Ten Thousand Words (24 page)

I closed my eyes and swallowed around the lump in my throat.

“Closed-casket funeral, you know.”

I hadn’t known, but I nodded, as though I understood.

“David—her father—and Xanthe were there after the accident had happened. Xanthe saw Elaine’s car being pulled out from beneath the big rig. At that point, she didn’t actually see the bodies, but the car itself left little to the imagination of what was inside.”

Ellen glanced out the window, over the water. I could see how hard talking about this was for her, and I almost told her it wasn’t necessary to continue, but she did.

“So, she and David were grieving, as was natural. When the trial came about to put the driver away, they showed the pictures of the accident and the victims to the jury—a shock-and-awe tactic. Xanthe and David were in the courtroom—”

I gasped. Ellen nodded in agreement to my sound of protest.

“So, you can imagine what that had done to her psyche. David was
furious
. He hadn’t wanted her to see her mother and grandmother like that. It was bad enough—with her being at the scene. I was there in the courtroom, too. In that moment…I watched an innocent child become something else.”

“My God.”

“God wasn’t there that day,” she said flatly. “But after that, something in Xanthe’s mind unlocked. Her stories were no longer those of a romantic preteen, mooning over vampires and the like. She wrote of horrors, of pain and suffering, and even torture. Her own pain, what she saw…she could imagine what the human body might look like under different conditions. She’d already spent much of her life around the preserved dead, so perhaps it was only a matter of time. But there’s a difference between seeing a two-thousand-year-old mummy and the mutilated corpses of people you love.”

“Yes,” I whispered. I cleared my throat. “I’d imagine so.”

“In school, her literary teacher grew increasingly alarmed by her stories. It was part of a weekly curriculum—to write essays and such. They contacted the school counselor, who contacted David and myself, and also a psychiatrist. We thought the shrink was a good idea. Hell, we all could have used a little shrinking after what we’d gone through. But they wanted to medicate Xanthe, and that was something we didn’t agree with.

“Xanthe was never violent, never suicidal. She was just depressed, and that was to be expected. She used her writing as therapy. Drugs would have dulled her, maybe even destroyed her. But the school and the shrink were adamant. So, David and I packed up the household and moved them to England.

“After they settled down, I came back here. I’ve had my shop for a long time. However, Xanthe would come and stay with me when David was sent to dangerous places—the ’Stans mainly.”

“The ’Stans?”

Ellen nodded. “You know, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan. The Middle East. He didn’t like bringing her to those places, and I didn’t blame him. And…I love Xanthe, as though she were my own. She looks so much like Elaine and Hanna. I suppose me, too. Hanna and I were identical, after all.”

I sipped on my tea, appalled by what Xanthe had gone through.

“The ridicule and concern over her mental faculties made Xanthe very careful. She was hurt that her writing was being used against her. She was more upset that her ability to create amazing tales was discredited simply for the subject matter. She wasn’t being looked at as a gifted writer—which, of course, she is—but rather, she was seen as a sick person in need of help. What she had needed were people encouraging her, not judging her.”

I nodded, unable to speak. But I knew Xanthe, too, and if she were the one telling me this, she would have brushed this off and said she wouldn’t change a thing because it had made her who she was.

“My, time flies when you’re in good company,” said Ellen, once again smiling. “But Jaime should be by to help me close up soon. If you want to continue the rest of your life as a man, I’d suggest you hightail it out of here.”

My jaw dropped.

Ellen nodded. “I’m old, son, not stupid. I’d love to see more of you around here though. Come and visit anytime during the day.”

Smiling back at her, I replied, “I will.” I stood up, throwing my bag over my shoulder. “And thanks for the tea.”

“I prefer coffee, if I’m honest. The strong kind. And sweet.”

“Message received.”

“Good.”

She walked me to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Oliver.”

I wasn’t surprised she knew my name. “Likewise, Ellen.”

She didn’t seem surprised I knew hers either. I left the shop, passing by the window display with the
Haunted Bonds
hardcovers showing my scowling face plastered all over them.

Before Xanthe’s bloodthirsty friend busted me, I hurried down the street to Helmersen’s coffee shop for a fat joint and espresso before heading home. I was already feeling lighter. Ellen had given me a ray of hope to hoard in my Pandora’s box of Xanthe.

Ollie

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?”

Sighing, I snapped a few shots of the model stretched over the chaise longue, ignoring Gabriella’s whiny tone. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she had felt the need to show up here.

“Well?”

“I’m working,” I replied. “On your belly?” I asked the model.

She was a new one with the Secret Desires line. She looked good in the black ensemble she had on. A week and a half ago, I would have thought she was damn amazing. But I had experienced true amazement, and she didn’t compare.

“You don’t want me here?” Gabriella fumed.

“Not really,” I told her.

The model snickered, and I lowered the camera, throwing a glare her way.

“We’ll talk later, all right?” I told Gabriella.

She took herself off in a huff, and I continued with the shoot. Normally, I loved these shoots with scantily clad beautiful women. No doubt, Gabriella thought I wanted to get my rocks off with this one, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Gabriella modeled for Secret Desires. From what I’d gathered, she’d passed this shoot off to this woman here, for some reason or other. There had been no need for her to come today if she wasn’t working—unless she was only here to intimidate the new girl.

“What’s your name again?”

“Teresa,” she replied in her Spanish accent.

Yeah, it would be.

Gabriellas, Biancas, and Teresas—I was starting to see them as one globular form of womanhood. They were beautiful to look at, but I was much more interested in the Xanthes of the world now. I was ashamed of myself for never giving them the time of day before.

Teresa went off to change into the next outfit, not even bothering to hide her nudity from me. She threw a coy look over her shoulder before turning around and baring her naked form. Looking her over to appease her vanity, I then scrolled through the shots I’d already taken.

I wanted this to be done with. I just hoped it wouldn’t show in my work.

If I wrapped this up before noon, there’d be enough time to run to Helmersen’s and get Ellen an espresso before I irritated the woman for a few hours. Either Rex or Jaime would be coming to help her around five o’clock. I needed to talk to someone about Xanthe, preferably someone who didn’t want my gonads on a skewer.

After another hour, I was done. Teresa went off to get dressed in another room, and Gabriella waltzed in.

“Did you fuck her?” she asked me in angry Brazilian Portuguese.

“No,” I replied in English. I wasn’t paying her much attention as I packed up my equipment. I had enough time to run it back to FairFawkes before heading to Helmersen’s.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, again speaking Portuguese.

Sighing, I stowed my camera and slung the bag over my shoulder. “Nothing you would understand,” I told her.

She grabbed my hand, and I looked down at her. I didn’t want her touching me. I didn’t want anyone but Xanthe touching me.

“Ollie, there are rumors that something happened while you were in New York. Why won’t you tell me?”

Dreamstone had released a statement that I’d had an emergency, and therefore, I had had to back out of the Boston signing. I hadn’t even considered that Gabriella would have been worried about me.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Gabby. I promise, I’m okay.”

She nodded and snuggled into me, hugging me tight. It felt wrong. I tilted my pelvis away from hers, just to be safe.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” she asked, pressing her forehead to my neck.

Her hand brushed my crotch, and I pulled back.

“No. I have to get going.”

“But—”

“Gabby, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Grabbing the tripod and the sack with my lighting equipment, I ran for the elevator. The shoot had been in the penthouse of a luxury hotel, and I was just desperate to get to my car.

Trey was right, damn it.

If I hadn’t been so convinced that Gabriella was of my same frame of mind, I’d have noticed that she was becoming attached. Granted, she was the only woman I’d slept with for the last few months, but like I had told Trey, she had been the only one around.

Jesus, I was stupid.

Jumping in my car—
I need to clean out the busted petals
—I got away from Gabriella and Teresa as fast as I could.

At FairFawkes, I ran in and dropped my stuff off in my office.

“Oliver?” came Trey’s voice from his own office.

“Yeah?”

“You got a minute?”

“Um…”

He came in. “I’ll take that as a yes. You need to call Mandy. There’s something you need to do to keep the contract with Dreamstone. She said that she’s available now.”

I slumped. “All right.”

“And I think we need to hire an assistant or a receptionist. We’re, uh…getting a bit more business.”

“Sure.”

“Anyone in mind?”

“Yeah. No one I’ve slept with.”

“Well, that rules out half of the females in this city.”

Huffing in irritation, I snapped, “I haven’t been with
that
many.”

He rolled his eyes. “What happened?”

“Fucking Gabriella showed up at the shoot.”

“Ah…she called me and asked if you were back. She seemed worried.”

“Why didn’t she just call me herself then?” I grumbled, sliding behind my desk and turning on my computer.

“Because she’s got more pride than you and I combined. You calling Mandy?”

“Yes. You can leave now.”

He wasn’t offended. It was just how we were. We’d been with each other too long to actually give a crap about niceties.

Manning up, I pulled out my phone.

“Hi! This is Mandy Arthur.”

The woman was just so damn bubbly, and it wasn’t even six in the morning over there.

“Hi, Mandy. It’s Ollie.”

“Ollie! You absolute jerk! How could you do that to us? To Elaine—Xanthe?”

Guilt pooled in my gut. “I…” I had nothing of substance to offer.

“You’re nothing but a meanie. A complete butthole! You left us to deal with hundreds of heartbroken Donovanites! I thought Xanthe was going to die from embarrassment.”

My heart ceased to beat. “Oh God. Mandy—”

“What were you thinking?” she shouted. “You big, arrogant, stupid piece of poop! You’re in such deep trouble—”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. This woman was just too funny
.

Where the hell does Xanthe find these people?

If they weren’t cursing every other word, they refused to curse at all.

“What the fudge is so darn funny?” Mandy fumed.

I lost it. My brain was fried. Jet lag, missing the woman I’d just learned I lived and breathed for, dealing with Gabriella, and the like…I couldn’t contain it. My entire life had flipped the fuck upside down, and now, I was losing my damn mind.

“Woman, it’s hard to take you seriously when you can’t even bring yourself to properly curse at me.”

“Fudge you,” she hissed.

I guffawed. My belly hurt. I was laughing that hard.

Trey popped his head around the door to my office, probably making sure he wouldn’t have to call the loony bin. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I could only nod. He ducked back out.

“Are you done?” Mandy asked snippily.

I snorted and wiped my eyes. “I think I can hold it in for now.”

“Good. I’ve sent you a package of those swag posters and a roster of all the people who wanted to meet you in Boston. You have to sign them and send them all out. Renee said, if you do this, you’ll be forgiven. When you signed that contract, you agreed to do whatever it takes to make Paranormal Hunters a success. You violated that on the second signing! I know…I know what happened, okay? Xanthe and I have been friends for years. She told me what went on between you two.”

“I’ve messed up hugely. I realized it the moment it became impossible for me to come back. And I…are you in touch with her at all? I’m desperate to speak with her.”

“I talk to her almost every day.”

“She’s blocked my number—”

“And deleted it, too. She didn’t want to be tempted to call you either. I guess she figured a clean break was for the best.”

“Well, it’s not,” I grumbled.

“She’s really mad at you for what you did, Ollie. If I were you, I’d give her some time to cool off. I think she could’ve forgiven you for hurting her but not for disappointing her readers.”