Love Beyond Words (City Lights: San Francisco Book 1) (18 page)

“A serial killer? That was on the table?”

Natalie giggled. “We had our suspicions.”

His secret isn’t that he has a child,
she wrote.
It’s better than that. It’s better than anything I could have imagined.

Natalie hit “send” then flipped the phone shut and set it down on the nightstand. It immediately chirped an incoming text, and she giggled again, feeling slightly guilty for not answering it. Slightly.

“I didn’t tell her who you are, even though I’m bursting to do so.”             

“I’m not as worried about that as I once might’ve been.”

Natalie sat up, her knees to her chest. “Does that mean you’re going to go public?”

“I haven’t decided. The promise I made to my mother was to keep from being reckless and arrogant with my good fortune. But I’m no longer the eighteen-year-old kid she wanted to protect. I feel as if I should just let it go and move on. Even so, I don’t like all the other stuff that comes with it. The press and the questions…”

“Questions about you or the writing?”

“Both.”

Natalie frowned. “You don’t want to talk about the books?”

He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. “With you, yes. You can ask your million questions and I’d never get tired of it. But with total strangers?” He made a face. “And in the grand scheme of things, it can’t make that big of a ripple, can it?”

Natalie thought he was understating it—that the literary world, at least, would go mad for him—but she said nothing.

“And David wouldn’t be happy about it,” he said. “Not at first.”

“David? Oh, your assistant? What difference would it make to him?”

“He’s protective. And maybe a little worried he’d be lost in the shuffle should I go public. He’s a bit…neurotic but a good guy. You’ll meet him soon.”

Natalie slipped her arms around Julian’s neck; it thrilled her that she could touch him whenever she wanted. “You don’t have to decide right away. And whatever you do, I’ll support you.” He smiled and started to kiss her, but she pulled back. “But can I tell my friends? I think I’ll explode if I don’t.”

“Can they be trusted not to spread it around?”

“No, but they’re both so dramatic, no one would believe them anyway.”

“I’d be more concerned that they don’t believe
you
. But if you trust them, tell them.” He kissed her gently above the ear. “I shouldn’t care either way, now that I have you. You’re all the good fortune I need. Everything else can go up in flames tomorrow and it won’t matter.”

Natalie nestled against him, basking in the warm glow of his affection. His love for her.
How did this happen?
She looked at Julian, at his blue eyes that held within them the intelligence and observation of an artist. Her favorite artist, the poet she had been waiting for, though she knew that if never write another word she’d be happy so long as he was hers.

He gently wiped the tear that escaped the corner of her eye “What is this?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just…happy.”

“Me too. And that, my love, is the grandest understatement of the century.”

#

Over breakfast, he answered her questions and promised to answer the thousand more left waiting in the wings. When they’d finished, he took her in his arms and held her close.

“I want you to spend the weekend with me,” he said. “Until Monday.”

“This weekend?” Natalie bit her lip. “I have to work. It’s Thursday now. Too late to cover my shifts with such short notice.”

“Next weekend, then,” he said. “I don’t particularly want to wait that long but on second thought, it’ll give me time to plan something nice for you.”

“I sincerely doubt anything could top this Valentine’s Day,” Natalie said.

He laughed. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

Natalie thought it over. She’d never taken so may shifts off in a row before. Not in three years. She wondered if Niko would be okay with it, and then realized he’d probably kick her out the door to know she was taking time for herself.

“I’d love to.”

“Excellent.”

“But Julian,” she said, “nothing crazy or fancy. Promise?”

He gave her a ‘who me?’ smile and then kissed her until she’d forgotten what she’d asked.

Club Kyrie was dark, and silent except for the tinny, tinkling chimes of a music box. Another song from
Cabaret
—Liberty’s theme for the season. All faces were rapt, shadows dancing over them as little table candles flickered. Tendrils of illicit cigarette smoke twisted upwards in graceful spirals. No glass clinked. No one talked or even coughed.

On stage, Liberty stood frozen atop a black pedestal. Her arms were bent at stiff angles, her head cocked to the side. Her dress was that of a child’s: a billowy but tattered and torn white tutu, ripped stockings, and black Mary Janes. Her cheeks were perfect red circles sprinkled with large black freckles. Her hair dangled on either side of her frozen face in two raggedy pigtails. The rigid smile on her face was clownish and too big, her eyes vacant.

The scratchy and tinny-sounding music filled the small club, another woman’s voice sang in German. Liberty began to move like a wind-up doll and the pedestal spun slowly. Her Barbie-bent arms moved up and down; she tilted at the waist and cocked her head, her expression never changing.

The song ended but the music started again, and Natalie watched, eyes shining, as the stiffness left Liberty and her doll began to slump, defeated. This time, she sang the song in perfect German, each lyric thick with emotion as she implored the audience with her sad, doll eyes. As the last note faded, she froze again, hands outstretched. There was a moment of stillness and then a shrill whistle pierced the silence, causing everyone in the club to jump; Marshall nearly spilled his cocktail.

Two men in S.S. uniforms goose-stepped onto the stage. The red swastika armbands were obscenely vivid. Liberty was frozen, on her knees, her hands outstretched stiffly and perfectly still. Natalie watched in amazement as the officers took the “doll” under its arms and lifted. Liberty’s pose didn’t change. Like a piece of furniture, the men carried her off stage, her white oval face in a motionless plea, and then everything went black.

The crowd erupted. Marshall tried to conceal his shining eyes. Natalie didn’t bother.

#

Liberty was in her silky kimono when she joined Marshall and Natalie at their table. Patrons applauded her again as she sat down, and Natalie thought her friend handled the praise gracefully. Marshall kissed her cheek, shaking his head in mute admiration. Liberty lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.

“I have a few minutes before the next act,” she said. She grabbed Marshall’s cocktail and taking a long pull, then turned to Natalie. “So speak.”             

“Liberty….your show…”

She waved a hand dismissively and lit a cigarette. “My show will be here tomorrow night and the next, until they kick me out. You, on other hand, had sex. On Valentine’s Day, no less. That takes precedence.”

Marshall’s adoring gaze for Liberty swung around to Natalie. “Whaaaaat? It’s been a whole week and you didn’t tell me! Sir Julian? Really?”             

Natalie felt her neck grow hot.

Liberty rolled her eyes. “Look at her. She’s flush, happy,
alive…
It’s depressing. And infuriating. Your morning-after text was not funny, missy.”

Marshall clapped his hands together. “I’m so proud of you!” He frowned. “Wait. Why does she get a morning-after text? What about me? Oh, who cares! You had sex! Miracles do happen; you’re living proof.”

Natalie brushed aside his hands as he tried to cup her cheeks like a proud father. “Thank you, Marshall, but I’d feel better if you weren’t so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m shocked to the very core of my being.”

“Tick-tock,” Liberty said. “I don’t have much time and I want details. Lots of them.”

“No details,” Natalie said. She thought of the way Julian’s mouth moved over hers when they kissed…“No…just, no details.”

“Look at her face!” Marshall cried. “She’s glowing like a torch. Don’t torture us like this, darling. Some of us have been going through what you might call a
dry spell,
and by some strange, insane twist of fate,
you
are the one enjoying a sexual extravaganza. It’s your duty to let us live vicariously through your exploits.”

Natalie laughed. “No, no. You’ll have to use your imaginations...”

“Honey, I’m an accountant. I have no imagination.”

“And is that your Valentine’s Day present?” Liberty reached over and examined the micro mosaic pendant hanging from Natalie’s neck. “Wow, that’s gorgeous.”

Natalie beamed. “No, that was Christmas.”
Julian was my Valentine’s gift.

“Some gift,” Marshall commented. “That thing’s Victorian. Not just the
style.
As in, from when Queen V’s bony old butt was perched on the throne. Got to be worth six grand, easy.”

“What? No!” Natalie studied the pendant. “I know it’s old, an antique, but surely not…”

“Surely
yes
,” said Marshall. “Don’t you ever watch
Antiques Roadshow
? Your man’s got taste. And money.” He heaved a sigh. “So unfair.”

My man,
Natalie thought and felt her skin warm again. “Yes, he’s wonderful. And you may be pleased—or shocked—to know that I’m taking time off from work this weekend. I’m going to spend it with him.”

Liberty smirked. “Translation: you’re going to spend the weekend having sex until you can’t see straight.”

“Now she’s just rubbing it in.” Marshall pouted. “Is that why you’re able to grace us with your presence this Thursday eve?”

“Yes,” Natalie said. “I took tonight too. I didn’t want to miss Lib’s show and…there’s something else. Something I had to tell you both before I burst. You won’t believe this…I get shivers just thinking about it, it’s so amazing.”

“Is this about his big bad secret?”

“Yes.” Natalie’s smile split her face. “But you both have to swear you won’t tell another soul. Promise me.”

They exchanged dubious glances, but Natalie was too excited to be annoyed.
I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces…

“Okay, we swear,” Marshall said.

Liberty nodded. “Well?”

Natalie heaved a breath. “Julian is a writer. A published one. A very, highly respected and adored one. One whom I’ve read before.”

Marshall wagged his hand. “Lord, girl, that’s nothing. You read everything. I wouldn’t be surprised
—”

“He’s Rafael Melendez Mendón.”

Liberty and Marshall stared at her, motionless, and then almost simultaneously burst out laughing.

“Oh, sweets, you had us going there,” Marshall choked.

Natalie felt the blood drain from her face, taking all of her excited joy with it. It rushed back to it to burn her cheeks when her friends ceased laughing and exchanged another pair of looks.

Liberty studied her through narrowed eyes. “Wait, wait, wait. Nat…You don’t really…I mean, did he
tell
you that?”

“Of course,” Natalie said. “How else—?”

“And then you slept with him,” Liberty continued. “He told you that he was your favorite author…aaaand then you slept with him.”

Another pair of glances went between her friends, and then Natalie could barely see for the blinding humiliation and fury that swept over her.

“It’s not like that. I’ve seen the books…He told me…He…”
He warned you this would happen
, she thought. And he was right but he couldn’t have known how badly their derision hurt. “I…can’t…I have to go. I’m going…”

She stood on shaking feet and snatched her purse off the back of her chair. They called her back but she ignored them, stumbling to the door and up the stairs. Outside, the icy chill of winter still hadn’t left the air yet and it cooled her burning cheeks. She walked down the street, heedless of direction, clutching her coat around her. Running footsteps followed her and then Marshall caught up, took her by the arm. She tore out of his grasp and faced them.

“Natty, we’re sorry,” he began.

“It’s just too…serendipitous,” Liberty said behind her, shivering in her kimono.

“So I’m an idiot, then?” Natalie said. “You two, with all your worldly wisdom and experience can’t believe it so therefore it must be a lie? The only explanation is that I’m some empty-headed naïf?”