“You’re going to break my hand, Hayes,” she complains but her eyes are full of concern as well as pain.
“Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” I say. I drop her hand and sit down on the stairs just like I had as a boy when I hadn’t known where in this house I would be safe.
“Are you okay?” she asks and sits down next to me.
The steps in the house are as long and wide as park benches, and I used to sit on them and read, write, listen to music—whatever. And yet, this whole house feels like a strange place.
“I don’t know. I’ve been back for almost six months and it still feels like I’m a guest. This house …” I glance around at the ostentatious ceiling and walls full of art that have no meaning to me. “I don’t think it can ever be home. At least, not with all of these people living here. To them, it’s free accommodation and they’re not the least bit interested in how or why we spend so much money and time to maintain it.”
“If you’re not going to live here, do you think you could sell it?” she asks. I rear back in surprise.
“Of course not. I couldn’t sell it. It’s my family’s home,” I say sharply.
She looks surprised, too. “I’m sorry, I just …” She puts a soothing hand on my shoulder.
“God, I’m sorry. Yeah, there’s just so much going on, Tesoro.” I stroke her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her face full of worry, and I feel a flash of guilt for my outburst. This isn’t how I hoped our visit would start. But I can’t lie to her, so I tell her. “I’ve been stressed out thinking about you being here. My family is complicated. We all coexist in this space. But none of us really like each other. I’m worried about you seeing that,” I confess.
“Why? You’re not them. Why would I hold it against you?” she asks. The question pisses me off.
“Because you’re only here for a fucking visit,” I say through a clenched jaw. “I want you to stay. But you’re not sure. And now my fucked-up family is going to scare you off. “
This is hard for me. I don’t do this—opening up—but with her being here, seeing her in the context of this house, devoid of warmth and love, I realize that what I’m offering her may not be enough.
“Is that what you think? That your family could scare me off?” she asks, incredulous.
“Not that I would fucking let you go. But, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know how to say all this romantic shit without sounding like an asshole, Confidence,” I say, and she giggles.
“It’s not funny,” I snap.
She sighs and stands up.
“Take me to your room. I want to show you something,” she says and holds her hand out to me. I take it and use it to pull myself up.
I open the door to my room and she starts to strip. My cock stirs at the sight of her smooth, tan skin and the swell of her tits.
“Good idea, I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. Much less, run off,” I say and start to take my clothes off, too.
“Hayes,” she says from underneath the T-shirt that’s covering her face. “Sex isn’t always the answer,” she reprimands.
“Why not? It sure as hell feels like answer,” I joke. Only partly.
“I want to show you something,” she says again and then turns her back to me.
“You see?” She looks over her shoulder at me expectantly. I scan her back and then I see it. My eyes snap back to hers. She’s grinning from ear to ear, those plump lips parted to reveal her white, bright smile. Her eyes are full of triumph.
I look back to her lower back, in between the Dimples of Venus is scrawled ADORO IL FIUME—I love the river—in the same font as my family crest.
I kneel down to get a closer look and run my fingers over it. Gooseflesh erupts on her skin. I press a kiss to her lower back and stand up, turning her to face me.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“You did that for me?” I ask at the same time.
“I love it,” I respond.
“Just for you,” she says, and we speak over each other again.
She cups my face in her hands, and whispers, “Ti amotu sei il re del mio cuore.” You’re the king of my heart.
I can only stare at her while my heart races happily toward the edge of the cliff called Confidence and takes a flying leap.
“You learned Italian?” I ask dumbly, too shocked to say anything that makes any semblance of sense.
She laughs. “Well, not entirely. But enough for my big reveal,” she says.
“You tattooed my family’s name on your body?” I ask stupidly.
“Well, yeah,” she says, and I don’t hear any regret or doubt in her voice. “I’ve never really been in love before, Hayes. Not until you. Not until now and I figured I should commemorate it. Because this love … it’s everything. You’re everything. These last two months, you’ve showed me so much. Taught me so much. Shared so much with me. And I don’t want you to worry. I’m the surest thing in your life. I love you. I want to move. I’m ready to live my life. I’m ready to take a chance. You’re my lover, my brother, my father, my friend, my person. I need you. It’s not you I’m unsure about. It’s life. Nothing your family does or says will change how I see you,” she says, and when she kisses me, I almost believe her.
FLOOD
CONFIDENCE
I don’t dance now, I make money moves. Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow” bursts into my brain and I wake up with a gasp. I grab my phone and glance around the room. I’m alone. When my gaze drifts to the west-facing bay window, my heart lurches into my throat. My phone, forgotten, falls silently onto the thick down comforter of the bed. I slide off the bed and walk over to the window for a closer look.
The wind is having its way with the huge walnut trees that line the drive of Hayes’s family home. They’re waving violently back and forth, hurling their leaves into the air with terrifying speed. The rain is falling in sheets that look like liquid glass. The wind is blowing it sideways, too, and it’s sheeting against the window.
It looks like the world is ending.
The rain started just when I landed this morning. I knew a storm was brewing in the gulf, but I hadn’t really paid attention because it was supposed to miss the delta. When I stepped off my flight and saw the gates packed with stranded passengers because flights out were being cancelled, I started to worry. I hate storms, and I’d forgotten that Houston, though always spared the brunt of the wind damage, always got a lion’s share of the rain when storms came into the part of the gulf where the city sat. Having a port had made it the powerhouse trade behemoth that it was. But being that close to the water also meant that its flat landscape, the bayou that ran right through the city—and its below-sea-level altitude—made it ripe ground for the kinds of floods that most other major cities had managed to design away.
My phone starts to ring again, and I dash back to pick it up. That’s Cass’s exclusive ringtone and I know her parents’ Meyerland neighborhood floods.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask without saying hello.
“Oh my God, Confidence. Thank God you answered,” she wails and dread fills me. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.” She sobs into the phone.
“Where are you?” I ask, but I already know.
“My parents’. I came last night because they didn’t want to leave their house, and I didn’t want them to be alone.” Her speech is muffled like she’s covering her mouth.
“What’s happened?”
“We woke up this morning, and there was maybe three inches of water in their house. This neighborhood always floods, but not their house. Never. But it did today. And we did our best to get all of their art and electronics up on top of the dressers, on top of appliances. And we thought if the rain slowed down we could get out.” Her voice breaks, and she starts to sob.
“Cass, where are you now?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and my mind clear. They need solutions, not hysteria.
“At the neighbors’. TB …” She sniffles “W
e had to swim here. My mom almost drowned us because she was freaking out.”
“What do you mean, swim?” I ask, horrified.
“Are you not watching television? We have more than five feet of water in the house,” she shouts into the phone.
“No, I’m sorry. I got in super early this morning, and I passed out. Cass, are you safe at your neighbors’?” I ask. “Aren’t they a one-story house, too?”
“They have a loft,” she says.
“Oh, good,” I sigh in relief.
“But there are twenty- four people up here. It’s small. And my mother doesn’t have her insulin,” she says, and her voice pitches in an awful spike as her panic rises.
“Okay, well, the rain will stop and the water will recede, right?”
“Yes, but not in time. There’s one bathroom, no power, and all of these people.” Her voice has dropped again and breaks on the last word
“What can I do?” I ask
“I don’t know … nothing,” she says sadly.
“Cass …” I shove my hand through my hair and stare helplessly at the wall.
“It’s okay. I just wanted you to know where I was. Someone’s called the city, and they say they’ll try to send a boat around before it gets dark. But once it gets dark, they’re not going to keep the rescues up. I need to get her out of here,” she says. Urgency coats her voice, and my stomach wrings in my gut while I fret about what to do.
“Listen. Save your phone battery. Let me go find Hayes. I’ll see if he can do something to help,” I say and pray I’m not over promising. But I know she needs the lifeline of hope I’m giving her, too, so I inject my voice with confidence I don’t feel.
“Oh TB, that would be great.” She sounds giddy with relief. “I’m so worried about my mom. And my dad is sitting in a corner sort of talking to himself. They’ve lived in that house for almost forty years, and in just a few hours, it’s nearly gone.” Her voice is barely a whisper when it breaks on that last word.
“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. Let me go and see what I can do,” I say and then hang up before she can respond. My fingers tremble and my stomach feels like it’s hooked to a hot air balloon.
I dial Hayes and hold my breath, praying he’ll pick up.
“Tesoro, I’m in a meeting,” he says in a hushed voice after the third ring.
“Cass just called. Her mother doesn’t have her insulin and the city is sending boats ‘round for rescue, but they’re going to stop when it gets dark,” I say.
“Excuse me, I have to take this,” Hayes says, and I hear the murmur of voices behind him before a door closes.
“Where are you?” I ask him and rummage through my suitcase for clothes. My muscles protest when I bend over and I can’t believe that a few hours ago, I’d been folded in half, trapped between Hayes’s incredible, huge muscled arms while he drilled me into the mattress and made me come so hard I know that the whole house must have heard me screaming his name.
“Oh.” He sounds like he needs to stop and think about it. “I’m downstairs. I’m having an executive team meeting,” he says. “Wait. Sugar Land’s flooding?” he asks.
“No. She’s at her parents’ in Meyerland,” I explain.
He lets out a long, low whistle and says, “Shit. We’ve had it on in the background nearly all afternoon. It’s a fucking disaster. I don’t understand how this city hasn’t done something to stop this from happening every fucking year. And why those people keep rebuilding in the same spot,” he says disgustedly.
“Her parents’ house has never flooded before. Never. This isn’t a regular storm, Hayes. And even if it had been, I don’t think assigning blame to anyone right now is helpful,” I snap at him.
“Give me an address; let me make some calls,” he says.
“It’s nine-zero-nine-nine Indigo, off Chimney Rock on the eastbound side,” I tell him.
“How the hell do you know which side is the eastbound side?” he asks.
“I’ve heard her say that before, Hayes. Can you ask me these questions later? Please make that call.” I’m practically yelling.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he says softly, soothingly into the phone.
“Don’t try to calm me down, Hayes. I’m not going to calm down. Cass sounded scared. I know you don’t understand how urgent this is because you’ve never been forced to try and stay afloat in water you have no choice but to swim through. But every second counts. Please. Make that call,” I say through gritted teeth and then hang up.
I start to throw my jeans on but realize there’s no point in getting dressed. I don’t know anyone in this house, and I have no clue where Hayes is in it.
I sit back down on my bed and stare at my hands. A minute later, my phone rings. “King” flashes on my screen, and I pick it up before it has a chance to ring again.
“Tesoro, I spoke to my contact at the mayor’s office. They’re going to add her to the emergency list, but they may only be able to take the people who absolutely need to leave,” he says in a rush.
“Okay.” My answer comes out in a stuttered sigh as I try to think about what I can do. I know Cass and her dad will go crazy if her mom is taken and they can’t go with her.
“Listen to me. If they can’t take your friend, I’ll go get them myself when I’m done. My brother Beau’s truck is parked at the house while he’s away. It’s one of those monster trucks and it’s lifted more than six feet off the ground, and it’ll get through that water. It only seats five; we’ll only be able to take three other people.”
“I can stay home to make room for one more,” I say immediately. “If the rain doesn’t stop and they’re not rescued, they’ll end up spending the night on their roof and I can’t even imagine that for Cass,” I say.
“Okay.” He blows out a breath and says, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. That truck is a nightmare to drive on a dry, clear day, but if the city doesn’t come through, I will.”
FOUR HOURS LATER
* * *
“Oh my God, TB, thank you so much,” Cass cries and throws herself into my arms as soon as she and her parents trudge into the foyer. They’re soaked, but safe. I look over her shoulder and take in the six other people Hayes brought with him. I only recognize Mr. and Mrs. Gold, Cass’s parents. The other three are a small, pretty woman and two children, a boy and girl, who, judging by their appearance, are between the ages of ten and twelve. The girl is as long and skinny as a beanpole, and her big eyes scan the room in amazement. Her mother puts a hand on her shoulder and says, “Stop staring,” and then smiles apologetically at me. I smile back and turn my attention back to Cass.
“Where’s Hayes?” I ask her.
“Parking the truck. He dropped us off first. You should have seen him, TB,” she says, wide-eyed. “The police put a blockade up on the street to stop any more rescue attempts. He drove straight through it. He backed up right to the front door and even though he only had enough seat belts for—”
“What is happening here?” A woman’s voice, as cold and clear as a bell calls from behind us. I jump, and right before I turn around, I see the little girl’s eyes nearly bug out of her head with fear before she ducks behind her mother’s legs. The little boy’s eyes narrow, and he steps in front of his mother and his sister.
“Uh, hi,” I say and wave at the redheaded, Jessica Rabbit lookalike, down to the red dress wrapped around her impossibly exaggerated curves and bright red lipstick. She stares down at me with hostile eyes and frowns.
“Who are you?” she asks through her pinched lips.
“I’m Confidence Ryan,” I say and try not to sound like I want to piss in my pants.
“I don’t care what your name is, girl. I want to know what you and this ragtag mob of interlopers is doing standing in my foyer?” she shouts and the little girl starts to cry.
I let go of Cass completely and walk toward her. “I don’t know who you are, and I’m sorry that you’re walking into an unexpected scene, but we are all
guests of Hayes—" I start.
“Hayes?” she asks like she has no clue who that is.
“Yes, Hayes.” I cross my arms over my chest and eye her suspiciously. “Who are you?” I snap at her.
“I am Mrs. Eliza Rivers and this, you little guttersnipe, is my house,” she responds haughtily. Then, she pulls a small pearl handled revolver out of her purse and points it squarely at my chest in a grip that tells me she knows how to hold a gun, but no idea how to aim it. I don’t move, but my heart is sprinting like a hare running from a hunter. I stare at her, beyond shocked.
Behind me, pandemonium breaks out. I can’t hear anyone clearly, but they’re all shouting. The children are both screaming. Cass grabs my elbow and tugs me backward.
“TB, let’s go,” she says, her voice a desperate whine.
“Go where?” I shake her loose. I take a step closer to the woman pointing her gun at me and look her square in the face. “This is not your house, and it hasn’t been for a long time. I am Hayes’s guest. So are these people, including the children you’re pointing a weapon at.”
Her expression falters briefly and then she tightens her grip on the butt of her gun. “How do I know what you’re saying is true? Where is Hayes?” she asks, her voice slightly fretful. I want to turn around and assure the people behind me that everything will be okay. That she’s about as harmless as a fly. But I don’t dare take my eyes off her. Because she is actually very dangerous. Especially with her clear lack of practice.
“He’s parking. He’ll be right in. Please, put the gun down; you’re scaring the children,” I say in a voice that I hope is deferential and conciliatory.
“Well, that’s what they get for scaring me,” she says and I recoil at her callousness.
“You are a monster,” I gasp before I can think better of it.
“You bet your ass, I am,” she says jauntily.
“Eliza, what’s going on?” Poppy’s voice sounds from over my shoulder, and I still don’t dare turn around but sigh in relief that someone who can vouch for me has finally arrived.
The Rivals Page 14