by Leanne Davis
“So, pumpkin, how’s the doctoring going?” Erica’s father asked as if he were inquiring about her last manicure. Didn’t they realize how important Erica was? Or that her very hands actually affected people’s lives? Changed and even saved women’s lives?
“Fine, Dad. Just fine.”
“Anything new?”
“Oh no, you know, just the usual. Babies and routine exams,” Erica said, glancing at Spencer. What about the libelous pamphlet attacking her? Or when she was got attacked, and had to spend the night in the hospital? What about all that? What about all the lives she saved? The baby she delivered from a dead mother and placed in the hands of her grieving father? What about everything she did in a day that was so fucking miraculous? What about all that? And why didn’t her family seem to know anything about it at all?
“Gosh, why don’t you take a vacation more often? Get out some? God, you act as if you’re chained to your desk. Or you know, like sixty years old. Why not live a little?”
“Because my patients depend on me, Morgan.”
Morgan waved her hand. “So send them to other doctors. Whatever. I can’t see why you spend your days looking up strange women’s butts.”
Spencer put his fork down with a loud “clink!” and looked around. No one else noticed, paused, or gasped in astonishment after hearing Morgan’s comment at the dinner table to Erica. Erica looked across at him when she noticed his look. She smiled hesitantly, as if to say, it’s okay.
“Yeah, why would she want to spend her days saving women’s lives, delivering their babies, when she could be sitting around, tanning herself, like you do? Yes, I’m sure your life is a whole lot more interesting than Erica’s, Morgan.”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open. So did everyone else’s as they all stared at Spencer.
Spencer glanced around. “Do any of you have a clue about what she does all day? How many women she helps? How many lives she saves? The long hours she works? Or how hard she works while you guys all laze around in her mansion?”
Erica’s look was astonished. So were her family members.’ Spencer started to stand, feeling pretty sure her father would ask him to leave. Instead, he stopped when he heard someone clapping. Puzzled, no, stunned, Spencer looked at the head of the table where her father rose, clapping his hands together. Was he mocking him? Spencer had no idea.
“That, young man, was a very impassioned speech. And a wonderful testament to our girl here. Thank you for reminding us of what Erica has chosen to with her life. Yes, we all need to take stock of that more often. We all should learn from her sterling example.”
Spencer glanced at Erica. Was her father for real? Or making fun of him? But then, no, he couldn’t be for real. No one could be that bat-shit crazy.
Cora Lynn lifted her wine glass. “Here, here, I propose a toast to Erica.”
Erica shrugged her shoulders, while her lips struggled to suppress a smile. Spencer too felt spasms of laughter in his gut. Erica’s father and Cora were truly crazy. Certifiably, freaking crazy. No wonder Erica dealt with Tamira so well.
The twins also lifted their glasses, so what else could Spencer do, but lift his? Erica rolled her eyes. Apparently, her family was proud of her when they weren’t just totally clueless, shiftless, lazy, selfish, ne’er-do-wells.
“So Spencer, are you a doctor too then? Do you work with Erica?”
Spencer froze. Morgan was looking up at him with wide blue eyes. “No. Not even close. I just work at the building where Erica’s practice is located.”
Erica smiled and nodded. “He’s also a musician. His band should be getting back together any time now. But until then, he’s paying the bills by working for the practice.”
“What kind of musician?” Cam asked, visibly interested. “I jam some on the piano.”
Erica rolled her eyes, shaking her head toward Spencer.
“I can play the piano, guitar, drums, just about anything I want, I guess. But mostly, I play the piano.”
Erica didn’t know that and sharpened her gaze on him.
Testily, he added, “And Erica’s wrong… I don’t have a band that’s getting back together.”
“Yes, he does. He’s just shy about it. The band is Zenith, and Spencer writes all the music for them. Someday soon, they’ll be on the rise again, and will be fucking brilliant.”
Her eyes were on him as if they were alone and not right in front of her family. He was shocked she said the F word at her family’s dinner table as cavalierly as she said hello. No one seemed to care though. This wasn’t the formal, pedigreed gala he pictured in his mind. Erica’s intense gaze was making him squirm. The conviction in her voice that he was brilliant at anything, made him want to pull the buttons of his shirt from his throat so that he could breathe.
“I doubt that,” he mumbled and turned away from her stare, trying to ignore her belief in him. And her incessant goodness.
Later, after dinner and dessert, while still marveling at how loud and crazy the Heathersbys were, Spencer was lounging in their oversized living room, his third vodka and tonic in hand. Morgan came over and sat next to him on a weird love seat. It was claw-footed, and upholstered in red velvet and almost looked like it belonged on the set of a porn movie.
“So, Spencer, you’re dating Erica,” Morgan said as she tucked herself right up next to him. God help him, but her bra-less, barely covered nipple just then grazed his arm, pebbling against him. He edged away from her as far as the porn couch would allow him.
Reeking of heavy perfume, that made him want to sneeze, her long strands of hair trailed across his arm, urging him to scratch it.
“Yes. Erica. I’m dating Erica. Your sister.”
“I can’t believe she’d date someone like you. You’re younger than her, aren’t you? Usually, she dates forty-year-old corpses. You know, like Dr. Bennett, or rich, but useless pricks. You’re not though, are you? How old are you, Spencer?”
“Twenty-six,” he said barely aware of his replies, and more worried about the long, red painted nails he found resting on his inner thigh and inching upwards. He pushed her hand off his legs.
“Hmm… I’m twenty-three. I think our ages are much closer, don’t you?”
Okay, he wasn’t mistaken: Erica’s sister was more than hitting on him. She was nearly grabbing his crotch right there in the living room, while her barely covered breast rubbed against his arm. This couldn’t be real. Erica was in the kitchen, talking to her father, and Spencer wasn’t sure where everyone else had gone. And here, Erica’s little, horny sister was nearly humping on him.
Spencer jumped up, spilling part of his drink on the marble floor. He couldn’t have cared less in his haste to get away from her. He glanced at Morgan just in time to see her black skirt hike up and give him a Sharon Stone, Basic Instinct kind of peek at her. Spencer had been around a lot of women in his life, but never had a girl do that to him. And now, Erica’s little sister? In the living room of their mansion? With her parents not more than fifty feet away? Spencer turned and walked across the room. Trying to avoid the total disaster Morgan would and could be for him.
Should he tell Erica? No. He couldn’t. Not after watching Erica return to the living room, and sit before talking sweetly to her little sister. And Morgan was sweet right back at her. Except for the times Morgan inconspicuously looked right and left, before opening her legs, and directing her naked beaver right at him. And for the first time in Spencer’s life, the sight of a woman’s pussy made him feel nauseous and incestuous. What was wrong with that girl?
Thankfully, the rest of the family came back in, and sat around. Spencer refused to allow even another glance towards Morgan. He turned when he heard Cam speaking to him.
“So, wanna hear me play something?” Cam asked.
“Uh, sure,” Spencer said. For the first time, Spencer noticed the piano, which was stuck behind the red velvet furniture. He was totally unaware it was there and he walked over, checking it out, and nearly salivating over th
e beauty of the instrument.
Cam quickly played a song of middle school-level difficulty, after which his family clapped and praised him, even though he really played like shit.
Spencer looked up and found Erica’s gaze focused on him. “Why don’t you play something for us, Spencer?”
He read the challenge in her eyes. Felt the pressure. The why the hell don’t you play music for me, in her tone. And the insistence. She wanted him to play for her all along, and he never would.
“Please? For me?” she asked softly, tilting her head. Yeah, like he could resist that.
Spencer sat down at the bench and gingerly touched the ivory keys as gently as he would a woman’s neck. He felt rusty, but it felt right. Right at home. He felt a strange spurt of confidence rushing through him. The rightness of being where he belonged. He hadn’t felt that feeling in years. Too many years.
There was no sheet music, but he didn’t need any. He could play most anything from memory. It was a kind of sixth sense. Or like some crazy ass, autistic/savant kind of freaky thing possessed him, and although he couldn’t read or write well, he could play any tune he ever heard. He never understood it, but just accepted that it was.
His fingers touched the keys and he began to play the music he hadn’t played in months. He played as if he were alone on a stage before thousands. He played because Erica was listening and he wanted her to see him doing what he did best. Making it something important. Doing something besides sweeping her sidewalks. Proving that what she believed he could do, and what he refused to believe he could do for years, suddenly was right. He could play. There was nothing stopping him, not a single sound he couldn’t replicate, note for note. Nothing mattered then. But that. Peace. Joy. Confidence. Life. Erica. And all because of Erica.
When he finally stopped, the room was in silent shock. With one glance at Erica, he saw it in her eyes. Everything she felt for him was shining with sincerity from her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Your family is crazy.”
It was over an hour later, after Erica’s family gave them a long, drawn-out, goodbye while they were driving to her condo.
“I know. I told you a long time ago I wasn’t anything like you thought. I had a good idea of how you thought they’d be. And we’re not like that at all.”
“You’re not crazy though, and I think they might be.”
“Well, lounge around all day long with no real goals or ambition, and more money than sense, and see how normal you are.”
“You could do that, but you don’t.”
She tilted her head to smile at him. “I prefer not to be crazy. What you said about me to them… did you mean it?”
He glanced at her, for a heavy moment before answering, “Yeah, I meant it.”
“You liked playing tonight, didn’t you?”
“The piano? Who wouldn’t have? It was like driving your car, the best. Just don’t go on about it.”
“No, we wouldn’t want to give you any compliments, or allow you to think anything positive about yourself.”
He flashed her a smile. “I know what I’m good at, Doc.”
She smiled back sweetly. “Do you? Or is there a learning curve in that area too?”
He laughed out loud, something he never did, and it made Erica feel as proud as if she just successfully performed major surgery. She said something that made Spencer Mattox laugh out loud! Their easy banter felt good. Nice. Especially in contrast to the silence surrounding them on the way to her family’s house. She should have just relied on her family’s crazy ways, knowing they would work their magic. They really were so weird, there was no way she could have described them to Spencer beforehand. He had to meet them to believe such people actually existed. There was no explaining their strange, eccentric, selfish, but always loving ways.
“Well, I guess you could show me a thing or two there, couldn’t you?”
Erica groaned. “I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. I almost deserve it for pointing it out to you.”
“I never really had a professional to consult with. It might be helpful.”
“Somehow, I think you’ve met a professional or two in your time.”
“That was cold, Doc, real cold. Just so you know, I’ve never once had to pay for it.”
“No, your boyish charm works wonders, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to say it… I admit it worked on me too.”
Spencer pulled the car into her parking lot, and she slipped her hand into his as they walked towards the elevator. He looked down at their joined hands, frowning, but kept walking with her hand clasped in his. She heaved a sigh of relief over something so minor, like hand holding, because it meant so much more with Spencer. Anything beyond having sex meant something significant with Spencer. Just going to dinner with her family, and remaining with her afterwards, and getting into a good mood, was a huge step forward. Wonderful, magnificent progress!
The time they spent at her condo seemed to make Spencer slightly uncomfortable. It was as if he didn’t know quite what to do with his body, or how to behave or converse with her. That particular setting was different somehow to him than her office or his house. Setting their things down and turning lights on, Erica suddenly felt so glad he was there with her, she had to press her lips together tightly to keep from telling him. Slow. She had to proceed slowly and easily with Spencer.
“Come on,” she said finally, when she found him in middle of her living room, looking around. So tall, so dark, and so handsome, he took her breath away. Had any man ever taken her breath away? Or made her heart race so wildly? Or made her happy just knowing he was next to her?
Following her to the bedroom, she flipped the light on, and he looked around, taking it all in. It was definitely a woman’s room, featuring delicate, country French furniture with gold scrolling on the wood. Soft colors of peach and yellow on the bedspread could be glimpsed through the matching drapes. Her favorite knick-knacks occupied the table, and her vanity was full of creams, perfumes, makeup, and jewelry, all haphazardly strewn in her haste to get ready that morning. She realized it was the first time Spencer ventured this far into her home. Why was that? Why didn’t they come in here before?
She knew the answer. It emphasized too clearly the difference in their financial statuses. And lifestyles. Her furnishings were so much more elegant and settled, reflecting the fact that she owned so much more than he. At his house, the concept was less in his face. Here, however, it was once again, front and center. She passed through her room, kicking her shoes off, and going into the bathroom. Over her shoulder, she said, “Get comfortable, Spencer. I hope you’ll be spending a lot more time here.”
With that, she shut the bathroom door before he could respond. There, she said it. No, declared it. No way, however, did she want to see his reaction.
When she finished, and her makeup was all washed off, jewelry put away, hair brushed, and wearing a silk nightgown, she opened the door, and turned the light off behind her. Spencer sat on her bed, his shoes off and shirt untucked. He looked up at her and his eyes ran over the length of her body. As usual, to Erica, it felt like it was the first time he ever laid eyes on her. How did he manage to do that? To make her feel gorgeous and excited from just a glance? As if every part of her turned him on. Seeing his eyes so riveted on her: so dark, hot, intense, and focused, it made her feel like the world and all its sensory details were invisible to him. Everything was nonexistent, but she.
For a man who professed not to want any intimacy or connection, his unique manner of staring at her as if she were the first beautiful object he’d ever beheld in this world, was quite an intoxicating attribute for any woman. What woman wouldn’t want to feel like she was the sun and moon for a man from just one mesmerized look? Yet that was how he looked at her. Erica decided that was also why, despite his attitude, lack of finesse, and iciness, he so easily had women falling for him. She included.
“Do you hate my room?”
&n
bsp; “Hate your room? No. Why would I?”
“Too feminine? Perhaps too materialistic? Too everything you don’t like?”
“No. It’s you. It reflects you like a mirror.”
“Which is something you don’t hate?”
He pressed his lips tightly together, restraining the ghost of a smile. “No, you are definitely something I don’t hate.”
Close. It was as close to a declaration of love as she could get. Erica knew that. His reluctance to admit any of his feelings was deeply ingrained. Admitting any small emotion that he experienced exposed him, showing his weakness, and rendering him out of control. So hearing him say he didn’t hate her meant more to Erica than if another man had said he loved her.
Finally, Spencer stood up, and she came over to him. He put his arms around her. This is what she was missing her entire adult life: being held by the man she was in love with. It was different and felt better than any other relationship could offer her. The emotion of love, like what she felt with Spencer, gave new meaning to everything. It made the simple acts of touching him or looking at him, almost an obsession. It enhanced all the other areas of her life, improving it in every aspect. Being with Spencer made the rest of her life seem lighter, freer, and more fulfilling.
His hands slid over her silk-clad back, down to her waist. She sighed at his warm touch. Falling together onto her bed, she knew this was so much more, and so much deeper than any other relationship she ever had. With no experience like it before, she was as new and virginal to this kind of love as Spencer was. She hoped they could manage not to screw it all up with their mutual ineptitude.
****
Spencer walked into the brightly lit kitchen while Erica slept. How had his life brought him to this place? Lounging on a Sunday morning at Dr. Erica Heathersby’s condo? Her condo had a weekly cleaning service, but between cleanings, she actually lived in the place. There were magazines strewn all over the coffee table, a forgotten jacket hanging on the chair, and old newspapers all over her bar. The dishes were done, but everything looked cluttered, far more than what Spencer was used to. He liked nothing. Emptiness. Things put out only if they needed to be. He had to often refrain from automatically tidying up behind her and putting her things away.