by Kira Blakely
The driver pulled up to a building where her security detail was supposed to accompany her until she entered the building for the meeting. I opened her door and helped her out. “I want to talk to you later,” she said cryptically. She was met by Russian security and quietly entered the building while the rest of us were directed to a nearby parking area. She went in alone—a move calculated to remove the threat from her visit. This was solely about negotiation.
I chatted quietly with the driver about sports, my eyes glued to the entrance of the building. A little more than an hour later, the Russians emerged, looked left to right, and then Michele came out on the arm of a well-dressed man who shook her hand, holding it a little longer than necessary, and my driver immediately circled around to pick her up.
Michele seemed pleased, and the rest of the trip back to the airport was uneventful. It wasn’t that any type of aggression had been anticipated—in fact the entire assignment was pretty low-key. I wondered how much of my being ordered along was due to necessity versus her personal desire.
We boarded the plane, and we were soon leveled out, bound back toward the US. It had been a long day, and everyone aboard had laid back their seats and were settled beneath blankets to sleep. I reached up to switch off my overhead light when someone sat down next to me. It was Michele.
“You’re avoiding me,” she commented. I didn’t argue.
“I hope your meeting was successful,” I responded in a generic tone.
“Yes, actually, it was. I think one more trip, and you may feel the noose come off your neck.”
I snapped my head to look at her. She knew every detail of what had forced me along.
“This was your doing.” It was a statement, not a question.
She smiled and nodded. “You might say that.”
“Why? Why me?”
She looked straight forward and motioned to the flight attendant, requesting a cup of coffee. “Would you like something?” she deferred to me.
I shook my head, and she was soon stirring a packet of sweetener into her cup, holding both hands around it as if to warm them. “I wouldn’t want to live in Moscow, never mind the politics. It’s such a cold, sterile country.”
I listened and nodded, waiting for her to get to the point she’d come to make.
“You know,” she continued, “We never got a chance to talk last time, but there was something about you that was quite familiar. In fact, it wasn’t until several days later I realized why.”
“Why?” It was a simple question, intended to get her to the point more quickly.
“You have your mother’s coloring, but your father’s height and, I believe, his nose,” she commented.
Frowning, I looked at her directly and put my hand on her arm. “You knew my mother?”
She took a sip and nodded. “You might say that, but only from a distance. She picked up your father at the airport, and I saw her pull up to the terminal and lean out the door as she watched him load his luggage into the back seat and then climb behind the wheel. I was waiting on the concourse for my return flight.”
I waited for her to go on, but obviously she was enjoying the telling.
“You see, I knew your father, if only for one night.” She let the sentence fall into my brain and intended for me to draw my own conclusions. She had slept with him. I knew that’s what she was telling me. “It was some time ago,” she added, knowing that I was putting the pieces together. “Of course, he was much older than me, but he is a determined man who stops at nothing.”
I felt the heat beginning to flood my body. Michele was telling me in her own way that she’d requested me on this detail due to something my father had done. He was the one I had put everything on the line to come and defend. The bastard!
“I never understood why he did what he did. Your mother was a beautiful creature—such grace, even visible from that distance. I never heard from him again, at least not directly.” She took another sip and sighed. “He runs with a bad crowd, Bolt. Your father is walking a very fine line, and if he’s not careful, he will lose his freedom.” Michele hesitated a moment, making sure I had no further questions, and then she stood, handed her cup to the attendant, and went somewhere in the back of the plane, supposedly to sleep.
I sat in the darkness of the cabin and burned. My father had dominated most of my life and destroyed everything he touched. Now he had managed to come between Lilly and me, probably without even realizing it. I’d make sure he never learned about it—it would give him cause to gloat. I had no idea what he’d been up to, but it certainly didn’t matter to me any longer. He was on his own. If they locked him up, I’d hand them the key.
I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes, dreaming of Lilly’s beautiful white body, soft and open-armed, reaching for me. It’s a wonder I slept at all.
Chapter 22
Lilly
Every day was the same: a struggle. My frame wasn’t accustomed to the extra baby weight, and I was having paralyzing leg cramps. That doesn’t even include all the time I spent running to the bathroom. I’d gotten to the point I didn’t want to drink anything at all.
I was glad I’d planned ahead and had some money saved up. I left the sign at the studio turned to the “CLOSED” side. I knew I’d lose some customers, but my life was up in the air, and I knew I had some hard decisions to make to build a secure life for my son.
I’d decided to name him Jackson, and for short, I’d call him Jinx. I liked the way the name looked on paper when I signed it. It would keep people on their toes, and that would always give him an advantage to see their true character. I’d had to rethink the idea of bringing Jinx to the studio, even though it was my only source of income at the moment. It was hardly the atmosphere for a tiny baby, and if he was fussy, I couldn’t very well leave a client in the chair with their tat half done while I went in to breastfeed.
My options were limited. Temporarily, I would look for a daycare situation. I thought of my sister, but she was probably the most unreliable person I knew. She would also spread the word, and it would get back to Bolt. God knew I wasn’t ready to take that on yet.
Jinx, contrary to his name, brought me good luck. There was an apartment over the top of the studio, and a woman named Mary Mackinaw moved in. I knew this because she appeared in the doorway of the studio as I was there, checking on things one day.
“You’re about to have a baby!” were the first words out of her mouth.
I resisted the temptation to give her a smartass response that I’d just been putting on weight lately, but her face was sweet and earnest, and she deserved respect.
She came closer and laid her hand on my bump. “Anytime now, I’d expect, too.”
I nodded and thrust out my hand. “I’m Lilly Schultz,” I introduced myself.
“I’m Mary Mackinaw, just moved in upstairs.” She pointed overhead as she responded. “I’d love some company, if you’ve got time. Maybe a cup of coffee and a fresh cinnamon roll?”
The leaves funneled in air currents down the sidewalk around us. The winter chill wasn’t far off. I couldn’t think of anything that sounded more tempting, so I nodded, locked up, and followed her up the narrow flight of stairs that led to the upper apartment. I held the railing tightly—I seemed to lose my balance easily with the baby weight. Mary chattered the whole way up. It took ten steps to learn she had three grown sons, all of whom lived within a hundred miles, and she’d been a daycare operator before she retired. She’d come to Louisville to be close to her sons. I froze on the step as I heard the day care part. Was it possible I could get lucky?
It was, indeed, and by the end of my second cinnamon roll we were on a first-name basis, and she would watch Jinx for me while I worked below. I would pump my milk and be able to pop up for a visit in between clients. It seemed too good to be true. But even better yet, since I didn’t live far, she was willing to come by my house and sit with him if he was sick or I wanted to go out for an evening. I felt like I had a
new mother, and for her, I was the daughter she’d never had—or so she told me. Time would tell.
* * *
I was sitting on my worn sofa, my feet propped up on stacked crates eating from a pint of Häagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream with a spoon. My phone began vibrating, and it took several hand dives through the afghan over me to locate it.
“Lilly?”
“Hello, Bolt. How are you?”
“Missing you. Haven’t you had enough time and space to yourself yet?”
“Have you suddenly remembered where you went all those times and who you were with?” I countered.
“Boy, you play dirty.” His voice was strong, and I remembered his arms and the way he’d lift me over his reclined body and lower me upon his rigid cock. The memory made me feel dizzy, and I ached with late-pregnancy desire. The extra blood flow to my lower regions made everything there tender and hypersensitive. I wanted Bolt, but I couldn’t let him know. He was continuing to speak. “I called to extend an invitation.”
“Oh?” I was already thinking of my excuse.
“Kenny is having a Halloween party. Your sister will be there, naturally. Maybe you’ve already heard?”
“Heard? About the party? No, I guess I didn’t make the cut on the guest list.”
“You did on Kenny’s list. Will you come?”
“That depends. Will you be there?”
There was silence at his end as he deliberated his response.
“I’m just teasing you, Bolt. Do you always have to be so serious?” I licked my spoon and realized I was in a playful mood. Bolt must have heard it because he chuckled.
“It’s Saturday night. I’ll pick you up at eight,” he announced.
“I’ll drive myself and be there when I get there,” I countered and disconnected, digging to scrape out the bottom of the carton.
Chapter 23
Bolton
Halloween was an unusually warm night, and I was beginning to regret the pirate costume I’d let Mrs. Polk order for me. The leather boots came to mid-thigh, the silk shirt was topped by a vest and layered sashes, and the hat was heavy and wouldn’t sit on my head without dipping forward. The only part I liked was the dull sword in the scabbard. It gave me a sense of pseudo-power, even though I doubt I could have smashed a fly to death with it.
Kenny had a nice, normal house in the east end, in one of the developments where people who want stately brick homes with lawns that match live. It wasn’t my sort of thing, but he was happy, and that’s what counted. I arrived early, looking forward to seeing Lilly. The yard was festooned with spider webs, witchy laughter from speakers secreted in trees, and coffins with lids that raised and lowered as mechanical hands reached out to grab the guests’ legs. Once inside, the atmosphere was different. Elegant, traditional, counters laden with finger foods, and a bar set up in the living room. People gathered in small groups, the requisite drinks in their hands as they pretended to listen to one another while they surveyed the gathering, doing their own brand of gossip intel. It was like so many other parties, and if it hadn’t been Kenny hosting and Lilly coming, I wouldn’t have shown up.
I was into my second drink when I saw her coming up the walk. At least I thought it was her. She was wearing a voluminous pumpkin costume, so round and rigid that it made it difficult for her to walk. In fact, she was doing more of a waddle. I felt a disappointment at her choice. I’d hoped she’d have chosen a fairy princess or perhaps a harem girl. I was hungry for the sight of her beautiful body. Kenny immediately went up to her, Natalie trailing behind him, looking bored. After a second inspection, I realized the boredom was actually the stupor of drunkenness. So much for our effort to help her out. It felt dismal to see such a young woman throw her life away. I wondered what Kenny saw in her. But Kenny was used to looking after demanding friends—he’d always been there for me, after all.
The girls exchanged a lukewarm acknowledgment, but Lilly kept her distance. She looked much better, I had to admit. Her face was flawless, cheeks cheery red, and the sparkle was back in her eyes. Even her hair had a pelt-like richness to it. I wanted her.
“Hello, Lilly,” I greeted her and made the little bow I’d practiced in front of the mirror at home.
She laughed. “Are you a pirate?” she asked, delight in her voice.
“And are you a pumpkin king?” I teased back, and there was lightness to the exchange that was encouraging. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. Well, maybe a bottle of water?”
“Coming right up.” I snagged one out of a nearby cooler of ice and handed it to her, touching the skin of her hand. The touch sent shocks of recognition through me, and the impulse to pull her against me was almost overpowering. I cleared my throat. “How have you been?”
“Just about as you’d expect,” she answered, and her voice was a little soft in the middle of the cacophony that was party people and music.
“How about we go out back and catch up?” I invited. She looked around to find Natalie, who was studiously ignoring her. I saw sadness cloud her eyes, and she looked back to me, nodding.
There was a bench built into the back deck, and I led us to the corner. In her bulky costume, it was impossible to sit in any chair. “This OK?” I asked.
She leaned and then sank to the seat. “Fine.” She was quiet, and while there were a thousand things I wanted to tell her, I held back. I didn’t want to spook her.
“How have you been?” she asked finally, and I took the opening.
“I won’t lie, Lilly. I’m lonely and missing you.”
She nodded and looked around. “I thought you might say that.”
Why is she working so hard to keep her distance? “Lilly, what would it take to start again?” I asked.
“Ha!” The laugh burst from her. She turned to look at me then, and I saw the tear on her cheek. I realized she’d looked away so I wouldn’t see it. “You have no idea how easy it would be for me to come back to you.”
I held my breath and leaned toward her, the sword pressing hard against my leg, and in the moment it took for me to change position and move it, she’d scooted down the bench away from me. She was always pushing me away.
“What is it? Why do you say one thing and then do the opposite? Come back to me, Lilly. I promise you it will be different.”
“I can’t.”
I wasn’t going to let her push me away again. I stood up and went toward her, but she held her hand up, tears streaming down her cheeks. I was watching a pathetically silly scene with a crying pumpkin, and I was in love with her.
“Don’t, Bolt. Give me a minute, will you? Maybe a little bit of wine to help me calm down?”
I looked behind me at the party inside. That was another world, and I wanted to stay with her. “OK, sure, hang on.” I went inside and pushed my way through dozens of people laughing and trying to pull me into their conversations until I reached the bar. “A glass of rose, huh?” I said to the bartender. He nodded and handed it to me.
Kenny came up to me. “Hey, buddy, have been trying to get a minute with you all night. Glad you came. I guess you saw that Lilly’s here.”
“Yeah, she’s out on the deck waiting for me. Look, she’s a little fragile right now. Let me catch up with you a little later, huh?”
He nodded. “Sure, fine, fine. We’ll talk later.”
I stepped out onto the deck. Lilly was gone. I didn’t bother searching the yard for her—I’d known it when she’d asked me for the wine. She was just waiting until I was out of sight.
Chapter 24
Lilly
I spent the afternoon at the studio, feeling too restless to stay at the apartment. Mary had stopped by with two mugs of hot tea, and as I lounged back on the tattoo table, she sat on a nearby stool and shared stories from her younger years. I found myself missing my mother, particularly in my condition. There were so many things I didn’t know and so much to be experienced. I felt so totally alone, and
if it hadn’t been for Mary, I know I would have been depressed as the waiting game began.
“Can you tell me anything about the father?” she asked, not in a judgmental way, but in a concerned voice. I knew she was trying to help me.
“No, I really can’t. I will tell you that his family has money and his father is not a good person. Neither he nor his father know about this, and I want to keep it that way. Jinx will belong to me, not to his family.”
“But, my dear, I can’t help but notice that you’re struggling alone. There’s a real possibility that your baby’s father will learn about him at some point in the future. He may go to court and ask for father’s rights, and it’s likely the judge will grant him visitation, as well as child support. That could come in handy for you. It would give you more options for your future.”
I knew she meant well, but I shook my head. “It’s not the way I want it. I can do this alone.”
She patted my hand. “You’re not alone as long as I’m around.”
Who could ask for more than that? Since Mary didn’t drive but relied on the bus system or Ubers, I made sure she had an envelope with enough money to call for a ride if I needed her. We had come up with a plan and agreed that when I felt my labor beginning, I would call her, and she would come in an Uber to pick me up and take me to the hospital.
“Have you felt any cramping yet?” she asked me.
“No. Why?”
“It’s just that, well, my oldest son wants to take me to Lexington for a couple of days to meet his girlfriend’s family. I told him I would, but I won’t go if you don’t want me to or if you think you’ll need me. He wants to leave this evening.”
I shook my head. “No, no, I’ll be fine. I’m not due for another three weeks, and I’m feeling just fine. At least, as good as anyone can feel carrying around a watermelon day and night,” I laughed.
We finished our tea, and Mary went back upstairs. I locked up the studio and headed home. I hadn’t told Mary, but I was giving thought to letting the lease go on my studio and moving out of town. As long as I stayed nearby, Bolt would continue to pursue me, and once Jinx was in my arms, there was no way I could hide him. My sister didn’t seem to give a damn what happened to me, so I knew leaving her behind would be no hardship. I also knew, however, that it would mean cutting Bolt from my life, and on a permanent basis.