Laura's Secrets

by Shannon Greenland

  Bizzy stared at the outstretched key a moment, as if contemplating whether or not she should do what Laura asked, then slid across the booth and took it. She shot Will a warning look and walked from the restaurant.

  The Aunt Jane comment had been uncalled for. He was a jerk for making it. And the way Laura had backed away and Bizzy came to her defense made him feel like a dominating creep. Enough, though. Laura's secretive past and emotional barriers had him knocking his head against a wall. To have just found out that she'd changed her name and had been hiding it from him ... enough.

  "Let's go for a walk.” Laura led the way across the pizza parlor to the exit door.

  Bizzy had been coming to her rescue her whole life. When they were little, it'd been Bizzy who hid Laura from Aunt Jane during her tirades. In high school, Bizzy told the kids to back off when they made fun of Laura's shy, quiet ways, calling her ice queen, mute girl, or stone maiden. Bizzy had been Laura's backbone for as long as she could remember. Way past time she started taking control of her own life.

  Laura and Will walked in silence for a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. She glanced up at the star-filled, October, Dallas sky. It would have been romantic under other circumstances.

  Reaching inside her front pocket, she clasped onto the rabbit's foot. “I changed my name from Franks to Genny because I ran away from home at seventeen. I didn't want my aunt to find me, and so far, I've been lucky. You and Bizzy are the only two that know, so I'd appreciate your confidence in the matter."

  "Would you have told me if Bizzy hadn't slipped at dinner?"

  "I would've told you in time."

  He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I'm sorry I was an asshole back there. Your secrets frustrate me. I know you're dealing with a lot. I'm trying to be patient, but by nature I'm eager."

  Laura took a deep, calming breath. “Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For being my friend. For having incredible patience with me."

  Will's eyes traveled leisurely over her face. One corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “You're very beautiful."

  The unexpected comment sent her stomach dancing. Laura reached up to pull her hat further down, then remembered she wore no hat. She crossed her arms and looked down at the sidewalk beneath her feet. “Are-are you ready to head back?"

  "No.” Will lifted her chin with his finger. “I gave you a compliment. You're supposed to say thank you."

  Laura switched her gaze to his shoulder. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  He dropped his finger from her chin. “Why did you do that?"

  She took a step back. “Do what?"

  "I gave you a compliment, and you got nervous and clammed up on me. I thought you'd smile or something."

  Laura rubbed the pads of her fingers up the center of her forehead. “I'm sorry. I'm not good with compliments."

  Will took a step forward. “Why?"

  She shrugged, but she knew why. Dr. Masters had discussed it with her during their last session.

  "Why, Laura?"

  "There's a lot you don't know about me.” A lot she was too ashamed to share. She started walking back toward the hotel, her pace quick, hoping Will would drop the subject.

  "Laura,” he called, but she kept walking. “Laura,” he tried again, jogging up behind her. He grabbed her arm. “Would you stop? Talk to me, please."

  Laura looked down at his grip, then back up at his frustrated face. “Please remove your hand from my arm.” Her voice came out more acidic than she meant it to.

  Quickly, as if he'd touched a hot iron, Will dropped her arm and took a step back. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

  "No. Takes a lot more than that to hurt me."

  His eyes flicked, and in that moment Laura saw pain. A pain that he felt for her, and she knew without a doubt that she wanted to take a risk, tell him more, and deepen their bond.

  "My aunt,” she began, then stopped.

  Will gave her a small, encouraging smile.

  She started walking and began again, “My aunt had some sort of sick infatuation with me. One minute she'd compliment me on my pretty hair or per-perfect breasts, and the next minute she'd insult my skinny body or splotchy freckles. She used to spend thirty minutes every day combing my hair to perfection and putting the right amount of ribbons or braids or curls in it."

  "When I bathed,” Laura cleared her throat, “she'd watch me shave to make sure I got every unsightly hair. Biblical reasons stood behind it all. Something about ungodly vanity and my body being a temple."

  "Did she sexually abuse you?"

  "No. She was a voyeur. Doctor Masters says that's the reason I'm overly protective of my body. He says I wear hats because I'm hiding under them."

  She stopped walking and fastened her attention to the toes of her shoes. “I've been trying a few things he suggested, like not wearing my ball caps and dressing with the curtains open. He says it will help me realize my aunt isn't in my life anymore, and I don't have to hide my body from her or anybody else."

  Will leaned back against a street lamppost. In her peripheral, Laura saw him studying her. What was he thinking? Did he feel disgust, pity, anger? She shuffled her feet, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

  "Laura, I really hate your aunt.” He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her a little closer. “I know there's a lot of stuff about your childhood you haven't told me. When you're ready, I want you to share more. Your past is nothing to be ashamed of, especially around me. You have unconditional friendship with me, okay?"

  She chanced a quick look into his eyes and saw warmth there.

  "Your aunt had some weird fascination with you, and the stuff she did to you wasn't your fault. She's a sick woman, mentally.” He squeezed her hand. “Now, I'm going to make a deal with you. Every time I give you a compliment, you accept it for what it is and say thank you. Don't think there's some underlying meaning, and don't get tense. Let's start right now.” He gave her hand a playful tug. “Laura, you're a very beautiful woman."

  She smiled at his silly game.

  He loudly cleared his throat in an obvious show of waiting for her to respond.

  "Thank you.” Thank God he'd lightened the mood.

  He grinned with satisfaction. “Good start. But we'll try again later until you get it right."

  A movement beyond his shoulder grabbed her attention. She glanced past him. A tall, skinny woman with shoulder length, straight hair stepped back into the shadows. Laura froze. Aunt Jane?

  "Laura, what is it?"

  She stared hard at the buildings lining the sidewalk, studying the dark storefronts, searching for any movement.

  Will stepped to the side and followed her gaze. “What is it? What do you see?"

  "A-a woman. Over there. Aunt Jane."

  "What? Where?"

  Couldn't be. No way Aunt Jane knew where she was. Impossible. Then the skinny woman shifted out of the shadows, and Laura saw her digging through her purse.

  "Is that her?” Will asked, already heading toward her.

  "No!” Laura shouted it so loud, the skinny woman looked up from down the street.

  Will turned back, and Laura shook her head. “It's not her. I'm sorry.” She covered her face with her hands. “I'm sorry. I do that sometimes. I think I see her, but I really don't. I'm so sorry."

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Stop apologizing."

  "It makes me feel like an idiot."

  "It's because we were talking about her. That's all. It's not her.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

  Laura concentrated on inhaling, then exhaling, inhaling, then exhaling, slowly, calming her rapid-fire heart.

  It's okay. Aunt Jane can't hurt me anymore. Aunt Jane isn't in my life anymore. Aunt Jane doesn't even know if I'm alive.

  She repeated those sentences over and over in her head. As she felt the muscles in her body relax, other things began to enter her senses. Will's warmth. His arms around her. His clean, soapy scent. The
fact that he'd been rocking her, slightly, the entire time. The only other person that had ever hugged her was Bizzy. But Bizzy's hugs weren't anything like this ... all encompassing, soothing, protective.

  And Bizzy never smelled this good.

  Will pressed another kiss to her temple and stepped back. “Better now?"

  Nodding, Laura took her hands from her face.

  "Do you play?"

  "What?"

  He pointed down the street to a neon sign. “There's a pool hall. Do you play?"

  "Yeah, I can play."

  "How about a friendly competition?"

  "Alright."

  "What are we wagering?"

  She hadn't thought about actually wagering something. It'd always been money that she bet in college. Somehow money didn't seem appropriate with Will. Then it dawned on her, “I know. If I win, you have to switch rooms with me at the next hotel. I want to stay in one of those fancy suites you guys are always treated to."

  He gave an affirmative nod. “Fair enough. And if I win, you have to give me a kiss."

  A kiss? He wants a kiss? Laura worked her throat, trying to swallow, but couldn't produce any saliva. Okay. She wanted a kiss, too. Bad. But the last time she'd kissed anybody was that guy back in college. That had been a fumbled attempt at best. What if she'd forgotten how?

  "O-okay.” She headed in the direction of the pool hall, very aware of her stiff leg muscles.

  Will followed her, wanting to laugh at her stunned reaction. A kiss. He'd actually made a wager for a kiss. He had it bad for this woman.

  Smoky, dimly lit, and smelling like beer, the pool hall epitomized a typical bar. A barbeque pit occupied one corner. Small tables sat scattered about. A horseshoe shaped bar took up the middle. Three pinball machines stood against the back wall. Four pool tables formed a line, each spaced a few feet apart.

  The male dominated clientele looked like they'd gotten off shift work from some nearby plant. Two of the four pool tables were occupied. Will led Laura to the furthest one. He slid some quarters into the table's slots. “What do you want from the bar?"

  Laura started racking the balls. “Corona with a lime."

  She placed every striped and solid in a specific spot, then spun the eight ball for a tighter break. He lifted his brows at her technique and was even more surprised when she began to study the cue sticks. Slowly, she rolled them across the table, probably looking for a bowed shape or any other oddity.

  She glanced up. “Corona with a lime."

  He nodded and headed toward the bar. While waiting on their beers, he leaned against a stool and watched her. She chose two sticks and chalked the tips. Satisfied with that, she strolled around the table studying the green felt. She squatted down to eye level and scrutinized it from that angle.

  Will rejoined Laura with the beers. She took a bottle, squeezed a lime into it, toasted his, and then took a swig. “So, do you want to play eight ball, nine ball, snooker?"

  He cocked a brow. “I have a feeling you know more about this game then I think you do."

  Laura shrugged a shoulder. “I've played a few times. So, what'll be?"

  "I only know how to play eight ball."

  "Good choice. That's a good betting game. And I've got a hotel suite to beat you out of."

  "Okay, fancy pants, don't go thinking you've already won. I've got a kiss on the line, in case you've forgotten."

  Her face turned that sweet, blushed color. She reached into her khaki pant's pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Call it.” She flipped it into the air.

  "Heads."

  Laura snatched it on its descent and turned it over onto her forearm. They peered at it. Tails. She slanted him a sly look, and Will grunted his disappointment.

  Shoving the quarter back into her pocket, she spun on her heel and pulled the rack from the balls. Positioning the cue ball a little behind the line and to the right, she leaned over, slid the stick back and forth a few times between her thumb and forefinger, then executed a clean break. The loud cracking noise attracted the attention of the other pool players. They all turned to watch.

  A solid red sailed to the rear corner pocket. Laura circled the table, grabbed her hair and pulled the length of it over her shoulder, then lined up for the next shot. How was he supposed to win with all that hair in his way?

  The solid yellow went in the side pocket. A light round of applause followed. Amused, Will turned to the group of onlookers, some sitting on stools, others leaning on their own pool sticks, some standing around, all engrossed in Laura. He turned back around in time to see a solid blue shoot across the table into a corner pocket. When the green one missed, a depressed sigh came from the crowd.

  Jumping from his stool, Will headed toward the cue ball. “Looks like you've got some fans."

  She made no response, just continued studying the table with her poker face. He succeeded in sinking the purple striped ball, but missed on his next try.

  Laura stepped back into place and leaned over for her next shot. Will stood behind her, a perfect location to stare at her round little fanny. But when her cue stick came back for the shot, he yelped and jumped out of the way, narrowly missing a jab to his groin, and quickly found his stool.

  The solid green ricocheted off the side and zipped into the opposite corner. Like the crowd, Will reacted with awe at her technique and showmanship.

  Straightening from her crouched position, Laura went to take a swallow of her beer. Her focus never left the table. She set her bottle down, circled, squatted to study the solid purple. She stood, placed the cue stick behind her, and rested her backside on the edge of the table. Slowly, she slid the stick back and forth across her fingers, and then the cue ball slammed into the purple, sent it from one end of the table to the other, back again, and spiraling down a front corner pocket.

  The crowd shot to their feet with cheers as Laura rounded the table for the winning shot, the eight ball. Will thought it looked easy enough. She pointed to the side pocket to signify where the eight would go, then hunched over, lined it up, and gave it a soft tap. The eight rolled a few inches and plopped into its appointed hole.

  More applause followed, and as people dispersed back to their original spots, Laura placed her cue stick into its wall-mounted holder and walked over to stand in front of Will.

  "Guess you're out of a suite in the next city."

  He hooked his thumbs through her belt loops and pulled her into the space between his legs. “Well, Miss Genny, looks like you're a woman of many talents. Where did you learn to play pool like that?"

  "I put myself through college with government grants, a couple of jobs, and gambling on the weekends at local pool halls."

  Will twisted her hips. “Ah ha, you little sneak. You could have let me in on that secret prior to our bet."

  Laura's eyes lit with mischievousness. “And give up a deluxe suite? I don't think so."

  "I guess I'll have to wait for that kiss then."

  "Guess so."

  He laughed and squeezed her hips, then jumped off the stool. “Ready to go?"

  She nodded and followed him out the door and down the street.

  "Your hair looks nice tonight. I like it down.” Will glanced at her through the corners of his eyes. “That was a compliment. What are you supposed to say?"

  "Oh,” she let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. Thank you."

  He laughed and bumped his shoulder against hers. “What a pitiful thank you. I can tell this compliment business is going to take some practice."

  Laura smiled. “Will?” she said a few seconds later.

  "Hmmm?"

  "I came real close to botching that game."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because I-I wanted to lose the bet."

  Will stopped walking. “Laura, are you flirting with me?"

  She covered her face with her hands and nodded. He grinned, pried her hands from her face, and kissed her on the cheek, delighted with her playful flirtation. Linking fingers with
her, he led her back to the hotel, arms swinging, chatting about the latest movies.

  They'd made significant strides in their relationship tonight. Hopefully, nothing would happen to stop the progress.

  * * * *

  It was after midnight when Will and Laura returned to the hotel from the pool hall. They agreed to meet in the morning for a run prior to reporting to the Dallas Convention Center for concert preparations.

  As they passed the other musician's rooms, sounds of clinking glasses, music, voices, and giggling filtered through the walls. Laura eyed one of the doors. Would Will rather be partying with them than hanging out with her? The women who attended those parties seemed a lot less complicated than she was.

  "Looks like we're here.” Will stopped at her door.

  "I had a good time,” Laura whispered so the bodyguards on post wouldn't overhear.

  "Me, too,” he whispered back.

  They stood, staring at each other. She looked into his dark eyes, becoming more lost as the seconds passed. He focused on her lips and took a step closer, reached up and cupped her cheek. One of the bodyguards loudly cleared his throat.

  They both blinked and glanced down the hall. Some of the partygoers stumbled from a room.

  Will looked back at Laura, obviously disappointed but trying to smile anyway. “I'll see ya in the morning."

  She nodded slightly and watched him walk away, half expecting him to go join the party. But he unlocked his door and disappeared inside. Turning, Laura knocked softly on hers. She'd given Bizzy her only key.

  "Well, I thought you'd vanished off the face of the earth,” Bizzy said, swinging open the door.

  "I'm sorry. Will and I had some things to talk about."

  Laura headed into the bathroom, and after brushing her teeth wandered over to her duffle bag and pulled out a blue T-shirt and red plaid boxers. She took a deep breath and with her back to Bizzy, quickly changed clothes. When Laura was done, she put her discarded items in her laundry bag, then chanced a glance at her friend, who stood rooted by the television, staring at her.

  Hesitantly, Laura ventured, “What are you looking at?"

  "I-I can't believe you did that."