by Carol May
A couple of hours drag by with still no response from Houston. I check my phone several times willing it to make some type of noise, especially Houston’s ring. No matter how much I try to forget those people out front, I just can’t. I go to the door, open it and look out. The cameras go crazy. People start yelling. I quickly close the door. Looking at Lana I ask, “Do you think it’s been a slow celebrity day on South Beach?” We look at each other and laugh, even though my head hurts like ten grizzly bears are having a dance party up there. Finally, deciding to take advantage of me being here we work or at least pretend to work. Thank goodness, I saved my latest projects to the cloud. I use Lana’s desktop while she is on her laptop. I am having a difficult time concentrating but I don’t want my faithful friend to know. Lana picks up my phone as it goes off. Somehow she knew, I just don’t want to deal with it.
“Charli, who is Jeffery? Do you know a Jeffery? Cause his name just came up on the screen.” “Geez, inquisition or what? Yes, I know him. He is one of Houston’s drivers.” She tries to hand me my phone. Holding my hand up and shaking my head no, “Just read it to me. It’s not like it is going to be top secret
Sighing, Lana puffs just a little,
Stay inside, Mam. On my way.
“Well, wasn’t that just helpful? Like I am going to let you go running out into a street filled with whoever/whatever you call them, paparazzi, I suppose.” We stop and look at each other as if we have just had a giant revelation.
“Lana, how in the world did we miss this?”
“I have absolutely no idea. Oh my goodness, Charli. You have the paparazzi after you.”
Mam, I’m coming to the door. They won’t move off the sidewalk. You’re fine.
I stand beside the door, jerk it open and Jeffery enters Lana’s what used to look spacious, foyer until this walking, talking Hulk entered. Ever the man on the job, “Mam, are you ok? Are you both ok?”
“Yes, Jeffery we are both fine. Thank you for coming.”
Nodding his head, “My pleasure, Mam.”
“Jeffery, come into the kitchen. I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want a drink of something?”
Following me into Lana’s kitchen in the back of the house, “Thank you, Mam but no I am fine.” Holding up his hand Jeffery continues all business, “Mam, we have a three step plan of action.” First finger up. “One. Get you out of here and to the penthouse.” Second finger up “Two. Get your car away from Ms. Lewis’ home. May I suggest, next time park in the garage. Third finger up “Three. Retrieve any items you may need from your apartment.” With a brief pause, which I can only assume is for effect, Jeffery continues on. “Steps one and three will go off simultaneously with a forty-five minute delay before step two occurs.”
We just stand for a moment while I stall by drinking my water. It feels almost like he is waiting for my go ahead. I suppose that is what happens with Houston. Jeffery presents the course of action, Houston approves or disapproves. Who am I to keep what sounds like a good plan from happening? With a curt nod, I respond, “Sounds as if you have it all worked out, I suppose I am ready to leave whenever you think is best. I do believe sooner rather than later is best for Lana. Especially since she is worried about how her neighbors might be feeling about all of this.”
Jeffery nodded his appreciation for my acknowledgement but I think his plan was happening with or without my approval. Walking out to Lana, he explains, “We will be leaving in just a few minutes. Ms. Jensen has expressed your concern about your neighbors. I don’t know this neighborhood but from the looks of the well kept lawns and homes, I would say most of your neighbors are secretly enjoying this. They may complain for a few days but they also have something to tell their families/friends about. Right now, most of them are probably wondering who is in the house and why all those cameras are out there. Now if you will excuse me, I need to make a few calls. If it is alright with you I will just step out back to your screened in porch to make them.”
I looked at Lana. “Well, I am not sure what to say about all of this other than it has been an interesting twenty-four hours.” Laughing, she hugged me and agreed. “Will you be in the office tomorrow?” “Lana, at this point I could be in Tim Buck to tomorrow. Who knows? I’ll let you know.” Jeffery re-entered the kitchen, nods toward Lana, “Mam, it was nice meeting you. I believe everything will calm down when Ms. Jensen leaves the area.”
“Oh. Ok. You know she was safe here. You really didn’t need to come and get her.”
With no emotion at all, Jeffery looks at Lana saying, “Mam, Mr. Donovan instructed me to pick Ms. Jensen up from this address and safely ensconce her into his Miami Penthouse.” Sounding like Mr. Donovan’s words were law, Jeffery turned, looked at me as if to say-time to go, Mam and headed toward the door.
I know what is coming if I know Lana at all. I look over at her just about the time she opens her mouth and before I can intervene she blurts out, “Well, if Mr., Donovan said so by all means that must happen immediately.”
“Lana, he is right and so is Houston. I would hate for anything to happen to you or your home because I am too stubborn to go with him.” Crossing the room, I give her a hug and whisper in her ear,” Besides, I can’t take two nights of Oh Terry! I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Just before we step out, Jeffery instructs me on what will probably happen. How I should continue to walk toward the SUV, look forward and not speak. Looking at me, he places his large hand on my arm for support, “Mam, I am here to ensure your safety. No one will get to you or harm you. I will read the situation and if I feel it necessary, I will pull you into the security of my body wrapping my arm around you. You also need to brace yourself for anything that might be said. These people can be very cruel. They will say or do just about anything to get a response. Do you understand?”
I am sure my eyes got really big while he was talking. “Yes, Jeffery, I understand. “Oh and Jeffery,”
“Yes, Mam?”
“I do feel safe with you because I know Houston trusts you.”
Smiling he replies, “You are right, Mr. Donovan trusts me, Mam.”
Saying something into his Bluetooth, he looks at me, and gives me a nod. I nod back. The next thing I hear, “It’s a go. I repeat, it’s a go.”
Jeffery opens the door. We walk out. People begin yelling my name. Cameras start popping all around me. I heard, “Do you and your associates have these type of partner sharing gatherings often?” “How long have you and Houston Donovan been together?” “Does he like a good threesome?” “Is this a love nest for you and your business partner?” “Has your secret lesbian affair dated back to the time you were college roommates?”
All of these questions are about to make me sick. I want to stop and set the record straight but I felt Jeffery tighten up on my arm. I know I heard him mumble “Keep walking.” Just as we reach the end of Lana’s drive, a very familiar navy blue SUV rolls to a stop. I have never been so happy to see a vehicle in all my life. The back door opens, Jeffery helps me in, he climbs in beside me. We spied away. They handle this as if this is an everyday thing for them. Is this what Houston goes through? I sit in stunned silence. I thought those people were harmless when I was in the safety of Lana’s house. There are sick, vile creatures yelling those horrible things at me. I lean back and sit with my eyes closed until I felt us enter the underground garage at Dade 303.
Chapter 21
My eyes remain closed as I sit in the seat, trying to collect myself. It doesn’t matter how tightly I squeeze to keep them shut, the vision of those people, pushing toward me is burned into my head. The questions hurled at me were vile. Never, even after the accident, have I been ask anything as repulsive as what they yelled at me. Trying to get my mind to focus on something more pleasant, I think back to the night Houston and I were setting on this very seat. We were heading back to the city after a day down on the keys. The things his wandering hands did to me. I can’t stop myself from smiling. (I’m not too sure but the
re is a possibility a little moan escaped my lips.) Touching my face, it feels a little flushed. The way his hand caressed my inner thigh. The tingling sensation I had as he leaned across the seat unbuckled my belt and moved me into his lap. Thank god, it was dark. I can still hear him whisper, “Baby, I like you fastened on top of me.”
Remembering, I’m not alone and that I am actually sitting in the downstairs garage, I know I must focus on today. Houston is off somewhere on his quest for world domination. Jeffery is sitting beside me not H. I readjust myself in the seat, bringing me back to the day’s reality. The driver is still behind the wheel, also. Are they waiting for direction from me? Well, we are all in serious trouble then, because I have no clue as to what to do. Keeping my eyes closed, I’m attempting to focus on this moment, and I finally speak.
“Jeffery.”
“Yes, Mam.”
“Thank you for rescuing me today.”
“Your welcome, Mam. Anytime. Opening my eyes, looking across at one of Houston’s other cars I really just want this horrible experience to end. Looking at him with a feeble smile, I draw a deep breath, then glance toward the elevator. “I suppose I should stay here for the rest of the day.” With a nod of agreement, and an “OK, Kirk” operation remove Charli from the SUV commences. Exiting the SUV, Kirk opens the door for me. I hope the next thing I hear is something about being beamed up to the penthouse, since Kirk was driving the vehicle. This day has just been that strange. So much for my secret longing of being teleported to a far-away land where the paparazzi doesn’t exist. My childhood of television reruns is coming back to haunt me. Once again, I have my brothers to thank.
I’m looking out the window at the right minute, I suppose, looking but not actually seeing much as Kirk bends over to pick up an object lying on the ground when I see his gun. I assume it’s a Glock. At least, that is what the weapon of choice seems to be in the movies. As he raises, I glance up at his face and smile. Remembering back to the days with my brothers, if a man didn’t want you to know he was “packing heat” (Hello, Midwest girl.) then you keep your mouth shut. Kirk is wearing a jacket so, keeping my mouth shut is the right choice, I suppose. I know any comment I can possibly make about his gun will do one of two things. First option, make me sound like an idiot. Second option, make me sound naive and like an idiot. Neither option is good for me, so I simply make my brothers proud and keep my mouth shut. It’s not as if a gun makes me uncomfortable, I grew up around them. I just never thought about Houston’s men carrying them. Looking over at Jeffery, I wonder if he has one and where it is. As if I can’t make it upstairs by myself, which truthfully I probably can’t, they both escort me to the elevator. Jeffery inserts his key card, the door opens, with the three of us stepping inside. Again, he inserts his card and away the three of us go. Which really surprises me because I have never seen any of Houston’s other men upstairs.
Entering the penthouse makes me feel safe. I walk over to the wall of glass, to enjoy the scene below. As far as penthouses go, this one isn’t very high, twentieth floor, but the view from all sides is spectacular. This building is very exclusive. I have no doubt that the paparazzi will not break the building’s boundaries. Even if they do, the building security will handle them swiftly, of that I am sure. I stand here in this room alone. Jeffery and Kirk have disappeared into some room within this vast space. Probably to Nash’s office, which I really have no idea which of the many rooms that is. I think it is one of the two rooms that connect with Houston’s. Undoubtedly, if I make any type of sound out of the ordinary, one or both of them will be to my rescue within seconds.
Just as Jeffery, who seems to be everywhere, enters the room; the elevator arrives allowing a man and a woman to step into the glass foyer. I notice they have my things. Forcing a smile as they enter, I walk across the space that separates us. Jeffery and the man exchange a brief nod. He simply says, “Upstairs, Mr. Donovan’s room.” Without any type of response, they leave us alone.
Walking back to the wall, I contemplate going out onto the veranda. Even though I have been in Miami almost a year this blasted heat still does me in which forces me to rethink the veranda idea. This day has finally gotten to me. I rub my left shoulder while I stand there, beginning to question if Houston is worth this. As silent tears slip down my cheeks, I berate myself for entertaining such a foolish notion. Of course, he is worth this. Turning from a view that would normally calm the storm that remains inside me, I look at my rescuer, “Jeffery, I can’t talk to Houston, can I?”
Shaking his head, “No Mam. I am afraid not.” Giving him my best, pretty please smile that always worked on my older brother I get nowhere. Exhaling a deep breath, “Ok. I already knew that I suppose. He would have called if he was available. I’m sure.”
“Yes, Mam, I am sure he would.”
He stands looking at me with a solemn face. My voice trembles a bit I ask, “Can you at least tell me where he is or when I might hear from him? I just want to hear his voice.”
He shakes his head, “Mam, I can’t answer your questions I am very sorry.” With a deep breath, I turn and walk away. This is the first time in our relationship that Houston has been unreachable. It really sucks! I suppose this is what happens when you are involved with a ga-zillionaire. I want him to know just how much I need him, so I pick up my phone. I’m lonely! Where are you? When will you be back? I need your arms around me. It’s been toolong.
I press send. There, I hope that makes you feel as bad as I do right now.
I want to take a shower to wash the day away but instead I walk into the closet. My eyes are drawn to the array of multi-colored sea-island cotton dress shirts. I run my hand across each of them as I walk down the neatly hung row. Stopping at my favorite, the white/blue stripe poplin. If I can’t have him, I’ll have to settle for the next best thing as I take it off the hanger. Next, I walk to his vanity, open a drawer, pull out a bottle and spray some of the contents onto the shirt. Burying my face in it, I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It smells like Houston. Quickly, pulling off my clothes and tossing them into the laundry, I put his shirt on and head back into the bedroom.
Sitting down on Houston’s side of the bed, I press the remote. The gentle sounds of Old Blue Eyes begin to play. Flashing back to the last time we made love to this track. Sighing deeply my body begins to heat thinking about that morning he was leaving. I was dressed, ready to walk out the door but for some reason I couldn’t. H was in bed, watching me dart around the room trying to get myself together using any excuse to stay. We both understood that I was putting off having to kiss him goodbye. We were talking. This track was playing on the surround sound because he knows how it helps me remain calm. Walking by the end of the bed, suddenly my inner sex kitten came out. Stopping, I turned to face him. I pulled what little of the sheet was over him, off. Standing at the end of this bed admiring the full-length view of his powerful body, committing to my memory every inch of the way he looked at that moment. I began to unbutton my blouse giving him a slow, sensual striptease that almost makes me blush. Crawling onto the bed, I kissed my way up every toned muscular inch of my man. Needing a release to the desire we were feeling, I slowly joined our heated bodies together. As one, we rode the wave of passion to a sweet surrender. Houston didn’t leave on time that morning and I was very late to work. Pulling the cover back, I know with that memory in my head I can lie down on his pillow, wrap myself in the comforter and feel safe. I feel as close to him as I can without him being here.
The darkness is everywhere. I’m moving but I’m not walking. I’m on some type of bed, I think. “Where am I?” I scream. I’m not by myself. I hear people talking. “I can’t see. I can’t see.” I try to raise my head but I can’t. I can’t move my hands or my feet. I jerk. Sitting about half way up, blinking my eyes I look around. Plop, I’m on my back, staring at the ceiling. I realize I’m still on Houston’s side of the bed, which puts a smile on my face like very few things can. I like it here. See, you can move I say
to myself as I lift my hands. I lay very still listening. No, I don’t hear any voices. The track has ended. I suppose, I forgot repeat. Oh, well. With a small half smile, I realize, I was dreaming. It was just a different version of the same old nightmare. I would have preferred for it to be a Houston centered dream but I suppose I’ll have to settle for his side of the bed and my memories of that morning that I can stir up.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I should have known better than to lay down listening to the crooner. I swear either this comforter or this bed has some type of sleep inducing powers. (Unless Houston’s in bed with me. Then sleep on this bed is just about the last thing on my mind.) It is so soft and puffy. Every time, I lay down my eyes seem to close automatically. Then, I just drift off to sleep. If H. is here with me in this pleasure place of his, then I am generally on cloud nine. Closing my eyes, I create an image of Houston in my head, which makes me smile. Turning my head, “um” I inhale almost rubbing my nose into his pillow. “It still smells a little like Houston,” I say to an empty room.
“What smells like me?”
My eyes fly open, did I imagine hearing his voice. I rub my eyes in case I am dreaming. No, I’m awake. I turn my head in the direction of where I thought I heard him. Leaning against the frame of the closet door on the far side of the room in all his irresistible glory, is Houston. Standing just a few feet away is the sexiest man alive. Suddenly, all the obnoxious and hurtful words hurled at me today fade into nothingness. His jacket off, he walks toward me loosening his tie and pulling the wrinkled shirt out of his pants.