“Bonita,” he said. “I’m the guy who will love you, no matter what.”
I pushed myself half out of the bath water and clasped his face between my hands.
“Kiss me,” I said.
“I can’t. I promised to be a gentleman.”
“Kiss me, or I’ll pull you in this tub on top of me. And don’t think just because I had a really shitty night that I can’t do that. I’m a midwestern chick and I’ve completely fallen in love with you, you big gorgeous dork. And midwestern chicks know what they want, when they want it, and they get it done. So kiss me,” I insisted, more than a little breathless.
He smiled, pulled me toward him and kissed me. Our hands flew across each other’s bodies: cupping, caressing, gliding. I giggled and splashed his shirt.
“I knew you were going to do that,” he said.
“I want to feel you. I want to touch you,” I said.
He ripped off his shirt and reached his hand out to me. I took his hand and stepped out of that tub wet from head to toe: scarred, bruised, burnt and naked.
He inhaled sharply and eyed me. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
“Prove it to me,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him toward me.
He lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around the top of his hips. He carried me out of the bathroom through my hallway and into my bedroom.
He lowered me onto my back on my bed.
“Protection?” I asked.
He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a condom. He shrugged off his jeans in seconds and rolled on the condom.
“I want you, Alejandro,” I said, my breath heavy.
He straddled me. He was naked. And he was beautiful. Truth be told, I hadn’t seen a lot of erections. But I do think his might have been perfect. That this moment might be perfect. “I want you to be my first love,” I said.
“You sure? That’s not the plant medicine talking?”
“You better believe I’m sure.”
He lowered himself against me firmly. I looked up into his beautiful face. His hazel eyes flecked with gold were hungry, filled with desire. He entered me as gently as possible and I gasped. After the first few moments, I knew this was by far the best decision of my entire life. “I love you, Bonita,” he said as we found our rhythm, lost our breath, and melded into each other’s bodies.
* * *
Our first time making love was sweet and tender and, well, interesting. Afterward we were famished. It had been a long night filled with all kinds of excitement. He ordered takeout. The sun rose as we sat on my living room floor sharing pizza, fresh chicken soup with noodles and bagels with cream cheese.
We were exhausted, went back to my bed and napped for a couple of hours. We woke up in each other’s arms when Napoleon skittered across the blanket and pounced on our feet.
Our second time making love lasted longer and seemed a little more intense. Definitely more goosebumps.
But the third time we made love? I realized that even a semi-orgasmic Chinese foot massage wouldn’t ever come close to satisfying my needs the way Alejandro did.
* * *
Pacific Coast Highway was an amazing expanse of a winding road that ran along California’s coast. In some areas it was blocks from the ocean. In other stretches it was actually adjacent to the coast. The highway was one of the few access roads in and out of Malibu and was the address for celebs, moguls and a few rehab centers.
Alex and I drove on PCH up the Malibu bluffs, the sun off to our left over the waves breaking on the beautiful SoCal beaches. I wasn’t sure if I should venture out so soon after my nearly disastrous healing experiment. I didn’t want be a burden, nor did I care to be an eyesore or bear the brunt of gossip. But when Alex said Jackson’s folks had whipped together a fund-raiser for the Malibu Fire Department, I was game, and pulled my attitude, as well as a pretty outfit together. I did my hair and applied some makeup. Tried my best to pencil in my half-missing eyebrow.
“I’m glad you’re doing this with me, Bonita.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “You’ll see. People will be supportive. If they’re not, give me a nod and I’ll run interference. If you get tired, we’ll leave.”
“You sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “Did I tell you the past couple of months driving and hanging out with you have been the best months of my life?”
“About twenty times.” I covered a smile. “Tell me Alejandro—what did I do to win you over? Like—when was the moment? Was it the first night I met you when I was drenched in beer and bleeding all over your favorite T-shirt? Was it when the girls hid me under the picnic table in Venice Beach and I smelled like Coppertone mixed with dog poop? Or possibly when I was puking my brains out after the Vision Quest? I’ve provided you with so many magical moments.”
“I was intrigued by the beer and blood but thought the gang banger and poop thing was different from the average girl. You definitely had me with the psychedelic Vision Quest fire and puking incident. But I think the clincher was when your Nana talked Yiddish as an excuse to discover my intentions regarding you. I already knew you were pretty, smart and funny, but the fact that you came from a great family did me in.”
He slowed the Jeep and waited in the center turning lane for a few moments until oncoming traffic broke. He pulled a U-ie, accelerated for seconds, then braked and pulled over to the side of the road. We were in line behind twenty cars snaking their way to the front of white, curved, concrete-walled entrance with tall plants overhead, so no one could see in.
“Jackson’s house?” I asked.
He nodded. “Pricey benefit. Big turnout. Casual party, but splashy.” He grabbed my hand. “Do you want to skip it?”
Absolutely I wanted to skip this. I’d rather be alone with him in front of a fireplace. I’d rather he kiss me as he stripped off my clothes.
“All the money’s going to the firefighters?”
Alex nodded.
“Let’s do it.”
“Okay.” He put the car in park, exited the driver’s door and tossed his keys to a Valet Guy. “Keep it close, yes?” He slipped the Valet a twenty, walked around to the passenger side of his Jeep. But another Valet had already opened my door and I’d stepped out.
“You cheating on me with another Driver?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “The tiny middle-aged man in the shiny black jacket who reaches my shoulder if he stands on his tiptoes is a huge turn on. Sorry.”
Alejandro laughed and wrapped his arm around my waist. We moved past security guards through the open gates onto the biggest estate I’d seen in my entire life, a movie, TV show, or even People Magazine.
* * *
Unlike Alejandro’s family, Jackson’s parents did have their BBQ catered. Half of their manicured, very green front yard was filled with food tents manned by servers. Casually attired, well-groomed guests stood knee deep in line in front of the stands waiting for tacos, burgers, Thai, vegetarian, hot dogs, as well as BBQ chicken and ribs.
We passed a booth filled with bowls, platters and bushels of fruit. There were oranges, tangerines, strawberries, blueberries and blackberries. Alex grabbed several peeled tangerine wedges that were speared with festive toothpicks, as well as one orange. “This is all from Jackson’s family’s orchard,” he said. “You’ve never tasted a tangerine like this, ever.” He fed me a small slice, popped another in his mouth and started peeling the orange.
I munched. “Yowsa!”
A guesthouse was located next to a basketball court that had been transformed into a small, upscale playground. There was a section where kids and adults slid down blown up slides and jumped on trampolines. A tightrope stretched between two platforms towered high above a safety net below it. Tyler walked across the rope holding a balancing rod; a safety harness was securely strapped around his waist and legs.
“Yo, Cirque you are so laid,” Alex hollered up at him. “Showing off your fancy moves?”
Tyler grinned and glanced down at us. He hit
the middle of the tightrope’s expanse and wobbled precariously, the balancing rod teetering from side to side as he tried not to fall. “Hey, Sophie. You look pretty hot, no pun intended, for someone who just escaped a major fire.”
“Thanks!” I glanced at Alex, who frowned. “I’m missing half an eyebrow.”
“Eyebrows come and go, sweets. I have ‘fancy moves’ that could make you forget all about that missing brow.”
Alex pulled out the orange and pitched it at Tyler. It bounced off his stomach and he grunted. “Stop flirting with my girl.”
“Orange you going to ask me nicely?” Tyler wobbled back and forth on the line. It looked like he was going to lose his balance and fall. But he made it to end of the rope without assistance. “Yes!” He reached the tiny platform high over the ground.
“Thank God. I hated the thought of seeing such a pretty boy crash again,” Alex said.
I applauded along with a couple of cute, coiffed chicks who made googly eyes at Tyler.
“You’re always jealous that I’m prettier than you.” Tyler climbed down the ladder.
Alex snorted and then tried to stuff back his laughter back by clamping one hand over his mouth. I wondered why Tyler was still single. When five girls threw themselves at him, I stopped speculating.
Alex and I walked away from The Tyler Show toward the main house. “That used to be you, didn’t it?” I frowned.
“I’m not like him anymore.” He pulled me toward him and kissed me on my lips.
“Get a room!” Tyler yelled.
“Get a life!” Alex hollered, and they both laughed.
I spotted Gabriella, the makeup artist who helped hide me from Oscar and his gang bangers that day on Venice Beach. She was at a table about ten yards way, face painting an elaborate design on a teenage girl. She waved at me. “Sophie! Come on over. Let me draw something magical on your face.”
“How about an eyebrow?” I waved back.
“Yes!”
“Let’s go!” I tugged on Alex’s arm.
“Yo, Alex!” Nick waved to us from the tall, sleek front doors of the ultra-modern house at the deep end of the property. “Jackson wants to show us something.”
“Come on, hon. Just for a couple of minutes,” Alex said.
The mansion was on a tall bluff overlooking the Pacific. We entered the foyer. “Hey,” Nick said and squeezed my hand. “Thank God you made it out all right. Damn fire’s still chewing up acres, destroying people’s homes and dreams.”
“Sucks,” I said. “Nice of Jackson’s folks to host the benefit.”
We wandered around the house looking for Jackson. The rear living room’s ceiling vaulted three stories tall. With the exception of doors and nearly invisible framework, the walls were glass. The back doors led to a large rectangular shaped pool with a smattering of sleek lawn chairs on the concrete slab surrounding it. Twenty white picnic tables were set up on the grassy yard that spread out around it. There were more food kiosks and servers. Party guests roamed around. They chatted with each other at the tables and around the pool.
A low modern fence surrounded the edge of the property. It protected folks from falling off the lawn and skittering down the bluff high up over the beach below it. There were steps built into the cliff that descended, tier by tier to the sands below.
“What do you think?” Alex asked.
“Someone needs to call God and tell Her Jackson’s parents stole heaven,” I said.
Nathan, Jackson and Tyler, and one of the adoring girls from his fan club, walked toward us. “Yo!” Jackson hoisted his glass in the air. “My dad just got the newest Ferrari. The first one of the new model in the entire country. Want to check it out?”
“Seriously?” Nick asked.
“Why not,” Nathan said.
Alejandro looked at me.
“Go. I’m going to get my eyebrow and possibly other body parts painted.”
“Color me interested,” he whispered. “I’m right behind you,” he said to his friends. ” They sauntered off and he turned toward me. “I’ll stake out a place for us at a picnic table next to the big pool. Not the other pool. This one. Get here before the sun goes down the fireworks starting over the ocean.”
“Fireworks for a benefit for a fire in the hills?” I asked.
“Just go with it. Jackson’s folks are probably raising over a 100 K tonight for the Malibu Fire Department. Everything they’ve spent money on is a tax write off. Yeah, it’s a bit of a joke, but…” He lifted his hands up in the air. “So’s the Ferrari. Do you really think I give a rat’s ass about going to look at the newest Ferrari in the entire U.S. of A?”
“You tell me,” I said.
He cradled my face in his hands and stared down into my eyes. “I don’t care about that stuff, Sophie. I haven’t cared about that since the accident.” He leaned in and kissed me on my lips.
I reluctantly pushed him away. “Go!” I said.
“I’ll see you at sundown next to the backyard pool. I’ll get us plates. By the way, we’re leaving the party early. We’ve got better things to do.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I chatted with Gabriella. She gave me a temporary eyebrow with a henna tattoo. Then painted a sun, a moon and glittering falling stars on the same side of my face. She confided that she and Javier were starting to date. It probably wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t run into each other that day they helped rescue me on Venice Beach.
I thought of the funny ways our lives twist, turn and collide. We think something’s truly terrible—and it might be—but then sometimes magic happens. You meet someone. You find healing. You fall in love. I thanked Gabriella and tipped her.
It wasn’t dusk yet and I couldn’t help myself. I thought of Cole’s obsession with Gary Cooper as I explored Jackson’s parents’ estate.
I meandered past a small orchard with avocado trees, orange, lemon, lime, fig, and… more orange trees. Different varieties, I assumed, as their fruit had a slightly different scent. I passed an herb garden that smelled of basil, rosemary, thyme and sage. Lavender plants and roses were planted among the herbs.
I closed my eyes and inhaled. It smelled intoxicating—like if God had created Her own potpourri and gave it free of charge to whoever prayed for healing. “Hold this close to your heart. Squeeze it between your hands when you doubt. Breathe in its essence. This could make you well.”
I spotted another swimming pool adjacent to the herb garden and orchards. There was what looked like a barn styled, two-car garage behind it. This pool was smaller than the one behind the main house. A slate gray, unbroken concrete pathway led to its placement on the property, which was a little odd—almost as though it was meant to be hidden, to be secret. A private secluded body of water for a special person who deserved to be surrounded by the beauty of the trees and embraced by the scent of the flowers.
I was curious and walked toward it. I was the only person wandering this section of the estate. Guess this wasn’t part of the party. Secure guardrails surrounded the pool. Not the kind of fence to keep people out, but rails to help persons get in and out of the water. Most likely a person with a disability. There was lift platform for a wheelchair in the shallow end.
This had to be Lauren’s pool. Jackson’s sister had suffered a life-changing spinal cord injury when they drove off Malibu Canyon Road. The accident put her into a wheelchair and left her a paraplegic.
It was getting darker. Time to get back. But then I spotted the rear end of a limo sticking out of the two-car garage. Its custom paint job was colored Pepto-Bismol pink.
A screech overhead startled me and I jumped. The black sky above lit up as a white flame ascended into it and a single firework exploded. Spider-like long, hairy legs materialized from its hub and arced down away from it. I cringed for a second as funky memories of the fire and the hallucination poured into my brain. I quickly realized this was the barge of fireworks Alejandro had talked about. And it was past time that I needed to mee
t up with him.
I turned and made tracks.
“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out, yet,” a guy said, as he stepped from the garage’s shadows directly in front of me.
I backed away. Until I saw that the guy was Jackson, his hands in his pockets, slumped a little casually, like he always was. And I stopped.
“Hey!” I said. “Your folks have an amazing house. Fierce benefit. I could swear I’ve seen that pink limo before.”
“Yeah. You have. You rode in it the night of my sister’s bathing suit party.”
“Your sister?” Something felt a little off with Jackson. Maybe he’d been drinking. Maybe he was on meds. Maybe his meds were off. “I’ve never met Lauren. Although, Alejandro told me all about her and the accident. What a nightmare you all went through. I told Alejandro I’d meet him before the fireworks started Can we talk later?” When he didn’t answer, I turned, wondered if he had a hearing problem and strode back to the main house. He followed me—his toes practically clipping my heels.
“You’ve met my sister,” Jackson said. “Lulu told me all about you. Blue’s friend, Sophie. The girl from Wisconsin who was in the MS stem cell study. Who else could it be?”
Whoa. I froze, but then swiveled back toward him. Alex told me Jackson’s sister’s name was Lauren. And it hit me. “Your sister’s Lulu?”
“Yeah. Happy that you’re stealing the guy she’s been in love with forever away from her?”
“What do you mean?”
He guzzled his drink and tossed the glass onto the grass behind him. “Lulu’s been in love with Alex since grade school. She’s in a chair, going through therapies, surgeries and experimental procedures. Finally she’s seeing progress. Her toes are starting to move. The MRIs are coming back positive, for a change.”
“She told me,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t know it was Lauren, but, the girl I met—Lulu—told us the night of the bathing suit party.”
The Story of You and Me Page 22