Love Deluxe (24 page)

I smiled, through the deluge of tears and finally said, “You know, the most brilliant grief counselor in the world always told me that is the only right thing to say at a time like this. Thank you for listening, McKay, I’d better go.”

“No, just no. You’re not going anywhere after that soul-wrenching story. You can sleep on the boat, I’ll go to the condo if you want. I don’t like thinking of you out there in that big house in Seaside all alone.”

I was emptied out, the sadness drained away and I felt rooted to the spot on the sofa. I couldn’t make my legs work and the brandy had made me sleepy.

“You’re fine here and you’re worn out, just go crawl in bed, take the master if you like It has a cushy mattress that feels like a cloud. There’s a good solid deadbolt if you’re worried about privacy.”

“No, of course not. That sounds good, I
am
done in. But if John comes home, I know he seems cocky but he’s…”

“Jealous? That’s obvious; you can go home first thing in the morning. Where’s your phone? Give him a call, see where he is.”

I searched for my phone, always at the bottom of my bag, checked it and there were zero calls. I called John’s cell and it went straight to voice mail so I left a message, “Hey, thinking of you, wondering how it’s going, I got a lot done today, call me, when are you coming back? Miss you.”

“Who knows,” I said to McKay, “he could be gambling or passed out in a room or driving with the music blaring.”

“Is he staying at the
Beau
?”

“Most likely, we have comps there.”

McKay held his phone to his ear and in a moment said, “Jason Catz please, Sam McKay calling. Jason, how ya doing, bud? Check something for me will you? John Foster, can you see if he’s registered at the hotel?” A few moments passed and he said, “When is he checking out? Can you track his card; see if he’s playing now? Good, do me a favor, offer him an upgrade tonight, a suite, plenty of food and drink. Thanks, I appreciate it, see you soon.” He turned to me and said “Get some sleep, Cate. You can go home in the morning or finish your errands, he won’t be home tonight and no harm done.”

I felt better, as if a weight had lifted, I stood and stretched and he stood, too. I hugged him and we held onto each other for a while, I kissed his cheek and walked to one of the guest rooms, he turned to leave and I said, “I wish you would stay on the boat... I’d feel safe.”

“Then I will,” he said, and went into his room.

I slept naked in the divine bed as the boat swayed gently and lulled by the hypnotic sound of waves against the pier. I dreamt of John and Henry and of boys I’d known in school, even Jackson, a row of men standing in the room with their faces turned away from me. McKay sat beside on the bed and said, “Do you want my hands on you?” John turned to watch as I opened my legs and McKay’s hand was there, discovering the wetness, “You are so beautiful,” He said and a ferocious orgasm jerked me awake. I was breathing hard as I lay there, sun slanting in through the portholes. Whoa! I was certain I was done with that sort of dream. I found a robe in the cupboard, it had the
Blue Moon
monogram, I shrugged into it and stepped into the living room. McKay was making coffee and pouring a Diet Coke over ice.

“Thought I heard you wake up,” he said, and I blushed to the tips of my toes. I opened my mouth to speak, was at a loss, and closed it again. He handed me the cashmere throw, “Let’s sit on deck, it’s a beautiful day.”

It was cold and cloudless, the water was clear and still.

“Sleep well?” He asked in his deep, slow drawl.

“Yes,” I looked at him and there was an amused look on his face. I blushed again and wished I could just leave, walk to my car and drive away. “What did you hear, when you were making coffee, dammit, just tell me?”

“Some moaning, it’s fine Cate, a wet dream, so what? Lucky you.”

“I’m mortified,” I said. “Moaning, oh my God. Anything else?”

“A name,” he said, and I jumped up and hurried toward the bedroom to dress. “Cate, it’s alright…”

“Hush, please.” I begged.

When I’d dressed I averted my eyes and tried to walk past him onto the pier, but he caught my hand and said, “Wait a minute, please. I’ve decided to leave for Birmingham today and I have a Christmas present for you, will you accept it?”

“No, I can’t. Thank you but I have to go.”

“Well, throw it overboard then,” he said, disappearing into the cabin and returning quickly. He handed me a beautifully wrapped box, “Take it or toss it, it’s only meant for you.”

“Whose name did I say?”

“Are you going to open this or not?”

I stood there, not sure what do to. I stared at the gift in my hands, it was unimaginably perfect, tied with silver and gold satin ribbons like the gifts under the Christmas tree at Nieman’s or
Saks
’.

“Do you really want to know what you said? Accept the gift and I’ll tell you.”

I sat down and opened the box slowly, savoring its beauty and trying to still the butterflies in my stomach. The
Chanel
purse lay nestled in mounds of silver tissue, “It’s too much, you’re more than I can handle.”

“Look inside, Cate, there’s something else.”

I reached into the purse of my dreams and removed a small velvet bag; I pulled out a thin gold chain with something round and heavy dangling from it. I looked closely and it was a tiny, perfect compass.

I looked up at him and he said, “So you can always find your way back.”

He took my arm and carried the package as we walked to the SUV, he started the engine and pulled onto the road. He didn’t look at me, just stared straight ahead when he told me, “You said my name.”

***

“Wait, don’t leave,” I said as we stood beside the Jeep and I reached into the back seat and handed him a small gift bag stuffed with tissue.

“What’s this?” he asked, a delighted smile lighting his face.

“It’s nothing, I swear, a frame I picked up at an antiques store.”

He pulled out the frame; it was old sterling silver with shell and sea creature designs.

“Nice frame, fantastic picture.”

“It was on my phone, I don’t remember who took it. I had it printed and found the frame, it’s not much…”

It was a picture of the two of us hugging and laughing in front of the
Top Dollar
machine when I won the hundred thousand, we looked impossibly happy for two people who’d just met.

“It’s my best gift ever,” he said and his voice was raw with emotion when he reached out to hug me.

I turned my face up impulsively and our lips brushed, my hands reached for him and I drew his face down to mine, his mouth was hot and searching, my lips parted, eager for him, we kissed for a long moment, and then I stepped away, got into the Jeep and drove off.

Chapter Seventeen

On the trip back to Texas, John begged to stop in Biloxi and after I ignored his pleas and passed it by, he started in about
Harrah’s
in New Orleans.

“No, damn it. Why would you want to risk losing what you just won? Besides, we don’t have time, Christmas is in three days. I haven’t bought a single gift, we need to move next week, then its New Year’s, give me a break.” He turned in his seat and kissed me again and again.

“I can’t see,” I yelled, “Do you want to have a wreck?”

“Sure, I do,” he said, “I want to have a wreck.”

“Cute.”

“How about we skip the Christmas presents for each other and spend New Year’s in Vegas?” He said, scrolling through the playlist on my phone until he found my favorite Matchbox 20 song. “Oh, man, I’ve got perks out the wazoo! We can stay at the
Bellagio
; all my
Beau Rivage
comps are good there, what do you say, buddy? Let me show you my fave place. Can we, huh, can we?”

“Yes you overgrown brat. Fine, life in the fast lane, who cares? We’ll leave a house full of unpacked boxes and by the way, there are no appliances or light fixtures in the carriage house. But sure, since you’re playing my song— let’s go, I’m up for it.”

“Alright! That’s what I like to hear.”

***

“I can’t believe I let you drag me to the mall the day before Christmas Eve, do you know what the traffic is gonna be like when we leave?” Emily asked, she was bouncing around like a live wire. “Why didn’t you shop online while you were at the beach? Oh, don’t tell me, you and the God of love were too busy acting out the Kama Sutra! Sister woman, you are skinny as hell and look at me, I’ve gained fifteen pounds. At least we got a good parking spot, I mean really, can you believe we found one that close? Good Lord, look at all these mall-rats, I swear if I get into a fist fight with some size two teenaged super model who wants to give me a free sample of some bogus facelift serum…”

“Emily, are you high or something? You have not shut your mouth since I picked you up!” I said, steering her away from a group of twelve-year-olds in mini-skirts and stilettos.

“Oh God, sorry! It’s my medication. I’m going to this diet doctor who gives these B12 shots and a whole lot of supplements and shit. I kid you not; I was cleaning the baseboards with a Q-tip last night. This shit is gonna change my life, I have more energy that fucking energizer bunny.” she said, not pausing to take a breath.

“Well, I’ll give you a Xanax or slap your face, take your pick.”

She held out her hand and I dropped a blue pill in it. “Take it now,” I said, you’re giving me a migraine.

“I need some water,” she whined.

“Just take it and we’ll run to the food court.”

“Ooh, let’s get a cookie,” she squealed.

We got a cookie and a drink and sat at one of the little tables, she swallowed the Xanax and said, “Bitter pill, bitter pill!”

“Eat a bite of cookie, you’ll be fine…. I kissed another man.”

She stopped eating her cookie, “Boat-boy?”

“Yes, ughhh, I’m a slut.”

“That goes without saying. Did you sleep with him on his boat? Was he as good as the great white wonder? Shit, my sex life sucks.”

“You know what? Don’t go back to that doctor; he’s shooting you up with bat guano or speed or something worse.”

“I thought that guy with the boat was old?
Did you fuck him
? Is he cute?”

“No, I didn’t sleep with him. And I didn’t mean like
old
. He’s forty-six, I think, and he’s… great looking. His body is… I mean I haven’t seen his body but I can tell he’s like… ripped. You know like former football player muscular. Em, he knows everything and he has this deep, slow, sexy voice. I think I’m sort of attracted to him because he’s so much like Henry.”

“Uh, Paging Dr. Freud!”

“Oh, you are so smart; those are father issues, not deceased husbands. But, Emily, I did sleep on his boat and horror of horrors, I had a wet dream and even though I was in my own bedroom he was in the next room and he heard me!”

She started laughing, and it was the squinty-eyed, spitting, sputtering, couldn’t catch her breath laugh and I just gave her the evil eye and waited for it to run its course.

She gulped for air and said, “Well, this is just perfect, I ate my cookie and yours, too. And do you know how we got that great parking spot?”

“What?” I asked, and wondered on God’s green earth was in those diet pills.

“Because it’s under a tree, dumbass. When we get back to the car the windshield is gonna look like a Pterodactyl shit on it!” And she was lost again in hysterical diet pill laughter.

***

It seemed strange not to decorate for Christmas, once upon a time my home had resembled a winter wonderland during the holidays. There had been a tree in every room and a lighted winter village with tiny porcelain people and fake snow. Dozens of nutcrackers and a Santa collection, and of course a life-size nativity scene with angels suspended from clear fishing line floating above the baby Jesus. The tree in Brooks’ room would go up first, my parents stayed the night every year and they would decorate it with him. We started putting a tiny tree in his room when he was just a toddler, he would climb out of his crib and fall asleep under the big tree in the living room and when we would find him in the morning he would say “pretty lights” as Henry carried him back to his bed.

By now the sterling flatware would be polished, the Waterford crystal rinsed and dried. Spode Christmas Tree china would line the Welsh Dresser in the family room and garland and bows and magnolia leaves would hang from every doorway and mantle and stair rail. But somehow the house already felt foreign to me, lifeless and not my own. I’d called my housekeeper weeks before and asked her to start packing up personal items and she had already finished Brooks’ room. It didn’t seem important to see his possessions, I decided, if I wouldn’t ever see him again, not on this planet, that I knew for sure. And things were only things, after all.

I wore a floor-length, lime green taffeta skirt with a red cashmere tank top, a gaudy jeweled belt and ballet flats to my parent’s house for Christmas Eve. John wore grey slacks and a black crew neck sweater, his face was tanned and his hair was bleached almost white from the Florida sun. I had to look away from the magnetic charm of those vivid blue eyes more than once or we would have missed Christmas Eve dinner entirely.

We took separate cars so he could drive to Austin to be with his family the next day and I was staying the night with my parents. Mother’s house was a hive of activity, my sisters and their husbands were already there, as well as most of my nieces and assorted friends of friends.  Daddy saw me first and followed me to the car to unload Christmas gifts.

“Good Lord, gal. What’s happened to you?” He gave me a hug, “you’re so skinny you hardly cast a shadow.”

“I’m not skinny am I, Daddy? Just thin is all, I’ve been walking on the beach, riding my bike, staying busy.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Jud.” Mother came out to the car and held me at arms-length, “She looks gorgeous. Sweetheart, you look like a girl of twenty, what have you done, Botox?” My mother was a great believer in the ‘never too rich or too thin’ theory. “Well you look like a million dollars,” she said as John arrived to lend a hand. He gave her his most breathtaking smile and she blushed and said, “Well, I see!”

My family was never into hardcore drinking, but there was a small bar set up and John was enjoying it. He offered to make my dad a drink but Daddy declined until my teenage niece arrived with a new boyfriend sporting full tattooed ‘sleeves’ and half a dozen metal piercings in his face.

“I do believe I’ll take that drink now,” My father said.

Maggie’s husband, a lawyer with a flair for speaking, said a blessing and we enjoyed a great turkey dinner with Mother’s phenomenal dressing, giblet gravy and a multitude of side dishes. We laughed ourselves silly fighting over ridiculous gifts in the white elephant gift exchange and then dove into a groaning board of pecan and pumpkin pies, chocolate and coconut cakes and a dozen kinds of cookies. We sang Christmas carols and told funny family stories of holidays past. My mother, sisters and I sneaked off to my room, as we always did, said a prayer for those who were no longer with us and had a little cry. We sat in my old bedroom catching up on family gossip; we all had lots to tell.

My father poked his head in and asked, “What are you gals doing up here, you think that kitchen is gonna clean itself and where is my fudge, Maggie? I thought you hid some just for me.”

“I did, Daddy, come on, I’ll show you.”

“That old fool wouldn’t dream of lifting a plate off the table to help around here. He just works me to death!” Mother said.

“He really does,” Laura told her, “especially on the one day a week when your maid is off.”

We helped clean up, everyone was leaving with hugs and Christmas wishes all around. Daddy said goodnight, the brothers-in-law talked and watched the football high lights, John was passed out on the couch.

I woke John as the others went off to bed and he followed sleepily to my room. He pulled off his sweater and pants while I undressed and I struggled to keep from laughing as he tried to fit his long body into the canopied double bed. He didn’t care, just curled on his side as best he could and tried to go back to sleep. I climbed into bed with him in my bra and panties, giggling from the thought of this grown man in my once stylish, teenage bed. I wrapped myself around him, my legs holding him captive, drawing him to me.

His hands moved to my butt and inside my panties and I whispered, “Better not let my parents catch you in my room or we’ll both be grounded!”

He groaned and covered my mouth with his and his hands moved deeper between my legs.

I caught his wrists, held his hands away from my body and said, “None of that, I’m a nice girl. You can kiss me and that’s all.” He struggled and I whispered in his ear, “If you try to take advantage of me, you will sleep on the couch.”

I let go of his wrists and he moved his hands up my back as he devoured my mouth. He unfastened my bra and tossed it aside. His mouth went to my breast, sucking hard and the sharp bite of pleasure shot straight to my groin. I grasped his hair hard and he moaned almost painfully and forced my hand down to his erection.

I jerked it away and hissed, “Stop it or I won’t let you touch me at all.”

“What will you let me do?” he whispered, his eyes glinted in the dark and he was fully awake now.

I moved his hands to my breasts and he kneaded them roughly, pinching the nipples until I cried out. I guided his mouth to them and he sucked greedily, his hand reaching for his pulsing erection. I stopped his hand and moved it between my legs and with one swift move he jerked my panties down and pushed my knees up and apart. My hand stroked his pulsing erection and he was so thick that my fingers could barely circle it as I guided him inside me. I was so close to orgasm that I couldn’t stay still, I lifted my hips and he thrust into me going deeper and deeper until we found our perfect rhythm. At the last punishing thrust I bit his chest to keep from crying out as I seized and clenched around him and he buried his face in the pillow and shuddered as he sank against me. 

***

John left on Christmas morning, kissing me goodbye at the car. He lifted a handful of my hair to his nose and inhaled, “God, you are intoxicating. I wish I could stay, I’d like to see you in your cheerleading skirt.”

I stood on tiptoe, my arms around his neck, my mouth to his ear, and said, “I’d like to feel your hands under my cheerleading skirt.”

“Mmmm,” he whispered, brushing his big head against mine like a cat.

“Go,” I said, “have a good time and… be careful.”

He drove away to join his own family for dinner, I felt I should be going with him, but he didn’t encourage it. I went inside and settled in at the breakfast table with my parents, sisters and the rest of the gang for Christmas day hot tamales.

“I still don’t understand tamales for breakfast.” Laura’s husband said.

“That’s because you’re from New Orleans!” We all said in unison, just as we had for years and years.

We opened gifts and Maggie said, “Cate, it looks like you already opened your present from John.”

My mind jumped around for her meaning and I wondered if she’d heard us in bed last night.

“Are you blushing?” Laura asked, “What have you been doing to get so thin, as if we didn’t know and
do not
elaborate.”

“I meant the
Chanel
bag,” Maggie chimed in, “was it a surprise? He did well.”

“I bought it myself, we gambled in Biloxi on the way to the beach and I won forty-five hundred dollars, so I ordered it from
Saks
.”

I was surprised at how easily the lie rolled off my tongue. Three years before I was sitting in that exact spot telling my mother and sisters about Brooks moving into the dorms at Rice University and that he had decided not to join a fraternity. I was a suburban housewife who had collected toys and food for the underprivileged during the holidays and sang and prayed in church the night before. I was flying to Aspen the next day with my husband, my son and his friends. And on that last family vacation, in an idyllic snow covered village filled with Christmas cheer, I would be so wrapped up in skiing, shopping and socializing that I would have sex with my husband only once, and it would be the very last time.