by Fiona Zedde
Claudia’s ex-husband stood in the doorway, bristling in his suit, the briefcase he’d come for earlier nowhere in sight.
“Mr. Nichols,” Rémi bared her teeth at him as she came up behind Claudia. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I doubt it,” he said, greeting her smile with a dismissive glance at her hastily tucked-in shirt.
She lightly touched the small of Claudia’s back. “I have to go.”
“I thought it might be a bit past your bedtime. Isn’t it a school night?”
Rémi didn’t bother responding to Warrick’s taunts. “We can finish our conversation another time, Claudia. Call me.”
Then, brushing the other woman’s cheek with her own, Rémi stepped past Warrick Nichols and left the house.
Chapter 16
Despite leaving Warrick behind at Claudia’s house, Rémi still managed to take him with her on the ride home. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and his two appearances at Claudia’s door. What was it that made a man who’d walked out on his family come back again? Not to reclaim that family but to prevent someone else from . . . from doing what? Did he think that Rémi would hurt Claudia, or was it more primitive than that? He just didn’t want another cock—and Rémi did think of herself as one in this instance—slipping into the henhouse he had once called his home. Even though he’d been in California for over ten years, remarried for most of them, and replaced his old set of twins with a new child, Warrick still thought of Claudia as his.
Home. No matter how we move on, Rémi thought, the old home lingers in all of us, affecting our present day actions, warping reflections, turning our footsteps again and again toward the past.
She knew all too well that bittersweet ache when faced with familiar voices, people, even hurts that had played a large part in your life and helped define who and what you are. Rémi understood being an exile from those familiar things, but Warrick had exiled himself.
Despite his appearance at the house and her hostility toward him, Rémi wasn’t jealous; she’d felt more jealousy toward that Kincaid fool. Claudia would never go back to Warrick. He had hurt her so badly in the past that Rémi wasn’t worried about him being any real competition for the older woman’s affections. And if the past wasn’t enough to make Claudia stay away from him, his ex-wife at least had recent lovers—Kincaid, Rémi, even a tweed-coated professor type with the look of a seasoned pervert who Rémi had once seen her with—that had given her a taste of happiness and made her feel special as a woman. No. Warrick wasn’t a threat, simply an annoyance.
At the condo, Yvette was still up and watching a Project Runway rerun. In the otherwise dark apartment, the acid gray light flickered over her sister’s form curled under a blanket on the couch, palm cupped under her cheek, head propped up on a cushion.
“Hey,” Yvette greeted, barely moving.
“Hey.”
Rémi dropped her keys into the bowl on the shelf and sat on the couch near her sister’s feet. Yvette curled up even more to make room for her, looking briefly at her face before turning back to the TV. On the screen, the designers were being criticized by the judges, their hard work ravaged in front of a salivating TV audience.
“Everything okay?”
“Mostly,” Rémi answered.
She stared at the television, eyes blind to everything on the screen. The idea of exile still echoed in her head.
Rémi reached out, put her hand on her sister’s feet. “Tell me about home,” she said.
Yvette looked at her in surprise. She sat up, and the blanket fell away from her shoulders and pooled at her waist. Yvette opened her mouth as if to ask why. Then closed it. In the gray almost-darkness, her eyes sought out Rémi’s face before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. Silence, darkness blanketed the room.
“Except for Daddy not being home, things are mostly the same,” she said with sadness tucked into the corners of her voice. “Mama works in the garden a lot. René is really into astronomy.”
Their life came to Rémi as clearly as if she’d been there. The house on a hill in Boothbay Harbor, with the rippling blue ribbon of the bay stretching out behind it. In the garden outside, exploding with roses and peonies, Kelia knelt in the dirt and pulled at weeds with her gloved hands while a jean-clad child sat on the back porch, legs swinging over its edge as she occasionally looked up from her book to glance at her mother. Another girl, younger, lay on the porch swing, eyes trained on the painful blue of the sky. In the kitchen, Auguste moved between the stove and counters, steam rising up from multiple pots to dampen the edges of the light brown hair that he kept military short. There were few things he hated worse than hair in food. But wait, that was before. Before he left. Before they left for Miami and became the splintered thing that Rémi knew now.
Rémi breathed easily through her mouth. Yes, home was an irresistible place. Difficult to escape, impossible to go back to.
Chapter 17
“I’m glad you were able to come to dinner with me tonight.”
“You made it hard to refuse. Dinner, music, the pleasure of your company.” Claudia smiled up at Rémi as she walked past her and through the office door with the hem of her dark blue dress fluttering at her calves like a mermaid’s tail. “Privacy to do as I like without interruption.”
Rémi’s mouth tightened at that reminder of her ex’s visit the last time they were together. She had made sure to clean up the office before inviting Claudia to come up and spend the evening with her, putting all the paperwork, clothes, and toys out of the way. The large room looked almost empty with the large double doors at its rear leading to the bedroom firmly closed. Before leaving to pick up Claudia, she set up a small dining table before the smoked glass wall with its view of the stage and the restaurant’s main room below.
Tonight it was a local group, the Sonia Hui Trio. The mellow sounds of the piano and violin, background to Sonia’s vocals, barely trickled into the office through the soundproof walls.
“This is very nice, Rémi. The view is even better than I’d imagined. I knew there was something interesting up here, but never imagined this.” Her eyes seemed to swallow up the crowded restaurant below and the perfect view of the stage. The spotlighted Sonia crooned to the respectfully quiet crowd while the waitstaff moved unobtrusively between tables, dropping off food and seeing to the customers’ comfort. “Things certainly look different from up here.”
The office stood high up and jutted out slightly above the main floor of the club, affording an even more intimate view of the stage. From out there, no one could see into the dark office, even when the curtains lay open as they were now, and Claudia stood with her nose practically pressed against the glass. Only reflections of the club’s interior showed in the two-way mirrored surface.
Rémi stepped close to the other woman and pressed a button on the other side of Claudia’s hand. Their quiet disappeared. The sound from the stage instantly filled the room—Sonia’s gravelly voice, the hushed seduction of the violin. With the speakers now on, she didn’t bother to step back. The proximity felt too good.
“It feels very right to be here.” Claudia slowly dropped her head back, making more of Rémi’s accidental contact.
Rémi’s skin jumped. Although she’d been the one to step closer, to tempt herself when she knew she wasn’t ready, she realized abruptly that she couldn’t handle it. Claudia’s pale hair smelled of shampoo. The contact scorched Rémi’s belly and thighs. Helplessly, she brushed her hands up Claudia’s arms stretched wide along the ledge. Hot silk. She took in a deep breath of scent, then abruptly drew back.
Claudia nearly stumbled at the sudden withdrawal and looked back at Rémi, her eyes dark pools of maybes. Her fingers gripped Rémi’s tie, deep green silk against a fine-boned hand. Then she changed her mind about whatever she was going to do, released Rémi, and turned her gaze back to the view beyond the glass.
“Thank you for inviting me into your inner sanctum,” she said. “I’m h
onored.”
Rémi forced her mind from what she really wanted to dwell on, what she really wanted to do. Her hands were like an empty pot still on the fire, waiting for something to fill it. She focused on what Claudia just said. The truth was that too many women had been allowed into the set of rooms. Invitations to join Rémi behind the glass wall weren’t as rare as they should have been. But that wasn’t something that she wanted to think about. Claudia was here. For the first time. And that was what made the evening special. Still, Rémi had no plans on taking her behind the double doors to the large bedroom beyond. That place was too common for Claudia.
“I’m working tonight,” Rémi said abruptly. “Things could get busy. But I still wanted to see you.”
“Does that mean there will be many interruptions?”
“Not necessarily. It could be a pretty calm night, but on the other hand . . .” She shrugged.
“I see.” Before the glass, Claudia slowly unwound the black lace wrap from her neck and shoulders while Rémi watched, mesmerized. The spaghetti strap dress, royal blue and cowl-necked, dipped low in the front, its loose neckline treating Rémi to a vision of the wide valley between her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The skin, lightly dusted with what looked to Rémi like gold flecks, winked under the soft lighting, inviting touches. Kisses.
A knock at the office door shook her concentration from that strip of flesh. And she cleared her throat before moving away, surreptitiously wiping moist palms against her thighs, to answer it.
“Come in.”
Monique slid through the door Rémi held open for her. The waitress held a wide silver platter in strong arms and, after only the barest glance at Claudia, set it on the rectangular table already dressed with a white tablecloth and four unlit candles at its edges. As if she were presenting herself as well as the food.
While Rémi watched, Monique carefully unloaded two beautifully arranged plates, bending over to show the sleek line of her backside in the pinstriped black skirt and her spine straight under the tuxedo-style vest and starched white shirt. Claudia caught Rémi’s eye. She looked away, flushing with irrational guilt. The plates, fragrant with their burdens of black quinoa flavored with golden raisins and slivers of almonds, seeded olives and sweet carrots simmered in maple syrup and olive oil, gently kissed the table before Monique straightened. She turned, nodded slightly, eyes on the floor, belly breathing gently under the pearlescent buttons of her shirt. The smile lay across her face like a purple stain.
“Thank you,” Rémi said.
And the woman turned from them to quietly leave the office. Her pouting footsteps muffled in the thick carpet. Then the quiet click of the door closing.
“Is she one of your girlfriends?” Claudia asked, peering down at the plates.
Rémi shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. How to handle this one? She pulled a bottle of merlot from the wine rack built into a cubby in the wall. “I don’t have girlfriends.”
“Make sure you tell her next time you sleep with her. Just so her eyes won’t look so . . . helpless next time they see us together.”
Next time. Rémi smiled, setting the bottle along with two glasses on the table. “I’ll make sure to do that.” She lit the candles.
Claudia’s eyes danced wickedly in the soft light. She glanced around the room. “This is a pretty stage for a seduction.”
“Hardly that. Just dinner. Music. A little conversation.”
“Really? That’s a pity.” Without waiting for Rémi to pull out her chair, she sat at the table and kicked off her shoes. “Maybe after a good meal and a few glasses of wine, you’ll change your mind.”
Rémi laughed, clamping down on the nervous edge that crept into her voice. “You never know.”
She stood above Claudia, pouring the wine in their glasses like a maître d’. “Although I like to think I know what your normal tastes are, I took a chance that you might like this. Rochelle has not failed me yet. I told her what you like to eat, and she whipped this up for us. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will. Sit. You’re making me nervous with all that hovering.”
Rémi sat. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
“I know.” Claudia reached across the table and palmed Rémi’s cheek. “I’m just teasing you, darling.”
Her blush was immediate. Darling? Claudia peeked at her from between short, spiky lashes. Oh, yes you are, her eyes said.
“You are such a delight. On the best of days you make this old fool feel desired again.”
“There’s never been anything old or foolish about you.”
“Some would disagree. Especially now.”
“Fuck them.” Rémi picked up her fork, inviting Claudia to do the same.
“That’s what I’m starting to think now, too.”
She pressed the firm grains of quinoa between her tongue and palate, keeping her eyes on Claudia. “Good. You can’t live for anyone but yourself.” A raisin coated her tongue with sweetness.
Claudia nodded and bit into a maple-sweetened baby carrot. She made a noise of surprised pleasure and reached for another carrot. “Rochelle is an angel. You must do whatever you need to keep her.” Her fork glinted in the candlelight as it came back empty from between her lips. “How she keeps turning out this heavenly food is a mystery.”
“My theory is that her husband keeps her very happy. Once you’re happy at home everything else seems like a breeze.” Rémi smiled. “Again, only a theory.”
“One that I might have to dispute. When Warrick and I were married and everything was falling apart, I spent a lot of time outside of the house doing nearly everything—sometimes very well—just so I wouldn’t have to come home too soon.”
“Really? You always seemed so happy to me. All I remember about the divorce was that you were so quiet. Then again, I had just really met you.”
“I kept the tears locked in my bedroom in those days.”
“And now?”
“Now there are only a few tears and they are very occasional.”
Rémi watched her face, remembering its cold lines when Warrick had come back to the house on Friday night.
“What did Warrick want when he came back to see you the other night?”
“I wondered when, or if, you would ask.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. But trying not to.”
“It was nothing,” Claudia said. “He was trying to piss on his territory again; he just needed to be reminded that his wife is in California, not here.” She paused. “I’m sorry you had to go.”
With that, Rémi was prepared to be generous. “Maybe he’s just surprised about us.”
“He doesn’t want me to be happy and that’s the truth of it. Whether it’s you or Kincaid, it doesn’t matter.” Claudia waved her fork in the air. “I told him to go back to his wife and leave me in peace.”
“Hopefully then, that’ll be the end of that.”
Claudia made a dismissive noise, shrugging her shoulders.
Rémi wanted to tell Claudia that she would never put her in a box, would never leave her lust unsatisfied, would always play with her and be there for her as long as Claudia wanted. Instead, Rémi reached across the table and wiped a grain of quinoa from the corner of Claudia’s mouth.
Everything stopped. They breathed together, carefully. They picked at their food, watching each other over forks and the muted sounds of chewing. With the candlelight around her, Claudia glowed bronze and sphinx-like, a creature from another world. A world Rémi very much wanted to be apart of.
Rémi’s phone rang, effectively breaking the mood. She answered the gently voiced question from the hostess downstairs at Gillespie’s front door.
“No, if he doesn’t have a reservation he can’t jump in line in front of people who do. Please extend my regrets.”
The girl murmured her assent and thanks. Rémi hung up the phone.
“Sorry about that.”
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Claudia smiled. “It’s okay.”
Rémi picked up her wineglass. “Now, where were we?”
Neither could remember, but they swam back into the depths of conversation. Nothing serious. Their words edged around the thick issue of their attraction to each other, meandering along the safe routes of Claudia’s students, her teaching, how it felt for her to be back in the classroom again after a year’s leave and illness. Then Rémi got tired of being safe.
“You know, the first time I saw you, I thought I was dreaming.”
Claudia bit into an olive, eyebrows slanted in question. After all, weren’t they just talking about school? She chewed the olive, and Rémi followed the motion of her lips around the green fruit.
“When you came to our house for dinner that first night after school?”
“Oh, no.” Rémi gently touched the rim of her glass, wiped her finger along the smear of wine left by her mouth. “It was weeks before that.”
She remembered the day vividly. Like most memories she had of Claudia, it was as clear as cut glass. That day, waiting for her mother to come pick her up after a school field trip to Surfside, Rémi sat on a low wall, halfheartedly reading a book she had a test on in class later that week. Rémi hardly recalled what the novel was about, only that when she looked up toward the roundabout in front of the school, a woman stood next to a car, looking as if she’d stepped out of a book: black kinks cut close to her head, elfin features, wearing what Rémi recognized now as an A-line dress, sleeveless and white vintage 1950s, with high-heeled shoes.
She walked around to the passenger side of the car and reached for something through the open window before going back to stand by the front bumper. With her gaze hidden behind dark glasses, the woman seemed to be watching for someone to come through the high school’s front doors. She put something to her mouth, and in that moment Rémi thought it was a cigarette, but as the woman put one slender hand in her pocket and turned her head in the haloing sunlight, she realized it was a carrot stick.