She jerked backward. Thanks for the tip, Mr. Know-It-
Congratulate me; Ive climbed up a notch from moron
But I dont need any advice. I have a mom, a dad, two sisters, a grandmother and grandfather, plus an ex-husband who are more than happy to give me all the advice I could ever want without even being asked! I certainly dont need you to
Mr. Parrish!
Both Matt and Rebecca whirled about at the sound of his name; Matt immediately suppressed a groan. It was good ol Harold, looking like a giant Pez dispenser in his festive weekend wear (seersucker shirt, white denim shorts, and sockless leather boat shoes), arm in arm with a man Matt presumed was his lover a short, buff guy in shorty-shorts and a tank top, boots, and carefully scrunched socks. Judging by the grin on his face, Harold was much happier to see Matt than vice versa. He came galloping forward, pulling Arnold Schwarzenegger with him. Mr. Parrish! How are you? He beamed.
Good, Harold.
Have you met Gary? he asked breathlessly.
Well, as he hadnt been to any gay bars lately .. . Ah, no
This is Gary, he said, letting Mr. Atlas go long enough to shake Matts hand, then grabbing him right back as if he feared Gary might float away.
Its so great to meet you, Mr. Parrish! Gary gushed. Ive heard an awful lot about you!
That right? Matt asked, and looked at Harold, who avoided his gaze altogether by looking at Rebecca, at whom he cocked one well-groomed brow. Oh ah ... Harold and Gary, Id like you to meet Rebecca Lear, Matt said. Shes working on Tom Masterss campaign with me.
Hel -loh, Harold said, immediately floating over to offer his hand to her.
Harold is my secretary, Matt said, trying not to wince.
A pleasure to meet you, Harold. And Gary, Rebecca said with a winsome smile that would have felled lesser or straighter men.
Its certainly a pleasure to meet you, Harold said.
You know, you look really familiar, Gary said, cocking his head to one side, finger tapping against his cheek as he peered at Rebecca.
Ohmigod, do you know each other? Harold gasped, ecstatic over the prospect.
I dont think weve met, Rebecca said politely, and took, Matt noticed, a small step backward.
No, no Im sure Ive seen you, Gary insisted, matching her backward step with a forward one.
She was Miss Texas one year, Matt said helpfully.
Harold and Gary gasped at the exact same moment; Rebecca shot him a withering look. Youre kidding! Harold squealed. OH. MY. GOOOODDD!
I knew I knew her! Gary cried. Ooh, this is wonderful! Wait until we tell Jim! he cried, and Matt suddenly feared that Harold and Gary were dangerously close to grabbing hands and dancing around in a circle. But Gary swirled back around to Rebecca, beaming from ear to ear. Miss Lear, I cant tell you how thrilling it is to meet you! We have all the Miss Texas pageant tapes from the mid-eighties on!
You do? Rebecca asked, sounding as shocked as Matt felt by that admission.
Yes! Gary cried. What year? No! Dont tell me, let me guess! 1995?
Oh my, much further back than that, she exclaimed laughingly. 1990.
Miss Houston! Gary gasped.
For the life of him, Matt couldnt figure out why anyone, save maybe teenage girls, would be interested in the pageant thing well, except maybe the thing about hemor-rhoid cream, which fascinated him on some morbid level he didnt want to explore too deeply but it was painfully clear Rebecca wasnt too crazy about the recognition. Listen, guys, we need to get going, he said, and grasped Rebeccas hand.
Oh! Oh, oh, of course! Harold said, and he and Gary turned twin beams to Rebecca. It was so great to meet you, Miss Lear! he said, dipping a little at the knee to emphasize just how great. I just cant believe we did!
Thanks, Rebecca said, inching closer to Matt. A pleasure meeting you, too, she said, lifting her free hand and crowding into Matt with a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. Matt didnt need any encouragement; he pulled her away, into his side, and as they disappeared into the crowd, he had a final glimpse of Harold and Gary standing side by side, watching Miss Texas 1990 with reverence.
Thanks a lot, Rebecca said as they stepped into the middle of the throng, and pulled her hand free of his.
He said he knew you, Matt reminded her. Whats wrong with you, anyway? Its not something to be embarrassed about.
Im not embarrassed! she scoffed.
You act like you are. And you said as much last night.
I did? she asked weakly.
Maybe not in so many words, but you definitely sounded like there were some regrets. I dont get it why not be a former beauty queen?
Rebecca paused in front of some iron sculptures, obviously pondering that question. I guess it just doesnt seem very important, she muttered.
Important? Matt laughed. We could all look back at
our lives and say the same about any number of things. Whats important, really?
Art, she said resolutely. Art is important. For example, look at this piece, she said, pointing to a strange looking thing, explaining what she saw in the maniacally shaped vase with holes in it, while Matt quietly wondered how it held water. And when they moved on to the next booth of paper sculptures, shapes delicately molded and painted, Rebecca pointed out a bouquet of flowers that was truly exquisite, and pointed out the unusual colors and lines. Matt picked it up; she suggested that it was a nice gift for his mom. It was something that his mom would like.
He paid for it and found her outside at the next booth, admiring some pottery work. With the flower thing in the crook of his arm, he asked if she had dabbled in any other art besides painting. Pottery, she said, pausing to look at more pieces. And when he asked what her favorite art form was, Rebecca slowly began to talk about a life she once had as a teenager, the life of a budding artist, who had painted and made sculptures from clay, and had even sold a few pieces to friends of her parents who thought she was destined for greatness. She talked with such animation that Matt could see it really had been important to her. Still was, regardless of what she wanted him to believe or what she was trying to make herself believe.
More importantly, by the time they reached the end of the booths, he realized he had glimpsed a woman behind the beauty queen, one who was far more interesting and vibrant and funny than he had originally thought, and he was fascinated. She was a challenge, too, as he imagined ways one might draw that vibrant woman out of her shell of suppressed perfection. The only problem was and it was sort of a big oneshe didnt particularly like him. For the first time in his life, Matt was looking at a woman who didnt like him. What had happened to the universe as he knew it?
They wandered out of the art festival, and he took her to her car, feeling more and more disturbed with each block as she chatted about art. He had the strange and unusual
compulsion to prove to her that he was likable, that he could be more than a one-night stand, and when she got out of the car with his moms gift that she had held in her lap, he got out too, grabbing her bag from behind the seat and walking around to her side of her car.
She looked up at him, lifted a brow in question.
How odd that he should feel so awkward he held out her bag to her; she took it with a faint smile and slung it over her shoulder, then attempted to hand him his mothers gift.
You know what? he suddenly blurted. You really shouldnt be uptight about that Miss Texas thing. I mean, if ever there was a woman who was meant to be a beauty queen, its you.
A strange expression washed over her face, and Rebecca looked down at the gift she was holding. Matt had the uneasy feeling that she had heard this a million times before, and it made him feel an even bigger fool as his brain groped the rusty parts for how to express his feelings. Im not... Look, Rebecca, Im a lawyer, not a poet. But there are some things I just know, and all I am trying to say is, you are so damn gorgeous that you probably steal into mens dreams all the time without even knowing it. You are a mans dream.
Rebecca said nothing, but slowly pushed the floral piece toward him.
Matt took it in one hand, and with the other, he impulsively reached up, touched her temple, unable to stop himself from feeling her skin beneath his once more, even if it was just a touch.
Rebecca drew a sharp breath as if she had been singed.
If you ever want to finish off that drought, he muttered, listing forward to kiss her while she stood, paralyzed. Her lips, slightly parted, quivered beneath his, and as his hand drifted to her neck, he felt her pulse racing. And then she was responding, lifting up to him, kissing him deep, stepping closer, her hand on his neck, her tongue in his mouth, kissing him deeper. Every fiber, every cell in him was suddenly alive; he could feel a draw from his
groin to his throat, and as he began to snake his arm around her waist, she broke the kiss.
Dazed, Matt just stood there.
Rebecca touched her finger to his lips, looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, her eyes crystal blue beneath. Thank you, Matt. Thanks for last night and for saying what you did about.. . me. But I think you should know, Im not really in a place
She was about to give him the brush-off, and Matts survival instincts kicked in. He pulled the floral thing between them, smiled lopsidedly. Whoa dont get me wrong, he said, forcing a laugh. I was just saying thanks for the memories. He winked at her.
Rebecca smiled, but her eyes said she didnt believe him. Thats what I thought, she said softly, and stepped around him, walked to her car, opened the door, and tossed her bag inside. And then she started it up, throwing the thing in reverse and leaving the parking lot while he stood there like a dolt, holding some artsy-fartsy sculpture of paper flowers, quietly disturbed by the uncomfortable realization he had made that very same exit more times than he could count.
She couldnt get back to Ruby Falls fast enough.
Once she was safely ensconced in her refuge, Rebecca fed her dogs, then treated herself to a long, soaking, bubble bath. But the soothing eye compress was not cold enough to chase his image from her minds eye, and the water wasnt hot enough to melt away the feel of his body against hers, nor the lingering heat of the most sublime, superex-cellent orgasm of her life. Each time she thought of it, she felt an enticing shiver snake down her spine. And when he had kissed her again in the garage of the Four Seasons or rather, when she had kissed him, her body taking over her mindshe had feared that she would melt again, like she had the night before, right into his arms ...
So what if she did was that so bad? Yes! Yes, yes, yes ... It was, she knew it was. Okay, it was, but shed be a whole lot happier if she could only say why.
Her head was pounding, so Rebecca turned in very early, Frank at the foot of her bed, and Bean with his head under the bed (the only part of his body that would fit) and dreamed a stupid, ridiculous, sensual dream in which she
and Matt had mind-blowing sex, and he brought her to the very brink of what had all the markings of being the most stupendous orgasm ever. But she awoke, unfulfilled and miserable. The usual.
What worried her was that it didnt end there. She felt fearfully and mysteriously fantastic Sunday, as if there was something wild inside, something that had been awakened after years of paralysis, trying to claw its way free, and it scared the shit out of her. It had been so very long since she had been anything but perfect, never so much as a hair out of place, her manner and her life all carefully controlled. To think that something wildly imperfect was rumbling about inside and demanding to be set free seemed like . . . anarchy.
It was a wicked thing to have unleashed, and she still wasnt sure how it had happened. If she had known exactly where the hole was in her internal dam, she would have stuck her finger in it to keep it from bursting, because she knew if it did, shed be rushing along in dangerous waters where so many issues and fears would bob along beside her, trying to sink her.
There was only one thing to be done for it housecleaning. Top to bottom, scrubbing, scrubbing, and scrubbing to get rid of that earthy feeling and put everything back in its proper place, including Matt, who had become, much to her horror, someone she thought she could actually like. Really like.
Naturally, the housekeeping did no good. Exhausted, she tried a different tact, and after devouring a container of Haagen-Dazs for supper, she spent the evening in the midst of her growing library of self-help and Zen books, scouring them for any tips or advice that might help her move onward through the strange fog that had enveloped her sometime Friday and now refused to dissipate.
No luck, of course.
So she pored through Friends and Lovers and How to Know the Difference in minute detail, but found nothing to help her put Matt in his proper category. Stupid book. It could at least list some attributes or something.
A phone call from Rachel, all excited, was the topper of her excruciatingly raw day. Ive been charting your horoscope! she squealed when Rebecca answered the phone.
Why?
Its fantastic! Rachel cried. Okay, you know Uranus is in Pisces, which is really great, I mean, you should really be prepared for something totally awesome. And then, guess what. Venus is in Pisces, too! So anyway, I was looking at your horoscope for the next year, and you will not believe what it says! Guess!
I--
Okay, Ill tell you, she said breathlessly. It says that Venus will orbit very closely to Uranus, and there will be a strong current of electricity in the air, and that a Pisces will have powers of magnetism they have not known in seventy years. And that there is someone very close to you, probably a Cancer, who will fulfill you in ways you never dreamed! Oh. My. God! She paused there for dramatic effect, waiting for Rebecca to say something.