Me Tarzan, You Jane

by Camelia Miron Skiba

  I look deep inside my heart for a sign, something to tell me I need to fear Lucas. Yes, he was outraged when his mother passed away, but who wouldn’t be? I broke my TV and everything around me when Evan died. Pain causes not only tears but also anger. Some cry in a pillow. Others scream, kick and throw things. That doesn’t make a person intrinsically violent, does it?

  I’m grateful Cameron has Ella and keeps her busy. It’d be impossible to have her around and talk with Lucas about the elephant in the room. We need to clear the air.

  “I have not beaten Raven or any other woman.” Lucas sounds distant. “I’ve no explanation for her injuries, but I swear I haven’t hurt her. I’ll take a lie detector test, I’ll do anything to prove my innocence. I can’t believe she’s doing this. Why? Why is she out to destroy me?”

  While that might be important to Lucas, that’s not my biggest concern. That’s a question for Raven directly. I don’t know her reasons, nor do I care to know them.

  “Half a million?” Lucas continues his musing, rubbing his neck so hard, his skin turns red. “If I pay it means I admit I’ve done it, if I don’t I’ll be on the front page of every magazine in the country. Either way it’ll be the end of me.”

  I still wait for him to tell me what I want to hear, but maybe putting my concerns to rest is not his priority. Out of all the questions swarming in my head, there’s this one burning question repeating over and over again until it makes me dizzy. I have to get it out of my head.

  “Did you—” I stop, startled by the sound of my own voice, as if it doesn’t belong to me. I clear my throat, swallow twice and try again. “Did you sleep with her?”

  Lucas snorts, looking at me with one raised eyebrow. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I did, back in the day when we were together. But not since you and I began dating.”

  Relief washes over me, erasing the tension and angst from my heart. I place a hand on his leg and rub it. “Then you don’t have to worry. A paternity test is all you need. Then you can sue her for damages.”

  “Yes, but until then my life will be trashed in public. I’ll be forced to move to the woods to avoid the media stalking. Been there one too many times. It’s tiring to have paparazzi on your tail once in a while, but when all attention is on you, day in and day out, then it’s a different game.” Lucas’s palm rubs mine, his shoulder leaning toward me. “I’m worried for you and Ella. I hate putting you through this.”

  My temple rests on his shoulder as my fingers find his and intertwine with them. “We’re a team. We’ll manage. Maybe instead of going on vacation we should look for a cabin in the woods.”

  Lucas kisses the top of my head. “You’re coming with me?”

  Voices inside the house get my attention. Sarah, Cameron’s fiancée, and Ella come toward us as Cameron holds the sliding door to the terrace.

  “Hey, guys,” Sarah says with a smile. “Look what I brought.” She hands each of us a colorful kite. Ella likes Lucas’s better, which he swaps with her without hesitation.

  Flying kites is not really what I want to do this very moment, but as it turns out, it relaxes me. It voids my mind of crushing thoughts. I even find myself laughing once or twice when my kite tangles with Sarah’s and once with Lucas’s, the last one ending with a collision that has us sprawled in the sand to Ella’s loud delight.

  It’s not until the sun sinks halfway behind the ocean that we enter the house. Spent and starved we begin prepping dinner. Even Ella helps, sitting on a bar stool and chopping a cucumber. Scared she’s going to hurt herself, I’m ready to yank the knife out of her hand, but Lucas stands behind her, his fingers over hers, cutting one slice at a time.

  During dinner I manage not to think much about Raven’s accusations, too absorbed by Sarah’s details about her upcoming wedding. She had her last fitting and fears if she gains weight her gown won’t fit. The wedding is mid-August, a month from now.

  Ella convinces Lucas we need to roast marshmallows in the round copper fire pit built in the center of the terrace. Once again I’m nervous seeing Ella near hazardous elements, but Lucas puts my fears at ease, explaining and showing her how to stab the marshmallow, hold it above the flame, and then take it off the stick without burning herself.

  “Can we stay here, Mommy?” Ella yawns in Lucas’s arms. I sit next to him and relax as she plays with my hair, wrapping strands of it on her index finger. On the other side of the fire pit, Sarah feeds Cameron marshmallows, laughing at the long gooey string that hangs from his mouth when she pulls the stick away.

  “We can’t, honey pea, we don’t have any jammies here. Plus your backpack is at home and we’d have to wake up early, like really early, to make it to daycare tomorrow. Lucas’s house is much farther away than our house.”

  “I’ll take her,” Lucas says, rocking Ella in place. “I’ll get up and drive her.” He pauses for a moment, looking at me over Ella’s head, and his demeanor gives me pause. “It’ll be nice for you to spend the night here.”

  It’s almost as if he pleads with me to stay, not the usual teasing that goes on when he tries to convince me to stay and I end up leaving, no matter how late it is. It’s one of the few lifelong rules I haven’t broken so far since we began dating. On the other hand, Lucas is such an open book when it comes to his emotions. All I need is to look deeper and whatever unspoken connection we have clues me into what’s on his mind, what weighs on his heart. I realize he needs me tonight as much as he needed me when his mother passed away.

  “Please?” Lucas asks.

  “Fine,” I say and stand, reaching for Ella’s hand. “Let’s get you to the shower.”

  Ella jumps from Lucas’s lap and skips to the glass door. I turn to leave but he grabs my arm, standing to face me. Still holding my arm he pushes a hand through my hair, then cups my face in his warm and strong palm. Leaning his forehead against mine he says, “Thank you.”

  By the time Ella is showered and tucked in bed, Cameron and Sarah have retreated to his room. Lucas sends me away from the kitchen, promising all he’ll do is turn on the dishwasher then come to bed as well.

  Undressing, I open the door to the shower and let the hot jets pound me from both sides. It’s been a long, emotional day for all of us. I haven’t had the chance to think much about Raven’s accusations and what’s going to happen. What impact will it have on my relationship with Lucas? Will Max be able to convince her lawyers not to press charges? Will it end before hitting the courtroom? Will the media get wind of it?

  A sense of fear sneaks under my skin and, despite the hot water, a chill runs through me. I hear the shower’s door open and close before I feel Lucas’s naked body pressing against me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

  “Care for some company?” He kisses my ear lobe and down my neck.

  “Just what the doctor ordered.” I turn and face him, pulling him down to my lips and kissing him, willing my mind to go blank.

  * * *

  “What were you thinking, Lucas?” Max crosses her arms over her black jacket and taps one high-heeled shoe. “Did it occur to you to consult me before you acted?”

  Like a kid in a principal’s office, Lucas shrugs and avoids looking at Max. “I didn’t think it would make things worse. If anything, I thought it would soften Raven.”

  “Really? You really think that all it takes is one conversation with you and she’d magically change her mind? You can’t be that naïve.”

  Lucas voice sounds defeated. “I had to try.”

  “Lucas, if you don’t listen to me, I can’t save your ass.” Max pinches the bridge of her nose then rubs her temples. “A restraining order isn’t working to your advantage. Her lawyers don’t even want to negotiate anymore, but take you straight to court. This is a major, major setback. What the hell were you thinking?”

  We sit on the other side of her glass and steel office desk. It’s the third visit I’ve joined Lucas to Max’s law firm since Raven’s accusations two weeks ago. The first time we
came, Max talked about a defense plan and introduced us to her team of lawyers assisting her in Lucas’s case. The second time she briefed us on the meeting she had with Raven’s lawyers. The outcome of that meeting wasn’t what she expected to accomplish, but at least they were willing to negotiate. As it looks now, everything has changed.

  “All I wanted was to talk to Raven in private.” Lucas shrugs. “Face to face, like two people that were in a relationship once.” He glances at me with a tired expression.

  “Yeah, except,” Max shakes her head, “her goal is to make people believe her story which is, in case you forgot, about you hitting and raping her. She pretends to fear you. She’s doing exactly what her lawyers told her, which is not what I can say about you. I swear if you were a different client I’d drop you right this very moment.”

  Max stands and begins to pace, rubbing her temples. Her blond hair is pulled tight at the nape of her neck, pinned with a round silver clip. I pull out my emergency box and hand her two painkillers. She thanks me and, grabbing a bottle of water, swallows them, and then continues to rub her temples.

  Lucas stands, first pushing his sleeves up then stretching the hem of his black shirt. He walks around the desk and stops in front of Max. Kissing her hand and holding it between his he says, “Max, all I wanted was to look Raven in the eye and have her tell me straight to my face what she told her lawyers. Not trying to intimidate her, but get the truth out of her. I didn’t mean to complicate things. I’m sorry I added to your frustration. The last thing I want is to mess it up even more. I promise to do only what you tell me to do. Can you forgive me?”

  At first Max takes a big gulp of air, which puffs her cheeks like a hamster’s. Then she releases the air and tilts her head. “You’re lucky I love you.” Max pokes Lucas’s chest. “Next time you screw up, I’ll throw you out the window. For real.”

  She tries not to smile, but as soon as Lucas hugs her and kisses the top of her head, Max melts in his arms, and so does her anger. I bet if another client of hers tried the same tactic it wouldn’t save his or her skin. But it works for Lucas.

  “Now.” Max returns to her desk and opens a folder. “We need to work on building and increasing your presence among women, especially among mothers. Volunteer work, donations, things like that.”

  She scribbles something on a piece of paper with Lucas standing next to her, looking over her shoulder. When she stops writing, she taps her pen fast and waits. “Are you doing any of that currently?”

  “Volunteer work?” Lucas shakes his head. “Not really.”

  “How about the photos taken at the conference when we met?” I chime in. “Wasn’t that money going to the foundation for kids on dialysis? Polar something was its name.”

  Both Max and Lucas look at me. He lifts a thumb. “Good memory. It’s Polar Bear Charity, which is for kids suffering from kidney diseases. The photos raise a lot of money. I never take the proceeds. I donate every penny.”

  “Can you back up this story?” Max writes again. “Is there someone who can confirm it?”

  “A lot of women, like hundreds,” Lucas replies. “Most of them attended this annual conference for many years. I’ve personal connections with some aside from being the model for their novels. I can contact Susan, the chair of the committee organizing the writers’ conference, and ask her for a document attesting my involvement with the charity.”

  “Have you visited a hospital or met with some of those kids?”

  Lucas slaps his forehead. “Of course. I visit the kids’ hospital when we make the donation. Susan gets the media involved as well and we are photographed with kids and some of the medical personnel.”

  “Good.” Max writes without looking up from her notes. “I need those photos.”

  Lucas scratches his jaw. “They must be somewhere in my house.”

  “That’s your homework,” Max says and pushes her chair back. She gathers a few things from the desk, a sign the meeting is over. “I gotta go now, but here’s what I want you to do: find any photos and newspapers showing your involvement with charities, foundations, kids clubs, animal shelters, anything proving you’ve been an active member of the community. If I’m stuck in court this afternoon I’ll send someone to pick them up. I’ll let you know.”

  We part, Max giving instructions to her assistant before rushing to her car, and us driving back to Lucas’s house. We spend the entire day looking through boxes. It’s an interesting ride down Lucas’s life, finding photos from when he was a baby, to his years on the runway, to birthday parties celebrated in the nursing house with his mom, to being awarded Model of the Year for five consecutive years. Whether riding a pony or throwing snowballs at his younger brother or hanging out with friends or hugging his mother, every single photo show a happy, caring, loving and relaxed Lucas.

  And then there are the boxes with newspaper and magazine articles he too kept over the years. From thick yellow to crisp white paper, the articles portray the same person I see in the photos. According to them, he’s been visiting an orphanage for the past three Christmases, dressed as Santa Claus. We find the photos he mentioned to Max about his visits to the dialysis center. He’s hugged in a few while in others he bows closer to a sick kid, holding his hand. Even the snapshots taken by paparazzi—either when Lucas drags luggage into the airport or he comes out of a restaurant protecting the woman at his side—showcase the same smiling, relaxed man.

  I doubt every time he’d been photographed he was in a merry mood. If I had the media following me the way they do him, I’d be mad and that would show in some of those photos. But not him. I attribute this to years in the limelight. He’d been taught to smile and behave in public. He’d been taught how to handle the public eye, and I can’t find one single photo or article where his darker side—as claimed by Raven—shows.

  It’s a certain image Lucas created and guarded throughout his career, an image about to be trashed by her accusations, and I truly wish there was something I could do to stop her.

  Chapter 25

  “This dress is killer,” Lucas whispers, draping a hand over my chair and bowing to kiss the area below my left ear, down my bare shoulder. “You look stunning.”

  I glance around the table of people dressed as if they attend the Oscars. Everyone pays attention to the speaker who’s congratulating the young couple. I haven’t been at a rehearsal dinner since my wedding and forgot how long they can last. This one in particular seems to stretch twice as long, involving ten bridesmaids and as many groomsmen who each have a story to share about either Sarah or Cameron.

  “Thank you, babe.” Goose bumps prickle my skin. Lucas looks darn sexy in his starched white shirt, metallic blue bowtie and tux. His hair falls backward and forms loose waves, and I can barely contain myself so I don’t reach over and push my hand through it, a gesture a bit too intimate in a restaurant—entirely reserved for the rehearsal dinner—filled with family and friends of the young couple. “You’re not bad yourself.”

  He brushes a few fingers up and down my spine. “Wanna disappear?”

  “We can’t. Cameron would be really disappointed if you don’t stay. You’re his big brother. He needs you here.”

  “Not really. I already did my speech. Besides with so many people present no one will know we left.”

  “Cameron will know. And Sarah. Come on, be patient.”

  “I can’t. It’s all your fault for looking so irresistible.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Did I tell you, you look stunning?”

  Cupping his cheek I say, “Yes, you did. Like five times throughout the night.”

  “Hmm, only five times? That’s not enough.” He kisses the inside of my palm, holding my hand under his.

  I must retrieve my hand before he does the thing that drives me insane, but looking into his sparkling eyes, I know I’m too late and I’m in big trouble. His mouth finds the center of my palm, which is super-sensitive and he knows it but loves to torture me, parting his lips enough
for his tongue to make circles on my skin. These motions send ripples of pleasure through me, which, under different circumstances, I’d enjoy, but not in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

  “Lucas.” I try to pull my hand away to no avail.

  Face slightly tipped, his mouth busy inside my palm, he looks at me beneath a heavy curtain of black lashes, green fireworks of mischief. “What?” He breathes against my palm.

  “Lucas, stop.” My body responds to the little game he plays and I become restless in my seat, struggling to keep calm so as not to attract more eyes to us; three bridesmaids at the table near us whisper and look our way.

  The next round of applause saves me. In the glow spread by opulent chandeliers, people stand to clap and cheer. Lucas releases my hand and I make sure he can’t take it again. Next, another groomsman takes the mic for another funny story about Cameron and Sarah. Several photographers move about the large room. One cameraman and his assistant navigate through the tables and record the event. With the grace of ballerinas, spiffy servers cater to everyone’s needs, a cup of champagne here, a plate there, and I can’t help but wonder how much Sarah’s parents—both in the movie industry—had to shell out to pay for this dinner alone, not to mention the wedding tomorrow. Most likely a small fortune.

  “Geez, it’s been over an hour of stories.” Lucas pulls his chair even closer to mine, glancing at his watch then once again draping an arm over my chair, resting the other on the golden tablecloth. “You sure you don’t want to leave?”

  “Little bit restless, are you?”

  “Kind of, but in my defense I’ve taken a redeye flight to get here in time. I just want to crash in my bed with you by my side and sleep for forty-eight hours.”

  “That would be nice, except we’d miss Cameron’s wedding tomorrow, silly. How about a cup of coffee? That should help a little.”

  “Nah, too late for it.” He hides a yawn, motioning at the same time toward the right of the room, at the kids table. “Looks like Ella’s having fun.”