She waggled the fingers of her left hand close to his head.
“See? I put it in the safe.”
He cocked open one eye, then smiled. “Good. I never want to see it again. You’re mine now.” His voice trailed off as he drifted to sleep. It always amazed her how fast he could drop off.
She kissed his ear, his cheek, his nose, then pulled the coverlet up over them both. Contentment warmed her all over. Making love had brought them pleasure, release, the joy of belonging to each other.
For the duration of this cruise, anyway, she belonged to him and he belonged to her. Nothing and no one would stop her from the joy of feeling love. Even if it lasted only five more days.
* * * *
The sudden loud rap on the cabin door snapped Tess out of her fantasy.
“Breakfast tray,” their room steward announced.
She looked over at Aaron, sleeping soundly on his stomach, his mouth slack and his hair disheveled like a little boy’s. He’d rolled over some time during her daydream, causing his briefs to ride halfway down his rump.
“Just a moment.” She pulled up his briefs, then covered him with the bedspread. When the steward entered, carrying the tray, she placed the table in the narrow space between the two beds. “There, on the table.”
After the steward left with Aaron’s tuxedo, Tess drank another cup of coffee and ate her usual breakfast muffin like an automaton. Lost in her thoughts, she replayed her fantasy of making love with Aaron. The hot desire, the heights of pleasure, the ecstatic burst—she’d felt them all, yet she hadn’t even touched him.
Oh God, I’m friggin’ losing it!
No, girl, you’re bad off. You’re in love.
Shit.
Her heart leaped into her throat. She grabbed her shades, her garishly orange, broad-brimmed sun hat, and took a moment to fan her face. Then she smashed it on top of her head. Automatically, she glanced down at her left hand. Indeed, one part of her fantasy meshed with reality. She’d placed the ring inside the safe along with Aaron’s cash. The money he was so willing to part with for her sake, not his.
She had no doubt that her fantasy would’ve really happened had she awakened Aaron and jumped his bones. Was she ready for prime time with Aaron Peterson? Ready for true love…and all the messy commitments and compromises that came with it?
Fear flooded her mind just then. And she did what she’d always done—she ran. Her immediate goal? Put distance between her and the sweet, adorable and too, too sexy man sleeping two feet away.
Chapter Nine
Five hours later, Tess was standing at the railing on the uppermost Sky Deck. Underneath her orange sun hat, she clutched her four-band international cell phone to her ear. She’d just placed a call to her closest girlfriend, Marisa, who lived below her in San Gabriel. The Latina TV actress had been her closest friend ever since Tess and Mac lived next door to Marisa’s family in the south-central L.A. barrio of Hawaiian Gardens. The Rodriguezes, her and Mac’s last and kindest foster family, were also cousins of Marisa and her family. They’d shared a lot of personal history between them and had grown closer since their high school days. It was Marisa who’d gotten Tess her first nightclub gig. The call had caught Marisa during her lunch break in the Burbank studio where they filmed her sitcom.
“Hey, BFF, so sorry to bother you at work—”
“No problem. I’ve been wondering how the cruise was going. Having any fun or is perfectionist Aaron working you too hard?”
“No, not too much. I’m actually having fun with him. We went cave tubing yesterday in a river in the middle of a jungle.”
“Cave tubing? Never heard of that.”
Tess heard people in the background, so she knew she had to make it short. She gave Marisa a thumb sketch of cave tubing, then launched into the real reason why she’d called her.
“Risa, I’m…uh, having second thoughts about marrying Porter.”
“It’s Aaron, isn’t it?”
Marisa must’ve smacked her mouth because the noises over the phone connection increased. She was probably on her lunch break. Still, her friend had zeroed in on the problem without a second thought. God, Tess wondered, were they so transparent, her and Aaron? If so, no wonder Porter bristled every time she mentioned Aaron’s name.
Tess sighed loudly. “So much for secrets. So what shall I do?”
“Shoot, gotta go, they’re calling me. Listen, Tess, you have a choice. Love or money, simple as that. Listen, love ya. Don’t worry, follow your heart. Bye.”
Not so simple. Not when money…financial security…and the fear of not having it kept her awake at night. The absence of love did not.
Tess wondered why that was. Marisa didn’t let the lack of money bother her. Her sitcom job was not secure—the series and her role could be cancelled at any time. Yet, she always had confidence that something else would turn up. Tess always feared that every show she did would be her last, that she’d be fired, people wouldn’t want to hear her sing ever again and they would toss her in the streets …
Damaged goods. She was different from most people and she knew it. She let her insecurities rule over—no, tyrannize her.
Just about to call her brother, Mac, next, she spied Aaron walking towards her. He handed her a tall glass of iced tea with a sprig of mint poking up over the rim. They clicked glasses before turning their gazes down at the lock’s banks. The railing was jammed with passengers who followed the ship’s foot-by-foot progress through the Pedro Miguel locks with rapt attention. From their perch on the top deck railing, they looked ten decks, or floors, down onto the lock’s platform. Workers walked back and forth on the platform, assessing the water level and the hull of the ship along the walls of the metal-lined lock. Everyone on shore looked preoccupied.
Tess grinned up at him. He was wearing a straw plantation hat he’d bought in one of the ship’s stores. “Hope you got enough sleep. Is that Long Island iced tea?” she asked. They bent over the railing, resting their elbows next to each other.
“God, no! No more retching my guts out, I promise. And yeah, I feel almost human again. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter in a long time.”
“Good!” She looked him over. He was wearing a short-sleeved Mexican-styled shirt, the guayabera, unbuttoned and open over a bare, tanned chest and his maroon boxer swimsuit. He looked healthy and rested. But she was glad he was laying off the hard drinks. Fatigue and alcohol didn’t mix and they had another show that night. “How did you find me?”
“Your big floppy orange hat,” he quipped, “Think that’ll protect your freckles, Red?”
“Probably not, but maybe it’ll keep more from popping out. I don’t care if I’m the only pale face on board. I don’t want any more freckles. Oh, Aaron, look. They’re pumping water out of the next lock. I thought we were going up the staircase of locks.”
“No, down the staircase. The Pacific’s higher than the Atlantic. See over there, beyond the jungle. That’s Panama City. According to the ship’s daily newsletter, we’ll be passing it in about an hour after we go through another set of locks. Later tonight we’ll be in the Caribbean. After that, Cartagena, Columbia. Then Aruba…then Ocho Rios.”
“Eight Rivers,” she said, translating from the Spanish. “Where’s that?”
“Jamaica. Supposed to be beautiful. Then home to Fort Lauderdale. Five more days, Red, and four more shows. Think you can make it?”
She smiled and sipped her tea. “Sure, it’s been fun. I needed …uh, the change of scenery.”
He nudged her arm and slid over to her so that their hips were touching.
“Is that all? What about me? Your partner in crime?”
“Disappointing.” She feigned a flare up of haughty chagrin. “We haven’t committed any crimes…or sins. I truly thought you’d offer a girl a little more excitement and pleasure.”
He snorted and leaned in under her big hat. “I’ll be happy to give you all the pleasure you can stand. On my terms.”
Sh
e harrumphed noisily and turned her back to the railing. Her dark shades concealing her eyes, she spied the two PIs on the opposite, the port side of the ship, blending in with the crush of gawkers. The couple had dogged her movements all day, the brunette even following her to the photographer’s studio and the women’s restrooms nearby. Tess wished they’d fall overboard and get eaten by the alligators, crocodiles or whatever slithering creatures populated the waters in nearby Gatun Lake. At the very least, get hit with Moctezuma’s Revenge and have to spend the rest of the cruise on the john.
“You drive a hard bargain, my platonic friend,” she said resignedly. In the day’s relentless heat and humidity, she wouldn’t mind spending it inside an air conditioned cabin in the nude, exploring the angles and planes of Aaron’s slim, muscular body.
Almost on cue, he took off his shirt, kept it fisted in one hand. As a reply, she felt the fingers of his other hand trail up her spine. He flattened his palm and feathered his fingers up her back under her long, straight hair to the nape of her neck. His body heat flowed into hers, a river of lust mingled with a flood of affection. She’d tied her tank top around her waist and so, when she turned into him, her torso was bare except for the bikini top. As a result, her plump breasts rubbed against his bare arm. She couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind aviator-style sunglasses, but the flush rose from his chest to his neck.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider your terms?” she asked seductively. As usual, his words said one thing, his actions another. Aaron pressed his upper arm against the cleft in her breasts.
“You’re making me weak in the knees, you…you red-haired siren. But I know you. When you fixate on something, you don’t give up. If I gave in, you’d wring me dry, and then toss me over for the old, rich dude as soon as we hit L.A. I’d be a damn fool for letting myself get sucked in by a woman who…who doesn’t love me.”
Her vision blurred as the pleasure of his touch swamped her. At the same time, a hard knot formed inside her chest. “Oh Aaron, that’s not true.” She lowered her voice as she rubbed her mouth against his warm, bare shoulder. “You know how I feel, always have. But you drive such a hard bargain. You know I’ve got a lot of Carmen in me. I don’t want to be owned by anybody. Not even you.”
“Ah love, I don’t want to own you. I couldn’t even if I tried. All this is just rhetoric anyway. You’re an irrepressible tease and I’m not falling for it.”
Nevertheless, she heard the huskiness in his voice. And bravado. She stuck out her lower lip.
“Too bad. With your other women, it doesn’t matter, this all or nothing condition. You don’t care because they can’t hurt you. Aaron, our last five days could be a lot more fun if you’d compromise a bit.”
She thought she had him with that last statement, for she knew Aaron loved women and sex, couldn’t live without them. Numbers two and three after music. Therefore, she was heartily surprised when he retreated and put air between their bodies. His jaw clenched as he compressed his lips. The clamorous horde of onlookers at the railing pushed them back together again.
“You’d turn my heart into steak tartar, huh,” he said, “and walk away blithely. Just like Carmen did to what’s-his-name.”
Tess fell silent for a second, then said, “The soldier, Jose. Not true.” Well, not totally true. Sure, she’d have to walk away, but it would crush her as much as it would crush him. Her greed, she recognized now for the first time, would crush them both. All because Aaron didn’t just want her body. The heartless cad wanted nothing less than her heart.
Her heart.
She sighed with frustration. He would always have her heart. But like most men, Aaron wanted proof. And possession.
Funny that they’d brought up the opera Carmen. Aaron had taken her to see it once years ago. Afterwards, he’d railed against the seductive gypsy girl and how she’d destroyed Jose’s life. Strangely, Tess understood Carmen and why she’d felt compelled to trade up her soldier-man for Don Escamillo, the rich toreador. The gypsy girl had grown up hardhearted, a tyrant of self-defense mechanisms, just like Tess. And when Carmen sang her plea, how her heart needed to be free, that message had resonated with her. She’d told Aaron that night how much like Carmen she was and he’d just scowled and told her she was wrong.
But she wasn’t wrong.
Now, years later, the bittersweet lesson struck her. The truth shocked her. Try as she might, Tess’ heart would never be free. Since she was sixteen, she’d given her heart to the man standing next to her.
A breeze whipped her hair and threatened to pluck off her hat. She clamped it to her head and gazed down the railing.
“Look, Aaron, there’s that old man…” Six people down the railing, the white-haired man stood, staring down at the lock mechanism. The massive doors to the next lock were opening in front of the ship’s bow. “One of our fans.”
Aaron pitched his voice for her ears only. “Frank Marello, Tess. His name’s Frank Marello. He was an engineer, sold a lot of patents, was once on top of the world. Then calamity hit and he lost his entire family one by one. From one of the luckiest guys in the world to one of the unluckiest. In just five years.”
She heard the slight quaver in his voice. “It’s sad. Why do you think he took this cruise?”
“He told me he brought his wife and two sons on a Panama Canal cruise years ago. He wanted to relive the memories of that cruise.”
“That’s all he has now,” she mused, “memories of happier times?”
“What d’ya think makes us truly happy, Tess? Money? A mansion in the Hollywood Hills? A fancy car? Loads of jewelry?”
“No, I guess not.” Tess knew she didn’t sound convinced. “Not even a Broadway show, Aaron? Wouldn’t that make you truly happy?”
He shot her an ironic smile. “Well, that would make me happy for a year or two. But lasting happiness is sharing experiences…like this cruise with you. I’ll never forget this as long as I live, no matter what happens between us. Sharing life with people you love, even the ups and downs of life, that’s what real happiness is.”
Tess looked up at him, pierced by the recognition of his true worth. “You’re a good man, Aaron. I’ve always trusted you…your honesty and wisdom…and I’ve always… loved you.”
She could say the word—love—in fact, had said it often lately. But the meaning behind the words was so foreign to her. In fact, she almost couldn’t believe she’d actually meant it this time. Now that she’d said it and meant it, she could never pretend otherwise.
Damn! Aaron had stripped her heart naked. The wall around her heart was crumbling.
“Tess…” His voice a plea, he bent over her as one arm captured her waist and drew her to him.
People crowded behind her, jostling them for a foot of space at the railing. The spell was broken and she pulled him away from the railing, allowing others to take their place. It was time to change the subject and the mood. It was getting sappy and maudlin. And getting them nowhere, like an emotional merry-go-round.
“Aaron, c’mon. We’ll turn to toast in this heat. Let’s go inside and cool off. Oh, and let’s not do the blues set tonight. Let’s cheer the old guy up and do some upbeat, lighthearted melodies by great American composers. You said you have the music and I’ll crib the lyrics.”
“Oh yeah, you mean the set with Hoagy Carmichael, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, Rodgers and Hart, Duke Ellington, Leroy Anderson.”
“Yes, yes, all those. First, let’s say hello to your friend Mr. Marello.”
They moved down the line and caught the old man’s attention. Aaron stepped forward, nudging Tess with a hand at her waist.
“Frank, you haven’t formally met my…uh, music partner, Tess MacIntosh.”
Marello, unsmiling, offered his hand and so Tess shook it and beamed her best, high-wattage smile. Although well dressed in typical tourist garb, suitable for the tropics, he wore no sunglasses to protect his eyes. There was something dead about the pupils and the rest
of his expression that compelled her to draw him out.
“The canal must interest you, Mr. Marello. Aaron told me you were an engineer.”
The man cracked a small smile. His face was broad and long, but even his high cheekbones couldn’t stretch out the deep cheek grooves that scored both sides. He looked thin and gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten a full, decent meal in months. Maybe he hadn’t, Tess thought.
“Yes. My grandfather worked on this canal project, my father on the Hoover Dam. You might say I’m the last in a long line of engineers. Paying homage one last time.”
“You don’t plan on coming back?” Aaron asked.
“No.” Marello whipped a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and mopped his wide forehead. “Too hot for me.” He chuckled and pointed at Aaron. “If I looked as good as you, young man, here in the buff, I’d take my shirt off, too. But I’d spoil the view for all these tourists.”
Tess patted the man’s thin, flabby arm. “We’re about to go inside, enjoy the AC and rehearse. You’ll come tonight, won’t you? I’ll sing my favorite song just for you.”
The old man nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
She and Aaron took their leave and walked toward the steps leading down to the Sun Deck and the ship’s hatchways.
“Your favorite song? You have hundreds of favorite songs.”
“Charlie Chaplin’s ‘Smile’. I just thought of that song when I talked to that poor man. Many people find it inspirational.”
Aaron glanced at his watch. “Yeah, good idea. That’s a classic. We have three hours to rehearse. Think that’ll be enough time to change sets? From blues to the old classics?”
She shrugged her tank top over her head and grinned. “With you, music partner, piece of cake.”
* * * *
Just before eleven o’clock that night, Tess paused between songs and spoke into the mic. Over in the same corner, the old man sat, his stare in the direction of the stage at once both full and vacant. In her mind, she spoke to him.
Scheming and Dreaming in Los Angeles Page 10