by Tiana Cole
“It better be a nice room. I’m an important person.”
“A nice room.”
After he hung up the phone, James went to unpack his suitcase. In his rush to leave the hotel he’d jammed his things into it and hadn’t bothered to get out anything more than a change of shirt and his toiletries. Now he unpacked the mess slowly, hanging things carefully, folding what was clean and making a pile of the things that he needed to send to the laundry. As he unrolled a shirt, he found a pair of pantyhose. Deja’s pantyhose. Suddenly he felt an emptiness, a longing. He sank down on the bed.
It was unbelievable. He’d known her just a short time, and much of the time they’d been together, they’d snapped at each other. But other memories of her had started coming back. Her laugh danced in his heart when he pictured her smiling. Her body had been warm and soft, and he recalled her being an eager and exciting lover.
In short, no matter how much grief meeting her was causing him, he missed her. He wanted her and he’d be glad to see her again. That had to be twisted. She was his downfall and he was sitting around thinking of her like a lovesick kid.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Deja walked into the hotel, past the fountain in center of the lobby, and up to the front desk. She gave the desk clerk her name. “I don’t know the room number,” she said. Undeterred, the woman turned to a computer terminal and typed for a second, then reached in a drawer and handed her a room passkey. “You’re in the Taylor suite on the fourteenth floor.”
“Robert or Liz?”
The woman gave her an odd look. “Pardon?”
“Robert Taylor or Elizabeth Taylor?”
The woman blinked. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. It’s just called the Taylor suite.”
She smiled and went to the elevator. She was going to James’s hotel room carrying a suitcase. She’d packed a few things, just in case she needed to hang around.
The large suite was empty and even fancier than the one he’d had before. As he’d promised, it had two bedrooms, one with his things in it. She put her bag in the other one and went back to the sitting room. By the window was a leather-topped desk with some legal pads scattered over it. She glanced at the scribbles on them, seeing names, phone numbers, and fragments of sentences that she didn’t try to decipher. It looked like notes he’d taken while making phone calls.
She opened the room fridge. It held a variety of bottles, mostly alcohol. Her stomach had been acting up and she rummaged until she found an orange juice that she poured into one of the glasses sitting on top of the fridge. Then she sat down to wait.
It was time to think. She’d hadn’t planned out anything, and thought it might be a good idea to settle on what it was she wanted, or at least what she intended to do. Her main objective was to tell him the truth. If she didn’t start with that, nothing else mattered.
After Alan left she had gotten a couple of calls from him, possibly to tell her about the money—that he was getting it, or that he had it. But she’d closed the door on that. None of that mattered any more. She had no intention of taking the money.
The idea of having both James and Barbara despising her was far worse than anything she could imagine. So she’d summon the nerve to tell him the whole story, and then help James get his annulment. That was all she could do. She hated that she’d gotten herself into the situation, being weak enough to grasp at a shortcut. Barbara was right in saying that nothing good could possibly come of such a dishonest plan.
As soon as she could, she’d find a way to return the thousand dollars Alan had given her. And once she sorted things out with James, she’d start trying to find some way to get the money for the treatment.
The only good thing that had come from all this was that now she knew Barbara was a suitable candidate for the new treatment. “An excellent candidate,” the doctor had said. “There is a very good chance that the new procedure will turn things around.”
An excellent candidate except for the little matter of fifty thousand dollars, more or less. Even if the hospital was willing to let them make payments, there was no way they’d be able to do it with their current financial situation. So she’d have to do something. The doctor had a list of organizations that sometimes provided help, and she could dedicate herself to applying, begging them for help. The clock was against them.
Despite the long odds, Barbara accepted the news of the tests as if she’d won the lottery. “How lovely to know you got that close to the finish line,” she said. “And since it isn’t over yet…”
Deja wasn’t about to burst any balloon that Barbara wanted to attach her hopes to. “Maybe I can— ”
“You need to get your ass back to James and settle things with him. You disappeared on the man for over a day without telling him a damn thing. It’s time you faced up to the pain you’ve caused him.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
“Look, Deja, if I die, that will not be your fault in any way, shape, or form. It isn’t on you. You’ve done miracles for me and my family already. But if you don’t do this, if you let me die without knowing how this soap opera you call a life comes out, I will be so pissed at you.”
“If I focus on getting the money—”
“First take care of this. I don’t need you feeling guilty while you are trying to help me. You are trying to think of ways to raise money for me and I love you for it, but this is actually more important. You have no idea where to find that much money, and neither do I, but we both know how you can go talk to the man and tell him the truth. From what you’ve said, he seems to be a decent person. Then, once you sort that out, whether he hates you or understands, you help him undo things as best you can. Remember that’s all we can do. And then you best get your ass back here to tell me how it went.”
“You’re a slave driver, Barb.”
“Unrelenting. So don’t stall and let me croak without an ending to this story. Once I die I don’t want to have to come back here and haunt you. I’ll have better things to do.”
That had been the final straw. She’d caved in and come here to James’s suite and she’d stay as long as necessary to make amends, help patch things up. Then she’d get back to finding the money Barb needed.
A long, slow breath calmed her nerves but didn’t solve her restlessness. She got up and paced the room as she finished her orange juice. It burned a little in her stomach. Acid? Whatever, it didn’t sit all that well with her. As she went by the desk, she noticed a familiar name—Shen Liang. She remembered that was the name of the man James was doing business with, or was trying to. Next to the name was a phone number. It had an interesting progression to it and a Los Angeles area code. She liked number sequences and had always enjoyed memorizing them. She still remember the combination to her locker from grade school, her parents’ phone number, and lots of other useless numbers. And now she knew this one.
Just then, the door opened and James walked in carrying a package. He stopped in the doorway, looking shocked. “You came back.”
“I went and saw my sister.”
“Where was she? Milwaukee?”
“Here. It’s complicated.”
“And you are ready to explain?”
She nodded. “If you’ll let me talk, I’ll tell you everything. When I finish, I’ll answer any questions you have. Then I’m ready to do whatever you want. I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”
James put his package down and went to a chair. “Great. Shall we sit down? I have a hunch this talk could take a while.”
“It probably will.”
* * * *
All things being equal, James thought Deja’s story was rather reasonable and almost anticlimactic. It was an unexceptional explanation for her actions.
Assuming it was true. He knew some of it was. Her telling him that Alan was behind the events confirmed what he’d worked out for himself and Shen Liang had alluded to. That he had practically browbeaten her into marrying him fit what he saw once he braced himself to
watch his own humiliating behavior in the video of the wedding.
But now she’d also told him why she’d taken the job—that was what marrying him had been—and that was the only thing he hadn’t guessed. It needed to be verified. It made a good story, though.
She said, almost without emotion, that she had learned to care for him too, and was heartbroken at what she’d done. While she seemed to enjoy making love with him, that was another part of the story he couldn’t be sure of.
She seemed sincere and he believed that, in the course of events, she’d decided he was likable, if not anything more. That she liked him and enjoyed sex with him were nice to hear, and soothed his ego. Again he was struck with how attractive she was, the way she stirred his emotions. But none of that meant anything, not anything important anyway.
When it came down to brass tacks, he could do without her affection. What he needed was her cooperation, and she’d promised that. She’d said she was ready to do whatever he wanted.
If she was being honest, maybe they could work together. If nothing else, she’d sign the paperwork once he figured out what paperwork he wanted to file. He couldn’t see any way she could help him rescue the deal though. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything anyone could do to restore Shen Liang’s confidence in him, and that was what had been destroyed. Maybe letting Liang know that Alan was a weasel and had orchestrated his own giant fail would keep the deal from going to Alan, but he doubted that would make it possible for him to get it back. Losing Liang’s trust and respect hurt more than anything—more than whether or not he got the deal.
Maybe that was just pride speaking, but James was proud. Making an ass of himself was bad enough; doing it in front of a person he admired made him feel small. James hated feeling small. He’d worked hard to be larger than life.
And then he’d screwed it up when it really mattered.
He watched Deja’s face carefully while she talked, took in her tone of voice, and was distracted by measuring the rise and fall of her breasts. Lovely breasts though they were, paying attention to them only got him aroused. His trained negotiating skills failed him in deciding if this lady was a liar or a duped woman. And what was worse, he didn’t even know if it made a difference.
Of course it made a difference.
He wanted believe her. Why he wanted her story to be true had something to do with his ego and that undeniable attraction. She’d fooled him, but if she were telling the truth, her motives were pure. There was a strange satisfaction in that idea, and also in the idea that the woman he’d fallen for, that he’d married, even if she wasn’t who he’d thought, was a good person who’d screwed up, not some conniving slut. That would mean his ability to judge people had faltered, not failed him entirely.
“Nothing I say can make up for what I did, but I wouldn’t have done it, not even as a prank, or maybe especially as a prank, if I hadn’t been desperate to help my sister,” she said.
As she paused with her hands in her lap, James decided he needed to find out if her core story was at all true. Even if it didn’t make a difference, he needed to know. There were so many loose ends, but here was one he could tie up once and for all.
“I want to meet your sister,” he said.
Her eyes opened wide. “You want to meet Barbara?”
“Yes. From what you say, she’s at the heart of this, isn’t she? Your concern for her, at least.”
Deja nodded.
“You strike me as a resourceful and reasonable person. I want to meet the person who could make you take leave of your senses—and your values.”
He notice the way she cringed at that assessment, and he watched her face as she took in his demand. If she was telling the truth, he’d meet this sister and find out about this terminal illness. Then he’d know more.
After a moment, Deja slowly nodded again. “That’s a very good idea. We can go right now.”
James was stunned. He’d only half believed the sister existed, and part of him was braced for Deja to refuse, to throw up some reason she didn’t want him to meet her. She’d called his bluff.
“Okay. No time like the present.”
* * * *
Apprehension accompanied his walk down the hospital corridor. In his experience, hospitals were nasty places. He didn’t understand how people could work in them day after day. Saving lives was okay, wonderful even, and he was all for the medical profession, but hospitals themselves struck him as ghastly affairs. Cold, impersonal, sterile, buildings devoid of feeling. He hated them. As he walked he fantasized about things he’d do to make a hospital more hospitable.
He walked slightly behind an impatient Deja, finding himself admiring her and being distracted by the way her ass moved in her dress. They’d been through a lot—he’d ridden a roller coaster of emotions with her now, and the ride was still going on.
Through it all, she’d remained poised and shown him that she was a together person. He clung a bit to the hurt she’d done to him, but that was an affectation--he was being precious.
He tried to see things from her point of view to understand that she’d needed money and agreed to help with a prank. She couldn’t have known that she was being hired to sabotage a commercial deal, although he wasn’t certain knowing that would’ve made a difference. Why would it?
Her passionate attempts to help her sister seemed amazing to him. If she was telling the truth, she’d given up all her dreams to see that her sister got the care she needed. The best Deja could get her.
James had no siblings, and an only child viewed family quite differently. He loved his parents. He considered them good, kind people. But he wasn’t devoted to them. He had never felt the kind of love that would make him sacrifice everything for another person.
Not that he lacked compassion. He gave to charities and his heart went out to anyone who suffered, but one person couldn’t save the world, and his donations were superficial—what he gave, he could easily afford. He thought it was the same for everyone. You gave what you could, which meant you didn’t have to suffer.
And now, in Deja, he saw a remarkably different attitude.
“She’s in here,” she said over her shoulder, turning into a room. He followed her into a hospital room that held two beds and a variety of humming, clicking equipment. The machinery was connected to the women in the beds and it displayed graphs and numbers. The woman closest to the door scowled disapprovingly at him as they passed by her bed, then she turned her attention back to a game show being shown on a television mounted on the wall.
As they approached the woman in the second bed, she turned a smile on them that was almost magical. A more intense version of Deja’s soft smile.
“Deja,” she said happily. Then she gave James a quizzical glance.
“This is James. James Andrews. James, this is my sister, Barbara.”
He saw a strong family resemblance—Barbara was an older version of Deja and quite attractive. She gave him a warm smile that suggested the woman was truly pleased to see him. He wondered why.
“I’m so delighted to meet you. Of course, you have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m afraid that in my state, I’m delighted to meet anyone. It means I lasted that much longer.” He saw tiredness in the lines of her face.
“James asked to meet you,” Deja told her.
“Of course he did. Otherwise, now that he knows he has to be careful in trusting you, how else would he know you didn’t make me up?”
Her casual acceptance of his need to see she was real surprised and pleased him. As he tried to think of something clever to say, a tall brunette in surgical scrubs came in. She stopped momentarily at the first bed and talked quietly with the woman in the other bed, then came to Barbara’s bed. “You are looking chipper.” She turned to Deja. “Your visits do brighten her up.”
“That woman is a stinking ray of sunshine all the time,” the woman in the other bed said, wheezing. “Too good to shut up, accept God’s will, and die.”
“Good for you,” James told Barbara. “And by the way, you do seem very real.”
“You see, doctor, my sister brought me a handsome young man to look at. Is that a real kindness or what?”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid we need to kick you all out,” the doctor said. “I need to do a couple of final checks on the test results we got the other day. It’s just follow up work, but I want to be complete and it will take an hour.”
“Of course,” Deja said. “I’ll be back tomorrow, sis.”
“Bring good-looking with you,” Barbara said. “You come back when we can talk, you hear?”
James waved. “I look forward to it.”
As they left, Deja was close by him, wrapped in her thoughts. Without thinking, James put an arm around her. “What tests?”
“I told you that Alan left a thousand dollars for me at the desk for the first payment. I used it to pay for the tests they needed to run to see if she could benefit from that new procedure I told you about.”
“And they came out good?”
“Well, the initial results were promising. The doctor is finishing them up, but she was optimistic. Not that it matters now.”
“I can’t imagine you are giving up.”
She grinned. “No, of course not. I’m just faking a bit of pessimism to balance out my sister’s infernal and eternal optimism. The doctor tells me she has a few more long-shot ideas, some possible grants and experimental programs for me to apply to. And I’ll look into other possibilities, although at the moment I have no idea what that means or where to start looking.”
“You are resourceful. You’ll find something.”
“I am?” she wondered, but it was nice to know he thought so. That James thought she was resourceful was a compliment, and she needed all of those she could get.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After a lovely dinner in the hotel restaurant, a meal that seemed pastoral compared to their first evening together, they went back to the suite. Suddenly, Deja felt awkward being alone with James.