The Jezebel

by Dylan Allen

  Three Months Later

  Rivers Wilde

  HOUSTON, TX

  The Prodigal Returns

  Regan

  “This is what you get for cheating on me Regan.”

  “It was just one blow out.” I shake my head at my hairdresser Tanaka’s dramatics and sit patiently while she inspects my hair.

  When we moved to Paris. All the stylists my mother in law worked with had no clue what to do with my hair. I started doing it myself, and it showed.

  I was at the American embassy in Paris one day soon after we arrived and saw a woman who looked like she could have been my sister. Her hair was glorious, and she gave me her stylist’s number. She was working from a rented chair in a shop nestled in the shadow of Sacré-Cœur at the foot of the eastern slopes of Montmartre. My mother in law had nearly had a coronary and told Marcel I was frequenting the slums when she found out I spurned her Left Bank stylist.

  I ignored her. Tanaka worked miracles with my hair.

  The night we hosted our first of what would become regular First Friday socials at our apartment in Rue De Bac, everyone complimented my hair. And I was thrilled to send them her way.

  She opened her own salon on the Left Bank a year later. She had a six-month waiting list and was well on her way to becoming a real celebrity when I decided to move back to Houston.

  And when I told her I was going, she said “Me, too.”

  It was at Blush, the salon she opened here in Rivers Wilde, is where she truly skyrocketed to fame. Her clientele list is so rarified that she’s become synonymous with the likes of Vidal Sassoon.

  She could be anywhere in the world, but she’s loyal to the bone and for giving her work a platform that changed her life completely, she always makes time for me.

  To have one of her only two salons right here in Rivers Wilde was quite a coup for us. She reminds us of that every chance she gets. Underneath all her blunt talk and brusque manner, she is loyal, kind and brilliant.

  She fingers the ends of my hair, her critical eyes stricken. “Well, that’s all it takes to ruin a decade’s worth of work. And you haven’t been in regularly enough. I must cut it.”

  “No.” I pull away and give her a wide-eyed look.

  “It’s for the best. Your hair grows like weeds, you won’t miss it.”

  “I already do.” I clutch my hair protectively.

  Her sigh is one of long suffering “This is tedious. I always win. Just accept it.”

  “Glad to know I’m not the only one she browbeats,” a lilting, familiar voice says from behind us.

  I turn, a genuine smile of affection tugging at my lips before I even lay eyes on her. “Hello, Mrs. Rivers,” I greet Confidence with her brand-new name. Their formal church wedding was a month ago and this is the first time I’ve seen her since. She’s glowing.

  “Ah, I should have known you two were friends…. stubborn as each other,” Tanaka chides, even as she and Confidence share a warm hug.

  She turns a charming, shy smile on me. “I came by to drop off a thank you note, and Noe said you two were in the consultation room. I had to say hi.”

  Tanaka harrumphs. “I’ll go deal with him, while you two catch up.”

  Confidence sits on the armchair across from mine and blows out an exhausted breath.

  “Tanaka is so grumpy, right? But I think she forces those pregnancy tests on people not out of an abundance of caution, but because she’s secretly a sap. She loves being witness to people getting unexpected happy news. That bad ass, I’ll put in you my breakfast smoothie and drink you if you piss me off, is an act.”

  Confidence giggles. “I know. And she’s a genius. In fact, it was here that I found out I was pregnant. She wouldn’t color my hair unless I took a pregnancy test and…here we are.” She drops her eyes to her stomach and strokes it, tenderly.

  A rush of nostalgia compels me to reach over and to touch her stomach. I pull my hand back, and wince in apology. “Do you mind if I touch?”

  She rolls her eyes and arches her back to stick her stomach out. “Go ahead, I love it.”

  I place my palm on the top of her belly and her smile widens with pride, “I’m growing a person inside me.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” I run my hand down the curve of the cocoon her body has fashioned for her baby.

  “He’s moving,” She grabs my wrist and slides it my hand to the left. I gasp as the slide of a rounded body part against my palm.

  “I know, right?” She beams with the kind of excitement I’m used to seeing on my children’s faces – guileless and unmitigated. The kind of excitement I had countless moments of when I was with Stone.

  I’m gripped by a pang of longing so sharp that my heart skips a beat, but I push it away.

  “Do you want more babies?” Confidence asks and the pain I just dismissed leaps back to life. The pain over Stone didn’t surprise me, I always feel something when I think of him. But this... this does. For a woman who spent more than half her life thinking she’d never have children, it’s jarring to feel a sense of longing when I already have three more than I planned.

  Even if I didn’t have my IUD, there’s no chance of me being pregnant again. Marcel and I are irrevocably broken. I haven’t even seen him since I’ve been back.

  And as for Stone … I know we’ll never be strangers again. The connection we forged on that trip was real and deep. But it feels like a dream more than anything else. Like it happened in another lifetime.

  When I got back, things at home were haywire. back has been one disaster after the other.

  Evangeline got into a fight at school the day after I arrived, Martinez had his fifth bout of strep throat this year, and his doctor decided it was time for him to have his tonsils out. And my brother’s disappearing act has become a PR nightmare.

  So even though I’ve been home for almost three months, it’s only been a few weeks since things calmed down enough to allow me a moment to think.

  I’ve stopped pretending that I didn’t leave a piece of my heart with him. But it doesn’t change the facts of our circumstances. I’ve got more baggage than he deserves to be saddled with. Once he’s here, if he’s even still interested in me, he’ll see how untenable a relationship between us would be.

  Then, he’ll meet someone who can live out his globe-trotting adventures with him.

  At least hope so. If he settles here and I have to see him with another woman on his arm, I might have to consider moving.

  I don’t know if this is what a schoolgirl crush feels like – I never had one of those. I’m having all of these feelings I used to find silly and fatalistic when I read them in romance novels. I’ve got it bad, right down to the whole “I know I’ll never feel this way about anyone again.”

  Only it doesn’t feel silly, because it took me thirty-six years to find him. Those aren’t good odds.

  “Regan?” Confidence’s slightly raised, concerned voice startles me out of my daydream.

  I flush and pull my hand back from her belly. “Sorry, nostalgia got me.”

  “Are you okay?” She’s watching me with a furrowed brow, and I wonder if I spoke some of my thoughts aloud.

  “I’m fine, why?”

  “It’s just…you looked so sad.” Her frown deepens.

  “I’m fine. I just got lost in my memories for a minute.” I muster a smile and sit back in my chair, crossing my legs and forcing my shoulders to relax. “You really popped since the wedding, haven’t you?” I nod at her belly.

  Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but she lets me change the subject and nods. “More like exploded. People keep asking if I’m having twins. I just tell them um, no, his daddy’s a giant.” She rolls her eyes. But she can’t stop the smile that breaks over her face when she mentions Hayes.

  “So, how are you doing? Is it hard with Marcel being gone all the time?” she asks.

  My stock answer, “I miss him, but it’s best for our kids.”, is on the tip of my tongue. But
I like Confidence and if we’re going to be friends, she’ll learn the truth sooner or later.

  “Not at all. It’s actually easier this way,” I answer and instantly feel lighter, even when her smile falters.

  She leans forward to grasp my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head to dissuade her. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

  “But—”

  “Confidence?” A woman’s voice I don’t recognize calls out to her and she sits up straight, and rests a hand on her forehead, her eyes widen with guilt. “I’m a knucklehead, I forgot Gigi was waiting for me in the car,” she grabs her purse and struggles to her feet just as a dark haired, willow beauty in silk light grey dress walks into the consultation room.

  “There you are, I was—” The woman stops mid-sentence when she sees me. Her mouth falls open, her eyes go round like saucers. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

  “Hey, Gigi, I don’t think you’ve met Regan Wilde - Landel.” Confidence walks over to her. Her use of my maiden name surprises me. But, it, clearly, surprises Gigi more. The paper cup she’s holding slips from her hand and lands with a splatter at her feet. Confidence yelps and hops back. I stand to help, but Gigi stays frozen, not taking her eyes off me.

  “Is she okay?” I ask.

  Confidence glances at me and nods with a reassuring smile. “Noé?” she calls out to Tanaka’s assistant, and slides a protective arm around Gigi’s waist before she leads her from the room, without either of them saying another word.

  I sit, barely registering when Noe comes in to mop up the spill. Gigi’s behavior just now was bizarre. I know very little about her. She’s Hayes’ aunt, but was disowned, when she ran with a man her father didn’t approve of. When her brother died, leaving Hayes an orphan, he went to live with her, and she raised him.

  But I’ve been very curious about her lately. She was shot when a disgruntled employee went ballistic outside of the Rivers’ business headquarter. And, as far as I know, the last thing Remi did, before he hauled ass out of town, was visit her in the hospital.

  She’s rebuffed all of our efforts to talk to her about his visit. And I felt bad harassing an old lady, who was recovering from a gunshot wound, and who probably knew nothing about whatever was up with Remi. But now, I wonder if there’s more there.

  I get up and walk out to the reception area to see if I can catch them and maybe get her to talk to me. But when I get there, Confidence is walking back into the salon, alone.

  “Where’s Gigi?” I ask, peering over her shoulder to see if I can catch a glimpse of her.

  “I told her to go on home. She’s still healing from the gunshot and she’s tired…” Her eyes don’t meet mine and she swallows audibly.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “What’s wrong?”

  She winces and sighs heavily before finally meeting my eyes. Her eyes are bleak. My heart stops. “Has something happened to Remi?” I can barely get the words out and sag with relief when she shakes her head in vigorous denial.

  “No, but I do want to talk to you –”

  “Mrs. Landel, your phone’s ringing.” Noé calls as he rushes over to us, holding my vibrating purse out to me.

  I stifle my irritation at the interruption and take it from him. “You didn’t have to bring it out here.”

  “It rang twice already, I thought maybe it was urgent.” A new worry blooms. Eva seems to be settling back into school after her suspension, but anyone calling three times in a row can’t be good news.

  “Sorry,” I mutter to Confidence as I fish my phone out.

  I let out a sigh of relief when the name Kal flashes on my screen. She’s Remi’s ex… the one who got away. A few days ago, she showed up looking for him. Last time we talked, she thought she had a lead on him and said she’d be in touch. He’s gone off the grid before. But never for this long and never without being in touch at least sporadically. I’ve been waiting for her to call and tell me what, if anything, she’s found.

  The call rolls to voicemail before I can answer it. I hold my phone up to Confidence, “I need to take this, one sec.” I sit down in one of the waiting room chairs and call her back.

  “Did you find him?” I skip the formality of a greeting when the call connects.

  “Reggie?” My brother’s voice rings in my ears.

  Wild relief rushes through me. Fear I’ve kept bottled up overflows and anger surges. I cover my eyes with my hands and start to sob. “Remi? Oh my god, is that you?”

  “Yes. Hey, Reggie. Don’t cry. I’m sorry” Remi says in a soothing voice that makes my blood boil.

  “Don’t you dare tell me not to cry, you asshole. You better be calling me from whatever hospital you’ve been laid up in - in a coma – unable use the phone for the last six months.” A bone deep fear that I haven’t allowed myself to acknowledge breaks and I yell at him through my watershed of tears.

  “Regan. I haven’t been to fucking Disneyland, okay?” he interjects impatiently.

  My anger pushes me to my feet. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me Remington Wilde. You have no fucking right after what you’ve done to my heart.”

  “I know, I know. I am so damn sorry,” he groans, but his contrition falls on deaf ears.

  “I don’t care if you’re sorry. Tell me where you are and why you didn’t tell me you were leaving. And why didn’t you get in touch??”

  “I’m in Burton at a ranch house that used to belong to our father and his wife.”

  I go completely still at his grave, cryptic words. “Why are you saying his wife and instead of Mom?” I demand.

  When he doesn’t answer right away, I start pacing. When I turn to face the front of the salon, I almost jump out of my skin, when I see Confidence sitting in one of the chairs in front of the large storefront window. Her face is creased with concern.

  I’d forgotten she was there; I mouth Remi’s name and press a finger to my lips. Her eyes bug out of her head.

  “Remi, answer me!” I bark when he doesn’t say anything.

  “Reggie, you should sit down first,” he says in a grave voice.

  My heart starts to pound, and I grit my teeth. “Stop trying to manage me and just answer me, right now,” I demand. My finger stabbing the air.

  “Mom was his first wife…he had another –"

  “What the fuck does that mean?” My voice is so sharp that Confidence jumps.

  “If you’d stop yelling and interrupting, I’d already be done telling you.”

  I close my mouth and bite back my retort. “Go ahead.”

  “Lucas Wilde left Mom for another woman right after Tyson was born. He married her. Moved with her to Burton and started a new life. One day, he left for work and didn’t come back. She presumed he was dead and left too.”

  None of that can be true. None of it even makes any sense. A new fear grips me and I turn my back on Confidence and walk to one of the product display stands across the room.

  “Remi. Are you in trouble? Is this code for something? Do you need me to call the police?” I ask in a voice quiet enough not to be overheard.

  He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. “No. Kal found me. I’m at their house. It’s all true.”

  I press a hand to the wall to steady myself. “How? I’ve seen pictures of us at his funeral. Tyson was a tiny baby. How could he have gotten married, set up house and died in three months of Tyson being born?”

  “Because he didn’t die. That’s what they told us and the rest of the world.”

  “Who told you that?” My voice is guttural with anger.

  “His wife,” he says flatly.

  “You talked to her?” I screech.

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she? How did she find you?” My head rings like something hard hit it. I reach blindly behind me until I make contact with the chair of the arm and lower myself onto it.

  “He left me a letter. All those years ago. He was planning on coming back for us.
Regan, they had a child.” My hand flies to my throat as if it can stop the gasp of horror that comes.

  “Oh my God.” I sit up straight, my mind racing. “Who is he? And what happened to the kid?”

  “Oh God, Regan. Wait,” Confidence calls with a frantic urgency that draws my eyes to her. But she’s not looking at me. She’s typing furiously on her phone, her hands visibly shaking.

  “It’s Gigi Rivers,” Remi answers.

  The whole world comes to a screeching halt. “What?” croak. My voice sounds far away. All of this feels like an out of body experience.

  “Regan, wait,” Confidence cries out again and everything clicks into place.

  That look in Gigi’s eyes…. That expression I couldn’t read… it was guilt. She was the last person Remi saw. I stare at Confidence and remember Hayes almost having a panic attack when I asked about Remi in Mexico.

  My stomach falls to my toes.

  “Who is their son?” I speak into the phone, but my eyes are on Confidence’s bowed head.

  Her sorrowful gaze snaps to mine. “Regan, let me take you somewhere private, please,” she stammers. I glance around. Noé is gone. We’re alone. I shake my head to say no.

  “Who is his son?” I demand again. Confidence closes her eyes as if she’s in pain.

  “Who’s there with you?” Remi demands.

  “Is it Hayes Rivers?” I demand.

  His silence and Confidence’s muffled sob are all the answers I need.

  “Does he know?” It’s a rhetorical question. Because his wife clearly does. My eyes never leave Confidence. She’s sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. Her hands pressed together between her thighs as she watches me with deep, troubled concern on her face.

  “Yes, Regan, He knows. He knew before me. I’m sorry. But I need to call Tyson, too and then we’ve got to get on the road. I know I owe you a million apologies and explanations. I was reeling from shock when I first heard. Then I had this argument with Mom, right after. She tried to justify it all—”