by C. C. Piper
I whipped awake, my breathing rough and nightgown covered in sweat. It took a long hot shower just to feel human again.
I wondered why this Sofia woman had done this. Was she mentally unstable or just malicious? Since James himself didn’t appear to know himself, that would always remain a mystery. Either way, she’d made him suffer. Maybe because I’d made him suffer a bit myself, I wanted to do something nice for him.
So far, I’d been preparing our meals even though he outclassed me in skill level by leaps and bounds to assuage the guilt I felt about lounging around his villa. Now, though, as I tried to figure out what to do for someone who could literally afford to have anything he wanted done, I was stuck. Any material object he might want he must already have and he could hire out everything else he might need.
What was I going to do?
As I crossed his spacious living room, a lightbulb went off over my head. It was there, on my way to the kitchen, that I caught sight of my answer.
Excited, I absconded with what I needed to borrow and flew up the stairs to my office. This was my area of expertise and I knew he was unlikely to have anything like what I could create for him. Once finished, I replaced everything precisely as it had been and used my graphic design software to scan and put my concoction together.
Over the next week, I put the final digital touches on my gift to him, then sent it to the printing service I used for my other professional projects. Since I was already one of their most loyal customers, they even provided a courier service to deliver it.
Maybe it was silly to utilize resources I usually only reserved for my paying clients, but it felt right. Maybe he wouldn’t like it, but I hoped he would.
And even if he didn’t, nothing ventured equaled nothing gained. It’d cost me a tiny bit of money and quite a bit of time, but I didn’t mind. And if he did like it, it’d be more than worth that time.
God, I hoped he liked it.
That night I made dinner feeling more on tenterhooks than I would’ve thought possible. I felt comfortable around James now—we’d become something akin to friends, sort of—but I wanted this present to make him smile. It wouldn’t bring him his fifty thousand dollars back and it wouldn’t undo what I’d done, but at least two weeks from today when we parted ways, I’d know that he wouldn’t think of me in the same way he probably thought of Sofia.
I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stand that. Even though we might never bump into one another again, I didn’t want to imagine James going on with his life hating or resenting the ground I walked on. I didn’t want to separate from him knowing I did nothing but leave a bad taste in his mouth.
To make our meal extra special, I took some steaks and corn on the cob he had in his freezer outside to cook them up on his mother of all propane grills. I’d already prepared some baked potatoes in his slow cooker, so I served them last, adding spices to the steaks, and all the fixings to the baked potatoes. I’d even made a pineapple coconut cake for dessert.
When James sat down at the table, he was still speaking into his phone.
“You can’t postpone this?” he asked, his tone agitated. “Not even for a measly two weeks?” There was a short pause, then, “Fine. I’ll be there. But not until Monday at the earliest. I’ll need to make some preparations here at home first.” Another few seconds of silence followed before he said, “Later.”
He let out an exasperated sigh, then peeked up at me.
“Bad day?” I inquired.
“Yeah. I have these people I need to meet with out of state. I just found out if I don’t travel to see them next week, they’ll negotiate with someone else for the deal.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a mix of emotions. If James was going to be gone for a few days, maybe I could go back home and keep an eye on things with Evan. I could always come back to finish out my month with James when he returned. I was just about to suggest this to him when he spoke up again.
“What are you making tonight? It smells like heaven.”
“I made steak, corn on the cob, and loaded baked potatoes. It’s a manly meal.”
He snorted, his smile erasing the lines from his face. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone with a Y chromosome who’d turn his nose up at a dinner like that.”
“There’s cake for dessert too.”
As if acting in a play, he used exaggerated movements to place his hand over his heart. “Marry me.”
“Already did,” I shot back at him, surprising myself. This had been such a bone of contention between us, but now we dissolved into chortles of laughter.
Once we sobered up a little, I put a hand on his shoulder, not missing the warmth that erupted up my arm from the contact. “Don’t worry. Go on your trip, and I’ll go home till you’re back. Then, we’ll finish out my month, I promise. This doesn’t have to be some big hairy problem.”
He fixed his brilliant blue stare on me and I froze under the weight of it. But the weight didn’t come from frustration or anger at what I’d said. Instead, he looked as if something had just clicked into place for him. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me on my trip to LA.”
“Don’t you trust that I’ll return once you’re back? It’s not like I have somewhere else to be other than here or at home with Evan. I’m not that hard to find.”
He didn’t say anything for a second, and I realized why as a sickening feeling settled over me. He didn’t trust me. I’d given him every reason to believe he couldn’t, and that was on me. Fuck.
“Do me a favor,” he said, his face inscrutable.
“Uh, okay,” I said like an idiot. I never left myself open like that, but the intensity of his eyes unnerved me. I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I really did need to check on my brother again. In person would be best.
“Tell me about Evan. About the trouble he was in that made you take the fifty thousand.”
“James, I—”
“Please?”
I turned away from him. “Just let me serve everything up first. This kind of food isn’t good when it gets cold.”
I bustled back to the kitchen and plated up the steak, potatoes, and corn. Feeling like what I was about to admit would take some liquid courage, I popped the cork on one of his bottles of cabernet sauvignon and filled two crystal goblets all the way to the brim.
I brought the dinner and drinks to the dining room table, then swallowed about half my wine. How in the hell could I tell him this? I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.
Then, I felt warmth again as James reached for my hand, lacing my fingers with his. “Emma, I’m not asking you this to pass judgment on you. I’m asking because I want to understand.”
Somehow, this gesture gave me the strength to begin. “Ever since my parents died, it’s been difficult for my brother to cope. I was the bad daughter, always getting up to mischief, while he was the good son, the one my mom and dad doted on. Their loss hurt me, but it devastated him. He’s never gotten over it. Not even a little.”
I took another swig of wine, welcoming the rich flavor and hoping for a buzz. “Financially we were having a hard time, so as soon as he was of age, he went to work at one of the casinos.” James jerked back as if receiving a jolt of shock, and I hurried to go on. “Not one of yours. It’s not nearly as reputable. Around this time, he started to get high. It was just dope at first, nothing too scary. But then, he got caught up in methamphetamines and oxycontin.”
“Things got worse after that. I was working three jobs at the time and wasn’t home like I needed to be. Because he was getting paid minimum wage, he couldn’t afford the drugs. But instead of stopping, he began to gamble to try to make some money. He still won’t confide in me, so I’m not certain of all the facts, but I know he won at least one big bet early on. It made him think he’d always be able to win.”
“But he wasn’t,” James concluded.
I nodded. “No, he wasn’t. He got involved with a bookie, and pretty soon, he w
as in over his head. I warned him to stop. I did everything I could to get him into a rehab program, but I didn’t have enough to pay for it. I enrolled in a college quick study online program to get my graphic design degree, which meant I was more oblivious to Evan’s problem than I should’ve been. He volunteered to work extra hours at the casino, going in while I was tied up so I wouldn’t see him.”
I breathed out. “I’d been fighting with him back and forth to stop taking those damn pills and to quit gambling, but where he works—it’s everywhere, you know. I should’ve found a way to get him away from that place, but I didn’t. I thought because he was working more, that meant he must’ve kicked his habits. But that was stupid. I shouldn’t have assumed such a thing.”
A lump grew in my throat, but now that I’d start this awful tale of woe, I needed to finish it.
“A couple of months ago, I came home to discover him pacing up and down our living room carpet as high as a kite. He was almost incoherent, but once he came down, he told me he owed his bookie fifty thousand in cash. Evan knew we didn’t have anywhere near that much and was trying to come up with some way to cough it all up.”
I broke off because my eyes were stinging, and I didn’t want to cry in front of James again. He squeezed my hand, and I did my best to button up my emotions. “The next day I was driving by his casino when I saw him outside in an alley. Two goons were holding him up by the front of his shirt. I hurried over and they ran off, but Evan told me they threatened to hurt him if he didn’t give them the money by the end of the week.”
“You didn’t reach out to the authorities?” he asked, his voice soft and empathetic.
“I couldn’t, James. I still can’t. I have no way of knowing what all Evan is involved in, but it must be illegal. I’m sure the drugs and gambling stuff is. He’s only twenty-two, and I don’t want him to go to prison.”
My throat was tight. So tight I felt like I might choke.“It’s not like the inmates are protected in there. When we were kids, we had an uncle who got shivved while on the inside. He died before they even got him to the hospital.”
Didn’t James get it? I had no other option than to do what I did.
Even though I regretted it.
James’ free hand moved to my cheek, brushing the wetness away. I cursed myself for my lack of fortitude.
“Hey,” he said, pulling me to my feet and into a hug. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
God. I’d stolen thousands of dollars from James, yet he was the one apologizing to me? What kind of topsy turvy world were we living in?
The notion of James offering me comfort—as incredible as it felt—bugged me on a core level. He didn’t have to comfort me. Hell, he shouldn’t comfort me. I was the bad guy. Or bad woman. I was the guilty party.
I didn’t deserve that kind of decency and compassion from him. The fact that his only form of punishment was for me to spend some time with him was no hardship. I’d grown to enjoy spending time with him and having him nearby. I relished his company now. I liked it.
I liked him.
And that was the thought that ultimately gave me the strength and wherewithal to push him away.
“That’s everything. The whole sordid affair,” I told him brusquely, stiffening my spine and turning off any remaining waterworks. No more of that. “So now, I think we should eat.”
I plopped down onto his luxurious dining room chair, took my corn on the cob, and tore into it with my teeth. I munched away, even though my appetite had deserted me, hoping he’d follow my example. I couldn’t talk about this anymore and keep myself together, so this was the best alternative.
I ate the potato next and ended with the steak, not bothering to use any sauce. I had no idea if any of it came out cooked correctly or not.
I didn’t taste a damn thing.
15
James
Emma was so close to falling apart at the seams, and my heart broke for her even as I marveled at her bravery. I decided to release her from any debt to me. She’d been through enough, and I didn’t want her feeling beleaguered by me.
As of this moment, she owed me jack shit. Now that I comprehended why she’d taken the steps she had, I couldn’t hold it against her, not even by the teeniest degree.
It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.
And while her brother might be considered more culpable, I couldn’t hold much against him either. He’d been a grieving kid who’d needed help he didn’t receive. Emma had attempted to become his parent and support when she didn’t have either herself.
Jesus Christ.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Emma scarfed down the fabulous dinner she’d prepared for us, but it looked as if she were eating it out of necessity rather than hunger. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did the same. Then, thankfully, the words that might help came to me.
“This is divinely yummy,” I told her, waiting for her response.
For the first time in several minutes, those expressive hazel eyes of hers met mine. Still, she didn’t snicker or chuckle like I’d hoped.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Her words came out as more of a mumble than anything else, but I’d take it. Now that I had her attention again, I couldn’t squander it. “Have you ever taken a vacation, Emma?”
“When I was small. Five, maybe. We went to see the sequoias in Northern California.”
When her parents were still alive.
“That’s the only one?”
“Yeah. My dad used to work as a carpenter. But then, when I was seven, he fell through the roof of an old house he’d gone to replace some boards on. He broke his back and it took a long time for him to recover. He couldn’t manage to do the same kind of work and had a hard time finding a different kind of job. He never did find one that paid as well. Mom worked as a waitress.”
Well, that explained their financial struggles.
“Come with me to Los Angeles,” I asked her again. “I won’t be with you while I’m conducting business, so you can still spend your day working remotely if you want. The hotel is right on the beach, so in the evenings when we’re both free, we can take long strolls looking out at the Pacific.”
Her expression became one of unfocused longing. “I’ve never seen the ocean.”
Seriously? I didn’t know Emma’s exact age, but she had to be in her mid-twenties. To get that far in life never having been to the beach felt like a travesty of the highest order. What else had she not seen? Mountains? Snow? Waterfalls? Scrutinizing pictures on the internet, as cool as that was, didn’t hold a candle to witnessing such wonders in person.
Still, instead of speaking any of those thoughts aloud, I simply made an observation. “That sounds like a yes.”
“It’s not a yes,” she countered. “It can’t be. I can’t leave Evan.”
“I thought you’d been staying in contact with him.”
“I have.”
“And how’s he doing?”
“He says he’s fine.” She sounded as if she might not believe him, though.
“Why don’t you go visit him tomorrow? If he seems okay, then come with me. The trip will only be for three days. If you have any reservations or worries, then you’ll just stay at home and come back to the villa once I return. How does that sound?”
“I can just go home tomorrow?” she asked, lines appearing between her eyebrows as she regarded me.
“Sure.”
“And if I have any concerns about what he’s up to, I can stay at home?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“So, will I have to make up this extra time at the end of the month?”
She was still concentrating on the debt she believed she owed me. “That will no longer be necessary,” I assured her.
She blinked. “No? Because that sounds way too good to be true. Should I be asking to read the fine print or something?”
“No. I want to take you with me to L.A. But I won’t ord
er you to go.”
“I want to go,” she admitted. A spark of hope lit within me. “It’s just I need to see Evan.”
“Of course.”
“You’re being really nice to me all things considered. You’re always nice to me, even when you shouldn’t be.”
Nice. The way I desired her was nowhere near even the realm of nice. Still, she hadn’t shut me down about L.A. out of hand.
“Oh my God.” Her mouth dropped open. “I almost forgot. I wanted to surprise you.”
She hopped up, seized all our dishes so the table was once again clear, and half sprinted back toward the kitchen. Must be dessert time. That cake did sound pretty damn scrumptious. I peeked up at her as she returned, expecting to see a slice of cake on a saucer and instead found her holding a long waxy piece of rolled up paper, tied with a ribbon.
“What’s this?”
“A gift. A thank you.”
“Another thank you? You’ve been making me thank-you dinners for two weeks. Trust me, I feel very appreciated,” I commented, wondering what she’d gotten me. It appeared to be the size of an extra-large poster. If spread across my king-sized bed, it’d cover the mattress from end to end.
She hit me with a snarky grin, rolling her eyes. I loved being the target of it, especially since her tears were now nowhere in sight. “Just open the dumb thing.”
“Yes, ma’am. As you wish.”
She grabbed my forearm. “Did you just quote The Princess Bride?”
“My mother’s all-time favorite movie? Probably.”
She laughed again finally. I smiled at her as I slipped the ribbon off of her present.
Carefully, I unrolled the paper to find a lot of familiar faces staring back up at me. Somehow, Emma had taken the digital photo frame I had on the mantle, as well as a few paper pictures from the photo albums in the bookshelf beside the hearth, and turned them into a gigantic and flawlessly rendered piece of art.
