“Hey, baby.” Dez leaned over and gave her a heart-stopping kiss. “I’ll leave a ticket for you at the door, okay?”
“I have to share you with two thousand other people tonight?”
“Afraid so. Those two thousand people are going to help me pay my bills.”
I could pay your bills, Jordan thought, shocking herself. She’d never kept any of her previous girlfriends, if you didn’t count paying for dinners and shows and the occasional trinket. She didn’t want to buy Dez dinner or a trinket. She wanted to buy her a house with beautiful flowers in the front garden and a heart-shaped swimming pool in the backyard and a front porch for them to sit on in the evenings. Oh my God, Jordan, what the hell has gotten into you? You have the best sex of your life and now you want to play house with this woman? Plan a future with her? C’mon, give your head a shake.
“You okay?” Dez asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Fine, darling.” Jordan laughed quietly. A momentary loss of her sanity, that was all. A little post-sex exuberance that was turning her into a silly heart. She’d get her head about her again, and the sooner the better.
• • •
On stage Dez was sexier than ever, if that were possible. Maybe it was the glow of all those orgasms, Jordan thought with a self-satisfied smile as she watched Dez in a tight-fitting, slit-to-the-waist burgundy cocktail dress stalk the stage singing “Sweet Thing.” During another Chaka Khan hit, “Ain’t Nobody,” Jordan’s attraction to Dez rocketed higher. She loved the way she moved gracefully, athletically, seductively around the stage. The way she raised an eyebrow at the audience, the way she stroked the microphone, the subtle sway of her hips, the way her expressive hands conveyed the emotion of the song. Jordan easily flashed to an image of Dez covering her with her naked body in bed, the two of them rising and falling together, mouths, fingers, hands, breasts, Dez’s dark creamy curves joining hers. Her mind was not her own anymore, nor her feelings, which were alien now. She was obsessed. Possessed. Totally immersed and engrossed in this—what? Affair?
She wanted to know everything about Dez and yet she hardly knew anything at all. They’d talked a little about their childhood and teen years—Dez about what it was like to grow up in a poor family of six kids and doting grandparents who lived next door, Jordan about growing up in a nuclear family of two career-obsessed professionals. They hadn’t talked yet about their careers, about future plans, politics, religious beliefs, current affairs, past loves. There were weeks of conversations they’d yet to have and Jordan couldn’t wait to get started.
The thirty-minute set flew by, and while Jordan was sorry to see it end, she was also thrilled she would soon have Dez to herself again.
They shared a bottle of champagne in Dez’s room and talked about the concert and music in general. Jordan asked her if she would come to Dani and Shannon’s wedding with her Saturday and sing a song for the brides. Dez’s answer came in the form of silence and an unmistakable frown.
“Just one song. Their wedding song. You know The Pretenders’ ‘I’ll Stand By You?’ It would mean so much to them, Dez. And to me.” She knew she was pleading but couldn’t help it. “It would be the defining moment of the wedding if you sang it.”
The silence stretched out before Dez quietly said, “I don’t know.”
“We could work it around your performance schedule. I’d pay you too, if that’s—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want your money,” Dez said irritably.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“The wedding is days away.”
Jordan began growing impatient, worried. “Yes, I know that. It’s four days away. Are you leaving town or something?”
“No, no. It’s . . . Look, we’ve had a great twenty-four hours together, okay? It’s been wonderful. But now you’re talking about . . .” Dez tightened the belt of her robe. She looked decidedly uncomfortable, nervous perhaps, or else it was a good act. “Look, you’re asking me to make a commitment to being your date at a wedding that’s days away, and, well . . .”
Realization was slow to dawn on Jordan, but when it did, she was horrified, then embarrassed, then incredibly hurt. Dez was dumping her. They’d had their fun as far as Dez was concerned and now it was over. Jordan searched Dez’s eyes for the joy and desire that had been so plainly evident moments before. She looked for evidence of the companionship and caring that had emanated from Dez’s every expression, every action, such a short time ago. But there was nothing now. A curtain had come down. The show was over.
Jordan rose unsteadily, half drunk from the alcohol, in shock and with a growing despair that was sure to produce a monsoon of tears any minute. She couldn’t identify these feelings at first, so foreign were they. “I thought . . .” She couldn’t finish.
She gave Dez one last beseeching look that she hoped conveyed the depth of her feelings, of her hurt. But Dez was looking away. Dez had cut the cord and Jordan had no choice but to leave.
She stumbled to her room at the MGM Grand and sat in the dark, numb and devastated. So this was what it felt like to be dumped by somebody you really, really liked. It was a detached observation, clinical, like she was looking over a business proposition. Was this what some of the women she’d dumped over the years had felt like? Was this what she’d put Brooke through six years ago? Sweet, dear Brooke, who’d come the closest to being considered a bona fide girlfriend. They’d dated exclusively for a couple of months, had grown quite close. Brooke clearly loved her, was clearly prepared to make Jordan her main priority in life. They were marching toward being a real couple—perhaps U-Haul territory even—when Jordan pulled the plug. It was the merciful thing to do. With Brooke, her feet felt like cement, unable to move. The same cement that encased her heart. No matter how much she had liked Brooke and cared for her, she could not bring herself to break old patterns, to remake herself, to cultivate feelings that would simply take too much work to nourish and maintain and would probably just die anyway. She could not bring herself to allow Brooke to crack that casing around her heart, and so she had ended the relationship before, she hoped, it would devastate Brooke.
Dez was an entirely different situation. Dez had broken through without even trying. Without even intending to, she had cracked that cement and it was like a bolt of lightning out of nowhere on a clear, sunny day—totally unexpected and deadly accurate. Jordan didn’t even know or understand how she had come to feel this way, just that she had. And now Dez was trashing it all. Dez didn’t want her. Dez was the mirror image of Jordan, an exact replica, it seemed—callous and cavalier in the dating department. Use them and send them away.
Had she missed a signal from Dez? Had she misread her in her blind attraction to the singer? Had she let her own growing feelings color reality? What had she done wrong that had made Dez turn away from her? Or was it predestined to end this way? Dez had told her she didn’t do this kind of thing anymore, these quick pickups. And yet she was a pro at it, had done it so effortlessly with Jordan. Why had Dez gone and done this? Why was she treating her like yesterday’s newspaper, used and discarded?
Slowly, the tears began to fall. She was alone and unwanted by the person she wanted most, and it was absolutely the worst feeling in the world—the most helpless and frustrating and lonely feeling in the world. It sucks the big one, Dez Adams, when all I wanted to do was love you.
Chapter Seventeen
Shannon
It was amusing to watch Heather and Dani poke gingerly at breakfast in their hungover state. They’d stayed up late in the sitting room part of Shannon and Dani’s suite, drinking white wine and talking about old times, and now they were paying for their alcohol-fueled trip down memory lane. Each nibbled tentatively on her omelet between huge gulps of coffee.
“Aren’t you looking smug,” Dani commented with a tired wink.
“Not smug, just happily virtuous, sweetheart.”
Heather narrowed reproachful eyes at Shannon. “There’s always a goody two-shoes in e
very family.”
Shannon laughed, taking no offense at the teasing. She enjoyed seeing Dani and Heather together, both so different and yet so close, the way sisters should be. It was the way Shannon would want it if her sister were still alive. The rest of Dani’s family was a source of frustration for her, even anger. They treated Dani so grievously—worse than they probably treated strangers. Their cold absence from her life was cruel, so apparent by their failure to send a few kind words her way now and then. A letter, a card, an e-mail seemed like some kind of overwhelming and worthless task to them. Well, Christmas usually produced some awful ultrareligious card from them—one that implied judgment and condemnation. Rejection and criticism were all the Berringers seemed capable of showing Dani. Shannon was glad they weren’t coming to the wedding, because while Dani thought it might mean something if they did, she knew it would only make things tense and unhappy, their unforgiving and intolerant ways heartbreaking all over again.
Amanda strolled into the casino restaurant, spotted them quickly and took a seat at their table. “Am I interrupting anything ladies?”
“Only if you’re another goody two-shoes!” Heather pointed her fork accusingly, then laughed heartily. “I don’t think we’ve met, though I’ve heard a lot about you. All nice things, of course. I’m Dani’s sister, Heather.”
Amanda reached over the table to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Heather. I suppose my reputation as a goody two-shoes precedes me?”
“Well,” Heather chuckled, “if the shoes fit!”
Amanda winced a little as the women laughed, and Shannon thought it prudent to change the subject. Her niece had always been a little on the sensitive side when it came to being teased, especially if had to do with her quiet, reserved ways. “Where’s Claire?”
Now her niece’s pained look morphed into something totally different, like a flower blossoming suddenly. Amanda’s smile was ethereal, almost otherworldly, and Shannon sat stunned for a moment. In the twenty-six years she’d known her, she couldn’t ever remember seeing her smile so beatifically before.
“We were pretty late getting back last night. She’s probably still sleeping.”
“How was your day in the desert?” Dani asked.
Shannon tuned out a little as Amanda accepted a cup of coffee from the waiter and began describing her day at Red Rock Canyon with Claire. She talked about hiking on rocky trails, a broken ankle, Claire helping someone, Italian food. And Shannon couldn’t help thinking all the while how happy Amanda looked. It suddenly occurred to her that it was the first time her niece had seemed happy all week. Come to think of it, she didn’t really know where Amanda was at in her life these days, whether she was happy or not. Happy in her own life, Shannon hadn’t thought to question Amanda’s happiness. It only occurred to her when someone was extremely unhappy, the way Claire had been in her years of grieving for Ann. It was hard to miss extreme unhappiness, but simple contentment or even ambivalence was always much harder to detect. She wished she could put her fork down, halt the polite conversation and straight out ask her, Are you happy, Amanda? The answer seemed important suddenly. But unfortunately it would have to wait.
“Amanda,” she said pointedly when the conversation died down. “What do you say about a little together time tomorrow, just the two of us? I read about this great spa where we can get a manicure, pedicure, a massage and a steam bath. What do you say?”
“Sure,” Amanda answered quickly. “As long as we don’t miss the big bachelor extravaganza Jordan’s got lined up for us all tomorrow night. She’d kill us if we did.”
“Oh, God,” Shannon groaned. “I’m scared to even think what she’s going to do.”
“Not me,” Heather chimed in. “In fact, I can’t wait!”
Dani chuckled knowingly from behind her coffee cup.
“Okay,” Shannon challenged, sharpening her gaze at Dani. “Spill it. What do you know?”
“Nothing, I swear!”
“Hmm, why don’t I believe you?”
Dani held her hands up in innocence. “Would I lie to you, my love?”
No, Shannon thought, I don’t think you would. But I would. Maybe not lie so much as not tell you the truth. She could play with the semantics all she wanted, but an omission of the truth was as bad as a lie, wasn’t it? Not telling Dani, who so desperately wanted them to have a baby together, that they couldn’t have one was far more serious than the time she’d not told her mother about a bad report card. Worse than when she failed to tell her first girlfriend that she wasn’t really in love with her. Those things she could excuse, but this was much harder to justify. She had to tell Dani, of course she did, and she would. But there was always a reason to put if off—too many people around, wedding plans to make, events to attend like the bachelor party tomorrow night, the wedding itself on Saturday. There were always good reasons.
“Well,” Shannon finally said, “if Jordan were here we could probably beat it out of her.”
“Yeah, where is she?” Amanda asked. “She pooped out of going to the desert with Claire and me yesterday.”
“She texted me yesterday,” Dani said with a gleam in her eye. “Seems she’s been holed up in that singer’s love nest since Monday night.”
“Dez Adams?” Amanda asked in awe.
“The one and only.”
“Oh, my God!”
Dani shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to guess what she has in store for us all. Anybody want to wager on whether there’s a stripper involved?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully, and Shannon reached across the table to give her a playful smack on the shoulder.
“Oh, no,” Heather said. “I’m not betting against that. In fact, I rather hope there is a stripper involved. That would be such a blast!”
Amanda made a face. “Not my cup of tea.”
Shannon patted her niece’s arm sympathetically. “I don’t blame you. I think it’s a bit silly myself, but totally something I could see Jordan springing on us.”
Amanda visibly flinched at the comment, but her reaction was lost in Heather’s outburst. Heather exclaimed, “Well honey, I don’t think it’s silly at all! I would love to have a gorgeous woman dance naked in front of me. I totally get why men are so enamored with the whole scene. It’s so, I dunno, sexy!”
Dani nudged her sister playfully. “Maybe you could ask Jordan if you could be the stripper.”
Heather laughed until she nearly fell out of her chair. When she could speak, she said, “Are you kidding me? I would love to dance to a roomful of hot and horny lesbians! Oh, my God, please pick me! I would pay money to do that.”
Shannon easily imagined the gregarious Heather dancing on a stage. She loved attention, loved to have fun and make a spectacle, and she had the looks and sensuality to pull it off. The sisters were both athletic and graceful, and Heather, with the same dark hair, blue eyes but with killer cheekbones, was a more feminine version of her younger sister.
Dani shook her head as though regretting having introduced the subject. If nothing else, this bachelor party was going to be an adventure, her look seemed to say, and they were all going to be helpless participants.
“How’s the cake design coming along?” Shannon asked Amanda.
“Great. Claire’s helping me with it.”
“Really?” Shannon answered in surprise. Claire was hardly the artistic type. It was a huge stretch to expect her to take photos of the week and compile them. But helping design the cake? It was a shocker that Claire would volunteer to help with it, but somehow, it seemed Amanda had managed to talk her into it. “Well, I guess I can trust you two to come up with something tasteful.” She cocked an eyebrow toward Dani and Heather. “You two on the other hand . . .”
In unison, they both dropped their mouths in pretend shock.
Chapter Eighteen
Claire
It surprised Claire how much she was looking forward to lunch alone with Amanda. The hot excitement in the very pit of her stom
ach surprised her too. There were all the hallmarks of a very special first date—the sweaty palms, dry throat, nervousness that kept her from eating breakfast, the indecision over what to wear. You’re a fool, she kept telling herself, except she didn’t really believe it was the awful thing her conscience wanted her to believe it was. There was something insanely liberating about feeling like a fool. Claire smiled, as she always did when she thought of Amanda. So beautiful, so smart, so much fun to be around. Amanda’s youthfulness was like a beacon, beckoning her to let herself feel young again. Not young in the sense of immature, but young in an optimistic, weightless way. It was like suddenly coming out of a long expanse of dreamless dark nights.
They’d reserved a table at Canaletto at The Venetian, their love for Italian food making it an easy choice. They hopped the monorail together for the ride to the north end of The Strip, sitting side by side, not looking much at one another as they made small talk. It was a little strange talking about the wedding, the weather, current events, after the deep and very personal conversations of last night. Amanda’s confession had shocked Claire, because she didn’t seem the type to run off and marry someone she barely knew, or to ignore warning signals and then to end up with a failed marriage. But everyone made mistakes, Amanda included, and she’d undoubtedly learned valuable lessons from the experience. It certainly cleared up the mystery about whether Amanda was single or not, and Claire wondered nervously if her feelings for Amanda, her connection to her, would intensify. She hoped not, in the way one hoped not to be enticed by a fattening but oh-so-tempting dessert. The deliciousness and forbidden nature of this attraction to her best friend’s niece was, in reality, not a dream but a nightmare. It could bring nothing but trouble for both of them. And yet she couldn’t help but step closer, couldn’t help opening her heart just a little more each time she was with her.
Canaletto was beautiful, with its sixteen-foot-high ceilings trimmed with thick dark wood, its polished hardwood floors and romantic leather-covered booths. They chose the indoor patio however—safer and less secretive, Claire figured—where they could look at the shops and the indoor canal in St. Mark’s Square, the massively high mural ceiling of blue sky and faint clouds making it feel as if they were outdoors.
The Wedding Party Page 12