by Jess Bentley
She didn’t want them, but I talked her into it. Since she is making commission checks she insists on buying them herself instead of letting me treat her, but we can work on that. I can be patient.
Clarissa is distracted as we walk across the lobby floor, but I’m not. I watch everyone watching us. Gradually people are starting to figure it out. She doesn’t even demand that we enter the building at separate times anymore. And I find it hard to keep my eyes off her sexy, generous curves. I’m sure people have picked up on that.
In the elevator, though, she’s careful not to be too close to me. There are cameras in here and at every entrance. So far, it is still technically a secret. Even if it is hard for me to keep my hands off of her when my office door is closed, it is a secret and I have to respect that. Everything is going so well, I would hate to do anything to trip us up.
Rosemary gives us a bit of side-eye when the elevator doors open, and Clarissa gets out first, still concentrating on work. I follow a step behind and wave at Rosemary just as casual as possible. Clarissa mutters about her schedule and heads right for her office.
“Meetings at ten and one,” she says out loud.
“And dinner at seven,” I remind her.
She looks up at me, startled. She’s wearing a deep red lipstick that highlights the plush curves of her beautiful lips.
“I said I would think about it,” she replies in a low mutter so no one else can hear.
“Sounds good,” I reply at full volume so she knows I mean business. “Seven o’clock!” Then I walk away, not even waiting to see her expression.
Sometimes I have to convince her. Sometimes she needs to be reminded that these are normal things. Men opening doors for women. Meeting people’s parents. Eating meals together and sharing our problems and experiences. These are normal things.
It’s funny, because I would have been just as resistant with Zella. Zella was always trying to tell me what a “normal” relationship looked like, usually within the context of explaining how I had failed at something. Especially in the context of trying to drag me forward inexorably toward a wedding date of her choosing.
But this is not really like that. Clarissa is just kind of rusty. Closed off. I get the feeling she hasn’t really had a lot of serious relationships with men. Which is fine. It just gives me a bit more of a challenge.
But at the end of the day, she leans in the doorway of my office and thumbs the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder. She purses her lips and raises her eyebrows expectantly.
“Seven o’clock, you say?” she asks wryly.
“We will be just in time.”
My parents live just on the North Shore in a fairly luxe area, fairly uppercrust. In the back of my mind, I have to reassure myself that if Clarissa can tolerate Sunny’s ostentatious displays of wealth and privilege, she can probably get along with my parents.
I can feel her drinking it all in as the estates get larger and larger the farther north we go. I haven’t told her too much about my background. Well, not specifically. But I’m certain she has the ability to figure some of it out. And I’m certain she Googled me.
But as I turn in the driveway and the security gates slowly open on their mechanized chain, I hear her suck her breath in between her teeth.
“It’s not as big as it looks,” I lie softly.
Gravel crunches beneath the Tesla’s tires and she leans forward, pulling her cell phone out of the bag.
“Hello? Hi, Landry,” she sighs in her soft, friendly voice.
I’m glad to hear it and pull around the side of the house while she and her sister chat for a few minutes. But gradually her tone gets slightly more stiff as Landry chatters away. I can tell that Clarissa is doing her best to not sound judgmental, which of course means she sounds very judgmental.
“That’s great news, Landry,” she smiles stiffly. “Can we chat about it this weekend? Why don’t I give you a call. We are just going over for dinner right now.”
I gesture that we could wait a minute if she wants to talk to her sister, but she waves me off.
“And you’re feeling good? Great, that’s great,” she continues, still smiling. “Give my love to Sunny. Don’t let her talk you into marrying a movie star or anything! Ha, ha. Okay, talk to you soon, sweetie.”
She thumbs the button to disconnect the call and slumps slightly.
“Everything okay?” I ask cautiously.
“Medical transcription, can you believe that?” she huffs. “Sunny talked her into signing up for a medical transcription class! Without even asking me!”
Well, she is an adult who probably doesn’t have to ask you, I remark silently, but I know better than to say that kind of thing out loud now.
“That’s like typing? Data-entry?”
“Yeah,” she explains distractedly. “Doctors send her paperwork, and she enters the data into the patient files. It’s not medical school, that’s for sure.”
Getting out of the car, I walk around to her side and open her car door. Thankfully, she lets me.
“Is that a job she could do from home or something?” I ask strategically.
She scoffs. “Yeah, okay, I know what you are saying!” she admits. “With the baby, a job like this would be perfect.”
“And not exactly a life sentence,” I shrug.
I take her silence as partial agreement, at least. I know that she wants the best for her sister, but it seems to be difficult for her to admit sometimes that Landry is doing the best she can. As a matter of fact, I think Sunny has been an incredibly good influence on her. I don’t know if Clarissa would entirely agree yet.
My mother greets us at the door, flinging her arms open to hug me and drawing me close immediately so she can press her lips to my ear.
“Don’t be mad,” she whispers before pushing me away and turning toward Clarissa.
I’m confused but introduce them anyway. Clarissa holds out a hand politely, but my mother kisses her cheek instead.
“My father, Marshall,” I smile so that Clarissa can orient herself.
Under the soft glow of the crystal chandelier, she’s beautiful, and he shoots me an apologetic look before shaking her hand politely.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Clarissa smiles.
“You as well!” he bellows in his characteristically loud voice. “We’re just in here…”
He ambles down the hallway toward the dining room and my mother glances at me with a worried expression. It only takes a moment before I realize what’s happening. The reason my father said we are in here…
Is because we are not alone.
Judith and Maury Hews stand up when we get into the dining room, with Zella smiling shyly and standing immediately afterward. My breath catches in my throat and I have to grind my teeth together to keep from barking at my mother. Reflexively, I place a hand under Clarissa’s elbow to draw her closer to me. I can feel her trembling with suppressed rage.
But she doesn’t give an inch. Throughout dinner, she remains friendly, if somewhat remote. We have generous portions of salmon and a frisée salad, and a rich cocoa gelato for dessert.
When I try to catch her eye, she simply shifts away. Instead, she remains rapt with forced, frozen attention as my mother and Judith tell story after story. When Judith tries to mention cute little stories that involve my relationship with Zella, my mother swoops in and redirects everything to a more benign topic.
As soon as we finish the gelato, I suggest we need to be going. Clarissa smiles like a mannequin and agrees politely, but she is also the first one out of her chair.
I don’t want to linger, but I take the moment to glare at my mother. She lowers her eyes in embarrassment.
“Dinner was delicious,” I growl through clenched teeth. “Can I see you for just a moment?”
The exchange goes over my father’s head, thankfully, and my mother follows me into the small vestibule outside the dining room. Immediately she raises her hands to protest her innocence.
“You knew I was bringing Clarissa,” I explain in as even a tone as I can manage. “Can you imagine what she is thinking right now?”
“I’m so sorry!” she replies, clearly horrified. “I thought she was bringing… Well, it doesn’t matter now. That woman is horrid! Can you imagine? Inviting yourself to dinner like that? Bringing your whole family?”
“It’s not the whole family that is the problem, Mother.”
She shakes her head ruefully, dragging her fingertips hard over her forehead.
“I’m sorry if we made your friend feel awkward,” she sighs.
“Girlfriend,” I correct her, absorbing the startled and dismayed look she shoots me.
“You could have told me!”
I remind her that I did tell her I was bringing someone and she sniffs that there was no way for her to know that meant the someone was a someone. Though she protests her innocence, I get the feeling she didn’t exactly do all she could to stop this total disaster from happening.
“Please convey my goodbyes,” I ask her. “I’ll see you soon.”
I don’t want to simply storm off, so I kiss her gently on the cheek before leaving. The whole thing is so outrageous, I don’t even know how I could begin to describe it to her.
Outrageous to me, outrageous to my parents, and definitely outrageous to Clarissa. But not outrageous to Judith. That woman is really something else. The way she was grinning at me all night, the way she talked over everyone else to redirect the conversation at every opportunity back to Zella as though Clarissa was not even in the room. It made my blood boil.
But as I open the car door and get back in, I realize nobody’s blood is boiling quite as much as Clarissa’s right now. She is seething. She has every right to be, and I have no idea how I’m going to fix it.
Silently, we make our way back to her neighborhood. I search for the right words to say, vacillating between fury and an intolerable sense of helplessness.
“Clarissa, I had no idea. I’m sure you know that,” I start.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she agrees, her tone clipped and terse. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not all right,” I shake my head. “I’m really sorry. If I had known—”
“Who could have known?” she interrupts me.
But she will not meet my eye. Her hand is on the door handle as soon as we stop, and she aims her body toward the sidewalk.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she announces with a tone of finality in her voice.
“Oh, um,” I mutter, piecing it together.
She’s not inviting me in. She would like me to leave.
“Clarissa, I’m sorry. I told my mother you were coming, but I should’ve done more. I should’ve made it clear who you are to me.”
She twists in her seat to glare at me accusingly. “You should have told her what? Who I am to you? Who is that, Maxwell?”
“You’re…” My voice falters.
“I’m really curious,” she continues, her eyes flashing. “Who am I to you?”
“You’re the woman I’m falling in love with,” I make myself answer.
It sounds so plain when I say it out loud. It doesn’t begin to convey the complex push and pull of everything that’s going on in my mind right now. But at least I’ve said it.
She stares out the windshield of the car for a few moments, saying nothing. Then she opens the passenger-side door and gets out, closing the door behind her. I watch her walk up into her townhouse, alone, and close the gate without saying another word.
She just needs space, I tell myself. Perfectly normal reaction.
But I’m not giving up. I hope she knows that.
Chapter 16
Clarissa
On wobbly legs, I climb the steps to my townhouse, wanting to turn back around more than anything. He’s falling in love with me? He said that?
That’s a lot. I wasn’t expecting it.
And yet, the words dropped like water onto a hot griddle, immediately turning to steam. Noisy. Explosive.
I need to catch my breath. I need to clear my head.
With trembling fingers, I fit my key in the lock of the security gate and pull it open. The hinges squeak and groan as usual. Holding it open with my hip, I reach forward for the front door but it opens on its own, swinging inward and taking me with it.
Confused, I tumble into the hallway, off balance and breathless. Before I know what’s happening, I hit the wall behind me and slide upward. A hand covers my mouth. A shoulder jams against mine, forcing the air from my lungs.
Automatically I start kicking, screaming against the hand on my face. My keys are still in my fingers and I frantically try to maneuver them, try to find the pepper spray among the keys and the fobs. I know it’s here. I’ve had it since I was a teenager.
“Where is she?” comes a rough, low voice. “Where the fuck is she!”
Helpless, I twist in the viselike grip, using every ounce of strength I have to find some part of me to fend him off, but I’m not strong enough. Terror tints the edges of my vision crimson, and I wonder if this is it, if this is the end of everything.
“Tell me where she is!”
I scream against his palm again and he backs up, letting me down. In the little bit of light that comes to the door, I realize it’s Ronnie. It’s fucking Ronnie.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” I yell as he backs away, his hands in fists, hovering at his sides.
Surreptitiously I tuck my hands behind me and continue fumbling with my keys as quietly as possible. Finally my fingers close around the cylinder of pepper spray.
“Where is Landry?”
“How did you get in here?!”
He bares his teeth like an animal, then shakes his head angrily. He’s much taller than me, much taller than Landry. I can’t believe this beast ever lived with my sister.
“Listen, I got rights—” he begins.
“Just forget about her,” I hiss.
He takes a step toward me and I raise the pepper spray, pointing it right at his face. With his hands up, he backs away, but just enough. Or so he thinks. This canister has a range of thirty feet.
“She’s got to get an abortion,” he growls. “I’m not gonna pay for this. I’m not gonna let her mistake ruin my whole life.”
“It’s her choice!”
“That’s my baby too!”
I want to pepper spray him, just to try to knock some sense into him. Funny how he is both claiming ownership and responsibility as he’s trying to run away from it. Typical male bullshit.
“So where is she? You hiding her?”
“Ronnie, I’m gonna call 911. You have to go.”
“I have rights!”
“She’s gone!” I yell out frantically. “You get that? She’s gone. You don’t have to be here.”
He begins to pace back and forth, stomping from wall to wall with heavy boot steps as he scrubs his face with his hands. I don’t know if he is high or just furious, but I have to get him out of here. If my phone were closer, I could call 911. And if he gets any closer, I’m going to spray him right in the face.
“Okay, listen,” I start desperately. “You don’t sound like you want to have a baby. Maybe we can work with that, okay? Maybe we can get an agreement. A legal agreement. You sign it, and you walk away. That sound good?”
“Fuck you, that doesn’t work.”
“No, it does!” I object with more confidence than I really have. “People do it all the time. I’ll take care of Landry. You can do… whatever you need to do.”
I see him hesitate, start to think about it. When he pauses, turning toward me with his mouth open, I realize this is my chance and jam my thumb against the nozzle, sending a thick stream of liquid directly into his face. He screams and claws at his eyes, falling to his knees in front of me. I try to back away, but his hand closes around my ankle and trips me, sending me cras
hing hard to the wooden floor.
“You bitch! You fucking bitch!” he howls.
Standing over me, Ronnie draws back his huge fist, taking hold of my hair with his other hand as he fights blindness. He’s so strong I can’t do anything, and I realize I just squandered my last chance when the door swings open behind me and I slide to the floor again. A shadow engulfs me and Ronnie tries to crawl away, but Maxwell is standing over him, his collar twisted in his fist.
I watch in horror as Maxwell draws back his huge, muscled arm as though he is going to pound Ronnie into pulp, but then he stops, shifting his weight and twisting Ronnie onto his belly. He wedges Ronnie’s arms behind his back and holds him helpless against the floor while Ronnie screams into the carpet runner, dripping tears and snot everywhere.
Before I can even make sense of the entire scene, I see the flashing blue and red lights of the Chicago Police Department. Heavy footsteps mount the front stairs and suddenly the front hallway is filled with more people. Police officers handcuff Ronnie and drag him away, then pull Maxwell to his feet.
“No! Not him!” I call out.
The confused officer scowls and looks him over, then shrugs and releases him.
“Are you all right, ma’am? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No, I… I don’t think so,” I stammer, barely able to catch my breath.
“Nice job with the pepper spray,” the other officer remarks. “That guy is a mess. I think he barfed all over my shoes.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I mumble.
“No, don’t be sorry,” he grins. “Like I said, good job. You’d be surprised how many people don’t even defend themselves.”
“We’re going to need you to come down to the station,” the first one informs me gently. “You want to ride in the police car?”
“I’ll bring her, officer,” Maxwell murmurs, coming up beside me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
I sink into him, letting him support my weight. Now that he’s got me, I feel like I can barely stand. But he supports me, making sure I don’t crumple to the ground.