Eamon wasn’t what she thought he would be. Yes, he was a wealthy, English business type. He wore expensive clothes and had polished manners. No doubt, his haircuts set him back several hundred dollars and were done by some BS hair stylist who had their own line of styling products. Nevertheless, there was something about him.
“Looking to impress the owner, Lauryl?”
Lauryl spun around and Jennifer, who had crept up to her, stepped away. “No, I’ll leave the ass kissing to you.” She took a step toward Jennifer. “But it seemed like you trying to do some real ass kissing with Eamon.”
Jennifer stirred the olive in her martini around. “Whatever, Lauryl. Maybe someone should warn Eamon about your bathroom behavior. Martin never got those bloodstains out of his bathroom rug.”
Lauryl gripped her empty glass, wishing she could break it and grind he jagged edges in to Jennifer’s face. Or push her down. Jennifer would topple right over in the five-inch stripper heels she was wearing. Instead, Lauryl took a deep breath in, let it out, and then walked away.
Just act like nothing is wrong, she told herself.
Her gaze darted around the room and paused briefly on Martin, who was trying without success to get away from his conversation and come to her rescue. No doubt, he had seen Jennifer’s attempt to start something. Lauryl inhaled deeply and blew it out before waving him off. She headed across the room for Todd. That’s when she noticed Eamon watching her. He looked over at Jennifer and back to her before turning his attention to the group around him. She detoured away from Todd and headed toward the terrace doors. Fresh air might help.
A full, late summer moon shone down on the beach below the terrace. Lauryl leaned against the railing and sighed. Right now she wanted to cry, not out of sadness but from frustration. All of the confrontations and pressures were catching up to her. Tears welled up in her eyes but she dug her heel into the top of her foot to keep them from flowing. How long was Jennifer going to bring up what happened? Dealing with the past was hard enough without her throwing it in her face. Lauryl’s eyes now stung with unshed tears. The only options she could think of were to cry or kill Jennifer. A couple of tears rolled down her cheek and she wiped them away. She danced in place, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working, though. The dancing caused her thoughts to spin out of control. They spun back to the night of Martin’s party.
Most of that day she had been shoveling spoons of coke up her nose. She stayed wired all through class and rehearsal and in her car as she drove to Martin’s house for a party. As she buzzed around, she drank vodka tonics as fast as they could pour them and was, by Anthony’s recounting in therapy, having a great time until Jennifer cornered her in Martin’s kitchen.
Jennifer told her that Martin was planning on firing her because she was so out of control. It would seem that the liquor and the cocaine triggered some sort of paranoid rage in Lauryl. She jumped on Jennifer, beating her down to the floor. Pinned to the floor by Lauryl, Jennifer screamed that she was throwing battery charges in with the others. This part she didn’t remember but Anthony told her she then grabbed a fruit knife and told Jennifer that she was going to cut up her lying, horse face. Martin managed to pull Lauryl off the bloodied Jennifer and warned Lauryl to get herself together or she was going to be in trouble. Not knowing what kind of trouble he meant and fearful that there was truth in what Jennifer had said, she took the knife and locked herself in a bathroom. The wild hair and bloodshot eyes she saw in the mirror scared her. She didn’t recognize herself. She was that out of control. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to die.
At this point, she was drunk and high enough to do it. She took the fruit knife and sawed along her wrists, trying to remember which direction you were supposed to cut yourself when you wanted to die. Martin pounding on the door and Todd screaming for her to open it made her cut even faster. “I’m saving y’all a lot of trouble,” she shouted back through the door. Todd kicked the door in and that was it, off to the hospital and to rehab.
Parties were supposed to be fun, she thought. Too many parties in her past changed that. She squatted in a plié and sighed again. A call to Anthony might help. He could talk her through this. Her phone was out in her car and the battery, more than likely, was dead.
The sound of the terrace doors opening caused her to shoot back up but she didn’t turn around. Jennifer must be looking for another fight.
“It’s not Jennifer. It’s Eamon. I thought I’d check on you.”
She turned around. “Jennifer is just being Jennifer.”
He walked over to her and leaned on the rail. “Should I fire her?”
“What?” Lauryl’s green eyes widened.
“Should I fire her?” His serious expression faded away and was replaced by a more easygoing one.
A smirk appeared on her face and she said, “No, but you can kill her.” A nervous giggle bubbled out of her.
Eamon laughed.
Still laughing, she put her hand on his wrist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You know, we’ve met before. I saw you a few times in New York when you were a student but we met in Seattle about six months ago. I’m not surprised you don’t recall it.”
Lauryl tried to remember her time in Seattle. “I’m drawing a blank.”
“It was difficult to get close to you because your dressing room was so crowded. When I did, I shook your hand and told you that I thought you were beautiful and talented.”
“I’m sorry. I still don’t remember. What’d I say?”
“You thanked me. You were busy with your friends. I was merely a face in the crowd. That’s probably why you don’t remember the meeting.”
“Oh, crap, I’m sorry. I hope this meeting is better.”
“It is. Tell me about your name. It sounds like you have some Greek blood in your veins.”
“Mellis is my stage name. It’s my mom’s maiden name. She’s the Greek in the family. My real name is Fitzgerald. My father is Irish.” She touched her auburn hair. “That’s where I get this from. It made me a target for teasing when I was a kid. Everyone in my family has dark hair and eyes except for my dad and me. When my sister went to college to be a nurse, she told me that my red hair and green eyes were a genetic mutation and that I was a mutant.”
“It sounds like she was jealous.”
“I know she was kidding. It was just a weird thing to say.”
“Are you close to your sister?”
A twinge of sadness flashed across her face but she forced it away, replacing it with a more neutral expression “My family and I don’t talk. I only talk to my sister every once in a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve gotten used to it. My parents and I haven’t kept in touch since I was sixteen. They flipped out when I dropped out of school and got my GED. My grandmother paid for me to go to JKO.” She gave him a sideways glance and shr0ugged. “I’m the black sheep of my family.”
“They’re usually the most interesting members of their families.” He placed his hand next to hers.
“What about you? Are you the black sheep of your family?” The urge to touch his hand tugged at her. She stretched out her little finger out so that it skimmed his. The brief contact with his warm skin triggered a rush of excitement to flood through her.
“Yes, I suppose I am.” The terrace doors opening caused them to turn around.
Irina took a few steps outside and put her hands on her hips. “Eamon, you are doing a very poor job of hosting this party. Everyone is wondering where you are.” Her gaze leveled on Lauryl. “I see now why you’ve been distracted.” Irina took a few more steps toward them. “Do you know my brother has talked of little else since we came here? He’s very excited to have you.” Her smile twisted. “Dancing in his company, I mean.”
Irina’s odd comment caused Lauryl to smile nervously. The sister is weird, Lauryl thought.
Lauryl looked at Eamon, who stared at Irina with an ic
y stare. She raised her eyebrows at him as if she were challenging him. Lauryl cleared her throat.
“I think I’m going to call it a night. Maybe do another quick lap inside and go.”
“So soon?” Eamon asked, still staring at Irina.
“Oh yeah, too much party fun for me!” She waved her hands around a little. “Besides, I need my sleep. Got to be at my peak for the boss.”
Eamon turned back to her and his expression softened. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” She turned to Irina, who was watching her, apparently amused by something. “Nice to meet you.”
“It was a pleasure.”
“I’ll see you around the studio, I guess,” Lauryl said to Eamon.
“Without a doubt,” he replied. He watched Lauryl walk inside.
* * *
He looked back at Irina. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No, I’m bored. Trying to help you is boring. And I hate pretending to be your sister. I can’t wait to go back to New York.”
“Patience, Irina,”
“That one is not going to be what you think.” She nodded her head to the doors and placed her hand on his arm.
“That sounds like a jealous woman,” he replied.
“No.” She slipped her hand from his arm to his hip. “Just an observant one.” Irina pinched him gently and walked back in to the party.
CHAPTER SIX
Isn’t That What’s-His-Name?
Lauryl filled her teakettle with water and set it on the stove. Tea first and then she would think about the mess in her apartment. Clean laundry was stacked up on her sofa with several issues of Dance Magazine. A trail of shoes, dirty clothes, and mail leading in to her room. Dried, dead flowers from her Giselle performance a week ago lined the countertop.
She poured her tea and pushed aside the laundry on the sofa. The mug felt awkward in her hand. She stared at the mug of tea. Was ever going to develop a taste for this? Born and raised in the South, all she knew was sweet iced tea. Even in the winter, that was the drink of choice. Lauryl walked to her freezer, grabbed a handful of ice cubes and plunked them into the mug. They melted right away so she repeated with another handful of ice. This time the ice floated in the mug. She took a sip and headed to her sofa. Nothing like good old sweet iced tea, she thought as she sat down. As she reached for something to read, the phone rang. She rummaged through the pile of magazines and found it.
“Hello?”
“Lauryl, it’s Anthony.”
“Anthony.”
“I called to see how you were.”
“Are you asking as a doctor?”
“First tell me as a patient and then tell me as a friend.”
Her gaze wandered around the room, as she tried to put her feelings together. “Well, as a patient, I’m okay. You were right. People are cruel, but I’ve only thought about coke a couple of times. No outbursts or anything.”
“Just take it slow. It’s your life.”
“Do you have a book of those little sayings for patients?”
“They give us one when we graduate from medical school.”
Lauryl laughed. “As a friend, I’m good. I’m settling back to my old life.” She frowned at her disaster of an apartment. “Trying to develop a new routine.”
“Can I take you out to dinner?” he asked abruptly.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Of course I am.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
“What do you mean by right now?” she replied, confused.
“I mean that I’m parked downstairs.”
Lauryl walked over to her window. Anthony sat in his Jeep Liberty. He waved at her. “I can’t believe you. How did you know where I lived?”
“Yeah, about that, I had the address from your medical record and Googled it. Too creepy?”
“No, not at all.”
“So yes or no?”
She couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “Yes. Come on up.”
Lauryl looked around. Panic and embarrassment overcame her. The health department would shut her down if they ever saw her apartment. The idea of cramming everything into a closet sounded good but she would need a shovel or a broom to get everything out of sight in time. She still needed to change, too. What was more important, looking good or her apartment being presentable? She stood locked in indecision, when a knock on the door decided for her.
She opened it and Anthony smiled at her. “I hurried.” He walked in and his jaw dropped but he quickly recovered his neutral expression.
“So you knew I wasn’t much of a housekeeper. I told you that,” she said with a defensive edge in her voice.
“I didn’t say a word. If you’ll clear me a spot, I’ll sit down.”
She grabbed her laundry from the sofa and knocked the magazines down to the floor. “I’ll be right back.” Lauryl disappeared into her room, kicking a couple of shoes as she walked.
Anthony studied her apartment but his eye was drawn to the dead bouquets and arrangements on the counter. “About these flowers.”
“What about them?” She asked as she returned. She let her hair down from the ponytail and fluffed it with her fingers.
“Think you’ll ever throw them out?”
She was oblivious to their odor. “Nope, not until the next performance.”
“What?”
“It’s one of my things. I don’t throw away flowers from a performance until the next one. It’s kind of like insurance that my next performance will be as good.”
“Oh. Do you have a lot of superstitions like that?”
“I prefer to think of them as traditions but yes, I do. Like I put my left pointe shoe on first. Or I chew gum an hour before a performance.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I have to do them all or I can’t perform.”
“As long as it works for you.”
“Are you analyzing my routine?”
“No, I don’t do that anymore.” He stood up. “Ready?”
* * *
“Where do you want to eat?” Anthony asked as they drove along the beach road.
“What do you like?”
“I like just about anything. You choose though.”
Food was a sore subject with her. Her diet was less than healthy but she knew she had to make some sort of effort in front of Anthony. She frowned but her attention shifted when they drove past Eamon’s house. Lauryl looked up the drive to see if any cars were in the partially-hidden driveway. “That’s where Eamon Rutherford lives.” She pointed up to the house as they drove by.
“Who?”
“My boss. The part owner in the company.”
Anthony glanced over to the mansion. “Nice place,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly for a moment.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Did you decide where you want to eat?” he asked.
Her attention drifted away from Eamon. “We could eat at Rigoletto’s. It’s a nice Italian place. Good food.”
“Sounds okay to me.”
They rode in silence until they got to the restaurant. While they waited for their table, Lauryl studied Anthony. He seemed different. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in his office. She could only picture him behind his desk or rocking back and forth in his chair. Tonight he was her date, not her psychiatrist. Sadly, she couldn’t remember when she was out like this last. A rush of date night jitters crept through her. She’d never noticed his broad shoulders or his artistic hands. In their sessions, she had only noticed the way his blue eyes changed colors. Sometimes they were azure like the evening sky and other times they deepened to more of a cobalt shade. In their sessions, they seemed to shift colors in response to her pain.
“Is my fly unzipped or something?”
She laughed. “No, I was just looking.”
“To see if my fly was unzipped?”
“Yes.” She linked her arm in Anthony’s. “It’s not though.”
The hostess
seated them and Lauryl opened the menu. Again food fear plagued her. Italian food was good for her. Carbohydrates had lots of energy, she told herself. On the other hand, she always worried about gaining weight. She didn’t want to hear Todd’s complaints about variations in her size. Anytime she gained a few pounds, he called her Twinkie Toes. She frowned and continued to scan the menu.
The waiter appeared at the table “Are you ready to order?”
“You are going to eat, aren’t you? I hate eating alone.”
Lauryl smiled. “Oh sure. I’m going to have the wheat ziti.”
Anthony closed his menu. “Me too.” After the waiter took their order, Anthony leaned across the table. “You look fantastic.”
Her cheeks warmed and she knew that she was blushing. “Thanks.”
“A lot different than when you first came to me.”
Lauryl thought back to how she looked right after rehab. If she weighed a hundred pounds, she was lucky. Dark circles shadowed under her eyes and she battled periods of insomnia and hibernation. Now, she looked healthy. Not robust, she was never that. Just healthy.
“I do look different. You fixed me.” Her gaze wandered around the restaurant and she stiffened when she glanced at the door. Eamon walked in with his sister and a man she didn’t know. He looked right at Lauryl and then at Anthony. His eyebrows lifted slightly. Lauryl swallowed hard and tried to relax.
Anthony sat forward. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes followed the direction she was looking and saw a small group of people taking a seat at a table near them. “Do you know them?”
“Yeah.” She noticed there was an empty seat at his table. Did he have a date? She turned back to Anthony. “It’s the owner of the company.” She clicked her heel on the floor.
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 4