Mrs. Beck wagged a finger at me. “Now, boy. You can’t ignore her forever.”
“Why not?” The words popped out of me without any conscious thought and briefly, I wondered just why it was so easy to talk to a woman like Janie Beck and so hard to talk to the woman I’d just silenced on the phone. My mother.
“Because it’s impolite.” Janie sniffed, then rolled her eyes. “And because she’ll just keep calling. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know that, Mrs. Beck.” Sighing, I eyed the phone. I would have to talk to her. With a short nod, I met the eyes of the woman across the table. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. Next time she calls.”
She arched an eyebrow that was penciled darker than they were naturally. “Will you?”
“Yes, but only because you asked.”
She gave me a skeptical look, and I grinned, laying a hand across my heart.
As she rose from her chair, she shook her head at me. “One day, boy, you’ll find a woman who’ll set you in your place. Mark my words.”
As she left the office, I reached for the paper I’d kept folded on the side of my desk. I knew that was, in part, why Mom kept calling.
The other part had everything to do with Paisley. She'd called, texted, emailed almost a dozen times. Finally, sometime Monday, she’d stopped. But Mom hadn’t stopped, I knew she wouldn't, not until she said what she had to say.
It didn’t help that some of the media had become slightly obsessed with the charity banquet. There’d been some pop sensation there, so the press had shown up. There were dozens of pictures of her, but my problem was that there were also a couple of me...and my unnamed partner.
None of the pictures of Allie had gotten a clear shot of her face, and I was thankful for that. She wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion on her privacy.
But there was no doubt about the fact that the two of us looked…cozy.
In one of them, I looked downright dazed. And that was a good way to describe how Allie made me feel.
Dazed.
Had she gotten the invitation?
I’d ended up going through all the contacts I had at my disposal, and to my surprise, one of the charitable arms actually had her address. They wouldn’t release it to me, but they did mention that her family was active in the deaf community. That was when I remembered that Allie had said her family was deaf.
That could be my way in.
The company had an event this weekend, so I’d told them to overnight an invitation to someone I'd missed. They’d been happy to do so even though they'd still refused to give me the information.
Privacy reasons…bullshit.
I was about ready to just hire a private investigator, but I had a feeling Allie wouldn’t thank me for that, so I held off.
If she came to the event, then it wouldn’t matter.
If she didn’t…well. Then I’d reevaluate–
The phone rang.
Swearing, I almost silenced it. Again. But I’d told Mrs. Beck I’d talk to my mom the next time she called. And I never lied to Mrs. Beck.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Jal, darling.”
The ice in her tone would have had more of an effect if I hadn’t been so used to it. After all, I disappointed her on a regular basis. Well, except in business. She appreciated how good I was at making money. And I knew she loved me. In her own way.
“How are you?” I asked, falling back on the social niceties she’d drilled into my head since before I’d been old enough to understand them.
“Wonderful, dear. You?”
“Busy. Got a few deals I’m trying to square away – one of them has an expiration date.” So can we just get on with this…
“You're always up to something.”
I got the feeling she wasn't talking about work.
“Tell me, son, I was talking to Paisley, and heard something rather upsetting. She seems to think you’re not so certain about your engagement now. She’s wrong, isn’t she, Jal?”
Shit. I should've known to pre-empt things by letting Mom know what was going on. Of course Paisley had gone right to her.
Closing my eyes, I leaned back in the seat. Soft leather cupped me, the chair steadying under me as I kicked my feet up on the desk. “No, Mom. She’s not wrong. We aren’t right for marriage, I don’t think. I need time to make sure we’re doing the right thing. Not just for us, but for the baby too.”
“How can there be any question of that?” She snapped. “You have a child coming. You should be married before that child arrives.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “People should marry for reasons other than a child. I can be there for the baby without being married to Paisley. It'd be worse for a child to be raised in a loveless marriage.”
There was nothing but silence on the other end for several long moments. Her response, when it came, grated on my ears.
“Nonsense.” Her voice was brisk, matter-of-fact. “Listen, Jal…you’ve always been a…sweet boy.”
Sweet?
I bit back the curse words that I wanted to let loose.
“I know you might have some idea in your head of a passionate kind of love, something crazy and wild…heaven knows I had those ideas a few times myself. And your father?” She laughed, the sound trailing off into a gusty sigh. “But there’s more to life than…fantasy. You need to have a good, solid foundation. Like what you have with Paisley.”
Was she seriously accusing me of being a romantic? Did the woman not know me at all? I'd never been the sort of person who'd searched for love. There was sex and lust. There was friendship, companionship. But I didn't believe in the sort of love my mother was accusing me of wanting.
Right?
And how in the world could she say that Paisley and I had a solid foundation? What made it solid? The fact that both of us came from wealthy families? That we knew the same people in the same social circles?
But we weren't alike in other ways.
For Paisley, no remark was too cutting, no insult too cold. No dress was too fine, and nothing was too good for her.
Matter of fact, most things weren’t good enough.
Despite my upbringing – or maybe because of it – I appreciated the things I had. I liked nice things, and I could sometimes be a bit abrasive, but I wasn't cruel.
Was our background enough to give us common ground?
“Do you really think we have a solid foundation?”
“Of course I do.” My mother rushed to assure me, but I knew she didn't understand that it wasn’t doubts I had.
What I had were certainties. Certainties about the ways it wouldn't work. Nothing she would say would change them. But I didn’t want to argue with her. I knew from experience that it wouldn't change anything with her.
Mom continued, “Now, I realize how…intriguing it might be to have some pretty thing clinging to you.”
I stiffened. “What?”
“Don’t play the fool. It doesn’t suit you, Jal.” She sniffed. “I saw the paper. I’m sure you did too. The girl, Jal. I saw you dancing with that girl. And you looked like you were…were…” She sputtered now, unable to come up with something apparently fitting.
“I looked like what?” I stared at the picture. I know what I looked like.
I looked like a man who actually felt something. I didn't need a picture to know I never looked like that when I was with Paisley because I never felt much of anything when I was with her.
“To be honest, Jal, you look like you’re being led around by the dick by some cheap whore,” she said, her voice cold.
Anger flashed through me, bright and hot. Hell, Mom. Just tell me how you really feel. But I remained calm as I replied, “That’s enough.”
“Really, Jal. Have you looked at those pictures? What are people going to think? What are our friends going to think?” Mother carried on as if I hadn’t said anything.
I wasn’t surprised. How often did I really say anything? But I wasn’t going t
o listen to her talk about Allie like that. What we'd done was on me, not her.
“Mom, please stop.” I put more emphasis in my voice, and when she continued to keep talking, I said, “Fine. I guess I’ll just hang up. You didn’t call to talk to me. You called to talk over me.”
That got her attention.
“What…no, wait. Jal, darling. Of course I want to talk to you.” Surprise showed in her voice, but she managed to cover it well.
“Then we can talk. What did you want to talk about?” Still frustrated, I leaned back in my chair.
On the other end of the line, my mother laughed. “Do I need a specific topic in mind? I just wanted…well, Jal. To be honest, I’m worried about you. I can’t believe you told Paisley you needed time to think. You’re about to be a father. The two of you have been together a long time.”
“Not really.” Six months. Barely.
She carried on as if I hadn’t said anything.
“It’s perfectly understandable that you might be getting cold feet. That girl in the paper, she probably scented you down like a shark scents blood.”
“Mom…”
“When do you think you’ll be ready to talk to Paisley?”
I didn’t say the response that immediately leapt to my lips. I could only imagine what my mother would think if I told her I’d just as soon never talk to Paisley again outside of conversation related to the baby. That wouldn't go over well.
But she wasn't going to let it go. “Jal?”
So I lied. “I don’t know, Mom. I told you. I need time. When two people get married, it shouldn’t be because there's an unplanned pregnancy. There should be...more. I don't know what, exactly, but I do know that Paisley and I don’t have that.” I sighed. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up before she could respond and sat there, staring at the phone. I hadn’t planned on saying any of that, but now that I had, I had no intention of taking it back.
I couldn’t, not without telling some sort of lie.
A few weeks ago, a month ago, maybe I saw a different sort of truth, but the bottom line was, there wasn’t any kind of connection between Paisley and me. And I could no longer stomach the thought of being in a relationship that felt more like a business transaction.
It’s one thing not to believe in love. It’s another thing to feel hopeless about the rest of your fucking life.
And that was how I felt.
I had no idea what to do about it either.
3
Allie
“That’s a lovely dress.”
I got the impression that my mother had been standing in the doorway waiting for me to look up for several minutes. I smiled my thanks and went back to studying my dress. There were times in my life that I had friends I just didn’t deserve. This was one of those times.
The dress Mom had just complimented was actually an Armani. It was a couple of years out of fashion, but new off the rack, it still would have cost a couple of thousand. Thanks to Tao's friend, Tarja Caldwell, however, I paid barely a couple hundred. I didn't know what Tao had told her, but she'd sold the dress to me at cost. Now, because of her, my outfit looked like a one-of-a-kind designer piece straight off the runway.
The once-open back of it was now mesh and seeded with tiny little stones that caught the light. There were inserts along the skirt echoing the design. The bodice had the shimmery little stones as well. Pretty, elegant and sexy, with a vague hint of retro to it, the dress was feminine without being fussy. I was playing off the vintage tones by sweeping my hair up into a twist reminiscent of the fifties. I had a strand of pearls as well. The pearls were one the few rare gifts my father had given me that had nothing to do with money.
I thought I’d blend in rather well. At the very least, I wouldn’t look like some street urchin. Maybe I wouldn’t fit in, but I wouldn’t stand out, either. Then I reminded myself that I didn't actually want to fit in with those people.
Sometimes, I still had to tell myself that daily. I’d spent way too much of my younger life trying to fit, to shape myself into whatever mold I thought would please my father, make him love me. When I'd finally realized that wasn't going to happen, it made me go in the complete opposite direction and not want to be a part of his world at all.
And now I was stepping into it voluntarily.
Mom came up behind me and rested her hand on my shoulder.
Meeting her eyes in the mirror, I started to smile. But she asked quietly, “Why are you so sad?”
“I’m not.” I spoke the words, knowing she could read my lips via my reflection. She wouldn’t hear the tremor in my voice, but if I signed them, my hands might shake a little, and I didn’t want her to see anything I wasn’t ready to share with her.
But this was my mother. And mothers, damn them, they could always tell. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then, softly, she spoke and sighed, “You let me know when you’re ready to talk. You know I’m always here for you.”
* * *
“Oh. My heart.” Tao clutched at his chest, pretending the organ in question pained him. “Baby, I can’t take it. You look too beautiful for the likes of me.”
I’d put a petticoat on under the skirt, and it swished around my legs as I walked. It made me feel insanely girly and sexy in an odd sort of way. As I came down the last few steps, I rolled my eyes at Tao's behavior.
“Are you going to fall to the floor? If you plan to do so, hurry up and get it over with. We’ll need to grab the lint roller because I haven’t swept in here.”
He looked affronted. “I give you a compliment, and you’re worried about lint? Allie, where’s your sense of romance?”
“It died a long time ago,” I said tartly. I came a little closer and watched as he adjusted the cufflinks on his rented tux.
When he caught sight of me watching him, he grinned at me and shot me a lascivious wink and did a little spin. “Do I look good or what?”
“Not to add to your overblown ego, but yes. You look fantastic.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek before settling back down in front of him. A quick glance assured me I hadn’t left any lipstick on him.
“What?” He reached up to brush his cheek. “Do I have anything on my face?”
Mom came up behind me, laughing. “No. She’s checking to make sure she didn’t leave lipstick on your cheek. I guess she plans on doing a lot of kissing later tonight.”
Tao wagged his eyebrows at me. “Excellent plan, Allie.” He signed as he spoke so my mom could get it too.
My cheeks flushed, and I turned away without responding.
Not because I planned on kissing Tao. That wouldn’t make me blush. The things Tao and I had done together made the two of us insanely comfortable with each other. It was the thought of kisses and...him.
“Come on, Allie.” Some of the humor had faded from Tao’s voice, although when I looked at him, he was still smiling. His eyes had sobered, but he kept the mask up for my mom. Holding out a hand, he angled his head toward the door. “I begged and bribed a friend of mine, and we’ve got a nice ride for the night.”
When I met his gaze, I could tell he’d known exactly who I’d been thinking about. My mom, however, didn't know about any of that.
A few minutes later, we were heading down the stairs, my hand on Tao’s forearm. We’d been just about to leave when Mom abruptly insisted we wait while she rushed into her bedroom. I’d been convinced she was taking off to get a camera, or something and I’d almost pointed out that this wasn’t the prom, but she’d emerged almost immediately, carrying a fluffy bundle of soft lavender – not a camera.
“It’s too cold for you to be out there without a wrap,” she’d signed as I unrolled the bundle. It was silk and something else – all of it woven together in layers that were soft and thick and warm as I threw it across my shoulders, drawing it around me. I’d smiled my thanks before we left and now, as a cold wind cut through the streets, I was even more grateful.
&nb
sp; “So…what do you think of our ride?” Tao asked, leaning in and nuzzling my temple.
I came to a stop, looking for his car. Except all I saw was a sleek, sexy red Stingray.
My jaw dropped.
“That?”
He grinned.
“Who did you kill or what did you steal?” I demanded.
“Nothing. I just called in a favor.” He said it nonchalantly, but I knew Tao. The man was pleased with himself. Beyond pleased.
He opened the door for me, and I slid in. He helped me tuck the skirt in around me, giving my leg a little lingering caress. From anyone else, it would've been lecherous, but from him, it was comforting.
When he spoke, I knew why he was offering me comfort. “Just remember, Cinderella, no matter how charming the prince is, your kingdom isn’t ever going to fit with his.”
* * *
“How is Malla doing?”
Smiling at Charles Bailey, I signed, “Mom's doing fine.”
“And your brother?” He paused, frowning. “How old is he now?” He tapped his temple. “The old head isn’t what it used to be.”
I laughed. “I think you just have too many schemes going on up there, Mr. Bailey.”
He grinned.
I launched into a story about what was going on with TJ at school, moving into some of the issues that my brother was facing with the bullies. Charles Bailey was one of the driving forces behind some of the programs we now had for the deaf community in our neighborhood. Even now that he'd stepped back and retired from almost everything, he was still a key figure. He'd also been friends with Tyson and my mom for years. It was nice to see a few friendly faces.
By the time I finished, Charles was shaking his head.
“I wish you folks lived closer to me and Maureen. TJ would get along great with my youngest son. Amar hears, but with all of the rest of us not being hearing, he understands our culture as much as you do.”
“Maybe we should just set up some time for them to get together,” I suggested, signing.
“That’s not a bad idea.” Charles nodded, his lips pursed. A moment later, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a card. He also took out a pen and wrote something down. “My private email,” he said after he gave me the card. “Get in touch, Allie. We’ll set something up. Maybe TJ can come to one of the ballgames with us.”
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