Slightly Imperfect

by Tomlinson, Dar

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zac looked down into Marcus's uplifted face as they stood watching the Valdez Hotel limousine pull away from Bay Shore. Lizbett and Alex waved out the back window.

  "Well, compadre?"

  "Well, amigo?" Marcus tried to smile.

  "Women. What's a man to do?" Zac squatted, put his arm around the narrow shoulders.

  "We can't live with 'em, but we sure as hell don't want to live without 'em. Have you noticed?"

  Marcus nodded and swallowed in the wake of the car disappearing around a corner.

  "And that Alex. Pretty cute, don't you think?" Zac coerced.

  "He's cool."

  Zac's heart wrenched as Allie's ghosty voice echoed in his head. "It's all that yellow hair, that makes him cool, I guess."

  "I like it."

  Yeah. Zac could relate. He hugged Marcus, ruffled his jet-black mass. "What can we get into while they're gone? We've got two weeks to do some damage." He rose, ambling toward the house, his touch light on Marcus's shoulder.

  Delilah bumped against their legs, staggering them, vying for attention.

  "Do you know how long two weeks are?" Zac had seen long weeks, and short. These were shaping up to be a little of each.

  Marcus gave it no consideration. "Fourteen days. Three weeks are twenty-one days." He walked backwards before Zac, half-hugging, half-scratching Delilah. "A month is thirty days."

  "Sometimes," Zac countered.

  "Sometimes it's thirty-one. Or twenty-eight." He smiled, triumphant.

  Zac would have to get up earlier to get ahead of Marcus.

  * * *

  Zac answered the buzzing mobile phone. "Zac Abriendo and Marcus Cordera here. Captain and first mate of the ship Toyota."

  "Zac?"

  "He's fine, Victoria." He held the phone out to Marcus. "Say 'hola' to Victoria."

  Marcus grinned tolerantly, raising his voice from the far side of the truck. "Buenos tardes, Vitoria."

  "That's beautiful." She sounded breathless.

  "Have you arrived yet?"

  "We're at Kennedy waiting for our luggage."

  "Are you going to worry about Marcus the whole time? I was kidding in Portofino about taking him and running away." He caught Marcus's pleased grin. "He'll be here when you get back." Zac would be here, too. "You haven't lost the twins, have you?"

  She exhaled, laughing feebly. "I've never left Marcus before."

  "Yeah. He told me."

  "I'll try not to bother you."

  "Never." He smiled at Marcus. "We're doing guy things, though. We may be hard to catch."

  "What kind of guy things?" He detected wariness.

  "Breakfast at Big Mac. Lunch at Taco Bell. We bought a sleeping bag so he can sleep in my room instead of that big, girly guestroom."

  "How sweet, Zac."

  That word again. "We're on our way to Fischer's Landing to give those women down there hell."

  "What women?"

  "I'll explain later. If we talk to you all day we won't get to go fishing." He held the phone out again. "Say goodbye to Victoria."

  "Adiós, mi corazon."

  Zac grinned. "How'd you like that, Mom?"

  "Oh, Zac, I loved it."

  "Do you know what it means?"

  "Yes."

  Yeah. She?d already been taught all the endearments. "We're hanging up."

  "I'll call tonight."

  "We'll be home."

  * * *

  "Who's this?" Gerald pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled, laying down the file he held.

  "Marcus Cordera. My new best friend." Zac stood in front of Gerald's desk and Marcus rounded the corner, stuck out his hand, as Zac had coached him.

  "Buenos días, Señor Fitzpatrick." He struggled a little with the name.

  "Ingles," Zac corrected.

  "Perdoname." Marcus smiled, adding, "Excuse me."

  Zac tried not to laugh, finding Marcus's cunning a little scary. He guessed it was in the genes. Maybe Tomas Cordera's ghost wasn't larger than life after all.

  Gerald was loving it.

  "We're grandfather shopping." Zac took a seat in one of the leather barrel chairs. Marcus came and scooted his little rear in beside him. "Are you interested, Señor Fitzpatrick?"

  "You bet. What are the qualifications?"

  Zac appreciated Gerald's lack of hesitance. "Lunch at Taco Bell when we're finished putting those women in line."

  "My favorite place. I'll be ready."

  Admiration ignited in Marcus's dark eyes.

  * * *

  Jan and Maggie looked up from plans spread on the floor as Zac and Marcus entered the model apartment. Shock and curiosity tangled on Maggie's face. Zac saw Jan's recognition.

  "Marcus, these are the women we have to put in line," he said. "Just because they're beautiful, don't let them get away with anything. We run a tight ship at this landing."

  "Hi," Jan said. "Didn't I see you at Cinco de Mayo?"

  "I'm Marcus. I danced with Estella. Could she come over to Zac's house?"

  Zac laughed. "He's a fast mover. Hi, Maggie."

  "Hello, Zac." She busied herself rolling plans, then stood and approached them, eyes on Marcus. "He's wonderful. Did he come with the new house?"

  He had hoped for a different reaction, one that shared the bittersweet memories Marcus awoke in him. Maggie's memories hadn't transcended bitter. Yet.

  "Marcus, this is my special friend. Maggie."

  Marcus's hand shot out and Maggie eyed it skeptically before she took it, smiling finally.

  "Maggie and I had a son. He died when he was your age."

  Her head bolted up, eyes defiant for an instant. The familiar look wrenched his heart, allowing him to remember how he had enjoyed putting that fire out when things had been good. Today the fervor cooled of its own volition, replaced with a softness that nudged his regret.

  Marcus frowned a little. "What was his name?"

  "Alejandro. He was named after his grandfather," Maggie said softly. "We called him Allie. Would you like a donut?"

  She raised her eyes to Zac's and he nodded. She put her arm around Marcus's shoulders, turning him. It was easier for Maggie. She was more Marcus's size.

  "They're in the kitchen. Do you like chocolate? Or plain?"

  "I don't know," Zac heard him say. "Victoria doesn't let me eat donuts."

  Maggie glanced over her shoulder, her smile surreptitious through the moist film over Zac's eyes. "You need a haircut, Zaccheus," she admonished softly. "Gerald doesn't like ponytails any more than your papa. Even short ones."

  "I'm working on it, Magatita."

  As Maggie and Marcus passed out of hearing, Jan caught his hand and squeezed. "Good job. It could have gone either way, you know."

  "No, it couldn't. I lead a charmed life now."

  * * *

  He deemed all the phone calls a kind of courtship.

  "Zac? It's Victoria. Is he asleep? I've been calling all day."

  Saturday night. Late. Marcus slept in his Bart Simpson sleeping bag on Carron's chaise lounge across the room. Zac had been salvaging his reading, in bed.

  "Yeah. He is. We had a big day. Sorry you missed us."

  "Tell me about it."

  "We did the Fischer's Landing bit—you know, my project with Gerald. Gerald adopted Marcus, official grandfather status." Silence. "The three of us had lunch at Taco Bell. Marcus is big into tacos. We fished with Papa and Josh in the afternoon, had dinner at Maggie's, and she gave us haircuts." More silence. "He almost couldn't work in reading War and Peace. How was your day?"

  "Who is Maggie?"

  "My first wife."

  "Oh... yes." Across the miles, he listened to her silently ponder his double entendre. Then she mused, "Gerald Fitzpatrick in Taco Bell?"

  "What do you think?"

  "I don't know what to think."

  "Do you trust me, Victoria?"

  "Implicitly."

  "Then think about that. It should p
ut you to sleep."

  "Yes."

  "It's late. What's going on there?"

  "Ari and I just got out of a bubble bath."

  He tried hard not to visualize that.

  "Lizbett is getting the twins into bed."

  "What about Alex? No bubble bath?"

  "He had one."

  "Alone? That's a little sad."

  "Yes, but—"

  "I know." All her Coby fears were safely intact. "But it's still a little sad. He needs Marcus. A bath buddy."

  "How can I ever thank you for... keeping him for me?"

  "I'm making a list."

  * * *

  When Zac answered, "Hello. Marcus's keeper here," promptly on the first ring the next morning, Victoria enjoyed feelings of security, comfort and stability. His lack of guile, of pretense, soothed her, overriding the memory of Tommy sometimes making her wait through multiple rings before satisfying her need to talk to him. Such tactics had kept her on his ground, vulnerable.

  "Good morning. I'm calling early so I won't miss talking to him. I'm sure you have a big day planned."

  "We're going to mass and then the inevitable."

  She waited, guessing.

  "McDonalds. Nice hearing your voice again, Victoria. I'll get him. He's in the shower. No bubble baths for us men."

  In the silence, the vision of Zac's face lay on her mind. He wasn't like Tommy. She had stopped considering that, other than his Hispanic characteristics, striking features. But Zac had a more rugged appearance, she realized, as she listened to him banter with Marcus in the background. His skin was bronzed, a little toughened by the elements. Eyes brooding, kind, wise, and seeming to hold a world of secrets, mysteries he was willing to share, a few at a time. Mysteries firing her curiosity, yet filling her with solace and—

  "Buenos días, Vittoria. Como te va?"

  —he was apparently a very good Spanish teacher.

  * * *

  She called early in the evening, Wednesday night of the first week, and spoke to Marcus. Unable to come up with an excuse she could voice, she called back anyway, long after Marcus would be asleep. When Zac said he was studying, she tried to envision that, then veered onto another subject.

  "Tell me about your marriage."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "How you... What it was like. How you feel about it now."

  "It was everything a man could wish for. I was a jigsaw puzzle until I met Maggie. She was the last piece to go in place, and she completed my life."

  "That's beautiful."

  "It's exactly how I felt until the day I met Carron."

  "That's so sad."

  He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. It is, but we've survived it, even Allie's death. Maggie's a special woman. We're friends now, even though I sacrificed her." He fell quiet again.

  She waited, feeling they teetered on a brink.

  "I'm not sure I would have wanted to miss knowing Carron. She touched places in me I wasn't aware existed."

  "You didn't miss the dance," she half-whispered.

  "I guess. God is really kind. If I died tonight, knowing Maggie and Carron would have been enough."

  Another silence, one she didn't know how to break.

  "Do you want to reciprocate?"

  "And compare apples to oranges? No thank you."

  "If you feel that way, then why did you leave Tommy to marry Christian?"

  "I had no choice. My father hated Tommy and everything he stood for."

  Dread pricked her consciousness. Pierce Chandler. A heavy factor in her life, past and present. She envisioned connecting dots being drawn between Tomas and Zac, easily detectable, easily associated in Pierce Chandler's eyes. The same association that had drawn Victoria to Zac Abriendo would repel her father.

  "Coby hated Tommy, too, and Coby was the predominant factor in my life then. Pierce gave me an edict to stay away from Tommy. He highly approved of Christian." She let memory seize her mind, yet again. "I was young and torn. I wanted Pierce's approval."

  "Something makes me think you still do. Maybe the way the twins keep going to Chandler House without Marcus."

  She refused to give his wisdom credence. Verbally. "I couldn't give Tommy up. The more Pierce raged against him, the more I wanted him." She heard her own laugh, the fatalism. "Forbidden fruit is sweeter. I suppose."

  "Then come the consequences."

  Yes. Seemingly, never to stop. "Pierce was after the senatorial vote. Tommy lived on the fringe of the establishment. He wasn't someone I could take to campaign dinners. Our relationship made a Houston gossip column. I'd been seeing Christian and—"

  "Did you love Christian?"

  "It's possible to love more than one person." She thought of Coby, Tommy, Christian. "When I married I intended it to last." The balancing act. "The answer to everything, I thought."

  "What happened to the marriage?"

  "We talked about this before."

  "What happened before his treatment of Marcus became a factor?"

  "It's late. We both have to get up early." The problems seemed too simple now, mundane, shoddy.

  "What happened, Victoria?"

  She drifted back, listening to her own voice. "Christian had a way of becoming too busy to give me the attention—In my eyes, the way he...did that...related to Pierce's inaccessibility. To my childhood." Textbook material.

  "Constructive abandonment," he offered softly.

  "What?"

  "When your mate stops sleeping with you. A legal term."

  "You don't want to hear this, Zac."

  "Yeah, I do."

  "When Christian wouldn't—wasn't available to me, I began thinking of Tommy, the way I once looked to Coby for the affection I didn't get from Pierce. I didn't consider all the problems Tommy and I had. It was like the pain of childbirth. Once it's over, you don't remember. All I could think of was how Tommy could—Thinking of him drove a wedge between Christian and me. He went on a short mission. I went to Tommy." She paused, mustering conviction. "But I did love Christian. I didn't want to lose him."

  "You just didn't love him enough to do the right thing."

  The profundity of his statement rendered her mute.

  "That's not original, Victoria." She heard his smile through the wires. "My brother said it to me when Allie got hit by the car, and I was blaming Maggie. Pretty philosophical. Don?t you think?"

  "It's so true."

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, the end of a completed a week, she spoke to Marcus first. Then, "Hi, Zac. He sounds wonderful."

  Zac noted her voice held assurance, finally.

  "I've categorized him now," he said. "He falls into the intuitive thinking slot. Would you like my diagnosis?"

  "Of course."

  He recited, "He's very logical, likes learning new ideas and thinking about what he's learning. He's good at planning and strategies, likes debating and asking questions, loves reading and activities that involve quiet reflection." Marcus could have been his son, their traits so mirrored each other's.

  "That's awfully clinical." Pride edged through her accusation. "Has there been any time for fun?"

  He laughed, glad to hear her concern for their enjoyment. "I just finished reading that analysis in the newspaper, a survey done on learning styles of children. I wanted to impress you."

  "Oh, you have. You really have."

  She called back in five minutes.

  "Are you busy? Are you going out right away?"

  "I'm reading my philosophy textbook. Josh and Marcus are on the Sunfish." He beat her to the punch. "Yeah, he's wearing his life preserver. I have Angel today, but she's sleeping. Something wrong?"

  "No. Lizbett took the twins to the park. I just thought we'd talk for a while. Can you?"

  "Sure." He closed the book, listening to his heart pound.

  "How do you sleep?"

  "In the nude usually. How about you?"

  She laughed softly. "No. I mean how well do you sleep? D
o you sleep in Carron's—in the bed you shared with Carron?"

  "Mostly I just toss around." Too crowded sometimes. Barely room for him and all the rehashing of his life. "Do you sleep in Tommy's bed?" The bed she and Tommy had shared.

  "Some nights I sleep. Mostly I just lie there, waiting."

  "For what?" He knew and wondered if she did.

  "For the memories to go away and free me."

  Bits and pieces of the articles he'd read at the Houston paper were buried like shrapnel in his mind. He kept digging them out, triggered by things she would say. He remembered her telling him she and Tommy were planning to take Marcus, sail to Mexico to live. He distinctly remembered there had been a bon voyage party, hosted by Andrea Von Felsberg, on board Tomas Cordera's boat. Coby had boarded uninvited and Tommy had died at Victoria's feet.

  "Make some new memories, Victoria."

  "I have to."

  "Tomorrow is Sunday. What are you doing?" Was she lonely?

  "Andrea is coming over."

  "Over?"

  "Yes. She hops the Concorde and comes for the day."

  "Nice."

  "We're very close."

  "What was her connection with Cordera?"

  "They were lovers. Long before I knew him. Maybe after. Tommy said no, but she indicated yes." She laughed softly, disdainfully. "I never knew for sure."

  "Christ."

  She grew very quiet.

  "Do you ever imagine what a conventional relationship could be like?"

  "I dream about it all the time."

  * * *

  She called very early on a morning of the second week and rushed into telling him about her design class, her instructor, seeing an old friend who lived in New York, the possibility of renewing a photography modeling contract she'd once had with a New York based cosmetics company. She elaborated on the weather, the twins' new wardrobe, her plans for the day.

  When she paused for breath, he interjected, "Would you like to speak to Marcus? He's beginning to wonder."