Heights of Desire (18 page)

“I wish you could too.”

Chapter 22

S
arah and I take the kids to a local diner and attempt to eat away last night’s alcohol binge. We each down a plate of eggs benedict with greasy hash-browns and orange juice.

The girls get chocolate chip pancakes and douse them in syrup and whipped cream. Joshua eats the Lumberjack Special and drinks two glasses of chocolate milk in addition to finishing the remainder of everyone else’s dishes. Pearl is thrilled, telling me ‘I told you so’s about how much teenage boys can eat. She’s an expert.

“Did you even hear Robert come in last night?” Sarah asks.

“No, I was completely out.”

“Did you see him this morning?”

“Yeah, barely. He kissed me goodbye and said we were ‘
regressing nicely’
.” I smile at Sarah over our food.

“Hah,” Sarah scoffs. “He hasn’t seen anything yet. Wait till we get some guys up in here!” Sarah says pop-locking her chest in and out like the “Push It” video from Salt-n-Pepa.

“God, Mom! Stop!” Joshua says throwing a French fry at her and landing it squarely between her eyes.

Sarah picks it up and eats it in one bite.

“Too bad we had kids Great, they ruin everything,” she says looking straight at Joshua and chewing aggressively.

“Mom, face it, you’re a has-been. Look at your moves. It’s not 1992!
Yo MTV Raps
isn’t on anymore.
Friends
is over,” Joshua taunts.

“Joshy, watch out. I gave birth to you. Besides,
Friends
isn’t even my generation, for your information. Smart aleck!” Sarah pop-locks her chest again pumping her fists this time and Pearl and Ada giggle, loving the exchange.

“Great, pretty soon Pearl and Ada will be cooler than you too. Trust me, it sucks.” She playfully kicks Joshua under the table and he throws another fry at her. Sarah ducks and it hits the diner in the next booth, causing all five of us to lose it laughing.

We push the couches aside in the living room and Sarah plugs in her iPod and starts playing songs from our college days. She promises to show Joshua her moves but he opts out, unable to take any more of her antics, and goes downstairs to the den to watch a movie. Neither of us has showered and we’re both wearing sweats. Ada is upstairs napping and Pearl has put on her tiger costume from last year’s Halloween. She’s shaking her hips as she simultaneously twirls the long cotton stuffed tail around. Sarah made us Bloody Marys insisting they would cure our hangovers, but all I can manage is to eat the pickles and olives out of mine.

“Mom, can we do the washing machine dance, like in the
Selena
movie?” Pearl asks.

I stop the iPod and tune the radio to 93.1 Amor to see if maybe we can catch some Cumbia. We make it through some mandatory Juanes songs and some overly sentimental Maná with Sarah protesting the entire time. After an inordinate amount of fast-talking commercials Celia Cruz’s
La vida es un carnaval
comes on and Pearl screams. She knows this one. Sarah groans and gulps her Bloody Mary.

Pearl and I dance some Cumbia and she works it just like I taught her, swiveling her hips and keeping to the beat. We take it low and Pearl puts her hands on the ground to keep from falling over. She reaches the bottom and rolls under the coffee table laughing. I finish the song solo, doing some quick salsa turns to show off. Sarah starts tossing the throw pillows at me.

Sarah sits up abruptly and clears her throat. I look up at her. She’s got a strange look on her face and she’s staring over my shoulder. She clears her throat again and raises one eyebrow. I’m scared to turn around. Sarah juts her chin forward, encouraging me. I can’t make myself turn around. My body knows who it is. I have a sixth sense for him.

“What, you don’t lock? And you, you don’t knock?” She says, directing the first part at me and the latter at Jaylee.

“He knows the code,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering.

I turn around on a long exhale and take him in. He’s wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up. His expression is mischievous, testing. He’s got on his usual low-slung jeans and clean sneakers but now there’s a visible ankle monitor that’s too large to be hidden by his pant leg.

He takes me in first, head to toe and then back up again. I’m in my old gray sweats and white V-neck t-shirt, no makeup, sweaty, and hung over as hell. I reach up to try and fix my messy ponytail. Jaylee drinks me in as if I were dressed to kill, as if every inch of me were desirable. I feel beautiful and powerful under his gaze and I’m completely drunk on the connection between us.

A smile starts to spark behind his eyes and then engulfs his entire face. It’s a million dollar smile, one that could break a million hearts. But it belongs to me and I helplessly and hopelessly belong to him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I whisper back, my voice caught in my throat.

I smile at him, a grin so wide that it hurts my face. We pass a few moments like that, standing still, overcome by one another’s presence.

Pearl breaks it. She’s upset that he’s here. She runs past him and up the stairs retreating to her room. I don’t blame her at all. What’s she supposed to think? I move to go after her and Jaylee puts his hand out.

“I got it. It’s my fault. I’ll go. Robert isn’t . . .?”

I shake my head no. I’m surprised he wants to go. I’m not sure how to answer. “Only if it’s okay with Pearl.”

Jaylee nods. His expression tells me that he understands my hesitation and he follows her up the stairs.

“What the hell? That’s big. He’s only twenty-two, right?” Sarah says.

I nod.

“Twenty- three!” Jaylee says already having stepped out of our line of sight.

“Does he always just let himself in like that? Doesn’t he tell you when he’s coming? What if Robert
were
here?”

“I threw my phone away, and he doesn’t have my new number. Are you mad, Sarah?” I’m afraid that she’s disappointed in me, in Jaylee. He looks too young in a hoodie. I feel like I desperately need her approval.

“No, Great, I’m not mad. Just worried. That was intense. Just give me a second to recover. You sure it’s okay he goes after Pearl?”

I nod my head. I walk over to the stereo and turn down the music.

“What are you going to do? What about therapy?” Sarah asks me.

“What happened to ‘just go for it, and you only get one chance’, Sarah?”

“I don’t know. It all seems too real now. He’s real. And Great, he’s obviously in love with you.”

Heat pours out from my core into my limbs when she says it.

“I’m going to go upstairs and check on Pearl,” I say.

“I’m going to stay right here.”

“Promise me you’re not mad.”

“I’m not mad, you whore, just jealous.” Sarah smiles teasingly at me and I can tell that I have her back on my side.

In Pearl’s room Jaylee is giving my baby tiger a bear hug.

“Okay?” he says.

“Okay,” Pearl nods.

He puts her down and then winks at me and leaves us alone.

“You okay, Perla?”

“Yeah, he’s not supposed to be here.” She looks conflicted and rushes into my arms.

“It’s okay, baby. What did Jaylee say?” I ask her. It’s not that I don’t trust him but I want to protect her feelings.

“He said not to worry about you and Dad getting a divorce. He said he talked to Dad at the hospital. He just came to say goodbye because he loves us and he has to go to jail,”

I cradle her in my arms and pet her hair. Pearl cries into my shoulder.

“I don’t want him to go to jail.”

“I know, sweetie, me neither.”

“Is he going forever? Mom, I love Jaylee. Don’t tell Dad I said that.”

“Oh, Jesus, Pearl. Don’t feel bad. Jaylee’s an easy person to love. It’s okay that you do.”

“Are you gonna say goodbye to him?”

I nod my head ‘yes’ and bring my hand to my mouth to try to quell the tears.

“Is Aunt Sarah gonna watch us?”

“Yeah.” I hug Pearl and get only halfway down the stairs before I hear Sarah giggling.

I watch over the banister as Jaylee lifts up his foot with the ankle monitor onto the coffee table explaining something to her. He mimics kicking with that leg and Sarah’s laugh is full-on this time. He continues gesticulating, reaching out with ease and touching Sarah’s forearm. She tips her head back with laughter at whatever he’s said.

I grin ear-to-ear, not only at Jaylee’s magical charm but also with great relief that it works on my scrupulous best friend.

“He’s cute
and
funny,” Sarah says as I approach them.

Jaylee reaches out and clasps my hand.

“I couldn’t fucking stay away,” he says, sounding apologetic.

“Apparently not,” Sarah offers.

The familiar buzz resurfaces in my body with his touch. He means for it to be casual but the effect is staggering on the both of us. He pulls me closer. We can’t feign levity. He maneuvers me in front of his body, his arms quickly encircle my waist. My hands fly up to his biceps and I press my back against him to decrease the space between us. He kisses my hair and my ear then nuzzles his face into my neck.

“Okay, get out!” Sarah shouts, uncomfortable with our clinging, the heavy air between us.

“Amiga!” Jaylee says as he reaches out to shake Sarah’s hand. Their hands clap first, their thumbs cross and he offers her a power punch. Sarah doesn’t miss a beat. She hangs with professional surfers.

“I’ll only be an hour or so,” I say apologetically.

“Stay away forever! I’m gonna drink more Bloody Marys and eat chips with dip. Dip, Great, by the spoonful.”

“Sarah’s on a debauchery mission. She doesn’t get away from the kids too often,” I explain to Jaylee. “I think she’s trying to compete with my record, now that I have one, even though she’d never admit it.”

“Good luck, Sarah,” Jaylee says. “I don’t know if you heard, but Kate’s straight up gangsta now.”

“Speaking of that, Jaylee, would you happen to know where I could –”

“Oh my God, Sarah!” I say cutting her off. “He’s out on bail. Give it a rest!” I pull Jaylee toward the door and he looks back and forth between the two of us, amused with our banter. He shrugs his shoulders and gestures to me pulling him.

“Bye, Sarah!” he says and then throws her his two fingered salute.

Chapter 23

J
aylee knows
everyone
: every person on the street, those hanging outside of the deli, everyone inside the deli, from the Jordanian owners to the Mexicans working behind the counter. He greets the señoras with cordial kisses on the cheek and to his peers, an intricate handshake, a flashed hand sign, or even a whistle.

I, on the other hand, am an outsider. We’re in my neighborhood and while I recognize a few faces, I am the other. Jaylee guides me with a hand held tightly to my hip. When he stops to talk to people he introduces me as
mi mujer
. I like the way it sounds, I love the way it makes me feel. I love it so much I want to hear him say it again and again.

When he speaks to me it’s in low, intimate tones that reflect something new in the way he feels about me. It’s loyalty and confidence. We are no longer a mismatched pair trying to fit together. We’re partners and quite literally accomplices. I put my life on the line for him. He knows it well and it conveys a message beyond desire and perhaps, beyond love. We’re bound to one another.

I interlace my fingers with his and he pulls me along as we approach a group of young men on the corner. They’re his friends and they ask him about the bust, the ankle cuff, the pending trial. Jaylee updates them in rapid fire Spanish, the kind that’s so thickly accented and full of colloquialisms that I struggle to follow. They ask him how he managed bail and he replies
mi mujer
, tightening his grip on my hip and pulling me closer to his body. The words melt me. I let them go to my heart and my head. I let them intoxicate me completely.

We walk uptown and my stomach sinks when I realize where he thinks he’s taking me.

“I don’t want to go to your house. Your mother hates me.”

“My building? The basement?”

“I don’t want to hide.”

“Hotel, there’s some on 145th Street?”

“Too disgusting. I can’t.”

“We could just walk.”

I have an idea – one that would horrify my family but seems like the only option at the moment. I know that the time we have is limited and precious. Each encounter could possibly be the last.

“We can go to my parents place. They’re in Aruba.”

“Shit. Okay.”

My parents vacation a lot, although my dad, at sixty-seven has yet to retire. A few years ago they sold my childhood home, a townhouse on the Upper East Side, and moved into a luxury condo that’s supposedly easier for them to maintain. They’ve stayed in the same neighborhood but their new place is right on the park. It’s big, it’s opulent, it’s over the top. It makes my beautifully renovated brownstone look quaint. They’d both die if they knew I was bringing Jaylee there, but right now, I could give a fuck. I have the code. I know the doorman.

I hail a cab and give the driver the address. It occurs to me on the ride over that the doorman or the concierge or the stupid neighbors will probably report back to my parents that I showed up while they were away with a brown-skinned young man wearing an ankle monitor. That’s something they’ll just have to get over. I swipe my card in the taxi and lead Jaylee into the building. It’s ultra-modern in a mostly pre-war neighborhood, so the building itself stands out. It has a looming glass front, a marble waterfall wall in the lobby, and a gigantic, one of a kind, colorful blown-glass chandelier that hangs so low it seems like you easily could reach up and touch it. The doorman tips his hat to us and I pull Jaylee closer. The concierge looks up from his desk as we approach and confusion flickers on his face.

“Evening, Mrs. Champion, Sir,” he nods at Jaylee. “I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Whittland aren’t in.”

“I’m not here to see them, Claude. I told my mother I’d check in. Water the plants while they’re in Aruba.”

“Certainly, Ma’am,” Claude says retrieving the key to the penthouse. He follows us to the elevator and unlocks the penthouse floor.

“I presume you know the code?”

“I do, thanks.”

I punch the code in the keypad and the doors close, leaving us alone. I pull Jaylee into my arms hungrily. I can’t help but think that they might see this – the intimacy between us captured on the security cameras. I let it go. Their opinion doesn’t really matter to me anymore.

“You’re not close with them, are you?” Jaylee asks.

“Nope.”

“You seem tense. You sure it’s okay we’re here?”

I shrug my shoulders and the elevator doors open into the foyer of my parent’s apartment. The living room space is visible from the entrance and boasts floor to ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the park with the skyline as backdrop.

“Holy shit!” Jaylee breathes. “Your parents are ballers.”

“Yeah. Private equity. He does it for the love of it.” I say sarcastically, leaning down to pull off my Converse tennis shoes. “Make yourself comfortable, food, whatever. The bathroom’s the second door on the left. Stereo is on the wall. I’m just going to take a quick shower.”

“I didn’t come find you just to get laid, Kay.”

He looks slightly hurt, as if I’m insulting him with my shower. He’s never called me Kay before.

“I just want to get clean. I feel like shit.”

“Do I make you feel dirty?” He says, a slow smile lighting in his eyes.

“Sometimes.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” He says walking toward me. His face is falling into that dangerous territory that I don’t know how to read. The expression that unnerves me. The one where I can’t tell if he wants to seduce me or kill me. Or maybe both. I long to be entirely open with him, to hold nothing back. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point.

“Jaylee, when you look at me like that I wonder if you’re thinking about fucking me or hurting me,” I say rapidly on an exhale.

I blush at the sound of my own voice disclosing my melodramatic fears. He seems unfazed by the question, which isn’t very reassuring. He reaches me and places his hands on my shoulders and leans into my neck. His breath is in my ear and gooseflesh appears all over me, my nipples harden.

“Fuck you, Kate. Always fuck you,” he murmurs. “Can I shower with you?”

His strong chest presses into mine and he lifts me up to straddle his waist, his hands coming to support me under my ass. I can feel his hardness pressing into my center and my muscles clench with wanting him.

“Okay,” I say and lay my head on his shoulder with my arms draped around his neck. I direct him to the master bath, which has floor to ceiling glass windows that match the living space. These ones are made of liquid crystal that changes from transparent to opaque with the flick of a switch. There’s both a gigantic crushed-stone bathtub and a separate walk-in shower, also encased in glass. The lights turn on automatically when we enter.

“Damn,” Jaylee says setting me down on the marble sink vanity.

“I know,” I reply. “It’s excessive.”

“I guess my place isn’t like what you’re used to, huh?”

“Let’s not talk about that,” I say.

“Okay. But even if we don’t say shit, it’s still pretty obvious. It’s not a good trade for you. I’ve got nothing to offer you. No wonder you didn’t ever want to leave.”

“I don’t care about any of this.” I say. I pull him to me and gaze into his golden-hued eyes. I don’t want to trivialize his own poverty but I want him to know that money and possessions mean very little to me. He’s all that I need. I yank my sweatshirt and t-shirt up over my head and toss them to the floor beside us.

“I meant what I told you, Kate. I didn’t come just to get laid. If you feel like shit, let’s just be together. We might not get to again.”

I place my hands on both sides of his face and pull his mouth to mine. He tongues me deeply and sweetly and sadly. I didn’t mean for my parent’s house to drown us both in melancholy. I undo his belt buckle and his pants drop to the floor. He leans forward to pull them off over the ankle monitor. His face looks distracted, forlorn.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That this is the kind of bathroom you deserve to be fucked in.”

“Jaylee, I love you.”

It comes out organically, unplanned and effortless. His eyes quickly reach mine and his lips part in surprise. He remains silent, his eyes searching mine, his brow slightly furrowed. I’m so entirely certain that he loves me too that I don’t need to hear him say it. Even on the chance that he doesn’t, I love him so wholly and fully that it’s superfluous. My love alone is complete. I reach out and gently make contact with his hip. I run my thumb softly over the sterile strips that still cover his gunshot wound. I bend over and bring my mouth to his hip and lightly feather-kiss the spot. Jaylee pulls me back up and cups my face in his hands.

“Nobody’s ever taken care of me, Kate. Nobody ever put me first, like you do.” He looks tormented and he grips the back of my neck and presses his forehead into mine. “I don’t know how to return what you do to me. I want to fucking brand you with myself. I can’t be away from you. I’ll lose my fucking mind if I can’t have you.”

“You have me, Jaylee. I’m yours.” I pull him to my chest and his body quakes with emotion against me.

“Not on the inside, I won’t. I won’t be able to touch you, to hear you. You’ the very best thing that could have ever happened to me. And now I’ll never know.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen with the trial,” I say, not believing it myself.

“Yeah we do. That’s why we’ here right – to say goodbye?”

“Kate!” I hear Robert’s voice boom throughout the otherwise silent apartment.

“Shit!” I say grabbing my t-shirt and tugging it back over my head. I hop down off of the sink. Jaylee’s already moved to the door.

“Stay here!” I say pushing him out of the way. I slam the bathroom door closed behind me. Robert meets me in the hallway. His eyes are ablaze and he’s sweating visibly. Claude is standing in the foyer looking agitated and reluctant to enter the apartment.

“Mrs. Champion, I couldn’t stop him. I’ve called security, just in case.”

“It’s fine, Claude. We’re fine. No need for security.”

“Where is he?” Robert demands.

“He’s in the bathroom. There’s no reason for you to flip out. We were just talking, Robert. Trying to say goodbye.”

“Saying goodbye in the bathroom?”

“Yes, in the bathroom,” I say.

“You’ve violated our agreement,” Robert says pointing a finger at me.

“I guess I have. I think I just wanted some closure. He’s going to jail.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to do it behind my back?”

“I didn’t think. I just did. As usual.”

Jaylee steps out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He’s put his jeans back on but remains shirtless. His perfectly sculpted abdomen rises and falls with accelerated breathing. Both of these men are coiled to strike. He moves to my side protectively and I cringe knowing how it will set Robert off.

“What happened to playing fair, you little creep?” Robert says, spitting the words at Jaylee.

I’d all but forgotten that they’d made their own agreement, that they’d interacted so closely in the hospital – that Jaylee returned my wedding rings to Robert.

“I don’t play fair when it comes to Kate. Get used to it. I’m playing for keeps.”

This is Jaylee’s audacious threat. He sounds cocky and he’s making all the wrong moves. I can feel the anger of Robert’s imminent snap. Jaylee’s isn’t aware that Robert wins for a living. He’s just activated Robert’s destruct mode.

“Maybe I should go,” I say, my intention being to leave the both of them behind. I certainly can’t side with one over the other; I can’t make a choice between the two them. Once again, I‘ve fucked up. I never even got my shower. I still feel like shit.

Robert swings powerfully at Jaylee’s face. This is new to me – the physically aggressive, offensive Robert. Maybe in another context I would have liked Robert going to battle for me, staking his claim. But I can’t even bring myself to believe him, not after ten years of relative apathy.

Jaylee suffers the punch without resistance and Robert hits him hard. I move away from them both, down the hallway to get my shoes. My peripheral vision catches Jaylee’s body slam back, coming into contact with the wall. A decorative table goes flying, atop it a vase and a recent family photo, Robert, the girls, and me in the Hamptons, smiling perfectly for the camera.

I hear Jaylee groan as I slip my tennis shoes back on, the pain sounds acute as it springs forth from his lips. He must have landed on his injured hip. He can’t hit Robert back. It would violate the conditions of his release. I know he
won’t
hit back in order to protect my own interest, the money as well as the marriage that I have to return to.

Claude is fumbling with the walkie talkie when I reach the lobby.

“Call security!” I say.

“But, Mrs. Champion, I just . . . I just called them off.”

“Please do it!” I say and step out into the fast-approaching night.