Authors: Gwen Jones
“I’m a shit!” Marcel gaped at him. “Listen, big brother, I—”
“Shut up! Shut up both of you!” I bolted out the door.
It’s a good thing I never took my things from the truck; at least I would have something to bring home.
Home
. Where was that? I had no goddamn idea. All I knew was I had to get out of there, and I stomped my foot to the gas, tearing down the trail from the farm. I only had minutes—if not seconds—to do what I had to do, as Andy was sure to follow. I checked the rear view; not yet, so I bore down, mindless of everything else. When I finally hit Main Street I veered into Uncle Jinks’ station, startling him so he dropped a ratchet, mid-crank.
“Julie! What the hell!” he cried.
I was already on his porch, next door. “Hurry! Where’s your computer?”
“Front room, second floor.” He looked to the road, then back to me, stricken. “Oh Christ—I begged him to tell you! Every day! I swear to God!”
But I was already taking the steps two at a time, finding the laptop on a corner desk. As I waited for it to come up I spied a flash of red and black with a long, thick antenna atop a shelf. I picked it up: another satellite phone.
How convenient Jinx’s home page was Google. I typed in
Andy Devine
. Nothing but old movie sites. Then I typed in
Andr
è
Mercier
. Over 35,000 results.
Acting CEO of Mercier Shipping. The second largest privately-owned commercial shipping company in France. Headquartered in Marseille. Offices in Belize, Shanghai. Personal wealth estimated at 1.2 billion dollars
.
Forty years old. Single
. I clicked Images. Dozens of Andys flashed across the screen, each one looking more corporate than the next. I pulled down his phone and dialed Denny.
After nearly five rings he answered. “Hello . . .?”
“Denny, it’s Julie. Come and get me.” A pause. “Had enough?”
Had I? “Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Jinks’ gas station.”
“Well, ain’t it your lucky day? I’m outside of Egg Harbor on the way to A.C. Hang tough, sweetheart. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I clicked off, hurling the phone to the floor.
Wasn’t it funny, I thought as I stared at the computer screen, how I used to live online, and now, after not being on it in nearly six weeks, it was hardly my salvation? Or was it? A car screeched outside, followed by Jinks yelling and the front door slamming. “Julie—” Andy appearing in the doorway, flushed and heaving.
I jumped back. “Who
are
you?”
“I’m just who I said I was.” As he came toward me, his eyes flashed to the computer screen and all his incarnations. “But I’m also someone else.”
I slammed the laptop shut. “Right. A fucking liar. Aren’t you slumming,
André
?”
“Call me Andy,” he said, coming closer.
“S-Stay away from me,” I said, my voice quavering. But he kept coming until I was backed into a corner. “Stay away from me!” I yelled, cowering.
“Andy! For Christ’s sake!” Jinks screamed from outside. “Julie!”
Andy was so close I could see the pulse pounding in his neck, his scent so dizzying I couldn’t breathe. His hands were frozen an inch from my face, his own a study in anguish. “Please,” he said, pleading. “There’s a reason for what I did. Please let me explain.”
I stared at him. Those eyes. My God—
those eyes
. How often have I looked into them as he was deep inside me, how close have I come to drowning in them?
“Julie!” Jinks called again.
“Please,” Andy whispered, backing off.
I squeezed past him, going to the window. “I’m okay, Uncle Jinks. We’re just . . .” I glanced back to Andy, his eyes fixed on me.
“We’re talking,” Andy called down.
“You sure?” Jinks said after a moment.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry for upsetting you.”
“Well. I’m right here if you need me.” He turned, still wary, for the garage.
I went to the bed, slumping atop it. “Okay,” I said. “Talk.”
I felt the mattress sink as he dropped to the other side, our backs to each other. After a long while he began. “First off you should know I never lied to you.”
“Right. Just omitted a few pertinent facts.”
“Guilty as charged. But I did have a reason, maybe not a very good one as far as you’re concerned, but something I thought made sense at the time.” He sighed. “I’ve since learned otherwise.”
If he was waiting for a snappy comeback, I was all out of snark. So I waited.
“I was born Andrew Devine right here in Iron Bog. I’m an American citizen by birth, and I’ve never given it up. A copy of my birth certificate’s at the local bank in a safe deposit box. But when I was thirteen, my mother took me to France, divorced my father, and married Victor Mercier, a ship owner from Marseille on his way up. Do you remember that photo of my mother you found in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“That’s him in the photo with her. My father commissioned a private investigator, who . . .” He shook his head tightly. “Anyway, Marcel was born shortly after he and my mother married, so she changed my last name to Mercier, partly to spite my father, I think. When she did she also listed my surname as the French derivation of Andrew, but to my close friends, both here and abroad, I’ve always been Andy.”
“So I take it Marcel’s never been one of your confidants.”
He snorted. “The only good thing Marcel has ever done for me was set up a series of catastrophes that somehow led me to you.”
“Well, isn’t that ironic?” I said. “Now he’s leading you away.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Even if it’s true? After all, you did win your bet.”
“The bet was in his head, not mine. All I wanted to do was try to make him grow up, so he could take over the family business and I could finally be free of it. His father’s not in the best shape, so it’s time, and I figured if I took off he’d have no choice.” I felt him swiveling around, though I wouldn’t face him. “Marcel married a woman he’d only known three days, and that was after fathering a baby with another one. He has a brilliant mind and he could be a great man, but he’s ruled by romantic notions instead of logic, especially when it comes to women.”
“So you placed a bet with my life and called it
logic
?”
He huffed. “No—look. Marcel married for love and it didn’t even last a month. When we married, we already knew what to expect, so—”
“For God’s sake Andy—
stop!”
I jumped from the bed, turning on him. “Do you really believe that bullshit you’re spouting? There is no
we—
we’re over.”
He came toward me. “Don’t say that. Don’t even joke about it.”
“Why? I don’t even know who you are! I married Andy Devine, not André Mercier—some billionaire ship owner who thinks he can manipulate peoples’ lives to make a point.”
“I’m still the same person,” he said, once again backing me into the wall. “I’m still everything you thought I was and everything that’s good for you. Come on Julie . . .” he said softly, “aren’t you better off now than before you met me?”
I looked at him squarely. “I was a mess when I met you and I’m a mess now. What’s the difference?”
“Yet I see a strong woman. Who knows what she needs to be happy.”
“I lost that ability when I met you.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, his arms caging me. “That’s when you found it.”
Those eyes were on me again, working their mesmerizing magic, and everything in me said to run away. But I couldn’t. Either their pull was too strong or I was just a pushover, my anger giving way to the last sparks of desire.
He kissed the hair above my temple. “Julie, you know you need me . . . you know you want me.”
“Andy, don’t,” I whimpered, his breath hot against my ear. I pushed against his chest, a purely superficial effort; I’ve never felt weaker.
“Don’t what?” he said, his tongue tracing down my jawline to my neck, feathering kisses across the swell of my breasts. “You’re so beautiful . . . so . . .”
“Ah . . .” I couldn’t speak, could barely stand, his hands were on me now, at my hips, pulling them to his. He pressed against me and I ached to touch him, but I wouldn’t, I didn’t dare. And then he kissed me.
I fell as deep as I could go, lost in his scent, and it was all over. I was overcome by my own craving, but who was I kidding? I was crazy in love and nothing mattered. I threw my arms around him and succumbed.
“Julie, Julie . . .” he groaned, “can’t you see how I feel about you? I can’t stop wanting you.” His hands trailed to my breasts and he dropped his head to them, biting a nipple through the fabric. “I want you all the time, you’re like a sickness in me. Oh Julie,
Julie
. . .” He kissed his way up my breasts and back to my mouth, taking it savagely.
I slid down the wall, bent back in his arms, both of us panting as we crumpled to the floor. He tore his mouth away from mine and dragged it down my torso, biting and nipping until finally he shoved my dress up and yanked my panties down, diving into me. I bucked, my head arching back, the sensation so intense I bit my lip to keep from screaming, my fingernails digging into the floorboards as he went at me, relentless. Then all at once I went off, absolutely paralytic.
“Jesus—I love the way you taste . . .” Andy growled as I shook within his grasp. “I love the way you come for me, love the pleasure I can give you . . . love . . .” He kissed my belly, lingering to breathe against it, “love the way you feel when I’m inside you.”
He slid up my quavering body, pressing his panting mouth to mine, my hands at his fly, fumbling to free him. “I love you, Andy.” I bit his lip, and he groaned. “Andy—did you hear me?
I love you
.” His eyes closed and he raised up ready to enter me, when all at once I had to know. “Andy, please tell me . . . do you love me?”
“Julie . . .” he murmured, “I want you, more than anything in my whole life . . .”
I kissed his cheek, his mouth. “But do you love me, Andy, do you?”
“I—ah . . .” He pressed against me, right at the entrance. “Ah . . . ah . . .” Suddenly he stilled, his eyes wide open, staring at me.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Julie . . .” he whispered.
I pushed him off, scrambling to my feet.
“Son of a bitch,” I screamed, stepping into my panties. “Bastard.”
He grabbed my hand. “No one in the world means anything to me except you. Can’t you see—”
“No.” I said, snatching my hand back, righting my dress, my hair. “I can’t.” I ran for the stairs.
“Julie!” He scrambled to his feet, zipping as he followed. “Where’re you going! Come back! You’re my wife!”
I turned from the doorway. “That’s your misfortune.”
I was already taking my things out of the truck when he caught up with me. “You can’t be leaving.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I said, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Whatever I’ve left, send to Channel 8 News in Philly. They’ll know where to find me.”
“Julie!” He gaped at me, panicked. “Please don’t leave. I have so much more to tell you. But when I’m near you . . .” He palmed his forehead, as if he were in pain. “Julie, please. Let’s talk about this.
Please.”
I hefted my overnight bag. “I heard all I wanted to hear—or didn’t.” At which he had the grace to blanch.
“Julie!” Jinks ran over. He shot Andy a filthy look. “I’m so sorry, I tried over and over to make him tell you, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said, hugging him quickly. “Thank you for everything.”
Andy shoved between us, turning me around. “Julie—give me a minute to explain and I know you’ll understand. Jinks’ll help us—won’t you, Jinks? You’ll see it isn’t so easy. It’s so much more complicated than that.”
I could hear a car pulling up behind me. “It’s not complicated, Andy. You either love me or you don’t. I have to be more to you than how I make you feel. I have to be everything.”
“You are,” he whispered, “but I just can’t feel it.”
“But I can.” I touched his cheek, my heart breaking. “Goodbye, Andy.”
Denny called from the car, “You need some help there?”
“No,” I opened the back door, tossing in my overnight bag. “We’re all through.”
“Julie!”
Andy gasped.
I don’t remember getting into the car, but somehow I found myself inside, Denny pulling it into gear, and Andy outside the opened window, his hand thrust through it and clamped onto mine.
“If you think I can give you up this easily,” he said, his face ashen, “then you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Then fight for me, Andy,” I said, squeezing his hand before I let it go. “But make sure you know what you’re fighting for. Until you do please don’t come after me.”
I could see him in the side mirror as we pulled out, growing smaller as the road and the forest took us. Was I going in or coming out? I couldn’t decide.
Denny took hold of my hand. “I guess it’s pretty stupid of me to ask if you’re all right.”
I could feel his palm pressing down on my wedding rings. “Just as long as you don’t say ‘I told you so.’”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” he said after a moment. “You went and fell in love with him, didn’t you?”
The diamonds sparked, catching the sun. I yanked them off, zippering them into my wallet. “In the worst possible way,” I said, the tears finally falling.
Back, After a Brief Commercial Interruption
W
HERE WAS
I
?
Oh yes, I was walking down the street in Center City, turning the corner into the WPHA building, decked out in a blazer, sweater and tweed A-line, a leather messenger slung across me. (The bag is new, by the way. I bought it from that sweet little advance I got for the book I can’t bring myself to continue writing.) It’s a gorgeous November day, the kind that got you all excited about winter coming on—blindingly sunny with a frosty nip to the air, but just warm enough to make all that winter-enthusiasm seem token. I walked into the building’s marbled lobby, past the security guard who smiled in surprise and said, “Ms. Knott! Welcome back!” my three-inch heels clipping smartly as I nodded and pressed the
UP
button at the elevator bank. (Damn tricky thing, getting back into those heels.) It was all so old it seemed new again.