Love Scars - 5: Covered (3 page)

I covered her with the rose petals, strewing them over her soft skin, along her thighs, in the dark space between her legs, over her belly and breasts, her shoulders and her forehead. I left her sweet lips exposed and bent down to kiss them....

Scarlett touched my hand. “That’s if you’re not here, J.D.”

“Huh?” My fantasy evaporated. I was once again on the island with Scarlett and Mom both staring at me. I’d missed something. “What?”

“Lori will come every day while we’re in London,” Mom said. “To feed the dogs and water the houseplants—unless you’re still here.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“We’re out of coffee.” Scarlett finished her iced coffee and set the empty glass down. “I didn’t buy any beans at the store last time, since we’re going to be gone a month. I miscalculated.”

Miscalculated,
meaning she hadn’t taken into account how much I’d consume.

“I can fix that.” I stood up and flexed my arms in a superhero pose just as a Skype call came in. “After I finish this call with Brad. I’ll take the boat over to the marina and pick up a few things.”

“I’d kill for a root beer float,” Mom said.

“You got it.” I took the laptop upstairs to my room.

“Bad news,” Brad said. “Nicole’s going to sue for sexual harassment.”

“So get out the checkbook.”

“She won’t take a settlement. She wants her day in court. She says she wants the world to know what an asshole you are.”

“What do I care?”

“It matters now, J.D.” Brad said. “If we want to influence legislation, we have to care about BlueMagick’s reputation. You’re BlueMagick.”

“No, Brad. You’re the face of BlueMagick, thank god. But still.”

I didn’t care what the world thought of me. But I did care what Nora would think. “Did you tell Nicole we’d press charges for corporate espionage?”

“She said we can’t prove anything about the Proto 1. I asked her what her pal Nora would say about that. She got all agitated, but she didn’t back down.”

“You mentioned Nora’s name?”

“Nicole pretty much lost it. She asked who the fuck is Nora, like she’d heard the name but had no idea who she was,” Brad said. “The thing is, J.D., I believed her.”

“She doesn’t know Nora. Crap. I wanted to keep it that way.”

“She knows now, dude,” Brad said. “I went out to the girls’ place yesterday. When I turned into the driveway, the car behind me slowed to a stop and I saw the driver in my rearview mirror. Flame-red curly hair and huge sunglasses. Nicole was following me.”

“Dammit.”

“She drove on when I got out of the SUV,” Brad said.

“What were you doing there?” I said. I felt frustrated and pouty.
I
wanted to be at Nora’s yesterday.

“Installing solar lights in the yard for the wedding,” Brad said.

“If BlueMagick ever goes under, you’ll have a second career,” I joked.

There was an awkward silence, and a shadow flickered over Brad’s eyes. Oblique as it was, my joke referenced that day in my mom’s garden when Brad installed her lights and Holly had laid out her nefarious plan.

“How is Frank handling you being at the house?” I said.

“Frank’s got BlueMagick-itis,” Brad said. The moment passed. We were back in the present. Old girlfriends forgotten.

“You’re kidding.”

“He acts like we’re BFFs. He asked me to be a groom.”

“What the hell?”

“It’s a crappy job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

“Wait a minute, dude,” I said. “You said yes? You don’t owe that guy zip. He’s marrying your angel.”

“I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for her.”

“That’s taking the Mr. Nice Guy routine too far. You schmuck.”

“Yeah, well,” Brad said.

That about summed it up. “How’s Nora?” I said.

“He finally gets to the point.”

“Come on,” I said. “How is she? Did she take the money yet?”

Brad told me Nora had given him the scanner after all. He’d repeated my offer to pay whatever MolyMo promised her.

“She’s adamant. Won’t do it,” Brad said. “She’s putting the house up for sale. The listing goes live the day after the wedding.”

“The day after tomorrow then.”

“Things have a way of working themselves out.”

“A sucky way.” I felt sick to my stomach.

We logged off and I went down to the marina for supplies. Taking the boat was faster than driving Mom’s funky old BMW. It was good to get out on the water and feel the salt wind on my face. I felt like shit. Everything was spinning away from me, out of my control.

I picked up the coffee beans—Sumatra Mandheling, Scarlett’s favorite—and a few other supplies. There was a woman with kids at the soda fountain. I almost blew off the root beer floats, but I didn’t want to give Scarlett any more reason to rag on me.

She didn’t put it into words, but her tone said all. She thought I was turning into a slacker. Just because I slept past noon and always wore the same shirt with the sleeves ripped out and played computer solitaire all day every day.

The woman ahead of me ordered four hot dogs, two with the works,
one ketchup
only, one plain. She and her little kids all wore white sailor hats. Tourists. The boy looked six or seven. He was fascinated by whatever was in the pail he carried. The little girl was four or five with big brown eyes. She stared up at me from under her mom’s arm. I felt like a giant.

I winked at her, and her eyes got bigger. I winked again. She blinked and a smile spread slowly over her face. What a little cutie.

“Mama.” The boy held up his pail. “The worms want to go catch the fish now.”

“As soon as we eat, sweetie,” the woman said. Her voice was familiar. “We should have waited to buy the worms.”

“Holly?” I said, and she turned around.

“J.D., wow!”

It was Holly. Mercenary Holly. Horrible Holly. But this was a nice mom with a great smile wearing a silly sailor hat and with two nice kids.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Well, I guess I can. Orcas Island. Are you visiting your mom?” She struggled with all the stuff she was carrying.

“Can I help you?” I said.

“I just need to get my wallet out of my purse.”

“Let me get this.” I gave the cashier my credit card before she could refuse, and the guy at the counter handed over a bag of food.

“I have worms.” The boy showed me his pail.

“Yep. Those are worms,” I said. Lame. I knew nothing about fishing. I picked up the bag of hot dogs and walked outside with Holly and her kids.
Holly and her kids.
Words I never thought would enter my brain. “So you’re married?”

“To an architect,” she said. “We moved to the island six months ago. I just opened a new art gallery at West Beach on Enchanted Island Road.”

“That’s wonderful.” She was so normal.

“It would be
really
wonderful if Sheila let me do a show for her.” Holly blushed. I didn’t remember her being shy. “I’ve always loved your mom’s stuff, you know. She hasn’t answered my letter.”

“She’s been busy,” I said. I was caught in a Bizarro World where Holly was amazing and nice. She was calm, friendly—she reminded me of Lisa. An intrinsically happy person. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“That would be great, J.D.,” she said. “Thanks.”

“You look fantastic, Holly.” She did, too. “Really happy.”

“I am happy,” she said. “And you look…well, you haven’t changed.”

She was right. I looked the same. I was the same. She summed it up perfectly: I hadn’t changed.

Holly, my nemesis, had changed. She’d moved on with her life and flourished. What was I thinking? That she’d pine away with regret over the mistake she’d made with me?

God. What a self-centered idiot.

I called Jennings as soon as I made it back to the house—with the root beer floats—and told him to get the plane ready. I had to get back to California. I had this crazy idea in my head. If I didn’t dance with Nora at the wedding, I’d lose her forever.

Nora’s house. Third Saturday in July, 5:20 p.m.

The front doorbell rang. Again. Lisa’s wedding was in forty minutes. People had started to arrive, and I was still in a tank top and shorts.

But my head looked good.

In keeping with Lisa’s garden theme, Stacey and I had glittery little flowers and butterflies painted on our faces and shoulders. It looked pretty cool. The hairdresser decorated our hair with origami butterflies and honeybees and piled mine on top of my head in stylized lacquered curls fixed with two silver hair picks.

Stacey had been dressed for over an hour. She was a dangerous mix of cute and sophisticated in her pale pink bridesmaid dress, and she intended to get maximum use out of it. She’d enlisted some of the buss crew from the restaurant to help set up. At the moment she was in the backyard giving directions to a darkly handsome young guy. The famous Mason Brewer.

“Nora, dear. There you are.” Lisa’s mom came in from answering the door carrying a huge present which she added to the pile on the table. “I told them to go around to the back instead of traipsing through your house.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Newberry. Here, have some of the good stuff.” I poured her a glass of Duckhorn sauvignon
blanc
and put the bottle back in the refrigerator in the meat drawer.

The front door bell rang again.

“That does it,” I said. “I’m making a sign.”

“Do you know where Lisa is?” Mrs. Newberry said.

“Either in my room or hers.” I tore a sheet out of Stacey’s drawing pad and found a thick red marker. “She doesn’t want Frank to see her in her dress before the ceremony.”

I wrote
ß
BACK YARD
on the paper and took it out to the front as the doorbell rang again. It was Cindy Slater.

“Hi, Nora.” She looked at my funky clothes. “I’m sorry I’m early. I wanted to be sure to get a parking place.” She was dressed to conquer in a simple form-fitting sleeveless black dress, her hair swept up in a beehive, and big red plastic earrings.

“You look like you just stepped out of
Mad Men
,” I said.

“Thanks!” She beamed. “Is Brad here yet?”

Oh, brother.
Maybe Little Miss Retro could put a smile on the poor guy’s face. She certainly looked eager to try.

“He’s in the back.” I propped the sign on a chair by the door. “Come on through, Cindy. I’ll get you a glass of the good stuff.”

I gave her some wine and sent her out to find Brad and decided I’d better get dressed. As I passed Lisa’s door on the way to my room I heard her mom’s voice, too quiet for me to make out the words but motherly and sweet. A twinge of achy pain nicked at my heart. I would never hear my mom’s good wishes on my own wedding day. If I ever found someone to marry, that is.

I pushed the gloomies away. This was Lisa’s happy day. I was going to be happy for her and with her.

My dress was hanging on the closet door. I tore off my shorts and tank top and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and check my makeup. The sparkly butterflies and honeybees were all intact. I added some mascara and redid my lipstick. I looked like a princess in a hot fairytale. I just wished J.D. could see me.

Dammit.
I would think of J.D. Of course I would. I’d been pretty good at forgetting him. I was down to thinking about him every hour or so instead of constantly. But when I did think of him, it was brutal. A full-on bombardment of the senses.

I’m here.
I would imagine his voice, low and strong and kind in my ear. The feel of his hands on my waist. His kisses on my neck. How utterly safe I felt when I realized it was J.D. beside me in the tree house.
I’m here.

But he wasn’t here. I’d had a glimpse of heaven, and it turned out to be a lie. I told him to get out, and he got out. According to Brad, J.D. wasn’t even in California anymore.

Stop.
I told myself.
This ends now. No more self-pity.

“Lisa?” Brad was in my bedroom. I’d left my bathroom door slightly ajar. I turned to go tell him she was with her mother, but he kept talking. “I’m glad I caught you alone for a minute.”

I froze.

“Brad, you look…good.” She was out there.

“You look beautiful, Lisa,” Brad said. “You always do, but especially…well. I just wanted to say I’m so glad I know you. You’re funny and kind and sweet. I think you’re the loveliest woman on the planet. I always feel better being in the world, knowing you’re here too. Oh, god. I’m rambling….”

“Brad, that’s sweet of—”

“Oh, Lisa.”

The room went silent with the unsilent silence of two people kissing.

After at least a full minute Lisa said, “Brad, no. I can’t.”

“God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Brad said. “I—I hope Frank makes you as happy as you deserve.”