exchange the obligatory texts though.

  He’s never mentioned Gabe and I’ve never asked. Maybe it’s time I did. I turn the plain white business card over in my palm, looking at the handwritten phone number on the back. I wonder who the card was meant for. Surely he doesn’t hand write his phone number on every card, and I know he didn’t write anything on it before putting it on the counter.

  I scoop up the money and consider putting the wad of cash in the jar for opening shift tomorrow. But in all likelihood Phil will notice it and none of the waitresses will get a dime.

  Fuck that. I’d rather give it back to Gabe.

  * * * *

  Normally I wake up on Saturday morning to Carmen hopping on my bed and giggling. Sometimes it’s to the smell of Dad cooking breakfast. They try to let me sleep at least until eight or nine, and I appreciate it, but I’m usually awake before seven anyway.

  Today is different though. Dad’s been meaning to take the girls to the zoo, and left a note on the counter last night telling me he was taking them today. So no one’s home except me. I can go back to sleep and be a slug, but I’d rather get up and do something. I rub the sleep from my eyes and stretch before looking at the clock. I know it’s after seven by the way the light glares through my window. The orange numbers on my alarm clock blink at me and read 3:23.

  Power outage. I search the nightstand for my phone and look at the time. It’s just after nine and for a brief moment I don’t remember why I slept so late.

  Then it comes back.

  I saw Gabe last night and when I got home, I couldn’t sleep until I released the tension. I ended up digging out my vibrator and four orgasms later I was out.

  God, that man turns me on without doing a damn thing.

  And that reminds me…I have to return the pearls and cash. I unlock my phone and text Sierra.

  Wanna go to Club 30 to see Dan tonight?

  A few minutes pass before she responds.

  Dan’s here.

  I frown and wonder if I should just call. Dan never comes to Corybelle. We meet him somewhere, always. He hates the sticks.

  Why is Dan at your house?

  Another few minutes pass before she sends back:

  Come over.

  My curiosity is piqued, and I rush through a shower and barely take time to drag a brush through my hair before my beat up little Corolla is puttering toward Sierra’s. It needs a new alternator and is going to die any day now. Dad offered to put a new one in, but I can’t let him. He doesn’t charge rent, even though I write him a check every month. He also pays all the utilities, so every penny I earn goes into either the girls or my tuition. My ex hasn’t paid his child support in months. Money is tight, almost nonexistent, but I have to be able to do something on my own, even if it’s replace the alternator.

  Sierra and Brad live in a classic middle-class neighborhood. Two story rectangles with brick faces and aluminum siding sides and six foot tall privacy fences…they’re cookie cutter houses, all of them basically the same.

  And I’m insanely jealous, despite the fact that I lived in one just like this, less than six miles away, for ten years. I want it again, but I want to earn it myself this time so no one can ever take it away.

  Dan’s canary yellow Corvette sits by the curb in front of Sierra’s house, the top down and the black leather interior gleaming. I’ve only ridden in it once, but I know he lets Sierra and Brad drive it when they take their little mini-road trips. He’s even tried to give it to them, though they refuse to take it. I don’t blame them, and Dan doesn’t know why.

  Rich people. They don’t understand.

  I pull in behind the gleaming yellow car, and the not-so-trusty Corolla coughs and dies when I turn the engine off. I snort with laughter when as I walk up the driveway to the door. I can almost see the ‘vette turn its nose up and cringe at my beloved little bucket of rust.

  I open the screen and tap lightly on the door, wondering if Dan’s here to whisk them away on another magical weekend getaway. Sierra opens the door and my cheerful greeting dies when I see her face. She’s drawn, haggard, and her eyes are puffy from crying.

  “Sierra?” I squeeze in and shut the door behind me before pulling her into my arms. “What’s wrong, honey? Is it Brad?”

  “I’m fine,” Brad speaks up from the dark living room. The curtains are drawn and the blinds are closed. It looks like a funeral in here, and I look around until I see Brad sitting in his recliner, forearms propped on his knees and his head in his hands.

  “Hi, Luna.” I jerk away from Sierra and gasp when I see Dan. His beautiful face is swollen, mottled with bruises, both eyes black, and one cheek split open. His bottom lip looks misshapen and I realize that it’s busted.

  “What in the world happened, Dan?” I whisper before pulling him into my arms for a gentle hug. I want to mother him, this kind man who’s had nothing but grief in his short life. Burdened with a family that doesn’t want him, a sexuality that disgusts him, and mor
e money than he knows what to do with, he’s actually the least happy person I know.

  If I’d met him before my divorce, he would have been running a close second.

  He coughs out a teary little laugh and says, “I came out. Officially. My father didn’t take it so well. I had to get out of Mobile.”

  “Oh, Dan, no.” I squeeze my eyes closed and hug him tighter. No parent should ever reject their child, and my heart breaks for the little boy deep inside of him that still seeks approval. My mommy hormones kick in, and I want to kick Sam Cottrell’s ass and mother the hell out of poor Dan.

  He rests his head on my shoulder, and I stroke his hair back, whispering soothingly. I know he’s had all the comfort he probably wants, but it’s my turn to love on him a little. The way I see it, if he knows people love him for who he is and don’t give a damn about his sexual preference, maybe he’ll learn to love himself. He sniffles a few times against my neck before pulling away and gripping my shoulders with a smile. I brush the tears from his cheeks, careful to keep my touch light. He winces slightly and I want to cry with him.

  A throat clears and the sound freezes me. People clear their throat differently, each person’s voice coming through the slightest bit with the rattling sound. So I know it wasn’t Brad, but it’s a man. And based on the late-night customer at the diner last night, and who I’m currently hugging, I’m pretty sure I know who it is. Dan smiles encouragingly at me just before I turn.

  “Luna,” Gabe rumbles, that midnight voice sending tingles down my spine again. I spent at least two hours in bed last night fantasizing about him…him, not the man I’m dating. Sort of dating, if two dates means we’re exclusive. I look into those pale blue eyes, almost glowing in the low light of the living room, and I can barely breathe through the embarrassment and unwelcome arousal.

  “Gabe,” I choke out nervously. “I didn’t see your car.”

  That half smile curves his lips. “In the garage.”

  “Ah.” I gesture toward Dan and stutter, “It’s uh…it’s nice of you to come out to check on your brother.”

  He looks down and puts his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Sock feet. I don’t have time to process what that means before he says, “I came looking for Dan last night.”

  “Gabe followed me here,” Dan pipes up. “He caught the tail end of my father’s…”—he takes a shaky breath before continuing—“…lecture and put himself between us. My father doesn’t have the balls to confront Gabe.”

  Gabe doesn’t look up, just nods while staring at the floor. I can’t imagine anyone having the nerve to hit him. He’s probably got one or two inches on six feet, and is muscular enough that his pecs are outlined against the white fabric of his dress shirt.

  “I owe you a debt,” Gabe says softly, his eyes lifting to Dan.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Dan snaps.

  Gabe lowers his eyes to the floor again and says, his voice firm, “On the contrary, brother. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

  Dan’s lower lip quivers and he looks away, taking a deep breath to get some obviously very strong emotions under control.

  I wonder what the debt is. I’m nosey that way, but I won’t ask. It’s not my business. I’m fairly certain that the two of them will never tell me, either.

  Gabe moves suddenly, resuming his usual stance: shoulders back, head high. “We need to make a decision here, Dan.”

  “What kind of decision?” I can’t help asking. Dan may be closer to Sierra than me, but the chance meeting in the club started a friendship that’s become very dear to me.

  “Dan can’t stay in Alabama,” Sierra explains, nudging us all farther into the living room and somehow making everyone sit without telling us to.

  She has got to be a dominatrix.

  Sierra takes the reclining rocker across from Brad, who remains hunched over, his face stark. I know he’s friends with Dan but he seems to be taking it harder than I would expect. I end up squished on the sofa between Gabe’s hard frame and Dan’s softer one.

  “My father…”

  “Dan is fated for an accident if he stays within Sam’s reach,” Gabe interrupts. “He’d rather have sympathy for a dead son than be ridiculed for a gay one. At least until his temper cools.” He leans back into the cushions and props an ankle on the opposite knee. How can he manage to look so powerfully elegant in two-thirds of a wrinkled three-piece suit without shoes on? A squadron of beauty consultants couldn’t manage to make me look that good given six months and unlimited funds.

  “Florida’s not far,” I start, but Gabe interrupts.

  “Sam’s reach extends far beyond the state line, m…Luna. Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, just to name a few. Dan has to go farther than that. Not for long, just enough time for Sam to cool down.” He glances over my head at Dan. “I have family in New York that would be happy to rally around him, but he’s refusing.”

  Dan waves impatiently. “The O’Malley’s have given enough to the Cottrells. They hardly need to give up a bedroom until my father has the good taste to die.”

  “There’s always Nuremburg,” Gabe murmurs.

  I wonder what’s in Nuremburg. I’m about 90 percent sure it’s somewhere in Germany.

  Dan’s lip trembles again, and he looks away. “No,” he says firmly. “I can’t burden her further.” He glances over at Sierra.

  Sierra snorts. “Hey, don’t look at me. I already told you, the only family I’ve got that I can locate is in prison and you already said you can’t stay here.” She throws her hands up.

  I elbow Dan in the side gently. He grimaces and I want to cry for hurting him. I thought the damage was confined to his face, but apparently it’s all over. He rubs the spot and watches me, waiting. “Why go to someone?”

  He tilts his head and frowns. “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “Well, you’ve got a chance to go anywhere in the world you want, as long as your father doesn’t go there. That’s a lot of places, Dan. Just pick one that you want to visit and go. When you get tired of it, pick up and move to the next one. Isn’t there somewhere you’ve never been but always wanted to go?”

  He grins at me, but it looks grisly with his ravaged face. “Rich kid, sweetheart. I’ve been everywhere worth going.”

  I throw my hands up and snap, “Then go somewhere that’s not worth going. Hike to the Mayan temples, go rafting in Australia, travel all the way across Europe only using the train system. Live like a tourist without unlimited money for a while. Your father might be the biggest shipping mogul east of the Mississippi, but if he looks for you, don’t you think it’ll be in a five star hotel instead of a two star?”

  Dan blinks at me silently for a full minute before looking over my head. I turn to look up at Gabe. His jaw is shadowed with stubble that will be out of control long before it has a chance to hit five o’clock. He meets my eyes, a tired little smile on his lips.

  “It would work,” he mutters, more to Dan than me, though his eyes stay on mine. For an instant I think he’s going to kiss me. His eyes heat and his head tilts ever so slightly. His lips seem to swell and he leans toward me less than a centimeter. But he shakes himself out of it and straightens. He drags his eyes from mine and sets his jaw. “Decide where you want to go and I’ll get a charter. Then you’ll have to disappear.”

  Dan swallows hard and whispers, “I’ll call Luna or Sierra every couple of weeks to…”

  “E-mail them, don’t call. Get a new e-mail address, and for Christsakes don’t use your god damn name. Give me a few hours to get everything set up.”

  Dan swallows again and looks straight ahead at the wall. “All right.” He sounds so wounded and defeated that I rub his arm gently.

  A sob escapes Brad’s throat and Gabe shoots him an irritated scowl. He looks like he wants to say something, but snaps his teeth closed with an audible click. Something is going on there and I look at Sierra. She shakes her head and brushes
a tear away.

  Gabe moves to stand and I roll against him for a split second as the cushions shift beneath me. He puts a hand against my side to steady me and cups my breast, out of sight of everyone else. His finger strokes me gently for a heartbeat before he’s gone. He doesn’t spare me a look as he retrieves his shoes from the entryway.

  “Sam should cool down in a couple of months. I’ll let you know when he does so you can come home.” He doesn’t even look back as he slides his shoes on.

  “All right,” Dan sounds a little better, some of the strength coming back to his voice now that he has a plan. “Just have Luna send me an e-mail when he…when I…when it’s time.”

  Gabe freezes for an instant in the middle of tying one shoe, but doesn’t look at me. “I will.” He straightens and pulls his coat from the hook next to the door. “Luna, would you care to see me out?”

  Yes, no, and everything in between. But I only answer “Sure,” and stand, patting Dan’s shoulder gently before following Gabe out the door.

  The air outside is muggy, the June heat of Southern Alabama already beginning to bake everything the sun can touch. Gabe stops on the walkway and takes a deep breath, looking at the roof of the house next door. His shirt is untucked, the jacket thrown over his arm, and his hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. This is a crack in his armor, one I was never meant to see, but have because we’ve been tossed into a situation that pulled us together.

  Jesus, he’s sexy.

  “I know I probably don’t need to tell you that I would prefer you keep this to yourself.”

  “Of course I will.” I can’t be angry at him for asking. I would too in his shoes.

  He nods, still staring across the street. “Thank you.” He’s silent for a long moment, the only sound that of a light breeze rustling the leaves of Sierra’s crepe myrtle. His hair ruffles slightly, dancing with the breeze and the new streak of silver disappears and reappears as it moves. I tuck a strand of my own hair behind my ear to keep it out of my face. He starts to say something, changes his mind and stops, and then starts again. “Do you know what’s going on with Dan and the husband?”