Living Lies (21 page)

Inside, the tiny apartment was warm and Trish had blended another pitcher of margaritas, stronger than the others had been.

“Well, that was something,” she said, filling two glasses to the brim.

“Did you know?”

“Hell, no. After she’s been giving me the third degree about my lifestyle, Jesus.”

Melanie exhaled, “I won’t apologize, she provoked me and … I guess I do regret it … but I’ll need another drink to think it over.”

“I’m glad we have some time together,” Trish said, folding her legs underneath her body as she sunk into the couch. “I owe you a huge apology. I’m not used to being with women I care about and I guess I’ve just gotten a little out of control.”

Melanie looked up at Trish, her droopy lids covering most of her eyes.

“Forgive me?” Trish asked.

Melanie rubbed her eyes and sat on the edge of a chair facing Trish.

“Only if you forgive me.”

“That’s easy, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Melanie let out a laugh, “I am really sorry about absolutely everything, but she just pissed me off. I should have kept my mouth shut – I didn’t know she was having an affair.”

“She and I haven’t been very close since she joined her church group, probably to repent her lurid deeds with Tom,” Trish stated.

“Well, she was right, I can be a jerk. It breaks my heart that I’ve been separated from all you guys. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t get so bent out of shape, we’re really not all that great,” Trish winked and lifted her glass. “I think that of the four of us you and I could be close,” Trish smiled. “I work with 98 percent males and the women I know are just as bad as I am. I miss having friendships.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“So, we’re okay, I mean with the chef and all?” She made a childlike sad face.

“We’re okay.”

“Then can I ask what’s up with you two?”

Melanie took a deep breath, “I’ve got this enormous crush.”
And when he looks at me with those intense green eyes he literally takes my breath away. It’s overwhelming, debilitating even, to feel this much.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Melanie shook her head.

Trish’s eyes softened and Melanie wondered if it was from pity or the tequila.

“Well, he really likes you. I found him in his office and at first he was fine but when he realized what I was there for, I think he got mad.” She brushed her blonde curls out of her eyes. “He changed the subject back to you each time I advanced. Finally he just said that he respected you and there was no way it was ever going to happen between us.”

“I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt.”

“Yeah, well, can I tell you a secret?”

Melanie nodded.

“I have an enormous crush on Jason.”

“Why did you hook me up with someone that you’re interested in?”

“I don’t date the players, never have, if you can believe that. I figured if I can’t have him then you should.” With a devilish smile Trish continued, “Besides, there is a world of men to meet and I’m not a lonely girl.”

“Do you mean that, or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Trish smiled, sleepily. “I have to admit that I am smitten with Jason. He’s funny, sweet and loaded with cash, but I can’t.”

Melanie understood completely.

“Trish, before you pass out there is another thing.” Melanie felt her nerves beginning to tingle and took a long drink. “It’s been a long time since I’ve … had a boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So, what if I’ve forgotten how or what if I’m clumsy?” Melanie bit her lip, waiting for Trish to respond. “It’s been a long time.”

“Are you talking about sex?”

Melanie nodded.

Trish looked shocked before she started to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Melanie said.

“What do you want to know? You’ve done it before, there was that guy a couple of months ago. Just do what you did to him.”

“I can’t, I made him up. I’ve made them all up.” Melanie pulled her mouth down in a frown.

“What?”

She shook her head, “I’ve made up every boyfriend I’ve talked about.” Melanie’s nervousness came out in a half-hearted chuckle, “You look so funny right now.”

“Shut up and explain,” Trish looked less drunk and more angry.

“You’ve met my mom. It was easier to make believe than to actually date. I’m not all that capable of being available.”

Trish’s shrunken eyes were a bit more sober, but whether they were wide with concern or horror it was hard to tell.

“So who, when was the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t want to tell you, and get that wretched expression off your face.”

“Just spit it out or I won’t give you any advice, and trust me, I give excellent advice.”

“Hmmm.”
How desperate am I?
“Bobby, about seven or eight years ago and it only lasted a few weeks.”

Melanie watched Trish’s reaction.

“Are you sure you’re not a lesbian? Because, you’re going to have to explain this one.” Trish blinked a few times, pushing away the alcohol and the drowsiness.

The margarita had been effective with Melanie as well, liberating her defenses and loosening her tongue.

“I’m not gay, I’m just celibate.”

Trish’s mouth gaped and Melanie was reminded of a blowfish she’d seen while scuba diving. But as Trish stared Melanie thought of Bobby.

They had been on a job in Chile in early spring when a warm front hit, causing an avalanche. The plunging ice cascaded down the mountainside, encapsulating them in their tiny cabin. All of the equipment, along with a navigational beacon, had been packed, ready to vacate, in the truck that was swept five miles to the bottom of a rocky ravine. Storms and high winds further delayed their rescue and sometime after they’d tunneled to the surface Melanie succumbed to one of Bobby’s advances. Bobby was a few years older, with light red hair and clear blue eyes – not unattractive physically, it was just that his personality repelled her. He’d caught her at a vulnerable time.

“Are you ever going to say anything?” Melanie asked.

“Wow, you are seriously fucked up.” Trish slurred, laughing as she gulped down the last of her drink.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you tell me anything? I would be so mad at you if I were sober.” Trish pointed her finger at the wall behind Melanie.

“But I still need your help.”

“Okay, okay, well if you’re talking about Adam you don’t have to worry because he knows exactly what he’s doing. You just have to lay back and enjoy,” she laughed.

Melanie fell back onto the chair and held her forehead in her hands. “Come on, I don’t want to seem incompetent.”

“Would you be more comfortable with a graph or a chart of some sort?”

“Ugh, please. Do you know you’re an obnoxious drunk?”

“All right, do you know how to strip?”

“Like in a strip tease?”

“Yeah,” Trish said, pulling herself up. “You move your hips and your shoulders while slowly peeling off clothing. Granted, for the first six months you’ll be naked in less than five seconds,” she laughed and walked a crooked line as she demonstrated. “Use your sensuality.”

“I don’t have any. Am I supposed to fall over, too?”

Trish locked eyes and with a mysterious grin dropped her blouse to the floor. She moved closer and began to unzip her skirt, pulling it lower until Melanie could see the pink lace of her thong.

“Now it’s your turn,” Trish said, stumbling as she bowed and tried to reach for her blouse.

“I
cannot
do that.”

“Yes, you can, anyone can. I saw it on Oprah.”

Melanie stepped to the corner of the room and let out a deep breath.
You can do this. Spy Melanie can do this
.

Sauntering like Trish had done, she untied the string to her blouse without breaking eye contact. She walked, pushing out her hips and arching her back. It wasn’t until her skirt hit the carpeting that Melanie returned.

“Well, I am one hell of a good teacher. Jesus, Melanie, I’d do you.”

“Yeah?”

Trish nodded, “But what the hell are you wearing, Grandma’s underwear?”

Melanie dressed and sat with Trish. “I feel better, but I’m still worried.”

“I need more margaritha, margarisha, whatever,” Trish kept

talking while she emptied the pitcher into their glasses.

“I can’t understand you. Maybe you’ve had enough margarisha.” Melanie couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’ve got an idea.” Trish leaned over the side table and rolled off the couch.

“Are you all right?” Melanie pulled her back up and threw the pillows to the ground.

The TV flickered on as Trish fumbled to find the right numbers on the remote.

“You have porn?”

“Keep stripping like that and you, too, could have illegal cable from a very robust cable guy.” Trish leaned her head back, her eyelids struggling to stay open.

Melanie intruded on a couple in a hotel room whose lurid acts both mildly disturbed and aroused her. You can do this, she told herself as she studied the woman’s moves.

“Well, I am not doing that,” Melanie said to a sleeping Trish. “And I’m definitely not doing
that!
”

“Hey, I’m back,” Carla called from the door.

Melanie jumped out of her skin as she fumbled for the remote to turn off the set.

“What are you doing?” Carla scrutinized Melanie then looked at the dark screen of the TV.

“Nothing.” Melanie shrugged and struggled to clear her mind of the erotic images. “How’s Jen?”

“Upset.”

Melanie nodded, cooling down from her naughty research.

“The affair has been going on for months.” Carla sat on the chair across from Melanie shaking her head. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I can’t get the image out of my head. They’ve been having sex in the back of their minivans.”

“Oh, thanks,” Melanie said, grimacing.

“I convinced her to tell Ryan.”

“Really? Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Melanie strained to sober up.

“Yes, of course. Besides, he cheated first.”

Melanie wasn’t sure it worked that way but hey what did she know?

“I can’t believe you knew about Ryan and didn’t tell me. She said you hired a cleaning service for her after RJ was born. Why?”

“I thought she was going through a hard time and shouldn’t have to worry about the laundry. Anyway, I didn’t tell because I really didn’t know for sure.”

“Is she all right?” Carla asked, nodding to Trish who’d started snoring loudly.

“Passed out.”

“Why is her shirt on backward?”

Melanie grinned. “Don’t know.”

CHAPTER 13

“Melanie?” Her mother’s strident voice cut into her dreamless stupor, giving way to near-consciousness.

When did my mother’s voice get so shrill?
she wondered, the ache behind her eye cutting like a blade into her brain.

“Melanie,” Rita repeated. She knew
that
tone, stern and under control yet at the cusp of intolerance.

A rough shoulder shake caused the residual alcohol soaking her brain, to fire up an angry hangover. She swallowed back the foul stench rising up in her esophagus, groaning an incoherent “What?” to her mother.

Wincing, she opened one eye. She was on the couch with Rita bending over her, and behind her mother’s shoulder the room was caught in a nauseating spin.

Rita sighed. “I do wish you’d sleep in your own bed once in a while,” she said, giving another shake, then adding, “Sometimes I find her on the porch swing.”

Melanie knew, the instant Rita had spoken the words.

“Oh crap, what time is it?” she asked, grabbing her splitting head that felt as though it must have an ice pick protruding from her frontal lobe.

“Eight-thirty,” Adam said.

She heard his amusement and to add to her discomfort a stampede of rushing blood pounded its way up to color her face.

“Melanie, are you drunk?” Her mother’s sharp tone of disapproval stabbed into her head.

“No,” she huffed and squinted at Adam. “I am so sorry. Give me 10 minutes?” Melanie asked, avoiding breath contact.

“No problem. I’ll just hang out here with your mom.”

“I’ll be down in six.”

Melanie threatened her mom to behave with one forceful, evil look.

“Take your time, dear,” Rita grinned.

Melanie willed the room to stabilize and gingerly took the first few steps. Easy.

She swallowed three aspirin, washing them down with the water from her two-minute shower. Every moment that passed meant another embarrassing moment of her life exposed to Adam. Her body was still damp when she slipped into a pair of Capri pants and pulled a white cami over her tropical print bikini.

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked, feeling human again, her hangover settling into a kindlier purr.

Adam’s face was bright. He and her mother were hunched over the kitchen island. Rita was giggling and chatting rapidly.

“We’re looking at your family photo albums,” Adam said, his green eyes glimmering with new knowledge.

“Oh, dear God, what year?”

“Your trip to Mexico. You’re in high school.”

“Blonde highlights?”

Adam laughed. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“Okay! We’re done here.” She glowered at her mom, “You know that’s just wrong.”

“Honey, you’re too self-conscious – you are a beautiful girl.”

Melanie walked to the opposite side of the island and closed the album. Right after the year of blonde highlights was an especially ugly year of acne that she’d rather keep a secret.

“He’s handsome,” Rita whispered.

“I know and he can hear you.” Melanie whispered back, grabbing a baseball cap off the table on her way out the door. “Great idea with the pictures, Mom.”

“Mrs. Ward, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Please, call me Rita.”

Outside the heat of the day was rising, the air had lost its moist, earthy fragrance and the soft sounds of nature were drowned by those of human development. She waved to her mom as Adam opened the car door. Rita ducked behind the sheer kitchen curtains.

“Should I wait to kiss you until your mom isn’t watching?”

Melanie laughed, “How long has it been since you had to ask that question?”

“I have to admit it’s been a while.” He quickly and lightly placed a peck on her cheek. “It’s sweet, you’re sweet – even with a hangover. How about we stop for some coffee?”

Sweet? Is that what I’m going for? I stayed out late drinking and watching porn with my girlfriend. Who’s sweet now?

“Coffee.” She could already smell the aroma and the power of the stuff working its magic on her headache.

“Did you have a good time last night?” His voice was peaceful, unassuming. “I was surprised to see you.”

“Not as surprised as Daria.”

“Yeah, well, nothing I can do about that.”

“My friends were all really impressed with you,” she said. “Especially Trish.”
Shut up, you stupid, stupid, drunk girl!

“Yeah, about that,” he said, parking at a metered space in front of
her
Starbucks and waited in the customary seven-person line before continuing. “Melanie, I don’t understand how you could agree to let your friend...” He shook his head, and she wondered what exactly Trish had said or done.

Speechless for a moment, she considered how to answer. “I thought you might…” she struggled, squinting back the pulsing throb behind her eye, “…like her. She’s beautiful and I…” she sighed, “have no claim.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched and his smooth, curvy lips tightened into a hard line. The girl behind the counter saw Melanie and rattled off her drink, a Venti caramel macchiato with a shot of soy, and Adam ordered a small black coffee.

“You drink coffee?” Adam asked one eyebrow arched to a concerned height.

“Occasionally. I might have been here once or twice.”

“Bye, Melanie. Bye, Melanie’s friend.”

The awkwardness of Trish lingered.

Ready to break the tension she said, “I bought one of these for my dad the other day,” pointing to her cup as Adam drove, one-handed and looking smoking hot. “And he said, ‘I hear that people are paying three bucks for a cup of coffee.’” Melanie laughed. “I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I’d paid almost five for his.”

Adam maintained his stoic stance but added his appreciation for her mother. “I enjoyed talking with Rita.”

Hmm
, she thought, wondering if he had any idea how fuming mad she was with
Rita
. “Yeah, I could tell,” Melanie cringed from the awfulness.

Mentally she flipped through the pages, most were of her in sporting events, track and field in high school. Those she was okay with, it was the rest that she hated. Bad hair, bad outfits, braces and just all around embarrassing.

“It wasn’t too bad.” A bit of his smile returned.

“Then why do you keep laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just not often I get to see a beautiful woman wake with a hangover.”

“Not at the beginning of a date, anyway. We seem to be doing things backward, you and I.”

She paused, daring to move her gaze from the harmless streets to his risky eyes, “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, it’s just...” He cleared his throat. “I like you, Melanie, and I thought, well, I thought you liked me. But if you’re willing to, to hand me off to your nearest available friend … then I’m not so sure.”

Ouch
.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled his brows in so they nearly touched. “Unless, that’s what you wanted.” His voice was soft, “Did you want me to choose Trish?”

“No,” she said, her stuttering heart felt unpleasant. It was comparable to being stranded in the middle of the desert with no water and surrounded by aggressive rattlesnakes. “I leave for D.C. in a few days and she stays. I don’t know, maybe at some level I thought she was better for you.” Melanie bit her lip and stared down at her hands that were wrangling each other in her lap.

“Melanie, I get to decide who’s better for me,” he said, covering her hands with one of his.

Melanie smiled. The weight of his hand felt nice, soothing. It was the touch she’d ached for in Hawaii.

Strange,
she thought,
to get something you wanted, then not know what to do with it.

“So, Adam, who’s going to be on this boat trip?”

“Just us.”

Melanie glanced back at the three grocery bags on the back seat.

She bumped the back of her head against the headrest. “I knew I should never have eaten that hot dog, now you think I’m a glutton.” She refused, even in her darkest hour, to call herself a pig – she had her limits.

He smiled, this time not taking his eyes off the road. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I brought a selection. And I like you as much as I do partly because of that hot dog.”

“I’m not exactly sure what that means but I’ll take it as a compliment.” She relaxed a little.

At the marina rows of white boats rocked gently in their berths. Melanie carried one of the grocery bags along the wooden plank dock to the 35-foot sailboat at the end.

“Adam, she’s gorgeous.”

The boat glistened merrily in the placid waters.

“Yeah, she’s my escape.”

Unlocking the door to the cabin, Adam, opened his world to Melanie. She stepped down into the living quarters, the galley, the control panel and a seating area. To the back, through a partially opened pocket door, was a bedroom with a door to the head.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered, while stacking the multitude of containers in the cabinets and the small refrigerator.

“I’m good, but can I help?” She picked up a clear plastic box and, tilted it, tried to figure out what was inside.

“I’m good.” His fingers caressed hers as he removed the box from her hands, setting it on the table before settling his hands on her waist. “Do you realize you have perfectly shaped lips?”

She bit down on her perfectly shaped lower lip and hoped she wouldn’t have to wait too long for a kiss.

His hands moved up to her neck, his thumbs slipping beneath her chin to tip her face upward. She stopped breathing.

He bent low, his shallow breath, warm and pleasant, on her cheek. She liberated her restrained lip just in time to meet his mouth. Melanie was overtaken by three careful, sensual, contact-and-break kisses.

Her arms twined around his neck as she rose on her tiptoes and curved her body into his. His closeness swirled in her head, his scent and the intimacy of his tongue skimming along her lips and pulling at the strings of her consciousness.

In his arms she weakened, succumbing to his kiss, moving her mouth with his.

Breathing his air, her chest molded into his and her fingers tangled in his hair. She pulled him down to her.

It was as close to losing control as she’d ever been, but still she felt the hoisting of her protective shield.

Melanie peeled herself away, her lips the last to part. Adam smiled down at her, his joy flowing from his eyes, brightening his wide grin.

When she kissed Ty she’d known his motivation, but with Adam – the bed glaring at her from behind a thin partition – she was less certain. More certain, though, was her resolve to keep a safe distance from his bed sheets.

“I think I’m going to get some air,” she smiled back at him, his face too close.

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

Outside, the summer sun beamed lovingly on the Southern California coast. A steady lapping of the water against the cutter’s hull calmed her.

The cobalt blue cushions along the bench seat were comfortable. She waited for Adam to emerge, hoping his hold over her had somehow broken during the last two minutes. She closed her eyes, her head spinning, whether from delight or alcohol she couldn’t tell.

“How are you doing?”

“Clearing my head,” she answered, her heart racing.

Adam motored out of the harbor as she sat starboard and enjoyed the warm sun and gentle breeze. She shook out her damp hair to dry in the wind. Once out in open water Adam raised the sails and they zigzagged across the dark blue sea, the whitecaps splashing over the deck and spraying mist high into the air. Up and over the rolling waves, the water was darker and colder than it had been in Hawaii. Melanie looked back at Adam, his green tropical shirt pressed firmly against his chest while the back whipped in the wind. He smiled and motioned for her to hold on. She braced herself as best she could on the slippery fabric. Changing course the boat picked up speed, leaping, bounding and flying through the water.

He navigated expertly, making it look easy, shifting directions and letting the sails drop. She made her way to where he stood.

“That was amazing!” Melanie laughed.

“I thought I was going to lose you a couple of times.”

He worked, lowering and tying down the slackened sails as she watched and admired.

“Watch this,” he said.

A bright blue canopy opened automatically, shading the U-shaped seating area in the aft of the boat.

“Nifty,” Melanie said, now sitting in the shade.

“That’s it? Nifty?” he smiled brightly without a hint of offense.

“What do you want me to say? The whole thing is a babe magnet,” she said, reminded of the old movies her father used to watch, with the playboy’s apartment decked out in the latest gadgets.