by Olga Bicos
He picked up the other hand. Tiny cuts covered the skin across the knuckles. She’d broken a couple of nails.
“Go ahead,” she told him, shoving the hand closer. “Take a good look. Put me under a microscope if it makes you happy.”
“Holly?”
“You drive me crazy sometimes, Harris,” she snapped at him. “I swear you do.”
She sat up suddenly and sniffed the air. Just as quickly, she slid back into the chair, depleted of all her fight. “And now you’re smoking again?”
He was staring at the cut on her knee. His heart started doing this funny rhythm thing. It wasn’t good, this thing.
“I am absolutely fine,” she told him.
“I can see that,” he said, motioning to her face, her leg.
She rolled her eyes. “I went to Cutty House. There’s a portrait of Nina in one of the rooms upstairs. The floorboards are old and, apparently, not so safe. One gave way and I fell. I twisted my knee and hurt my wrist.” She lifted her chin, giving him a look that said, satisfied?
He’d had a girlfriend in college who’d accused him of loving his sister too much. He thought it was a strange thing to say at the time, but she’d gone on to explain that his sister was cramping his style. All those phone calls home and trips out to check on Holly? Maybe he didn’t have enough time and attention for both his sister and a girlfriend, she’d suggested, which pretty much marked the end of their relationship.
Ever since he was seven, he’d known Holly belonged to him. Not as a responsibility. No way. But as a gift. His mother had given her to him the day she’d walked out for bread and never came back. Take care of Holly…she’ll need you. Holly was the only family he had.
“Other than feeling quite stupid—” her voice had gone soft, catching on to the fact that he was dying a little inside “—I really am fine.”
“See,” he told her, making a bad attempt at humor. “I’m right. That house is going to kill you.”
“Ba, da, duuum!” she said, providing the dramatic music.
He looked at her for a moment. Her face was flushed. She was trying to hide something…and, as usual, doing a damn poor job of it.
“You’re going to stay,” he said.
Maybe he’d known all along that she couldn’t resist. She’d come here in fear, but, knowing his sister, she wasn’t going to leave that way.
“A month,” she told him. “After that, I reevaluate.”
The nail in the coffin.
He stood, going back into the kitchen. He’d seen some kind of medical kit in the cabinet over the microwave.
It was always so easy for Holly, Little Miss Optimistic. All the worry and pessimism fell to him. Like now. He had a really bad feeling about where they were headed.
When he knelt down beside her with the antiseptic, she steadied his hand.
“It really is going to be all right,” she said.
Because she hadn’t the slightest idea that her big brother had slept with Daniel’s girlfriend. And that he’d liked it. Very much.
“You should see a doctor,” he said, soaking a cotton ball, dabbing the cut. The medical kit had lots of bandages. There was even an elastic one for her wrist. “You might have sprained something.”
“I’m in one piece, Spiderman. Safe and sound.”
“Yeah,” he said, cleaning the wound on her knee. “Sure thing.”
“I can’t believe you started smoking again. Smoking kills.”
“Really? I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I know you’re worried. Now you want me to worry. So you started smoking?”
He tossed the cotton ball on the table, grabbed another one. “That’s me. Mr. Even-Steven. World’s got to have balance, Hol. You take your risks…I take mine.”
“It’s not funny. Tell me you’ll quit again. Promise me.”
“The day you finish this job, I quit.”
“If that’s the best you can do.”
He looked up at his sister. Holly was golden, as good as they came. And someone was going to take advantage of that, sure as shit.
“Yeah, Hol. That’s the best I can do, because you’re making me a nervous wreck. Wait here a minute. I’ll get you some aspirin.”
When he came back with the pills and a glass of water, she said, “If you really want me to—I mean, if it’s going to put that look on your face, we can leave.”
But he shook his head. “I don’t think it’s up to me, Hol. And I don’t care what you promise tonight.” He sighed, glancing back at her sketches. “You’re not walking away from this.”
More’s the pity, he thought, grabbing the bandage to start wrapping her wrist.
They were in a pretty big mess, he and Holly. She thought it was just a job, but Harris knew better. That sixth sense of his told him so. Now she’d come home looking like a train wreck. And he worried that, in the end, all he could do was keep an eye on her, and hand out the aspirin and bandages when it all fell apart.
COMPOSITION
16
The invitation appeared the next day. You are invited to an exclusive fête at Viña Dorada….
Holly stared at the card, a lovely watercolor of a wine bottle, grapes and a Spanish fan opened across a lace tablecloth. She half expected the invitation to disappear in her hand. Poof!
Ryan had invited her to the vineyard where he worked. The card promised flamenco music and sparkling wine. Ryan’s signature at the bottom appeared under the words: Please come.
Just like that. A date.
It had been a morning of surprises. She’d woken to the sound of Daniel’s voice on the phone: I’m on pins and needles, love. Tell me I have something to celebrate? Having confirmed that she would indeed be staying on, Daniel had been a busy boy.
By the time Holly rolled into work at Cutty House, his people were moving new furniture into her second-floor office. A desk with a computer stood by the window, a large printer and a drafting table just opposite, with hanging files and another table for viewing plans alongside. There was even a copy of Sweets, a catalogue she already had on disk offering tools of the trade, everything from nails to exotic historical moldings. The catalog was neatly laid out with a personal message from Daniel. Have fun!
And now this. Her fingers slipped over the burgundy ink on the envelope, her name written in elegant scroll letters. A lot of foot traffic had come through her office that morning. Holly herself had been in and out several times. She didn’t know who had put the invitation on her desk or how she could have missed seeing it before now.
“Knock, knock?” It was Daniel, stopping by to pay a visit.
She looked up, doing her level best not to appear caught in some act of sabotage, Ryan’s invitation clutched in her hand. Daniel had dressed in what for him passed as casual—jeans and a T-shirt, but with fancy boots and yet another leather jacket, this one brown. Today he wore contacts, not glasses. He took the invitation from her hand, not even bothering a glance at the card as he dropped it on the desk next to the Sweets catalog, the invitation landing face up for anyone to read.
“You won’t regret giving me another chance,” he said.
“In a month, you may not be thanking me.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
He dropped one hand to her waist and pressed her up into his body, sweeping her around the room in a waltz—a rather bad one—as they bumped into the filing cabinet, a chair, the desk. He was singing at the top of his lungs and, surprisingly making her laugh.
That’s how Emma found them. In each other’s arms, laughing and dancing.
“Emma, darling,” he said, still tripping around the crowded office. “A reprieve. She’s staying.”
As Holly two-stepped around the room, she glanced back at Emma. The other woman looked incredibly small, her arms wrapped around her waist as if in the act of holding herself together.
The expression on her face…For an instant, Holly saw something there. She doesn�
��t want me to stay. The voice last night calling Nina’s name had been a woman’s voice.
“Stop,” Holly told Daniel. “You’re making me dizzy.”
He made another sweeping turn to finish their dance in a dip. He kissed her mouth, just a peck.
When she winced, he pulled her up. “Wait a minute.” He touched her cheek and some of the makeup she’d used to cover the bruise came off on his finger. “What’s this?”
“I walked into a door last night. Which means,” she said, stepping around him, thankful that her cheek was the only visible injury. She picked up the invitation and dropped it inside her handbag. “You’re already working me too hard.”
“Take the day off,” he said, magnanimously.
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she said. She glanced down at the quick sketches she’d left on the drafting table. She’d need at least a week to come up with some decent design drawings. Even if Daniel had promised to give her free rein, she wasn’t a tyrant. She wanted his input.
“Friday,” she said, patting her purse and the invitation inside. “I’ll take some time off, then.”
The energy radiated from him, he had so much. He grabbed Emma and danced around the room with her, pushing Holly playfully out of their way.
“She’s going to stay,” he sang at the top of his lungs. “She’s going to stay.”
With a smile, Holly took in their dance. Only the expression on Emma’s face marred the picture.
Watching her, Holly wondered about Emma’s state of mind. Does she think I’m angry? Could she care less? With Daniel, Holly had always held back a little. Emma had been a different story.
She dressed me up for Daniel; she fed me stories. Yes, Holly was disappointed. Deeply so. But did she really think Emma responsible for last night? She has the run of Cutty House, knows its every secret, including where not to step.
A sobering thought, she told herself. This morning, she’d taken the wrap off her wrist and found it didn’t hurt. The knee was another story. She wasn’t going to hold up for another dance.
Her smile in place, she decided it was time to get some air. “I’m certainly not going to get much done with you two bouncing around the room. Tah, tah.” With a wave of her fingers, she left Daniel and Emma behind.
Outside, she winced again when she put on her sunglasses. Thankfully, Harris’s prediction of a black eye hadn’t come true. But there was a lingering soreness in her knee, enough that she thought she might take a walk, stretch it out a bit.
Just this morning, she’d set up chairs around the hole where her foot had fallen through the floor. She’d even managed to get a phone number for maintenance from one of the men Daniel had sent to bring up the furniture. The man had come and gone, confirming what she suspected, that the boards in that room were rotten. Termites, age, what have you. The whole floor needed to be replaced. He was surprised someone hadn’t warned her about that section of the house. Surely the family knew it wasn’t safe?
Holly picked up her pace, walking briskly down Taylor, testing the muscles in her sore knee. The message in lipstick had long since disappeared, the glass wiped clean. In the sunshine of late morning, it was difficult to believe the warning had ever been there.
Listening to choral practice at Grace Cathedral, she let the music drown out the memory, then stopped to watch the children laughing and playing at Huntington Park. She should just go sit on a bench, enjoy the fleeting sunshine and shove off that cloud in her head now wearing the name Emma.
Just now, in her office, Emma hadn’t said a word. Not one.
A little girl with red hair danced across the grass, carefree and giggling with the joy of the day. Wishing she felt the same, Holly reached for the invitation in her purse, almost as if checking to see if it was still there.
Harris knew the exact moment she stepped into the bar. He couldn’t miss her. Only a few diligent souls littered the room. He’d been watching the door all night, waiting for her to show.
She fought back a few palm fronds as her eyes scanned the room, looking so unsure of herself. She was wearing one of those T-shirts with spaghetti straps and jeans that dropped low on her hips, a uniform of sorts for Emma. She’d pulled her hair back into another ponytail. She looked all of eighteen.
When she saw him, her whole body tensed. That’s right, he thought. A time of reckoning.
She sat down at the counter in front of him. He waited for her to do the talking, but she didn’t seem so inclined. Instead, she pulled the bowl of mix front and center and started picking out the wasabi peas.
He gave it a minute before serving her the same beer she’d ordered that first night. Fine by me.
“And here we are.” Not his best icebreaker, but maybe he wasn’t feeling the mood tonight.
“I just thought I should do the responsible thing.” She started lining up the peas on a napkin. Three, four, five… “Let you know I don’t have AIDS or anything.”
“Good to know.” He wondered if she really planned to spend the entire conversation staring everywhere but at him. “I used to get tested where I worked, and as I haven’t had sex since I left my job, there you have it. The all clear.”
“So the fact that you were sex-starved excuses you but not me?”
“Funny, did I look like I needed an excuse?”
She glanced up. She couldn’t hold his gaze, but ventured a smile. Progress.
“I give blood,” she said. “Regularly. They test you then. And I’m on the pill. I’ve only slept with Daniel, anyway.”
Harris knew she was twenty-six. She was telling him that, since she’d become sexually active, she’d slept with one man, a cretin who was currently her boss and basically controlled every aspect of her life.
“Why the smile?” she asked.
“I didn’t know I was your ‘take that’ for old Daniel.”
She picked up her beer, hiding her expression behind the drink. But he thought he caught another hint of a smile.
“Change of subject,” she said, avoiding the topic altogether. She put down the glass. “Your old job. It sounds like some sort of government thing. That’s where they test people for everything, right?”
“Now that you’ve had your way with me, you want to know if I can hold down a steady job other than tending bar?”
But she didn’t bite. “You said you left the evil kingdom of corporate America.”
“Ah. So you were listening.”
“What’s the big deal. Why can’t you tell me? Were you some sort of spy?”
A spy. He smiled. “Good guess.”
“You were a spy?”
“Now, would I admit it if I were?”
“But your sister knows. That’s why she calls you Spiderman.”
He leaned in, putting an end to the mystery. But it had been fun. Harris Fairfield, superspy. “I’ve never worked for the government.” He picked up her beer. “Come on.”
He took her to what he’d dubbed “their” table in the corner. He set her beer down and pulled out a chair for her. After a slight hesitation, she accepted the courtesy.
He straddled the chair across from hers. “I used to work for a pharmaceutical company. They had research stations in the rainforest, harvesting plants, fungi, frogs—pretty much anything—trying to discover the next cure for cancer, arthritis or just a better wrinkle cream. My sister calls me Spiderman because I found this spider and the venom turned out to be pretty complicated stuff.” He shrugged. “There are lots of long words for what I did, none of them particularly interesting.”
“Wow. All that education must come in handy working at a bar.”
He laughed. “I told you, I am a changed man. A supershrink to the masses. Anything you want to confess?”
“That I’m sorry it happened?”
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“Look, I know you’re acting all tough because you’re a guy. But I saw your face when you left. You were sorry.”
He helped himself to a drink o
f her beer. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
She took the beer from him, sipping from the glass before putting it down, giving them both a minute. “I think what happened caught us off guard.” She looked up, holding his gaze for the first time. “And maybe I was mad. About your sister and Daniel, I mean. Only, not in the way you think. Ever since she came on the scene, I started wondering how much I could actually help Daniel. Make a tastier éclair, sure? But Holly’s going to do way more.” She puffed out her cheeks, blowing out a quick breath. “So…okay…I needed a little consoling.”
He had this flash, a picture of their naked bodies, both of them acting as if they couldn’t get enough. Consoling? That’s not how he would have described the night. Just the same, he thought he’d pass along some good news. It was the least he could do.
“Holly isn’t going to sleep with her boss.” His sister didn’t repeat her mistakes.
“You have no idea what Holly will do for Daniel.”
“What have you done for him?” He recognized that tone.
She glanced up, all cool green eyes. “You’re not a very good spy if you need me to tell you that.”
“Hence, maybe why I was fired. And for the record? I never said I was a spy.” He took another sip of her beer, then pushed it back toward her. Your turn. “As for the tastier éclair? Sounds pretty promising as a contribution to mankind. Me, I’m working on something I call Tiger’s Blood. Some Malibu rum, a little Charmbourg for color. I’m just not sure about the cranberry juice. It’s good for the color, but not so much for the taste.”
“Pomegranate,” she suggested. “More exotic.”
“And how long do you think we can keep up the inconsequential banter?”
She was staring at the table, maybe wishing she still had those peas to count. She dropped her head, blowing out another breath. “I don’t even know why I came.”
He grabbed her hand when she made to stand, keeping her there at the table. “Because we had sex. And, I’m fishing here, but it wasn’t half bad. Maybe even worth a repeat performance?” It’s what he’d been thinking about ever since he’d left her.