No, Lindy needed Dennis. A life with him would provide love, security and a healthy, nurturing environment. The mere fact that her father opposed this joining made Marley resolve to do everything in her power to make the wedding happen.
She wanted breathing space, a few minutes to herself out of the claustrophobic motel room, so she could counter the problems her father had created. What possible reason did he have for creating all these difficulties? While running a bath, she went back in the room to collect a bottle of bath oil. She’d borrowed it from Richard’s place when she’d packed up Lindy’s things.
“Why don’t you watch some TV while I take a bath? I’ll be out in a little while.”
In the bathroom, she stepped into the warm water and let it envelop her. What a wonderful relief. The water had just started to cool when she heard a commotion in the other room. Quickly, Marley got out of the tub and dried herself. A harsh rap on the door startled her, and she wrapped the towel protectively around herself.
“Marley, you in there?”
“Richard?” she asked moving toward the door. “What are you doing here?”
When the doorknob rattled, she shouted, “What do you want? I’ll be out in a minute.” She redressed in her pants and T-shirt, all the while muttering. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. Why on earth would Richard leave his precious bachelor party?
With a quick intake of breath, Marley prepared for catastrophe. Something terrible had happened. She opened the door to see Richard, Dennis and Lindy sitting around the room on the bed, chair and desk. Richard had been scowling at the floor but came to instant attention the moment she entered. She looked away from his murderous glare to Dennis, who sat batting a fist into his other hand. His attention rested on Lindy, who appeared close to tears again.
“What’s the problem?” Marley asked.
Richard rose from the desk and started toward her. “Where would you like to begin? Problem one, two or three?” Before she could answer, he continued, “Problem one is sitting over there,” he said, pointing at Lindy. “Dennis hasn’t been able to think about anything else since we started the party. He wanted to leave from the first, but it might still be going on if problem two hadn’t grandstanded with the stripper.”
Visions of her father improvising something foolish flashed through her mind. “His performance brought the house down,” Richard continued as he paced the room. “The, uh, dancer hadn’t gone far enough, so he decided to help remove more of her layers. Her bodyguard punched him out...which created problem three. We were kicked out of the restaurant.”
“Where’s my father now?” She saw him bloodied, taken off in an ambulance to a hospital, and the mental picture distressed her. Quickly, she shook off her unwanted anguish. He probably deserved every broken bone. But her mother would be devastated. The whole wedding could be postponed. Marley’s distress returned tenfold.
“Your father? Marley, why is your father the main topic of every conversation we have?”
“Well, who are you talking about then?” she said, as flustered and irritated as he.
“Brant, your betrothed, the pain-in-the-neck problem. He passed out in Denny’s car.”
“How come you drove it here?” she asked, deciding to go on the offensive. “I thought you were taking cabs home rather than driving drunk.”
“Drunk?” Richard pounded his chest. “This is not drunk. This is angry. This is mad. That,” he said, pointing toward the door, “is drunk. And that is dead,” he continued, shaking his fist, “if he gets sick in your car.” He stood several feet from her, breathing deeply, his face a play of emotions. Mostly she saw pain and disappointment.
“My car?”
“I put him in there. It’s a rental. Let them detail it.”
Marley closed her eyes momentarily and grasped her head in her hands.
“What the hell do you see in that cowboy? You give up on me and fall for...” Again he gestured toward the door. With a defeated expression, Richard dropped into a chair and placed his face in his hands. “I’ll never understand women.”
Marley watched him, unable to come up with any coherent thoughts. What had Brant done? She felt a disappointment she couldn’t understand.
After a short respite, Richard got up, walked over to Lindy and dropped onto the bed next to her. “I’m sorry I blew up like that, sis. You okay?” She threw her arms around him and bawled. For several moments Richard hugged her, patting her back while glancing around the room. Marley took that opportunity to head for the door. While Richard was occupied, she could check on Brant and possibly minimize any damages. Just as she was about to exit, however, Richard said, “Here, Denny. You take over. I think you’re better suited for this.”
As he was getting up, Lindy wailed, “I’m cancelling the wedding.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EVERYONE IN THE room pivoted to face her and shouted in unison, “You’re what?”
“Daddy said I should wait.”
“But, honey...” Dennis rushed to her side, but she turned her shoulder toward him and avoided any embrace. He slowly backed away.
The three adults watched Lindy, waiting for more explanations. When she didn’t explain further, Marley took a seat next to her on the bed and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s wedding jitters.”
Inconsolable, Lindy declared, “Call it whatever you want, but the wedding is off.”
Richard threw his hands in the air and walked over to the door. “Women!” he said and went outside.
Dennis stood only inches away, looking as though he wanted to take Marley’s place. “Give us a moment,” he said. Marley agreed. When she got up, Dennis took her seat and wrapped Lindy in his arms.
With one last look at the couple, Marley closed the door behind her and joined Richard on the walkway that connected the motel rooms.
“What about your impending marriage? You think it has a chance in hell with that leech?” Richard asked. “You should see your fiancé in action. He’s the worst drunk and skirt chaser I’ve ever seen.”
Now that was something that did require her attention. She hadn’t even checked on Brant’s condition. She started to walk over to the car. “How did he get drunk?”
“He downed those Bloody Marys.”
“With vodka?”
Richard shrugged. “Of course with vodka. Why? Do they make them with something else out in Arizona?”
“But Brant said he didn’t drink.” Why hadn’t she asked Brant why?
“He lied.”
No. She didn’t know much about Brant, but she doubted that he’d lie about such a thing. Had someone switched his drinks? Further conversation with Richard was useless until she could talk to Brant.
When she placed her hand on the car handle, he asked, “What do you want me to do with him? Should I drive him to your mother’s?”
“Let me talk to him.”
Richard threw his hands in the air and headed back to the motel room, muttering.
Brant lay sprawled across the backseat with one black lizard-skin boot braced against the window. “Get up,” she said, knocking on the glass. When he didn’t budge, she opened the door. Once his leg lost support, it fell as though unconnected to the rest of his body. It jarred him, and he slowly sat up, squinting at the bright parking lot lights that played across his face.
“What happened?” Marley said to the figure in rumpled clothes.
“Marley?” he asked, looking at her with soulful eyes. His whole countenance had a wrinkled quality to it.
“Are you all right?” she inquired in a stage whisper.
“Oh, Marley,” Brant said as he reached for her. “I’ve been dreaming about you.” He grasped her hand and pulled her against him with a strength she hadn’t expected. When she tried to get away, he twisted her around so that she
was across his chest, nearly sitting on his lap. He tangled his hand in her hair and drew her toward him.
As his lips played across hers, she tasted Tabasco. So he had been drinking Bloody Marys. When he didn’t draw her closer, she took a breath and returned to taste him again. She’d prove to him she could kiss. Prove it to herself.
“Nice,” he said against her lips.
She pushed against his chest and managed to put several inches between them. “Brant, we have to talk.”
“I like the conversation we’re having.” When he tried pulling her back into an embrace, she placed her fingers against his mouth. He began kissing them.
“Brant, please.” What was she going to do with him?
“I’m a little drunk.”
“A little?”
He started to giggle. In slow motion he sank back against the seat, releasing her. “My head hurts, and I’m tired. We’ll talk like this again later.”
* * *
NICE. VERY NICE. Brant felt quite content and didn’t want to jeopardize his luck. She’d kissed him. And it was better than nice. Definitely a different side of Marley. She actually acted concerned for his welfare. Instead of going ballistic because he had created problems for her cherished Richard, she’d offered an empathy he hadn’t expected.
Maybe he should let her know he really wasn’t drunk, hadn’t touched any alcohol. The virgin Marys had fooled everyone, including Richard. Then again, maybe Brant should keep his mouth shut. She probably only responded to him at all because she thought he was incapacitated. More than likely she’d punch his lights out once she knew the truth.
* * *
MARLEY GOT OUT of the car and folded his long legs on the seat to try and make him comfortable. She closed the door, prepared to leave him there for the rest of the night until he sobered up. Heading back to her motel room, she felt more frustrated and upset than she’d ever felt in her life. Once everyone left, she’d have to slip Brant into the motel room. But what should she do till then?
Richard opened the door when she knocked. He ushered her in with a quick, questioning look at the car. She ignored it, unwilling to let him draw her into any conversation about Brant. A furtive glance around the room indicated nothing had improved in these quarters.
Lindy sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, glaring at the bedspread. Dennis sat in one chair. Richard went for the desk, and Marley headed for the bathroom. Her face felt flushed, her lips pleasantly bruised. Sure enough, when she checked the mirror, the evidence showed. She sighed. It had been...unexpected...lovely... Wow! And they had several more days together before she went back to Phoenix and Brant went on to New York. But would Brant even remember?
After some repairs, Marley returned to the room. With no other seats available, she had no choice but to sit on the bed next to Lindy.
“I could go for some pizza,” Marley said, when the quiet became too much to bear. “Would Molino’s still be open?”
No one answered, but Dennis stood and stretched. “Why don’t you and Richard go get some? Lindy and I still need to talk.”
Marley checked with Lindy to see if she went for the idea. Her impassive posture remained the same. When Marley got off the bed, she made eye contact with Richard, only to look quickly away. She read too many questions there that she didn’t want to face.
“Don’t bother with pizza for us,” Lindy said in a surprisingly harsh voice that caused everyone to jump to attention. Obediently, Richard and Marley made for the door.
“What do we do now?” Richard asked as he escorted her from the room.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Me, either. Maybe lover boy could use some food.”
“Didn’t he eat?” she asked, giving Richard a worried look.
“Just the celery in his drink.”
Brant had been starving when she’d left him. Vodka on an empty stomach. No wonder he was drunk so quickly.
“How much time do you figure they’ll need to talk?” Richard asked as he opened the driver’s door for her. “A few hundred years, maybe?”
The night had worn her out, and she wanted desperately to get some sleep. Marley sighed, not willing to debate it further as Richard walked around to the passenger side of the car. “Let’s give them an hour. Shall we go for coffee?”
A glance in back assured her that Brant hadn’t changed his position. If only he’d remain that way, in a state as close to comatose as possible. As they pulled into the parking lot of an all-night diner, something hit her in the neck, and she turned to see Brant’s face only inches away. “My knees don’t work. You’ll have to carry me.”
She looked beseechingly at Richard, hoping he might provide some assistance. However, the black storm that raged across his face offered little chance of that in this lifetime. He went out his door and took off without waiting for her.
“Men,” Marley muttered. Right now she’d like to smash both their heads together. The moment she reached Brant in the backseat, he threw an arm around her shoulder along with most of his weight. She grabbed on to his arm and struggled to maintain her balance. When he slathered a kiss across her forehead, she nearly dropped him.
“Come on, Brant,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist. “Save that for later.” The remark was made in case Richard was close enough to hear, yet Brant showed a definite interest.
“Later,” he said, running his lips against her cheek.
He took a few trial steps and quickly learned the process. By the time they reached the diner’s door, he was nearly supporting himself. He had kept up a babble of endearments, referring to her on several occasions as sweetie, Marley or Carla, some woman she didn’t even know.
At least Richard obliged them by holding the door open. The moment they found a vacant booth, Marley dropped Brant onto the bench and pushed him in so she could scoot in after him. Through it all, Brant kept up a besotted babble about how he couldn’t wait to get her alone. None of his actions resembled the Brant she’d come to know. When Richard slapped the tabletop resoundingly, Brant finally settled back in the seat.
“He’s usually not this way.” Did her voice show the panic she felt?
“Didn’t you know he had a drinking problem?”
“I got no problem,” Brant informed them, but they ignored him. “I don’t drink.”
“It’s never been a problem.” Under the circumstances, what else could she say?
“When a guy avoids alcohol and slips out of character the moment he touches it, it’s a problem.”
Brant propped his head in his hand, supporting the weight on a wobbly elbow. “I got no problem. Just a little headache. Zat’s all.”
They ordered coffee. She waited, tensing and releasing her fists under the table.
Their coffee finally arrived. Since the air-conditioning had cooled her overheated body, Marley picked up the warm brew and wrapped her hands around the cup to absorb its heat. A little chill radiated along her spine, possibly caused by the deep freeze emanating from Richard.
Slowly she sipped her coffee, wishing she’d asked for decaffeinated. She wanted a good night’s sleep and didn’t need additional stimulation. At first Brant bent over and slurped his, but by his second cup, he could hold it in an upright position without spilling it all over himself and the table.
“You feeling better?” she dared to ask when he put the finished cup down.
“Yeah. Where’s the men’s room?” Marley got up from the bench seat. He scooted over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading toward the rear of the diner. At least he didn’t require her assistance to walk anymore. She sank back on the bench.
“When do you plan to marry?” Richard asked after Brant disappeared.
“Soon,” she said, surprised at his question.
“A big wedding
with all the relatives?”
“I suppose so. Why?”
“Because technically, if and when Denny and Lindy tie the knot, I’ll be part of the family.” Richard got up and tossed a few bills on the table. “Don’t bother to send me an invitation.”
Richard was already in the driver’s seat when Marley and Brant reached the car. Marley didn’t bother to say it was her rental, and she should drive. No more arguments tonight. “I’ll sit in the back.” Brant had his arm around her and maneuvered her so that she had no other choice. The strength of the man shocked her, and he still wasn’t even fully coherent.
She had zero hopes of controlling Brant as the war waged on. When he started slapping her hands in a comical patty-cake rhythm, she dug her nails into his wrist and swatted his hand. He continued to slap, slap, slap. He was wearing her down. She dug her nails into his wrist again. If only she could extricate herself from this nightmare.
Brant reached for her hand, but before she could swat him away for the umpteenth time, he said, “Nice ring.” Oh, great. Now he was about to say something to bring the whole farce into the open. Although she already felt like an idiot, so far the onus for the evening’s debacle was on him. If he exposed the bogus engagement, though, she’d really look like a fool.
“You gave it to me, remember?” He placed a hand on his face.
“I did? Where did I get that kind of money? Am I rich?” He picked up her hand again and brought the ring closer. “I must be. Oh, but, Carla, you’re worth it. Every million dollars I spent on it.” He dropped her hand. “I can’t think. My head hurts.” He put his head on her shoulder and said, “I’m so tired, Carla. Take me home with you.”
Who was Carla? Before Marley could push him away, he had fallen asleep, producing a soft snore with bursts of air blown against her neck.
An Act of Love Page 9