“Do you like the food?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Don’t tempt me, girl. I’m only human,” he growled.
She felt the familiar hot press of wanting him and meekly bit down on a slice of chorizo.
“Yes. It’s delicious,” she said.
Chris stood up, leaned across the table, and kissed her on the lips, his mouth just brushing hers; a more modest kiss than the first; but Sally was still on fire.
“Try a peach,” he said. “They’re sweet.They’re cold.”
She blushed richly.
“Don’t worry,” Chris said tenderly. “We’re gonna put things right for you. I mean it.When you’re mine, I want you whole.”
He took things slow enough. Sally half expected her phone to ring the next morning, pestering her for a date. But Chris waited one entire day. Next time, he took her to a discreet restaurant in the city.The third date was on a weekend; he asked her if she wanted to go to the movies, and when Sally said yes, he drove her off to a private screening of the latest blockbuster movie, fresh out of the edit suite, at the home of a studio president. Eventually, Sally was even able to tell him what had happened to her that night in Texas.
Chris didn’t mention sex again. But he held her hand, slipped his brawny arm around her shoulders. When they walked together in public, he always twisted his muscular body, like he was physically protecting her.
Sally appreciated that he wasn’t pushing her into sex. He was waiting for her. And she started to feel like she hadn’t lost everything that night in the back of Leo’s car. Her first time had been snatched from her. But there was a second time, and all the times after that, to come.
If she ever wanted to.
And to her astonishment, this brawny, rough, ultramasculine guy was apparently ready and willing to wait.
Six weeks going out, and he had never discussed her rape. But Sally knew it was going to come.
He was cooking dinner for her at his gorgeous little bachelor pad in the Hollywood Hills, all glass walls, leather couches, and cowhide rugs.
“Want some wine? I got a pinot grigio. Goes good with spaghetti and clams.”
“Yes, thanks.” Sally curled her long legs under her on his gigantic, custom-made La-Z-Boy chair.
“Babe,” Chris said. He stirred the pasta and didn’t look at her. “If you feel you can, I want you to tell me how the rape happened.”
“It’s not important,” Sally said. “I’ve moved on.”
“It is important.” Now he did look at her. “It’s important to me.You’re important to me.”
He poured her a large, chilled glass of wine and handed it over.
Sally nodded. Chris had dated her now for quite a while. He deserved to hear about it, hear about what was holding her back.
She described her life in Texas, leaving her mother’s illness out of it. Leaving school.The beauty parlor. Elaine. Leo Fisk.
When she was done, Chris didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Then he expertly lifted the steaming pasta out of the pot with his pasta forks and tossed it with the clams, ripping some fresh oregano over it and squeezing lemon; he brought two large bowls over to the table that looked out over his pool deck, the water illuminated at night.
“What you got down there is unfinished business,” he said.
Sally stared. “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”
He gestured to her plate. “Eat.”
Sally did; it was delicious.
“I’m from Mississippi,” he said. “We don’t let stuff like that pass by. You felt you couldn’t prosecute, I understand. But he’s gonna get his.”
Sally blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m going to go down there and kick his ass.”
She blinked. “Beat him up?”
“Nothing permanent. I’m gonna break his arm.” Chris said it very matter-of-factly.
“It won’t solve anything.”
“It will. It’ll stop him thinking he can rape women and get away with it.” Chris looked at her. “Who says you were the only one, baby? No, I’m going to confront the guy. My two cents, you should come, Sally. Put that ghost to rest. And then”—he took her hand—“you and I can move on.”
CHAPTER 12
They flew to Dallas the next day, and within an hour, the limo arrived in Hartford. Sally was wearing a gorgeous Chanel suit, pale yellow, with a Prada blouse of buttercup silk, canary diamond studs, and yellow-and-white Jimmy Choo heels with calf straps. She carried a Gucci purse, and her long platinum hair fell straight and glossy to her shoulders.
Chris made no attempt to hide his identity. He even wore a Dodgers shirt with his own name on it.
“Is it like you remember?” he asked, as they pulled up on Main Street.
Sally looked through the tinted windows. “Yeah. Almost.”
The town was as drab and dispirited as when she and Mona had first rolled in. The liquor store was still doing good business. But when she looked for Rodeo Girl … the bright, breezy storefront had disappeared. In its place, paint peeling, was a new version of Fisk’s Beauty Parlor. Looked like business was bad.
People had gathered around, across the street. A limo! Limos were not usual in this town. Some of the folks even started snapping pictures with their cameras.
“Come on, baby,” Chris said, grimly. He opened the door and stepped out.
There was a moment’s pause.Then some of the men shouted in recognition, and the girls started squealing.
Chris offered his hand to Sally. She took it, swinging her impossibly long legs out of the leather seats of the limo, her slim hand in his callused one.The crowd oohed and aahed at the girl they assumed was a model.
But then, as their chauffeur was closing the car door behind him, there came another cry of recognition.
“Oh, my good Lord! If it ain’t Sally Lassiter.”
Sally walked across the street. Chris followed her, and slipped an arm around her shoulders as she talked.
“Lucy? Lucy Drew?”
“You remember!” Lucy had taken Sally’s style lessons to heart. She was wearing a simple combo of jeans and a white tee, and she’d lost twenty pounds and looked great. Leo’s old asshole pal Simon Bernardillo was standing next to her. He looked at Sally, swallowed nervously. Stared at Chris. Eyes darting from one to the other, like he couldn’t believe it.
The entire crowd squeezed tighter. Faces she remembered, lots she didn’t. Lucy was about the only one she’d liked. And everybody was hanging on Sally’s reply.
“Of course.You look great.”
“I look great!” Lucy squealed.“What about you? Oh, my gosh. Sally Lassiter, you look like a millionaire! And is that really …”
Her voice trailed off, and she blushed.
“Yes, it is. Lucy, this is my boyfriend, Chris Nelson.” Almost a moan of pleasure went up from the crowd. “Chris, this is Lucy Drew, she was nice to me back when I was at school here.”
Chris lifted his baseball cap politely. Several of the girls in the crowd clutched themselves.
“It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”
“And this is my boyfriend Simon, you remember?”
Sure she did. Simon was dating Lucy now, and he had the good grace to look shamefaced. Maybe he’d matured.
“Hi, Sally,” he muttered. “Those are mighty nice earrings Mr. Nelson bought you.”
“Hey, I didn’t buy ’em.” Chris rubbed his hand up and down on Sally’s shoulder, proudly. He looked at Lucy and smiled.“She’s gonna be a millionaire, someday real soon. Sally founded the GLAMOUR store in L.A. So she pretty much buys her own jewels.”
There were gasps of envy. Sally saw them now, the kids that had teased her at school. Grown up. Still losers.
“That’s fantastic,” Lucy said.“That’s just incredible. And you’re dating a star.”
“Can I have your autograph?” Simon burst out, unable to stop himself.
Chris loo
ked at Sally, and she nodded.
That unlocked the floodgates. The men shoved forward, desperate for a signature. Some ran to their houses to fetch baseballs.
“You go ahead,” Chris said to Sally. He nodded at Fisk’s. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”And he unhurriedly started to sign, and smile, like the All-Star he was.
Sally entered Fisk’s.The musty smell was back.The little bell, too, that tinkled over the doorway. A new girl was sweeping up hair; she looked like she was from school, on a summer job. Her eyes widened when she saw Sally, in all her finery.
Elaine Fisk was standing over in the corner, dispiritedly polishing a mirror. She saw Sally at first in the reflection; and then slowly spun around.
All the weight was back.The years had taken every ounce of vivacity from her face. Elaine Fisk was a beaten woman.
“It really is you,” she said. “And”—her gaze traveled over Sally—“you’re rich. I knew you would be.”
“Afternoon, Elaine.” Sally controlled herself. Elaine Fisk had done nothing to her. “I’m looking for Leo.”
“Leo?” Elaine blinked, stupidly. Then she scowled. “You left me, Sally Lassiter, you left me without any word. My goddamn business fell to pieces. Mark lost his shirt. It was you, it all went around you …”
“Momma?”
Sally froze. She’d know that voice in the depths of hell.
“Are we all out of Bud Light?”
Leo ambled into the salon. He wasn’t shaved, and he was fat. His shirt had grease stains on it, and it was open at the neck, so you could see a graying vest.
He glanced up. “Holy shit,” he said, and his mouth broke into a broad grin, revealing crooked teeth. “Don’t you look hot, baby?”
The bell tinkled. Chris Nelson entered. Leo stared, and his jaw dropped open. Sally remembered, Leo loved his sports.
“Shit,” he said again.
“Miss.” Chris turned to the schoolgirl, who had stopped sweeping and just turned to stare. “Why don’t you shut up shop for today?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “My girlfriend needs a moment with Ms. Fisk.”
“I—sure. Yes, sir,” she whispered, then she snatched the bill and ran out the door.
“I fucking love you,” Leo said to Chris Nelson. “You’re my hero.You datin’ our Sally? For real?”
“Elaine,” Sally said, her voice loud and clear, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this.You’re a good woman. But I left Hartford for one reason. Because Leo raped me.”
There was total silence in the room. Elaine Fisk turned her head, very slowly, and looked at her son.
“Tell me that ain’t so,” she said quietly.
He flushed and bared his crooked teeth. “It ain’t, Momma. She wanted it. She was hot for me.”
Sally looked at Elaine. “He picked me up walking home. When I got in the car, he was drunk. He drove through town, out to the cornfields.Threatened to kill me, leave me right in the crop to rot away.”
Elaine crammed her fist into her mouth.
“I didn’t mean none of that,” Leo muttered. He looked at Chris, at Chris’s solid, muscle-bound athlete’s body, at the eyes like flint. Fear was written bright across his face. “Look, mister, I—I was drunk. Maybe I pushed it too hard, maybe.”
“I was a virgin, Elaine. A virgin when he raped me.”
Chris moved toward Leo.
“No!” he squealed. “Don’t hurt me!”
“Chris!” Sally said.
“I won’t kill him.” Chris kept advancing, as Leo tried to scuttle away. “I’m just gonna break his arm and his leg.You see, he’ll hit me first. At least, the judge won’t know different.”
“Chris.” Sally ran up to him, put her hand on his arm. “Baby, please. Don’t you see? He’s got his. Already.”
“What do you mean?”
She whisked back the curtain, pointed to the empty liquor bottles scattered around the couch, where ESPN was on.
“He’s broke. He’s living with his momma. He’s an alcoholic. And there ain’t a lot worse than that. I know.”
She pulled him away, gestured to the faded beauty parlor.
“This used to be a moneymaker. Could have been something big. Elaine could have started a chain with me. Now look. Look what happened to this family. Leo did it to them, not me. And for the rest of his days he has to live with it.”
“Oh, my God,” Elaine said, wretchedly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.You didn’t do anything.”
Chris turned to Leo, cowering in a corner of the room.
“I’m a very rich man,” he said.“Sally’s turned herself into a successful woman.We’ll have people keeping an eye on you. If you lay one hand on another female in anger—even one time—I’ll send some guys after you. And they’ll be pros. And they won’t have any young ladies with them, to call them off.You follow me?”
Leo nodded.
“Can’t hear you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Apologize to my girlfriend.”
Leo said, “I’m sorry for what I did, Sally,” and then he started to cry. High-pitched, girlish, drunken sobs, like he was feeling very sorry for himself.
Sally looked at him.The anger she’d kept in her heart melted right away.There was nothing left but contempt.
“Don’t blame yourself, Elaine,” she said.“You ain’t responsible for any of this.”
Then she held out her hand to Chris. And for the first time, she truly felt she was in love with him.
“Come on, sugar,” she said. “Let’s go.”
When Chris dropped her off at her apartment block, he kissed her again.
“I’m going to send you tickets to the game tomorrow night. There’s a box for the players’ wives and girlfriends. Starts at eight, so maybe you’ll be done with the store.”
“The press will see me …”
“Honey, I lay you two to one they already know.You going to be there?”
“You know I am,” she said, surrendering to the fact that she was totally, insanely, passionately hot for him.
“Good. It’ll help me wear down your resistance,” he said and winked at her. Then he rolled up the window and drove off.
“So where have you been?”
Mona was sulking; her arm still in a cast, she was fussing at not having heard from Sally all night.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll call next time. Hey, that thing can come off tomorrow.”
“Yes, well, that’s good.” Mona sniffed. “I can’t run for four weeks, but they have an Olympic pool at the gym, so I’m starting swimming.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Sally! What man were you with?”
Sally started, guiltily. “How do you know I was with a man?”
“That look on your face.”
“Just … a nice man. We’re going out again tomorrow. He’s the man that saved you, Mom.”
“Oh—well. I suppose it’s okay, if you don’t do anything stupid. Remember Daddy is watching over you.”
“I will,” said Sally, feeling the heat in her evaporate. How did Mom know exactly the right buttons to press? Maybe mothers did that by instinct.
“And some people called. Jane and Haya. Haya said you should come by to see her tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“And Jane wanted you to know that the store broke some sort of record this week. She says you have a problem with enough stock and can you bring in anything extra from Wave?”
“Okay!” Sally grinned. There it was, that glow of achievement. Chris Nelson wanted more than a pretty face, and she had no intention of just being that.
“And then lots of journalists called and asked if you were going out with a baseball player.They said you got spotted at the airport together.”
She froze. “What did you say?”
“I hung up on them.”
“Good job, Mom.”
“So are you?”
Sally surrendered. “Yes; the ma
n who saved you plays a little ball, yes.”
“He’s an All-Star shortstop?” Mona asked, determinedly. “For the Dodgers? Cover of Sports Illustrated? Future Hall of Famer?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking, if you already know,” Sally sulked.
“I didn’t. The journalists told me.” Mona smiled. “If somebody famous was the man who saved me, I reckon he must be a good man.Those celebrities are usually pampered brats. He took a risk.”
Sally remembered the welts on his hands.
“He certainly did.”
“Just remember, honey, you only have one heart.”
Sally went over and kissed her mother on the forehead.
“Believe me, Mom,” she said, “I’m trying.”
Jane Morgan was trying to keep her feet on the ground. It was only seven weeks, not even two months yet.There had been factors ; curiosity. Well-managed press. Additional coverage after that, from stuff you could never script: Haya in labor, Sally starting to date some famous athlete—boy, they’d loved that. Even Jane, who tried to stay in the background, was getting well-known.
But you couldn’t fool people forever. If the shoppers came back, it would be because of their excellent service, first-rate staff, and the whole experience she was selling.
Maybe she would wait and see if they did come back.
But damn, these numbers.
Out of the park. Like a ball off the end of Sally’s new boyfriend’s bat. Home-run stuff. Records.
She was now fielding new calls. Not just from newspapers’ Style sections. From Wall Street analysts.
She turned off her computer and flopped down onto the bed, exhausted.These last three weeks had been mad. And with Haya gone, and Sally’s eyes dazzled by Chris Nelson, all the stock rearrangement had fallen on Jane, as well as staff evals, billing, and the rest of it.
They needed to hire management, she thought. Vice presidents. Who could she steal from Saks? And that wasn’t all. At this rate of cash flow—be honest, she knew it wasn’t going to drop, in fact it was going to increase.The brand now had critical mass, and their foundations of quality were there. It was an out-of-the-gate success. Well, at this rate, they’d have to expand. Move into the East Coast. New York. Then Chicago.Then D.C., Seattle. She ticked the cities off in order of importance. After that, they’d be looking for major new investment and some places abroad: Paris, London … and to be different, perhaps a boutique in Mauritius. GLAMOUR was just that. It had to be open in St. Tropez and Milan….
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