Mine Until Morning (23 page)

The Wrong Kind of Man

I should be the one paying you. You’d be worth beaucoup bucks. No. It couldn’t be. Ridiculous. But that was what she’d said, and he’d gone all weird and serious on her. Oh my God. The canceled date, the blankets, the wine, the cheese, the movies, the perfect little spot hidden from everyone and condoms in his pocket. He’d switched her out for another woman, but he’d fully intended to have sex with whoever it was. It wasn’t as if Cleo didn’t know that, but something suddenly seemed staged about it all. “Please don’t tell me that’s what it really is. All those women.”

She’d have felt better if he’d cocked his head and said, “Huh?” But Walker didn’t say anything, not a word. He who was never without words, always charming, always with the right thing to say to make women feel good. The perfect date.

Because women paid him beaucoup bucks?

Cleo stared him down just as she did Heidi when she thought her daughter was hiding something. No one could withstand a mother’s glare.

“Yes.”

She swallowed, her heart skipping so many beats, she thought she might be having an angina attack. “Yes what?”

“I sleep with women for money.” Not a muscle in his face twitched as he said it.

She stared at Walker. Her eardrums and her brain didn’t quite connect. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said. There was just a roar, like the pounding of a million feet stomping over her body.

“I let you meet my daughter. I let my mother cook you dinner.” She let him make love to her. She’d called it sex, but it had been so much more. She’d let him in.

He slept with women for money. She’d meant nothing to him. He did this all the time with so many women. She wasn’t special. She just hadn’t paid for it. That was the only thing that made her different.

“Cleo.”

Just the sound of her name on his lips pushed her over the edge. She didn’t feel her hand move or see it connect, but her palm stung, and a flaming red imprint suddenly blossomed like a scar on his cheek.

WALKER DIDN’T MOVE. THERE WERE MOMENTS THAT DEFINED A man. This 148

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was one of them. He wasn’t ashamed of what he did with women or that he took their money. But most people weren’t like him or Isabel. They didn’t view sex in the same way. They didn’t see that many times the transaction had merit, that it provided something vital that a person could get in no other way. He was not ashamed of the things he’d done or the man he was. He was ashamed that he’d slept with Cleo before he told her, that he’d taken away her choice in the matter.

“I apologize. I should have told you.” He didn’t offer an explanation. You couldn’t explain away something you knew was wrong. She covered her mouth with both hands, staring at the mark she’d left on his face. She couldn’t know the mark she’d left on his heart. Her eyes were bright, with unshed tears or anger, he couldn’t tell. She backed up, her legs hitting the bench, then suddenly she turned and grabbed her purse. “I’ve got enough money for the car part.”

Her words were a knife blade down the center of his chest. “I don’t need it.”

She counted out the bills from a wad. Her tip money, he was sure. She shoved them at him. “Here.”

If he took the money, everything was over. If he didn’t, she’d probably throw it at him. Walker folded the cash and stuffed it in his back pocket, but he couldn’t stuff down the pain stretching across his chest like a rubber band about to snap.

“I care about you, Cleo.”

She jammed her wallet back in her purse. “Isn’t that what you say to all of them?”

“No. Only to you. Whatever else you want to think, I do care about you and you are special.”

She laughed. Earlier her laughter had been sweet, sexy; now it was just a harsh sound like nails on a chalkboard. She held her purse to her chest like a shield. “Whatever. I need to get home. You’re my ride. But I can take the bus to work if Jimmy doesn’t finish the car this weekend.” She puffed out a breath. “I’ll pay you for the stuff you bought for the bathroom, but you don’t need to finish it. I can find someone.”

She froze him out, wouldn’t even accept his help. The end of the brief affair. He’d never been in love, hadn’t known what he was missing. Now he knew all the potential, what he could have felt, what he could have had. A piece of him howled that he’d thrown it away so quickly. 149

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They were halfway down the hill when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Would it make a difference if I told you I’m not doing that anymore?” It was pathetic groveling, but he couldn’t help himself. The thought of losing her was worse. It had taken three years for his feelings to grow, less than a week for him to acknowledge them for what they were. It wasn’t in him to let go.

“No.” Unequivocal. She didn’t even turn to look at him. It hurt to breathe. The silence killed another piece of him. Then she finally gave him a crumb. “If I didn’t have Heidi, I don’t know.” She sighed. “But I do have her. And there’s no way I can let your kind of man into her life. It’s just totally wrong.”

Those were the nails in his coffin. He was not good enough. He would never be worthy.

This time the silence never broke.

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11

SHE HURT. AS IF A GAPING WOUND EXPOSED HER HEART. IF SHE didn’t have Heidi to worry about, or her mom to take care of, maybe everything would have been different. Maybe it all would have been intriguing. Except that she could never compete with all those women. She’d thought that from the beginning, but ignored it when her defenses were down and she was needy.

Cleo arrived home to find her mother still up and in the kitchen baking. Thank God Heidi, always wanting to get out of the house, was at another slumber party. Cleo didn’t think she could handle them both.

“What on earth are you doing, Ma?”

“Baking chocolate chip cookies.” She held up a beater. In house slippers, she barely came to Cleo’s shoulder. “Wanna lick?”

Cleo succumbed to the lure of cookie dough. “What I meant was why are you baking after eleven at night?” God, had Cleo forgotten some bake sale Heidi was involved in?

“They’re for Walker and his friend when they work on the bathroom tomorrow.” She winked. “A little-old-lady trick for getting the most out of a man.”

Cleo winced. She didn’t want to think about Walker or what they’d said to each other or how she’d cut him off. She didn’t want to think about him with all those other women. Was it the money or the quantity that bothered her the most?

It was driving her nuts wondering how much they paid him. She could never afford someone like Walker.

What the hell was she supposed to tell Ma? Or worse, what would she say to Heidi tomorrow when she got home from her slumber party? Certainly not that Walker was a gigolo. That he used women. Cleo winced again. He’d never used her. He’d only been good to her. She couldn’t put the two things together. She sighed. “Look, Ma, I have to tell you something.”

Her mother shook a dough-laden spoon at her. “Do not tell me you screwed this up, Cleo.” Her mom’s voice was raspy with cigarettes and annoyance. “I’m going to be really pissed at you if you’ve scared him off.”

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“Me?”

Ma went back to spooning dough onto the cookie sheet. “Since Phil, you haven’t lasted more than a few weeks with a man, not even long enough to have him meet your family.”

She never intended to bring her male friends home to meet her family. But Ma was no dummy; she knew that Cleo’s occasional late homecomings weren’t for a girl’s night out. It pricked her, though, that Ma put the blame on her, as if she’d screwed up all her relationships. She’d been protecting Heidi. The past, however, was a whole different issue, and she decided not to debate whether or not she and Walker had a relationship . “I did not screw up anything. We just agreed that it would be better to nip this thing in the bud. We’re too different.”

Ma snorted. “Are you crazy?”

Cleo grabbed a yogurt from the fridge. “No, Ma, I am not crazy. He’s just not the man we thought he was.” Pain wedged beneath her rib cage. Why did it have to be that way? Why did he have to do what he did for a living?

Why had he lied for three years? Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. It was not telling something really freaking important.

Ma slid two cookie sheets into the oven and set the timer, then glared at Cleo. “He was perfect. Smart. I’d be willing to bet he’s college educated. He had money. He treated me and Heidi with respect. He took care of getting the part for your car. And he was going to fix the bathroom.”

Cleo pressed her lips together. “So this is all about getting the bathroom done for cheap.”

“No, it is not.” Stabbing the lump of dough in the bowl with a spoon, Ma began doling out another cookie sheet’s worth. “It’s about missed opportunities. There aren’t a whole lot of men who’ll take on the responsibility of someone else’s teenage kid. They want to start fresh, build their own family. And your kid needs a dad.”

Now, that really pricked a nerve. It was Phil to a fucking T. Yet she hadn’t even told Ma why he really left. “You’re kidding, right? A couple of dates, some algebra homework, compliments on your roast beef, and now you’ve got him playing Daddy to Heidi?” Cleo considered senility.

“I’ve never been more serious. For fifteen years I’ve watched you run away from men because you found one bad apple in the barrel.”

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“I have not been running away.” She’d tried with Greg and Phil. In trying to protect Heidi, she’d taken the blame for the breakups and let Ma think she’d ended the relationships. Okay, she’d been hiding her own bad judgment, too. Her choice in men sucked.

Ma rolled her eyes just like Heidi. “I might be older than dirt, but I’m not the village idiot. You’re scared of getting hurt. I get that. But you and Heidi are all alone, and I’m not getting any younger, and when I’m gone, then what are you going to do?” She tipped her head, her white hair gleaming in the overhead light, all trace of annoyance vanished. Concern furrowed deeper lines into her face.

“Not all men are assholes, Cleo. Your dad, he was a good man. You should have a good man in your life. Heidi should, too.”

“You’ve never said this before.” Cleo wagged her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand where this is all coming from.”

“You’re stubborn. You don’t listen. What was the point of saying it?” Ma went back to her dough. “But I liked Walker a lot. He was nice to me. He made me laugh. He let me crab and he didn’t even mind. I love to crab. And he was good to Heidi, didn’t get impatient or huffy.” She heaved a great sigh. “I miss having a man around the house. All estrogen and no testosterone isn’t good for a body.”

Oh man, didn’t she know it. “Ma,” Cleo said, then had no clue what to add. She missed a man around the house, too.

“You can tell when a man’s genuine, and he was.”

Now, that was the lie. Walker wasn’t genuine at all. There was no way Ma would change her mind, though, once she’d made it up. After all, Cleo had inherited her stubborn streak from her mother. The only thing that would change her mind was the truth. Cleo just couldn’t tell her. She couldn’t answer the inevitable questions, couldn’t say she’d seen him with all those women and still let him into her life. It was better to let Ma think Cleo was the one in the wrong. Just like she’d done all the other times.

“I JUST GOT OFF THE BUS AT THE CORNER OF SAN ANTONIO ROAD and Foothill Expressway.”

Walker didn’t recognize the number on his Caller ID, but he recognized the raspy voice. “What are you doing there, Ma?” It was just short of nine o’clock on Saturday morning. She couldn’t be out shopping yet, especially not such a long way from home.

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“Waiting for you to come pick me up. Do you know how hard it is to find a pay phone these days?” she groused. “It’s like they expect seniors to figure out how to work those little itty-bitty cell phones so we don’t need pay phones anymore.”

“I can show you how to use one, Ma.”

“Don’t want to know,” she grumbled.

“Okay.” He paused. “I didn’t know you were coming, Ma.” What if he hadn’t been home? He’d given her his cell number and remembered saying he lived in Los Altos. He just never expected a visit from her.

“Well,” she harrumphed, “you shoulda known since you dumped Cleo like yesterday’s garbage.”

He closed his eyes a moment, a ripple of pain across his forehead. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

It took five. He didn’t want to keep Ma waiting. She was indeed on the corner, and he blocked the flow of traffic as she climbed into his car and settled herself with the seat belt, a plate of Saran-wrapped cookies on her lap. He pulled away from the curb. “What are the cookies for, Ma?” He didn’t know her name. She’d simply told him to call her Ma like Cleo did. She harrumphed again. “Baked ’em for you and that friend of yours. But Cleo told me last night you weren’t coming back. She said you had differences,” she mimicked Cleo. “I figured she did something to piss you off and you dumped her.”

“Cleo didn’t piss me off,” he corrected her. He liked Ma. She said it like it was, at least the facts according to Ma. A foot shorter than him, her white hair was permed and starched into tiny ringlets that didn’t effectively manage to cover the thinning spot at the back of her head. She probably couldn’t see it.