by Susan Arden
“Ugh, hold on a sec. We’re not going to S.B. in your car. Mario’s around. And you know Val won’t step foot in your car. No hard feelings, Chica.” Carmen continually had her brother in a state of repayment. Younger and gay, he wasn’t ready to come forward and tell the world or his parents—both Federal Court judges—about his preference for hard, muscular bodies with hard-ons. Carmen kept his secret but used it for sibling extortion that involved designated driver status from time to time. Our other good friend, Valerie, refused to let me drive. As a rookie police officer, she could rattle off all sorts of citation-worthy tickets my car deserved. Not one of them ever agreed to me being the designated driver. Together, we were an irregular gang, ready to bounce whenever South Beach was on the program.
I inhaled. More practicing. “I’ve got a loaner…a connection through the studio. My car needs to be seen by a mechanic. You won’t believe the super upgrade. Totally safe.” It wasn’t an outright lie but not exactly the truth.
“Consider it done,” Carmen blurted out. “I’ll gather the troops, and we’ll meet up.”
I doubted my next performance would go as smooth. I needed to get home, get ready, and leave. By the time I returned home tomorrow, Laura would be at the studio for her upcoming seminar and wouldn’t really dive into the pool of facts until Sunday. By then, the little drips and dollops of info I planned on delivering would give my sister plenty of time to storm or praise. Dropping the whole bomb at once was never wise where Laura was concerned, and I rationalized, since she was pregnant, it’d be seriously stupid and unkind. My white lies were to protect us both.
Now, if I could keep that on replay, I might survive.
Graham came in one decadent flavor: control freak extraordinaire. He’d promised to throw me over his lap if I stepped out of bounds. Well, tonight I planned on rushing the gate and not looking back until I returned tomorrow with one heck of a hangover.
CHAPTER TWO
Up ahead, the home front came into view, and my anxiety level got a million times worse. A familiar shiny, black BMW sat parked along the curb. Like clockwork, my stepfather Abe had come to collect his Friday payment, and there he stood outside the front door. He had the personality of roadkill and under the bright porch light, his all too cynical expression cut jagged lines into my awareness. Abruptly he glanced over his shoulder and it felt like he’d delivered a punch to my ribs. The front door closed, and he descended the steps as I parked. The tinted windows of the Porsche prevented him from knowing it was me. I toyed with the idea of sitting inside, safe from the sicko. If I’d had any sense in my head, I’d stay put and let him walk on by and leave.
But I didn’t. I climbed out of the car as he passed the hood, and he faltered, tucking the folded white envelope into his pocket—the weekly check my sister wrote to her parental loan shark. He narrowed his eyes, and then his thin lips tightened into a full smirk. “So you’re finally doing what I always expected. Same tramp like when you were in high school. Who’d you whore yourself out to now?” he snarled, his eyes flicking down my body. Without Laura around, he openly flaunted his loathing of me. “Maybe I know the group. I imagine the next big milestone for you will be a porn film.”
I stared back at him across the car. My heartbeat thundered as I reminded myself of the irony in his sorry attempt to muddy my morals. He was the pervert who had attacked and nearly raped me when I was sixteen. “Good to see you too, Abe.” I refused to take the bait he cast, which more than likely fueled his razor-sharp hatred of me further.
“One day, Eliza. One day,” he snapped and walked off.
I didn’t turn to watch him stalk away, but instead bent to retrieve my bag from the car. I clenched my jaw. What a complete prick! His eyes had glittered with seething rage so close to the surface I knew if I ever made the mistake of finding myself in close quarters with him, he’d make good on his promise to make me pay. I couldn’t conceive how he was Laura’s father. Fucker! I inhaled a cleansing breath and focused on what I needed to do. I’d parked behind Laura’s Prius, and Luke’s car was nowhere to be seen.
Crapola! Luke wasn’t home yet. Why had I expected otherwise? A psychologist with a private practice delving more and more into social work, he’d been on call for the last six months, teaching graduate psych major courses, doing intakes, emergency addiction counseling, and teaching level three classes at the studio. This was a typical Friday night, considering he was trying to complete all the client sessions he could in order to stay home for the first few weeks with their baby once Laura delivered next month. I couldn’t pinpoint when or if he slept.
I grabbed my messenger bag and tried to keep positive for my upcoming sibling rendezvous. Lifting the strap of my bag, I realized hiding behind this worn carryall wouldn’t help my situation. I climbed out of Graham’s SUV and tried to tamp down the brick lodged in my throat. I slammed the car door, gazing briefly into my wide-set eyes reflected in the window, and turned away. Dried summer leaves crunched under my scuffed hiking boots as I trudged up the path.
I pushed open the front door and called out, “Hey-hey.” Turning toward the kitchen, I heard pans being jostled and something sizzling.
“Eliza? Finally.” My sister’s voice rose in concern. “My gosh, I wondered if something had happened.”
The aroma of onion and garlic along with rosemary and thyme hung in the air. My stomach clenched with each step taken across the bamboo floors where I turned from quasi-independent adult back into the younger sister minus the Keds and pigtails. I clutched my bag like a shield, still as uncertain as I’d been when I arrived here four years ago bruised and distrustful.
My future was uncertain once more. Would I ever have a sense of what the next ten minutes of my life entailed? Secure and steady were elusive as ever.
“Oh, hi.” I jerked upright, startled when Laura appeared at the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
Her sky-blue eyes filled with curiosity. “So, how was it? I tried to phone you but your cell was dead. Figured you’d forgotten your charger.”
I faltered. Christ, I’d forgotten. I’d be away from my sister when she delivered her first baby. How on earth had I managed to forget? I walked toward her, concentrating on my next words. “You were right. I remembered him from the studio…Graham Gordon.”
“Really. From which class?” Laura’s brows drew together.
“Evening. A couple of days ago.” I tried for a smooth, calm voice.
The throbbing in my temples flared, taking up all the available space within my head. Darts of pains shot down my neck, knotting the muscles over my shoulders. What had I been thinking? My stepfather’s accusatory voice calling me a lousy, self-centered tramp echoed in my mind, and hot tears stung the backs of my eyes. I’d been so enwrapped in my own minutia; I’d forgotten the most important person in my life. I sucked in a jagged breath.
Her brow furrowed tighter. “There was a guy who’d stopped by the counter. He was…”
“Different,” I supplied, my mouth drier than noon pavement.
It wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined, pulling the wool over the eyes of the one person who’d always been there for me. Her gaze reached me, and I wanted to rush into her arms, admitting I’d made a mess of things.
“I was going to say good-looking. But yeah, he was different all right. Something about him gave me the impression he was intense. Focused.” She didn’t seem to see the person I was deep inside as she spread her arms into a wide hug. “Luke will be home soon. I made dinner. Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate.” I fell into her embrace, hugging her tightly, wishing I could become the person she envisioned, not the self-absorbed person she embraced, and I silently harbored.
“Tell me about what happened.” She laughed as we pulled apart. “I’m dying to hear it play-by-play.”
Oh, no. You seriously don’t want that. For my sister, I brightened. One more problem on her overstuffed plate would ruin her ability to enjoy her last month of pregnanc
y.
I smiled, forcing a grin. “Better than you can imagine.” I stood back, lifting off my bag and dropping it at my feet. “I was offered a job.”
There. I opened the door, knowing she’d come right through. Was I totally evil or just manipulative? Was there a difference?
She hooked the dishtowel over her shoulder, crossing her arms atop her protruding baby belly, and leveled me with an all-knowing gaze, ready to dissect whatever I shared. “By whom? Did you apply somewhere? You can’t accept just anything while teaching and going to college.”
I inhaled, ready for launch. Three…two…one…“By Mr. Gordon. He asked if I’d like to be his yoga instructor.”
“Mr. Gordon asked for more sessions. That great, but it’s not a job. A regular private client doesn’t make an entire week or enough bread for you to live on.” Laura shook her head, turning as if the matter were settled.
“It’s different.” My face became uncomfortably warm as I stood there, watching her walk back toward the kitchen. “He doesn’t live here all the time. He has a company based in New York. I think he means to introduce yoga to his staff. I’m excited at the prospect of turning people on to the mat. There are probably scads of type A people who could benefit from breaking away from the nine-to-five gig at his company.”
She spun around, her eyes wide, and we gazed at each from across the room. For a few dense seconds, she stood in front of me, a silent Madonna whom I was trying to snooker. “Do you mean you’d go with him? And live there?” she sputtered.
“That’s the plan,” I choked out. This type of interaction wasn’t new between us. My face burned under a cloud of dishonesty fueled by telling only bits and pieces of the truth. What I left unsaid screamed the loudest in my mind and left me feeling strangled.
“How does it all work out? Apartments are expensive, not to mention hard to find. What part of New York exactly?”
“I’m not certain.” I held up my hands as if to ward her off. I couldn’t come clean, but she had a point. I didn’t know. Geography wasn’t the main point of me going to live with Graham.
“This plan, as you call it, doesn’t sound well thought out. I mean really, Eliza. Up and leave without all the facts…sounds typical. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but you promised you’d work on kneejerk decisions.”
The front door opened, and a rush of warm air entered the house. “Whose car is in the driveway?” Luke stopped talking as he paused in the doorway, seeming to take a moment to assess whether Laura and I were arguing or conversing.
Laura waved him into the house, moving past me. I took that as her rousting of the reinforcements. Not a good sign. I watched my sister fade from view within a bear hug from her husband. Luke was a sequoia of a man. His out of control physique coupled with a definite undercurrent of quiet patience and grounding were unheard of in these parts. He didn’t shake easily. Together, they were my one and only family.
Tonight, I needed his talent of being an anchor for my sister. He’d been with her since she’d graduated high school. And so far, they’d not spent many hours apart.
In lieu of staring at them embracing, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Not that water would help defuse this heated story I was desperately trying to spin.
“Eliza Hillwood, my God!” My sister must have peered outside. I was summoned back into the living room by her surprised voice. “What the heck is going on?”
I stared at the back door, wondering if I could bolt down the alley between yards. I focused on the door, walked over to it, and turned the knob. All I had to do was twist and pull back, and open the door. I studied the gingham curtains in front of my face. Luke had painted the door red and hung a magnetic board with bright letters and little kid shapes. It screamed ready for baby. I gripped the doorknob tighter. What was I doing standing here? Frozen, I glanced back at the kitchen doorway and listened to the lilting sound of Laura’s whispered voice floating in waves of phrases about yoga and my private session, parts incomprehensible when her words dipped too low to hear.
Suddenly, I heard Luke’s voice ask, “Excuse me? Did you say Graham Gordon? The Graham Gordon, as in CEO?” Luke’s voice arced higher. “She met Gordon. Where? And you agreed?”
“Calm down,” Laura said softly.
Oh, great. My sister was now in the position of trying to calm someone down about me. This whole day had gone seriously polar. Surreal. I let go of the knob, straining to hear what she said. But if there was one thing Laura had going for her among her thousands of skills, it was the ability to speak in a low-key voice. Probably from years of yoga training in delivering instructions while in class, I suspected.
More white-noise chatter met my ears as I remained hidden in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter and pinching the bridge of my nose. Suddenly, the idea of spinning a web of deceit to Laura and my brother-in-law was much too much. They talked in hushed, intimate tones the way lovers did to exclude the rest of the world. This was fast becoming a mental ping-pong game of twenty questions from what I could tell based upon the rise and fall of their voices. I pushed off the counter, walked toward the kitchen doorway, and stopped.
My sister must have filled Luke in because a rare curse followed. “Hell, no. Does she have any idea of what she’s agreed to?”
I was taken aback by Luke’s voice unleashing a rare expletive. Crap, something was about to happen. Yep, they were coming at me. Instinctively, I moved three steps backward as Laura and Luke both attempted to get through the kitchen doorway at the same time.
“Lor, babe, wait a sec.” Luke took my sister by the shoulders, moving her in front of him, and guiding her heaving body forward as he followed her inside.
My sister tilted her head up, gazing at Luke and then at me. “Go ahead, Luke. Tell Eliza what you told me.”
Luke leaned against the counter, threading his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. “Hey,” he began. “Gordon isn’t like other people.”
At six foot four, he dwarfed my sister, but they shared equal ground on the hard-to-reach hero pedestal where I’d placed them both. They were a unit and dealt with me like a champion wrestling tag team. Laura stayed to my left and Luke to my right. From smack in the middle, I cringed at the way Luke’s brows drew together. It was rare to see him fired up.
“I understand,” I replied, clutching my glass and going to the water cooler, trying to stop being forced under the family microscope.
“Laura tells me that Gordon wants you to work for him. What did you say to him, or was it an attorney he had on call?” His mouth tightened in a full grimace.
“No. Nothing like that.” I shrugged, not knowing what to say, and my face flamed hotter. He was getting warmer about the control issues on the table. I chugged a full glass of cold water, buying time to think.
“How the heck did you even survive a yoga session with him? Did he require you to outline the practice before starting?” Luke swung his gaze from me to Laura. “The man is known to be pretty out there in how he ropes and ties up companies. You could get the low down from your friend’s parent. He’s been in front of her this week.”
What did he mean? “Which friend?”
“Carmen. Her mother presided over some injunction Gordon had overruled in court. He’s been in the news. Google how many people are about to lose a job because of his financial dexterity. He’s managed to jump from engineering technology to buying up the competition. There are plenty of terms for businessmen like him.”
Oh, I bet—I had a few. I felt a flip-flopping in my gut as I shook my head. “He wasn’t a jerk. Nothing like that. He let me do my own thing.” How far from the truth I had wandered. How far was I willing to go? All. The. Way. I lifted one shoulder, and I might have arched a brow. “Why? What’s the big deal? He’s rich, has a company, and is looking to expand. Isn’t that what a businessman is supposed to do? And now, he’s looking for ways to compensate for working night and day. Isn’t that where we come in?”
“Eliz
a!” Laura hissed. “We’re only trying to help.”
Holy smokes. What did I just say? Really, it wasn’t the words but my suck-ass tone. Luke stared at me, confirming I’d overstepped my bounds. Laura crossed the kitchen, moving to stand next to her husband. I did a neck roll, trying to undo the direction this was headed.
“Sorry, Luke,” I huffed. “I get that you’re concerned.”
Luke spread his palm over my sister’s shoulder in what appeared to be a reassuring squeeze. “Eliza, the type of wealth Gordon possesses isn’t anything you have been around. Nothing any of us have ever been exposed to except by way of the news. He’s on the rise. I’m talking serious wealth, nothing short of the big, big leagues. His corporation has exploded over the last two years. Internationally. The computer system at the studio is one of his. Didn’t you notice the Segall icon on the screen? You’re banging away at the keyboard each day, and it’s him you’re hitting.”
If he only knew it’d soon be the other way around—me over Graham’s lap or whatever surface the man deemed fit.
“I don’t know or really care about Segall computers. I just meant he’s into his practice. I don’t see the big deal.” Another half-lie that had fire rioting over my cheeks. I had to stay clear of thinking of Graham in sexual terms, which wasn’t easy considering sex was the whole basis of my upcoming employment contract.
“Not just his practice,” Laura said. “This is a whole other world.”
My head ached, and I was ready to scream. “I don’t get it. What does his business matter when he’s come to us for…stress relief?” I squeaked out the last two words.