Reverb (31 page)

Her eyes light up and go dreamy. I like the look very much, her features soft, her eyes wide, her toughness abandoned. “I love Colonials, especially the original ones with the tall windows and those huge central fireplaces—” She cuts herself short, stops, and screams in exasperation. “You’re doing it again! God, just answer the question.”

I stop, turn back to face her, laugh.
Shit.
“What was the question again?”

She screams again, but I see the hint of a smile. “When are you going back to music?”

I stare at her. She’s serious. “Maybe never.” I don’t want to talk about this. “We don’t need the money. I’ve got enough for all of us, for this lifetime and Cam’s too. What difference does it make if I ever go back to making music?”

“I just want to be ready when you do.” She stays fixed on me.

I feel her uncertainty, her doubt, and it hurts—literally, physically, like she’s sucker punched me. I need her to believe in me, that I’ll be there when she needs me, and even when she doesn’t.
Tell her anything to quell her fear.
But I know mere words will not satisfy her.

“Wow!” Cameron wriggles off of me and runs down a path leading to a large open area with several partially destroyed Greek temples, and a labyrinth of old stone walls and building foundations. It’s past noon, the beginning of siesta, and no one’s around.

“What is this place?” Elisabeth follows Cam down the path. I follow after them.

“I don’t know. Kind of creepy, though.” Setting is park-like, takes at least five square blocks and surrounded by three and four story residential buildings. Dried grass and dirt paths meander through the ruins against the backdrop of the crowded, whitewashed city.

“Hey, he looks like you.” She points to a decapitated statue of a Greek god-type figure mounted on a massive marble pedestal.

“Thanks.” We follow Cameron and keep close while he climbs on the ruined structures. It’s hot. Sweat trickles down my neck, my ribs. Liz isn’t sweating. She doesn’t even look hot. She walks beside me, close but not touching, her white dress moving like waves on the shore of the Med.

We pause at what’s left of the entrance to a building. Only columns and part of the back wall still stand. Most of the marble floor remains, though it's pockmarked, eroding.

“Doric columns, early twelfth century. Can tell by the minimal fluting.” Elisabeth points to the design on the top of the column and smiles with her delivery.

Cameron runs around the cavernous space, then the perimeter, in and out and around the columns and disappears behind the back wall. I take off after him. So does Liz. I go right. She goes left.

Prickling panic sweeps through me the second Cam’s out of sight. Then I round the wall and see him running towards Elisabeth at the other end of the crumbling remains of a columned corridor. She picks up her son, settles him on her hip and they both look at me. I stare back at them, breathless.

She’s with him at the end of the narrow cobbled street, crowded with vendors and shoppers. Then they’re gone.
I’m chilled to my core.
Forget it.
It was just a dream.

Elisabeth is wide-eyed as I join them. She, too, seems breathless.

“Remember I told you I’m scared of everything all the time.”

“I do.”

“Well, now I’m afraid of losing you, too. I think about it all the time, just like with Cam.” She keeps her eyes on mine. “I’m sorry for the third degree earlier. I know you’ll find your way back to making music eventually, and it scares the hell of of me. I want all of you, James. Forever, as selfish as I know that is.”

Cameron wiggles down from her hip and is off again. He climbs into a dry fountain and walks inside the long, shallow leaf-filled pool, stomping and crunching. She slips her hand in mine and we pace Cameron slowly along the pool's edge.

She wants something from me. Needs something.
What is it? Does she even know?
“Elisabeth, music for me now, and forever forward is my pleasure. You and Cameron are my passion. I would not be leaving my sanctuary and risking my freedom if I were not merely a slave to my passion.”

She stops, stands in front of me, then releases my hand and holds my face with both of hers. “I love you.” She kisses me and I return it, passionate, deep, lingering, but it does not quell her doubt. I see it in her eyes when we separate. She turns away, goes back to tracking Cameron. She still seems breathless, edgy, though her cadence is graceful. Her dress flows with her motion.

“We’re going to need a fairly large house, with a guestroom for family.” Her tone is certain, but she speaks softly. “And I just want to give you a heads up that my mom won’t be too pleased we’ll be living across the country, which to her might as well be the Middle East. And you can bet she’s not going to be all that thrilled that I’m living with a man I’m not married to, either.”

Okay
. So that’s what she’s been getting at.
I have to laugh. She turns around and scowls at me.
Wow. She’s really mad.
A simple solution presents itself. “So, do you think if we got married that would quell your parents, and galvanize my commitment to you?”

Cameron does a head long chasing a lizard, but gets up undaunted and continues the chase. I watch him over her shoulder, feel her staring at me. Look at her and spread my arms as if to say “Well?” I can’t help smiling at the look on her face. Classic stunned.

She moves to me, locks her arms around my neck and whisper in my ear. “Yes!”

I wrap my arms around her. Pick her up, hold her to me, body to body, twirl her around and suck in her sweet, carnal scent. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Louder and louder until she’s practically yelling.

Then she grips my face and her lips on mine, our tongues intertwine and I get lost in her in that instant. I never want to let go. Then Cam’s between us, trying to squish in. I pick him up, grab her face and snatch a quick kiss, then sling Cameron onto my shoulders. She smiles at me, winks. I laugh, then slide my hand back in hers and we walk out of the ruins, back into the bustling, noisy city—a stark contrast to my quiet contentment. The sun penetrates into my muscles. Cameron’s weight massages my shoulders as we walk. Her hand is soft, our finger’s laced. Feel her excitement pulse into me and fuel mine.

“If we get a Colonial, let’s find one built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, before they got so ornate, one that isn’t perfect, you know, so we can fix it up and make it our own. And it’s only right that we give Cam some sibs.” She slips it in but with conviction.

I smile. “How many?”

“Just one, or two.” She smiles. “I want to reproduce your genetics.”

‘I want to reproduce your genetics,’
Parker says to me while I’m spread and bound naked on the padded floor. I’m vaguely astonished she even knows words like reproduce and genetics.  “Royal-blooded baby be worth a pretty penny.” She smiles her crooked brown-toothed grin as she mounts me.

Holy Christ,
no!
But I can’t stop her. She’ll torture me until I give it up, let her take me.

My inner thighs twitch with the memory of the electrodes, my stomach cramps, goes hard. Everything spins. Think I may be sick. Stop walking, let go of Elisabeth’s hand, take Cameron off my shoulders and hand him to her. He instantly starts whining.

“No. Soders, ‘Ames. Soders.”

“What is it?” She takes Cam to her hip and they stare at me, concerned.

I shake my head but can’t say anything, swallow hard and turn away. I don’t want to frighten Cameron. I comb my hands through my hair, pull it from my eyes and try to focus on the warmth of the sun, the sounds of the city, anything to force the images from my head and the bile back down my throat.

“Talk to me. Please!”

Turn back to them. Her expression is horrified.

“God, James. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not you.” Look away again, swallow back my rage. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” Take several deep breaths in a row then turn back to her and Cameron. “I’m sorry, Liz.” I take another breath and exhale slowly. “Look, what happened to me isn’t just going to go away. It gnaws at me constantly, what they did to me...my response. You ought to think about that before you agree to spend your life with me, 'Lisbeth.”

“Whatever was done to you was beyond your control. You didn’t do anything wrong, James.”

“I committed murder. That doesn’t bother you?” I stay fixed on her, looking for any change in her demeanor. She stares at me, casually, shakes her head and turns away, resumes walking again.

“It was self-defense. It wasn’t murder. Imminent danger falls under self-defense.” She pauses to let Cameron down. He runs back into the park we still pace to explore an ancient temple where the front façade and the columns still stand, but all else has crumbled to dust. I look at her. She stares after her son.

“When I look at him I see his potential,” she says, staying fixed on Cameron. “When I look at us, I see ours. I wouldn’t if I didn’t see you, James.” She finally looks at me. “And I don’t see a murderer. I don’t see a man with a wanton disregard for others.”

Her belief in me is unwavering and untenable. “Look closer. I’ve been a coward, afraid to let anyone in. Careless. Cruel.” Have to tell her. She has to know. Her decision to be with me should be made with knowledge. “You’re right to be afraid of me, of losing me. I’m afraid of me—of losing me to who I used to be.”

She stares at me. “You mean a solipsistic, self-serving son of a bitch?”

I crack up laughing. She doesn’t. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

No smile. No humor. She meant it. And it suddenly cuts.

She turns away and walks back into the park after Cameron who’s running around a column like a dog after his tail. She stops at the crumbling marble steps of the temple and watches him. I stand beside her.

“I love you, James.” She whispers, slides her hand in mine. “Promise me, Cameron and I will always be your
first
priority, and everything else we can deal with together.” She squeezes my hand till it hurts, then lifts it to her lips and kisses my fingers laced in hers.

I look at her, fix on her, hoping she’ll hear me, feel me. “I promise.” Not sure she believes me, but I’m damn sure she doesn’t have a clue how out there things may get if my past comes back to haunt me.

Chapter Two

I first notice them on Iftseou Street, a narrow cobbled alley packed with vendors and shoppers at the expensive end of the flea market. There are four of them, men in their late thirties, early forties maybe, properly dressed in Dockers with Izod type shirts. Though a lot of other people are similarly dressed, most are older tourists traveling in groups, young students, or parents with kids.

Elisabeth goes into a ceramic gallery to look at some Raku-fired bowls. I take Cam a few doors down to a bakery to get a sweet treat, an easy distraction from the ceramic shop with all the delicate pieces on display. I catch all four of them looking at me in the reflection of the bakery windows as we enter. Take Cam off my shoulders and turn back to look at them but they’re gone. It takes him several minutes to choose a moon-shaped shortbread cookie. Get one, too, we go back outside, and Cam sits in my lap at the small wooden table. We share the bottle of fresh milk, cream still floating on top.

“Did you get me anything?” Elisabeth stands behind the only vacant chair.

“Whatever you desire, my lady?” I arch my eyebrows, give her a teasing grin.

“How about if we just share.” She sits down next to us.

“No! Mine!” Cameron hordes his cookie and grabs the milk too, spilling it everywhere, all over himself and his mama. I stand, pull Cameron up with me. Elisabeth gets up too, brushing the milk from her dress, then helps me clean up the mess. We toss the wet napkins and the milk-soaked cookies, and we’re on our way again.

I notice the four men again at the end of Normanou Street. They’re gathered in front of a small corner furniture shop, seemingly talking amongst themselves, but I get the impression they’re watching us.

“Here.” I take Cameron off my shoulders. “Take Cam for a while, would you?”

“Sure.” She takes her son, who isn’t pleased to be off of his perch again.

“No! NO! NO! Soders. I want soders.” Louder and louder. Over and over.

“Stop it, Cameron.” Elisabeth gives me her exasperated mother look.

“Here. Give him back to me.”

“James Michael Whren?” Someone says over Cam’s screaming.

I see the alligator on his shirt then look at the face of the man in front of me. Tight-lipped, pinched chin, blank gray eyes. The other three have surrounded us.

Fuck.
Run.
Slam him and run
.

Elisabeth stares at me, wide-eyed. Cameron still wriggles, but has quieted, distracted by the men. One of them stands behind her and Cameron, at arm’s length. I’m not going anywhere.

“Are you James Michael Whren?”

“No. James Pierce.”
Be calm. Stop shaking
. My heart’s coming through my chest. I take my passport out and hold it open for the alligator man to see. “Sorry. You must have me mistaken for someone else.” Look him straight in the eye as I speak. The man’s glare is unwavering. He doesn’t even glance at my passport.