Sacred Revelations (36 page)

“And your point, Jackie?”

“My point is, Garrett, that you can take the boy out of the dungeon, but you can’t take the dungeon out of the boy. You can buy the house and go to work every morning, but somewhere around lunchtime after your third month without any real game time and you are going to get flashback fever so bad, you’ll be stopping at the lumber yard on the way home from work to build a St. Andrew’s Cross in your basement while the little woman is upstairs cooking dinner. Tell me, do you have a little woman picked out yet? Oh, don’t worry, there’s a country club up ahead, we’ll just pick one…one’s the same as the other.”

I didn’t think she’d do it, but she does, pulling into the Country Club parking lot, rolling down her window and addressing women as she drives by. “This is my friend, Garrett Lawrence. I know he don’t look like much right now, but he cleans up real good, has a wad of cash that would make your daddy’s eyes go big, and he’s looking for a little woman to share the suburban dream with.”

“Jackie, that’s enough!” I hide behind my hand.

“Oh, oh, there’s a good one, blonde, like the one you left standing at the altar for Tony.” She hits the accelerator hard, speeding up to cross the parking lot at an unsafe speed. Thankfully, the blonde has already ducked into her Audi and is pulling out of her parking space by the time Jackie skids to a halt.

“I didn’t leave anyone at the altar. I wish everyone would stop saying that! We broke up! And I’m not looking for anyone. I happen to love Celia. Did she neglect to tell you that part? That I asked her to marry me?”

“And make babies with you in suburbia?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t share the dream? My God, Kitten just found herself, do you really think she’s going to want to put the mask back on so soon?”

“I’m not asking her to put a mask on. She could live this life with me.”

Jackie snorts. “Oh, I’m sure she could, but would you ask her to, keeping in mind that this is the same girl who disappeared from what the world considers normal, ended up in San Francisco, became the celebrated sub of the most notorious Dom our side of the Mississippi, increased her notoriety by being The Little Lost Kitten, and in doing so, became brave enough to ask you to share her with your best friend? Will you ask her to stop being herself just so you can be who you think you want to be?”

“We could make this work and she could still be who she is!” I pound my thigh in frustration, watching the mommies we just drove by push their baby carriages past the van. I imagine Celia pushing a carriage, me at her side. We could fit in again. We could!

“So there’s no problem with her crawling through the neighborhood IGA in her bright red latex g-string and corset set, pushing the little handheld grocery basket with her nose here inCincinnati ? Because that, Garrett Lawrence, is who Celia became when you weren’t paying attention—Kitten. And Kitten is a walking, crawling, teasing, undulating photo opportunity at every turn and she likes it that way.”

I don’t follow Jackie into the hotel, opting instead to walk over to the outdoor pool patio. The pool has been winterized, covered with a dark, rubber pool cover, the kind that can supposedly support the weight of an elephant. Not much of a view really, but the only view that came with a nearby seat.

I’m still not seeing what the big deal is. I think that Celia and I could do the suburbs. It would be quiet, relaxing, and admittedly, if we needed a night out to play, we could get a sitter and go out and play. But in my rush to ask her to marry me, I did leave that part out…the part that I didn’t want to give up the lifestyle entirely, just change our lifestyle to be more socially acceptable, so that we don’t lose our children to Social Services.

Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I text her. Come out to the pool so we can talk.

What seems like an eternity later, Kitten comes outside to find me sitting in a bright pink plastic chair poolside. She is not only dressed for the weather but also the duration of waiting me out. Sweater, leather coat, and wrapped in the hotel’s thick bedspread. I think she went overboard with the layers. The rain, ice and snow from the earlier hours left a bright sunny afternoon in their wake, the air cool and crisp but not frigid.

“Are you freezing?” she asks.

“No. It’s not too bad.” I pat the seat of a matching pink chair. “I didn’t feel like being part of a crowd.”

She nods and sighs, sitting beside me. “We actually have a private room tonight. Jackie and George caught a taxi to the airport. Thomas said that he would see us in the morning.”

“Really?”

“We are officially alone.”

“Thomas didn’t say where he was going?”

“No, I thought he’d tell you. Didn’t you see him out here?”

“No, but then that’s not surprising. Did you want to go with him?” I regret the question, because it comes out sounding bitter and jealous though I didn’t mean for it to. By the look on her face, I know I hurt her.

“I wasn’t invited, but then I was actually looking forward to some alone time with you. Is that so hard to believe?”

It’s obvious by her red eyes and the shredded Kleenex squeezed in her fist that she’s been crying. I suddenly remember the reason we are here in the first place. I reach out my hand, knowing she needs to talk about her father, about his death, not knowing how to get the conversation started. Knowing also that we need to talk about us…the mess we left inSan Francisco , the bigger mess I made at my mother’s. Although, I don’t know how to begin any of the topics started. “I’m sorry. I know you’re aching terribly, the funeral was nice though, lots of supportive friends…”

“You think I’ve been crying all night over my father? Are you insane! I hated him! I’ve been crying all evening because I’ve ruined things between us.”

“Nothing is ruined,” I say, knowing even as I say it that it was the wrong thing to say. Her snort confirms it. “I want to marry you, Celia.”

Leaning forward, she looks into my eyes and caresses my jaw. “I would do anything for you, except put the mask back on and pretend that I am anything other than I am.”

This time I stay quiet, just looking into her eyes.

“I am Kitten…originally of your making, but now…so much more than that. Do you understand that I can never go back to being anything less than who I now am?”

George psychoanalyzed her… great. How else can I explain this change in Kitten? I take her hands in mine, shredded Kleenex as well, holding her hands and feeling their tremble.

“I was hiding, but I don’t want to hide any more. I’ve never felt before what you made me feel…loved, cherished, deserving. You terrified me with pleasure. Then, with Lord Fyre, I felt something more. I felt powerful and confident. It sounds ridiculous, but every time I survived what he threw at me, I felt stronger.” Tilting her head, she silently asks me to understand. Her eyes beg me to tell her that I do. I remain silent, not to be mean, but to make certain that the answer I give her isn’t more than she wants. “I guess the thing is, I’ve seen you two tag-team a dozen clients and it’s magical, and then when Thomas held me and you flogged me, I felt a part of that magic. I knew in that moment I could never settle for less than having the both of you. And yes, to answer your fucking insecurities, Lord Fyre really does it for me

as a Dom. He brings my darkness like you never could because he thinks like I do, but honestly, if he is able to channel my darkness, it is you who channels my lightness. I need you both to be complete. I want you both.”

She lifts my hand to kiss the top of it. “Please understand, I have no relationship experience to compare to. I’ve never been anyone’s property. I’ve never been loved…I’m completely winging it—all of it, especially the love part. I haven’t felt love since my mother died.” She sighs heavily, a tear sliding over her cheek, and she shreds the useless Kleenex into fibers that fall to the snow-covered concrete. Staring into the dark, her look far away and haunted, she says, “I hate my father, his voice is still the one in my head condemning me. I spent so many years trying to please him, taking over where my mother left off, cooking, cleaning, setting appointments, and then, as I got older, holding, counseling, consoling right along side of him, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t a man. My prayers would never be strong enough to reach heaven.”

I lift her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “How old were you when your mother died?”

“Eight, and she didn’t just die, she killed herself. I found her hanging in the bell tower,” she answers, not pausing, not giving me a chance to sympathize or ask more questions. I am stunned by this new revelation. God, this woman has been through so much.

“I’m tired, Garrett. I’m so tired. That’s why I appreciate the life I’ve embraced inSan Francisco . I don’t have to think too hard, I don’t have to make decisions, I don’t have to plan my day or anyone else’s. I can just be Kitten and right now…I am not ready to be a wife or mother. I just want to be the pampered pet known as Kitten.”

I laugh and it sounds cold and sarcastic. “Who does Kitten belong to?”

She stands abruptly and I feel her frustration, maybe even anger, rolling off her in waves, although I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to make her angry. The growl that comes from her voice is almost inhuman it is so raw, so filled with emotion, “You figure it out.” I’m not surprised when she storms away.

I am surprised that I don’t follow after her.

“God, you are a stubborn man! I give up a warm bed with my two favorite people in the world so that they can be alone together and you insist on staying out here to catch your death!”

I crack open one eye. “I thought you left for the night.”

“That was the plan until you went stupid.”

I look at Thomas. He is dressed for a night out and looks damn fine. He towers over me, casting a shadow over me where the security lights hit his back.

“Sorry if I ruined your plans. Celia shouldn’t have called you.”

“She didn’t, Jackie did.” He slides into the pink chair Kitten occupied earlier. “While you’ve been out here pouting, Kitten caught a cab to the airport. She’s on her way back toSan Francisco .”

I stare at the flat surface of the pool covering, saying suddenly, “I’m starved,” but thinking, I really need a drink.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Thomas? That I’m fucking this up royally?”

“That would be a good start, followed by why you thought it would be okay to drop a bomb on Celia like the one when you said you want her to have your baby…and live in the suburbs…and give up our lifestyle.”

“I didn’t say it exactly like that.”

“But that’s what you meant.”

I stand, looking down on him. “I don’t know what I meant. When I come back toOhio , I feel like I’m losing my mind, all the old wants come back.”

“But when you left it was because you didn’t want those things.”

“I know. I know.” I turn, pacing away from him.

“So what are you going to say to Celia?”

I stop pacing poolside, contemplating walking across the pool, suddenly wanting to test the theory that the cover will support the weight of an elephant. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out, because it looks like she didn’t get on that plane after all.”

I turn around to see Celia walking across the parking lot. She doesn’t look any happier now than when she left the first time. As she gets closer, I know she isn’t any happier. I stand to meet the force of her head on because it is obvious she is a wave of fury. It also dawns on me that I’ve never seen her mad.

God, she’s beautiful. Her pale skin glows with her fury, fiery flames under brilliant ice.

“How dare you!” she growls. “How fucking dare you!”

Thomas watches the show from the pink pool chair. I back up two paces. Celia steps forward three.

“Just who in the hell do you think you are? Asking me to marry you? Asking me to make babies with you? After promising that we,” she takes a moment to wave her hands, indicating the three of us, “could be a threesome. Babies? My God, do you get the lifestyle we live in? So your son or daughter comes home from school and asks where mommy is and you say, ‘She’s locked in the cat cage, darling.’ Or maybe you have an excellent plan to explain why mommy spends every other weekend at Uncle Thomas’s house?”

“Hey, whoa, only every other weekend? How is that fair?” Thomas demands from the side.

She turns on him. “You be serious. He asked me to marry him and make babies with him!”

Thomas stands, astounded. “You’re considering it?”

I step in front of Thomas. “You’re considering it?”

She looks at us, not answering, then turns to walk back to the hotel. She doesn’t make it far, only eight

steps before she turns around and comes back, stopping directly in front of me. “Are you insane? I love you, I want you, I need you! I do not want to make babies and be a responsible adult.”

She spits the sentences like curses and I start to say something but she pushes her hand against my mouth. “Shut up. You’ve said enough for one day. You are not to say another word until we get back toSan Francisco . And you,” she commands, poking Thomas’s chest. “I love you! I want you! I need you! And because you love me, want me, and need me back, you are going to make sure he remains silent until we are home and he is thinking clearly again.”

“…all my love and life shall be devoted to you, and with my last breath I will breathe your name to god…”

-Charles Dickens, Dombey and Son

Kitten

I knew I could count on Thomas. I never expected him to carry Garrett onto the private jet already gagged and bound. With an easy toss, Garrett was in a seat and buckled in.

“To your satisfaction, Sophia?”

I look Garrett over, trussed, electrical tape, leather gag. He slouches in the hold of wide safety-buckles and expensive upholstery, but he isn’t going anywhere. Behind the gag, I think he’s actually pouting.

“He’ll do. Thank you.”

“Ready to go home, then?” Thomas stands, leaning against one of the other tall-backed seats.

We are alone, no flight attendants in sight, the pilot behind a closed door. It is a mid-size jet, more than capable of taking us anywhere in the world we want to go, and in answer to Thomas’s question, I sigh.