by Cecy Robson
“You think I want you?” she asks, batting her long eyelashes. “Aren’t you sweet? Don’t think I didn’t see you watching me last night. Remember last night, Hale? After dinner? When that warm, delicious chocolate fondue I was dipping my ripe strawberry into dripped down my lips, drawing a line all the way down?” She trails the corner of her cell phone between her breasts, to where the deep “V” of her collar ends and a peek of hot pink lace reveals itself.
Like a dumbass, I follow said phone, recalling said warm chocolate and wishing I had the chance to lick said incident clean.
I’m smarter than hell, but I’m all man and very human.
“My, oh, my, Hale,” she purrs. “And the way you were eyeing me on the plane and in the limo, I was sure you’d take a bite right out of poor little ol’ me.” She snaps her teeth.
Yup. I be swimming in dark waters now.
Her Wonder Woman ring tone announces another call. The shark offers me a small pinky wave, tosses her long hair over her shoulder, and struts off. You might say this Southern Belle is capable of bringing any heterosexual man to his knees.
She pauses, just long enough to pretend she forgot her manners. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you, sugar?” she asks. “I have to take this if I’m going to save that sweet ass of yours.”
I rub my chin. Okay, Becca. It’s going to be like that? Darlin’, it’s on.
Chapter Seven
Becca
Trin and her family bring over dinner as promised, as well as all the media equipment my assistant delivered to their house. I need all of it. Their support and this high-tech equipment.
“I’m glad you know what you’re doing,” Trin says, staring at all the gadgets. “Alexa and I are always fighting. I can’t help myself, really. I don’t like machines that are smarter than me. I don’t think it’s natural.”
She settles into the chair, shifting her hold on her baby. “Ever see the Terminator?”
“Only ’cause you made me,” I remind her, adjusting the strap of one camera so it’s easier to fit in the case.
“Someone had to,” Trin says. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s a lesson in the making.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“Meaning one day, you’re asking Alexa for the weather, the next she’s rigging the microwave to turn on you and ordering the furnace to set you on fire.”
I laugh, knowing it’s really what Trin is after. I don’t know what I would have done without her in my life. Sure, we’ve shared some sad moments, but when we’ve laughed, we’ve felt that humor down to our toes.
I take a moment to stroke my Godchild and namesake’s hair. Sylvia Becca, named after Trin’s momma and me, is about the prettiest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on.
My ovaries give a little twitch. I wasn’t sure about having children, ever. After the way I was raised, I couldn’t be positive I’d make a good momma. But Little Silvie, the name she goes by, as well as Trin’s first born, Cal, Jr., make me want a baby every time I see them, and some days, even when I don’t. There’s something special that happens when the friends you love more than life create a new life of their own. All the love you feel for your friends extends to their little ones. It’s nothing you think about, nor is it forced. It just appears like the rising moon to thrive among the stars.
My thoughts of babies and holding my own make me a little sad. I return to the equipment laid out across the dining room table. There’s not much to it, a tripod, a camera, a few small mics, and one of those mini recorders you can pin to your clothes. I don’t think I’ll need most of this high-end, high tech, bordering on spy, equipment. But I have it, just in case. Hale needs to show the side of him the world doesn’t yet know. In case he can’t manage that with the camera nearby, something subtle may come in handy.
“I saw Hale giving you the eyes,” Trin says, adjusting Little Sylvie when she wakes so she can nurse her. My bestie is still as thin as ever. Seeing how much her baby eats, I think Trin gives every last calorie away.
I slice a piece of blackberry pie and place it and a fork in front of Trin.
“Thank you, Becks.” She takes a bite. “Did you hear what I said?”
I double check the camera lens when I think I see a crack, doing my best not to happy dance all up in this bitch. “Hmm?”
“Don’t hmm me,” Trin says, wiping her chin when the crumbling crust explodes. “I’m serious. I think Hale still…you know.”
“I don’t know,” I say. I try not to smile or think too hard about how good Hale looks in those jeans he changed into or that tight white sweater. I’ve seen D&G ads that were less erotic and naughty. “Trin, I officially declare this house a place of business. Not a brothel.”
“Hey,” I say when Trin smacks me in the rear.
“There,” she says. “Now you can declare it a brothel.”
“Cut that out,” I say laughing. “You’re a grown woman with kids. You shouldn’t be touching anyone’s ass unless it belongs to your hot husband. Even then, it should only be in bed, naked, with the windows and doors locked.”
“I do that plenty,” she drawls. “How do you think I got these two babies I have? I swear, Becks, with the amount of hormones raging through me, it’s a wonder Callahan doesn’t need a whip and wooden stool to keep me back.”
“That could be fun,” I add.
“Oh, and it is.” She sighs. “You know how we used to love our men, sandy, muscular, and athletic?”
I check the memory card in the camera. “What do you mean ‘used to’?”
She finishes off her last bite of pie, dabbing elegantly, even though our conversation resembles nothing close to sophisticated. “I’m only saying priorities and degrees of hotness change over time. Becks, I used to lose my senses whenever Callahan would emerge from the ocean following a long swim. Water drizzling down those muscular arms covered with Army tats, broad chest heaving in and out just so.”
I pause, looking out on the terrace where her ass-kicking, former Special Forces husband, stands. “You saying he’s out of shape? ’Cause if you are, I don’t see it.”
“Oh, no. I’m just saying it’s been too cold to swim. That and that nothing gets me hotter than when he vacuums or helps me out around the house.”
I’m certain I misheard. “Huh? Can we go back to the dripping wet, sexy men emerging from the ocean? I’m more familiar with that.” It’s true. When Hale and I were lifeguards, I got to see me plenty of that eye candy. Rawr.
Trin bats her hand. “I know you think I’m crazy. But when you’ve been up all night with a toddler with an earache and a baby permanently attached to your breast, and you head into the laundry room, praying you’ll find at least one pair of clean underwear—only to find your man has everything washed and folded and your dishes all put away—just because he knows you’re tired, I tell you, Becks. There’s nothing that revs a woman’s engine like that.” She blinks up at me. “Ever have sex in a laundry room?”
“On top of folded clothes?” I guess.
“Are you nuts? I’m not about to mess up Callahan’s good work. We placed the clothes in the basket first and then went at it like drunken elephants on parade. Candy and flowers are overrated, Becks. Give me clean floors and dinner started and Callahan can have me any way he wants.”
“On the washing machine?” I ask.
Trin gives me the smile she does every time she thinks of her husband. “Spin cycle works best.”
Her humor doesn’t last despite how we both have a good laugh. “Hale isn’t in a good place,” she says. “It’s not just the charges or how his good name has been dragged through the mud. He lost a part of his soul long before this.”
My hands slow as I return the camera to its case. Trin’s always been the one we all opened up to. The one with the biggest heart to share, and the warmest hugs to give. But even Trin, this perky, smiley, larger than life person, was no match for Hale’s darkness.
“That’s why I
’m here, Trin.”
“I know.”
There’s a lot my friend means behind those few words. Just as I know there’s a lot she hasn’t shared. As close as we are, she and Hale have shared a special bond. That bond is similar to the one that connects me with Mason and Sean. It prevents us from telling everyone, everything. I suppose it’s best. Sometimes we all need our privacy, and some secrets need their silence. But there were times I could have used more news about Hale. As painful as it might have been, I needed to hear he was okay. Maybe because he wasn’t, that news never came.
Trin pushes her long dark hair over her shoulder and adjusts her hold over the now content child. Like always, she’s wearing her favorite ensemble, jeans, a T-shirt, and flip flops. “The Wall Street fiasco is plenty enough. But I think the damage to his reputation means more.”
“Mason said more or less the same thing,” I agree. “Every call that comes and the more information that’s obtained, he’s certain Hale will get off. But it’s like you said, it’s how bad his reputation has been slaughtered that’s hurting him the most.”
“He’s always prided himself on being a good man.”
I nod, thinking of all those times he defended those smaller and weaker. “I agree.”
“But?” Trin asks, sensing my hesitation.
“I don’t know, Trin. I think there’s more there. No one wants their reputation questioned, especially when your livelihood depends on it. But I have the feeling it’s brutalizing Hale even beyond what we see. Except, I’m not certain why.”
“I hear you and feel the same. But there’s more that troubles me. Being here, as much as I think it will help him to be around us and in the place he once loved, it’s also going to bring up a lot of other problems.”
She doesn’t mention Hale’s brothers. She doesn’t have to. They’re the unspoken part of his life we all know better than to ask about. “I know. I’ve thought about that, too.”
Trin lowers her chin, appearing miserable, despite the smile she gives her baby. Yes. There’s a lot she knows and plenty she’s likely not permitted to share. “Becks, when word gets out Hale is here, his family may come sniffing around.”
I carefully wind the cords to the small mic around my hand. “Maybe that will be a good thing.”
“Maybe,” she agrees. “But there’s a lot of hurt there.”
Trin is the friendliest person on the island and probably the entire world. Hale’s brothers spent most of their lives ignoring her, despite her best efforts. It used to make Hale mad. It used to make me mad, seeing how hard she tried. I guess it was difficult for her to understand, since her brother, Landon, and his friends often hung out with us.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say Hale’s brothers were cruel. That’s not fair. But they would snub us. If we showed up to a party, they’d leave. In school, they’d act as if we didn’t exist. I didn’t care then. I do now. Had I connected with them like I had with Trin’s family, I could’ve reached out, softened the blow, and maybe better prepared them for his arrival.
“It’s not just Hale’s family I’m worried about,” Trin says, turning to make sure we’re still alone. “Becca, if your father finds out you’re helping him . . . I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
I knew she wasn’t done. Just as I knew she’d mention my family. “Daddy can’t hurt me,” I tell her. I take a breath, letting it out like I don’t care, even though I’m pissed off that I do. “He’s dying.”
“What?”
I wish I could have said he can’t hurt me, because I’m on my own or because he knows better or because he’s a changed man. But my daddy doesn’t change. The world changes for him or else.
I place my hand on Trin’s shoulder when she tries to stand. I don’t want to disturb her precious child and I’ve already upset her enough. “Daddy didn’t beat cancer like he bragged about in the papers last year. And he’s not traveling the world to celebrate like he told anyone who’d listen. He’s home and he doesn’t have much time.”
“Your cousins just got back from Europe,” Trin says. Her voice is quiet. Yet, the doubt I stirred remains. “They travelled with him. It was a family trip.”
“No, on all counts,” I admit. “He sent them and Momma, too. They were assigned to take photos and post them on his behalf like he was with them.” I zip the nylon bag that protects one of my smaller recording devices. “The show I put on for the PR world, where do you think I learned such skills?” I press my palms against the dining room table, wishing it wasn’t so hard to breathe and that for once, the ache my family causes me would lessen. “I learned everything from the best con artist I know.”
“Oh, Becks,” Trin says. “I’m sorry.”
Trin is the best person I know. But she’s not sorry my daddy is dying. She’s sorry about what it will do to me.
Anyone else would remind me that he’s still my father, and that I should make peace with him before it’s too late. A member of the clergy might even encourage me to apologize for being a bad daughter, for not calling, for not obeying like all good children should. Not Trin. As kind as she is, she recognizes poison when she sees it, and she won’t make me take a swallow.
“How did you find out?” she asks.
“My cousin, Matthew, called me. He explained the plan, how they followed it, and how they’re all back now that there’s not much time left. The doctors gave him six months with aggressive chemo. Without it, even less.” I glance at my equipment, but I can’t remember what’s left to do. “Momma let me know when he was first sick.”
Trin rocks her baby when she starts to fuss, but I know Trin well enough to know she’s the one who needs soothing. Trin doesn’t like me hurting. And as much as there were moments in my life I think I could have struck my father, and many more times that I’ve loathed him, it still hurts. My God, it still hurts to lose him.
“I’m surprised your momma would confide in you about his illness,” she tells me gently. “I would have expected him to forbid her from communicating with you.”
“Oh, he forbade her all right. But Momma wouldn’t be Momma without writing the letters that she did blaming me for giving him cancer.”
The color drains from Trin’s face. “She accused you of giving your father cancer?”
“Not exactly.” I glance up in the direction of the terrace, where Sean tosses another block of wood into the fire pit. Callahan and Hale fuss over Cal, Jr., teaching him to make s’mores. I don’t see them as well as I should. Momma’s words have always had that effect on me. “She told me I caused the stress that caused the cancer. I shouldn’t have opened that letter. Or the other three that followed. They were among the worst things I’ve ever read.”
I sigh, a tear escaping my eye. I sort of hear the chair being pushed back, but it’s the embrace and all the love behind it that brings me back to the moment and causes more of my tears to fall.
“That wasn’t okay,” she tells me. “None of it is. Your father’s illness, your mother’s twisted words. Those are their issues. Their truth. But it’s not real and you need to know that.”
“I know I didn’t do this,” I say. “I know they’re wrong and sick people. But what they say and do still affects me.”
“I know, Becks,” she says. “I wanted so much more for you. More kindness. More love. More patience.”
“I wanted all that for me, too,” I agree.
I want to wipe my eyes before anyone else sees me crying. But, for the moment, I simply sink into Trin’s embrace and take in the reprieve it offers.
“I stupidly thought Momma might need help, or that she was the one who was sick, or that maybe she was finally ready to leave him.”
“You’re not stupid, Becks. You just have a big heart and you wanted to believe all the good things about your momma.”
“After all these years, I should have known better, Trin.”
Trin’s eyes glisten. Real friends will never let you cry alo
ne. “There’s no shame in wanting the momma you’ve always needed.”
I kiss the top of her head. “There is, when it leads to this.”
I wipe her tears, leaving mine for last. Now that I’m here in Kiawah, I know there are more to come.
Chapter Eight
Becca
We all have our fill of food and dessert before saying goodbye. Mason and Sean are on the first flight out in the morning. I put in my request for leave. It was denied by the big boss almost immediately. Mr. Singleton informed me I needed to be back tomorrow and that my fiancé would be expecting me.
The fiancé part almost made me laugh. Almost. I wrote another email, reminding him I haven’t had a vacation in two straight years. I also told him I’m therefore overdue for a minimum of eight weeks, per my contract. I almost called him and his son an asshole, but I refrained. I am a southern lady, after all. We ended with a compromise, one neither of us is thrilled with. I’m driving back to Charlotte tomorrow to tie up some loose ends, but I’m not staying to play the role of the devoted woman.
Mr. Singleton was less than pleased. His problem, not mine. I glance across at Hale. Mr. Singleton can fire me if he wants. I’m not going to sacrifice Hale in exchange for making Daddy Singleton and his disaster of a son happy. Hale is my priority, not them.
Hale looks from side to side. He even stands and lifts the cushion of his seat before plopping back down. “Humph.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing. I just can’t figure out why it’s so quiet around here.”
I return his wry grin, knowing what he means. Most people can’t get a word in when Trin or I are around. Put us together in the same room and good luck doing more than the occasional nod. She and Callahan were the first to leave, needing to get their babies to bed, and for the moment, I don’t feel much like talking.