Living Lies (27 page)

“You, too.”

“I did not know you lived with your parents,” Javier said, as they walked to the silver sedan with dealer plates.

“Yeah,” she snorted, embarrassed.

“It’s sexy,” he said, making Melanie laugh.

She did a quick narration of her current circumstances in the car as jazz flowed softly from the sound system.

“I promise by tonight you’ll have forgotten all your problems.”

She was sure he’d like to try, but she wasn’t going to let him. Javier was smooth and was not only at the right place at the right time but he also had the uncanny ability to say the right things. Definitely not “falling in love” material but he was doing wonders for her self-confidence.

“My cousin’s wedding,” Javier said, in the packed lot of St. John’s cathedral.

The stone basilica was ornate and grand, rivaling any 17
^th
century European cathedral. Melanie navigated her spiked heels over the cobblestones and up to the huge wooden entry doors. They had reached the top when a long white limo pulled up and out stepped a beautiful bride in a flowing white gown. Her entourage in periwinkle desperately tried to keep the train from sweeping the ground.

“She’s beautiful,” Melanie gasped.

“She’s a princess.”

Melanie agreed. As they entered the vestibule a young man in a tuxedo greeted Javier warmly. He received a hug and a kiss on both cheeks and once introduced, Melanie received an equal welcome.

The church was imposing, with arched ceilings flanked by stained-glass windows depicting each of the Stations of the Cross and a series of holy men including the 12 Apostles. The setting sun was perfectly positioned to glow heavenly through the colored glass.

Melanie and Javier were escorted to their seats. Sharing the hard wooden pew with men in tailored suits and designer clad women, Melanie heard the murmurs as she passed.

“My family,” Javier grumbled in her ear. “They’re all against my bachelorhood, every last one of them.”

Melanie was unsure, but she thought she caught the faint scent of gardenia.

“It’s Carmella’s favorite flower,” Javier whispered.

The groom, in a black tux with tails, rubbed his hands together, looking increasingly anxious. His blond hair, not dark enough to frame his pale face, faded into the background. He seemed to be miscast as Prince Charming in this fairy tale wedding.

The organist began playing “The Wedding March” as the doors squeaked open and everyone stood to witness the bride’s arrival. The procession began with the ring bearer and flower girl, eight bridesmaids and finally the bride. She walked slowly with a distinguished gentleman, her bright smile sparkling behind her laced veil. Carmella was one of those people with such seemingly flawless beauty that caused you to feel self-conscious. Taking her place next to her future husband, her glow overshadowed the gaunt man.

Melanie listened, critically, as the priest gave his interpretation of the institution of marriage. She was a skeptic. The odds of such an illusion actually succeeding were close to nil, her parents being the wonderful exception. To pledge your undying love and devotion to someone you know in your 20s or 30s seemed utterly foolish. For Melanie, the astonishment wasn’t how many marriages fail, but that any could survive 50 years of change and annoying habits.

The couple repeated their oaths to love, honor and obey looking at the other so utterly convinced that a fantastic rush of hope welled up in her eyes.

Carmella and Charming held limitless possibilities, and this was an innocent start of their new life. The fundamentals of marriage suddenly seemed overwhelmingly beautiful, and holding her breath, Melanie awaited the kiss with tingling sensations in her tear ducts.

Blinking back the moisture, she stood mesmerized when the priest proclaimed, “I am proud to present Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael.”

The fresh air outside brought Melanie back to reality and Carmella’s wedding felt like a fantasy she’d seen in a movie ages ago. The colorful glow streaming from the stained-glass windows, the scent of gardenia, the beautiful princess in her spectacular white gown and the words of a charismatic priest had played with Melanie’s head, teasing and pulling at the speck of hope she kept hidden.

“It’s been years since I’ve been to a wedding,” she said as they descended the stone steps of the church.

“Me, too. I try to avoid any situation that gets my mother to think about her future grandchildren. ‘Javier, when?’ she asks. ‘I am not a young woman,’ she says.”

Melanie laughed. He used a kinder voice to mimic his mom than she used for hers.

Carmella’s wedding was a momentous occasion in the Santos family. Relatives from across the States, South America and Europe flew in for the event.

The reception was as extravagant as the ceremony, the entire second floor of the Veranda Hotel was devoted to the party. Sequined white linens covered the round tables, with candles illuminating the gardenia-and-lily centerpieces. Low-hanging chandeliers glowed softly from above, and a string quartet played on the dance floor as guests queued up at the receiving line.

“Javier, thank you for coming,” the bride said, giving her cousin a hug and kisses and reminding her new husband that he’d met Javier months ago.

“This is my friend, Melanie.”

“Javier?” Her eyes opened like saucers to stare at Melanie. “Is this serious?” She laughed, exposing her unnaturally white teeth.

“Carmella, let’s get through your wedding before you start marrying me off.”

Javier sounded jovial as he and Carmella exchanged pokes from what appeared to be a long-standing family joke.

“We’re delighted that you were able to be part of our celebration,” squeaked the timid voice of Carmella’s husband.

“Thank you, it was a lovely ceremony,” Melanie said, looking uncomfortably into the man’s barely blue eyes.

“We’ll speak later, Cousin.” Carmella’s promise sounded like a challenge.

“I look forward to it,” Javier raised her gloved hand to his lips then shook the pale, thin hand of the newest member of the Santos family.

“Champagne?” asked a tuxedoed waiter holding a tray of fluted glasses.

“To a meeting of two souls and an evening filled with laughter and love,” Javier toasted.

“Cheers.”

The room was beginning to fill as they made their way to a wonderfully loud table. Three older women, two of whom sported the same color and hairstyle as her mom’s, were laughing heartily.

“Olá, Mãe,” Javier said, happily leaning down to kiss his mother on the cheek.

“Javier! Come here.” She cupped his face roughly but with love and kissed him.

“Olá, Tia Luisa, Tia Natalia.” He went to each of the other woman and greeted them with kisses as well. “Mãe, tias, este é o meu amiga, Melanie.”

They each tried but stumbled over her name. She followed Javier’s example and introduced herself with a kiss for each woman. Javier held out a chair for Melanie right next to his mother.

“These are our seats,” he said, lifting the place cards that said Juanita and George. “My sister and her husband. She’s eight months pregnant with twins and has been confined to bed, so we’re taking their spots.”

“Yes, my first grandchildren and I’ve been blessed with two,” said Mrs. Santos. “When I’ll have more, God only knows.”

“Congratulations,” Melanie said.

“So, how long have you known my son?”

Mrs. Santos was a woman of business and the two other eased in to hear every syllable.

“Not very long.”

“And yet he brings you to a family event.” Her eyebrows raised above her round, plastic-rimmed glasses.

The women agreed, flying off into their own rapid-fire conversation.

“Melanie is fluent in Portuguese,” Javier said, putting his arm across the back of Melanie’s chair and leaning forward.

He was close enough for her to notice his left earlobe held evidence of a long-ago piercing, his shave was close and the scent of aftershave clung on his smooth skin. Two parallel laugh lines framed each side of his full lips. A tingle of excitement arose in her abdomen.

“Melanie?” Mrs. Santos said, breaking the moment.

The questions began, the women wanted to know how she’d learned Portuguese, where, why and everything about her background.

“This is Carmella’s wedding, not an inquisition,” Javier protested.

“It’s all right,” Melanie said, answering the questions at truthfully as possible.

“Oh, Javier, look there’s Marcos,” Mrs. Santos said, waving to a young man. “You really should say hello.”

Melanie had to marvel at the woman’s tenacity. There was no way she’d get the scoop with Javier lingering, blocking each of her questions.

“Marcos!” Javier jumped out of his seat to embrace the man.

As they spoke Melanie understood. Javier and Marcos had been childhood playmates and Marcos had just arrived from Brazil.

“Melanie, do you mind if I go visit with some old friends?” he asked. “I won’t be too long, I promise.”

“I’m okay, you go and have fun.”

Javier absently kissed her cheek and escaped with Marcos into the crowd. It was the least sexual gesture he’d made all evening, and the most potent. Melanie looked at her glass, full again … when had that happened? She hadn’t noticed the waiters refilling the bubbly.

“My son is very independent. We’re all waiting for him to settle down and find a woman to marry.”

“Javier doesn’t seem ready for marriage.”

“Maybe you could change that?”

Melanie’s laugh was sarcastic.

“He obviously likes you,” piped in one of the aunts.

It took Melanie some effort to convince the women that she wasn’t interested in marrying the most eligible bachelor in the family, and still they held onto hope.

Melanie did learn a great deal about Javier. He’d never been married, never even close, and behind his sleek exterior was a humanitarian.

Okay, this is all from the perspective of a completely devoted mother,
Melanie reminded herself, but she liked what she heard. Javier had a degree in psychology and volunteered with troubled youth. The man was nearing sainthood when he returned in time for dinner.

It was Melanie who made the first move during the lobster bisque, placing her hand on his thigh. Javier smiled and set his large, heavy hand on top of hers.

Melanie never had an accurate account of how much champagne she drank but she did know was that her spirits were high and she felt only bliss.

After dinner Mrs. Santos insisted Melanie join the 50 single women on the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Melanie stood to the side, having no intentions of vying for the coveted spray. The drums rolled and Carmella pranced about before flinging the arrangement high into the air. It bounced off a low-hanging chandelier and smacked right into Melanie’s chest.

I caught the bouquet,
was all she had time to think before it was snatched out of her hands by a more exuberant bachelorette, leaving Melanie only a sprig of gardenia.

“Thank God you were not left with that bouquet,” Javier whispered, winking one of his cat eyes as they traded spaces and he took his spot among the single men.

His soft breath on her neck had sent shivers down her spine. Melanie enjoyed the tickle that dashed up her spine.

“You should have held tighter,” scolded Tia Luisa.

“But did you see, it flew right into her arms. Did you see that?” Tia Natalia asked around the table, nodding. “That’s a good sign, and at Carmella’s wedding!”

The groom appeared very uncomfortable holding the white garter. His pale complexion flushed bright pink as he pulled back on the garment and flung it only inches from his black wing-tip shoe. The men roared while one good samaritan lunged three feet onto the parquet floor to win the prize and save the new Mr. Santos from embarrassment. That good fellow wasn’t Javier.

“Dance with me,” he said, holding out his large hand with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Her interest in Javier had been building all night and Melanie was unclear if it stemmed from the alcohol flooding her bloodstream or the chorus of praise sung by his mother. As she moved slowly within the confines of his arms she felt peacefully content. It was the tremendous curiosity she felt about his sensuous lips that held her in a gravitational pull as Javier spun her around the dance floor. She wondered if he’d dare kiss her out in the open or if they’d have to find a secret spot. She didn’t have to wonder for long. Their first kiss was both electric and soothing. She was swept off her feet.

The band was playing the Tony Bennett classic, “The Way You Look Tonight,” when she gave into his words, his hands and pushed away hope.

CHAPTER 16

Melanie squinted her cloudy eyes at the bright blue blurry numbers that shone from his bedside clock. 3:10. Javier slept peacefully on his back, the white sateen sheet covering the bottom half of his naked body. His chest, stripped clean of hair, rose and fell in a gentle rhythmic motion as Melanie slid out of his low platform bed. Her clothes had been discarded somewhere in the living room. She padded across the plush carpeting to the master bathroom, silently closing the door. Finding a switch she abruptly dismissed the darkness and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair, a matted mess, was only part of the problem. She couldn’t look at who she’d become. Melanie quickly flicked the light back off.

What are you doing?
she asked, wrapping herself in a bath towel. She wanted to sob.

Scolding, piercing thoughts bellowed into her brain and she leaned against the marble basin. The tangy residue of the sparkling wine loitered in the back of her throat and Melanie rinsed her mouth, spitting the bad taste into the sink. She turned away from her reflected silhouette with a heavy sigh, her head in the palms of her hands, regret and disappointment commingling beneath her skin.

What were you thinking?
she wondered, shaking her head and scolding herself, again.

She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and wiped the goop out of the corners of her eyes. Melanie steadied her breathing, censoring vivid images – she’d rather forget.

Startled by a knock on the door, Melanie flipped on the light and tried to behave normally.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

A pair of unbuttoned Levi’s hung loosely to his hips, which led up to his finely toned chest and arms. He was incredibly, irresistibly sexy and suddenly she felt better about her decision. At least she could understand how it’d happened.

“Everything all right in here?”

She nodded. “I was just thinking.”

“That can’t be good.” Javier, still smiling, leaned against the basin next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“He is with another woman.”

“What?” Melanie was startled. “No, I wasn’t thinking about, I mean this has nothing to do with him. Of course, I was upset this afternoon but…”

Giving her a sideways look, Javier apologized for his assumption.

“It could be considered a sin if such a beautiful woman wallowed over an undeserving man.”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “It’s just that I think I was falling for him.”

“Melanie, there will be many other Adams if you want there to be. He is fine for an average woman but you are not average – you are exquisite.”

Her spirits were lifting and again she understood what had

brought her to this point, expressing her deepest emotions in the wee hours of the morning to a very well-known stranger.

He caressed her bare shoulders and moved closer. “To me you seem a woman who is always in control. You need to relax and enjoy life’s pleasures. How about this time we focus on you?” A devilish smile appeared on his face and there was mischief in his cat eyes as he said, “Let me show you what I mean.”

“I don’t know, Javier,” she said, feeling very exposed and intrigued.

“I promise you won’t want me to stop.”

He lowered himself to her height and began kissing her neck at the spot right below her ear. Melanie wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders as his tongue massaged circles down to her shoulder. Javier scooped her up and carried her out of the bathroom. Her towel fell to the tile.

“You won’t need that,” he said, his words spoken into her mouth.

He carried her into the darkness of his lair.

California’s sunrise was not as spectacular as its sunset, but the morning’s soft sorbet yellows streamed magically off the billowy clouds. The dew was still hugging the greenery as Melanie and Javier said their goodbyes on her front porch.

“Thanks for coming with me last night.” His hands caressed her knowingly, and she blushed. “I’ll call you later,” he said with a kiss.

In dramatic contrast to the purity of Carmella’s wedding, Melanie’s night had been full of pure lust and she’d enjoyed every wicked moment, every wicked touch.

Still she knew waiting for a call from Javier was about the last thing she needed.

“Javier, I had an amazing time with you but we both know what this was.” Again she blushed, remembering. “Let’s not pretend it was something more.”

His narrowed eyes reminded Melanie of her initial impression, Javier the panther.

“You are an incredible woman, Melanie.” His lips covered hers with a whisper. “If you want any more of what it was, make sure you call me.”

“You’ll be the first.” She smiled a satisfied smile.

Melanie filled her lungs with the morning air. He had made good on all his promises, leaving her with no complaints.

If this turns out to be a bad decision
, she thought,
at least I’m not regretting it now.

A moment later she was tiptoeing up the stairs to her bedroom wanting to scream and dance. She leapt onto her bed and sprawled out. She felt tired but invigorated. The thought of spending this particular day investigating Parker seemed inappropriate.

Instead she rolled on her stomach, daydreamed about the evening and waited for a decent hour to call Trish.

“Melanie, you’re just the girl I wanted to talk with,” Trish said in a hushed whisper.

An hour later, after a shower and a change of clothes, Melanie bounced out her front door at the sound of Trish honking the horn.

“Oh my God, it’s true!” Trish said, even before Melanie had shut the car door.

“What are you talking about?”

“You had sex!” Trish was gaping at Melanie with round eyes. “What the hell, they were right. I can’t believe it. I told them no way, there was no way you slept with someone.”

Trish chattered on, not really even speaking to Melanie.

“Who told you?’

Trish gawked as she spoke. “Adam came over really early this morning and he was all in a sweat.”

“Adam went to your apartment?”

“No,” Trish paused. “I’ve been staying at Jason’s. I guess I’ve sort of unofficially moved in with him. I think I’m going to keep my place just in case, you know,” she said, veering off course.

“What does ‘unofficially’ mean?”

“Well, he asked and I’m leaving some of my stuff, but I’m going to sleep at my apartment at least twice a week.”

Melanie wondered if those good intentions would last a single week.

“And Jason’s place is so big and masculine, well, you know, I’m just not as comfortable.”

Melanie had no idea, she’d never been to Jason’s house, but wanting the conversation to focus back to Adam she said, “So, Adam showed up at Jason’s this morning?”

“Yeah, they went into the game room. When I went in to say goodbye they pulled me into the conversation. He said you tripped during some game and hurt your hip.”

Melanie huffed. “I didn’t trip, I … never mind.”

“Anyway, Adam said he met you at the beach and when he and Gigi were leaving you were with some Mexican guy.” Trish was speed talking. “And boy did you piss him off when you said that you wouldn’t be his friend. He went on for 15 minutes before asking if you’d always been an extremist.”

“Whatever,” Melanie said, her aggravation returning.

Trish’s car hummed, curbside of Melanie’s house.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about Gigi. I had no idea you’d find out the way you did.” A blush rose to Trish’s creamy cheeks.

“What do you know about her?”

Trish looked guilty. “We’ve gone to dinner with them a couple of times.” She shrugged, “What do you want me to say?”

“I’m just curious.”

“She seems nice, and he likes her. She’s an attorney. I think she said she did some modeling in college.”

Melanie nodded. “Great, sounds perfect.”

“Don’t be so jealous.”

Sighing, “Me jealous? Why would I be jealous? I mean, look at my life. I have no job, no prospects and I’m 32, still living with my parents.”

Trish scrunched her nose and scrutinized Melanie with her big blue eyes. “You’re 33, and although I never knew this, you are seriously fucked up,” Trish laughed.

“You said that before.”

“Did I?”

“You were drunk.”

“Well,” she thought for a second, “that doesn’t make it less true.”

Melanie agreed.

“Then tell me who’s this Mexican guy that you couldn’t do without.” Trish laughed. “What on Earth possessed you to do the nasty with him?”

“His name is Javier, he’s Brazilian, and don’t call it that.”

“Wow, Mel, look at your smile. You must really like him.”

Melanie shrugged.

“When do I get to meet this Latin lover of yours?”

“Never,” Melanie said, curtly. “Javier was a one-time deal.”

“Really? Was he no good?”

“No, quite the opposite.” Melanie shivered.

“Then I say you screw him until you get bored or he gets serious. Jesus, Mel, this is so unlike you.”

Melanie described Javier.

She tried to explain his panther-like qualities – muscular with zero body fat, black silky hair, deep, almond-shaped eyes.

“But I do think that I set my standards too high with Javier.”

“Tell me all the details,” Trish urged.

“No way! You’re a weirdo,” Melanie laughed one instant but was somber the next. “He seems to really like her. Doesn’t he?”

Trish nodded slowly. “At least I thought so, but Mel, he was totally upset about you and Javier. Angry, mad, like furious with you.”

“Did he tell you I kissed him?”

Trish’s eyes grew big. “Adam? No! When, on the beach?”

Melanie nodded. “He kissed back, too.”

“I don’t know, Mel.”

“It doesn’t even matter. He’s with King Kong, anyway.”

“She’s really not that bad.”

“Shut up and take me to lunch.”

“There’s more I need to tell you,” Trish said, seriously. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

Melanie froze. Nothing good ever starts with ‘don’t be mad’.

“Just tell me.”

“I’m really sorry, Mel.” Trish’s eyes darkened. “When I walked into the room, the guys were talking about how you had sex with … well, with Javier. You have to understand that I totally didn’t believe them. But Adam was positive and I couldn’t convince him that you weren’t that way, or so I thought,” Trish grinned slightly and shrugged her shoulders. “So I may have mentioned that you’d been abstinent.”

Melanie knew she was getting the sugar-coated, best-case scenario. She decided that it was okay.

“And I might have accidentally let it slip that it’d been 10 years.” Trish winced.

“You didn’t!” Melanie said, her heart pounding.

She wanted to correct her – it had only been seven years. But at this point a freak was a freak, and three years didn’t change that.

“I’m so sorry. At the moment it seemed rational but when…” she paused, “they both stopped and stared at me I knew I’d said too much. But it was out there and I couldn’t take it back. I tried to fix it by telling them about how after Dan you got married to your work and now you’re grieving from losing your job. It’s like going through a divorce and I might have said that you’re afraid of commitment.”

“Trish,” Melanie sounded almost pleading. “You psychoanalyzed me in 30 words or less?”

“It all came out so wrong. I didn’t mean to sabotage you. It just snowballed. Everything I said to fix the thing I’d said before just made everything worse.”

Melanie looked out the window, there were no buildings crashing down. She was glad Trish remained silent, not attempting to further explain herself. After a few minutes of watching the breeze rustle through the trees, she had come to terms with her humiliation.

“It doesn’t matter, Trish, really,” she said to ease Trish’s mind. “It doesn’t matter,” she said again to see if she could be convinced. “It’s okay, everything you said was, almost, accurate. I didn’t know how much I liked him.”