I've never been very good at casual. Even my friendships tended to be deeply intimate. What excuse could I come up with for allowing myself to get even mildly involved with Kason? He wasn't just out of my league; we weren't even playing the same game.
A couple of years ago, Jenn and I and two other girlfriends went to Panama City beach for spring break. Jenn and the two others threw themselves into the 'scene' with abandon. Even Jenn, normally not a girl you would describe as 'wild' by any stretch, had sex with at least three different guys that I know of in the course of our ten day stay. All I managed to do was annoy a couple of dudes, one of whom called me a tease in front of a bar full of drunken strangers.
So, what was it about Kason that would make me want to do something I'd never wanted to do before? Casual liaisons had never appealed to me. Why now? Why involve myself with a man with whom there could never really be any involvement? What was there about him?
Maybe I was growing up. Maybe I had matured sufficiently to do what the rest of the world seemed so fond of doing—see someone attractive and go for it if you can. God knows I found Kason attractive. At first, it was simply an animal reaction to a man who seemed to have been constructed to my personal standard of perfection. But, even in the short time I had known him, I had found other things about him compelling, appealing and so fascinating.
His talent as an actor was superb. From the first moment I watched him on stage, I was amazed at his ability to transform himself into another character. Every single thing he did on that set reflected the coach—his voice, his posture, even the movement of his hands. The fact that this was only a hobby for him impressed me even more.
I liked the fact that he didn't seem to take himself too seriously, at least not all the time. And while he seemed to appreciate the fine things he surrounded himself with, they apparently didn't define him.
About the time I started to hope that I'd get a call from him over the weekend, I realized that he had never gotten my phone number. I had his, of course, on the cast roster. It was tempting to call him, maybe just to 'check' that he made it home okay. That was a temptation best resisted, I told myself.
Sunday's picnic helped me stop over thinking the whole 'non-relationship' with Kason. Jenn had taken care of last Sunday's Mexican day and it was my turn to treat. A cold platter and a nice bottle of wine would be great for our picnic. I thought of the cheese, olives and great bread that I had eaten at Kason's and wondered where he got those treasures. I could casually call him and ask. I mentally slapped myself across the face for that thought.
Our local gourmet grocer had quite a selection to choose from. I didn't see the particular cheese that Kason had served—the one wrapped in brandy soaked leaves—but I found several I liked. The cheese monger gave me samples and guided me in selecting three types that would complement each other. I also bought dry Italian salami, some mixed olives and a loaf of artisanal bread with herbs baked in. It would be a scrumptious picnic.
I stopped at the wine shop and bought a respectable bottle for us to share and went home to put it all away.
I was at loose ends after that. Jenn is a neat and clean freak and I'm not far behind. There's rarely anything to be done to the duplex on Saturday except a little laundry and she had taken care of that before she went to work. I folded the few towels in the dryer and decided I'd take a ride over to the theater and see how the set was progressing. We had the basic walls up which made a big difference in rehearsal. It's so much easier to have an actual wall than a piece of tape on the floor. Even the appearance of a sofa on Thursday had change the dynamic of the 'room'. Each little detail added a new element that made each performance become successively more nuanced; progressively more real.
I laughed when I opened the theater doors to find the stage crew painting the interior of 'coach's' house Pepto-Bismol pink. Tom had mentioned that he wanted the feeling to be one of a little old lady's living room complete with doilies over the backs of chairs. Coach had lived with his mother, never married and stayed in her house after she died. There was an implication in the storyline that the coach had some 'tendencies' but it was probably too subtle for most people to pick up.
Tom was on stage with Suze watching the painters. Suze was obviously acting strictly as a supervisor. Her beautiful slacks, shell top and ballet flats weren't going to get anywhere near that pink paint, that's for sure.
Tom saw me and waved me up on stage.
"Looks like things are really shaping up, Tom. I didn't see the pink coming." I turned to Suze. "The set looks great, Suze."
"Oh, thanks…uh…um."
"Annalise, the name is Annalise."
"So sorry. I'm so bad with names." I wasn't the least bit surprised she was 'bad' with mine. Suze ran over to a couple of high school kids who were bringing in the bar on the opposite side of the stage. "Boys…do be careful with that piece. It was my grandmother's."
Tom laughed. "There's one of the phoniest women who ever wore Chanel No. 5."
"Not fond of our little Suze?"
"Good god, she's one of the reasons I chose an all male play. I don't think I could make it through another production with her kind."
"Her kind?"
"Oh c'mon, Annalise. You're young but you don't strike me as stupid. Have you ever met people as ridiculous as the women here?"
"Why just the women?"
"The men can be obnoxious, too. But they have a real life. For the majority of the women, this is their life." He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter much to him. "Let's go look at the set from the audience."
We sat about midway up the center section and looked at the stage as if we were an audience seeing it for the first time.
"That's the most bilious shade of pink I've ever seen. Are you sure you aren't risking wide spread nausea in our audience?"
"I wanted it to be a real contrast. The rough language, the big jocks, the drinking—all within the context of a little old lady's living room."
"You've certainly achieved that with this décor. I can't wait to see how the cast reacts to it."
"Rehearsals will take on a new dimension with the set nearly done. I think it's been going very well so far."
I agreed with him…and saw my chance. "It's a wonderful ensemble cast you've put together, Tom. But . . . I noticed something very strange in the air Friday night. Care to shed some light on it for me?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Tom responded in a guarded voice.
"C'mon, that Roger guy. The whole cast went all somber and Kason was a positive bear the whole night." Well, maybe not the whole night, but I didn't need to share those details with Tom.
"It's not important. There's just a past."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I hate to gossip. There are already too many noses poked in everyone else's business in this theater group."
"Well, it sucks when everyone knows an open secret but me." I was peeved that Tom wouldn't tell me something that was obviously public knowledge.
"Okay, okay. Kason was engaged to Roger's sister years ago. It ended badly."
I hadn't seen that coming and it hit me right in the gut. "But Roger and Kason are still friends?"
"As much as they can be under the circumstances."
"Was the break up that ugly?"
"Oh, there wasn't any break up."
"Are you being deliberately vague? What do you mean there wasn't a break up? They aren't together anymore…are they?"
"Hardly. Elsa was…Elsa's dead."
I had to let that sink in for a moment. Kason, man about town, was once going to get married and his fiancé died.
"How did she die?"
"Look, Annalise, it was years ago and I wasn't around here then. I've heard several versions of how she was killed and the truth is, no one really knows except Kason. So if you want the whole story, you'll just have to ask him."
Suze called from the stage. "Tom, I need you up here for a few, sweetie." Everyone was a 'honey'
or a 'sweetie' to Suze. Tom seemed eager enough to finish our conversation and leapt up to do her bidding.
"She was killed…no one really knows except Kason." I was stuck with more mystery than before and now there was a sinister edge to my speculation.
I went back to the duplex with the intent of digging up all that I could about Kason Royce and his fiancé. It took me a few moments of intense concentration to come up with Roger's last name. I hadn't been paying all that much attention when Tom had introduced him. Fortunately, unlike Suze, I have a pretty good recall of names.
I typed in "Kason Royce Elsa Maynard". Sure enough, I came up with an engagement announcement. The engagement had been five years before and there was a picture of the happy couple. Kason was as handsome as ever. It was apparent the ensuing five years hadn't aged him much. Elsa was a female version of Roger. Just as I thought, the features suited a female face. She was pretty, but in a very natural, girl-next-door way.
I stared at the photo of the woman Kason had loved enough to want to marry her. Her eyes were fixed on him and brimming with love. I wanted to cry. Not because he had lost the love of his life…no. Because he had had a love of his life.
I filled in as many of the blanks as I could over the next hour or so. I found the obituary. It said nothing at all about the circumstances of her death. I tried every phrase I could think of— "Elsa Maynard death", "Elsa Maynard killed", "Elsa Maynard accident", and so on until I had exhausted my options.
There wasn't much more on Elsa. She was the daughter of a couple who apparently hadn't done anything more newsworthy than serve on a few high school planning committees. There was nothing about her family background; no social pedigree that I could find.
The engagement announcement mentioned that Elsa had graduated from a small state university. Beyond that, her major claim to fame was to get engaged to Kason Royce. When I searched that name I came up with plenty.
I read enough to know that he was probably the most successful and secretive private investment guru on Wall Street. In a profession that values discretion, he seemed to be a master of it. In fact, most of what I read about him was pure speculation. Unschooled though I am about the world of finance, I knew enough to know when I'm reading filler words in an article. A lot of his press centered on the fact that he had garnered vast power and wealth at such a young age. Apparently, that's all the reporters could come up with.
I did an image search next. Jenn and Tom hadn't been off the mark in their assessment. Kason seemed to have a penchant for model/actress types. There were several pages of images of him arriving at this or that gallery opening, art show, theater, opera and on and on. Every woman seemed more beautiful than the last. He certainly got around.
I went back to the engagement announcement. The contrast was striking. Elsa looked like Jenn, or any number of pretty all-American girls I had known in college. The women Kason appeared with in New York were far more like Victoria's Secret models or Hollywood types.
There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask Kason. But just how does someone start a conversation with "I researched your background on the internet for hours after I learned your fiancé had been killed. Let's talk about it."?
***
Jenn and I had a great picnic. I caught her up on the 'situation' with Kason. She seemed impressed that I would even have the courage to get as far as I had with him. She knew me pretty well, maybe better than anyone. She knew how out of my element I was.
I filled her in on the things I had learned about him—both the gossip from Tom and the internet research.
"You've got yourself a complicated man on your hands."
I chuckled. "I wouldn't go so far as to say 'on my hands', Jenn. But I do agree that he's complicated."
"You better keep me posted. This ships-passing-in-the-night thing of ours is keeping me too much in the dark."
"It's only going to get worse, too. Tom called and said that Brian is having an early cast party to celebrate the christening of the set tomorrow night."
"I know how that goes. Get ready for some heavy partying and late nights."
"So I've been told. I sure would like to get Kason alone. But I don't see much chance of that happening tomorrow."
"Annalise," Jenn took my hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, will ya? This guy is a lot of things. And now I'm wondering if he's not just a rich playboy, but maybe a dangerous man, too."
"No one has said anything like that! I didn't uncover even a hint of scandal."
"But you didn't find answers, either. Just keep your distance until you know him better."
"Umm…it's a little too late for that."
"You know what I mean. You don't have to take this any further and you can certainly reign in the emotions until you know more."
"You're right, Jenn," I agreed. But was she? I felt like a virgin teenager who goes to third base and can't get her mind off of what a home run would feel like. The thought of really having Kason was pretty much running in a continuous playback in my mind.
And the emotional part? There was so much more to him than I originally imagined. I wanted to know more. I had to know more.
Six
Rehearsal couldn't have been better. Somehow having the set nearly complete made the actors really kick their performances up. It was the first run through for Act 2. The men all had their lines pretty much down pat and Tom blocked it quickly with me furiously taking notes of every move the five players would make.
I didn't have any opportunity to talk to Kason at all. Once in a while we'd make eye contact—enough to raise my pulse a notch or two—and then it was back to work. It was quite amazing to see the ensemble evolve. Every time they took the stage the roles crystallized a little more.
Brian wasn't wasting any time giving his party a kick start. Single malt scotch played very prominently in the script. It was the drink of choice for all the characters and copious amounts were consumed during the action of the play. Brian had decided to liven up rehearsal by replacing the iced tea I always stocked in the decanter with the real deal.
The guys had given me lots of grief about my lousy iced tea. I had been setting up the 'bar' on a couple of saw horses. The 'glasses' were Styrofoam cups and the decanter was a plastic pitcher. With the real bar from Suze's grandmother in place, we had graduated to a nice cut glass decanter and tumblers, also courtesy of Brian who seemed to know his way around a whiskey bottle.
By the time rehearsal broke up, the actors had loosened up and were having a great time with the script. I was glad that that the weekend had dispelled the moodiness caused by Roger's visit to Friday's rehearsal. Now that I knew the cause of all the darkness, I wasn't anxious to see it return.
Brian had an old house right in town, only a couple of blocks from the theater. I left my car in the theater parking lot as did Cole, Tom and Kason. There wasn't much parking at Brian's and to my disappointment, 'the girls' including Suze and Nicky plus a few other crew members were already at his house getting the food ready.
I have to admit the spread was divine. There was a beautiful ham and little finger rolls from the bakery in town, several different salads, cheeses, little pastries with all sorts of savory fillings and an entire table of luscious looking desserts. It was way more than it seemed a group maybe fifteen people could consume.
Tom and I kind of hung around in the kitchen, nibbling at this and that, listening to the gang carrying on in the living room. I very much wanted to maneuver myself near Kason, but he seemed content to hang out with the group in the living room. I didn't feel like I quite fit in. I think Tom felt the same.
Suze was quite accomplished on the piano. She was plunking out show tunes while a few of the others belted out the words. Kason had taken a turn and had everyone in stitches with his excellent rendition of "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof. He threw in a convincing accent and even managed a little dance to go along with it.
I was beginning to feel a little sad and neglected when I
noticed over Tom's shoulder that Kason had started up the narrow spiral stairs at the back of the kitchen. Kason put a finger to his lips and then crooked it around indicating I should follow him. I waited a few minutes until Tom went out into the living room to get another plate. I quickly ascended the stairs and disappeared before anyone returned to the kitchen.
Brian had converted the attic above his house to a loft. There wasn't much head room in parts and there were lots of huge cushions strewn around. In one corner there was a Jacuzzi tub and in another I saw a huge television screen.
"Welcome to Brian's loft o' porn," Kason greeted me. He was leaning back against a pile of pillows and patted the carpet beside him, inviting me to sit down. "In this room, there is a library of smut so vast that it would take more than a lifetime to view it all."
"Oh? Really?" What could I say to that?
"He's a collector. Little men often have issues, you know."
"What about big men? Do big men have issues?"
"None worth discussing tonight."
Kason pulled my face toward his and claimed my mouth with a crushing kiss. There was an element of something dark in the way he took me into his arms. He held me hard against him and breathed into my hair. "It's time now, Annalise. I want you now . . . here."
"Kason, I think there are things we need to talk about first."
He pulled me on top of him and roughly positioned me so that I couldn't help but feel his erection against me. My traitorous body reacted immediately.
"Annalise, there's only one kind of communication I'm interested in tonight. If that's not why you came up here, maybe we should go downstairs for some milk and cookies with the rest of the children." There was an edge to his words. It was the same edge I had heard from the stage when I corrected him. It was the hiss that I had heard when he held my face in his at practice that first night when I went back to his house.
If I backed away I'd probably never know what it was like to have Kason Royce inside me. He made it clear that it was going to be his way or not at all. I wasn't going to get any answers 'before'. The only kind of knowledge I had to look forward to at that moment was the carnal kind.
Almost Always: A Love Unexpected Novel Page 4