by L. B. Dunbar
I wasn’t allowed in the Round Table either as a sixteen-year-old, but my father didn’t object if he caught me listening to a band during practice or watching from his office. He seemed particularly fond of this group and I would overhear this future rock star discussing with his friends the advice my father gave. The Performing Arts Academy was a selective school and it was small so everyone knew everyone. Most kids were the children of famous musicians and entertainers. Some were offspring of those within the business, and a very few were unknowns, like he was.
He didn’t date much and I learned his mother lived in upstate New York. He stayed with his fellow band mates, I assumed, but this one night he was with his school friends. I didn’t know the person who hosted the party well, but I went with my friend Layne Ascolat. She was shy and quiet like me, and while she played an instrument, she was more of a singer at the school. She was very beautiful and graceful, but we were wallflowers. We got invited to the party somehow and decided to take the chance; after all, we were sixteen.
He entered the kitchen and I immediately felt his presence. The night progressed with laughter, drinking, and music ‒ we were band kids. The party grew more intimate, and drinking games moved to new levels, truths or dares were proposed. I was part of this small gathering around the table that watched more than participated, as the dares became more daring.
I watched him miss the targeted glass and was forced to drink or dare. There were no more truths. He was told he had to kiss someone at the table and immediately his eyes came to mine. I swallowed hard, and I knew I blushed. Even though it was a dream I could feel the heat of that blush stroke my cheeks.
He rounded the table slowly and I had no idea he was approaching me until he stood before me. He towered over me in his lean glory and his dark floppy hair, and he smiled shyly.
“Guinie,” I heard my name, but I was too focused on his lips to respond.
“I should apologize for this, and I do apologize for it happening this way, but I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
With those words he leaned in and kissed me tenderly. My first kiss. It was sweet, like a soft caress across the hand, and when I thought that’s all it was going to be, I felt his hand graze my cheek and hold my mouth to his as he continued to play my lips like he played his guitar; gentle strokes brushed me several times until a wet tongue traced my mouth and I opened in surprise. Without knowing any better, this gave him invitation to enter my mouth and the tender caress continued as his tongue danced in a slow tango with mine. It was sensual and seductive, not dangerous and consuming like the kisses I had grown accustomed to recently.
The dream was so realistic I could taste that sugary breath inside my foul mouth and might have sighed slightly to find my noise returned by a throaty moan.
I opened my eyes to find I was reliving that kiss with the person who gave it to me the first time.
“Lansing?”
I pulled back, but his hand was wrapped around my neck and I squinted in the darkness to find his lake-blue eyes.
“Lansing?” Relief washed over me and I reached for him, grasping the back of his neck with my shaky hands and forcing my mouth over his in another casual caress before recognizing that this kissing sensation was all wrong. This was not my once. Not my future.
“Lansing.” I pulled back, breathless, and bitterness stung my tongue.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
“Shhh,” he said, covering my mouth with his hand and looking over his shoulder toward the door.
“Where am I?” I continued against the palm over my lips.
“Mel Agent’s,” he whispered.
“What?” I groaned against his captive hand.
“Shhh.” His eyes searched the room from one side to the other. “I’ve got to get you out of here and I’ll explain everything in a little bit.” He continued to look around the room, glancing down at the floor, as if trying to avoid looking at me as his hand still covered my mouth.
His eyes traveled downward and quickly averted to the side. I glanced down to see the sheet had slipped to my waist and I was bare to him. Full-frontal nudity.
“Where are your clothes?” he whispered.
I shrugged. He removed his hand and began to pull off his sweater, warning me with his eyes to remain quiet.
“Please tell me you still have on underwear?” He sighed in a silent plea as he closed his eyes briefly.
I nodded, and he let out a deep breath.
“Okay,” he said as he slipped his sweater over me. “You need to follow me. No noise. Do what I say. Don’t talk.”
I shook my head, and he grabbed my hand.
I stumbled getting out of bed. My legs were wobbly and he righted me with his free hand on my waist. He looked at me for a long moment as if waiting for me to prove I could stand on my own before he released me.
I followed his lead to the door and he opened it slowly, peering both ways before gently tugging me into the dark hall. We stayed close to the wall and I could hear voices from down the way, although I didn’t recognize them. We continued to what I thought was the end, until I noticed a cut in the wall. Lansing pushed it to reveal a false wall to a servant’s staircase. This was obviously an old money home if it had servant stairwells and servant entrances. Once inside the space, Lansing quickened his movements to drag me down the staircase. Two flights we descended before we reached the bottom floor and a real door made of solid wood. Lansing held an ear to it for a brief moment before he pulled it open and looked both ways again.
If I wasn’t so scared and so uncomfortable in his sweater and my underwear, I would have laughed at what I thought was an over-exaggerated, super sleuth sort of way he directed us. When we passed a laundry cart, he looked at me and looked inside it for a moment before coming to some kind of decision. He lifted me up and set me in the cart, walked the cart out the back door with his head down, and got in an industrial van after awkwardly lifting the cart with me in it. He bent down in the front seat and after several minutes the van started. He had hot-wired the vehicle. He drove down the elaborate gravel drive to exit the estate, and once clear, I scrambled out of the cart to make my way to the front seat.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, out of breath from the little effort I just used.
“I’m not exactly sure how this all came about, but Mel Agent somehow got you to his house last night.”
I was silent for several minutes and I felt my stomach clench. “How did you find me?”
“Arturo is beside himself with worry. He’s practically got a manhunt out for you this morning.” He paused, thinking about what he would say next before he added, “I got a hint you were here.”
I was quiet for a moment. “You saved me,” I whispered.
“I don’t know. Did I?” His question held more than a simple answer, and I felt my body tighten in places. Had I been assaulted? Had I had sex? I didn’t think so. I really think I would have known, but then again, I had too much to drink and had possibly, unknowingly, taken some drugs.
“I … I don’t know,” I said with a shaky voice, tears fogging my eyes.
“I think we need to get to a hospital. Get you checked out.”
“No. Oh God, no. Where’s Arturo?”
“He’s at his apartment. We convinced him he had to stay there in case you showed up.”
“I need to get home. I need to get to him.” My voice was rising in panic as I looked at Lansing, who only glanced sideways at me but didn’t respond.
“He can’t know,” I whispered.
“He can’t know what?” Lansing asked as he turned the van at a light.
“He can’t know we kissed.”
The silence in the van was as heavy as rain. It drenched us.
“He can’t know about today … or years ago?”
I didn’t think he remembered. That night, that kiss, had been a dream come true for me, and he never called. In typical rock star fashion, he took my number and never called.
“He can’t know any of it.”
Silence rained down on us again.
“But you do remember, right?” he asked sheepishly.
I swallowed hard and shut my eyes as the sweet memory flashed through my mind and swept across my lips again. I licked them to either savor it or remove it, I wasn’t sure.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
He looked pointedly at me as my voice came out breathy, and just as quickly returned his gaze to the road ahead.
“You can’t expect me to forget?”
“You did before,” I answered snarkily, and realized this kiss might be even less memorable as my mouth surely tasted as awful as it felt.
He ignored me and before I knew where we were, we were pulling into a hospital parking lot. I protested leaving the van, which suddenly reminded me that we were in a stolen laundry truck.
“How did you get this?”
“I found it down the street from the house, hotwired it, and drove right up the property.” He smiled a full-wattage smile at his delinquent abilities and I had to let out a small laugh. He looked adorable and, most importantly, he had found me.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my engagement ring.
“How did you get that?” I gasped, realizing for the first time the heavy ring was absent from my finger.
“Trinity gave it to me.”
Arturo
She hadn’t come home to me.
I didn’t want to call Leo and raise any alarms, as he was already skeptical of our early engagement despite his blessing. I had tried Lace, Enid, and Trinity to no answer, and after ten calls and a zillion texts, I was in full panic. Something was wrong. I just didn’t believe she would not come to me.
I was wasted when I returned to the apartment and a bit ashamed of myself for letting it go too far with the band. I didn’t want to come home on our first night as the drunken, broken singer. I wanted to come to bed as the happiest man in the world, which I was. But I was still drunk, and at first I was pissed, which caused me to have another beer while I waited. I must have passed out because it was around four AM when I found myself on the couch in an uncomfortable sitting position with my head lounged back and a crick in my neck.
There was still no response to any of my attempts. It was like the world had disappeared except for me. There was radio silence from everyone.
At five AM I restarted my efforts with the girls, and began a new campaign with the guys in the band. Each one received the same message: that Guinevere had not come home. I did not believe she had gone to her father’s and she didn’t seem to be with the girls. I just wanted someone to answer me that she was okay. Then I would unleash my anger.
“I got her,” came the call from Lansing, which collapsed me. I crumbled to the couch in relief, but I was still angry for some reason.
“Where is she?”
“Can you meet us at Winsor Hospital?”
I sucked in a breath, unable to release it as I choked on the word okay.
I took a cab. It was easier than driving and my focus was so distracted I wouldn’t have known how to get there. I rushed through the emergency waiting room, bypassing the nurse who tried to halt me, as I saw Lansing pacing outside a room.
He stretched out a hand to stop me from entering the private space.
“What the fuck, man?” I said, pushing his hand off my chest.
“The doctor’s examining her.”
“What happened?” my voice cracked and my anger rose.
“They’re doing … they’re giving her a rape test.”
I lost it. I didn’t know if I should crumble to the floor or punch the wall as my body went cold with fear.
“Who? Where?”
“Mel Agent.”
“I’ll fucking kill him. Fucking. Kill. Him.” I growled. Punching the wall was going to win out, but it would be momentary recompense for what I planned to do to Mel. That motherfucker was dead.
“What happened?”
“The girls were at Club 21. Mel was there. Look, I need to warn you that it’s on the Internet and the pictures don’t look pretty, but I don’t believe them. I don’t believe one image.”
I held out my hand and noticed it was shaking as Lansing handed me his phone, pulled up to the gossip rag. There was Guinie. My Guinie. Images of her dancing and doing shots, photos of her in his arms, highlighted the headline that read: Is this how Guinevere DeGrance celebrates her engagement? I didn’t read farther. I felt sick. I didn’t want to believe it, but the pictures looked so convincing.
“Don’t think he raped her if she was so willing?” I barked.
“Don’t. Don’t fucking be like this with her.” Lansing’s voice had hints of anger and something else. Something I didn’t want to recognize.
“How did you find her anyway?”
“Trinity.”
“Trinity? Trinity Donovan?”
“Do you know another Trinity?”
“Don’t be a fuck-off, man,” I growled again.
Lansing sighed heavily and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, holding it in place.
“I ran into Trinity at Emerald Isle. She told me where to find Guinevere.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
Lansing was silent for a moment and I realized he didn’t know the answer. A female doctor exited the room and we both approached her at the same time.
“Either one of you family?” She eyed us each.
“I’m her fiancé,” I answered.
The doctor continued to look me up and down for a moment before pinching her face and replying.
“You can go in, but…” she stepped in front of me, blocking the door despite her small stature, “she’s been through a rough night. Her blood work is still in process, but her urine test showed many things, including traces of Rohypnol.”
“What’s that?” Lansing asked.
“Roofies?” I choked.
“The date rape drug,” the doctor answered.
Lansing paced two steps down the hall with his hands still clasped behind his neck and turned in time to kick the chair outside Guinie’s room. The force sent the chair colliding with the wall and clammering forward to the floor with a deep clanging noise.
I continued to stare at the closed door behind the doctor’s shoulders.
“Was she…?” I couldn’t say the words.
“The rape kit concludes that she wasn’t, but she’s had an excessive amount of alcohol and admitted to repeatedly vomiting. Her urine sample proved dehydration among other things. We are still waiting on the blood results.”
“You can go in,” she started and I stepped forward, “but you both better check your anger at the door. She’s been through enough. I’ll be back when the blood test is finished to check on her.” She gave us both one final stare down and walked briskly down the hall.
I was already through the door and at Guinie’s side, staring at the IV stuck into her fragile looking hand. Her huge diamond gleamed brightly at me off her ring finger and I was mad at myself that I doubted her for even a minute. I picked up the hand even though it was strapped to the tubing and kissed it, then kissed the ring on her finger and turned over her hand to kiss her palm.
Silent tears streamed down her face as she stared at me through cloudy blue eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, her voice groggy. “I don’t know what happened.”
“I know what happened,” I said as I pushed her hair off her forehead and noticed a bump and a bruise on it. My thumb gently traced it and she winced.
“He’s fucking dead, that’s what happened,” I growled low.
She was crying in earnest now and I was breaking inside. I didn’t know what all she went through last night, and I was helpless as her tears fell.
“Do you remember anything?”
“I remember going to the club with the girls and drinking shots.”
“Did you order them or Mel?”
“Mel, but … I was watching him the whole time. I just don’t see how it could have happened, but…” She continued to cry, but there was no sound from her tears. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she swiped her cheeks to free space for more tears.
“But? What, Guinie Girl?”
“But I do vaguely remember being so thirsty and taking a drink of something next to the bed. I thought it was aspirin and water … but…” Here the sobs finally broke free and she turned away from me, curling into herself. I climbed onto the narrow space behind her and wrapped myself around her. I didn’t want to tell her it would be alright, or that she was okay. I just wanted her to feel me shielding her and know that nothing would hurt her ever again. Nothing.
“I love you, Once,” I whispered in her ear.
“I love you, Future,” she mumbled through choked tears.
Time passed and she eventually fell asleep in my arms. I was restless though and I knew I needed to contact her father. As I stood from the bed, I noticed for the first time that Lansing was propped against the wall just inside the room.
“Hey,” I said softly. “She’s sleeping.”
He only nodded in response.
“I want to step out and call her father. Do you mind just watching her? Letting her know I’m right here, if she wakes up?”
“No problem.” He swallowed and I exited the room to find Trinity Donovan pacing the hallway outside Guinie’s door.
Guinevere
I heard the door click and I rolled to see Lansing Lotte over my shoulder. I didn’t speak as I rolled back to face the wall.
“He’s outside calling your dad,” he answered my unspoken question.
My mind was a muddle. Mel Agent tricked me in order to rape me. Lansing Lotte was the one to save me and we kissed. I was so overwhelmed with relief, I didn’t know what came over me at the time; however, I couldn’t process that now. Arturo King was the love of my life. But I couldn’t look at him, and uncontrollable tears leaked from my eyes again.
