With or Without You (4 page)

Maybe I don’t want to know when Nora’s jonesing for a hot session with her Adonis-like bouncer, he of the chiselled jaw and iron pecs. Maybe I was never overly impressed by Byron’s play by play of every case he ever won. Or his bitch fests in regards to the few cases he lost. Or his weekend discussions about his tennis matches in which he analysed every single shot.

‘Seriously,’ Nora said. ‘He would just wax poetic about her. Her eyes. Her clothes. Her style.’

‘You’re kidding me.’

This actually
was
news. How had I missed it? I didn’t read all of his entries, but shouldn’t I have at least picked up a clue or two about this sort of thing? Did I live in a fantasy world, surrounded by antiques all day, able to understand items from thousands of years ago but not to see the plain truth when it was right in front of my eyes?

Nora seemed to think so.

She shot me a look and then reached for her laptop. When she opened the computer up on the coffee table, I saw that she was already online. I gave her a quizzical stare, and she shook her head at me. ‘Airport, of course,’ she explained with a sigh.

I nodded. That’s right. Nora’s online anywhere in the house. She also has a version of airport at the club, so that people can check their email or surf the internet wherever they are. With a few simple keystrokes, she’d pulled up Byron’s blog, ingeniously titled ‘Byronsblog’, and then she scrolled down the entries until she found the following:

With a fierce look in her bright blue eyes, Gwen Roberts paced before the stand. Her body language let the jurors know that she meant business. And believe me she did.

‘He fancies himself to be another John Grisham or Scott Turow,’ Nora said with a cynical smile. ‘But he’s just one more in a long line of legal hacks, huh?’

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t believe I’d missed this.

Gwen, outstanding in a form-fitting suit of pale cream, refused to back down from her fierce line of questioning.

‘See? He’s got a rep on the word “fierce.” ’ Nora knows how I feel about word repetitions. ‘Don’t look so down, Eli. You have to really read it to get that he was fantasising about her, because those sorts of descriptions are all embedded in information about court trials.’ She glanced at the screen with a scowl before flicking her computer shut with a resounding click. Then she looked at me, her gaze fully sympathetic. I could tell that she was ready to listen, but I didn’t know where to start.

Finally, I found my voice. ‘What on earth were you doing reading Byron’s blog?’ There had to be a million other blogs in Southern California alone that were more interesting than the one penned by my recent ex. Even the one by the valet attendant – which I had skimmed, myself, and which was like a verbal orgasm about the makes of the different cars he parked – would have been time better spent in my opinion.

Nora shrugged. ‘You know me. Insomnia. I read everything in the wee hours of the morning, when the club’s closed and there aren’t any cute boys to play with.’ She was being self-deprecating. As the owner of the Pink Fedora, on the outskirts of the Hollywood Hills, Nora has access to many cute boys. Her club is an ultra-hip A-list-only nightspot where people like me would have no hope of getting in if we weren’t put on the guest list. ‘Plus, I’m nosy,’ she continued. ‘I like to know what’s going on with my friends. And since you don’t have your own blog …’ She gave me a look of total incredulity, but I just shrugged. What on earth would I write about? Immersing myself in yet another phone-book-sized tome on ancient artefacts? Aside from me, and maybe four
other intellectual snobs on the planet, who would want to read about that?

There was a grunt from Nora’s bedroom, and she got up and quietly closed the violet-shellacked door to the hall. ‘Dean and I were up far too late,’ she explained. ‘Or far too early.’ She gave me a little half-smile that managed to look slightly guilty and devilish at the same time. ‘We’ll just let him sleep in before turning him loose.’ She spoke as if he were some wild animal she had taken in and fed. And then I remembered meeting Dean at the club one night and seeing him play in his band One Plus None, and I realised that description suited him. On stage, he
was
an animal – and I’d seen for myself that he was also one in bed.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ I said, gesturing to the hall, letting her know how awkward I felt for having watched her.

‘Don’t worry about it. I’d never have heard the front door bell.’

I nodded. I knew that. I’d tried that first.

‘Still,’ I said, thinking I should at least attempt an explanation, but Nora held up her hand. She didn’t need any more from me. I could tell from the look in her eyes as she stared at me, running a hand through her short electric blue-tipped hair as she did.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Her voice was kind, her jade eyes sad.

I gazed down again at my mismatched shoes, then polished off the glass of whisky. Yes, this was the good stuff. So smooth I could hardly imagine the type of hangover the amber liquid would leave behind as a memory.

‘I mean, aside from moving in with me.’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Of course you can,’ she insisted. Another grunt came from down the hall. ‘Besides, where else are you going to find all the excess men you’ll need to sleep with in order
to erase the very existence of Byron from your mind forever?’

I smiled at her. Nora always knows the right thing to say.

‘You think I’m kidding.’

‘Nora,’ I started, ‘you know me.’

‘I
do
know you. I know that you’ve been wasting yourself on an unappreciative numbskull for four years. The man wasn’t even worth a second date, Eleanor. I don’t know why it took you so long to see that. He was jealous of you, hated when you succeeded.’

I started to try to explain, to defend myself but Nora interrupted.

‘And I also know that the best way to get over heartbreak is to fuck the pain away.’

She was quoting one of her favourite songs, and I knew it. But still I was unprepared for her taking me by the hand and leading me towards the hallway door.

‘Come on, Nora,’ I told her, starting to feel nervous. ‘I can’t.’

‘You don’t have to do anything,’ she said. ‘You just have to relax. And trust me.’

As she spoke the words, she led me down the hall to her bedroom. Dean was still sprawled on the mattress, but his headset was off and he looked at us expectantly as we entered the room. His hungry look made me think that he was expecting some sort of room service, arriving right on time to bring him breakfast.

‘You remember Eleanor,’ Nora said in a perky playful voice, as if she were steering me around at a cocktail party rather than introducing me to the man I’d just watched poised over her in bed. ‘She just broke up with her steady,’ Nora continued, handing me my glass of whisky – I hadn’t even seen her bring it, or refill it – and motioning for me to drink up. ‘And she’s at a bit of a loose end.’

Dean nodded and gave me a knowing smile, as if he
could read my thoughts. I hoped he couldn’t, because at the words ‘loose end’ I’d just had an unexpectedly sexy vision, one that involved Nora’s recently discarded wine-hued stockings and my own willing wrists. Christ, where were these images coming from? Unplanned, unbidden, I saw myself starring in an X-rated movie – co-starring, actually – with my best friend and her favourite bed-mate. One of her favourites, anyway.

‘I don’t have to be at the club for a few more hours,’ Nora said, gazing at the clock on her dresser. ‘So, I thought we might all get to know each other a little better.’

This was all she needed to say. Dean moved over on the mattress, making room for me and, as if in a dream, I felt myself step forwards. ‘You thought,’ he prompted, and he gave me a look that was so utterly sexy I wanted to throw myself at him. I wondered whether he’d been sleeping while Nora and I had talked in the other room. Or had he possibly been listening? Did Nora ever talk to him about me? Did he know how long Nora and I had been best friends, and what I did for a living, and what my boyfriend was like – or did none of that really matter to him at all – the mere prospect of bedding two ladies at once enough information for him?

Because clearly, that’s what Nora was planning.

Dean looked me up and down, and I was once again aware of how hurriedly I’d thrown on my clothes, aware of the fact that my shoes didn’t match, that my hair was captured in its normal staid ponytail, that I was as plainly dressed as Nora was wildly decked out in her turquoise silk robe and multi-hued hair. But from the way Dean grinned at me, I could tell that none of this bothered him. He tilted his head from Nora to me to Nora again, as if waiting for one of us to give him the go-ahead. Nora did so willingly.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘Eleanor’s a little shy.’

Dean reached up to snag the whisky glass from my
trembling hand and took a sip. ‘So am I,’ he said, and I started laughing. He’d definitely managed to break the mood.

‘Yeah, right,’ I said, suddenly finding the nerve to take one more step closer to the bed. ‘
You’re
shy.’ The handsome man in front of me was entirely naked, hardly even bothering to hide under a sheet. Besides that, he knew for a fact that I’d watched him making love to Nora earlier in the evening, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. As far as I could tell, there was not one shy thing about him.

‘Really,’ he said, beaming at me. ‘It’s all I can do not to trip over myself when I walk up on stage.’

‘Come on,’ I protested, not believing a word.

‘I’m dead serious. My eyes are always on my feet, looking straight down. If I make a mistake and glance out there and see all the people, I feel as if I’m going to pass out. The very first time I was up on stage, I actually did – ask Nora.’

‘That’s a fact,’ she told me. ‘It was at Faux Pas. We had to pour water on him.’

I looked down at Dean, wondering if they really were telling me the truth, or if all of this was a ruse to make me feel comfortable enough to take off my clothes. Either way, the trick was working. Here I was in Nora’s dimly lit bedroom, being charmed by a man I’d watched in motion less than an hour before – and I had no desire to flee. The thought of climbing onto the bed with the two of them was making me feel more than a little bit sexy. But did that truly mean I was ready to embark on a three-way? Something I’d never done before. Something I’d hardly dared to fantasise about.

Perhaps …

My mind grasped recklessly, uselessly, for some image of art that would help me. Art always holds the answers to my dilemmas. The swirls of colour on a canvas echo my emotions. The smooth lines on a sculpture soothe my soul. But for once I came up empty. There was no
masterpiece that could let me know if I should participate in a ménage à trios. What I needed for that was a Magic 8 Ball.

‘Eleanor,’ Nora whispered, her body behind mine, gently urging me forwards. I closed my eyes, trying to figure out what I should do. I wanted to sit down on the mattress, wanted to feel Dean embrace me in his muscular arms. As soon as I’d caught sight of the two lovers through the window, I’d had the desire to be on the bed with them. And now I had the chance.

Still, it was difficult for me to believe that I was experiencing these feelings. I’d left my boyfriend mere hours before. Byron. The thought of what he’d say about this situation made me cringe. He’d ramble on about Nora’s bad influence on me. But he’d be flat-out wrong. Nora’s never pushed me to do something I haven’t wanted to, haven’t been ready for. Sure, when I’ve been single in the past, I’ve never been the type to rush headlong into sexual relationships. I leave that particular type of excitement up to Nora, who at this precise moment seemed poised to help me take the plunge.

‘I’ve seen you,’ I finally said to Dean, disbelieving. ‘You’re not shy at all.’ I owned an image of him, fingers flying over the strings, head bowed in concentration as he strummed his guitar, every woman in the crowd wishing he were playing her instead.

‘Not once we start playing,’ he agreed with a nod. ‘But before. You’ve never been backstage with me. Nora has. She can vouch – if you need her to.’ He gave me another one of his winning smiles, and I felt my heart start to race, but I understood what he was talking about.

That’s where I was right now.
Before.

‘It’s OK, Eli,’ Nora murmured, sitting so close to me. ‘Trust me. I was right about the whisky, wasn’t I?’ I looked at her, saw her grinning. ‘This is
exactly
what you need, and you know it.’ As she spoke, she started to help me out of my clothes, her hands on my cardigan sweater, pulling, tugging. She didn’t care at all that her robe had
come open, revealing her naked skin. She seemed as comfortable in her lack of clothing as Dean was. I knew that even when I was nude, I wouldn’t be the same as them. I’d want that sheet over my body. I’d want the lights down even lower.

I took a deep breath, still feeling as if this wasn’t fully happening, as if I’d fallen into an X-rated version of Alice’s rabbit hole. But I allowed myself to be undressed, to be pushed down on the bed, to be adored. Dean helped, and I thought I might swoon when I felt his fingers on my skin, as he unbuttoned my shirt and pulled aside the thin fabric, revealing my bra, my flat stomach, the waistband of my skirt. If only I’d had on a pair of bright lipstick-red panties. Or a fancy frilly demi-cup bra. As might have been expected, I was wearing one of my standard sets, simple black. First thing this weekend, I would go out and buy a rainbow of coloured lingerie. But tonight, it didn’t really matter what my bra looked like, because Dean undid the clasp and effortlessly pulled the little bit of fabric away in one easy motion, and then he moved me into the centre of the bed and went to work on the side zip of my skirt.

The sound of the zipper brought me back into myself. I leaned my head on Nora’s wondrously soft pillows and I lifted my hips, wriggling to lose the skirt from my body. Dean’s warm hands caressed my legs, and then he fitted himself between my thighs and bent forwards.

In a flash, I remembered the very first time I had sex. I chose an experienced lover, didn’t want my initiation into the adult world to be lost in high school fumblings. Nora was impressed by the fact that I wound up with my art history TA, a man who turned out to know as much about bedding co-eds as he did about ancient Egyptian artefacts. We dated for two years, and I spent that time learning all I could about lovemaking.