Love, Lex (12 page)

“Mom must’ve died.”

“Birdie sprung outta bed so fast. She threw a vase of
flowers at me.”

“Hahaha. Good ‘ol Mom.”

“That happened after she’d spoken with that brawny, inked-up
cop. Man was he hot. Anyhow, she sobered up quick when I called the magazine.
Pretty sure it was the realization that you and all of your friends were done
covering up for the misadventures of Birdie Easton.”“That we are.” I licked my
lips tasting a trace of coconut. “You got big balls, Blake.” Why did my mind
suddenly jump to Ford’s nuts? Lord, I’m horny. Quickly I glanced out the rear
window. Blake did too. “Dang, the white SUV is right behind us.”

“What do we do?” he asked grimly.

“Looks like we’ll go to the Sherry Netherland after all.”

“Good idea. Their doorman will escort you right into Vive’s
place. They won’t allow paparazzi out front.” 

“You pulling that outta your cute, gay ass or do you know
that for a fact?”

“My cute-gay ass. I was just trying to make you feel
better.”

“Thanks.” The inner torment of it all began to gnaw at me
again. This sucked. “I swear the press controls my life.”

“Driver, scratch the pier. We need to go to Vive’s place.”
Blake said.

He glanced back at me through the rearview mirror.

I nodded it was okay and asked Blake, “You promise you’ll
get Vamp for me?” It felt as if I were leaving a loved one behind.

“Yes. Now listen, Lex, your mom is truly sorry. I’ve seen
her alligator tears before, but once she sobered up and realized what she’d
done, she was a mess. She feels horrible for sleeping with Kelle. She knows you
didn’t mean to blow up the place.”

“Then why did she tell Office Gotti when he came to visit
her that I intentionally tried to set her on fire?”

“Look at you, gurl, knowing that cop’s name.
Officer
Gotti
.” Blake accentuated the ‘t’ and flexed his bicep in muscle-mockery
over Ford’s Adonis-like physique.

“Knock it off. He’s just doing his job.”

“Ah-huh. Whatever.
Anywho
, your mom was still pretty
high when he got there. She hadn’t seen the news. Birdie didn’t really grasp
what had gone down till after the NYPD had left and she barked at me to turn
the TV for her.”

“The news was…bad.”

“Yes, worse than that
Carrie
movie.”

“
Firestarter
,” I corrected.

“I threatened Birdie with the
People
magazine
article. She vaguely remembered Kelle but wasn’t sure if it was him or Don
Juan. Like I said, the magazine phone call snapped her back to reality.”

“You’re the only person she’d listen to. You know that,
don’t cha?”

“Gurl, I got you. Don’t worry. After the hospital released
her, she held the press conference, and then Eddie took her to rehab. She asked
me to give you this.” Blake pulled an envelope out of his shorts pocket and
handed it to me.

I studied the ecru paper with Mom’s cursive writing on the
front. It was addressed
To My Daughter.
Tears swelled up in my eyes. I
pinched my nose, hoping to hold it together.

“She wrote the letter last night. Read it.”

“No. I can’t,” I said, hearing a thickness in my own voice.
Feeling warm, I titled my face toward the air vents.

“Then I will.” Blake grabbed it from my hands. He opened the
letter, cleared his throat, and read out loud, “Alexandra, there are no words
to correct the damage I’ve done other than to say I’m sorry. I will make this
right by you. I don’t deserve a second chance as your mother; I won’t ask for
one. In time, I’ll prove to you that I’ll get better, and hopefully, one day
you can forgive me.”

“Great,” I said, interrupting him.

“Not done yet, boo.” He straightened his arms and read on,
“Blake found a rehab facility upstate. I’m scheduled to leave tomorrow. I
probably won’t see you until I return. It would mean the world to me if you
visited. I’ll understand if you don’t. I love you. And again, I apologize for
the past and for so much more. Please give Taddy and Vive a heartfelt thank you
for being at your side when I wasn’t and for taking care of you when I
couldn’t. Love, Mom. PS, I don’t think you should see that Kelle Sterling
Dolley anymore—for obvious reasons. His father is a republican.” Blake
chuckled. 

I did too.

There was a tear in his eye.

We sat in silence for a minute.

The limo pulled onto Sixth Avenue.

Every word he’d said, every sentence she’d written, echoed
in my head.

Love, Mom.

“Birdie actually signed the letter ‘Love, Mom’?” That was
more shocking to me than her admitting she had a drug problem. Tearing the
paper from his hands, I gave it a once-over.

And there was her signature.

“Did you write this for her?”

“Well…”

“Blake?”

“Your mom’s hands were shaky. She was upset and got sick. I
may have tweaked a word or two.”

“Ha! Coming from her, I knew this was too sappy.” To prove
my point, I wanted to spit up my candy.

“We did four drafts. Give the lady a break. She was high,
toasted, and shot through the air like a cannonball. The note is all her, not
me.”

“Thank you.” I reached for his chin and gave him a kiss on
the cheek.

“My pleasure.”

“Didn’t we think coming back to the city was going to be
easy?” I rested my head on his chest and looked out the window as we passed
through Columbus Circle. “Why does it feel like this is the beginning of a long
road to hell for me?”

“You’re not the
only
one.”

“Whaddya mean?” I sat up, not liking the sound of that.

“Taddy didn’t tell you?”

“About what?”

“Yesterday morning, before Vive and Taddy went back to
school shopping and drinking, she got a call from the university. Apparently,
the trust fund that her estranged parents had set aside for her to go college,
the one which was sorta a kiss-off payment…is empty.”

“What?” This news, combined with my overdose of sugar,
suddenly made me feel nauseous. I threw my head back on the seat.

“Taddy’s broke. I told Birdie.”

“If Taddy asks Mom, she’ll pay for her schooling. She loves
Taddy like her own daughter. Heck, after yesterday, I’d say probably more than
me.” 

“Taddy has too much pride to take any handouts.”

“We could pay for her schooling and not tell her. Set up
some fake scholarship,” I said, feeling hopeless.

“No. After Birdie finished puking, she called her agent and
demanded Taddy get a meeting with her old modeling agency.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Birdie’s convinced Taddy can land some work to pay for
school.” Blake said it all so matter-of-factly. But my mom’s good deeds toward
others always had me in awe. More so because they were fabulous and often
directed at everyone else’s kids but her own. Come to think of it, that’s
probably what prevented me from disowning her for good.

“That’s a wonderful idea. Granted Taddy hates that kinda
stuff, but it’s good money. And if anyone looks like a model, it’s her.”
Realizing the mess Taddy was in, I sunk in my chair. “No money for college.
Okay, now my problems don’t feel so bad. Thanks, Blake.”

“Who are you kidding? You tried to kill your mom. Hell, it’s
on every TV station in the world. According to CNN, your life is shit.” Blake
put his arm around me and laughed.

“Hahaha. Funny. Dad’s paying for my education. I’ve got his
money to fall back on. Always have. Always will.”

“I love how you manage to see the silver lining in our crazy
world.” He pushed my hair out of my face.

“With folks like mine, you have to.” That much was true.

The limo stopped at the entrance to the Sherry Netherland.

Through the dark-tinted windows, Blake scoped out the left
side of the street as I did the right.

“Looks clear to me,” Blake said.

“We must’ve lost the SUV when we headed east.” 

“Do you want me go in with you?”

I glanced around one last time. “I don’t see anyone.” I
pulled off the wig. Keeping my overalls on, I removed the sneakers and buckled
up my riding boots. Something about walking into Vive’s foofoo building wearing
low tops didn’t feel right. “Take the limo up to the dorms. Did you get
unpacked? You didn’t even get a chance to tell me what it’s like on campus.”

“Small. Old. Nothing like Avon Porter. But we’re starting
over. Oh, and Lex, I’m sorry about Paris.”

“Me too.”

“The girls said they’d order dinner in tonight. We’ll have a
party at Vive’s. Just us four.”

“Let me think about it. I’ll call you later.” I kissed him
on the cheek. “I love you, Blake. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You
saved me, the girls, and if Mom gets outta rehab okay, I’d say you saved her
too.”

“That’s what we besties do. Remember?”

“Yeah. I
remember
.” I had echoed those very words to
him once during our junior year during Sanderloo’s murder trial.

Hey! Maybe that’s a good memory we can hold onto—the
devotion to our friendships.

“I love you too. Oh…and don’t tell Taddy that I told you
that Birdie got her a meeting with her agent tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“Taddy is acting as if everything is normal. She won’t take
our pity.”

“Typical. When does she need to have the money?”

“The school said she couldn’t attend classes till her
affairs were in order. I’m assuming they want full payment before classes
start.”

“That’s in less than a month.”

Blake shook his head. “We’ll come up with something. We
always do. Birdie’s agent said a magazine might be interested in shooting her
in Caribbean.”

I said my goodbyes, opened the door, and stepped out onto
the sidewalk.

Nothing felt better than Fifth Avenue. Turning my back
toward Vive’s building, I waved Blake off as they drove away. Taking in the
view of Central Park across the street, I admired the view. A few blocks to my
left stood The Plaza and Bergdorf Goodman. Living on the Upper East Side was
going to be quiet. Nice and peaceful.

“Alexandra!” someone shouted.

“She’s here,” said another.

Anxiety spurted through me. I whipped around. On the side
street, where Vive had told me I could park Vamp, were one, two, three—oh my
gosh—a dozen or so TV vans.

Cameramen rushed out.

I breathed in shallow, quick gasps. My nerves tensed.

Reporters got in my face before I could even make it toward
the lobby.

My embarrassment at being caught out in the open turned to
raw fury. 

A little guy, the doorman perhaps, popped his head out of
the entrance and looked at me suspiciously. He probably didn’t realize I was
going to be a new tenant. 

Crap.

“Miss Easton.” A middle aged woman with a beehive hairdo
approached. “Care to tell Channel One what really happened yesterday?”

Unable to respond, I gaped at her. 

Clickety click. POP. Flash!  A camera snapped in my face.

“No comment.” I needed more time to erase the pain of what
Kelle and Birdie had done. Not making eye contact with any of them, I made my
best attempt to walk toward the door.

Another reporter jumped in front of me. “Tell us what jail
was like last night for you.”

“Please. Excuse me.”

Clickety click. POP. Flash! 

The flash blinded me for a second. “I can’t see.”

They wouldn’t budge.

Feeling hopeless, I closed my eyes. Little pink, white, and
yellow dots danced between my temples. Just like before in Mom’s bedroom
doorway. The swell of pain was beyond tears.

Surrounded by the paparazzi, I started heaving, trying to
catch my breath. Thoughts of the stretchy dress and Mr. Softy came over me.
That day had been humid, just like it was now. Trapped and scared, I’d taken
off running down the street and fallen. Dad and that damn Vicodin. Why not a
Band-Aid? Always pills, that’s all he’d given me. Probably how he’d gotten Mom
so whacked.

“Lex!” A familiar voice shouted from the street.

Squinting, I could barely see through the crowd. I stepped
in the opposite direction of the reporters who’d blocked Vive’s building and
headed out toward the curb.

The clear-cut lines of his muscular arms gripped firmly at
the handlebars.
Oh my…

“Ford?” I stood on my tippy toes to be certain.

There
he
was, on a black racer bike. His gloved hand
extended a helmet.

I stepped closer to him and further from the paparazzi.

“Hop on,” Ford said, in a deep timber voice.

Taking the helmet, I tucked my hair and slipped it on my
head. I straddled the seat behind him feeling the bike’s shocks bounce. I asked,
“How did you know where to find me?”

“I overheard Vive saying you could stay here once released.
Not expecting this crowd, I came by to wish you a happy birthday.” He pulled
out into traffic and said over his shoulder, “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“And where’s that?” I asked.

“My place.” He accelerated. “Hold on tight.” 

The Ride of My Life

We didn’t talk. Not at first.

How could we? We were going
way
above the speed
limit.

His precise zigzagging between cars as we whizzed west on
Central Park South didn’t surprise me. The speed at which we traveled did.

My mind raced with questions. Possibly a million miles
faster than his sleek, jet black wheels, which my motorcycle aficionado-self
determined was a 6-speed, 149 horsepower, limited-production Centennial Edition
Triumph—more commonly known as the Daytona 955i. New this year, I’d read about
this ingenuity in
Biker Girl
magazine. A sporty effer, I was fortunate
my bum fit on the seat. Seriously!

The fiberglass helmet I wore came with a speaker inside. The
earpiece crackled static. Then I heard…
him.

Ford inhaling unevenly and rough as if we were getting it
on, naked, on his bed. This was, of course, only in my imagination. Uncertain
whether to kiss some more or fuck, he’d breathe in my ear, letting our bodies
take us where our minds wanted to go.

Hot.
Ford exhaling, in the way I fantasized he would,
if buried deep inside my Lady V.

“Lex,” Ford saying my name in my ear, as I held onto his
shoulders while he…wait a second. He
did
just say my name in my ear, and
I was holding on to him.

Instinctively I leaned forward, gripping him tight. He felt
good.

V-shaped back? Check.

A broad set of shoulders? Like two boulder stones, next to
one another.

How about a tight waist with a little bit of love to squeeze
on?
Ding.
Raking my nails up and down, I could feel each ripple of his
six-pack.

If I lowered my hand a smidge, I bet I’d brush up against
his bulge. He must be hard. I’m certainly wet.

“Lex,” he said again.

I didn’t reply. Instead I bit down on my lower lip and
enjoyed hearing him say my name.

In my mind, I was on an erotic journey.
Totally.
I
envisioned myself as actress Marianne Faithfull in the 1968 movie Vive and I
had watched a zillion times called
Girl on a Motorbike.
In the film
Marianne rides through the French countryside going on a quest to find her
lover.

Could this summer finally turn out the way I’d hoped?
Something sexual and fun like it was for Marianne?

Wait. Did Ford have a girlfriend? I bet he does. He’s too
handsome not to have himself a few girlfriends. Did it matter? Yes, to me it
did. 

We slowed down, approaching a stop light.

The bike hummed. On the inside, my entire body did too.

“You okay back there?” With a raspy voice, he asked. I
wasn’t sure I could even put my thoughts, this ride, and my last twenty-four
hours into words.

“More than just okay,” I paused, taking him in, taking this
in. “I’ve waited to go on this ride for a long time.”

“How long?”

Unable to cover my mouth through the helmet, I giggled. I
hadn’t laughed since, probably before graduation. So a few months ago, I guess.

“Tell me!” His body tensed.

“Longer than I care to admit.” 

“You excited about your birthday?” His left arm came back.
He rubbed my leg.

No desire left in me to talk about Paris or what was
supposed to be, I looked ahead and asked, “Where do you live?”

“North. A place the paparazzi won’t bother you.”

“Canada?” I asked, thinking back to my earlier conversation
with Blake.

“Close,” he replied, then chuckled. “We’re almost there.”

“You have any roommates?” 

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Are you scared to be alone
with me?”

Ford answered my question with a question, which I didn’t
like.

The light changed to green.

Picking up speed, the entire West Side Highway ahead of us,
every car and truck was left behind. We took the far right lane following the
sign for Inwood, the northern-most tip of Manhattan. Inwood was an area of town
for families, people with kids. Think Westchester County but still on the Big
Apple island.

“Are you single?” I continued this game of
question-for-question.

“Do you care?”

Dang. Ford was good at this, quicker than me. And I’d been
trained by Taddy, Blake, and Vive. Hello!

“No. I’m not scared.” I gave up. He won. “And yes, I do care
if you’re single or not.”

“Good. Don’t be nervous. I like that you want to know if I
have a girlfriend or not.” He still didn’t tell me.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Your curiosity about my life turns me on.”

“You turn me on,”
I muttered.

“What?” He jerked his neck back, glaring at me so fast I thought
we’d fall off the bike together. “Lex, what did you just say?”

“Nothing…” I played dumb realizing he wasn’t sure I had said
what I did.

I was never good at this girl-to-boy repertoire thing. I’d
taken a few pointers from Taddy and Vive such as bite your bottom lip, stare at
him intently then look away when he notices you, and lastly, twirl your hair.

Regardless, we hadn’t covered how to flirt while riding a
motorbike. Let alone while wearing a helmet, which included an earpiece
enabling me to hear every minor grunt and major swallow this man made. 

Let’s face it. Everything Ford did caused my body to wet
with excitement. But he probably had a girlfriend, some skinny, boney thing.
There was no point in continuing this conversation or going over to his place
if he did.

After Kelle had crapped on a stick, obliterating my Lady V
parade, I’d smashed my rose-colored glasses along with any hopes of those
fantasies coming true. From now on, I’d take men for who they were and what
they did or
did not
want from me.

“Ford…” I had to know if this attraction was mutual. Blake
would say I was being insecure and foolish and to shut my trap. Maybe I
protected myself from something that could cause pain. So I asked, “Are you
attracted to me?”

He cocked his head, and through the rearview mirror, he
stared back at me intently. I could hear him hissing through the helmet
microphone.

I inhaled a shallow breath. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, turning the bike onto a side street.

The bike zipped past Fort Tryon Park. Green was everywhere.
Green trees, green yards.

I started to feel green realizing Ford probably won’t give
me the response I wanted. You’d think after yesterday that I’d be able to
handle rejection. Nope. Like never ever.

“Yes, you heard me?” This drove me crazy. “Or yes, you like
curvy girls?”

We pulled into a narrow brick driveway. The three-stall
white garage door ahead of us opened. Sitting back on the bike, I glanced up
and took it all in. It was a four-story, Victorian mansion that appeared to
have been split into three townhouse residences.

The bike rolled into the garage and stopped. Ford pushed a
button, and the garage lights came on as the door closed. Kicking the stand, he
got to his feet and cut the engine.

Mindful of where I sat, he lifted his leg and got off the
bike. When he removed his helmet, I noticed his eyes weren’t as dark as before.
They had hints of hazel in them. His brow furrowed into a straight line when he
caught me staring at him. 

Quickly, I looked down at the bike and reached up to take my
helmet off.

“Allow me.” His big hands came under my chin. He tilted my
jaw upward. “Such a beautiful face, Lex. I like looking at you.” 

“Thank you…”

I’d heard the “pretty face but” backhanded compliment my
entire life. I waited for him to say, “But your body could use some work.” Or
my personal favorite, “It’s a shame you forgot to take care of the rest of
you.”

Ford didn’t say anything of the sort. He studied me just as
he did back in the jail, from head to toe. I’m so uncomfortable. Not because of
anything he’s doing, but because usually that is when men, and sometimes women,
stop looking at me all together.

He unfastened my chinstrap and teased, “Let’s see if your
hair has static.”

Trying to stand, I laughed nervously.

“Stay seated.” He removed my helmet and placed both his and
mine behind me. He swung my right leg to the left side of the bike, framing my
body with his. He cupped my face in his hands.

Hot cop fantasy? Heck no. This was real. He was going to…

Ford licked his bottom lip. His facial features strained,
becoming serious. The tip of his nose touched mine. I smelled mint when he
exhaled. “No roommate. Yup, I live alone.” Then he kissed me.

My head fell back into his grip.

With determination, he tongued me, deeply, clockwise, oh yes
even his flippin’ tongue was strong and precise, just like the way he weaved
his bike through traffic.

Enthusiastically he unbuttoned the straps on my overalls and
then without even looking, still lip-to-lip, he worked the closure on the left
side then the right.  The denim flaps fell to the front and the back.

“Stand for a sec.” Ford lifted me up in the air as if I were
a weightless feather. He planted both my feet on the ground, and then he
shanked the overalls to my ankles.

“Ford—” Before I could finish whatever I was going to say,
he lifted up my shirt and swiftly placed me back on the motorcycle. Worried I’d
fall, I dug my back into the seat, reached for each handlebar, pulling myself
up as I gasped and garbled some words.

He slid his fingers through the purple waistband on my
underwear.

My entire body stood to attention.

“I want you naked so I can admire your body, and fuck you,
on my bike.”

Air, I needed to breath. Afraid I might pass out, I inhaled
through my nostrils and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Umm, Ford,” I
whispered when he came in to kiss me again.

What the heck was I going to say? “Excuse me, but as hawt as
this whole bike thing sounds, my Lady V and I would be more comfortable on a
bed, sofa, or even the floor.” I felt as if I might knock the bike over any
second now.

“Nervous?” Ford sensed my apprehension.

“Very,” I replied without thinking.

“I told you not to be.” He repositioned himself holding my
legs over his right shoulder.

The panties came off. Then he lifted one leg and rested it
on his other shoulder. Leaning down, his hands scooped under my back and
unfastened my bra. No directions necessary. This dude could do this undressing
thing, in the dark.

“But Ford, ya see, I’m—”

That tongue of magic. Thick and velvety, warm and wetter
than the spot between my legs, Ford slipped back into my mouth. This time he
rotated counterclockwise.

Dang. Ford is an Olympic kisser.
For round two, I
braced myself in his arms.

Legs spread wide, my ass still sat on the bike.

Rearing his head back, he said, “You asked if I was single.”
Before I could even reply, he spread my legs wider, stood between them, leaned
down and grazed on my nipples. It was indeed like my FDR Highway fantasy all
over again. Vive could take her Prince from India stories and go Bombay
Sapphire herself till she passed out. His nipping and licking, tugging and
slightly-ever-so-gently-almost biting of my nipples, gave me a mini-orgasm.

“Oh, Ford.”

He laughed, realizing I’d come a little. “I’m single.”

“You are.” I reached down and fingered myself in front of
him. I don’t know what the heck was coming over me. This was off the charts.

“I’m hoping after you and I get to know each other better,
maybe that’ll change. No pressure.” And then he licked two of his fingers and
found where mine were. “Birthday girl, no toys, except a motorbike will
straddle your cunt when I’m with you. That means no fingering yourself.” And
like that, he raised my hands up over my head with his left hand. His right
hand hovered over my wetness. Raking his knuckles through my pubic hair, he
complimented, “I love touching your pussy. Makes your eyes sparkle.” His hand
stopped right at my clit. Foreplay, Ford did this well. He tapped as I gazed up
at him, hungry, wanting him to get me off again.

He pressed down.

In a flash and in my mind, I was on the garage ceiling. “Oh
my Godiva.” I trembled. I held on to this body. “I mean—great, I’m single too.”

“Alright then.” His hands must have magical powers because
he worked my Lady V as she’d never been worked before. “How’s that feel, Lex?”

“Ahhhmazing.” I became more comfortable and relaxed. Maybe
it was the faint smell of gasoline in the garage but I felt high. Not like
Birdie high, rather euphorically tripping, more than when the girls and I had tried
acid at Avon Porter. Okay, it was just once. But it was as if I was in Dylan’s
Candy Bar, naked, decked in sugar and being enjoyed by Ford.

He pulled out a condom

This was happening pretty quickly.

“Put it on me.” He tore the wrapper open and handed me the
disc. Then he unzipped his drawers. They dropped to the floor just like in my
dream, but unlike my dream, his cock was bigger than I imagined.