The Sisters

by Kate Forster

  ‘You cook?’ asked Carlotta.

  ‘I do,’ he said as he leafed through the takeaway menus. He handed one to Alexia. ‘You order, honey.’

  Alexia dialled the number and ordered and Carlotta felt nervous again.

  ‘Where are your placemats, cutlery?’ she said, trying to give herself a task.

  ‘In the side board,’ Chris said as he slipped off his shoes and socks and padded about the floorboards.

  Alexia wheeled herself to the table and started to grill Carlotta about riding. The two sat and talked about horses while Chris busied himself in the kitchen getting plates and making noise. When the pizza arrived, he answered the door and brought in the pizza boxes. Carlotta and Alexia didn’t even acknowledge him, so absorbed were they in their discussion about horses.

  Chris walked out again, holding a tray of hot garlic bread while wearing lobster oven mitts. The sight of him, this small man, in a beautiful silk polo shirt, dark jeans, bare feet and the ridiculous oven mitts made Carlotta laugh.

  ‘What?’ asked Chris, pretending to be insulted.

  ‘Those oven mitts!’ Carlotta kept laughing. It felt good.

  ‘You like?’ asked Chris, and pretended to snap at her and started to nip at her arms. ‘You like zee lobster?’ he said in a mock French accent.

  ‘They are so bad.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alexia. ‘He loves them. It’s sad really.’

  ‘Noooo… they are fabulous – and heat resistant,’ he said.

  Dinner was casual and fun and Carlotta felt the best she had felt in ages, even before Birdie’s injury. After much cajoling Chris managed to get Alexia off to her room to do her homework, although with much protestation. ‘You will come and see me again?’ asked Alexia.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Dad never brings anyone home. Ever. You are the first. Please don’t be afraid of him. He’s really very nice.’

  ‘I’m beginning to see that,’ said Carlotta with a wink at Alexia.

  ‘Can I have your number?’ asked Alexia, bringing out her cell phone.

  ‘Sure, and give me yours.’

  ‘Really? You want my number?’

  ‘Yes. Who else am I going to talk horses with?’ laughed Carlotta.

  They swapped numbers and Alexia went to her room.

  ‘She is divine,’ said Carlotta.

  ‘She’s like her mother,’ said Chris.

  ‘No, I see some of you in her.’

  ‘Thankfully none of my looks,’ laughed Chris, as he ate the last of the crust on Alexia’s plate.

  He refilled her glass with wine. ‘So tell me, Carlotta, why did you need to whore yourself out to Berconi for sponsorship of your little horse show?’

  Carlotta felt rage welling within her. ‘Excuse me?’ she asked, her face flushing.

  ‘You heard me. Why did you need to lower yourself to Berconi when you knew one, he is married and two, he is a competitor of Pajaro. Don’t you think that’s flying a little close to the sun?’

  Carlotta stood up. ‘Way to ruin the night, Chris. I don’t need to hear this bullshit from you,’ she said, picking up her things.

  ‘Well, who are you going to hear it from then?’ he asked casually. ‘The problem with all you de Santoval women is that you don’t want to hear the truth. You in particular.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Carlotta, as she walked to the door.

  ‘I would love you to but first answer my question,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Carlotta’s face was aghast. This man was crass and rude and she hated him again. Any peace between them was shattered and she considered how to get him fired.

  ‘Don’t get all uppity with me,’ said Chris, standing up and walking over to her. ‘I am just wondering why you would deliberately sleep with a man who is married and could if he wanted ruin Pajaro. A man who no one in New York trusts,’ added Chris. ‘Was it to piss off Leon? I don’t think he cares now.’

  Carlotta’s rage came to the surface and she slapped his face. ‘Do not speak to me like that. Ever. Do you understand?’

  Chris rubbed his face thoughtfully as Carlotta stormed out of the apartment. He turned and saw Alexia in the doorway of her bedroom.

  ‘Uncool Dad, uncool,’ she said, and then wheeled herself backwards and slammed the door, the echo reverberating around the apartment.

  Chris sat back down with his wine. Why did he say those things to Carlotta, just as the olive branch was extended between them? Now Alexia was pissed off with him too. He rubbed the side of his head with both hands and then it came to him. He was jealous, fuck it, he was jealous of Berconi and Carlotta. He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts of her but all he could think of was Berconi inside her and it made him want to punch someone – Berconi.

  16

  Grace sat on the plane excited. She had always loved flying. ‘How did you get first class tickets?’ she asked as she buckled up her seat belt.

  ‘My friend is a pilot,’ Frank said.

  ‘For a bike courier, you sure do have some well-connected friends,’ said Grace, laughing.

  ‘I know,’ said Frank, as he went through the magazines the hostess had laid out for them.

  ‘Vogue?’ he asked.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it from him.

  Frank had offered to take care of everything to get her and him to LA to meet with Calypso Gable and she had let him. She thought they would be flying economy on the worst airline available. Instead, here they were sipping champagne and flying first. Life was filled with surprises, she thought. When she had told Violetta about Frank and Calypso, Violetta wasn’t disdainful of Grace seeing a courier at all. ‘The heart wants what the heart wants,’ she had said to her sister mysteriously.

  Grace didn’t have time to ask any more. She had spent most of the night at the office and then called into the hospital briefly to see Birdie, who still had Spencer beside her reading a Henry James novel.

  ‘Henry James, huh?’ said Grace as she rushed through.

  ‘Yes, Violet mentioned that Birdie liked his works, so I thought why not,’ said Spencer amiably.

  ‘You are too good,’ said Grace as she kissed her mother and Spencer and went back to her apartment.

  She had picked up Frank in a town car and taken him to the airport. He met her on the street where they had first met for coffee in Soho. Probably too embarrassed for me to see his apartment, thought Grace sadly.

  ‘Fancy schmancy car, lady,’ said Frank as he got into the back seat, while the driver put an old duffel bag into the trunk.

  ‘Yes, it’s the company car, so don’t get too excited,’ lied Grace.

  Frank sat back and opened everything and shut it again and Grace laughed. ‘You are so funny.’

  ‘Am I?’ asked Frank as he leaned back and kissed her.

  Grace felt herself melt into his arms in the back of the car and she kissed him back shyly.

  On the plane, they made small talk and pretended to talk business. She wondered if he would push for sex on the trip. She had only slept with a few men and this was after long relationships, except for one time but she never let herself think about that.

  Frank was so much fun and so naughty and silly, she felt like a teenager with him. As the plane landed Frank stood up and took down their luggage that was stowed above them.

  ‘I’ve booked a hotel. I hope it’s OK,’ he said as they walked out towards the cabs.

  Grace smiled brightly. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

  ‘And I booked two rooms in case you need your peace,’ he said as they piled into the back of a cab.

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said, smiling at him.

  ‘I’m good like that,’ he said, patting his own shoulder.

  Grace laughed.

  ‘The Four Seasons Hotel,’ Frank told the driver.

  ‘The Four Seasons? But it’s so expensive,’ said Grace, her eyes widening.

  ‘It’s fine, I know the manager there,’ said Frank e
asily.

  ‘Really? So you know Calypso Gable, the pilot who got us first class tickets and now we are staying at a six star hotel, in two rooms in Beverly Hills because you know the manager.’ Grace folded her arms. ‘Fess up, buddy,’ she ordered.

  Frank rubbed his head. ‘OK, I used to work in finance and I knew a few people and I stayed friendly with them.’

  Grace pursed her lips. ‘I’m not sure I believe you,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I haven’t lied to you yet. I said I knew Calypso Gable and that was the truth. The rest you will just have to trust me on, I guess,’ he said, searching her face nervously.

  Grace looked out the window at the bright sky, so different from New York. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil her trip and minor details about Frank and his connections could be discussed later.

  ‘All right, Mr Big Shot.’ She wound down the window and breathed in the air. ‘Ah, LA smog, there’s nothing like it is there?’ she said excitedly as Frank laughed at her.

  Frank did indeed know the manager. ‘Hello, Mr Thurlow,’ he said when they walked in.

  Frank took the man into a bear hug and whispered in his ear and the man laughed. ‘Frank, how are you?’

  Grace looked at them oddly. Friends? Associates? Thurlow, Thurlow – where did she know that name?

  ‘Hello, I’m Grace,’ she said, putting out her hand to the manager.

  ‘Ken Sumpter. Let me know if you need anything, Ms…?’

  Grace made a quick decision. ‘Blackwood. Grace Blackwood,’ she said, using her mother’s name. The last thing she wanted was to bring up her family name and spoil everything with Frank.

  The manager took them up to the elevator and produced a magnetic key. He pressed the top floor.

  ‘I have taken the liberty of putting you in the Royal Suite. There are two bedrooms as requested and as I understand you are here on business, there is a sitting room and full Wi-Fi.’

  Grace opened her mouth behind the manager’s back and looked at Frank, who nodded back at her with matching enthusiasm.

  They followed the manager along the hallway and waited as he opened the door. Grace stepped inside. It was lovely. A part of her was relieved that Frank had managed to pull some strings although she was worried about the bill. As the manager showed them around and opened the terrace doors overlooking the pool, Grace pulled Frank aside.

  ‘You know my company will pay for this.’

  ‘Really, that would help,’ said Frank, scratching his face.

  ‘Maybe we should just tell them we want two plain old rooms.’

  ‘Nah, live large lady,’ said Frank. ‘Might as well enjoy ourselves.’

  He let Ken out, tipping him five dollars, much to Grace’s amusement.

  ‘I don’t think anyone in this suite had ever tipped the manager five dollars before,’ she said.

  ‘Too much?’ asked Frank innocently.

  Grace fell over onto an overstuffed chair, laughing. She looked at her Phillipe Patek watch.

  ‘We have three hours till we meet Calypso,’ she said, taking out her notes and laptop.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said Frank, sitting on the sofa and crossing his legs. ‘You must have looked at it over one hundred times on the plane.’

  Grace closed the computer. ‘You’re right. I’m just so nervous.’

  But it wasn’t just the presentation that made her nervous. It was being in the intimate space with Frank. She hadn’t slept with anyone in over two years and she thought that she might never again, but Frank was different.

  ‘Well, I am sure we could occupy ourselves,’ said Frank from the sofa.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she asked as she picked up the room service menu.

  ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Grace?’

  Grace turned to look at him. She was already flushed. Please let it be OK, she prayed to the gods as she stood with the menu in her hand.

  ‘Yes?’ She felt anxious, and yet she wanted to kiss Frank again.

  ‘Take off your coat.’

  Grace took of her black Burberry trench and put it over the chair neatly. She bit her lip, not daring to look at him.

  ‘Take off your shoes.’

  She took off her loafers and placed them neatly, side by side. She looked down at the carpet.

  ‘Take off your shirt,’ he said simply.

  Grace unbuttoned it slowly. Slipping her arms out of it, she stood in her champagne coloured lace bra. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but it felt exciting and natural.

  ‘Now take off your pants,’ he said quietly.

  She looked up at him and saw he looked quite different as he sat in front of her. Gone was the cheeky boy and instead sat before her a man. He locked eyes with her.

  Grace unzipped her Michael Kors trousers and stepped out of them. She laid them over the chair and stood in her French lace briefs and matching bra.

  ‘Now come here.’

  Grace walked over to where he sat on the sofa. She stood in front of him and he kissed her stomach and pulled her onto his lap. ‘Can I say something?’ he asked quietly.

  Grace felt nervous, butterflies were flipping around her stomach.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, unsure of him.

  ‘That was the most OCD inspired strip I have ever seen.’

  Grace ducked her head with embarrassment into his shoulder. ‘Don’t tease me,’ she laughed.

  Frank picked her up easily and took her into the master bedroom. He laid her on the bed. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘I do think you’re rather gorgeous, and I think this more often than I should. You interrupt my day with your presence in my life, and I am becoming fond of it.’

  And the fact that he asked and didn’t assume made her want him even more. She pulled him onto the bed with her. Dragging his hooded top off, she wondered how many of those things he had. She touched his chest. His light cover of hair caught in her fingers and she pulled him down into a kiss.

  Frank pulled off his jeans and shorts and kicked off his sneakers and gently unhooked her bra. Her breasts fell into his hands and he held them and kissed each nipple. ‘You are lovely, Lady Grace,’ he said.

  He went further down the bed, pulled off her briefs and his tongue probed her briefly. Grace had never enjoyed oral sex before, it seemed clumsy and dirty. But the way Frank explored her made her arch her back, begging him to enter her. He lay above her and searched her eyes and then she reached down and guided him inside her. They paused for a moment and then moaned together. Faster and faster he pushed and Grace cried out as she came. ‘Fuck, shit, fuck, oh Frank,’ she cried as her hands beat the side of the bed.

  Frank kept fucking her and then rolled them both over and she sat astride him, still lurching in the last moments of her orgasm. Grace looked down at him, her hair falling over her face. ‘I don’t usually like it on top,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Try it,’ he said.

  She started to rock and then harder and soon she was riding him like she was Carlotta astride a horse and he held her breasts as she bounced. ‘Jesus, I’m going to come again,’ she said as she felt her body shake.

  Frank laughed. ‘Wow. Who knew, huh?’ he said breathlessly.

  Grace lay on top of him. ‘Sorry, it’s been a while,’ she said, ashamed of her display. ‘I’m not very good at sex.’

  ‘No way, keep going. You are the sexiest, craziest girl I have ever had the pleasure to be inside,’ he said.

  Grace pulled him up into a sitting position. He placed a breast into his mouth and tugged at her nipple and she felt herself rocking backwards and forwards again. They tried every position that Grace knew and then some that Frank knew. She couldn’t get enough of him and finally she pulled him onto her as she lay on the bed.

  ‘I want you to come,’ she said.

  ‘Like this?’ he asked as he entered her.

  ‘I want to feel you on top of me,’ she said.

  She started to grind herself into him and Frank met her rhythm. Soon they were no longe
r fucking but making love and Frank held Grace’s eyes as he came and she felt tears at the corners of her eyes.

  ‘Is it too soon to say I love you?’ she whispered.

  ‘Never, I knew I loved you when you dipped your French fry into your milkshake,’ he said, holding her close.

  Grace lay in his arms. ‘Hmm, French fries. I might ring room service.

  Frank laughed. ‘Have I got you hooked, Lady Grace?’

  She jumped out of bed and wiggled her bare bottom at him.

  ‘You certainly have, Frank – hook, line and sinker.’

  She felt different with Frank than she had with other men, albeit there were only a few of them. It was nice, fun, gentle and they seemed to be equals, something she hadn’t had before in a sexual partner.

  Then she saw the face that haunted her and she breathed in quickly, and sat heavily down on the sofa.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Frank, sitting up in bed.

  ‘Just a bit dizzy,’ she mumbled, and she felt Frank beside her, wrapping a blanket around her bare body.

  He picked her up and carried her back to bed.

  ‘Let me order the food,’ he said gently, as she rolled over and stared at the patterned wallpaper.

  ‘What is it Grace?’ he rubbed her back. ‘Is it something I did?’

  She shook her head and bit the inside of her lip to try and stop the tears.

  ‘It’s not you Frank,’ she rolled onto her back to look at him. ‘You’re just perfect.’

  He smiled and kissed her forehead.

  ‘You can tell me things, if you like. No pressure, but when you’re ready, I will listen. I’m your friend also.’

  Grace nodded, but she knew she wouldn’t tell him. She hadn’t told anyone and she never would.

  17

  Spencer, Atlanta – 1985

  Spencer sat on his porch, where he sat most nights, warm or cold. It was where he thought about his day, his months, the year since Birdie had left.

  He still didn’t know what had happened. She hadn’t answered his calls and he couldn’t ask her family. They didn’t even know she had been in Atlanta. One day she was there and then she was gone again. Sometimes he thought he dreamed their time together. Making love with Birdie was as special as he had hoped it would be, and more so. Her experience with Leon had taken away her shyness and her fierce passion for him was overwhelming. Their few days and nights together had shown Spencer a new Birdie – a mature, less impetuous one. That was until she left him again.