“You okay? You sound…funny.”
“It’s been one tough night. Look, I know it’s late, but may I come over? I just really need to be with you right now.”
“Of course. Valen, you don’t sound like yourself. Did something happen?”
“We’ll talk when I get there. Thirty minutes?”
“That’s fine. Is there anything you need?”
“Just a hug. See you in a few.”
Pia hastily climbed out of the tub, dried off, and lotioned up. She was confused about what to wear. It was nearly midnight and she was tired as hell, but pajamas didn’t seem appropriate. Regular clothes felt out of sync as well, so she chose a loose-fitting caftan in her favorite shade of purple. It was the perfect blend of chic, casual, and camouflage.
A few quick swipes of mascara, a sweep of bronzer, and natural lip gloss, and Pia was done dressing with ten minutes to spare. She was going to need every single second. Whatever was troubling her friend—and something definitely was—he needed a place that felt safe and serene. A place where he could feel vulnerable and unburden his troubles.
Pia took the next eight minutes to breeze through her front room, turning on the water fountain, lighting the candlescape in the fireplace, and frantically searching for her favorite relaxation CD. With less than a minute to spare, she dimmed the lights, finishing the transformation of her living room into a tranquil oasis where Valen could find peace.
Ready, Pia plopped back on the sofa to wait. She’d kill for a caffeine-packed Tab energy drink right now. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but she would power through. Valen needed her, and Pia wanted him to know she could be depended on. Ten minutes later than expected, the intercom buzzed and the doorman let her know that Mr. Bellamy was on his way up.
Pia opened the door and stood in the threshold, waiting. The ding of the elevator bell announced his arrival to her floor, and she watched as he approached. Tonight, the virile and energetic man she was familiar with was lost behind a fatigued, battle-weary warrior. Valen stepped inside and without saying a word drew Pia into his arms for a long, tight, and desperate hug. The pair stood in the foyer, frozen like a sculpture, holding each other for comfort and in concern. Not one word was exchanged, but none were needed. The look on Valen’s face said it all. Whatever had occurred tonight had shaken him to his soul.
Pia broke their embrace and helped Valen remove his suit jacket and tie and led him by the hand to the couch. She poured him a glass of white wine before sitting and snuggling up against him. The pair sat there for minutes that seemed to go on forever, but there was no awkwardness in the hush, just a comfort level so great both knew that filling the air with words wasn’t necessary.
Valen sipped his wine and absorbed the serenity around him, letting the soft serenade of the music unwind his frazzled nerves. What bliss to walk into such a calming environment and into the arms of such a beautiful and understanding woman. How did Pia once again know just what he needed to soothe his battered ego and disillusioned psyche? She just seemed to have the uncanny knack of anticipating his mood—whether it be playful, serious, or passionate.
“They threw Oreos,” he said, finally breaking the quiet.
“I don’t understand.”
“I was in Buffalo at a rally, standing at the podium and outlining my ‘Respect Yourself’ campaign, and there was a contingent of loud black Democrats in the room, which is normal. There are hecklers in every crowd. Usually I can deal with them, but five minutes into my talk they started pelting Oreo cookies at me and chanting, ‘Uncle Tom.’
“I don’t get it, Pia. I was talking about the importance of respecting yourself and acting in a dignified manner with the expectation and the demand, even, that others do the same…that’s why I don’t get it. How is that being a sellout?”
“I’m so sorry.”
The pain in Valen’s voice caused Pia to cringe. It was unbelievable how protective she felt toward him and angry at her own political brethren for hurting him so. Political opinions aside, why did folks have to be so cruel? She rested her head on his chest and let him talk, instinctively knowing that he needed the opportunity to purge his anger more than discuss the events of this evening.
“The Democratic machine has been trying to paint me with that brush since I announced my candidacy…pulling out that ‘he’s not really black’ bullshit.”
“This sounds just like media-hungry ignorance at work,” Pia offered, fighting to stay awake. It was near midnight, and her pregnant body, encouraged by the relaxing atmosphere, was demanding sleep.
“It is showboating and ignorance from the opposition. And bigotry and playing the race card. It’s all that bullshit wrapped up in a goddamn cookie. If you want to go toe-to-toe with me on my stance on the issues, bring it on, but don’t step to me with insulting acts of cowardice.”
Hearing no response, Valen looked down to find that Pia had drifted off to sleep. His anger and disappointment reduced, he took a deep breath and leisurely finished his glass of wine, enjoying the feel of this woman he adored sleeping next to him. She was like a warm and cozy security blanket, and he was so grateful to have found this incredibly soft place to land. Pia Jamison was everything he wanted in a woman. She was beautiful, funny, and sexy. She also had her own life and interests, and a sharp mind that was as intelligent as it was independent.
Valen wanted this woman for his own, and just as soon as this grueling election came and went, he was going to do everything in his power to make her want him too.
“I love you,” Valen revealed, his voice just above a whisper, his mouth stretching into a wide, wondrous smile at the realization. Slowly, so not to disturb her, he cautiously eased off the couch and gently scooped Pia up into his arms.
Valen made his way back to the bedroom, making one wrong turn along the way. Apparently, Pia had been getting ready to retire when he’d called, as the linens were already turned down. He gently placed her on the bed and lovingly tucked in his sleeping beauty. Valen stood and watched her snooze for a moment, forever etching her lovely face into his memory. A powerful yawn broke the spell, reminding him just how tired he was. He’d love nothing more than to slide right into bed beside Pia, but he was being picked up early to begin another tedious day of morning meetings and afternoon campaigning in Long Island. Valen had to get back to his apartment and prepare.
He turned and was reaching for the light on the bed stand, but the book caught his eye. Why would Pia have a book on what to expect during pregnancy? He picked it up and began flipping through the pages until he reached a marker holding the chapter on traveling during pregnancy. Valen pulled the bookmark in order to peruse the page and realized it was a photograph—a sonogram, to be exact. He took a closer look at the grainy image, not understanding most of what he was seeing.
The only thing that was one hundred percent clear based on the name and date stamp, was that this was Pia’s baby and the sonogram was taken two weeks ago. There were other letters and numbers on the image, but Valen had no clue how old the fetus was. A confused frown lined his brow as crazy thoughts began running through his mind.
Pia claimed to be celibate, yet she was pregnant. Why had she lied to him?
Valen returned the image and the book to their proper place and took one last look at Pia before turning out the light. He turned and exited the bedroom, his steps as heavy and plodding as when he arrived. He was stunned and felt like he’d been sucker punched. Suddenly, like an image in a kaleidoscope shaken and turned, the lovely scene between them had shifted and changed into something totally unrecognizable.
Out in the hall, he felt the vibration of his Treo and cursed. He was so tired of always being so damn reachable. He opened the file to his mail and clicked on Ed’s latest, marked urgent. Apparently the New York Post was endorsing his rival. Reading the words, his face stung as if he’d been physically slapped.
A perfect fucking ending to a perfectly fucked-up day.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Pia checked her BlackBerry once again on her walk in to work. Still no morning message from Valen. She knew he had an early start on another demanding day, but she was still surprised and slightly worried. Last night she’d seen the fragile side of this man she adored, and while the hurt to his pride ran deep, the pain inflicted on his spirit by such an insensitive display of disrespect went even deeper. She hoped she’d managed to cheer him up last night before Mr. Sandman delivered his knockout punch, but Pia had no indication of his mood after he’d tucked her in and left.
She slipped the device back into her purse and continued her stroll. Pia stopped when something blue in a store window caught her eye. A sly smile broke out across her face as she turned around and hurried inside.
While the clerk at the toy store wrapped her purchase, Pia filled out the gift card: Next time you’ll be ready. Hugs, Pia. If this didn’t cheer Valen up and score her big-time brownie points for being clever and sweet, nothing would.
“Morning Dee. Can you please messenger this over to Valen Bellamy’s apartment?” Pia asked, dropping the shopping bag on her desk as she breezed by.
“Sure. And Benita had to move your yoga session to this afternoon. You were free, so I confirmed it.”
“Fine, and when you get a minute I need you to pull the Sony contract and the storyboards for the Blue Diamonds shoot.”
“I see you and little Pom have gotten your second trimester boost of energy.”
“That’s right, and we’ll be cracking the whip around here.” Pia laughed as she settled into her desk chair to begin her workday.
For the rest of the morning, Pia answered her outstanding e-mails, returned at least a dozen phone calls, and settled a dispute between the art director and stylist. Every so often Valen would slide through her thoughts, evoking a happy grin. She was eager to hear from him and get his reaction to her surprise gag.
Pia left for a lunchtime appointment with Dr. Montrae, and after receiving a healthy report at her checkup, returned to the office. Preand post-appointment checks of her BlackBerry left her disappointed, but she was sure that Valen was simply too busy with his crazy schedule to contact her.
“Did that contract go out?” Pia asked Darlene.
“Yep, and the rough cut from the Houston shoot came in.”
“Okay, I’ll look at it later. Any calls?” she asked, working her way around to what she really wanted to know.
“He hasn’t called, chica.”
“He who?”
“He, Tiger Woods. Who do you think? Pleeeeease. You’re about as transparent as Nicole Kidman’s forehead.”
“But you sent the package?” Pia asked, giving up the charade.
“Yes, and I called and it’s been received—at least by the doorman. They didn’t say if it’s in his hands yet. What is it?”
“A Cookie Monster puppet.”
“Okay, that sounds a little freaky…I don’t even want to know.”
“Good, because I’m not telling.”
Pia lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. It was nearly two A.M. Something was not right. She’d had no word from Valen despite the many messages she’d left on his Treo and office and home phones. In their six weeks together, patterns had been established and personality traits had emerged. Today he had broken all of them, and Pia was worried.
She reached over for the remote and turned on CNN. After ten minutes of watching and hearing nothing about the U.S. senatorial candidate from New York, she decided he hadn’t been shot, hurt, or arrested and shut off the television.
Pia plopped back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, willing sleep to return, but it fast became apparent that the sandman had moved on. She attempted the counting thing, but instead of sheep her last encounter with Valen kept leaping through her mind. From his phone call to his arrival to his finding comfort in her arms on the sofa, she examined every detail of their evening together and could determine nothing that would cause this breach of communication.
Maybe he’s mad because I fell asleep on him, Pia considered. Though she doubted it, as he had carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into bed. Pia remembered waking up the next morning wishing he had stayed.
Tucked me into bed. Oh my God, she thought, abruptly sitting up. Pia reached over and turned on the bedside light. There it was, sitting right where it had sat for the last five months: her pregnancy book. If Valen was at all curious, which she knew he was, he’d probably picked it up and found the sonogram. And even if he hadn’t gotten that far, he at least had cause to wonder.
“Fuck!” she shouted into the early-morning air. No wonder he hadn’t stayed the night or contacted her. Valen was too busy wondering what the hell was going on. Damn it! She should have been honest with him from the very start. Now things were going to be so much more painful and messy.
Pia sat there lambasting herself for every wrong decision she’d made lately, not telling Valen the whole truth about her pregnancy being the worst. After thirty-five minutes of mentally flogging herself, she decided to call him. Yes, it was very early in the morning, but at least she knew he’d be home, and if he was avoiding her, the element of surprise might force him to talk. Or at least, Pia hoped he would.
She picked up the phone and dialed his number, trying to keep back the tears and the terrible thoughts that were swirling around her head, ready to swoop down like vultures on roadkill. Maybe if she was terribly lucky this would all work out, but she wasn’t feeling particularly optimistic. After three rings an obviously tired voice said hello.
“Valen, it’s Pia.”
There was a long pause before Pia heard a click on the line, causing her to burst into tears. He’d hung up on her. He was so hurt and angry that he couldn’t even speak to her. Pia didn’t know what to do. She ruled out calling back; Valen had been pretty clear about not wanting to talk to her. Perhaps an e-mail, Pia thought, going to retrieve her BlackBerry. There was no point in trying to save a relationship that was doomed from the get go, but hopefully she could explain. And apologize. And make him believe that though she’d been less than forthcoming, she had only his best interests at heart. It took forty-five minutes to compose and edit the reasons for her actions and the excuses for her deception. But sitting before her in black and white, the words seemed too cold and unfeeling to send. Pia sat and deleted her thoughts letter by letter until they were back into cyberspace and then collapsed on her bed and cried herself into a fitful sleep.
At 6:45 A.M. the continuous buzz of her intercom woke her. It was Paolo informing her that Mr. Bellamy was downstairs. The news was like a jolt of caffeine, immediately awakening Pia to face her future. Pia told the doorman to send Valen upstairs before jumping out of bed and into the bathroom to fix the damage a tearful, sleepless night had produced. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, as were her nose and lips. Pia pulled on a robe and brushed her hair back off her face. She sighed into the mirror, resigned to her appearance. She felt a mess; she might as well look like it.
Valen’s knock was light and tentative. Pia stood on the other side of the door, willing him to listen with an open mind before turning the knob.
“Hi,” she said.
“I know it’s very early, but I want to put this behind me before my day begins in earnest,” Valen said, forgoing any pleasantries.
“It’s okay. I’ve been up most of the night anyway. Let’s go sit down.”
“No. I won’t be staying long. I’d rather talk to you here.”
Valen’s words hit her with an icy chill. This was definitely not a good sign. She looked into his face and saw a distance in his eyes. Where she used to see affection and desire, she now saw coldness and pain. Pia could feel the crack in her heart widen.
“Why did you hang up on me last night?” she asked timidly.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude, but I wasn’t ready to speak with you. Frankly, I am livid with you and with myself for being such a sucker. I’m only here because I need some answers bef
ore we nail the coffin shut on this relationship.
“Why, Pia? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? We know it’s not my baby, so what were you trying to do? What was your motivation? Personal? Political? Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were carrying another man’s child while you were seducing me into loving you on the top of the Empire State Building? I’m assuming that you were pregnant then.”
Valen’s angry barrage of questions hit her like shrapnel. Even his admission of love, tucked within his angry accusations, was shot down, falling dead at her feet.
“Well, were you?”
“Yes.”
“How pregnant are you now?”
“Nearly six months.”
“You said you were celibate, and as much as I wanted…as difficult as it was, I respected that.”
“I am…I was…I am…”
“Make up your mind. Get your lies straight,” Valen replied angrily.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“You’re damn right you should have. Forget the fact that you lied to keep from having to make love to me. Do you know what potential fire you were playing with? How you could have derailed my entire candidacy? This isn’t a game, Pia. I’ve got political enemies scrutinizing every word I say and dissecting every part of my life, trying to dig things up that might contradict what’s on the record. For God’s sake, they threw fucking cookies at me in an attempt to embarrass me in public.
“I can’t be a candidate running on family values and self-respect and have a girlfriend pregnant by another man. The press would have a field day ripping me apart. I thought you understood that.”
Girlfriend?
“I did. I do.”
“Thank God I found out before the press or the Democrats did.”
“I would nev—”
“So now I get it,” Valen continued. For the first time in their relationship he was listening but not hearing what Pia was saying.
“When we first met you wanted nothing to do with me. I pursued you and you pushed me away time after time. Was that before you found out you were pregnant and needed a father for your child?”
Weapons of Mass Seduction Page 22