by Lea Santos
Torien wanted to love her.
Wanted to express her love in the only way she felt fully capable.
But she didn’t want to make love to Iris only to bid her good-bye. Torien didn’t wish to be anyone’s tacky little souvenir, but especially not Iris’s. She didn’t think she could survive that kind of pain.
Fool.
Idiot.
“Tori?” Iris’s warm palm on her arm, soft words, loving eyes. “Honey, talk to me.”
“No. I cannot—” Antoine’s scathing words rushed back at her like whispering demons.
Servant.
You will never fit in our world…Iris knows it, too.
Fueled to escape from her own weak will and nurse her wounded pride, Torien shot to her feet, inadvertently overturning her chair. The metal back of it bounced on the hard floor twice before coming to a rest, and the table quieted, all faces turning toward her curiously. She looked at Iris, filled with urgency. “Stay with Madeira, Irisíta, okay?”
“Stay with—what do you mean?” Iris stammered, confused and stunned.
Stiffly, Torien stooped and righted the chair, then sought the face of her sister. “Oye.” Torien lifted her chin slightly. “Drive Iris home when she is ready, sí?” she shoved her hands through her hair. “I must…go.”
Madeira frowned. “Toro?”
“Wait—” Iris grabbed at her sleeve but Torien shook gently from her grasp.
“I am sorry. I…do not feel well.” At least it wasn’t a lie. Before anyone could stop her, Torien zigzagged through the crowds, heedless of the people she bumped into, knowing only she had to get away.
Run.
Fast and far.
Hide from the truth.
She grew aware of the startled murmurs sweeping through the bar in her wake. They built to an excited crescendo similar to the day Iris had first arrived at the Círculo de Esperanza worksite. Torien yanked open the door, but stopped, gripping its edge. Something compelled her to turn back toward the commotion, knowing what she would see, needing to drink in the image of Iris one more time. But she was wholly unprepared for the hurt and bewilderment in Iris’s eyes.
A sick feeling dropped like wet gravel in her stomach. Iris stood in the middle of the bar, a throng of excited women—fans—who’d clearly just realized they had a superstar in their midst surrounded her. Arms jostled and grabbed at her, but she was oblivious. Her moist, questioning gaze locked firmly with Torien’s, seeing only her, as if nothing else existed.
“Wait,” Torien saw Iris mouth.
Torien shook her head. Guilt grappled with self-preservation, and self-preservation won. Iris’s adoring public encircling her underscored Antoine’s vicious point about the basic incompatibility of their lives.
Madeira shouldered her way through the throng and bustled up beside Torien, grabbing her arm. “¿Qué pasó?” Open astonishment tinged Madeira’s question. “What happened? Where the hell are you going?”
“I can’t—” Torien flicked a quick glance at Madeira before reconnecting her gaze with Iris. Torien’s lips pressed together, holding back her torment. “Listen, stay with her. Do that for me.”
Madeira frowned, her tone raised to be heard above the ruckus. “Why aren’t you staying with her?”
“Not now, Mosquito, I beg you.” She wrangled her arm away. “I have to go. Let me—”
“But—”
“Don’t leave her alone in here,” Torien implored. “Take her home and see her inside. Please. Do this one thing for me, and I’ll explain later.”
“Toro, if you can just tell me—”
“Say it,” she rasped. She clutched Madeira’s shoulder, shaking it slightly. “Say you will not leave her. Promise me.”
“Of course I won’t. But—”
“And tell her…tell her I am sorry.” Torien turned.
“Toro!”
Ignoring her sister’s plea, Torien stepped into the cool, wet, storm-whipped night and let the door close behind her.
*
Shoving through the crowds, Iris forced her way to the front door and threw it open just in time to see the taillights of Torien’s truck flicker when the engine turned over. A short plume of exhaust shot from the tailpipe, and then the reverse lights glared white and bright through the inky night.
Iris splashed across the wet blacktop toward the truck, panic pummeling her brain like a hailstorm. She couldn’t let Torien just run away. The rain completely soaked her feet through her sandals, and already, her silk tank top clung to her skin. She didn’t care about any of it, anything except reaching Torien. Geraline was back, and the little safe cocoon she had built with Torien would undoubtedly change forever. Instinct told Iris if Torien escaped her this time, she wouldn’t get her back.
Tires squealed as Torien backed out, and Iris heard the gears grind from reverse to drive. “Tori! Stop!” Iris yelled. The wind threw it back at her.
Torien didn’t stop.
And, just like that, she was gone.
*
Torien didn’t know how long she had been driving, nor did she care. The miles and miles of pavement running beneath her truck gave her time to think, and in doing so, she had reached one conclusion.
She loved Iris.
And Iris deserved to know that before things between them ended. Torien knew she shouldn’t have bolted, but it couldn’t be helped. She would face Iris. Apologize.
But first, she had to face Moreno.
She pulled up to the cabaña and parked, sitting for a minute just listening to the rain on the metal roof. She wasn’t sure what exactly Moreno knew about her and Iris, but she owed the woman an explanation. Moreno had trusted her, and even knowing the rules, agreeing with the rules, Torien had breached them. She’d tried to avoid Iris, to avoid the deep, growing feelings, but she had failed. So be it. She’d resigned herself to the mistake. But to deny her love for Iris would cheapen their relationship, and she wasn’t willing to stoop so low. Moreno was a reasonable woman. Torien felt sure she would understand, and if not…well, Torien had survived crushing disappointment before.
Exiting the car, she tucked her face against the rain and trotted toward the cabaña, only realizing Moreno sat there in the darkness when she caught the scent of the heavy, expensive perfume the woman favored.
Torien stopped short, smoothing the rain from her shoulders and hair. “Señora. Welcome home.”
“Good to be here.”
Several beats passed.
“Are you…waiting for me?”
Moreno studied her for a moment, expression unreadable. She seemed to roll the response around in her mouth, and her mind. “I am, Ms. Pacias.” She glanced around. “The gardens look splendid. Your work is impeccable.”
Wary, yet hopeful after the compliment, Torien tentatively took a seat next to Moreno. She supposed her employer heard about the earlier run-in with Antoine. Another transgression for which she owed an apology, though that one would be difficult at best to make. “Thank you.”
As though reading her mind, Moreno said, “Antoine told me you two…had words this afternoon.”
“Sí. I apologize, señora, but he said some derogatory things about Señora Lujan that—”
“Ah, yes. Our Iris. That’s the real issue here, isn’t it?” Geraline waved her hand. “Don’t worry about Antoine. He’s young. He talks too much, especially when he’s drinking.”
A small measure of relief poured through Torien.
“But Iris…” Geraline paused, assessing Torien through narrowed eyes as she tapped her fingers on her lips. “That’s a problem we need to discuss.”
The statement stole Torien’s breath.
Moreno was not pleased. Torien felt the tension crackle in the air like lightning. At a total loss, she said the only thing that came to mind: the truth.
“I love her.”
The words hung between them like a noose, the perfect size for her neck. Torien waited, poisonous dread coursing through her veins.
<
br /> Moreno did not appear impressed by the declaration. On the contrary, her disgust was nearly tangible. Her tone, however, remained well-modulated, like that of a woman who knew she held all the cards. “Do you have…any idea who she is?”
“Of course.”
Moreno ran her hands through her hair without seeming to move a single perfect strand. Her voice dropped an octave, to something dangerous. “I thought I had made it clear when I left that you should keep to your own business.”
“You did.” Torien held steady. “I…tried.”
Moreno snorted and shook her head. “You’re saying Iris caused all the problems?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then what?”
“She came to the gardens crying one night, and I spoke to her out of concern. From there”—she shrugged—“things just happened.”
“Things don’t just happen, Torien. Someone is to blame here.”
Torien stiffened. That’s what this was about? “Then blame me. Not Iris.”
Moreno shot to her feet and stalked a few short paces to the end of the porch, grabbing the pole that supported the roof. After a moment, she turned. “She did tell you about Paris, I assume?”
Paris? Torien flailed to keep the shock and bewilderment from seeping into her expression, but from the gleam of victory in Moreno’s eyes, Torien knew she’d failed.
“Ah…I see,” Geraline drawled, with a smile. “Our little Iris wanted to have a fling, and she picked you as the likely target. It all makes sense now.”
“What about Paris?”
“She’s leaving for Paris next week. She has a three-year modeling contract there. If she didn’t tell you”—Moreno huffed—“then clearly your intentions are more honorable than hers.”
Torien shook her head, the motion wooden.
Paris?
No. Unthinkable.
Why hadn’t Iris mentioned it?
Why had she allowed Torien to fall in love with her when she knew it could go nowhere?
Moreno spread her arms. “So, you see? The whole thing is one-sided anyway.”
It can’t be. The Iris Torien had come to know and love was genuine and free with her emotions. She would not have kept something so important a secret. She would never have toyed with Torien’s heart so…thoughtlessly.
“Don’t look so devastated, Pacias. These flighty models are like that.”
Torien didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
“If it’s any consolation, she was supposed to leave for Paris three weeks ago, but she extended her vacation. I assume that was to spend a little more time with you.”
It wasn’t any consolation.
“Let me make it easier for you.” Moreno reached inside her jacket and extracted an envelope from the inner breast pocket. She held it out.
Torien’s gaze froze on the offering then slowly lifted to her boss’s face. “What is this?”
Moreno twisted her mouth to one side. “We’ll keep things clean. Consider it a bonus for doing such great work with the gardens. It’s enough for you and your sister to take a couple weeks off and visit your family. By then, Iris will be in Paris where she belongs, and you, my dear, will actually have a job to return to.”
The words left unsaid spoke volumes compared to those actually voiced. Torien swallowed thickly, recognizing the “bonus” for what it was. Torien’s entire body tensed. What kind of woman did Moreno think she was? “And if I don’t take it?”
“Then I’m afraid I will have to let you go.” Moreno’s eyes telegraphed ruthlessness. “You did, after all, ignore my number one house rule.”
A long moment stretched between them, Torien’s eyes on the envelope, Moreno’s eyes on Torien. The old Torien might have taken the money simply to keep from placing her family in a difficult financial position, but this time…she could not. If she’d learned anything from her loving family, from Iris, from a wellspring of strength deep inside herself, it was that people who loved each other stuck together.
Through the good times.
The bad.
Through the everything and the nothing.
No. Torien wouldn’t gamble away Iris’s love like a ten-dollar poker chip, even if this all-encompassing love had been one-sided, as la patrona claimed.
She stood. “Keep your money, Señora Moreno. If Iris wishes to leave for Paris, she can do so on her own.”
The envelope crunched as Moreno’s fist tightened. “You’re making a massive mistake, Pacias.” She stepped closer, but Torien still had a good eight inches of height on her and used it to her advantage. “If you stand in the way of Iris’s business deal, I’ll make sure you never work a decent job in this town again.”
“You misunderstand. I’m not standing in the way of anything. I simply decline your…offer.” Pride straightened Torien’s shoulders. She peered down her nose at Moreno. “Iris is so much more than a business deal, Geraline. More than dollar signs and fame. It is a shame you cannot see that.” She paused. “You want me to leave?” Torien hiked one shoulder as if it didn’t matter a bit. “Then I will leave. But not because you paid me off. I will leave…because I love her.”
Chapter Ten
The wipers beat a steady rhythm against the windshield of Madeira’s truck. Iris stared straight ahead, her eyes alternately blurring and focusing on the diagonal shoots of rain caught in the white beams of the headlights. Madeira had been chauffeuring her around aimlessly for an hour. They had driven by the Círculo de Esperanza house several times, but Torien’s white truck wasn’t there. Iris hated the thoughts in her head, but she needed to exorcise the demons. “Would she be…with another woman?”
“Absolutely not, Iris.” A vein in Madeira’s temple pumped. “I know my sister. She wouldn’t do that to you.”
Madeira had been so patient with Iris’s quickfire questions. Iris supposed she should let the poor thing off the hook. Stirring in her seat, she reached over and squeezed Madeira’s forearm. “Look, we aren’t going to figure this out tonight. Stop somewhere. Let me fill your gas tank, then you can take me to Geraline’s.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m as upset as you are. I’ve never seen my sister like this.”
Iris bit her lip to stop her quivering chin, fearing it would rev her crying engine into the red zone. Everything had been on track with her and Torien, and only getting better. They had met in the gazebo as planned, Iris’s heart filled with anticipation for a wonderful night together. Instead, in the short time it had taken Iris to shower and change, Torien had transformed from smiling and flirtatious to painfully polite.
Distant.
Brooding, even.
“God, what happened?” she whispered, for the millionth time, it seemed.
“Yo no sé. She looked distracted when the two of you arrived at the bar, but she’s been working hard.” Madeira shrugged. “I thought it was that. Did you tell her about Paris?”
A beat passed, during which a sword of guilt impaled her. Iris hadn’t wanted to spook Tori, but instead she had lied to her. A lie of omission was no better than an outright lie, and to an honorable woman like Torien, it could only spell disaster. “No.”
“Ah, Iris.” Madeira’s sigh filled the space. “Could she have found out?” She came to a stop at a red light, and their eyes met in the darkness of the truck cab.
She remembered Antoine and Geraline, dread screeching in her ears. “Yes. Fuck. Yes, she could have found out.” Urgency rattled her composure, trembled in her hands. “Take me to Geraline’s, Madi. I’m going to learn the truth from the source.”
*
Iris shoved through the ornate front door, and the only thing that prevented her from yelling for Antoine and Geraline at the top of her lungs was respect for any of the household help who might still be around. She stomped through the living room, out onto the stone terrace, into the screening room—nothing. As her frustration level mounted, muffled voices floated toward her from the kitchen.
Fueled, she stalked that w
ay, ready to bring down the wrath of God if either of them had anything to do with Torien’s torment, her sudden desertion. For a moment, Iris stood stock still in the doorway to the massive kitchen and stared. Antoine and Geraline sat at the chrome table, feet hooked on the chair rungs and elbows propped before them. The single chrome fixture above the table lit their faces but cast the rest of the room in shadows. A bit of light gleamed dully off the polished steel Sub-Zero fridge.
“Darling.” Geraline stood, kissing one of Iris’s cheeks, then the other. “So good to see you made it back.”
“What did you say to her?”
Geraline exchanged an innocent glance with Antoine. “To whom, cupcake?”
“Screw you, Gerri. Screw all your placating bullshit.” Iris’s hands were shaking, and she clenched her fists to stop the telltale motion. “You know damn well who. Torien. What did you tell her?”
“You mean about Paris?” Geraline asked, her tone infuriatingly blasé. “Simply what you should’ve told her weeks ago. That you were leaving. In a week.” She shrugged. “It’s the truth, so I assumed she already knew. I’m so sorry if I ruined your fun—”
“Save it.” Iris paced a few feet away, fearing she would punch Geraline if she stood too close. She spun back, anger pounding icy in her ears. “You knew exactly what you intended to achieve when you dropped your little bomb on Torien. How could you? How dare you toy with my life like this?”
Geraline scoffed and took her seat again. “Cupcake, calm down. She’s the gardener. Granted, she’s eye candy, which is why I hired her in the first place, but—”
“Who in the hell do you think you are?” Iris gasped.
Gerri tossed her silver hair and sighed, as though it took everything within her to suffer through another model tantrum. “I think I’m your business manager, Iris, watching out for your welfare like I have always done.”