I flung the tangled sheets from my legs and ran to the window. I was in time to see Laura climbing into her car. I shouted her name and thumped on the window, making it tremble ominously, but she didn’t hear me. Or if she did, she didn’t turn around.
Bitter and defeated, I fell back onto the bed. Why did this keep happening? Every time I thought we’d taken a step forward, she ran. Rejection washed through me and I felt a small burn in my chest as another tiny piece of my heart shriveled.
After a moment of indulgent self pity, I hauled my sorry ass into the shower. The warm water was soothing and calming.
I nearly had a fucking heart attack when the bathroom door opened. I spun around to see Laura’s face through the thick steam, amused and mischievous.
“I thought you’d left!”
“Left? No! I just went to the store—you don’t have any food in the house, mister. I thought I’d make us breakfast.”
For fuck’s sake. All that angst and she was buying me bagels? What a fucking pussy!
I realized that she was peering at me through the steamy haze.
“Do you want to join me?” I teased, hoping that she’d say yes.
She laughed and shook her head, throwing me a towel as I turned off the water, but not before I caught her checking me out.
“Hmm, perhaps I’d better feed you instead,” she said hurriedly, catching the hunger in my eyes.
I let it go.
“God, yes. What did you get?” Please say bagels.
“Juice, French bread, butter and … don’t laugh … peanut butter and jelly.”
“Are you trying to make me look upscale? What kind of person does that to French bread?”
“A hungry one,” she snarked back. “I like peanut butter and jelly. Jack would never eat it.”
A dark look clouded her face and I wanted to kiss it away.
“Come on then, woman. Feed me kindergarten food.”
“Only if you promise to wear more than a towel!”
I winked at her, and headed into my bedroom to grab a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Once I’d met her sartorial standards, I sauntered into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee while Laura sliced the bread and made our sandwiches. Then we took them out onto the balcony and sat in the sunshine to eat. It was comfortably domestic and intimate all at the same time. Both were utterly new to me. I was surprised to find that I wanted every day to start like this. Well, without the near heart attack.
“So, do you have plans or are you free to do something?” I asked, tentatively.
“Nope, no plans,” she said, smiling across at me. “I just sort of assumed you’d be painting. I don’t want to get in the way.”
I didn’t want any plans where Laura wasn’t involved. I didn’t tell her that—she might run away screaming. Again.
“How about we drive up to Simi Hills?” I suggested. “There’s a place I like to go to draw, then we could head into town and find somewhere for lunch?”
“Is that a date?” she asked, teasingly.
“Yes. It’s a date. And then there’ll be another one and another one … get the picture?”
“Oh really?” she laughed. “Because I’d like to know if we’re going steady!”
“I don’t think there’s going to be much steady about it—more like a freakin’ rollercoaster ride. But yeah—I think we should try dating.”
She was laughing. I knew she was laughing at me—but I didn’t care.
“Sounds perfect. Do you mind if we go to my place first? I hate wearing the same clothes two days running.”
“You could wear one of my t-shirts,” I offered. “It would be fucking sexy to see you in my clothes.” She looked doubtful, so I tried to play it off like it meant nothing. “Just until you get your own clothes from home.”
She looked surprised but agreed straight away.
I laid out my favorite Acadia Axemen hockey shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs for her to wear.
She locked me out of the bathroom while she showered—an action that I reminded her displayed double standards—and she wouldn’t let me watch her getting dressed either. I’d be working on both of those scenarios. So I wandered into my studio and thought about how I wanted to finish the new piece.
She was ready 20 minutes later and I followed in my car to her place.
It was already nearly 11AM when we arrived. Laura ran upstairs while I waited in the kitchen, absentmindedly staring out at an impressive display of gladioli in the landscaped back yard, admiring the blaze of color.
Which was why I didn’t hear the car in the driveway.
I was first aware that we weren’t alone when I heard a man’s voice in the hall.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me! Whose car is that out front?”
Mom? Shit!
The kitchen door opened and I was face to face with a guy a few years younger than me. He had Laura’s brown hair and hazel eyes.
“Oh, hey.”
He looked puzzled.
“Hi, I’m Hallen. You must be Joe.”
We shook hands while he continued to stare at me in confusion.
“Uh, yeah, Joe Martin. Is that your car outside?”
“Yep, that’s the beast.”
“MG, right?”
“Roadster.”
“What year?”
“Nineteen-sixty-six.”
“Nice ride!”
He paused, still wondering where I fit into the equation.
“Have you seen Mom?” he asked, at last.
“She’s upstairs getting changed.”
We heard her at the same time.
“Hallen, I think I’m going to hold your hockey shirt hostage and…”
She walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of skinny black jeans and my shirt. As soon as she saw her son, her expression said it all.
Joe shot me a glance then stared at Laura.
“Mom?”
Her face turned red, but it was the look of horror that burned into my retinas.
“Joe, honey! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over? It’s so good to see you, I had no idea you were coming.”
Her words poured out in a nervous flood as Joe crossed his arms, working out the dynamics in the room.
“Who’s the guy, Mom?” he asked, his tone accusing.
“This is my friend, Hallen,” she said, as calmly as she could but betrayed by the way her eyes flitted nervously between us.
“Yeah, we’ve met. Why are you wearing a hockey shirt?”
“Oh! I just borrowed it…”
“We were going to drive out to Simi Hills for lunch,” I stated, daring Laura to disagree.
Joe swung his cool gaze to me, but didn’t speak.
“Maybe we can do it some other time, Hallen,” Laura begged softly, pleading with her eyes for me not to make a scene.
She’d chosen. And it hadn’t been me.
“Sure,” I said, stiffly. “Call me when you’re available. Nice meeting you, Joe.”
He ignored me, his angry eyes still blazing at Laura.
I turned on my heel, needing to leave as quickly as possible. I heard her hurrying after me.
“I’m sorry, Hallen,” she whispered. “Just give me a chance to explain to him so he’ll understand.”
“What’s to understand?” I said sharply, not bothering to keep my voice down. “I thought we agreed we were dating—or maybe that concept is too hard for a grad student of 23 to grasp?”
“My children will always come first,” she snapped, her tone defensive. “I don’t expect you to understand that.”
“No, of course you don’t expect that from me—you don’t expect anything, do you?”
I slammed the door behind me as I left.
I hated walking away from her, but I could see it in her eyes—she was ashamed of me.
Since starting work for Eloise, I’d seen every expression in a woman’s eyes when they looked at me: hunger, lust, anxiety, and shame. Over and again, I’d seen
shame. I didn’t want to see that in Laura—it hurt too much.
I’d just unlocked the MG when Laura’s front door banged open and she ran out.
“Hallen!” she called, her face lined with frustration. “Please don’t leave like this!”
I stood against the car, my hands gripping the frame, unable to look at her.
“Are you going to be embarrassed every time someone sees us together?”
“No!”
Her hoarse whisper didn’t convince me.
“Are you sure about that?”
“No,” she said again, even more quietly.
Another stab.
“But not for the reason you think, Hallen.”
I turned my head minutely, listening.
“Yes, I’m embarrassed,” she admitted.
“I’ll never be ashamed of being seen with you,” I gritted out. “But you didn’t even want me in the same room as your son, let alone admit that we … you know what, forget it. I have to go.”
“You’re completely misunderstanding everything I say!” she yelled. “I’ve never had to introduce my boyfriend to my son before. I just felt awkward.” She lowered her voice. “It’s like admitting that I’m still interested in sex, okay! You think he wants to hear that? Jeez, Hallen! How would you feel if you thought your mom was having sex with a guy!”
I remembered the disgust I felt when I’d heard ‘Uncle Todd’ boning Mum, the animalistic grunts and creaking bed too loud in the night.
But I didn’t say that to Laura.
“Am I your boyfriend?”
She looked flustered, but with a defiant jerk of her chin, she stared straight at me.
“That’s usually what it means when two people are dating.”
A slow smile spread across my face and I turned around, leaning against my car, arms crossed.
“I want to hear you say it, Laura. I want to hear you say it out loud—like you mean it.”
“Fine!” she snapped. “Hallen Jansen, will you be my damn boyfriend and screw me senseless whenever I want it, not leaving me hanging like you did last night?”
Her words were so out of character, I burst out laughing. “I’d love to be your damn boyfriend—but especially the other part.”
She took a step closer, leaning her body against mine, resting her head on my chest, her arms wrapped around my waist. I dropped soft kisses into her hair, breathing in her warm, flowery scent.
“Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out,” she murmured. “Now will you come in and meet Joe properly?”
She took me by the hand and led me back into the kitchen where her son was still standing, his arms locked defensively in front of him.
“Joseph,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Hallen Jansen. Hallen, this is my son, Joe.”
I held out my hand again but he ignored it, his eyes hurt and angry.
“Joseph…” Laura said, in a warning voice, “please remember you are a guest in my home.”
Oozing reluctance, he shook hands with me for a second time and Laura relaxed fractionally.
“Does Dad know?” he asked, bluntly.
“Yes,” she replied, her tone curt. “We met him with Yasmine at a MOCA exhibition a few weeks back. Your father looked very well, considering he has a toddler keeping him awake at night.”
Joe looked surprised, then sheepish.
“Well,” Laura said, gritting her teeth. “Why don’t we all go out for lunch together? Then you two boys … you two can get to know each other.”
I don’t think there was one person in the room who really thought that was a good idea. But I could hardly argue with it having insisted on forcing the issue.
Joe shot her a horrified look and opened his mouth to make some excuse.
“I know you’re not busy, Joe,” Laura said, pre-empting anything he might have come up with.
I shrugged and Laura smiled tightly.
“Why don’t you follow us in your car, Joe?”
She picked up her purse and keys, and hustled us all outside.
“Let’s go to that new Italian place by the pier,” she said brightly, but almost glaring at me. “I hear the rooftop views are to die for.”
I suspected that might be true if I disagreed with her.
It was Joe’s turn to shrug.
“Good!” she snapped. “That’s decided then.”
We set off in convoy, Laura’s expression brittle.
I unclamped one of her hands from where she was knotting them together in her lap, and squeezed her fingers gently.
“Hey, it’s okay. He’s taking it pretty well, really.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment.
“He hasn’t challenged me to a duel,” I went on, “even though you were yelling at me to screw you senseless on demand.”
She gave a reluctant smile. “Do you think he heard that?”
“Let’s hope not. I like my teeth in my mouth.”
She laughed. “Me, too.” Then she rested her hand on my thigh.
I groaned.
“What?” she said, her eyes innocent.
“You want me to arrive at the restaurant with a log in my pants?” I asked, utterly serious.
“Hallen, if I remember correctly … which I most certainly do … it was you that stopped us from having sex in your bedroom.”
“You know why I did that—don’t make me regret it even more than I already do.”
She gave a nervous chuckle. “Hmm, another time perhaps.”
“Is that a promise, Laura?”
Her eyes softened. “Yes.”
I could live with that.
We were shown to a table and sat in uneasy silence, each hiding behind our menus. When the waiter came back to explain the specials, we were forced to look at each other. Unsurprisingly, nobody wanted the antipasti, and we all went straight for the main courses, hoping to keep lunch as brief as possible.
When we couldn’t put off the moment any longer, I fished around for something to talk about.
“So,” I said, kicking off the cheerless proceedings, “I understand you’ve just started at Caltech, Joe. How’s that going for you?”
“Good.”
Conversational starter number one bites the dust.
“You said you really liked your professors,” offered Laura.
“Yeah, they’re good.”
Silence.
“What do you do, Hallen?”
“Hallen’s an artist,” Laura announced, proudly.
I gave her a warning glance not to answer for me, as Joe’s lip curled upward.
“You make much money at that?”
“Joe!” snapped Laura.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, coolly. “Joe’s right—it’s precarious. Luckily, I have savings.”
“You’ve sold three-quarters of the paintings in your exhibition already!”
“You have an exhibition?” questioned Joe.
“Yes, at the TAG gallery in Santa Monica,” Laura answered for me again.
Joe’s eyes slid across to me but he didn’t say anything else.
I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d imply that I was living off his mother. The idea sickened me—it was too close to the truth.
“Did you know that Maggie’s flying in on Thursday?” Laura asked, changing the subject.
Joe smiled warmly. “Sure. The brat sweet-talked me into picking her up from LAX. Her flight gets in at 5PM. We could go out to dinner after?”
“Oh, that would be lovely. Hallen, are you free?”
I looked over at her, surprised. But I didn’t miss the look of irritation on Joe’s face.
“That sounds great, Laura, but I think you guys should have some family time first.”
Joe looked relieved, and I could tell that Laura was conflicted but not willing to argue with me in front of her son.
“Well, maybe you could both take in a ballgame sometime. Oh, I know! Hallen, why don’t you take Joe to
see the Bruins?”
“Why would I want to see lame college hockey?” snorted Joe.
Sparks shot from Laura’s eyes, so I took her hand, silently asking her to let it go.
“I expect Laura thought it was a good idea because I used to play for them,” I replied, calmly.
Joe looked a little shocked, but rallied quickly.
“And how long ago was that?” he sniped.
Laura looked like she was about to tear him a new one, and I squeezed her fingers harder.
“I’m 28, Joe, so it was a few years ago.”
“Mom’s 48.”
“I know. A very beautiful 48—I’m lucky to have her in my life.” And I leaned across to kiss her cheek.
Laura’s smile was wide and happy. Joe looked vaguely revolted but seemed to accept that he was batting zero.
After that, we all stuck resolutely to neutral topics and ate our food as quickly as possible without throwing up.
When Laura finally conceded defeat, admitting that she couldn’t eat any dessert and no one wanted coffee, we headed back to the parking lot. Joe practically ran to his car, mumbling something to Laura about dinner on Thursday.
As he burned out onto Colorado Avenue, Laura turned to me, her expression rueful.
“Sorry.”
I shook my head, smiling. “A nice relaxing getting-to-know-you meal.”
She laughed. “It could have been worse.”
“True.”
“Thank you for keeping your cool. He may have grown out of being an obnoxious teenager, but he still knows which buttons to press.”
“He was fine. It was just a surprise for him—he has some readjusting to do, getting used to the idea that his mom has a boyfriend.” I smiled. “But now that you mention it, maybe I should get a reward for good behavior.”
She didn’t answer directly, but she didn’t say no either. Instead, she looked down at our interlocked hands.
“So,” she said, twining my fingers through hers, “what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”
“We could still drive out to the Simi Hills,” I suggested, not wanting to push her.
Spending time with her was enough. And for the first time in my life, I really meant that.
“Hmm, we could … or…”
“Or?”
“Or we could go back to your place,” she said, her eyes wide.
At Your Beck & Call Page 31