Текст книги "Whisper to Me"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twelve Kai

Fuck, this was going to be a long-ass day. After I walked out of Rachel’s bathroom, it took several long minutes—including the car ride over—to get my breathing and raging hard-on under control.

What in the hell had I done that for? Call me overconfident, but it sure as hell seemed like she was feeling it, too. That inexplicable draw between us. The same one that had already existed, even in the friend zone.

We had always sought each other out—being comfortable enough to hang, swap stories, share secrets, without the expectation of anything romantic or sexual.

We simply liked being around each other. Sure, it had transformed into something deeper on my end throughout her recovery. We’d grown so close during that time, speaking from our hearts, sharing our vulnerabilities. Hell, I told her shit that went down after my gigs or arguments I’d had with my parents that had fucked with my brain.

And somehow, letting her inside had been like a salve to my soul.

I was pretty sure our hookup was only supposed to be a one-night thing, despite my open invitation for more. And now she definitely knew I was attracted to her. But it needed to end there, unless she sought me out again.

After a brief and curt hello from my father near his office door, I stepped onto the floor to find Stuart. I walked past housekeeping services and got an overexuberant wave from Meadow. I kept moving, because after that lecture from Dakota, I didn’t want to give any women around here the wrong impression.

I found Stuart near the entrance to the lobby, and upon seeing me he gave a brisk nod to someone over my shoulder. I turned to see my father stepping back inside his office as if he’d been making sure I’d gotten to my destination. As if he’d been checking up on me. Sure, I’d gotten to work late a couple of times already, but it wasn’t because of smoking weed. I’d already begun to curb my habit, taking only two or three hits on the nights I wanted to unwind and write some new music.

The frustration must have shown on my face because Stuart patted my back and said, “Don’t let your father fool you. He was just like you back in the day.” He and Stuart had grown up together and had even gone to the same high school.

“Somehow I have a hard time believing that,” I said, taking in how full the gambling tables seemed already. There was a poker tournament happening later tonight, so the casino was bound to become even more packed.

“He didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do, either, and then one day he found his passion for business,” he said, leaning down almost conspiratorially. “You’ll find your passion, too.”

“I think I’ve already found mine. Mostly,” I said, muttering that last bit. “I just don’t know how to make a living doing it yet.”

Stuart’s eyes zeroed in on two shifty-looking guys entering the lobby. They kept their heads down and refused to greet the attendant near the door. Based on their worn clothing, they looked like they could barely afford the penny slots, which probably spoke to my uncle’s argument against casinos. But there was a difference between being poor and being a criminal, as my father liked to point out.

“Too bad your father won’t include you in his plan to class this place up,” he said, keeping his eyes on the two strangers. “But it’s only a matter of time, so keep your nose clean.”

Great. Even Stuart thought I was a fuckup. I decided to ignore his comment. “What do you mean, class it up?”

It was true that upon entering the casino for the first time in a couple of years, I had questioned whether it was going downhill, even though my dad had spruced it up with new fixtures and carpets. The clientele appeared rougher around the edges. They seemed to be hardcore gamblers, as opposed to people out for a night of fun and entertainment. I wondered on more than one occasion if my father had had to beef up security due to thievery, card counting, or bar fights.

“Your father’s concerned about the riffraff coming through here lately, and he’s organized a committee to help us get back to our roots,” he said. “And since you know a thing or two about the entertainment industry, I bet you’d have some ideas.”

“Thanks, Stu,” I mumbled. “But I doubt my father would want me involved in any of that.”

“Hey, why the long face? You want to know what Chief Red Hawk once said?” Stu was spouting off again about the infamous leader of our tribal nation. He’d been his greatest admirer for as long as I could remember.

I actually liked hearing his quotes—mostly. If only to keep me grounded in my history. Usually the proverb had to do with returning to nature or finding your spiritual self, but I couldn’t imagine that type of quote would fit into our current conversation.

I nodded. “Sure.”

He cleared his throat. “Understand that you are essential to this world. To the laws of nature. Find your own way, make your own peace. For it is you who has to live with yourself.”

I contemplated that while he stalked off to handle a disagreement taking place near the employee lounge. My father frowned upon staff taking out their personal issues in public. Stuart would undoubtedly remind them of that and get their argument under control.

I’d always thought that I could sit back and allow things to happen in my life. For nature to take its course. But now, more so than ever, I’d come to realize that the world doesn’t work that way. I needed to take the steps forward, and even some backward, to get myself somewhere. To get what I wanted.

And right now all I wanted was some direction in my fucking life.

I wanted to feel alive.

For my nerve endings to buzz as deafeningly as they had the other night with Rachel when I made her feel good against my fingers. The same fingers I used to hammer away on the strings of my bass to create music. To mix sounds together.

As vibrant and dazzling as that feeling I got in my chest when I produced something good—for myself or somebody else.

Stuart returned looking flustered and worn. “So where do you need me today, Stu?”

So far, he’d plugged me in wherever I was needed throughout the shift. The other night I was a bar back and that kept me very busy, since the casino was packed. It also allowed me a good visual of the stage and the band.

I wasn’t sure how to tell my father that his acts sucked. Because there really wasn’t a way to put it delicately. If he wanted to make the place classier, he needed more professional musicians and he needed to be willing to fork over money to get them. The sound engineer was decent, so it wasn’t necessarily a reflection on that guy.

I knew that I needed to tread lightly with my father. I didn’t want him to think that all I cared about was music, since my dad obviously wasn’t interested in that being the path for me anymore. First, I needed to prove that I was a hard worker. At the very least, that was expected of me. It was a pretty safe assumption that he wouldn’t even entertain a conversation with me about the musical acts if he didn’t see that I was putting forth effort to make some kind of living.

Second, I needed to show up on time and lay off the weed.

“I need you at the elevators,” Stuart said. “Check the room keys of everyone who passes to be sure they belong in this hotel.”

Ugh, mindless and boring. “Will do.”

Two hours later, the only saving grace was that I got a direct view of the band setting up for their show. My fingers itched to play, and even though I’d met a few times with my former band mates—who were happy to welcome me back into the fold—I was pretty sure I needed to stay away from them. Why hadn’t I noticed what a bunch of losers they were before?

Sam had made a beeline for me about an hour earlier to talk about his grandson Micah. He said Micah was being moved to another facility and that he would let me know the visiting hours once the boy was settled. I promised him I’d visit Micah in the next couple of weeks, but I still didn’t understand his motives for seeking me out.

For all I knew, my mother had put him up to it or something.

She had always commented on how nurturing I had been to Rachel in the hospital. In reality, I think she knew how my feelings had changed. But she was cool enough not to mention it, outside of teasing me about living with two women for the summer. When she asked about Rachel, she’d get this softness in her eyes that I continued to ignore.

Regardless, I felt for the kid and would visit Micah if it made Sam happy. It might even make me feel better. Maybe I’d bring along my acoustic bass and play him some tunes.

Two women dressed in skimpy clothing now edged closer to the elevators, and I could already tell they would attempt to get by without showing their room keys.

“I need to see your keys,” I said in an authoritative voice.

“Oh c’mon,” the one in the red heels said, trying her best to use a seductive voice. “We . . . accidentally left them in our room.”

It bugged me when girls used their sexuality to get their way. But I supposed it worked on enough men to keep the practice in business.

I remained unflappable. “Which floor?”

She seemed surer of her answer to that question. “Fifth.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I muttered, reaching for my two-way radio. “Let me call the front desk and have them look up your names.”

“No, wait,” the brassy blond said, her eyes shifting guiltily. “We . . . we don’t actually have rooms here.”

“Yeah, thought so,” I said. “Nice try. Why do you ladies need to get up there?”

They side-eyed each other, and then the brunette said, “Our boyfriends are waiting for us.”

I’d heard this one before. These girls were probably supposed to meet some businessmen, away from home for the week, in their rooms. “Why aren’t they down here with you?”

Blondie shrugged. You’d think the dudes would be slicker and actually bring them up with their own cards. But they were too afraid to be seen with women who were not their wives.

“Security’s in place for a reason,” I said. They tried giving me doe eyes, but I wasn’t going for it. “For all I know, you could be strapping bombs or something.”

They laughed and looked down at their scantily-clad bodies, pretty certain that what I was suggesting was ridiculous. “You can frisk us and find out.”

But the only woman I’d consider frisking was a certain green-eyed beauty.

Chapter Thirteen Rachel

“You scheduled your follow-up appointment with Dr. Douglas, right?” Mom asked.

Every summer visit post-surgery, Mom made sure I secured an appointment with my neurosurgeon. The idea was that they would monitor the pressure in my skull. Even though the fluid had been drained during surgery, post-op complications were always a possibility. Three years out, I hadn’t had anything more than occasional headaches, some numbness, and sensitivity to light.

“Of course,” I said. “It’s not for a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said, setting up a display of natural lip balms at the cash register.

I nodded. It was a given that she always wanted to come, and I was more than fine with that.

“I’ve been thinking.” I walked over to the freshly-painted chocolate-brown wall and looked around the store from that vantage point. “You need a website, Mom.”

“Um . . .” Mom looked at a loss for words as she did after many of my latest suggestions.

“I brought my camera,” I said, pointing to my bag. “I figure we can take photos and then post the items on a webpage.”

“Gosh, honey, I don’t know.” She bit her fingernail, a habit I’d been noticing a lot more recently. “How am I supposed to keep up with a website after you head back to school?”

“We can do something basic. We’ll list the hours of operation, phone number, and address,” I said, even though she still looked skeptical. “Just so people know how to find us.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she said, folding her arms and sinking back against the counter.

“And great photos of the space might draw people in. Especially the locals,” I said, moving to another corner to see what the lighting looked like near the front windows. “They’d be willing to take a drive here to see what this place is all about.”

“That does sound like a good idea, honey,” she said, joining me at the front display to stare out across the small parking lot. “Gosh, what am I going to do without you?”

“You managed without me at the other location,” I said, playfully knocking my hip against hers. “Besides, I bet John would help if you needed him.”

“Yeah . . . he would,” Mom said with a contented gleam in her eye.

Her husband, John, had been to the shop during his lunch break this week to see our progress. I’d admit it was still awkward being around him—one of the reasons I was thankful for Dakota’s offer to stay at her place this summer. Mom and John had been married only a year—they had eloped and held a private ceremony, which was best for all concerned—and it all felt too fresh, as if they hadn’t waited for the ink to dry on my parents’ divorce papers.

John was definitely nice enough, and he didn’t act like he was trying too hard to win me over, but what I noticed most of all was how he treated my mom. It was like he revered her. It hadn’t slipped by me that they spoke openly, consulted each other on important things, and made decisions together.

I realized how vastly different that was from how Mom and Dad had interacted. They were barely in the same room at the same time. And they never seemed to agree on anything. In retrospect, maybe they’d acted civil only for my sake.

Because as soon as I’d retreat to my room, they’d argue bitterly in hushed tones, just a floor below. It was scary listening to your parents knock each other down with words. I’d lay awake desperately formulating elaborate ways to fix things, but the next morning everything would seem fine between them. Empty, but fine.

Maybe contentment in a new marriage—a new relationship—was just a novelty. I remembered how close I felt to Miles at the beginning. We talked incessantly on the phone those first few weeks. We had been a deliriously happy couple, hadn’t we?

And then I began remembering the little things. How I’d been so giddy about dating him that I let certain things slide. Like when he was out with his teammates, I was never invited along. How I stayed home alone my share of weekend nights because he had away games or would be involved with some kind of team thing. How sometimes Dakota, and even Kai, would show up to drag me out the door to a movie or to get pizza with friends.

Gosh, how had I forgotten that? Come to think of it, Mom and Dad had separate friends and activities as well.

Spending weekends over at Dakota and Kai’s house had felt drastically different. Their family laughed and got along most of the time. Mr. and Mrs. Nakos would share meaningful looks, and they always spoke respectfully to each other.

I removed my digital camera from its case, adjusted the flash, and began taking test shots of the store. “I think we should do a grand reopening in a couple of weeks. We’ll pass out fliers and invite family and friends.”

Mom moved out of range of my shot to avoid being in the picture. She was such a pretty lady, with her dark pixie cut and bright eyes, but she hated seeing herself in photographs.

“You’re in a better location now,” I said, sneakily taking a shot of her while she arranged candles on a shelf. “So hopefully business will pick up.”

She sat back on her heels, admiring her arrangement. “That would be great.”

“And knowing you, you’ll want to be in the back making product most of the time,” I said. “So I’d consider hiring part-time help to work the front of the store.”

She looked up at me. “Can’t I just keep my little girl here?”

“You know I’d do it if the university was closer,” I said as my guilt accelerated.

“I know you would, sweetie,” she said, exhaling. “I’ll have to hire somebody responsible and trustworthy.”

“Of course. Let’s see how the rest of the summer goes,” I said, snapping my last photo. I’d have to shoot more once the shop was in final order. “Before I head back to school our goal can be to find someone.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She stood and headed to the back room to check on the new batch of candles cooling on a rack.

I got busy unloading more boxes from the previous store—bath lotions, shower gels, and soaps. I remembered the deep timbre of Kai’s voice when he told me I smelled good that morning. How he stood so close behind me. The way his eyes sought mine in the mirror.

Had he been remembering our night together the way that I had the past few days?

Damn, he was starting to hijack my brain.

A week ago, I would have never considered him to be anything more than a handsome best friend from childhood. But now I was entertaining all of these other thoughts about him. I imagined waking up in his bed. In his strong arms. Touching him, tasting him, hearing the sounds he made when he came undone.

And, Holy Mother of God, what did that boy look like completely naked?

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt this kind of visceral response to somebody. It was like a live wire had been plugged into the center of my chest and was being fed directly to the area between my legs.

I was beginning to feel anxious about when I’d see him again and even hopeful for our next encounter. I needed to make sure Kai didn’t clue in to my crazy dirty thoughts about him. I couldn’t even understand them myself—so how would he?

Kai had made me feel desirable. Like a real woman. So different than how I had felt with Miles—which now seemed juvenile in comparison. But we’d only been teenagers when we met, for Christ’s sakes.

Sure, other men had made me feel attractive over the years. I mean, I’d made out with some really cute guys. But normally, if an encounter led to sex, it was after a few days of being hard up—so it was usually sloppy and with a goal in mind. And if I was being honest with myself, what Kai said the other day had been true. I’d been trying to work out my anger, regret, and unresolved feelings for Miles.

Truth be told, I figured I’d still be horribly upset about seeing Miles the other day. I thought I’d be pacing around and thinking about him constantly. Considering other ways to see him or get in contact with him.

But it was as if Kai had stepped in and given me something else to focus on.

Fantasize about.

Had that been his plan all along? Because he’d been pretty damn good at it.

Had he made all the other girls feel this way?

He’d said that he’d dated a girl in Amsterdam—if in fact, he’d been telling the truth after being put on the spot by Dakota.

What would it be like to date someone like Kai?

Fuck, I needed to cut it out.

I didn’t know what would happen if I sought him out again for a night of “forgetting.” It seemed almost too dangerous to become lost in him. Maybe this had more to do with the fact that I knew Kai too well.

But no—what I experienced with him the other night was a side of him I’d known nothing about. I’d always been curious about him, sure. Never in my wildest imagination would I have pictured him kissing and touching me like that.

He’d made me come just by rubbing his fingers—his very skillful fingers—over my panties. The forbiddenness of that very act between us might have made it more exciting. I mean, shit, Dakota could have walked in at any moment.

Kai didn’t want to fuck me that night—he’d been the only sensible one in the room—thank God. But part of me wondered why he hadn’t—I’d given him plenty of opportunity. I remembered how he seemed frustrated, angry even, when he carried me to my room.

Had he only been doing me a favor? If that were the case, what in the hell had the bathroom business been about this morning? As it stood now, we hadn’t even seen each other naked. We’d just used our hands and our lips, and maybe if I kept thinking about it in those terms, it would still feel innocent enough.

Yeah, right.

Already I was thinking up excuses for why I needed to get him alone. Maybe it was only a matter of getting him out of my system. Or maybe I needed to go find somebody else to screw around with. But the thought of that didn’t sit well anymore.

I wanted Kai. All to myself. Again.

And the guilt of that thought alone was enough to send me packing early.

Damn, Dakota might disown me. If she hadn’t already disowned me because of my antics the past three years in college. Dakota was so different, so prim and proper. And I had been, too—before my life had been turned upside down and my heart split in two.

I set a few body washes and soaps to the side for the apartment. Mom carried a more manly-smelling line for her male customers. I opened the top of the body lotion and breathed it in. The scent was like fresh linen with a bit of spice. It would be subtle enough for Kai, so I made a neat pile for him.

And now my thoughts had drifted to smelling Kai. God, I needed a lobotomy.

My phone buzzed with a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

Rachel, it’s Miles. Can we grab a drink and talk?

My stomach dropped. Shit, I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out with both of us being back in town. I wasn’t sure if I’d run into him again. Or even if I wanted to.

Me: How did you get my number?

Miles: Sorry, I asked around. Julia gave it to me.

Our old high school friend. Thanks, Julia. I owe you one. Not.

I’d admit part of me was impressed that he’d made the effort. Maybe he really did do some growing up and wanted to set things right. Thing is, I didn’t know if I could ever feel comfortable around him again. I might always be on edge. Forever hurt and angry. Always feel as if he’d left me. As if everybody had left me.

Me: It’s okay. What’s there to talk about?

Miles: Please, Rachel. I just want to explain some things.

I thought about what Kai had said about needing closure with Miles. He’d always been good at saying all the right things and dispensing little pearls of wisdom. Despite the fact that he pretty much fucked up lots of stuff in his own life, he sure could give good pep talks. If he’d only take his own advice. He had this untapped potential to do something really great—if he’d only realize what that might be. If he’d only give up weed.

I hadn’t smelled it as much on him lately, though, so maybe that was a good sign he was getting himself together. Maybe even trying, for his parents. I was pretty sure he wasn’t trying for me. What I said to him the other morning about laying off the pot seemed only to amuse him.

My fingers hovered over the keys on my phone. I could be an adult and resolve this once and for all. Or I could go back to pretending to work this all out in my head. Like I thought I had been doing for the last three years. Thinking I was tough and confident and had gotten over Miles.

Hell, I’d even been too chicken to confide in the girlfriends I’d made in college. Even though they had laid out all of their shit in front of me. Allowed me to see their flaws while I permitted them to see only one side of me. The fun, no-cares-in-the-world, fake part of me.

Except for the last few weeks before break. I’d admit to becoming a bit of a softie because of my anxiety about returning home for the summer. I’d even told them a couple of stories about growing up with Dakota. I remember how my chest ached when I’d mentioned Kai. I’d felt tears gathering behind my eyes, but I had ignored the physical clue that I’d been missing him.

They hadn’t, apparently. Without even realizing it, they stopped talking and stared at me like I had three heads. As if I’d been abducted by aliens and replaced by some sentimental sap. I made a joke, suggesting I was emotional because I was getting my period, but I could tell they didn’t exactly believe me.

So maybe it was time to get my shit together, so I could move on. Where to, I didn’t exactly know. But moving forward would be a good thing.

Me: Okay, fine.