by Marie Force
“I have to go into the office today,” Flynn says in the morning, “even though I’d much rather be with you.”
“It’s okay. I’m going to sleep some more and then get organized with some foundation stuff, not to mention a ton of laundry that needs to be done and packed to go back to your place. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. Don’t worry about me.”
“I will worry about you. I’ll always worry about you.” He sits next to me on the bed. He’s freshly showered and shaven and is dressed in a formfitting black T-shirt and faded jeans that hug him in all the right places. As always, he makes my mouth water just looking at him. “This’ll be the first time we’ve spent apart since we got married.”
“We can’t spend every waking minute together. What about when you’re filming in some exotic location?”
“You’ll be there with me.”
“What if I get my job back?”
His brows knit with what appears to be consternation, but he quickly shakes it off and bends to kiss me. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart. I gotta go before Hayden has me killed.” After one more kiss, this one longer and more involved, he groans and pulls himself away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. There’re security people right outside. If you want to go anywhere, just check in with them. They also have the code to get back in here.”
“I’ll be fine. Go to work, dear.”
“We’re going on a fucking honeymoon,” he says as he leaves the room. “A long-ass fucking honeymoon. As soon as we possibly can.”
“I thought we’ve been on our honeymoon?”
“No way does hanging around here count. We’re going somewhere awesome.”
“This has been pretty awesome as far as I’m concerned.”
“I can do better than this.”
He leaves me with a big silly smile on my face as I snuggle under the covers, hoping to go back to sleep after having been up half the night making love to my insatiable husband. I’m on my way to dozing off when my phone rings.
I grab it off the bedside table and see Leah’s name on the screen. “Hey,” I say, curbing a yawn. “What’s up?” It’s eight here, so eleven there. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“I am in class,” she whispers. “I’m hiding in the supply closet, but I’ve got the door cracked so I can watch the monsters.”
“Why are you in the supply closet?”
“I have news. Sue told me this morning that the board wants to reinstate you, but Mrs. Heffernan refused. She said it was either you or her. According to Sue, they chose you.”
I sit straight up in bed. “Are you kidding me? They picked me over her?”
“Before you take that as a huge compliment, you should know that Flynn’s lawyers were playing hardball with them. They were looking at a huge lawsuit if they didn’t reinstate you. But Sue said they all felt that it was wrong for Mrs. Heffernan to let you go for the reasons she did, especially when the parents were so pleased with the job you were doing.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“Apparently, you’re going to hear from the board chair later today. I wanted to give you a heads-up, but don’t tell them I told you.”
“I never would. Don’t worry.”
“What’ll you do, Nat? Do you want to come back?”
If she asked me that on the day I was fired, I would have said of course I want to go back. But now… now everything is different. “I don’t know. I need to talk to Flynn and figure out our plans.”
“Well, no matter what you decide, they’re doing the right thing offering you your job back. People here have been in an uproar over the whole incident. The way she treated you was wrong, Natalie. Everyone thinks so.”
“Thanks for that, and please tell the others, too.”
“I will. I gotta go before the little bastards get a big idea to lock me in here.”
“They are not little bastards!”
“Yes, they are. Call me later and let me know what happens.”
“I will. Thanks for the info.”
“No problem.”
I end the call with Leah and call Flynn.
“Miss me already, baby?”
“You know it, but I just got off the phone with Leah, and there’s news on the job front.” I relay to him what Leah told me. When I’m finished, he’s totally silent. “Flynn?”
“I’m here, sweetheart, just processing it all. What’re you thinking?”
“I don’t know. On the one hand, I feel sort of glad that Mrs. Heffernan is leaving because she wasn’t mean to just me. Everyone dislikes her.”
“What’s on the other hand?”
“You, me, our life together. You’re here. Not so sure I want to be three thousand miles from you for even a day or two.”
“While this is entirely and completely your decision to make any way you see fit, your thinking matches mine on the three-thousand-mile thing.”
“I had a feeling it might.”
“Do you have to give them an answer right away?”
“I’m not sure. Leah said they’re going to call me today sometime to ask me to come back.”
“See if you can think about it for a day or two, and we’ll talk it over tonight when I get home.”
“All right. I will.”
“I’m happy for you that a terrible wrong is going to be righted, no matter what happens next.”
“I’m happy, too. Leah said the board was intimidated by whatever Emmett said to them.”
“Good, they should be intimidated. What Mrs. Heffernan did set them up for a huge liability. I’m glad they were able to see that.” He pauses before he adds, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just processing it all.”
“We’ll talk more later, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
“Love you, baby. So glad they’re doing the right thing.”
“Love you, too. Thanks for not letting them off the hook.”
“Never. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be here. See you then.”
I return the phone to the table and snuggle into bed, my mind racing with the implications of getting my job back. After lying there for half an hour, it’s clear I won’t be going back to sleep. I decide to get up and make myself useful by doing the ton of laundry that’s accumulated over the last two weeks.
I gather our clothes into a basket I find in the master bedroom closet. Flynn told me the laundry room was “up there somewhere,” gesturing to the second floor of Hayden’s sprawling house.
I head up the stairs, enjoying the view of the beach through the two-story windows as I go. I try to imagine what it would be like to make enough money to afford a place like this. “Not going to happen in this lifetime,” I mutter to Fluff, who follows me upstairs. Because there’re six doors to choose from, I put down the basket at the top of the stairs and head for the end of the hallway to find the laundry room.
The first three doors open to spacious bedrooms that look out over the beach. There isn’t a bad view to be had in this place. Behind the fourth door is a massive master bedroom. Intrigued, I venture inside to check out the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. It is easily twice the size of Flynn’s California king. What does a single guy need with a bed that size?
Off the bedroom is an equally huge bathroom, where I find the full-size washer and dryer tucked behind a closed door. I’m going to get the basket when the closet catches my eye, and apparently Fluff’s eye, too, as she wanders into the walk-in closet. I call out to her to come back, but she doesn’t. No surprise there, so I go after her.
Holy shit, the guy has some clothes! Most of them in muted colors—grays, blacks, browns. Everything is color-coordinated and neatly arranged. I venture farther into the closet, past rows of shoes and drawers of all sizes to another door that Fluff has nudged open.
“Fluff, come here. We shouldn’t be in here.” She’s in the far corner, sniffing up a storm. The second room appears to be a
gym of some sort—until I look more closely at the equipment. I’ve never seen any of this stuff at the gyms I’ve frequented. What the hell is it? On one wall, a set of drawers beckons me.
At this point, I have to acknowledge that what I am doing counts as snooping. I found the laundry room and checked out the amazing closet. If I open these drawers to see what’s inside them, I will cross a line that can’t be uncrossed. But I can’t seem to help myself. I want to know what all this stuff is for.
I look down at Fluff. “What would you do?”
She barks, which I take to mean, “Go for it.”
“You’re a bad influence. You have no moral compass whatsoever.”
Her reply is two more sharp barks that sound like agreement.
I can’t explain what makes me do it. This is way out of character for someone who has kept to herself and out of other people’s business for most of her life. Because I kept a low profile, no one paid much attention to me, and I liked it that way. I have no experience at all in minding other people’s business.
But I want to know what’s in those drawers, so I walk over to them and begin opening them. They are filled with a variety of objects I don’t recognize—most of them rubbery materials in odd shapes and sizes. In the second drawer, I find more of the same, only these are shaped like penises—very big penises. Why in the hell does Hayden keep large rubber penises in his house?
The question makes me giggle nervously. Does Flynn know about this? The thought of telling him only adds to my nervous laughter. In the third drawer, I find shiny metal objects that look like clips of some sort alongside feathers and strips of velvet.
I take another long look around the room, at the oddly shaped weight bench and the big cross that takes up most of the space. On the wall, wooden paddles that look like oversized Ping-Pong paddles hang next to what might be a collection of riding crops. Affixed to the ceiling are a series of ropes attached to pulleys. “What the hell, Fluff?”
Then I open the bottom drawer to find boxes of condoms and bottles of lubricant. “Oh my God.” Suddenly, I want out of there. I’ve seen more than enough to ensure that I’ll never again be able to look Hayden Roth in the eyes.
I shoo Fluff from the room and go grab the laundry. As I start the wash, I try not to think about what I saw in Hayden’s secret room. What does it mean? How does it work? What does he do with all those items? With the washing machine running, I go downstairs, my mind racing as I try to process it all.
I go straight to the laptop in Hayden’s office and begin poking around online, my curiosity only growing as I realize that what I’ve stumbled upon is Hayden’s “playroom.” I learn that these rooms are frequently found in the homes of sexual dominants.
Clicking from one website to another, I follow a trail of information and pictures that make my eyes pop out of my head. People actually do this stuff? My curiosity leads me to click on videos that demonstrate how the equipment upstairs is used in sexual situations. I cannot look away.
By the time I come up for air, two hours have gone by. I make a point of clearing the browser history on the computer before I stand on trembling legs and leave the office with more questions than I had going in.
I’m such a neophyte when it comes to sex. I stayed away from men and anything to do with sex for so long that I lack the context I need to satisfy my curiosity. Judging by the heat between my legs, however, I’m incredibly aroused by what I’ve seen. Does that mean I want to try it?
Not necessarily. The thought of being tied down or shackled makes me feel light-headed—and not in a good way.
The most pressing questions I have after seeing Hayden’s room and two hours of “research” are whether my husband is into the same things as his best friend, and how will I ever work up the nerve to ask him that?
I need help dealing with this situation. Professional help. I scroll through my contacts for a number I haven’t called in six years. When I moved into my new cell phone, Natalie’s phone, I made sure to include the number just in case I ever needed it. I’m not even entirely sure it is still his number.
“One way to find out.” Fluff lifts her head to check on me. I give her a pat to settle her and place the call.
He answers on the fourth ring. Hearing his voice takes me right back to the dark days after the attack, when he’d been a big part of the group who put me back together. Dr. Curtis Bancroft specializes in post-traumatic stress and counseling sexual assault survivors.
“This is Curt. Hello?”
“Dr. Bancroft… This is April. April Genovese.” He’s never known me by my new name, as I stopped seeing him before I changed it.
“April,” he says on a long exhale, “it’s so great to hear your voice. I’ve been worried sick about you. I really hoped you’d call. How are you?”
“I’m doing surprisingly well, all things considered. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“I’m on vacation in the Caribbean with my family, but I’m very happy to talk to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. So you got married! That’s wonderful news. That’s going well?”
“Yes, Flynn… He’s amazing. He’s been very sweet and understanding.”
“Is this the first relationship you’ve had?”
I know he means sexual relationship. “Yes.”
“April? Are you coping with everything?”
“I think so. I’m able to… to make love with him.”
“That’s wonderful. And are you able to enjoy it?”
God, it’s embarrassing to talk about such personal things, even to someone from whom I have few secrets. “Yes, it’s … It’s incredible. I love it.”
“I’m very happy to hear that. You’ve worked so hard to get free of your past, and I hope you’re giving yourself permission to be happy.”
“I am. It’s just… Flynn, he… Well, I had a flashback on our wedding night. He… He held down my hands, and…”
“That was a trigger for you?”
“Yes! I didn’t even think about that until he did it, and then I totally lost it. And now… He’s so afraid of it happening again. He’s holding back. I told him that having sex with me is like juggling dynamite. You never know when it will blow—and not in a good way.”
His low chuckle rumbles through the phone. “While that’s an interesting metaphor, if your husband loves you—”
“He does. I have no doubt at all about that.”
“Then I’m sure he’s just trying to be careful as you get used to your first sexual relationship.”
“A few times, before he knew everything about what happened to me… He was different.”
“How so?”
“He was more unrestrained, earthy… He said things and did things.”
“Did you like that?”
“Yes. I liked it because it was Flynn, and I trust him. But since the thing with my hands, he’s… different. I worry that there are things he wants, and I’ll never know because he’s afraid to tell me.”
“Have you talked to him about this?”
“Sort of. It’s hard, though. This is so new to me. And his friends… Well, one of them at least, is into some really hard-core stuff, which makes me wonder what Flynn is interested in. I sound ridiculous because I can’t even find the right words to describe all this to you. How will I ever talk to him about it?”
“You’re doing a great job explaining it to me.”
“That’s easy. You’re not my husband. And I ran into his ex-wife at the SAG Awards.” I go on to tell Curt what Valerie said to me.
“Wow, well… You have to remember the source is someone who has an ax to grind with him—and with you.”
“I know. I’ve thought of that. But she’s got me wondering.”
“It sounds to me as if he truly cares for you, and when I saw you together on TV, he was very attentive.”
“He does, and he is. He’s more than I ever hoped to dream possible.”
“Then trust him, April. Trust him to know how to be what you need. But he’s not a mind reader. He can’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell him.”
“It’s strange to be called April after all this time.”
“Do you prefer Natalie?”
“I’m not sure what I prefer. It’s weird to be talking about April when I’ve been Natalie for so long now.”
“I’d just like to say that as much as I hate how it happened, I’m so glad to know you’re doing well in your new life. I’ve wondered about you for years and hoped I’d hear from you.”
“I should’ve checked in. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were off living your life, and all your hard work with me made that possible.”
“Would it be okay if I checked in from time to time?”
“It would be absolutely fine. I’ll always be happy to hear from you.”
“Thank you again. I’m not being dramatic when I say you saved my life.”
“No, April… You saved your own life. I only helped. Your inner strength got you through before, and it will again. Don’t be afraid to rely on it.”
“I won’t. I’ll call again soon.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Take care, and talk to your husband.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
I end the call feeling more confident that I can handle the conversation I need to have with Flynn.
Chapter 17
Arriving at the Quantum offices, I pull into a parking space and sit for a moment, the engine in the Mercedes idling as I think about what Natalie told me. She’s going to get her job back, which means she’ll return to New York while I have to be here for the next couple of months.
If the thought of a single day without her in it is unbearable, how will I ever stand to have her in New York for weeks on end while I’m here? I could go to New York with her, and I probably will if it comes to that, but I’d rather be here.
I hate the way life is interfering with my desire to be completely alone with my new wife. And then I call bullshit on myself. I can do whatever the fuck I want to, so why am I not doing whatever the fuck I want to?
With my security detail following close behind, I head into the office, which is abuzz with activity. Everyone is still ecstatic about the SAG Awards as well as the Oscar nominations for Camouflage, especially after all the campaigning that was done to ensure the film got the recognition it deserves from the Academy. For the most part, I’ve stayed out of that fray, letting others do the heavy lifting. The idea of campaigning for awards has never sat well with me, but it’s a necessary evil in our world.
