Palm Springs Heat

by DC Thome

  Lara gritted her teeth. “Whether I examine it or not, it’s still a sham.”

  She walked to the door deliberately, working hard to retain her dignity. She was tempted to slam the door behind her, but her better judgment won out and she closed it gently, nodded to Sushma’s assistant, and left.

  16

  Out in the hall, Lara took a moment to collect herself. Okay, this is bad. But how bad? Lara’s divorce had been messy, but she never expected Kyle would stoop so low as to fake a sex tape. Even if she proved it was fake, she would be seen as just another bimbo who’d gained fifteen minutes of fame by simply spreading her legs.

  And lose Clay.

  So, pretty bad.

  As she headed back to her suite, a door behind her opened—the door to Corynne’s suite. Lara glanced back as Corynne stepped out. Just who I wanted to see. Lara smiled politely, intending to dash off, but Corynne smiled at her, oddly triumphant. Lara’s heart skipped a beat when someone else exited the suite.

  Clay.

  Some previous commitment!

  Clay never saw Lara. Corynne swung him around, looked into his eyes and said, “It was a wonderful night, Clay. It always is when I’m with you.”

  She kissed him, but trained her knife eyes on Lara. Lara spun and bolted around the corner.

  * * *

  Lara raced through the labyrinthine halls of the ICE House, heedless of where she was going. She turned a corner and slammed into Taequanda.

  “My, my, my. Someone’s gotten herself all worked up into a situation.”

  You don’t know the half of it. Out of breath, Lara kept her head down in a futile attempt to stop Taequanda from seeing her tears. “I’m sorry, I just—” The tears came even harder.

  Taequanda put an arm around Lara. “Why don’t we step into my room so we can talk about it?”

  “No, I’ll be all right. Really.” Lara’s face was streaked, her eyes puffy and red.

  “I can see that.” Taequanda sounded like a mom in a sitcom.

  Lara half-laughed through the tears.

  “You know,” Taequanda said, “we don’t have to talk. We’ll just drink some tea and make chit-chat an option.”

  Tea? But Lara followed Taequanda into the suite.

  It was a feast for the eyes. Original African paintings featuring stylized dancers in outlandish headdresses adorned red-orange walls accented with rich purple streaks. A potted aloe plant rose like a spiny bonfire in tongues of flame that were green at the base with dusty burgundy tips. Fierce three-foot-tall wooden war masks lorded over the room from one wall, while a mahogany dresser guarded by intricately woven raffia dolls stood sentinel against another. Between them sat a papasan chair mounded with Beanie Babies.

  And then there were the paintings, photos and figurines of naked women in amorous poses with other women. What’s up with those?

  “Really nice,” Lara said. “Interesting.”

  “It’s the room I always imagined when I was a teenager. ’Course, I was a very messed-up teenager.”

  Taequanda put two mugs of water into a microwave oven. “Check this out.” She opened a tea box and held it up to Lara’s nose. The powder had strong mint overtones.

  “Nice. What kind is it?”

  “I don’t know. I just tell my P.A. to get me more when the box is low.”

  “It’s not Tieguanyin.”

  “The Iron Goddess of Mercy. The vaunted Ms. V thinks she’s all about that tea, which she may be—except,” Taequanda counted off the points on her fingers, “she’s not so tough, not much of a goddess and wouldn’t know mercy if it bit her in the ass. But she’s right about one thing: She is as nasty as that shit tastes.”

  “She said it costs fifteen hundred dollars a pound.”

  “Like costing the most makes it the best.”

  “It smells good.”

  “It does. But what difference does that make if you don’t like it?”

  The microwave beeped. Taequanda motioned for Lara to sit in one of two rattan chairs near the window. Lara looked out as Taequanda mixed a spoonful of tea into each mug.

  “Now, this,” Taequanda said, handing Lara a steaming mug, “this is something God herself thought up.”

  Herself?

  Lara gazed into the mug. Sparks of golden light reflected off the wavy surface. Sumptuous clouds of steam bathed her face. She could feel the red disappear from her eyes and the confusion from her mind.

  “Go on, drink,” Taequanda said. “I don’t make it too hot.”

  “I was just wondering—what is it with tea around here?”

  Taequanda sat in the other chair. “It’s like everyone’s a pusher, right? I used to hate tea. But, then, they don’t have anything like this at the Albertson’s.”

  Lara took a sip—and it was heavenly. Peppery and sweet.

  “You know what messed me up when I was a kid?” Taequanda mused.

  Lara shook her head.

  “My parents.”

  “Your parents?” Lara couldn’t help glancing around at all the female erotica.

  “Oh, I see. I was going to say my parents because they were too normal. You were thinking maybe I had some kind of conflicted sexuality.” Taequanda had an admonishing look, but a teasing tone.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Taequanda tapped Lara’s knee. “Lots of people think that. But, believe you me, there was no conflict. I knew I wanted to be with girls all along. That’s right. I am a lezz-bee-an. Lez-bo. One hundred percent, dyed-in-the-wool, DNA-fueled Daughter of Sappho. You’re cool with that, right?”

  “Of course,” Lara said. No blondes allowed at Fast Lane—but a lesbian’s okay? “Taequanda—”

  “Tae-Q.”

  Lara smiled. It felt good to be included in the Between Girls Club. “Tae-Q, how did you come to be in The Rotation?”

  “Usual way. I knew people who knew people who got me an interview.”

  An interview? That’s the usual way?

  “An interview with whom?”

  Taequanda shrugged. “This one and that one—you know, peons—and then the Dragon Lady herself.”

  Lara’s body tensed and her brain whirred and clicked, like a hard drive struggling to download a really big file.

  “Unless,” Taequanda said, “you mean it like, how did I come to be in The Rotation when I don’t necessarily fit the profile?”

  “It did cross my mind.”

  “I can see that, so you don’t have to look so stressed.” Lara relaxed. Taequanda put a hand on her knee. “There we go. ’Cause we’re, like, between girls here, right?”

  Lara nodded.

  Taequanda leaned toward Lara. “It’s nothing didn’t cross my mind. When Ms. V-for-Viper told me, I wondered why. I knew the answer once I was inside: That man’s in every bed from here to Timbuktu and back again—in everybody’s head. But I swear I’ve scored more pussy in each of my eleven months than Double C’s gotten the whole damn time.”

  Lara laughed. “You do have a way with words.”

  “My only way is to say what needs to be said. And what I need to say to you is that Clay Creighton’s a changed man since you showed up.”

  “He is?”

  “You don’t know? He thinks you’re the aurora borealis, Liberty’s torch and—”

  “The leprechaun’s pot o’ gold all rolled into one?”

  “Leprechaun’s pot o’ gold? I guess that works. I was going to say the shekinah glory.”

  “The what?”

  “Yeah. Most people don’t know what that is.”

  Lara laughed. “I don’t know what that is, but I’m guessing it’s not a bad thing.”

  “No, it is not a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.”

  They sat in silence, nodding.

  Lara finished her tea. “Well.” They both stood up.

  “Whatever made you shoot down that hallway, tears spilling down your face like a waterfall,” Taequanda said, “you’ve got to shine your light on that. Shine the
light that comes from deep down inside, and you’ll find the answer.”

  Lara hugged Taequanda. “I hope so.”

  “I didn’t say ‘hope so,’” Taequanda said. “I said what I did because, what’s my way?”

  “To say what needs to be said.”

  “That’s right. Don’t let anybody write your story for you. Say what needs to be said. Write your own story.”

  17

  Sushma stood on the deck and shook her head. “What is he doing down there?”

  Morgan Hopkins stepped to the rail and looked down to find Clay crawling around on the rocks, poking his head into cracks and digging around with his hands.

  “I certainly don’t know, Ms. V,” he answered. “Would you like me to go ask him and report back to you?”

  “Fuck that,” she said. “I will go find out myself.”

  * * *

  A cool breeze blew off the water, but the sun had already burned away the fog and warmed the air. Sushma marched from the stairs that hugged the cliffside into the stark light.

  Clay looked up. “Shush? Going to work on your tan?”

  “Tan, my ass. What is the meaning of this?”

  “I wouldn’t mind if you tanned your—”

  “Do not attempt to amuse me with your sophomoric jokes. Why are you not preparing for the meeting with the lingerie people?”

  Clay’s focus returned to the recesses between boulders. “Usually, you have me at ‘lingerie.’ But I’m pretty tired right now.”

  “Which is exactly why you should not be doing whatever it is you are doing out here.”

  “You’ll be at the meeting, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’m as prepared as I need to be.”

  Sushma threw up her hands. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll toss it to you and sit there and act like I know what you’re talking about. Just like always.”

  “When will you start giving your business the respect it deserves?”

  “Maybe today wouldn’t be the best time.” Clay reached into a fissure and dug out a stone. “Who scheduled a morning meeting for me after an overnight air strike?”

  “You could have slept on the helicopter.”

  Clay stood up and stepped to another rock. “I did sleep on the helicopter. I woke up more tired than before.”

  “I have spoken to Miss McFee, and she did not appear to be tired.”

  “Corynne’s twenty-one, Shush. I could function on three hours of sleep at that age, too.”

  “Corynne is twenty-three.”

  “Whatever.” Clay knelt and dropped his head into a crack between two boulders.

  “Why are you out here?” Sushma demanded.

  Clay answered, but his voice echoed around the crevice, so Sushma gingerly stepped onto the rock with him.

  “Lara’s phone,” he said.

  “How in the world did her phone get down here?” Sushma looked suspiciously at Lara’s deck, sixty feet overhead.

  “I spooked her. She dropped the phone.”

  Sushma’s anger smoldered. “How did you ‘spook’ her?”

  “Long story.”

  “Why would you waste time looking for a stupid phone? If Miss Dixon is in need of a new one, we will simply issue it to her. In fact, should she not already have been issued a corporate phone?”

  “Maybe I’m just doing it to be nice.” He poked his head farther into the cavern where water slapped against granite.

  Sushma moved toward the steps, then stopped. She looked up at Lara’s deck again, then down to Clay. Then she took out her own phone and hit a few buttons. Sushma followed the ringtone as fast as her pumps could carry her to where the phone was wedged into a crease where grass grew in pebbly sand.

  Clay bounded to the site, too, but not before Sushma scraped aside gravel and pried the phone free.

  “Good work,” Clay said, holding out his hand. Sushma turned her back on him and flipped the phone open.

  “Come on, Shush. Give the girl a little privacy.”

  Sushma turned around with that gunslinger look. Clay stepped back as though he’d been pushed.

  “What?”

  “Do you recognize this name?” Sushma pushed a key and held up the phone so Clay could see the screen.

  “I really don’t care wha—” His mouth dropped open, his shoulders went limp and his chest deflated as Sushma played Gina’s message.

  Sushma self-righteously snapped the phone shut and marched up the steps. Clay sat down and fidgeted with the fishbowl gravel as he stared into a dark hole between two rocks.

  18

  Lara left Taequanda’s suite with a clear mind. Time to lay everything on the table with Clay. Telling Clay how she felt about him might make everything right—or get her a limo ride back to Santa Monica. One thing was certain: If Clay had spent the night with Corynne, Lara had more reason than ever to want to destroy him. But how do you destroy someone you love?

  Lara’s resolve took a hit, though, when she turned into the corridor that led to her suite. Two guards stood sentry at the open door. Chartre’s workers wheeled out a rack of clothing. Sushma barked orders from inside the room. Lara’s heart pounded.

  “Miss Dixon?”

  Lara whirled to see Morgan Hopkins.

  “I want to apologize for what’s going on here, but we did try to locate you beforehand.”

  If I’m going to be tossed out, it’s nice to know I’ll be tossed out by a gentleman.

  Lara glanced back toward her suite. “What is going on?”

  “Ms. Vishnuveda is waiting to speak with you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to explain everything.”

  I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.

  Morgan guided Lara past the guards. The room went silent. Assistants and security personnel stepped aside to let Sushma approach Lara. “I will speak to you outside.”

  Sushma marched onto the deck. No one made eye contact with Lara as she looked around the room. She straightened her jacket and joined Sushma.

  * * *

  Sushma stood like an avenging angel. “You understand what is happening here?”

  Lara nodded.

  “Do you understand why?”

  “My guess is it has something to do with the conversation we had earlier.”

  “That guess would be incorrect.” Sushma flipped open Lara’s phone and held it up so Lara could see Gina’s name and number on the screen. “You know who this is, yes?”

  Shit.

  Lara nodded.

  “Then it is obvious,” Sushma said as she snapped the phone shut, “why you cannot continue to stay here.”

  Lara scanned the view. The ocean, so blue, and the sky, so clear, blended in a soft-focus haze.

  “There will be a car to take you back to Santa Monica. Mr. Hopkins and his people will escort you out. Your belongings have already been loaded.”

  “I didn’t bring any belongings with me.”

  “I am referring to items that you acquired during your stay. Clothing and other amenities.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Nonetheless, they are yours. It is so stated in your contract. And Fast Lane,” Sushma said, making a point of looking Lara directly in the eye, “honors its contracts.”

  The two women studied each other.

  “Tell me—” Lara started.

  “There is nothing more that I wish to say to you or hear from you at this time,” Sushma interrupted. “Any further communication between you and anyone associated with this company will be achieved through attorneys. And by referring to anyone, I mean everyone.”

  Sushma brushed past Lara to the door.

  “I’m not asking about business,” Lara said.

  Sushma waved her hand dismissively and reached for the door. Lara jammed the door with her foot.

  “Tell me the truth,” Lara said.

  Sushma laughed. “You have quite a nerve demanding such a thing.”

  Lara looked Sush
ma square in the eye. “You love Clay.”

  Sushma’s eyes flashed, a brief—but telling—break in her facade. The look on her face went from deadpan to just plain deadly.

  “I will tell you nothing of the sort!” She barged her way inside.

  * * *

  Lara’s heart felt cold and clenched, like snow being pressed into an ice ball. The door opened and Tiffany stumbled out.

  Tiffany went white. “Oh, I didn’t…” Her eyes dropped. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.” She turned to go back inside.

  “Were you spying on me?” Lara’s voice held no harshness.

  “Yes,” Tiffany said without turning around.

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “I did.”

  “What?”

  Tiffany turned around, still looking at the floor. “I learned that…that you’re…” She swallowed hard.

  “That I’m what?”

  Tiffany’s eyes rose to meet Lara’s. “In love with Mr. C.”

  The ice in Lara’s heart began to melt.

  “I mean, any idiot could see that,” Tiffany continued, averting her eyes again.

  “Is that all?”

  Tiffany shifted her feet. In spite of her whimsical purple sneakers with orange- and-red-striped laces, she looked guilty as hell.

  Things are never how they look at Fast Lane. Lara put a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder. “You knew about my association with Gina Wray, too.”

  Tiffany nodded. “I saw your phone.”

  “But you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  Tiffany wiggled her shoulders.

  “You could have gotten fired for not telling Sushma.”

  Water welled up in Tiffany’s eyes as she peered at Lara through her bangs. “I mean, you were in love. Narking someone out for that just seemed, you know, wrong.”

  A half-smile formed on Lara’s lips. “Your secret’s safe with me. You know—between girls.”

  Tiffany fell sobbing into Lara’s arms. “If it means anything,” she sniffed, “I thought you were a decent boss. I mean, you know, in the extreme.”