How to Tame a Modern Rogue

by Diana Holquist

  It felt good to get the first coat of primer on the graffiti-covered walls, as if she could paint over her entire past. As she painted, she thought about Sam. She knew she had been cruel to him by telling him to leave.

  Do I love him?

  She finished the edges and started in with the roller. Big, broad strokes, covering the graffiti with the clean, white paint. Thoughts of Sam faded into thoughts of her parents. She was angry at Granny Donny for not telling her the truth about them sooner, and just as angry at her for telling her so soon, with no time to prepare.

  It seemed unreal to have waited for them all her life for nothing.

  She finished the first pass at the room and fell onto the sheeted couch, exhausted. What was she going to do now?

  At least she had decided one thing.

  She pulled out her cell phone. “June, it’s Ally. Can you come out here? I think I’ve done a terrible thing.” And that’s when she started to cry.

  Step Three :

  Every rogue has a heart. Break it.

  A man driven by passion was by definition untrustworthy. How could she give her heart to such a man? More urgently, how could she not?

  —From The Dulcet Duke

  Chapter 29

  June arrived the next day.

  Ally told her everything, and June listened and cried and said all the right things, including, “I have next week off. Let’s get this house fixed up together.”

  The work helped to focus Ally’s mind. After a day of cleaning and painting, Granny Donny finally chased them out of the house to get some air. They set two low chairs in the shallow surf, facing out to sea. The beach was deserted, except for two couples walking in opposite directions and a jogger with a German shepherd. The sun was just starting to dip under the horizon.

  “So? What are you going to do about Sam?” June buried her feet in the wet sand, the waves lapping at her ankles.

  “Let’s forget Sam and talk about you. We’ve been talking about me all day.” Ally had no idea what to do about Sam. She needed more time.

  “You don’t want to hear about me not making the European touring troupe.”

  Ally’s heart ached for her friend. She had been afraid June hadn’t made the tour the instant she’d seen June’s stoic face in the driveway. No wonder she said she could spend the entire next week at the shore. “I’m so sorry.”

  “And I left Will.”

  Ally gasped. “June? When? Why?”

  “I left him because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Well, you and Sam.” June let her hand dangle in the gentle surf, drawing a triangle in the sand. “I realized watching the two of you that I wanted more than I had. I wanted a man who wasn’t safe, a man who loved me despite everything.”

  “But Will loved you.”

  “Not despite everything. Ally, you should have seen him when I didn’t make the European tour. He was so disappointed. More than I was. That was when I realized that something was wrong. My whole life, I’ve done what other people wanted me to do.”

  “But you’ve always loved dancing.”

  “Not as much as I’d have to if I wanted to truly succeed. It was more about pleasing my family. Pleasing Will, too.” A wave splashed into their laps, and they moved back a few yards to drier ground.

  Ally stole a glance at her friend. “They were idiots to cut you.”

  “I don’t know if they were idiots. I’m getting old, Ally.”

  “You’re twenty-eight.”

  “For a dancer still in the corps, that’s getting old. If I’m not a star by now, I’ll never be one. And after I got cut, I knew I needed to reassess. It doesn’t get better for a dancer. Just harder. And while I reassessed, I saw you and Sam and thought, That’s how to live life—just go for what you want; forget what you think other people want.”

  They watched the sand plovers peck at the outgoing waves, the tiny birds undulating along the sand like waves themselves. The sun was half hidden behind the ocean now.

  “I was really awful to Sam,” Ally said.

  “He’ll forgive you.”

  “Looking at him was like looking at the embodiment of everything my parents were. I just went nuts on him. Like it was all his fault.”

  “So tell him that. Tell him you were an idiot and confused by grief. Don’t tell me.” She offered Ally a small smile. “And Ally, don’t wait ten years to do it either.”

  The only thing worse than a broken heart was being surrounded by lovers, their hearts sickeningly intact.

  —From The Dulcet Duke

  Chapter 30

  By the end of the week, the house was almost back to its original state. Ally and June had finished painting over all the graffiti, replaced all the curtains, and ripped out the beer-stained carpet to expose the hardwood underneath. They had even spent an afternoon knickknack shopping at the local tourist traps. Shell sculptures and pictures of lighthouses made the house look beachworthy and normal. Granny Donny had joined them at the end. She and Mateo had finally found a stable not far from the house to board Paula. To celebrate, she bought some not-so-beach-like knickknacks: fuzzy dice, a Zen entry fountain, and way too many cat toys for Bandit, including a battery-powered mouse that Bandit tore to ribbons in less than an hour.

  Looking at the mouse wreckage, Granny Donny said, “With Bandit around to destroy any intruders, all I need is a housekeeper, and I think I could get used to staying out here.”

  Ally was shocked. She climbed down off the chair she was standing on to hang a shell mobile in an empty corner. “Stay out here? In Lewiston? What about Manhattan?”

  “I was wondering if you wanted my place,” Granny Donny said absently, not looking at Ally. “I’m getting tired of the hustle of the city. I like being surrounded by the sea and by good memories. I think I’d like to stay.”

  What she didn’t say, but what Ally understood, was that in Manhattan, she was surrounded by bad memories. Ally pushed Bandit aside and sat down on the couch next to her grandmother—her grandmother who had just offered her a beautiful apartment in one of Manhattan’s most beautiful buildings. But Ally didn’t even have to think about her decision. “I don’t want to go back to Manhattan either,” she said.

  Granny Donny nodded, and Ally knew that they understood each other well enough not to have to dwell on what New York meant to them: the past. “If we got you a housekeeper out here, a cook, a driver—”

  “Mateo said he’d stay and be my driver until I found someone permanent.” Granny Donny said.

  Ally nodded and took her grandmother’s hand. “Then I could go to San Francisco.”

  “Then you could go to San Francisco,” Granny Donny repeated. “And I think you should go. Except for one little thing you’re forgetting.” She paused. “Sam.”

  Ally hadn’t forgotten Sam. In fact, she thought of him all the time. She just didn’t know what to do about him.

  So she worked.

  Her body ached all over. She had lost at least five pounds from the unaccustomed physical labor.

  June, on the other hand, had actually gained weight in the week she’d been there. To Ally’s amazement, she had begun eating food instead of her customary picking at it. Maybe it was the sea air, but Ally had a suspicion it was something else. June was spending an awful lot of time with Mateo. What they had in common was a mystery to Ally, but they had long, hushed discussions that stretched into the early evenings. So far, June had returned to sleep in the extra bed in Ally’s bedroom every night. But she seemed to be coming back later and later.

  Ally was jealous. Seeing June and Mateo together made her miss Sam even more.

  Then, the next night, June didn’t come back to her single bed.

  “It’s not what you think,” she told Ally the next morning as they ate on the porch with Granny Donny. Mateo had gone first thing to the stable to check on Paula, and Granny Donny had whipped up a batch of her famous blueberry pancakes. “Did you know that Mateo used to be a professional at
hlete? He was a soccer player. A really famous one.”

  “So you’re trying to tell me you spent the night talking about soccer?” Ally asked. There was something sweetly romantic about June and Mateo together, something inevitable. Something eerily familiar.

  “Yes. We were talking. About a lot of things.”

  Granny Donny harrumphed. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

  Ally said, “I’ve seen that man without a shirt.” She realized that a part of her wanted June and Mateo’s relationship to be base and silly, even though she knew it wasn’t. Why was she so insistent? She searched her emotions, trying to uncover her motives. Was this not about June and Mateo but about her and Sam?

  “We’re not all sluts for men without shirts,” June said. But she blushed as she poured the syrup.

  “Silly girl,” Granny Donny muttered.

  June ignored her. “I think you’re jealous, Ally, because I’m brave enough to go for it with a risky man, when you wimped out with your Prince Charming.”

  Ally reached for a fourth pancake and smothered it in butter and syrup. Maybe June was right, but there was a bigger truth that Ally was just starting to understand: June and Mateo were perfect together. They had to be together and they both knew it.

  They are like my parents.

  And it was lovely.

  “What if he wants to go back to Brazil?” Ally asked.

  “He’s not Brazilian, he’s Argentine,” June explained.

  “I’m a schoolteacher,” Ally reminded her friend. “I know my flags. Brazil is blue, yellow, and green, just like Paula’s plumes.” Ally was beginning to feel lighthearted as the truth of her emotions hit her: She wanted June and Mateo to run off. Granny Donny could hire someone to look after Paula and be her driver. She’d be fine just like Ally was fine when her parents left. Ally watched her friend carefully and imagined her own mother, making this decision to follow her heart, no matter what.

  “I’m telling you, he’s from Argentina,” June said. “He used to be an athlete, and—well—something didn’t work out.” June hesitated. “Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that he understands what it means to give your heart and soul to something and then fall flat. He gets me. I know we’ve only been together a week and it sounds nuts, but Ally, it’s not.”

  “Do you even know where Argentina is?” Ally poured herself another cup of coffee. My mother was happy when she died. She was following her heart. A huge weight lifted from Ally’s chest as she watched June not care about her silly objections.

  “Sort of. Not really. I don’t care.”

  “It’s in South America, June. We’re talking crocodiles and pumas.”

  “Mmm…crocodiles.” June wagged her eyebrows.

  “They eat beef for breakfast in Argentina.”

  “The crocodiles?”

  “No. The people. Really big, fat, bloody steaks. You don’t even eat red meat.”

  “Don’t! Ally, I don’t want the facts. I don’t care if Argentina is in Antarctica with the penguins.”

  “Which are in the North Pole,” Ally said quietly. She was proud of June. She was proud of her own parents. She was the only coward in the bunch.

  Granny Donny rolled her eyes. She started to clear the table, and June and Ally jumped up to stop her.

  June cleared the plates. “I want to go after my fantasy, to go after fun, wherever it takes me. I want to not care what the right thing to do is. I was a good woman even more than you were, and I didn’t even realize it. I’ve never met a man like him, Ally. The way he makes me feel. It’s—I can’t even explain. I’ll follow him anywhere—” She stopped, suddenly aware of what she was saying. “I’m sorry, hon. But that’s how I feel.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I think it’s great. Your skin is glowing. You can’t keep a smile off your face. You’re even eating the pancakes, carb bombs you never would have allowed yourself days ago. I’m happy for you, June.”

  June swiped a whole pancake off the platter that Ally carried back into the kitchen and ate it with her fingers in three huge bites. “Anyway, don’t worry about Argentina. We’re going to start with the exotic island of Manhattan. As soon as Paula’s set at the stable and he finds a driver for your grandmother, Mateo and I are going back. Just for a few days. Just to, you know, be alone. See what happens. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

  Ally hugged her friend. “I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine. I’ve just been too dumb to know it.”

  Ally went on long walks and played cards with Granny Donny, who cheated like a sailor. She cooked food and sat on the balcony and reread The Dulcet Duke. Then The Duke Who Loved Women. Then, The Marquis and I.

  After her seventh Regency-era novel, she knew exactly what she had to do.

  She borrowed Granny Donny’s fountain pen and India ink and a few sheets of her heavy vellum-like paper and she began: Dear Sam…

  By the time she had finished the letter, her hands were shaking. Her signature came out wobbly and uncertain, but she couldn’t bear to rewrite the whole letter. She was terrified that he’d return it unread. Hadn’t he said that was what his mother had done with his letters? What if he had written Ally off? What if she poured her heart out on the page, and he didn’t care? What if he laughed?

  For a moment, she considered tearing up the letter. This was what Send buttons were for. Impulsive missives sent off on a whim. But to fold the paper, address the envelope, find the stamp, put it on, and walk half a mile to the blue mailbox was hard. Every step gave her a chance to wimp out and forget the whole thing.

  She stood in front of the blue mailbox. She was trembling. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the part of her that had controlled her actions for the last ten years practically shouted, No!

  But she was done with that part.

  She was going to put on the ball of the season: an orchestra, caterers, hundreds of guests, and only one that would matter: Sam.

  If he would come.

  Sam ate his sushi, then washed it down with hot sake. It was ten o’clock at night and he was back in Manhattan, back to his old life. He and the rest of the creative team at Donnel/Woody/Smith had just paused for dinner in the main conference room. After leaving the beach house, he had gone back to work with a vengeance to keep his mind off Ally. This was the second agency this week that he’d been called in to bail out.

  They were preparing for the introduction of a diet pomegranate-grapefruit juice. They’d have it sewn up by three a.m. at the latest. Three of Sam’s concepts had made the final cut, which was pretty good, considering that he had come in to pinch-hit for these jokers at the bottom of the ninth.

  “So, what’s new?” Ray asked, stuffing a wasabi-coated tuna roll into his mouth. “What’s-her-name good?”

  Ray was his old buddy. They had worked together when Sam was just starting out, bouncing from agency to agency, eager to learn everything he could from everyone he could. He and Ray used to go out every night to the local bars, looking for women and alcohol, not necessarily in that order. “Veronica. She’s out of the picture.”

  “Has it been more than a month since we’ve worked together?”

  “Christ, am I that predictable?” Sam speared a tuna roll.

  “Yup. As long as I’ve known you. Got a new one yet?”

  “Yes. Ever get involved with a woman who hates you?” Sam asked.

  “This could be a long month, huh?”

  “I didn’t read this one the one-month act; she read it to me.”

  Ray’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Does your lawyer know?”

  “We have this sex-only relationship.” He struggled to explain.

  “Sounds like just your thing.”

  “It is. Only, usually, the woman wants more from me. This one—” He paused.

  “You’re her boy toy?” Ray thumped him on the back and Sam flashed back to the old days, when he and Ray would go out. Had Sam gotten nowhere in his life?

  “She thinks I�
��m a creep.”

  “But you are a creep,” Ray pointed out. “Which is exactly why I was hoping you’d come out with me tonight when we’re done here. Old times’ sake. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  * * *

  The woman pressing against Sam’s side in the red crushed-velvet half-moon booth of the Idyll Club was gorgeous. She was young. And she was giggling.

  And yet, Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off Ray, who sat across from him, a similar girl pressing up against him, his arm tossed casually around her bare shoulders.

  When had Ray gotten so old? He looked like the woman’s father.

  Sam could see his reflection in the mirrors over Ray’s shoulder.

  He looked old, too. Maybe not father material, but big brother for sure.

  He scanned the crowd, which was pulsating with energy and alcohol. He was definitely on the upper-age end, and Sam didn’t like the looks of the other men who were about his age. They were trying too hard. You couldn’t help but imagine the families who were waiting for them at home.

  Sam didn’t even have a family at home to ignore.

  A group of hipsters moved aside, and Sam’s whole body lurched as if he’d fallen into a bottomless pit.

  Because staring back at him was an old man. He must have been sixty at least, shaky on his barstool, holding a martini identical to the martini Sam held. The man was wearing the exact same tie as Sam. The stranger caught Sam looking at him and raised his martini in greeting. He nodded and drank.

  Sam’s throat tightened, and he felt short of breath. He needed a drink, but he wouldn’t drink. Not to that image of himself staring back at him. He wanted to rip off his tie. As soon as he got home, he’d burn it. He stood. “I gotta go.”

  “But we just got here, buddy,” Ray protested.

  “Actually, we got here fifteen years ago,” Sam said.

  He threw two fifties on the table and left Ray, who already had his spare arm around Sam’s discarded girl.