Behind the Curtain

by BETH KERY

  He chuckled but immediately cut himself off. He must have felt her stiffen beneath his hands, and didn’t want to offend her again.

  “No. At the secret lake. After you left.”

  She pictured it suddenly, the vivid image striking her unprepared brain like a blow. Her flesh quivered in the aftermath.

  “You just hadn’t gotten a chance for any relief yet. Right?” he asked. He opened his hand at the side of her head, his thumb caressing her cheek softly.

  She thought of how prickly she’d been all afternoon and night . . . how she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d tried to touch herself in the shower but had been stopped by her mother and grandmother. That’d been why she’d been so primed to detonate when he finally did touch her.

  “Right,” she whispered hesitantly. Were they really having this conversation?

  “Well, I had. Quite a few times, actually,” he added in a distracted tone, as if he was counting the moments.

  Laughter burst out of her throat. She couldn’t believe him. She popped his shoulder again, this time in amused remonstrance. His deep laughter twined with hers.

  “I’m just being honest. What can I say? Guys are pigs.”

  “You’re not a pig,” she managed to say between jags of laughter. He stepped closer, drawing her against him once again.

  “I don’t know,” he said. Her laughter quieted at his more somber tone. “All I know is that I want you so much. And that you’re so beautiful,” he said, his lips brushing her temple. “Especially when you feel good. Never be embarrassed by who you are or what you feel. You’re too special to ever run from anything.”

  “I wasn’t running because of that,” she whispered, turning her face up and nuzzling his chin.

  His lips grazed hers. “Weren’t you?”

  “Ash.”

  The breath she’d been holding in her lungs when he’d asked her that pointed question popped out of her throat.

  “Jimmy?” Asher asked, looking past Laila’s shoulder.

  “Yeah. We’re all waiting at the car,” Jim said in a hushed tone.

  “Is everything okay?” Asher asked.

  “Yeah. All is still quiet. Tahi just kicked us out, and told me to find Laila and send her back.”

  Relief swept through her at the news they hadn’t been caught. Yet, anyway. She glanced up at Asher uncertainly as she stepped out of his embrace. She’d never answered his question. She wasn’t sure if she could.

  So somehow, it kept hovering around in her head.

  • • •

  Asher insisted on driving home, still pissed at Eric for hijacking them. Once they were all in the car and headed for the beach house, Eric reached to turn on the stereo to the aggressive rap music he’d been blaring earlier.

  “Don’t.”

  Eric glanced over at him from the passenger seat. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” he asked snidely, but at least he dropped his hand from the stereo.

  If Asher couldn’t be with Laila anymore tonight, then he craved quiet. He was desperate for privacy. He could barely tolerate his friends at that moment, let alone Eric and his loud music. “Or should I even ask what’s wrong? Did Snow White leave you high and dry again? Snow White.” Eric’s snide laughter and dumb-ass racist joke broke through Asher’s fraying attempt at calm. It would be one thing if it were the first time Eric had ever demonstrated prejudice and elitism. Unfortunately, Asher had experienced it dozens of times in the past. Hearing it leveled at Laila shattered his restraint.

  Rudy yelped from the backseat when Asher jerked the car over to the side of the country road and braked hard. He leaned toward Eric.

  “You are gone if you ever talk about her like that again, you racist pig. Do you understand me? And that face of yours isn’t going to look too pretty when you fly out the front door either,” Asher seethed, gripping the wheel in lieu of his cousin’s neck.

  Eric looked startled at his abrupt fury. But then he laughed roughly, choosing to take the threat as a joke.

  “You wouldn’t want to upset your mama like that, would you? She was so insistent that I come here.”

  “I don’t care if my mother begged you. We both know I upset her all the time, so it won’t be a new experience for her. I just want to make sure I’m making myself clear.”

  Eric’s jaw tightened and he looked away. After a tense few seconds, Asher decided to take his sullen silence as a passive acquiescence. He rolled the car back onto the road.

  “You do usually go for the brainy, smoking-hot, ballsy chicks,” Rudy said cautiously from the backseat after a strained pause. Asher heard the hint of puzzlement in his friend’s tone. “Laila’s gorgeous, but . . . well, she’s not your typical.”

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” Asher said, staring straight ahead at the road.

  Chapter Nine

  It was a little after five the next evening when Zara turned her car onto the private road that led to Asher’s parents’ lake house. It hadn’t been all that hard for them to get away. Laila’s father and uncles had returned to Detroit for work, and the aunties and her mom were looking forward to taking it easy after the excitement of Zarif’s visit. Laila had managed to get away without promising her mom she’d be home at a certain time. Since they’d told everyone they were going to play putt-putt golf in Crescent Bay, then go to dinner and a late movie, a wonderfully long stretch of the night was free.

  The white house came into view on the horizon. Nerves and excitement flickered in Laila’s stomach. She rubbed her belly nervously. In the front seats, Zara and Tahi were unusually quiet as they approached the house, as well.

  “I can’t believe we’re actually going to the white house,” Tahi said, glancing back at Laila and grinning. She looked especially pretty tonight, wearing a short strapless sapphire-blue dress, her long, highlighted brown hair spilling around her tanned shoulders. They’d all tucked their swimsuits and beach cover-ups in their purses, since they’d been invited for a swim.

  Tahi had confessed to Laila earlier that afternoon that she liked Rudy. “But not in an ‘I-have-to-have-him-or-die’ kind of way. He’s cute, though. He makes me laugh. But it’s not like Zara likes Eric, or you—”

  Her cousin had halted herself when Laila shook her head repressively once. She wasn’t going to gossip to Tahi at the moment. Not about Asher, she wasn’t. Something about what was happening between them was unique. So intensely personal. At least to Laila it was.

  As Zara pulled into the circular drive, Laila replayed seemingly for the thousandth time how he’d touched her so surely last night. He’d known what she needed, even when she’d been ignorant. She recalled how she’d combusted after only a few strokes, and again experienced that wave of mixed mortification and pure excitement.

  Zara parked. Almost immediately, the front door opened. Asher stepped out, wearing a pair of black swim trunks. He’d thrown on a white button-down shirt and was in the process of buttoning it while he walked toward them. Laila caught a glimpse of his chest and ridged, tanned abdomen. She pressed her fingertips to her hot cheeks.

  “Yum. Eee,” Tahi said succinctly.

  “Down, girl,” Zara said amusedly. She glanced back at Laila, hazel eyes sparkling. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did it, little girl. He is smoking.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” Laila muttered, most of her focus on Asher coming alongside the car. He opened Zara’s door first, and then Laila’s.

  He bent and smiled at her before he reached out for her hand. “Hi,” he greeted her.

  “Hi,” she responded breathlessly, getting out of the car. He didn’t let go when she stood in front of him on the drive. His eyes looked sharp and brilliantly blue in the bright afternoon sunlight. They trailed down over her, his expression appreciative. Her heart seemed to lodge at the base of her throat. She knew she looked better
than usual. Tahi had insisted she borrow a dress of hers: a simple, natural-looking ivory dress that showed off both her figure and tan well. With it, she wore sandals, a gold bracelet and earrings. Zara had done the traditional pullover into a parking lot a few miles after they’d left the cottages in order to make alterations on their wardrobes and put on makeup. Laila had uncharacteristically applied mascara and lip gloss.

  “You look amazing,” Asher said, squeezing her hand. His head dipped forward. “And you smell fantastic.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But you look too nice to go swimming.”

  “I brought a suit,” she said, patting her bag.

  “Brilliant.” His head dipped even further, his mouth brushing hers. Electricity tingled just beneath her skin. Someone made an impatient sound.

  “Can we just go in, Asher? It looks like you two might be at it for a while,” Zara said drolly.

  “Sure,” Asher said, lifting his head. Still holding Laila’s hand, he led them inside.

  “Look at this,” Zara muttered when they walked into a large entryway. Her stunned tone matched Laila’s reaction. They walked into what would have corresponded to the second floor of the house onto an elevated balcony. In front of and below them was an enormous, airy great room. The lake side of the house was almost entirely floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the sun-gilded lake and a terrace with a pool. The sheer hugeness of the house, the wide-open space was what struck Laila the most, even more than the luxury of it. What would it be like, to have so much freedom to move in, so much glorious space?

  “I’m bartending. What’s your pleasure, ladies?” someone called out. Rudy stood behind a bar that stretched outside the kitchen area, near the terrace doors.

  “This way,” Asher said, pulling gently on her hand. He led them down some stairs. Through the terrace doors, Laila saw Eric and Jim lounging by the pool. Jim turned and waved, and she waved back. Tahi and Zara walked up to the bar and started talking to Rudy.

  “This place is amazing,” Laila said when she and Asher paused several feet away. “You must have loved coming here, when you were a kid.”

  “Most of the time, I did.”

  “Most of the time?” she asked curiously.

  He shrugged. “Mostly when I was here alone. With just my nanny,” he added when she gave him a puzzled glance. “Which was really just the same as being alone.”

  “You weren’t lonely?” she asked quietly. As much as she admired all the open space, she knew she would have been lonely as a kid there. She couldn’t imagine not having someone from her close-knit family around. Her family was always there, like some kind of protective blanket. Lately, she’d been feeling a little suffocated by that blanket, but family was still elemental to her . . . part of the weave of her life.

  He paused, as if considering. “Maybe once in a while I was lonely. I usually like being alone, though.”

  “So do I. Mostly because I hardly ever am.” He returned her smile.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Oh . . . I’ll have a Coke or something.”

  “Nothing harder?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t drink, really.”

  “Do you mind if I do?”

  She blinked, taken off guard by his question.

  “No, of course not.”

  “I won’t drink much, I promise.”

  “Asher, do whatever you want,” she exclaimed. “I’m not being judgmental. Alcohol just doesn’t work well with my body. I get looped on half a glass of wine.”

  “Oh. So it’s not a religious thing? Your preference?”

  She shrugged, a little perplexed. “I don’t think of it that way. We don’t ever have alcohol at home, but that’s not the issue with me. It’s purely a personal thing. Case in point,” she said amusedly, glancing over to the bar where Rudy was shaking a vodka martini—Zara’s favorite—while Tahi sipped a glass of white wine.

  “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

  “You’re not. Asher, where’s all this coming from?” she wondered.

  “We’ve got really different backgrounds. I just don’t want to make any wrong assumptions, that’s all.”

  She stared up at him, a little stunned. She wasn’t used to it. Constantly, she walked a fine line between acting like her culture and background were of no account when she interacted with people at school or work. At the same time, she was very aware when other people ignored her ethnicity, or simply got it wrong. Some people assumed she was Hispanic, an error that was only reinforced by the fact that she spoke fairly fluent Spanish, because Darija contained a lot of Spanish and French words. Other people seemed to think it was impolite to ask her about her ethnicity. Some realized she was some strain of Arabic but never clarified what her specific ethnicity was, apparently thinking all Arabic cultures were one and the same. Or maybe they just found the topic an uncomfortable one.

  And yet . . . Asher was willing to go there.

  “Asher, that’s really sweet. Thank you,” she said sincerely.

  He looked a little embarrassed. “I just don’t want to do something wrong, and turn you off, that’s all. Purely selfish on my part.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You’re not selfish.” She repeated what she’d said last night quietly.

  He gave a doubtful shrug. “I’ve been accused of being insensitive more than once in my life,” he said dryly.

  “Did you deserve it?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen it so far,” she stated honestly.

  “Thank God,” he muttered, his teeth flashing as he grinned.

  She felt a pull toward him, like a magnet had been installed in her lower belly.

  And he was pure iron.

  • • •

  Asher took them out on the sleek speedboat tethered by the dock. Afterward, they swam in the pool and lounged around on the deck, talking.

  Laila knew that she liked Jim Rothschild from their first meeting, but her warmth toward him grew as she listened to him rib Asher and Rudy, and tell some hysterical stories. She’d already heard from Tahi that Rudy was a photographer. He wanted to specialize in celebrity photos. Jimmy described a few hilarious scrapes Rudy had hooked Asher and Jimmy into, all for the sake of a photo. She loved hearing the stories about when Asher was really young. Asher and Jimmy had known each other since they were six, and Jimmy had often stayed at the lake house with Asher when they were kids.

  “I used to stay here too,” Eric said, leaning up from where he’d been having a private conversation with Zara and frequently pausing to nip at her lips, neck, arms and chest. He seemed incapable of not touching her cousin while she lay there in her bikini, a fact that made Laila increasingly uncomfortable since they were all watching. Laila didn’t know what was worse: him doing it, or Zara’s smug little smiles every time he became more daring in his touches or kisses. “Our parents were always throwing Asher and me together. It usually lasted for all of a half hour before Asher ditched me. He’s still doing it, right, Rudy?”

  “Oh, yeah. You ditched us the other day in the woods,” Rudy said, frowning as he recalled the event. “Where’d you go, anyway? You never said.”

  “Just for a walk,” Asher said levelly, standing. His gaze flickered across Laila, and she saw his nearly imperceptible, knowing smile. Warmth expanded inside her. It was nice, sharing a secret with him. She glanced aside and noticed Eric watching her closely.

  Asher grabbed his shirt. “I should go get the stuff for the grill ready.”

  “I’ll help you,” Laila said quickly, trying to shake off Eric’s stare. She stood and scurried into her cover-up.

  “They make you uncomfortable.” Asher said a few minutes later as he unpackaged some chicken fillets and burgers, and put them on a platter. She was in the process o
f cutting a tomato and glanced over at him in puzzlement. “Eric and Zara,” he clarified.

  “Oh. Maybe a little, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  She turned back to her task, thinking. “A couple reasons, I guess. One, you’ve mentioned he . . . wasn’t your favorite person,” she said cautiously.

  “He goes through women like a lawn mower.”

  “That’s kind of a brutal way to put it,” she said, setting down the knife. “Why do you dislike him? You’ve never really said.”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer. Laila turned toward him and leaned against the counter, watching him methodically setting out the meat.

  “All my life, he was held up as an example of the right way to do things. ‘See how Eric ties his shoes? Do it like that, the way you do it is wrong. See how Eric swings the bat? That’s the way I’ve been trying to get you to do it. Eric is going to Harvard, why did you have to pick Stanford?’”

  “Eric is working for the family business. And you’re choosing not to,” Laila finished quietly.

  He nodded once, picking up some salt and pepper from the counter. “That’ll be what I hear at the end of this vacation, only it won’t sound quite so nice as the way you put it. He’s always showing this fake version of himself to my parents and everyone in the family. When no one was around that he thought he should impress, he showed his true colors. He was a rude, blackmailing little monster when he was a kid. Nowadays, he’s a selfish. Two-faced. Bastard,” he said, emphasizing each word with a hard shake of the salt shaker. Laila noticed the tightness of his jaw and went over to him. She put her hand on his wrist, halting his action. He glanced over at her in surprise.

  “You’re not Eric,” she said softly. “You’ve known that your whole life, and everyone—most notably, your parents—seemed to know it too. They just didn’t see the difference as a good thing. And that’s what really gets to you, isn’t it?”

  “I guess,” he said gruffly after a pause.

  “But it is a good thing, Asher. It is.”

  Suddenly, he leaned down and kissed her. Hard.