The California Club: LoveTravel Series - USA

by Belinda Jones

  The others look concerned. I've got to get a grip.

  'Anyway, there's no set rules. You just do what you instinctively feel is right,' Helen soothes.

  'That's all very well if you are in touch with your instincts,' Elise has to have the final word. 'There are women on my course who are so riddled with bad past experiences they don't trust their own judgment any more. Whenever a new relationship possibility comes along, it immediately triggers some hellish memory and they feel vulnerable and out of their depth and so they panic and behave in such a way that they push the other person away.'

  Elise has obviously been paying a lot more attention in class than she'd care to admit.

  'So what's the solution?' Helen asks.

  'We haven't got to that bit yet.'

  Great.

  We all sup our drinks. When I look up I find Elliot staring at me. And Elise staring at Elliot staring at me. She swiftly clamps her hand on his arm. 'Elliot, I've got a headache coming on. I think I might go to bed.'

  We all know what that means – I'm ready to leave and you're coming with me whether you like it or not.

  'Okay I'll be along shortly.'

  'But—' she begins.

  'Probably best you have a head-start getting to sleep so I don't keep you awake with my snoring,' he continues.

  That's it, Elliot – stand strong!

  Elise looks put out. 'Well, all right then, I'll stay for just one more drink!' she says, as if we're beseeching her.

  Suddenly Zoë bursts out laughing. She's been flicking through the room pictures and something about the Matterhorn suite has triggered a memory: 'Did I ever tell you about the guy I shagged on this ski trip?' she asks. 'We did it in the snow! We were mid you know, totally naked and we heard these people coming up the path so we fluffed all the snow over us – it was so deep and powdery it only took a couple of seconds. We just lay there like two people on the beach buried in sand. It was hysterical!'

  'Weren't you freezing?' Elise winces.

  'Couldn't feel a thing – we were so tanked on grappa we didn't even notice we were shivering until our teeth were rattling together when we kissed!' Zoë takes a slug of Baileys then nods at Helen. 'Your turn!'

  'What?'

  'Best sex story!'

  'That's easy, it was two weeks ago – Reuben took me up to Big Bear and we got this cabin by the lakeside, it was all rugs and lanterns and hot chocolate … We went skinny-dipping at midnight and then ran back to our cabin and lay by the fire…’

  ‘Sounds heavenly!' I sigh. And exactly what Joel was proposing.

  ‘Drinks!' Elliot gets to his feet. 'Anyone? Everyone?'

  Considering we're already sitting at strange tilted angles this is probably a bad idea but we all say yes.

  'Sasha?' Zoë tags her. 'Best sex!'

  'Masked ball in Venice. He never even saw my face. That's all I'm saying!'

  'Fantastic!' Zoë raves. 'Your turn, Elise!'

  I immediately picture Elise dressed as a dominatrix in black PVC, punishing someone. And then I get a worse thought – her story is going to be about Elliot. It's perfectly possible I might throw up.

  When I dare to look at her she seems a million miles away. Her face has taken on a look of enchantment and she seems ten years younger, verging on attractive. She goes to speak and then hesitates, as if she'll spoil the memory if she says it out loud. Checking that Elliot is engrossed at the bar, she leans in and begins in a slurring husk: 'There's this little coastal town with these sweet boutiques and pristine tree-lined streets and everything is so neat. There's no litter, no chewing gum, no McDonald's. None of this tackiness,' she says waving her hand at the red leather bar. 'It's all tasteful and groomed.’

  Is anyone having any fun, there? I want to ask.

  'It just feels so safe,' Elise whispers, hugging herself.

  I would never have thought someone so gruff would find twee-dom so appealing.

  'We used to get a picnic from the deli and go cycling along the coastal path and every weekend we'd play golf and then one day—'

  'Oh my god, did you do it in a bunker?' Zoë's eager to get to the sex bit.

  'Imagine the golf balls flying overhead and people shouting "FORE-play!"' Helen teases.

  'No we did not do it in a bunker!' Elise humphs, swatting the air. 'We made love back at his apartment on white sheets with the windows open and the softest breeze coming in. It felt so clean, so right. And in the sunlight we could really see each other. We didn't have to hide. Nobody was judging us.'

  'Who'd be judging you?' I frown, confused. This isn't in keeping with the pushy Elise we love to hate. I've never once got the impression that she cared for other people's opinions. And then I remember her urgency to get to the Hawaiian No-hope-o class where she planned to heal hurtful memories – could there be a connection?

  Elise sighs. 'You can't live somewhere so perfect – "in polite society" – with a secret like that.'

  Then there is a secret! I knew she was hiding something. But what?

  'I wanted to belong but the community knew and people gossiped and they pointed,' she continues in a trance.

  'Why?' I ask softly, hoping to lull her into a confession. I can't bear the suspense!

  'What?' Elise blinks, looking troubled.

  'You just said people were gossiping and pointing—'

  'No I didn't!' she cries.

  I hesitate. I don't think she meant to say that last bit out loud. Frankly I think she's losing her marbles so I daren't probe further. I'm not ready for an Elise-style meltdown.

  'Do places like that really exist?' Sasha asks, letting her off the hook. 'It sounds like The Truman Show.'

  ‘Sounds like Carmel to me,' Helen notes.

  'It was,' Elise confirms. 'Carmel-by-the-Sea.'

  'Where's that?' Zoë wants to know.

  'About 150 miles up the coast from here,' Helen replies, eyes still on Elise.

  That's just a few hours' drive from here, closer still to Breathe. The proximity alone must have brought all those memories – good and bad – flooding back. Was this all part of The California Club's plan, getting Elise to confront her past, whatever it might be? I still find it strange to think Elise had a whole other life before Elliot. One she could go back to, I think to myself. I wonder if her mystery man is still there? And whether the big taboo still applies?

  'How long were you in Carmel for?' Zoë asks, taking a more casual line of questioning.

  'A couple of months.'

  'Months? How did you get the time off work?'

  'I left my job,' she says, looking blurry again.

  'Were you expecting to stay out here?'

  Elliot returns with the drinks. 'Sorry I took so long, I got chatting to the barman. What did I miss?'

  'Nothing,' Elise clips, darting warning looks around the table. The subject is clearly closed. Darn! Will we ever get to the crux of this? She’s had three times as much as the rest of us and she's still guarding her secret with snarly teeth.

  'Let's do fantasies now!' Zoë continues on her former tack. 'Describe what your absolute dream scenario would be. Lara, you go first.'

  On cue, the band strikes up Begin the Beguine.

  'Isn't this one of your favorites?' Elliot remembers.

  I nod.

  Elliot sets down the last drink, does a little bow and then extends an open palm to me.

  I gasp.

  'Well?'

  'Please don't embarrass me,' Elise cringes.

  Ignoring her, I take his hand and follow him to the dance floor.

  'I apologize in advance to your toes,' I smile as we take our position.

  Elliot gathers me up in his arms and then holds the pose, waiting for an appropriate moment to butt into the song. I notice his foot tap twice and then we're off. I'm expecting a shuffling clutter of missteps but within seconds we're gliding. There's no way Patrick Swayze could accuse Elliot of having 'spaghetti arms' – he's created a perfect frame and all I have to do is hold
on tight and enjoy the ride.

  'How come …?' I falter, thrown by his prowess.

  'How Come Dancing, you mean?' Elliot chuckles.

  I nod, intrigued.

  'My gran made me take ballroom dancing classes when I was seven.'

  'I never knew.'

  'It doesn't often come up, mercifully.'

  'How long did you do it for?'

  'Six years.'

  'Six years!' I exclaim.

  'I don't remember much—'

  'You might not but your feet do.' I nod downwards.

  Elliot looks bemused by his own deft strides as though someone else has control of his feet.

  The music changes and his body instinctively responds.

  'Are we cha-cha-cha-ing?'

  'I think we might be.'

  His hips begin to swivel and rock in time to the music. 'It's spreading up my body!'

  Again the music changes and the twirls begin. I was dizzy before just having his hand on my waist, heaven help me now!

  'So what's your name, pretty lady?' Elliot grins, clutching me to him after a giddying three-in-a row.

  'Tammy-Sue, pleased to meet you!' I play along.

  'Likewise. I'm Buck.'

  'Hey you!' I beam. I couldn't be any happier if he dropped down on one knee and proposed. (After un-proposing to Elise, of course.)

  And then a saxed-up, punchy version of Bad, Bad Leroy Brown starts up and we're swinging.

  'You're so good you're making me look good!' I marvel.

  'Well, you always were quite a little mover.'

  This is the best birthday ever!

  When the band announces a break Elliot and I return to the table exhausted but exhilarated.

  'You never told me you could dance!' Elise adopts her favorite accusatory tone.

  'Is that what that was?' Elliot shrugs.

  'I'm stunned!' Helen applauds Elliot.

  'Any other dark secrets I should know about?' Elise continues sniping.

  'I don't think it gets any darker than ballroom dancing.' Elliot takes a swig of his vodka.

  'Lara – you never did tell us your fantasy,' Zoë prompts.

  ‘That was it, right there on the dance floor,' I admit.

  I can still see us together in my mind.

  'That's it? Dancing?' Elise isn't convinced.

  I nod. 'Well, it's one of my fantasies.'

  'Tell us another,' Zoë urges. 'One with sex in.'

  'Hold on. Who with?' Elise bores into me.

  'What?'

  'In your fantasy, who are you dancing with?'

  My mind is blank. I can't summon one sexy celeb to fill Elliot's shoes. I look to Zoë for help but she's busy deflecting a proposition from one of the band members.

  'Owen Wilson,' Sasha saves me. 'You love him.'

  'I do! Yes, him. He's divine!'

  'Who's divine?' Zoë rejoins the conversation.

  'Owen Wilson.'

  'Are you telling them about the première? That guy always reminds me of Elliot, especially in Shanghai Noon.'

  Oh no.

  'It's the hair!' Helen and Sasha chorus.

  ‘Just the hair!' I confirm.

  In the silence that follows Sasha, Zoë, Helen and myself try and will the cat back into the bag.

  Elise gets a feisty look in her eye. 'You know, I'm surprised none of you girls have ever got it together with Elliot!'

  Oh my god! SHE KNOWS! SHE KNOWS!

  A few tinkles of nervous laughter. This is even awkward for the people not in love with him.

  'None of this lot would have me!' Elliot tries to make a joke.

  'I wouldn't be so sure,' Elise says, darkly.

  My heart is pounding. I feel on the verge of being exposed.

  'Surely there must have been one occasion …' she probes further.

  I swear I see the tiniest smile flash across Elliot's face but he immediately blanks it out.

  'Maybe when you first met?'

  'Other than that monster five–in–a–bed orgy, there's been nothing, really,' Zoë wades in.

  We all laugh. Me to the point that I get hiccups.

  Then an old lady who looks just like Sofia from The Golden Girls saves the day by begging Elliot to take her for a spin on the dance floor.

  It's a sight to behold. She barely comes up to his waist.

  'You know, there's a bedroom here called Tall & Short.' Sasha flicks to the appropriate page. 'Says it's for tall husbands with short wives, or vice versa – the bed is custom-made so it's five foot long on one side and six foot on the other!'

  'I hope you're not suggesting they sleep together!' Elise grumps.

  Visualizing the pairing, all of us fall about.

  Even, eventually, Elise.

  The sensation of real laughter is clearly such a shock to her system that five minutes later she announces she's going to bed. And this time she doesn't even attempt to engage Elliot.

  'To sleep,' she sighs, lurching up from the table while he's still on the dance floor. 'Perchance to dream…'

  And with that she's gone.

  Where does she go in her dreams, I wonder? It’s funny, after spending the whole week dreading visiting Elise at Breathe I am now curious enough to be looking forward to our trip there tomorrow and the chance to put another piece of the puzzle together.

  'Ready to go again?' Elliot returns granny-free and looks at me expectantly.

  I wonder if he knows the truth.

  'I don't know if I've got any energy left,' I fret, limp of limb.

  'Oh go on!' Helen, Sasha and Zoë hoist me up into his arms.

  'Come on, old lady.' Elliot puts a supportive arm around my waist and leads me to the dance floor. 'I'll be your walker.'

  Slowly the thrill of being held revives me. He takes my hands and we begin to gently sway to I'll String Along With You. Then, just when I think we're going to get away with a lilting melody, a jive sets in. For three consecutive songs. I can't remember having a more vigorous workout. The old folk don't seem to be breaking a sweat but I'm on fire. Finally the band slide into a slowie.

  ‘Thank god! I'm beat!' I pant, ready to return to the table. But Elliot pulls me back into his arms. Close to his hot body.

  'Stay for one more,' he breathes.

  I relax into his chest. I can feel every contour beneath his shirt. I wonder if he can feel me just as well through the fabric of my dress.

  'Are you having a good birthday?' he asks, sounding as if he really cares.

  I look up at him and beam a ‘Yes’.

  'It's so brilliant that your mum called.'

  My face falls, remembering our conversation.

  'What is it?' Elliot frowns, looking concerned. 'She's okay, isn't she?'

  'She found a buyer for the B&B,' I blurt.

  'Oh Lara!'

  I bite my lip.

  'You don't really want to sell do you?'

  I shake my head. I know I can't speak without getting quavery so I say nothing.

  'Ever since you told us at La Valencia it's been playing on my mind. I haven't said anything because I know you didn't want to talk about it but you can't let it go, you just can't. We have to find a way.'

  We. He said we. There is hope!

  Elliot pulls me back against his chest and gently rests his chin a-top my head, laying a comforting hand around the back of my neck. And then I feel him kiss my hair, just once in that, 'It's going to be okay, I'll make it okay' way.

  I close my eyes and surrender to the moment. I don't want to worry about the B&B now. I just want to dance.

  For two more songs I remain pressed to his body, moving in perfect unison, feeling closer than ever. Wanting him more than ever. From my fingertips to my toes I tell him so, without saying a word. He pulls me closer still. He can hear me. At last he can hear me, I just know it.

  Suddenly I feel the floorboards give way to carpet, then paving, then gravel.

  Tentatively I open my eyes and look around me. We're outside, shelterin
g under a magnolia tree. At first I think the waxy blooms have been laced with fairy lights but then I realize it's the stars peeking through. We've entered our own magic kingdom.

  'You danced us right off the dance floor!' I smile, inhaling the sweet perfume.

  'Yes I did,' Elliot says solemnly.

  I take in the new look on his face. 'Why?' I say huskily.

  He looks straight into my eyes. 'I wanted to see how it would feel if it was just you and me.'

  My heart pounds and I feel light-headed.

  'And how does it feel?' I venture.

  He answers with a kiss – his mouth meeting mine in the most tender, rapturous, generous caress. As I respond he clasps me to him with such a passion I'm catapulted to a place of blissful abandon. I want to kiss him forever. My fingers tangle with his hair and he emits the gentlest murmur of pleasure, sending me spiraling in a whirlpool of desire and adoration.

  And yet something pulls me back, gulping for air. 'What about Elise?' I gasp, summoning all my restraint to lean away from his beautiful mouth.

  Elliot freezes for a moment. 'Elise?' he repeats, as if he doesn't know who I mean. Then he hangs his head and pinches his brow, expelling a desperate moan.

  ‘I can't do this while she … if you're …' I stumble.

  Where are these words coming from? Why is it me summoning her up? Me, spoiling the most exquisite interplay?

  Elliot lifts his head. 'You're right.'

  Am I? I feel sick, suddenly terrified that I've cut short the kiss too soon, before he could really feel all that he could feel for me.

  'Okay,’ he puffs, straightening up and seemingly steeling himself. 'Here I go!'

  Then he turns and runs up the hill, on a direct path for Jungle Rock.

  I blink in disbelief. Here I go? I look around me wondering, what just happened. Here I go back to my fiancée or Here I go to break off the engagement so I can be with you? Which is it?

  'Elliot!' I call into the night but there's no reply.

  Why did I speak and ruin the moment?

  Because I don't want to be a kiss on the side. Because with me it's all or nothing. Because just me is enough. That's why.

  I listen for sounds of Elise hurling artifacts around. Nothing. I can't see her getting dumped quietly. This doesn't bode well. Maybe he can't wake her up. Maybe he's just pressing a pillow over her face.