Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha's Vineyard Love Story) (Love in the USA)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “You know, that’s a big plus in my book. I like a sharp-dressed man.”

  He chuckles, but there’s a sensual ring in his tone. “Let’s get the hell out of here before I rip that dress off you and throw you on that bed.”

  I gasp, feigning offense. “If you rip this dress, then you’ll have to buy me a new one.”

  “I’ll buy you a dozen.” He kisses my top lip. “A red one…” He kisses my bottom lip. I smile harder. “A green one...” He kisses my top lip again. “A yellow one…” Our tongues wrap around each other. He sighs long and deep, grabs my hand, and walks me out of the bedroom.

  Once we’re on the road to Edgartown, I let Belmont know that tomorrow, I want to roam the grounds alone to get some shots of the property. He insists on giving me a tour, but I adamantly decline. I can’t work and have sex with him every five minutes. He’s too insatiable, and I have a job to do. He says he knows all the secret spots around his house and they’ll be interesting details to add to my article.

  “Can we have sex in those spots?”

  I watch him with my eyebrows lifted.

  “All right,” he relents. “I get your point. I’ll give you a map. I have work to do anyway.”

  “Really, work?” I feign shock. “You work?”

  He chuckles. “Every goddamn day, even on the weekends. I’m sure the guys are wondering where the hell I am. At the moment, I’m building six houses on the Vineyard and two in Nantucket. And that goddamn retreat in Aquinnah is killing me.” He glances at me. “Your presence has distracted me.”

  “Well, yours has distracted me too. Heck, I came here to write a story.”

  We fall silent. I gaze out the windshield. The wind has picked up and is blowing the trees westward. Stupid me didn’t bring a sweater or coat. I would’ve remembered if I had gone outside, but I entered the car from the well-insulated garage.

  “I want you to stay here with me. Don’t go back to L.A. That city is shitty anyway,” Belmont says.

  I turn to study him, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “Are you serious?”

  He makes a right onto Main Street. “I am.” He makes a left on Church and then a right down a small alley. He parks in a large, nearly empty parking lot.

  “But my life is there,” I mutter, studying my hands in my lap. The engine turns off. I feel his eyes on me.

  “Your life is wherever you are.” He shows me that million-dollar grin and winks.

  “Let’s just see,” I say, offering a momentary compromise.

  “It’s not a flat-out ‘no,’ so I’ll take it.”

  I feel as though I’m walking on air as we head to the restaurant. I ponder leaving L.A. Other than Adrian, there’s nothing for me there. My dad lives in Windsor Hills with his new family, and my mom lives in Pacific Palisades with hers. They’re both busy with their other children and their jobs. He’s a music producer, and she produces prime-time television. They work hard and long hours and as a result they were the ones who taught me how to be a workaholic.

  I see them every now and then, but usually it’s on a holiday like Christmas, and our reunions are very awkward. I’ve never voiced it, but watching my new brothers and sisters upsets me. I can’t stop myself from feeling that in real life, none of them should be here. Daniel, my brother, should’ve never been hit by that car. I should’ve never witnessed his body flying high in the air and then slamming down on the concrete, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. Every time I look at my new brothers and sisters, all I see is Daniel, eyes wide open, watching me as if he’s apologizing over and over again for leaving me alone in this world. Maybe that’s why packing up and leaving the city pains me. His soul still lives there at 6556 Poplar Avenue.

  “A dollar for your thoughts,” Belmont says when we reach the crowd of people in front of the restaurant waiting to be seated.

  I put a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll tell you later.”

  He doesn’t let me go that easily. In front of all those eyes, he lifts my chin to kiss me long and deep.

  I try not to look at anyone when he opens the door because that kiss was a little too much for public consumption.

  “They’re already seated,” he says after clearing his throat.

  Across the room, eyeing us intensely, are Maya and Adrian. He’s scowling and I’m sure, like everyone else, he saw the sensual kiss that Belmont just laid on me through the window. The restaurant is not very large, nor is it tiny; it’s intimate. Maya and Adrian are seated near the wall, away from the center of the floor. I imagine they asked for privacy. When we get to the table, Belmont pulls my chair out for me.

  “Pretty dress,” Maya says as I sit.

  “Thanks,” I mumble and look at her.

  She’s wearing an aqua-blue, one-shoulder, skin-tight number. Although she’s seated, I’m sure it’s just as short as it is fitted. She doesn’t mind showing her crotch to the entire world. Tonight, she’s wearing pink lip gloss and blue eye shadow above a smoky eye.

  “You too,” I lie, and it’s pretty evident I’m being disingenuous.

  Adrian, on the other hand, is wearing an off-white cable knit sweater, and I don’t have to see them to know that he’s also wearing a pair of gray trousers. I’ve seen the outfit many times. I also know what he’s going to order and that the drink in his glass is scotch on the rocks.

  “Don’t need to ask how you’re doing,” Adrian mumbles spitefully. He shoots Belmont a dirty look.

  “I’m fine,” I say anyway, and I try to sound respectful. He looks upset that I’m happy, which makes me want to rip off his face. What a jerk.

  “And you, Jack?” Adrian spits and turns up his nose disrespectfully.

  I frown, wondering why in the world he is calling Belmont Jack. Then I realize that Maya must’ve told him that’s his name.

  “It’s Belmont,” my lover corrects.

  Adrian sniffs dismissively. “Whatever.”

  Maya’s eyes dance as if she’s enjoying the entire exchange.

  “So, I’m here,” I say forcefully enough to claim the group’s attention. “What do you want to say to me?”

  I focus on Adrian in particular. Adrian scrunches his lips as if he’s refusing to speak.

  “We wanted to apologize,” Maya offers and touches Adrian’s shoulder.

  He turns his shoulder away from her like a pouting child who doesn’t want to be touched by his mother. “I was sorry, but I’m not anymore. Why are you with this guy, Daisy?”

  “Hey, cool it,” Belmont growls, ruffling his eyebrows.

  “Why are you with her?” I ask, stabbing a finger at Maya. “What I want to know is when did you, and you”—the finger shifts appropriately—“start screwing each other?”

  “You know we were over a long time ago, Dais.”

  I thrust my body forward in his direction and my sternum slams into the table. “Then you should’ve said that. You should’ve said, ‘This is over, Daisy. I’m done, Daisy. Let’s go our separate ways for good.’ Not, ‘Let’s take a break.’ That implies you’ll be coming back, not ending up engaged to my ex-best friend.”

  Maya butts in, “No, we’ll always be friends.” She sounds very sure of it.

  I shake my head and glare at her. I can’t believe she said that. “Really, I would be the turtle who carried the scorpion across the pond if I continued to have any association with you.”

  Maya and Adrian appear shocked. They’re not used to seeing me all worked up like this. I’ve always been passive. Being with Belmont has helped me realize that my indifference was merely another brick on the wall I’d erected between me and anyone who sought to get close to me.

  A young waitress steps up to the table to take our order. “Hey, Belmont.” She blushes.

  “Hi, Amy,” he answers. I can hear the stress in his voice.

  Maya snickers. “You’re popular with the ladies here too, Jack.”

  Belmont narrows his eyes at her. “You
want something to drink, babe?” he asks me as calmly as possible.

  “Whatever you think is good,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

  “‘Babe’?” Adrian repeats sarcastically.

  “What do you care?” I snap. I aim my finger right at Maya’s head. “You’re here with her. Why are you acting this way?”

  “You never gave a damn about being with me anyway, Dais,” he says frankly.

  What a way to make himself the victim. “You’re such a self-centered jackass,” I say as though it’s the saddest thing in the world.

  The poor waitress watches us as if we’ve all gone insane. Belmont takes my hand to remind me that he’s here and I’m not alone.

  “Don’t touch her, man,” Adrian has the nerve to say.

  Belmont rips his seething eyes off of Adrian. “Amy, won’t you give us a minute?”

  “Okay,” Amy says with trepidation.

  “Let’s go outside,” Adrian says, glaring at me. “I want to talk to you alone.”

  “No.” I fold my arms defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Do you even know who this guy is?” he asks.

  Maya elbows him. “Shut up, Adrian.”

  “Do you want to apologize to me or not? Because if not, we’re done here,” I hiss.

  “We wanted to tell you that we never meant to hurt you,” Maya says with carefully composed control.

  “This dude”—Adrian points his chin at Belmont—“is a gigolo. Did you know that?”

  Wow, I mouth. “You’re willing to stoop that low… Lying does not suit you.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Adrian sneers. “Ask him.” He glares at Belmont. “Didn’t Maya pay you to fuck her?”

  I’m waiting to hear Belmont deny it and punch Adrian dead in his wimpy mouth. When he doesn’t say anything and Maya’s eyes flicker—as if she’s pretending to be shocked—I whip around to look at Belmont. He’s watching me, seemingly tongue-tied.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” Maya says. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

  “Is it true?” I ask Belmont, nearly shouting.

  He looks at me as if he’s swallowed a snake, and I know it’s true. The past two days crash down on me like a love nest made of straw. I want to crawl into a hole and hide.

  “You just couldn’t let me have this, could you? It’s so funny that everyone we know warned me about you. Stupid me for choosing to give you the benefit of the doubt,” I snap at Maya, who orchestrated this moment. I shoot to my feet. I turn my anger on Adrian. “And I should’ve never gotten involved with you, ever.”

  “Daisy, I don’t want to hurt you. I love you,” Adrian says desperately.

  Maya flinches, taken aback as if hearing his confession is news to her.

  “You sure have a funny way of showing it,” I whisper, resigned to the fact that my life has been ruined. That pain in my chest has returned with a vengeance. I need cold, crisp air—Adrian-, Maya-, and Belmont–the-Gigolo-free air.

  I think I’m walking. I hear more than one person call my name. The door is so close, and I pull the handle to open it as though my next breath depends on it. My tears roll freely. There’s nothing I can do to stop them, and I don’t want to stop them. I’m embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I stepped right into Belmont’s trap, and Adrian and Maya couldn’t wait to tell me. He’s a liar. They’re liars. I need to get off this island.

  “Daisy!” Belmont shouts. His hand squeezes my bicep, and he pulls me into him.

  “Let go of me,” I huff, jerking out of his grasp.

  He does as I ask and lifts his hands to show me he’s complying. “Let’s go home. We can talk there.”

  “Home?” I snarl. “That’s right. I should go home.”

  “No, you’re not leaving the island. Not like this.”

  A couple holding hands walk past us. They’re being nosy. I’ve never been the sort to make a public scene. Then I see Adrian and Maya walk out of the restaurant.

  “Okay, just get me away from here,” I implore. Belmont doesn’t have to be told twice. He tries to take my hand, but I pull away. I refuse to acknowledge the pain in his eyes. “I don’t want to walk past them.”

  Maya and Adrian are headed in our direction, and we’ll have to pass them to get to the car. Belmont reaches for my hand again. I let him take it this time because I trust him to get me out of here without running into the people who have singlehandedly destroyed my life.

  We turn left at the next road and nearly run up an alley. Swimming has given me very good endurance, so I can keep up with him as we sprint to the car. Belmont and I stare miserably into each other’s eyes as he opens the door to let me in.

  He drives slower than usual. I stare out the window, turned away from him. The night is as bleak as I feel.

  “Daisy.” His whisper disturbs the silence. “I wanted to tell you. I really did.”

  “You should’ve,” I say after a long pause.

  Charlie’s comment about Belmont being good in bed makes sense now. And he is good! He’s an expert. The things he’s done to my body. And then I wonder… “Do you have a sexual addiction or something?”

  “Huh? No!” he replies, disgusted. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “You’re making more of this than you should because you want me to hurt you.”

  “Ha,” I scoff. “You lied to me and now you’re accusing me of overreacting?”

  “I used to be a gigolo. The operative word is ‘used’ to be.”

  “But you used your sexual tricks to make me think I loved you.”

  “If you love me because I made you come, then you really didn’t love me at all.”

  “Maybe I don’t. I wouldn’t know. I just...” I close my eyes and massage the tension at the bridge of my nose. “I just want to be somewhere else right now.”

  The car makes a swift right turn and comes to a screeching halt along the side of the road.

  “Don’t leave the Vineyard, Daisy,” he pleads.

  I watch him, tongue-tied. Even now, I find his face attractive, but I can only see him as another man that Maya screwed who claimed to love me. At least he confessed that he had sex with her. He just left out the part about how she paid for it. There’s something iniquitous about that whole ordeal.

  “How long has it been since you’ve worked as a…?” I ask quietly while staring straight ahead.

  “Five years, three months, and thirteen days,” he whispers.

  “Why did you do it? Aren’t you from money?”

  He sniffs disdainfully. “I didn’t do it for the money.”

  “Then why did you do it?” I sound so sad.

  “It’s a long story, Daisy.”

  “Then you should start talking.”

  He studies the way I’m looking at him. After a moment, he chuckles. I’m wondering what’s funny when he says, “I must really love you if I’m going to dig up this shit out of the landfill.”

  I frown, conflicted. Belmont strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “After I graduated from college, I left Denver and moved to L.A. to become an actor. I figured I had the looks, the personality; hell, they’d be knocking down my door.” He smirks nostalgically. “It took me seven years to learn I didn’t have any goddamn talent. But I kept getting auditions. The casting couch swings both ways.”

  “What do you mean? Are you bi-sexual?” I ask.

  “No, babe,” he replies quickly. “There are a lot of powerful women in Hollywood. Some men tried with me, but I was just never into that.”

  “So what–these women paid you to sleep with them?”

  “Not directly. I got auditions, small parts. I could never hold the job because I’m a horrible actor.”

  “When are you going to get to the gigolo part?”

  He sighs and looks into my eyes. “I’ve lost you already, haven’t I?” He sounds so sad.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, Belmont. I need to process this.
”

  He nods as his eyes gleam with hope. “That’s fair.”

  “Are you going to finish telling me?”

  “You still want to know this shit? Why?”

  “Because I want to know everything about the person I fell in love with in such a short amount of time.”

  “Remember that.”

  “Remember what?”

  “That you love me.”

  His expression is so sincere. I nod. “I will.”

  “Okay,” he says as if I’ve given him permission to continue. “I was with a woman who said I was fucking up her reputation and making a fool out of myself by auditioning. She said acting wasn’t my talent–making women feel—” He stops cold turkey.

  “Loved,” I mutter. My chin quivers, and it doesn’t want to stop trembling.

  “I love you, Daisy. Everything I said, what we did, none of it was an act. Remember, I’m a terrible actor.”

  “I’m so hurt,” I whisper. I sniff and wipe the tears off of my cheeks.

  Belmont squeezes my hand. I don’t withdraw it because I can’t move. I’m not numb, but I want to be.

  “Don’t just pack up and leave. Promise me you won’t. If you decide that you have to get the hell out of Dodge, tell me first,” he says.

  “Okay,” I acquiesce. I’m exhausted and need to be alone. “But I can’t stay in your house?”

  “Yes, you can, and you will. I’ll go across the street, give you time to cool down. When you call me, I’ll come right over. And I won’t come over until then.”

  That’s how we leave it. Belmont drops me off and doesn’t come inside. I can tell it kills him to watch me leave without him, but I can’t be with him right now. I need space. If he touches me, I’ll let him make love to me because I love him.

  I curl up in a ball on top of the bed without undressing or washing off my makeup. Even though my stomach growls and my head hurts from hunger and heartache, I close my eyes and let exhaustion put me to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  A Change in Direction

  When I wake up, my whole body aches. Some of those pangs are from swimming, some from the sheer amount of sex I had in twenty-four hours, but most are from the events of last night. I would think it was a horrible nightmare if I wasn’t still wearing the Dior.