Indian Summer

by lanie love

  “That’s not what I meant at all, Sweetheart. I just thought, you know, you would focus on running my home and raising my kids, whatever housewives do. I don’t know, mend my pants.”

  She jerks back, then looks around the room for the candid camera. Her eyes lands on the heavy paperweight on my desk and for an instant, I think she contemplates throwing it at me.

  “What day and age are you living in? Have you ever heard of Womens’ Suffrage? There is a whole sexual revolution going on right now and women are at the center of it.”

  “No wife of mine is going to be out there tuning in and turning on, or whatever those buffoons are out there doing.”

  “First of all, Mr. Mason, being your wife doesn’t mean I’m giving up being my own person. And for your information, it takes both of us to run our home and raise our kids.” Her arms are crossed and her foot is stuck out in defiance. “And although there is nothing wrong with being a housewife, if one so chooses, I am a working woman. I can’t believe you have the nerve to stand there and….” She stops in mid-sentence when she takes note of the grin on my face. “Oh, I can’t believe you sometimes, Michael Mason.” She smacks my arm. “You really had me going.”

  “I loved every minute of it.” I circle her waist and pull her into me. “You are so damn cute when you’re mad at me.”

  “Who told you I was quitting?”

  “HR. Of course, they didn’t tell me why you were quitting.”

  “Well, that’s the part I wanted to talk to you about.” She bites her bottom lip before replacing it with her fingernail.

  “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “You promise not to laugh?”

  “I promise.”

  “I want to open a bakery.” She blurts it out.

  “A bakery.” I say to clarify, because this is not at all what I was expecting.

  “My mother, when she died, she left me and my brother money and she also left us her bakery, but we were young and my dad didn’t care enough about it to keep it for us so…” She trails off trying not to cry.

  “Sweetheart, hey.” I kiss her cheek, taking her face in my hands. “It’s okay.”

  “I know it’s a long shot.” She whispers. “There are a million bakeries in downtown alone and I don’t know the first thing about running one, but I want to try. It’s been a dream of mine for a long time.”

  “And now it’s our dream. I’ll help you.”

  “I would like that. Not too much help, though. You can advise me, but I want to do it on my own, even if it fails.”

  Oh no, Sweetheart, there is not a chance I’m going to let it fail.

  “I completely understand.” I say. “So, when are you going to start this venture?”

  “Ummm, well, after the honeymoon.” She grins at me as she walks towards the door. “But before the kids.” Kids! “Mwah.” She blows me a kiss. “I’m going to my apartment to pick up my mail.”

  “Do you really want kids?” She’s out the door and didn’t hear my question. Jesus Christ, if I didn’t just inadvertently open up a can of worms.

  *****

  “Mason.” I say answering my phone, annoyed at the interruption. I’ve been going over our bottom-line for the past hour. It’s looking good. The extended summer weather is giving our beach hotels an added boost and the new San Diego hotel is doing very well. “It’s Ritter, sir.” Myron Ritter, Jane’s bodyguard is on the line. The strain in his voice is giving me cause for concern.

  “What is it?” I’m hoping the damn press is not hounding Jane again.

  “It’s Miss Winters, sir. Something’s wrong with her. She needs you here right away.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Not physically, sir. She seems to be in some kind of shock. She won’t say a word to me. She’s just... staring.”

  I get up and race out of my office door, heading for the elevator, wondering why the hell he hasn’t gotten her medical attention. I’m pushing the elevator button furiously wondering what the hell is taking it so long to arrive.

  Shit!

  Chapter Eleven

  Beth

  Island pulls into the gas station just off Wilshire to top off my tank.

  “Where are you going?” He asks when I grab my bag to get out.

  “I’m going to go pay for the pump and maybe get a treat or something. Do you want anything?”

  “No, I don’t and you’re not going anywhere.” He gets out of the car, sure that I’ll obey his all-out command of staying inside. I don’t know who he thinks he is. I sit with my arms folded, fuming as he disappears into the store. I really and truly do not know who the hell he thinks he is. But damn if I’m not doing exactly what he told me to do. I roll my eyes at myself, about to get out of the car when he reappears. I watch fascinated as he strolls over without a care in the world. I can watch that man walk all day. “I suppose you thought I’d let you pump the gas too?” He hands me a small bag and I peek inside while he moves to the gas pump.

  “Yes!” I take out the slice of peach pie and rip that sucker open. Mmmm, so good and warm. I put the fork in my mouth with my lips parted so not to mess up my lipstick.

  “I really hope that’s not your breakfast.” He says, hopping back in, watching me eat. I turn to him with the fork still in my mouth mid-bite and shrug my answer, all while his eyes are transfixed on the way I’m working my mouth.

  “Mmmm.” I moan, chewing more animated than necessary to give him a show.

  “Jesus Christ.” He groans. “I’ve never wanted to be a goddamn piece of pie so much in my life.” I spoon the last bite in my mouth, turning the fork upside down, and sucking on it as I pull it out. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Well, you could take me to work, because, you know, I’m late and my boss is a slave driver.” I tease him. He smirks at me before starting the engine and pulling out.

  “Safe and sound.” He says, parking me in my designated spot right out front of the office building.

  “Thank you.” I breathe easier at finally getting to work. Even though my whole morning is gone, I can’t say that it was wasted. Aside from potentially being stranded on the freeway, it was one of the best Monday’s I’ve had all month. “How are you going to get back to your office?” I ask, realizing he doesn’t have his SUV.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I can run you over there. I mean, since I’m late, why not go big and be really really late…”

  I stop mid-joke when he leans into me. Before I can stop him, his lips are crashing into mine. My hands instinctively fly to his shoulders to push him away, but his are on my back, holding me in place. It only takes me a millisecond to succumb. I stop my hands from pushing and wrap them around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. My lips part, answering his tongues request to enter my mouth.

  “Mmmm.” He moans, slipping his tongue in to dance with mine. His hand moves down my back, inching up my skirt, leaving a trail of heat on my bare thigh. The overwhelming need to breathe makes me pull back. When did this damn car get so hot? I rest my forehead on his, trying to catch my breath. A car pulling in a few spaces over makes me remember where I am.

  Quickly, I fix myself, looking around wildly to see if anyone saw us. Thank God, everyone who knows me is inside working and the occupant of the car is too busy texting on her phone to notice anything else. Satisfied that we are safe from prying eyes, I look at Island in question, but he makes no apologies. “I had to do that for my own sanity. Those lips were driving me crazy.” I laugh, taking my fingers and wiping away the red lipstick that smeared on his lips. He does the same for me.

  “I… um. I should get inside.”

  “Wait.” He says, holding the crook of my arm. “You never answered me. What are we going to do?”

  “We are not going to do anything. I have to do something.”

  “Baby—”

  “Look, I know you love being all Alpha Male Dom guy.” I stop to look around, but
still no one is here to hear me. “But this is my life. I have to own up to it.” I grab my keys out of the ignition and walk inside.

  “You’re done.” Beau says, turning around in my office chair. I stop mid-stride at the sight of him.

  “Done?” I close my door behind me.

  “I came to take you to lunch. I just figured you had an appointment.” His face morphs into a frown, looking me up and down. “You’ve been playing with yourself.”

  “What? No. I was just running late.” I adjust my clothes, trying to fix whatever he saw was wrong.

  “You’re just getting to work?”

  “I was stuck on the freeway.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did. You were in a meeting so, Island helped me out.”

  “Island? You called him?”

  “No, of course not. He just… he was at your desk and he saw it was me calling.”

  “Why the hell didn’t he tell me?”

  “I was stuck on the side of the freeway, so I guess he just thought he’d help. I don’t know.”

  “Are you okay?” He gets up, moving toward me.

  “I was just low on gas.” I tell him, wiping at the lipstick that I know is still smeared because he’s staring at it.

  “You’ve been channeling your Grandma Jane again.” He says, helping me wipe my chin.

  “Yeah.” I laugh a little to try and dispel the tension between us. He’s still inspecting me, his eyes darting over my body before meeting mine again. They’re hurt and angry now, seeing the truth.

  “I can smell you.” He whispers. The words are coming from behind his gritted teeth. His voice is low, threatening. I lean back a little when he dips his knees to whisper in my face. “I can smell him on you.”

  “What?”

  “You could have at least showered after.” He says, turning around and calmly walking back to my chair, sitting down. “You have no shame anymore.”

  “What do you mean? What are you talking about?” He says nothing. He just stares at me, cold and furious. “Showered after what? What do you think I’ve been doing? I was stuck on the freeway…” I stop yammering when he shakes his head, disgusted with me.

  “The worst part isn’t even you lying to me right now. The worst part is you thinking I’d believe it. Stop insulting my intelligence.”

  “I don’t know what you think happened.”

  “Oh, don’t start with that shit. You think I don’t know about your little soiree in the kitchen the other night? You smelled of him then. Did you fuck him while I waited like an idiot for you to bring out your grandmother’s goddamn peach pie?”

  “What?”

  “You think I’m that blind? That I didn’t notice how you two only fucked each other that day in his playroom? How You reached for him, wanted him? How he took you?”

  “Beau—”

  “He fucking took you and you loved it. You were making love to him while I watched. Why the hell do you think I fucked Kim? Not that you even gave a shit.”

  “I did give a shit. I do. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

  “I love you, Bethy—”

  “I love you too.”

  “But you’ve never been a very good liar.”

  “I’m not lying. I do love you, Beau.”

  “Just not enough for you to stop fucking him.”

  “I haven’t slept with him. Not since that day. I swear.” I shake my head so fast it makes me dizzy.

  “Maybe not physically, but I’m sure you’ve had more than enough orgasms in his honor.”

  “Beau.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong, Bethy. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll believe you. Just say the words. I love you so damn much that I’ll believe you.”

  “I didn’t call him just now. I called you.” I choke the words out, trying to keep myself from crying.

  His eyes fall from mine. He closes them, pained in the knowledge of everything I didn’t say, of everything I didn’t deny.

  We’re are both silent in our knowledge, silent in our realizations that what we’ve had is over. He sits with his eyes still closed not wanting to look at me as I stand hugging myself.

  “I’ll call the movers and have them pick up my stuff first thing tomorrow.” He finally speaks, letting the air back into the room so I can breathe again.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Sure, I do.” He sighs. “Unless you want to keep going on this way. We haven’t been right since that day and it’s taking me this long to admit it. Do you think I want this? I don’t want this.”

  “I know.” I whisper. “I didn’t either. I never wanted to hurt you. That has never been anywhere near what I wanted.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I stare at him, eyes wide at that million-dollar question. It’s one I’ve been asked all my life. My dad, my teachers, now Beau. They’ve all, at one point in my life, asked me that same damn question and to this day, I haven’t been able to truly answer for fear of disappointing them. There is only one person I’ve ever been able to tell my secrets to and I wish I could just run home to her right now. She’d bake me something good and hold me while I cry.

  “Come on, Bethy. You didn’t put on your grandmother’s red lipstick today for nothing.”

  “I… I want him.”

  I say the words and watch as the man I’ve loved for over two years become so small and broken I barely recognize him. I want to make it better, to run to him, to lie to him, but my feet are frozen in place, solid as the thickest of icebergs and they will not propel me forward, because in my innermost heart I want this. I want this with him to end. I need it to end.

  “I know.” He finds his voice. “Why do you think I never unpacked?” His words break my heart. This whole time I was yelling at him for all those boxes being around and not once did he say a word to me in defense. He gets up and looks around what used to be his office before I took it over, and laughs. “I knew when you two first looked at each other right here in this room. I knew. I knew it was over for us then. I’d lost you to that bastard and he didn’t even have to fight me for you. Were you ever even mine?”

  “Yes, I was. And Island, he never wanted to risk your friendship.”

  “You let him worry about that.” He says, walking over to me, nuzzling my forehead with his nose, sniffing my hair. “We were good for a while, weren’t we? For a minute there, we were really good.”

  “Yes.” I say.

  He nods, pressing his lips to my forehead before walking out the door without so much as a backwards glance. He only pauses once before getting into the elevator. He turns around to face me, giving me a weak smile before the doors slide shut. Quickly, I close my office door before I dissolve into a heap on the floor. I stay there for God knows how long, not moving, just staring into space.

  ****

  Indian Summer of 1968

  Michael

  “Jane.” I hurry into her apartment, calling out for her. Kyle is a step behind me. She’s sitting on the floor of her living room with her legs pulled up close to her chest slowly rocking herself back and forth. I drop down on my knees close to her. “Jane, Sweetheart, can you hear me?” I touch her knee to keep her still and look up at Ritter.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I really can’t say for sure, sir. After I swept the apartment, I let her in, waiting for her outside. It was taking her longer than usual, so I came in to check on her and this is how I found her.”

  “Hey, it’s Michael.” I turn my attention back to her. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, Sweetheart? Jane, can you talk to me?”

  “Cockroaches.” She says, so low that I can barely hear.

  “Cockroaches?” I repeat and she starts to rock herself again. Kyle and Ritter look around the apartment trying to find out where they are to have scared her like this.

  “Sir,
Kyle, you need to see this.” Ritter calls to us from the kitchen.

  “What the hell?” I say, stepping into the kitchen to see roaches crawling everywhere. Huge water bugs are fluttering their wings and flying around. The hissing sounds they are making has my skin crawling.

  “They seem to be coming from that box,” Kyle says about the medium sized package that was dropped on the floor. “No name or address on it.” He carefully moves in for a closer look.

  Ritter yells, thrashing his arms about as one of the bugs fly too close to him. Never in my life have I seen three grown men run from a room so fast. I go back to Jane and see one of them crawling their way towards her. I step on it, smashing the huge body of it with my heel. The feel of it under my shoe disgusts me. I need to get her the hell out of here.

  “I’m going to take you home, Sweetheart, okay?”

  Bending down, I gently pick her up. She wraps her arms around me, but she won’t look at me. She is stiff as a board as I carry her to the car. I have Ritter drive us to my place while Kyle stays behind to sort out what the hell that was we just left. In the back of my mind, I’m fighting a sense of dread. I can’t shake the feeling that Jane was right. Bernadette is swooping in to take away our happiness.

  Mom and Karen are waiting for us as I carry Jane to our room and sit her on the bed. Mom, feeling that my stress will upset her, throws me out of the room while she and Karen attends to her. Not knowing what else to do, I pace outside the door for what seems like a lifetime before Mom comes out to join me.

  “Karen is helping her to get more comfortable.” She says.

  “Is she talking? Can I see her?”

  “I don’t mean to worry you, but I think we need to call Dr. Bloomfield. Let’s see what he can make of it.” She might not have meant to worry me, but she sure has worried me. Jane said Mom was able to calm her down once before. The fact that she can’t do it now, scares the hell out of me.

  “Good Lord, Mom.” I run my hands through my hair trying to stave off my panic.

  “You need to be strong for her. Now, can you sit with her while I make the call?” I nod, not trusting my voice to speak for me right now. I get myself together and go into our room to be with Jane.