It Stings So Sweet

by Stephanie Draven

  “I knew I should have tied your hands to the headboard again,” he says, but he doesn’t stop me. I use every trick I know, nipping at his nipples on the upstroke, caressing the small of his back, which flexes with each thrust. It excites me to see how his desire for me shatters his resolve. And when I hear him moaning my name, again and again, we send each other into a spiral of pleasure.

  The moment he begins to pulse and throb, I lock my legs around his waist so he can’t pull free. He struggles against me, but I won’t let him go. “Come inside me, Leo …”

  His face contorts with an ecstasy that matches my own, and we cry out together as he floods me with warmth and my body grasps hold of him, with its own designs. After, we lay panting together, our sweat-slick limbs wrapped in intimate embrace, and Leo gives a rueful chuckle. “Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  I stretch, content as a cat. “I wanted it to. I want it to happen again and again.”

  “If it does, you’ll get knocked up and have to marry me …” He turns to look at me with a gleam in his eye. “Which, on second thought, is a rather good argument for the idea.”

  In spite of my bliss, this talk of marriage has to stop, so I confess, “I can’t have children, Leo. I’ve been sleeping with men since I was fourteen and I never got knocked up. Not even once.”

  “Which proves exactly, nothing, but it’s neither here nor there. When did you hear me say that I wanted to raise a bunch of little ankle biters?”

  “That’s why people get married, Leo. To start a family. And I can’t be anyone’s mother. Even if I could, how do you think kids would fare growing up the children of Clara Cartwright?”

  “Like spoiled little brats, probably. You’re a movie star, Clara. Any kid would be proud. If you want to worry, you should worry about how they’d fare as the children of a German American.”

  “Oh, you and that sauerkraut on your shoulder …”

  “I have no interest in children unless you do, Clara, in which case I’m happy to give them to you.”

  I’ve never even thought it a possibility, and the strangeness of a man offering to give me children, a home, a family, fills me with happiness, even if it’s a dream that can never be mine. “Why do you want to get married then?”

  “Because you’re it for me, Clara. I want you. And I get what I want.”

  “You have me, Leo. But if you’re trying to show the world that I belong to you, marrying me isn’t the way to do it. People know that you’re sleeping with me. They admire you for parading me around like the fallen woman I am. But if you marry me, that’ll change.”

  “How the devil do you think things will change?”

  All my life, I’ve clawed to get what I wanted. Now all I want is him so why am I so determined to let go of him? I suppose it’s because I love him too much not to tell him the truth. “For starters, if we get married, the scandal sheets will call you Mr. Cartwright, and that’s just when they’re being nice.”

  “Clara, the first time a scandal sheet calls me Mr. Cartwright, I’ll fuck you so hard that you consider changing your stage name. But it isn’t going to change the way I feel. I want to marry you. Only you. I don’t want to marry you to convince the world that you belong to me. I want to marry you so that the world knows that I love you.”

  Temptation. It’s like the spun candy at the carnival I couldn’t ever afford as a kid. The only way I could get it was to steal it from someone else. And the harder I fall for him, the more determined I am not to steal anything from Leo, especially not his future. Every reason I give him, he’s only going to argue down, and there are some arguments I can’t bear to have. So I say, “I love you, too, Leo. I really do love you. Which is why I have to do the decent thing and say no.”

  Standing behind the boxy camera on the tripod, I film Leo as he works on the plane. I have my crew adjust the lighting while Leo patiently explains the controls. We don’t know how we’re going to use the footage yet, but we both think it’ll be valuable to have. I’d like to film him for hours, until he forgot anyone was there, and maybe I’d catch a glimpse of what makes him the man he is.

  I love to film him. The way he moves, with such sureness. The way he uses his tools to adjust and inspect and master the machine. More important, it gives me a chance to stare at him from behind the camera, where I keep myself safe from my fears and his resentments.

  It’s a monstrous thing, this plane with its Morgan Industries emblem on the side. I don’t want him to go up in it. It doesn’t look as if it could possibly protect him. In the shadow of the engine, Leo is meticulous, wiping the grease from his hands on a rag that he tucks in his front pocket. Wrapping up for the day, he waves off my crew and then we’re alone.

  I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “You’re going to get dirty,” Leo says, rattling around as he puts his tools back into their box.

  “I don’t mind if you don’t,” I say, letting my hands drift over his hips. “Unless, of course, you’re still angry with me.”

  “You’d know if I was angry,” he says, though his tone is clipped.

  Maybe he’s not angry. Maybe he’s hurt. Or maybe he’s focusing all his thoughts on how he’s going to get this plane in the air and keep it there. And maybe I should let him do just that. Instead, I press myself against his back.

  Growling low in his throat, he says, “Clara, if you keep doing that, I’m going to take you to the other end of the hangar, spread you over the hood of my car, and rip that pretty summer dress off you.”

  “Oh, no. Please. Anything but that,” I say, backing away in mock horror.

  “And here I thought you were such a good actress …”

  We laugh but the laughter between us is strained since I turned down his proposal. He’s slipping away from me. I knew it would happen eventually, I just don’t want it to happen so soon. “C’mon, Ace, let me take your mind off any jitters you may have about tomorrow.”

  “You’re the only thing that’s giving me the jitters, Clara.”

  I sigh. “I just don’t know what you want.”

  “Baloney. You know exactly what I want. I want you to marry me.”

  Something darkly antagonistic in me forces me to shout. “You don’t even know me!”

  Turning to face me, Leo says, “I’m the only one in the world who does know you.”

  “You think marriage is going to be so perfect, Leo? You lost your parents when you were too young to know better, but mine are both still alive and I can tell you, marriage isn’t perfect. Not perfect at all.”

  “I never said it would be perfect.”

  “Then how do you think it’ll be? Me in an apron, cooking meals in your kitchen, tending a garden out back?”

  In spite of my belligerence, Leo’s tone is patient. “Clara, if I want a cook or a gardener, I’ll hire one. Not that I object to the sight of you in an apron, but I know you’ll spend your time in a studio or behind a camera. I do know you. I know exactly who and what you are.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t know myself at all. Maybe I’m still figuring it all out. I’m still trying to figure out how to be in love with someone. How can you be so sure when I’m not?”

  “I’m used to making snap decisions.”

  I believe him. “It’s so fast. It’s too soon. Why can’t you just settle for what we have?”

  “I told you before—I’ve never settled for anything in my life.”

  “Then don’t settle for me.”

  Leo peers at me. “What do you mean by that?”

  My throat is raw with the words as they scrape their way out. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  Leo throws a wrench down. “Goddamn it, Clara. How can you love yourself so little when I love you so much?”

  His question sends a tremor through me and my voice comes from somewhere very far away—somewhere gray and quiet where the light comes in only from a window high above. “Every morning, I wake up with a knif
e against my throat, Leo. And I fight it. Every day of my life, I kick and punch and elbow my way past it. But sometimes I get tired. Some days, I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough. Someday I’m going to lose.”

  I spit the last words out like a poison and they leave me nearly retching in their wake.

  I expect to see that white-nosed fury again, that near-violent anger. Instead, Leo comes towards me, pulls me into his arms, and strokes my hair. When he speaks, it’s a whisper. “On those days when you think you’re not strong enough, I’ll fight for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. It’s not fair.”

  “I gave up on thinking life was fair a long time ago. I don’t want you to wake up every morning with a knife to your throat, Clara. I want you to wake up in my arms. Safe. Loved. Cherished. I’m not going to leave you.”

  Everything inside me rebels against the idea of letting myself be duped. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

  He lifts my chin so that I can’t look away. “Listen to me, Clara. As long as you have me, you don’t have to fight anything alone ever again. I’m never going to leave you. Not by choice. Do you hear me?”

  Blinking back tears, I nod. Then Leo kisses me. Soft and reassuring. Our lips meet in a soft sacred seal. The hunger, the poverty, the loneliness of trying to handle my mother’s madness when my drunken father was nowhere to be found … all these memories rush at me like conspirators ready to snuff out this precious moment Leo and I share.

  It takes everything in me to beat them back.

  To my astonishment, he has me considering his proposal. Really considering it. “I’m not easy to live with, Leo. There’s not a director I’ve ever worked with who didn’t leave with a few gray hairs. I like things the way I like things. I’m used to getting my way. I’m a diva. We’d argue all the time.”

  “We already argue all the time, Clara. Sometimes it’s even fun.”

  “It won’t always be fun.”

  “Then it won’t always be fun. And when it’s not, you can console yourself with the shiny ring I bought you.”

  My breath screeches to a halt. “Y-you bought a ring?”

  He gives me his devil-may-care look. “It’s a real sparkler, too …”

  “You’re not teasing?”

  “You like when I decide things for you. Well, I’ve decided that we’re getting married.” With that, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces an engagement ring.

  I cover my eyes too late. I’ve seen the glitter. The sparkles are still dancing behind my eyelids. The greedy girl inside me sighs with avarice. “Oh! Dear god, Leo, is that a diamond? It must be two carats!”

  “More than that,” he huffs. “But you can’t have the ring until you agree to marry me.”

  The ring is as potent as any aphrodisiac. I want it. I’m tormented. “You know how to sweeten a deal …”

  “There’s my little gold digger. Maybe I should have started out with the diamond rather than making pretty speeches about love.” His tone is slightly bitter, but when he sees me struggle with my greed, it makes him laugh deep in his belly. “Are you going to marry me?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, tasting a sweet syrup on my tongue.

  “Good enough for today, Clara. You can say no all the way to the altar, but eventually you’re going to give in. On the other hand, if you say yes now, you can show the ring off at the airfield tomorrow.”

  My stomach knots at the realization that tomorrow is the day he’s going to climb into that plane. Morgan Industries has arranged for a celebration for investors complete with canapés and champagne. “I wouldn’t want to take away from your glory, Leo. After all, everyone will be there to watch you make history.”

  “One way or another,” he says.

  A chill goes down my spine. “See, that’s the kind of talk that makes me know I shouldn’t be there.”

  “I want you there, Clara. At least come give me a kiss. Every newspaper in the country will have a camera. Think of the scandal you can cause.”

  I feign outrage. “Do you think I need a war hero to get my picture taken?”

  He chuckles. “If you do show up tomorrow, I’m going to kiss you right on the mouth. Hell, I might grope you in front of the reporters with Teddy Morgan standing right there, and I hope he chokes on it.”

  “You’ve won me, Ace. Can’t you be gracious in victory?”

  “I’ve only won a dogfight or two, Clara. Until you marry me, I’m still fighting the war.”

  Three outfits land at my feet before I decide on the right one to wear to the airfield. You’d think I’d be running late, but instead, I’m so nervous about Leo’s flight, I’m dressed and ready hours too early. I tell the driver to circle the city while I try to calm myself. I don’t want Leo to see me so nervous.

  The driver is used to chauffeuring me around town. He knows all my usual haunts. Maybe that’s why he pulls onto the street I’ve spent so many miserable hours. But today as Leo bravely faces death, the least I can do is face her.

  “Stop the car,” I say, thumping once on the back of the seat.

  Today the dust dancing in the sunlight from the high windows of the sanitarium does look like a choir of tiny angels. “How are you feeling, Mama? Are you sleeping better?”

  She reaches for me, her fingernails like talons in my arm. “Look at your red painted lips. Wipe that off. Don’t you know that you’re ruining yourself? No good man will ever have you.”

  Perhaps it is folly that drives me to argue with a madwoman. Or perhaps it is something infinitely more fragile than folly … it’s hope. “Actually, a good man has asked me to marry him …”

  My mother jolts with surprise, the hard lines of a difficult life softening on her face. “Oh, Clara. That’s wonderful.”

  She can’t know what I’ve said, can she?

  “Who is your beau, Clara? Who is he?” I dare not be too optimistic, but she seems happy, and the talon grip on my arm turns into a motherly stroke. It’s been such a long time since she’s touched me that way, as if I weren’t an abomination …

  I can’t remember the last time we’ve shared a moment of genuine connection, and that lures me to reveal more. “He’s an … an engineer. He’s smart and brave and kind.”

  “And he wants to marry you?” she asks, latching on to the present.

  My lips wobble into a smile, unexpected joy spreading through my whole body. “He rather insists upon it.”

  “Well, we won’t tell him,” she says, conspiratorially. “We won’t tell him about your past. He doesn’t have to know what you’ve done, Clara.”

  With the joy inside me threatening to turn to vinegar, I lift my chin in defiance. “He knows, Mama.”

  She doesn’t hear me and her voice becomes more urgent. “I won’t tell him. He doesn’t have to know what you are. And as long as he doesn’t know, he can love you.”

  “He knows, Mama. And he does love me.”

  He really does, doesn’t he? And that ought to be enough.

  She looks through me to some other place. “Well, that’s wonderful. Clara, that’s just marvelous. And don’t you worry. We’ll change the color of your hair. We’ll go somewhere people don’t remember, so he doesn’t have to be ashamed.”

  My scarred throat closes with regret.

  I have nothing left to say.

  CHAPTER

  Twelve

  It’s a bright blue-skied day, but so windy I have to tie my hat on with a kerchief to keep it from blowing away.

  Leo exaggerated when he said every newspaper in the country would have a photographer on hand, but it is a bit of an event. A few journalists cloister together by the hangar, and important investors and wealthy men sit on chairs under big white pavilions set up for just this occasion.

  “Clara!” one of the reporters calls out. “Miss Cartwright, will you give us a pose?”

  But today I’m one of them. My crew sets up and I take refuge behind a camera of my own.
>
  Maybe this footage will end up in the movie Leo and I make together. Maybe it will just be my homage to the man I love. Either way, my eyes are all for him.

  In a short double-breasted leather flying coat, a cap, and goggles strapped tight to his head, Leo is the very picture of an aviator. He exudes confidence beyond anything I’ve seen from him before. He’s worked himself up for this, I realize. He’s telling himself about all the Germans he shot down, convincing himself that he’s the best.

  That he’s invincible.

  I wish I believed it.

  It takes him a moment to realize that I’m there. When he sees me, he grins. He strides from where the plane sits on the tarmac, pushing past my equipment to catch me up in his arms.

  “You came,” he says with a smile. “And you look like a goddamned movie star.”

  Then he kisses me. He kisses me, dipping me back so far that the wind catches my dress and exposes my legs. And I want him just as fiercely as the day I met him … if only I weren’t so terrified. In my business, we say, break a leg, but I can picture that happening all too clearly, so I say, “Good luck up there.”

  “I don’t need luck,” Leo says with a wide grin, helping me find my footing again. “I just need you.”

  It’s never been so hard to let him go. But I give such a brilliant smile that it ought to blind anyone to the dread that coils within me. Leo retreats to the plane and I retreat behind my camera.

  As it turns out, the camera isn’t defense enough. Brooke Gordon is on Teddy Morgan’s arm and when she sees me, she seeks me out. “Oh, Clara,” she whispers. “Please tell me you don’t mind.”

  “I’m happy for you both,” I say, with genuine affection. Teddy Morgan is a lonely man and Brooke will give him the attention he deserves. He’ll treat her kindly. I have no cause to complain.

  If anything, I’m enormously relieved.

  Seeing us together, Big Teddy meanders over. I worry that it’s going to be awkward, but he gives a booming laugh. “I take comfort in the fact that if I had to lose you to another man, at least I lost you to the man you’re going to marry.”