Sexy Ink!

by Jamie Collins

  Chapter Forty

  December 2014

  La Costa and Louis packed up for a two-week respite that would have them returning to the shores of Hilton Head Island and the magnificent shuttered haven of Splendor Bay in time for the holiday. It was just before Christmas, and the inn’s décor, which would normally be teeming with green and gold garland and flocked Christmas trees in the living room lobby, was strangely barren and empty. Every sleeping room and suite appeared abandoned and small details everywhere seemed to have been overlooked, bordering on neglect. “I can’t believe that Georgia would have left things like this, La Costa said, smoothing a furrowed brow.

  The plan was laid out. Henry would be arriving the next day, Christmas Eve, and joining them for the weekend. Then, Louis would fly to Newark to spend the New Year with Tess and her family in the Catskills, which was La Costa’s gift to him, along with a stunning new set of snow skis and winter gear, which she had shipped to New Jersey. Henry would stay on with La Costa in Hilton Head through the first weekend of the new year, until he had to return to La Jolla and the bistro. La Costa would remain to sort out the details of the newly acquired property and business. It was in theory, going to be like a dream. The thought of being all together like a family was all that La Costa could see in her near future, not this.

  Further, upon settling in, La Costa noticed that strangely, there were no guests on the registry, or bookings for the new year. There was no day manager on the site. The house staff was gone, and although the inn looked generally ready for business, it was vacant.

  A phone call to the lawyer handling the transaction filled in the blanks. “I’m afraid that all the books had been cleared months ago. Georgia Byrne was not doing a booming business for at least a year. Procedures will need to be in place to make repairs and bring many of the violations currently on record up to code, before you can run the inn as the new proprietor,” he had said. “Everything has been shut down. Oh, and I do have some utility bills that you will need to take care of right away. They appear to be past due.”

  “I see,” La Costa said. “Thanks, Abe. I will definitely be in touch.”

  “We’ll talk after the start of the new year. You can let me know how you want to proceed then. Merry Christmas,” he said, and hung up.

  It definitely was a wrinkle in the plan, as far as La Costa was concerned, for what she otherwise was hoping would be a smooth transition. She had no idea that Georgia might have been struggling and let the inn slip through the cracks.

  “What in the world are we going to do here? It’s like an abandoned old mansion,” Louis said. “A lot of the light switches don’t work.”

  “We are going fill it with love and let the spirit of Christmas and Georgia’s memory bring it to life. We’ll stay on the main floor and keep the east and west wings dark.” One can only imagine what it would cost to keep them operational, she thought. “There are at least three bedrooms off the parlor.”

  “It’s strange being back here, but I’m glad we are,” Louis said. “I’m going to put my stuff in my room.”

  “Okay, baby,” La Costa said.

  She walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. It, too, was quiet and desolate. The counters and shelves once filled with canisters and pie plates and casserole dishes were empty. There were no plants in the windowsill, and the curtains above the sink were faded. A roach scurried across the ceramic flooring and disappeared into a cabinet.

  “Oh, hell no,” La Costa said aloud. Then, calling to Louis in the other room, “Sweetheart! Grab your jacket. We’re eating out tonight!”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Christmas Day

  Despite the shock and disappointment of Splendor Bay’s fall from grace, the sentiment of the holiday and La Costa’s outlook remained untarnished. She prepared a lovely meal for Louis and Henry by ordering in a feast of ham, candied yams with marshmallows, three-bean casserole, and cranberry sauce from a local Southern-style restaurant. La Costa prepared the living room with lighted candles and piped in soft holiday music from her iPod onto a portable speaker. Georgia’s china had been uncrated, washed, and placed atop the heirloom lace tablecloth that La Costa had fond memories of folding and unfolding with each formal holiday and celebration in the wonderful years past that she and Louis had spent with Georgia.

  Together, the three enjoyed the festive meal, feeling very much like a family of a different kind, but a family, nonetheless. La Costa suggested that they should go around the dinner table and take turns announcing what each of them was most grateful for in the past and what each hoped for in the future year ahead.

  “I’ll go first,” La Costa said, dabbing the edges of her mouth with a stiff linen napkin. “I am most grateful for you two wonderful men, my incredible, smart, and funny son, and my loving soul-mate companion, Henry. I love you both more than I can express, and I am hopeful that the new year, although sure to be wrought with some surprises and twists, will be one that we can all embrace together.”

  Henry squeezed La Costa’s hand with pride, and had a similar hope in his eyes to match hers.

  Louis fidgeted a bit and struggled to find a place to rest his glance. Then he nodded and said, “Me next. I am grateful too, for you, Mom, and to you, Henry,” he said, still looking down at his plate. “I guess you make my mom happy, and that is what it’s all about. For the future, I want to kill it on Hunter Mountain with my new bad-ass snowboard this weekend. Oh, and to not break anything!”

  La Costa and Henry laughed.

  “You and me both!” La Costa said.

  “What about you, Henry?” Louis said, returning a high-five that Henry had served up over the platter of mashed potatoes.

  “I am most grateful for you both, of course. Reconnecting with this beautiful woman after all of these years, and for my family—my boys, who also continue to make me proud. I am looking forward to the coming year with gratitude and trust that if I stay on long enough, I can continue to score some of your mother’s delicious peach pie because I know this store-bought one is not going to even come close!”

  “Oh, snap! Flattery like that will get you seconds every time, for sure!” La Costa said, smiling. “I am going to warm that pie up in the microwave. I am sure you two can find a way to choke it down with some vanilla bean ice cream on top.”

  The remainder of the evening was a perfect blend of time-old traditions celebrated, and some new ones in the making. Henry lit a fire in the parlor fireplace, above which, they hung three felt stockings that La Costa had purchased from a local dollar store and wrote their names in glue and glitter on each one. Together, they watched two holiday classic DVDs, strung microwave popcorn as garland for the artificial Christmas tree on display off the lobby entrance, and played a marathon game of Yahtzee until well past midnight. It was a bit unconventional, but nonetheless, La Costa couldn’t have possibly been happier.

  Louis slipped off to bed soon after, leaving La Costa and Henry cuddling on the couch beneath a colorful patchwork quilt that Georgia had sewn. A bottle of wine and two more slices of pie made for a midnight snack. The blanket had a pattern of seashells and starfish on it. “I used to slip under this blanket with Louis when he was little, and we would wiggle our feet under the little starfish guy here and make it look like he was dancing,” La Costa said, laughing.

  Suddenly, a sober reality came over her, and she looked around with a growing frown. “What am I going to do, Henry? This place is a mess, a far cry from what it once was.”

  “Or, could be?” Henry said, stroking her hair, which lightly grazed her shoulder.

  “I’m just not sure what to think. Frankly, running a full-scale bed and breakfast operation is very much a full-time job. This has all happened so fast—I just don’t know what I am supposed to do.”

  Henry listened, caressing her arm with a calming reassurance.

  “I have deadlines to meet with my publisher for this newest book series, and I’m still in the midst of promotion of this cur
rent launch. Really, how is this going to work? I can’t be in two places at one time. To give the commitment this is going to demand.”

  “Let me ask you something, babe. Does it have to be an operation that runs year-round, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if Splendor Bay was a designation with a purpose or cause that only opened its doors a few times throughout the year, like for a retreat, or as a fundraising venue?”

  La Costa’s face brightened as she saw a similar vision come into view. “There’s an area on the east side of the property that can be zoned for a social center or dining hall.”

  “And the property in back, where the pickle ball courts are, that could be repurposed into regulation basketball and tennis courts,” Henry said.

  “And the town is filled with beach vendors and excursion outfits that might want to partner with us to offer package deals for boat rides, snorkeling, or other activities.”

  “You can simplify the configuration of the sleeping rooms and suites to make them accommodate more beds, with dorm-style rooms, like for an—”

  “Overnight camp!” La Costa shouted.

  “Exactly!” Henry said, mirroring her excitement. “You can make this a kids’ camp, for instance, that runs several weeks in the summer, and maintain the building in the off-season with minimal upkeep. You can rent it out for private corporate functions or special events on a selective basis, in order to continue bringing in revenue at off-peak times. Right?”

  La Costa was reeling. “Wow—that’s exactly what this needs to become. What better tribute to Georgia and Macklin’s memory could there be? But, Henry, how in the world am I going to make all that happen?”

  “I am going to help you, of course. Have you forgotten what I do for a living? This will be a piece of cake. A labor of love. We can do this.”

  La Costa needed no further assurance. The fact that Henry was so willing to take on this project with her, was all that she needed to know. Together, they could bring back Splendor Bay’s vigor and magic—but with a real purpose.

  “Think of all the good it could do for so many kids.” La Costa sighed. Then said, “But your own life and plans, Henry. I don’t want to saddle you with any more work or worry than you already have.”

  He kissed her sweetly on the nose and chuckled. “You are my life and plans, if you haven’t noticed. Let’s do this, together.”

  The next night, after seeing Louis safely off to the airport, La Costa and Henry spent the evening drawing out plans for the inn’s concept renovations that would transform the house and sprawling property into a haven for kids to play, learn, lodge, and explore the stunning island with its myriad of activities and recreational possibilities. They would need to attract only the best camp leaders and youth management programs and be discerning about whom they would take on with their unique offering. “I want this venue to be something that serves kids who would not otherwise have an opportunity to experience something like this, something as special as Splendor Bay.”

  “You mean, like at-risk youth?” Henry asked, sifting through a stack of drawings and spreadsheets he had compiled as they powered through the night fueled on take-out pizza and a third bottle of Chianti.

  “Exactly! I want us to reach out to organizations that cater to special needs kids too. We will be required, of course, to meet code on all of the compliance accommodations, and—”

  Henry grabbed La Costa, who was pacing excitedly, with her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and pulled her down onto his lap. “Whoa there, girl! You are going a mile a minute. Let’s agree that whatever this thing becomes, it’s going to be great because you and your loving heart are behind it one hundred percent.”

  She smiled and stroked the silver streaks in his hair tenderly. “Who are you, Henry Paige? How did I get so lucky to find you?”

  Henry pulled her in close and kissed her softly at first, and then, with mounting intensity, enfolded her with his sturdy arms, pulling her into him, delivering breathless, hungry kisses as he traced her back and shoulders with his nimble fingers. Then, planting soft, gentle kisses up and down her neck, he lingered until she purred his name. “Oh, Mr. Paige.”

  They stumbled to the bedroom, and soon found themselves atop the antique feather bed that squeaked and creaked so much that it made them giggle at their own exuberance as they struggled to free themselves from their clothes. “Careful, or we’ll wake the dead,” La Costa said, straddling Henry and pulling her T-shirt seductively over her head, slow and easy, letting him wait for it. She still had some moves, for certain.

  “No matter,” he said, grinning, “because I’m already in heaven, baby!”

  Exhausted, the two fell asleep in each other’s arms, with the window left open and the smell of the ocean permeating throughout the room alight with silver moonbeams. The gauzy curtains moved in concert with the night air, and the sound of Henry’s staccato breathing. Suddenly, La Costa yelled out, “No!”

  She sat up abruptly, gasping for air, with the tatters of a bad dream trailing in her fuzzy brain.

  Henry awoke, reaching for her. “Babe, what happened?”

  La Costa, who was now trembling, struggled to take hold of herself, crying. In the moment, she suddenly remembered what had struck her with terror. “It . . . it was. Oh, Henry!” she sobbed in great gasps, huddled in his arms.

  “Sweetie, I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you. What was it? A bad dream?”

  She sniffled and pulled the covers up beneath her chin like a child.

  Henry waited as she breathed and swallowed hard to calm her nerves.

  “I’ll get you a drink of water,” Henry said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  “No! Don’t leave,” La Costa said, reaching for his arm. “Please just stay here. Just hold me.”

  * * *

  Panther St. James stared at the flimsy silver dime store tree that was propped up on a card table in the sparsely furnished studio apartment. The television was playing a holiday Hallmark movie, but the sound was off. The whir of cars and foot traffic could be heard on the street outside due to a broken window that didn’t close right. That was one of the reasons that she slept with a knife beneath her pillow and her eye on the door at all times. A single tree ornament that had been strung on one of the doleful boughs, flickered from the refracted glow from the television. It was a clear globe with multi-colored Mardi Gras confetti snow.

  It was nearly time for her to start the evening shift at the diner. It was the first Christmas that she had a tree in more years than she could remember. It would, however, be her last spent here, in this two-bit going-nowhere town. It was the first of many she would have to move to in the coming months in order to disappear, to blend in, to go unnoticed. At least it offered some solace, as nobody would ever think to find her in Baton Rouge. But it was only temporary. Like so many things. A new year was coming, and even though uncertain as to where exactly she would be heading next, she knew one thing for sure. She had to keep moving.

  Chapter Forty-two

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Henry said, greeting La Costa with a kiss. He was holding a tray of fresh-brewed coffee, cut-up bananas with berries, and two toasted bagels when she emerged from the bathroom in her bathrobe.

  The hot shower had done her good. She did feel better, but she was still a bit embarrassed. “Was I bad last night?” she asked.

  “Bad? No. Just scared,” Henry said. “Let’s have this here,” he said, placing the tray on the antique writing desk and pulling up another chair facing the window. “Has this happened before, sweetheart? Do you want to talk about it?”

  La Costa nodded and folded herself into the upholstered chair, looking out at the ocean. The Atlantic was a much different entity than the Pacific back home. It was greener in color, and had stronger currents, and it seemed as opposed to the beaches of California to be bluer and calmer most months of the year. Either way, both oceans s
poke to her like nothing else. She felt an affinity for the vast, endless horizons of either shore that always seemed to make her feel comforted.

  She didn’t touch the food, and she took the coffee black. “You read my memoir, Henry, right?”

  “Yes, twice.”

  Her eyes were large and sorrowful, as if she was seeing something he could not see, pulling at her heart. “I put it all out there in my biography. Well, most of it,” she said, turning to face him dead-on. “It’s just that, there are some things that I’ve never shared with anyone. Some things that you need to know. If you want to know.”

  Henry took a settling breath.

  She went on, “I was fully aware that reliving it all could bring up bad memories, and for the most part, I was fine. Until . . .”

  “You met me?” Henry said. He could see through her, it seemed, and that was exactly why she had to come clean about it all—her childhood abuse at the hands of her father, Crete, the miscarriage, and most importantly, the truth about Louis. If ever there was going to be a future with Henry, he would have to know the whole truth, every detail. Seemingly, it was torturing her in her dreams, and threatened to consume her with guilt now more than ever. In the past, she was able to tamp it down, stow it away. Put it in a box. But now, it was all coming to the surface with the release of her biography, the unearthing of her past, the amped-up publicity that was putting her front and center. What mattered most was how it might affect a life with someone like him—a man as wonderful as Henry.

  Henry leaned in and assured her, “Nothing you could tell me would ever change how I feel about you. La Costa, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” His blue eyes reached through to her very soul.

  La Costa proceeded to lay her heart bare. She recounted the myriad of childhood abuses and neglect. How she had only come to know shame and brutality from the hands of men in her life that allowed her to seek solace and acceptance on the streets and in the strip clubs, where she sold a broken soul for rent money. “I am not proud of what I did, but I have no regrets as to how I was able to come out of it on the other side.”