by Anne Pfeffer
“And this must be Blake! Great to meet you. Corey Westvale.” He clapped Blake on the back with his free arm. “Dude. That was some wicked crazy shit you were layin’ out on that stage! We need to talk!” He propelled them all away, leaving me and Adam with my folks.
The theater was starting to empty.
An awkward silence fell. Cold, but polite, Adam nodded to my parents. “I’m Adam Sanford.” He raised his shoulders and cleared his throat, as if gearing himself up for something.
Lloyd and Phyllis stirred uneasily. They exchanged a glance: is this the one we reported?
“May I speak with you for a moment privately, Mr. Anderson?” Adam stood with both feet firmly planted, confident, speaking in a clear, calm voice.
I could see my dad psyching himself up for a confrontation. He regarded Adam coolly. “I’m sure that Prudence and Phyllis can hear whatever you have to say to me.”
“Okay.” At six foot four, Adam was still two inches shorter than my beanpole father. He was used to towering over people, I thought nervously, but he literally had to look up to my dad.
“In the event,” Adam took a quick glance in my direction, “that we have reason to meet again, I need to clear something up right now. You never saw me pull Pru into a car against her will and drive away with her. You couldn’t have, because it didn’t happen.” Adam’s grim face dared Lloyd to contradict him.
“Be that as it may….”
“So you don’t deny it?”
“I don’t have to deny it,” my father stated with dignity. “As Pru’s father, I’m entitled to do what is necessary….”
“Are you aware, Mr. Anderson, that the untruthful reporting of a crime in the state of California is a misdemeanor punishable by up to six months in jail?” Adam kept his voice calm and even.
Admiration filled me to see him looking so handsome and determined as he faced up to my father.
My father blanched. It appeared he’d never thought of that.
“I have an excellent case against you. I could file charges and win.” Adam paused to let that sink in. “You could have irreparably damaged my reputation and business. Luckily for all of us, that didn’t happen.”
I’d never before seen my dad set back or put in his place. With one finger, he rubbed a small birthmark on his hand over and over, moving the finger back and forth. He didn’t respond to Adam, but just looked down at the floor.
“Since in the end no harm was done, I’m willing to look past this,” Adam continued in a clear steady voice. “But I strongly suggest you never again do anything to injure me or my livelihood.”
My dad started to bluster, but Phyllis poked her husband and gave him a pointed look. Apologize.
He glared back at her. Out of the question.
Fascinated, I watched their silent battle of wills. Phyllis almost never went up against Lloyd, but the few times she had, she’d won. She turned to Adam. “For the both of us, I want to say we’re sorry. We overstepped, and it was wrong of us.”
Adam’s stern expression relaxed a little. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He looked expectantly at Lloyd.
“I suppose we could have handled it differently,” my dad muttered. It was the closest I’d ever seen him come to apologizing or admitting blame.
“Good. Then it’s behind us.” Adam held his hand out to Phyllis and then Lloyd, who took it sheepishly.
If I’d found Adam’s romantic gestures to be hot and sexy, his standing up to my father had me sizzling. I couldn’t wait to get him alone.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Adam said, slipping off to the bathroom, where I knew he would need to wash his hands five or six times before emerging. I sighed. He was so amazing.
“Prudence,” my father said as soon as Adam was out of earshot, “You’ll be coming back to Clayton with us tomorrow.”
I willed myself to be brave. “I’m happy here. This is my home now.”
“I can’t allow it. You belong with us in Clayton.”
“I’m an adult. You have no choice in the matter.” I felt my temper rising. So what if I had no money, no paying job, and nowhere to live beyond next week? I’d managed so far. I tossed my hair back over my shoulders and looked Lloyd straight in the eye.
“You don’t have what it takes to make it on your own.” Lloyd’s voice was low and steely. “You never have.”
“I do, too.” A trembling began inside. It always worked this way with us. A little part of me always thought, maybe my parents are right. I’d never been able to do things like other kids. I’d always been too shy, too awkward. Too strange.
But look at what I did tonight.
Ellen, Blake, and Becca were still talking to Corey Westvale. Ellen caught my eye and waved to me to come over. Her gesture sailed out to me like a lifeline.
“I have to go now,” I said. “My friends and colleagues are waiting for me. We’ve had a huge success tonight, and it’s time to celebrate.” Majestically, I strode off.
“Prudence!” Lloyd called out. “If you turn away from us now, don’t try to come back.”
“Fine!” I kept walking, although the tears started. Even with everything they’d done, I didn’t want it to end this way between us.
Adam appeared beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I took his arm. I didn’t really want to go out and party with a big group. I wanted to be with him. “Can we go home? Now?”
“Sure.”
Blake blocked our path. His eyes glowed even greener than usual. His soft white shirt almost shimmered against his black hair and the dark shadow on his cheeks and chin. He moved toward us, again reminding me of a panther.
“Come on, Pru,” he said. “We’re going to McHenry’s for drinks. We can’t celebrate without you.” He pointedly ignored Adam.
“No thanks. Adam and I are going home.”
“Aw, c’mon. You know you want to.” The urgency in his voice tugged at me.
“Blake...”
He circled my wrist with his fingers and pulled.
“She said no,” Adam growled. “What part of that don’t you understand?” I could practically hear the rumbling and sputtering of a volcano beside me.
“Adam,” I said quietly. “I should probably say goodbye to a few people. Why don’t I meet you at your place?” We had come in separate cars.
“I’ll wait for you and drive you home.” His look sent a jolt of electricity tingling through key areas of my anatomy.
“But my car…”
“I’ll bring you back for it tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I said softly, unable to look away. His eyes, a velvety brown exactly in the middle between milk chocolate and dark chocolate, ignited more tingles and sparkles.
“Bye.” He didn’t move.
“Goodbye,” Blake snapped.
Adam left.
“Come with us, Pru.” Blake hesitated, looking for a second almost nervous. “Please?”
“I’m sorry.” I said it as gently as I could.
That pain in his eyes had surfaced again. It was the real Blake, open and vulnerable. “How can I change your mind?” he said, half hopeful, half resigned.
“You can’t.” My voice almost broke. Never would I have thought that I had the power to hurt him. And tonight, of all nights. “Blake, you just became a star. You’ll be famous!”
“You think?” His eyes were almost directly level with mine, his expression rueful. He ran his long fingers through his hair.
“Yeah. I’m so proud of you. You were amazing tonight.”
“Thanks.” Elation, relief, sadness all crossed his face.
“And I’m grateful to you, too, for what you did for me,” I said. He had needed me. Valued what I had to say. It was the best gift anyone could have given me.
He nodded, his eyes expressing all the things left unsaid between us.
I kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I left him standing there and ran o
utside to meet Adam. Hands in pockets, he leaned against his silver sports car, parked at the curb. His face lit up when he saw me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lloyd and Phyllis standing on the sidewalk staring at us. I wished I’d found a way to make things better with my parents. But I hadn’t. I couldn’t. It was hopeless.
I swept past them and through the car door that Adam had opened for me. He ran around to the driver’s side and pressed a button to put the top down. In his gleaming convertible, we pulled smoothly away.
My lips trembled as I thought of Lloyd and Phyllis, left behind. Like it or not, they’d always been the center of my life. Now I was truly alone.
Adam had slowed the car. “You didn’t put on your seat belt.”
“Oh!” I snapped it into place and sat up straight as he accelerated again. The wind caught my hair, stung my cheeks, and rushed against my arms and hands, which I had put up in the air.
I didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
From Pru’s Journal:
It’s funny because Dr. Abbot knew everything about me, and I knew nothing about him. Was he married? Did he have kids? Did he like being a therapist? Now he’s gone and I’ll never know. It seems obvious, but I never thought of it before. You need to ask people things when they’re alive.
##
Adam turned the car onto Sunset Boulevard and hit the gas. He steered easily as the road curved left, then right again, his headlights briefly illuminating green lawns and mansions.
“Guess what?” he said. “The fire investigation’s over. I found out just before I left for the theater.”
My stomach dipped a little. I was already nervous, knowing I had to tell him I had kissed Blake. Now this. Slowly, I asked, “What did they say?”
“The old guy, Mr. Potemkin, left a pan on the stove and it caught fire.” Adam gave me a broad smile. “The physical evidence pointed to the Potemkins all along, but procedure required the investigator to talk to you also, and it took him a while to find you.”
“So that’s it?” I couldn’t believe it. “Are they in trouble?”
“No. It was an accident, and the building’s insured.” He glanced at me as he stopped at a red light.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? At the theater?”
“I was picking a fight with your parents.”
“True.”
“You know I had to,” he said. “But fighting’s not a habit of mine, in case you were wondering.”
“I know. They deserved it.”
The light turned green. As we made a final right turn, I smelled the salt of the ocean.
“Almost home,” he said.
We were on Pacific Coast Highway.
“Adam!”
He grinned at me. “I thought we might pick up where we left off on Sunday. When we were so rudely interrupted.”
Rugs, a sofa, and a dining table had all been delivered since my last visit to the house. The table was set for two. With candles. And wine.
I stood in his front entry thinking, I have to tell him. My stomach rumbled, both from hunger and nerves. This was all wonderful, but then I would tell him what I’d done, and he would make me leave. It would all just be a hideous repeat of Sunday night.
He slipped his arms around me. Our lips met for a long moment.
My stomach growled. I took a deep breath. “Adam, you… you weren’t my first kiss.” To my total embarrassment, I burst into tears. “Blake was.” The last two words came out in a wail.
His arms dropped to his sides. “You told me you’d never been kissed.”
I sobbed. “I hadn’t. Then.”
Adam’s eyebrows knitted together, like he was having trouble fitting the puzzle pieces into place. “But I kissed you the next day.”
“You kissed me the next evening.” Not able to stand it any longer, I walked away from him, opening the slider and moving out onto the deck. I stood by the railing with my back to him.
Adam followed me. He had gotten it now. A cold wind blew onto my neck and shoulders. “You sure didn’t waste any time, did you?”
I whirled around. “Hey, you’d thrown me out of your house, remember? You said we were done. Someone had to kiss me eventually!”
He flushed. “Fair enough.” He stared over my shoulder out at the ocean. A moment passed. “It’s okay. I get it.” But then he scowled. “Although it fries me to think that Neanderthal had his lips on you.”
“Well, I would much rather have had your lips on me, if you hadn’t been so busy calling cabs!”
Then all of a sudden his lips were on me, devouring me as he bent me backward over the railing. My body caught fire. His mouth, his tongue, were like a sweet wine. Addictive.
Angels sang.
I was Fredericka. I was Pepper.
“Oh, Adam!” We kissed again.
I was Duncan’s Julia, but I was joyously, effortlessly alive. I ran my hands down his chest, just because I could. I pressed the whole length of my body against his, squeezed my arms around him, hard. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get close enough to him.
Without thinking about it, I took his hand and put it on my breast. His fingers moved, touching me through my clothes.
Not good enough. “This has to go!” I announced, grabbing the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head.
“Woah!” He stepped back from me. Temptation and worry mingled on his face. “If you take your clothes off, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
“So?” The shirt had a fashion zipper that had stuck. I wrestled with it, trying to get my head through the too-small neck hole.
Adam looked panicked. “But you’re a virgin. Don’t you want to go slowly? Take your time?”
I yanked at the stubborn zipper. “It’s been twenty-five years. That’s all the time I need!”
“You’re a hundred percent sure?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me again.”
“Okay then.” He smiled at me, a dimple appearing that I’d never seen before. Maybe it only materialized in moments of impending lust.
I smiled back.
A gleam came to his eye. “I had a bed delivered.”
“Really?” As romantic as it was, the deck did look a bit splintery.
“Really.” And then, just as if I were a size two, he swept me up into his arms and carried me off to his chamber for a night of wild and tender passion.
Six Months Later
From Pru’s Journal:
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked Dr. Abbot once when I was at my lowest point. “Nothing,” he said. “You just need to practice the art of living.” So that’s what I’m doing these days. I’m practicing the art of living.
##
My last customer of the day, by sheer coincidence, wanted to go to Malibu. I tooled up Pacific Coast Highway, changing lanes to pass slow-moving cars and admiring the ocean view from the corner of my eye. This was how I paid the bills these days, working for LA Rides, a driving service. My ability to operate a car had much improved, and I was super-popular with the little old lady customers. “You’re such a careful driver!” they would say.
I dropped off my passenger and arrived at Adam’s house before he did. After pulling up the driveway, I peered into the cat carrier strapped to the front seat. “Hey, Chuck-Chuck!”
Green eyes gave me a baleful stare.
I didn’t usually bring him along when I worked, but I did take him to Adam’s when I was going to stay for more than one night. “I can’t leave him alone that long,” I had explained to Adam, and he understood.
Humming the Happy Birthday song, I let myself in, using the key he’d given me. Adam asked me to move in with him roughly once a week, but I wasn’t ready. I wanted to live and manage on my own for a while. I had to make my mark.
I opened the carrier, allowing Chuck to streak off to one of his secret lairs. The phone rang. “Ellen! What’s up?” Ever since the whole production of The Prisoner had moved to New York for an off-Broad
way run, we had texted regularly. An actual phone call, though, was unusual.
She sounded breathless. “First of all, happy birthday!”
Surprised, I asked, “How did you know?” I was twenty-six now.
“My spies told me. Did Adam remember?”
I touched the long gold chain around my neck. Three charms hung from it. The letter P, the letter A, and a garnet, which was my birthstone. A two-pound box of Grandma’s Crunchy Chews, unopened and wrapped in cellophane, lay on the coffee table next to a crystal vase holding two dozen red roses.
“He remembered.”
“Hey, you wanna hold on to my apartment a while longer?” When Ellen hadn’t been able to convince me to come work for her in New York, she had asked if I would sublet her apartment while she was gone. It was the perfect arrangement. This way, I stayed with Adam a lot, but I had my own space, too.
“Sure, but why?” I held my breath. This had to be good news. The Prisoner had been filling its seats ever since the LA Times review came out.
A searing drama by talented newcomer Ellen Price, the review had said. In a tour de force performance, Blake Williams grabs your attention and never lets it go… This play, a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit, will stay with you for days afterward…
“We’re going to Broadway!” Ellen said.
“Oh my goodness!” Separated by three thousand miles, we each expressed our joy, me by shrieking and jumping around while Ellen I pictured quietly beaming.
“My offer still stands, though. Come to New York,” Ellen begged. “I’m going to mount my next play here, instead of LA.”
“You finished it?”
“Yeah! I’ve never written anything with this kind of scope. It’s called Torment and explores the junction of suffering and idealized love as the source of all human creativity. It’s epic, Pru! Come be my assistant. You can help me cast it and coach the actors.”
“C’mon, Ellen. Just because Blake and I happened to click doesn’t mean I have a career in the theater.”
She made a tsk noise with her tongue. “You really don’t know what you have to offer, do you?”
“I guess not.”